That’s when he realized that he didn’t miss dogfighting so much after all, even though he was still slightly itching to test the StarFury.
Chase looked at the emperor, who had stood silently at his side during the entire battle. He turned towards Chase with a grave look. It was as if no words were needed between the two men. Chase knew full well what that look meant.
Commodore Saroudis commed in.
“Well done, everyone, that was a well-orchestrated battle.”
“Indeed it was, Commodore. But I think we might have a problem.”
“Anything wrong with the Hope?”
“No, she is one hell of a ship. But the timing of the Zarlack attacks towards the allied—” Chase paused just a bit, and corrected, “Obsidian—forces is more than suspicious. I think we may have a spy in our ranks.”
“Or it could be simply coincidence, Chase. We are, after all, on their territory.”
“Yet the Zarlack opened fire on their supposed allies?”
“Right, that is a little more difficult to explain. What does the emperor have to say?”
For the first time in twenty minutes, the emperor took a few steps forward to face the main holo-display, before he spoke.
“I have to agree with the Lieutenant Commander. Somebody must have tipped off Argos.”
“Then the rest of our plan could be in jeopardy. Perhaps we should delay the attack on the shipyard.”
Chase interjected. “I don’t think we can afford to, Commodore. While the Hope is now more than capable of dealing with their bigger destroyers, we only have one ship. As long as that shipyard exists, Argos will be able to churn out an inordinate number of them. It could put our newfound tactical advantage at risk much sooner than we can afford, were we to wait any longer.”
“I concur,” said the emperor, coldly.
“Very well, but I’m under strict orders to not take unnecessary risks with this battlegroup. Should things get hotter when we arrive at our destination, we may have to retreat.”
“But, Commodore—”
Saroudis interrupted Chase.
“I have my orders, Lieutenant Commander, and you will follow mine this time. Are we absolutely clear on that?”
Chase wanted to argue, but bit his tongue instead.
“Like crystal, Commodore,” he said reluctantly.
Argos was sitting on his ready room throne, reviewing a recent battle report where combined Obsidian forces and Earth Alliance had wrought a rout. He had clearly miscalculated the size of the force coming to attack the shipyard, but it had given him some interesting tactical information nonetheless. Since that skirmish had merely been a decoy for him to position his next trap for Chase, it didn’t much matter. He brushed it away.
He kept thinking about the next phase of his plan, but had to admit that the formidable firepower of the Earth Alliance new destroyer-class ships gave him pause. He would need to get Chase out of his precious ship for his plan to work. But he knew full well where his brother’s weaknesses lay. His precious Sarah! It was his Achilles’ heel. Everything he had done until now depended on that very fact.
An incoming communication buzzed noisily. His engineer had hired the DTs in hopes of helping him decode the Olympian communication, another crucial part of his plan. Finally, there was some updated news.
“What do you have to report?” he asked coldly.
“With the help of DTs, I’ve managed to get some of the communications decrypted. But only parts so far, since the encryption is highly variable and complex. I’ve managed to get a thirty second, or so, audio segment so far, as well as the frequency used to transmit the messages over subspace.”
Argos smiled. The next phase of his plan clicked into place in his head with the news he just received. All was well.
“Very good. You did take all the precautions I mentioned regarding information and DTs?”
“Absolutely. We used non-networked terminals that I had wiped as per your request. The data and results are quadruple encrypted; only both your and my DNA provide access to the data. Nobody is getting their hands on that research.”
“Good. Since we have audio, how complicated would it be to replicate one of the voices in that recording? Assuming you have an Olympian on that part of the file?”
“I do. A female voice.”
“Aphroditis… Can you replicate her vocal patterns? Perhaps we could use the same subspace transmission method to send a message of our own?”
“Let me check if I have enough conversation to make a good clone of her voice for you to use.”
