by Jo Carey
Narnn, shaken, could only say, "I don't know. That went against every programmed behavior. That can't happen." He got out of his chair and ran over to an engineering console where he ran an analysis of the HS3 telemetry. "Sir, it’s normal. No malfunctions. No anomalies. Everything is normal."
"Normal? Are you delusional? That bucket of bolts put this ship and you in harm's way. You know what else happened?"
Narnn looked at him with wide eyes as he could barely shake his head and say, "No."
"It disobeyed a direct order to stand-down. I'm declaring that thing rogue. Communications! Send this to Space Command: HS3 now rogue. Request immediate backup. Awaiting orders."
"Aye, Captain."
"Ms. Sona, break radio silence and bring up Deep Space Probes One and Two. I want eyes on that Torsa fleet."
"Aye, Captain!” the Communications officer said as she set up a link with the two probes. As a precaution, Space Command had sent two specially equipped probesats to shadow the invading fleet. They'd been programmed to keep radio silent except for burst transmissions two times a day. After a few minutes, Communications reported, "Deep space Probe One on-screen."
The view screen shimmered as a scene from hell coalesced. Wreckage floated around the probe. Broken hulls and bodies passed by the probe in an endless stream.
"Science Officer, elapsed time from launch," the captain whispered.
"Five minutes, forty-two seconds, mark."
"By all that's holy. A thousand ships destroyed in less than six minutes. Communications, send the logs from launch until now straight to Space Command. Mark them Ultimate Priority."
"Aye Captain."
"Sir! Upper right quadrant. I think that's a life pod."
"Tight zoom," the captain ordered.
An image of what was once a life pod filled the screen, cleaved in half by a tight-beam laser. The remains of its occupants still inside.
"Sir, Space Command just ordered us to proceed to the following coordinates at maximum speed. One of our probes just recorded HS3 attacking a planet-based Torsan outpost. We are to render assistance to the survivors."
"That wasn't part of the plan, Doctor! It was supposed to go, kick the Torsan fleet's ass and come back to us. It wasn't supposed to annihilate them, and then go on to one of their planets. Your little monster is trying to commit genocide. Care to explain this unfortunate turn of events?"
"I... I... I can't."
"Navigation, where do those coordinates take us?"
"Just inside Torsan space, sir,"
"Great. Set course and engage. Full FTL. I want the stealth fields to max when we decant. If there's anyone else there, we bug out, understood?"
"Aye, Captain," the Helmsman said as he dropped the ship into FTL space.
They arrived at the designated coordinates an hour later.
"Full scans," the captain said as the view screen shimmered. It cleared to show a planet with a two-thousand-kilometer piece missing and a massive debris field in close orbit.
"No life signs, sir. No sign of energy emissions. Nothing," the Science Officer said as she bent over her console. "Wait one... We have a radiation trail heading off toward the core. It is consistent with a damaged League FTL drive."
"What's between here and the core, Ms. Quattar?"
"The Elspeth Expanse, sir. If HS3 gets in there, we'll never find her."
"Ms. Sona, continue scanning for survivors for another hour, then set course for Space Command, maximum speed. Maintain radio silence but pop a log buoy with all recordings."
"Aye, Captain."
Captain Mansura sat back in his chair and thought about his next move. "Doctor, where did you obtain that ship's mind?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, Captain."
Mansura steepled his fingers and thought for a moment. Around him, the bridge crew stole glances at the Doctor, not at all happy with his response.
"You do realize that your creature killed several hundred thousand people, don't you?"
"They were invading..."
"Their fleet was, and we were supposed to stop them, not eradicate them. The people down on the planet were just down there watching their border. The League has not declared war on this species, but your creature did."
"It's not a creature! It's..."
"It's what, Doctor?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, Captain."
Capt. Mansura pressed the intercom button. "Security to the Bridge," he said, calmly. Moments later, the door opened and four fully-armed Security Marines walked in and stood around the doctor.
