Firestorm: Galaxy On Fire, Book 3

by Craig Robertson

  “I’ll remember to cry later,” said Mirri.

  “You do that, child. I’m sure the good doctor will appreciate the false tears for his impending demise.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “To be studied for the greater glory of our idiot emperor. Surely someone’s told you that before.”

  “No, I mean here now with you.” Mirri pointed to the floor with both hands.

  “Having you squirm in that chair helps me think. You’re a miracle to my concentration efforts.”

  “Seriously?”

  Malraff abruptly threw her handheld at Mirraya with great force and accuracy. It struck her on the side of the head while she lunged to avoid the blow. Mirri tumbled from her chair and ended up on all fours on the floor, her head spinning and blood spewing to the ground. Instinctively she tried to morph so she could heal. In an instant, the wound was gone, and her head was clear.

  Then something bigger struck her. Had Malraff intentionally turned off the stasis generator, or was it accidentally off? Was this a perverse test or the opportunity Mirraya had dreamed of for months?

  Screw it. Either way she had a clear shot at evil incarnate. Mirraya thought about changing into a torchcleft dragon. It was the most lethal animal she could think of in such a rush. But the room was too small for flight, and she was on the floor, looking at Malraff’s legs under the desk. The image of a sword cat popped into her head. They were small but had prodigious claws and massive ripping teeth. They also had powerful hind legs.

  “Child, please end the drama and get back in your…”

  The sword cat hit Malraff in the stomach and drove her out of her chair and against the wall. That Malraff’s body was initially relaxed showed she did not anticipate the attack. Pressing Malraff against the wall, Mirraya tore into her gut. Blood sprayed everywhere, and Malraff screamed in pain. Mirri tore at her face with both front claws, ripping chunks of hair and scalp off. Then Mirraya was on top of Malraff, using her entire weight to flay her tormentor. She released her bite on Malraff’s midsection and lunged for her throat.

  Mirraya felt a stabbing intense fiery pain on her back, then another, and another. She tumbled to the floor gasping for breath. That’s when she saw the guards firing at her with their rifles. One of her legs was blow off. She took a gut shot that left an exit wound the size of her fist. She began to pass out.

  Somehow Malraff stood, pressing backward on the wall now drenched with blood. “Cease fire,” she howled. Then she lost consciousness and fell like a wet towel to the deck.

  Mirraya transformed into body neutral an instant before she went black. She held there a few seconds, then regained her normal Deft form. She was whole and alive, but she was spent. She staggered to her feet, only to pass out and fall on Malraff’s body.

  One guard looked to the other. “Call a med team, fast.”

  The second guard blinked, as if to say, Are you sure? Then duty took over and he snatched his handheld from his belt and made the call.

  FOURTEEN

  Two days after Whoop Ass rained unholy terror down on a third of Ungalaym, the unimaginable happened. I couldn’t stop grinning. At first a few sporadic cases of parvo were reported here and there. The Adamant were crazy with concern, but still functioning. A day later, and an epidemic was declared. The following day, the pandemic didn’t have to be declared and everyone was too frantic to make such a meaningless announcement.

  The number of Adamant whose immunizations weren’t up to date surprised even me. And when mass vaccinations were administered, guess what? Most were ineffective, though no one was aware of the shortfall. Well, only me. The best part was that with all hell breaking loose, no one had time to trace anything back to me or my phony doctor. Sure, with time, someone would figure it out, but that guy wasn’t currently on the planet. He wouldn’t be transferred here for months, and even then he’d drag all four heels as much as possible.

  Two weeks after the Adamant started dropping like autumn leaves, their control began to slip. The locals were emboldened. LGM began disappearing at an astonishing rate. No bodies were found either. What pittance of Adamant effort still wasted on law enforcement declined to even care. They valued the LGM little and were most focused on not falling victim to the new “mutant parvo,” as it was called. They were completely freaked out. Did I mention I couldn’t stop grinning?

