The Madness Engine

by Paul B Spence

  Mary laughed shakily. "Yeah, I think I know. Thank you for helping us, even if this doesn't work."

  Drake held Tom down as he started convulsing. He glanced at Mary as she started muttering, but then realized she was just praying. She held a small silver cross on a chain.

  "Does that help?" he asked.

  She looked up and met his eyes. "Of course."

  Drake shrugged. "So you're Christian, too?"

  "Yes, all of us on the hill are. Why?"

  "I've never known anyone who was really all that faithful. Does it give you comfort?"

  Tom went limp, but his breathing became more regular.

  "Yes, it does. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

  "No, thank you. I know enough to know that I'm not interested."

  "I don't understand how a man who has seen so much can be without faith."

  "I have faith in myself," Drake replied. "I don't understand how anyone who has survived what you have can say there's a benevolent higher power."

  "I'm alive," she said simply. "God spared me. God led us to the be in the right time and place to meet you, and you have helped us. How can I not have faith?"

  Drake sighed. He wasn't going to change her mind, and the subject made him uncomfortable. He found that his memories of what it had been like to be a bodiless being were fading. He could no more explain to this woman that he'd seen no signs of true gods in his travels than he could explain to her what he was. She would just call him a demon. It wouldn't be the first time. He wasn't even sure it didn't fit.

  Θ

  "Commander?" Rachael said hesitantly. "I wanted to let you know we're underway."

  She was standing in the narrow corridor outside the guest quarters. Rachael wasn’t sure why she was bothering to keep the woman in the loop. Rachael was still annoyed at having to travel to Steinway in the first place. She didn’t like her ship being hijacked, officially or otherwise, and it seemed to be happening a lot recently. She also didn’t like what the commander had done to Girscha and his men, but she was also relieved it had happened. Girscha had been scum, and what he had planned to do to her and her crew was obscene. She couldn’t bring herself to feel bad that he was dead, and that was what really bothered her.

  The door slid open, and the commander stood there wearing Rachael’s jumpsuit.

  "You’re not in the military, Captain. You don’t have to call me Commander."

  "Okay, Tonya. Everyone but Francesca calls me Rachael."

  "Okay, Rachael. Now that we have that out of the way. How soon will we be at Steinway?"

  "We’re making our best speed," Rachael said, unconsciously defensive. "We’ll be there in thirty-three days."

  "That long?" Tonya murmured.

  "It really is the best we can do, Commander," added Francesca.

  "Thank you, Francesca," muttered Rachael.

  "I understand," Tonya said. "I just wish I could get a message through to them, but there's too much noise."

  "Too much noise?" Rachael asked. "What kind of message?"

  "Telepathic," said Tonya. "There are too many minds between us and Steinway."

  "I didn't realize you could communicate over those distances."

  "Evidently I can't. Was there anything else you needed? I was about to go check on Ghost."

  "No. I just wanted to tell you the device has been locked up and coded to both our bio-signatures."

  "Sounds good." Tonya moved past her and jogged down the corridor.

  Rachael still wasn't sure what to make of the woman.

  "Captain?" Francesca interrupted her musings. "Just before we jumped, I noticed a courier ship traveling along our same trajectory."

  "They're probably just traveling to some other system in the direction we're going," Rachael said.

  "Unlikely, Captain. It was a Federation ship. The only systems within known space along that trajectory are Concord systems, GL 508 and 61 Virginis."

  "Well, if they are following us, they're going to be in for a rude surprise when they arrive at Steinway. Half the Concord Fleet is probably there."

  "I just thought you should know, Captain."

  "Duly noted. Francesca?"

  "Yes, Captain?"

  "Is there a reason you never call me Rachael?"

  "You've never told me to, Captain. I didn't want to be too familiar."

  "Would you like to call me Rachael?"

  "If you prefer."

  "But what do you want?" Rachael insisted.

  "I think I would prefer to call you Captain when you are on duty, and maybe Rachael the rest of the time."

