It must be the quarantine holding cell! The horror of the silent video feeds he had seen earlier replayed before his mind’s eye, filling him with fresh fear.
Emerson sprinted ahead, not daring to look back, and strained to see his path by the pale blue pulses that raced between his feet. He heard the sound of a bulkhead sliding open, felt the airlock handle as it grazed his arm, then chanced a look backward to see it sliding shut behind him.
He heard the locking mechanisms slam into place, then all was quiet again save for the sound of his own breathing. Resting against the wall, Emerson briefly enjoyed its coolness against his sweating skin. The datapad was flashing a new message now:
You are safe. Keep going.
“What were those things?” he panted heavily, feeling the adrenaline coursing through him.
Consequences. They are of no further concern to you. Your path is clear to the final objective. Distance remaining: 853.72 meters.
Despite these anonymous reassurances, Emerson warily resumed his pace, paranoid that something in the dark would reach out to assail him.
He had only been running for what seemed like a few minutes when he felt the corridor walls suddenly drop away, replaced by the ghostly forms of shoulder-high guard rails that reached the floor. The ambient temperature cooled, and a fine mist began to settle on his face. The sense of a vast space opened around him, but its scope and scale were hidden by the absence of any light.
The course before him now was straight, level, and slightly less than 800 meters. Compared to his earlier run on the station, this was easy. Emerson pushed himself hard, shortening his stride to outrun the sense of urgency bearing down on him.
A circular blue glow appeared in the gloom, as if the pulses in the floor were all being collected in one place. It was a feeble light, but grew in strength with every passing moment. Something about it struck Emerson as odd. The light seemed to hover some distance above the level of the path he was running on. Two more blue orbs flashed into existence, one on each side of the first light, then two more, until there was a steady row of lights growing at regular intervals in opposite directions.
As they continued to spread, Emerson could see the lights were running along a massive structure of some kind, yet he could not fathom what it was. He checked the datapad and watched the distance remaining number rapidly winding down. When he passed the 50-meter mark, he could definitely sense the enormity of whatever it was in front of him. The row of soft blue lights stretched out in a faint arc perpendicular to his course, terminating a great distance away at both ends.
Slowing to a fast walk, he heard his breathing and footfalls echoing back at him. A solitary, bright blue light appeared above a door where the pulses in the floor ended. A small recessed panel to the right of the door showed a backlit outline of a hand in red. Emerson scanned his datapad once more for instructions and was not disappointed.
Welcome, Emerson. Touch your hand to the panel and enter.
Placing his hand against the red outline, it flashed briefly, then turned green. The door before him unlocked and swung inward with a hiss, revealing another corridor that turned abruptly to the left. The blue pulses resumed their leading through the door and around the corner, but gave no indication of their terminus.
Emerson hesitated at the threshold. The high ideals of ending the war with the Triven had been enough to propel him into the unknown, yet now his confidence flagged. He rested against the door and cast about mentally for some small hope to cling to. Then the thought of Ashley flashed across his mind, and the possibility of rescuing her. Perhaps there would be prisoner exchanges or a repatriation of civilian captives when the war ended. It was enough.
Emerson stepped through the door, following the lights and his heart. It promptly hissed shut and locked with a resounding clang of finality.
On the recessed panel by the door, the outline of a human hand faded away and was replaced by its default setting for talons.
20
Emerson Avery walked forward slowly, marveling at his new surroundings. The only thing that connected them to where he had come from was the pulsing blue light in the center of the floor. Darkness and cold had transformed into light and warmth.
The architecture around him had a soothing effect on his psyche. Graceful arches and flowing lines set him at ease, replacing fear with wonderment. He was suddenly at peace without understanding why... but that in itself unnerved him.
It was clearly a ship of some kind. It had to be—but it was unlike any UNSA ship he had ever seen before. Beautiful control panels with soft flashing lights sat like artwork in curved recesses along walls of muted tan and olive drab. A narrow streak of vermillion ran at waist height along both sides of the corridor.
“Emerson.”
It took Emerson a few moments to realize an audible voice was addressing him. The datapad was blank, save for a small flashing prompt in the upper left corner.
“Emerson!” The voice was more insistent this time.
“I’m here. What do you want with me? Where do I go now?”
“Welcome aboard. I am very pleased you made it. Follow the wayfinder path to the bridge. I will meet you there.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” replied Emerson with as much sincerity as he could summon. He wondered if whomever it was detected the hesitancy in his voice. He reminded himself what was at stake: a chance to end the war and get Ashley back.
The pulsing blue light led him on, and he allowed himself to be led.
As he started walking, a series of muted clangings reached him, like metal hitting metal, followed immediately by gentle tremors that reverberated along the hull of the ship.
“What was that?”
“Pay it no mind, Emerson. It does not concern you. You are completely secure aboard this ship. Nothing can harm you here.”
“Am I in danger?”
“Not any longer.”
Emerson detected a subtle shift through the deck plates.
“Are we moving?”
“The ship is preparing to get underway. Now please, proceed to the bridge and all will be explained.”
