Retribution

by T. R. Harris

  Looking back over his years as a REV, they appeared to be a dark void in which he’d lived his life. Once the reality of what it was like to be an NT-4 REV became apparent, Zac put away his childish dreams and accepted his fate. It was a fate with no future. He was a REV, and Rev was his existence. There was no time—or desire—to plan beyond the next Run. REVs didn’t have futures. And they didn’t have relationships in a traditional sense. They did their job, and if luck was with them, they would live for another Run. That was it.

  And for Zac, that reality lasted longer than anyone. At one point, he became the guide, the trailblazer, a curiosity to be studied. Then it all changed.

  How can someone who’d spent fifteen years without a future suddenly begin thinking of one? How could life suddenly have meaning and purpose beyond the next day and it not affect that person? Zac was still learning how to be normal, and it wasn’t an easy transition. And as with all aspects of Zac Murphy’s life, he was the first, stepping into the unknown with people watching his every move. That would have been fine, if Zac knew what he was doing. But every day as a new breed of Human was a day of discovery … and a mystery. In that regard, nothing had changed in his life. It was still just one day at a time, hoping he didn’t screw up.

  And in that way, Zac Murphy was just like everyone else.

  Zac noticed the changes to the cockpit of the 308 the moment he climbed into the backseat. The divider between the pilot and the rear seat had been beefed up, and Perry’s cushion wrapped around him more. The configuration of the 308 cockpit had always been sparse when it came to the comfort of the pilot since the spaceship was originally designed to be flown by a computer. Even still, accommodations had to be made for a Human pilot during the interim testing phase, a phase that continued into combat trials where the inherent flaw in the program was discovered. Computers could be hacked, so that part of the plan was scrapped. Afterward, pilots and R.I.O.s were placed back in the cockpits and the controls modified to their current configuration.

  But now the 308 was expected to operate at its full capability again, this time carrying a Human pilot. But these weren’t your everyday, run-of-the-mill pilots. They were REVs, and as a result, everything was hardened, including the control stick and trigger buttons. The weapons selectors were made of metal now, rather than plastic, and the sensor displays were brought back up to the refresh rates of the AI. For the past ten days, 308s had been run through their paces, guided by the AIs. Now it was Mark Perry’s turn to run a 308 through a combat scenario at full operational speed. To say the man was looking forward to it was an understatement. He was like a kid in a candy store, and with his dad’s American Express Black Card.

  “This is going to be incredible!” Mark said to Zac as he slipped into the seat wearing a full spacesuit, helmet and REV collar.

  “I hope it’s everything you expect it to be,” Zac said solemnly from the rear seat.

  “I know; all I’ll be able to do is remember the visuals when it’s over, not the emotions, not the actual sensation. But the memories will be better than nothing.” Perry focused on the screen showing Zac. “You sure you want to do this? In a way, I envy you. You’ll be able to experience everything as it happens.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Good. Then I’ll try not to screw the pooch.”

  Perry locked down the canopy and began his pre-liftoff routine. A minute later, he looked to the side and gave the thumbs up to the ground crew. They acknowledged his signal then rushed off for the safety of the blast barriers. The craft would lift on chemical jets and then transition to the gravity drive once it was at a safe distance from the ground or any other objects in the vicinity. That was an issue with gravity drives; they impacted a sphere in all directions surrounding the singularity. Once in space, the distances were great enough that this generally wasn’t a problem. But near the ground, or with other aircraft in the area, it could be a disaster.

  Zac was already cascading, a mental effort in preparation for the flight. He would receive a warning before Perry was injected with the AC-3, and at that point, the 308 could be operated at full spec. Zac wanted to be sure his body could withstand the transition.

  Soon after liftoff, the bright blue of the atmosphere gave way to the clear nothingness of space. The ship was still accelerating, so Zac didn’t feel the sensation of weightlessness. In addition, the 308 was too small to have internal gravity, which would have provided compensation against the incredible g-forces to come. That was why normal pilots couldn’t fly the 308 at full spec, only REVs.

