Deep Hydra

by Michael Formichelli

  The ship shook again at his approach, but his body was able to compensate in time and he didn’t break stride. He came around the row of three seats, bringing the stern, wrinkled face into view. His uncle—Ichiro’s uncle?—held his attention for a moment before the white scabbard holding Hoshinagi drew his focus. The curved sword was held at an angle against the captain’s chair, its ornate, ray-skin tsuka[6] angled toward Einaga’s side.

  A number of scenarios played out in his computerized mind with each magnetized step he took. Tearing Einaga out of the seat, breaking his neck, smacking him until the blood flowed in red spheres through the air—but ultimately the punishment he decided for betrayal was, as expected, the most efficient.

  Einaga Eiji didn’t look away from the tactical display until Ichiro moved into his direct line of sight. Strained, brown eyes looked up at him in confusion until the twins entered the room.

  “Who is this? Out of the way. Get back to your station—”

  Tanaka moved in a burst of speed, reaching for Ichiro with both hands as he lunged out of his seat.

  Ichiro’s hand shot out, gripping Hoshinagi’s handle. The arc-welder built into the top of the scabbard hissed, re-sharpening the monomolecular edge as he drew it, blade-down, and whipped it across his body. The sword severed both of Tanaka’s arms at the elbows and sent the wayward limbs floating away behind him. Ichiro reversed his grip and swung Hoshinagi back the other way, cutting clean through Tanaka’s head in an arc that included his uncle. He barely felt Einaga’s neck through the sword as he completed his strike.

  Tanaka’s body continued forward and bounced off him, floating away to the side. Einaga’s eyes opened wide and his mouth hung limp. A thin line appeared across his throat, but there was not yet any blood. Ichiro’s optical sensors detected small movements his uncle’s pupils.

  “Right now you are wondering what happened. You feel strange. You know something is wrong but your mind refuses to accept the truth just as it refused to accept that you owed Mitsugawa Ichiro any real loyalty.”

  Einaga’s mouth twitched. His eyes sparkled with the horror of recognition. Behind them the twins moved up to the railing and signaled the crew to mind their stations.

  Armstrong and Tengu arrived in the doorway, but Ichiro did not pull his eyes from his uncle’s.

  “I want you to know that you have erred. Your greed has clouded your judgment, and you have betrayed your people. Your wife is dead. Your sons are dead, and now so are you. Let this be your last regret.” He grabbed Einaga’s head by the top-knot and yanked. It came up without resistance trailing small rubies of blood that flowed up and down like traffic along a busy street. He turned the man’s head around so that he could see his own decapitated body, then let go, allowing it to drift in the air as the last bit of life fled.

  Ichiro turned around. He could see the whites of the bridge crew’s eyes staring up at him from the pit. He raised Hoshinagi with his right hand and flicked it downward, sending a spray of blood globules splattering against the floor.

  The ship shuddered, taking more hits from the enemy. The computer told him the secondary habitat ring was half-destroyed and the ship’s aft-spindle section was down to 68% integrity. Shields were attempting to regenerate but if the barrage of enemy fire kept up the batteries would overload and the ship would explode. He didn’t have much time, but what he said next was critical.

  “Computer, identify me,” he said in a voice that reverberated off the walls.

  “Scanning DNA and biosignature. Identification: Mitsugawa Ichiro, Son of Mitsugawa Yoji, Tennō of Taiumikai, Uchū Shōgun, Saikōkeieisekininsho of the Shiragawa Zaibatsu, and commander of this vessel as of 21:07 hours ship time.”

  He reached back and pulled the scabbard from the commander’s seat. Sliding it into the belt of his uniform he whipped Hoshinagi through the air and slammed it home with inhuman precision. With the transfer of power his computerized mind was opened to the full data stream coming from the ship’s computer. He knew at once where the enemy was and how they were attacking.

  “Come about to 210 mark 71 and accelerate to 13 kilometers per second. Three-gee acceleration burn. All batteries are to return fire on hostile targets,” he said. “And get my people out of the brig.”

