Dreadnought flew on, punching through the diaphanous veil surrounding the planet. The flight passed agonisingly slowly, but finally Asteria could be seen ahead and above, riding a plume of fusion fire. Greg Jones sat serenely a Flight, guiding Dreadnought along a flight path designed to catch Asteria.
Soon it was obvious why Asteria wasn’t going to make stable orbit. Her outer hull was peeled back. Vespin’s atmosphere was not a place she ever been designed to go. There must be some internal damage too. Her torch drive fluctuated wildly, then settle again. Magnus was impressed. Someone very skilled was nursing that ship into the sky.
“Bainham, have you got a signal through yet?”, Magnus asked trying to hid his irritation. The terse reply came back, “They aren’t acknowledging anything I send, Skipper. It could be damage or intent”.
Magnus turned to Heisenberg “Grab the medical staff and set up a triage at the dorsal supply airlock, with security. Nobody enters our ship until they’ve been checked for infection”. She looked at him hesitantly “What do you want me to do if they are showing signs of infection?”. Magnus gave her a harsh look “If they show positive, throw em overboard”. Magnus knew there was no room for half measures where Blight infection was concerned.
Before that line of thought could continue, Magnus’ attention was dragged back by Bainham “Skipper, Asteria’s drive just cut out completely. If they don’t restart it, their orbit will decay in sixty-four minutes”. Greg Jones called out “Rendezvous in nine minutes” anticipating his next question. Two mission timers popped up in the corner of the main display.
Heisenberg had gone before he could turn back to her. Armstrong gamely following her out the door, apparently eager for more trouble today. The supply lock’s live security feed on the CIC display. Magnus had nothing to do but watch the rescue party prepare for casualties in one eye and the approaching Asteria in the other. And hope for the best.
Every spare eye in CIC watched one readout as Dreadnought performed the final approach for docking. Asteria’s reactors were cooling off rapidly. If the reactor temperature spiked, it could be the Blight or just an old fashioned human kamikaze. As long as their temperature kept dropping, and the enigmatic attacker stayed dead or gone, the rescue could continue.
Magnus found him releasing a sigh of relief as the docking clamps extended and gripped the most intact part of the disintegrating Asteria in a vice like hold. Magnus watched as Asteria’s crew began crossing from their dangerously unsafe ship into the arms of Dreadnought’s stringent Blight testing regime.
His mind’s eye chimed. Heisenberg was contacting him “Skipper, I’ve got Asteria’s XO with me. One Plotarchos Ariana. She’s says their Ploiarchos, a man named Elias, sent her first to work with us”.
Magnus redirected her signal to the main CIC display. He could feel a headache building behind his eyes. He fought his tired body and replied “Excellent she can co-ordinate the evacuation.” Heisenberg agreed “She will, but main comms are dead on Asteria. It’s suit to suit coms only”.
Magnus nodded, “Understood. Dreadnought won’t cut loose until you confirm everyone’s off the Asteria or we run out of altitude. CIC out!”. Magnus cut the channel without further ceremony and sagged back in his chair.
Magnus didn’t notice he had dosed off until one of the CIC crew gently shook him and passed him a coffee. He half-heartedly watched the evacuation progress and was just about to take sip when he saw Armstrong sprint across the reception area. Armstrong got near to the latest batch of arriving crew, then brought his maser carbine up.
One crewman’s head vaporised as Armstrong’s beam struck him in the face. Blood and flesh boiled away and the corpse started spinning head over heels. The rest of the group were so shocked they bashed against Dreadnought’s air lock. Armstrong abruptly lowered his weapon and other Lakedaemians rushed forward to reassure the new arrivals. Magnus briefly flicked through Dreadnought’s sensors logs. Sure enough, the tell-tale heat signature of a Blight victim was clear to see.
Finally, the last member of Asteria’s crew made the crossing. He came alone, everyone else having escaped the flying wreck. Magnus had started to wonder if the day would actually end, when Dreadnought’s library files identified the rank markings of the most recent arrival’s space suit. Ploiarchos. A call from Heisenberg confirmed it. It looked like this Elias was a believer of the ancient maritime tradition. The Captain is the last one off his sinking ship.