  The test was to be conducted in the most realistic conditions. Major Perry was given a flight path, yet he didn’t know when or what would be sent against him. And as with all the times before, when he was hit with AC-3, nothing changed, nothing except for the god-awful scream. The ship continued accelerating until it reached the desired cruising speed, and then the gravity faded away.

  The Earth still dominated, sitting below and behind the starship from Zac’s perspective. He had a full array of monitors at his disposal allowing him to see around the ship in any and all directions. The R.I.O was responsible for knowing the threats in the area, as well as the operational readiness of the craft at all times. That wasn’t Zac’s job, but the equipment was still lit up in front of him.

  The AI would not be involved in the detection of enemy vessels; Perry would do that himself. It was a very basic process, but one based on the passive sensors built into the system and immune from interference. Zac now waited for the games to begin. Perry, for his part, couldn’t care less either way. He was simply in a holding position, his mind and awareness waiting for something to happen.

  Then a command came over the comm. “Designated REV One. Entering combat zone. Identify any hostiles in the area and destroy with maximum efficiency. Preserve unit if necessary.”

  That last part was added to ensure that a REV experiencing a no-win scenario would opt to leave the area rather than fight a losing battle. The idea was to preserve the 308 for a subsequent run. There weren’t that many to waste on kamikaze missions.

  Zac noticed no change in Perry’s demeanor. He would react when there was something to react to, and the reason Zac wasn’t surprised when the exercise began shortly after the announcement. It wasn’t as if Perry was sitting there expecting anything to happen.

  Three contacts appeared at extreme sensor range. The computer matched the gravity signatures with those of Antaere Glorybats and highlighted the contacts on the HUD with flashing red boxes.

  Zac was slammed against his restraints as Mark changed course abruptly and accelerated. The 308 was on gravity drive, but at less than lightspeed. Now there was a brief period when the space outside the ship turned a glowing green, signifying a transition into FTL speed and contact with the ephemeral event horizon of the miniature blackhole sitting about five miles in front of the ship. The acceleration was incredible, something Zac could tolerate only thanks to the natural NT-4 coursing through his body. He didn’t let out a primal scream as Perry had at the moment the AC-3 was introduced to his body. Deltas didn’t do that, not normally. However, Zac did groan awfully loud.

  He was activated, but even then, the pressure his body felt was almost intolerable. In normal gravity drive application, inertial compensators spared the body such stresses. But not in a 308. Zac understood now why it was impossible for normal pilots to fly the spacecraft at spec. A normal pilot would be dead by now.

  Perry dropped out of lightspeed as he reached the distant targets. The drones began evasive maneuvers, while also filling space with energy blasts from their flash cannon. In this case, the energy was harmless laser beams rather than plasma bolts. This wasn’t a real battle, at least not to the drones and their remote operators.

  But to Mark Perry, it was. He swept past the enemy vessels in a flash, releasing his own barrage of real energy bolts with perfect timing and accuracy. Shielding glowed around the drones until one overloaded and the ship exploded. Th
e other two bolted away in opposite directions, desperate to preserve what shielding they had.

  Perry’s eyes locked on the nearest target and unleashed a streaking guided missile. The tiny dart-like weapon jumped to lightspeed for a split second before dropping out at just the right time and place to impact the fleeing drone. Even before the explosion registered on the equipment, Perry was in hot pursuit of the remaining drone.

  That’s when another five contacts appeared, whipping around from the glowing, beach-ball-size disk of the Moon.

  By now, the 308 was racing away from the Earth, having added considerable distance with the momentary jump to lightspeed. The attacking drones made their own jumps and reappeared, forming a phalanx, with one lead vessel and two others trailing away on each side. They fired the moment they achieved normal space, sending a wall of simulated plasma toward Perry and Zac.

