by Scott Baron
“Wait, go slower!” Chu begged. “At least give me a minute to make notes!”
“No time,” she grunted, whipping from one device to the next, her hands flying as she locked the assembly into place.
“Okay, this should work on the same frequency as your model. It may need an additional power boost due to the size reduction, but I’ll deal with that on the surface if I have to,” she said. “Donovan, Reggie, how’s the ship prep coming?” she asked over the comms.
“Just getting the parachute loaded, Daisy,” Donovan replied. “Reggie’s charging the compressed air system as we speak. There’s enough fuel for one hard-burn terrestrial launch, but that’ll have to be manually fired. We’ve severed the active computer systems as you requested, so she’ll look like a hunk of debris to all but the most detailed scans. We’re finishing up the last of it now. You should be green across the board in less than twenty.”
“Good work. Keep at it, and strip out anything not entirely necessary. It’s going to be a bumpy landing and I don’t want any additional weight if I can avoid it.” Daisy keyed off the comms.
Captain Harkaway stood off to the side of the pre-launch staging room watching her. Commander Mrazich walked in and joined him. Neither man, both leaders with decades of experience, said a word to her. They didn’t have to. Daisy was on a roll, and besides, she wouldn’t listen anyway.
“What do you think, Lars? She’s stripped that thing pretty bare and will be going in hot,” Mrazich said to his friend.
“Yeah, I know,” Harkaway replied. “But she’s found her groove. You and I both know better than to question her when she’s like this. And did you see how easily she not only rebuilt a second transmitter, but also improved upon it on the fly? No, I think she’s going to be just fine on her approach.” He watched the anxious young woman scurrying around the facility as she prepped. “What happens once she lands, however, now that’s an unknown.”
Daisy was quickly making alterations to one of the new Faraday suits when Shelly and Omar hurried into the room, arms loaded with crates of salvaged components Daisy had asked for.
“We got what you wanted,” Omar said, out of breath. “At least, I think we did. I’m not a much of a tech guy.”
Daisy glanced at the boxes and nodded. “Yeah, looks good. That should work fine.” She finished her final addition to the suit, then shoved it in her flight bag.
“But you don’t need that, Daisy,” Shelly said. “You’re organic.”
“It’s not for me,” she replied. “If Vince was picked up and taken, then that means their scanning tech is stronger than anticipated and he’ll need something more robust to shield him.”
“We don’t know that’s what happened,” Chu replied.
“No, we don’t. But I’m not taking any chances.” Daisy dumped the crates of components onto the workbench and began quickly assembling batteries to the necessary parts. The basics of the design were familiar—she’d made electromagnetic pulse weapons before—but in her present mental state, she may have upped the potency a little bit much. It wasn’t a simple EMP grenade, as her prior designs had been, but, rather, a proper bomb.
Ash walked in, followed closely by Barry. The cyborg expressed the slightest hiccup of concern when he saw what she was working on. Of course, that would be only natural, as he’d felt the brunt of one such device when she disabled him with it while escaping the Váli all those months ago.
“Daisy, Barry and I have fabricated something we believe may be of use to you on the mission,” Ash said, holding out a pocket-sized device.
“I’m not going on your stupid mission, Ash. I’m going to get Vince.”
“Yes, of course. And to that end, we hope this will help you.”
Daisy took the gadget from his hand and gave it a quick once-over. It was incredibly simple in design, a no-frills organic LED intensity display for proximity, she noted. Still, something was really off about it. Daisy felt the material more closely.
“Is this wood?” she asked in amazement. “There are no trees on the moon.”
“Correct,” Barry said. “But Ash and I utilized some of the indigenous materials information in the databases to adjust the organics fabricator for this project. Most of the non-shielded components are organic. It should be nearly invisible to any scans.”
Daisy actually slowed in her work to study the device more closely. She carefully slid the back panel open and examined the internal components.
