Sean Dalton - Operation StarHawks 03 - Beyond the Void

by Sean Dalton - [Operation StarHawks 03]

  And how would he face his mother and his brother and sisters, assuming he got out of here in one piece? What would he say to them? Sorry, everyone, but I failed.

  Their faces blurred and he closed his eyes tightly.

  The admiral ... 41 ... maybe Caesar, if they didn’t get out of here soon.

  Kelly opened his eyes, blinking the tears away. He left the control bubble, refusing to look back.

  Phila and Siggerson both glanced up when he came in. “How’s Caesar?” asked Phila.

  “Hanging on.”

  She frowned worriedly. Kelly’s gaze slid past her a moment to Siggerson. He looked unwell, shocked somehow. His hands were unsteady, and it seemed an effort for him to concentrate on the smallest things. Kelly’s determination slid. Without Siggerson, their chances of getting home got even slimmer.

  “Here’s the whole layout, Commander,” said Phila, calling up a diagram onto her screen.

  Kelly bent over her shoulder to study it. She changed it to cross-sections, close up.

  “We’re here, fairly close to central control. Beyond it lie a series of connecting docking pods.”

  Kelly straightened, possibilities running through his mind. He knew that even if they managed to sneak on board a ship, they had a very small chance of actually getting away. There was the time jump to make, and the danger of leading their pursuers right into populated space.

  “I’ve put some jammers into communications through these sections here.” She pointed. “All the machines are on binary, and that’s the easiest language to screw up. Depending on which ship you want to take, I might even be able to communicate with it from here, getting its automateds warming at least. Siggerson says he can—”

  “Do it,” said Kelly. “Pick the ship you want, Mr. Siggerson.”

  The pilot shivered. “I ... don’t know. Without the correct coordinates, we can’t navigate back. At least, I don’t think I can.”

  “You don’t think?” said Kelly sharply. “I don’t want opinions, mister. I want solutions. They are all heavy class. Are you able to handle a destroyer or a battle cruiser?”

  Siggerson blinked helplessly. His eyes were lost. “I—”

  “Dammit, man! Shape up! 41 is dead and Caesar is in there dying now. If we don’t pull together on this fast, we’ll all be done for!”

  Siggerson covered his face with his hands, and Kelly shook him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Kelly!” said Beaulieu from the doorway. “Don’t. He can’t help it.”

  “Yes, he can,” said Kelly. “He’s a Special Operations officer.”

  Siggerson’s hands dropped from his face. From the corner Holborn came forward.

  “You haven’t communicated with the masters,” he said. “Remember your friend and the way Maon touched him?”

  Holborn’s glassy face and his bloodshot eyes held madness.

  Kelly scowled at him. “I can hardly forget it.”

  Holborn gestured at Siggerson. “This one has been touched also. As I was. It is a way to show us who is master.”

  Kelly whirled to stare at Siggerson in consternation. “One of those things went inside you?”

  “Kelly, go easy,” said Beaulieu, but Kelly wasn’t listening.

  His gaze bored into Siggerson, who slowly nodded. Tremors went through Siggerson, and the effort for him to meet Kelly’s eyes was visible but he did it.

  “It—it was like suffocating. It was in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I thought it was going to kill me. But it came into my mind also. I—I couldn’t keep it out.“

  Siggerson looked away. His hands shook so violently he clenched them at his sides and still they shook.

  Kelly swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. Gently he put his hand on Siggerson’s bony shoulder and gripped it in apology. Then he glanced at Holborn.

  “41? Any chance of—”

  “That touch was not momentary,” said Holborn. “You saw.”

  Yes, he’d seen. Kelly hadn’t even allowed himself to hope. Not really.

  “It isn’t enough just to get out of here,” he said to all of them. “We have to stop the Visci from invading Earth.”

  “Yes,” said Holborn. “They want to send the clones in among the population and infect them with a plague.”

  “There’s a cloning vat on board this ship?” asked Beaulieu.

  “Extensive facilities,” said Holborn with pride. “I helped refine them. I—”

  “They’re here, on this level,” said Phila, pointing at the diagram.

