“Get in here, pal.”
He grabbed a hand extending from the safe zone and allowed it to pull him into the quiet of a vestibule. The door closed behind him at once.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, Captain,” said Warrant Officer Ken Foley, one of the few good men he felt he could trust. “I figured these guards would be otherwise engaged.” He meant a Corporal and a Private, both tucked in blankets around a small plastic table, an electric heater squatting beneath furniture. Their entertainment was a bottle of something stiff and a game of holocards. These two men, grumpy about their post, were Colonel Duke’s loyalists, like half of the battalion at least. The lazies felt unable to get their butts up and check what the ruckus was about; they would likely have left Rhys to turn into a snowman in the storm. He didn’t feel the strength necessary to reprimand them, so he just took off his goggles and basked in a little warmth and safety from the gale conditions.
“I owe you one,” he told Foley. “What are you doing here?”
“I figured you might come this way. I wanted to know what the situation’s like.”
“Holly caught something outside the base perimeter.”
“She’s a good girl.” Foley had a thing going for Gunnery Sergeant Welby. Whether she reciprocated his interest remained to be seen. “Unfriendly?”
“How would I know? I’m heading upstairs to kick up a fuss about investigating.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Rhys shared the scepticism but didn’t join that bandwagon. He said instead, “Wanna join me in the fun? Atmosphere will be red hot and glowing like the Sun’s face.”
Foley clicked his tongue. “Err, no. I’m sure it’ll be a great show, but I’m gonna stay here with the brave watchers, in case others need a hand getting back in.” The lazy Corporal grunted something unintelligible to the Private and they both turned to Foley with their rendition of evil stare. Ominous music didn’t play.
“You’re the reasonable one.” Rhys felt warmed up enough to try heading upstairs. “Stay crispy, Ken.”
“Aye. Don’t let the old man chew you up and spit you out. I’d hate to give a funeral speech over a piece of battered meat.”
Foley’s humour was graveyard but Rhys appreciated his honesty with a smirk. Then he climbed a ringing metal staircase past the first and second floors filled with living quarters, washrooms, stores, common rooms, gyms and maintenance suites; he went straight up to the floor number three, the top brass.
After the sortie in the storm, his willingness to go back out there again was muted. Would anyone dare to brave a maelstrom like this to attack them? Hopefully not, but Rhys’ gut was telling him otherwise, so he pressed on with his duty. There was no medal for it at the end, but the flicker of possibility that his insistence would save some lives today was all the bolstering he needed and he approached floor’s entrance with a spring in his step.
He went in, passed the door to the armoury where he briefly spoke with the Quartermaster. The man told him willingly where the Colonel could be found. In the briefing room, meeting with the lab cats. Hush hush top secret kind of thing. Trespassing highly unrecommended.
Rhys trepidated speaking to John Duke in simpler times than these. Nicknamed Hellraiser for the trouble he caused the enemy in all the battles he had been involved in, the CO had mustered more forays against the Colonial resistance than any other of Earth’s generals. Half of the base battalion hailed him as a hero - the loyalists - but there was an abusive side about the man. He didn’t care enough about the men and women posted under his command. He demanded personal courage to the point of self-sacrifice. Rhys had checked his Colonel’s action record and found with some upset that the charges Colonel Duke had ordered brought in more Space Marine casualties than any other commander’s attack. Hellraiser was brash to the point of crazy.
And now Duke was here as the CO of a Security Force Battalion. He was a field marshal, not a guard. The Corps had chosen an outsider to lead this lot, not one of the leaders Rhys knew beforehand. Duke’s presence could only mean one thing: whatever secret Proxima D military installation held within its walls, it carried the potential to bring about an organised response by the Colonial Army. The bigwigs wanted a consummate fighter to lead the defence until reinforcements arrived. Duke, consummate enough, was an odd choice in that he was an attacker rather than a defender. God save them all from another of his orders to charge.
Third floor’s corridors proper resembled more a scientific environment than a military base. It was a den of scientists mostly, the guys who needed all the protection. Hallways were cast in white lights, pristine, sterile, well marked with names of various labs. Rhys ignored a row of doors into research rooms and directed his steps to the briefing room. It had a waiting room with a line of chairs in its middle and a few worn sofas clinging to the walls; on one of those half sat, half lay the sole waiting customer and Duke’s deputy in name, grey-haired Major Thomas Burke.
“Sit down, Rhys. Here to see the Hellraiser, huh?”
Rhys slowed down at the sight of the man and reluctantly took a seat next to him. Burke had been briefly the battalion commander before they deployed to Prox D and he suffered from an incurable case of gout for which he pumped a constant concoction of drugs in his system which rendered him soft and mellow.
“Yes, sir,” he replied to the question.
“Don’t you siree me, Rhys. You’ll have to wait your turn if you want to see the old man. He’s called me in, you see. But I can put you in front of me if you like?” The offer, genuine as it was, carried the equivalent of pushing someone under the exhaust of a space shuttle just before it took off the ground.
“That’s very kind of you, but I think I need to come in right now.” Rhys wanted to stand.
