“You appear to be a necessary component of this mission,” Jarrett said measuredly, “and, if that is indeed the case, you provide significant value to your fellow humans wherever they may be. But if I was able to do so, I would re-write reality’s base code and the laws of physics themselves in such a way that your very existence would be a theoretical and practical impossibility. You disgust me so completely that I find it difficult to think clearly in your presence. That said,” he drew a steadying breath as his face had turned beet red with rising anger, “I have one demand, and one demand only. Agree to it, and I will gladly sacrifice my life to ensure your successful escape.”
“What is it?” Tremblay asked after the technician had fully confirmed his prior suspicions. In truth, Tremblay understood—and could even sympathize with—the other man’s emotional rant. But they were on the clock now, and Tremblay didn’t have time for hand-holding. These past few months had changed him—hardened him—into something he had never really expected to become, but it was something he knew was necessary for the betterment of humanity.
“Win,” Jarrett said simply. “And realize that, at some moment in this battle’s future, you will be asked to sacrifice that which you value most,” he flicked a brief look the Senator’s way before re-focusing on Tremblay. “When that moment comes, hesitate—even for an instant—and you will render my contributions here, along with those of everyone else who has gone before me, meaningless. Difficult though it will certainly be for you,” he added with a contemptuous snort, “do your best to be worthy of us and all we give in pursuit of this cause.”
The technician turned his back on Tremblay, who only let his thoughts linger on the rebuke for a few seconds before doing what little he could to assist in the reboot effort.
“The Mode is lifting off,” Guo eventually reported, waiting a few seconds before adding, “it is running at extreme low altitude toward the northern pole, limiting potential firing arcs by doing so.”
“Good,” Tremblay said with a nod. “Our escape vehicle can mirror their course as soon as we launch.”
As the Mode streaked toward the northern pole, keeping just a few dozen meters above the surface of the moon as it rocketed across the thankfully flat terrain, a handful of turbo-laser strikes stabbed into the surface of the worldlet Each shot was clearly an attempt to hit the fleeing ship, but none of them came within two hundred meters of the Mode’s hull.
“The Mode’s stealth suite is using the surface of the planet to displace its apparent location to enemy sensors,” Guo said with alarmed approval. “How they are doing this is unclear, since it would require real-time processing power on a scale—“
“—only achievable by a high-end data relay that had been specifically programmed for the job,” Tremblay finished with a sour smirk as he watched the deceptively-simplistic warship continue to evade fire without ever changing course. “Waldo must have been booking up for this particular flight,” he grumped as the stealthy Cutter seemingly slipped through his fingers. Had he been able to secure it, the Mode would have been a valuable piece in the coming months. But, much as he knew his mission was significantly more important than whatever McKnight and her people ended up haring off to do, he was not ruthless enough—yet—to plot a hostile takeover of their ship if doing so endangered their lives.
The Mode hurtled toward the northern pole before circumnavigating it and launching with as much forward momentum as her engines could generate as she sprang away from the planet. A few seconds later, the fleet warship disappeared from the base’s sensor net—a true testament to its robust suite, given the high-powered sensor array feeding the base’s tactical plotters.
“Good luck,” Tremblay muttered before returning his focus to the task of rebooting the base’s many remotely-located weapon platforms.
Chapter XXXI: The Moment of Truth
“Time is up,” Senator Bellucci said coolly after thirty one minutes—during which time the turbo-lasers of approaching Imperial warships stabbed fruitlessly into the apparent trajectory taken by the Mode. “We must depart,” she said with finality, prompting Tremblay to nod in agreement.
“Let’s go, Guo,” the former Intelligence Officer clapped the technician on the shoulder.
Guo shot him an uncharacteristically fiery look, but Jarrett stopped and put his hand on the other technician’s shoulder and said, “Go, Guo. I would hate for you to die here.”
Guo turned his focus to Jarrett, who quickly resumed his own work, and the supremely cool-headed technician’s calculated exterior returned over the course of the next few seconds. He said something in their native language, which caused Jarrett to pause for a few seconds and nod before resuming his work, after which Guo stood from his console and followed Tremblay out of the command center.
Senator Bellucci brought up the rear of the group, and they quickly made their way out of the tower-like command center toward a nearby hover-car. Tremblay fired up the engine and gunned the throttle, guiding the car at high speed to the secret passage which only the three people in the hover-car knew about.
They rode in silence for several minutes until finally arriving at a hidden tunnel, where they disembarked the car and approached the seemingly nondescript section of the corridor wall—a section which, much like the rest of this part of the subterranean complex, featured large cracks in the otherwise smooth veneer of the corridor’s inner walls.
Tremblay reached into one such crack while Guo reached into another, and by silent coordination they pulled the pair of hidden levers simultaneously. A nearby section of wall slid apart along one of the otherwise unremarkable cracks, revealing a long tunnel beyond.
They re-boarded the hover-car and he gently guided the craft into the tunnel, illuminating the dark passage with the hover-car’s surrounding band of exterior lighting. There was barely three inches of space from the walls on either side of the relatively narrow car, but he still managed to drive the vehicle at high speed for several minutes until they finally arrived at their escape vehicle’s platform.
