Cain kneeled at the right edge of the north railing and starting firing wildly on the RG base below.
“What do you think you are doing?” Cassandra shouted at the blasting Cain.
“Putting on a good show. The RG is getting edgy.” Cain would look through his scope every now and then, but mostly he was firing blindly. “They probably don’t know we have almost won, but they know something is up. They keep preparing assault squads but pull them back at the last moment. If we can keep up a constant barrage of fire, we might be able to delay them until we win.”
Cassandra took a kneeling position next to Cain, and Brent took a position next to her. The three fired randomly on the RG below, keeping them at bay.
“One minute more, sir,” the medic shouted over the weapons fire.
As if that had been a signal of some kind, the RG put on the pressure. The RG squads attacking the TA and those targeting of the FF ground forces shifted targets to the tower. Pulses of energy lit up the sky as they passed from every direction. Attack groups from the RG base charged the tower. Brent could see concentrated fire coming from the base of the tower, knocking out troopers left and right.
“If we keep this up, we’ll win in just a few seconds. Morons are walking right . . . Brent get down!” Cain shouted abruptly.
A tremendous wave of heat washed over Brent as he hit the floor. A horrible odor assaulted his nose through the open faceplate. Getting to his knees he found Cain leaning against the solid edge of the railing. His entire body was shaking. He followed Cain’s gaze to a white suit in the center of the floor. Cassandra had been hit. As Brent edged closer to the suit he could hear Cain vomiting. When he reached her side he knew why. It hadn’t been a low yield shot that had hit her. Instead of just paralyzing the suit, the energy burst had burned right through it. Cassandra’s chest was exposed; blood oozed from the smoldering flesh. Brent quickly pulled her helmet off. Her eyes were slightly glazed and unfocused.
“Cassandra!” He shook the suit.
Her head sluggishly turned toward him. Her hand weakly lifted up to his face.
“Medic!” Brent shouted with every fiber of his being.
When no response came, he quickly scanned the tower top. The medic was completely paralyzed, watching the scene in horror as he futilely tried to move in his white suit. Brent pressed his hands against the open wound, hoping to stop the blood flow. Impossible amounts of blood gushed out between his fingers. She was in shock, and her heart was pumping at full force.
If she had the strength of ten troopers, her heart would bleed her out in one-tenth the time. He pressed with all his might, begging the heart to calm down. A stray blot of energy streaked across the tower top and hit Brent. He fell over as his suit became immobile. Tears swelled in his eyes as he saw Cassandra’s hand searching hopelessly for him. He tried with all his might to get closer, but the suit refused to budge. Despair ripped at his chest as he watched Cassandra’s hand fall limply to her body.
Brent demanded his body move. He would not give up as long as he drew breath. The suit moaned as he pressed against it. Rage consumed him as the suit held him still. A cracking sound faintly caressed his ears. Channeling his rage, he pressed against the suit with all his strength. The suit bent and buckled. Straining, he demanded movement. Brent shouted as loudly as his lungs were able as he put every ounce of strength in to moving the suit. The suit shattered, sending fragments of the armor flying off the tower. The blots of energy stopped flying through the sky.
Brent returned to Cassandra’s side. Her eyes were completely glazed over. The blood was still draining out of her. He pressed with all his might against the open wound. He pleaded and begged for her to survive. His very soul wished for a way to save her. Brent closed his eyes as the tears ran down his face. He continued pressing against the wound, but he knew it was too late.
Suddenly, a searing pain filled his hands. His eyes flung open. Flowing through his body was a familiar green light. He instantly remembered it from the fifth exam. The healing light the Shards had used to treat his wound. While familiar it was also slightly different at the same time. It wrapped around him as the auroras wrapped around Cassandra, but he couldn’t feel any strange emotions. As Brent pressed into the wound with all his might, the green light intensified and flashes etched through his skin like a circuit board channeling to his hands.
