There was more science behind the whole plasma pistols that Vincent didn’t understand. But what he did understand was that different densities of crystals used could allow the bullet to hold its integrity longer so the bullet could travel further and he also understood that various gasses would heat to a hotter point faster than others. This was why he took a course on how to make his own bullets.
The older version of the PAWS weapons still had some problems, but not as much as the laser weapons had. Sometimes the crystal would jam in the older versions and once the plasma hit critical mass it would detonate in the chamber. This would ignite all of the bullets in the clip and the resulting explosion would be devastating.
This was one problem that Vincent didn’t have to worry about. He had a Cerberus mock III. This was the third generation of the Cerberus plasma pistol. Not only did it resolve the problems of possible misfire and premature explosion, but it came with several upgrade features. He could extend the back of the handle with the help of built in internal supports that could retract backward and give a shoulder rest. It also carried a larger magazine of ammunition and had an automatic setting. All of this would change the pistol into an automatic weapon of mass destruction.
The only problem that he had to worry about was being careful not to hit any of the hull or main ship parts. A poorly placed shot in the engine room would be catastrophic to the whole ship. If a firefight were to be held on the ship, he would have to maintain short and controlled bursts or keep his weapon on a singular shot setting.
As soon as Vincent put on his holster, pistol and accessory pack, he took a look at the computer terminal in his room. The scene wasn’t any better than the last time he had seen it. The monitor was destroyed by an electrical overload through the system. However, just because the monitor was fried, didn’t mean that the external inputs were as well. All he needed to do was check with his laptop. Since Denise had been able to get some of the mainframe up and running it was time to do some surveillance.
Vincent found his laptop in one of the drawers of his small dresser. It had seen better days. From the looks of it, it had been tossed around inside the dresser pretty hard but despite the damage to the outer casing, there was no reason to believe that it wouldn’t still work. Vincent opened it up and turned it on.
The laptop slowly started to hum to life in his hands. The green background light of the monitor illuminated parts of his room and cast an eerie glow of ghastly green and shadows.
While the computer was going through its warm up phase, Vincent found the wire that was stored inside the computer casing. He ran it to the appropriate computer input on the mainframe terminal. A quick look back at his laptop told him what he needed to know.
‘Good, I’m in.’
Vincent let his fingers tap through the keys on his keyboard. His eyes darted from one letter to the other as he quickly did his “hunt and peck” method of typing. He had never taken a typing class and never needed to. He was a “point and shoot” kind of man and that was how he lived his life and that was how he was going to type.
The cracked green screen fluttered as if static was disabling its ability to process information at any reasonable speed. Then, without warning, his monitor went black. All illumination from the screen had stopped.
Vincent gave the small monitor a quick smack with his hand as if his mere physical threat would be ample warning for the computer to start back up again. It had always worked with the military grunts that were under his command whenever he had led a squad and he saw no reason why the computer shouldn’t act differently. As if understanding that the beatings would not only continue but worsen over time, the computer fluttered again before it brought up the file that Vincent was looking for. It was time to see who was aboard this ship.
Doctor Richard M Atkins: PhD and MD of medical science. Minored in psychology. Graduated from Harvard head of class.
It seemed that the mission’s doctor had left his private practice in upstate New York to come on this backwater assignment. He had given up fame and fortune to live and die on an unknown planet that few people would appreciate and end up getting nothing out of it. He wasn’t going to get paid, wasn’t going to get prestigious clients, and wasn’t going to get honorable awards. He wasn’t even going to get the chance to cure cancer or some other disease. Basically, he was leaving everything behind.
This usually happened when an individual was running away from something. But according to the doctor’s files, everything seemed to be clean. There wasn’t any evidence of malpractice. So, why was he coming along in the first place?
Then something caught Vincent’s eye. One of the last places that the doctor had visited was Los Angeles and from what he could gather it had been during the time of the famous Los Angeles riots. He wondered if the doctor had played any role in that turbulent time and what had happened to have such a traumatic impact upon the doctor’s psyche.
Doctor Cleo Swanson: PhD in biology. Minored in xeno-ology. Graduated from Yale top five percent and worked with N.A.S.A.
Vincent could understand needing a biologist on the team, a person was needed to study the plants and animals of any planet for Terraforming. However, Doctor Swanson had also worked with N.A.S.A. This might not be good. The only reason why N.A.S.A. would be involved was if there were intelligent xeno’s. Their findings would be reported to The White House and The Pentagon to see if their technology could be traded with or worse, stolen.
