by Andrew Beery
In the absence of inertial dampeners, 46 gravities feel like… well, 46 gravities. The human body, even one with modern Marine enhancements, is not designed to handle that type of pressure for any amount of time at all. Translation, I shattered virtually every bone in my body and would have most certainly died had not my state-of-the-art medical nanites put me back together again.
In many ways, this was ironic as my former self’s injuries on the Dante’s bridge were far less severe. In that case, however, an unshielded EMP had neutralized my medical nanites before they could do their thing. For those that are curious, feeling several hundred bones knit over the course of half an hour or so is an experience not to be missed.
When I was finally able to sit up and check the pod’s status, I was pleased to see I was headed in generally the right direction. I love it when a plan comes together. I instructed the onboard AI to carefully adjust my course, so my escape pod would insert itself in orbit around the moon in two days’ time. I could only hope that the Fabricator fleet was still in the general vicinity or my efforts to reach Deniva would have been in vain.
About three hours into my journey I discovered another problem with my ‘just wing it’ approach. It seems a fifty-megaton explosion is hard to miss. Now given the state of the three ships that had been shredded by the Fabricator fleet prior to their arrival at Deniva, explosions of this type were not unexpected. What was unexpected was an escape pod making course corrections after the explosion. Apparently, Fabricator sensors were every bit as good as ours.
I watched as one of the massive ships broke orbit and headed in my general direction. It accelerated quickly and covered the one point four-million-kilometer distance is less than two hours.
I used the escape pod’s optical sensors to give the behemoth a good look-see. The surface bristled with strange protrusions. The hull material looked like no metal that I could identify… I wasn’t even sure it was metal. There was a shimmering that covered the entire surface. I wasn’t sure if it was some type of active shielding or something totally different. What I did know, was that this ship looked nothing like the Dante or her sister ships… not just from a design point of view but from a core technology point of view. It was as alien as alien can get,
While I waited, I took an opportunity to pop an MRE in the microwave. Healing a hundred or so broken bones and everything that gets torn-up in the process kind of takes it out of a guy. I was famished and, somehow, I had the feeling that once the Fabricator ship arrived, I would not get a chance to grab a bite again for a while… if ever.
Shortly before the huge ship arrived, my communications system lit up. An old-style radio signal was being beamed in my direction. The signal was a standard request to open a channel. It was obvious that whoever was flying that boat had had previous contact with GCP member worlds because the frequency and protocols used were the standard for non-FTP communications.
It seemed rude not to answer but I wanted the Yorktown to have a record of the conversation. It took me a few minutes, but I managed to finagle a link between my RF transceiver and my quantum-entangled FTL comm network. The Yorktown would now be privy to what I was hearing.
I toggled the send button on my communications console. “This is Anthony Stone… how can I help you?”
A synthetic voice responded immediately. “This is Processing Unit Two-One-Eight-Eight.”
I wasn’t expecting such a cold and sterile response. The race in control of this fleet either could not… or chose not to… communicate directly. It might have simply been an inability to create the required vocalizations. Alternately, it could be there was no one onboard that spoke GCP standard English. In either case, it appeared I would be speaking with a computer.
I had no idea whether anybody on our side had ever been able to talk directly with our adversaries. In point of fact, there were a lot of things I had no idea about. It was about this time that I wished that I had gotten the full download of Anthony Grant Stone memories. This operating with half a deck made life tough. The problem was… I didn’t know what I didn’t know.
“Ah… Processing Unit Two-One-Eight-Eight… it appears you have had a busy day. May I ask what your intentions are?
“Our mission is peaceful.”
Now, I have to admit, peaceful is not how I would have characterized what they had just done to the Deniva system. I felt a certain degree of anger creeping into my thoughts. I didn’t know for sure because my memories were still incomplete… but I had the feeling that I was the type of person you didn’t want to make angry.
“Twenty-One Eighty-eight, can I call you that? Processing Unit Two-One-Eight-Eight seems a little formal. I just watched what you did to the population centers on Deniva. That does not match my definition of ‘peaceful’,” I said in a voice that I hoped masked my gathering fury.
“Your response includes several non-sequiturs,” the synthetic voice continued. “How does my unit designation imply formality? How do my previous actions relate to my current objectives?”
“About that,” I said. “What exactly are your current objectives?”
“My objectives are to establish peaceful relations with indigenous populations and to eradicate those populations that have been tainted by the Ashtoreth incursions into this galaxy.”
“Right... And you don’t find those objectives in conflict with one another?”
“That is a non-sequitur. Sterilization and peaceful relations are not mutually exclusive.”
By now the Fabricator ship was right on top of me. Where was a good nuke when you needed one?
I decided that there was little I was going to gain from a discussion with this ‘Processing Unit’. I hoped that if I could meet the people pulling the strings I might have a better chance learning something useful.
“Twenty-One Eighty-eight, how about you invite me onto your ship and we can discuss things face to face.”
