“Understood, sir.”
“You’ll have to continue your investigation without the assistance of Dr. Darus, Commander Lance, or Commander Blaze. I’m sending them on a classified mission.”
Colonel Kor never smiled, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in something resembling a smirk. “That won’t be a problem, admiral. I objected to Blaze’s involvement in this investigation from the start. I’m filing a formal complaint for his reckless behavior. I expected better from an ASF officer.”
“Admiral, if I may,” Riley intervened. “I agree that Commander Blaze made a mistake and took unnecessary risks, but Colonel Kor is not in a position to lecture us on adherence to military protocol. In the past, he repeatedly violated the rules of engagement and broke Alliance law.”
Winsley nodded. “Duly noted. Frankly, Commander Blaze has so many reprimands in his file that another won’t make any difference. I still want him to resume his duties as the wing commander on the Phenix as soon as he’s fit for duty.”
He dismissed Kor and added, “Battlegroup Vega, good stars on your journey. Be careful and don’t let your guard down. You’re the key to our long-term survival strategy.”
16
The homeland of ice and darkness
Adrian left his lab and went to say goodbye to Ophelia, who lived in the most secure building on Base Alpha. Protected by a double dome, it could withstand even sustained orbital bombardment.
Their conversation was brief, as Adrian’s ride was already waiting for him. He simply told her everything would be all right, even though he knew he shouldn’t treat her like a child. She looked like a woman in her late teens, yet her mind had ventured into a realm beyond the compass of human understanding. Even Adrian couldn’t match her grasp of the universe’s workings.
“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. He saw pain in her deep-blue eyes. “Minos Station is a dark place. A place where an evil deed has been committed. A place of death and shame.”
Despite her intellect, emotionally she had the maturity of a young child, and the idea of being separated from her again broke Adrian’s heart.
“I have to go.” His tone was gentle but firm. “My colleagues need me.”
“Are you going there because you feel guilty? After the Battle of Olympica, you destroyed the fruit of your colleagues’ research. Though you did it for good reason, you feel you’ve betrayed their trust, and you want to redeem yourself. But you’re wrong. What they’ve been doing since is as evil as what they did in the past.”
Adrian left his daughter’s apartment with mixed feelings. The young colony needed him, and he had no desire to leave Neo, even for a few days. However, as the lead scientist of the Alliance, he felt it was his duty to find out what happened to his colleagues and assist them, if they were still alive.
He boarded the Spearhead inbound to the Remembrance. While the dropship was taking him into orbit, he studied the data on Minos Station and the research carried out there.
As soon as the dropship entered the Remembrance’s hangar, the countdown to jump began. Captain Hunt gave Adrian ten minutes to settle in before a briefing. He hurried to an autopod; Hunt had low tolerance for lack of punctuality.
Adrian dropped the few items he’d brought with him into his cabin and proceeded to the briefing room.
As he entered, Hunt said, “I want to show you the last transmission from Minos Station.”
The drawn face of the station’s lead scientist Prof. Tenev appeared on the holo-screen. Harsh lighting accentuated his angular features and the shadows under his eyes. Lights glinted off his balding scalp.
“I knew the retrovirus wasn’t ready.” Tenev’s voice was tired and hoarse. “We needed more animal testing. Retrocontrol loops are unstable. Nevertheless, we obeyed the president’s order—”
A coughing attack interrupted his explanations. His face disappeared beneath the screen for a few seconds, then reappeared, pallid and sickly.
“Where was I?” the scientist resumed. “Oh, yes, the experiment. We submitted Subject Nine to the strand J-62-13. The first signs were encouraging. The retroforming was unexpectedly fast. After the incubation period, the subject grew agitated. His entire neurochemistry was in disarray. We’re yet to determine the cause of this instability. I’ll send a report to Neo as soon as I get a chance, but considering currently available data, I strongly advise that clinical testing be put on hold.”
Tenev turned his head sharply in reaction to a noise in the background. “Oh no,” he muttered and disappeared again from the frame.
