Most had gathered around him, but several, including the Drashig, had stopped several rows back. The Drashig stood before another Drashig, a female, as she stared at the screen beyond. Rimdook arms had replaced her own, thick scaly skin covering what might have once been a lustrous coat. Dwar signaled to the Drashig to follow.
Tears in his eyes, the Drashig instead reached out and grabbed hold of the female. She didn’t react. He shook her. Still her eyes never left the screen. The Drashig leaned in and kissed her. Again, nothing. The Drashig looked at his new arm, a Nerzain’s and extended its razor-sharp blade claws.
Dwar called out to him to stop, but the cries fell on deaf ears. The Drashig swiped at the brain tail, severing it in a single blow; she screamed. The female Drashig reached up to the severed stumped and let loose a wail that could wake the dead before she collapsed to the deck, grey blood pooling around her.
Dwar froze, something had changed. He looked around, all the brain tails had stopped their rhythmic dance. Even those of the severed head atop the screen had stopped. Then the modified prisoners began to turn towards their fallen comrade. Cold recognition filled their eyes when they saw the escaping prisoners. It was not hopeful recognition, it was the look of one who’d recognized their enemy.
Dwar backed towards the door again. “We have to get this open, now!” he hissed. With the help of two others, he clambered up towards the door control; the Gorvian hybrids springing into action.
Screams filled the room as they descended on the escapees amongst them, before they turned their insane silence towards those at the door. Dwar hammered at the control panel; the alien symbols of the touch pad making no sense to him. The other doors had a clear open button that he’d learned to recognize. This one didn’t. Frustrated, he beat at the glass panel while the others fought back against the throng of hybrids. The glass shattered, and in the dim light, through the jungle of cables, he spied a similar glass panel beyond. Seizing the opportunity, he smashed more of the glass away and crawled into the wall. Hands that did not belong to the Fershing that he stood upon clawed at his feet.
He looked back and spotted only hands and brain tails. His hearts racing, he surged ahead, snapping the wires within before he smashed into the second glass panel. The screams behind him reached a crescendo, then halted. The absolute silence that followed forced him to look back. He met the eyes of a hybrid as it stood upon another’s shoulders. It was just staring at him as he curled up inside the wall. Without a sound, it began to reach in towards him.
He kicked at its tentacled arm as he pressed back into the glass panel into the next chamber. Pain and blood appeared on his feet and ankles as it clawed at him. He was ready for the end when the glass gave way and he fell into the next chamber.
The chamber was dark, almost pitch black as he slid down the wall. He forced his eyes shut then, sure that death awaited him before he slammed into something hard and unyielding. He reached back and felt the object; it was hard, metallic. He spun around, it was a ship. Tiny by even his standards, the egg-shaped contraption sat there, covered in thrusters, but it was a ship. He felt his way around in the dim light and spotted more of the craft, dozens of them. He reached the front of the pod and found an open hatch. He didn’t care what lay within and climbed aboard pulling it closed behind him. Red lights activated, illuminating an interior filled with shock webbing harnesses and little else. There was enough room for four individuals of his size.
He didn’t like the implications. Before he could dwell on it a thump echoed through the hull. He stopped, daring to not even breathe as another thump sounded and another. Then all was silent again, his breathing and hearts beating the only sounds. He turned back towards the hatch. It remained closed, but there was a small control panel. He reached for it and it activated. A tactical hologram appeared. It showed more of the strange pods around him and moving signals that he could only assume were the hybrids. Beyond them were the walls of what he guessed were a hangar.
A word he didn’t recognize appeared. He dared not touch it. Then arrows and a highlighted set of rectangles appeared on the wall. A door perhaps, a space door? Hoping that was what it meant he tapped the door. The sound of hydraulics outside the pod echoed back. A howl of air streaking across the hull sounded for a moment before he fell back against the side of the pod as it shot free of the chamber and into silence again.
Weightlessness overtook him and he almost passed out for sheer joy before he turned back to the hologram. The pods sat scattered around him, and the sensor return of the prison ship filled one half of the artificial display. An urgent blinking button appeared and he slapped at it. The pod hummed to life, thrusters sounding through the hull. He looked at the display again, multiple contacts filling the edge of its display. White contacts like those of the prison ship and the pods dominated. In the distance, however there were more of various colors. He tapped one and it expanded on the display. He recognized the triangular shape, a Cenobite Destroyer. He stabbed at it again and found himself thrown to the back of the interior.
His vision blurred under the sudden acceleration and the impact. He fought to remain awake as a new set of symbols appeared. Consciousness slipping away, he tried to recognize them. They were numbers, not distance, but time, maybe time to target? He’d learned enough of the Gorvian clock to know however that the numbers weren’t hopeful. It would be at least a cycle before the pod reached its target. Worse, any Confederation ship would at best see the pod as an unknown contact, and at worst as what it was, a Gorvian assault craft. He had to find a way to let his compatriots know who and what he was. Before he could however, the pod accelerated once again and everything went black.
