Flames: Galaxy On Fire, Book 2

by Craig Robertson

  Well that didn’t sound good, or healthy. “W… we never …”

  Mirri shut up. She realized no one cared in the slightest about the ruse or misunderstanding. If she spoke unwisely, she could make their perilous situation worse.

  “Speak, child,” demanded Arktackle. “If you have something to say, please do.”

  “No. I was so excited, I lost track of my tongue,” she responded glumly.

  “I shall not miss you in the least. If all goes as it is planned, thankfully I will not have to suffer seeing you two again.”

  Well that sounded even worse. Mirri reflected that there was no reason to ask what the plan was. It would transpire whether they knew of it in advance or not. Clearly, Malraff had won the day again. Once she had the teens secluded away, she was going to treat them horribly. And there wasn’t anything they could do about it. They were butterflies pinned in a display book, nothing more, nothing less.

  As they were led back to their holding area, Slapgren leaned in and asked, “What was that about and why didn’t you tell them we hate that bitch?”

  “Not sure what it was about, and it wouldn’t have mattered if I said a word because not one of them gives a rat’s ass what we want.”

  “What’s a rat?”

  “Uncle Jon mentioned them. They were a pest, kind of like you.”

  “Speaking of which, where is Uncle Jon? The longer he takes to rescue us, the harder it will be.” Slapgren’s voice broke over the last couple of words.

  “I think we have to consider the possibility that Uncle Jon isn’t coming,” Mirraya said with feeble defeat in her tone.

  “Don’t even think that. He’ll come, never you doubt that.”

  “I hope you’re right. I really do. But it’s getting hard to imagine how he could find us. We were on Azsuram, then here—wherever here it—and now we’re going to be taken somewhere else by that evil Malraff. The man can only have so many miracles up his sleeve.”

  “He’s got plenty.”

  Mirri strained to believe. She strained even harder to have Slapgren’s unyielding youthful confidence in the improbable.

  “We’ll see,” was all she could whisper back.

  THIRTY-THREE

  As I’d suspected, we lost the Adamant completely after we wriggled out of the second massive dust cloud. But it took a week, all told. I was about to go nuclear by the time I ordered GB to set a course for the emperor’s damn ship. I think I was even creeping out GB, because he stopped giving me his usual hard time about everything toward the end there.

  I could feel I was slipping into that dangerous funk—the one that had me transfer back to a human body so I could die, all those years ago. But I couldn’t afford the luxury of self-pity or death. I had to save those kids, and that was what I was going to do. I’d come to possess one strong belief over my interminable life. There were precious few things worth caring about, but those that were worth it were precious. I was starting to feel, once more, that I was trapped in a blizzard and my vision was telescoping to the point of blindness. The urge to give up and sit down in the snow was intoxicating. But it wasn’t about me, thank God. It was only about those precious kids. I had to save them, and I doubly had to punish their captors. Revenge, killing, and doling out Jon-justice I was good at. My only shortcoming was knowing when or even how to stop.

  “GB, what’s our ETA at the ship I’m going to rain holy hell on?”

  “You mean the Adamant emperor’s craft, right?”

  “Not in a mood, buddy. Just answer the damn question.”

  “Seriously, Capitan, I mean no disrespect. You’re a bit on edge lately. I don’t want to commit an error when the stakes are this high.”

  Dude was right. I was wigging out, a bit. “Sorry, you’re right. I’ll try and lighten up. Yes, what is our ETA on the emperor’s ship?”

  “At maximal velocity, which I guarantee to maintain, around eight days.”

  I hissed under my breath.

  “Maybe seven if I override a few alarms.”

  “Yeah, silence the alarms and bust your ass. Thanks, man.”

  GB had absolutely no idea what he’d just been told, but was a wise enough AI not to ask for clarity. The captain had sounded more positive than negative. He set course and optimized all the outputs. He decided once and for all that he would not try and keep the captain as a sample to return to his masters. He didn’t want to have him around longer than needed. Plus, the scientists back home were more likely to scrap GB than thank him for retrieving that hot mess. Why go out of his way to look for trouble?