To never return.
The transmission ended with a series of clangs intermixed with shouts and screams in the background.
Adrian stared at the screen now filled with static. “I had no idea they were at the clinical testing stage. Prof. Tenev reported directly to the president and didn’t keep me in the loop. DeCourt didn’t want me to lead the project, even though I was the most qualified.”
“Because you’re not a pushover,” Hunt said. “DeCourt needed someone who followed orders without questioning their ethical implications.”
“How long before we reach Minos Station?”
“About twenty hours. We’ll be skimming TGS space, so we must tread carefully, as Biozi patrols and recon probes operate in the area. We can’t afford to get detected and lead them to Minos Station. In the meantime, I’ll send you all the available data. We’ve installed a Septamatrix cyber-terminal in your quarters. It should help you with your work.”
Adrian thanked the captain and proceeded to his cabin. The new cyber-terminal proved handy. Adrian asked Ria to interface with it and compile all available data on the Jotnar retrovirus.
His eyes widened as he discovered how much information had been withheld from him.
“That’s totally irresponsible!” he cried out when he finished reading the last progress report. Now he understood what Ophelia had alluded too. Once again, her intuition proved correct.
Ria appeared next to him, clad in a classy blue dress. “What did you expect?” Her strawberry-blond hair shimmered under the light from the screen. For a mental projection, she looked all too real.
Adrian shook his head, recovering from the shock caused by what he’d just learned. “I hoped… I hoped DeCourt learned his lesson. Apparently not. My colleagues discovered that the Jotnar were genetically predisposed to violence. When the Taar’kuun genosimilated the Jotnar, they designed a molecular retrocontrol loop to keep those violent tendencies in check. Tenev wanted to preserve this mechanism, but DeCourt instructed him to remove it. Moreover, DeCourt wanted him to genetically stimulate Jotnar’s violent behavior.”
Ria knew that, as she read his thoughts, but thinking out loud helped Adrian process the information. “Our beloved president didn’t want to free the Jotnar from Taar’kuun enslavement,” he added. “He wanted to use them as a weapon. Sow chaos and destruction throughout the TGS.”
“Is it truly that surprising?” Ria said with a mirthless smile.
“He’s no better than Raak’naar,” Adrian muttered, feeling a bitter taste when he thought about the chancellor of the TGS.
Adrian spent twelve hours studying the data, then took a nap to recover. He knew he needed his mind sharp for the forthcoming mission. Unsurprisingly, he dreamed of the Jotnar. In his dream, they were so immense they could swallow entire worlds. His unconscious mind was using a metaphor to show a real possibility.
The bellow of a siren woke him up. He jumped to his feet. “What’s going on, Ria? Are we under attack?”
“No, but Captain Hunt raised the ship’s alert status to condition yellow. The battlegroup entered the orbit of Nifelheim Bis.”
Such was the name the scientists had given to the planet where Minos Station had been built. This icy world had been chosen due to its similarity to Nifelheim.
Hunt called him. “Report to the bridge in fifteen. I’m sending a recon squad to Minos.”
Adrian took a quick shower and slipped
into his coverall. He had no time for breakfast, so he grabbed a few energy bars and hurried to the bridge.
When he entered, all officers were at their stations, and the captain stood in his usual place, examining the data sent by recon probes on the tactical holo-screen.
“No hostiles so far, but we must remain vigilant,” Hunt said. “ASF Command assumes the Biozi ignore this system; however, we can’t know for sure. At the first sign of hostile presence, we’ll evac all personnel from Minos Station and jump.”
Adrian pulled an energy bar out of his pocket and took a bite.
The captain turned to him. “Doctor?”
“Mmph.” Adrian swallowed. “What? I skipped breakfast; I’m starving. Just gimme a sec.”
He took another bite and squinted at the lines of text on the screen. “Ahem. Right. I see a storm forming. People never settled Nifelheim Bis for good reason—this planet’s a frozen hell. It rotates slowly, so the same side is exposed to the sun for a long period of time. Due to the difference in temperature between the day side and the night side, storms are frequent and violent. We have a couple of hours before the hurricane hits Minos Station. Maybe less. After that, no more air traffic. Nothing could fly in that storm.”
