The door to the far side of the central operations center suddenly slid opened.
A disheveled looking scientist stood in the doorway. Blaster in hand, he motioning for them to follow. He held up a finger to his own breathing mask and motioned for them to be quiet.
With her weapon trained on the surprise intruder Vesuvius checked her wrist again.
Dekker didn’t need to bother. “It’s MacAllistair, or should I call you Doctor Andrews?”
MacAllistair lowered his weapon and cocked his head. “Don’t say that name out loud. I’ve never told it to anybody. Who else knows that alias?”
Vesuvius gave Dekker a skewed look.
“Just me,” Dekker replied. He stepped closer so MacAllistair could see him better. “We met before.”
Any hardness on the Doctor’s face instantly melted. “It’s been years, at least for my part, and you haven’t aged a day. I should have known—it was all true. Quickly, come this way.”
***
Inside the scientist’s quarters MacAllistair cautioned them to keep their masks on. “I have a small fill station that, if we keep cycling tanks, could sustain a couple persons, but that’s it, I’m afraid. I disabled the oxygen, trying to kill those things—apparently they make their own oxygen; my research shows they still use it.”
Dekker had already called the other team to MacAllistair’s quarters and given them the access codes for the door lock. They expected to rendezvous within a few minutes. Dekker browsed the scientist’s quarters, urgently searching for some sort of communications equipment. “We’ve got to contact our ship; do you have any sort of long range broadcaster? There must be something nearby disrupting the signal between us and my pilot.”
“That’s unlikely,” MacAllistair stated. “We picked this location because of its incredibly low interference rate—it helped get more accurate sensor readings for our research.”
“What are you saying,” Vesuvius demanded, absentmindedly fidgeting with the handle of her favorite blade.
“I’m saying that your message was sent. It’s more likely that your ship and crew are either dead or gone.”
Dekker gave MacAllistair a stern, silent stare for a moment. “Then we’ve all got major problems.”
Nibbs started for the door when he heard noise outside.
“Wait,” Dekker ordered. “They’ve got the access code.”
A loud knock, then a banging and grisly scraping at the entry’s seams; it sounded like a possessed mongrel trying to dig through concrete. Finally came the loud, raspy screeching.
“What happened to them?” Nibbs asked.
“Some sort of disease, I think. Something infected our researchers shortly after the last supply ship arrived. It’s still docked on the airlock at the far side of the complex.”
“Maybe we can use that to escape?” Shaw offered.
Dekker shook his head negatively. “Only as a last resort. It’s a plague ship.”
“He’s right,” MacAllistair stated. “We have to assume it is the source of the contamination. I believe the infection is transmitted via some sort of fungal spore that’s absorbed through inhalation. It started first when the crew came down with terrible migraines the first day after contact; the pressure and photosensitivity got worse on the second day until the earliest victims passed out. Finally, on days three or four, their skulls burst—right through the frontal skull bone if you can imagine that. You probably noticed the horn-like protrusions; they seem to emit the airborne, infectious spores. After that, the crew became mindless monsters.
“I destroyed the air systems hoping it would incapacitate them, but they obviously adapted. I don’t know if it’s parasitic, symbiotic, or what, but the disease has made its host something completely new.”
“Like the living dead,” Shaw stated the obvious. “Infectious zombies.”
Nibbs asked, “And you weren’t infected because?”
“Well,” MacAllistair traded a look with Dekker, “ever since the first attempt on my life several years ago I tend to remain a bit… reclusive. Some have called me a paranoid, but I rarely leave my facilities unless I absolutely have to. I can accomplish most things from right here. That’s how I stayed safe, but frankly, zombies are a secondary concern for me. At the height of the infection, just after we instituted the quarantines, the DNIET device was stolen.”
An ear-piercing shriek interrupted them, followed by a quick succession of blaster fire. Seconds later the door slid open and Nathan’s team entered. “We’re all accounted for and intact,” he reported.