  And that was when Zac panicked.

  Mark Perry continued on a steady course, pursuing the last of the first three attackers. He paid no attention to the other five drones, nor to the supposedly roiling wall of star-hot gas coming their way. The shields reacted automatically, but not the pilot.

  Then Zac noticed why. The new contacts on the HUD had not been designated as hostiles. At least not yet. Zac wondered if this was part of the exercise; to see if the pilot would react to threats even if the targeting computer was hacked. At this point, the answer was a resounding ‘no.’

  Zac took control. “Major Perry—REV One—identify threats in sector three—”

  “Captain Murphy, belay that!” a voice cried out in Zac’s helmet. It was that of David Cross. “You are to provide no input into the test.”

  Zac grimaced. Of course, he wasn’t. He was simply an observer. He was embarrassed.

  “Sorry, sir. Overzealous.”

  A moment later, the simulated plasma bolts struck the portside shields.

  To Zac’s relief, Mark reacted to the attack. His eyes shifted to the incoming contacts as he jerked the control stick hard to the left. What followed was a wild series of spirals and waves like the craziest rollercoaster ride one could imagine. The 308 was soon positioned behind the attackers, with two already consumed by brief balls of yellow gas, before the lack of oxygen in space snuffed out the explosions. After the simulated bolts hit, Perry identified the undesignated attack as a hostile act and reacted accordingly. That was good, in Zac’s opinion, although from the readings before him, their shields on that side of the ship were severely compromised. Not only that, but now there were four active enemy ships still in the area, the surviving three from this attack, plus the one from the original engagement. With the weakened portside shields, another full-on attack could score a win for the bad guys.

  But Mark Perry wasn’t through. He whipped the 308 into an impossibly tight and quick loop that produced another groan of unfamiliar pain to the Delta REV, pushing him almost to his limit. Zac even heard a guttural growl from the pilot. But the maneuver lined them up for another series of bolt launches that eliminated two of the four targets.

  Zac was feeling a little better about their chances when the unexpected happened. Major Mark Perry was Twilighted.

  Zac saw the pilot’s head lean forward just as his eyes closed. The 308 zipped out along a straight flight path, ignoring the presence of the enemy vessels in the area. Zac checked the Run clock. There were still six minutes remaining.

  But then the AI took over, pulling the ship up and increasing speed until FTL was achieved. The tiny spacecraft raced away from the engagement area, climbing above the plane of the ecliptic before turning for home. That’s when Zac realized this flight was a test of the AI, as much as it was of Major Perry. He relaxed, letting the computer guide the ship back to Earth and a flawless landing on runway 32R at Groom Lake.

  11

  Zorin K studied the battle screen with angst, his heart not into the coming fight. It did not matter. He was the leader of the Consolidated Forces and would do what was expected of him.

  He was an Enif and recently watched his people tortured and imprisoned for circumstances beyond their control. How could a race of people do the right thing when they are caught between two powerful forces? How can they survive without siding with one or the other? The Enif tried being neutral—nearly all the Colony Worlds did—but they were forced to decide. And when they did, they suddenly became the sworn enemy of the other party.

  As with all the peoples of the Grid, Zorin had seen the videos from Crious. He attempted to shield his offspring from the gory, savage images yet was unable to keep them from seeing them through other sources. And now they cried at night, traumatized by what they saw. It was like that throughout the Grid.

  It was at that time Zorin decided to surrender, if not in spirit, then in attitude.

  He was a loyal follower of the Order, believing in the tenets and promise of the Final Glory. That would never die. And he reminded himself, that long before the Humans were brought into the Order, the Antaere served the religion well. They were the Guardians of the Order, the conduit through which all unity flows. That may be true, but that does not give them power over all who believe. At least that is what Zorin still felt in his heart. But it was safer to accept reality, to accept things as they had once been, hoping those times would return.

