John frowned a bit. He hadn't spotted a third person if there was a third person. This was going to be a tough situation to get out of even with an ace card up his sleeve. He considered the previous room. He should have grabbed a weapon off the wall, maybe it wasn't too late.
He deftly peaked around the corner of his straw protector, confirming the two opponents. The third one was still hidden somewhere.
“I can flush them out without running back,” he thought to himself. One of the weapons on the previous wall was a massively effective, if not banned, weapon of mass destruction... the BFG.
John focused his thoughts to create a picture of the gun. The massive plasma surge would slowly build then explode in a one hundred eighty degree arc. Spinning into an exposed line of sight, he focused on the hidden figures in the courtyard and unleashed his weaponized thoughts upon them.
John expecting to see both men to diving for cover. Instead he was stunned as both of them pivoted around their cover, drew their crossbows, and struck him in the chest with bolts.
John pulled the holographic shafts from his chest. He held them out to his side with a look of consternation upon his face.
“Take note of this Ensign,” Lieutenant Jennings chuckled. “It might be the only time you find the commander short on words.”
As the two men approached John, they discarded their crossbows on the ground.
“I'm fairly sure my bolt struck first, Sir,” Ensign Cruz lobbied.
Kyle checked John's holographic wounds, and then shrugged in agreement, “I'm fine with that. At least the Ninja Master will be happy with us. Perhaps we will be rewarded with extra tofu tonight!”
“I don't understand,” John finally got out. “You two should be barbequed ninja about now. How did you escape my BFG?” He shook his head.
Both men shot John a confused look in response to his question. Kyle finally replied with his own question. “What’s a' BFG’?”
“Octagon program termination. Authorization login: Quinn. Passcode: Thunderdome,” John said deactivating the holo-program. The illusions disappeared and were replaced by crisscrossing platforms, wires, and mesh used for the physical base of the program. All of these features retracted into the walls of the room, assuming an empty space.
“Now I have two problems to ponder,” John said to his men. “I appreciate the workout though. First round is on me at the Chiller tonight. Don't be late!”
*
Chapter 16 Plans of Mice and Men
The H.S. Argo tested its maneuvering thrusters. Soon the plasma engines would be brought online and a series of controlled blasts would decelerate the ship for its approach to Mars.
With its experimental engines, the Argo had sped ahead of the MARC fleet arriving several days ahead of its scheduled arrival. Dominic purposely made his way to the bridge for the event. He typically avoided conversations with the crew when possible. For the purposes of ensuring he arrived in one piece, however, Dominic chose to lend his guidance as required.
“Dr. Andreou,” Captain Dranius greeted him. “Soon we’ll have an excellent view of the Mars elevator. We are honored you have joined us for the arrival.”
“Of course.” Dominic raised his hand as if to signal his acknowledgment of the Captain.
Walking over to the viewing screen, the elevator's image emerged against the backdrop of Mars. Its construction was considered a technological wonder, having been discussed and proposed for decades. The gravity of Mars lent itself to overcoming any construction challenges.
One of the major selling points of terraforming Mars was obtaining resources for Earth. The elevator was the most efficient way to transport ore from the surface of Mars to the transport ships in space. Concurrently, this eliminated the costly and inefficient use of ground to orbit space ships.
As the Argo closed on the planet, the space elevator grew sharper in detail. Without question the largest structure built in space, the MARC station was the central hub for all travel to and from Mars. The multipurpose station served not only as a port, but as a necessary counterweight for the space elevator.
Several ore carriers were attached to the station. Each ship would be loaded with the materials coming up from the elevator. When they were filled, the ships would undock and separate from the station with thrusters. Once reaching a safe distance, the plasma beams mounted on the station would fill the carriers' expanded sails. Like the MARC fleet, their elapsed time between planets would be a fraction of their rocket propelled cousins.
“The MARC station has persisted in contacting us since radio silence was initiated,” Captain Dranius informed Dr. Andreou.
“I trust you have continued to feed them static,” the doctor replied.
“We sent our initial distress call indicating our sails were inoperative,” the captain confirmed, then followed with complete silence. “As you foresaw Dr. Andreou, they did not initiate a plasma burst to slow us down. Analysis of their communications indicates the MARC elevator has been unable to contact the colonial fleet.”
“Avoid an intercept course with the station. I'd rather not be mistakenly obliterated in self-defense,” Dominic ordered the captain.
“We need only penetrate their outer shields to override their computer systems,” he warned the captain.
The orders were given to the crew without deviation.
“Course plotted Dr. Andreou,” Captain Dranius confirmed. “We will be passing one hundred meters away from the station. That will place us inside their shields and far enough from the station for comfort.”
Dominic nodded and returned to the bridge lift.
Turning back to the captain he added, “Oh and Captain, after deploying our elevator we will likely be greeted by an unwelcome escort. See to it I am not bothered until my research is finished. I trust you have the creativity to ensure that is accomplished.”
“Yes, Doctor,” replied the captain in a crisp tone.
