Messenger

by James Walker

  Vic terminated the transmission in annoyance. “Astral, is there any way you could try filtering the images you send me?” he asked. “There's a lot of redundant information. Would it be possible to send me only the parts that change?”

  “I'll try,” Astral replied.

  “Good. Let's give this another shot. I've got to get better at this, or Cena will never stop making fun of me.”

  Vic restarted the simulation with the same parameters. Once again, Astral established a mental connection. This time, as the first enemy drew near, Vic could trace its path through the virtual landscape. It was like watching a sequence of shadows, only they showed not where the enemy had already been, but rather where it was going to be.

  “I can see it,” he whispered. “It's going to...”

  It was going to come blazing around the corner and open fire immediately, much like before. Rather than waiting to get shot, Vic took cover behind a nearby building. As he did so, the pattern of shadows in his mind changed. Now the enemy wasn't going to open fire immediately; it was going to move down the street and strafe his position as it passed.

  The amount of information was easier to handle than before, but it was still disorienting. Through sheer force of will, Vic managed to zero in on one branch of the infinitely expanding tree and follow the sequence of actions in his mind. He dropped back until he reached the rear of the building and aimed his heavy cannon at the far side of the street. He squeezed off a shot the instant the enemy came into view and simultaneously fired his thrusters to take him behind the building. The maneuver took him out of view before the enemy's fire could hit him, while his shot tore into its right shoulder, ripping its arm free of the frame. The enemy skated out of view, seeking a new avenue of attack.

  “Damn,” Vic gasped between heavy breaths.

  “What's wrong?” Astral said. “That was great.”

  “I was trying to take it out with one shot,” Vic replied. “This is hard. Even being able to see what's going to happen in advance, responding to the enemy's actions still depends on my ability to move with precision.”

  “You're doing well,” Astral encouraged him. “Perfection isn't achievable. There's too much noise—in my senses, in our mental connection, in the neural pathways that translate your intentions into actions. As long as you can see a few seconds ahead of your opponent, that's already an overwhelming advantage.”

  “You're right.” Vic adjusted his grip on the controls. “Let's finish this sucker off before another one finds us.”

  Cena's face reappeared in the corner of the viewscreen. She looked distraught. “Vic, terminate the simulation,” she exclaimed. “There's some kind of emergency. Colonel Lane has ordered us to the briefing room.”

  Vic sighed in irritation. “All right, I'll be right there.” He terminated the simulation and glanced over his shoulder at Astral. “Sorry. Looks like we'll have to continue this another time. Right when we were making progress, too.”

  “It's all right,” Astral said. “We'd better go see what happened.”

  *

  Vic and Astral followed Cena to the briefing room, where many of the others had already gathered. Amos and Guntar were standing at the front. Vic, Astral, and Cena sat near the back and waited for the briefing to start.

  Soon, Amos called for silence and began to speak. “The Orochi intelligence cell has dispatched a priority-one announcement to every cell on Chalice,” he began. “The Union's first attempt to defeat Falsrain's coup has ended in disaster. Seven days ago, T.U. Spacy's main presence on the surface, Fort Spriggan, was wiped out by orbital bom­bardment. Then, at 2140 hours today, our observation stations tracked three Spacy vessels, identified as the dreadnought Nemesis, the battlecruiser Memory, and the assault carrier Circumstance, entering Chalice's orbit. Within minutes, a hostile vessel, presumed to be the Onyx Down, ambushed the Spacy flotilla and sank the entire attack force. Shortly thereafter, a landing party dispatched to the surface was suppressed by orbital bombardment and the survivors were taken into custody by the city garrison.”

  “Blinding Light,” Cena whispered. “For a Spacy assault force to get manhandled like that...”

  Amos continued, “We note that Falsrain's surprise victory would not have been possible without the betrayal of the sensor station on Port Osgow. It also appears that the Hongpan garrison is fully under his control. The question is, how did he gain their cooperation? I've requested that Orochi prioritize this matter for immediate investigation.”