Dekker dialed up his outbound signal again and repeated a hail to the Rickshaw Crusader. They were running out of options and the clock was ticking. He hoped Guy and the crew hadn’t done anything foolish, like depressurize the cargo bay with the captured Shivan interceptor.
“The only thing we can do now is wait.” MacAllistair grunted. He flipped on the entertainment console and picked up the MEA news feed. “And you think we got it bad here, just watch. More bad news, every day. We’d be lucky to make the history books after what I think is coming.”
***
Long minutes of frustrating silence passed while Dekker’s outbound signals went unreturned. Vesuvius gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “I can’t stand the waiting,” she confessed quietly.
Dekker nodded. They had always been alike in that. He scanned the faces of the other six investigators; they each hid their agitation well, but it certainly existed. He checked his tank again; only half remained.
“So someone stole DNIET,” he questioned MacAllistair. “Tell me what it is, and why we’re here.”
“Officially,” MacAllistair explained, “Directed Near Infinite Energy Travel is a theoretical technology that allows instantaneous transmission from one point to any other: large-scale teleportation. Unofficially, I’ve perfected it.” He pointed out the cart of stacked research materials.
Dekker noticed a large mechanical device next to a pile of handwritten research notes and piles of journals. Integrated into it was a familiar looking item: the temporal phase-stabilizer he’d worn just days ago, at least in his time. He reached for it on impulse.
“Don’t touch that,” MacAllistair warned.
Dekker pulled his hand back. But the irony of the command didn’t go unnoticed.
“I’ve reverse-engineered some of the technology behind the temporal phase-stabilizer. This station used to be located halfway across the galaxy; DNIET moved the entire complex in the blink of an eye. This is the original, operational prototype.” He pointed to the crude looking contraption. “The one we used to move us here is the one that went missing.
“DNIET technology achieves physical transmission by harvesting the power of a star. Think of it, how awesome is it that solar rays fly off from one source of energy and can travel in an infinite number of directions in a nearly nondegradable state? Despite the infinite and exponentially increasing vectors of its visible state, the speed of light remains constant! There is such incredible power in each star, and the nature of reality itself, in order to cast off that sort of expanding, cosmic radiation... replicating infinitely and exponentially with every light-nanosecond!
“Here’s the end result—in layman’s terms. The device generates an expandable bubble to encompass the DNIET device and its target. DNIET harnesses the energy of the nearby star and allows instant transmission to any chosen destination in which the current light of that star reaches. The full energy of the star is harvested in the process, retracting all that infinite energy and refocusing it within a quantum field of our choosing! We’ve rewritten the laws of Quantum Electrodynamics!”
His excitement didn’t exactly spread to the fidgety members of the Dozen. “So… you successfully drained an entire star and forced it to non-exist in order to move this space station?” Dekker clarified.
“Exactly.” He paused and let the weight of the device’s capabilities magnify. “You likely heard the news, months ago, about the change to
FTL trade routes? That was because of us. We drained a small red dwarf when we teleported here. The MEA can’t let news of our project get out. I think that despite our best efforts and the perceived good intentions of the Krenzin, I think this is actually meant to be weaponized. It’s the ultimate weapon: a star killer that could leave inhabited planets devoid of light, heat, and energy. That could seal a system’s fate within minutes. Its existence is the ultimate compliance tool.
“This project was classified at an ultra-high-level. Truthfully, I’d hoped to breakthrough other barriers in quantum mechanics, even enable time travel.” MacAllistair and Dekker traded an uneasy glance. “It’s messy business, though, when you consider that each person’s option to make minute decisions could change the outcome of the universe—perhaps even spawn a multitude of new dimensions in which different outcomes result based on decisions made. Accessing those dimensions, creating a quantum leap, would grant access to whole new realities.”
