Battlegroup Vega

by Anders Raynor

  Talia explained the situation to her sister in low voice, then added, “We need to retake control of the craft.”

  Clio winced. “You’re crazy? We’re not space marines.”

  “If we do nothing, chances are we’ll all be dead. I think the hijackers took the cabin crew and Jon hostage.” Talia grabbed a medical kit and took out a vial with colorless liquid and an inhaler. “We can create an airborne sedative with that. Help me.”

  Both sisters were qualified medical doctors specializing in emergency medicine. They were used to working quickly and under pressure, so it took them mere minutes to create a sedative and fill the inhaler with it. Talia fixed a plastic tube to the nose of the inhaler and introduced the tube into a ventilation vent.

  The door to the cockpit whooshed open. Talia stared in terror at the barrel of a blaster aimed at her head. The blaster belonged to a male wearing a black mask.

  “Stop that,” he hissed. “Put that thing you’re holding on the floor and follow me. One wrong move, and I fry you both.”

  Talia raised her shaking hands and stepped forward. “I’ll go with you, but please leave Clio alone. It was my idea—”

  “Shut up and move it,” the man snapped. He escorted the two sisters through a narrow corridor. There was an open hatch in the floor. “Down,” he ordered.

  Talia climbed down the ladder and found herself in a dimly lit storage room. As she turned around, she saw another man, his face barely visible in the feeble light of a holo-screen.

  Yet she recognized him immediately. “Jon? Why are you doing this?”

  He gave her the same wistful smile as earlier. “I’m sorry, Talia, but my name is not Jon. I’ve been working undercover for almost two years now.”

  Talia felt as if her heart had been frozen solid. “Working for whom?”

  “It’s not too late, Talia,” Jon said, ignoring her question. “You can still rejoin the Taar’kuun civilization. The same goes for you, Clio. Come with us.”

  “Traitor,” Talia spit. “How could you betray your own species?”

  Jon—or whatever his Taar’kuun name was—shook his head. “We aren’t human. The Homo sapiens are extinct, victims of their own sins. This new mankind is a deception. I know who I am, and where my loyalty lies.”

  He punched a button, and a series of characters appeared on the holo-screen above the device. “For what it’s worth,” he added, “I’m grateful to you for allowing me to discover sensations I didn’t even know I could experience. Alas, we cannot afford to leave any witnesses behind. If it’s any consolation to you, your deaths will be quick.”

  Jon opened another hatch and disappeared into an escape pod, followed by his accomplice, who still pointed his blaster at the sisters. When the hatch closed behind them, Talia dashed to the device Jon had activated.

  “It’s an antimatter nuke!” she cried. “Must be. If this thing goes off, the craft will be vaporized.”

  “Can we disarm it?” Clio asked in a panicked voice.

  “Let’s see…” Talia’s eyes dashed from the holo-screen to the device, a black cylinder about a meter high. “There must be a deactivation code, but I’ve no idea what the code is.”

  “The characters are Taar’kuun. You know Jon better than anyone; did he tell you anything that might help?”

  “He didn’t like to talk about himself, but I learned a few things about his past. He was in an internment camp. That’s where the Taar’kuun recruited him as a double agent, I guess.”

  “You know the designation of the camp? At least the name of the planet?”

  Talia entered the name of the planet, but the screen flashed red, and the countdown continued. She tried all possible designations for an internment camp that came to her mind, but the result was the same.

  “The countdown is reaching zero!” Clio yelled. “Please, do something. I don’t wanna die!”

  Talia hugged her sister in a tight embrace. “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Clio.”

  She shut her eyes as the countdown reached zero.

  09

  Prelude to apocalypse

  Five years after the Retroforming, Tethys

  Talia remembered the day she was drafted into the ASF. At that time, Clio was still recovering from the traumatic experience they’d survived. The device Jon had left in the spacecraft was indeed an antimatter nuke, but the detonator hadn’t been set properly. Maybe Jon had made a mistake while setting the bomb, or maybe he’d spared Talia and Clio on purpose. Anyway, the experience left both sisters with psychological scars.

