Eternal Frontier (The Eternal Frontier Book 1)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “Duly noted,” Coren said. “My apologies, Alpha.”

  “And thank the gods,” Sofia said. “We could use another woman around here to deal with these two dunces.”

  Alpha glanced between the others, evidently not quite understanding Sofia’s implications.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Tag said to Alpha. “I’d really like to talk with you more about what you’ve been up to. I have a lot to ask you, but right now we’re trying to escape from some very dangerous enemies.” He summarized their plight with the Drone-Mechs and their certain capture or death if they didn’t ensure the ship was concealed by the antisensor strategies. Each moment he spoke he grew increasingly impressed by the intelligence emanating from the droid’s understanding eyes. “You think you can help Coren?”

  The droid nodded. “I believe so.” She stood behind the Mechanic and watched him for several minutes in silence. Anticipation swelled in Tag as he waited for her to do something, anything to expedite their escape from the encroaching Drone-Mech sensors. Then she sat next to him in a neighboring seat, and her fingers dashed across the terminal. “This is correct, isn’t it?”

  Coren’s good eye went wide. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

  The two worked in tandem. Coren hunched over his keyboard, rewriting code and redefining algorithms. His velvety fur became slicked and matted to his head by sweat. Alpha showed no signs of distress or urgency other than the rapidity at which her fingers worked. With fifteen minutes until the Drone-Mechs reached sensor range, Alpha and Coren’s commands and inputs still sprinted across the holoscreens. The silence, interspersed with the rattle of fingers against terminals, dragged on as Tag and Sofia stared intently at the map on the holoprojection.

  “We’re looking at imminent first contact,” Sofia said. She paced near the rotating holoprojection, her eyes glued to the blip signifying the Drone-Mech ship.

  “What’s the status on the antisensor systems?” Tag asked.

  Coren didn’t say a word, too engrossed by his work. He seemed to be working more frantically, with his jaw clenched and his back hunched as he typed and gestured over the terminal. His good eye scanned back and forth over the lines of code.

  “We are minutes from completion,” Alpha said, her voice conveying only rigid coolness.

  “Good, because minutes are all we have left,” Sofia said. She wrung her hands together. “Should we arm the Argo’s weapons?”

  Tag shook his head as he scrolled through status reports at the captain’s station. “Doesn’t look good. Torpedo bays are empty right now. Energy and Gauss cannons and point-defense systems might half work, but they still need repairs. Even our main grav impellers are nonfunctional.”

  “Damn,” Sofia said. “We’re basically dead in the water?”

  “There’s no ‘basically’ about it,” Tag said. “We’re fried. Coren, Alpha, you hear that? Three minutes to go.”

  “I hear that, Captain,” Alpha said.

  Coren remained silent.

  There was nothing left to be said or done. This had to work. This was it. The sound of Alpha and Coren’s tapping continued. One minute. Sofia’s chest swelled in nervous, deep breaths, and Tag chewed his bottom lip.

  “Executing changes,” Coren finally said.

  “Successful reintegration with ship systems,” Alpha said. “However, debugging remains incomplete. I have not validated the integrity of this new code.”

  “Understood,” Tag said, watching the holoprojection. The perimeter of the sensor detection limit of the closest Drone-Mech ship intersected the Argo. An alarm went off at the captain’s terminal, and Tag silenced it. It still flashed red, bleating: Enemy lidar/radar detected. The Drone-Mech ship drew closer. Tag imagined the sensors probing the landscape, boring through the snow and ice to see what lay hidden in Eta-Five’s clutches, where all four members of the ragtag crew, heaved together by happenstance and misfortune, gazed warily at the map.

