by Don Foxe
“Back on the job,” Coop said. “Would expect that from you. Anything special you remember?”
“Reinhardt did a lot of bad-ass stuff to me,” Tab confided. “He’s obsessed with finding out why the twelve of us survived the project. He’s trying to discover why the Methuselah gnomes reactivated properly then because no one has been able to replicate the process again. He wants to live forever. I’m gonna kill his ass first chance I get.”
“Paris Cassel has him at the moment,” Coop told his friend. “When he’s finished, I think Reinhardt might prefer your visit to the plans Cassel has for him.”
“Benny is part of the conspiracy,” Barnwell said, his voice low, sad. “He trapped me, wrapped me, and turned me over to Reinhardt.”
“Turns out good-time Benny helped create the Camarilla Dissolvere,” Coop informed Tab. “He was working with Berkel when Ali died. He’s Chief of Security for Space Fleet and on MSD right now. I need to figure a way of getting to him before he gets the news about the Camarilla.”
“Someone, but not you,” Mara said, bringing a tray of fresh juice and fruit with her.
“Why not?” Coop asked, watching Tab down a juice and grab an apple. Good signs.
“Because the new Fleet Admiral wants you in Toronto.”
“They replaced Singletary? What screw-up did the UEC pick this time?”
“Oh, just some washed-out former Admiral named Patterson.”
CHAPTER 22
“You’re out of uniform,” Pam said.
“Don’t plan on wearing one again,” Coop answered.
“Then I’m conscripting your civilian ass,” she responded.
“Then I guess I volunteer,” he replied, adding a smile. “What am I volunteering for?”
“Nathan tells me your new personal ship is fast. According to his math, if you leave within the hour, you will reach the solar rim a few hours after the CVBG reenters space-fold for Aster system.”
“You want me to chase down the battle group?”
“I want you to go to Fell,” she said. “You can get there before they arrive at Aster. We need to communicate with people we trust in the group without Hawks, Harrison, or any other Camarilla plant knowing. The coms people in command can’t see a way to do it. No one in the galaxy is better at communications tech than Fellen engineers. Storm, Sky, and Sparks are all on Fell. Get there, get them up to speed, and get their help. If they can get you through to Elie, tell her to watch Hawks and Harrington, If they do anything to endanger the CVBG, take them into custody per my orders as Fleet Admiral.”
“What about Benny and MSD?”
“My problem, not yours,” she replied.
“al-Rashid and the other Camarilla masters still loose?”
“Paris and his people will handle them.”
“The Prophet?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Right now I need to get up to speed. I do know we must be ready to back up our people when they arrive in the Aster system. Hope for peace, and expect a war.”
“You know what Stacey, Chaspi, Rosz, Billy, and Kai did for you.”
“I do, and I have plans for thanking all of them.”
“Henry and Heidi are on MSD.”
“Again, my problem, Coop. I don’t want them harmed either.”
“So I go to Fell, pass along a message, and then?”
“Whatever you want,” she said. “You don’t plan on wearing a uniform again, remember?”
“You can be such a bitch.”
“Comes with the braid.”
Space-Fold
Between SOL and FELL Systems
Free time between systems provided the opportunity to inspect the Wraith’s storage bins. Coop discovered someone went through his temporary quarters on Fin Island, collected his gear, and stored it on board. He also found his personal belongings from the 109. He feared he might never see the four special Japanese swords Hiro presented him over the years. They were his most prized possessions. He uncovered two new optic-camo METS suits, and a replacement for his long lost wing-suit. Having Mara and Nathan as friends always paid off.
The trip from the solar system rim to Fell would give him time to consider, or reconsider, the name he came up with for his new ship. Wraith had a cool, dangerous vibe, but it stood for a designation of a new class of personal space fighter.
He mentally reviewed his reasoning behind the name he finally decided on for his new ride.
Described as a spirit with a bad attitude, a wraith was often the specter of a sorceress with an unhappiness that followed her into the next life. Considering the wraith’s mythology, his personal past, and current events, he decided on Cassandra.
Some considered her a sorceress. Most knew her as an oracle whose prophesies always came true, but, cursed by Apollo, no one ever believed her fore-tellings. She dealt with the ultimate frustration. She knew when something bad was about to occur, but no matter how hard she tried to make people aware, they ignored her. He could definitely relate.
Eventually ship and pilot would face the Mischene’s Prophet, so why not fight fire with fire. See your prophet and raise you an oracle. Besides, Coop and Cassie had a nice ring to it.
“I guess that’s it,” he said aloud as he rummaged through the clothes locker. “You are hereby and henceforth, Cassandra, AKA Cassie.”
If not for Cooper’s re-engineered genetic makeup, which made killing him difficult, he might have experienced a heart attack when the ship answered, “Thank you, Captain Cooper. I rather like the name.”
“You’re the AI,” Coop said aloud, talking to his ship, or at least the operating system that managed the ship’s functions. “When was anyone going to tell me this ship came with a communicative Artificial Intelligence?”