“This is genius,” she said appreciatively. “Really creative thinking. Especially for cyborgs.” She looked at the pair of mechanical men apologetically. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Barry replied. “You’ll see that the energy source is an organic electrolyte fluid housed in a cellulose membrane. The electrolysis generated between the positive and negative poles is designed to build a slow charge—nothing that would attract attention—then, when it reaches capacity, it will activate the few non-organic scanning parts.”
“So, it is not only mostly organic, but it also utilizes a random power cycle, further avoiding scrutiny. You guys did an impressive job, really, but I have to ask, what does it scan for?”
Ash stepped forward, a slight smile on his lips. “As you know, all organic life has its own unique energy signature. Near impossible to trace unless specific, genetic details are known. To obtain such details, however, one would have to possess in-depth knowledge of a particular genome all the way back to its creation.”
“And Vincent was grown and nurtured en route to his mission,” Barry added.
“Mal,” Daisy realized. “The Váli still possesses all of our genetic details from day one.”
“Precisely,” Barry said. “Ash and I, with Mal’s assistance, have designed this unit to pick up the normally imperceptible energy signature given off by Vincent. If you get close enough, the organic light-emitting diode will glow brighter. However, the energy source is, as you noted, rather random, so the power must be used sparingly.”
Finn walked in, carrying a small tray of vacuum-sealed pouches.
“Made you something,” he said. “Nutrient-dense, high in protein, and packing enough carbs to get you through the day. Just make sure to drink plenty of water with them or you might get a little plugged up,” he said with a mischievous little grin.
“Thanks, Finn. I’ll try to keep my pipes clear,” Daisy replied, tucking them into her bag.
“Ten minutes and she’ll be ready, Daisy,” Donovan called over the comms.
“Thanks, Donovan. How’s the extra shielding look?”
“It’ll deflect most of the burn, like you said, but you’ll still be coming in really hot. The landing chute is altitude-deployed as you specified, and we cut leads to everything else. No active computers but the bare necessities. Are you sure you don’t want life support?”
“No, I’ll use suit oxygen. The extra units stowed on board will be plenty for the trip, and if we do manage to launch back into the debris field, they should hopefully last us long enough for you to come pick us up.”
That was the one concerning part of the plan. The tiny ship was a beater at best, and barely flyable, but it was the most likely to avoid scans on the way down. Unfortunately, that also meant there was simply no way to make it space-worthy in her limited launch window.
Donovan would pull her in tow, then give her a push toward re-entry. Her maneuvering thrusters would do the rest, adjusting her angle of descent until she hit the atmosphere. From then on it would be fly-by-wire, guiding the barely maneuverable craft down to her landing zone until the chute deployed.
The only safeties she left active were the speed/altitude-triggered emergency landing jets. She doubted they’d be needed, but they were the one ‘just in case’ piece of equipment Reggie had convinced her to leave aboard. They would only activate and fire for a few seconds if absolutely needed, and that would almost certainly not be enough to read on a scan. Besides, if they did activate, that meant she would have been dead o
therwise, so why not risk it? His logic was undeniable.
“Okay, that’s about it,” Daisy declared, pulling on her flight gloves. “Help me load the rest of this stuff on the ship and I’m out of here,” she said, throwing her flight bag over her shoulder.
“Just a minute, Daisy,” Fatima said, pushing a long and narrow grow-enzyme and what appeared to be blood-filled tank into the room. “I have something I think you’ll find useful for your mission.”
“It’s not my mission, Fatima. I’m just––”
“Yes, yes, you’re going to get Vince. Whatever the impetus, I think you are going to want this.”
“That’s nasty, Fatima, and I don’t need any new parts stitched on for––”
The older woman dipped her hand into the red liquid and pulled a long, bone-white sword out of the nutrient bath, the red running from its blade in rivulets, but also seeming to absorb into it. The shape was familiar to Daisy—a classic Japanese katana. Some of the historic records suggested that the ancient weapons could even cut through armor when wielded by skilled hands.
