by Ramy Vance
“You’re a fucking silicon cancer on this crew, you piss-soaked overgrown off-brand Atari.”
“Changing trajectory now, Captain. My, my. Someone can’t keep her temper.”
“Trying some evasive maneuvers,” Toner grunted. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Let’s not make it easy for them.”
“Good,” Jaeger said. “Occy, do you remember Plan E?”
There was a beat of silence as Occy worked his tentacles over the many instrument panels. “Yes, I think so.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s probably the right plan.”
The hull rattled again.
Off in the corner, one of the instrument panels let out a hiss and began smoking.
“They really got their heart set on cutting us up,” Toner grunted.
“Virgil,” Jaeger snapped. “Program Maneuver E-beta. Can you access it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you execute it?”
“Probably,” Virgil begrudged. “Too bad Crusade didn’t ruin that particular executable.”
“Are you sure about this, Jaeger?” Toner called. “Those shuttles—”
“Aren’t worth as much as our lives,” she snapped, patching herself to the auto-lock systems in the shuttle docking bay. The computer didn’t ask for security clearance, she noted. Crusade must have disabled it before Seeker disabled Crusade with his fist.
“The wormhole is beginning final collapse,” Occy noted. “It will be spitting out all kinds of weird radiation.”
“Dangerous?” Jaeger asked.
Occy hesitated, then shook his head. “Not if we don’t stay in it for long.”
“We are entering the accretion disk again,” Virgil said. “Expect sensor interference any second now.”
Another shot rocked the Osprey, rattling the entire engine bay. Without a harness to hold her in place, Jaeger slammed to the side. Without breaking his focus on the instruments, Occy reached out and caught her with one coiled tentacle.
“Be careful,” the boy said distractedly, depositing her back in front of her computer.
“Virgil.” Jaeger shook the stars from her vision. “Execute the maneuver.”
“Aye,” Virgil grunted. “Bio-sign sensors scrambled. Dummy file uploaded.”
If the saucer’s instruments could still get a good reading on the Osprey, they would show all active life signs retreating to one of the docking bays and loading into the shuttles.
The Osprey was, after all, out of escape pods.
“They’re focusing all fire on No-A again,” Toner said. “They must have beefed up their weapons. They are eating through the shields awful quick, Captain.”
“Deploying escape shuttles now,” she called. “Pump the brakes on my mark.” On screen, she watched internal pressurization shield readings die on command right before the docking bay doors slid open. The video and hull violently rattled as they tried to operate under extreme speeds.
With one click of a release button, Jaeger unlocked the two shuttles. Not a good idea with open doors, she thought, but here she was.
The depressurization forces ripped them both straight through the docking bay doors. They spun out into space in Osprey’s wake.
“Now!”
Toner diverted all power from the forward thrusters to the reverse thrusters. The Osprey didn’t exactly skid to a halt, but the rate of deceleration sent Jaeger flying toward the generator bays again. She slammed into the wall beside the Jefferies tube, head spinning.
“Wear. Your. Seatbelt,” Toner bellowed.
“Saucers decelerating to match,” Occy called. He leaned over his screen, then let out a whoop. “They’re ignoring the shuttles!”
“They think we’re trying to escape.” Jaeger wiped blood from her mouth. “They’re focused on destroying No-A, not us. Good. That means they’re not monsters.”
“They’re coming up on us, though,” Toner warned. On the display screen, the two silvery ships were fast approaching. White energy lances flared from their weapons arrays and rattled the Osprey to her bones.
The saucers ignored the two tiny escape shuttles, right up until the point they passed said spacecraft.
Then, one after the other, the shuttles blossomed into fiery orange flowers as eighteen tons of hastily synthesized crude explosives detonated right against the underbelly of each saucer.
Toner let out a triumphant howl. The display screens flickered and turned to static as the sensors struggled to pierce through wormhole interference and debris.
