The Agathon Book 3: Sword Of Stars

by Colin Weldon

  “Ah, you’re doing a pretty good job, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Meridian said reaching over and clinking her glass against his.

  “You think?” he replied.

  “You got my vote,” she replied, “What are ye gonna do?”

  Barrington took a deep breath and downed the last of his drink. He sighed and smiled at her.

  “I’m gonna blow something up and land the ship,” he said standing up.

  Meridian followed suit.

  “Do me a favour,” he said looking at her

  “Anything,” she replied.

  “Go back over the data you have on The Black. I want you to see if it has any weaknesses,” he said to her suddenly.

  “Oh?” she said.

  “Yeah, I want to know how to kill it,” he said.

  There was a moment of silence between the two as Meridian frowned at him.

  “She’ll be fine, John,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know, but do it anyway,” he said to her turning towards the door.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied following him out.

  5:

  RUTHENIUM ORBIT

  Tark’An waited at the perimeter of the Ruthenium guard ships orbiting the Targlagdu vessel. There were twelve in all, circumnavigating the machine with their weapons permanently trained on it. His own battle cruiser, The Praxis, was on point. It was an elegant ship. It was the largest of the fleet and nearly double the size of the Cra’Xn class attack cruisers, which carried nearly 5,000 crew members. The Praxis itself crewed just under 9,000 and had been instrumental in the disabling of the Targlagdu vessel as it attacked the Ruthenium home world all those centuries ago. It had a long cylindrical hull with two pylons jutting out from its port and starboard baffles which in turn held the ships primary space folding nacelles. They were two-thirds the size of its hull and ran parallel to the sides of the ship. It was a sleek and formidable vessel. He slowed his shuttle craft and waited for the expected hail from the Praxis, which came after several seconds in the form of a bleeping comm channel.

  “Praxis, this is General Tark’An, clearance code Chi, Kra, Chan,” he said looking up at the magnificent ship as it cruised past his window.

  “Father, I was unaware that you were scheduled for an inspection,” said Tark’An’s son Shri’An.

  His son, and now captain of the Praxis, sounded surprised to see him.

  “Shri’An, I am boarding the Targlagdu vessel to inspect the containment grids and run some tests on the device augmentation units. Deactivate the weapons grid and permit me to pass,” Tark’An said looking up at the Praxis hull.

  “Would you like me to accompany you, General?” Shri’An said.

  Tark’An knew his reasons well for wanting to join him, but he would not be visiting his mother today.

  “Negative, Praxis, deactivate the grid immediately,” said Tark’An giving enough resonance in his voice to let his son know not to delay his request any longer.

  “Yes, sir,” Shri’An replied, “Weapons grid has been deactivated. Please advise upon your return.”

  “Understood. I will board the Praxis in four rotations,” replied Tark’An as he fired up the shuttle’s thrusters and pointed the ship towards the mechanical planet.

  He gazed over the visible damage to the Targlagdu as he took his shuttle towards its gaping twisted equatorial mid-section. He couldn’t help but grin at the large chunk that the Praxis had carved out of the machine with its last shot from its forward ion cannon. He had remembered the moment as if it were yesterday. Lying half dead on his bridge with the loss of over half of his crew… The smell of fire and internal explosions still fresh in his mind. Then suddenly the battle was over. He remembered waking up in the medical hall surrounded by wounded soldiers, surprised and disappointed to be still alive.

  He took his shuttle past its broken outer boundaries and closer to the surface. He flew past ruptured and mangled mechanical constructs as far as the eye could see. He locked his landing sequence into the Device Corp beacon and pointed his shuttle towards the landing zone deep within the Targlagdu’s inner shell. As he continued to descend, he began to see the outline of the containment area nestled between two enormous spherical structures. There was a constant flow of smaller vessels coming and going from the landing area. It looked like a nest of slyain flies, like the ones he used to capture as a child on Ruthenium. He made his final run and manoeuvred the shuttle between two large outcroppings of metal before setting it down on the makeshift landing area. While there was gravity this deep within the Targlagdu vessel, there was no air as it was exposed to the vacuum of space from the gaping hole that he had just flown through. He waited while the Device Corp personnel extended the umbilicus towards the shuttle craft so that he could walk into the containment area without the use of a breather. The stars were still visible overhead as he looked up at the towering metallic arms of the broken Targlagdu. A tubular umbilicus suddenly began to make its way over to meet the shuttle. He waited as it covered the small craft and pressurized the outside atmosphere. His comm channel bleeped.