Burke stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Ahh, young and rash. Word to the wise, dear Rhys. Rashness never solves the problem, it exacerbates it. It’s always better to go slow and easy on yourself. It’s how you get to live to old age, especially in a war.”
To Rhys, it sounded like cowardice. He explained the circumstances to the Major. “I’m afraid this can’t wait. We picked up a bogey on our doorstep. I need to head out and investigate it.”
“A bogey.” Major’s eyes had a sudden flare in them and for a little moment Rhys hoped the man would snap out of his lethargy and furnish him with the right orders. He could in theory authorise a small sortie without the Commanding Officer’s prior knowledge. But that hope died along with the light in Major Burke’s eyes. “I’ll give you my opinion if you listen. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a bogey is a faker. Not worth your time, young Rhys, especially in this kind of beastly weather. If I were you, young man, I’d be huddling down in a warm bed with a cup of something strong to feed the soul, and preferably a bird by my side to warm my body, although the right companion may be hard to come by in this soggy place. Forget your bogey, Rhys. It’s just a ghost.”
“Thank you for your experienced input, sir. I think it’s time I got back to doing my duty.” Rhys stood up in an upset. Great. He’d be charging up the Duke hill in even more turmoil than he had before. The Major got a salute from, as his rank deserved.
“You’ll be stepping on Hellraiser’s big moment.” Burke shifted on the sofa, looking for a comfortable position to relieve his ill condition.
“How so?”
“The boffins seem to have made their weapon.”
“So soon?” Rhys wanted to ask ‘what is it’, but reckoned the Major didn’t know. No one knew except for the Colonel and the bunch of lab coats working on the project. Rhys didn’t even know its name.
“Yes. It seems to me like we’ll be going home soon. Good riddance, the climate does no good to my tired bones.”
“Changes nothing. I have to go in.” Rhys pulled himself straight and checked his tunic was all right for Hellraiser’s inspection.
“Have to or want to, Rhys? We’re one step away from a resolution. Now’s not the time
to bait the bear.”
“You can’t change my mind, sir.”
“Don’t you siree me, Rhys. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Major Burke closed his eyes like he was drifting into deep sleep. Rhys used the opportunity to slip out from the conversation.
The unassuming brown door slowly opened into the crowded briefing room and he quietly slipped in at the back. The scientists were gathered at the large table, and the CO sat at the head. All were looking in silence at a big see-through box. Rhys gaze followed to a ball of mysterious black matter surrounded by a halo of shimmering bright light which moved and cast glows over the entire chamber. Two metal rings surrounded the ball. They were in complete standstill.
“Fire the particle accelerator,” Colonel John Duke gave the command. He may as well have said, fire the torpedoes or charge the enemy. Chief Scientist, a woman in her fifties with hair tied into a slightly frazzled bun, pointed a remote at the box and pressed the power button.
The rings started with a throb, first slow, then faster and faster until they were a rotating blur. The black ball remained watchable. It began to swirl, stretched into a spindle, its ends moved in two opposite directions. The light changed into threads of white gold inlaid in the dark body. There was something fascinating about the artefact, and something foreboding besides. It stretched some more until it looked like it was going to snap at the centre. Now it was not a solid but a floating liquid with its molecules trapped by the whirl. At last, the spindle broke into two balls with a whisper of connection between them. It was that whisper which briefly glowed like a one-thousand-watt lightbulb. Then it all blew up.
Rhys winced at the cracking sound of raw power unleashed. Darkness expanded to fill the particle accelerator in the time shorter than a blink of an eye. The box rattled and shook, then it bounced a foot in the air and landed back making a mighty racket and sending the table into a volatile rocking, almost causing it to topple. The scientists jumped back, but not the Colonel. Hellraiser sat with his arms pressing into the table, steadying it, not once losing the view of the particle accelerator. The thing ceased to move; its walls were crisscrossed by a sophisticated lattice of cracks and looked ready to crumble at the slightest touch. The black-platinum substance was gone, or rather it turned into grey ash taking up all space in the accelerator. Brightness had gone out of it. Nothing remained of the metal rings, it appeared they had been erased from existence by the explosion. Rhys needed a moment to steady his racing heartbeat and process what he just witnessed.
Colonel Duke didn’t need that time. He stood up, dressed in combat uniform with two impressive rows of award ribbons lined over the pocket on his chest. He wasn’t a tall man, but what he lacked in height was recompensed by a charisma. His presence dwarfed everyone else's in the room.
Hellraiser put his hands together and clapped furiously. “Marvellous. Even better than the first time.” The Chief Scientist stood and joined him. Then all the rest followed in the applause, except for Rhys. “Question is, can it break through the glass ceiling?”
“Easily. Out of 46 specimens available in the vault, we have 36 of the sufficient potency, 29 of which could destroy this entire installation or a significant part of it,” Chief Scientist confirmed.
Rhys felt like he wanted to puke. 46 exploding balls like this, and almost 30 capable of blowing them all up. They were sitting on an arsenal of mass destruction.
