Vanguard Rising: A Space Opera Adventure

by A. C. Hadfield

  But no, Harlan was not on good terms with him. He’d have to figure something out—assuming they made it back to Atlas Station in one piece. His skin prickled with the hyperawareness one had when expecting to be attacked at any moment.

  The elevator ride was uneventful, and Harlan got his breath back.

  When they exited onto the departure lounge level, his heart sank.

  The place was packed with hundreds of people and abbots alike. Any one of them could be assigned to find and kill Harlan.

  “We’ve got to get through that lot to the transporter ship,” he said wearily.

  The long utilitarian boxlike transporter hung out into space, the front section secured to the dock with a pressurized tunnel that reminded Harlan of an accordion he had once procured from a contraband dealer and went on to sell later, which he regretted.

  Although they were only a hundred meters or so away, they had to cross the lounge, exposing themselves to any would-be attacker. And to make matters worse, they didn’t have long; the transporter was leaving in five minutes.

  “We’ve got to hurry,” Irena said, as though reading his mind. “If we don’t get on that ship, we’ll be stuck here for days.”

  Harlan gritted his teeth against the pain flaring in his shoulder, the wound seemingly getting worse. “We can’t just walk through there; it’s too dangerous.”

  Even as he said it, an abbot dressed in a corporate suit, much like the one that had attacked them in Fizon’s apartment. walked toward them, its attention to the right of the lounge, toward the great glass window that looked out into space. After a few more steps forward, it straightened its head and stared directly at Harlan and Irena.

  19

  Irena gripped the Taser and kept it hidden behind her jacket. She stared at the abbot coming toward them, but it wore a blank expression, making it impossible to read.

  “Harlan?” Irena said, prompting him for some direction.

  He leaned heavily against her and coughed. A few speckles of blood splashed on the floor. He was clearly more wounded than he had let on.

  The abbot continued to come toward them, showing no sign of slowing down.

  “Go, go,” Harlan said, pushing against her with his body.

  Irena stuck her arm through Harlan’s and pulled him away to a section of chairs where dozens of people were waiting for their departure.

  The abbot was just a few feet away now.

  Its eyes flickered slightly, tracking the movements.

  Irena prepared to bring the Taser out, remembering what Harlan had told her about it having a single charge and how she must use it correctly. She’d have to wait until the abbot was right on them.

  She trembled with the anticipation.

  The abbot’s attention snapped to Harlan, then back to Irena.

  Pulling the Taser out of her jacket, Irena readied to strike, but was cut short of attacking when the abbot sidestepped the pair of them and continued on its way.

  Relief flooded Irena’s body, and she put the weapon back inside her jacket with an audible sigh. She tracked the abbot’s route and watched him disappear out of the lounge into one of the many elevators.

  “This is too stressful,” she said.

  “Let’s just stay focused,” Harlan said. “Keep going.”

  “There must be a better way to approach this,” she said. She stopped and held Harlan closer to her so they could speak more quietly. They were just twenty meters away from the first waiting area and had cover in the form of a column, which held dozens of holographic screens imparting information to the station’s travelers.

  “I think I can help,” Harlan said. He was silent for a moment again, doing that thinking thing of his that Irena had noticed. His lips moved in small micro-expressions as though he were talking to someone.

  Irena had wondered whether he was talking to himself, or whether he had some kind of subvocalized communication system with someone off-station.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Harlan said. “I can use the ID chip from the dead abbot to analyze and filter Wi-Fi signals from the QCA to any other abbots.”

  “And that will help how?”

  “I should be able to pinpoint which abbots are receiving instructions. Although I can’t break the encryption, I can see who is receiving messages similar to the abbot that tried to attack us.”

  “Go for it.”

  While Irena was waiting for Harlan to do his computer wizardry, she took in the traffic within the lounge, analyzing the flow of movement.

  She traced the route through the various lanes and columns and open areas to the departure tunnel they needed. She imagined people as data points in one of her modeling programs.

  It reminded her of a weather pattern. Each element influenced the other, but there were commonalities. She noticed how the majority of the traffic remained in loosely contained columns going to and from the departure lounge and the elevators.

  From this, she figured out that there would be a number of approaches they could take to limit their exposure to a threat. By keeping to the walls and columns and keeping other parts of the station to their flanks or their rear, it would reduce the number of directions that they could be attacked from.

  “Okay, I got it,” Harlan said.

  “Go on.”

  “I’m only detecting two others receiving the same transmission. Do you have an AR overlay?”

  Irena shook her head. “I used to have some contacts that provided that, but I could never get on with them.”

  “Well, you need one if you’re to be able to track the two abbots. Have one of mine.”

  With his thumb and forefinger, Harlan pinched the contact lens from his left eye.

  Although the idea grossed her out a little, she knew they didn’t have time to mess around with hygienic niceties. She’d wash her eyes out if she got home safely.