  No one moved, save Armstrong, who pushed off the bulkhead door and flew up beside him, grabbing the railing to halt her motion.

  “You heard your Shōgun, move! We’ve a battle to win,” she shouted.

  The ship’s engines flared and a sound like pouring gravel filled the ship. Armstrong let herself fly backward into one of the seats beside the decapitated Einaga and strapped herself in. His head, still floating in the air, whipped back and cracked against the rear bridge wall.

  “Take care of that and the traitor before someone gets hurt,” he murmured to Enéas, who detached himself from the floor with a nod and moved to comply.

  “Ah, my lord, we have a contact exiting Kosfanter’s atmosphere bearing 3-1-2 off the bow,” the watch officer announced in a shaky voice.

  He turned his attention and the ship’s sensors, to it.

  “It’s the Fukuro-maru.” He was surprised. “Is she friendly?”

  “The last record of her indicates she was transferred to your mother after your father’s death,” Europa sent.

  His father’s death. My father was a program and my mother was a bioprinter, he thought. “Hold your fire on the Fukuro. Hail her.”

  “My lord, scans indicate she is using laser communications. Tracking trajectory—the target is the CSS Peleus.”

  Hostile, then, he thought. “Target her with a plasma warhead. No sense in redirecting our batteries for such a small target.”

  “Sir, she’s hailing us,” the comm officer continued.

  Ichiro routed the feed to his own brain and a window opened in his field of vision. He didn’t recognize the dark-haired woman in it.

  “I’m Androdameia Starblood. I don’t have time to explain anything else. The Orion Battle Group is friendly but only if we can get a message to her. Do you still have FTL capability?”

  The woman was bold speaking to him like that, but he saw the determination in her eyes. His brain analyzed her breathing and eye movements being consistent with someone being forthright. A secondary process in his brain checked on the ship’s FTL status while he analyzed the captain.

  “Yes,” he sent back.

  “I have a man on board who the captain of Orion flagship will listen to. Jump over to the Orion and we’ll meet you there.” She cut the feed.

  Ichiro did a quick analysis and concluded that a chance at turning an enemy to an ally was worth the risk.

  “Navigation, get us over to the CSS Orion. Keep your distance, I don’t want to crash into her, just get us into a stable orbit.”

  “Sir!” came the response.

  The ship shuddered again as the FTL spun up with a whine. Trailing a field of glowing debris like a comet, she fell forward into the wormhole materializing before her.

  The tactical display fuzzed out, refocusing as the ship emerged in the system’s exit zone where the Orion orbited the sun. The colored lines sharpened displaying their new position. A large red triangle indicating the Orion materialized directly ahead of them.

  Through the sensors he saw her for himself. A kilometer long, she bristled with weapon emplacements, drone bays, and empty escort-ship docks. Fortunately, they had about four hours before the light from this position reached the inner system. That would keep them safe from the escorts, but if the Orion opened up on them in their wounded state they would not survive.

  “Shields regenerating; 20% and rising.”

  “Firing maneuvering jets and assuming orbit around the Orion. My lord, are you cer—”

  “Hai,” he said and grit his teeth.

  “The Orion’s batteries are coming online. She’s targeting us. Open fire, my lord?”

  “Hold your fire.” He scanned the tactical display, wondering if they were in a trap
.

  “Wormhole forming on the far side of the Orion,” the sensor officer announced.

  A moment later the Fukuro-maru appeared on the display.

  Ichiro watched while the ship’s sensors detected the Fukuro’s laser comm in use.

  The Orion hailed them.

  “Put it on the holo,” he said before the comm officer could announce the contact. “I want everyone present to hear this.”

  The tactical display changed to the spectral image of a pale woman with a narrow face and piercing gray eyes beneath a widow’s peak. She had a blue vein like a river flowing down the left side of her face. Ichiro couldn’t help but stare at it until she cleared her throat.

