Rise of Nimrod Fleet (The Contingency War Book 3)

by G J Ogden

  Casey let out a long low whistle, “I believe the correct term is, ‘asshole’,” she said, before spinning around in her chair again.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Taylor, Casey and Sonner stood around the bench in the workshop of the Contingency One, staring down at the inactive simulant frame of Blake Meade. Despite her promises, Sonner had not had her injured shoulder attended to by the trained medical staff from the reserve base, muttering something about there being no time, but she had grudgingly allowed Taylor to patch her up instead. That she had refused to stand still for even a full minute, instead continually buzzing around Blake to make the required modifications to his cranial unit, had not made applying first aid an easy task. It also hadn’t helped that she had complained bitterly about the need to remove her shirt, and then complained even more about the indignity of standing around in just a tank top. Taylor had borne her protestations with the patience of a saint, but even his simulant-enhanced tolerance was starting to wear thin.

  “Seriously, can you just hold still for five seconds?” complained Taylor as Sonner suddenly leaned over Blake, which meant he’d applied the bandage spray to thin air, instead of her shoulder. The mist from the spray landed on Taylor’s sleeve, where it formed a thin blue gel that dried instantly, creating an unpleasant-looking skin over the fabric. Casey looked at it and scrunched up her nose.

  Sonner sighed deliberately and elaborately, before straightening up, “How much longer is this going to take?” she asked, glaring at Taylor over her bare shoulder.

  Taylor had at least managed to treat the burns from the plasma shard, more due to luck than any medical skill on his part, but he still needed to bandage the area before he could finally dismiss his difficult patient.

  “Literally, a few more seconds, if you will just stay where you are,” Taylor replied. “Now, hold still, will you?”

  “Fine,” said Sonner, pressing her hands to her hips, “you have five seconds, Captain,” and then she actually started counting down.

  Taylor shook his head and quickly applied the bandage spray to Sonner’s shoulder, where it formed a flexible, blue skin that stretched along with Sonner’s movements. “There, done,” he said, “I told you’d I’d be quick. Now put your clothes back on.” Casey snorted a laugh, and then Taylor realized his unintentional double entendre.

  Sonner grabbed her shirt from the chair by the side of the workbench and pulled it on quickly, still glowering at Taylor. “Did I ever tell you how much you sound like my ex-husband?” she said, and Casey giggled again. She was observing the exchange with a giddy expression on her face, eyes flicking from Taylor to Sonner and back and forth as their little tit-for-tat continued.

  “Did I ever mention how I’m not surprised you two got separated?” Taylor hit back. “I never met the guy, but I feel his pain.”

  “You will soon, if you don’t button it, Captain,” Sonner replied, ironically while fastening the last few buttons on her shirt. “Now, can we get on with waking up Blane or Shane or Jake, or whatever he’s called, please? I have a date with a particularly repugnant Earth Fleet Colonel.”

  Taylor knew that Sonner remembered Blake’s name; she was just getting it wrong to wind him up, but this time he didn’t rise to the bait. “We’re all waiting on you,” he said, with a wry smile. “What’s taking you so long?”

  Sonner bit her lip and also managed not to rise to the bait. Instead she just turned and leaned over Blake again, finishing the work she’d started before Taylor had made her stand still. The last part was setting up the DMZ so that Taylor and Blake could co-exist inside a sort of virtual reality. Created by Sonner after they had first recovered Casey from the Way Station, the DMZ was a safe space for their cybernetically modified brains to interface and communicate with each other. It was similar to the deep space corridor that Taylor experienced while he was inside the Fabric and connected to the CoreNet, but it existed independently from it. The idea was that the DMZ would allow Taylor to break the news to Blake about what he really was, so as to soften the blow before he actually ‘woke up’.

  “Okay, that’s everything,” said Sonner as she loaded up the DMZ program on the console. Then she hovered her finger over the button to execute it. “So, are we ready to do this? Remember, I can’t plug Blake into the DMZ, without first severing the Hedalt’s neural control systems. And once I do, there’s no going back. He’ll be awake, whether he likes it or not.”