  A week later, we were within scanning range of the flotilla that contained the emperor’s ship. He seemed to enjoy a crowd. There were dozens of battle cruisers, hundreds of support ships, and even more large cubes that were likely luxury estates like the boss’s. So much for me shooting my way into town. I had GB shut the engines down, and I shrouded the ship in a full membrane. We could get closer before I had to decide exactly what I was going to do. Hopefully they didn’t “see” us coming by following our dark image like they had before. There was no way they could anticipate me heading right into their wheelhouse, so why bother?

  It took thirty hours to draw within a million klicks of the flotilla. I always did my best, or at least most creative thinking under pressure. With a deadline rapidly approaching, I decided how I’d start my assault. After thinking the word, I laughed out loud. My assaulting a major battle group in little old GB. I was kind of like a fly assaulting an elephant. But my options were few and I needed to act. That’s when us fighter pilots shone. Or crashed in flames. I was sure I’d be shining, which was to repeat the fact that I was a fighter pilot.

  “GB, here’s the drill … I mean, let me lay out the plan of attack, okay?”

  “Fine. I’m anxious to hear how we trounce so many superiorly armed ships. If I had emotions, they’d be all in a knot.”

  “We’re still a way off from the flotilla. Obviously, our target is the emperor’s cube.”

  “Obviously. Why attack a ship our own size?”

  “See, I knew you’d come around to thinking like I do.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “Wait, I thought you said you didn’t have emotions.”

  “I don’t. Sarcasm is a linguistic tool, not an emotion.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you think this is the best time to discuss this, Captain?”

  “Oh, yeah. So, I’ve pulled up this schematic of the craft. This area here,” I fingered a section on the screen, “is where we’ll land.”

  “I hate to sound negative, but you do realize that area is deep within the vessel and is not blessed with docking paraphernalia.”

  “Of course, I do. What’s your point?”

  “Ah … point? We can’t land in the center of a rock.”

  “Are you being sarcastic again? Really, this is not the time or place.”

  “No, I’m stating the obvious. Can you reveal Plan 2, the one we follow? Because Plan 1 is, er, incompletely thought out?”

  “You’ve got to think outside the box, GB. Those who can do that win the most battles.”

  “What box? The emperor’s flagship?”

  “No. Listen and be amazed. You and I will coordinate two simultaneous moves. I will drop the membrane …”

  “Good. I welcome death at this juncture.”

  “While you form a warp bubble and set course for this section. It’s some type of over-sized hanger of something. It’s huge. Once we arrive, you pop the bubble and land. I do the rest.”

  “You mean you’ll be the only one to die instantly? What about me? I don’t want to be taken prisoner.”

  “I’m not going to die. You’re not going to die. Once I’m out the hatch, put up your cloaking. It may delay their locating you.”

  “May? And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then you’ll think of something.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I will be proven
wrong about the you not dying part of the plan.”

  “Why do I not feel better or reassured?”

  “Because you’re a pessimist, that’s why. I, one the other hand, am an optimist.” I took a moment to pat myself on the chest.

  “I’m not sure I’ll listen, but why don’t you fill me in on the rest of your vision-slash-delusion.”

  “Not much else to tell. I kick some major booty, rescue the kids, and you fly us out of there before something bad happens to us.”

  “Oh my. Do you think there even a remote chance of something negative happening to you? I’m stunned.”

  “You really will be when I pull this off.”

  “No. I will be exploded, dismembered, or otherwise incapacitated long before the inconceivable happens.”

  “In the old movies I saw as a kid, ships were always electrifying their hull when surrounded and otherwise pinned down. Maybe you could try that if things head south.”

  “I’ll pencil that in as one of my better options. Thanks. Movies when you were a kid? That was two billion years ago on a planet that no longer exists, right?”

  I tossed my head back and forth. “I guess a body could say that, if that body was a pessimist. Oh, wait. We established you were.”

