by G J Ogden
“With everything I’ve been through, I think I’d know by now!” laughed Taylor, and Casey joined in.
Casey then caught sight of Commander Sonner coming towards them from the hangar deck, her progress slowed by a need to return the salutes of the dozen engineers she passed en-route. Her brother, James, was at her side. “Here comes the dynamic Sonner duo,” Casey nodded in their direction. “About time too, I’ve had enough of being cooped up inside this old cave.”
Taylor turned to face them, but they were still some distance away, and Casey noticed that Taylor seemed to drift off with his own thoughts again.
“It must have been difficult for you to trust her,” said Casey after a few silent seconds, “after what happened here.”
Taylor thought about this for a moment and then shook his head gently, “It would be easy to be angry with her and to blame her, but the truth is there was no way she could have known,” he said. “She was the last human being in the galaxy, confronted with four Hunter simulants who had been programmed to kill her. She could have killed me too, but she didn’t.”
“She can be real cranky, though,” quipped Casey, “and more than a little uptight.” Then she gave Taylor a gentle nudge with her shoulder, “A bit like another commanding officer I seem to remember...”
“Please, I’m a pussy cat compared to her!” protested Taylor.
“But she’s got a good heart, and she’s honorable,” Casey went on, more solemnly, “also like another commander I know.”
“Thanks, Casey,” said Taylor. If simulants had been able to cry, he could have shed a tear right there.
“You two look like you’re plotting a mutiny,” said Commander Sonner as she arrived with her brother a few paces behind.
“Oh no, she’s on to us, Cap,” said Casey, ladling on a large helping of amateur dramatics. “Shall we take them down right here, or wait until we’re inside the briefing room to assassinate them, as planned?”
“You know, I’m not even sure if you’re joking,” replied Sonner as Taylor smirked and James stifled a snicker. Then she spotted the damaged deck plating. “Are you wrecking my base already?”
“Actually, you did that, if you remember,” said Taylor. “We’ve both been here before.”
It took Sonner a few moments to understand Taylor’s cryptic statement, but she eventually caught on. “Oh, right, yes,” she said, clearly finding the situation a little awkward. Then she looked at the others and said, “You all go ahead into the briefing room. The Captain and I will join you shortly.”
“Aye aye, Commander Sarah Sonner,” said Casey, throwing up a lazy salute, and then she hooked her arm around James’s and led him away. Taylor was sure he heard the younger Sonner say, ‘nice shoes’ before they passed out of earshot.
Sonner waited until the double doors leading into the pilot’s ready room had swung shut behind them and then peered up at Taylor, hands on hips. Had she not been slouching, she would have actually stood a little taller than him.
“We never talked about it, not really,” said Sonner, struggling to force the words out, but she wanted to give Taylor the opportunity to speak his mind. “I realize now, looking back, that the way I treated you, in those first moments after you recovered from the fall, was...” she hesitated, fishing for the right word.
“Cruel?” said Taylor, remembering how Sonner had propped up the dead simulant frames of Casey and Satomi against the wall in the room where she’d made him face the reality of what he was.
Sonner looked away, “I didn’t know you then, Taylor.” The use of his first name, rather than merely his rank, took Taylor a little by surprise, and his simulant eyes widened. “I didn’t even know if there was a real you inside that synthetic head. If I had known, I would have done things differently.” Then she forced herself to look at him and added, “I guess what I’m saying is, I’m sorry.”
Unlike the memories of his life prior to the awakening, Taylor could recall their confrontation in the room where Sonner had bound him to a chair and interrogated him like it was yesterday. The pain of it was still raw in his mind, if not his body, but as he’d told Casey, he felt no anger towards Sonner. In fact, in many ways he owed her his life.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, “you took an enormous risk in trusting me; a simulant designed to kill you. And you’ve taken similar and even bigger risks since to help me find my crew; risks you didn’t need to shoulder. It’s something I’ll not forget, Sarah.”
Sonner straightened a little, bringing their eyes level, and for a moment Taylor thought she was going to hug him. He panicked, wondering if he should hug her back, and for a moment his hands reached out towards her, but to his relief Sonner caught herself just in time.
“Good, well, we should get inside and start the briefing,” said Sonner after clearing her throat with a little cough and taking a pace back. Taylor swung his arms up and folded them across his chest in a move that was intended to mask his half-attempted hug, but in reality just made his initial intentions even more obvious. Sonner mirrored his gesture, also folding her arms, and for a moment they both just stood there, mirror images of one another, nodding in agreement.
“Good, well, after you, Commander,” said Taylor, in his best captain’s voice.
Sonner returned his nod and then wasted no time in heading for the door, “Good, yes. Well, the briefing shouldn’t take long, and then we can get back out there, Captain.” she said, before half-jogging away.
Taylor could see that her defensive visor had been lowered once again, but he didn’t mind. The tension and awkwardness of that moment had been as unbearable for Taylor as it had likely also been for Sonner, and the return to normality was like someone opening a pressure release valve. He nodded again and, despite Sonner already being several meters away, threw up a casual salute, “Aye aye, Commander Sarah Sonner.”