The corridor lights dimmed to underscore the end of the conversation and the pulsing blue light urged him onward.
***
Captain Kristie reclined slightly in his chair with folded hands and matched DeSoto’s hard demeanor, stare for stare. Kristie noted the nearly imperceptible red glow of a cybernetic targeting implant studying him intensely. He ignored the threat. The command center’s pale emergency lights accented shadows and defined hard edges, but were unable to actually fill the space with light. It set a somber yet strangely intimate tone, with those standing around the perimeter fading into the background.
DeSoto made the opening move. His tone was one of condescension and impatience at having to explain himself to someone he felt was beneath him.
“I’m well within my rights, you know, as granted by the terms specified for this mining concession, to detain anyone who threatens the security and viability of this station.”
“Is that how you’re going to play this off?” asked Kristie derisively. This civilian security puke was going to hide behind legalities and the whole bloated bureaucracy that governed the UNSA’s relationship with the Consortium.
“I’m not playing at anything, Captain. This is my station. I’m in charge here and your Lieutenant Correlli disobeyed my direct orders by sending unauthorized external transmissions that could have jeopardized our security.” The BLUE MONARCH said nothing in response, content to let Captain Kristie take the lead.
“And that justified throwing him in the brig?”
“On my watch, it does. I should press charges for criminal trespass, declaring a false shipboard emergency, endangerment of PMC personnel and equipment…” Kristie rolled his eyes as DeSoto enumerated the various offenses. He was about to respond, but was suddenly hurled to the deck as Tantalus Station shuddered from a massive shockwave. Klaxons began to flash and wai
l.
“Report!” screamed DeSoto over the alarms. He felt a wave of dizziness pass over him as he struggled to get back on his feet. Strange, he thought, I only feel that sensation in a ship getting underway… which means...
His fears were immediately confirmed.
“Director, the elevator has become untethered!” reported the comms specialist, his shaky voice rising. “We’re now on a slow trajectory moving out of our original orbit. Emergency thrusters have fired and are working to stabilize our position. Also…” He trailed off.
“Spit it out, man!”
“There is an object emerging from the breach in the planetoid’s surface.”
“Specify!” ordered Captain Kristie. “Give me a vessel type and species. Is it a Triven ship?”
“No, Captain, it is most definitely not a Triven ship,” said DeSoto. “Now turn those damn alarms off!”
“Director, please elaborate. You know this how?”
“Because we discovered the bloody things!”
“Well, I’m no expert in mining law, but I sure as hell know that the discovery of any alien vessels or artifacts on a concession must be reported immediately to the UNSA.” Kristie punctuated the air with his index finger.
“And it was, I assure you, Captain. However, these ships did not originate on this planetoid. As far as we can determine, they were stored here. Essentially, we found someone else’s salvage and claimed it under the permissible guidelines. It was all filed legally and properly in the sector’s assay office.”
“Buried deep in some thousand-page report, I’m sure.”
“Quite possibly, but that’s not my concern or responsibility.”
“Sirs,” the comms specialist interjected, pointing vehemently at the main viewer.
Both men looked up at the projected image in disbelief, but for entirely different reasons.
Kristie wheeled around quickly. “I want the rest of you to get back to the Tempest. Prepare her for immediate combat operations. That includes you, Lieutenant. I want you off this station and safely on a UNSA ship. Collect the other members of your party and go.”
“But sir, Colonel Thorsten and Emerson Avery are down there.” Correlli pointed to the elevator’s wrecked zero point, which now balanced precariously on the edge of the ever-widening fissure.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. At this point, I don’t think there is much we can do for them. Now, I’m ordering you to report aboard the Tempest. I’ve got a small detachment of marines embarked. Get them ready for a possible boarding action.”
Correlli came to attention and saluted crisply. “Sir!” The BLUE MONARCH pulled an about-face and headed back through the operations center bulkhead with the rest of the evacuating Tempest crew.
With everyone’s attention focused on the confrontation between Director DeSoto and Captain Kristie, or on the ship emerging from the surface, no one noticed Dr. Richard Avery carefully slip away. Turning the chaos and confusion to his advantage, he casually stole aboard the freshly repaired escape ship that had brought him to this wretched place. Entering a set of coordinates into the navigation automate’s databanks, Richard Avery swiftly made preparations to depart.
21
After following the wayfinder path through numerous twists, turns, and ascents, Emerson Avery finally came to the bridge entrance. It was the last barrier on his tortuous journey from above, one that had left him mentally and physically exhausted. A finely textured pattern covered the door’s entire surface, broken only by the piercing stripe of vermillion that ran in parallel down every corridor Emerson had travelled through. In the middle was a circle of soft blue light that slowly pulsed, similar to those he had seen on the exterior of the ship. He stepped towards the hatch and it yielded quickly and quietly.