  This was the moment that their gamble paid off—or the moment their lives ended in a barrage of pulsefire.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Tag held his breath. Every nerve in his body coursed with pent-up energy as he watched the Drone-Mech ship intersect with the Argo on the holoprojection. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the sleek ship bristling with advanced weaponry, its energy weapons priming, charging, then firing in flashes of blazing blue accompanied by salvos of megaton warheads pounding the landscape and exploding in debilitating radiation, releasing energy as kinetic rounds riddled holes in the charred ruins of the hull and bulkheads, cutting through metal and whatever sinewy remains were left of their bodies.

  He gulped.

  Still seated, Coren looked no more confident. His snake-like pupil dilated, and his thin lips stretched taut. Sofia closed her eyes, and her lips moved silently, restlessly, muttering some unheard prayer or chant. And Alpha One watched, her head cocked, devoid of emotion. Tag wondered if thoughts of mortality filtered through her half-biological, half-computer brain like the rest of them. Did she share in their fear? Did she understand apprehension and death and life and joy? Did she understand how short her life had been and how short it would be when they were snuffed out by the Drone-Mech ship?

  His questions went unasked and unanswered.

  The dot representing the Drone-Mech ship blinked, continuing on a straight path as if it hadn’t sensed the Argo. It soared on, scanning and scoping out the planet, and the warnings glowing on the captain’s terminal disappeared.

  No pulsefire rained from above. No warheads detonated. No kinetic rounds cut through them.

  Sofia hooted in victory first and wrapped her arms around Coren, then forced him to dance with her in jubilation. He looked uncertain and surprised, but a smile broke across his face, and an audible sigh of relief escaped his scaly lips. Tag let out a long breath, tension flowing from his relaxing muscles, and approached Alpha.

  He clasped her cold shoulder. “Thank you. You helped save our lives.”

  “The honor is mine,” she replied. “You gave me the gift of life. It is only in recompense that I must preserve yours.”

  Tag couldn’t help the almost delirious laugh that shook through him. “I’m glad you say that now. You tried to kill me when you first woke!” He wasn’t sure where his joy came from. The irony of it all or just the thrill of escaping a tense, near-death experience.

  “I apologize,” Alpha said, her digital eyes and mouth conveying remorse. “My neural connections were not yet mature. And I was operating on base animal instinct alone, not yet fully aware of who or what I was.”

  “No apologies necessary,” Tag said, wrapping his fingers in hers in a friendly embrace. “It was my fault for expecting you to instantly understand the world around you. It can take us humans decades before we ever really become mature or self-aware enough to do what you’ve done for us today.”

  Alpha smiled a little at that.

  “And some humans never really grow up,” Sofia said. “So you’re really better off than the lot of us flesh-and-blood buggers.”

  “Unfortunately, if we’re going to see any of those flesh-and-blood buggers again, we need to get off Eta-Five,” Tag said. “I know you just finished saving our asses, but you think you two can do it again?”

  “Absolutely,” Coren said. “Do you believe me now?”

  Tag studied the Mechanic, understanding his intent immediately. He wanted to know whether this small victory had been enough to prove his allegiance. “I’m still deciding. But I’ll be more convinced if you can restore our AI systems. Then we’ll have a chance in hell of going somewhere.”

  Coren let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. What systems should I start with?”

  “Repair bots first. There’s structural and engine damage to fix before we can make it out of Eta-Five’s atmosphere.” Tag faced Alpha. “Can you perform the astronav trajectory calculations for hyperspace travel?”

  “No, sir, I cannot,” Alpha said. “I’m limited by my biological h
alf and do not have the calculation capabilities of the AI navigation systems.”

  “Fair enough,” Tag said. “Coren, that’s the next priority. After getting her spaceworthy, we need to be able to make the jump to hyperspace.”

  “Can do,” Coren said.

  “What about weapons systems?” Sofia asked.

  “Those can be repaired last. I’m more worried about getting out of here than exchanging any fire.”

  “A wise decision,” Coren said. “Even if we get the ship running one hundred percent, it’ll be outclassed by the Drone-Mechs. If we stick around to take on seven of their ships in a head-to-head battle, we’ll stand no chance.”