  "But I'm always on duty, Francesca."

  "As am I, Captain. As am I."

  Θ

  Naomi smiled as Geoffrey came out of the room in Medical. "You look shaken," she said. "The Commander has that effect on people. How did it go?"

  "He's... not what I expected."

  She nodded. "Come on. Let's find you a bunk and get you out of that armor."

  "Thanks, I feel like a tank."

  She led him out of Medical through a maze of corridors, toward what he thought was the front of the ship. The personnel they passed gave them wide berth, but considering the armor, that was understandable. They took a lift up to B-Deck.

  "How do you keep track of it all?" Geoffrey asked.

  "Datalink."

  "What?"

  She laughed. "You can call a schematic of the ship up in your datalink. A simple query will give you the route to your destination." She stopped and studied him for a minute. "Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "Earth," he replied without thinking.

  "Earth?" Naomi seemed surprised. "You mean from the surface?"

  "Ah, yeah. Look, it's kind of complicated. Why?"

  "You don't seem to know stuff anybody ought to know. In the Concord, we all have datalinks; it just makes life better. I guess the Federation is more different from us than I knew."

  "I wish I could explain, but I don't how much I'm allowed to talk about."

  "Weird."

  "What?"

  "You," said Naomi. "You're not military. You can talk about anything you wish. This isn't the Federation or the Dominion. We don't restrict free speech. Will telling me hurt anyone else?"

  "Not that I can know of."

  "Then you can if you want to. You don't have to tell me anything," she added. "I'm just nosey by nature."

  Geoffrey laughed. "Get me out this armor and buy me dinner, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

  "Weird," Naomi said again, shaking her head. "You are definitely weird."

  "Yeah, I get that a lot," he replied. "Or at least I used to."

  "This is your room."

  The door slid open.

  The room was small, smaller than the room he'd had on the station, but at least he didn't have to share it. He'd been worried about that and was pleased to see there was only one bed.

  "This is one of the rooms we had converted when the ship was reassigned to Tebrey's team. It has a rack for your armor and a private bath, which is a luxury, I assure you. The wardrobe has shipsuits and boots in your size."

  "You had a lot of extra rooms prepared?"

  "No, most of Tebrey's team were killed a few weeks ago," said Naomi.

  "They were what?"

  Naomi sat on the bed. "Killed. That happens in war, you know."

  Geoffrey shrugged. "It's kind of creepy to think this room was someone else's."

  "All of their personal effects were removed and the room cleaned. The lieutenant in question died in a shuttle crash. The shuttle exploded as it entered the docking bay. It happens. You can't get too hung up on it, or you won't be able to do your job."

  "I wish I knew what my job is. That might make things easier."

  She shook her head. "I'm confident that Commander Tebrey will get you sorted out."

  "That's what I'm afraid of."

  "Get changed so I can find you some food."

  Geo
ffrey suddenly blushed. He hadn't thought about having to get out of his armor in front of Naomi when he'd made the quip about her buying him dinner. Now he was stuck.

  "Something wrong?"

  "I, ah… I feel kind of uncomfortable about undressing in front of you. I mean no offense."

  "You don't need to apologize; people have different customs everywhere." She stood up and turned around. "This good?"

  "Yeah." He knew it was foolish, he had no reason to be embarrassed, and eventually he'd have to get used to the mores of the culture he found himself surrounded by – a culture he'd probably be spending years if not the rest of his life in – but that didn't change his discomfort. Maybe he'd see if the medical VI had a psychiatric program.

  Geoffrey backed into the frame and popped his suit. He racked his helmet, then quickly crossed the cold deck plates to the closet and got dressed. His new clothes were black and form-fitted.

  "Okay, I'm decent."

  "Well, you're dressed, anyway," said Naomi. "You ready to find some chow?"

  "Very much so." He followed her out of the room. He noted the room number in hope that he'd remember it later. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Yes, I'm single, but I never rush into relationships."