  Casey looked excited, but she was also nervous. This was the first time she’d seen the process, since the last time Sonner had performed it had been for her. “Will he be able to go into the Fabric, like Taylor does?” she asked.

  “No, whatever happened when Taylor hit his head that first time unlocked something I couldn’t replicate, in either you or Blake,” Sonner replied, “so his party trick is still unique to him, I’m afraid.”

  “Okay, so I guess we go ahead then, unless you think otherwise, Cap?” said Casey, looking at Taylor, but he appeared lost in his own thoughts.

  Something was bothering Taylor, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was. Sonner’s procedure had worked on Casey, though not without some initial difficulties, and as his thoughts drifted back to those events, Taylor finally remembered something that had been pivotal to Casey accepting her new existence. It was something they didn’t yet have for Blake.

  “Captain? Is there a problem?” asked Sonner, also noticing that Taylor seemed to be light years away.

  “Yes, we’re missing something,” said Taylor, as it finally dawned on him what they still needed, “We need a uniquely personal item, like Casey’s mint.” Casey reached up to her neckline and lifted the necklace from underneath her top so they could all be reminded of it. “It was a strong physical connection to a real object that helped Casey switch on to her new reality. We need to find something similar for Blake, before we cut the cord.”

  Sonner reluctantly conceded the point. “I have a little less than an hour before my meeting with our friendly new Colonel,” she began, “do you think you can find something quickly? Otherwise, your defunct crew member here will have to stay where he is.”

  Taylor shrugged, “Honestly, Blake was like a locked safe when it came to personal matters. He talked big, but said little.”

  Casey stuffed the necklace back under the neckline of her top and then gently rested a hand on Blake’s forehead. “He did talk big, but Blake was soft at heart,” she began, with a tenderness and genuine affection that betrayed her true feelings for the gruff Tactical Specialist. “He had a ring that used to belong to his mother. She passed away when he was only a little boy.” Then she paused, realizing that she had no way of knowing if these were real memories from the original human hosts or Hedalt lies, designed to help manipulate them. “I don’t if that was true or not, it’s hard to make sense of it all now, but I was sure the ring existed. And if it did then there should be a copy on this ship, in his quarters, right?”

  Taylor and Sonner exchanged glances and the expressions on both of their faces suggested it was worth a shot. “You two see what you can find,” said Sonner, “I’ll confirm everything is set up here so that Jake is ready to go when you get back.”

  “Damn it, his name is Blake!” snapped Taylor, but Sonner’s twinkling eyes told him that he’d finally fallen into her trap.

  “You have ten minutes,” Sonner went on, reveling in her little victory. “If you can’t find it before then, we’ll have to reconvene another time.

  “We may not get another chance to do this, depending on how quickly Colonel Asshat moves things forward,” said Taylor, with a level of snark that rivalled Sonner. Casey laughed, but Sonner looked unamused.

  “You should reign that in, unless you want to be turned into filing cabinets for his office,” Sonner answered, managing to retain an impressive level of professional detachment, “You have ten minutes, Captain, you’re wasting time.”

  Taylor nodded. Ten minutes wasn’t much time, but he wasn’t giving
up on Blake yet. After all they had risked in order to rescue him, to have Blake sit out the war on a workbench wouldn’t seem right. Besides, they could use his skills; he may have talked big, but when it came to tactical and combat ability, he walked the walk too.

  Casey and Taylor hurried out of the workshop and ran to Blake’s quarters, but they didn’t need more than a minute inside to realize the ring wasn’t there. Blake barely had any possessions and everything that was in his quarters was neatly organized, in strict military fashion. But then Taylor had an idea, which had been prompted by Casey’s earlier display of affection. He turned to the pilot and said, “We should check your quarters too; perhaps he gave the ring to you?”

  Though her cheeks were physically incapable of reddening, Casey still appeared embarrassed, “No, he never gave the ring to me,” she said, looking down at her feet, as she scuffed the soles of her purple canvas shoes across the deck. “He only showed it to me once, and told me what it was, which is how I know about it. But then he went all coy and shoved it back into his pocket. I didn’t see it again after that.”