Crossing the threshold, Emerson held his breath in anticipation. The light was dim but not dark and the air was warm with a touch of humidity that bordered on uncomfortable. There were clearly defined crew stations arranged in a V, angling away from a central dais. That must be the captain’s chair, Emerson thought to himself. The chair was larger than all the others and slightly elevated. It gave the occupant a clear line of sight to any station, including the many alcoves nestled into the outer curve of the bridge. Emerson moved to the dais and stood in front of the captain’s chair. He looked around intently for signs of his host.
The bridge was empty.
Emerson could feel a mixture of fear and frustration well up inside his chest. He collapsed back into the captain’s chair and found it surprisingly comfortable.
“I’m here!” he yelled. No one answered him.
“Where are you?!” He pounded on an ornate armrest but only succeeded in bruising his hand.
The lights on the crew station consoles seemed to increase their staccato flashing in response to his feeble assault. It was only then that Emerson realized he could not decipher anything on any of the readouts. He scrambled from station to station and inspected each oval alcove monitor, but nothing made any sense. What kind of ship is this? He thought for a moment, then used the datapad to capture an image of one of the console monitors and run a language query.
Insufficient data for meaningful answer.
Emerson swore bitterly and threw the datapad to the floor. He instantly regretted it. Turning around, he noticed directly opposite the captain’s chair on the far side of the bridge an oval larger than any other. It was dark save for one point of light in the middle of it. Emerson turned his back to the monitor and trudged wearily back to the dais. Sitting down once again in the captain’s chair, he closed his eyes and rested.
In an instant, the small point of light sprang into a blazing supernova. It flooded the bridge with a radiance that forced Emerson to clap both hands over his eyes in pain. Through tightly closed eyelids he could still make out the bones of his hands, so he buried his face in his lap to block out the piercing light. A powerful voice accompanied the light, thundering in the confined space and reverberating inside his head. Emerson jammed his thumbs over his ears while still covering his eyes. Please make it stop, please make it stop!
“EMERSON! I. AM. HERE!!”
“Who are you!” he screamed in terror. The pain flooding his eyes and ears was overwhelming.
“I AM THE SUPREME AUSPEX OF THE TRIVEN! AND TOGETHER WE WILL END THIS WAR!”
Emerson was stunned beyond belief. The enormity of the situation began to rapidly engulf him. Auspex? The Triven! This is a Triven ship?! What have I done? What have I done?! All he wanted to do was stop the Triven and rescue Ashley. Yet somehow he had allowed himself to be foolishly manipulated by the very enemy who held her captive and into a war he wanted no part of. His mind raced as he struggled to respond.
“I’ll never help you!”
“You already have, Emerson.” The voice dropped to just above a whisper. It was then that Emerson noticed the small probe retracting into the arm of the captain’s chair and a bleeding, circular welt on his left forearm.
“You already have.”
22
Colonel Adriene Thorsten peered intently through one of the elevator car’s small viewports, desperately trying to ascertain the tactical situation outside. As a career UNSA officer, he was accustomed to a certain measure of control in his life, but for the moment he was consigned to float helplessly in space. The car’s feeble emergency thrusters had barely prevented it from careening away from the rest of the station when the elevator had been cut loose from the surface, and according to the few miners aboard, they were simply to await pickup from one of the orbiting support ships. Only from what Thorsten could see, those ships were incapacitated as well.
The car’s orientation afforded him only a partial view of the planetoid’s surface, yet what he saw there filled him with an overwhelming desire to get out of this target with flashing red locator lights. A gaping fissure had appeared near the elevator’s former zero point and in the middle of it, a massive, dark wraith was emerging. Thorsten had endured several sub-or
bital bombardments from the Triven fleet during his career; this potential new threat caused his ulcer to burn fiercely. He turned away from the viewport and tried to formulate a plan.
“Is there a comms system aboard these things?” he asked the miners closest to him.
“Well, our emergency beacon automatically activates if the car ever becomes detached from the elevator,” answered one.
“I mean can we transmit audio?”
“Negative. Once we came loose, we lost our comm link with the station,” said another.
Thorsten sighed heavily and looked back out the viewport. What he saw filled him with astonishment and dismay.
***
The alien ship rose steadily and unimpeded from the widening crevasse on the planetoid’s surface. After a brief ascent, it assumed a static position above the gap and hung menacingly in space like some leviathan breaching the ocean’s surface for the first time. To many who saw it on that fateful day, one word summed up their collective witness: primordial. Like an ancient armored fish from Earth’s Devonian seas, the ship’s bow appeared to be covered by a massive, scaled helmet whose centerline curved gracefully up and terminated in a vicious spine. Four wicked-looking mandibles protruded from the center of the bow as if a trident had been welded there, and structures resembling dorsal, ventral, and pectoral fins stuck out along the length of the ship’s hull. The stern tapered to a very shark-like caudal fin. Pulsing blue lights ran along its sides, and the surrounding star light appeared to dance upon the ship’s very skin.
“For salvage, that thing certainly seems very operational,” said Captain Kristie, not bothering to disguise his sarcasm. “I want to put my marines aboard and see if we can’t neutralize whoever or whatever is operating it.”
Cerulean Rising - Part II: Evolutions Page 8