  Geoffrey blushed again. "Good to know, but I was going to ask about something else."

  "Ask away."

  "With my suit back in my room, what do I do if there's an accident?"

  "An accident?"

  "A hull breach, something like that."

  "A hull breach isn't an accident, it's an act of war. Anything powerful enough to blast through the hull is going to kill you if you're close to it."

  "What I mean is, don't you have to get into suits or something?"

  Naomi sighed. "I keep forgetting you don't actually know this stuff. You're built like a soldier and carry yourself like you know how to handle yourself."

  "Really?"

  She laughed good-naturedly. "Your shipsuit acts as a limited pressure suit in case of emergency."

  "It does?"

  "The weave auto-adjusts to pressure and temperature. See these symbols?" She pointed out markings he'd seen along the corridor. "These mark emergency gear locations. There is one of these lockers every few meters on every internal bulkhead of the ship. The cabinets have gloves, inflatable helms, and respirators. The respirators only have a few minutes of air, but every room has an independent backup air supply."

  "Wow, that must take up a lot of mass."

  "We take care of our own," Naomi replied. "The Concord Fleet doesn't leave people behind if there's a chance they may still be alive."

  "That must be why we're going to look for that ship."

  Naomi shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know why we're doing that. The other ships in the flotilla wouldn't have left her behind if there was any chance of someone surviving."

  "Do you think it's because one of Admiral Shadovsky's team was on the ship?"

  "Were they? That could be. Maybe they had tech we don't want the Federation to acquire."

  "Tebrey seemed kind of upset."

  "Oh, the commander was probably upset about the people, not the tech. You can trust him. He's a good commander."

  "He should be," Geoffrey said. "He's Drake's son."

  "What?"

  Chapter Nineteen

  Master Sergeant Pt'kar stood and saluted as Tebrey entered the armory. The armory looked achingly empty without his team filling it. Even the massive bulk of the Rhyrhan sergeant couldn't dispel the feeling. Tebrey missed those people.

  "At ease, Sergeant."

  "It is good to see you walking about, Commander, but should you be out of Medical so soon?" She sounded concerned. "After what happened in the base?"

  Tebrey growled and waved dismissively. "How's the work coming along?" He didn't want to think about how he'd lost his arm, or the thing the Federation had created in the bioweapons lab.

  "I've got your suit and weapons prepped for you, but you won't be able to wear it until they attach your new arm."

  "How about the suit I wore on the planet?"

  "What about it, sir?"

  "You didn't junk it, did you?"

  "It was junk to start with."

  "Sergeant, we're jumping into what could be a battle in less than a day. I really don't want to wear a thin shipsuit while that's going on."

  "I understand that, sir, but you're missing an arm."

  "So is the old suit."

  She muttered something in Rhyrhan, too fast for him to follow.

  "I didn't quite catch that, Sergeant."

  Pt'kar grinned, which would have been terrifying to someone who hadn't lived with a neo-panther for years. To Tebrey it was merely disturbing. Sergeant Pt'kar was a very large Rhyrhan. "I said give me a few hours, sir. I can shorten and patch the arm so you'll be protected, at least. You know wearing it is going to hurt very badly."

  Tebrey shrugged. "So does trying to breathe vacuum."

  "I'll take your word for that. The armor will be ready in a few hours."

  "Thanks, Pt'kar. Oh, by the way, we have a new recruit. Shadovsky sent him."

  "Any good?"

  "I expect you to find out."

  "Does he have armor and weapons?"

  "Yes, our standard gear."

  "Good, that will save me some time. I'll track him down after I finish your armor and put him through a training bout."

  "Thanks. Don't go easy on him."

  "I didn't plan to, Commander."

  Θ

  "I don't understand it," Mary said.

  "What?"

  "Tom. He's recovering much faster than he should. I can't find any trace of the virus in his blood." She glanced from Tom's resting form to meet Drake's eyes. "It's a miracle."

