by C. R. Turner
I’m not sure if Emerson is joking or being serious – probably a bit of both.
Marcus steps in. “Whoa … what if shooting it stops the cloak from working? Do you really want just anyone finding this planet with all its weapons? Our advantage right now is that we’re probably the only ones who know where Te Enthai is.”
Everyone watches Sam as she walks around knocking on the side of the building, listening as she goes. After a couple minutes, she’s circled it. Nothing.
Hours later, I’m lying next to Max, using his huge frame to shield the glare from the sunlight. Other than the sound of leaves rustling in a gentle breeze, the silence is unsettling – no vehicle or aircraft noises that you would associate with a big city. The team are rendered silent. It’s peaceful, relaxing, even if the cause is sinister. I listen to Max’s massive lungs breathing in the cool air, then slowly exhaling. If I listen really close, I can hear his heartbeat.
Sam is typing away at her computer sitting in her lap, with some kind of electronic device sitting on the ground in front of her.
“So, Miller … what do you do for fun when you’re not on duty?” Bradley asks.
Sam keeps typing away. “Read technical papers, go for a run …”
“So, Miller … what do you do for fun when you’re not on duty?” Bradley asks again, his voice pitching up slightly.
Sam glances over at Bradley and chuckles.
There’s an almighty thud and the ground shakes. My heart starts, and Max and I leap to our feet. Everyone’s on their feet.
Marcus pats Sam on the back. “You did it!”
“It was just an ultrasonic combination,” Sam says.
The ground continues to shake as the whole building lifts into the air around a central column. A few seconds later, it stops. There’s now a ten-foot-high gap below the building, exposing all the inner workings at ground level. Lights inside automatically come on. We step inside. It’s freezing. The concrete floor, desks, and computers are all completely spotless. There’s not a sound.
The team survey the area. Marcus and Sam’s eyebrows are furrowed. Sam types away at one of the computers, then suddenly straightens bolt upright.
Sam and Marcus stand together for a short while then Marcus points at the screen.
“I think it’s a receiver of some sort,” Marcus says.
“Where’s the power coming from?” I ask.
Marcus looks up. “Good question … this is the first sign of electricity we’ve seen.”
Sam points at the screen. “I think it might be getting its power from an incoming field.”
We all crowd around her.
“Sam’s right. These readings suggest that the building’s some sort of receiver and it draws power directly from an incoming energy field.”
“What sort of energy are we talking about?” Hawkins asks.
Marcus looks up at Hawkins. “I’m not across that. I’ve never seen anything like this technology.” He turns to Bradley. “Sir, we need to get some SESS physicists to look it over. If I were to guess, I’d say that the incoming energy field is from a transmitter on the opposite side of the planet. Presumably there’s still power generation there.”
Sam shakes her head.
“What? You disagree?” Marcus asks.
“Well, yeah,” Sam says, glancing between Marcus and Bradley. “There’s no need for power generation. You’re correct that the building’s a receiver … but the power’s not coming from a transmitter, it’s coming from the black-body cloak. A cloak like that must absorb tremendous amounts of energy … some of that energy is let through to support life, but the rest must be funnelled down to receivers like this one.”
Marcus smiles. “Of course, it’s like one giant solar panel. As long as Te Enthai’s star burns, you have unlimited clean power.”
“Can you download any of the information from these computers?” Bradley asks.
Sam smiles and points at her computer. “One step ahead of you, sir.”
“Nice work, Miller. I like your initiative,” Bradley says.
“Will we send a data burst to the Core to have someone pick us up now?” I ask.
Bradley replies coolly, “We’ll take the Timberwolf back with us.”
“What? Wasn’t the mission all about returning the ship?”
“Well, partly. But look around. Who are we returning it to? And besides, the Timberwolf’s catalogue can only bring us to the Te Enthai system. We still need the Timberwolf to locate the planet while it’s cloaked,” Bradley says.
