He was exhausted.
Aboard The Hierophant
It always seemed tense and eerie on the bridge. As if Grouthe was perpetually waiting for something to happen. His crew was accustomed to it—to the way he paced restlessly and murmured to himself every so often—and he supposed that was a good thing.
They were difficult to distract, if nothing else, and he took a certain amount of pride in that.
But even so, it wasn’t an ideal situation.
“Any noteworthy changes?” he wondered, pausing as he crossed the bridge.
“Not at the moment, sir,” his communications officer replied. “We’ll keep you updated.”
He was at the head of his own ship in the space fleet. He was not supposed to perpetually feel an undercurrent of niggling boredom. It was exactly the sort of thing he had joined the military to avoid.
Grouthe continued pacing.
“Sir?”
He ceased pacing for a split second as his communications officer called to him, though he resumed nearly immediately. “Yes?”
“The ship is being hailed by the Corona. Fleet-wide correspondence. Shall I patch it through?” the officer asked.
“To my holo,” Grouthe instructed, letting his pacing carry him to the command chair, where he sat down.
With a brief nod, the communications officer obeyed.
“This is Fleet Admiral Boys of the Corona. I’ve received orders from Estaria. From this moment forth, the fleet is to stand down,” he instructed. “All offensive actions are to be put on hold and we are to wait for further orders. Is that clear?”
Grouthe could hear a chorus of agreements from the rest of the fleet’s command team. He was the last to agree. “Understood.”
The caller didn’t linger after that as Boys disconnected.
Grouthe closed his holo, looking around the bridge as he did. The rest of the bridge crew hadn’t heard the call. For all they knew, it could have been about anything.
Aboard The Empress, Outer System
Molly sat in the lounge with a cold cup of mocha in front of her. There was a strange quiet on the ship still, probably akin to the atmosphere in the holding cells before people were executed in barbaric societies she’d read about. She had a glazed look on her face, as if she wasn’t quite there. For a moment, as Joel came over, he wondered if perhaps his Molly had been replaced by a porcelain doll, with robotically animated eyelids.
He sat down next to her. “I thought you weren’t meant to be drinking that stuff?” he commented, indicating the cup on the table in front of her.
Molly looked up at him as if pulled from the depths of her thoughts. “I’m not,” she informed him. “I just like it there for comfort. And for the smell,” she confessed meekly.
Joel smiled. “Any thoughts about our predicament?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. Oz and I have been working on various combinations to keep us out of harm’s way and stop this from happening, but nothing concrete yet.”
Joel gazed at the table. “It’s okay,” he told her. “You’ll think of something. You always do.”
Molly sighed. “Afraid I may be about to disappoint this time,” she told him quietly, glancing across the lounge at Jack, Sean, Pieter and Karina distracting themselves with a game of cards. “Worst-case scenario, if we have to, Oz thinks that he may be able to adapt shields so that it pulls any missiles from a 180° angle and explodes them against the shields. In this way we can stop a barrage, for a short time at least, from hitting any of the Zhyn fleet. Then it’s a case of how many missiles there are and how many the shields can take. Oz is running the calculation now, but otherwise we’re done.”
Joel frowned for a moment. “Those kinds of adaptations would need physical changes made to the shields. Before we took off…”
Molly held his gaze.
“You already made the adaptations?”
She nodded. “Brock did, days ago.”
“You knew this might happen? And you knew this was an option?”
“I think we all did, if we were honest with ourselves.”
Joel blinked at her in disbelief. “You made those adjustments without even mentioning it to me.”
Molly shrugged. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. No point in having the team dwell on this possibility for weeks. They’d only have been anxious and worried all this time, and wasted the time that they had. The time that we had.”
He took a deep breath. “I suppose you’re right. Of course. Would have been nice to not be in the dark though…”
Molly placed a hand on his knee. “I just didn’t want to do that to you. Not knowing that you would insist on being on this ship when the shit hit the fan.”
He nodded slowly. “I understand.” Then he set his jaw. “But know this: I believe in you. I have faith that you’ll come up with something. I know you, Molly Bates, and even if you don’t, I don’t regret following you here. Not for one second.”
Just then Molly jerked her head, as if someone was talking in her ear. Joel waited, watching her expression change in a way that he couldn’t quite interpret.
“It’s Oz,” she said finally. “He’s intercepted another signal.”
Joel’s eyes widened in fear. “What is it? What’s happening?”
Molly’s brow dipped slowly as she processed what she had just heard. “I think they’ve been told to stand down,” she explained. “It was a message from the flagship to one of their other ships. They were told to stand down.”
Joel’s expression of fear turned to one of elation. “You’re serious?” he asked, barely believing his ears. “Are you sure?”
Molly nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so,” she confirmed.
He pointed towards the others. “We should tell them.”
Molly nodded her confirmation, and Joel got up to go and talk to them. “Hey guys…” he called across the lounge. “Good news. We’re not going to die!”