The recon squad checked in. “We’re at the main entrance.” Adrian recognized Lieutenant Okoro’s voice. “The station doesn’t respond to our hails. No sign of hostile activity. No visible damage to the station or evidence of an attack.”
The screen showed the feed from Okoro’s cam. Only the station position lights lit the night. The heavy blast-resistant doors drew closer as the squad approached the facility, until they filled the entire field of view.
“We’re not picking up any transmissions,” Okoro continued, her voice crackling. “Energy readings normal. The facility appears operational. We’re going in.”
The doors parted slowly. Okoro’s flashlight pierced the dark inside.
“Wait, this isn’t right.” Anxiety creeped into Okoro’s tone. “Spectral readings don’t make sense. It’s like—”
The image vanished and gave way to static.
“Well, it can be anything,” Adrian said, trying to reassure everyone, starting with himself. “This planet isn’t totally lifeless. Microbes release substances that can interfere with our sensors.”
“Let’s give Okoro three minutes.” Hunt turned to his tex. “Mitsu, what do you make of this?”
“I don’t have any explanation at this stage,” the tex replied. “We lost the feeds from Okoro’s squad and the recon probes at the same time. We still have visual on the facility from orbit, but the image is degraded.”
“On screen,” Hunt ordered.
The dome-shaped station appeared, but making out the details proved difficult due to noise. Three minutes passed, but the Remembrance received no signal from the recon squad or the probes.
“We can’t wait any longer,” Hunt said. “The window is closing. We’ll land the Remembrance.”
“Captain, I advise against that,” Adrian objected. “The drastic changes between day and night temperatures causes the ice to crack and makes the whole glacier unstable. It won’t support the weight of a warship.”
Hunt sighed. “Then we have no choice. We must rescue the scientists and retrieve the data before the storm hits. Our entire war strategy depends on the success of this mission. Doctor, I can’t order you to join the landing party—”
“I’ll go.” Adrian shivered, shocked by his own determination. “I’ll be more useful on the ground than here,” he added, trying to control the tremor in his voice.
“Lance, you’re leading the landing party,” Hunt called. “Take Sergeant Mortensen and his squad.”
“Aye, captain.” Riley was already on her feet.
*****
Adrian, Riley, Mortensen, and his squad assembled in the locker room next to the Remembrance’s hangar bay. Adrian greeted Mortensen, raising his eyes, as the bodybuilder had more than twenty centimeters on him. He always found the presence of this elite marine by his side reassuring.
The sergeant’s mouth spread in a grin. “It’s an honor, doctor.”
Adrian found the armor locker with his name displayed on the digital screen. Inside was a protective suit reinforced with bullet-proof, thermoresistant nanomaterials. He geared up, while his companions donned their body armor and checked weapons.
The landing party consisted of five squads, each ten marines strong. It took two Griffins to fit them all. In addition, each dropship carried a Barracuda APC. Those vehicles would increase the marine’s mobility on the ground and provide extra firepower.
“Remember to run a diagnostic on your hyperspectral scanners every thirty minutes,” Riley instructed the platoon. “Unless it’s all green, you must recalibrate.”
“Commander, what are the rules of engagement?” Sergeant Mortensen asked.
Riley gave him a puzzled look. “You’re a veteran, sarge. You know the rules by now.”
“No, I think it’s an excellent question,” Adrian intervened. “The standard ASF rules of engagement may not apply in this situation. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. Your integrated nanocomputers have the biometric parameters of all station’s personnel, in addition to their ID codes. But what if you can’t get a positive ID? My advice—hold your fire until you have confirmation.”
“Dr. Darus is right,” Riley said. “Engage only if the target is confirmed hostile.”