As Bradley and I walk outside, I ask, “Will Miller and Marcus return to research the technology here?”
“Miller won’t,” Bradley replies. “She’s a member of a striker force team. I’m sure there’re dozens of SESS specialists who would love to crawl all over this place though.”
Jade wanders over and joins Bradley, Max and me as we wait for the rest of the team to finish poking around. Bradley steps in and strokes Jade’s forehead, smiling from his eyes. It brings me joy to see Bradley drop his fearless leader facade, albeit for a brief moment.
Back at the Timberwolf’s flight deck, Taylor’s computer, which is sitting on one of the consoles, flashes a red light. Taylor runs past Max and me and grabs it. Sam and I unsaddle the canines while everybody grabs something to eat and drink. Taylor’s still staring at her screen, and I wonder what’s on it. Curious, I join the rest of the team as they crowd around and look over Taylor’s shoulder. The screen shows footage taken from the motion-activated cameras. A bird flies through the shot. I’m surprised to see life of any sort, but the rest of the team look unimpressed and start walking away. Taylor loads the next lot of footage. Just seconds in, a person in plain clothing walks past, an energy weapon slung over their back and a large hunting knife sheathed on their belt. Their face is obscured.
“That’s the person I saw the other day.”
The footage continues as the person approaches the camera – his face in full view now – picks the camera up and smashes it on the ground. Taylor rewinds and freezes to capture the man’s face. It’s horribly scarred, as if he’s been in a terrible accident, and his lower jaw has been replaced with a solid gold one. Bradley claws at Taylor’s computer while she holds it so he can get a better look. Everyone’s eyes widen except mine.
“Who is that?” I ask, a slow realisation seeping in. “Isn’t that …”
Bradley nods. “Yeah.”
“I was going to say the Butcher of Blackrock … but it can’t be. He’s not real!” I reply emphatically.
“That’s him,” Bradley replies.
My heart skips a beat as I glance over at Taylor, then back at Bradley. “What? I thought that was just a children’s story told to scare the hell out of kids.”
Taylor and Bradley stare back at me.
“No.” Bradley shakes his head. “Well, they are children stories, yes, but they’re based on a real person.”
“The Butcher of Blackrock is the most prolific murderer in history,” Taylor says. “Rumoured to have killed hundreds of soldiers, travelling to conflict zones to torture and murder, using war zones as a forensic counter measure.”
“He’s ranked number three on the IWC register,” Bradley adds.
I reef my head back in shock. I don’t know what’s more terrifying: the fact that the Butcher of Blackrock is real or that there are people more wanted on the IWC register.
Bradley adds, “SI have been after him for years but have never been able to get close to him.”
“What’s he doing here?” Marcus asks. “How would he even know about this place?”
“Maybe he found out about it the same way you did, Dad. Through the salvage team,” Sam says.
“That’s probably pretty close to the mark,” Bradley says. “SI have been tracking him through weapons sales. He steals military hardware, ships or whatever can be sold on the black market, to fund his cause.”
No one speaks for a moment and I panic. “We have to stop h
im. We can’t let him get away. If he steals a sample of the live hybrid nanoids—”
“Stinson’s right,” Bradley says. “He wouldn’t use the nanoids; it doesn’t fit his psychological profile, but who knows what lunatic he could sell them to. Taylor, what’s the timestamp on the footage?”
As Taylor is scanning her computer, something catches Sam’s eye out over the flight deck, toward the horizon. I see what she sees and run down the ramp to the observation deck. The team run up behind me. A starship on the furthest side of the spaceport is lifting off.
“We need to get in the air,” Marcus says as he runs back to the flight deck.
I grimace as the Butcher’s starship accelerates into the sky. “We’re too late!”
Chapter 7
The colliders sound like they’re running flat out, and Emerson points the ship skyward and steps on it.
Sam asks Bradley, “Are we really going after him?”
“It’s one of our base mission parameters. You know that. Render assistance to starships in distress … incarcerate any known felons if they should be discovered and the risk to life is minimal.”