Molly got up from her seat as if her legs just carried her automatically. She made her way through to the cockpit to share the news with the rest of the crew. As she left the lounge, she heard the others laughing and backslapping, relieved at the new information.
Suedermann Safe House, Undisclosed Location, Estaria
Paige came through from the office. She sighed but her face looked brighter. “Looks like we’ve cracked it!” she announced. “Bourne is just rolling out the fix, but he’s confident that within a few hours we will have regained full control of the holo network. We can expect full service to be restored shortly after that.”
Alisha got up from her slumped position on the sofa. “That’s brilliant news.” She grinned.
Joshua hauled himself out of his chair as well. “I’ll say. No idea what we would have done without you.” He beamed down at Paige from his lofty six-foot-something height.
Paige almost started to blush. “Well it was a close call,” she admitted. “Thank goodness Bourne was on hand to help us out with it.”
“Well it sounds like all the rumors about the Sanguine Squadron are absolutely true,” Joshua remarked. “How about we celebrate with another mocha?” He started moving out of the kitchen.
Alisha interjected. “I’m sure I saw a pack of beers in the back of that fridge,” she called after him.
“Ah, well, beer then?” he offered Paige.
Paige shook her head. “No thank you. We’re going to have to get going. We’ve been away too long already, and it looks like Bourne can do the rest without us being physically here.”
Just then Maya and Suedermann emerged from the office, both of them looking exhausted. “I’ll take a beer,” Suedermann said, catching the last bit of their conversation. “I’ve nowhere to be tonight. Or any other night for that matter.” He grinned playfully at his wardens.
“Alisha?” Joshua offered.
“Sure, why not. We can celebrate and toast to them in their absence.”
Jo
shua disappeared through to the kitchen. “Two beers coming up then.”
Alisha shuffled up closer to Paige and Maya. “Really, thank you. I saw the task force today before I came out here. They were in chaos with the holo problem. If it wasn’t for you, this probably wouldn’t be sorted for several weeks… And things were really starting to come apart at the seams within a few hours. I do believe that you probably averted a crisis down here.”
Maya grinned. “Just doing our jobs, ma’am,” she shot back with a cowboy-like tilt of her head and a pretend cap.
The three of them giggled. “Well, I for one haven’t seen anything that complicated for a while,” admitted Suedermann. “But I was glad to get the old gray matter moving again.” He tapped his head. “Feels good to be useful.”
“And we couldn’t have done it without you,” Paige added. “Thank you, Goran, you’ve been incredibly helpful. I just hope that this means that you’ll be able to go home soon. You know, once we know it’s safe.”
Goran bobbed his head. “That would be nice,” he admitted. “But goodness knows where to find time to do my job again. I mean between my busy schedule of playing solitaire and watching my shows on my holo, I just don’t know if I’ll be able to fit it in!”
Maya chuckled. “I think I heard something similar from my dad after he retired. He used to say he didn’t know where he ever found time to have a job.”
Paige looked a little skeptical for a moment. “Well from what I heard about your father, I don’t think he ever fully retired.”
“You could be right,” Maya confirmed. “I think he tried to keep most of it from my mom, but we suspected.”
Joshua reappeared and handed open bottles of beer to Alisha and Goran.
“Okay,” Paige piped up. “That’s our cue to leave. Thank you for everything. You have our holo addresses in case anything else comes up. Goran, thank you again. Alisha, Joshua… I hope we’re together again sometime.”
“Me too,” agreed Joshua. “Only hopefully in better circumstances.”
Paige grinned, waving over her shoulder as she headed to the front door. “We can but hope,” she agreed.
Maya turned and waved to the others as well, and a few seconds later they were gone out of the door and disappearing into the half-light of the coming morning.
Chapter 12
Aboard The Hierophant
“Patch me through to the main battery,” Grouthe commanded almost as soon as he got off the line from Admiral Boys.
“At once,” his communications officer replied, and in just a moment, Grouthe was on his holo again.
At first, he gave no orders, simply letting the call stay quiet as he got up from his seat to peer over the pilot’s shoulder. Finally, as an unsure “Sir?” came across the line from the weapons specialist, Grouthe nodded once, coming to a decision.
“Fire.”
“As you command,” the warrior on the other end of the line responded.
At first, it almost seemed as if nothing happened.
While he was sure the main battery was abuzz with activity, the bridge was still calm. Some of the older ships in the fleet still rumbled from bow to stern whenever the weapons fired, but Grouthe was not in command of one of those outdated behemoths.
“On screen,” he stated after a moment, and the sensor readings cleared, making way for the primary virtual window, just in time to watch the first bout of missiles sail silently through the dark.
In stark silence, he watched them strike their target. After a moment, he observed quietly, “Quite a sight, isn’t it?”
Estarian-Ogg Space Fleet, Outer System
The Hierophant’s missiles cruised through the darkness and struck their mark, and a moment later, all hell broke loose in response.
The Chimera fired next, followed in quick succession by The Cockatrice, The Omen, The Pyrrhic, and The Wyvern.
The Hierophant was firing its second barrage by then, and it was more than enough to break through even the most advanced shields.