  “Welcome, General Tark’An. The walkway is now ready. You may enter at will,” came a stern voice on the other end.

  The comm system clicked off. Tark’An rose from the flight chair and moved towards the back of the craft. He released the outer doors, stepped off onto the constructed walkway, and began moving away from the shuttle.

  As he approached the large metallic door to the containment area, he took a breath. What lay inside this door was a ghost he knew would soon be vanquished. He needed to see it one last time before the device was activated. He needed to know that it was, without a doubt, beyond saving. The metal door slid open from the ground up and Tark’An was greeted by his old friend and former first officer of the Praxis, Ran’Ck. Although he was well built and was considered at one time to be one of the premier masters of the martial art Shre’Lk, his now wounded body could no longer hold all four swords due to the loss of his lower left arm. He greeted his old friend with a smile and placed both his upper left and right hands on his shoulders.

  “Ran’Ck, it is good to see you, old friend,” Tark’An said squeezing his arms.

  “Still alive I see, you big fool,” replied Ran’Ck, “I was told that your son finally got the better of you. I was hoping for a celebration of your life ending with a serious bottle of vintage Traillix that I have been saving for just the right occasion. You let me down again my friend.”

  Ran’Ck slapped Tark’An’s midsection as he let out a large laugh that made his chest heave. Tark’An reciprocated.

  “Gossip travels too quickly amongst you scientist types. Have you nothing better to do with those three arms then sit around laughing at my expense?” said Tark’An.

  “No,” replied Ran’Ck as he continued to laugh.

  Ran’Ck’s smile began to dissipate as the serious nature of Tark’An’s visit began to dawn on him.

  “I know why you have come,” said Ran’Ck.

  Tark’An released his grip on his friend and looked him in the eyes.

  “Is she still functioning?” Tark’An asked.

  “She is,” replied Ran’Ck, “This really isn’t a good idea, General. I don’t know why you refuse to accept the fact that it’s not her and let me terminate it,” said Ran’Ck.

  Tark’An suddenly felt anger towards his old friend but contained it. He knew that Ran’Ck was just trying to protect him and save him from the agony of doing what must be done, but still.

  “No, Ran’Ck. This is my burden. I must destroy what is left of her and if you were in my place, you would be burdened with the same responsibility. I must look her in the eye while it’s done. I must know if there was any part of her copied and if there is, then I must say goodbye to that part and honour her,” said Tark’An.

  “Very well, my friend, then I shall be by your si
de when you do,” replied Ran’Ck smiling.

  They turned and headed into the containment area. It was a long walkway that contrasted itself from the outside Targlagdu structures with its luminous green walls. Armed soldiers were present at each junction. They saluted Tark’An as they passed by, slapping their chests with their four arms in the traditional military salute. They walked through several guarded junctions before entering the main observatory, which overlooked the containment area. A small metal staircase led Tark’An and Ran’Ck up onto a raised transparent floor, which spanned what looked like glass cubes beneath their feet. Tark’An looked down at the eyes looking up at them. Vacant, mechanical eyes. Perfectly duplicated in every way. They moved across the vast open space as Tark’An glanced down at former copied members of his race. There were thousands of them. Each transparent cube held hundreds, all standing still and staring up at Tark’An as he walked slowly over their heads. His eyes darted to a familiar face. A brief glance at a former member of his crew caught his attention. He had been a young officer on a strike mission that had gone missing. He knew there were more. Too many to count. The lifeless eyes of the former officer looked coldly up as he passed over head.