The vehicle itself was cylindrical, but too squat and flat on both ends to resemble a rocket. It measured nearly ten meters long and six across, and was made of a dense, composite material which could withstand direct turbo-laser fire due to its ablative arrangement. The composite was far from a super material, being significantly denser than the usual armor plating materials like Duralloy or Locsium, but in this particular application it was ideal.
“Let’s board this thing and get—“ Tremblay began to say, only to be cut short when the looming image of a Tracto-an man emerged from the shadows holding a remote detonation trigger in his hand.
It took Tremblay a second to recognize who that man was, and when he did his eyes narrowed darkly.
“Well, well,” Senator Bellucci folded her arms and drummed her fingers against her bicep rhythmically, “it seems we hit a snag.”
“What are you doing here, Nazoraios?” Tremblay growled. “You were supposed to be on the Mode.”
“It appears I hold a meaningful edge over you when it comes to deceit,” Nazoraios said casually as he waved the remote detonator in his hand—a detonator which Tremblay soon realized had been rigged as a dead man’s switch. “In truth, I was uncertain that would prove the case.”
“If you want to kill us, do it,” Tremblay snapped. “Otherwise, get out of my way so we can prep this thing for launch.”
“By all means,” Nazoraios gestured to the door of the craft—which sat slightly ajar, “make your preparations. But this craft will not depart until I say it will.”
“We should do as he suggests,” Bellucci flashed a serpentine smile. “He has outplayed us and, loathe though I am to admit it, we are presently at his mercy. I must congratulate you, Nazoraios,” she inclined her head fractionally, “I did not think you capable of concocting a plan which would defeat Mr. Tremblay.”
“It was not my plan, Senator,” Nazoraios returned the bow more deeply, “though I am glad to play
this part in it.”
Tremblay immediately understood who had actually ‘outplayed’ him, but that knowledge only raised further questions. He pushed those questions from his mind as he brushed past Nazoraios, making his way for the vehicle’s lone entry.
A few seconds later he was seated at the pilot’s console, where he saw an all-too-obvious explosive device wedged beneath the co-pilot’s chair. He initiated the pre-launch checklist and cursed under his breath, “Blast you, Traian…”
John ‘Shiyuan’ Jarrett sat at his console, knowing that these next few hours—or possibly even minutes—would be his last.
And he was seriously surprised to find he had no regrets.
Obviously some things could have gone better for him, but plenty of things could have gone far worse than they had. He felt privileged and honored to have been part of this grand design, which started years earlier upon meeting Fei Long in a disreputable virtual space where like-minded anarchists sometimes gathered.
His thoughts drifted back to that meeting, where Fei Long had almost immediately dubbed him ‘Shiyuan’ in reference to the great strategist of old, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There was Long, mere weeks after his twelfth birthday, speaking with such confidence and energy that Jarrett—many years his elder—had been swept up in the moment.
And with all that had happened between then and now, Jarrett looked back on every moment of it with equal measures of wonderment, pride, and satisfaction. He had made a difference. He had spoken truth to power. He had joined a crusade which stretched from one end of the galaxy to the other. And now, with his final moments, he would spend his life to clear an escape route for his shipmates—
The heavily-armored door opened abruptly, startling him from his silent reflections badly enough that he recoiled from the workstation in surprise. A figure stepped through, and Shiyuan breathed a sigh of relief—which was quickly stifled by confusion—when he recognized who it was, “What are you doing here? The Mode already left—”
“I can’t abandon you,” Captain McKnight said with feeling, moving to stand beside him with a look of unyielding determination. “I thought I could, but I can’t. Whatever happens to you happens to me.”
Jarrett swallowed the sudden knot in his throat and nodded slowly, knowing that there was nothing that could be done for either of them now. If he could have done so, he would gladly have sacrificed himself to save her life—as had clearly been his plan. But now, with the Mode having already begun its egress from the star system, there were no more escape vehicles available to them. “I…thank you, Captain McKnight.”
“No,” she shook her head firmly as she slotted into the workstation beside his, “I should never have considered letting you sacrifice yourself. I should have been a better leader than that—you deserve that much,” she fixed him with eyes that were both fierce and tortured, “but I failed you. How can I help?” she asked, clearly wishing to push past the unnecessary apology.
“The power grid for quadrant three is still having difficulties,” he suggested, and she nodded before pulling up the control menus for that section of the grid.
“Got it,” she declared, and they worked in parallel for several silent minutes. “When did Tremblay launch?”
Shiyuan shook his head firmly, “I have seen no indication that a vehicle has left the planet.”
She stopped and cocked her head dubiously, “Do you think they really intended to leave, or was their plan to stay here and get picked up by friendly elements of the Imperial Fleet?”
“I cannot see the value in staying,” he said with conviction. “Senator Bellucci’s involvement in this operation, if exposed, would do untold harm to House Bellucci. It seems apparent to me that the great pains they have taken to keep her role in this plot concealed indicate they would prefer that involvement to remain secret—at least for the time being.”
“Then why haven’t they left?” she demanded irritably.