  “This is Commodore Orithia Graves, CSS Orion. I ask that you stand down as a display of good faith, and to show that my old friend Kae isn’t playing some sick joke on me.” She had a stern tone that brooked no discussion.

  Ichiro looked her over and determined that she was not a person to respect someone who kowtowed to such a demand.

  “Perhaps you should cease to power up yours instead?”

  Tension formed around her eyes and she narrowed her gaze at him. “I have you outgunned.”

  “It does not matter if those guns are not charged,” he responded. “Mine are.”

  She smiled. “Launch the drones.”

  The sensors sent Ichiro the image of hundreds of bent-winged craft spewing forth from the Orion. They formed a cloud around her.

  “Your move,” Commodore Orithia said.

  His mind ran through the possibilities, narrowing them down to the actions most likely to produce the outcome he wanted.

  “We meet on the Fukuro-maru within the hour.”

  She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “See you in thirty.”

  Orithia Graves pushed through the crowded bridge and embraced Kaeden with a tight hug that seemed to go on a bit longer than Meia was comfortable with. She knew that the two were war buddies and old friends but couldn’t help a twitch of jealousy as she watched them. It made things worse that the woman outranked her by several orders of magnitude, even though she was technically out of the service on account of being officially dead, so she shifted her attention to their other guests instead.

  The Baron was shorter than she imagined he would be, and had an oddly neutral countenance she found disturbing. He carried a sword instead of a gun on his hip, which seemed anachronistic until she realized in the close confines of a ship, and given that it probably wouldn’t punch holes in the hull like bullets did, it actually wasn’t a bad choice of weapon. The hard look in his bodyguard’s mismatched eyes made it look like she could eat nails while pounding someone into submission with her bare fists. It was a strange contrast to the lovable-looking cerberai with the green eyes who padded along with magnetic boots on its feet.

  “It is good to see you again Kae, but this is a hell of a situation you’ve put me in. Just by meeting with you I’m going to be up for court martial,” Commodore Graves said.

  “You could always command the Peleus again if you get demoted.” Kae winked.

  “You said the magic words, ‘I found Nero.’ So where is my brother?” She scowled.

  Kae grimaced. “Well… That’s the thing. Daedalus has him.”

  “Again? I thought you told me he was an Abyssian.”

  “He was, but, ah—” he stammered.

  “He overcame Daedalus’ programming and has regained his free will.” Athame stood by Rune, who sat in the curved chair between them. “He also freed me when I tried to return him for analysis and repair.”

  “Analysis and repair?” Graves asked.

  “Nero was an experiment. Daedalus wanted to know what effects turning a free biological organism into one of its servants would have. It plans to do this to the entire Confederation using the Siren nanoweapon,” she continued.

  “And it already has,” Cygni said from the other side of the bridge. With her armacorium recharged she was wearing it like Meia, in armor mode but with her head exposed. “It has deployed Siren on the capital, I mean.”

  “But the result is not as expected. The present mortality rate appears to be over 80%,” Athame stated. “It is, no doubt, using Nero now to refine the process for distribution throughout the Confederation.”

  “How is it going to manage that? Use the military?” The commodore asked.

  “No. Daedalus has been studying ancient artifacts known as ‘Cephalon Spheres’ for decades, and is now able to replicate and control them thanks to the work of Doctor Suman Rega. It will distribute Siren directly, using the spheres’ ability to transport objects instantly through space and time,” Athame said.

  The commodore cocked an eyebrow. Even though she only met him once, Meia thought the gesture made her bear a striking resemblance to her brother. She might not be the only one in the room who thought so, either. Sorina stared at the woman with her ears waving back and forth in the air.

  “I see. Do you have a plan for dealing with the Siren already deployed in the capital?” Commodore Graves said at length.

  “It was deployed from a secret base under the palace.” Sanul’s crystal horns glittered in the dim light of the bridge.

  “Everyone is dead there,” Meia stated with a shudder. “They were killed by an agent of Daedalus. We probably can’t stop Siren from the palace.”

  The Commodore nodded. “Where is my brother?”