The sky was still clear when the dropships descended toward Minos Station. Positional lights twinkled in the distance, growing brighter as the crafts approached the landing zone. The facility appeared intact, and no sign of fighting was visible. Everything looked normal, but ominously quiet.
The marines started jumping out as soon as the dropships touched the ground. Riley took command of Squad Atlas, reassigned Mortensen to Squad Draco, and ordered him to protect Adrian.
Squad Bellum went on recon, while Atlas and Castor waited just outside the hangar gate, ready to rush in at the first sign of trouble. Squad Draco manned the APCs and stood ready to provide fire support. Squad Electra stayed behind to guard the dropships.
Mortensen told Adrian to get into the second APC. Adrian obeyed, eased himself into a seat, and deployed his portable nanocomputer. The feed from Squad Bellum appeared at the corner of his HUD, sent by the cam on the squad leader’s helmet. It showed a surprisingly empty hangar containing only a few dropships and transport craft.
“No hostile contacts,” the gruff voice of the squad leader reported. “No sign of enemy infiltration or combat. No trace of Lieutenant Okoro and her squad.”
“Squad Bellum, your signal is deteriorating,” Riley said. “Halt, secure your position, and run a diagnostic.”
“Roger, commander.” The feed was filling with static. “All green,” the squad leader said after a pause. “Permission to proceed?”
Riley didn’t have time to reply.
There was a clang, a yell, and a blaster boom.
“We’re under attack,” the squad leader yelled. “Taking casualties!”
A terrifying growl overpowered all other sounds. A monstrous black shape flashed before the cam, so quickly Adrian couldn’t detail it.
The squad leader screamed. His cam showed the ceiling for an instant, then went dark.
“Squad Castor, protocol alpha-three,” Riley shouted. “Weapons free!”
The rules of engagement went out the airlock, figuratively speaking. Squad Castor rushed through the doors to assist their comrades. The rattle of their rapid-fire blaster rifles joined the noises of the fight.
“Barracuda One, provide cover fire,” Riley ordered.
The first APC rolled into the hangar, and its turret sprang into action, sending streams of blaster bolts into the dark.
“They’re retreating,” the leader of Squad Castor reported.
“Do not pursue,” Riley ordered. “Secure perimeter. Medic, tend to the wounded. I want a casualty report.”
&
nbsp; The report was alarming—five marines were killed. Adrian shivered as the scene of the massacre unfolded before his eyes. The assailants had used only melee weapons, yet they’d butchered their prey with deadly efficiency. The blood made the floor so slippery the surviving marines had to activate the adhesive coating of their boots.
“The hostiles used some sort of blades,” one of the marines said. “They went through body armor like laser through cheap plastic.”
“Could anyone identify the hostiles?” Riley asked. “Were they Biozi troopers?”
“Negative,” the marine replied. “They were so fast…all we saw was a blur. I can’t even tell how many of them there were. Despite our firepower, we couldn’t get any kills. But I see a trail of purple blood. We’ve injured one of those bastards.”
“I must examine that blood,” Adrian said.
Riley hesitated, but agreed, under the condition that she and Mortensen would protect him closely, and he would rush back into the APC at the first sign of an attack.
Adrian stepped out the vehicle and crept to the purple blood trail, trying not to look at the corpses on the floor. Two marines protected him with blaster-resistant shields, though they knew the assailants could cut through them with ease. Dizzy and nauseous, he pulled a scanner and examined the purple blood.
His eyes widened as the results appeared on the scanner screen. “Fascinating,” he breathed.
“Care to share your findings with us, doctor?” Riley prompted.
He turned his bemused stare at her. “I detect Taar’kuun DNA, but the attackers weren’t Taar’kuun. Tenev and his team did it. They’ve created viable Taar’kuun/Jotnar hybrids. DeCourt will be pleased—he’ll have his second Retroforming. That is, if any of us lives to deliver this research data to the fleet.”
17
Search and rescue
Jason still felt pain in his side, but was relieved that the ship’s doctor discharged him from sickbay. His strong constitution allowed him to recover quickly from injuries.
Survival Strategy Page 11