Frontline

by Z H Brown

  “As for you, Private Tread, I would like you to see if there is any information inside Delta that could give us a new clue. I realize that I could have another technician do it, but for now I would prefer to keep this information as confidential as possible.”

  Tread continued to stare at Delta before answering. “I will do what I can, sire, though I must warn you: in my…zeal to prevent death or injury, I used my ion blaster at full power. It’s possible, even likely, that the blast completely wiped his memory banks.”

  Xandarius nodded. “A grim outlook, but still, even if it turns out to be true, your actions saved my ship, my crew and myself, and for that I cannot fault your actions or your methods. We won’t know for sure until you look, though, so the sergeant and I shall converse, while you begin your work.”

  With that, he turned toward one of the computer screens set into the wall. He gestured to Ansaria, who came over to join him. She shot a look back at Tread, who looked back at her resignedly before he began prying off the deactivated bot’s casing.

  Xandarius and Ansaria went over the information within the Voidbox. The last time she had seen its contents, Tread had been the one investigating them, and only now did Ansaria realize how much the Replanoid had summarized for her. A half dozen documents displayed seemed to pertain to the disappearance of one of the Imperial Security Agency's higher-ups that had set all of this into motion. Under those was page after page of network reports, cross references and time stamps that Rall used to backtrack all the known and suspected sabotage acts.

  Xandarius initially questioned Ansaria about some of the suspected attacks, asking if they fit with her experience. Ansaria tried to decipher the dry, bureaucratic wording to understand exactly what happened in each incident. She was determined to use her experience to ensure that this saboteur never succeeded again.

  Ansaria was so engrossed in her task that she had almost forgotten Tread was with them. It wasn’t until he called out to them that she remembered, startling her out of her contemplation.

  “Your Majesty, sergeant, I believe I have something.”

  Ansaria and Xandarius came over to rejoin Tread. Black and red wires connected the shell-less Delta with a small terminal resting on the examine table while the android was perusing the data on his TIG.

  “Let me begin by saying that my earlier fears proved unwanted: my blast did not delete the contents of the former majordomo’s memory; indeed, I now believe that it was just that which preserved the information.”

  Both Ansaria and Xandarius looked at Tread questioningly. He continued: “Previous attempts to study the control signal were hampered by the saboteur’s tendency to erase the hard drives of the machines it controls. Agent Rall was able to uncover enough evidence via circumstance that he was able to piece together enough of a picture to work with. The information contained within Delta’s remains collaborates one of Rall’s leads: the control signal, while relayed throughout the length of the Empire, originated in the Milalthrus system.”

  The name struck a chord with Ansaria. By the time she had turned back to the screen she had previously been studying, Xandarius was already over there, scrolling through the digital files and documents until he found the relevant one.

  “Yes,” said Xandarius thoughtfully. “Milalthrus, that’s where Rall began his investigation.”

  “Correct, sire,” said Tread. “Given the fact that the signal that was directly controlling Delta at the time originated in that system, combined with the information Agent Rall uncovered, it is likely the saboteur is based in Milalthrus.”

  Ansaria felt like there was another piece of the puzzle that had yet to be put into place. She wracked her brain, trying to connect familiar phrases with events she remembered. Finally, she had it.

  “That’s also where Reno originated from,” she said.

  “Correct as well, sergeant,” said Tread. “The Reno android was developed by Siladon Industries, which controls the only colony in the system.”

  “Then, is Siladon guilty of collusion, or are they unwitting pawns?” mused Xandarius. He stroked his beard in thought for a few moments. “Ah, but I forget myself; the two of you have provided immeasurable aid once again. It is clear the time has come to reward all of you for your efforts.”

  Ansaria was unsure what he meant. She was about to say as much when the Emperor continued.

  “Why don’t the two of you rejoin your squad? I must confer with my command staff to plan our next move. Once I have made my decision, I shall make an announcement that will explain everything.”

  Ansaria and Tread exchanged a look before bowing in acceptance. As Tread cleaned up his work area, another thought struck Ansaria. Deciding to act before her nerves got the better of her, she approached Xandarius.