  The problem with that thinking was that Zorin was old enough to remember the time before the Antaere-Human war. The Guardians were not like they are now. They did not rule by military strength or concrete dictate. It was a more respectful time, a time of unity between all members of the Order. After all, that was what the Order was all about—Unity. And someday, the ultimate Unity with everything—the Final Glory.

  But the Antaere had changed. The Humans were the cause. Zorin was intelligent enough to follow the sequence of events that led to the war and the ebb and flow of fortune. At one moment, the Antaere were winning; the next the Humans. And no change was as sudden or unexpected as what began half a year ago on Zorin’s homeworld of Enif.

  The Humans were on the verge of complete victory, having driven the Antaere back to their Old Worlds. They were only a seasonal cycle away from invading Antara. And then the war would be over. There would be peace.

  For several years before that, the leaders of the Enif struggled with the question of who to support in the conflict. Eventually, they sided with the Humans, and until recently, it proved to be a wise decision. And then the betrayal came when it was learned the evil Ha’curn were, in fact, allies of the Antaere. To Zorin’s shame, it was on Enif that the trap was sprung. The Humans made it out of the system with only a third of their once-sizable fleet intact, and from that moment, the war was all but over, with the Antaere the victors.

  And now the Humans cowered in their home system, imprisoned there by a blockade of Antaere and Ha’curn forces, awaiting their own Final Glory.

  Zorin could see the graphic layout of what the Humans called the Solar System. He was there not to enforce the blockade, but to make it unnecessary. As the commander of the Consolidated Forces, Zorin oversaw the one thousand six hundred forty-eight vessels of the conscripted fleet. These were ships and crews requested to join in the effort to destroy the Human homeworld of Earth. Most of the Colony Worlds—at least those with the capacity—contributed to the effort. Zorin grimaced. They had no choice but to oblige. After Crious, it was obvious dissenters would be punished with extreme prejudice.

  Therefore, Zorin steeled his resolve, attempting to place himself in a mental time warp, back to a time when the Antaere ruled the Grid, before the Humans, before the wars. He prayed to the Order that the Antaere would return to their old ways once the Humans were gone. What he feared was they would not. He had more contact with the senior command of the Antaere than did most Enif. He discovered within them a different side to their personality—a hidden, suppressed side. He—better than most—knew the full history of the Antaere, and of the early days, when they first began to spread the word of the Order. They were much more warlike
back then, and it cost them dearly. They changed, and until the recent war, had sworn off violence as a way to enlighten the galaxy to the glory of the Order.

  Or had they? Had they really changed, or was it simply a ploy, a strategy? Knowing what he knew now about how seamlessly the Antaere have reverted to barbarism and suppression, he believed it was a strategy all along. And because of that, Zorin surrendered. It was more important to save his race than it was to make a stand. The Enif were in no position to resist the Antaere. So, as the supreme officer in the fledging Enif military, he accepted the position of Califont of the Consolidated Fleet. He took to heart the words of Aric Nesan when the Lead Insir made his famous speech on Crious. Actions, not words, would prove loyalty to the Order … and to the Antaere. Zorin’s loyalty to the Order was never in question. Loyalty to the Antaere was another matter. Even so, he would use loyalty as a strategy, not only for his welfare but for that of his people.

  While Zorin summarized the situation in his mind, reconciling the present with the past, he read a tactical screen before him, feeling torn in his emotions. The Humans had formed a spherical screen around their world made up of literally thousands of spaceships, satellites, probes and other assorted objects. It protected not only the ecliptic but the area above and below. Zorin’s fleet could not approach the planet without encountering this defensive screen. Normally, this would not be an issue; he had the ships and firepower to defeat any enemy. However, reality was that the Humans were fighting for their very existence. Therefore, this protective screen was made up of every type of explosive device, missile, ram and other suicide projectile imaginable. His fleet would suffer terrible losses during the transition, and that was before they would face the remaining strength of the Human’s main military fleet.