by G J Ogden
“Has she already been turned?” Sterling replied, putting it more bluntly.
“Her cognitive state is uncertain, Captain,” Graves replied, again studying the readings on the stasis pod’s screen. “However, there is significant neural corruption. There is little possibility of recovery,” he added, speaking as if giving a patient a terminal diagnosis.
Sterling nodded. “If she’s turned then she’s already dead,” he said, without feeling or remorse. “Do what you have to do, Commander. But keep her sedated. The last thing we need is a turned colonist running around here.”
Graves nodded then returned to the stasis pod’s controls and initiated the deactivation sequence. The pod began to thrum with energy as it set about reviving the woman from her induced slumber. Sterling then recalled Graves’ earlier comment about how the colonist’s medical history was somehow important.
“You said that this woman’s past ailments were ‘pertinent’?” he asked the doctor, as the stasis pod continued to deactivate. “What did you mean by that?”
“There were several factors that led me to my conclusion,” Graves began. He was busy setting out a number of medical instruments on the side of the pod, including the metal scalpel that Graves favored over modern laser equivalents. “However, the key indicator was the specific types of venereal diseases that this woman has been infected with and treated for,” the medical officer added.
“The key indicator of what, Commander?” asked Sterling, feeling like he was pulling teeth to drag the information out of his officer.
“Where this woman originated from, Captain,” Graves said, glancing across to Sterling. “These specific diseases and treatments are common to prostitutes that work at the spaceports in Oasis Colony. The drug used to treat them is native to the third planet.”
Sterling then realized why he’d found the woman’s appearance familiar. Her clothes were similar to those that Dana, the owner of the Hotel Grand, had been wearing.
“So Colicos abducted this woman and brought her to this station, is that what you’re suggesting?” Sterling asked.
“That part is for you to deduce, Captain,” replied Graves, somberly. “But if you’re asking my opinion, then yes, I believe so.”
“But why?” asked Banks. “What the hell has he been doing here?”
“Captain…”
The call was from Lieutenant Razor. She had moved away from the stasis pod while Sterling had been talking to Graves and was now in front of one of the main research computer consoles.
“I’ve found something,” Razor added, activating a holo recording and pausing the playback. The image of a late-middle-aged man wearing a smart suit hovered next to Razor, flickering gently. “It’s a personal log or journal by James Colicos.”
Sterling felt electricity tingle in his spine. Razor’s discovery might give them the information they needed.
“Finally, we might actually get some answers,” Sterling said, glancing over to Banks.
“And from the horse’s mouth too,” replied Banks, looking similarly buoyed by the discovery.
Suddenly, the woman in the stasis pod sprang up and grabbed Commander Graves by the throat. The movement was fluid and frighteningly fast, like a mousetrap springing into action. Sterling reacted on instinct, grabbing the woman’s hand and trying to pry it free. However, the turned colonist was freakishly strong.
“Sa’Nerra! Sa’Nerra!” the woman cried before her voice cracked and transformed into a series of hisses and warbles. The sounds were not dissimilar to the alien species’ own language of waspish vocalizations.
“Mercedes!” Sterling cried, still struggling to unhook the woman’s fingers from around his medical officer’s throat.
Banks darted in between Graves and the woman and grabbed the colonist’s wrists. There was a sickening, organic crack, like a turkey’s neck being snapped. Banks had snapped the woman’s wrists and bent her hands flat again her forearms. The woman did not cry out in pain, but continued her waspish cries. With Banks still holding the woman back, Graves grabbed a medical injector from the array of instruments he’d set out and quickly pressed it to the woman’s neck. Moments later the hisses stopped and the turned colonist flopped back into the stasis pod, knocked out cold from the jab.
“I’m grateful to you, Commander,” croaked Graves, rubbing his throat.
Sterling noted the bruises and scratches surrounding Graves’ neck. Another few seconds and the woman might have crushed the officer’s windpipe.
