Edge of War (The Eternal Frontier Book 2)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “Mechanic technology, eh?” Sofia said.

  Coren sighed. “That doesn’t get old for you all, does it?”

  “Nope,” Tag said. “Sofia, that means you’ve got to match their motion. And Alpha, we’re relying on you to make a proper connection.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she replied. If droids could sweat and they weren’t wearing EVA suits, Tag imagined there would be beads streaming all across her forehead.

  “As long as your best means we’ve got a one hundred-percent-efficient grav tether, that’s good enough for me.”

  The blip representing the Stalwart grew closer on Tag’s viewscreen. So did the entire Drone-Mech fleet. Once again a hail of smaller red dots separated from the main fleet, signifying a deluge of fighters and warheads, all of it headed their direction.

  My gods, Tag thought, they really, really want to see the Argo dead.

  When the Argo reached the Stalwart, the first salvo of Drone-Mech rounds was closing the distance.

  “Countermeasures,” Tag said with no further explanation.

  Coren activated the PDCs, and the cannons fired a rapid barrage of depleted-uranium rounds. Distant explosions of rounds striking warheads bloomed in the holoscreen.

  “Matching thrust with the Stalwart,” Sofia said. Instead of holding a straight trajectory in parallel with the Stalwart, she was forced to simultaneously match its speed and direction with its axial rotation.

  “Alpha, let’s do this again,” Tag said.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  The grav tether extended from the Argo. Several energy rounds shook against the shields, and the tether missed.

  “Sorry!” Sofia said. “Nothing I could do about that. Not while trying to trace their movement.”

  More fire hit them, and the thought cropped up in Tag’s mind that they might be forced to leave the Stalwart behind after all.

  “Can you make this happen with the distractions?” Tag asked Alpha.

  “We will see, Captain.”

  Her beady eyes focused intently on the holoscreen before her. For a moment, he marveled at the strange neural interfaces and interactions blossoming in her synth-bio mind. The intensity of her concentration radiated off her like UV rays from Sol: invisible but powerful nonetheless. On the holoscreen sim, the tether showed a successful link between the spiraling ships.

  “One hundred percent efficiency!” Alpha said.

  “Then spool up the T-drive,” Tag said. “Let’s get out of here!”

  As the T-drive began its ascending growl, Coren glanced back at Tag. “What’s that human expression? Third time is a charm?”

  “Oh, three hells, no, Coren,” Tag said. Rounds sprayed against the shields. Only a few hundred thousand klicks stood between the Drone-Mechs and the Argo. They were well within range of almost all their cannons now. Space lit up with projectiles and glowing pulse rounds careening toward them. “Two times has to be it for us. It has to be.”

  And with that, acceleration pressed Tag into his crash couch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Argo bucked and groaned under the immense gravitational distortions guiding its passage into hyperspace with the Stalwart. Tag’s fingers tightened around the ends of his armrests, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. The sounds of the Argo struggling to make the hyperspace jump were good signs. It meant that the Stalwart was still tethered, still being pulled along in their feverish escape from the Drone-Mechs. Under the ebbing and flowing glow through the viewscreens, all of the ragtag crew members sat at their terminals in focused silence. Alpha was the only one moving, rapidly scanning the status on the tether, the Argo’s T-drive, and their precious cargo.

  Everything started to settle once they had completed the jump and reached traveling velocity within hyperspace. The waves of plasma now coursed more like the sea lapping gently on a soft, white sand beach. The Argo itself seemed to quiet, and Tag breathed normally, letting the adrenaline fade from his blood. The tether was still attached and reporting one hundred percent efficiency.

  The Stalwart had made it.

  “Captain, we may need to alert the SRE,” Alpha said, breaking the silence.

  Tag’s pulse resumed its accelerated pace. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “The hyperspace astronav guidelines are,” Alpha said. “We just proved that a ship can indeed tow a considerable cargo without both vessels imploding.”

  “Oh, right, that little thing,” Sofia said with a laugh.

