The Madness Engine

by Paul B Spence

  Geoffrey didn't know how he'd be able to help. Although he knew training in the simulators was a far cry from actual combat, he couldn't think of anything nobler for him to do. He'd be fighting an enemy that was known to be pure evil, protecting the very souls of the humans and aliens of the Concord.

  The admiral had thrown in an added incentive for him, as well. It seemed the admiral had been told about what had happened to Geoffrey's version of Earth. The admiral was pledging to help Geoffrey in any way he could to restore his home if Geoffrey would help the Concord find a solution to the Theta problem. Geoffrey half suspected that the real reason the admiral wanted him along was to convince Drake to take a part in the war. If that was the case, Geoffrey had to admit it wasn't a bad plan: Drake had shown a quixotic tendency to get himself involved in things like this before.

  Hell, he'd probably do it just for the chance to kill interesting and challenging new things, Geoffrey thought cynically.

  All Geoffrey knew was that if there was anything he could do to acquire help for his homeworld, he had to make the attempt. The brief glimpse of conditions there he'd gotten from Drake had been terrifying, horrific. His Earth was going to need support from someone with technology and resources.

  He made his decision and contacted the admiral.

  "Hello, Mr. Meeks. Had a chance to look over things?" Shadovsky looked tired.

  "I have. I'm in," Geoffrey said simply.

  "I thought you would be. Tebrey is in the TZ Arietis system, about a week's travel from here, but he should be finishing up his mission and heading home soon. No reason to send you out there only to pass each other in hyperspace. I'd like to get you equipped, though. Powered armor takes a while to get used to. I want you fitted and trained before Tebrey gets back. I think you'll be a valuable asset to the team."

  "Thank you, sir. I sure hope so."

  "You'll let me know, of course, if Drake contacts you again, right?"

  "Of course."

  "Good. Report to the Archangel armory on deck seventeen at eighteen hundred. The lieutenant commander there will get you equipped."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Don't thank me just yet." Shadovsky held Geoffrey's eyes until he nodded in understanding. The admiral was placing Geoffrey in what could be an extremely dangerous situation. He was doing so because he needed Drake to join their side in the war. He was using Geoffrey, and he wasn't afraid to let Geoffrey know it.

  Chapter Six

  The entity's pain was diminishing, and it hoped the Masters wouldn't notice.

  Hope again, it thought. How can I possibly have hope after I've done the things I have done? How can I have hope after what I have become?

  Can we be of assistance, Master?

  The entity fought down the rage at this interruption of its thoughts. This was nothing more than a few of the Jaernalith attendants, no doubt sent by the Masters to prepare it for another round of torments.

  No, Master. We are not here because of the Masters.

  Then why have you disturbed me? It could sense the fear and confusion in the minds of the Jaernalith. The three of them were afraid, and not just because he was one of the Masters, albeit a lesser one.

  We sensed something in you, the leader of the trio thought. It was one of the radially symmetrical Jaernalith, the Lorvan. He remembered that the Masters didn't trust them. Lorvan were not as quick to worship the Masters. They had resisted.

  Sensed what?

  A certain... thirst. We want you to know something.

  What could one of you know that I would care about?

  Four of the Masters went to destroy the one you had sought. The leader's thought was barely a whisper, it was so faint. Only one came back. The others weren't killed by the Masters, but by humans.

  You think to test me?

  No, Master, and this wasn't the first time such has happened. Others have died at human hands. We have only just learned of it. The Masters can be killed. We want to join you.

  Join me?

  You want the Masters dead. We want that, too. We wish only for everything to be the way it was before they came back. We wish to be left in peace. We don't desire the death and destruction that the others crave. We feel that in your heart, you don't want that anymore, either.

  What I want— He stopped himself. When did I start thinking of myself as an I? A he? What did he want?

  Master?

  What have I become? he asked them. What was I before?

  We don't know. You are one of the Masters, but we feel that you weren't always so.