Terraforming wasn’t supposed to happen on a populated planet. This was one of the stipulations that were handed down by both political parties across the nation and by several countries through the United Nations. However, Vincent knew that there had been a few times that this stipulation had been ignored and a world had been taken away from its inherent inhabitants. What really happened out here didn’t always make it back to the real world.
If Doctor Swanson was on a mission to gather tech, one way or another, then there could be another war that Earth simply couldn’t get involved with. The war with the Dagons had started with a similar situation and had progressed to be one of the ugliest wars that Earth had ever seen. Vincent wasn’t going to let this happen again, at least not on his watch.
Doctor Bruce Shelton: PhD in geology. Graduated in Penn State. Hired as top consultant to several firms to find oil and precious metals.
Vincent had to wonder if Doctor Shelton was here on an ulterior motive. These Terraforming missions were supposed to be for the benefit of the citizens of Earth and not for the private utilizations of the mega corporations that seemed to have their hands in everything. It was no secret that several of these corporations funded and backed many of these missions, but it would have been a huge federal problem if any of these businesses were caught trying to take over a mission. If Doctor Shelton was working for one of these corporations to find oil or precious metals for them on another planet, then the situation could get out of control.
The various corporations had a bad habit of waging their own personal wars against each other and sometimes these were fatal. Usually the situations were either espionage or sabotage but sometimes things got ugly. There had been a rumor that the Los Angeles riots were caused to hide a corporate assassination. If this was the case, then the corporate big wigs were getting bold, too bold, and the last thing Vincent wanted on this ship was a corporate war which would happen if one corporation found out that another had placed their geologist on board to bring back precious metals or to claim the precious metals on a new planet.
Eric Langley: field security. Graduated from R.O.T.C. from Washington State University. Continued training in West Point. Did not graduate from West Point.
Here Vincent stopped again. Eric hadn’t finished his training while in West Point and never did go into the military. This meant that Eric had some minor combat training and no real combat experience unless he counted the Los Angeles riots. Even then, that couldn’t be counted as a real combat.
The problem was, Eric w
as young and inexperienced. He could prove to be too arrogant and a “know it all” and soldiers like this were always reckless and rarely followed protocol or orders. They were usually trigger-happy, but he doubted that this last case fit Eric. Vincent was sure that Eric would put himself in the wrong situation at the wrong time and freeze at the wrong moment. There were just some things in life that couldn’t be taught from the academy and could only be learned from in the field. He simply did not have the time to take this young rookie by the hand and teach him what he needed to know in the short amount of time that they no longer had.
He also had to wonder why Eric had left West Point. There was nothing mentioned in his records and this was disconcerting. Did Eric quit because he couldn’t handle it? If this was the case then Eric was a military wannabe and this only led to sloppy situations. The other alternative was that someone higher up had pulled Eric from West Point and had deleted his file. This would mean that Eric wasn’t really sent to protect the CEO, but could have been sent to assassinate him during the riots. Every assumption about Eric only drew a bad conclusion.
Denise Shepherd: Electrical engineer. Mechanical engineer. Minored in computer programming. Graduated from Berkeley. Multiple disciplinary actions for assault.
Again Vincent stopped. That was too bad. From the looks of things, Denise was very talented. His finger traced across the image that had come across his cracked screen. The green tint of the monitor didn’t do her image any justice, yet he still found her attractive.
‘The woman had it all, brains and beauty,’ Vincent thought to himself. ‘Assault charges?’
He shook his head. That didn’t seem to fit. The short time that he had known her she had seemed to be level headed. Then it dawned on him. She was probably getting her fair share, if not more, of sexual harassment. She probably had to work twice as hard as any guy just to prove her worth and when that didn’t work she probably punched someone.
‘Good for her,’ he mused.
Now, she was gone. She had known the risks of going into the engine room before she had entered. She had thought of the needs of others beyond her own safety. Now, the individual that they really needed the most was gone.
Vincent continued to scan through the documents, one at a time. There was Doctor Helena Homan, their oceanographer. Her credentials and experience was just as impressive as the others before her. However, since she had died, Vincent decided not to venture deep into her record. If there was a need, then he could always come back and this he would do if he began to suspect that someone had a reason to kill her.
The next file was Peter McCarty the botanist. He had, like the others, graduated in the top of his class from for a prestigious university, in his case it was Berkeley. The problem was, after his graduation, Peter McCarty disappeared off of the face of the Earth for several years. There was no record of him anywhere. This was very problematic. He could have ended up working for the government who in turn wiped all records of him. Worse yet, he could have his own agenda and just had stayed under the radar for all those years.
