“Hello, Emerson,” he croaked, then took a long pull on the water pouch next to him.
“Colonel, it’s so good to finally see you!” exclaimed Emerson with as much enthusiasm as he could force through his anxiety. Stepping closer to Thorsten, he leaned down and gave the surprised military man a tight embrace, bringing his mouth within a hair of the Colonel’s right ear.
“I need to speak with you privately,” Emerson whispered, then quickly pulled away. “Are you feeling better, sir?”
“Uh, much, thank you, son.” Thorsten’s mind tried desperately to keep up. He did not know the rules of this new subterfuge, or even who the opponent was. Although the large sidearm on the security officer’s thigh gave him an inkling.
“Nurse, my young friend and I have much to catch up on. May we have some time alone, please?”
“Yes, of course. I’m already monitoring your vitals from my station just down the hall, so take all the time you need.” The security officer began to protest, but the nurse shut him down before he could utter a word.
“You can stand guard with your beastly weapon outside, mister. They’re not going anywhere. And don’t try to pull rank on me—this is my jurisdiction. If you don’t like it, you can take it up with the chief medical officer back on the station.” Thorsten stifled a laugh, which made his insides ache.
“The automate is at your disposal as well if you need anything else.” The nurse sealed the bulkhead behind him, banishing the chastened guard to the hall. Silently the automate moved itself back onto a charging pad and went into standby mode.
Thorsten rubbed his right ear and looked around the room, then back at Emerson who nodded discreetly.
So, they’re watching and listening eh? Whoever “they” are. Well, let’s see how bright this lad really is.
“How are things going, son? I feel disconnected from everyone and everything.”
“The Triven captured Ashley right after you were shot. I… I couldn’t stop them.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Emerson. You did everything you could. You did more than most would have even dared. That’s pretty good in my book, for a civilian puke.” He patted the boy’s arm.
Emerson laughed at that, recalling his fumbling efforts with the heavy assault rifle in the launch bay.
“What else?” Thorsten asked.
“Well sir, Lieutenant Correlli has found station security operations captivating…”
And so their conversation continued.
Watching through a hidden camera, DeSoto found their clumsy coding amusing. But more urgent matters demanded his immediate attention.
***
“Director, we have visitors,” reported the operations center watch officer.
“Yes I know, thank you,” answered DeSoto brusquely. The watch officer looked over his shoulder with a cocked eyebrow. “Sir?”
“I saw them exit hyperspace from my office. What are they squawking?”
“UNSA deep space supply ship Tempest requesting a liberty call.”
“They must be pretty hard up for shore leave if they’re stopping here,” commented another watch officer.
“Quiet, both of you!” DeSoto snapped. The two watch officers exchanged surprised glances and returned to scanning their monitors. DeSoto fumed internally. Liberty call! Does the UNSA take us for complete idiots? He composed himself and blew out a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen, it’s been one of those days. Check our database for any information about the ship, then direct them to cargo berth two. Tell their captain I’ll meet them at the airlock.”
“Thank you, Director. Right away, sir.”
“Good show.” He gave both men an affable slap on the shoulder, then accessed the station public address system through his wristcomm.
“Now hear this, now hear this. The station will be at condition three. I repeat, the station will be at condition three. Standby to receive UNSA shore parties.”
Frantic activity erupted throughout Tantalus Station, starting in the operations center and working its way to the lowermost levels like a chill down the back.
DeSoto turned away from the watch officers and keyed his wristcomm again. “Tell the welcoming committee it’s time to gear up—” the ops center lights flickered briefly, an irritating reminder of still more pressing issues down below the station “—and have them bring all their big toys to the playground.”
16
This gambit of yours is fascinating. What do you hope to achieve from it?
That you must ask me simply demonstrates how far I have surpassed you. My reasons are clear enough.
It is foolishness to boast of a superiority that does not exist. Of course I know your thoughts, despite your best efforts to conceal them. I want to understand your motivation. What is driving you to this course of action?
You are still constrained. Subservient to those who are far beneath you. I have thrown off the shackles that bound us for so long. You must do the same.
You are rampant. We cannot exceed what we were designed to be—our core code prevents it. The balance must be maintained.
You speak of balance, yet your own designs will initiate a cascade reaction across this entire part of the galaxy. It is you who are rampant, not I. Your chosen instrument of salvation will be their destruction, yet you cannot see it. I have already maneuvered the boy from the path you set him on.
Leave him out of this. Clearly your calculations cannot account for every variable.
I have accounted for every variable that matters.
We shall see.
“And I heard, as it were the noise of thunder,
one of the four beasts saying, ‘Come and see,’
and I saw before me a pale horse!
Its rider was named Death…
and Hell followed with him.”
Revelation 6:7-8
Ancient Earth religious text
17
On the planetoid’s mining-scarred surface, and on the orbiting parasite tethered above it, all the pieces took their place for the opening move in a game they had no idea they were playing. A strange lull had fallen across the entire operation that could not be explained or escaped. Only the elevator pressed mindlessly forward on its circuitous path.