  “I wouldn’t rewrite the books yet,” Coren said, rising from his couch. “After all, we were lugging a Mechanic vessel. I’m sure its design and fortitude helped the effort somewhat. Dragging a human ship into hyperspace would, as the books suggest, almost assuredly end in tragedy.”

  “We can always count on you for lightening the mood.” Tag unlatched his own restraints and strode toward the Mechanic, then placed one hand on the alien’s shoulder. “But seriously, thanks for coming with us. You were right down there. We needed our engineer and most definitely our weapons ops officer.”

  “Of course I was right.” Coren undid his helmet, revealing a slight smile. “What do you need from your talented and intelligent engineer now?”

  Tag refrained from rolling his eyes. “Well, I think we’re in a pretty good spot. Seems like the Stalwart will need a bit more work than us. Everyone, go take a break. You deserve it, and then, in one hour, I want to meet in the conference room.”

  ***

  Coren, Alpha, Sofia, and Bull were seated with Tag in the conference room near the captain’s quarters. A sixth person sat at the table with them, albeit through holopresence.

  “The Stalwart is stable, despite the repairs that must be made,” Bracken said. “I thank you all for your efforts. We could not have escaped without your crew’s actions, Captain Brewer.”

  “Please, really, Tag is fine,” Tag said. “And we’re happy to prove ourselves useful. We’ve got some time before our scheduled normal space drop to get things in working order. How does two weeks sound to you?”

  “That should be adequate,” Bracken said.

  “Good,” Tag said. “Because I’ve been thinking about the next order of business.”

  “You’ve had time to do that?” Sofia asked with a dubious grin. “Because I barely had time to shower and grab a coffee.”

  The idea of a coffee practically made Tag salivate. For the first time since embarking on their escape, he realized just how heavy his eyelids felt. The strain and lingering burn in his muscles begged him for a break. Now wasn’t the time. “It’s clear we’re not going to put up much resistance against the Drone-Mechs as is.”

  He waited a beat for some smartass remark from one of the crew, but they stared back with somber expressions. Even Bull looked crestfallen, his eyes no longer full of the vigor and anger they usually possessed. The hardened warrior had seen enough and lost enough already to know that what they were facing was no idle threat. Bracken, her gaze only slightly downturned, appeared just as depressed at the prospects of roaming the galaxy in flight from the Drone-Mechs. She had been far less fortunate than Tag, losing damn near half the surviving Mechanics in their crew.

  “What do you propose?” Bracken asked.

  “You all escaped becoming Drone-Mechs because your last scientific mission was on Eta-Five. None of your crew was infected with the nanites, correct?”

  “That’s right,” Coren said. “We knew nothing about the infections until we arrived at Meck’ara.”

  “My suggestion would be to rally any free Mechanics on far-reaching expeditions or colonies. I’m guessing the nanite infections were spread similar to a planetborne pandemic. Maybe, if we’re lucky, there are some colonies or ships of yours that might have survived, avoiding infection like you did.”

  “You might be onto something,” Coren said. “We have active expeditions and budding colonies all over that could have survived. If your hypothesis is correct, if Meck’ara was the epicenter of the nanite pandem
ic, then it may be worthwhile.”

  “If we do find free Mechanics,” Bracken began, “what do you suggest then?”

  “I’m approaching this like any good epidemiologist would,” Tag said. “I mean, my training is in AI and synthetic biology, but the most basic principles of tracking a pandemic would suggest following the disease—or in this case nanites—back to its roots, back to patient zero. Back to where it all began.”

  “You’re proposing we infiltrate the Mechanic home world?” Bull said, his brow furrowing into a gorge of wrinkles. “If that’s the case, I’m in. Those goddamn Drone-Mechs deserve everything they have coming.”

  “That is an enormous risk,” Coren said. “We have no idea what we’ll be facing or how many Drone-Mechs might still be there.”