“How can we track the starship once it dives?” I ask.
“Most ships send out a data burst that can be picked up by neighbouring planets or ships,” Bradley explains. “Union vessels open a micro Bridgeport and fire the data burst through, before diving, so the Core can track ship movements. It contains information about the ship, the departure point and destination, and it sometimes even contains the number of souls on board, but I suspect that even if the Butcher’s ship has one, he would’ve disabled it. If it’s disabled, we won’t be able to track it.”
“Then what’s the point in chasing him?” I ask.
Marcus raises his voice. “We just need to get clear of the cloak.”
I’m looking out the aft windows when Te Enthai suddenly disappears and the blue of the sky switches to the absolute blackness of the cloak.
Taylor calls out, “We’re clear.”
Sam frowns heavily at Marcus. “Why?”
“To record his shock wave.”
Sam’s mouth twists. “What?”
“He’s gone,” Emerson says as he stands at his console and looks out over the bow.
Sam’s face is contorted with anger. I wonder what Marcus said that upset her so much.
As the team congregate around the flight deck, Bradley asks, “No data burst?”
“Neg, sir,” Taylor says.
“We still might be able to track him,” Marcus says.
Sam shakes her head.
Bradley frowns at Marcus. “How so?”
“Sam’s Shockwave software,” Marcus says, looking at Sam.
“It won’t work,” Sam says.
“Can you explain it to me again, Miller?” Bradley asks.
“The software works on the theory that a gravity shock wave emanates out of a collapsing Bridgeport after a starship has flown through it. Using the ship’s laser interferometers, you could measure the shock wave. The destination’s solar system – the planets and the star – would all affect the gravitational shock wave signature. The Shockwave software then builds a model of the destination’s system and compares that model to known systems in the Bridgeport Solution Processor. You would need that solar system’s solution to be in the BSP catalogue, and you really need two, if not three points of reference to measure the shock wave from,” Sam says.
Marcus adds, “And so we can—”
Sam raises her voice. “It’s just a prototype! The software’s not field tested, and we would’ve had to have captured the Butcher’s Bridgeport shock wave.”
Marcus points at his screen. “We’ve got it. That’s why I wanted to get clear of the cloak before he dived, in case the cloak interfered with the measurements. So, can we get on with it?”
Sam gasps then purses her lips, as if she’s trying hard to ignore her father’s insistence. She addresses Bradley again. “Sir, as I said, the software needs at least two points of reference for it to work properly.”
“Understood, Miller,” Bradley says, “but we don’t really have anything to lose by trying, do we?”
“No, sir.” Sam sits at her console and starts working on her computer.
The air is thick with tension. No one speaks. I’ve seen this strain on the team’s faces before – typically the calm before the storm. Just before the mission goes sideways.
A few minutes pass, then Marcus exclaims, “Damn it.”
As we approach, Sam slumps in her chair. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”
“Report,” Bradley orders.
Sam sits up, straight-backed. “Sir, it just errored. Like I said, it can’t process the request with just one point of reference.”
“Alright people, unless you have any other ideas we’re out of here.”
“Wait,” Sam says. “Sir … there is one more thing I’d like to try. Dad, do you have the coordinates of the spaceport?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I want to try using it as a pseudo-reference point,” Sam says.
Marcus frowns. “It won’t work. When a starship leaves—”
“Don’t worry. I’ve found them.” Sam types away again.
I try to read Bradley’s face, but his deadpan gives me nothing.
A couple minutes pass, and Sam shakes her head. “Sir, it’s returned twenty-seven possible destinations from the Timberwolf’s catalogue. With only one real point of reference, you just get a scattergun effect.” Then she leaps to her feet as if she’s received an electric shock.
“What?” Bradley asks. “Don’t tell me Terra Primus is on the list?”
Sam shakes her head. “No. Blackrock is!”
“How accurate is that information?” Bradley asks.