“Because Nazoraios won’t let them,” a voice said from the doorway, and they both turned to see Traian standing there. “Not without both of you aboard,” he added, steadying himself against the doorjamb as he took a careful step into the room.
“Traian?” McKnight said in surprise as she rose to her feet. “What in the Demon’s name are you doing here?! I ordered you to evac with the rest of the crew aboard the 24!” But something in the sudden change of her expression told Jarrett that McKnight began to understand Traian's presence.
“We don’t have a lot of time, Captain,” he shook his head, and as he stepped into the light Jarrett saw that his appearance had become truly frightening—and more than a little inhuman.
Traian's eyes looked completely black from this remove, and the skin of his face and hands had turned a greyish color. A web of subcutaneous filaments criss-crossed beneath that skin, making him look like something out of a horror holo-vid.
“Traian…” she said under her breath, though Jarrett found himself unable to speak. It had been several weeks since he had seen the Lancer, and his appearance was truly grotesque—but somewhere behind the black eyes, Jarrett thought he could see the Lancer he had previously considered a friend.
“We don’t have time,” he reiterated, slowly moving into the room with measured, shuffling steps, “we have to clear a path and get out of here—now.”
“I can cover the escape,” Jarrett said, shaking himself from his befuddlement. “But you need to get the Captain out of here.”
“I’m not going without you,” McKnight snapped.
“You’re both going,” Traian said, his tone sending a chill down Jarrett’s spine as a decidedly hollow, mechanical note ran through the mutated man’s voice.
“That is impossible,” Shiyuan shook his head firmly, “reprogramming the systems for interconnected, automated firing will take too long. By the time I finish, the Imperial ships will have completely blockaded the planet—when that happens, it will be impossible for anyone to escape.”
“How can we…” Traian began, wincing in apparent pain and clutching his side for several seconds before resuming through gritted teeth, “how can we speed up the process?”
“You cannot,” Jarrett said flatly. “I must coordinate the defense batteries’ targeting computers with the vast sensor network in this system, interconnecting both planet-based systems and extra-orbital assets scattered throughout the star system’s interior. There are thirteen distinct subnets, each of which requires no less than thirty minutes to synchronize with the systems here.”
“You can’t synchronize them simultaneously?” McKnight pressed.
“No,” Jarrett sighed in mixed frustration and despair. “I have to engage them sequentially for security and logistical reasons. I could try to explain why that is, but—“
“What if you didn’t need the sensor feeds to correctly anticipate which ships will be where?” Traian interrupted tersely. “What if I could give that to you, right now. How long would it take for you to rig up something less responsive, but just as effective, assuming my inputs are valid?”
Shiyuan recoiled slightly before slowly realizing the implication of Traian’s question. He felt the color drain from his face, and he had to try three times before successfully swallowing the lump in his throat before saying, “I could make that work…accuracy would be unaffected, but there might be problems with synchronicity—“
“Will it be enough to clear a path?” Traian snapped, his eyes flaring with a dim, violet light that made Jarrett's blood run cold.
Steeling his nerves, Shiyuan ran some calculations in his head for several seconds before nodding, “Yes…I think it would be—assuming your predictions are accurate.”
Traian turned grimly toward McKnight, “They haven’t missed yet, have they?”
Captain McKnight winced, holding Traian’s gaze for a long moment until shaking her head firmly, “No…they haven’t.”
Traian reached for the nearby bank of workstations' control panels, then h
esitated. “Nazoraios is waiting for us at the escape vehicle,” he explained before sneering—an expression which sent further chills down Shiyuan's spine, “along with everyone else. They're at Junction B-9 in Green Sector, Level Six. Take the grav car outside when you're finished here.”
“Understood,” McKnight nodded staidly.
Traian returned the nod with a grave one of his own, then he closed his eyes and grimaced in apparent anticipation of something unpleasant. A moment later a violent spasm seized his body, sending him lurching into the control panel where his hands splayed out against the smooth surface of the glossy, dormant input frames.
Shiyuan watched with morbid fascination as the previously offline bank of interface panels in front of the former Lancer sprang to life. Tiny tendrils of what almost looked like jet-black electricity seemed to dance between Traian's hands and the input panels beneath them, but Jarrett quickly realized that the tendrils were actually hair-fine protrusions from Traian's fingers.
The displays built into the bank of panels before Traian began to process images. The images flipped by slowly at first, but steadily increased in speed and complexity, and Jarrett recognized the images to be tactical projections which incorporated the current posture of the enemy assets converging on the moon base.
At first the simulations lasted a second or two before the projection was reset and started anew. But with the majority of the successive iterations, the length of the projections grew longer and longer. Shiyuan counted fifty...a hundred—two hundred—and finally three hundred fifty three unique projections before, finally, the sequence concluded with a single projection displayed on the workstation.
Traian half-gasped, half-cried as he lurched away from the workstation, causing all but the central monitor previously before him to go dormant as he staggered violently into the bulkhead opposite the workstations. “There!” he gasped after striking the back of his head against the floor. “That's it...the...” he trailed off before his head rolled to the side and he passed out.
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