  “Never mind that,” said Kelly. “Holborn, how do we stop them? Once and for all?”

  Holborn stared at the floor for several seconds. When he looked up his face was red and his eyes wild. “There are many aboard. Hundreds of thousands. Perhaps a million. They are in the containers that you have seen. Almost in an inert state. Some, no doubt, have become totally inert in all this time. The City has been here a very long time, seeking answers to the plague that is killing them on their home world. The City was built originally to create a sterile, safe environment for them. But most do not dare venture out from their containers.”

  “And?” prompted Kelly impatiently.

  Holborn pointed at an isolated section on Phila’s diagram. “They are in this place. Most of them. Cut the seals, break their environment, and release bacteria from my laboratory. They will die.“

  Phila and Beaulieu exchanged glances. Siggerson straightened his shoulders.

  “I’ll help do it,” he said.

  “Murder of helpless civilians?” said Beaulieu very softly.

  When Kelly glanced her way, her eyes were like obsidian. His own blue ones hardened in return.

  “I’ll get the biotoxin,” said Holborn eagerly.

  He started out, but Kelly blocked his path. “No.”

  “Oh,” said Holborn with a blink. “You mean it is not safe to venture out without protection. May I have a weapon?”

  “No.”

  Holborn looked at him and read something in Kelly’s face that made him pale. “You’re not going to do it? Why? Why? We must kill them. They’ll conquer us if we don’t. They’ll—”

  “Without the robots they are helpless,” said Kelly. “Phila, you’ve got to tap into central control.”

  “It’s guarded. They’ll trace any interference right to us.”

  “Take the risk,” said Kelly. “Unless you can tap into the main systems, you’ll never be able to shut the whole place down. Siggerson and I are going to try a physical assault on central.”

  Siggerson’s face took on a little life. He went to the weapons pile and began sorting through them.

  “Excuse me, Commander,” said Phila. “But we’ve got to have something better than those two approaches in order to breach that area. The forcefields will block you, and—”

  “All right. Show me a detail of the area.”

  Phila’s diagram changed. Kelly studied the circular area carefully, noting the approaches and the way it was fitted into the curve of the hangar. A couple of entrances in. Easily defended. Phila was right. He frowned, then traced his finger down a service corridor.

  “What’s this?” he said, pointing at a small box of a room.

  “Generator, major power supply.”

  “We’ll take that out,” said Kelly.

  “Auxiliary will replace it.”

  “But there will be lag time,” said Kelly. “That’s our chance.”

  “Yes, sir, but look. It’s not a regular passageway like the others. It’s not even a half meter in diameter. Too small for any of us to get through.”

  Ouoji jumped onto the desk and chittered loudly.

  “No,” said Siggerson in alarm. “Not you.”

  But Kelly stared deep into Ouoji’s eyes and smiled. “All right,” he said. “But you must be very careful.”

  Ouoji raised her ear flaps in the equivalent of a shrug. She got in Phila’s lap and stared at the screen.

  “Show her the
route, Phila,” said Kelly. “I’ll rig up something.”

  Holborn said, “But that’s an animal. You can’t seriously expect—”

  “Ouoji is not an animal!” said Siggerson hotly, sounding more like himself with every passing minute. “You must be a xenophobic idiot. Now shut up and stay out of our way until you’re needed. I’m not even sure we ought to trust you as far as we can throw you.”

  Holborn backed off.

  Smiling to himself, Kelly knelt at the weapons pile. After a few minutes he had rigged together a small harness and clipped a probe and his trusty circuit interrupter to it. Ouoji let him fasten the harness around her, her silky fur tickling his face as she wriggled closer.

  “Now,” said Kelly while she stared intently at him. He showed her the probe and explained how to use it to loosen rivets to open a panel.

  Ouoji curled her paw around it, holding it awkwardly. Kelly wasn’t sure she could handle it, especially since she lacked an opposable thumb, but Ouoji was intent upon what she was doing. She experimented with the probe, dropping it, then picking it up between her digits. That worked better and she chittered approvingly to herself. Using her paws and teeth, she managed even to clip it to her harness.