  "It's not a miracle," Drake said with exasperation. "You gave him my serum, remember?" Despite his disinterest, Mary had been proselytizing for the last two hours, and it was getting on his nerves. He'd killed over less.

  "Your serum couldn't have helped him that quickly," she said.

  "Hmm. Maybe. Maybe not. I think there's a lot you don't know about me."

  "Are you an angel?" asked Mary.

  Drake laughed. "Lady, I am many things. That is not one of them. I think maybe you should take that serum yourself. You're starting to become delusional."

  "You'll watch over us?"

  "I'll watch over you," he said. "I'll need to go out for supplies, but you both have to stay here and not wander around, okay? You'll be watched over."

  Mary nodded and placed a rubber stopper in her mouth, then injected herself with the serum and lay down next to Tom. Drake watched until she passed out, wondering why he was doing all of this. He felt somewhat responsible for their problems because of the origin of the virus, but he didn't owe them anything. Religion had died out in most places in this world after the war. Too many people had been waiting for it to happen, welcomed it. They had died horribly or turned into ferals, losing their minds.

  Drake placed another sentinel at the entrance to the level, ordering this one to actively guard instead of just observing. No feral was going to get down here to bother them. If anything else showed up, the sentinel would notify Drake, and he'd take care of it himself. Worse things than ferals stalked the ruins.

  The ferals in the lobby fled in terror when he entered. Outside, the sun was just starting to lift above the horizon. The storm had abated, leaving drifts of ashy snow knee deep. The temperature was well below freezing. Drake was surprised to find it somewhat uncomfortable. His physical form was becoming more... human, more solidly rooted in reality.

  He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

  On the other hand, it was good just feel something, anything. Being dead was not as pleasant as some might expect. His death had been violent; he remembered that. Only his will had held him together through the transition of death into... He had Ascended, he knew, but the details were becoming unclear now. Emotion and sensation were overwhelming, slowly
eroding what he had become.

  However, he was beginning to remember more of who he was and what he had been. He had fought the Enemy in a thousand battles; he'd fight them in a thousand more. He'd sent more of their kind screaming into oblivion than there were stars in the sky. He would hunt down the ones responsible for what happened to this world, and he would destroy them.

  Θ

  "What?" Naomi snapped.

  "What, what?" asked Geoffrey, confused and startled by her reaction.

  "Repeat what you just said."

  "Tebrey is Drakes son?"

  "What do you mean by that?" Naomi demanded. She straight-armed him into the bulkhead and held him there. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

  "I'm sorry, I'm really confused. What do you mean? What are you angry about?"

  "Where did you hear that?"

  "Where did I hear what?"

  "What you said about Drake and Commander Tebrey. Did you mean Daerren Drake?"

  "Yes."

  "Then where did you hear that?"

  "From Drake. Why?"

  "Wait a minute, you're telling me you know Drake?"

  "Why does everyone seem surprised by that? Yes, I know Drake. He's how I got here."

  "That was Deegan, not Drake."

  "No, I mean how I got to..." Geoffrey had been about to say this universe, but he remembered what Lt. K'liva had said to him. "The Concord," he finished.

  Naomi studied his face. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

  "Naomi, how the hell do you think a guy like me got assigned to be part of Tebrey's team? Drake contacted me and asked me to take Tebrey a message. I did. Admiral Shadovsky thought I needed some experience, so he sent me out here."

  "Gods, you really don't know about him, do you?"

  "Know what?" Geoffrey practically shouted.

  "Drake fought at the Battle of Dawn. He destroyed the Federation battle cruiser Agamemnon singlehandedly. Admiral Shadovsky confirmed the report. I've also heard about some of the other things he did. He was once known as the Butcher of New Jerusalem. The man is possibly scarier than the Thetas."

  "I don't doubt he is. I've known him for years, although I didn't know anything about the Battle of Dawn or him being a butcher. I haven't been in the Concord for long, and that mostly in training."