  Someone in the audience interjected, “There's no way Spacy is going to take this lying down. They'll just send out a bigger fleet, and next time Falsrain is going down, sensor net or no sensor net.”

  Pierson, who was seated with the audience, replied, “Not necessarily. Spacy's forces in the outer colonies are more taxed than they let on. If they just take every ship they've got and send them all at Chalice, a hundred more insurrections will break out at the colonies they leave undefended.”

  Guntar said, “Then that clown Falsrain might have just done us a huge favor. If we can pull him off his gilded throne, control of Chalice will be up for grabs.”

  “Unfortunately, there's more to the report,” Amos said. “Remember Falsrain's peculiar inaugural broadcast, where he said something about conveying the will of an alien intelligence? That might not have been the mere ravings of a madman.”

  Guntar scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “It seems there have been outbreaks of Messenger syndrome in the capital,” Amos said. “The media is keeping it hushed up, but apparently it's spreading. And it started when Falsrain took office.”

  Guntar looked horror-stricken. “Good God.”

  “It's Scathe,” Astral exclaimed.

  All eyes turned to look at Astral. An expression of terror lay on her face. Her MINDs, which had gone dormant when she sat down, began pulsing as if in response to her agitation.

  “Falsrain made himself into a Syneger.” Astral's voice had grown strange; partly her own, partly that of something else. “But a different kind than I am. I only hear the words of the Voice. Scathe chose Falsrain as its vessel, and he accepted it into himself. It has turned him into its servant—a vector for channeling its powers.”

  “You mentioned Scathe before,” Vic said. “A shadow that lies dormant within the Xenowave.”

  “No longer,” Astral replied, her third eye pulsing with light. “Falsrain now acts only partly of his own will. He may believe he is embarking on a quest of domination, to subjugate the outer colonies under his own rule. But Scathe is only using him as a puppet. What it desires is completely different.”

  “What does it desire?” Vic asked.

  “Oblivion,” Astral said. “It's like a disease. Falsrain is the carrier. By channeling Scathe's power, he can subjugate anyone's will, turning them into his servants. But the price is death. They become Messengers.”

  Esther rose from her seat. “If that's true, then this is a dire emergency,” she exclaimed. “Falsrain is releasing a deadly pandemic on the people of Hongpan. And if that power is how he gained control of the sensor satellites, then Port Osgow may have been infected as well. If this is allowed to spread...”

  Panicked murmurs rippled through the gathered troops. Amos held up a hand, and when that failed to silence the crowd, Guntar called for quiet. Reluctantly, the crowd fell silent.

  “Can we stop it?” Amos asked. “Are there any countermeasures?”

  “Kill Falsrain,” Astral said. “Without its vessel, Scathe's power will be severely weakened.”

  “But anyone exposed to a Messenger runs the risk of contracting the disease,” Esther said. “If Falsrain has surrounded himself with Messengers, how could we approach him without becoming infected? For that matter, how can we defeat him if he can simply convert his enemies into his servants?”

  “What about bombarding the governor's palace with long-range missiles or artillery?” someone suggested.

  Amos shook his head. “Long-rang
e missiles are rendered largely useless by the silence particles, and we don't have any artillery with that kind of range.”

  “There is a way,” Astral said.

  Guntar gestured to her. “By all means, enlighten us.”

  “We can protect you from the Messenger syndrome.” Astral put a hand to her chest. “Through me. We can counter Scathe's power to subjugate other wills, as well. But because we rely on me to focus our power, I must accompany whomever goes forth to destroy Scathe's vessel.”

  Guntar scowled. “Bloody hell. I'd like to say this is all a bunch of drug-induced bullhockey, but after the things I've seen, I've got no choice to believe it. As if fighting the Union wasn't bad enough, now we've got to deal with alien pandemics.”