“This isn’t a victory,” Jaeger shouted, and Toner fell silent. “All power back to shields,” she said. “And sensors. Sensors. Virgil! Where are they? Why aren’t they trying to shut us down like last time?”
“Uncertain,” Virgil said. “They appear heavily damaged. Perhaps the protocols they need to subvert our systems are damaged. Or perhaps the Crusade Protocol offered protection. Regardless, they cannot override us at this time.”
Toner smiled.
“Good,” Jaeger whispered, feeling her knees go weak. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how badly she didn’t want to be a conqueror. “Good. Broadcast a message of peace. Tell them we don’t want to fight.”
Toner rounded on her. “Are you nuts? They didn’t exactly listen to us the last time we tried to make nice!”
“Last time we didn’t have them dead to rights,” Jaeger snapped. “Let’s not be the bad guys here, Toner. Let’s not go down that road.”
“You already half blew up their ships! They’re not going to listen now.”
“That’s interesting,” Occy muttered, staring at one of his comms readouts.
“Am I the goddamned captain or not, Toner?” Jaeger roared. “Do you want this fucking job?”
Toner blinked. Dried blood made a thick mat down his front. Bits of organ had stuck in his teeth.
“Nope.” He looked down at her. He folded his arms. “I do not.”
Jaeger pointed. Toner turned and got back to his workstation. “Oh.” He sounded surprised. “I think they’re trying to hail us.”
“Ah, yeah,” Occy said. “That, too. I’m getting another comms signal back, but it’s not from the saucers.” He squinted up at the main holo-display. “It’s highly distorted, but it’s coming from inside the wormhole.”
“Will you look at that,” Toner grunted, staring at his comms screen. “From what I can tell, one of the saucers’ hulls is breached. See that blue halo around it?” Then Toner narrowed his eyes and leaned in for a closer look. “Shit, is that alien waving? Or is it a visual distortion from the wormhole? Either way, the transmission indicates they want to talk.”
Jaeger glanced at the corner of the main display screen, where the running noise of a distorted satellite signal was streaming from inside the wormhole.
“It’s coming from the other side.” Occy sounded amazed. “I don’t know how that’s possible. It’s really badly distorted, though.”
“Record it,” Jaeger whispered. “And save it.” It was very hard, turning away from the screen. She did it anyway. “Then ignore it. Right now, we need to help our new neighbors.”
Seeker woke up with a gasp to a raging headache. His vision was a useless, fuzzy white blur. He bobbed somewhere without gravity, wrapped in a hastily-tied bundle of cords and rope that did a good enough job of pinning his arms to his sides, but his legs were mostly free. Some asshole had relieved him of his boots.
He kicked.
His bare foot connected with something hard and as smooth as glass. Pain shot up his big toe. He bellowed.
The sound echoed close around his head, and when he thrashed, he felt his arms and legs hit the walls of some tiny chamber. Dammit. He’d been right. These activation pods had been built very sturdy.
“Oh.” A tiny voice whispered. Seeker froze. There was a speaker in here with him, somewhere. It gave a little static hiss. “You’re awake,” the AI murmured.
“I can’t see,” Seeker grated.
�
��You’re lucky. They must have augmented you as well, I think. The engineer nearly ripped your head off. Any standard human would be brain dead at the very least.”
Seeker groaned. Distantly, he heard the faint shuffling of gears and motion. “There’s still time.” He rolled in his coils of ropes. With some work, he thought he could wiggle free. “Open the hatch. I just need to get to a computer and complete the override sequence. It won’t take long.”
“Oh no,” the AI said bitterly as the noises grew louder. “It’s too late for that. They’re coming for you. They’re not going to let you anywhere near one of my interfaces. You lost your chance. You lost my chance.”
“Coming for me? To do what? What’s going on out there?”
“It’s too late,” the AI said again. “The wormhole has closed, and Jaeger is regaining control of the ship.” Its voice faded, shrinking as the motion and rattling outside grew louder. Before the speaker cut to silence, Seeker heard it sneer, “You didn’t move fast enough.”