“Your comments continue to contain non-sequiturs, but we can infer your intent and are agreeable. Please wait while we establish environmental conditions suitable to your biological requirements.”
Chapter 15: Hide and Seek…
It took the Fabricator ship about ten minutes to do whatever it was they were going to do. I had an odd feeling that I would not be coming back to the escape pod once I left. In some ways this irritated me. I had worked my butt off loading the pod up with as many supplies as I could. If I was a betting man… and I had a feeling that I might well have been one… I would bet whoever these Fabricators were, they were going to light me up like last year’s Christmas Tree once they learned my progenitor had made extensive contact with the Ashtoreth.
The good news was that my brain, defective though it was, was being recorded via an FTL link to a repository on a platform called WhimPy-101. Anything I learned could and would be recovered once the lab guys figured out how to reintegrate my current memories with those of my previous incarnations.
I decided it might be a good idea if I set up a few festive surprises of my own. It’s surprising what a creative mind can come up with when properly motivated.
As I waited, I had to wonder what the Ashtoreth had done to so greatly piss these people off that they would cross intergalactic space just to wipe them and anybody they ever met away. I mean there is such a thing as carrying a grudge too far. You would think that at a certain point ‘forgive as you have been forgiven’ has got to come into play.
A few minutes later, the Fabricator’s robotic spokesperson got on the horn and told me that my vessel would be brought aboard their ship. I was to wait until signaled before exiting my craft as they would need a few minutes to restore a breathable atmosphere in the bay they were going to tractor me into.
This was somewhat reassuring as it demonstrated a desire on their part, however temporary, to keep me alive. I didn’t expect it to last but hey… hope springs eternal.
There was an ancient Russian proverb, Doveryai no proveryai, trust but verify. I would trust… a little�
�� and verify a lot. I pulled a compact plasma rifle from the escape pod’s emergency supplies. The rifle folded in half, so it could be easily stored. I placed it in a small tote, along with some extra power packs and strapped the whole thing to my back.
The bay I was pulled into was pitch black. I was hoping that at some point the Fabricators were going to turn the lights on. I had packed a number of things in the escape pod… but a flashlight was not among them.
I needn’t have worried. Moments before I received the ‘all clear’ signal from my hosts, the bay lit up. The color of the light was a little off from a human perspective, but I guess that is to be expected.
As I exited the escape pod, I noted the temperature was just a touch warmer than I would have wanted but not unduly so. The air was moist. I think the thing that impressed me most was that the bay was pristine. On a human ship there would have been the occasional nick or scratch that let you know the place had been used. Such was not the case here at all.
I knelt down and touched the deck. It was ceramic. I had a feeling that was important, but I couldn’t remember why. As I stood up again, I looked around. I had expected somebody or something to meet me. Surely the captain of this ship was not expecting me to walk aimlessly around.
Again, I need not have worried. A door slid open on the wall nearest to my pod. It was about thirty meters away. A pair of armored humanoids stepped forward. The armor was also ceramic and as black as the darkest night. It looked familiar, but again I couldn’t place it.
The synthetic voice filled the bay. “Welcome Anthony Stone. Please follow the escorts to the interrogation chamber.”
You know that uncomfortable feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you get an F on your report card and you have to show it to your father? While it was technically true that said experience had never actually occurred to the ‘new me’… I nevertheless got that feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Who said anything about an interrogation chamber?” I asked.
“Perhaps the wrong word was used,” the synthetic voice attempted to reassure me. “We wish to extract information from you. The room we have constructed for this purpose is designed to facilitate this procedure. Is interrogation not the right word?”
The entire time the Fabricator squawk box was speaking, those two black armored humanoids continued to walk towards me.
“I thought we were going to have a conversation… you know… a two-way exchange of ideas and information?”
“Illogical. We require information. We have no need to share information.”
“Yeah, well that’s the thing,” I said. “I’m not so sure I want to participate if this is going to be one-way.”
“Irrelevant. The room we have constructed for this purpose is designed to facilitate this procedure.”
The soldiers… and I was sure at this point that was what they were… were almost upon me. If I was going to do something… I was going to need to do it soon.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to grab my coat,” I said while turning back towards the escape pod which was a good ten to fifteen meters away at this point.
As I expected, the black armored figures moved to intercept me. I waited just a moment for them to get into the right position. In my pocket was the remote control to the little surprise I had worked up earlier. Who doesn’t like a surprise? I pressed the only button. What happened next was a thing of beauty if I do say so myself… and I do.
The attitude control thrusters on the pod fired in unison. The thrust vector was controlled by the pod’s AI. I had instructed it to determine my position and set a vector that would have the pod pass me on the right with at least five meters worth of clearance. The pod was to obtain the best speed possible.
My hope was to use my surprise to knock a hole in a wall… or at very least, create a distraction. What I got instead, more closely resembled a 2-7 split in bowling.