“Excellent. All it needs now is a field test,” Hellraiser said. “I’ll notify Earth as soon as the storm clears up. Good job, people. You will all be rewarded for this. Ender will finally put an end to the pathetic Colonial resistance once and for all. It will usher a new era of peace and prosperity for all.”
Except for its victims, Rhys thought. So that’s what they were making, a weapon to end the war. Rhys didn’t share in the Colonel’s elation; he was mortified by the display. Three decades ago the Earth Council banned use, transit and production of nuclear weapons in space, to notable opposition of some of his country’s representatives. Now Space Marine Corps sought a workaround that could become even more grisly than old-fashioned nukes. Knowing history of warfare, Rhys felt that the potential for disaster was enormous.
Colonel Duke exchanged whispers with the Chief Scientist and afterwards addressed the assembly. “That concludes matters. Pick up the wreckage and dispose of it. There’s bad weather everywhere. Everyone take a rest in your rooms for the duration of it. You deserve it. Dismissed.”
A dark-skinned scientist picked up the wrecked particle generator with industrial grade gloves. It didn’t fall apart as Rhys had expected. The entire group of probeheads walked out of the briefing room paying no heed to Rhys standing by the door. After the space cleared, he approached the table at last, consciously putting it as a separator between him and Hellraiser.
“Captain Dreyfus. This meeting was way above your pay grade.” The Colonel took the measure of the Captain with a stare that told the extent of the commanding officer’s displeasure. “Tell me what you’re doing here right now before I throw you in the brig for the rest of your sorry career.”
“I apologise, sir. I have an urgent security report.”
“Urgent enough to break security protocols yourself?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“What is it? A flea outbreak?” The man laughed forcibly. Nothing changed in his attitude.
“No, sir,” Rhys continued unfazed. “Scanners picked up a strong signal just 6 clicks away from the base perimeter. Requesting permission to organise a squad and investigate at the source.”
“A signal?” The Colonel was incredulous. “You interrupt me because one of your toys picked up a signal? In the middle of the freak storm of the century? I expected more from you, Dreyfus. Radars have been affected by weather conditions, they will dish out false positives all the time. I’ve been fully briefed on the effects of solar flares and so were you. Your signal’s a blip, Captain, but you have chosen to bother me with it anyway. You have just broken into a top-secret meeting without good purpose.”
“With all due respect, sir, I think I have the best purpose of them all. I was tasked with making sure we’re not spotted. I think we have been. The signal has been identified as an ultra-low frequency broadcast.”
The Colonel’s almond eyes squinted. He snarled, “A broadcast? What does it say exactly?”
“We weren’t able to establish that, sir.”
“Ha! And who exactly identified it?”
Rhys realised he had worked himself into a corner. Pointing out Gunnery Sergeant Welby would open her to Hellraiser’s scrutiny and possible retribution. “I did,” he lied. That dishonesty spelt catastrophe to his efforts in persuading John Duke.
“You did it by yourself? That’s the funniest thing I heard this whole week. Are you a qualified surveillance specialist by any chance? I don’t remember reading in your file that you were. Would you care to enlighten me about your qualifications?”
“I have no such qualifications, sir,” Rhys swallowed his pride and admitted failure.
Hellraiser revelled in a broad and intimidating smile. His next words were deliberately slow so they could sink in in Rhys’ memory, each syllable was punctuated by mockery. “Let’s sum it up. You identified a signal, without proper qualifications, in the middle of a geomagnetic storm, you think it is a broadcast, six clicks off the base, but you can’t hear what it says. Your story simply doesn’t stack up, Captain. I can’t send people out in this weather because of your hallucinations.”
Rhys remembered what it was like when he stepped out of the tower. He weighed the fear of going out again against belief in Holly Welby’s skill and a gut feeling that told him something had to be done before it was too late and the signal turned to something way worse. He found the courage to step up. “Then I will go alone.”
Colonel Duke’s smile vanished. “You will do nothing of the sort.” Hellraiser walked around the table to join Rhys who immediately snapped up like a string. The CO�
�s tone softened, almost like he cared, but Rhys believed he deciphered an undertone of falsity in the following statement. “Look at that, taught and tense. Perhaps you’ve overworked yourself, Captain. You’ve done a brilliant job running our security array so far. You’ve been working so diligently you must be keen to come up with some tangible results. But crying wolf about things that aren’t there, that’s not the way forward. It’s just a nuisance. So I’m releasing you for the rest of today. Go to your quarters and enjoy a good night sleep and clear your head, Captain. Forget about your signal and what you have seen here.”
A resentment welled up in Rhys. Against better judgement and in the knowledge that the argument was lost he advocated his case once more. “This storm is the best opportunity for a surprise attack. We have to make every effort possible to forestall it. Something’s coming, sir. I can feel it. After what I’ve seen in this room, I am sure more than ever-“
“You’ve seen nothing!” John Duke punched the table in a flash of anger. “Go to your quarters. I explicitly order you not to chase those echoes in the storm. Is that clear, Dreyfus? You’re dismissed!”
Prox Doom Page 2