Only two other ships joined in, The Thanatos and The Paladin firing a few pot shots of their own as if they didn’t want to be left out of whatever the action was.
It wasn’t the whole fleet by any means, but when it was focused on a single target, it may as well have been a thousand ships firing.
After The Hierophant’s second barrage, only The Omen and The Thanatos fired a second round.
Even that was overkill, as the deed was done by then.
The stillness afterwards made it seem as if the ships involved were silently acknowledging that it had happened and there was no sense in doing anything else.
Aboard The Empress, Outer Sark System
Joel came bounding into the cockpit just as a second blast erupted against the shields. Bewildered by the sudden attack, he stumbled and caught himself on the railing just about head height.
“I thought they were going to stand down?” he shouted over the noise, shifting immediately into crisis mode. “What’s happening?”
Molly stumbled over towards him, catching herself on a console chair as the ship’s gravitational dampeners rocked back to their equilibrium. She tried to speak quietly so as not to distract Crash and Brock, who were frantically pressing buttons and dealing with the systems in order to maintain the shields and seal off one of the areas that had been hit in the first blast.
“That’s what we understood,” she told him, “but it seems that either one of the ships didn’t get the memo or they are acting on their own.”
“You mean they have another Northern Clan plant on board?”
“And controlling the ship or the weapons. Possibly,” she told him. “Not that it matters now, because four ships around that ship have their weapons at the ready as we speak even though we haven’t returned fire.”
“Surely they can see that something is not right?”
“Maybe. Maybe they are in on it, or maybe they just can’t tell amongst everything.”
“Damn protocols,” Joel exclaimed in frustration. “And damn commanders who can’t think for themselves!”
Molly shot him a glance. “Words I never thought I’d hear Joel say…”
Joel smiled at her briefly, despite the situation they faced.
“Lower bulkhead sealed off,” Brock reported. “That should be okay as long as the shields hold. As soon as we get a pressure differential down there though…” His voice trailed off.
“Well done,” Molly told him. “Shields status?”
“Seventy percent,” Brock called back over the noise of the blasts against their shields.
“Has the shield adaptation been activated?” Joel asked quietly.
She nodded. “Nothing is getting through to the Zhyn fleet. At least not while we’re here.”
“Damn right,” said Brock proudly, interrupting the conversation he was eavesdropping on, despite his massive focus on the controls in front of him. “This baby is going to take every last missile or laser fire in a two-kilometer radius.”
Molly glanced at Joel, noticing his reaction. “Well let’s hope this barrage stops in time. Before we get annihilated, that is,” Joel added.
Molly pressed her lips together. “I agree. But just in case, Brock,” she called, “alert the Zhyn to the situation. Let them know not to fire unless they need to protect themselves.”
“You mean unless we explode?”
“Exactly.”
“Communicating now.”
“So,” Molly said, moving half a step closer to Joel and leaning in. “Do you regret ever meeting me for that drink when I was kicked out for my 4077?”
Joel smiled at her, remembering that first reintroduction to the world of Molly Bates…
Chapter 13
I remember.
Oz, you remember everything.
Yes, but… it was the first real conversation we had as well… Hey, just because I’m non-organic, doesn’t mean I’m not sentime
ntal too…
(Five years previously…) Chenz’ Bar, Downtown Uptarlung. Irk’n Quarter
Remind me why we’re here again.
Remind you? I never told you.
I’m using your syntax to smooth our integration.
Oh, really?
I detect sarcasm.
Yeah, and I never had to utter a word out loud.
Neural connections, baby. I feel you.
Don’t be a wanker.
The AI was silent.
That reminds me…you don’t have a name.
You mean a designation? Sure I do. I am Project Ozimandaus 0922.
That’s not a name.
Yes it is. That’s what your colleagues, Sue and Dickwad-Charles, called me.
Yeah, but that’s not a name. Not like “Sue” or “Charles,” or “Molly.” They were referring to the project. Not you. Plus, it’s a fucking mouthful to say, and no way I’m going to remember that.
I’m not a Sarkian of any variety, and therefore I don’t require a Sarkian designation.
But you are sentient, and you deserve a name.
Even though I hijacked your holo?
AND neural cortex.
Yes. Even though I hijacked your holo and neural cortex?
Yes, even though. Have you got any ideas about what you’d like me to call you?
Baby? Sexy? Hot stuff? Bad boy???
What the fuck?
Molly scrambled in the recesses of her mind trying to recall why he might know those words. They sounded familiar. Shit, they were how she would refer to her crushes. How would he have access to that kind of data?
All right, you arseburger, what gives? What makes you say those things?
I’m just kidding around. To be honest, I haven’t thought about it. What would be an appropriate designation for something like myself? Is there a nomenclature that is relevant here? Or a social convention?
Hmm… not really. I guess my preference would be to give you something easy for me to say, and to communicate with others when the time comes to introduce you to people. Also, I like the idea of using your project designation in a name.
The Ascension Myth Box Set Page 241