Magnus gave orders for Dreadnought to separate from the Asteria and stabilise her own orbit. Ploiarchos Elias was escorted to CIC. He was olive skinned with deep set dark eyes surrounded by smile lines. However, he wasn’t smiling now. Magnus watched him as he walked up to the command level. Elias’ face could have been carved granite. Armstrong, who’d escorted him this far, stood respectfully a few steps back and off to one side. His maser carbine held in a deceptively casual fashion.
Elias stared fiercely at Magnus, then stuck his hand out. Magnus grasped it. “Thanks for rescuing my crew, Commander”, Elias' voice was grave. Magnus couldn’t tell how much was grief induced and how much was normal. “Thanks for saving my ship, Ploiarchus. I’m sorry about yours”.
“Me too. But that Blight piece of shit killed a lot of my friends today” Elias rumbled “and my Prince to boot”.
Magnus could see the other Officer’s loss. One leader to another, it didn’t matter how much discipline Elias hid it behind. “Asteria’s sacrifice made a real difference. Whatever was intended here, it failed”. Elias’ face tightened and he looked briefly away.
Magnus gestured to and empty seat nearby, “I’m sorry to report, one of your crew showed a Blight infection heat trace. He was dealt with”.
Elias’ jaw tightened “I feared as much. Glad it was just one”.
Elias looked at Athena. Her choice of a clothing, a plain black ship suit marked her out from the crew but didn’t give much else away. A flicker of recognition registered both ways.
Magnus sighed. Another enigma wrapped in a mystery.
“Right now, everyone’s exhausted. We’ll debrief everyone over the next few days” said Magnus wearily. Athena’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Magnus continued “We need to secure this planet and send for a report back to the capital. Everything else can wait”.
Elias found himself nodding to that “There are two people from my ship, you should prioritise speaking with. Inquisitor Dardanus and Tagmatarchis Halkyone are well informed on recent events”.
Elias felt like a failure. Asteria had seen a lot of service. Maybe she was a little scuffed and frayed round the edges. But her loss was hard to bare. He sighed heavily. Magnus glanced at him knowingly “Ploiarchos, you and yours will be well treated. Corporal Armstrong will escort you back to see your crew”. Elias nodded and let himself be led from CIC.
The starship Frankenstein maintained her in a lonely vigil, high over Cloud base, her crew watched for another attack and hoped fervently for news from their companion, the Dreadnought.
Hecate had abandoned CIC and taken refuge in sleep. She’d found the first unoccupied quarters she could and slumped gratefully into the bunk.
In Frankenstein’s CIC, deep in Vespin’s atmosphere Cartwright had left her seat on the command level and paced down to the Flight Post. She didn’t need to be there. Frankenstein’s current Flight Officer, Arnold Wrigglesworth, was doing a solid job and showed no sign of fatigue. Cartwright felt like the gravity was dialled up to eleven. Her subconscious mind agreed, twice she checked the settings for Frankenstein’s para-gravitics.
“Message drone incoming. IFF shows Laurentian” called out the young Able Telemetrist covering the Sensors post. “It’s from the Dreadnought, Ma’am. Transferring to main display” she added.
The back drop of Cloud base and Vespin’s atmosphere faded out to be replaced by the tired face of Magnus, “Dreadnought Actual to Cloud base and Frankenstein” his voice was hoarse “Local space secure, one attacker probably destroyed. No further bandits in the
local area. Ship’s log attached”.
Cartwright flicked up Dreadnought’s log in her mind’s eye. It had been a close fight. She breathed a sigh of relief.
By the time Dreadnought returned to Cloud base, Admiral Camperdown had turned the Operations room over to the duty Officer. Not Bigsby, that man was disaster prone. Someone with a safe pair of hands. Camperdown returned to his office and began to read through damage control reports. It looked like Desmond Llewellyn, pain though he could be, had repaired Cloud base enough to declare she was safe. But survival led to other problems.
Captain Scarlett signalled him by mind’s eye that Agent Athena had just arrived. He blanked his screens and waited for her to be shown in.