  “Right,” Tag said. “That’s what makes recruiting as many Mechanics as possible so crucial. On top of that, we’ll have time to do more research on disabling the nanites. We’ve got the power of our science team and yours put together for this mission.”

  Alpha piped in. “Captain, if I may.”

  “Please.”

  “I do remember another fact from going through the data Coren provided. The nanites did not infect all free Mechanics. My databanks are showing a reported approximate two-thirds infection rate.”

  “That’s true,” Coren said. “There were many of the Mechanics who remained free aboard space stations and ships. From the messages we intercepted, they were simply slaughtered by the Drone-Mechs.”

  “It’s my hope that all the free Mechanics weren’t killed,” Tag said. “Maybe your planet is overrun by the Drone-Mechs, but you’re an intelligent people. I would be surprised if there aren’t resistance groups around your planet, all around this sector, for that matter, that would rally to our cause. Do you think any free Mechanics would back down from a call to retake their planet?”

  “No,” Bracken said. “They would not. They would realize it is imperative to our survival that we overcome the Drone-Mech menace and stop whoever is behind it. It’s only logical.”

  “Then rally your troops,” Tag said, “because we’re going to take the fight straight to the Drone-Mechs.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Do we need to prioritize any work on the Argo?” Tag asked his crew.

  Bracken had already signed out of the conference. From the repairs on Eta-Five that had been cut short to the damage they had sustained during the escape, the Mechanics had enough to keep them occupied in their flight to the first Mechanic outpost. Not only that, but the casualties they had taken exacerbated their problems as the Mechanics struggled to fill jobs left vacant by the dead. They desperately needed the aid he hoped they might find in the far reaches of Mechanic space if they were going to mount any kind of resistance against the Drone-Mechs.

  “All systems are reporting near one hundred percent efficiency,” Alpha said. “The hull breaches we experienced are minor. Internal hulls withstood enemy fire thanks to our shields.”

  “And, I’d like to suggest, my piloting,” Sofia said.

  “And Sofia’s piloting,” Alpha added. “I apologize for neglecting to recognize your contribution.”

  Bull sat in cold silence, his lips straight and his arms across his chest. Tag could practically see the storm of emotions raging behind the man’s eyes. Bull had lost someone whose life he had been responsible for. Tag knew what that felt like. He remembered watching his crewmates being slaughtered by the Drone-Mechs. He remembered Kaufman, the last person alive on the ship besides him, dying in his arms while he tried fruitlessly to save her. G hadn’t just been Bull’s responsibility; Tag’s new role on the Argo meant everyone who stepped aboard this ship was entrusting their life to his leadership, to his mission.

  “As long as the repair bots are taking care of everything and nothing else is critical,” Tag said, “we can’t forget G. Or, for that matter, all of the Forinths and Mechanics who sacrificed their lives in our escape. I know we don’t have a body, but I want to give G a proper burial in space.” The scarlet in Bull’s face began to fade. The thought of paying their respects to G seemed enough to allay some of his grief and anger. “Sofia, Bull, I want you to prep for the ceremonies. Coren, let them know if there’s anything we can do to respect the Mechanic traditions.”

  “You got it, Skipper,” Sofia said.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Bull said.

  “Unless you two have anything else for me, you can get started right now.”

  “Will do, Captain,” Bull said. He snapped up from his seat, and Sofia followed him into the passageway.

  Coren leaned forward, placing his furry black elbows on the table. “I take it that means you do have something else for Alpha and me.”

  “I do. Once you two finish queuing repairs for the bots and weapons maintenance, I’m going to need your help in the med bay. I want to get a head start on our research to disarm the nanites. I’m afraid Bracken has her hands full bringing the coronal engines online, along with getting their ship in shape for any other fun the Drone-Mechs might have in store for us.”

  “I’m on it,” Coren said. “Shouldn’t take long to reload all PDC and Gauss cannon magazines. Is that all?”

  Tag nodded, and Coren left. Alpha didn’t seem ready to get up yet.

  “Something else you got for me?” Tag asked.