  “Your Majesty, forgive me, but there is something I must ask: did you inform anyone about the situations on Myrthal and Brakka?”

  Xandarius, who was engrossed in the screen displaying Rall’s intel, addressed her in a distracted manner.

  “I have put events into motion: an investigation will be launched into both incidents, and once the results have been compiled, I will be able to take the appropriate actions.”

  Ansaria digested his response. The displeasure with which he had spoken last night had implied that Xandarius would have half the fleet involved in aiding the affected worlds if only he could. Now, it sounds like he had passed the matter down the chain. His answer was…well, frankly, disappointing.

  She supposed that as Emperor, Xandarius couldn’t handle every matter personally. He had an empire to run, a war to wage and a saboteur in his metaphorical backyard that needed immediate tending to. At least something was being done, and the people weren’t left to fall through the cracks.

  She saw Tread waiting for her by the door; she bowed one more time to her Emperor. “Thank you for… tending to the matter, sire. Until next you summon us.”

  Xandarius never once looked up from his screen as Ansaria and Tread left the lab.

  As they rode the lift, Ansaria decided to confront Tread.

  “Something’s bothering you, Tread,” she said, gently. “Mind telling me what it is?” Tread waited so long to reply that at first Ansaria thought he was ignoring her. She watched the decks, levels and sections flit by on the lift’s readout.

  Finally, he spoke. “I regret the action I had to take with Delta,” said Tread, his gaze fixed on a point on the wall. “It was not his fault that he was turned into a puppet by an outside force, and yet I was forced to execute him all the same.”

  Ansaria considered what he had told her. “Just about Delta, not Reno as well?”

  “Reno was a war machine from the beginning. It would have likely met its end on the battlefield regardless of who was controlling it. Delta was a loyal Imperial bot, and I didn’t hesitate a moment to shoot him.”

  Ansaria put a hand on the androids cool, sleek metal shoulder.

  “You saw that Delta was a threat to you, your squad and the entire ship. You did what any soldier would have done in your place. I do understand where you’re coming from though... I hadn’t thought about how awful it must be to be turned against your friends and comrades so easily. We really dodged a plasma bolt with you, Tread. If you still had your relay, you might’ve been controlled, too.”

  Tread was silent again, only speaking as they neared their destination.

  “Sergeant…Ansaria, I must ask you: if somehow I do become controlled, and I become a threat to you or any other Imperial, I want you to promise that you’ll stop me; by any means necessary.”

  “You have my word as a soldier, and as a friend, Tread. But I also promise that I will never let that happen to you.”

  When they returned to their quarters, Ansaria was surprised to find Alvara and Critter there as well.

  “We just got back,” said Alvara. “Slog’s doing well. He was awake when we went to see him, though the docs wouldn’t let us stay for long. We filled him in as best we could, what
with the audience of doctors, nurses and med-techs scrambling all over. He’s looking forward to seeing the two of you.”

  “What about his….arm?” asked Ansaria. “Did they reattach it?” Emotions rapidly played out across Alvara’s face before she answered.

  “I’m afraid the arm was a loss, Sarge,” she said, gently. “Apparently, all that dirt and grime wasn’t good for the limb or the wound. There’s no guarantee that they could reattach it without complications, and even if it didn’t fall prey to infection, it would likely never regain its full use.”

  Ansaria sat down on the edge of a bunk.

  “There is some good news, though,” continued Alvara. “They’ve lined up an artificial replacement limb for him. They had one on board that was near enough to his size that it won’t take long to adjust it properly. Once the docs are convinced that Slog’s strength is returning, they plan on attaching the new arm.”

  Relief flooded through Ansaria. After hearing that Slog’s arm was gone for good, Ansaria was dreading having to see her friend. The thought of seeing him so grievously wounded, and under her watch had set a heavy carbon weight in her chest and tied her stomach into knots; at least now Slog would have two arms again, even if getting used to a synthetic one would probably take some time.

