“Why did it set it back?”
“They said because it scared people. Bridgette became a recluse for a time, Isabelle didn’t dare try it and public opinion of Eternals and shifting in general fell to an all-time-low. It wasn’t until after the Prometheus disaster that Jason invented the...”
“Oh, I know this, I know this,” I interrupted. “The shadow drive, right?”
“Yeah, the shadow drive made it possible for ships to shift without the need of a human mind. This removed any chance for error.”
“Wow,” I said. “I never knew the history of it.”
“History was never your thing.”
I smirked. “Not much of any subject is my thing, right?” I paused. “I don’t even know why I wanted to be a nurse - I wouldn’t have the grades for it.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You wanted to help people - that’s what counts. Who cares about grades?”
“Uh, the school,” I pointed out. A somber thought struck me then. “I don’t even know if they’ll allow the undead to go to school.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Kimberly asked. “You’re no different than you were before and you’re in your senior year. You need your degree.” She stroked her chin. “Though I guess your father could probably hire tutors for you and you could just take the exam.”
“I meant college,” I said.
“Eh, college is overrated. Besides, do you really think our planet is going to recover from this?”
“You think we’ll be refugees?”
“I think a lot of people will be either dead, undead or living and left to flee to another safe world. It stands to reason the undead would be fleeing too.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I admitted. Once again, the reality of the situation hadn’t fully hit me. I hadn’t thought of the implications on a planetary scale and how that would affect my home world - the only place I’d ever known. A thought struck me, along with a melancholy feeling. “It won’t matter to you though, will it? You’re going off to train with the FIA, right?”
My friend shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll be away for years training and I don’t really plan on coming home, either. There’s nothing left for me here.”
I remembered her tales of how her father was the only family she had on the entire planet. Her mother had died when she was young, and both her mother’s and father’s families were on another planet in the Federation far away. The thought brought the feelings of loss regarding my mother to the surface and I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I should be going. I’m going to check on my father and see how the war effort is going. I’ll check in with you later.”
My friend smiled. “It was good to see you, Rachel. Thanks for visiting.”
“Of course.” We shared one last embrace and I left the room.
“Where to now, miss?” Terrence asked as the door to Kimberly’s room slid shut.
“To the bridge,” I said, enjoying the feeling of command - perhaps a little too much. I started leading the way toward the transport tube. I hoped I could catch a hint of what Isabelle wanted to speak to my father about.
“But your father said he would call for you when the fighting was done,” Terrence pointed out.
“Well, I’m impatient and I want an update,” I replied.
“Atta girl,” Phillip said.
Chapter 7
The doors of the transport tube opened, revealing the bridge ahead of us. The guards posted outside didn’t try to stop us this time.
“Well, that’s refreshing, not being challenged like before,” Phillip noted, putting words to my thoughts.
The door to the bridge slid open and the cacophony of organized chaos met our ears, much like before. Only this time, it felt more desperate. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but the voices sounded worried.
My father stood there, his back to me, animatedly gesturing to the holo-map.
Isabelle, who I could scarce believe was my cousin, stood across from him, scowl on her face. She noticed me first, but her expression didn’t change as her gaze shifted back to my father.
Feeling slighted, I approached, noting Terrence and the others again stayed in the hall on the other side of the doors. I would have to ask if there was some silent command or established protocol that required they stay outside. “What’s going on?” I asked.
My father’s head jerked around as he acknowledged my presence. “Rachel.” He didn’t sound particularly pleased to see me. “I thought I said we would meet after this conflict was resolved.”
“You did,” I replied, bucking up my courage. “But I got bored. And I wanted to see for myself how things were going.”
“You got bored,” my father stated in what I had to admit was the flattest tone I’d ever heard him use. “You got bored?” This time his voice had heat to it, and his cheeks were growing redder by the moment. “Well excuse me while I call in a circus to entertain you,” he said it in the same heated tone, with a heavy helping of sarcasm, though the volume hadn’t increased. “Children get bored and go places they aren’t supposed to. You led me to believe you were an adult. Which is it, Rachel?”
Around the bridge, chatter of humans present in the room stopped, while reports from humans on the ground, or their AI, continued to pipe through speakers, a stark reminder I was interrupting the war effort.
I would have blushed furiously if I wasn’t...you know...dead. “I...” I stammered, waffling between an angry and humble reply. On the one hand, I wanted to shout, to slam my fist into his face, but the reasonable part of my brain said that wasn’t how a daughter treated her father, no matter how angry she was. And they certainly didn’t do it twice in twenty-four hours in the same exact place. I inhaled out of habit and tried again. “I’m sorry. I wanted an update on the war effort. If I’m being a bother, I can go.” There, play the guilt card.
“Let her stay,” Isabelle chimed in from behind my father. She smirked and winked before smoothing her face into a neutral visage. “She is the daughter of the supreme commander. She may need to know this stuff one day.”
