“Really? I hadn’t noticed that either.”
A laser blast scored a direct hit on the Solace, which apparently couldn’t maneuver during this thrust increase. The shields dropped to twenty percent.
Another laser blast tore through the shield’s and struck the ship’s hull. Siv braced himself, but nothing happened.
“No damage?” he asked.
“Not enough power left to puncture the hull after going through the shields, sir. Coming up on the rough break.”
A breakpoint was far enough out of a system's gravitational effects that there was no risk involved in making the jump. A rough jump, however, was made at the minimum distance at which survival was possible, though by no means guaranteed.
“The infiltrator is targeting the reactor core, sir. They’re not playing safe. They’re going for a kill. Attempting to jam…”
Mitsuki grabbed Siv’s right hand. They exchanged anxious smiles.
“Jamming failed, sir. Lasers fired.”
Silky began counting down. “3…2…1…”
Siv had no idea what Silky was counting down to, the breakpoint or the lasers blowing up the fusion reactor, so he closed his eyes, breathed, and braced himself.
The Solace jumped a moment before the infiltrator’s lasers struck. The ship’s frame rattled so much that Siv worried it would break apart as it bucked into hyperspace. Deep aches drilled into his teeth and bones. His insides turned to jelly.
A deafening boom sounded, and the ship lurched violently, tossing them to the side. After several more quakes through the frame, the rattling stopped. Then the Solace’s maneuvering thrusters kicked in, and the ship began to slow, relieving the g-force affecting them.
“What the hell was that boom?” Mitsuki asked.
“The secondary engine broke off,” Silky replied. “They extended it out from one of the cargo bays I had thought was empty. It was a nice trick. Though that engine was a piece of junk.”
“Was it just me, or did we rough jump early?” Siv asked.
“Two seconds earlier than recommended for a rough jump, sir. But not a second too soon either. Our survival estimate for that jump was approximately forty percent.”
Mitsuki cursed.
“The ship has sustained light hull damage, and many electrical systems were overloaded," Silky reported. “Also, and you're not going to enjoy this, but the heating system is at twenty percent capacity. The estimate for repairs to reach seventy percent functionality is three to seven days. I recommend layers and cuddling.”
A few moments after the inertial dampeners finally caught up, Oktara returned. The calm demeanor he bore was obviously forced. He stared at them for several minutes, and Siv and Mitsuki both knew it was best to say nothing. He took a deep breath and locked his eyes on Siv as if he could peer straight into his soul.
Siv shuddered and looked away.
Oktara finally spoke. “I am not happy.”
“We understand,” Siv replied.
“We have safely avoided Kaleeb’s ship,” Oktara said. “But not without damage to the hull, numerous electrical systems, and the loss of our secondary engine. I expect significant compensation.”
“We will pay you as much as we can afford now, and we’ll owe you one in the future,” Siv assured him. “Silkster, were we moving faster than the infiltrator when we entered hyperspace?”
“We were not, sir. The infiltrator’s speed was twenty-five percent greater.”
“There’s a problem, though,” Siv said. “We haven’t avoided the infiltrator. It will reach the Titus system before us and lay in wait.”
“It can wait all it wants,” Oktara replied. “We changed our coordinates at the last moment. We are heading into deep space. And we will stay there for a few days. In the meantime, I suggest you make yourselves comfortable in here. I will have food brought to you.”
“Are we prisoners now?” Mitsuki asked.
Oktara shook his head. “This is for your own safety. In case any of my fellow Hydrogenists forget their vows and decide to act out against you for leading them into danger.”
Before they could say anything else, Oktara hurried out of the room, locking the door behind him.
“You know what?” Silky said. "That dude has a suspicious definition of imprisonment. And by the way, I've now broken through all their security screening. There's some bizarre shit on this vessel."
12
Siv Gendin
Siv walked over to the viewscreen on the wall and watched the multicolored clouds stream by as the Solace sped through hyperspace.
“So this bizarre shit you mentioned…”
“Where to begin, sir… I’ll tackle the ship first. It’s much more than the rickety tub it seems. There are multiple, highly advanced defensive systems installed on this vessel. A second, much stronger shield array than what they were using. Jamming emitters. A cloaking screen. Holographic projectors. Ship repair nanobot tanks. Four flak cannons, a top-mounted, deployable, rapid-fire, three-sixty-degree, quad plasma cannon. And a second bottom-mounted one. That’s prime battleship-class weaponry.”
“Tickle me stupid,” Mitsuki said. “Why the hell didn’t they use any of that earlier?”
“We nearly died,” Siv added. “What’s the point of keeping all of that gear secret if you don’t use it when you must?”
“They didn’t use those systems because none of them work, sir.”
“And they’ve never bothered to repair them?” Mitsuki responded.
“Maybe they couldn’t afford to,” Siv said.
“It’s true that the cost of repairs would be astronomical, sir. I’m not sure if any ship-deployable holographic projectors remain in operation anywhere, and I know cloaking technology is rare.”