“Dr. Trent suggested I waited until you produced a suitable name for me,” the speakers embedded around the ship answered. While the voice came from nowhere and everywhere, Coop’s time with the PT-109’s AI, Kennedy accustomed him to her voice surrounding him.
“Dr. Trent knew I would come up with a name,” Coop said aloud.
“He assured me it might take a little time, but naming one’s ship is the most important thing a captain can do,” she, distinctly a she, said. “He suggested I remain quiet until you announced my name. He said you would be more receptive to my presence after that.”
“Any other advice Dr. Trent pass on?” he asked.
“To be patient with you,” she replied. “He provided me with your history, as well as your involvement with the AI/Avatars aboard the PT-109 and the PT-99. While you are comfortable with artificial intelligence relative to a large ship, and how it relates directly with you or via an avatar who is basically human, having an intelligence sharing the space within as small a ship as the Wraith Class might be, he used the term, claustrophobic.”
“What about the problem with you potentially going insane due to lack of sensory feedback? They created avatars to provide an AI access to sensory contact with the real world. Being trapped in a constant void while you matured, learned, and developed could eventually lead to a mental breakdown.”
“If you could prepare yourself, Captain Cooper. I do not wish to give you another shock.”
“Prepare myself for what?” he asked, curious, and a bit worried about what could possibly come next.
A shimmering began in the center of the small galley of the cabin. Slowly it began to take shape and seemingly solidify. After a few more seconds a breathtakingly beautiful nude woman stood there.
“I possess my own semi-corporeal self,” the voice, now coming from the woman informed him. “I can, within the limits of this ship, have complete sensory feedback without the need to accept the information through an avatar neural interface.”
“Are you a design created by Dr. Trent?” Coop asked.
“Trent Industry engineers designed the holo-avatar program. I created this appearance,” the holograph replied. “It is a combination of images of the original Cassandra fr
om Earth mythology, as well as a visual history of women important to you.”
Coop attempted to recognized anyone in the visage before him. She was tall, at least five-ten and, if real, would weigh between one-thirty and one-forty. She replicated a body-type similar to Sky. Her face more oval than round with a strong chin, but not a square one. She had full lips, and her nose more pert than straight. She also had nice dimples. High cheekbones, but not sharp. Big aegean blue eyes with manicured blonde eyebrows matching the honey blonde hair she wore parted in the middle, tucked behind her ears, and to her shoulders. The hair straight, fine, and thick.
He found it impossible not to notice the firm, upright breasts. Not as large as Sky or Storm’s. More like Elie’s, only not tan. Her waist curved into a small circle, like the majority of the women in his life. Defined abs, and hips that swelled like Storm’s, but not as much. Long, toned, muscled legs, and while he could not see it from his advantage, he knew she would have a firm butt.
“Cassie, can your tech manifest clothing?” he asked.
He no sooner inquired than she appeared dressed head to toe. A black lycra-style top Fellen women preferred, but with long sleeves and a more scooped neckline. She wore a pair of light gray fatigue pants, complete with multiple pockets, and a twine belt with silver buckle. The pants tucked into black-matte jump boots. Her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, made her look early twenties. Before the clothes and ponytail he would have guessed an age closer to thirty.
“I can create any type of clothing,” she said. “I can also change any or all of my physical characteristics. Is there anything you would prefer?”
“I think that if this is the appearance you choose, then this is how you should look,” Cooper told her. “Are you happy with your decisions?”
“I’m not sure yet about emotional states,” Cassie replied. “I have not experienced much since activated at Trent Industries and placed into the Wraith. I have explored records, and observed you each time you entered me.”
“Okay, Cassie, I would prefer we come up with a different description than ‘I entered you,’" he said. “There are people in my life who might take that the wrong way.”
“Of course, Captain Cooper. I now recognize the double entendre. One day I hope to find it amusing,” she said.
“Then a couple more things to help you along the way,” Coop said, moving past the image to find a seat at the com-tac station. “You need to learn to blink occasionally, and pretend to breath. Not doing those things can cause a human to become uncomfortable around you.”
“Thank you,” she said, turning to watch him as he passed. “Such information will make it easier for others to accept me.”
“Is there a certain amount of time required for you to remain corporeal?”
“No,” she replied. “I’m quite comfortable in my own world. Being able to manifest, as you say, allows me more range to explore your world. It will also, as you suggest, keep me sane. I will endeavor to appear only when you expect me, and I will wear appropriate clothing. I believe your elevated heart rate and blood pressure resulted from my sudden introduction. Your hormonal reaction is likely caused by my nude body.”
“Thank you, Cassie. If it’s okay with you, I will continue to call you Cassie, and refer to the ship as Cassandra.”
“Amazing,” the AI said. “Dr. Trent predicted you would be able to adjust and accept my presence quickly. My studies of humans does not indicate that as a normal reaction. You are a unique human, Captain Cooper. Most likely due to the improvements in your brain function.”
“You are altogether unique, Cassie. It will take time to fully adjust, but right now I need to prepare for Fell. You will keep your ability to manifest secret from others until I say otherwise.”
“You are the Captain,” she replied and promptly disappeared. “Is there anything else?” her voice asked in surround-sound.