“Are you able to continue, Commander?” said Sterling. He was aware that his medical officer needed treatment, but he also knew they were short on time.
“I am, Captain,” replied Graves, his voice strained and barely louder than a whisper. “The procedure will not take long. And in this instance, I shall also greatly enjoy cutting into this woman’s brain.”
Sterling frowned, but didn’t respond to his doctor’s darkly sinister comment. However, it only added to his already firmly held opinion that Commander Evan Graves was one creepy son-of-a-bitch.
Chapter 17
Knowledge is a dangerous thing
Captain Sterling left his medical officer to dissect the turned colonist then moved over to shimmering, ethereal image of James Colicos. The scientist gave off a grandiose air, even as a frozen hologram.
“Colicos certainly enjoyed the sound of his own voice; there were hours of logs,” said Razor as Sterling arrived with Banks at his side. “To save time, I’ve used an algorithm to isolate key sections and highlight anything of significance relating to neural technology.”
“Okay, Lieutenant, let’s find out what he’s been doing out here,” said Sterling, peering into the eyes of the holographic James Colicos. Razor then tapped the computer on her left arm and the image began to move.
“After a number of frustrating setbacks, I have finally made significant progress on the neural education interface,” Colicos began. Sterling noticed that the man looked considerably younger than his supposed sixty-plus years. “Pursuing this goal has been my life’s work, made all the more challenging by Fleet’s blinkered attitude and short-sightedness, especially from Natasha Griffin.” Sterling raised an eyebrow. It hadn’t taken long for Colicos to stick the knife into the Admiral. “My initial goal for the interface was to provide a mechanism through which knowledge could be directly implanted into the human brain,” the scientist went on, becoming more animated as he spoke. “Military knowledge and skills that take years to acquire and nurture could be condensed into a neural education program lasting mere weeks.” Colicos then looked skyward, as if addressing dignitaries in an auditorium. “Think of it… Basic training could be completed in a day, and phase two specialist training within a week. A man or woman on the street could go from zero to full deployment status as an officer within a month. And all this with the benefit of years of military knowledge and inherited experience.”
“Pause playback,” said Sterling, needing a moment to process what he’d just heard. “Neural education? This all stemmed from a Fleet military program?”
Banks let out a low whistle and Sterling noticed that she appeared just as stunned as he was.
“I had no idea this is what Colicos was working on for Fleet,” said Banks, meeting Sterling’s eyes. “That sounds like one hell of a project. It would have allowed us to expand the fleet by an order of magnitude. We could have squashed the Sa’Nerran threat years ago.”
Sterling nodded. “That didn’t happen, though, so clearly something went wrong,” he added. He had a feeling they were about to find out what that was. “Resume playback,” he said to the image of Colicos.
“Unfortunately, the neural education process proved challenging to perfect, despite my best efforts,” Colicos went on, suddenly casting his eyes to the ground. “Neural corruption and irreparable brain damage cost me dozens of test subjects, but just as I was getting close to a solution, Griffin pulled the plug.”
The last part of Colicos’ statement wa
s spoken with venom. Clearly, Griffin had become the focus of the scientist's frustrations and the person Colicos blamed for his failings.
“If Fleet only had the vision and the will to follow this through, I would not be pursuing my research in the darkness of the Void,” Colicos continued, growing more bitter by the second. “What is ten or a hundred or even a thousand more lives sacrificed in the name of science, compared to the billions my technology could have saved?” Sterling and the others continued to watch in silence, spellbound by the scientist’s curiously theatrical performance. “However, my perseverance has paid off,” Colicos went on. The scientist then reached out of shot and picked something up. Moments later his hand returned and in it was a device that Sterling had no difficulty in recognizing.
“That’s a damn neural control weapon,” said Sterling, while the holo image of Colicos admired the object, as if it were a long-lost, ancient treasure.