“Sir, I’m surprised it returned just twenty-seven planets out of a catalogue of over ten thousand. I was expecting it to return hundreds. With only one real point of reference, it’s just a rough approximation, but given what we know about the Butcher … I’d say it’s highly probable that Blackrock’s the correct destination, sir.”
“I agree,” Marcus adds.
“Why would the Butcher go to Blackrock? Why not Antarum or Molne where there’s conflict?” Emerson asks.
“He’s probably got his cache of weapons and is heading home to stash them,” Hawkins says.
“Alright, people.” Bradley raises his voice and glances at each of us. “Taylor, configure a data burst to the Core. Send the footage of the Butcher and let them know we’re going after him. Request the deployment of an additional striker force team, a Firestorm with ITSM specs and Remote Air Support Base support crew. Request the striker force team retrieve Hawkins TA-60 and ammunition out of stowage. Understood?”
“Pos, sir.”
Bradley keeps firing. “Miller, I know it’s just an approximation, but check your software outputs again and see if there are any other destinations that we need to consider.”
“Pos, sir.”
“Hawkins, Stinson. Get Max and Jade saddled up and grab the G-ray Tag out of the back of the Hurricane. Make sure your Ashras are fully charged. It’s a long shot with how much of a head start he has, but as soon as we hit the ground on Blackrock, I want you ready to head out and see if you can target the Butcher. Under no circumstances are you to engage him. Understood?”
Hawkins and I reply in unison, “Pos, sir”, then break to go about our assigned tasks.
My heart races as I think about the Butcher and all the stories I heard when growing up: men having limbs amputated while still conscious, being skinned alive or disembowelled. Surely, they can’t all be true. I thought the more missions I got under my belt, the easier it would get, but knowing who we’re going after, my stomach clenches with nausea. My hands are trembling as I secure Max’s leather straps.
Hawkins must have noticed. “We’ve trained for this sort of thing,” he says. “You’ve got this.”
I nod, concentrating on the sa
ddle, but grateful for his confidence in me. “I know.”
We lead Max and Jade up to the centre of the bridge where the Hurricanes are parked. I swing the rear doors open, climb into the back and drag one of the boxes out to retrieve the heavy G-ray Tag, then hand it to Hawkins. He tests its power level before putting it into his backpack. I grab a couple of Ashra energy packs and energy grenades and hand them to Hawkins before grabbing some for myself.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Grab some jackets. Blackrock’s cold.”
When we emerge from the Bridgeport, a mysterious planet is directly over the bow. It’s like a giant pearl covered in white and grey clouds. We’re going after the Butcher. I let that sink in, thinking about my parents’ killers serving life in the prison colony on Infernum. I remember the strong sense of justice that came over me the day we imprisoned them. While I feel my purpose is to serve as a paramedic and help others, I can’t escape the overpowering urge to seek justice against the criminals who have ruined so many lives. I really hope Nueran gives us the go-ahead to form a striker pursuit team – arresting the Butcher would go a long way toward convincing him.
“Sir, I’ve picked up an Atmospheric Turbulence Remnant,” Taylor says, reading her Core-link. “Judging by the head start the Butcher had, and the size of his ship, I’d say the ATR was generated by him entering the atmosphere.”
I lead Max down to the flight deck.
“Can you detect the ship, Taylor?” Bradley asks.
Taylor scours her screen and the holograph for a few seconds. “Neg, sir.”
“Emerson, try to land relatively close to the ATR,” Bradley says.
“Pos, sir.”
Emerson makes a heading change and Taylor calls out, “Sir, we’ve received a data burst from the Core.”
“What’s it say?” Bradley asks.
“Requests have been granted. ETA, one hour.”
As the Timberwolf builds speed, a giant bow wave rains heavily on the forward windscreens as though we’re flying through a storm cloud, causing water to pool and run up the glass in streams. I lead Max down to the observation level and look out in anticipation. Bradley joins me.