  “Almost there, General, try not to engage them. It gets them agitated,” said Ran’Ck.

  Tark’An decided to heed his friend’s advice. It was like looking at a living graveyard. The replicants continued to stare with vacant soulless eyes, they wanted him, and he could feel it. It was like they knew what he was about to do. Those eyes had haunted his sleeping hours. They had come, one by one, into his nightmares to beg for rescue. He had left them to be torn apart, limb from limb, and have their identities and souls taken and duplicated into mechanical mechanisms of deception and death. There was no honour in this.

  Tark’An had lost three ships to replicant infiltration before they had realised what was happening. When a method of disabling the robots was finally discovered, using a mixture of electromagnet radiation and ion pulse weaponry, it had been too late. He had lost her.

  “We are here, General,” said Ran’Ck standing over a large group of replicants.

  Tark’An looked beneath his feet through the transparent cube. Scores of curious mechanical eyes looked back. He felt both of his hearts as the involuntary increase in his blood pressure began to rise. He let his eyes dart around the group as they began moving together in sync forming a tightly packed crowd under his feet, glaring up at him. He wanted to take two of the swords mounted on his back and jump down and start taking their heads off one by one but he gripped his three muscular fingers into a fist and resisted the temptation.

  “If you wouldn’t mind stepping back, Tark’An, I need to dissipate this crowd so that we can find her,” said Ran’Ck suddenly placing a hand on his shoulder.

  Tark’An growled at the robots below his feet and took a step back outside the parameter of the cube. Ran’Ck activated a control pad mounted on his arm and began tapping commands into it.

  “Okay, got her,” Ran’Ck said, “I’m isolating her frequency and separating it out from the heard. Stand by.”

  There was a sudden burst of light from inside the transparent cube. The hundreds of gathered robots that were under Tark’An’s feet suddenly dropped to the ground like broken toys. One remained upright. Tark’An let his eyes drift naturally towards the only one standing. He looked at her as she stood quietly looking straight at him. He felt a wave of bitterness take hold as his broken hearts reminded him once more about the moment that his mate had been taken from him. He began walking towards her. He glanced briefly at the other large cubes surrounding the one he was currently on and saw the other robots all gathered along their parameters facing him. Like swarms of insects waiting to attack the broken nest. He watched as her head began to tilt upwards. She remained perfectly still as he stepped towards her. He looked down at her and lowered his body until he was resting on his knees. He stared down into her light green eyes and smiled.

  “Greetings Sien’An,” he said to the replicated form of his mate.

  “Greetings,” Sien’An replied still holding his gaze from beneath the floor.

  “How have you been?” Tark’An said.

  Sien’An did not reply. Tark’An thought he saw one of the unconscious bodies of the disabled robots move slightly. He dismissed it as a trick of the mind and looked back at his robot mate.

  “Do you know why I am here?” Tark’An said to her.

  Sien’An stared blankly on. He tried to look deeply into her eyes. On some days, he almost thought he could see a flicker of an emotional response to his presence. He had been a strong proponent of the idea that at least some memory engrams had been copied across during the replication processes but to date had no concrete evidence of it. Occasionally, there was a flinching in facial expressions denoting familiarity while he was talking with her. He placed a hand on the ground and spread his fingers out.

  “Sien’An, do you know who I am?” Tark’An said to her.

  There was a long silence in the containment area as he waited for a response. Sien’An looked at his hand and then back to Tark’An. She shifted her muscular body slightly but remained silent. Females were larger than males and Sien’An had been a formidable fighter. It was what had attracted him to her so much in their younger years. She had defeated him easily in their daily contests and was highly skilled with a blade. Sien’An suddenly raised her four arms up slowly and placed her hand on the cube directly under Tark’An’s.