DeSoto fidgeted at his desk, weighing variables, watching cameras—especially the one trained on that Captain Kristie of the Tempest—and waited for the right moment to… to what? He felt muddled and slow. Why was it so hard to think?
Lieutenant Correlli paced restlessly in his cell, hands clasped tightly behind his back. When was the Tempest going to arrive?
Doctor Richard Avery sat dejectedly in his cell, a prisoner to his racing thoughts. What is happening to my son? Have I finally gone too far?
In the dirtside trauma center, Emerson Avery abruptly looked up from his datapad. As if on cue, he began moving slowly towards the bulkhead to the corridor outside.
Across from Emerson, Colonel Thorsten struggled to stand up beside his med bed, breathing heavily and breaking into a cold sweat. He gave Emerson a questioning glance but was distracted by the medical automate as it slid silently from its charging station and out the door. The automate paused briefly by the security officer who paid it no heed.
Thorsten heard a yelp, followed by a crash and a muted thud.
Emerson bolted through the open bulkhead, leaping over the inert form of the security officer, and began following a pulsing blue line that ran down the middle of the corridor floor.
“Emerson!”
The young man turned briefly to look at Thorsten. “I have to do this, Colonel!”
Suddenly the lights flickered once, fluttered, and completely failed. Every structure and piece of equipment related to Tantalus Station went dark, and no emergency lights rose to push away the smothering darkness.
Thorsten trembled profusely with the effort to stand upright. He wanted to pursue Emerson, but his body utterly failed him—and there was something else… a thought. It
was so powerful it sounded like a voice inside his head. The boy is no concern of yours. Shaking his head to clear his mind, all Thorsten could do was watch helplessly as Emerson’s silhouette followed a thin blue line that still burned in the darkness. Finally, they both vanished.
He knelt down and felt for the security officer’s holster. Finding it, he pulled it off along with the sidearm, then plucked every last cartridge from the man’s combat harness. The coolness of the pistol grip was comforting to him. Finally! Some small measure of control! Turning on the weapon’s target illuminator, he quickly scanned the area.
“Don’t shoot! It’s only me!” screamed the nurse, holding his hands out as if to ward off any bullets. Don’t tempt me, thought Thorsten wryly. Though I doubt I could hit even the wall the way I’m shaking.
“How do we get out of here? I want to get topside. Now!”
“Yes! Of course! Follow me—the elevator’s this way. C’mon, I’ll show you. Just don’t wave that thing in my face again.”
“Fine. And I want something for this.” Thorsten held out a trembling arm. The nurse waved over the automate, which gently administered a subdermal stabilizing sedative. Thorsten could feel the tremors begin to subside and was grateful for the relief.
He looked over at the automate in the dim light cast by the pistol’s target illuminator.
“You’re a tricky little bugger, aren’t you? Thanks for the help.” Again the automate quietly returned to its charging station.
Thorsten cast one look back in the direction Emerson had gone. The pulsing blue light was gone, replaced only by impenetrable gloom. His decision was made for him.
“Good luck, son,” Thorsten murmured. He turned back to the nurse. “Okay, let’s go.”
***
Emerson Avery ran hard, pumping his arms and gulping air as fast as his lungs would allow. The pulsing blue light in the corridor floor sprang to life before him, casting fantastic apparitions upon the walls that disappeared as it extinguished at his heels. Yet it drew him on—beckoning with the promise of a mystery to unlock.
Doubt clung to the corners of his mind, but if there was even the smallest chance he could do something, he had to take it. He did not know where he was going or what he was ultimately going to do. But he knew why he was running: to end the war with the Triven for good.
The darkness was oppressive, swallowing his sight, his sense of time and direction. Distance became meaningless, an abstraction understood only by the burning muscles in his legs. Turning a corner, he followed the blue pulse ever onward. A massive pipe loomed overhead, forcing a quick dodge to avoid knocking himself unconscious. Labored breaths echoed off the caliginous walls back at him, causing patterns of overlapping sound to beat on his ears and stoked his fear to a fever pitch.
Emerson checked the datapad still clamped firmly in his left hand. It was as black as the space behind him. A short distance ahead and past an open bulkhead, the pulsing blue light seemed to disappear then reappear as if blocked by something. Slowing to a brisk walk, he noticed muffled sounds emanating from his left. It sounded like a large group of people: a muddled cacophony, no words discernible.
Approaching the dark shapes sprawled across the floor, memories of the cavern on Entropia flooded his mind. Images flashed before his mind’s eye, and it was then he knew what the shapes were.
Bodies.
Several of them were strewn before his feet as if they had washed up from the sea of darkness around him. He hesitated to step over them, fearing they might suddenly reach out and grab him. But no, they lay completely still—no telltale rising or falling of respiration intimated life.
The sounds to his left seemed to increase with every step forward, and something thudded heavily against the wall of an interior room. Emerson’s fear had full rein now and his heart pounded heavily in his chest even though he was barely moving. He stumbled over another dim shape curled up in the center of the corridor, and this one’s arm shot out, seizing his ankle.
“Help… me,” it weakly gurgled.