“Neural education was a dead end,” Colicos continued, cradling the device in his hands. “I should have seen it sooner, but now I realize my error. The mind is too willful, too individual. It rejected the implanted knowledge, like rejecting a foreign body. To the brain, my neural education device was nothing more than a splinter. And the deeper I dug into the human brain the more damage was done when the splinter was finally pushed free.”
“I have a bad feeling about where this is going,” said Commander Banks. Her arms were folded, muscles straining the fabric of her tunic.
“Control, however, is another matter,” said Colicos, peering into the holo lens.
The longer the man talked, the more insane he was beginning to sound, Sterling realized. The zeal with which he was describing his ideas and discoveries was unsettling.
“The solution was to reprogram the brain, not simply to educate it,” Colicos said, sounding triumphant. “The mind cannot reject what it is unable to distinguish from the truth.” Colicos then held the neural device to the side of his head. Sterling could see that it wasn’t activated, though he still felt his stomach knot to see the scientist perform the action. “With this device, we can create better soldiers and better officers. Soldiers that do not feel fear or doubt. Soldiers that are not afflicted by trauma. We can become as ruthless and as single minded as the enemy.”
“Pause playback,” said Sterling. He let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.
“So if Colicos invented the neural control device in the first place, how the hell did the Sa’Nerra end up with it?” asked Banks.
“I assume you can skip to that part, Lieutenant?” said Sterling, glancing across to Razor. The engineer nodded then began scrolling through the entries on her computer.
“I think I’ve isolated the entries that relate to that question, Commander,” the engineer replied. “Do you want me to play them back?”
“Can you just summarize the key points, Lieutenant?” said Sterling, turning away from the holo image of Colicos. “I’ve already heard enough from this guy.”
“Aye, sir. Give me a moment,” Razor said, continuing to skim read the information on her computer. “I’m refining the algorithm to pick out the key moments of the timeline and condense it for me.”
“That’s a neat trick, Lieutenant,” said Commander Banks. “Were you always so good with computers?”
“My brother was the real genius, Commander,” Razor replied, eyes still focused on her screen.
“Well, I’m glad we have access to your abilities,” Sterling cut in. He had assumed that Banks was about to inquire about Razor’s brother, and since she had no idea what their new engineer had done in order to merit a place on the Invictus, Sterling judged it better to avoid the subject.
“Here, I think I have it,” Razor said. “According to his logs, Colicos developed the neural control technology over a number of years, right here in this laboratory,” Razor’s augmented eyes then skipped ahead, cutting out any unnecessary information. “It says here that in order to test his device, he would drug and kidnap colonists from a number of Void planets, especially those in Oasis Colony. He’d then bring them here and conduct his experiments.”
“Jeez, this guy is even colder than we are,” said Banks.
It was another of her characteristically inappropriate comments and Sterling let it slide. He was too eager to hear what else Razor had to say.
“Then it appears that Colicos began a side branch of his research that specifically looked at language,” Razor went on. “According to these notes, Colicos was obsessed with proving himself to Fleet. He wanted to clear his name and return in triumph. And most especially of all he wanted to prove Admiral Griffin wrong.”
Sterling huffed a laugh. He was certain that Colicos was one of hundreds of people who would dearly love to stick a knife in the dictatorial Fleet Admiral’s back. However, the scientist’s vendetta was immaterial. It was what Colicos had created that mattered.
“Does it explain anything more about this research into language?” Sterling asked.
“From what I can gather here, the research was geared around neural language translation,” Razor said, scrutinizing the screen. Sterling was impressed with her ability to so quickly condense what was years’ worth of personal logs into only the key facts. “There’s a short entry here which may explain it,” Razor added.
Sterling nodded. “Let’s hear from the great man again,” he said, turning back to the holo of Colicos. The image then blurred as the recording fast-forwarded to the pertinent time-code.