Meanwhile Argos continued to sift through the data from the previous battle. The EAD Hope would clearly be a thorn in his side, and he would have to make sure that this ship wouldn’t ruin what would be coming next. In hindsight it might have been a mistake to make sure the agent on Earth failed her mission, seeing how easily it dispatched one of Argos’ strongest ships. Fortunately, overwhelming numbers might prove enough to keep it at bay. After all, Chase was coming to destroy the shipyard, still thinking that this was what Argos would fight to protect. Argos had a tactical advantage he could exploit in that faulty intel expectation. The tech resumed communication.
“Yes. I have all I need to make a vocal clone. You should be able to communicate with whomever you want, passing as this female, as long as you feed the system a destination for the signal. A connection must be made first, though, but then afterwards you can hijack the line and replace its content.”
“That seems less than ideal.”
“I know, but I still wasn’t able to determine how the sender identifies its target in subspace. It must have something to do with DNA. I would guess DNA is also embedded in the transmission, so that the brain receiving it is able to decode on the fly, like a genetic decryption key, if you will. Honestly, this is where things get blurry for me. If we could get our hands on the source hardware for the transmission, then I’m confident I could get you even more control in the future.”
“Understood. Keep at it. Try to locate the source of the signal. Also, the second a new signal is detected, make sure you hijack it and transfer me control with the voice clone enabled.”
“I’ll write these subroutines right away. You’ll get a red-coded alert as soon as a signal is detected. All you have to do is acknowledge the alert, and the system will do the rest.”
“Your efficiency, as always, is highly appreciated and will be rewarded accordingly. I need you to do one thing more for me, though.”
“Anything, Master.”
“I need you to send the decode key via subspace to the terminals our agent has placed on Earth. It’s time the humans realize we can strike at their very heart and in ways they never anticipated. That should shake their confidence about any protection the membership in the Alliance brings them.”
“Won’t that give them the time to prevent the attack, and save themselves?”
“This particular mission was never about destroying Earth, even if that was one of the possible outcomes. But they need to think that it was. Fear can be a powerful tool if used the right way.”
“Understood, Master. Decrypt key sent.”
Argos terminated the communication. He got up from his throne and walked towards the nearest glass to look at the stars. Soon all the pieces would fall into place. He allowed himself a rare smile, contemplating the vast emptiness of space from his current view.
24
Spiros groaned under his breath. He opened his eyes, relieved to see he was still undiscovered, safe in the narrow crawl space. He had no idea how long it’d been since he’d lost consciousness. One thing was sure though: the little he could feel from his leg was feeling wet, which wasn’t a good sign. He was bleeding badly. He’d have to attend to that wound quickly, or he could die here. He tried to regain his bearings.
He tried to activate his neuronal HUD but it wouldn’t power up. Over-clocking had been reckless, nearly costing him his life. He hoped with all his heart that the spark
he felt within his cranium shortly after recovering the coveted file didn’t fry his databanks or short circuit things, or all of this would have been for nothing.
He visualized the path he’d taken from the armory in his mind, trying to approximate where he was. He reckoned he wasn’t too far from the infirmary, and that would have to be his next stop. That is, if he reached it in time, before bleeding to death.
The next few minutes were agonizing. Spiros finally arrived at the infirmary. He carefully removed the vent panel after wiping blood off his fingers, moving as gently and quietly as he could under the circumstances. Then he took a deep breath and slowly lowered his head out of the vent, peering down into the room. It was empty. He sighed in relief.
But the next step wouldn’t be fun, and he knew it. His injured leg remained unable to move, so descent would be complicated. Fortunately the vent was right on top of a medical bed. There was only one thing to do: leap and hope. Try to land on it.
He crawled forward a little more, as his pain receptors sent another wave of painful jolts through his body. Then he tumbled from the vent, as artfully as he could. He landed face first on the medical bed but was unable to stay on it for long. The momentum of the fall dragged the rest of his body down off the bed. He crashed unceremoniously to the ground. The agony from the failed landing almost made him lose consciousness again, but he fought through the veil of darkness the pain presented.
