by E. R. Torre
Sergeant Delmont faced Catherine Holland.
“There aren’t too many within you but there are enough. Could be the reason you survived that explosion. It’s probably the reason you’re healing as quickly as you are.”
The timer on the clock dropped to fifty four minutes.
“What do we do?” Doctor Paeon said. “The explosives are set to go. We need to leave.”
Catherine Holland gripped the sides of her chair.
“Take me out,” she said.
“You’ll die,” Doctor Paeon said.
“I’ll be with Nox,” Catherine Holland said. “All the way to the end.”
“I can’t let you do this.”
“It’s not your decision to make,” Catherine Holland said. She faced Sergeant Delmont. “Take me out.”
Sergeant Delmont was still for several seconds. He looked back at the timer and then at Doctor Paeon.
“You can’t just let her die,” the Doctor said.
Sergeant Delmont shook his head before reaching for the wheelchair’s handles.
“Sergeant—!”
“Stay here,” Delmont said. “That’s an order.”
He wheeled Catherine Holland past the mighty doors. He then pressed a series of buttons on the control panel and they once again slid shut.
Sergeant Delmont wheeled Catherine Holland into the outside hallway.
It was completely empty.
They heard the sounds of Displacers activating from somewhere far below. There was rumbling as the rooms were whisked away.
Then, complete silence.
Other than the squeak of the chair’s wheels everything was incredibly quiet.
“Thank you,” Catherine said. “You... you should go. Before it’s too late.”
“I’m not going to leave you behind,” Sergeant Delmont said.
They made their way to an elevator and moved up countless floors.
As they did, they heard even more groans coming from deep within the complex.
“Even if we didn’t nuke it, this place would collapse upon itself,” Sergeant Delmont said. “You can only transport so many rooms before the structural integrity is compromised.”
The elevator reached its destination and the doors opened.
The two emerged into an enormous hanger and, in the distance, saw a star filled night sky.
Sergeant Delmont pushed Catherine Holland to the door leading out. Abandoned vehicles were parked all around them and a large gate surrounded the perimeter. There wasn’t a soul to be seen.
“Can we get far enough away from the blast?” Catherine Holland asked.
“No,” he said.
“Then I guess we’ll just enjoy the night.”
They moved past the hanger and approached the first of the vehicles.
A cool breeze descended upon the complex. For a moment Catherine closed her eyes and allowed her body to feel the night air.
If this is the last thing I ever do feel…
There came the sound of footsteps. They came from farther away and Catherine Holland tried to look back but couldn’t. Despite a fresh wave of pain, she managed to spin the wheelchair around.
Sergeant Delmont stood several feet away and watched as a thin, middle-aged woman approached. The glow of the Moon reflected upon her laser blue eyes. She offered the two a smile, revealing an all-too-perfect set of teeth.
The woman pointed to Catherine Holland.
“Didn’t expect to find two of you,” she said. She tilted her head. “Though I do recognize the nano-probes in her body.”
“Who is she?” Catherine asked.
“She’s—” Delmont began.
“—the person who was going to get Sergeant Delmont to safety,” the woman interrupted. “The name’s Vulcan. What’s yours?”
“Catherine Holland.”
“Catherine,” Vulcan repeated. “Such a lovely name. Do you mind if I steal it?”
A light in the sky, what at first looked like a shooting star, moved down and down and approached their position. It was revealed to be a metallic craft. It glided toward them soundlessly, landing only a few feet away.
“What is going on?” Catherine asked.
“Explanations will come,” Vulcan said. “But for now, we need to leave. The nukes will detonate and, for very obvious reasons, we shouldn’t be anywhere near this area when they do.”
Catherine Holland hesitated and Vulcan approached her.
“The one who gave you the nano-probes is out there.”
“How…?”
“I feel her,” Vulcan said. She frowned. “And I feel…”
Vulcan paused for several seconds. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“Is it Spradlin?” Sergeant Delmont asked. “Is he dead?”
“Yes,” Vulcan said. “And no.”
“What do you mean?”
“Complications,” Vulcan said. “More things I’ll have to deal with later on.”
“What about Nox?” Catherine Holland said. “Can we get her?”
“I’m afraid not,” Vulcan said. “The nukes have already started going off and… it’s difficult to locate her. She’ll have to stay behind, at least for now.”
“You’re coming back for her?”
“I can’t at this moment,” Vulcan said. “But don’t worry. She’s resilient. She’ll survive.”
“I won’t leave without her,” Catherine Holland said.
“She means that much to you, doesn’t she?” Vulcan said.
“Yes.”
“Ms. Holland, I can’t get her now but I promise you, even if it takes a while, you will see her again.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’ve given you my word.”
For several seconds Catherine looked deep into Vulcan’s laser blue eyes. Finally, she nodded.
“All right, Vulcan,” she said. “How about we get out of here?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Together, they made their way to the spacecraft. Its metal hatch opened, revealing a tight passenger area. There were four seats within the ship.
