by Rob Dearsley
Dannage touched the back of his neck. If the SDF found out, they’d use him. He’d be their bloodhound, hunting down the Terran ships so the monster cruisers out there could burn them.
Wait. Was he sympathising with the Terrans? They’d ripped his family apart. Done their damnedest to destroy everything he cared about.
But the fear Terran ships back at Granite IV had felt was real, and still vivid in his memories.
He shook the thoughts away and followed the Doc along the corridor. Careful to not look into any of the other labs.
Vaughn stopped at a door, waving his flex against the control panel. The door opened with a hush of hydraulics and the doctor waved them through.
The cool antiseptic tones of Vaugh’s lab made a stark contrast to Craven’s basement lab. Dannage felt a damn-sight more comfortable here.
The room, with its walls dominated by myriad displays and cluttered worktops, didn’t feel quite like Vaughn’s work-space. Back on the Folly, the Doc had always been so tidy.
The Doc led them around a frosted glass wall into the back part of the lab. This part looked like a scaled-up version of the folly’s medical bay. Screens and terminals still lined the walls, but the equipment carts surrounding a pair of beds were neatly arranged and the worktops were clear of all but the bare minimum equipment. Vaughn led them past the beds to where Aarav prepped a scanner arch set against the far wall.
“Please lie down here.” Aarav gestured to the narrow gurney that glided out from beneath the arch on smooth, silent runners.
This was it. After this, they’d know once and for all, and there would be no going back.
As if knowing what he was thinking, Arland placed a hand on his shoulder. Dannage passed his coat to her and hopped up onto the gurney. With a barely audible hum of motors, then slid back until the white curve of the arch filled Dannage’s vision.
“Ready?” Aarav asked.
Stars, no. But he said, “As I’ll ever be.”
A high buzzing emanated from the scanner, and Dannage felt a tingling pressure build in his head, almost painful. The taste of copper filled his mouth. Was this normal? Or had the Terrans done something to him? Closing his eyes, he focused on the sounds of his friends to distract from the uncomfortable sensations of the scanner.
“- is amazing.” Vaughn sounded excited. “Look at this cluster here.”
“Yes,” Aarav replied. “It’s like the brain’s adapting to the extra input, forming new pathways. Do you think he can control it?”
“If he could control it,” Arland snapped, “do you think he would be here?” He could imagine Arland getting up into Aarav’s face, they were about the same height.
Then, the buzzing died down and it was like a giant hand released Dannage’s head, the sudden disappearance of the pressure left his head spinning. Swallowing the coppery taste, Dannage swung his legs off the gurney. Arland passed him his coat.
“So?” he asked, looking between Vaughn and Aarav. Both scientists had the same excited shimmer to their eyes. He’d been counting on Vaughn to side with him, protect him from the worst of whatever the SDF wanted. But seeing that expression, scared him. The Doc – more likely Aarav – could too easily get carried away and forget it was his problem. It wasn’t like this would be the first time.
Vaughn tapped one of the displays to life. The brain scan appeared as swirling motes of light, amorphous clouds representing Dannage’s thoughts and emotions. Or maybe he was putting too much emphasis on it.
“This is your brain. See this cluster of activity here?” Vaughn pointed to an angry red scrawl at the back of Dannage’s head. Dannage nodded. “And see how it links into the primary sensory regions.”
With a wave of Vaughn’s hand, the screen split, one half continuing to show Dannage’s brain, the other half showing a different scan, the motes and clouds moving much faster. It still looked human enough. “This is a scan of Commander Hale’s brain. See the same section on hers?” On Hale’s scan, the area was dark apart from almost invisible dark blue whorls that reached out into the rest of her mind. “That’s her ship-link implant. See how it has the same connections?”
Dannage smiled at the thoughts of the Terran woman. He and Luc had been the ones to find her on the wreckage of the Ancient fleet. Locked in cryosleep for nearly fifty-thousand years.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Dannage raised his hands, stopping Vaughn. Was he becoming a Terran? Was that even possible?