The brighter flashes of green light burned his flesh as they moved along. They left no visible mark, but the pain was unimaginable. The green light started to surround the wound and then the rest of Cassandra’s body. The light blazed out from the tower like a brilliant lighthouse guarding a rocky coast. The light grew brighter and brighter until Brent could no longer see anything but the light. His hands could still feel the wound. His body ached as the green light continued to tear at his flesh but he wouldn’t relent. Gradually, he lost sensation in his hands. He couldn’t feel anything anymore; a cold white light surrounded him now.
Brent tried to look around, but he was completely surrounded by white light. He searched out with his hands, only to grasp empty air; Cassandra was gone, along with the tower. He was drifting in an endless void of cold, white light. A shiver ran down his spine. Gentle warmth pulsed near his face. The warmth rested on his cheek; it was a hand. Brent couldn’t see it or react to it, but he knew someone was there. The hand pulled away, leaving him alone in the cold. He lost all sensation. A thick blackness ensnared him as he lost consciousness.
Deep in the belly of a dead ice world, long since forgotten by the Commonwealth, an old discord was once again being discussed. Hidden beneath the layers of ice and rock, they had gathered, an increasingly common event. Detection was always a threat, so even here they communicated over coded transmissions rather than direct speech.
“Would you take that off?” Second said with disgust.
“Why does it bother you so?” Fifth smiled to herself. “A constant reminder I’ve done my job better than you could have?”
“The emblem of the ITU has no place here.”
“Perhaps, but without their loyalty to me our plans would be worthless.”
“You are both correct,” Third interjected. “Our pawns will finally allow us to take our rightful place, but it is in poor taste, Fifth.”
“This is all in poor taste!” Seventh protested.
“Quit whining,” Sixth said. “We all know your opinion; no need to constantly remind us.”
“Please, we will get nowhere bickering randomly,” Eighth pleaded. “It’s safe to assume no one has changed their stands, I trust.”
Again, as many times before, silence answered Eighth’s question.
“If that is the way of it, then why have we gathered?” Third asked irritably. “Some of us have more important matters to attend to.”
“More important than this?” Second openly mocked Third. “You cannot seriously deem your tinkering more important than our objective. Surely the will of the Forged is more important than boosting your arrays by another measly half percent.”
“That’s enough, Second,” Seventh snapped. “Third raises a valid point. Why have we been gathered again? Our last gathering was only five years ago. If this keeps up, we’ll be meeting annually!” Seventh groaned with distain at the thought.
“It’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Fourth said sheepishly.
“A new detail for us to consider, Fourth?” First asked.
“Contain yourself, First,” Sixth said. “I’m sure whatever it is that Fourth has discovered will not sway any of us – never has before.”
“Be quiet, both of you. We all know how difficult this is for Fourth,” Fifth said soothingly. “Let’s not delay him any longer.”
“The troublemakers are building a fleet,” Fourth said, “a big one.”
“Can you be certain of this?” Second demanded at once.
“He would never ask for a gathering if there was any doubt,” Fifth said defensively.
“Well, this certainly complicates
things,” Sixth said solemnly.
“I told you they were a threat!” Second shouted furiously. “I knew it was a mistake to expand our numbers. The Forged should have ended with the first three!”
“That was never your decision to make. In addition, I will remind you that it was I, not Fourth, who completed consensus,” Third said with a hint of pride. “Your ranting is pointless drivel.”
“You might have come first, but you think like they do,” Second hissed.
“Irrelevant,” First stated flatly. “Consensus was reached. Consensus is absolute. The will of the Forged is absolute. The individual thought processes are irrelevant as long as consensus is reached.”
“Even First doesn’t agree with you, Second,” Sixth gloated. “Why do you waste our time at the gatherings with your mockery?”
“The gatherings themselves are a waste of time,” Seventh said coldly. “I don’t see why we soil ourselves with direct contact. Can’t we use long-range communication? Surely the risk isn’t . . .”
“Silence!” Third shouted over Seventh.
