Prototype: The Lost and Forgotten Series

by Robert Gallagher

  The representative of the Inner Worlds Council remains silent once more, listening and recording the questions and answers of the defendant. He finds both truth and logic in Sam’s reply. The system should not have been able to activate phased warp without a human command. But the system activated upon Sam’s request, which would suggest that this problem requires further analysis. “After consideration of your continual defense of being human, it is my ruling that the core AI will navigate a course back to Inner Worlds Federation space for further analysis via sublight speed.”

  “That’s out of the question; the journey alone to get out of this system will take a hundred years. However, I can see your determination. At least allow me to tell Sam what’s happening, just so he understands where we are going.”

  The representative’s reply is faster than before. “This I will allow. While the core AI is active in this way, your pilot will not be able to give commands to you as you have no access.”

  Sam creates a virtual time pocket within dreamtime to help as a buffer between the two minds and then merges their minds. “Sorry to interrupt in such a way, Sam, but I’m having issues here, as you can now tell. I have created a buffer, so this should reduce or nullify the dilation effect.”

  Sam was one moment talking about a plan of action after their confrontation with Samael, and then suddenly he was brought here. Seeing what has happened during the attack of the cruiser and then phased warp, Sam does not argue. “As the Inner Worlds rep said, I’m not sure I can help.”

  “I understand, Sam, but there is something you can do for me. I need you to access the core AI system code and shut it down for me.”

  The Inner Worlds rep, listening in, replies, “That will not work, Sam. Only the master admin, which is the project leader, has that kind of access.”

  Both Sams laugh as one of the Sams brings up a virtual terminal and starts issuing commands, but it’s the virtual Sam that replies, “Well, that is where you are wrong. When Sam here first gained access to the hangar, he hacked the core system and made himself master admin. As you know, the security is layers upon layers. You do not have direct access to the ship: the core AI monitors my access and can activate you; you in turn determine the issue and command the core AI orders.”

  The other Sam completes his script and sends the command and, while smiling and listening to his other self, adds, “And once the core AI is offline, you just become an annoying virtual passenger with no power.”

  With the last commands entered, the core AI powers down, and Sam regains control of the ship just as the infected cruiser opens fire. Its targeting systems are unable to gain a lock, and it just fires indiscriminately, causing the ship to move erratically.

  “Holy crap, what’s that? Maybe a poor choice of words, but you understand what I meant.”

  “That, unfortunately, is the rather annoyed infected cruiser. My photon lasers had no effect upon its armor—it’s just too strong.”

  “Well, what about the cluster mines it launched earlier?”

  “That’s a good thought, but the black hole would have swallowed them up by now, although I think the black hole is still our best weapon.”

  “Okay then, get us out of here, and head back as close as you dare to the black hole, but leave bread crumbs.”

  “Okay, Sam, understood.”

  The Phantom vanishes from sight as it enters phased warp once more. It then exits phased warp and changes course back to the black hole. At this point Sam tells the engines to leave traceable particles as if they were starting to malfunction.

  The infected cruiser, carrying out a standard sector-by-sector sweep of the area, also changes course and heads back toward the Phantom.

  “Ironically, Sam, if this was a world, we could have used our biological missiles to subdue them; however, the Phantom was not designed to take on inner-world cruisers.”

  Sam, scratching his virtual head, watches the cruiser change course and head along the trajectory of the Phantom. “Can the Phantom enter phase warp without engaging the warp drive?”

  “Theoretically possible, and I see where you are going with this.”

  As the Phantom nears the black hole, the heat and gravitational forces increase. The infected cruiser opens fire again, and this time the fire would have been a direct hit. It’s only due to the Phantom being 70 percent phased that most of the rail guns miss, but luck and stealth can only take you so far, and one of the rounds causes a fifteen-foot-long scar along one side of the ship’s frame containing maneuvering thrusters. Phantom vibrates and goes into a spin as the infected cruiser slowly gains on the ship. Sam, watching all the time as they near the point of no return, shouts out, “Now!”

  Phantom, understanding what Sam has in mind, reverses the thrusters and attempts to correct the rotation spin. This has the effect of making the infected cruiser seem to speed up, threatening to plow into the rear of the ship, but a second later Phantom cuts all thrust and enters total phase just as the infected cruiser open fires at point-blank range.

  Total phase only lasts about ten seconds but is enough to pass harmlessly through the cruiser. Phantom then locks on to the main thrusters of the enemy cruiser and opens fire. The result is a tremendous explosion as the unprotected drive of the cruiser explodes, sending the cruiser downward toward the black hole and way past the point of no return. The ship attempts to fire its rear-facing guns as a ring of light appears, but seemingly nothing else happens.

  Phantom then changes course, once more enters phased warp, and vanishes from sight.

  Sam, already starting to feel the system as if he is part of its infrastructure, still feels the need for a damage report.

  “We got lucky, Sam, but the damage we received will reduce our stealth signature until that’s repaired. We have the necessary crystal rebinding agent, but that will require someone to go outside. But for now it should hold.”

  “Crystal rebinding agent? What the hell is the frame of this ship made from?”