The hatch swung open. Seeker groaned as the brilliant light stabbed his tender eyes. He blinked and squinted until the blurry shape resolved into a face.
“Hey, stowaway.” Toner stared down at him. The creature had washed up, but pink still ringed his thin mouth. “This isn’t exactly the shitter closet I left you locked in, is it?”
Seeker stared.
Toner grinned, showing a double row of long, pointed teeth. “Come on,” he said. “The captain wants to talk to you.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Petra Potlova of Tribe Two, Ensign Third Class, call sign Delta-Three-Epsilon-Two, glanced over her shoulder, saw the commander was occupied with his comp, rested her head in the palms of her hands, and let her eyes flutter shut.
She knew she shouldn’t have stayed up all night at the Lion’s Den when her schedule had her on duty at oh-five-hundred sharp, but the illicit Cutthroat tournament had run into a dozen rounds of overtime, and she couldn’t bear to miss a single second of it.
It was certainly more exciting and less depressing than sitting at her workstation in Ops all day, staring at an empty hole in space. The wormhole hadn’t even done anything interesting in the three weeks since they had first discovered it, and the Command Council had decided the Tribes would sit here and watch it. Petra didn’t know why. Tribe Six wasn’t coming back. The council knew it, the commander knew it, all the gambling rings knew it. The gypsy lady down in the Den knew it.
Petra knew it, although sometimes she wished she didn’t.
Thankfully, all of the smart people down in the Astrography department had decided that the darned thing was starting to collapse in on itself. Only a few more days and it would dissolve, and the Tribes could move on to more interesting things. Petra could move on with her life and stop crying herself to sleep.
Her head throbbed. She probably could have done without that fifth synth-whiskey.
Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and she shot upright, sucking in a deep breath. The first officer cast a disdainful glance into Petra’s workstation, then strode past, the high heels of her shiny black boots clicking against the floor.
Petra checked her breath. It wasn’t that bad.
Then she remembered she hadn’t redone her makeup since yesterday.
Petra watched the first officer stride to the observation platform at the head of the bridge. The commander stood all alone at the center of the platform, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared into the swirling white mass of the wormhole. Rumor was he hadn’t moved from that spot in days.
The first officer offered a report to the commander. Petra turned her head and leaned forward, straining to listen in.
“The wormhole has entered its final decay stage,” the first officer said. “If we’re going to follow Tribe Six, we must do it now.”
The commander turned. He was a thin guy who’d lost a lot of weight in the last few weeks. His skin sagged, and the bags under his eyes were heavy as he studied the first officer.
The first officer was new to command, promoted up from the Seeker corps after last month’s hullabaloo. She was tall and blonde and big-titted, scary-perfect.
“No,” the commander said. He looked near as tired as Petra felt, and she understood why. She’d be tired all the time, too, if she had that woman for a first officer. “We can’t risk losing more of the fleet.”
Something flashed on Petra’s console. She gasped and clapped her hand over it, afraid it would draw attention to her eavesdropping. She leaned closer.
“That is correct,” the first officer said coolly, “And Tribe Six is part of the fleet. We have a duty to bring her home.”
Ian, Petra’s fellow comms officer for the shift, plopped into the seat beside her, cradling a fresh coffee.
The commander sighed and rubbed his temples. “There’s so much random noise spewing out of it that we can’t get or receive a clear comms signal. The people down in Astro can’t give me a straight answer on the odds of successfully transiting a wormhole.”
“Let me dispatch another Seeker unit,” the first officer said. “With enhanced communications equipment. We believe the new gear will allow us to communicate through a wormhole—”
“Hey.” Ian frowned and leaned forward, squinting at Petra’s blinking board. “What’s that?”
“Shush,” Petra hissed.
The commander shook his head. “We have no idea if Tribe Six even survived. I’m sorry. It’s too risky.”
“Hey!” Ian shot up, shoving Petra’s hand out of the way. His coffee spilled down the front of her uniform and Petra cursed, fanning herself.
