Cole swiveled around to face Sasha, grinning. “You’re just going to have to suck it up for now. I have no idea how to be a captain, but I do know how to be a pilot. You, on the other hand, know how to be a captain. We’ll figure it out, but for right now, everyone is where they need to be. Let’s do this.”
Sasha took a deep breath and nodded. “Weps, bring all stealth systems online.”
“Aye,” Mazzi said as her fingers flew over her console, showing Wixil everything she did. Within moments, the bridge’s lighting dimmed by about a third and status lights around the bridge turned blue.
“Blue?” Sasha asked.
Cole grinned. “Yep. Blue for full stealth, yellow for alert status, and red for battle stations.”
“Yellow for alert status and red for battle stations…that sounds so familiar.”
Cole’s grin grew even wider. “What can I say? Sometimes, the oldies are goodies. We needed visual cues for different operational statuses anyway, so why not? The default settings were all shades of green.”
Sasha shook her head and sighed, before breaking into a grin of her own. “Okay, Captain…take us in.”
Cole swiveled back to the helm station and programmed the flight path before setting a desired velocity of one-tenth-c, or ten percent of light-speed. They were fifteen AUs from outermost station, having drifted that far into the system on a ballistic course. Someone had suggested drifting into the inner system as part of a group of asteroids and comets that would pass right amidst the stations they wanted to recon, but Cole didn’t like that idea. He didn’t want to rely on trust that the ship wouldn’t get pounded to pieces, and besides, who knew if the mineral composition of the asteroids and comets would interfere with the ship’s sensors?
Cole leaned back in his chair at the helm. The countdown timer on their flightpath showed it would be a little over twenty hours, just to reach the most stressful part of the recon. It would be a long couple of days.
“Cole?” Srexx spoke over the bridge speakers.
Cole pulled his attention away from the radio communications he was perusing. The people in Iota Ceti liked to broadcast in the clear with no encryption, and it was making for fascinating reading…in a macabre kind of way.
“Yeah, Srexx?”
“We may need a new plan. A convoy of ships is arriving for a slave auction.”
Sasha looked up. “Why isn’t Sensors saying-”
The person stationed at the sensor console almost slapped the earbud in his ear. He listened for a moment and called out in ‘Bridge Voice,’ “Status change! Thirteen contacts, designated Sierras One through Thirteen!”
The person at the sensor console fell silent, listening to his ear bud again, and Srexx said, “I would posit that the delay came from latency in human processing, Madam Sasha. I process data faster than organic people.”
“Sierras One through Thirteen are heading in-system on a flight profile suggesting a convoy of freighters or troop-transport-like ships,” the former SDF officer at Sensors reported. “Ah…there might be a warship or two in there. Ma’am, my people are still learning the systems; even with the read-outs translated to Standard, that doesn’t mean we understand what they’re telling us.”
“Srexx?” Cole said.
“Yes, Cole?”
“Work up a training plan for each section aboard-ship. Everything from sensors to comms to maintenance…everything. If we will have people aboard and not re-work the ship to give you greater control, the people need to understand their duty assignments.”
“Yes, Cole. I shall devote one-quarter of my tertiary node to preparing those training plans.”
“Oh…and don’t forget to say hello to your lesser-evolved cousins as we come in range.”
“Naturally not, Cole,” Srexx said. “Have I ever?”
“‘Lesser-evolved cousins?’” the person at sensors asked.
“He meant the computers on the ships and stations, Haskell,” Mazzi said. “Cole just asked Srexx to hack every computer in-system.”
“But that’s…”
“One-hundred-eighty-six separate computational nodes,” Srexx said. “The most significant challenge will be compensating for speed-of-light latency in communications. Given the level of technology present, I have to restrict myself to basic radio communication.”
Haskell at the sensors station swiveled to face the rest of the bridge, his expression a mixture of concern and disbelief.
