Into the Void

by Nick Webb

  “And what if the crew is incapacitated and you were left with an autopilot order, and inaction would result in the death of the entire crew? Which choice would you make then, you festering cybernetic abomination?”

  Sal didn’t skip a beat. If Bernoulli’s insults had any affect on the computer then it was doing a superb job of hiding it. “The autopilot algorithm favors the lowest numerical loss of non-hostile life, in the absence of direct operator guidance.”

  Bernoulli shrugged. “Very well, friend. The broad checks out. But I recommend we give her access to the Phoenix’s computers for as little time as possible. Seriously, friend, it’s like leaving your pants in the room with the prostitute when you go take a shower—any longer than three minutes and you can kiss your bank account goodbye.”

  Anya snorted. Jake glanced at her with a lop-sided grin. If Po were there she’d give Jake a scolding look for thinking Bernoulli’s joke funny, but then half grin herself. “Agreed.”

  The door to the conference room slid open and Captain Brand walked in with his deputy. “The fleet is ready. Are we all good here?”

  Jake turned to Ben and Avery with a questioning look. “Are the other two boarding parties ready?”

  “As ready as they’ll be. We of course don’t have any ASA suits so if there’s a lot of intra-ship combat then we could be at a severe disadvantage,” said Ben.

  Brand motioned to the door. “Come. I’ll show you to the armory and you can equip yourselves there. You might be pleasantly surprised.”

  ***

  Ayala could hear the soldier’s tentative steps down the stairwell. There were two of them, that she could tell, and they walked slowly, as if expecting trouble.

  She crouched behind the doorway to the mess hall, watching Galba tentatively poke at a stale piece of processed meat as he sat at a table.

  He was the distraction. At any minute the soldiers would come down the hallway, see Galba eating his food in the mess hall, approach him with their guns drawn, enter the room, and if she moved fast enough, get disarmed by a nimble Belenite hiding behind the door.

  She heard them walk down the hall. Their steps were still slow.

  They stopped, just outside the mess hall. “Hey—” one of them said, and Galba looked up at them.

  “Oh! Hello, just grabbing a bite to eat. You want some?” He indicated the food spread out, left over from Jeremiah’s and Gavin’s feast. She’d sent them down to the lower decks moments ago.

  “Don’t move!”

  She heard them step into the room. Any second now….

  The tip of the assault rifle poked past the door, and when she saw the man’s head she made her move.

  The Red had trained her well. Even though her training with them had only lasted a few months, it was effective. Their teaching methods were potent, and as she saw the first soldier fall unconscious by her feet, she sprang for the second, kicking the man’s gun out of his hand even as she brought the first’s to bear on him, pointing it straight at his chest.

  “Hands up. That’s right. Now back up to that wall.” She pointed to the wall near Galba’s table. “Turn around,” she instructed.

  The second soldier was now facing the wall. Satisfied he wouldn’t see it coming, she pulled a small dart tipped with a small needle tainted with T-MAB from her pocket and threw it at his neck where it plunged in. His hand whipped around to grab it out, but by then it was too late.

  His muscles relaxed and he collapsed to the ground, eyes still open and unblinking. She crouched over him and felt his warm breath on her wrist as she retrieved the dart.

  She concentrated, recalling the intense training with The Red. Her hand poised to touch the man’s temple, and she glanced at Galba, who watched her with interest. She pointed to the hallway. “You should go stand guard in case they send more.” She indicated the assault rifle on the floor. “Take that.”

  Galba hesitated. “Move!” she said. “We can’t waste any more time.”

  “What are you going to do to him?”

  She glanced down at the unblinking, lucid eyes staring up at her. Just like Ling last week. “I’m going to ask him a few questions, is all.” Looking back at Galba she motioned to the door again, and he left, closing the door behind him.

  Turning her attention back to the soldier on the floor she rested both hands on the man’s cheeks, pressed tight.

  Her tattoos warmed. Her blood flowed fast. Her heart rate accelerated.