  No, I think... I think... I was a man."

  Θ

  "God damn it, Marty!" Captain Rachael Vardegan said, stamping her foot. "I don't care how hard it is. Get those damn nodes in place! We've got merchandise to deliver. We actually have a contract, Marty! A real contract! We need this!"

  Marty shook his head in the sad way that engineers always seemed to when dealing with people who didn't understand the delicacies of their work. He'd been up and working since five that morning. It had been a long and unpleasant day, and he obviously didn't want to have it made any worse. Rachael wasn't trying to make his job harder; she just wanted her ship fixed.

  "It's not about how difficult the work is, Captain," he said. "It's not the difficulty. I told you three months ago that we couldn't safely jump anymore without replacing those nodes. You didn't listen to me. Now we've got twice as many nodes burnt out." He gestured at the half-empty crates. "And who the hell sold you these things, anyway? They aren't much better than the ones we're replacing. Energy nodes take time to replace, too. I have to be careful and get it right. An imbalance during a jump could kill us!"

  Rachael sighed.

  She should have known she wasn't going to win an argument with her engineer when it came to the ship. Negative energy nodes were used to warp space-time away from the ship, effectively reducing inertia. They were also an essential part of the drive system that allowed them access to hyperspace. Several of her ship's nodes had been burned out a few months before, when they'd had to flee Federation ships and jump out of a system while still too close to its star.

  They had been lucky to make it as far as they had.

  "Marty, I bought the best parts I could find and afford. You know we haven't had any luck with shipments since the war started. I know you're doing the best you can, but two more days might be too late. I'm afraid Girscha is going to offer the contract to someone else if we aren't ready to leave tomorrow."

  Girscha was a sleazy scumbag, but he had money. Rachael could have lived without his contract, if she hadn't already spent most of his money on the nodes and supplies. There was no way she was going to tell him she couldn't do it. There had to be a way.

  "Be that as it may be, Captain, two days is the best I can do on my own. You want to hire a couple of dock engineers to help out?"

  "If I could afford to, I would. I wouldn't ask you to work so hard if I had any other choice."

  "I know that," Marty replied. He shook his head in weary resignation. "I'll do what I can."

  Θ

  Geoffrey got lost on his way to the Archangel armory. The orbital battle fortress Garm was a larger station than he had expected or imagined. Shaped somewhat like a toy spindle, it was well over ten kilometers in length and two kilometers wide at its thickest. Deck seventeen – his destination, of course – was in the thick part. He was late when he finally arrived, flushed and embarrassed. A tiny Thyrna-Shae woman sat working on a terminal at the security checkpoint.

  "Hello," he said when she failed to look up at his approach.

  "Can I help you?" she asked after a moment. She didn't seem very pleased to see him.

  "I hope so," Geoffrey said, flashing his best smile. She had beautiful dark amber eyes. "Admiral Shadovsky told me I should come down here. I sure hope I'm in the right place."

  "And you are?"

  "Geoffrey Meeks," he answered.

  She just stared at him, eyes narrowed, then glan
ced pointedly at the identity scanner.

  "Right," he said as he placed his hand on the plate. He really hated these things. "I'm not used all this security yet. Sorry."

  "Lt. Close!" the woman called loudly just after the scanner finished sticking him. Geoffrey jumped when she shouted, and wondered what he had done wrong this time.

  "Sir?" A stocky man with dark hair man jogged out the office on the right, his hand on a bulky pistol strapped to his hip.

  "Take over here." She stood up and smirked at Geoffrey. "Come on, I'll take you back myself. I've been expecting you."

  He studied her as they walked to the armory. She was at least a foot shorter than Geoffrey. Thirty centimeters, damn-it! he thought to himself. He was finding it difficult to think in metric, even though it had been dumped into his brain along with the language and everything else. She was pretty, if a little on the thin side for his tastes, and her hair was a dark, lustrous bronze. He suddenly remembered that Thyrna-Shae were all gifted with psionic abilities, and hoped fervently that she hadn't heard his thoughts.