  She took the contact lens and placed it into her left eye. The chip-controlled device blurred her vision for a moment but readjusted itself to correct her slight astigmatism and give her sharper vision than she had before.

  “Okay, you see those two abbots that I’ve highlighted?” Harlan asked.

  “Yeah, they’re on either side of the room. The one you highlighted in blue is scanning the room. The red one on the right seems to be heading this way.”

  “Yeah, they’re the ones. We need to find a way to the departure tunnel without getting involved with those.”

  “I think I can do that,” Irena said. “You need to trust me and stay close. I can model the movements.”

  “You can what?”

  “Modeling. With data. It’s a skill that got me the position at the ERP.”

  Harlan looked at her for a moment, his lips twitching. He nodded and indicated for her to lead the way.

  With the augmented reality overlay showing her the location of the two abbots, she was able to picture the flow of traffic again as though it were a model, this time with two more elements within it. This actually made it easier, as she was able to use the flow of traffic and the physical obstructions to block their approach.

  It reminded her of a video game she used to play as a child. Her parents had always told her it was a waste of time, but if it got them to the transporter safely, then she knew it was time well spent.

  “Let’s go,” Irena said, pulling against Harlan’s arm. “I know you’re hurt, but we need to move quickly.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Do what you need to do.”

  Irena gritted her teeth and tried to channel the nervousness and anxiety into focused action. She cut across a row of pedestrians toward the left and put as many people between her and Red as possible.

  A couple of people swore at them and sidestepped wildly.

  Irena apologized and pressed on. They were now in an open area that led straight toward a hundred or so seats all facing large screens at the rear of the room.

  The commotion caught the attention of Blue, and it moved to flank them on the left.
>
  Seeing that they were in a pincer formation, Irena drove forward, dragging Harlan with her, pulling level with their pursuers.

  The departure tunnel was now about fifty meters from their position, toward the right corner of the lounge. According to the AR overlay, the abbots were about thirty meters away and converging quickly.

  Irena stopped and got her bearings, taking the time to see where people were moving so she could use them to her advantage.

  A central, circular information booth, ten meters in front of them, split the wave of people as they flowed around it, while others queued in roped-off lanes. She focused on it and proceeded to move Harlan along with her.

  “They’re getting closer,” he said.

  “That’s the plan.”

  When they reached the information booth, they stopped.

  Irena looked left then right and got a visual on both of the abbots.

  Unsurprisingly, they looked similar to the one that had attacked them previously. It seemed a popular model, with its corporate look and a smart suit. It was hard for her not to feel as though it were somehow personal. That these particular abbots had taken a disliking to them. She reminded herself that it was the programming they had received from whoever was trying to break into the QCA.

  As she had predicted, Red was approaching more quickly than Blue.

  A flow of humans and abbots from the left-hand side of the departure lounge had come out of the elevators and were approaching docks A to F, slowing Blue’s approach to the central area.

  With Red just ten meters from them, Irena urged Harlan on as they circled around the information booth clockwise at the same pace that the arrivals headed toward the exit elevator, blocking Red’s path.

  “It’s working,” Harlan said. “You’re good at this.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  With Red and Blue now behind them, Irena pulled Harlan into a jog, gaining more distance.

  With no more arrivals and the departure lounge starting to thin out, this was their only opportunity. She would have no more mass of humans and abbots to use like pawns in a game of chess.

  It was now a footrace.

  Harlan was sweating badly and was holding his shoulder as he strived to keep up.

  Red and Blue had now made their way through the throng of people and were twenty meters behind them and closing.

  A security abbot standing in front of their departure tunnel looked at Irena and Harlan as they approached. He raised his palm. “Credentials please.”

  Behind him in the tunnel, some thirty or forty others were already making their way toward the transport ship, so Irena couldn’t use them to block the oncoming abbots.

  “We’re in a hurry. Please just let us on,” Irena said.

  “I’m afraid I need to see your credentials,” the abbot replied with no emotion.

  “It’s okay,” Harlan said. He swiped his terminal over the security gate’s receiver and waited for the authorization to clear.

  Irena glanced over her shoulder. Red and Blue were now almost on them. Blue was reaching into his jacket. She, in turn, placed her hand on the Taser, ready to use it if necessary. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her mouth was dry as she continued to wait nervously.

  “Come on, it shouldn’t take this long,” she said.

  Harlan waved his terminal once more over the authorization panel.

  A pair of pensioners with their two young children appeared from nowhere and shuffled their way in behind Harlan and Irena, blocking Red and Blue from a direct shot. It hadn’t deterred Blue from keeping his hand inside his jacket, however.

  Irena doubted they would care too much about collateral damage if it came to it. But to her relief, the authorization terminal bleeped and flashed a green light. The security abbot stood aside and waved them through before asking the pensioners for their credentials.

  Red and Blue had pushed their way in front of the pensioners and bundled the security abbot out of the way.