  Her bright blue eyes met Kelly’s and he gathered her up in his arms. “You’re wonderful,” he said. “The other tool should be pressed against ... can you show her a picture of that, Phila?”

  Phila patiently explained the procedure to Ouoji, telling her what to touch and what to avoid. Kelly joined Siggerson and fitted himself with a power pack and two launchers, plus some of the throwing stars. He gave the hand weapon to Phila.

  She grinned. “I’d rather have the blowtorch.”

  “I’ll leave that too.” Kelly pressed her shoulder. “You and the doctor watch yourselves. And don’t trust Holborn.”

  She glanced at the scientist. “Right. Luck, Commander.”

  “May we all get home again.” Kelly boosted Ouoji up and put her into a service vent. “You too, Ouoji. Do your job and get back here.”

  By way of an answer, she managed to flip her furry tail under his nose as she scrambled into the vent.

  Kelly headed for the door, Siggerson following. Without scanners, there was no way of knowing what might be waiting for them outside.

  Kelly hit the control and the massive door slid open. The corridor looked clear. He ducked out and started running with Siggerson close on his heels.

  Just before the door closed, Holborn slipped out and was gone before Phila could grab him.

  “Hey!” She swore and hit the door with her fist. “Damn!”

  Beaulieu came. “What’s wrong?”

  “Holborn. That snake is gone.”

  “Do you think he went with Kelly?”

  Phila shook her head. “Who knows? If he did, the commander will have his guts for garters. If he didn’t, then we’re all in trouble. I figure he’s gone to blab everything.”

  “I figure you’re right,” said Beaulieu slowly. “Can we warn Kelly?”

  “How? No communicators, remember?” Phila kicked a chair out of her way. “I was supposed to keep an eye on the little konard and I—”

  “You can throw your temper tantrum later,” said Beaulieu coldly. “We’re safe in here. They won’t dare jeopardize the codes.”

  “Safe? Yeah,” said Phila sarcastically. “And what’s going to stop them from gassing us the same way they did when we first arrived?”

  A flush darkened Beaulieu’s cheeks. “Of course. I’d forgotten that. I guess we can’t—”

  “Yes, we can!”

  “How?”

  Phila’s stomach tightened at what had occurred to her, but she nodded to herself. “The commander won’t like it.”

  “The commander,” said Beaulieu dryly, “tends to want to clap the women and children under the hatches. Endearing in an old-fashioned way, but impractical.”

  “What was the name of their leader? Mup?”

  “Maon.”

  “Check.” Phila seated herself at the computer station, where her infiltration program was still running, seeking every available spot to play havoc with the systems. It wasn’t having much success.

  She opened a direct communications line, overriding binary transit. “This is Operative Mohatsa calling Maon. Operative Mohatsa calling Maon. Hey, if you hear me, you’d better answer. We’ve got your DNA code collection, and we’re wondering whether to trash it. You want to talk this over?”

  Then she sat back and grinned at Beaulieu. “How’s that for an opening bluff?”

  “You’d better hope he doesn’t call it,” said Beaulieu with a serious frown. “Those codes are too precious to jeopardize—”

  Infuriated, Phila jumped up. “Look! You can define life down to tachyons if you want, but to me those aren’t people in there. They’re just some cells—”

  “They can be cloned back to life!”

  “To hell with that,” said Phila. “Our first priority is defending ourselves. The commander expects us to hold this position.”

  Beaulieu stared at her. “Do you realize Kelly’s father is one of those samples?”

  Phila felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. She glared at Beaulieu. “So I promise not to break his petri dish.”

  Beaulieu’s angry retort was cut off by the familiar sound of hissing. They both looked up, and Phila pointed at the pale gas coming in through a nozzle.

  “Quick,” she said, and hurried into the control bubble. She unsealed the access lock and waded through the misty cold that condensed on her skin. Her hand grasped a random drawer and pulled it open.