“Good thing I made more room,” Vulcan said.
The three took their seats and, afterwards, the outer hatch closed. In seconds the ship was in the air.
A few seconds later, it was long gone.
DURING
22
OVER THE PLANET POMOS, YEAR 5419 A. E.
The planet was once Catherine Vulcan’s –by then formally titled Saint Vulcan– home.
Today, it lay ravaged from the bombardment of missiles she sent down on it over two hundred years before and was reduced to a toxic, irradiated wasteland.
Even so, Vulcan’s industries were so advanced and held so many tantalizing secrets that for years corporations risked their employees’ lives to explore her harsh surface in the very small hope of extracting any research –however fragmentary– which was not incinerated.
Nothing was found by these corporate explorers and eventually they gave up their search.
Not everyone did.
The poisoned planet, ignored and all but forgotten, received a group of mysterious visitors a few years after the Corporations left. They built a base on the planet’s surface and a space platform in orbit over her while initiating a very large scale dig. Whatever was excavated was taken to the planet’s base and, via a seventy mile long space elevator, transferred to the space platform for further examination.
For years tons of toxic debris was mined and sifted in that space platform.
The mysterious visitors were determined to remain hidden but their operation was discovered.
In an office on the space platform, there was a violent confrontation…
The creature scowled.
It was a nano-probe robot, a Chameleon unit, and its outer appearance was altered to look like Catherine Holland.
The real Catherine Holland stood before it.
In this epoch far removed from her time on Ea
rth, Catherine Holland was known as Latitia, Independent for hire. She was dressed in a spacesuit and held the limp form of a man in her arms. He too was dressed in a spacesuit and, at the moment, was unconscious and could not help her.
His name was B’taav and he too was an Independent who worked within the Epsillon Empire. His body was ravaged by a nano-probe infection he acquired on Onia, the place where Catherine Holland and he met before making their way to Pomos. The nano-probes attacked B’taav’s system and weakened him to the point where he could barely move.
“B’taav?” Catherine Holland said.
B’taav let out a soft moan.
At least you’re still alive.
Catherine Holland looked away from him and around the room.
The remains of another nano-probe robot lay broken on the floor below a tinsel glass window. The window separated the office from outer space. To the creature’s side, two other nearly identical nano-probe robots, one which was under Catherine Holland’s control, were locked in a deadly struggle. They had the exact same strength and speed and it was doubtful either could defeat the other. For Catherine Holland, a draw was sufficient.
She then focused on her deadly double.
The Chameleon that looked like her, unlike the real thing, did not wear a space suit even though the room’s temperature was near absolute zero. Also unlike Catherine Holland, it had short, steel gray hair. This was a remnant of the features it possessed when the Independent and her unconscious companion first entered the room.
The Chameleon drew closer to Catherine Holland. Its hands and fingers grew longer and their tips sharpened until they were like razors. It reached out but, before it could grab the Independents, Catherine Holland pressed a button on her spacesuit.
The remains of the full sized robot which lay broken on the floor below the tinsel glass window erupted into white hot flame. The flame was so intense it seared the tinsel glass and stress fractures appeared on its surface.
The Chameleon spun around and, upon seeing the damage, stabbed its claws into the room’s floor.
The tinsel glass erupted and the room’s bitterly cold atmosphere was sent explosively into space. So too was all loose debris, including the two robots locked in struggle. They flew past the Independents and the shattered window and tumbled through space in a bizarre, almost erotic dance before disappearing into the distance.
Catherine Holland anticipated the explosive decompression and locked her magnetic boots on the office floor. She held B’taav tight while weathering the intense suction pull. Once it was gone, she peered through her companion’s helmet’s glass.
B’taav’s solid black eyes stared forward but were barely focused. His face was even paler than usual and his blond hair was streaked with sweat. Catherine Holland wondered if he was aware of what happened. He surprised her by saying:
“What did you…?”
Catherine Holland smiled and winked.
“Thing about machines,” she said, referring to the ones that a moment before surrounded them. “Is they can be hacked.”
The Chameleon coldly eyed Catherine Holland and B’taav. It crawled toward them like a spider to prey.
Catherine Holland spun B’taav around.
“We’ll see each other again. Soon.”
She activated B’taav’s suit’s thrusters. They flared and B’taav’s limp form shot past the creature and the shattered tinsel glass opening. He flew into outer space and, in seconds, his body was nothing more than a speck in the very far distance.
The Space Station buckled and Catherine Holland had to avoid being thrown against the room’s wall.
The shock caused the Chameleon to almost lose its grip. Its face twisted into something that no longer looked like her and advanced.
Catherine Holland pressed more buttons on her suit’s controls. As the space station lurched, she moved away from the creature and approached the desk on the opposite side of the room. She looked out the shattered window and at the planet below.
Directly under the Station was the tinsel glass tube which carried the Space Elevator. The tube spread down and down, ending at a base built on Pomos’ surface. The remains of that structure were on fire. Gigantic explosions rocked it and threatened to sever her from the Space Station.