Cole smiled and shrugged. “What can I say? Srexx gets bored.”
“Focus, people,” Sasha said.
“I am,” Cole said, his voice distant. “I don’t see anything for it. Recon has just gone out the airlock. If we take the time to recon and then devise a plan based on that recon, half the people we’re after could be long gone. So…do we want to masquerade as prospective buyers at the slave auction? Or do we want to crash the party?”
“Cole, you need to see this,” Srexx said. “The comms network near the jump gates just received an update.”
The forward viewscreen activated, displaying a feed from INN, the Interstellar News Network. The image was an orbital picture of a region on a planet with a structure centered in the view, and both Cole and Sasha recognized the region at once. It was the detention facility on Caledonia.
“This is Ingrid Patel, INN. The provisional authorities in Caledonia are refusing to comment, but at this time, we can confirm that Talia Thyrray is no longer in the detention facility you see on the screen. I’ve spoken with several people who told me their stories on the condition of anonymity. All of those accounts agree on one thing: one individual wearing heavy armor styled like the Aurelian Marines entered the detention facility with forged transfer orders. When the orders were exposed as a forgery, the individual—this Lone Marine—retrieved Talia Thyrray with no regard for any threat the staff of the facility might pose. We have obtained copies of the security feeds that show even the Riot Response Unit posed little threat to the individual, their ammunition bouncing off the armor like BBs. Military Affairs consultants with INN have highlighted that the heavy armor shown in the security feeds does not perfectly conform to the design used by the Aurelian Marines, merely being like it in general form and colors. That and other details lead our consultants to conclude the individual inside the armor was not Aurelian military. No one is speculating as to the motivations or goals of this Lone Marine. We simply must wait to see if he—or she—surfaces again. This is Ingrid Patel, INN.”
Cole grinned as an idea came to mind. He swiveled to face the rest of the bridge. “Okay, gang…new plan. Srexx, how long would it take to change the marking on that armor?”
“Two hours at most, Cole.”
“Sasha, which governments still have marines as branches of their armed forces in space?”
“Almost all of them. Well, the Asiatic Concordat doesn’t call their unit ‘marines,’ but everyone else does.”
“Srexx, once we’re closer with less light-speed lag, look up the colors of the Sirius Imperium. There should be a library computer somewhere in this system. It was an actual colony a century ago or so. Haven?”
“Yes, Cole-Captain?”
“Put me on ship-wide address.”
The bridge speakers chirped to indicate the channel was open.
“Attention, all hands; this is the captain.” Cole grinned and almost giggled. “I’ve always wanted to say that. Anyway…our plan for Iota Ceti has changed. The arrival of a convoy and announcement of an impending slave auction has pushed our timetable. Our new goal is to free as many of the slaves as we can, and if we can incite a system-wide revolt…well…that’ll just be a bonus. We will announce specific roles in the new plan over the next few hours. That is all.”
Cole turned his attention back to his first officer. “Sasha, did we assign anyone to any of the fabricators?”
“Yes, I believe so. I think it was Fabricator Twelve, manufacturing projectiles for the missile bays.”
“Pull them off t
hat, and move them to whichever fabricator Srexx used to make that suit of heavy armor. I need ninety-nine suits of armor for our boarding party. The armor needs to be stealthy but protective. I know…diametrically opposed concepts. Tell them to ask Srexx for input if they need it.” Cole remembered Mazzi had addressed the guy at the sensors console as Haskell. “Haskell?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you and your team to concentrate on finding where this slave auction will happen. Then, I want you to see if there’s a maintenance airlock or something we can use as a point of ingress far away from the auction but close to the slave pens. By the time you need deck plans, we should be close enough for Srexx to tell you what was served in the mess hall for breakfast. Don’t be afraid to ask him for information.”
Haskell nodded once. “Yes, sir.”