  That didn’t prevent ASF recruiters from offering Talia a job. They desperately needed qualified personnel to fill the crews of their brand-new warships.

  Talia didn’t get a position on one of those brand-new ships though. Instead, she ended up on an obsolete Cetus-class destroyer, serving under an old and eccentric captain.

  “Hypothetical scenario,” the captain said when he interviewed Talia. “You’ve got two crew, an officer and a rookie, both in critical condition. You can operate on only one. You’ve 30% probability of success with the officer, and 60% with the rookie. What do you do?”

  “I put the officer in stasis and operate the rookie,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Wrong,” the captain snapped. “Stasis pods consume too much power, and I need all the power I can get in a fight. You operate on the officer. I hate losing my officers. If they’re dead, we’re all dead.”

  If I do as he said, the rookie is doomed, and I’ve 70% probability of losing both patients. She kept this thought to herself though.

  “I didn’t get the job, then?” she asked hopefully.

  “You wish. I give you the passing grade. Now, tell me, doctor, do you think Biozi missiles are sentient? They do have a biomimetic brain, so they might be sentient, right?”

  Three years passed since then, and a lot happened. Talia’s adventures with Adrian Darus were the most memorable, when they’d rescued a human child created by Biozi geno-architects on a planet called Ophelia. Adrian named her after that planet.

  Talia was sitting at her desk in the sickbay, staring at the pale disk of Tethys, when an urgent message arrived. Talia blanched as she read it. It said that Clio was hospitalized in the Vega system. The doctors who treated her were uncertain she would recover after surgery. Captain Hunt was copied in, and he gave Talia permission to return to Vega-IV.

  Talia shoved the essentials in a suitcase and hurried to the ship that would take her to her native world. As there were no regular flights from Tethys to the capital of the Alliance, she had no choice in terms of transportation. She had to board an Astacus, which brought back the memory of Jon. This was a bigger, modified version of the earlier model, fitted with a black hole drive and more powerful thrusters.

  The Astacus docked directly to the Remembrance. An autopod took Talia to the airlock and through the corridor that connected the ships. When she boarded, the cabin crew checked her identity and showed her to her seat. The craft was half-empty as the only passengers were people working for the diplomatic delegation.

  Talia put on a virtual reality helmet and immersed herself in a sim of Vega-IV. The sim was so realistic she could barely distinguish it from reality. She walked the familiar streets of her native town, felt the warmth of the sun and the caress of the breeze on her skin. Familiar scents brought back memories; happy memories, and bittersweet ones.

  She lost track of time, and emerged from the sim hours later, when the stewardess brought her lunch. One of the passengers was watching the news on a holo-screen, and she caught a disturbing glimpse. Anxiety gripped her as she switched on her screen. The 3D image of Vega-IV appeared in the air in front of her, oddly distorted, as something interfered with the signal transmitted by the cam.

  “We’re receiving confusing and inconsistent reports from the Vega system,” the commentator said. “We’re transmitting from Ceres, as our headquarters in the capital city isn’t responding. This may be
due to an unusually powerful solar flare disrupting all communications in the system.”

  “I’m sure this is nothing,” said an elderly woman sitting in the same row as Talia across the corridor. She gave her a smile that was supposed to be reassuring. “You’ve family on Vega? Husband, children?”

  Talia offered her an ambiguous smile. “I’ve family, yes. My twin sister. We’re not identical twins, but we were engineered from the same genome. We went through training together, then worked side by side in a Taar’kuun hospital until the Retroforming. After the rebellion on Vega-IV, we decided to stick together, but we were separated when I was drafted into the ASF three years ago. We still stay in touch, of course. She’s my only family.”

  “I’m sure your sister will be all right. What’s your name? I’m Anna.”

  Talia’s smile broadened. “Nice to meet you, Anna. I’m Talia. Do you have family on Vega?”