"Sir!" the team leader said as he stood at attention while the others watched the Doctor, the only stranger on the Bridge.
"You wouldn't dare!" Falta yelled.
"Dr. Falta, you’re under arrest. The charge is accessory to murder of the population of this planet. First Officer, note this action in the log."
"Aye sir, noted."
"Security detail, escort the good Doctor to the Brig."
"Aye, sir. Doctor, please come with us."
Dr. Falta rose and followed the Team Leader out with the rest of the team taking flanking positions around him. When the door closed behind them, the captain turned to the communications officer and said, "The minute we're clear of Torsan space, I want a direct line opened to Dr. John Taggart, Lab Omega Six Biocybernetics Division, priority one. Pipe it into my Day Room. Ms. Sona, you have the conn. Let me know if we find anything."
"Aye, sir. Sir, if I may, this isn't your fault."
"Evelyn, the first thing they teach you in 'Captain School' is that everything is your fault," he said as he went to his Day Room.
An hour later found the captain neck deep in an after-action report to Space Command. He had hit a wall when he tried to describe a rogue AI destroying a planet when the intercom beeped.
"Go for Mansura."
"Sir, a Gloria is on the line from Dr. Taggart's lab," the Communications Officer said.
"Who the hell is Gloria? I want Taggart," the captain said.
"Sir, the communication is tagged top secret. Gloria's file is on your terminal. I suggest you look it over."
"What the hell?" he said as he scanned the file. He stopped and re-read it, slowly. "Put her on."
"Captain Mansura, my name is Gloria and I work with John. John is recovering from a nasty lab accident, so he can't talk with you right now. Perhaps I can help?"
The captain looked at the screen and saw Gloria in her elf mobile. He marveled at how much elves looked like forest denizens from the fantasy games his daughter played.
"Captain? What's the matter? Never see an elf-girl before?"
He realized he was staring. “Sorry, but I’ve never seen a mobile that was so life-like. I swear you look like a living, breathing elf.” He got down to business while suppressing a blush. "What do you know about the Hell Spawn Project?"
"What's your clearance?" she asked. He told her. "Okay, that'll do," she said before launching into an explanation. "HS3 was supposed to have a complete human anima transferred into it, but that went to shit when the lab blew up," she said as her tail rose and draped over her shoulder. All the League’s elves had tails. “No. What do you need to know about Hell Spawn that I haven't told you?"
"Yeah, you said it was supposed to have a human anima, but the lab exploded before you could transfer it? Well, we have a problem then," he said as he launched into a retelling of the events of the last few hours.
Gloria dropped her tail and leaned into the vid pickup. "Impossible. The donor was one Mike Chaffee, 35, mass murderer responsible for blowing up a shopping mall and killing thirty-five people. He had a choice between guaranteed death and almost-guaranteed death. He chose the latter. He's still with us, waiting for his next chance. I can get him on the line if you want."
"No, I'll take your word for it. But if Mike is still with us, then who laughed at us just before running off to kill a few hundred thousand Torsans?"
"Laughed? It laughed?"
&nbs
p; The captain played the log back while piping it through the link. He was sure he saw her shudder. "I thought AIs didn't laugh."
"They don't. I don't know what that was, but it wasn't Charlie the Killer or some AI we had lying around. What did Doc Falta say?"
"He refused to say, so I locked him in the Brig."
"Good. There is something very wrong here, and I'm going to find out what. If that chotta hurt John, maintenance will be cleaning his intestines from the ceiling fans. Are you heading directly to Space Command?"
"Yes. ETA seven hours, mark."
"Roger that. I'll try to be there when you arrive. Anything else?"
"No. Wait, yes. Are you the only one of you?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Ever think of shipping out? You know on a warship?"
"Captain! You're going to turn my head!" she said as she batted her cat-like eyes before getting serious. "Not now, maybe someday. Thanks for asking. Have a safe trip back. Lab Omega Six out."