Catherine Holland wasn’t too concerned about that.
She retrieved a small, round object from a pouch in her space suit and threw it at the approaching Chameleon.
The object was no larger than a coin and just as flat. With no gravity to affect it, it flew directly at the creature. The Chameleon tried to dodge the object but couldn’t. It embedded itself into the creature’s forehead and let out a small electric spark. Just like that, the thing that once looked like her froze.
Catherine Holland cautiously approached the Chameleon.
She pushed it before taking a quick step back.
It did not move.
“What do you know, it worked,” she said.
“Did you think it wouldn’t?” a male voice said over her communication system.
Catherine Holland shook her head. She reached into another pouch and retrieved a wire cable. She fastened it to the creature’s midsection.
Another, even more forceful rumble shook the station.
“Time’s up,” the male voice said.
“I’m well aware,” Catherine Holland answered.
She made sure the cable linking her to the Chameleon was tight. She then faced the shattered tinsel glass window and activated her suit’s thrusters.
With the Chameleon in tow, Catherine Holland flew through the destroyed window and into outer space. She worked the thruster controls and changed directions, moving up and over the disintegrating space station.
Far below, another explosion rocked the Elevator’s platform. Debris was hurled past her at staggering speeds and the Chameleon’s body served as a shield from the smaller particles rushing her way. It would not, however, save her from larger ones…
Catherine Holland let the thought go. She applied more thrust while speaking into her communicator.
“Things are going to hell. I assume you’re in position?”
“Affirmative.”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
As she said this, her body felt as if it was gripped by invisible hands. It was a gravity hook. Both her immobile companion and she moved toward the invisible source of the hook. Catherine Holland shut off her suit’s thrusters as they were no longer needed.
The tinsel glass that made up the Space Elevator’s long tubes cracked and shattered.
“I don’t want to be a nag,” she said. “But can you please hurry the fuck up?”
Abruptly, a light came on before her and a room materialize as if by magic. The two fell into the room and the door leading into it began closing.
Just before it did, a brilliant white light bathed the room.
The Space Station and Planetary Platform erupted in one last, blazing, fireball.
Catherine Holland got to her feet and checked her frozen companion. The device embedded in the Chameleon’s forehead remained in place.
“How’s it going in there?” the same male voice over the communicator asked.
“Not bad,” she replied.
She checked the readings within the decompression chamber and, when the atmosphere and temperature were right, she removed her space suit. Catherine Holland wore a skin tight black jumper below the suit. It had a computer embedded in her right sleeve and she activated it. The chamber door opened.
She quickly left.
Catherine Holland entered a corridor and sealed the decompression chamber door behind her.
Beside the door was a large, rectangular metal box. It looked like a coffin and had a glass panel on its top. Catherine Holland paused before it and couldn’t help but think of the many years, on and off, she spent inside that cryogenic unit.
She walked to the end of the corridor and entered an elevator which took her to the ship’s hig
hest level. There, the elevator door opened and she stood before the ship’s cockpit. A burly, mountain of a man sat behind the controls.
“Welcome back, Catherine,” the man, Sergeant Lionel Delmont, said.
“Thanks,” she said. “How’s B’taav? Did the Xendos make it in time?”
“Inquisitor Cer picked him up,” Delmont said. “The timing was just right.”
The Xendos was the spacecraft Inquisitor Cer commandeered and used to travel from the Epsillon Empire back to the Phaecian Empire and then Pomos. The trip proved eventful and Inquisitor Cer barely made it alive.
“Where are they now?”
“They’re headed to the Type 2 Displacer.”
Pomos had two Displacer Units. The system’s main Displacer, a modern Type 6, was the one the nano-probe creatures used to come and go from the system. There was a second all but forgotten Type 2 Displacer hidden in the rubble of what was once Pomos’ moon. The Type 2 Displacer was about to be used by Inquisitor Cer and B’taav to flee the system. Their journey would take them much farther than they could imagine.
“What about the drones?”
“Swarming. They’re mad as hell, but B’taav and Inquisitor Cer should make it out before they get too close.”
“And the Type 6 Displacer?”
Delmont checked his instruments.
“The area around her will be clear in another five minutes.”
“Send the signal the moment the Xendos is gone.”
The two were silent for several seconds and watched as the various drones headed to the Type 2. The Xendos was well ahead of the pack and, after a while, Catherine Holland let out a relieved breath.
“They’re through,” she said.
“Sending the signal,” Sergeant Delmont said.
He hit a series of switches then leaned back in his chair. There was nothing more to do at this moment.
“How’s our treasure?” he asked.
“See for yourself,” Catherine said and pressed a button beside a monitor.
Images from the decompression chamber appeared on that monitor. The Chameleon unit remained frozen in place within.
“Secured and ready,” Catherine said.
They stared through the ship’s front view-screen at the destruction they caused. The Space Elevator and the orbital station were in flames and falling apart. They would crash onto Pomos and add to her vast fields of destruction.