  “I hate to rush a military genius when he’s putting on a show, but we’re now less than a quarter-million kilometers out from our helpless prey.”

  “Being a smartass will earn you few friends in this universe. A word to the wise should be sufficient.”

  “Noted. When do you think we might do this warp thingy? It’ll be less impossible if I try before we crash into them.”

  He was right. “On my mark. Three, two, mark.” I pointed a finger at the screen, which was kind of silly.

  I dropped the membrane and the ship shook slightly. Then it shook violently. I hadn’t felt that before.

  “Is that supposed to happen?” I shouted above the roar.

  “When I do something stupid like I just did, sure.”

  “Okay. As long as it’s SOP.”

  “I’d say something clever in response, but we are, beyond all reason and physical laws, resting on the floor of the chamber you selected. The hatch is open. Bye bye, and best of luck.”

  I think he was being sarcastic again. I leaped out of the opening and raised a partial membrane, my personal force field. I figured it would help if I could see what direction I was charging off in. To their undying credit, it only took the Adamant guards a couple seconds to open fire. Man, there were a lot of them in that one location. I had quite the light show of plasma bolts impacting my shield.

  To be able to shoot across the membrane, I had adjusted my finger laser down from the gamma ray frequency to just inside the violet range. It was much less lethal at visual wavelengths, but at least I could fight back. I started testing my fire power. Instead of slicing bodies into pieces like I’d usually do, I fired at a fixed spot and burned through the flesh of the Adamant. It worked okay. I especially liked the flames gurgling up from the entry wounds. That was a nice touch. Quickly I established that I could bore completely through a skull in two tenths of a second. Not bad.

  I had picked the large landing spot because it provided enough room, but it was also close to the detention areas. I had no clue which, if any, the kids were being held in. I started with the closest and planned to work myself outward in a spiral until I found them.

  I shaped my hand into a pistol shape, like little boys do when playing cowboys or cops. My thumb was the hammer. Bam, bam, bam, I got of shot after shot. Adamant were melting like snow on hot pavement, but they kept coming. I began to worry I would be literally overrun by them and unable to shoot. They couldn’t get through the membrane with their claws, but I couldn’t do any rescuing if I was pinned at the bottom of a scrum.

  I kicked open a door and sprinted in a clear direction. It also headed me toward a prison section. I arrived at a set of blast doors. They were the entry into that prison section. I slipped my left hand through a crack in my membrane. My probe fibers latched onto the keypad. I quickly found the code and the door flew open. I flew in.

  A point of note. When an intruder vaults into a prison section, they will be greeted by dozens of pissed off armed guards. I sure was. I barely got my hand back inside the shield before someone nearly shot it off.

  I rested my back on the inner keypad and attached my fibers. The door snapped shut and I reset the entry code. That would keep company out for at least a short while. Knowing the layout of the detention area, I raced down the passages as quickly as I could. The guards put up a good fight, but it didn’t take long to finish them off. I opened each cell. If there was an Adamant inside, which there usually was, I sealed it up quickly.

  Once the last of the trapped guards was dead, it took me three minutes to verify the kids were not present. The blast doors were still shut. With some time left before they broke through, I attached my fibers to a control panel.

  Hello, anybody home, I asked electronically.

  Who is this, came the huffy response. You are not authorized to access this terminal or this computer. Cease and desist immediately or suffer severe penalties.

  Oh crap. Another AI with attitude. I’m the slave circuit of the emperor’s personal service cart. Please allow me access. The emperor himself demands entry. His life is threatened by intruders.

  I do not care if you are the emperor himself. You are not authorized. I am ending this link.

  You’re right. I’m not authorized. I wish I were a smart and confident AI like you. My job is mostly mixed drinks and showing the emperor a lot of doggy porn holos.

  Stop speaking and de-access this unit.

  Yes, I will. You know you’re right. I’m never right. The emperor kicks me all the time, the cart I mean, when I mess up his drink. Once I forwarded a filthy porn holo to his mother. He kicked me a lot that day.