Cole clapped his hands, grinning once more. “All right, people; let’s do this.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Iota Ceti System
15 July 2999
They could only fabricate thirty-five suits of armor. They ran into a materials shortage while number thirty-six was mid-fabrication. These suits of armor looked nothing like Cole’s ‘Lone Marine’ heavy armor. They were far more streamlined and flexible, looking very similar to Cole’s spacesuit…all black with the slightest hint of a green reflection at the proper angle.
Once they discovered there would only be thirty-five suits, Cole set Srexx to working on implants. Yeleth and Wixil already had their own implants based on Gyv’Rathi technology, and most of the new personnel had their own implants, similar to what Cole had possessed when he first arrived at the mining camp. Those pre-existing implants allowed Srexx to refine the interface methods with his implants, and soon, everyone cycled through a treatment room on the hospital deck. Human implants were removable, allowing for improved technology over a person’s life; Srexx’s implants could not be removed once they were integrated. The good news, however, was that any refinements or advancements or new technology could be delivered to an implant as a software patch.
Cole sat at the helm station on the bridge. It was beyond quiet. The tension was almost a physical presence lounging at a console. Everyone was waiting for Cole to ease the ship to the maintenance dock on the station where the slaves were held. Somehow, they’d maneuvered into the heart of the system’s infrastructure without detection. Ships, stations, cargo shuttles, runabouts…Iota Ceti was one of the busiest systems outside a major shipping head, and there was a ship larger than any other mobile craft in the system hiding amid all the activity.
A flashing control on the helm console drew Cole’s attention. The ‘Engage Docking’ control lit up and was now active. Cole smiled.
“Srexx, do you have the station’s computer?”
“It would worship my feet…if I had feet.”
Cole frowned and looked up at the speakers. “That’s a little weird for you, buddy. What have you been reading?”
Silence.
Resolving to investigate Srexx’s odd phrasing later, Cole pressed the control that would instruct the computer to dock with the maintenance airlock on the station. When the words ‘Docking Complete’ scrolled across that status window of the helm station, Cole swiveled to face the rest of the bridge.
“And we’re docked.”
Everyone cheered. It was subdued and quiet, as if they might be discovered if they were too loud, but it was still a cheer.
Cole stood and noticed Wixil was missing from the weapons station, but like Srexx’s reading list, that would also have to wait for another time.
“Sasha, you have the ship. I’m going to the hangar deck to retrieve my armor from the shuttle. I’ll meet the boarding party at the…” Cole cast a quick look over his shoulder to the docking interface. “…port airlock on Deck Two.”
Cole whine-thumped his way down the port-side main corridor. He took the cargo shaft up from the hangar deck instead of trying to navigate the standard transit shafts. He wasn’t sure the armor would fit, and he would’ve hated to get stuck somewhere.
When he arrived at the suit locker for the port airlock, Cole didn’t find thirty-five armored people waiting for him. He found thirty-seven, and two of them had tails and pointy ears.
Cole accessed his implant and opened a conference channel with both Yeleth and Wixil. They accepted at once.
“Well, at least I know why Wixil wasn’t on the bridge when I left.”
“We’re going with you, Cole,” Wixil said.
“The last time I checked, Wixil, you’re still sixteen.”
“Yes,” Yeleth said, “but among our people, sixteen is old enough to hunt…with parental supervision. Besides, you need us.”
Cole narrowed his eyes at the two Ghrexels, even though he knew they couldn’t see him. “By any chance, would those two suits of armor you’re wearing have anything to do with that materials shortage the fabrication team reported?”
Silence. They must’ve been studying Srexx.
Cole sighed. “Fine. We’re on a tight enough timetable as it is. You’re with me.”
No matter how many time he did it, the cold claws of anxiety grasped for Cole’s heart every time he stood in the ship’s personnel ‘dock.’ Looking down, up, or to either side and seeing the green shimmer of a force-field being the only thing between him and vacuum did nothing healthy for his blood pressure. Cole hoped he’d get used to it eventually—or at least approach it with something other than controlled anxiety—but for now, there was a job to do.