Standing upon the lift, Dominic selected the lab level and impatiently waited for it to reach the destination. As the lift reached the lab level, he saw the quick and efficient movements of technicians throughout the area. It was the culmination of his expert guidance and command that had allowed this ship to function. He prided himself in this.
The Argo was an exemplar of the Order. Each member of the crew served in their natural capacity. The captain was an acceptable Templar, knowledgeable of ship and personal arms, a sworn protector of the Order. The Technicians sustained the people and systems of the ship, fulfilling any role deemed necessary. It was a microcosm of things to come, a path his ancestors would approve.
As Dominic entered his lab, the cleanliness of his workstation did not meet his approval. There was a smudge on the bottom right corner of the main vidcomm. His chair, which should be squarely pushed under his table, was clearly off-center. A slight buzzing sound was coming from an I-Know that had been carelessly left on. There were specs of dust, visible dust, floating through the air. Its particles were surrounding him… crushing him. He was breathing in this dust. It was unavoidable!
Dominic started to hyperventilate. He saw, from the corner of his eye, a technician passing by. He grabbed the technician by his collar and slung him to the ground. Dropping a knee into the man's chest, he screamed at him.
“What have you done?” Dominic questioned before striking the man. “Why are you trying to drive me insane?”
The man struggled to protect his face with his arms. Recovering from the initial shock of the situation, he regained his wits and quickly said, “Doctor, please, Doctor... you need a draft. Please take a draft of your ments.”
From somewhere in a fog of discontent, Dominic heard this man's voice. It was a familiar voice. There was something about it that he recognized, something that rang true about taking his ments.
Releasing the man, Dominic, rose and frantically began searching the lab tables. There were so many of them, they all looked alike. What was he looking for? He needed his ments! That's ri
ght, he needed a draft of his ments.
By this point, he was viciously swinging his arms across the lab tables, smashing tools and knocking equipment to the floor. Several technicians, who had witnessed the events, had sprinted to the doctor. Using gentle restraints, from experience, they kept the doctor from harm. At the same time, another technician had raced off and was now returning with a small object. Without hesitation, he pressed the nozzle to the doctor's arm. In seconds the doctor stopped his struggles, his speech became clear in enunciation, and his menacing looks were replaced by serenity.
The technician slowly released the doctor. Without saying a word, they quickly began to restore the room to its pre-episodic condition. The injured technician pulled himself up and with the help of a table stood upright. Striving to hide the pain which coursed through his ribs, he walked slowly over to Dominic.
“Dr. Andreou, the last subject has expired,” he reported.
Blinking and coming to terms with this new conversation, Dominic replied, “Yes, unfortunately. I will require five new subjects promptly, Technician One.”
Looking over at the time on the vidcomm, he added, “I will require fifteen minutes to reset the trial. You will have them here within ten minutes.”
The technician nodded and with difficulty walked out of the lab.
Dominic sat down at the primary workstation of his lab. He brought up three screens on his workstation. One screen displayed real-time video of the MARC space station. A second screen was labeled Automated Transport Protocol. The third screen provided a sweeping view of the Argo's bridge.
Selecting the screen showing the bridge, Dominic summoned the captain, “Captain Dranius, confirm my readings that we have passed under their energizers.”
The captain nodded and moved quickly to the navigation workstation. Conferring with the technician, the captain ensured the readings were accurate.
“We have passed inside the station’s energizers, and our present speed will keep us within them for five minutes. Should we decelerate?" he inquired.
“Five minutes is more than enough, Captain,” the doctor replied. “Once we have cleared the shields, engage the engines and establish our planned orbit.”
Removing a case from his belt, Dominic opened it and removed his custom Ksync from inside. Its masterful decryption algorithms had already proved useful, yet it also functioned as an effective skeleton key.
The second vidscreen was connected to the ATC login. Within minutes the Ksync had broken the security protocols.
“There you are," Dominic congratulated himself. The technical schematics of the seven ore carriers docked at the MARC station rotated on screen. These carriers were the prototypes for plasma beam propulsion, which was used by the colonial fleet. Accessing each ship, Dominic made subtle changes to their pre-programmed headings.
As the last ship was selected, Dominic commented, “I have a special plan for you. Don't go anywhere.” He smiled as he finished its changes and disconnected.
As the Argo continued its voyage beyond the MARC station, Dominic waited for his handiwork to begin. The exterior warning lights of the station began to flash. Their red light illuminated the station's plasma beams as they came online. Separating from the station, the ore carriers fired their maneuvering thrusters. One ship remained, however, its docking clamps holding fast. Six carriers positioned themselves in line for space travel.
The first carrier to arrive at the launch point unfurled its sail in a three hundred sixty degree span. As the last section locked into place, several plasma beams shot from the MARC station to the sail. The burst of energy was captured by the sails shooting it toward Earth. The beams continued to push the ship as it accelerated faster and faster. After several minutes, the beams stopped. The next vessel unfurled its sail, and the process repeated. One by one, the ships launched until all six ships journeyed toward Earth.