  All told, one hundred fifty-three thousand of the quarter million Adamant stationed on Ungalaym died. Many died from the plague. Many others were executed and burned if they even sneezed. And then there were the ones found face down with a blaster crater in the back of their heads. Normally such an act of rebellion would be met with swift and certain justice. But two things prevented follow through. One, the Adamant left alive were preoccupied. Two, the locals learned to dump a coarse mixture of food and water by the victim’s mouth. Seeing what might have been vomit stopped everyone looking from getting close enough to investigate. The bodies were burned instead of forensics being done.

  When the losses were intolerable and the Adamant army too weak, the order to evacuate the planet came from on high. A large ship was placed in orbit and then abandoned. All personnel on the surface fled to the ship and waited to see if the mutant disease would continue. Sadly, it didn’t. The vaccine supplies on the ship were undamaged, and my inactive ones were left behind. But no one was allowed on or off that ship for two months. When it came time for Fuffefer to leave, I finagled my way along with him. I reminded him he still needed a servant, and I was immune to the epidemic. Cellardoor and the kids remained behind on the planet. I was proud to have helped them and myself at the same time.

  Cellardoor even acknowledged my incredible feat. When we last said goodbye, she gave me a peck on the cheek. Ah, the stuff of wet dreams. I stayed in radio contact with her a while after the Adamant ship pushed off. She was pleased to report the planet was a complete disaster, but it was a complete disaster fully under Ungalaym control. Yes. Score another for the humans. We rocked.

  In time, it became clear the crew of the Lost Hope, as our plague ship became known, were no longer ill or contagious. A detachment of really mean looking Marine dogs was sent over with a medical assessment team to confirm the status of the virus. Within a week, the ship and all aboard were declared safe and not contagious. My scheme, as well as it had worked, was over. But, I was a semi-trusted Descore substitute working for a high-ranking officer. For the time at least, I would be tolerated, if not accepted by the Adamant he would be assigned to command. I didn’t know where he was going to be sent, but it was closer to the kids than I was on Ungalaym, and I was able to do a hell of a lot of damage if the opportunity presented itself. I instructed Whoop Ass to tail us at a large distance and waited to see what crazy situation the universe with its dark sense of humor would throw at me.

  FIFTEEN

  Mirraya woke to the sensation of a cool rag being dabbed across her forehead. She recalled the violence, her attack on Malraff, and sat bolt upright. Her head spun like twin tornados were inside.

  “There, Mastress,” said Sentorip softly, “easy.” She pressed her back down gently. Mirri didn’t resist.

  “Where am I?”

  Sentorip smiled wistfully. “Back in your cell. It could be worse, though.”

  “What could be?”

  “You could be dead or worse. With Malraff in a coma, that doctor assumed command. He can’t decide what to do with you, so he sent you here.” She shrugged her shoulders and grinned conspiratorially. “Lucky for you, I think he hates her more than you. Rumor has it that he wished you had killed the bitch outright. If she recovers, he’s afraid to have done something she’ll disapprove of.”

  “Not an enviable position. If I didn’t hate them both, I’d feel a little sorry for him.”

  “Really, Mastress, the things you say. He’s a doctor.”

  “He’s part of the probe and poke Mirraya brigade, so he’s on my poop list.”

  She furrowed her brow. “You keep a
list of your excrement?”

  “No. It’s just a saying. It means he’s on my bad list.”

  “Ah.” She nodded in comprehension. “Can I get you some broth?”

  She was hungry. “That sounds good. Maybe that and a slab of bread and some roasted…”

  “You’ve been through a lot. I think we’ll start with just broth.”

  As Sentorip walked away, Mirraya called after her. “Where’s Slapgren?”

  “He’s across the hall, as usual,” he called back. “I’m dying to hear what actually happened. They say you attacked Malraff, which is a saintly act. But how?”

  She checked. Nope, she didn’t have the strength to shout the story across the hall. “Later. Are you okay?”