Cole whine-thumped his way across the force-field to the outer hatch of the maintenance airlock just as the notification of an incoming call from Srexx appeared on his armor’s HUD. Cole accepted the call.
“Have you reached the airlock, Cole?” Srexx asked without preamble.
Cole nodded, even though no one could see it. “Yeah, Srexx. I’m standing there now.”
“The only way to open the airlock without sounding any internal alarms or notifications is to use the manufacturer’s override. I found the code buried in the station’s central computer. You’ll need to remove the maintenance panel, which should be to the right of the hatch from your perspective.”
Cole found the panel and, when the latch didn’t release, pried a corner of the panel away from the housing to get a better grip, then ripped the panel away in a shriek of tortured metal.
“I’m looking at the maintenance controls, Srexx. The panel doesn’t appear to be powered.”
Silence.
“Uh…Srexx?”
“Cole, it appears this airlock is either inoperative or off-line. The station schematics show it, but the maintenance system that shows every active device or system does not. One moment…”
Cole wanted to sigh. So much for the amazing stealth mission.
“Ah, yes. Cole, I have located the issue. The engineering sub-system that controls power distribution throughout the station has been compromised and modified, almost as if someone took a virtual hatchet and cut through the code and slapped disparate pieces together. It is a wonder the power distribution system works at all.”
“Okay. So…what do we do?”
“Well, we can either attempt cutting through the outer and inner airlocks—”
“Srexx, you do remember this is a rescue mission, right? Do we really want to vent the deck to vacuum when we leave?”
“—or I can overwrite the spliced code with a version I found in a protected archive and reboot the power distribution control system.”
“That sounds like a great idea, Srexx. Let’s do that.”
“Cole, are you certain? It is difficult to predict what will be affected. Would you like me to conduct an analysis of the station’s schematics versus the power distribution system as it is now?”
“Srexx…buddy…we’re not exactly endowed with an unending wellspring of time here. So, we turn on a food dispenser along with the airlock. Big deal…”
“Cole, the analysis I mentioned would take
less than—”
“Srexx! Look, I appreciate your thoughts and feedback, but we’re past that now. Overwrite the modified code with the version from that protected archive, and reboot the power distribution’s control system.”
“As you wish, Cole.”
Thirty seconds of silence seemed like ages, and then, the maintenance panel lit up. Then, the entire airlock lit up, including the tell-tales showing a hard docking seal. Cole reached out and tapped the control to open the airlock out of habit. The hatch opened. Cole smiled and keyed in the maintenance override that would keep the hatch open until disengaged.
The compartment before them was the actual airlock itself, the space where suited people would wait for the system to either pressurize or depressurize during a cycling of the lock. Since the airlock detected a hard docking seal, the tell-tales and control panel of the inner airlock were active as well. Cole crossed the three-meter space and keyed the maintenance override to hold the inner hatch open also, and it opened without hesitation…revealing a piece of solid metal that covered the interior side of the hatch coaming and extended past the dimensions of the open hatch.
“What the hell?” Cole said.
“What is it, Cole?” Srexx asked.
“I opened the inner hatch of the airlock, and I’m staring at some kind of metal bulkhead.”
Silence.
“There is nothing on the station schematics or listed in the maintenance logs about covering the maintenance airlock on this deck, Cole.”
Cole closed his eyes as his hands clenched into fists, the hands of the heavy armor duplicating his action. Caledonia was easy, so easy. Was it too much to hope this operation went as smoothly? Cole sighed.
“Hey, Srexx…”
“Yes, Cole?”
“Do we have any plasma torches or something else that can cut through this metal?”
“One moment…”
“Srexx, I’m going to put your call on hold and speak to the rest of the boarding party to let them know what’s going on.”
It Ain't Over... (Cole & Srexx Book 1) Page 18