The Argo had since fired its plasma engines and accelerated on a course around Mars. The MARC station appeared smaller and smaller as the Argo left it behind. Dominic was satisfied with the plan's progress. His emotionless demeanor hid an exuberance for the events to come.
*
Chapter 17 Out of the Minds of Babes
John stepped off the lift and onto the bridge. Scanning the room he saw a crew that was pushing themselves to remain ever vigilant. Ever since Lieutenant Mercedes' team had found, and incapacitated a program meant to explode the primary thrusters of every ship, full crews manned all stations around the clock. His eyes found Captain Sterling speaking with Communications Officer Williams. Moving around the bridge, he made his way to the captain and waited to be addressed.
Noticing the commander, Captain Sterling finished her inquiry and dismissed Officer Williams.
“Commander,” she stated. “Do you have a report for me?”
“I have an update, Captain,” John replied. “My contact felt the need to talk in code on an open channel. I am still working on understanding the message, but there are two points that are clear to me.”
“I'll give you partial credit, Commander, something is entirely better than nothing at this point,” commented the captain in low tones.
Jonathon continued, “It is clear that the Argo is operating on its own agenda. In fact, it would seem Dr. Andreou's team is involved in some sort of conspiracy. I am not aware how deep this runs, but "world domination" was referenced as their goal.”
“Unsettling indeed, but which world, Commander?” asked the captain rhetorically.
The commander continued the update. “It also sounds like the conditions at home are cultivating a shift in power within our government. It’s possible our friends at mission control may be answering to a new agenda.”
John checked the surrounding area for prying ears by habit. “Captain, I'm getting a bit concerned about who we can trust out here.”
“Noted, Commander,” contemplated the captain. The majority of this crew was handpicked by me. I have confidence in these people, Commander, but only a fool assumes absolutes.
Shifting conversation topics, the captain directed. “Commander, you and your wife have been working around the clock like everyone else. I need you to keep that finely tuned radar of yours in good working order. Take a night off with your family. Get Ashley to talk about something other than data streams for five minutes.”
Before the John could object, the captain asserted, “Consider it an order, Commander. Dismissed.”
Jonathon saluted the captain before making his way back toward the lift.
#
The holo-program in the fit room replicated an old Okinawan dojo. The floors were wooden and polished, yet with dents and dings from simulated years of abuse. The walls were sheets of delicate paper held fast by decorative wooden frames. A feature of this holo-program allowed the walls to function as mirrors. Any movement in the room was reflected perfectly, allowing for instant feedback.
In the center of the room, the Quinn family knelt on the floor. Each member was dressed in a white GI designed for grappling and striking techniques. Tied around their waists were thick white belts. John’s was the only belt with any semblance of color, resembling ground dirt more than a dye. Ashley, Stephanie, and Jessica sat in a straight line, in that order, facing John.
Ashley had trained with John over the years in life protection. She enjoyed the precision required of the katas John taught her, reminiscent of the demands of her childhood ballet lessons. John was focused on the self-defense aspects hidden within the movements. Ashley was more interested in the fitness benefits of the workouts. They both valued the time spent together.
Stephanie had taken an interest in John's “old man punch-wrestling,” as she described it. A basic version was part of a fit class she had taken on the base. Stephanie’s fit instructor had been a student of John's community program at the base. He idolized John, and Stephanie idolized the fit instructor. Luckily for the instructor, John, or both of them, her fit instructor was shipped overseas. Althou
gh Stephanie's reason for joining had left, her interest in working out had stayed. John had no problem adding her to his group of older, more accountable, students.
Jessica on the other hand, loved working out with her father from the moment she'd begun. She had absolutely no idea why she was training, but had the energy of a wound up top to release.
“Let's try something different tonight,” John began. “Your mother and I have wrestled with this idea for a bit now. When you were younger Stephanie, I didn't bring you into my life protection class because... well because I wasn't sure I wanted you to know these techniques.”
Stephanie looked at her father with an odd expression for his odd remark.
“I figured out it wasn’t ‘what techniques' I didn't want you to know, but 'what situations' I didn't want you in," John added.
Stephanie struggled to grasp his meaning.
John left his kneeling position and began pacing.
“I remembered a lesson my instructor had taught me,” John shared. He explained, “Self-defense is meant as a way to protect yourself. You position yourself to preserve your life. That is why I call it 'life protection' and not 'self-defense'. If that means run, you run. If that means hide, you hide. If they're stronger or faster, disable your attacker, then run. Your first priority is always to escape to safety.”
John stopped pacing as he continued, “I was worried showing you how to protect yourself would lead to fighting not escaping. I should have put my faith in you Stephanie. I'm sorry.” John paused for his words to be absorbed. “I realized by keeping these lessons from you I wasn't keeping you safe, I was keeping me safe. Safe from my insecurities, Steph.”
John made his way over to a bag that was lying on the ground. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out four familiar looking rectangular cases. He walked back over to his family, gently tossing each of them a case.
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