Omega Force 5: Return of the Archon

by Joshua Dalzelle

  Doc was huddled in one corner, chained to a bar that ran the length of the back wall. His left arm was obviously broken and his face was swollen and malformed. His clothes were in tatters and he’d obviously not been near soap and water for days.

  Twingo was unrecognizable. The damage to his face due to multiple beatings looked severe, and Jason couldn’t fathom how he was getting air into his lungs. His right ear had been cut off and it looked like they’d gone to work on his upper torso with the same knife. He appeared to have multiple fractures in his extremities and his rib cage appeared to no longer be symmetrical.

  “Lucky, cut their restraints,” Jason said quietly. Doc’s head came up at his voice and he looked at the two in disbelief.

  “Captain?”

  “Be still, Doc,” Jason said gently. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “Twingo … get Twingo,” Doc mumbled, falling forward as Lucky cut his restraints. Jason went over to his best friend and waited for Lucky to come over and use his laser to cut the chain holding Twingo’s left arm to the bar.

  “I’m going to try and get underneath him,” Jason said. “I’ll carry him. You help Doc.” When he glanced over, he could see that Doc had already struggled to his feet and was trying to come over to help with Twingo. As gently as he could, he slid his friend out away from the wall until he could crouch down and ease both his arms up under his torso. Then, with excruciating slowness, he straightened his back and carefully pulled each leg up underneath him until he was standing with the smaller, blue alien cradled to his chest.

  “Jason,” Twingo tried to speak through his ruined jaw. “I didn’t tell them anything.” Tears streamed freely down Jason’s cheeks as he looked down at his friend.

  “I know you didn’t, buddy,” he said quietly. “Now don’t worry about anything, I’m getting you out of here.”

  “The ship …”

  “Shhh … She’s fine, Twingo,” Jason said as he moved towards the door with Lucky and Doc in tow. “You did good, they were never able to board.”

  They made it down the stairs with no incident and walked around to where Mazer was standing in the doorway of the room the guards had been lounging in. When he saw Twingo’s condition, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashed. He looked at Jason, the unspoken question hanging between them. Jason nodded once, his eyes reflecting the young warrior’s anger. Mazer turned and walked back into the room. Shortly thereafter there was a muffled scream that was abruptly cut short with a wet snap. A moment later there was a sharp Galvetic roar, and then another sickening crunch of bones. Without a look back, Mazer and Kade walked out of the room and fell in behind the members of Omega Force as they walked across the cavern floor towards the Phoenix. Jason reached out with his implant yet again to talk to his ship.

  **COMMAND ACKNOWLEDGED**

  DEFENSIVE SYSTEMS DEACTIVATED

  MAIN CARGO HATCH AND RAMP OPENING

  MEDICAL BAY PREPARED FOR WOUNDED

  Even from their distance of over fifty meters, Jason could hear the whine of the actuators as the rear ramp of the Phoenix lowered into place. One thing he hadn’t counted on was the sudden harsh glow of the cargo bay lights shining out into the cavern, now quite obvious since the tail of the gunship was outside of the internal lighting the salvage crews had been using.

  Walking as quickly as he dared with his grievously wounded friend, Jason eased up the ramp and was halfway up the stairs to the crew entry hatch when he heard Lucky close the rear pressure doors and raise the ramp.

  “Phoenix, reinitialize external defensive protocols,” Jason called out. “Ten meter perimeter.”

  “Acknowledged,” the computer’s emotionless voice said.

  When he got to the infirmary, he realized that there was an oversight that they’d never corrected in all their time owning the vessel: there was only one medical table.

  “Shit,” Jason muttered as he gently deposited Twingo onto the bed and stepped back. Doc, limping heavily, walked in behind him.

  “I can handle this, Captain,” he said. Despite the obvious pain he was in from an unset broken arm and multiple blunt force wounds, Doc walked over without hesitation and began commanding the automated systems to begin Twingo’s emergency treatment. Jason felt humbled at the courage the pair had shown, and were still showing, throughout what must have felt like a hopeless situation.