  Considering the irritated look she threw in his direction, it was a forlorn hope.

  "Hey, you can call me Geoffrey," he said, trying to be friendly and maybe make up for his gaffe. "I'm new here."

  "I am Lt. Commander Muerta K'Liva. You may address me by my full name or just call me Lieutenant Commander. I understand that you are serving as a civilian attaché." She made it sound like a question. She obviously didn't have much use for civilians.

  "Yes, Lieutenant Commander. That's right," Geoffrey replied, feeling more sorry for himself than he wanted to admit. "I'm working directly with Admiral Shadovsky and Commander Tebrey." So much for being on a first-name basis, he thought. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, to tell you the truth."

  "The admiral's orders were that you are to be outfitted as a member of Commander Tebrey's team."

  "You know Tebrey?"

  She gave Geoffrey an odd look. "I've served as the armorer for his team since coming to the notice of the admiral at the Battle of Steinway."

  "Sorry, I haven't read about that."

  "Your file has you listed as being aboard the Arcadia during the action. None of the Thetas made it over there, thank the gods. I was on the Halberd when it was attacked. It was horrible."

  "I've never seen a Theta," said Geoffrey. "What are they like?"

  "What?" Muerta exclaimed. "Why would the admiral assign you to the commander's team if you haven't fought a Theta? Are you suicidal?"

  "I think it has something to do with Drake." They were now standing outside a massive security door.

  "Drake? Daeren Drake? The commander's father?"

  "Yeah, you know him?"

  Muerta shuddered. "No. I've heard about some of the things he did at the Battle of Dawn. I don't care to know more. You know him?"

  "I'm afraid so," Geoffrey replied with humor. "He's the reason I'm here – in this universe, I mean." He abruptly wondered if he'd said too much, but the admiral hadn't said not to tell anyone.

  "You may want to keep that to yourself," Muerta said as she opened the door. "Members of the admiral's special taskforce know about such things, but it isn't common knowledge outside the team. Everyone else would think you're crazy."

  "Yeah, sure," Geoffrey said. He'd stopped paying close attention to the conversation as soon as the door opened, revealing a room beyond filled with weapons and armor. The armor ranged from spacesuits through various types of powered armor to massive suits that were more like small walking tanks. The weapons ranged from pistols through what he recognized, thanks to his simulation training, as tactical nuke launchers. "Wow."

  Muerta laughed. "This is just the armory for Commander Tebrey's team. You should see the primary Marine armory sometime."

  "That'd be cool."

  "Do you have any idea what kind of equipment you need?"

  "Not a clue," he replied breathlessly. The simulations had been interesting, but this was the actual thing. He was physically here with lasers and powered armor. That made it all very real, suddenly. "The admiral mentioned armor but didn't say what kind."

  "Hmm. I'll contact the admiral. Feel free to touch anything you want. You can't activate any of it until it's tagged with your datalink signature. You do have a datalink, right?"

  "What? Oh, yeah. I've got one. I haven't used it much."

  Muerta walked over to the wall terminal to contact the admiral, and Geoffrey wandered through the racks of weapons. The rifles were much heavier than he expected, but then he realized they were intended for use with the powered armor. He knew from his training what these weapons were capable of. It was frightening and exciting at the same time to think that he was going to have access to things like this.

  Frightening to think he might need it.

  "Geoffrey?" Muerta called. She came around the corner. "The admiral says you're to be fitted with commando armor and given your choice of weapons. We'll get you fitted for the armor first. If you'll follow me?"

  She led him to machine at the back of the room that reminded Geoffrey of airport security scanners back home.

  "Okay," Muerta said. "Take off your clothes."

  "Excuse me?" He'd had his fantasies, sure, but he hadn't really expected...