  “The Blake from this ship is different to the one you knew,” said Taylor, still believing he was on to something. “Hell, the Blake on this ship was different to the one you knew and the one lying on the table in the workshop. But I do know that my Blake cared for you,” Casey’s head dipped further as he said this, “so it’s worth a look.”

  Casey raised her eyes to meet Taylor’s, “Okay, Cap, but I know it’s not there. If it was then I would have found it by now.”

  “The difference is that before, you weren’t looking for it,” Taylor hit back. He didn’t know why, but he knew he was right. It was like a gut feeling, despite not having a gut.

  They dashed back out into the corridor before practically bursting into Casey’s quarters. “How long do we have?” asked Casey, quickly rummaging through drawers full of different-colored hair bands and clips.

  “I don’t know,” said Taylor, scanning his silver simulant eyes over shelves and inside cupboards, “maybe a couple more minutes at most.”

  More tense seconds passed and still they found nothing other than Casey’s flamboyant wardrobe accessories. “It’s not here, Cap, I told you so,” said Casey, sounding dejected. But then Taylor’s eyes were drawn to a vanity mirror on Casey’s desk, and his sharp simulant vision spotted what looked like a thin piece of twine hanging over the corner. It was barely visible, and dangling down the back of the mirror. He rushed over to it and unhooked it. Fastened to the end was an ornate silver Celtic knot ring. Taylor looked at it and then offered it to Casey, who took it and held it gingerly between the thumbs and forefingers of both hands. Taylor smiled; he had never seen Casey Valera happier than she was at that moment. He moved to the door and waited for it to slide open, before turning back to meet Casey’s eyes and extending a hand, inviting her to join him. “Let’s go get him back.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Taylor entered the DMZ first, so that he would be waiting for Blake once he was plugged in. As before, when he had entered the DMZ to meet Casey, he appeared inside the cargo hold of the Contingency One. The rear ramp was lowered and extended out into deep space. But unlike the ethereal corridor that Taylor usually inhabited, this place was not connected to the Fabric or the CoreNet, and so was safe from Provost Adra’s prying eyes.

  “Cap, is that you?” said a voice behind him. Taylor turned around to see Blake standing in the middle of the cargo hold with a pained expression on his face, as if he’d just been asked to solve a difficult math problem in his head.

  “Yes, Blake it’s me,” said Taylor, trying to smile, but nerves twisted it into more of a grimace. As with inside the Fabric, the DMZ replicated the human appearance of the original Taylor Ray, as well as human emotions.

  “Why’s the cargo bay door open?” Blake continued, pointing through the opening into empty space. “And how the hell’re we still breathin’?”

  Blake didn’t mince his words, and both questions had put Taylor on the spot; it was impossible to answer either without first explaining where they were and why. “Those are two great questions, Blake, but first we need to talk about where we are, and why we’re both here,” Taylor took a step towards his Tactical Specialist, who took a step back as he did so. He was coiled up tighter than a cobra.

  “Is this some kinda trick?” asked Blake, holding up a hand to Taylor to stop him from coming any closer. “Are you an’ Casey playin’ some dumb game? ‘Cause if you are, it ain’t funny.”

  “It’s not a game, but this place is sort of a trick,” said Taylor. “It only exists in our minds. It’s like a computer program where we can talk and share experiences.”

  “What, ya mean like those virtual datin’ sims?” said Blake.

  Now it was Taylor’s turn to look consternated, “What? No, not like those!” he said, sounding mildly disgusted. “Damn it Blake, will you just shut up and listen to what I’m trying to tell you?”

  Oddly, this seemed to relax Blake; as if the shift to Taylor being hacked off at him was a step closer to their normal state of affairs. “Fine, go ahead,” he said with a little shrug, and then he muttered to himself, “I’ll prob’ly wake up soon anyway. I knew that last shot of bourbon before hittin’ the sack was a mistake.”

  Taylor took a deep breath and let it out, which helped to relax his nerves. In his simulant body, he’d gotten used to not having nerves to calm, and he’d forgotten how much more complicated life was when burdened with physical emotions too. Okay, here goes nothing... he said to himself, and then he laid it all out for Blake as succinctly as he could.