MacAllistair picked up half a dozen filled journals. “The beginnings of my notation on the fundamental nature of the universe. At the core, to even consider those possibilities we have to arrive at the truth regarding an individual’s freedom of choice. Nature versus nurture. Fate. All that stuff. Truthfully, I’m still wondering how the science all fits. I know, it sounds like a philosophical debate: the power of choice. Is there such a thing as freewill or are the determinists and fatalists right?”
Dekker interjected “Classically, it’s more of a religious argument, but it’s not important right now.” He checked the gauge on his air tank again. “Where could the DNIET device be now?”
The scientist gave it a couple seconds of thought. “The supply frigate hasn’t left. I’m certainly suspicious of them; everyone else here was dedicated to the DNIET project. The supply crew succumbed to the infection, but nobody broke the quarantine. The device must either be on the station or on that ship.”
“Alright people. Here’s what we’re going to do,” Dekker took charge. “Our clock is ticking. You all heard exactly how devastating this thing can be in the wrong hands. Vees and I are going to go hard and fast and sneak aboard that supply frigate. I want to leave the rest of you with strength and firepower; I want you to hit B deck. Annihilate everything that moves. Let’s find this thing and pray that the Crusader gets back here before we run out of air.”
The investigators grunted an agreement to the plan.
“One final thing,” he mentioned. “If you have the DNIET in your possession and things look bleak, either circumstances are failing or your air won’t hold out, destroy that device. Go out on a high note. Everybody ready?”
“I think we have another problem,” Vesuvius interjected, pointing to the large window at the edge of MacAllistair’s quarters.
A massive warship approached. The gruesome wreck, marred by holes and discolored blast marks, didn’t wear the colors of any government. Exposed girders protruded at odd junctures, like bones of some gigantic monster’s skeletal remains. It closed the gap like some horrific ghost ship bent on dragging them all to hell.
MacAllistair’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “I think you all need bigger guns.”
Dekker’s Dozen #006
Salvaged Salvation
A relic from a bygone era of space travel, the battle scarred capital-class cruiser might have been the flagship of some grand fleet before her death. Now, she bled flotsam into the vacuum through open fissures and poorly cobbled together cold welds used to fuse hull fragments as the behemoth crept near the space station.
It couldn’t be a pirate ship. The ugly vessel possessed no atmosphere; it was a ghost ship, crewed by the damned. The dead craft likely came in support of the zombified scientists.
The massive, hellish cruiser rolled ever so slightly as it closed the distance, a sure sign that it intended to berth at the airlock. The monstrous cruiser was nearly the same size as the research station.
“This doesn’t change the assignment,” Dekker stated sharply, his voice even more urgent. He checked his personal oxygen tank again. “It merely stresses our timetable. Radio check every ten minutes. You each have your assignments, find that DNIET weapon. Move out!”
***
Dekker discharged his blaster. The brilliant beam slammed into the chest of an infected scientist further down the hall; it burned though his chest and knocking him off his feet. Another, closer, zombie snarled and charged.
Vesuvius had drawn a blade with each hand and leapt for it. With a whirling attack her first blade severed the horned protrusion on the fiend’s head. The second blade took the head. She wanted to feel remorse for the victim—it had once been human, but no time remained to think about that. Her own life, and perhaps the lives of billions of others, hung in the balance. Should the DNIET device fall into wrong hands, many would certainly perish.
“Come on, this way,” Dekker briefly consulted the map affixed to the wall. He noted the docking bay locations and escape pods.
They rounded a corner, sprinted down a hallway, and spotted the docking bay entry. Dekker ran through it and collided with an infected scientist; they both fell to the floor. The beast screeched with surprise and Dekker rolled through the tumble, he came up on one knee and fired before Vesuvius could even reach the door.
She stepped over the dead, female sentry, breaking the curls of smoke that wafted up from her chest. “Not really your type?” she joked dryly.
“No,” he returned. “She wouldn’t stop making bad jokes. You know how that gets on my nerves.”
Vesuvius winked at him. “There’s the airlock.”