  “Captain Burke,” Kade’s voice said quietly behind him.

  “Yes?”

  “Although I am only trained in rudimentary field aid, I believe I can be of assistance to your medical officer,” Kade said. “I can at least be his hands since he is quite injured himself.”

  Jason thought about it before nodding in gratitude. “Thanks. That will help a lot I think.”

  “If I may ask,” Kade continued, “are you fully capable of cold-starting this vessel with less than three-quarters of your emergency power and no chief engineer?”

  “That’s a good question.”

  Chapter 22

  “Morakar!”

  Morakar stopped and looked around. This was the second time he’d heard the urgent, somewhat high-pitched voice whisper his name. He was walking down one of the side streets that led away from Ker Commons, a square in the middle of the city, and had been getting the feeling for a while that he was being watched.

  “Over here!”

  He looked over and saw a diminutive figure gesturing for him to approach the darkened area where the storm runoff would normally flow between the buildings. The figure was clad in loose-fitting black garments and had a hood pulled far up over his head. Suspecting a trap, Morakar approached with caution. Even though it was exceedingly rare, there were some species that took the chance of engaging in criminal activity within the cities of Restaria. They normally didn’t live long enough to regret their decision once they were caught.

  As he drew closer, he saw that the being was gripping the edge of the building with two hands, and then adjusted his clothing with yet another hand. Morakar relaxed his stance immediately and walked quickly over to where he was being beckoned.

  “Kage,” he said in greeting. “I am happy to see you were unhurt in the explosion at the safe house. What happened?”

  “I barely made it out unhurt,” Kage corrected. “There was a six-person assault team that was just getting ready to breach when I slipped out through the adjacent unit.”

  “There were no bodies when Internal Security arrived,” Morakar said, looking at Kage dubiously. “You are certain about being attacked?”

  “I know what the hell it’s like to be attacked,” Kage snapped. “Likely far better than you do, if we’re honest. My little party favor couldn’t have killed all of them; the survivors must have grabbed the bodies and moved before security showed up. You at least had to have found where I destroyed all the equipment.”

  “There was nothing in the report,” Morakar said apologetically. “If you left behind damaged equipment they may have grabbed it along with the bodies of their fallen cohorts. What species were they?”

  “I couldn’t tell,” Kage said. “They were wearing masks and concealing clothing. Far too small to be geltens, though. Damn! That’s one of the main reasons I’ve been following you … if I knew the species then I would have a much better place to start trying to find out who is attempting to kill us.”

  “Us?”

  “There is no way this is unrelated to the disappearance of Twingo and Doc, not to mention the ship,” Kage said. “Unfortunately we’ve pissed off so many people this may not even be related to anything happening on Restaria or Galvetor. It could have been someone that happened to track us here. Remember the stealth ship that tried following us from Colton Hub?”

  “It does make sense,” Morakar admitted. “Have you warned Lord Felex yet?”

  “That’s the next thing on my list after finding you,” Kage said. “There was no way I could get to him inside Legion Center with all that security.”

  “He is scheduled to ad
dress the legion leadership within the hour, so there will be no time to reach him before then,” Morakar said. “In the meantime, let’s adjourn to someplace a little more inconspicuous and compare intelligence.”

  “Preferably someplace where I can grab something to eat,” Kage agreed and followed the big warrior out of the square.

  “Actually, I have something a bit more entertaining in mind,” Morakar said speculatively as a lieutenant of the 8th Legion strolled by, obviously intoxicated.

  *****

  Crusher paced back and forth in the small chamber just off of the main assembly area, his formal armor creaking and rattling with each movement. His annoyance with the attire was beginning to reach critical mass. How he had ever worn the ridiculous outfit every day of his previous life was a mystery to him. He did notice that his temper and irritation seemed directly proportional to the lack of information about his friends. He had sent Morakar out a day ago and had yet to hear anything back.