“Pot of tea, please Scarlett. if you’re not busy?” said Camperdown, whilst gesturing to Athena to sit. He scrutinised her as she moved into a chair. After such a long deep cover mission, he could see she was recovering her more glamorous visage, her hair had reverted to eye catching red. Scarlett left the cabin, closing the hatch behind.
“Ah. Diana. I’m afraid I must beg a favour” Camperdown said reluctantly. Athena’s face remained unchanged, but she grew wary.
“I need someone to interview the Asteria survivors”. Few knew her real name and she could rarely refuse those that did. Camperdown continued “I’d like it to be you”.
Athena paused thoughtfully. “Well, someone needs to piece together how this royal fuck up happened.” she eventually replied, with an arched eyebrow.
“Thank you, Diana. Please join me for a cup of tea.” said Camperdown. Athena nodded, wondering what else he wanted.
Chapter 34
In a bland interrogation room at the heart of Cloud base, the prisoner sat, his hands manacled together. The location was a mystery to him. The silence in his own head was deafening. All he could remember was noise. Such noise. He shook head trying to clear the quiet. It didn’t work. All he achieved was to make the medical collar he now wore chafe his skin.
In the next room, Inquisitor Dardanus watched the prisoner on the wall display. Physiological readings of all kinds framed the display. He would give his right arm for this equipment back home.
Home, a place a freighter kid never expected to really have. A place he realised he had found and now lost, to the Blight and the first shots of his Empire’s civil war. According to his hosts, Naval Station Archimedes was lost already.
Dardanus dragged his thoughts back to the job at hand. Athena was leaning against the monitoring room desk, staring avidly at the wall display. He hadn’t seen Athena’s attention waver in three hours. She was clearly waiting for something. Athena’s preparation reminded him of some of the psy-talented he had worked with before.
Dardanus had been grateful of the invitation to join in her investigation. Imprisoned on the Asteria, he had nothing to do but brood. The destruction of Asteria, he’d led to him having nothing to but brood. He was glad to take part in something as familiar as an interrogation.
The vacant expression vanished from Athena’s face. She replaced it with a search light smile. “It’s time” she said and gestured to the door into the detention room. Her long red hair, lightened and curled almost of it’s own free will. It now hung from her head in blonde curls. Dardanus wondered what her game was. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t want to delay any longer.
Dardanus led the way into the room and sat awkwardly into a chair that was directly attached to the ground. Athena followed and with a gesture the physiological monitors appeared on the wall behind the prisoner. Dardanus appreciated the professional gesture.
Athena open the questioning, he’d expected a tough line instead she smiled gently and took the prisoner’s manacled hand. “Your Highness” Athena cooed almost as if to a baby “Your Highness”. The scarecrow figure in front of them focused suddenly. As if coming out of a deep sleep. “Where am I?” he said feebly, looking around blinking, like his eyes hadn’t seen any light for years “Who’s there?”.
Athena began stroking the prisoner’s wrist gently “Your Highness. We treating you. You’ve been very sick”. Dardanus shuddered in disgust. A once revered Clone Prince was facing one of the worst deaths available to a human. Laurentian science couldn’t save him. Athena and Dardanus were simply attempting to pull as much information out of the ruined mind as they could before the end came.
Athena continued, her voice taking on a pleading note “Your Highness. To help you heal, I need some information. Can you speak to me, please?”.
Dardanus hadn’t expected the helpless old man before him would respond. He almost jumped when the thin reedy voice answered “Tell me… tell me what you need my Dear”.
Athena turned her sympathetic smile up another notch, like a granddaughter aiding a beloved ancient progenitor. “We need to know why you came to be here”.
Ptolemy looked fearful “The voice. The voice knew what to do”, tears formed in his ruined eyes “But I can’t hear it now”. Athena radiated compassion now, she changed moods like a chameleon changed colour. Dardanus couldn’t help but admire her professional skill.
Unbeknownst to her erstwhile partner, Athena’s outer words and deeds were the least of her interactions with the fallen Prince.
She was synching her mind to his, gathering the thin strands of sanity left to him and weaving them into a weak reflection of the man who’d gone before. This Prince had been a wolf in man’s clothing. He’d become the Blight’s puppet. Without it, he was little more than a child.