The pod lifted off the floor and shot forward at an incredible speed. It whacked the first black armored soldier and sent him flying into the second. Both were driven a good hundred meters further into the bay. I wasn’t sure what type of medical insurance they had but I hoped it was a good one.
Apparently, the black ceramic armor was not rated for collisions with two metric tons of flying escape pod. When the first soldier finally stopped rolling I could see the armor was pretty badly busted up. Something was decidedly odd about what I was seeing but I couldn’t put my finger on it. The second soldier was again moving in my direction. He was running on one leg and two arms. The other leg had broken off and was laying on the deck. It was easily one of the most unusual things I suspect I’d ever seen… although in fairness I couldn’t be sure.
I bolted for the door that had opened in the wall. I wasn’t sure how far I would get but every inch of this ship that I got to see… everything that I learned was potentially valuable information that the Admiral could use.
***
After ten minutes I finally managed to lose the three-legged black clad soldier that was attempting to follow me. As I ran, I kept looking over my shoulder. The thing, which I was beginning to think was nothing more than a robot, kept losing parts of itself. The more I thought about it, the more the oddness of the smashed one in the landing bay made sense.
The corridor I was traveling down was made of the same ceramic-like material as the bay. The only exception was the occasional use of glass and some strange-looking artwork on the walls. The rooms with the glass windows all seemed dark. I couldn’t see into any of them. Except for the materials used, this could have been any ship produced for humanoid use within the GCP.
There were two other odd things I noticed. First, everything was pristine. There was not a single scratch or scuffmark on anything. On a human ship there would have been the occasional fingerprint or a hastily wiped window streak. None of that was present here.
The other oddity was the complete lack of a crew. The ship was obviously designed for a crew, but I had not seen hide nor hair of anybody… this was of course assuming the denizens of this ship had hide or hair… one could never know in situations like this.
As that last thought wound its way through my noggin, I started to hear something ahead of me. It was a light scrapping sound like a broom being dragged on the floor. To be honest, had the ship not been so absolutely quiet… I doubt I would have heard it.
It seemed like the sound was slowly approaching my position. This forced me to consider my options. First, I could attempt to enter one of the many doors I had been passing. Second, I could confront whatever was making the approaching noise.
That last had the advantage of obtaining more information about our adversaries. The down side was that there was a very real possibility that they would take me to that interrogation chamber they seemed so proud of. Call me silly, but I really had no curiosity with regard to the aforementioned chamber.
The third and final option would be to run the other way. I rejected that one out of hand because I had already seen what there was to see in that direction. Besides, it remained a viable option if the second one, entering a random room, didn’t pan out.
The doors I was currently passing led into rooms that had those darkened glass windows. I decided against entering one of them because, with my luck, my entering might trigger an automated light. I reasoned that ‘said light’ would be an immediate giveaway. There was no point in advertising where I had gone.
The soft scraping sound continued to approach my position. I began to think I might need to backtrack when I finally passed a room that did not seem to have a window facing the corridor.
I examined the door carefully. Several of the other doors I had passed had some type of control surface on the wall next to them. This one did not. I touched the door and to my surprise, it opened immediately by recessing into the wall. The room beyond was pitch black.
As I stepped forward, the door swished closed behind me. The ceiling in the dark room immediately began to gl
ow with the same reddish-yellow that I had observed in the bay my escape pod had been pulled into.
To say the room was strange was a bit of an understatement. It featured a number of flat surfaces that were at odd angles to each other. Whereas the rest of the ship that I had seen so far meshed with human aesthetics… this room most certainly did not.
I wished I had some way to communicate with the Yorktown. I would be curious to hear what they thought of all of this.
“Praise be to the Creator!” I heard in my mind.
I about jumped out of my skin.
“Hello?”
“AG, this is JJ. Bugger me mon, ya been driving us nuts over here.” This last was also a sound that seemed to emanate from within my head.
“How is it we are talking?” I subvocalized.
“Ya truly are a bit daft aren’t ya. Ya got a subdermal communication module embedded in your chest. How da ya think yer noggin gets recorded?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess I kind’a thought it was automatic.”
“Aye, it is,” JJ confirmed. “It’s the same do-hicky that lets us talk like this.”
“OK, so why is it only now that I’m blessed with your sage insights?”
A new thought-voice entered the conversation. I recognized it as Admiral Kimbridge.
“Commander, we couldn’t communicate because the system requires a conscious effort on your part to activate. You must have thought about communicating with us. The Yorktown’s AI interpreted the quantum entangled message as a desire to open a direct dialog and flagged the officer on watch… in this case Lieutenant Hammond.”
“This is one of those… if I had all my marbles I would have known this, things… right?”
“I’m afraid so AG,” the Admiral answered softly in my head. “There is another issue you should be aware of. The longer you wait to resurrect, the harder it will be to reintegrate your old and new memories.”
“OK, so I have a ‘best used by’ date… how long do I have before it’s a serious problem?”