“Well, that’s a reasonable excuse,” Mitsuki said.
“It would be, Batwings, except that all the systems themselves are one hundred percent functional.”
“I’m confused.” Siv furrowed his brow. “You said they weren’t working.”
“All of those systems depend on an advanced ship control module.”
“So the control module is the problem?” Siv asked.
“You are correct, sir. And the ship’s AI cannot control any of those systems on its own.”
“Not even the plasma cannons?” Siv asked. “That seems odd.”
“It’s how the system was routed, and apparently, they couldn’t figure out a way to bypass the control module.”
“Why do these freaks have such an advanced ship?” Mitsuki asked.
“No idea,” Silky replied.
“What about the other Hydrogenist ships out there?” Siv asked.
“Sir, if they are capable of using any of this equipment, there is no record of them having done so. While this much larger ship does have ten times the firepower of the Outworld Ranger, where it really shines is in defense. Any pirate vessel would be hard pressed to make a dent in this ship. With return fire, the Solace would easily destroy anything short of a serious military vessel.”
Siv nodded along. “So what you’re saying is that anyone who dared take them on wouldn’t be alive to tell the rest of the galaxy about it?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Why not replace the control module?” Mitsuki asked.
"Only prime military vessels were equipped with control modules like these," Silky said. "And most of those were lost in the Fall. They could replace it with a less advanced control module. In tandem with the ship's AI, they could regain functionality with a few of those systems. But the most basic control module capable of that would cost a fortune, if you could even find one available and not in use."
“Seems like a poor way to design a ship,” Mitsuki said.
“To you, Batwings. But things were different a century ago. And these modules were built to last.”
“If they were built to last, then what happened to this one?” Siv asked.
“A malfunction leading to software corruption, sir. Given the e
xtent of the problem, the Benevolence itself would likely have had to execute the fix back when. Who else today could do such a thing?”
Siv chuckled to himself. He knew exactly who could perform a fix like that, and he knew exactly who was probably already going through every line of code in that module's software.
“So how long will it take you?”
“To do what, sir?”
“You know what.”
Silky laughed. “A few days…a week…several months… I cannot yet say for certain.”
A bargaining chip of that magnitude would be incredibly useful. He started to say so, but he could tell from the gleam in Mitsuki’s eyes that there was no need to state the obvious.
“You said you were tackling the ship first. What else is there?”
"Inside their inner sanctum, there is a vault, far more secure and shielded than the hidden weapon caches. In it are seventy-eight containers."
“What’s in them?” Mitsuki asked.
“No idea, Wings. The ScanField-3 isn’t powerful enough for that. It’s hard enough to penetrate through all their security measures even when I’ve cracked them.”
“Clearly the security measures don’t route through the control module,” Siv said.
“A separate, less advanced module manages those, sir.”
“Anything else?” Siv asked.
“Two genetic alteration chambers, sir.”
Alter boxes were once used for disease correction and body augmentation: breast reduction, eye color change, body hair removal, and so on. But for whatever reason, they were especially susceptible to the Tekk Plague.
Siv’s eyes widened. “Ekaran IV only had two functioning chambers on the entire planet.”
“And the Hydrogenists have two of them on their ship?!” Mitsuki exclaimed. “They could sell them and make a fortune.”
“I’m sure they could sell the one that works, the one I understand,” Silky said. “But the other chamber, the nonfunctional one, isn’t a standard alter box. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Are you sure that’s what it is?” Siv asked.
"I'm certain it must be, sir. What I don't understand is all the additional components added to it. Components which make no sense to me."
“Is it broken because of the plague?” Mitsuki asked.
“It also has corrupted software and firmware. And unlike the normal chamber, it needs the control module to function.”
Siv smiled. “So a certain someone with extensive software knowledge and an advanced intellect could possibly fix it as well?”
"If a certain someone had already repaired the control module, assuming that certain someone could do such a thing and if that certain someone knew what in the Sam Hill this chamber was…then possibly. But we're talking extensive software and firmware problems. I'm not sure what happened here, but I'm guessing this ship ventured through a massive ion storm."
Siv considered everything Silky had just said. “I think it’s fair to say that the humans here with basic alterations were modified in the functioning genetics chamber. And that the divergent ones like Oktara were modified to be whatever it is they actually are in the second chamber.”
“It’s a more than reasonable assumption, sir.”
“In that case, it looks like we have leverage here,” Siv said.
“We seem to,” Mitsuki countered. “But only if a certain someone who thinks he can do what only the Benevolence could do way back when is as good as he thinks. Otherwise, the knowledge is useless.”
“How so?” Siv asked.
“Put your brain in gear, sir. We can’t know their secrets and walk out of here. Not a chance they’d allow that.”
“Of course,” Siv replied. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I’ll keep studying these systems and the Hydrogenists themselves and let you know if I find out anything else surprising.”
They all sat in silence for a few minutes. Siv shook his head. It was going to take a while to absorb all this information and try to put it into context with a group that seemed like a bunch of halfwitted, religious nimrods crusading around the galaxy studying gas giants.