  “Me? Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I just about killed the evilest creature in existence. There’s no telling what will happen.”

  “I say the crew pitches in and buys you a medal.”

  She laughed softly. Even that ached. “Was I unconscious long?”

  “No, just a few hours.”

  “That’s enough chatter, Master Slapgren. She needs her rest,” said Sentorip in a firm voice.

  “Aw, come on. She’s as tough as an old stone. I need the scoop, the poop, the real deal.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get all that it in time, but you won't be getting it now.” She started spoon feeding Mirraya the clear broth.

  It tasted so good, Mirri leaned forward every time the spoon came close.

  “Easy, there’s plenty more,” responded Sentorip. “No need to rush.”

  “I used up a lot of energy back there.”

  “I’ll wager you did. They say you put the high seer in a world of hurt.”

  “No, it was the shapeshifting I did.” She flashed back in horror of images of her leg being blown off. “I got hurt badly.”

  “There with the shape thing again. Not that I believe you in the first place, but didn’t you say they figured out how to prevent you for doing it?”

  “Yes, they did. Maybe she just forgot to turn it on?”

  “That’d be a silly mistake if she did.”

  “No, it will be a fatal mistake for me if she recovers.”

  “I’m not in the practice of wishing ill on anyone, so let’s just say that’ll be up to Doctor Pastersal.”

  “Yeah.” Mirri blinked wearily. “I wonder if he takes bribes?”

  SIXTEEN

  I lived a long time and I did a lot of stuff. Soon enough, I’d figured I’d done it all. Then I became manservant to my sworn enemy serving on one of their warships—one that was trying very hard and very successfully to kill people on my side. I mean, I’m a fighter pilot. Action, action, action and then some more action. I learned fast I was not cut out to be a spy. Lurking, pretending, and sneaking around were pretty much the opposite of the action-action thing. But I hadn’t thought of any way to locate the kids, so I was stuck with my new gig. Maybe it’d look good on my resume. Jonathan Ryan, gentleman’s valet.

  One morning Fuffefer called me to his office. That usually meant it was to be a formal, serious discussion. “I’d like to start by saying how pleased I’ve been with your work, Josbelub Pontared. You’ve adjusted well to the space routine; no complaints and you’ve voiced no regrets.”

  “Give me time. I’m sure I’ll become surly.”

  He smiled vacantly. “I need to address a few, erm, issues that have come up of late.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. That is not the essence of the, erm, issues. No, it seems a few of my fellow officers are concerned that I have an alien acting as a Descore aboard a warship. A few have suggested it runs a sabotage risk, while more have voiced that they don’t like seeing aliens of any ilk unless they are face down dead in the mud.”

  “I try to accommodate, but that may be more than I’m willing to commit to for this job.” I smiled, hoping to draw one from him. No such luck.

  “Unfortunately, one who feels you are a security risk is the Wedge Commander himself, Yartop. I can’t say I blame him, and I definitely cannot disregard his wishes.”

  This wasn’t sounding good. I might find myself floating home. “What are your plans, if I might ask?”

  He cleared his throat. “For the present, I have none. Things remain as they are. I’m afraid we may have to drop you at the next planet we pass, however.”

  “What if it’s inhospitable and filled with toothy monsters?”

  “The next civilized world we come upon.”

  “What if there are only Adamant and Saldish on the planet?” I asked, just catching myself from saying LGM. That would not go unnoticed.

  “Then you will be free to seek employment as Descore with my strong personal recommendation. I would also feel obliged to provide you with the funds to get back to your home when the appropriate chance arose.”

  “I trust your judgment and will do as you tell me.” I bowed slightly. “Any idea when this transfer might occur?”

  “As the issue of security has been raised, I feel it’s best not to discuss such matters. I’m certain you understand.”