  Irena and Harlan were halfway to the transport ship. The last of the other segment of travelers had already stepped inside.

  The security abbot reached out for Blue and grabbed its arm.

  Red ignored his partner, pulled the gun, and aimed it toward Harlan.

  Irena pushed Harlan to the side instinctively as the shot fired. It ricocheted off the steel hull of the transport ship. Irena, falling to her right after pushing Harlan, fell into a roll, and scrambled to her knees.

  When she looked up, Red was aiming his gun at her.

  Her chest tightened, and for a brief second, her vision blurred. She barely knew what she was doing, but her hand flashed out, taking the Taser from her jacket. She pressed the trigger, sending the two prongs firing into Red’s chest.

  A crackle of electricity and a flash of blue light sent Red into a jolting spasm.

  Harlan got to his feet and fired twice into the abbot’s head, sending Red crashing to the ground, its limbs jerking as smoke swirled out from the wounds.

  The stench of burning plastic filled the air.

  Blue was still tangling with the security abbot, and somewhere off in the distance an alarm was blaring. It wouldn’t be long before more security arrived.

  Harlan was already one step ahead of Irena. He pulled her to her feet and dragged her toward the transport ship.

  Two more security abbots appeared at the door of the ship.

  Harlan flashed his badge again and quickly explained they had been attacked. The pensioners had arrived, holding their grandchildren close to their chests. They corroborated Harlan’s explanation and gestured to Blue, who was batting the security abbot to the ground with the butt of his gun.

  To Irena’s relief, the security guards ushered them onto the transport ship before running off down the departure tunnel to deal with Blue.

  “Thank you,” Irena said to the two pensioners.

  They just stared at her with blank expressions of fear and nodded, before guiding their grandchildren to the family section of the ship.

  Irena and Harlan headed toward the rear. Harlan used his credentials to get them seats in a higher access status cabin, where he could lock the door and remain private.

  “You were impressive back there,” he said. “I can see why they wanted you on Earth. You adapt quickly.”

  Irena sank into her seat, stared out the window into open space, and tried not to cry in front of Harlan. The whole situation with the abbots had brought back the experience of her time on Earth.

  But unlike before in Fizon’s apartment, she refused to be paralyzed by fear and felt the power of direct action and fighting back. She didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good defeating Red and seeing the artificial light of its eyes go out.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be happy when this is all over.”

  “I think we have a long way to go before that.” Harlan removed his jacket and inspected the wound on his shoulder with a grimace.

  It had started to bleed again. Irena used the med-kit within the private cabin to re-dress his wound.

  A message bleeped on Harlan’s terminal. He brought it up on his screen and scanned through it.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “It’s Bella. She’s had a very similar situation to us on Galilei Station. She wants to meet up when we get back to Atlas.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “It’s something about your mother and the Jovian Group. It seems they’re somehow implicated in this abbot issue.”

  Although Irena should have defended her, her mother’s last visit had severely altered Irena’s opinion of her. And remembering back to her childhood, Irena recalled numerous situations where her mother wasn’t there for her and was on, as her mother said, “Jovian business.”

  Irena now wanted to know exactly what this Jovian business was and how it tied in to everything else. She didn’t need to be a modeling expert to know that they were all elements of the same source.

&nbs
p; For now, though, she sat back in her seat and looked at the five other shining stations in various orbits around the moon and Earth. Atlas was the largest and situated in the equilibrium point between Earth and the sun.

  It shone like a beacon, and Irena focused on it, willing the day’s travel to be over. The stress of the day manifested in a long yawn. Tiredness overwhelmed her, and once she had made sure Harlan was okay, she lay down across the seats and let sleep take over.

  20

  A soft beep woke Harlan from his slumber. He rolled over and saw on his holographic clock display that it was 0800. Morning had arrived. He barely remembered getting back to his apartment after a day’s journey on the Turing-to-Atlas transporter.

  — Irena saved your ass, Milo said, reminding him of how she’d helped get him through Turing Station’s departure lounge.

  “She did well,” he mumbled in response, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He stretched his arms up and winced at the ache in his left shoulder.

  He took off the bandage and admired Irena’s first aid skills. The skin-mesh had taken well. She’d done a good job with the med-kit. The cut was almost healed, the fast-acting stem cells living up to their name. The muscle would take a little while longer to return to full health.

  The smell of coffee and voices coming from the living room dragged his thoughts back to the present.

  — You’ve got company, old chap. Bella and her crew arrived a little while ago.

  “I’m on it,” Harlan said, wishing he had longer to sleep and recuperate. His body ached and his mind wasn’t at its sharpest. He put on a clean pair of blue overalls and stepped out of his bedroom.

  The Mazzari crew and a new guy Harlan hadn’t seen before were hovering around his desk. Bella was sitting on the edge. They all looked to Harlan with a mix of expressions that ranged the gamut from pensive to expectant.