“Wait, that’s not ceramic,” Finn, lover of all things bladed, said. “What is that? Is that bone?” He was transfixed. “That’s bloody amazing! Can I see it?”
“It’s Daisy’s,” Fatima replied.
“Go on, Finn,” Daisy said. “Knock yourself out.”
He took the sword in his hand, gingerly touching the edge. A confused look crossed his face, and he grabbed the blade with his bare hand. “Fatima, what gives? This thing is dull as a stick!”
He handed it to Daisy. She whacked the dull blade against a half-eaten sandwich Finn had left on the table. It merely dented the bread.
“Thanks for the thought, Fatima, but I think I can find a club pretty easily on the surface.”
The silver-haired woman merely smiled. “Take your glove off, Daisy,” she said. “Feel the grip.”
Daisy didn’t have time to waste playing with bone clubs, but Fatima had been a friend to her, and despite her rush, she didn’t wish to be disrespectful when she had obviously gone to some trouble growing her a bone sword.
“Okay,” Daisy said, pulling her gloves off, “but I don’t see what difference that will make.”
She noted the fine texture of the grip in her hands, and for a brief moment, almost felt a strange connection to it. The balance was perfect, as if it had been created just for her. Of course, it had been, so she supposed that was to be expected.
Odd. It almost feels warm. Probably from the nutrient blood bath she grew it in, Daisy mused.
“It’s nice, Fatima, and I really appreciate you, um, growing this for me, but I’ve really got to get moving.”
“Try it again,” Fatima said with that tranquil grin she got when she knew something you didn’t.
“Seriously, I’ve got to go, Fatima.”
“Try it again, Daisy,” she said, more firmly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine!”
Daisy swung the dull bone sword at the sandwich again, intending to squash it into a nasty mess. Instead, the sandwich, and the metal table beneath it, fell to the floor, neatly sliced in two.
Everyone in the room went silent.
“Um––” Daisy managed, staring at the wondrous thing in her hands.
“As I was saying,” Fatima beamed, “I think you’ll find that most useful on your quest.”
“But it was dull,” Finn blurted. “I felt the blade. You couldn’t cut a piece of toast with it.”
“That is true, Finnegan,” Fatima said. “You could not. Daisy, however, can.”
“I don’t get it,” Daisy said, marveling at the blade, studying its every facet.
It was Mal who enlightened them all.
“That went better than expected, wouldn’t you agree, Fatima?”
“Yes, Mal. I think it far exceeded our design expectations.”
Daisy reeled in her shock. “You mind telling me what exactly you two did? How was this dull and sharp at the same time?”
“It wasn’t, Daisy,” Mal replied. “It is a genetically-engineered, organic bone weapon, designed to be completely invisible to Chithiid scans. When the donor’s genetic code is recognized by the sword, it reacts instantaneously, and the otherwise dull edge shifts on a molecular level into a sharp blade, the fineness of which is a rather remarkable hone tapering down to a single molecule. Used properly, Fatima and I hypothesized it could cut through most non-reinforced materials.”
“Hang on. You said donor’s genetic code. I’m no donor.”
Fatima leveled her gaze on her. “No, Daisy, you are not. Not in a traditional sense, anyway. However, when you first arrived at Dark Side, we ran a series of tests on you, do you recall?”
“Yes, but––”
“And one of those involved taking a bone sample. Your reinforced skeletal matrix nearly broke the titanium sampling needle, if you recall.”
She thought back to that day. It was true, her bones were supposedly many times stronger than normal, but that meant they had literally grown the weapon from a tiny piece of her.
“So you’re saying this is grown from a piece of me? That it’s alive?”
“Yes, Daisy. Alive and only sharp in your hands. It is an extra-reinforced matrix of your already super-strong bone. Wielded properly, it should cut through just about anything you’re strong enough to swing it through—within reason.” Fatima couldn’t hide her satisfaction, and given what she and Mal had created, who could blame her?