Before Dannage could vocalise his questions, Vaughn divided the screen again, bringing up a third scan. “This is a scan from one of the turned. He wasn’t originally given a ship-link.”
Large areas of the Turn’s brain were dull and passive, most of the rest was dominated by the same angry red scrawl as Dannage’s. Was he turning into one of them, a Turned? Was it his destiny to destroy everything he loved, become one of those mindless things?
Part of him wondered if it would be so bad to lose his mind. Would he even notice it happening? Or would he just look back one day and realise he’d been the monster all along?
“Are you saying I’m becoming one of them?” he asked.
“No.” Vaughn shook his head. “The morphology is closer to the ship-link. But naturally occurring and there’s not Terran specific genetic markers. We also detected micro-scarring around the base of the skull, your skull. We can only guess at the cause. But it has to have been when the X-Mind linked with you.”
“So, how do we fix this? What about the blockers we gave to Hale?”
“Maybe.” Aarav waved away the scans. “But it would only be a short-term solution. Taking something like that long-term could cause brain damage.”
Dannage looked to Vaughn for confirmation.
The doctor nodded, his eyes going distant. “Hale? Maybe. Of course, that might work. She’d know for sure.”
Arland caught the doctor’s arm. “Mind letting the rest of us in on the conversation?”
Vaughn shook his head, his eyes refocusing. “Sorry. Hale trained for the ship-link, lived with it for years. Maybe she can help. Maybe she’s even seen this sort of ‘bio-link’ before.”
Hale was here? Of course, she was. The SDF wouldn’t have let her go anywhere else. Dannage hadn’t seen her since the memorial gardens. She’d only been part of the Folly’s crew for a few weeks, but Dannage had grown to like and respect her in that time. It would be good to see her again. And the Doc was right if anyone knew anything about this Terran mind linking crap it would be her.
“What are we waiting for, then?” he asked. “Let’s get gone.”
Vaughn held up a forestalling hand. “It’s not that easy. She’s being held in a different part of the system. I’ll have to clear it with the higher-ups. I don’t see why they wouldn’t authorise it, but it’ll take a few hours. I’ll make the calls. Simeon can show you to the staff canteen or quarters if you’d rather get some rest.”
Of course, it would take forever. Political wheels turned slowly at the best of times, and Dannage’s inner cynic reminded him that spinning this out would give the SDF more time to study him, to weaponise whatever was happening to him.
Not that they had any choice in the matter.
◊◊
The station’s spartan canteen was much the same as any other SDF canteen Arland had eaten in through her truncated military career. Stippled plastic benches flanked rows of steel table tops that glinted in the industrial overhead lights. The food was reasonably fresh and better than a lot of what she’d endured in her time.
Opposite her, the captain – Dannage – picked at his meal. His eyes distant, the tension visible through his face. Could he hear them now? He’d told her they couldn’t reach him on the highways. Was that the only peace he got?
At the other end of the table, Vaughn and Aarav talked in hushed tones. They were supposed to be helping the captain. But at the moment, they seemed more concerned with studying Dannage’s problems than reversing them. She just hoped they’d made the right decisi
on – that she’d made the right decision in bringing them here.
She glanced at Dannage, he was a shell of the cocky git she’d first met. Or the loyal nut-case she’d fallen for. There had to be a way to bring him back from this. Please, stars. Let there be a way to bring back the man she’d known, the one who had – almost literally – run through fire to save her.
The sudden rap of metal against metal drew Arland from her musings. The captain pushed his tray away, rising.
“Cap’n?” Luc asked, concern obvious in his voice.
“Just need some air.” Dannage marched toward the door, head hunched.
Arland pushed her own, hardly touched, meal aside to follow him.
Outside, the captain leaned against the wall, arm braced, head bowed.
“Sir?”