  She gasped, and saw. Saw it all. Saw the man’s mind, his memories, his feelings. Rather, she felt his feelings. His mind was like an immense cavern, and everything there was laid bare to her. The cavern had layers, which she didn’t dare penetrate. No need. All she needed was on the surface, in plain sight.

  She saw the bridge and the two decks below it through his eyes. She saw the brigade members’ defensive positions, and their plans for keeping the bridge. Half of them were on deck one and many of those were on the bridge itself. The others were scattered in clumps throughout the main hallways of decks two and three, as if ready and waiting for a siege to retake the bridge.

  Feeling weak, she let her hands fall from his cheeks, and she shivered. The process always drained the energy out of her. Glancing at the food on the table she decided that maybe it was time for her, too, to eat.

  The Red always warned her not to delve too deep, and not to spend too long in someone’s mind. It wasn’t healthy, and it drained you. But, with the gift of the dark green ink spread out in her myriad of tattoos wrapping around her body, neck, arms, and hands, ink made from the very ground-up ashes of native Belenite trees themselves, she could See. See into a mind. Feel it. Be at one with it.

  Somehow, through the ages, the native life on Belen had found a way to communicate without words. Without sound or sight or touch. And after centuries the life had taught the new quadruped aliens spreading out on its surface.

  But only a few remembered. And The Red had preserved the knowledge, and shared it with her, giving her all the tools she’d need to be an agent of change. An agent of justice for her people.

  Back in the hallway she nodded at Galba. “Did he tell you anything?” he asked.

  “Enough. They’re dug in pretty tight up there, and they’re ready for anything we can throw at them. This is going to take more than just us and a few guns.”

  Galba smirked. “Told you so.” But he paused as he saw her determined expression. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

  ***

  Jake was more than pleasantly surprised at the armory aboard the Indomitable. The Sons of Oberon kept it stocked with an impressive array of assault rifles, plasma RPGs, and a variety of other deadly-looking armaments.

  But what caught his eye and took his breath away was the personnel armor. He’d worn ASA suits before in zero-g and vacuum environments. Hell, he even liked to wear them while doing motorcycle stunts. But hanging on the wall were four suits that put the ASA armor to shame.

  While the standard issue Imperial All-Situation-Armor suit was tough, flexible, and durable, it was also heavy, slightly unwieldy, and definitely inelegant. These on the other hand were like works of retro-mechanical art. Sleek, metallic, jointed and ribbed in all the right places as if to over-exaggerate natural muscle tone and body build, and from the looks of it, they gave mechanically-assisted strength to the wearer, judging from the actuators on the elbow, knee, and shoulder joints.

  Avery blew a low whistle. Jake glanced at Ben with an eager grin, and even in his lately-grumpy mood, Ben raised a single eyebrow.

  Anya broke the awed silence and stepped forward. “Well, Brand, while my associates have tech-orgasms, I’ll take the one of the left,” she said, pointing to the smallest suit.

  “Bullet proof?” asked Jake.

  “Of course,” said Brand. “Except for in the joints, as expected, but even those are neo-kevlar composite reinforced. And if you wear the helmets your heads are good to go, except for the most powerful assault rifles—but even th
ose need three or four hits before they break through.”

  Ben handled one of the suits. “And the joints? Strength assistance, I presume?”

  “Basic, yeah. Only about a 3X improvement over natural. But that comes in handy in hand-to-hand combat if the other guy hasn’t got it, heh.” Brand laughed. “I fought a Vikorhov soldier in an Imperator Suit once, and, well, let’s just say he’s not in any condition to tell you how he fared.”

  “Imperator Suit, huh? How ironic.” Notwithstanding the coincidence in name to the Imperial ship they’d recently destroyed, Jake pointed to Avery and Ben. “Great. You two, suit up. Anya? You too. I’ll take the fourth.”

  They were far harder to get into than the ASA suits, but they fit like a dream, and after ten minutes they were all ready to go. Brand distributed assault rifles, handed Avery a plasma RPG. “Flash grenades?”

  “Please,” said Jake, taking the offered cylinders, which he found attached quite easily to his waist.

  He slapped Ben on the back, and the armored glove rang out with a clang on the armor and Ben lurched forward with the impact. “Watch it,” he said with a glare.