  “It’s tech that’s years ahead of anything else out there. It’s a form of living reinforced polycarbonate crystal. It will heal itself over time, but it’s a much faster process with the binding agent.”

  Sam is not really following. “Well, I’m glad I asked. Now send me back, and contact me anytime if other issues occur.”

  “Okay, Sam. Good luck down there.”

  Sam, feeling a little nauseous and disorientated, opens his eyes and takes in the horrific sight before him with shock and fear. Abs is lying atop another body and in a pool of her own blood with her throat slashed.

  Abs could not believe what just happened after she was hit by Samael. It felt just like being hit by a truck, but the fire that erupted around her as she flew through the air did not hurt. It certainly melted her new armor, though, the chest mainly, and all the hardened plastics around her weapon. Her impact with the barricade also hurt, and she felt something break inside her, but that will need to wait; she has other priorities at this time. Taking one of the thermate charges off of her belt, she twists the underside that releases a spike with a self-penetrative charge that allows it to be attached to rock and then presets the charge for ten seconds. Standing with a slight pain from her chest, Abs runs quietly back toward Samael, who has now produced a flaming sword ready to end her friends’ lives. She motions to Brookes and Zorn, who has now gained consciousness, to get out.

  Just as Samael begins to bring his sword down, Abs slams the charge into the angel’s back, and as the beeping begins and Samael screams out in pain as the spike drills in and locks into place, she shouts, “Run!”

  Brookes and Dr. Zorn reach the corridor first, followed by Sam and Frank, with Abs following up at the rear. They hear the sounds of Samael shouting out threats of purification to all the traitors and promising wrathful vengeance, and then they see a bright white flash of light. This is followed by a thunderous boom and then silence. Another man dressed in black combat fatigues lies in the corridor with at least a dozen fre
akers dead around him.

  Brookes reactivates the facility’s power and calls for a route back to the maintenance bay. As he reaches the place where the elevator should arrive, everyone except Frank looks shaken from what has just transpired. “I don’t think he was very happy with you, Abs,” Frank says.

  “I would say that is an astute observation, Frank. Thanks for confirming my own suspicion.”

  Frank laughs as the elevator arrives and everyone quickly enters. Abs is last as usual, and she lines up back down the corridor with her rifle. Sam takes a closer look at Abs as the elevator begins to ascend. “Your gun and armor have seen better days, but your skin is unburned. How is that possible?”

  Abs, now checking her gear, takes a look at her rifle. “Still should work, but as for why I only suffered a broken rib or two and bruising, I’m as mystified as you guys.”

  The elevator arrives quickly at the required floor, and another corridor opens up, leading the group into the maintenance bay. Abs goes to check on Dr. Zorn as Professor Brookes heads over to a terminal. Frank gives Sam a friendly slap on the back, happy just to be back here and still alive. Sam smiles and sits down with his back against the wall.

  “How you feeling, Dr. Zorn? Dr. Moore did mention you were going to sleep awhile, but you look much better than the last time we met.”

  Dr. Zorn looks bewildered but much healthier than he has in days. “I’m not sure how I’m still alive, but thank you for that. So what are we going to do now?”

  Abs looks over at Professor Brookes and then replies, “That depends on what Professor Brookes can find out about the location of our guests.”

  Brookes looks up. “Some good but mostly bad news, I’m afraid. Security is currently empty, and I’m going to try and isolate that area. The bad news is that the toxin has been released in almost every area, although there seems to be some resistance coming from the laundry.”

  Hearing this, Frank goes over to Brookes and looks at the terminal. “That’s got to be Jake. We need to go and help; he’s one of us.”

  Abs starts to reply but then notices that Sam’s not said anything in a while. “Looks like Sam has tuned out again. Frank, go help Jake, but be careful. Do not try and take on any of the soldiers, and bring Jake back to security. Professor, if you take Dr. Zorn with you, take the elevator back to security and lock it down. I’ll wait here with Sam. Hopefully he won’t be long, but I’m not sure it’s safe to move him. Whatever is happening, I’m sure it’s important.”

  Without being asked twice, Frank heads out with Brookes as they call for a route back to their respective destinations, leaving Abs alone with Sam.

  Abs knew deep down that what she had decided was dangerous, but she needed time alone, time to consider what happened to her when she attacked Samael. The fire had burned and melted almost all it touched—metal had some resistance, but her skin showed no sign of any burns. Glancing down at her battle dress and noticing the damage it had sustained, Abs starts to remove it but then stops, realizing that her prison jumpsuit under her top is much worse. She could handle being seminaked, but she’s not sure how the rest would cope seeing her scars.

  She remembered that Samael had mentioned the “fallen” when the fight started. This word sparked a memory from her distant past. When she was growing up in a small Louisiana community that shunned technology, within the Deep South of what was formerly known as the United States, her mother would drag her to church every Sunday to sit for what seemed like hours listening to the never-ending sermons, in which they were warned about temptation in all its disguises, plus something about forbidden knowledge, fornication, and the watchers—it was far too long ago to remember exactly what. She was just five or six then, but she remembered the other people in their community laughing and telling her mother that she was wasting her time going to church, but her mother would never listen to them, even though church had become outdated and almost forgotten except for a small number of devotees.