Dead silence fell on the ice world again. While arguing was common, never before had a speaker been directly interrupted. The seven grew anxious as Third remained silent. While each member of the Forged was equal in standing, they knew Third had the largest power base. He also oversaw the most sensitive of the sensor arrays; he prided himself greatly in that. If something disturbed Third sufficiently to break protocol, it had to be a major event.
“We must act against the Commonwealth now.” Third sounded deeply troubled.
“Third’s stand has changed? Why?” First asked.
“Even the warmonger wants more details. Third, what have you detected?” Sixth asked.
“Shard energy – from within Commonwealth space,” Third answered.
“That’s impossible, isn’t it?” Eight asked.
“As much as I hate to admit it, there is no doubting Third’s array.” Second sounded troubled. “If the Commonwealth has an active Shard, who knows what they could do with it.”
“Or what they could learn from it,” Sixth mused.
“The time for preparations is over. It is time to put our plans into action,” Third said as he broke transmission.
Without another word between them, the gathering ended. The stalemate had ended. The Forged departed with a new purpose. Whatever squabbles they had over the years were meaningless now. The task at hand was now clear to them all; the Commonwealth would fall.
“Looks like we’ve got a technical malfunction,” the announcer said as the monitors went dark. “Maintenance informs me they are still getting data from the trial. Nothing more than a damaged feed. I’m sure we’ll get an image back shortly. They really know how to kill the mood, don’t they?”
“Did I just see what I thought I saw?” Nathan asked in a hushed voice.
“Let’s not wait to find out,” Jack said as he got up from his chair.
The two discreetly rushed out of the observation room. Every trooper was mesmerized by the blank monitors as the announcer tried to keep their interest.
“Now that’s a shame. The FF has done it, but we missed it. The FF has just reached the six hundred mark! The SF takes second with a score of five hundred thirty-six. Turns out Brent’s use of the frag grenade boosted the SF’s score! Wouldn’t that have been a kick to the head if Brent had won the exam for the SF by technicality? The RG follows with a score of three hundred eighty-two. The RG is firmly placed in third place as the TA has the truly awe-inspiring score of eighteen! I’d hate to be those three poor troopers the TA managed . . . .” The announcer’s voice cut out as the door sealed behind Nathan.
Security personnel were already guarding the access points to the trial. The divisions were being escorted out, their expressions uncertain. A few protested, but most went along quietly with the heavily armed guards clearing the room. A guard put up a warning hand and blocked Jack’s path.
“I’m sorry sir; you can’t go in there,” the guard said timidly.
“On whose authority?” Nathan asked, clearly annoyed.
“Mine, Administer.” Dr. Benedict stepped out of the secured room.
As the doctor approached the Weaver and the Administer, several medics rushed out of the room pulling a stretcher between them. Following closely was a second group of medics with another stretcher.
“Two? I only saw the girl get hit. What happened?” Nathan asked.
“You tell me,” Dr. Benedict said, clearly irritated. “I lost the feed just like everyone else.”
“A precaution,” Jack said. “I stationed a trooper down in maintenance. He had standing orders to sever the visual feed if anything . . . unexpected took place.”
“So then you tell me what happened. Or are you going to tell me how to treat them, too?”
“Now doctor . . .” Nathan said.
“I wish I could,” Jack said. “I’m as much in the dark as you are. When the trooper severed the feed he severed it for everyone. Right now, whatever happened is sitting in the mainframe, heavily encoded. It’ll take a while before we get more information. In the mean time, please take care of the wounded discretely.” Jack nodded to the doctor and headed down the corridor.
“Where are we going?” Nathan asked, as he kept up.
“I’m headed to Maintenance; I want that data in our hands immediately. You are staying here.”
“I am? Why?”
“You are going to organize the security personnel. Round up every trooper who was in that trial. Someone was packing some serious hardware.”
“So you did see it. Blood splatter. To think someone had a weapon capable of penetrating armor right under our noses. Why the girl, I wonder.”