  “We’re almost ready for you, my lord,” Connimon said as she poked her head in.

  “Please enter, Caretaker,” Crusher rumbled. She moved apprehensively into the small antechamber, as the current foul temperament of the Lord Archon had become somewhat legendary in recent days. When she had fully entered the room, he continued, “What do you make of the current troop buildup in the city of Ker?”

  “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean, my lord,” she said smoothly. She was good. Crusher would have accepted the lie at face value had he never left Restaria. But being around the scum of the galaxy, not to mention world class liars like Twingo and Kage, he was able to detect the slight narrowing of the eyes and the involuntary twitch of her mouth. Whatever was going on, she didn’t trust him with the information.

  “Of course,” he said. “Just some random reports I’ve been receiving. Nothing firm.” He listened for a moment as the three Praetores addressed the assembled crowd. “Do you think this is wise? Will a unified Restaria be enough to stave off the unrest on Galvetor?”

  “Perhaps for a time,” Connimon said carefully. “But we’re being inexorably pulled into the larger galaxy around us. A purely isolationist policy may no longer be practical for our worlds. You, more than any of us, should be able to appreciate that given your recent past.” Her tone of voice told Crusher she was trying to suss out his feelings on the issue rather than making a declaration of her own.

  “That is not for us to decide,” Crusher said firmly. “We’ve been the guardians, the last resort, and the main deterrent for any potential enemies for as long as we have a written history of our kind. I will not throw away a millennium of tradition and tip the balance of power to any one political side.”

  “Of course, my lord,” she said, almost sadly.

  “We are ready for you, Lord Archon,” Fordix said from the doorway. Crusher hadn’t heard him approach and wondered how long he’d been standing there.

  “Very well,” he said with a deep sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

  When he emerged onto the raised stage, a thunderous roar rose from the crowd, such a noise that it could have drowned out a starfighter’s engines. Crusher stood in the center and let them view him. Though there had been rumors and sightings, this was the first time their Guardian Archon had been before them in an official capacity in over a decade. He could feel the energy in the room. It was intoxicating, electric. He raised his arms, trying to signal for silence so he could begin his prepared remarks.

  As he slipped back into his old role, the thrill of being on stage soon fled and was replaced with an old familiar ache. With his new perspective gained from his time with Omega Force, he now knew that ache to be self-loathing.

  Chapter 23

  “We have three hours until daylight, Captain Burke,” Kade said. “They will undoubtedly be starting their dayshift soon.”

  “I’m aware of the time, Kade,” Jason said patiently. “This cannot be rushed, however, unless you want to be atomized in less than a millisecond if it goes wrong.”

  The warrior said nothing, but did turn and leave the engineering bay so Jason could continue his work uninterrupted.

  Starting an antimatter reactor that had been shutdown was a touchy thing. First, there had to be enough power available to engage the isolators: magnetic constrictors that prevented the antimatter from coming in contact with the conduit walls and destroying most of the ship. Then the antimatter generators had to be brought online, and they used a tremendous amount of power. They would convert hydrogen atoms into anti-hydrogen and send them through the antimatter manifold, along the short conduit, and into the injector housings. At the same time, hydrogen atoms from the same fuel source would prime the injectors on the other side of the core. When the controller fired the injectors, hydrogen would meet anti-hydrogen and the resultant atomic annihilation would release a tremendous amount of energy the converters would then use to power the ship. Once it was all up and running, the reaction was self-sustaining and quite stable; any problem and the small amount of antimatter on hand would be jettisoned.

  One problem, however, was the fact that if there was less than eighty percent emergency power, all the needed subsystems could not be safely operated. A deep space combat vessel wasn’t without more than one backup, but now Jason had to figure out the best way to employ them without the help of his engineer. He looked over the myriad of individual control panels and indicators, sighing in disgust. Twingo always made it look so easy.