He suddenly remembered something Silky had said.
“Hey, Silkster, who’s Sam Hill?”
“I’m not certain of that either, sir. I think the devil maybe.”
“The devil?” Mitsuki asked.
Silky began to lecture her on traditional Terran religions, but Siv told him to focus every bit of processing power he had on the problem. Mitsuki could look up ancient religious figures in her own time, using her own chippy.
For two tense days, the Solace drifted along in deep space. Siv and Mitsuki waited, effectively imprisoned, within Oktara’s personal chambers. A bathroom was accessible via a hidden door, and there was a bed that could be pulled out from the wall. Meals were brought to them three times a day, and it wasn’t the worst food Siv had ever tasted.
The cultists who brought the meals and took away the plates wouldn’t speak or acknowledge them in any way. Siv told them he wanted to talk to Oktara, and he even said it out loud, assuming the room was monitored. But Oktara didn’t come.
While they waited, they refined a plan for busting themselves out and taking over the bridge. Siv hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but there was no way to know for sure what the Hydrogenists would do.
Silky tapped into their communications and security camera feeds and then patched B in so she could monitor everything while he continued to probe through the code on the command module. But she hadn’t picked up anything useful. The bastards didn’t talk much, and when they did it was either about day-to-day tasks or their religion. Siv assumed the Hydrogenists would debate what to do with them, but B had seen no sign of it.
“The ship’s databanks might have useful information that could tell us their history and origin,” Siv mused.
“It could, sir, if I spent a week at full capacity trying to crack their database password.”
“It’s that tough?” Siv asked.
“Think of what it would take for me to hack into a bank, then triple it.”
Siv and Mitsuki spent much of their time doing research on their own. They now knew more about the Hydrogenist religion than any nonbeliever could ever possibly want to know. And yet, in reality, they knew nothing of the cult's deeper, secret beliefs and purposes. Siv still suspected the religion was nothing more than a cover for whatever they were actually doing and whoever they actually were.
Silky disagreed. “Sir, it might be a cover for deeper mysteries, but they are religious freaks nonetheless.”
Late on the second day, Oktara returned. His demeanor, as usual, was calm.
“The Solace will not be going to the Titus system,” Oktara told them. “We’ve decided to study the three gas giants in the Kor system first, loathe as I am to deviate from our schedule.”
“As if the order of stupid things matters,” Silky commented.
“What about us?” Siv asked.
“Normally, I would say a deal is a deal, but I will not expend or risk any further resources. We will drop you off at the nearest starport, and you will pay us for damages to the best of your ability.”
“Time to bargain, sir?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s imperative that we make it to the Titus system,” Siv said in a pleading tone.
“I have gotten word of how things are there,” Oktara said. “You are traveling into a death trap, and I will not venture there for any reason. I will not put myself or my crew at risk.”
“Maybe tell them about the messiah?” Mitsuki suggested.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Oktara said, “I don’t know if you’re pursuing or working on behalf of the latest hyperphasic messiah, and frankly, I do not care. My people come before idealistic crusades with no chance of success.”
“Please,” Siv begged.
Oktara shook his head. “You will be confined here but otherwise treated fairl
y until we can drop you off at our convenience.”
“It’s time, sir.”
“Can you do it?”
“Partially, yes. Entirely? Not certain yet, sir.”
As Oktara stood and headed toward the door, Siv took a deep breath. “We can fix your ship’s broken control module.”
Oktara froze mid-step. “It cannot be fixed.”
Siv noted that Oktara didn’t ask how they knew about the control module.
“The software is corrupted,” Siv said. “I can fix that.”
Oktara whipped his head around. “I have hired no less than fifty experts to repair it. Only three of them even tried. And they came to the same conclusion. The system cannot be fixed.”
“I can do it,” Siv assured him.
“You, sir? That’s hilarious.”
Oktara walked over and sat on the cushion facing them. He flicked his eyes between Mitsuki and Siv.
“Neither of you can do this,” he said.
“My chippy can.”
“Your chippy can fix this code?” Oktara laughed. “I have an 8G chippy. It’s laughing about that.”
“I have a 9G-x,” Siv said. “It’s laughing at your chippy’s ignorance. And it insisted I tell you that.”
Oktara stifled a smile and closed his eyes for a moment. “I believe you think this is possible. But you are desperate and likely, of course, to try to persuade me with promises of the impossible.”
“Yes, we are desperate,” Siv said. “That’s why I’m telling you this now. I didn’t want to say anything earlier when I wasn’t sure I could fix it, because I suspect you would do almost anything to keep your secrets safe.”
“That sounds like a wise course of action,” the cult leader responded. “Our secrets are important. You have a bargaining chip now, obviously. If you can restore the control module, I will gladly see that you reach Titus II.”
“Sir, I was lying about only being able to partially fix it.”
“You can’t do it?!”
“Oh, I finished it last night, sir. I’ve been working on that weird-ass genetics module since then. Ask him about it.”
Breaking Point Page 8