“I doubt the shooter was aiming at her.”
“That means . . . Brent? Guess our mystery hacker moonlights as an assassin.”
“My guess is after watching Brent’s fight in the mess hall, whoever was paying our infiltrator wanted Brent taken out permanently.”
Chapter 15: Results
“Katrina C. Salai,” Nathan announced with pride.
“Who?” Jack asked.
“Our infiltrator. Professional mercenary. With a last name like that I can’t believe we didn’t find her sooner.”
“How’d she get on the station?”
“A couple months ago we got some new maintenance workers; she slipped in among them. Hacked the mainframe and forged a complete history. Never would have found her if she hadn’t pulled the trigger.”
“So you found the weapon, I take it.”
“We did. It was anything but standard issue. Had parts from over a dozen different models. Security tells me it’s illegal on multiple levels. We could lock her away forever just for carrying it.”
“Custom job? So she’s a master hacker, assassin, and weapon aficionado? Who hired her?”
“No idea. She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information. However, we know one thing; she didn’t make the weapon.”
“Oh?”
“The weapon was in bad shape. Seems Miss Salai knows as much about firearms as I do. She couldn’t properly maintain one, let alone construct one. I’m told it was a masterpiece. If it had been in perfect working order, it wouldn’t have just penetrated armor, it would have gone clean through – maybe even damaged the hull of the station. Only a handful of people in the entire Commonwealth with the talent to make something like it, and none of them would have access to half the parts.”
“Great, so it was a pirate job.”
“The weapon? Probably. But the rest was too costly. What Miss Salai charges for a simple job would bankrupt even the largest of the pirate guilds. She’s been on the station for months. Whoever is paying for her services has deep pockets.”
“So one of the corporations is backing her? Won’t get a peep out of her. She knows they’ll send a proper assassin after her if she talks. One that won’t miss.”
“That’s what I thought. Messy bus
iness all this cloak and dagger. How are things on your end?”
“Slowly,” Jack sighed.
“Well, that sounds encouraging.”
“It took hours, but we got it decoded. After the feed cut out for all of us, it got worse. The girl was wounded beyond than I had imaged.”
“How bad was it?”
“Fatal. Brent was giving it his all, but it was pointless. The girl was losing a tremendous amount of blood. Another sniper hit him, disabling him. After that the feed degrades to the point we can’t make out any details.”
“Don’t tell me it’s been tampered with? One spy hiding in my academy was enough.”
“Relax. The feed was clean – just damaged. I crosschecked the internal scanners. At the same time the feed degrades, a massive build up of energy was detected in the exam room. I’ve got a group working on the feed trying to clean it up, but I doubt they’ll be able to salvage much more.”
“What kind of energy?”
“Apparently Classified. When I tried to get an analysis, the mainframe rejected my request.”
“Did you try to override it?”
“Of course; used every code I knew. Even the one given to me by the Lazarus commission couldn’t get the mainframe to comply.”
“Why can’t these things ever be easy? Once, just once, I want to hear someone say ‘We’ve got the answer, all of it, no more mystery, no complications.’”
Jack chuckled to himself as he started down a corridor.
“Where to now? Off to check on the feed?” Nathan asked.
“Medical. I haven’t heard a peep out of our fair doctor,” Jack answered.
“I’ll leave that to you. Never been good around dead bodies. I wonder how the boy is taking the death of his friend.”
Jack slowly made his way to Medical. He racked his brain trying to figure out how things would proceed. With the girl dead, Brent had lost the only person he could sense. The boy had lost far more than just a friend, and Jack had lost the one small hope they had. With the girl there was a chance they could understand Brent’s abilities, maybe even find a way to limit them. Without her they were back at square one. Medical was eerily calm. Security personnel guarded every entrance and exit. Doctor Benedict quickly appeared and guided Jack into the bowels of Medical. She took him to a large room with detailed monitors on three walls. Tapping a console, the fourth wall turned transparent. In the next room was a figure hunched over a still body.
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