  Anna nodded, her white hair shimmering under the light from her holo-screen. “I’ve got three children. Not my natural children, of course. They were newborns, fresh from maturation chamber, when they retroformed. Poor little things; they were so scared and confused. The Biozi locked us up in one of their damned camps, but fortunately the adults were allowed to look after the kids. When we were liberated, the Alliance gave me custody of three of those little demons.”

  “That’s very noble of you. I…” Talia hesitated for a second. “I was always so busy with my work that I never had time for kids, or any private life at all, to be honest.”

  Anna gave her a knowing smile. “Come on, such a lovely young lady like you, I’m sure you had plenty of suitors.”

  Talia blushed and turned away. When she was about to reply, her screen showed the blue sphere of Tethys.

  “Breaking news,” the commentator said, nervousness creeping into his voice. “We just learned that the chancellor of the TGS has been assassinated. The peace talks have broken off. We’re receiving reports of a firefight in the palace.”

  An icy shiver ran down Talia’s spine. “Adrian,” she whispered. When the screen showed Vega-IV, her thoughts returned to Clio.

  “We’re also receiving disturbing images from the capital world of the Alliance. The malfunction we experienced earlier was not due to a solar flare. Vega-IV is under attack. I repeat, Vega-IV is under attack by a massive armada of bioships.”

  Talia closed her eyes. She hoped this was a nightmare, that she’d simply fallen asleep and was dreaming, and that everything would return to normal when she woke up.

  Yet, when she opened her eyes, the images of the apocalypse were still there, all too real. Destroyed orbital stations were falling planetward, veiled in a mantle of fire. Wrecks of destroyed ASF battleships drifted through space. The Biozi armada was breaking through the defenses and approaching the planet.

  “Attention, all passengers,” announced the captain of the Astacus. “Our craft has to change course. We’ve been ordered to rendezvous with a convoy of civilian ships.”

  The passengers met this announcement with cries and exclamations. They jumped from their seats, all talking at once and bombarding the cabin crew with questions.

  “What about Deneb?” a dark-skinned woman shouted. “Any news from Deneb? My husband and my children…”

  “We need to get to Vega!” a stout man in an expensive suit yelled. “I demand to talk to the captain!”

  “Return to Tethys!” a middle-aged woman implored. “My husband may still be alive!”

  A bald elderly man collapsed in his seat. Talia dashed to him and shouted, “He’s having a heart attack. Give me a medical kit, quickly!”

  The stewardess brought her the kit. The passengers stood quiet, watching Talia as she treated the man.

  “You’ll be all right, sir,” she said, once she’d done all she could to stabilize his vitals. “Just take deep regular breaths and try to relax.”

  “How can I?” the man wheezed. “We’re all going to die now. How could they? How could our people assassinate the chancellor? I thought humanity was better than that.”

  “Our people didn’t kill the chancellor,” Talia told him. “This was all part of a Biozi plot.”

  “How’d you know that?” the man asked.

  “Because the Biozi attacked Vega before the chancellor was killed. But try not to think about that, just relax.”

  “Is there any point in trying to live this human life?” he whispered, thinking out loud. “The Biozi will re-assimilate or exterminate us anyway. But I’d rather die than be re-assimilated.”

  Talia had no answer. She stood and looked at the crowd assembled around her. “Please return to your seats. We may have to stay on this ship for longer than expected. We’re in a crisis. This means there are no passengers on board. From now on, we’re all members of the crew. We have to rely on one another and work together to increase our chances of survival.”

  “Who put you in charge?” the stout man asked. “I’m a level-seven diplomat and the highest ranking official on this ship.”

  “Didn’t you hear what the doctor just said?” another passenger retorted. “We don’t care about ranks. We must work together to survive this. Let’s make ourselves useful and inventory food and other supplies we need for a long stay on board.”

  They set to work, not because it was urgent, but because that task gave them something to focus on and take their mind off the war.

  When Talia returned to her seat, Anna took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Well spoken, young lady. Don’t worry, I’m sure your sister’s all right. I know my children are all right too.”