He shook his head not looking up. She was about to go back to the others and leave him be, when his hand clamped around her arm, pulling her closer.
“Arland, I need you to do something for me.”
She replied without thinking, “Anything.”
He took a breath, raising his head, their gazes locking. His eyes looked haunted and sunken.
“If I turn into one of those things, if I turn against the others, I need you to stop me.” He pressed two fingers to the side of his head miming a gunshot. “Understand”
“No!” How dare he ask her to do – to even consider – something like that. She wouldn’t kill him. Not after everything.
“Damn it, Arland. I need you to do this.” He grabbed her, pulling her closer. “I need to know you’ll stop me before I- before I hurt anyone.”
“It might not even come to that, sir. Vaughn will find a way-”
“But he might not. Please, promise me. I don’t want their deaths on me.”
But he was happy for his death to be on her? The selfish git. “Michael. I, I…” She faltered under the intensity of his gaze. “Okay. But only if there’s no other option.”
The captain slumped back, spent. “Thank you.”
Arland placed a hand on his cheek, the rough stubble scraping against her palm. “We’ll find a way through this. We always do.”
He placed his hand over hers. An achingly familiar action.
Vaughn found them like that some time later. “Good news. We got the authorisation back from command. We can go to see Hale.”
In spite of everything, Arland smiled. She and Hale had become firm friends during the war. They’d messaged each other since, but Arland hadn’t seen the Terran for nearly five months. She wondered how the fleet was treating her. Despite what Hale said in her messages, worry gnawed at Arland. Her imagination furnished her with images of Hale locked up in some lab, perpetually connected to machines designed to monitor and record her every living moment. Every thought.
The curve of the hallways lessened as they spiralled their way toward the outer surface of the module and the docking bays and gondola stations.
A pair of double security doors opened onto the gondola station. Like everything else around here, it was standard SDF prefab. Rubber grating absorbed their footfalls and ranks of unused gondolas hung from rails at the back of the room. Beyond the static field, the piecemeal station stretched out its spiderlike arms, while the Feynman waited further out. As they crossed the station compartment a gondola clunked into the docking port and started its circulation around the room at walking pace. The doctors climbed into the simple carriage and waved for the others to join them. The carriage was larger than standard, supporting six people instead of the usual four.
The gondolas were the epitome of KISS – Keep it simple, stupid – engineering. The carriage was little more than a box with an atmo exchanger on the top, designed to be shot on a ballistic trajectory between docking stations.
They rushed from the station, the sudden acceleration rocking Arland forward in her seat. Seconds later they were in space, the acceleration gone. Nearly all feeling of movement gone. Around them, the station rolled passed at a leisurely rate. If she didn’t know it for a fact, she wouldn’t believe they were travelling at nearly ten meters per second.
Arland turned to see the looming maw of the receiver heading toward them and braced herself for the vertiginous rush of acceleration as they locked into the receiver unit. The carriage jolted as they connected to the cable that would guide them around the station and back out again. Arland was on her feet as soon as the gondola had steadied.
Vaughn put out a hand to stop her. “We’ve got a-ways to go yet.”
Arland frowned.
“Two more stations to go,” the Doctor said.
Arland settled back, watching the comings and goings on the gondola platform. A couple of men in bright orange, lifting exoskeletons loaded large crates into a waiting gondola. Dannage’s reflection slumped down on the bench, his eyes closed.
A moment later they rushed back out into space.
Like Vaughn had said, they passed through two more stations without getting off. Both times the guide rails turning them slightly to the right. During the journey, they passed a couple of gondola cars coming back the other way.
“Hey Doc,” Luc said, breaking the silence. “Does this go all the way around the station?”
“Just this quadrant,” Aarav replied.
It was Luc’s turn to look surprised. “Just how big is this place?”
Vaughn replied, “There are nearly two-hundred interconnected modules in the main station.”