  Tark’An held his breath as the hope of making contact became a possibility. He was about to smile when her face suddenly changed. Her mouth pulled apart revealing rows of metallic mandible-like structures where her teeth should have been. Her chest split straight down its centre and her arms transformed into long tentacle-like formations. Tark’An recoiled at the monster she was suddenly becoming as she slammed the four tentacles that were once her arms into the roof above her head causing Tark’An to leap backwards. A screeching sound came from her now completely unrecognisable robotic face as she continued to pound away at the transparent ceiling above her head. Tark’An looked back at Ran’Ck who had his arm raised and was poised to tap commands into the pad at a moment’s notice. The floor beneath Tark’An’s feet vibrated with the violent attack from below, but it was too strong to break. The replicated form of Sien’An continued to attack, metallic tentacles now flailing in all directions. It was a monstrosity. Tark’An knew that at this moment he could not take any more of it. He stood and backed away from the monster from beneath his feet. He looked back at Ran’Ck.

  “I’ll do it,” he said to Ran’Ck as he walked over to him.

  The violent attack continued from behind him. Sien’An was now following him on a pair of snaking and twisted legs as she continuously struck the containment glass. Her high-pitched squealing was becoming unbearable for Tark’An.

  “Give it to me,” he said to Ran’Ck holding out his hand.

  Ran’Ck nodded, removing the wrist pad and handed it to Tark’An who looked down at the controls. A large cracking sound brought his attention back to the monster posing as his former mate. Her face had now reformed and was smiling at him. Her robotic arms had stopped their attack. She stood there, looking up at him. Tark’An knew that it was time to end it. They had learned all they could learn from them.

  “You never know, General, we could keep one of them in stasis and take her with us on the journey,” said Ran’Ck suddenly.

  Tark’An looked at his friend and smiled. His hesitation in activating the control pad was showing his weakness. That was unacceptable, even to an old friend. He shook his head and tapped the destruct sequence into the pad. He looked back and the deformed monstrosity of his copied mate one last time as a wave of light flooded the selected cube that she was in. There was a high-pitched screeching sound as her body exploded into flames, which then encompassed the unconscious replicated others in the cube unde
r Tark’An’s feet. He felt the heat from the incineration process bleed through the floor and took a step back as he watched her body crumble and fade into ash. The whole process took only a few seconds before the flames abated, leaving the transparent cube empty. Tark’An looked down at the smouldering pile of ash beneath his feet.

  “Good journey,” he said under his breath as he closed his eyes and asked the gods for forgiveness. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “You are ready,” said Ran’Ck.

  Tark’An opened his eyes and looked at Ran’Ck.

  “We are ready,” he replied, “Destroy the rest of these things, we no longer need them.”

  Tark’An removed the wrist control and returned it to Ran’Ck.

  “The time has come old friend,” Tark’An said.

  “The Sword of Stars?” replied Ran’Ck.

  Tark’An looked down once more and remembered what had happened to Sien’An.

  “The Sword of Stars,” he replied

  6:

  THE AGATHON

  “This is a mistake, Charly,” said Tosh to Boyett as he stood looking at the enormous cannon.

  She was in no mood for Tosh today. Boyett couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten more than a few hours’ sleep. Her brain was fuzzy and Tosh’s complaining was starting to get on her nerves.

  “Tosh, I really don’t have any more time to debate this. The captain wants to test fire this thing, so that’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” she replied trying to hold herself back from snapping at him.

  She respected the man. It was hard not to. He had designed The Agathon and its FTL drive systems and was also considered by the former Jycorp CEO Jerome Young to be one of Earth’s leading scientists. He was also a personal friend of Young and she knew that his death had hit him hard. Sleep was in short supply and the tension on board the ship was at an all-time high. As first officer, it was her daily job to keep things running smoothly and that meant dealing directly with most of the crew on a one to one basis. She had to admit that she was beginning to struggle with it. She had lost everything when the Earth had been destroyed and she missed her parents. She still wondered if they had suffered. She had also lost Landon. The young Irish engineer who had been the ship’s chief before he had been torn apart by a replicated monster. The pressure was beginning to weigh her down and Barrington expected her to be his back-up if something were to happen to him. A responsibility she just wasn’t ready for.