My father heaved a heavy sigh, face still red, then blew it out slowly. He eyed my cousin from the corner of his eye, then nodded and met my gaze. “Your cousin is right. Perhaps I should have included you from the start.” He gestured to the holo-map. “Please, observe.”
It wasn’t quite the apology I’d been expecting, or at least hoping for, but it was as close to one as my father would give while in public. “Thank you,” I said in my best imitation of a meek mouse. I stepped up to observe and told myself I wouldn’t ask too many questions. That admonishment died as I saw how much the map had changed. “Are we losing?” I blurted before I could stop myself. I cringed, expecting a glare from my father.
Said glare never came. Instead, my father seemed to deflate slightly and heave a defeated sigh. The kind of sigh when as a child I would draw on the walls after he told me not to for the umpteenth time. Like that, only lives were on the line. “Unfortunately.” He pointed and the holo zoomed in on one city. “Velmar City has fallen, which is not wholly unsurprising, but the speed at which it fell is. We lost dozens of good Marines and hundreds of citizens while they awaited transport.” The image panned out at a gesture, showing a sea of red peppered with blue islands. “Any place not walled has fallen hours ago and even those cities with walls are feeling the strain as the undead form human siege ladders, climbing on top of one another to reach the tops of the walls.”
“Did the transports from that one admiral ever arrive?” I asked, the admiral’s name forgotten.
“Admiral Helsvyn. Yes, they arrived a few hours ago and we put them to use, but it’s still not enough. Add to that multiple transports being hijacked and destroyed by the undead and we’re almost back to where we started.”
“They were improperly transporting the undead,” Isabelle pointed out. “Probably in their haste to get out of the danger zone. Not that it did them any good.”
“
Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “The undead stole a transport?”
“Hijacked may have been a poor choice. They broke free and killed everyone aboard. We were forced to destroy the transports en-route rather than risk exposing a capital ship to a ship-full of unrestrained undead.”
“So, the nuclear option is looking more probable,” I guessed, a sick feeling settling into my stomach. If they nuked the planet, would they also eliminate any of the “cured” like me?
“Unfortunately,” my father admitted. “Once all the living are evacuated we will have decisions to make. Her father,” he tilted his head in Isabelle’s direction, “believes he may be able to develop an air-borne nanite concoction to ‘cure’ the infected much like they did with you. But that solution may come too late. There’s pressure from the senate to end this conflict quickly.”
“You mean sweep it under the rug,” Isabelle pointed out. “Pretend an entire planet just disappeared? What, say it was a gas explosion or something?”
“I never said it was ideal,” my father replied, sounding defensive. “But if we cannot cure them without endangering more lives than we’d save we have to take steps to ensure these weapons don’t end up in the wrong hands.”
“You mean Imperial hands.”
“Imperial, free agents, Commerce Sector, anywhere would love to have hordes of mindless undead to unleash upon unsuspecting worlds. It would be an apocalypse waiting to happen, second only to the actual virus itself being unleashed in airborne form again.”
“I won’t let that happen, at least,” Isabelle replied. “I will find who was responsible and bring them to justice.”
“I trust you, but you’ll excuse me if I don’t hold my breath,” my father said. “It was your agency that kept the virus a secret from me.”
“What would you have done if you’d known?” Isabelle asked. “Marched up to that lab and demanded they destroy the virus? They would have packed up shop and we’d be fighting for a different world. Better the enemy you know than...”
“...the enemy you don’t,” my father finished. “Yes, I’m aware of your mother’s morally gray logic. Her idea that the ends justify the means doesn’t sit well with me and you know it.”
“It’s gotten us this far,” Isabelle shot back.
“I’m not positive that’s such a good thing,” he replied. “But that’s neither here nor there.” He waved as if to wave away my cousin’s arguments. “If the airborne cure isn’t ready by the time those evacuations are complete,” he pointed to the islands of blue from before, “we’ll be out of time.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t understanding what he was apologizing to me for, but I felt I needed to offer a reply. “I will understand, regardless of the action you take.” That didn’t mean I would offer myself up as a sacrificial lamb, of course, but I chose not to say that.
“Sir, we’re receiving an urgent tight-beam broadcast from the Cheville,” the tactical commander reported from his perch above the blast doors.
“Display it on my holo,” my father called back.
“The Cheville is a medical frigate,” Isabelle said in answer to my silent questioning eyebrow.
The holo-map morphed into a female officer wearing a harrowed expression. “Supreme Commander, I am Captain Eleanor Yrvesse of the Cheville.” She didn’t wait for my father to acknowledge her before continuing. “The undead we brought aboard to administer cures have breached containment and are rampaging through several decks of the ship.”
I half-expected my father to bend over and place his head on the console, but he kept his composure. “How many are we talking, Captain Yrvesse?”
“Four had cures administered and twelve more were awaiting treatment when the breach occurred.”
“Twelve are on the loose?”