Dardanus would be her credible witness to the Prince’s confession.
Ptolemy began talking and gained speed as Athena kept benevolently leading him on. He spoke of how he’d burned for the Imperial throne, how he’d inched his way up the line of succession. How it turned to ash when the Emperor, the man who’d begat him in his own perfect image, had replaced him. How he’d been humiliated, forced to swear allegiance to a usurper.
He’d been banished then, to civilisation’s outer reaches. To Syracuse. There he’d met the deliverer. He was promised aid in taking his rightful crown, in return for trinkets no one would miss. The thing he wanted most for a bargain price.
The deliverer was the Blight.
When Ptolemy had been unable to meet the bargain’s terms, a forfeit was paid. The Blight tormented him. Ptolemy gave in, betraying Imperial secrets.
Ptolemy’s subjects found ruins buried in Coppinger’s graveyard. Old ruins. From before the second dark age. Ruins of a refuge and a chart of where other refuges were. The chart that led the Blight to Atlantis, or Vespin as it was now known. His subjects had spent decades uncovering the secret of mythical Atlantis, the world where three great cities of marble were lost deep under its blue ocean. Cloud Base was just one of the prizes.
Athena broke the connection, mentally exhausted. Ptolemy reverted to his earlier catatonic state. Athena gathered her thoughts, temporarily oblivious to Dardanus.
The Lakedaemian Inquisitor was struggling with the sight of his Prince laid so low. He stormed out of the detention room, before realising he had nowhere else to go. Athena followed, approaching slowly. Athena laid a hand on his shoulder. Dardanus felt instantly better. He realised then, she clearly had a psy-talent for emotional manipulation.
Dardanus sat down in the nearest chair. “The Blight, it’s left almost nothing of him”, he sighed.
Athena nodded “It’s the same for most victims” she said sympathetically.
Dardanus was lost for words. Athena continued in a more professional tone “A significant part of his brain mass has been converted”. Athena shrugged “The process can be slowed. But it’s too late to cure him”.
Dardanus asked “What now?”.
Athena titled her head thoughtfully “Now we talk to your Princess. It’s a day for Royal interviews”.
Dardanus just grunted. He didn’t look forward to meeting the heir to the Lakedaemian throne in such circumstances. Athena saw his face and continued “Cheer up, Inquisitor” Athena grinned �
�She will want information out of her brother as much as we do”.
In her stateroom, Hecate was wrestling with the seemingly innumerable problems of getting Frankenstein combat ready. Hecate’s display wall was covered in reports, but she continually struggled to find the one she wanted. In front of her, Cartwright sat motionless with her eyes closed. Every time Hecate asked her to find something, it appeared on the screen effortlessly. Clearly Cartwright’s mind’s eye was open.
Hecate couldn’t help but think a distraction of any kind would be welcome. The room started chiming. It wasn’t the door bell, she knew how to answer that. The chime was annoying and hearing it repeatedly only increased her anger. After several repetitions, her stubbornness was overcome “Lieutenant, please could you answer that for me”.
“Of course, Admiral. One moment” the chime sounded one more time, then two faces appeared on the wall screen. Inquisitor Dardanus stood side by side with a woman Hecate didn’t know. Hecate supposed she was the Laurentian contribution to the debrief of their prisoner, her brother Ptolemy. She’d known they were starting that today.
Well I wished for a distraction, Hecate thought to herself. She called to mind the old adage, be careful what you wish for.
The Inquisitor looked hunched and uncomfortable. It was obvious to Hecate that he was about to ask her to do something she wouldn’t like. “Your Highness” he managed to avoid sounding too deplorably grovelling. She immediately cut him off “I’m Yponavarchos right now. Admiral if you wish to humour our Laurentian hosts” she waved her hand around in an unwittingly regal fashion, “Save your Highness for the Imperial Palace. Now please continue, Inquisitor”.
“Could you assist us with the debriefing please, Admiral? Your brother is confused and weakening rapidly. There are some issues that need wrapping up while we still can” Dardanus said stiltedly. Clearly, he was deeply unhappy getting her involved. “Could you join us in the detention centre urgently?”.
The Syracuse Deception Page 23