  Alpha’s feet rang against the deck as she approached Tag. “Captain, if I may make a suggestion, you might consider restoring the med bay regen chambers.” She pressed a cool hand to his shoulder wound.

  He recoiled slightly, but her touch was gentle. “The ship is more important right now. I’ll live.”

  “Captain, your injury causes me concern. Will you at least join me in the medical bay? I may be able to offer some assistance without the aid of the regen bay.”

  “Fine. Sofia, Coren, will you be okay for the moment?”

  “Happy to help as needed,” Sofia said.

  “I’ll be occupied for the next day or longer with restoring the AI systems,” Coren said.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Tag said before following Alpha One to the medical bay.

  Once there, she scoured the cabinets for autoheal gels. At Tag’s side, she peeled away the blood-soaked fabric around the energy-round wound. Tag winced slightly, but the pain proved more bearable than he’d anticipated. The nerves had mostly been burned to a crisp, helping numb the area, and his earlier use of tissue-regen bandages had allowed the first layer of collagenous tissue to form. Plus, he had the added benefit of the painkillers the EVA suit had automatically administered. Alpha probed the scabbed tissue with care, as if she was a practiced doctor.

  Three hells, he figured she was. Though her mind was new, as the M3 droid, she’d assisted him with about every injury and illness he’d treated on the Argo. And there was no telling how long the med bay droid had been serving in the SRE before working with Tag. But this was the first time she’d had the self-awareness and capability of administering treatment of her own volition.

  She gently applied the autoheal gel, and Tag, still amazed the synth-bio brain had actually worked, internally lauded her choice. The gel contained a cocktail of proteins and nascent, immune-privileged stem cells that would induce rapid healing of the charred and damaged flesh in his shoulder. She then placed the bandages that would hold the gel in place and eventually dissolve, eaten away by his healing cells. Soon his shoulder would be whole again.

  “Is that better, Captain?”

  “Much.” Tag rotated his shoulder slightly, testing the bandages. “Very good for your first autonomous treatment.”

  “It was easy to learn from the medical texts, videos, and demonstrations available on the ship’s intranet.”

  “Easy, huh?” Tag let out a soft chuckle. “You realize humans need almost a decade of specialized training before they treat patients on their own, right?”

  “Yes, of course. I do recall that fact.”

  Tag found it difficult to fully accept that this gentle droid had once tried to kill him. But his past week so far had been fraught with surprise—mostly bad—so he supposed it wasn’t too strange to see such an abrupt change in the synth-bio droid.

  Still, he hoped to limit future surprises. “Listen, Alpha, we need to make it to the Montenegro.”

  “Yes, I understand, Captain.”

  “I need your help.”

  “I am happy to execute my duty as a crew member of the SRES Argo in any capacity of which you deem I am capable.”

  “Very good. I appreciate your enthusiasm. But as you adeptly pointed out earlier, Coren is not a human nor a member of the SRE. I’m not sure yet if we can trust him.”

  “But why would you let an enemy of the SRE aboard the Argo?”

  “The answer is kind of complicated. However, the simplest explanation is that he might be the only one of us able to reverse the virus preventing us from getting our AI systems back online.”

  “So you have granted him access to these sensitive components of the ship’s infrastructure in hopes that he will be true to his word? Yet you are not sure if he will subvert the ship’s systems or cause you and Sofia harm.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “I see. Complicated indeed, Captain.”

  Tag locked eyes with Alpha. In her shining face, he could see his own reflection. “That’s where you come in. I want you to keep an eye on his work. Should you have any questions or concerns, if you think maybe he’s sabotaging our systems instead of fixing them, alert me at once.”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “Thank you. It may be best that you don’t let him know about this conversation. Is that clear?”

  “Very much so. Is there anything else?”