She shook her head. “Two of those cured were conscious as the attack began. They attempted to help but were overpowered and...” she stumbled. “...torn to shreds. They took one of the uncured with them.”
This time my father closed his eyes. “That leaves eleven remaining. And the other two cured?”
“Surveillance video shows them still in medically induced comas while the cures take effect.”
“All right. Your priority is to contain the outbreak. Have you sealed the decks?”
“Of course, sir, but they have ripped through deck plating to breach other floors.”
“Bloody hell. How many floors?”
“Seven of our eighteen floors are compromised. They’re directly in the middle, cutting the top six off from the bottom five.”
“And you’re at the top,” my father said. It was a statement, not a question. I suspected he knew the interior layout of every ship in the Federation. He paused for a long moment before speaking. “Abandon ship, Captain. Order all crew members to escape pods. The rest of the fleet will assist with recovery efforts.”
The captain on the other end of the holo seemed torn between relief and disappointment. As though she were relieved her crew was being rescued but disappointed her ship was being scuttled in the process. She saluted. “Of course, Supreme Commander. I will remain on the bridge until the last crew member is off.”
I held my breath, not that it mattered, since I didn’t need to breathe. Habit, I suppose. This captain was prepared to make the same sacrifice my mother had all those years earlier.
For the briefest moment, I thought my father’s gaze flicked to me. But then the moment was gone, and his steely voice spoke. “Get yourself off the instant the last crew are away. Go with the rest of the bridge crew if you can. But Captain...if you can’t...know your sacrifice has not been in vain.”
“Thank you, sir,” the captain replied. The holo faded a moment later.
My father turned to Isabelle. “Can you shift over there and rescue the two in a coma? The cured ones.”
Isabelle didn’t hesitate. “Of course. But why?”
“Men and women are dying so that those who are cured can live. I will not allow their sacrifices to be in vain if I can prevent it.”
Isabelle nodded. “Let me grab my gear and I’ll be off.” She passed through the blast doors and I caught a glimpse of her disappearing into shadowy mist before they closed again.
“Is shifting not allowed in here?” I asked.
“No. There are energy nullifiers hidden between the wall plates. They disallow any energy manipulation, including magic and shifting, while inside this room. The nullifiers are disabled when the shadow drive engages.”
“It’s a defense mechanism?” I guessed. “To stop assassins?”
“Something like that,” my father said. He didn’t elaborate, instead barking orders a moment later. “TacComm, send a message to the fleet. Message is as follows. ‘All ships, the Cheville is being evacuated. Aid in retrieval of escape pods but employ maximum quarantine protocols when handling them. There is a chance of infected crew being aboard those pods. End message.’”
“Message has been sent,” the tactical commander acknowledged.
“Now we wait,” my father said.
The display had returned to the map, showing icons of various ships in the system. As I watched, the icon labeled the Cheville spewed forth smaller icons, with each immediately being identified by the computer as escape pods and assigned a number. Forty-eight pods.
Icons indicating starfighters streamed toward the hurtling pods, circling them in pairs and working to stabilize their trajectories. “Do they have tractor beams?” I asked, thinking of the holo-dramas where they used them.
“Some of the newer models of starfighters are equipped with grappling lines. It allows them to launch and attach cables magnetically to other metallic objects. It can aid with salvage operations, like this, or it can be used to apprehend fleeing ships, slowing them down until a capital ship can catch up. It’s applications in combat are still being explored, but the general theory is they can be used on objects to change the fighter’s direction rapidly. Such as around capital s
hips or in asteroid or debris fields.”
“Oh,” I said, head spinning. I had never really paid attention to the war holos and how realistic or unrealistic they were. I’d had a general sense of the capabilities of Federation ships, but little more than that.
“The capital ships do employ magnetic tractor beams designed to latch on to magnetic objects and drag them closer, but those generally use the much greater mass of said capital ships to make it work and have limitations.”
“Sir, we’re receiving a message from the Eucharist,” the tactical commander put in before I could respond.
“That’s Jason’s ship,” my father mused. “Show us.”
A middle-aged man with a full head of messy brown hair and a scraggy beard appeared on the holo. “Dawyn,” he said, bowing his head briefly out of respect. When he lifted his head, his eyes shifted to my face and a quizzical look flashed across it before morphing into a more analytical look like what I’d seen in Dr. Sinclair.
“Jason,” my father said, inclining his head slightly less. “It’s good to hear from you. I’m hoping you have some good news to share.” I suspected I would have had desperation in my voice at this point, but my father didn’t.
“I do,” Jason said in a voice one might report on the weather in. “We, Dr. Sinclair and I, believe we have created a stable airborne nanite mist that can be deployed over Galatia IV.”
“That would be wonderful news,” my father said, bowing his head in relief. “How soon can it be ready to deploy? The situation is getting dire down on the planet.”
“We’re not one hundred percent certain,” Jason continued. “It’s our theory that the treatment will work, but there’s a chance it could fail. We want you to know all the risks.”
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