“But bone isn’t stronger than metal,” Daisy said. “It should break.”
“And it could, in theory, if you abuse it enough and don’t feed it. Otherwise, if you take good care of it, every micro-fracture will quickly heal and make it even stronger than before.”
“Feed it?”
“Yes. Disturbing as one of the sources of the genetic coding required may be, the result is a formidable weapon, but one that pulls nutrients from organic material.”
“Why disturbing?”
Fatima hesitated. “You see, Mal and I spliced in specific features of the most virulent organism ever created when we grew this. The very plague that wiped out humanity and sucked their corpses dry until not even bones remained was our inspiration. What wiped out humanity, might just help you save it.”
“You unleashed that nightmare in our base?” Captain Harkaway yelled, pulling his shirt over his nose and mouth.
“No, Captain, we did not. There is no plague here, and we destroyed the un-frozen sample utilized in the genetic modification process. What we do have, is a weapon that can now pull nutrients from living things as easily as you or I drink water. In a pinch, just about anything organic will work, but it really does prefer fresh blood.”
“So, it’s a vampire sword? What, am I supposed to let it feed on my victims or something?”
“That is so gross, Daze.”
I know, right?
Fatima laughed heartily. “Oh, Daisy, it’s an organic weapon, not some blood-sucking fiend. Just take good care of it, and it will remain sharp and healthy and take good care of you in return.” She handed the sheath to her stunned student. “Now stop standing here yapping with an old woman. Get moving and go save Vince.”
Chapter Twenty
Daisy pushed the last of her supplies into the small craft and climbed into the cockpit.
Flight system is stable, chute and thrusters are primed, Daisy noted. Okay. This is it. Time to go.
She keyed the door system and sealed herself in. Donovan and Bob would pick her up momentarily and drag her to her launch point.
“Fatima,” Mal quietly said over secure comms. “I have prepared the containers for relocation to Dark Side’s facilities.”
“Thank you, Mal,” she replied. “We will move the subjects from your bio lab into the base after Daisy has launched.”
“Very well,” the AI answered. “I think that all went about as well as could be expected, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Very well,
indeed,” Fatima said as she walked back toward the command center to join the others monitoring the launch.
The flight to the debris field was slow, as it always was when one had to essentially mimic drifting wreckage, and a good hour had passed by the time Daisy finally reached her launch point.
“Okay, Daisy. Ready when you are,” Donovan said over their linked comms. “Just give the word.”
She took a deep breath and double-checked her guidance settings. With the most minimal of electronics, there was always a window for Mr. Murphy to make an appearance. Daisy was not a fan of his law and hoped to avoid it at all costs.
“Let’s do it,” she replied.
Bob activated his thrusters and pushed her on her way, then released his tether. “Good luck, Daisy. Fly safe.”
Fly safe, he says. I’m in a plummeting hunk of metal with mere jokes for wings, and he says fly safe.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Sarah chimed in. “But Daisy?”
Yeah?
“Try not to get us killed. I’ve died once already.”
Her living sister laughed grimly as the atmosphere began buffeting the hull.
“Here we go.”
For five minutes the ship bucked and jolted as the hull turned bright orange from the massive heat building as it dove through the atmosphere.
I bet I’m making a pretty light show for anyone watching from space. Good thing I timed the landing for daylight. Hopefully no one will notice down below.
With a sonic boom, the vessel finally burst into Earth’s protective bubble and began its descent to the terra-firma below. Daisy glanced at the readouts.
On course.
She gently adjusted her angle of descent and settled in for the long glide to Los Angeles. From high above the continents, she observed the patches where the Chithiid had wreaked their strip-mining havoc on the cities below. Huge swaths not protected by automated defenses lay in ruin, disassembled and gutted as the alien invaders pried every resource from them until nothing remained.