SIX
Lux felt himself being dragged backwards by strong hands that were hooked underneath his arms. His vision was foggy and his body still felt weak. Suddenly, the hold on him was released and his head came to rest on something hard and cool. It did not feel like rock, nor did it have the coarse texture of the metal balcony decking on which he’d blacked out. He took a gulp of air, but this time he could feel the oxygen beginning fuel his brain and energize his muscles. Whatever this place was, the air was richer than it had been in the concourse. Groggily, he tried to right himself, but it was like being forcibly awakened from a deep and dreamless sleep, and for several seconds his arms and legs just flailed around helplessly, until finally he managed to regain enough of his senses to sit upright.
He was on the floor in the corner of a room filled with rows of consoles and workbenches. It wasn’t so much a command center as a workshop, Lux thought to himself. Provost Adra was a few meters away, leaning against one of the consoles and staring patiently at the screen. Lux fought himself back to his feet and slowly crossed over to Adra’s side measuring each step carefully so that he did not fall. He would have preferred to have remained on the floor for some minutes longer, but he was worried that this would show weakness to his commander.
“I am ready to resume my duties, Provost Adra,” said Lux, standing at Adra’s side and straightening to attention, as best he could. The act of pulling his shoulders back stretched the burned flesh on his chest from where the electroshock projectile had impaled in his armor, and his body again flooded with pain.
A minute passed without a response from Adra. Instead, she just silently studied the constantly refreshing information on the console screen, and so Lux held his position and waited, despite the pain from his wounds growing with each passing second. It was then he noticed that Adra had projectiles lodged into her own armor; one to the right thigh and one in her abdomen, which was no doubt the reason why she was slumped forward. His instinct was to check the severity of her injuries, to make sure that his Provost was not in danger of dying, but he understood Adra well enough now to know to keep silent
instead.
Another minute dragged by with no words passing between them, and Lux’s racing mind filled the void by fixating on his earlier mistake of not mentioning the interference he’d observed in his visor. Guilt began to overwhelm him and override his better judgement to remain silent and simply wait.
“I apologize, Provost, I should have detected the sentinels,” Lux began, “It is my fault that we were taken by surprise.”
“That may be so,” said Adra in a cool, dispassionate tone that gave no hint as to whether she was angry with Lux. She then adjusted a setting on a device that was inserted into the console; it was something Lux hadn’t spotted before, despite it clearly looking like Hedalt technology that was not an original part of the console’s configuration. He leant in slightly to get a better look and then recognized it as a breaker; a device used to hack into secured computer systems and access the data stored within.
“I failed you, Provost,” Lux went on, and though he tried to match Adra’s cool delivery, his voice betrayed the emotions surging inside him. “You should have let me die.”
Adra’s eyes flicked across to Lux for a brief moment, before returning to the screen. “Yes, I should have,” she answered with the same icy chill. Adra then rose to her full height, but continued to peer down at the screen. “You should have trusted your instincts, Adjutant Lux,” she continued. “You saw something before we entered this base, but chose not to highlight it to me. Am I correct?”
“Yes, Provost Adra.”
“That was a mistake.”
“Yes, Provost Adra,” repeated Lux. In a way, he was glad it was out in the open and he was willing to accept his punishment, even if that meant death. “I accept full responsibility.”
“You are responsible for your error of judgment,” Adra continued, “and so am I.” Had Adra been looking at Lux at that moment, she would have seen the shocked expression that he was unable to mask. “I was too eager to enter this place; too eager to learn its secrets.” Then she turned to Lux, hands pressed behind her back, and fixed her penetrating green eyes onto his. “Our task is too important to risk because of second-guessing or rash decisions,” said Adra, “I will not make the same mistake twice. And neither will you.”
“Yes, Provost Adra,” said Lux crisply, but then Adra turned back to the console and peered at the screen again. Lux was frozen to the spot, unsure of whether his commander was still thinking about a punishment, or whether there was not to be one.
“This asteroid base and its human occupants were in a state of hibernation stasis for more than three centuries,” Adra continued, oblivious to Lux’s muddled state. “For three hundred years it remained out here, undetected, only for us to arrive mere days after the humans here were revived and moved out.”
Lux moved closer and looked down at the console. The information displayed on the screen was fractured, incomplete. “They wiped the computer systems before they left?” queried Lux.
“Yes, but they were clumsy, and their methods are out-of-date, just like their species.”
“You have found a clue as to their whereabouts, Provost?” said Lux, feeling a swell of excitement that seemed to wash away his pain.
Adra removed the breaker and reattached it to her belt. “A fragment of a clue,” she said, almost smiling, “but enough to know there is yet another hidden human base; another tomb, like this one.”
“Do you have its location?”