  Inside, her conscience was twisting inside her, telling her this was like going on a rampage through a nursery. Beaulieu was right. Life was life, no matter how few the number of cells. Phila hesitated, cursing herself and the whole situation. This was an officer call. She wasn’t trained for a command decision, one involving other lives.

  But these were Fleet personnel, not civilians. They’d taken an oath of service that said they would die if necessary to protect ...

  She choked and looked back through the glass wall where Beaulieu stood. The doctor was clutching her throat, beginning to collapse. Was defeat and the subsequent invasion that would bring an end to Earth worth one person’s conscience? Phila’s eyes blurred with tears that froze on her cheeks. She put her hand inside the drawer and pulled out a handful of codes carefully preserved inside protected slides.

  “God forgive me,” she said, and flung them on the floor. She stamped them, feeling a part of her sicken and die inside. The tears ran freely down her cheeks, but she reached inside the drawer and pulled out more slides.

  An alarm went off over her, flashing frantically, sending its message back to central control.

  She threw the slides on the floor and reached for more when Beaulieu gripped her arms and stopped her.

  “Enough. Enough,” said Beaulieu. “The gas has stopped.”

  Phila straightened, unable to turn around and face the doctor. She was sobbing. She had to cling to the drawer for support.

  Beaulieu hugged her gently. “Come on. Leave them on the floor. Most of them are still intact. Come on.”

  Phila let herself be taken out, but once the chamber was resealed, she dashed the tears from her face. Defiance was all she had to cover her deep shame.

  “So now I’m a murderer,” she said angrily. “I’ve killed before, dammit.”

  Beaulieu faced her watchfully, without expression. She didn’t have to make any accusations. Phila had plenty for herself.

  “It had to be done,” said Phila. “They have to believe we’ll do anything to stop them. They have to think we don’t care; otherwise we don’t stand a chance. To hell with it.”

  Phila walked back to her computer, passing Caesar, who looked so small and still and bloodied her heart ached with fresh worry. They were in bad trouble here. They really didn’t have a prayer of getting out, even with a commander as good as Kelly.
Hope sagged from her.

  But there was training to cling to, training that said a Hawk never gave up until the mission was accomplished.

  Do I really believe that shit? she asked herself.

  She felt lost, as though her whole belief system had crashed. Then from somewhere deep came the certainty that she did believe it, had to believe it. Had to stand for her people, her kind, her species. Otherwise someone bigger and meaner and more ruthless came in and took over. It was the law she’d learned in her childhood on a rough, uncivilized colony world. It still applied.

  She dried her face and made her hands stop shaking. Then she opened a line to Maon.

  “Hey,” she said, using the cocky street tones of her home world. “Maon, you listening to me? It’s time we cut a deal.”

  This time she got a direct reply. “I hear you, Mohatsa. Do you wish to serve us?”

  What a laugh. But she started talking, knowing that as long as she kept Maon distracted, Kelly had a much better chance of succeeding.

  * * *

  13

  Holborn scuttled along the corridors, veering and stumbling and chuckling softly to himself. This was his chance, his one perfect chance. He would show them, his great, indifferent masters, that he wasn’t just a servile worm to be used and then discarded.

  He found his former laboratory more by instinct than by any conscious seeking. The lights came on. He looked around, seeing nothing changed, nothing touched. His breath sobbed in his chest. He wiped the perspiration from his face with unsteady hands. Tears of joy ran down his cheeks. Now, now, now was the time to do it, the perfect time, while Maon was occupied with defeating Kelly’s attack.

  Holborn laughed, rubbing his hands. He staggered to the vault. It took him three tries to unlock it. He kept forgetting the sequence, and his hands were unsteady. But at last the massive door slid open with a faint hiss of released air. A cold, stale odor rolled out over him. Breathing deeply of it, Holborn drew himself fully erect and entered.

  He opened one of four chests and from the ice inside withdrew a tiny vial of amber liquid. Death, here in his hand. Safe enough at this temperature, but let it warm to a mere 4 degrees Celsius ...