Dekker nodded and clicked on his communicator. “We’re at the supply ship. About to check it out.” He checked his timer—it was close enough to the scheduled check-in.
“Been on level B for two minutes.” Nathan’s voice. “These things are everywhere! Just a heads up, some are more resistant to lasers than others.”
“Understood. Over and out.” Dekker went to the access panel and activated the door switch.
The airlock, mostly useless since the oxygen recyclers had been destroyed, hissed as the seal broke and the doors slid aside. With incredible speed a trio of black-eyed zombies poured through the door and leapt upon them. These three seemed stronger than the scientists; they were probably the supply ship’s crew—the original zombie spore carriers.
Dekker leveled his blaster and fired. A laser burned through the crewman’s clothing and smoldered against his chest. It screeched in rage—a much different sound than a cry of pain; it clubbed Dekker across the face, knocking him across the floor.
Vesuvius kicked her first assailant with a heel to the face and knocked it over while she drew her blades. She turned to face the next opponent when a heavy blow caught her in the midsection. Vesuvius doubled over in pain and quickly found herself on her back as her attacker landed another fierce stroke.
She looked up in time to see the first wounded brute climb to his feet. Focused on Vesuvius, the trio didn’t notice Dekker who sideswiped them with a cargo loader. He smashed them against the opposite bulkhead, snuffing out whatever shadow of life they held onto.
Dekker ran to Vesuvius and extended a hand to her. She took it and rose to her feet, then made a choking motion and pointed to the air cylinder clipped at her hip. The cylinder hung crumpled; a pinched crack in the metal hissed and vented the contents.
“Don’t worry, Vees. I got you.”
But there was no mistaking the worry on her eyes.
***
Guy hovered over Corgan as the Rickshaw Crusader drew closer to the sensor anomaly. “It could be an unlisted asteroid or something benign that’s causing the sensor shadow, right?”
“Well that’s the point, isn’t it?” Corgan asked. “Making sure that it isn’t a something.”
Guy retorted with a childish look on his face. He believed further surveillance was the right call, even if he didn’t think it likely had any threat to the mission; but he did wish he’d be
en assigned to the station, instead. For safety’s sake, Matty and Britton both sat in the gun turrets.
Dialing in the visual display on the sensor readout, Guy thought he recognized a distinct shape, even at this distance. “Corgan, what does this look like to you?” He traced a finger over the darkened form to outline the edges.
The pilot leaned back and glanced at the visual feed. He almost fell out of his chair as he scrambled to grab the ship’s internal comm unit. “Matty! Britton! Stay sharp!”
Guy leaned back and strapped himself into his chair. “I hate being right.”
Corgan punched the engines and accelerated towards the object on a vector that gave him both attack and defensive options.
“Wait, you’re flying towards it?”
“Yup,” he flashed Guy a maniac grin. “It could be pirates… who knows. One thing’s for sure, we need to get closer to know anything for certain.”
Guy swallowed hard. The ship grew dramatically on screen. “It’s definitely an old, pre-war battle cruiser, Class G.” Pre-war ships remained deadlier than any other variety. Following the Intergalactic Singularity War that birthed the chain of Mechnar conflicts, Krenzin influence grew and convinced the young Mother Earth Aggregate to limit armaments and downgrade the MEA navy’s destructive capacity. Many of Earth’s pre-ISW ships had been hijacked and used as raider vessels. “There’s no transponder signal so I can’t pull a name or detailed specs.”
Corgan exhaled in relief. “It’s a G point five, actually.” That would make it a Class G with upgraded armor extra weapons systems and a redundant shield array; The G-and-a-half was the heaviest classification possible: flagship grade. They didn’t make them any bigger than this.
Guy gripped the armrests of his seat and looked at him queerly. Corgan didn’t even glance at the sensor readouts, which incidentally had very little data to display. It almost seemed like the ship was cloaked, except that they could see it through the visual scope.
The Last Watchmen Page 11