"Too bad. I know we could use you. Hell, the whole fleet could use you," he said as he sat back a moment before returning to writing his report.
CHAPTER SIX
Gloria missed having a handset to slam down; punching a flat piece of armorglass was about as satisfying as whispering an insult. She paced the room, her tail flicking back and forth in frustration. She checked the time and saw she had a few minutes before her ship was to leave, so she walked down to John's quarters to check on him and ask him a question or two.
When she reached his door, she checked her outfit before knocking.
"Come," a voice said from the other side. She turned the handle and entered the room.
The first thing she noticed was John's efforts at redecorating. On the wall were the two small drawings he had done of his mythical wife and daughter. Even with her background those pictures creeped her out. A huge, solid, wood, kidney-shaped table replaced the sofa, easy chairs, pool table, video games, and dining room set. Sitting around it were chairs and stools of all shapes and sizes. The table was a good two meters across at its widest. John was on a chair with papers strewn out across the table. Pencils, pens, and markers were scattered all over the table's surface.
"Hi Gloria. Love the look. Comic convention tonight?"
"Yep. The fanboys want to see me in all my Gloria!" she said, smiling at her own joke. "What's up?"
"Getting back to work. I've got preliminary designs for several new remote frames for rescue operations. Here's one I designed just for you," he said as he handed her a C-size drawing. On the paper was a centaur hand-drawn in colored pencil. She looked and saw the hooves were four-digit hands while the tail was prehensile and ended in a small red jewel.
"Is that a laser?"
"Five watt He-Ne focused through a sapphire flex-lens, very similar to the one you're now wearing though more powerful. It can be used for defense or line of sight communication. The legs terminate in hooves which double as four-digit claspers. You can crawl up walls. And I'm thinking a faux dragon skin corset would go great with it."
She was speechless. Only a month ago he had been recovering from almost being blown up, now he was working on several projects while finding time to make her something special. She stood there trying to find something witty to say, but came up blank.
"So, just checking on me. or is something vexing you that only I can help with?" John asked.
She smiled at how he could seemingly read her mind. "Vexing," she said.
"Spill it, milady," he said as he put the drawing down and gave her his undivided attention.
She explained what happened with HS3 while watching closely to make sure she didn't overload him.
He looked at his newly painted black ceiling. She looked around and saw all the walls were painted black. She looked down and saw the floor was tiled with jet black slate.
He asked, "And it refused an order?"
"Yes. It laughed as it left."
"Definitely an anima from a sapient. Do you have the donor's dossier?"
"There was no donor on record," she said.
John put his pencil in a cup and wiped his hands before moving around the table to stand in front of her. Her current shell was a good six inches taller than him, so he had to look up to her, arms crossed with a quasi-stern look on his face. "What?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"John, I can't," she said, her ears drooping.
"Does it have to do with the accident?"
"Maybe. An extraction was scheduled for that day. In fact, the donor and his escort were waiting outside the lab when the explosion occurred."
"So, he never made it into the chair, therefore there was no donor unless there's a second device. What has Narnn said? He would have been part of the escort, so he must have been there."
"The guards said he called ahead and told them to meet him there. He never showed. He's been mute since OffSec detained him."
"Lovely," he said as he looked at her, seeing for the first time that her hands were trembling. "Calm down, please. Would one of my pills work for you?" he asked.
"No, but thanks," she said, knowing full well that those pills were the only thing standing between him and raging fear. "Oh, the hell with this. The doctors all say that part of you is missing, not a physical part, but part of your anima is gone, along with a few hours of short-term memory."
"And you think that part was driving HS3?"
"Is it possible?"
"Maybe. I wish I could remember what happened in there. I remember going in, running a few tests and... nothing." John sat down at one of the stools that littered the room and rubbed his temples.
"You okay?" she asked, concerned he may have gotten back to work too soon and worse, her questioning was putting too much of a strain on him.