  “We’re inside something called the DMZ,” Taylor began. “It’s a place we created to help you transition from what you were to what you are.”

  “Oh yeah? An’ what’s that, Cap?” asked Blake, nonchalantly shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. He had evidently assumed that he was just experiencing some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination, and so was just rolling with it.

  “Like me, you’re actually a simulant,” Taylor continued. “We were created by the Hedalt Empire to help hunt down any remnants of human civilization, after the end of the war. A war that Earth Fleet actually lost. That was over three hundred years ago.” He paused to see how this had gone down with Blake.

  “Uh huh, sounds great so far,” said Blake, taking one hand out of his pocket to casually scratch an itch on his backside. “Can we just skip to the part where I wake up with a hangover?”

  Taylor frowned, but saw no choice but to continue. “Your only organic component is a laboratory-grown copy of your original host’s brain.”

  “My original host, huh?” said Blake, looking bored, “Who was that then?”

  Taylor’s brow scrunched up, marveling at how deliberately dumb Blake could be sometimes. “You, Blake. The original host was Blake Meade.”

  Blake clicked his fingers and then pointed a finger at Taylor. “Gotcha, Cap. Go on, this is great.”

  Taylor frowned and massaged his forehead, but ploughed ahead regardless. “The Hedalt added neural interfaces to control our experiences; to create a false reality. They made us believe that Earth had won. They used us to hunt down the humans who escaped or fled, by tricking us into seeing them as Hedalt, or at least a twisted version of them. That’s what our DSR missions really were, Blake. We weren’t scouting for hidden Hedalt outposts; we were hunting human beings, we just didn’t know it. Everything we thought we knew as real, was actually a lie.”

  Blake let out a long, low whistle, “Damn, this is one vivid-ass dream. I hope I remember it so I can tell Casey in the mornin’!”

  Taylor switched to rubbing his chin, actually feeling stubble for a change, rather than the smooth, synthetic skin of his simulant face. Perhaps he should have anticipated that Blake would react this way, and just skipped the DMZ altogether, plunging him directly into reality like being dropped into an ice bath while still fast asleep. He wasn’t going to accept Taylor’s
words, no matter how he tried to explain things. But then he remembered what had happened with Casey in the DMZ, and how he directly entered her mind and memories. Perhaps if words couldn’t reach Blake then a roller coaster ride through Taylor’s recent experiences would do the trick. Taylor smiled, as he thought of a way to make Blake more compliant.

  “You’re right, this is just some crazy, lucid dream,” said Taylor, holding up his arms in surrender, “but to wake up, I need to show you something first. It’s a little wild, but it’ll give you something really spectacular to talk to Casey about in the morning!”

  Blake shrugged again. “Whatever, Captain Figment-of-my-imagination. It can’t be any more messed up than this already is.”

  Taylor laughed, “Don’t speak so soon...” Then he thought back to his first encounter with Sonner on the Contingency base, back to where it all began, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he was inside the room where Sonner had bound him to the chair, watching the scene unfold as an ethereal spectator. Beside him was Blake, whose indifferent mood of only moments earlier had been replaced by one of deep unease. Surprisingly, Taylor found it unsettling to watch too; he hadn’t prepared himself to experience it again, especially considering he was exposed to the full force of human emotions.

  “What the hell is this?” said Blake, backing away from Taylor. “Who’s that?” he added, pointing to Sarah Sonner, “an’ what’s that tied to the chair? It looks like you, but what’s with the smooth skin an’ silver eyes?”

  “That is me, Blake,” said Taylor, forcing himself to look, but even he found it a struggle not to avert his gaze. In his head, he still saw himself as human, and though he had grown increasingly more comfortable in his new form, sometimes he forgot what he really looked like. This was a harsh reminder – perhaps too harsh – but, maybe it was exactly what Blake needed. “That’s the simulant version of me. The real me,” he added, looking at Blake, who now had the appearance of a wild animal that had been backed into a corner. But then Blake caught sight of the other two simulant bodies propped up against the wall. They looked like shop mannequins that had been caught in the crossfire of a store robbery. Despite their alien appearance, he knew exactly who they were, and he ran over to Casey and dropped to his knees.