UCSB Date 1003.318
Spare Bay 19, UCSBS Archen, Wolfsbane Battlegroup, Doblius System
The marine security team approached the bay with caution. Whatever the weapon was that had hit their ship, it hadn’t exploded, but they still had no idea what it could be. The bay still had pressure, but nothing else. The object had impacted the hull and then sealed itself in place after knocking out power to the section.
Rumors of a Gorvian bio-weapon were rampant throughout the fleet. That idea remained at the forefront of the squad leader's mind. The hatch to the bay remained closed as the two fire teams approached, weapons at the ready. The squad leader took his fire team to one side of the hatch as the other team took up position opposite. Thermal scans showed a single object within not much larger than a torpedo. The ovoid object hadn’t moved since it impacted, but nevertheless they needed to treat it with it care.
The squad leader actuated the door’s hand pump to activate the emergency hydraulics. Once the pressure gauge read ready, he signaled to his troops and pulled the lever. The door slid away and the second fire team stormed the room, setting up a defensive perimeter before the first fire team bounded past them to surround the object.
All clear calls echoed through his earpiece. He turned to the Otlian beside him, his suit equipped with hazmat sensors. He shook his head. “All clear. Ionization and contaminants from the impact, but no biologics or other gasses.”
The squad leader turned to the egg-shaped pod. The front featured some sort of cutting head he’d never seen before. He approached with caution and extended a hand. Before he reached it the whole front of the pod fell away revealing an open interior. He backed away and looked towards the Otlian again.
“Still clear.”
“I have movement and a thermal,” another marine called. “Inside the pod.”
Everyone raised their weapons towards the opening. “Lights,” the squad leader called.
Tactical lights shone into the open hatch before something emerged. He looked Anulian, starved and weak, but Anulian. He collapsed out of the hatch and a marine rushed forward to investigate only to fall back at the sight. “What is it?” the squad leader demanded before he saw it himself. It was naked, save for the scars which displayed a roadmap of pain across the figure’s sickly grey skin. Worse, all but
one of his limbs belonged to those of other species.
“Merciful mother, what’s happened to him?” the second fire team leader hissed.
The man lay still for a long moment, then pushed himself up to look at them. An unmistakable look of relief washed over his face. “Dwar, Renwar, Confed, Space Forces. Escaped, Gorvian Prison Ship. It’s, in-system. More, like me, aboard. Need, rescue.”
The man, Dwar, passed out, the act of telling them even that seemingly too much for him after the ordeal he’d endured.
The squad leader motioned his men forward and activated his link. “Security, this is squad four. We have an escaped POW here. The Gorvians. They did things to him.”
“Elaborate,” his commander replied a moment later.
“No can-do sir. We need a medical team down here immediately. He says there’s a Gorvian prison ship in-system.”
UCSB Date 1003.320
Personnel Quarter Room 415, USCBS Mercy, Veglid System
It had come to this: Marda’s doctor insisted that she not eat spices of any kind during her pregnancy had come to a serious head. She hadn’t even had basic salt in her food, or any stimulants, since she’d announced her pregnancy. Her doctor ordered every galley onboard not to serve her anything with even the most basic of spices. He’d gone so far to have all the autocooks reprogrammed to serve her nothing but bland items. To get around that she’d had to have someone else order her food. Even that had become more difficult, so she’d had to find alternate means to procure spices.
“Mikle. Please god, tell me that you have something. I mean I can’t remember the last time I haven’t seen you smother your food in dragon root.”
Mikle pulled back from his old footlocker with a mock hurt expression on his face. “I take offense to that. I’ll have you know I gave up dragon root. I’ve moved on to harder core Shinekian spices.”
Marda almost gagged at the thought of that. She’d only ever been able to tolerate a few grains of any Shinekian spice on her food. Even then she’d regretted what it had done to her. “Okay, horrible as that is though, that means you should have plenty of your old stock left. Right?”
Mikle shook his head and closed the footlocker. “Sorry to tell you this Marda, but this is all I have left.” He held up a small shaker a quarter full with pepper flakes. “I left most of my spice rack back at the academy. What’s the deal anyway? Are they really cutting you off from all spices?”
Marda nodded and collapsed back onto the softest chair in the room. “Yes. It’s a Shinekian and Borekian thing. Any of their spices could cause a spontaneous miscarriage. Of course their spices can burn through hull plate. Never mind that. I just want things to have some taste again.”
“I might be able to help with that. I don’t have any spices, but the proper application of certain juices can enhance the flavor of your meals.”
“That would be great. But I thought you were helping out Gokhead and Que-Dee with their project?”