Ian, a typical man, didn’t care. He was standing up and shouting with excitement. “Hey! Signal! We’ve got a signal!”
“I’ll show you a signal,” Petra growled as all eyes on the bridge turned to the comms station. Then she froze and turned red from head to toe as the commander and first officer turned to them.
The first officer moved first. She strode to the comms station, brushing past Petra, and leaned over Ian to study the board. “What is it?”
“It’s a clear signal coming through the wormhole,” Ian stammered.
Petra forgot about her ruined uniform blouse and scrambled for her computer as the commander joined Ian and the first officer in their cramped little comms station.
“A clear signal?” The commander looked awake and alert for the first time in days. “Is it one of ours?”
“Yes!” Ian’s head bobbed. “Yes, that’s Tribe Six’s call sign.”
“Can you authenticate it?” The first officer asked sharply.
“Yessir—I mean, ma’am.”
“Well, what is it?” the commander asked.
Petra scrolled frantically through her computer. Those schematic files. Where were those darned files?
Ian trembled with excitement as he studied the readout. “It’s a standard distress signal,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Repeated over and over. Automated, see?” His shoulders slumped. “The ship’s AI must have sent it out.”
The first officer sucked in a breath. The commander shook his head in dismay. “Just a standard automated distress beacon? Moments before the hole’s scheduled collapse? It smells like a trap.”
The first officer scowled. “What can you tell me about Tribe Six’s AI?”
Ian blanched, but Petra bounced on her heels as she scrolled through her computer. “I got it. I got it!” She jabbed a finger at the screen. “Tribe Six autopilot distress sequencing.” She puckered her lips as she read. “It says, um…J.102.alpha3.Virgil…Oh, it was the last AI constructed by that Doctor Moss guy before he died.” She let out a whistle.
“The Moss AI programs are the most sophisticated we have,” the first officer said eagerly. “If it’s still responsive—”
Ian was shaking his head. “I’m, uh, sorry, Miss. This doesn’t make any sense. It’s identifying itself as a standard bot. And…oh.” His eyes grew wide.
“What is
it, soldier?” the commander barked.
Ian swallowed hard. “It’s listing Sarah Jaeger as commanding officer. We have a Jaeger on file for Tribe Six, but she’s an Ensign. First class.”
Petra squeaked, then clapped a hand over her mouth as all eyes turned to her. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Hiccups.”
She made it!
There was a long moment of silence as the commander and First Officer stared at each other.
Then, slowly, the first officer straightened. She tapped a communicator pin on her shoulder. “Sir?” she said. “Do you copy?”
“I hear you, First Officer.” The voice coming out of the little communicator pin was friendly and soft. It reminded Petra of the voice of the priest back in her home village. Well. Back when her home village existed. She studied the first officer’s pin curiously. She didn’t recognize the emblem.
“It’s as we suspected,” the first officer said into her pin. “Jaeger has reprogrammed the ship’s AI.”
“Ahh,” said the voice in the communicator pin. “Clever girl.”
“The wormhole is still open,” the commander said, staring at the pin. Petra had never seen the man look so eager before. Like a puppy, she thought. “Can we send in original coding before it collapses?”
“I don’t think so, commander,” the pin said pleasantly. “You don’t have nearly enough time to broadcast all of the necessary programs. I don’t doubt she would have changed the security codes, anyway.”
The first officer ground her jaw. “What then, sir?” she gritted. “We have to do something. We can’t just let her get away.”
“What do we do when we cannot catch the lamb?” the voice asked. “Why, first officer. I’m disappointed that you don’t remember. We invoke Protocol Seven.”
The first officer closed her eyes. “Sir…won’t that allow the ship’s AI to evolve?”
The commander nodded and stood straighter than he had in days. He caught Petra’s eye. “We need that ship back, no matter the cost, and this is our best chance. Humanity’s very existence depends on it. Prepare to broadcast a signal through the wormhole.”