  Ansaria and Tread proceeded to fill Alvara and Critter in on what they had discovered. They were both surprised and delighted at having finally learned where the saboteur was hiding, although Ansaria could tell something was bothering them.

  It was Critter who spoke.

  “‘Out of our league’? What are you talking about?”

  Critter chattered once more.

  “I know that this is beyond anything we were trained for, but after everything we’ve been through, I don’t think we can claim inexperience as an excuse for ducking out. M, do you feel the same way?”

  Alvara chewed on her lip before answering. “I’m not saying we should actually go AWOL or anything Sarge, but Critter does have a point: we’ve been through the Pit and back in the last week, and I don’t see what good a squad of sand-kickers is going to be to the Emperor.”

  “I understand your worries, but right now, all we can do is wait. The Emperor said that once he had conferred with his military advisors, he’d let everyone know our next course of action. For all we know, His Majesty is getting a ship ready to take us home as we speak. Until then, I think we should all kick back and enjoy some well-earned rest.”

  This seemed to satisfy everyone, as they all dispersed to do their own thing. Tread decided to explore the ship some more, while Alvara and Critter decided to check out the vessel’s gym. As for Ansaria, she once more stripped off her heavier armor, laid down, and went into a fitful sleep.

  It wasn’t until after the ‘evening’ meal, when Ansaria’s squad had all returned to their temporary dwelling, that Xandarius made his announcement.

  It came out over the ship’s announcement system, but it was also being broadcast on the net as well. Ansaria and the others huddled around the computer in their quarters to watch the message.

  Xandarius was seated in his throne on the bridge of the ship. Behind him, the purplish-black void of Zero Space indicated the ship was racing toward a new destination.

  “Loyal citizens and soldiers of the Empire,” he began. “I come before you today with grave news: we have received word that an unknown enemy force, possibly related to the Golden Imperium, has been responsible for acts of sabotage and deaths throughout the Empire. I myself only narrowly escaped an assassination attempt thanks to the efforts of a brave squad of soldiers.”

  Ansaria felt her face go red at hearing the Emperor praise her and the others to the rest of the ship.

  “At this very moment, the Throneship is en route to join up with a fleet specially assembled to combat this new threat. Within two days, we shall arrive, at which point we shall find and destroy this enemy in the shadows!”

  Ansaria imagined the cheers his statement had likely caused. Despite her physical and emotional exhaustion, Ansaria had to admit that the prospect of hunting down the adversary that had caused them so much grief was appealing.

  “But not all that I have to share with you is ill news. No, I also have a special announcement: after rendezvousing with the fleet, a special ceremony will be held to reward those that saved me, my ship and possibly this great Empire: Sergeant Ansaria Dormus and Oasis squad!”

  Ansaria felt her legs go week. Alvara wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

  “In two days, the Empire will be able to look upon their saviors as they receive the honors due to those that go above and beyond the call of duty. More announcements will follow as we prepare for combat and celebration. Until then, always remember what it is you fight for: for peace! For freedom! For the Empire!”

  With that last rallying cry, the image of Xandarius faded to black.

  Chapter XXI

  Award Ceremony

  While we do not have any definitive proof that the Goldies are involved in the security breach, I think the fact that they knew where to find us after one of the highest members of My court was compromised speaks for itself. As soon as the investigation concludes, I will personally lead a fleet to Tamia to end this- decisively, and on our terms.

  --Xandarius, speaking with his senior military staff via encrypted transmissions.

  Xandarius was indeed forthcoming with more information. Early the next ‘morning’ aboard the Throneship, messages were dispersed to the entire crew. They warned about sending sensitive information over the Imperial Information Network, as well as avoiding opening any messages that looked suspicious. They also advised the synthetic and cybernetic crew members to temporarily disable their remote network uplink, at least until a counter-measure to the malicious control commands could be found.