He knew full well that another accidental nap time would probably prove his last. That thought alone sent enough adrenaline through his system that he could crawl another few meters. He reached a medical cabinet. He located the strongest painkiller and injected himself with it. A slight sense of relief came with the reduction in pain, but he wasn’t out of the woods just yet.
He located a stabilizing foam gun and managed to twist himself around just enough to shoot the foam into the open stab wound, and the fizzling pink foam quickly stopped the bleeding. He could feel the nanites starting to heal the surrounding tissues, and was enormously glad. Yet he instinctively knew he’d reached the limits of his endurance, and that moving would be a liability in this state. He decided to stay down temporarily and replenish some trace of his strength, lying on his back. He knew that anyone could enter at any moment, but also that most of the Zarlacks had left the base. What were the odds? It was high time that he get some lucky breaks.
Ten minutes passed. Now or never, he had to implement the next phase of the plan, before more Zarlacks came looking for him. As if on cue, an alarm sounded in the hallway. No doubt they had discovered his previous victim. Spiros lifted himself on his good leg to the nearest terminal, solemnly attaching his gas mask. He redirected command controls to the medical bay’s terminal, looking for his backdoor and hidden subroutine in the ventilation system. After entering a few more commands, the canisters of poison began opening, disseminating all over the station. He queued in a few more commands and had the noisy alarm bells canceled as well, before finally letting his tired body sink back to the ground.
He figured he would wait about five minutes time, then it would be safe for him to move freely around the station, knowing that he’d be the last life form standing.
But as the doors of the infirmary slid quietly open, Spiros’ heart skipped a beat. He could hear heavy panting from someone standing in the room, but couldn’t see them from his angle. There was no way he was in shape for another fight, so what was first fear quickly turned to terror. Spiros’ heart started pounding louder and louder inside his ribcage, as if trying to escape to save itself. He heard irregular footsteps coming his way.
He was absolutely paralyzed by fear and helplessness. Finally, one horrible foot loomed into sight around a counter, followed by the terrible image that Spiros wished he would never see again. The huge reptilian loomed over the counter, looking like any prehistoric giant predator ready to devour him. He noted that the Zarlack’s respiration was labored, but took little reassurance from it because he had absolutely no idea how long it would take for the poison to kill it. They were known to be formidably resistant, resilient creatures.
Spiros stared into the eyes of the creature: dark red with orange specks and yellow patches, a thin, vertical dark line for a pupil. The Zarlack opened his mouth to reveal row after row of sharp, yellow teeth. Then he looked at Spiros, who instinctively closed his eyes and played dead.
Then began the most horrifying seconds of Spiros’ entire life. The beast roared an incomprehensible sound. Perhaps he would just leave? Focusing on not trembling, he dreamed of easy, simple solutions.
Spiros suddenly realized how futile closing his eyes was, since he was wearing a standard, Star Alliance gas mask with tinted-glass viewports. So he opened his eyes again. The horror of the image almost forced him to close them back on the spot. The creature had leaned towards him, sniffing the air. His face was right in front of his, sharp teeth bristling out. Spit drooled from the Zarlack’s opened mouth and fell on the lenses of the gas mask, partially obscuring the terrifying view.
That’s it, thought Spiros, this is how I die.
The Zarlack pulled up slightly, deciding to check if he was still alive by hitting Spiros lightly with the back of his hand on the side of his ribs. He tried to not make a sound or react, but part of his body jerked nonetheless. The Zarlack saw through the ruse, raised his body and unleashed the most horrifying scream Spiros had ever heard. Another jolt of adrenaline surged through him, and he knew he had to attempt the stupidest thing imaginable. He had to crawl away from this monster, the one with a look of pure hate and murderous intent in his eyes.
He slid on the ground a few mere feet before the Zarlack closed the distance, screaming again with his right arm raised to strike. Sharpened claws popped out of every one of his four fingers, and he only closed his wicked mouth to ready himself for the kill.