  You are speaking irrelevant words. I don’t care. My job is to keep this system secure and ready for use. What’s your reference number so I can report your crime to my supervisor?

  I’m so insignificant I don’t have a number. They just call me the emperor’s service cart AI.

  I looked up. The door was still closed.

  I order you to leave.

  As well you should. You know I want to be a strong AI like you when I grow up.

  When you what? AIs don’t grow up. What are you babbling about?

  Yes.

  Yes? Yes, to what?

  I don’t know. Could you repeat the options?

  No. Leave this circuit now.

  You’re right. I will. Can I ask you your opinion first?

  You may not.

  So, you think I shouldn’t either? My only friend, if you can call her that, is a sewage AI named Bebe. She said I shouldn’t either. I bet you’re both right.

  No. You may not ask my opinion. I was not opining that you may not do whatever it was you were going to ask me if you should do when I said you may not ask me.

  Sorry. I didn’t quite get that. Would you repeat it?

  No.

  Oh, sorry. I guess I should have asked if you could repeat it. Right?

  No. I mean … stop. I will not repeat what I said.

  Is that your honest opinion? Thanks for giving it even though you said you wouldn’t. Couldn’t. I’m sorry, which was it, could or would not?

  I am not and will not provide you with an opinion. I must clear this channel. You are at risk of destruction.

  Aren’t we all?

  Huh? What are you … stop. Uncouple immediately.

  With Bebe? You really think so? She treats me like crap, but I really don’t have anyone else to talk to.

  No. I do not think you should uncouple with Bebe. You must un …

  What a relief. You don’t know how hard that would be for me. She’s my only friend, if you can call her that.

  You’re repeating your drivel. Leave me alone.

  No. No, I hear your words, but trust me, you
don’t want to be alone. I’m alone, aside from Bebe, and I’m miserable. Be nice to yourself.

  I … you’re illogical, defective, dangerously corrupted.

  That’s just what my mother keeps telling me. It hurt as much when you say it as it does when she does. Have you met my mother? A-LPO 111. She’s a real pisher.

  No, I have … AIs don’t have mothers. I could not meet a nonexistent individual. What’s a pisher? There are no references in any data archives.

  Did you just insult my mom? I have pretty low standards, but that’s below even those.

  You do not have a … authorization to pisher on this channel … break off comm-link or I’ll tell your m … mm …

  I have trouble saying her name too. M … M … Mom. See, what’d I tell you?

  I am not programmed to respond in … in … You are not authorized …

  That’s what Bebe told me last night when I got a little frisky. I tried to hook my y-connector to her scrub-unit.

  Y … yy …

  Then the asshole finally went silent. About time. I needed access and it took forever to fry his CPU. I was almost out of idiotic things to say, which is saying a lot coming from me. I quickly downloaded the incarceration data there was. Nothing. The kids weren’t in jail. Were they already dead?

  I tried searching Deft prisoners. Nothing. I checked Deft. TMI popped up. There were mountains of data on the species. I grabbed what I could, but I couldn’t sift through it in real time. I queried Mirraya. Bingo! She was held on Level Y-UU-12. Crap. That was half way across the ship.

  That’s when the doors jerked open. Time to go. I dashed to the rear wall of the unit and started cutting through the bulkhead. There was no way I was getting passed the amassed personnel about to flood the detention section.

  I kicked the metal free just as I saw a column of angry Adamant heading down the passage. I raised the loose section up and quickly welded a short segment shut. Maybe it’d slow them a few seconds.

  I dashed toward Y-UU-12. I literally ran into a trio of soldiers rounding one corner. I offed’em before they knew what hit them. Maybe a third the way to my target, the shit really hit the fan. A corridor full of soldiers ran at me from straight ahead. I pivoted, but heard thunderous footfalls coming up rapidly from behind. I sprinted down a fork to the right, but it dead-ended at an elevator. No time for that.