  “No. Let’s get back to the bridge, shall we? We have a ship to fix.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Tag escorted Alpha to the bridge, where they found Coren still hunched over a terminal, transfixed by the code flying across his holoscreen. Unable to contribute to the coding efforts, Sofia seemed bored as she rested in a crash couch with her legs splayed and her hands behind her head.

  “Captain Brewer has asked me to assist you,” Alpha said to Coren, taking her place at a neighboring terminal.

  Coren simply huffed and continued working.

  “Anything I can do, Skipper?” Sofia asked. “As titillating as it is to watch these two hack up numbers and letters, I’d like to do something a bit more useful.”

  Tag felt much the same way. He needed something to keep his mind occupied. His station as medical officer called to him, and he had an idea to help him allay his suspicions of Coren and the Drone-Mechs. “I might have something for us.”

  Sofia hopped out of the crash couch. “And it doesn’t involve swabbing the decks, right?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Good. Because this place is a wreck.” She followed Tag into the passageway. “It’d take longer to clean this ship up than it’s going to take for those two to get the AI systems back in order.”

  “There’s more truth than fiction to that joke.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t joking.”

  They padded down the passageways and climbed down a set of ladders.

  “So, Skipper,” Sofia said, “I love that droid’s enthusiasm. I got to admit, I’m impressed. You did a damn good job bringing her to life. Have you always been in the medical service?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Since your compulsory service?”

  “Ah, not quite,” Tag said, recalling his short stint in the flight officer’s training program. “But for most of my service, yeah. How about you? Were you always in the science division?”

  “That’d be a hard negative,” Sofia said. They paused at a hatch. “I started on a capital ship. Piloted fighters.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding. Lost too many friends that way, though.”

  “Lonely being a pilot?”

  “Only when you’re in an active war zone,” she said. They trod on in silence for a beat as the implications soaked into Tag’s mind. “I got tired of seeing us used as cannon fodder and decided to take a new path to get me out of all the dogfights.”

  “Any chance you can still fly?” Tag asked.

  “Want me to pilot the Argo?”

  Tag nodded.

  Sofia lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal gesture. “Size of the bird isn’t as important as how she handles, wouldn’t you agree?” She gave him a knowing grin.

  “Whatever you say, Lieutenant,” Tag said. “But if you’re not too rusty, I’m happy to hand over the controls to you on the flight out of here.”

  �
�Can’t promise the ride will be smooth, but I’ll give it my best.”

  “That’s all I ask.” Tag ducked into the med bay. He scoured one of the storage cabinets with Sofia looking on then pulled out a pair of biosafety suits. Holding one out to Sofia, he said, “put this on.”

  “You know I’m an anthropologist, right? I’m not some kind of epidemiologist or something.”

  “Yep,” Tag said, already cinching his suit over his limbs. As soon as he finished, he grabbed a black body bag from another cabinet. “But you’ve got two arms and a pair of legs. That’ll be good enough for now.”

  Sofia shot him a quizzical look as she adjusted her gloves. “You got another synth-bio experiment you want to show me?”

  “Not exactly.” Tag led her back into the passageway and down another set of ladders. The corridor led to another hatch, where Tag punched in a code, and the doors drew into the bulkhead with a hiss, and he stepped through. “Welcome to the brig.”

  “You throwing me behind bars?”

  “Far from it,” Tag said, gesturing to the Mechanics’ bodies locked behind the polyglass shield. “I was thinking we might release a prisoner.”

  Sofia pressed a palm to the polyglass. “All right, this is getting a little strange.”

  Tag unlocked the door to the cell. “This might seem a bit morbid, but you and Coren seemed so convinced that there was something behind the psychological changes in the rebelling Mechanics.” He bent over one of the bodies. “If there’s truth behind that hypothesis, we might find an underlying physiological change responsible for this.”

  Sofia sucked air through her teeth then stepped into the cell. “Gods, I suppose you might be right. You are the medical expert on the ship.”

  “Alpha might have that honor now, but I’ll be damned if I let the droid steal my job.”