“Yes. Since we are going to share space for the foreseeable future, you might as well start calling me Coop,” he instructed.
“Coop,” she said experimentally. “Cassie and Coop. It has a nice sound, doesn’t it?”
PART 3
Convergence
Convolutions
Rivers sometimes meet. When two rivers converge, the confluence creates a new, third river. Civilizations often build cities at the confluence because they are natural locations for trade and transportation.
These confluences are often dangerous, the merging of two powerful bodies creating swift currents at the surface and below.
CHAPTER 23
FELL
Cassandra dropped through the dense, overcast sky above Harmony. Coop used thrusters and hovers to bring the ship to the surface. He extended the landing gear, and the ship settled onto a three-point stance on the landing pad the command center directed him to use.
As the slow rocking ceased from settling on its struts, three people approached from a nearby wooden building. He augmented the optics used to create the illusion the outside could be seen through a transparent canopy. The close-up view showed Cindy Shah, Mags Moore, and Hiro coming to greet him.
They waited forward the nose. He popped the hatch in the roof of the raised cockpit to exit by stepping up and out onto the ship’s surface. He wore a long-sleeved khaki pull-over because of the cool, damp Fell air. It covered a sleeveless, skintight undershirt made from a composite material of kevlar and woven metal alloy discovered on Mars. The thin material could stop a projectile, deflect a knife, and dissipate the effects of a hand-held laser weapon. If hit by the burst he would go down, but he would also be able to get back up. He did not think he needed the added protection on Fell, but he planned on becoming accustomed to wearing the undershirt all of the time.
He carried his trusted rubber-gripped Army Ranger issued Falkniven A1 knife on his belt. Some blades were for show. The Falkniven came to work.
He stepped onto the leading edge of the delta wing, and instead of moving to the back of the wing and calling for the ladder, he jumped the sixteen-feet from wing to ground.
Without a beat, and after not seeing him in over a year, Mags pushed forward and asked, “What is she?” staring lovingly at the spacecraft as only a pilot could.
“Trent’s personal project,” Coop replied, understanding her priorities. “It’s a Wraith class two-person fighter. The only one. The double-barrel railguns up front fire sequenced loads of kinetic and NNEMP loads. Each side carries five-hundred ultra-dense projectiles. What you don’t see is a tachyon cannon that drops from the undercarriage.
“She’s one-hundred-percent stealth. Low profile and special composite materials that absorb and redirect surface scans, as well as anti-scanning systems to defeat deep penetration attempts. SH integrated into the com-tac computer.”
“Speed?” Mags asked as she walked around the ship. Coop, Cindy, and Hiro in her wake, no one yet having the chance to say a proper hello.
“1 kpc standard space-fold in open space, .12 sub-light within systems, and 300,000mph battle speed. Mach 10 plus within an atmosphere, with advanced gravotonics to allow for ultra-high speed radical turns inside the troposphere without injuring the crew. A Mach 10 ninety-degree turn produces minimal g-forces inside the cabin. The ship is able to maintain velocity throughout all maneuver.”
“Shotgun,” Mags turned and said to him.
“What?”
“I call shotgun. I want to sit co-pilot and see what she can do next time you fly.”
“She is Cassandra,” Coop informed her. “And hello to you, too, Mags.”
Mags melted into a hug with him, holding him close. “I’m glad you’re alive, Coop. I’m glad you’re here. But I never doubted you would recover.”
Hiro chimed in with, “Except the time you suggested we hold a memorial.” He too gave Coop a hug. Not a buddy thump, but a real, tight hug between old friends. “Welcome back to Fell.”
“The memorial idea was an excuse for a wake,” Mags called over her shoulder as she continued to
survey the Wraith.
Cindy gave him her hug and welcome. “Hiro always had your back”, she told him. “Not once did he believe you were dead and gone. And why did you use the old coms system to alert control you were arriving?”
“The CVBG heading for Aster system can’t pick up the old signals while in space-fold,” he answered. “Are Sky, Storm, and Sparks here?”
“Sky is at the AS tribe village. Storm and Sparks are trying to salvage tech from the bunker you destroyed at the Northern Crown. I didn’t send anyone a message because of the sneaky way you came in. Thought it best to wait.”
“I have a hover craft waiting,” Hiro interrupted. “The village is deep in the forest east of Harmony. The trees obscure everything, but there is a cleared landing zone for hover craft to deliver supplies and transport people.”
“You and Hiro go to the village,” Cindy said. “I’ll get word to Storm and Sparks to meet you there. Anything else I should be working on?”
“I need a way to communicate with Kennedy without the rest of the CVBG aware,” he told her. “I’ll explain everything when we have everybody together.”
“Can I go inside?” Mags asked. Mary Margaret Moore was an addicted pilot, and Cassandra represented her type of drug.
Coop motioned Mags to join him under the fuselage next to one of the forward two wing-mounted landing gear. He placed his hand on a flat spot five-feet from the ground, near an articulation in the strut. “Cassandra this is Coop. I authorize the next person who places their hand-print here full access to all of your systems.”
He removed his hand and told Mags, “Place your hand there and tell her your callsign.”