  Every time Ansaria and the others left their quarters, they found the ship to be buzzing with talk and excitement. The crew was swapping theories, rumors and speculation like pathogens; some thought that there would soon be a rematch with the Golden Emperor, and this time their ship wouldn’t be sitting helpless. Others thought that they were heading to confront a secret organization that was working with the Imperium covertly.

  Despite the praise that Xandarius had heaped upon her and her squad, as well as the impending ceremony, the ship’s crew still seemed hesitant to approach Ansaria and the others directly. This was both strange and welcome to Ansaria; while she was a little overwhelmed by her new celebrity status, she was grateful that she had not been swarmed by curious comrades-in-arms. Everyone seemed to regard her and the others with awe, which was especially unusual given that they were aboard the flagship of the fleet, the mobile headquarters of the Emperor. In the mess hall, the gym, even the hallway and the lift, Imperial soldiers stole glances at her and the others, whispering to each other or sending messages over their TIGs. Ansaria didn’t mind the whispers or the looks too much, it was just she wasn’t used to so much attention.

  They had tried to visit Slog, but he was still recovering from the surgery. However, the attending physician had assured Ansaria that unless there were complications, Slog would be able to attend the ceremony.

  The two days that separated their rendezvous with the fleet passed both alarmingly quickly and agonizingly slowly. Xandarius had not called upon Ansaria, Tread or any of the others since they had examined Delta and the Voidbox. The sergeant figured that the Emperor was busy planning his strategy for the coming confrontation, but part of her had expected to be part of his council (even if the idea still made her insides swim.) Instead, they were left to their own devices. Ansaria spent most of the time in transit in the gym with Alvara, working hard to stay in shape despite her shoulder wound. Tread had struck out on his own to explore the ship, and Ansaria felt that he was still grappling with his actions regarding Delta. She hoped that he could find some solace amongst his own kind, perhaps even speak with someone that had been in a similar situation. Critter preferred to spend
his time in the ship’s hangar, inspecting all of the top-of-the-line fighters, crafts and smaller vessels that populated the massive flagship and although he didn’t say it, Ansaria could tell that he missed Slog.

  They all made sure to meet up and take their meals together, though. Ansaria had been dreading the thought of eating alone, seeing it as the perfect opportunity for an individual or group to jump her and pump her for information. With the squad all eating together, along with the complement of guards that seemed to have been posted full-time in the mess, they were able to eat in peace.

  It was the day before their scheduled arrival when they found something waiting for them in their quarters. They had finished their ‘evening’ meal and had returned to their quarters without incident. As they entered, though, they found four sturdy containers waiting for them, each one placed on their respective sleeping places.

  The case was the same metallic gray color as their armor, with the Imperial dragon symbol emblazoned on the top. They exchanged glances, unsure of what had been delivered to them.

  “Well, we’re not gonna find out anything by just standing here staring at them,” said Ansaria as she approached the package on her bunk. She reached out and touched it, only to suddenly hear a quiet, synthetic voice say:

  “Biometric scan confirmed; Sergeant Dormus, Ansaria; acknowledged.”

  The case opened with a hiss, the lid slowly sliding up. Inside was what appeared to be a breastplate, and, judging by the size, it was just the right fit for her. She picked up the piece of armor and saw more parts stacked underneath. The armor was the same pristine, stark white armor of the Royal Guard, including the helmet. The others all went to their own cases and keyed them open. Inside each one was a set of armor identical to their sergeant’s (aside from size and proportional differences.)

  “I guess this is what we’re supposed to wear at the ceremony,” said Alvara as she traced her fingers over the smooth material, following the different lines and contours. Ansaria looked down at her own armor, the set she had worn since Oasis. She had insisted that everyone give their armor a thorough cleaning once it was clear that they had some down time. She had removed most of the burns, scorch marks, blood, dirt and mud that had accumulated on her during the mission, but the outfit was far from presentable. Some of the more stubborn marks had refused to come out, and the armor had gashes, pits and cracks from all of the combat it had seen. The largest hole was the one on her shoulder, where she had been stabbed by Reno. While she knew that she could have it sent in for repairs, or even requisitioned a new set, something had prevented her from doing so.