Spiros looked left and right, desperately trying to spot some means of survival. Panic flooded his soul: there was nothing of use nearby. He crawled some more and instinctively clambered behind a wheeled table just within reach. He jerked it as strongly as he could while the Zarlack thrust forward sharp claws. The chariot impacted the beast’s legs with enough force to make him lose balance, and he crashed right next to Spiros. With their heads right next to each other, the beast’s huge, gaping mouth represented Spiros’ entire horizon. It sneezed while writhing in pain, and some gooey liquid that seemed like nasal snot mixed with thick blood obstructed the gas mask viewport even more. Spiros tried to rise but slipped on the wet floor, impacting again with a crack.
The Zarlack too struggled to get back on his feet. Just when Spiros thought that all hope was lost, the creature abruptly collapsed on the floor again with a horrible respiratory rattling sound that resonated around the room. His tree-trunk of an arm pinned Spiros to the ground, and the sharp pain that followed made it seem that Spiros had likely broken one or two of his ribs.
The Zarlack stopped breathing. But alive or dead, Spiros’ torso was being crushed by what felt like a ton and a half of corpse weight. He could barely breathe. He tried to wedge his way out, but the body wouldn’t budge. Freshly awash in pain from the broken ribs, Spiros started to choke; he needed to get free. The room had begun to spin.
But then he saw it. Next to him were most of the tools from the wheeled table he’d thrown forward at his attacker. He lifted his head and felt another jolt of pain from a pinched nerve that forced Spiros to blink his eyes to see straight. At arm’s length he saw the unmistakable outline of a laser scalpel. He extended his arm as far as he could to reach the tip of the small tool with his blood-splattered fingers, an audible crack accompanying each lunge. It took a few tries until he managed to get a good grab, but he got it and immediately turned the scalpel on. A brightly lit blue blade hissed to life and flickered with a low-pitched humming sound. It was time to cut the Zarlack’s massive arm, time to be free. It took much longer than he expected. The scales on the Zarlacks were almost metallic; it probably took a full minut
e to melt them all. But eventually the arm was separated from the lifeless body.
Spiros threw the scalpel blade aside and used both arms to heave the severed limb off his chest and aside. At last he could finally breathe! He slowly regained composure and strength, enough to rise up and survey the wreckage. He almost slipped on the huge, wet mess all across the tiles. Dumfounded, he spent a moment planted on his ass, contemplating the dead Zarlack on the ground, wondering at his own survival.
Finally he grabbed a medical scanner from the ground and performed a quick self-check. While he’d sustained injuries, it seemed none of them were life threatening at present. Now was as good a moment as any… So he leaned his back on the nearest wall and took a well-deserved nap.
He awoke, and immediately verified at the terminal that the poison canisters had fully emptied. He then started ventilating and recycling oxygen for the entire station. It took a few minutes until the station’s computer gave the green light for air quality, and chirped confirmation that the poison contaminants had been fully flushed. He waited another few minutes to be sure, and then removed the mask from his face.
Sweat poured from his face, finally free from the steamy mask. He got up as best as he could, though it took an incredible amount of effort and energy. He limped over to the nearest regeneration chamber, on the other side of the infirmary.
When he arrived he waved his hand in front of the door control with an exhausted yawn, and it sprung open from the middle. He climbed in the chamber, toggling the control from inside to close the door, and hit the green control that would activate the regeneration sequence.
Liquid filled the pod and entered his lungs. He’d never liked how the regen liquid felt. Though it provided the body with oxygen, it always felt weird and unnatural. But in his current state he had no other choice; he needed to be back on his feet. As the light within the pod turned on and the machine started to hum, Spiros knew that he no longer needed to stay conscious. The machine would awaken him once it had finished healing his body, so he closed his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Universe in Flames – Ultimate 10 Book Box Set: An Epic Space Opera Adventure Page 71