“No,” said Adra, though her eyes had lost none of their sharpness, “but if they attempt to reach this other base, and the Hunter simulant that is their pet enters the CoreNet again, this device will give us a location fix.” She tapped the breaker on her belt as she said this.
Lux nodded, “Then we shall have them soon enough, Provost,” he said, also now rising to his full height. The pain from the electroshock weapon had diminished; now the only burning sensation he felt was a fire for vengeance. “We will destroy what is left of the human virus and rid them from this galaxy, forever.”
Adra turned away from the console, before reaching down and wrenching the electroshock projectiles out from her abdomen and thigh armor, discarding them onto the floor. Each clanked and scraped across the smooth metal surface, briefly disturbing the void of silence, and then came to rest. Blood oozed from the holes in Adra’s armor, but like Lux she was too filled with purpose to feel any pain. “Come, Adjutant Lux, we have work to do.”
SEVEN
The briefing room looked like a university lecture theater, with a central stage in front of a screen, and cascading rows of seats arcing around the outside. With only Taylor, the two Sonners and Casey inside, it seemed unnecessarily large for their needs, but Sonner had argued that if there was to be a mission briefing then they may as well use a briefing room. Taylor, James and Casey were sitting on the front row of seats as Sonner moved to the center of the platform, holding a data pad.
Sonner cleared her throat and began, “The flight and engineering crews in hibernation on this base were intended to form the primary crew for the Nimrod Fleet,” she said, tapping the pad and bringing up a plan of the Contingency base on the screen. “But, as you all know, I was the only one to survive.” She tapped the pad again and a readout of the current complement of the base appeared on the screen. “Thanks to our successful rescue of the personnel from the asteroid base, we have enough engineers to get the entire fleet of ninety-nine Nimrods combat ready, but as you also all know, we don’t have any flight personnel to crew them.”
“I take it this is the part where you tell us about another hidden base?” said Taylor, who was eager for her to get to the point. He knew from his memories that the original Taylor hated mission briefings and the general formality of day-to-day operations, and this was something he shared in common with his long dead progenitor.
Sonner scowled at him and then tapped the pad again, “Yes, Captain, it is, and if you can avoid interrupting, I’ll tell you all about it.” Taylor held up his hands, palms facing outwards, and Sonner continued. “In order to provide backup forces should we take heavy losses in the field, or should this base become compromised, Earth Fleet Command placed reserve forces in stasis in two other locations.” Sonner tapped the pad, bringing up an image of the asteroid base. “We’re already familiar with the engineering base, which was to serve as a repair and refueling station for the fleet,” she tapped the pad again. “The third base is different; it contains a reserve fighting force. Importantly, unlike the crew that were placed here, the stasis chambers on the reserve base were designed for a much longer period of hibernation, so that Earth Fleet Command would only wake them if necessary.”
Casey stuck up her hand, as if taking the lecture theater setting a little too literally; Sonner rolled her eyes, before reluctantly giving way to her. “So what you’re saying is that this third base is like a contingency of the contingency?” she asked, smiling. “A spare contingency?”
“A double contingency!” Taylor added, loving the fact that Casey’s interruption had broken the monotony of the briefing. And, after Sonner’s condescending put-down of him earlier, he was also enjoying the fact it had clearly irritated the Commander, who was massaging her eyes and the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger.
“A contingency so good, they named it twice!” Casey chimed in, and despite desperately trying to keep a straight face, James blurted out a laugh, which drew dagger-like stares from his sister.
“If there is a god or gods in this universe, I don’t know why they saw fit to curse me with you two,” said Sonner, who had now switched to rubbing her temples. “If we get through this war and you two are still in one piece, I’ll melt you down for parts.”
Casey scowled, but before she could say anything she would likely regret, Taylor stepped in, “Commander, I’m sorry, but the formality of the briefing just seems a little unnecessary. It’s just us here and we know the drill. There’s a third base. It has the crew we need. What do we need to know, before we go get them?”
“The third base is located inside a lava tube, similar to this one, only much smaller,” said Sonner, who now seemed as eager to get the briefing over with as everyone else. “It was never fully completed, but it should still contain what we need, which is around five hundred flight crew, in deep stasis.”
“What about additional warships?” asked James, but his sister shook her head.
“There wasn’t time. The plan was to construct more here at this base, but obviously that never happened.”
“We need crews more than we need ships,” said Taylor, steering the briefing back to the point. “The question is, how do we get them back here?”
Sonner reached over and tapped the data pad on the desk, advancing the briefing to the next slide, which showed two large, clunky-looking ships, both identical and roughly three times the size of their own Hedalt Corvette-class cruiser, the Contingency One. “The base should still contain the two large personnel transports that ferried the crews to the planet initially,” Sonner said, pointing to the bulky vessels on the screen. “These will be sufficient to jump everyone on the base back here.” Taylor opened his mouth to ask another question, but Sonner raised a finger to her lips to silence him, “And before you say it, Captain, yes I have considered the fact that these ships will not be able to jump along the threads undetected.” She then nodded at James, who stood up and cleared his throat.