  “Yes, Captain.” Alpha said. “I’m still seeing some strange but minor fluctuations in power. Specifically, there was the power leak in the cargo hold.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that before. Is it anything significant?”

  “No, nothing significant.”

  “Good,” Tag said. “Then let’s keep an eye on it. Sounds like it’s just one of the light banks going bad.”

  “That would be consistent with the readings,” Alpha said. Still she sat like a statue in her seat. It was unlike her. Most of the time Tag asked her to do something, she was quick to carry through with his commands.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “Disarming the nanites,” Alpha said. “From our analyses, tampering with the nanites would lead to the death of all the Drone-Mechs.”

  “That’s true.” Acknowledging the simple fact felt like a Forinth running its claw-tipped tentacles through his gut. The massacre that would result from disarming the nanites would be enormous, but there was little else they could do to stop the Drone-Mechs.

  “We know that the Drone-Mechs are simply Mechanics whose neurological systems have been overridden.”

  “Also true.”

  Alpha hesitated a beat. “I don’t like the idea of creating something that attacks the nanites. It’s like developing a weapon of mass destruction. A weapon that would almost assuredly enact a genocide. It’s one thing when they are threatening our lives, but if they aren’t attacking us, it is difficult for me to justify their complete annihilation—based on the human legal, philosophical, and moral precedents I’ve studied.”

  “That’s understandable,” Tag said.

  “I know I’ve done it before.” Her robotic voice actually dropped, sounding remorseful. “I know it may be logical, but I am finding it challenging to understand the strange feelings associated with the act of killing. It is almost like a weight is pulling down my chassis and my limbs are filling with lead when I think about it.”

  “I know that feeling,” Tag said. “That’s your human side. It’s what drives us. It’s what makes us think about what’s really right or wrong.”

  “I am well aware, Captain,” Alpha said. Her silver mouth tightened. “And I know that killing in general is wrong. Everything I told you is true.” Even for a droid, she looked pained. “But even so, in the middle of battle, when your life or Coren’s or Sofia’s is at risk and I kill a Drone-Mech, I don’t feel those things.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel glad, Captain. I feel powerful. Knowing I can end their life and they can no longer end mine.” Alpha actually shuddered. “I like that feeling. And I d
on’t want to like it.”

  ***

  Tag thirsted now more than ever for a long swig of gutfire. His conversation with Alpha still swirled among his thoughts. He had no idea how to comfort her or to dispel her concerns. He tried reaching into his own mind to pull apart how he felt when he pulled the trigger and watched a Drone-Mech explode in a mist of black and red. It never had felt good ending a life, and he wasn’t sure he liked the power of it like Alpha had described. Staying alive and defending himself and his crew felt good or at least right.

  But the act of killing itself?

  Even in those moments when he had ended the lives of the Drone-Mech squad that had pirated the Argo, his victory had felt good, but not killing them.

  Right?

  He shook his head as he entered the mess hall. Gods, yes, he could really use a splash of gutfire.

  “Captain,” a voice called, breaking his reverie.

  Tag looked up to see Lonestar. A blond curtain of hair hung over her face, and the steam from a mug wafted up from her cup.

  “Mind if I join you?” Tag asked. She shook her head, and Tag grabbed a cup for himself from the autoserv bay then sat across from her. “You wouldn’t happen to have something stronger to add to the coffee, would you?”

  “Sure wish I did,” she said. “The taste is bad enough. Miss the blends my pops used to trade on the ranch. Damn good stuff. Three hells, I miss the Montenegro’s. Not nearly as burned. Don’t know how you drink so much of this.”

  Tag took a sip and waited for the hot liquid to wash away some of the heaviness in his eyes. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about the taste.” He drank a gulp again. “I’m sorry about G.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “Kid was young. Shouldn’t have been him. Not that I wanted anyone else to die, but gods be damned.”

  “No one deserves to go like that,” Tag said. He curled his fingers around the mug. The warmth crept into his hand. “Can I ask you a question?”