“I’ve just had some very promising results from my latest neural translation experiments on live subjects,” Colicos began. His clothes and hair had changed, and he appeared a little older, though he still looked like a man in his forties rather than his sixties. “I believe I can eventually bridge the gap between human and Sa’Nerran minds,” the scientist continued, again causing raised eyebrows from the onlookers in the room. Colicos turned and adjusted the holo camera that was recording his log. The image shifted to show two medical bays, side-by-side. On the first was a human male. On the second was a Sa’Nerran warrior.
“You have got to be kidding me,” said Banks. She was now tensing the muscles in her folded arms so tightly that the durable fabric of her uniform was on the verge of splitting.
“I was lucky enough to find a number of Sa’Nerran test subjects in the wreckage of a battle near Thrace Colony,” Colicos continued. The scientist was now pacing up and down in front of the medical bays, making wild gestures with his hands. “By implanting a basic neural interface into their brains and applying my neural linguistic technology, I believe I have formed a bridge.”
Sterling shook his head. “I’m beginning to think we’ve discovered the cause of all our problems,” he said, feeling a sudden urge to find the real Colicos and strangle him.
“Several test subjects died in the process, but the results are more than worth the loss of life,” Colicos went on, still pacing up and down. “The connection is rudimentary, but enough to allow for basic communication between the two species for the first time. Such a discovery could lead the way to peace.” Then Colicos stopped pacing and adjusted the camera lens to focus only his face. The scientist again raised his eyes skyward, slowly and reverently. “I’m going to go down in history. I will be forever remembered as the man who ended the first inter-species war.” The holo image then flickered and Colicos became suddenly agitated. “No, no! You must not!” the scientist cried, suddenly running out of shot. The holo camera recorded the sound of struggle then the image became blurry and the feed went dead.
“What happened?” asked Sterling. “Who was Colicos talking to?”
Razor’s white eyebrows were bent into a sharp vee as she worked furiously on her computer. “I think I can clean up that final image, sir,” she said, her fingers moving faster than a pianist playing Flight of the Bumblebee. “Here, I think I have it.”
Razor stopped tapping on the screen and the holo image stabilized and sharpened. Instead of a blur there was now
the clear image of a naked Sa’Nerran warrior, reaching out to grab the holo lens. A neural interface was clearly visible on the side of the alien’s head. Banks cursed and Sterling felt like doing the same, but there was still more they needed to learn.
“Where is Colicos now?” asked Sterling, his eyes still fixed on the Sa’Nerran warrior. “Does the log indicate what might have happened after this recording ended?”
Razor began working on the computer again then shook her head. “That’s the end of the recording, but I can tap into the security feed from the station,” she said.
Razor continued working for a few seconds then stopped and recoiled away from the screen. She looked disgusted, as if she’d just watched a video of a puppy being run over.
“Out with it, Lieutenant,” said Sterling. “It can’t be any worse than what we’ve just learned here.”
Razor’s eyebrows raised up a fraction then she tapped the screen of her computer. The holo of the Sa’Nerran warrior disappeared and was replaced with a holo security feed. The recording began to play back and Sterling watched in silence as the alien warrior beat Colicos senseless. Then with the scientist out cold on the ground, the Sa’Nerran gathered up the neural equipment that had littered the lab before hauling Colicos over its shoulder and walking out of shot.
“Several minutes after this footage was captured, a shuttle departed the research station,” Razor said. She had finally lowered her arm to her side. The computer screen was deactivated and wrapped around her wrist again.
“Could you track its destination?” asked Banks.
“The shuttle’s course suggested it was on route to one of the apertures leading toward the Sa’Nerran half of the Void, Commander,” Razor replied.
This time Sterling did curse. “Gather whatever you can that may be of use from this lab, and let’s get the hell out of here,” he said to his engineer.
Razor nodded then set to work as Sterling turned back to his chief medical officer. He wished he hadn’t. During the time they had been watching the logs and security holos, Commander Graves had removed the left hemisphere of the colonist’s skull. The medical officer’s hands were painted red with blood. Then Sterling noticed that Graves was holding what he could only assume was a section of the woman’s brain in his hand.