  “It looks like we're the only ones equipped to deal with Falsrain's threat,” Amos said. “In which case, we need to act quickly. If we're dependent on Astral to protect our forces from the pandemic, then our best bet is a small team to infiltrate the capital, penetrate to the governor's palace, and assassinate Falsrain. Colonel Artega, can I count on your cooperation in preparing a joint force?”

  “The hell kind of stupid question is that?” Guntar snapped.

  “I'll take that as a yes.” Amos turned to the gathered troops. “You've all heard the mission parameters. This will be an extremely dangerous operation. Astral's presence in the assault team is mandatory, but otherwise the force composition is wide open. I'm reluctant to order anyone to take part in such a high-risk mission, so the strike force will be composed entirely of volunteers.”

  Vic immediately put up his hand.

  “I thought we could count on you, Corporal,” Amos said.

  Pierson raised his hand.

  Amos nodded to Pierson. “Just what I would expect from the hero of Halispont.”

  A pale, slender arm went up to Vic's left. He looked over and saw Celeste, who was now wearing a SLIC uniform bearing the rank of sergeant.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Amos said. “A pilot from Spacy's latest strain of augments will add greatly to the team's strength.”

  Cena's hand shot up. “No way I'm being left out.”

  “That's our ace.” Tinubu raised his hand. “Count me in, too.”

  “Oh, hell with it,” came Eliot's voice. “This is turning into a real party. Sign me up, too.”

  Guntar stepped forward and raised his thick arm. “I won't send my men into the fangs of death without leading the charge,” he said. “I'll join the team as operational commander.”

  EIGHTH MESSAGE: SCATHE ~ AND LIGHT SHALL ILLUMINATE FROM WITHIN

  56

  The next day, Vic found himself once again in the briefing room, along with the other volunteers. Guntar and Amos stood before the screen at the front of the room, conversing quietly. Vic made his way to the back of the room, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms as he waited for the briefing to start. Celeste noticed him and, after a moment's hesitation, made her way over to him.

  “Corporal Shown?” she said. “I heard that's your name.”

  “You can just call me Vic if you'd rather,” he replied.

  “I probably shouldn't be too familiar with someone who's technically my subordinate,” she said.

  Vic noticed the markings on Celeste's new SLIC uniform. “Oh yeah, they made you a sergeant, huh? I guess that's a step down from before.”

  “Escaping from T.U. Spacy is a step up, no matter what my rank,” Celeste said. “Anyway, Corporal, I never got a chance to thank you from before.”

  Vic looked confused. “Thank me? For what?”

  “During the battle at Fort Spriggan, you found me at my weakest moment,” Celeste said. “You could have easily killed me then. You had every reason to do it. Instead, you told me the words that gave me the courage to break free from Spacy's control.”

  “You can cut the strings, if you know they're there,” Vic said. “Is that what you're talking about?”

  “Yes,” Celeste said. “It might have only been a fleeting confrontation for you, but for me, that encounter might have been my salvation. So thank you. I won't forget it.”

  Vic felt touched by the awkward display of gratitude. “I really don't think I did anything,” he said, “but I'm glad you were able to escape. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we'd much rather have you fighting with us than against us.”

  Celeste nodded, then returned to her seat. As soon as she sat down, Amos stepped forward and motioned for quiet.

  “It looks like everyone is here,” he said. “Time to see what you all signed up for.”

  He dimmed the lights and brought an image on screen. A computer-generated rendering of an aerial view of Hongpan filled the display.

  “We started by considering every option for ranged attack,” Amos said. “Long-range missiles are useless because the silence particles constrain them to optical guidance, which by itself is inadequate for accurate targeting. Mobile artillery batteries might fare better, but the only artillery equipment we have lacks sufficient range. They would be detected and neutralized long before they could bombard the governor's palace.”

  Tinubu said, “So as we feared, a direct assault is the only way.”

  Cena asked, “How are we going to get close enough for that? If artillery can't get close enough to attack, that goes double for a frontal assault. They keep the Golden Ward locked down tight.”

  “That's where I come in,” Amos said. “We've got an insertion strategy for bypassing their security measures.”