And there were at least two dozen stations and throughout the system, researching different elements of the Terran technology plus the shipyards that were building the new Plasma Cruisers. What would all the refugees think if they knew how much the Systems’ Defence Force were spending keeping the lights on out here?
Vaughn spoke, looking over Arland’s shoulder. “This is our stop. End of the line.”
Arland twisted around. During all her comings and goings, she’d never been to this part of the facility. Maybe they’d wanted to keep her away from Hale. This station wasn’t another prefab, it looked more like a converted scout ship. Its single craft drop bay retrofitted with the gondola station. As they got closer, Arland could also make out the flitting forms of fighters running patrol.
They hit the receiver with the usual rushing sensation, before breaking down to near walking pace. Arland was the first out buoyed by thoughts of seeing Hale again, followed by the Captain and Luc, Vaughn and Aarav bringing up the rear.
The gondola receiver had been retrofitted into a hanger bay easily large enough to fit the Folly in alongside the station. Supply crates were stacked against the far wall. A pair of infantrymen met them on the station, the chitinous black of their hard-shell reflecting the overhead lights, their rifles held loose across their chests.
The shorter of the two soldiers stepped forward, letting his rifle swing from its strap. “Command told us to expect you. Please follow us.”
They led the crew through a high door and into the ship’s wide hallways. Closed bulkhead doors dotted the walls at regular intervals, the metal scarred and dented. In fact, the more Arland looked around the more signs of battle damage were apparent.
Something rankled Arland, the station didn’t feel quite right. There was something familiar here and it made her skin crawl. She suppressed a shiver as they turned left onto a crossway and infantrymen stopped either side of a door. This wasn’t SDF prefab, so what the heck was wrong with this place?
It wasn’t until they passed through and into a lounge of sorts that she got it. Everything was built to Terran scale, slightly bigger than was comfortable for modern humans. This must have been an old Terran ship, it would explain the damage.
The shorter soldier turned to them. “Wait here with Adams while I get Miss Hale. She’s excited to see you again.”
While they were waiting Dannage hopped up onto one of the sofas his legs swinging off the ground. He patted the cushion next to him, indicating for Arland to join him. Declining the offer, Arland took the o
pportunity to explore the room. It wasn’t large – at least not by Terran standards – just big enough for the pair of sofas and a low coffee table.
The far door slid open with the whining of motors and Hale strode in, her six-five height eating up the distance and leaving her SDF guard jogging to keep up. Her dark hair was loosely pulled back.
“Dannage? Arland? It’s good to see you again. I was wondering if they were going to let me…” Hale’s eyes met the captain’s and she stopped dead.
“What’s going on?” Adams asked, his hand going for his gun.
Arland tensed, ready to jump in between Adams and Dannage. “Don’t,” she warned him.
Adams’s hand stayed near his gun, but he relaxed slightly, watching Hale and Dannage. “What’s going on?”
Vaughn and Aarav rushed over to the captain and Hale, pulling out their flexes. Seeing the scientists lack of concern, Adams moved off, joining the other guard on the far side of the room, both soldiers shifting to an air of watchful disinterest that Arland saw on anyone who’d done guard duty often enough.
“This is interesting. We should get them both into scanners,” Aarav said, drawing Arland’s attention back to Hale and Dannage.
After a moment, Hale shook herself, like a dog shedding water. “Angels, Dannage. What have you gotten into now?”
Dannage sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve not got any plans for today.” Hale shot Vaughn and Aarav a dark look.
Arland frowned, what did she mean by that? Hale was being kept here – for her own safety, according to the SDF admiralty. More likely they were worried about the reaction if the public found out. They didn’t honestly think they could keep Hale here for the rest of her life, did they?
The captain explained what was going on. Hale’s expression became more and more concerned as the story went on. Arland got the impression Hale knew this or had seen something like it before.
Dannage finished telling them about Donna. “I guess Craven had modified her with genes from the Turned or something?”
“Wait,” Aarav cut in. “You actually controlled her? I wonder if you can control a Turned?”