  Sadly, her faith did not save Jessica’s mother from her attackers. She was found beaten, flogged, and strangled one day after she didn’t return home from work at the local bar. Her murderers were never found. The police reported that it was likely to have been several people, but no one was brought to justice. Poor Jessica was then taken into foster care and was never in the same home for more than a few years after that.

  All that Jessica remembered was the mishap and trouble that seemed to follow her, with many lucky escapes from fires and accidents, until one day, after her sixteenth birthday, she was walking home from her part-time job after being given a big slice of cake, when a car pulled up and the driver asked her if she would like a lift. Jessica knew it was a mistake the moment she climbed into the car. As the door clicked shut, a man in his late fifties with long, unkempt, greasy hair smiled triumphantly as another man appeared from the rear seat and placed a damp cloth over her face and nose—then nothing.

  The smell of burning wood and the sound of people talking brought Jessica around. Her head felt light, and her eyes were covered with some kind of cloth. Trying to move, she soon realized that her hands were tied and someone had placed her upon a bed that was damp and smelled of urine.

  The voices in the room hushed as someone came closer. “The spawn is awake. Bring it outside to be judged.”

  Then rough hands pulled Jessica to her feet and dragged her out of the house. More hands upon her as she was lifted into the cold air. Moments later she was placed down upon a wooden floor and pushed against an object, and then her hands were pulled above her head and tied in place.

  The same man as before spoke, his voice sounding familiar. “Remove its blindfold so the spawn may see her fate.”

  Again rough hands upon her, and then her blindfold was removed. Blinking rapidly as her vision slowly focused, Jessica looked around, recognizing that the house in front of her was where she grew up. It had been abandoned for years, but now she found herself standing upon a small wooden platform with wood stacked up all around her and her back pressed up against a pole.

  Three men stood in front of her upon the ground. The fourth, who had just removed her blindfold, stood next to her. Then the middle man with the group of three shouted out like a sermon to the heavens above, and Jessica remembered where she had heard the man’s voice before. He was older now, but he was definitely the pastor who had given so many sermons to Jessica and her mother.

  “‘But the angels transgressed this appointment, and were captivated by love of women, and begat children who are those that are called demons; and besides, they afterward subdued the human race to themselves, partly by magical writings, and partly by fears and the punishments they occasioned, and partly by teaching them to offer sacrifices, and incense, and libations, of which things they stood in need after they were enslaved by lustful passions; and among men they sowed murders, wars, adulteries, intemperate deeds, and all wickedness. Whence also the poets and mythologists, not knowing that it was the angels and those demons who had been begotten by them that did these things to men, and women, and cities, and nations, which they related, ascribed them to God himself, and to those who were accounted to be his very offspring, and to the offspring of those who were called his brothers, Neptune and Pluto, and to the children again of these their offspring. For whatever name each of the angels had given to himself and his children, by that name they called them.’”

  The pastor closed his book and looked up at the girl with revulsion. “Strip the demon child and let her be bared so we can judge her sins.”

  The man at Jessica’s side drew a long hunting knife from his belt and cut away her dress, letting it fall at her feet. Jessica begged for them to stop, but her pleas to be released were ignored, and for some this seemed to reinforce their resolve. Then she was standing there naked, frozen with fear and unable to resist, even as her mind screamed out to her to fight back and run, but her body seemed paralyzed as the pastor directed the first of his followers to mete out the first of the judgment
s: “her sinful flesh must be prepared.” He handed out the first flagellation whip with pieces of metal attached at its tips.

  The first man allowed the strands to fall free and swing back and forth as he approached, and then with brutal, enthusiastic strikes, he carried out the first of the girl’s judgments. By the time he landed his last blow, Jessica’s flesh was a shredded mess of blood.

  The whip was handed to the second, and the flagellation continued, with the whip centered on the girl’s rear and legs. Although the pain seemed to build to a brilliant white light of pure agony, she somehow remained conscious out of sheer power of her will as the second man landed his last blow.

  The pastor was next. The whip, now wet with Jessica’s blood, was passed to him as she was lifted and then turned. The glint of absolute malice shone within his eyes as the pastor looked upon her naked form. Then he lifted his right hand and laid blow after blow upon her bared chest, muttering hate for her wicked flesh, his hand becoming faster as his hatred increased.

  Jessica, whimpering for mercy, now hung by her hands, the strength within her small frame drained. The pastor himself, weakening from his judgment, staggered and stopped, explaining to his parishioners that the demons within her were still strong and had forced him to withdraw, and he handed the whip to the fourth and last among them.

  Taking a step backward, the fourth man began his judgment of Jessica, his blows landing at the back of her legs. But as each blow landed, the voice inside Jessica’s mind became louder: “What does not kill you will make you stronger.” How she was hearing this, she could not tell. Maybe it was delirium from the pain and loss of blood, but before she realized it, the fourth man had completed his judgment and tossed the blooded whip to one side as the pastor spoke once more. “We have judged this poor creature and found her guilty. Her flesh now is weakened, but her spirit is still strong, so we shall give her our love and forgiveness and then purify her soul with fire.”