Mikle shook his head. “Not since that weird signal cut out. Gok thinks they might have been getting too close and spooked whoever was sending it.”
Marda sighed and the baby started kicking away. She rested a hand on her belly to calm him. “It’s okay honey.”
“Kid’s a fighter already huh?” Mikle asked. His eyes sparkled as if he’d never seen a pregnant woman react to a kicking baby before.
“He’s just awake and hungry. Let’s see what you can cook up.”
Marda looked around for a moment. Gokhead’s voice so clear over the link that she swore he’d been in the room.
Marda sat back and could read the surprise on Mikle’s face. Her hearts thudded in her chest at the news. Blazer had wanted nothing more than to go after a Gorvian prison ship since he’d first spotted one. In her present state however, there was no way she could accompany the team. She slumped back into the seat in response. The baby kicked away with a new fury in response.
Marda grimaced. The line was technically for emergency use only. It would allow the Mercy’s medical staff to consult with experts off the ship or communicate with medics on friendly ships who needed remote assistance. It could also allow telepresence surgery, but that was a rare usage. She hated to abuse the system like this. More than that, she hated to do it to send the team, and her husband, into harm's way, especially without her.
Marda sighed and closed her eyes, resting her hands on her belly to calm the baby. She had to decide what to say over the low security channel.
The link went silent for a moment before Blazer cut in. His thoughts were excited, but muted.
Marda looked over at Mikle. “Go get us conference room 1, the big medical one.”
Conference Room, UCSBS Mercy
Marda couldn’t stand the smell in the room. The smells were nothing new. She’d gotten used to them during her time at the academy. Sweat, grime, body odor from being sealed in a suit, but the cleaning chemicals and antiseptics used in the room were also overpowering. Is this what Zithe smells all the time? She looked over at the Lycan. His sense of smell put all the rest of theirs to shame. With the pregnancy hormones running rampant, her nose picked out every individual scent in the room, driving her to distraction.
She’d wanted to hug and hold Blazer when he’d rushed up from the flight deck. This operation could very well be a suicide mission: all the simulations they’d run had showed that. She wanted to just be close to him, to try and talk him out of it. The smell wafting out of his flight suit chased her away.
Nevertheless, she worked with the rest of the squadron to refine their plans of attack to seize one of the prison ships based on the new data. The knowledge that the Wolfsbane battle group were fighting in the Doblius System gave them an insertion plan. From there things got harder. They had little idea on the interior layout of the prison ship. Only the external scan data that Blazer and Arion had gathered told them anything about the configuration. Any intelligence gleaned from the escaped prisoner was, thus far, inaccessible to Gokhead and Que-Dee.
Their plans completed, Tadeh Qudas placed the call to Admiral Quin Tosh. The technician that appeared on the large flat screen monitor at the head of the conference table jerked back in response to Tadeh Qudas’ image. “I’m sorry sir. The admiral is very busy right now. I’ll relay your message to her as soon as I can.”
Tadeh Qudas remained as impassive as ever. Marda wondered what kind of upbringing could bring about such a person, and that thought sent her hand back to her belly. She felt tears begin to well up that s
he just couldn’t explain before he spoke again, pulling her back into the moment. “This is Commander Tadeh Qudas, UCSBS Mercy Special Operations commander. We know about what was found in Doblius.”
The technician’s eyes went wide. “Standby sir.” The screen shifted to the Nosh’Tak’s ship seal; multiple alien serpents striking out from a stylized rendition of the battle cruiser’s main guns.
A pulse later, a man in the most pristine dress uniform Marda had ever seen appeared. She could pull a brand new uniform straight out of the fabricator and it still wouldn’t look so perfect. Every seam was straight, and there wasn’t a single thread out of place or ribbon out of order. Even his O-50 rank tab gleamed. “Commander. As you’ve been told, Admiral Quin Tosh is extremely busy. Whatever intelligence you think you may have gleaned will not be enough to draw her away.”
Marda wondered if Tadeh Qudas was seething beneath that impassive death mask as much as Blazer did from his seat beside him. Nothing in his manner revealed any such emotion, leaving Marda wondering if he might in fact be a machine or a hologram. “We know about the Gorvian prison ship in Doblius.”
Marda watched the officer’s face go flush. Even if the technician had mentioned Doblius, the fact that Tadeh Qudas called out the prison itself had caught him flat footed. The man couldn’t even move for a moment before Tadeh Qudas raised a hand and waved him away, Que-Dee humming away behind the Telshin.
The officer disappeared again and a moment later Admiral Quin Tosh appeared in her office. Marda could almost feel her annoyance through the screen; even the baby jumped. “I won’t even ask how you found out what you did Commander,” she began, emphasizing his rank like it was a threat. “Before you ask however, your teams will not be on the mission. Time is too critical and there’s no way to get them there in time.”
Armageddon's Pall: Spiral War Book 4 Page 26