  Anna looked through the window at the distant stars, then added, “And if they’re gone, I’m sure they’re at peace. They’re in a better place now.”

  10

  Prisoner

  The Astacus had to change course several times to avoid Biozi warships. All comms with the Alliance were lost, and the people on board had no idea what was going on.

  “I’m sure the ASF assembled a fleet and kicked Biozi asses, like a year ago,” said the level-seven diplomat between two sips of brandy.

  Talia shook her head. “I hope so, but I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking. If the Biozi blame the Alliance for the murder of their chancellor, they will stop at nothing to destroy us.”

  “So what would you propose?” the diplomat challenged her with a condescending smirk. “Abandon our worlds and flee into dark space?”

  “Uncharted space,” Talia replied evenly. “Dark space refers to the void between galaxies. The Milky Way is huge—around 300 billion stars. Even in a million years, the Taar’kuun managed to explore only half of it.”

  The diplomat opened his mouth to make some cutting remark, but at that moment the cabin lights went off, and the captain announced that a Biozi destroyer was following the Astacus.

  “Please remain calm and return to your seats,” the stewardess told the passengers.

  Talia sat next to Anna, who was holding a little cross, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

  “You’re not praying, my sweet?” Anna asked. “With a mystical name like yours, I pictured you as a believer.”

  Talia shook her head. “I’m not a religious person. I chose this name because I liked how it sounded. I didn’t know it had any mystical meanings in the languages of the ancients.”

  “Then I’ll pray for you and your sister,” Anna said.

  The craft jerked to the side and started spinning. The passengers screamed. Through the window, Talia glimpsed the glowing trail of a missile headed toward their craft.

  A flash lit the cabin. The craft shuddered.

  Talia’s cell communicator beeped. She looked at the device and realized the call was coming through an emergency channel only the crew of the Remembrance would use. She took it.

  “Dr. Galen,” Captain Hunt greeted her. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, captain, I’ve never been happier to hear your voice.”

  “You’ve got a bandit on your six.
We’re taking care of it. By the way, there’s someone who wants to say hello.”

  “Talia?” asked the intimately familiar high-pitched voice.

  “Clio?” Talia’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, thanks God, you’re alive.”

  “You’ll chat later,” the captain interrupted them. “This is a military channel. Dr. Galen, I need you for a priority op. Get ready to board my ship.”

  Of the battle, Talia saw only flashes. A few minutes later, the Remembrance maneuvered alongside the Astacus and docked. Talia said goodbye to Anna and dashed to the exit. Beyond the doors of the airlock, an autopod waited.

  It took her not to the sickbay, but to a narrow room with a squad of marines in dark-blue body armor. Riley Lance was leading them.

  “Welcome on board,” Riley greeted Talia, and pointed at a locker containing a combat suit. “Gear up, please.”

  Talia gave her a puzzled look, but didn’t ask for explanations. As any ASF officer, Talia was used to obeying orders without asking questions. She yanked the suit on and donned her helmet. The squad climbed into a claustrophobic boarding pod, and Talia squeezed into the G-seat assigned to her.

  “Hang on, the acceleration is merciless on these things,” Riley warned her.

  Talia tried to control her breathing. Just as the seat belts strapped themselves around her, the engine growled, and the G-force expelled the air from her lungs. Her eyes filled with a host of fireflies.

  The boarding pod raced toward its target. Talia couldn’t see what was happening outside. After the acceleration phase, it started decelerating, and she felt the G-force again, but in the opposite direction.

  The pod came to a halt with a thunderous clang. When she could breathe again, Talia avidly gulped air.

  “Go, go, go!” she heard Riley shouting.

  As the seat belts disappeared, she staggered forward. The rattle of blasters mingled with explosions and shrieking of the Biozi. The marines didn’t wait for Talia, thrusting forward so quickly she could barely keep up.

  “Formation delta-seven,” Riley ordered the squad. “Smoke grenades. Watch out at forty-five.”