Vincent wondered what the botanist was doing all that time. There didn’t seem to be anything that a botanist could run from or to be pulled into secret government conspiracy cover ups or covert operations. That only left personal agendas. These could be worse than any job offered. An individual could quit a job. A personal agenda would not so easily be tossed aside and if this agenda of his was interfering with anything else then there might be conflict that Vincent wasn’t looking forward to having.
The thing was, Vincent knew that he could speculate all day, but the fact of the matter was that he simply didn’t know. He couldn’t deal with things that he didn’t know. Information was always important to any mission and the less he knew the less ideal and more dangerous the situation was and when it came to Peter, he simply didn’t have any information. He would have to keep an eye on the botanist.
Finally there was Tracy Leach. Vincent stopped. There was something not quite right here.
Vincent let his fingers tap through the keys on the keyboard. Various files came up and he shook his head at each one of them. There had to be something here. He tried again and again shook his head. No, now he was sure that he was going about it the wrong way. With resolution he tried an entirely different and unrelated file. A smile came across his face, now he had what he was looking for.
Vincent had received all the information that he needed to know, or at least the information that he was going to get, about the scientists and it was almost time to confront them on what he had uncovered. However, there was something else that he needed to check on first.
Vincent’s fingers moved over the keyboard again until he found the access to several of the ship’s video monitors. These had been placed throughout the ship so the captain would be able to keep an eye on the ship and anyone and anything that he was transporting. The captain had these placed right after the time he was transporting medication from one system to another only to find out that he was inadvertently smuggling weapons for an anarchist group.
The monitor in front of Vincent shifted images between various video feeds that were still active. Most of the feeds were coming back with nothing but static and others had a view that was obscured by falling debris. The live feeds that Vincent was able to see were usually fuzzy at best but he was able to find the video that he was looking for and stopped scrolling as soon as he found it.
The camera was looking at one of the cargo lockers down in the deepest parts of one of the cargo bays. This area had been deemed off limits to the scientists and they had accepted the restriction without protest. They weren’t hoping to stay aboard this ship any longer than necessary and snooping around didn’t seem to be on the top of anyone’s agenda.
A smile came across Vincent’s face. The container was still intact which meant that so was its cargo. He had kept his secret from the ship’s main crew and he had to make sure that it stayed a secret, especially with these scientists. They could transmit news of his contraband to the proper authorities and that would be disastrous. He would do anything to ensure its secrecy.
Movement at the side of the news feed caught Vincent’s attention. There shouldn’t be any movement down there at all. He let his fingers work the controls and let the camera zoom in and focus on the intruder.
“What is he doing down there?”
Chapter: 18
Doctor Peter McCarty rounded another corner. The empty bay echoed with each of his footsteps. The blinking, intermittent lights that were still out of order continued to cast dark, eerie shadows. Light and darkness danced in a macabre scene that Peter didn’t want to be in. It was like some bad horror movie, the type that he would scream at the character on the screen to run away from, to leave immediately. Yet, here he was.
“This is an absolute, sterile mission,” ground control instructors had announced time and time again. Nothing from Earth was supposed to be on board without complete clearance by several layers of scientists, investors and political leaders.
“We cannot risk a contamination on any planet. It’s imperative that this remains a sterile mission.”
They had taken precautions with sterilizing showers on a daily basis. These were extremely hot, hot enough to almost scold his skin and when he had finished each one of them, his body was bright red. Then there was the sterile clothing that they had to wear while making their preparations. These medical blue gowns complete with face masks, blue caps, and blue paper-like stretchy slippers over their feet, and those ugly blue gloves. Each room had been hermetically sealed and resealed upon entering and leaving.
“Our mission is to make the planet habitable for humans, not wipe it out with our contagions. There will be no plants, animals or even microorganisms that will be transported without our explicit knowledge.”
Peter had heard every word, yet he had to shake his head at this. The Earth was dying and with it was every species of plant and animal that ever graced its surface. Now
they were all becoming extinct.
Peter simply couldn’t let that happen. He had spent years studying and appreciating each species of plant that had come across his desk. He simply couldn’t let them all die. If people wanted to kill themselves off, then that was fine by him, but he couldn’t watch as nature was destroyed with them. He had to find a way to preserve these plants before they all died out.
He eventually found the right contact and with the right amount of money the individual would not only turn the other way, but would help him. Of course it was quite a bit of money, however, since the world’s financial situation was going to pot with the rest of humanity, it really didn’t matter how much he spent. The money would be worthless in a couple of years.
Harbinger Page 11