  “Deep Hydra,” Athame said.

  “Shit. So he’s as good as lost? Why did you bring me here?”

  “Negative. We have located Deep Hydra.” Athame stated.

  It was with some satisfaction that Meia watched the color drain from the commodore’s face.

  “What?”

  “The present location of Deep Hydra is in the Eye of the Matre.” Athame waved her hand and a hologram of the gas giant appeared in the air above them. The hologram grew until its big, red storm was the only thing visible. A light began flashing at its heart.

  “There is a high concentration of neutrinos coming from this position,” Athame stated. “We scanned it once we reached orbit. It is consistent with what I know of Deep Hydra’s power systems.”

  “And the odds are against anything else technological being there,” Commodore Graves nodded her head. “That’s where my brother is?”

  Athame nodded. “Affirmative.”

  Graves shook her head. “How? Daedalus must have an army, hell, an armada between it and any threat that approaches. I’ve recalled my escorts, but I doubt they’ll be enough to take on Daedalus. His ship’s shot to shit, so that won’t work either.”

  Meia looked to the baron for a reaction, but he remained placid.

  “We have determined a weakness in Daedalus’ defenses,” Sorina stated with a nod to Sanul. Meia noted she did not mention the brain cores from which they obtained the information. “I have a worm that can temporarily paralyze Daedalus’ systems. We have a way to introduce it into the Abyssian network, but it can only provide a window of opportunity.”

  “The Fukuro could slip past his defenses while Daedalus deals with the worm. Once we’re on Deep Hydra we’ll proceed to the extraction,” Meia said.

  “Will you have enough time to make it out with my brother alive?” the commodore asked.

  “That is an unknown variable,” Athame stated.

  “You’ll do it. I know you will.” Rune’s attitude brought a smile to Meia’s face.

  “He’s not wrong,” Kae stated. “If anyone can do it I’m sure it’s the people in this room.”

  “We’re the only ones who can even try,” Cygni muttered.

  “That, too,” he said.

  “These aren’t good odds, and there’s the matter of the Laocoon and its escorts.” Commodore Graves did not look pleased.

  Meia’s nostrils flared and she forced herself to grind down the sudden ire in her gut. She cleared her throat to draw their attention.

  “Besides the fact that I have a score to settle
with Captain Solus, the Laocoon delivered Siren to Calemni IIb and half a dozen other worlds. I’ve got money on it having Siren on board now. We can’t let it get away,” she said with a vehemence that surprised her.

  Commodore Graves eyed her up. “You’ve been in the service.”

  “It was another life,” she said, though it wasn’t the truth. If she was honest with herself, it hurt her to say it.

  “Star Jumper?”

  “Eagle,” she replied, reminded of her first conversation with Kae. The commodore continued to look her over with scrutinizing eyes.

  “What ship?”

  “How’s this important?” Kae began, but Graves held up a finger to him.

  Should she be honest? Anything she said now could be cross-referenced in the database once the commodore returned to her ship. She wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. They were about to face Daedalus, and the odds of survival were low enough that she thought being honest might be consequence free.

  “The CSS Iapetus, under the name Androdameia Ironstar.”

  “Ironstar? As in Sanevar Ironstar?”

  She nodded. The mention of her father’s name drew a shroud of meekness over her confidence.

  “You’re Sanevar’s daughter?”

  Again, she nodded.

  “And you served with Solus. I see where that passion comes from now. To tell you the truth, I did think he was a bit of a bastard when I met him.” Commodore Graves put one arm across her chest and raised the other to tap her lips with her fingertip. “All right, I’ll help you out. I owe your father that much.”

  “You knew him?” Her eyebrows went up.

  “Yes.” Graves left it at that, though her eyes shone with the mystery of it. “Getting my people to fight their own is going to take a lot. Do you have any proof about Milo?”

  “Milo?” Cygni asked.

  “Captain Solus,” she replied.

  “I have records that show he marooned me, tried to kill me with Star Jumpers and then Siren,” Meia said.