  “Sorry,” said Jake sheepishly. “Guess I don’t know my own strength in this thing.”

  Ben grumbled, and Jake could swear he heard him say, “What you don’t know could fill a—” But Brand started talking again.

  “All right. If your teams are ready, we can make the grav shift in ten minutes, after we get out of the hangar.”

  Jake saluted with a finger. “By all means, Captain.” He turned to his comrades. “Let’s go get our fucking ship back.”

  ***

  Jake thumbed the comm on his Imperator Suit open and gripped the assault rifle Brand had given to him. “Bernoulli, Roshenko, what’s our status?” Jake, Ben, Anya, and Sergeant Avery were in the airlock, ready to spring out the hatch into the Phoenix as soon as the signal from the bridge was given. But unfortunately, that meant being completely unaware what was happening outside the ship until then.

  Bernoulli’s voice boomed over his helmet’s speakers. “We’re ascending the entry tube in the hangar. Should be out any moment now—there. We’re out. And the other twelve ships are following. Ascending the lower atmosphere….”

  Jake could hear the low rumble of the turbulence rushing past the bulkhead beyond, which soon died away as they entered the near vacuum of the upper atmosphere.

  Several moments later Bernoulli continued, “We’re in orbit. All thirteen frigates.”

  “Right. Send word to the two other strike teams to be ready.”

  Jake could hear Bernoulli contact the other teams, and before long heard the scientist’s voice over the headset. “Done.”

  Captain Brand’s voice sounded in his helmet. “Captain Mercer, we’re ready for the shift. Awaiting your command.”

  Jake took a deep breath. “Bernoulli, I want you to monitor the status of the computers throughout the process. Both Sal and the Phoenix’s computer. Brand, we’re ready. As soon as we shift, get Sal started and let us know when to jump out.”

  “Acknowledged, Captain,” said Brand.

  After a moment, Jake felt the tell-tale waver in the deck-plate’s gravity field that told him the Indomitable had shifted, and tightened his grip on the rifle.

  “Captain, visual contact with the Phoenix,” said Bernoulli. “They’ve started firing their railguns, but we’re too far away for them to get a clean shot. Brand is initiating the remote computer control.”

  After several tense moments of silence later, Brand’s voice came over the comm. “There. The railgun fire has stopped. Commencing full-power acceleration to the airlock hatches. Standby.”

  After about a minute, they heard a clank from the other side of the hatch. Jake glanced at Anya. “You ready for this?”

  She kept her gaze steady on the hatch, her eyes lined up through the sights of her rifle. “Bring it, bitch.”

  Brand’s voice sounded over their headsets. “Captain Mercer, we’re attached. Sal is initiating remote control of the Phoenix’s airlock. You’re good to go in about ten seconds.”

  The time ticked away, each second like an eternity. Jake watched the hatch through his own sights of his rifle, and crouched down low next to the opening.

  With a mechanical groan, the hatch opened to reveal the deserted hallway of deck twelve of the Phoenix. Jake made a motion to advance, and Avery and Ben ran forward to the corner and peered around into the hallway. Avery gave the all-clear, and Jake sprinted through the opening and around the corner.

  They were aboard.

  The hallway around the next corner was similarly deserted, so Jake, with Anya at his side, sprinted down to the next intersection.

  And nearly ran straight into Ensign Ayala, who’d just rounded the corner from the other direction. She smacked right into Jake’s chest, and gave a horrified look before she saw who it was through Jake’s faceplate.

  “Captain!”

  “Ensign. Are you ok? What’s the situa—” he trailed off as he glanced past her and saw her partner.

  It was impossible.

  “Ensign, is that!?”

  Ayala glanced back at her companion, who was now glancing down and behind himself as if unwilling to look the newcomers in the eye and give them a good view of his face.

  “Senator Galba. Yes, sir. He’s here.”

  ***

  Jake blinked. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Just three weeks earlier he’d watched the Senator give a speech just before his ship exploded around him. Destroyed by a quantum field torpedo fired from the Phoenix itself.

  It wasn’t possible.