  He manipulated the control panel, causing the view to pan to the water southeast of the city. A large shadow coasted just beneath the surface, then exploded out of the water, revealing the silhouette of the Skyfish. The craft passed directly over the Golden Ward and unleashed a fusillade of missiles followed by a pair of VTOLs and a squad of exosuits equipped with gliders. The attackers landed in the courtyard of the palatial complex and commenced a blitz assault while the spacecraft rocketed to safety.

  “We have the Skyfish,” Amos explained. “She'll ferry the assault team to their destination under my command. By making most of the journey underwater, she'll be able to penetrate the city's aerial detection net and fly directly over the target point. She'll unleash a volley of missiles to draw the fire of their anti-aircraft artillery and hopefully de­stroy the helipad on top of the central structure, thereby cutting off that avenue of escape. The assault team will land directly in the pala­tial complex and commence their attack.”

  Eliot raised his hand. “What about a suicide run? Could we crash the Skyfish directly into the palace? I know losing the Skyfish would be a major loss for Aqualung, but given how dangerous Falsrain is, it seems like a worthwhile sacrifice to make sure we take him out.”

  Amos shook his head. “We considered that, but it's no good. The Skyfish is too large to fit through the gaps in the containment dome. Both the ship and the dome would break apart on collision and their debris would fall all over the city. The collateral damage would be enormous.”

  Eliot looked uncomfortable. “Well... I don't like to be the one to bring this up, but the city is in the grip of a Messenger pandemic, so aren't they all pretty much screwed anyway?”

  Amos frowned. “That's no justification for wantonly causing massive civilian casualties. Besides, even if we went with that plan, there's no guarantee that the palace would be destroyed. Falsrain might pull through unscathed, and then all those sacrifices would be for nothing.”

  “Guess you've got a point,” Eliot conceded.

  Guntar took over the explanation. “Soon as we touch down, it's our party. We need to stay close to Astral or risk contracting Messenger syndrome. The exact range of her ability to shield us is unknown, so the closer we can stay to her, the better. Preferably, we'd like to selectively kill Falsrain, but as a last resort, we might have to level the en­tire palace. For that eventuality, we'll be packing high-yield explosive charges. Only the mission commander may authorize their use.”

  Amos interje
cted, “This is a time-critical mission. The element of surprise should give you an initial advantage, but the city garrison will have you hopelessly outnumbered. The longer you take, the more time they'll have to organize a counterattack. If you can't take out Falsrain quickly and then get the hell out of there, it's only a matter of time before you're overwhelmed.”

  “Speaking of getting out of there,” Cena asked, “what's the extraction plan?”

  “There is no extraction plan,” Guntar said.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

  Amos looked apologetic. “We thought of everything we could. But no matter how we sliced it, there's no way to pull you out. Once you've completed the objective, you'll have to improvise.”

  “One-way trip, huh,” Eliot said. “How come I knew this was gonna happen?”

  Amos manipulated the screen controls again, this time bringing up a geographical map of the area around the city. He indicated a road in a relatively uninhabited area and said, “Provided that you can escape the city, we'll have a trailer waiting for you here. If necessary, you can use that to return to base. In the event that you need to leave your exosuits behind, you are advised to destroy them so the enemy can't make use of them.”

  He raised his gaze to the assembled troops, his expression grave. “I've said it before, but this is an extremely dangerous mission. I'll be frank. According to our simulations, the assault team is almost certain to suffer heavy casualties. In the worst-case scenario, the city garrison will overwhelm you before you can secure an avenue of escape, and you will be annihilated. If anyone wants out, now is the time to speak up.”

  No one spoke.

  “Now that's guts,” Guntar said. “I'm damn proud of you, troops.”

  “All right,” Amos said. “The chain of command is as follows. I've got command of the Skyfish. Once you're on the ground, operational command will be transferred to Colonel Artega. Second in command is Cap­tain Tinubu. After that, standard rules of seniority apply, except for Ma­jor Cutter, who has been relieved of command authority.