  “Computer,” he said. “Are the two emergency fuel cells charged?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “If both fuel cells are activated to supplement Main Bus A, will there be enough power to start the main reactor?”

  “The power level would not be within acceptable safe limits to attempt a main reactor start sequence,” the computer told him dispassionately.

  “What would the available power be up to? Give me the answer in a percentage based on emergency power cell outputs,” Jason said.

  “Eighty-seven percent.”

  “What are the power levels needed to start the main reactor given it starts on the first attempt? Tell me the accepted minimum and the absolute minimum.”

  “A nominal reactor start needs ninety percent to be within acceptable safety limits. Absolute minimum is eighty-five percent,” the computer droned.

  “How long would it take to bring the backup fusion reactor online?”

  “Two hours and twenty minutes would be required for the backup fusion reactor to begin supplying power.”

  “And how long after that before we could start the main reactor?” Jason asked, knowing it was a useless question.

  “An additional three hours would be required.”

  “Shit,” Jason muttered. “At least an absence of choices means it’s impossible for me to make the wrong one … start both emergency fuel cells and apply the power to Main Bus A. Decouple Main Bus B from emergency power cells and alert me when peak power from all three sources has been reached.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  He left Engineering and walked up through the darkened interior of his ship towards the bright lights of the infirmary. He looked in through the transparent double doors at his friends. Doc, his arm now set and in a sling, was dozing in a chair with a tablet computer grasped loosely in his good hand. His face was partially covered with med-patches that were addressing the swelling and soft tissue damage to his face.

  Twingo almost couldn’t be seen under the coverings and various apparatus that Doc had brought to bear to save the little engineer’s life. Not wanting to disturb them, Jason went to the bridge where Mazer and Kade were standing watch, looking out the canopy at the cluster of buildings and waiting for signs of life from the morning crew.

  “Anything?” he asked, slumping into the pilot’s seat.

  “All is still,” Kade said. “There are not even any lights in the building we are assuming is their sleeping quarters.”

  “Let’s hope even if they find
our handiwork they won’t put two and two together and get four,” Jason said absently as he brought up a few of his displays.

  “Isn’t two and two actually four?” Mazer asked, confused.

  “It sure is,” Jason said, not bothering to clarify the idiom. The two warriors shrugged at each other and went back to their watch. Jason accessed the infirmary through his multi-function display and called up the computer’s assessment of Twingo’s condition. The explosive breath he blew out when he read it startled both geltens, but he hardly noticed them. It was right there in plain text what the computer thought Twingo’s chances were:

  Prognosis: Full recovery after nano-treatment.

  So Doc’s medical nanobots would work their magic and his friend would eventually make a full recovery. The sense of relief he felt nearly overwhelmed him. He drilled down into the report a bit further and saw that the ear his torturers had cut off would need to be cloned and reattached. It was all fairly standard treatment for everything else including a short bout of physical therapy once he was ambulatory again. The list of significant injuries was daunting, though. Those scumbags had really worked him over.

  “Emergency power is now at eighty-eight percent,” the computer’s voice broke into his musings. “Fuel cell backups are now at peak power output.”

  “Acknowledged,” Jason said. “Activate antimatter containment system. As soon as containment is stable start primary antimatter generator.”

  “Confirmed,” the computer said. “Antimatter containment activated. Time until primary antimatter generator start: five minutes.”

  “I’ll be in Engineering, guys,” Jason said as he hopped out of his seat. “Keep a look out and call on the intercom if things get interesting.” He took the steps off the command deck four at a time and jogged through the common area until he made it to the port engineering bay. More displays and indicators were now active and the familiar ambient noise of the area was picking up as the ship came back to life. He watched the indicators carefully as the magnetic constrictors were charged and stabilized and the entire antimatter containment system reached peak efficiency. The coolant lines hissed and frosted over as they kept the superconductors within the antimatter conduits chilled down to cryogenic temperatures.