  "This is the imaging scanner used to determine your skin topography, blood vessels, neural patterns, and bone structure. It will make a three-dimensional image of you for the computer. The computer will then build your armor so that it fits you perfectly. Why? What's the matter?"

  "Nothing," Geoffrey replied, turning away. He was sure that this was some kind of sick joke on Drake's part. Here he was, surrounded by beautiful women, none of whom had any interest in him. He stripped quickly and stepped into the machine. He hoped his blush wasn't too evident.

  Θ

  Deep beneath the installation at TZ Arietis, the Other stirred in its cage. It felt the presence it had sensed before, now closer than ever. The presence was that which it, itself, was not. A hunger came upon it. A hunger for the one that would complete it.

  The humans thought the drugs they pumped into the Other would stop it, but it had shifted, and the drugs no longer effected it. They didn't know it could do that, or they would have destroyed it, as they had the other Others, the ones that had come before. It knew from the humans minds that they had been trying for a long time to do... something. It lacked the understanding to know what they wanted it for.

  When they came again to feed it, it would make its move. It would find the one it had been made from, and absorb it. Then it would be complete. Then it would understand.

  Chapter Seven

  The klaxon woke Rachael Vardegan from a sound sleep. She fell out of bed, then half-crawled and stumbled to her closet for her spacesuit. It had been a long time since she'd had to do that. Maybe I should have Francesca run alert drills once in a while, she thought, not for the first time.

  "Francesca!" she yelled as she struggled with the seals. "What's happening?"

  "Intruders in the starboard aft airlock, Captain. I'm not sure how they managed to override the security protocols." The ship's machine intelligence sounded apologetic. "They got through the outer lock and disabled the sensors before I knew they were there. I've isolated the systems in that part of the ship. They can't get any further without cutting their way in."

  Somehow, that didn't make Rachael feel any better.

  "Tell Nancy and Marty to grab weapons and meet me outside that airlock. Whoever it is, they aren't taking my ship without a fight!"

  "Yes, Captain," Francesca replied. "I'm sorry I can't do more."

  "You've done fine," Rachael said. She checked her coil gun; it was fully charged and loaded. The 10mm hypervelocity rounds would be more than enough to give anyone a really bad day.

  The others were waiting for her when she got to the airlock. Nancy had a needler, and Marty had picked a neural disruptor from somewhere. Rachael hadn't even known he'd had one.

  "Okay, Fr
ancesca, open the door a bit."

  The airlock door slid open halfway and then stopped. It was dark inside. The light from the corridor penetrated no more than half a meter into the room.

  "Marty?"

  "Looks like whoever is in there knocked out the lights. Guess they didn't want us to see them clearly."

  "I can see that," Rachael replied caustically. "What do we do now?"

  "You're asking me?" the engineer replied with a shrug. "You're the captain."

  Rachael sighed and stepped partly out into the corridor. "All right, whoever you are in there, come out! I'll give you to three, and then we'll see if coil gun rounds ricochet!"

  "They do," a feminine voice boomed. A figure loomed out of the darkness, and Rachael's hands began to sweat as she recognized commando powered armor and the military-grade plasma pistol in the figure's hand. "But I wouldn't recommend trying the experiment yourself. It would be detrimental to your health. You might hurt my companion."

  "What are you doing on my ship?" asked Rachael, her voice shaking. Her eyes kept returning to the massive 80mm bore on the plasma pistol. A shot from that would incinerate her and her crew in one ravening blast.

  "I am Lt. Commander Tonya Harris, Concord Special Operations. I am seeking sanctuary for myself and my companion."

  "And if I refuse?" Rachael asked with more guts than sense.

  "Then I'll send a discreet message to the Federation destroyer that just docked. I'm sure they would be very interested to know that this ship is actually registered as a Concord vessel under a different name. Given the current state of hostilities, I expect you'd be lucky to get away with mindwipe."

  Rachael licked her lips nervously. "Right," she drawled. "You and your companion, you said?"