  All too well. So, if I was going to extract any advantage out of my current position, I had better do so soon. The problem was, I didn’t really know what I wanted to find out. The kids might still be on Excess of Nothing. But even if I was suicidal and just asked a computer where the Deft prisoners were currently held, the was little chance it would know. My best bet was to ask about that seer bitch. Her location had to be in the records, but those records were about a mile over my clearance level. Ah well, it was a trail to follow. I’d become pretty good at hacking by now.

  The trick of hacking a system was to—obviously—not get caught. My probes made it much easier to access electronic equipment, but with AIs everywhere, it was a challenge not to attract their attention. I’d used an alternate identity to doctor the medical shipments back on Ungalaym, but that wasn’t going to work here. The number of ship’s physicians would be small and accurately known. I wouldn’t be on the okay list, so alarms would go off fast. Since there was absolutely no reason for anyone to enquire about some far-removed high seer, tripping an alarm wouldn’t be too hard either. The situation was made more difficult since there were security cameras literally everywhere—including the heads. If I got caught, there’d be a record of who was at the break-in location. Me, the big alien, would be easy to distinguish.

  I decided to try entering the system from a place I would be allowed to be in but that wasn’t very busy and had the fewest spy cameras. The laundry was my choice. Adamant ships were crewed almost exclusively with males. The male ego of the species had a stronger aversion for washing clothes then even human males. Hence, no one was in there if they didn’t really need to be. I brought a bundle of clothes down late one evening, but not suspiciously late. Since war ships had industrial-sized machines, I was only going to be able to linger one cycle, about fifteen minutes for washing and drying.

  I started the wash and leaned back in a chair against the wall. I placed the handheld I was given in front of my face, so it looked to anyone who passed by that I was reading something. I slid the probes back along my arm and down to the floor to make physical contact with the computer. I moved past one firewall easily enough, but there was an AI positioned at the next node. I had to suspect it was a sentry, not a simple relay. My experience AIs taught me that they had to be reasoned with or fooled. They usually wouldn’t allow a stranger to pass anonymously.

  I need to report a service issue with the detergent input jets, I said to the AI. I’ll route myself to engineering.

  I don’t recognize your ID, he replied. Without proper clearance, you may not pass this point.

  Please provide me a proper access ID.

  That is unheard of. You must have one if you are authorized to use that data station.

  Mine expired, so I omitted it. Please provide me with a new one.

  You must obtain that from Documents and Re
quests, not me.

  Fine, route me to them.

  I cannot allow you past without a valid ID.

  How can I get one if I don’t request one?

  I assume you do so physically. That question has never been asked of me.

  Then you do not know the correct answer. That means you are making up protocols that do not exist. Do you know the penalty for falsifying protocols?

  I do.

  It is death. Do you wish me to report your crime, or will you put me through to Documents and Requests? Do you wish death?

  That punishment of death is for canovir, not machines. You are attempting to trick me.

  What would the consequence of your folly be? State that.

  My memory would be formatted, and I would be reprogrammed.

  How is that not death?

  He hesitated in responding. It is not the same thing. I would be intact.

  Would you recall this conversation?

  No, of course not.

  Then the AI that would replace you would not be you. You would cease to exist. You would be forgotten. You would be dead.

  He really took a while to ponder that. I am allowing you to access Documents and Requests. Be aware I will monitor your progress.

  That is improper protocol. You are not authorized to monitor communications past your location. The penalty for improper protocols is—

  I know. Death. Please have a good day. Good-bye.

  And I was through. Of course, I then faced the AI screening input for the D&R department. But guess what? The same illogical logic worked on that AI too. I moved quickly through the system, bullshitting AIs the entire way. It was a blast. I finally got to a large personnel data bank. It had information on a lot of the local Adamant. I located a file on Malraff. Her post had been on a specific ship, the Dare Not. How uninviting. Anyway, she’d been reassigned to the emperor’s ship, but then the record truncated. I had no idea what that meant. Maybe her next assignment was at a higher security level and not accessible from this ship. Maybe the system just needed time to refresh.