  “Senator?” Jake bent forward and down slightly to get a better view. At the sound of his name, Galba straightened up, turned and faced Mercer, and smiled broadly. “Yes, Captain Mercer, it is I. I hope you don’t mind—I found it needful to seek asylum aboard your ship, seeing how Admiral Trajan was bent on destroying mine.”

  “But you … the speech … you were—”

  Galba held up a hand and said in a mournful voice, eyes closed, “Yes, a terrible tragedy. I have two body doubles for my own security, and one was killed in the blast.” He opened his eyes and stared at Jake, wearing his most earnest politician’s gaze. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. And Ensign Ayala here. She’s to be commended, Captain. I ordered her to hide me, and she did so at great personal risk to herself.”

  Jake turned to Ayala, about to ask for more details, but the urgency of their current mission pressed upon him. “Ensign, what the hell is going on? Who’s got the bridge?”

  “Tomaga, sir. He and his men have sealed off all of decks one through three against us, and they’re heavily armed.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Several serious assault rifle injuries, but no fatalities that I know of—information is hard to come by. Looks like they weren’t aiming for carnage. They just wanted the ship, Captain.”

  Anya grumbled, “For all the good it’ll do the assholes. They can’t get anywhere without the gravitic beacon.”

  Ensign Ayala nodded solemnly. “The Phoenix been sitting here in orbit for nearly a day. We were just on our way to meet Corporal Jayce and some marines when we ran into you. How did you get in?”

  “Long story. Were you going to try and storm the bridge with the marines?”

  Ayala shrugged. “It crossed our minds.”

  He tapped his commlink. “Teams two and three, proceed towards the bridge. We’ll take it from the main stairway. Team two approach through the forward access hatch, team three through the aft access hatch. Mercer out.”

  Jake hefted his assault rifle to his shoulder and cocked it. “Well what are we waiting for?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JAKE PEERED AROUND THE CORNER, down the hallway towards the stairway to deck three. The elevator had been disabled, of course—Tomaga had been very thorough in his defenses. As far as Imperial shock troop grunts went, he was remarkably savvy, even managing to
disable computer access from everywhere but the bridge after Sal’s brief computer takeover.

  “Looks clear,” he whispered into his comm set. He pushed his helmet shut, hoping that Brand was right, that it would stop at least a few rounds before failure.

  “Captain,” said Avery, crouching up close behind, “watch the cross-corridors.” He indicated the hallways joining up with the main one about halfway down. “We’ll be caught in a crossfire if they’ve got those manned.”

  “Think they do?”

  Avery nodded. “It’s what I would do if I were defending deck three.”

  Jake sighed. Deck three. Then deck two. Then the bridge, and all the rooms leading off from it—the conference room, his ready room, storage rooms, a small armory, the break room, the bathroom—shit, they were about to see some serious close quarters warfare, fighting room-to-room. This was going to be bloody, he knew.

  “Very well.” He clenched his jaw. “Those of us with Imperator suits in front. Let’s secure the hallway. Avery and I first, Ben and Anya back us up.” He glanced at the other three, who all nodded at him. “Go.”

  Jake sprang up from his crouching position and sprinted towards the first intersection, rifle held firm against his armored shoulder, Avery hot on his tail. He motioned to the left, indicating to Avery to secure that hallway as he swung around the corner on the right….

  And was met by a hail of bullets, several of which ricocheted off his armor.

  “Dammit!” He sprang forward into a roll, making sure to keep a steady grip on the rifle, and felt several more bullets impact the armor on the side of his leg and arm. “Anya! Move!”

  Safely on the other side of the hallway leading off to the right, he motioned to Anya join him. When she’d taken position on the other side of the hallway branch, he motioned for them both to fire. Swinging the rifle around the corner he fired off a few dozen rounds, and heard Anya do likewise. With her still firing he spun around the corner and sprinted down, firing ahead of him as he went. The holed-up soldiers had taken temporary cover in the face of Anya’s fire, so he ran faster, and dove into a room with its door ajar, spinning in midair and firing where he hoped one of the soldiers was standing behind the door.