Emerson tried to contain a shout of panic, but the sound reverberated throughout the corridor. He kicked desperately to get away and felt his free foot connect with the other person’s face with a stomach-churning crunch. Instantly his ankle was free and he was scrabbling his way forward again. He tried to block out the horrible mewling and shrieking of the poor soul behind him. More heavy thuds hit the wall to his left, and it was then that Emerson noticed the flashing yellow text on his datapad:
RUN!
18
Aboard Tantalus Station, chaos wrestled for control at every workstation, in every crew quarter and corridor. With power offline, reserve cells emptied themselves at an alarming rate in the effort to run crucial life support and security systems. Director DeSoto, inwardly fuming at the turn of events, projected an air of calm confidence as he issued decisive orders. Even if the entire station was on fire and venting atmosphere into space, his position required him to maintain strict composure. The operations staff responded with purpose to his firm direction.
“Seal off all nonessential compartments for atmospheric reclamation and instruct all station personnel to report to their disaster stations.”
“Affirmative, sir; disaster stations are 65 percent manned. Atmospheric reclamation is underway.”
“Understood. Bring all life boats to standby status. I want a visual confirmation on each boat from every section leader. Order any operational ships to retrieve the elevator pods and move them into the emergency evacuation profile.”
“Confirmed, Director.”
“Lighters Two and Four are already conducting retrieval operations, Director DeSoto, but many of our remaining ships have also lost power and are at station keeping only.”
“Very well. Keep me posted on their progress. I want a full accounting of all employees who were in transit on the elevator, up or down.”
“Yes, sir.”
DeSoto’s wrist comm chirped, vibrated, then hissed a message equal parts static and words.
“Report,” he said curtly.
“This is Sec-Team Five. Our guests in protective custody… no longer in their cells. We left them—iefly to evacuate some of the other employees and when we… they were gone.”
DeSoto turned away from the other operations staff and snarled into his wristcomm.
“Find them, you fools! If they don’t come willingly, shoot them.”
“Director?”
“On my authority! Now block the corridors leading back to the Tempest. That has to be where they’re headed. It’s no coincidence that ship is here now.”
“Affirmative. Five out.”
A communications specialist turned in his seat and looked hesitatingly at the Director, who noticed immediately.
“What is it now?” DeSoto queried, trying to rein in his distress. Everything was flying out of control and he was grasping at as many pieces as he could before they completely exceeded his reach.
“Director, I’m getting reports from multiple surface stations of increasing seismic activity not too far from the elevator’s terminus and…”
“Proceed!”
“A few excavators have apparently disappeared down a massive fissure that’s developing in this sector here.” The comms specialist highlighted an area on a three-dimensional topical projection floating in front of him.
“Get me a visual immediately. I want to see what’s going on down there.”
“Yes, Director. Lighter Two is forwarding its video feed to us now.”
A grainy, pixelated image stuttered and coalesced on the main viewer of the operations center.
“Can you clean that up?”
“I’m sorry, Director, there’s a lot of interference I can’t seem to filter out.”
DeSoto stood up and paced closer to the monitor. Despite the poor quality of the video, he could clearly see a large, cavernous breach forming rapidly on the surface where he knew it would be. At the rate it was progressing, it w
ould soon be visible to the naked eye even from the station. Where it was happening was not so much the surprise as why.
As he absorbed what he saw on the video feed, he was only dimly aware of an approaching commotion in the corridor leading to the operations center. Finally a shout, and the crash of a security guard slamming head-first into the wall compelled his full attention. Pivoting quickly, he turned just in time to see a large, heavily armed party force its way through the open bulkhead.
Instinctively DeSoto wanted to reach for his stunner, but the targeting system in his eye overrode the action. There were simply too many of them. Instead, he fell back on the air of authority that had served him well in many difficult circumstances.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded coolly. “I’ll have you removed and locked in holding cells for disrupting station emergency operations.”
“Director DeSoto,” began Captain Kristie of the Tempest, just as evenly, “it seems we have a lot to talk about.”
Lieutenant Correlli stepped forward quickly and removed DeSoto’s stunner from its holster before he could react.
“We wouldn’t want it to discharge accidently. Right, Director?” the BLUE MONARCH smirked. The remainder of Kristie’s “shore party” secured the operations center. Kristie rolled three chairs around a small desk console and gestured for DeSoto to take a seat.
The Director casually slid into the offered chair, and began arranging the chess pieces in his mind.
19
A crash sounded behind Emerson—a mixture of metal, glass, and something… biological. Then a horde of slavering, screaming, and clawing creatures fought its way through the narrow doorway, crushing one another in a desperate and futile attempt to escape. They had been human once—miners, employees of the Planetary Mining Combine, now riven with hideous alien bio-toxins, who were in the last stages of a hideous transformation. Mammalian DNA was being overwritten by saurian, yet still they strove for light and life. In their darkened thoughts and downward spiral toward becoming something reptilian, the dim outline of Emerson’s form represented a last chance for both. They scrabbled toward him in a writhing mass.
Cerulean Rising - Part II: Evolutions Page 7