"I'm fine. Doc told me that the medication and counseling did a wonderful job of putting me back together." He looked at the holoclock on the wall. "Aren't you going to be late?" he asked.
She looked at her chrono and exclaimed, "Damn, you're right. I've got to go," she said as she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Don't overdo," she said as she opened the door.
"I won't, I promise," he said as he watched her leave. "Good journey."
She waved goodbye as the door closed and locked behind her. Smiling, John grabbed a pencil and went back to drawing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Space Command was a space station at the approximate center of the League. Once a simple asteroid, it was now a two-mile-long stone and metal maze of passageways, docks, communications arrays, and rooms surrounded by a small fleet of patrol vessels. As space stations go, Space Command was second to none.
The Battlecruiser Colestah docked at the far end of the station, far from the hustle and bustle of the main area. Inside, teams of Agents from the Office of Security, OffSec for short, debriefed the crew to ascertain the events that led to the death of the Torsa. This went on for most of a day.
Dr. Narnn Falta, once the golden child of Lab Omega Six, walked down a passageway to a secure conference room, led by an armed Marine contingent. Dr. Falta walked into the room and the doors sealed. To the rest of the League, Dr. Falta no longer existed if he was in that room.
"Doctor, please be seated," the Agent said, pointing to a chair at the center of the room.
Designed solely for interrogation of high-profile prisoners, the room was circular, with about twenty seating stations arrayed around its perimeter. Each station had a terminal, a writing surface, a small desk lamp, and a button.
At the center of the room was a single, simple wooden chair on a turntable above which was a single spotlight. During the interrogation, the room lights would be extinguished, plunging the room into total darkness. The desk lamps at the seating stations would be brought up, giving the interrogators a spectral look from the under-lighting effect. After a calculated wait time, the spot light would be turned on, bathing the prisoner in harsh white light. So began Dr. Falta's interview.
The lead interviewer pressed
their button, and Narnn's chair spun around to face them. "Dr. Falta, do you know why you're here?"
"No, I don't. I'm a citizen of Tralaska and demand to see the Tralaskan ambassador."
"She's busy, now answer the question: why are you here?"
"I refuse," he said. He reached up and wiped the sweat from his forehead; his hand shaking.
His chair spun and he was facing a myth. "Do you know what I am?" she asked as she placed her talon-tipped hands on his chair arms and leaned down to look into his eyes, hers glowing blue.
"You are a Tyen, a myth. You don't exist."
"Oh, I exist. Now tell these learned people what they want to know. SPEAK!" she screamed, her fangs extending from both jaws like some impossible beast from the darkest stories of childhood.
"I'm here because of the Hell Spawn Project. It went bad. Lots of people died."
The chair spun again.
"Good, Doctor, good. We have analyzed every scrap of data collected by the Battlecruiser Colestah, and you should be happy to hear that the captain and crew are exonerated of all wrong doing. In fact, they're all receiving commendations."
"Oh. Good," he said as he sat up straighter.
"You, though, bear full responsibility. We've talked to a representative of Lab Omega Six, and she assures us that Biocybernetics did not supply the anima installed in HS3. Would you care to explain that?"
"She lies. Who is this person? I..." He stopped as his chair spun around once more. Standing in front of him was Gloria in her simple humanoid form. She looked like any young female in a beautiful summer dress. "Gloria," he whispered.
"Hello, Narnn. I see you're having a bad day. Well, fear not. It will get far worse," she said as she clasped her hands behind her back and paced in front of him. "John is recovering well. Thanks for asking," she said with a cute smile.
"Oh, good to hear," he stammered. He'd seen her during a security breach. He had watched as her petite body picked up a two-ton rogue droid and pull its arms off as if it were made of tissue paper. She had a temper, and he could see she was working very hard to contain it. He knew her capabilities. It was all he could do to refrain from cringing.