by Isaac Hooke
five
Hoodwink gripped the armrests tightly with his gloves. Zak was bringing the shuttle on its fourth pass through the plasma flak when the nearest enemy turret flashed brighter than it ever had before. The incoming fire abruptly ceased, and all that remained of that particular point defense was floating debris.
With the aReal built into his helmet, Hoodwink zoomed in on the farther turret in range: it too was destroyed and inoperative. That could only mean the non-visible spectrum lasers from the human ship had finally fired.
Stanson’s voice came over the radio. “Defensive weapons back online.”
Well done, Tanner.
“Take us in,” Hoodwink instructed Zak.
With the weapons back online, the humans would be firing continually at the unshielded mothership, Hoodwink knew, even if he could not see the laser attacks with the naked eye. The automated defenses of the Hercules ship were supposed to avoid hitting their own shuttles, or Hoodwink’s alien flyer. He could only hope that the Children hadn’t made any mistakes while programming the targeting systems.
Other turrets on the mothership continued to fire, though they were aimed at the human ship on the surface below—the landing zone on the hull was clear.
As the crafts neared the alien surface, Hoodwink said over the squadron line: “That’s close enough Klay and Myerson. Hold your positions. Armageddon One going in.”
The respective pilots “rogered” him. He glanced at the position of his flyer on the three-dimensional map that overlaid his vision: the autopilot hovered the craft nearby. Good.
“Launching grappling hooks,” Zak announced. A moment later: “The hooks aren’t taking. I’m going to have to land without their help.”
“Do it,” Hoodwink ordered.
“Turning on AI assist,” Zak said.
Hoodwink watched the smooth metallic surface close on the cockpit viewscreen. It extended as far as the eye could see, from horizon to horizon, marred by the occasional rectangular superstructure or depression.
Then the craft shook and the descent ended.
“We’re down,” Zak said. “Activating mounting magnets.” He paused. Hoodwink’s chair rumbled slightly. “Magnets have taken.”
“Let’s do what we came here to do,” Hoodwink said.
He unbuckled, floating from his seat. He shoved himself toward the cargo area and began unstrapping the nuke. Zak joined him and in moments they had the nuke floating free.
He flexed his arms, hauling the bomb toward the airlock. He felt the vibrations in his suit as the servomotors in the exoskeleton momentarily strained to change the motion vector of the mass. The engineers had placed small engines on the nuke that would sense attempts at directional changes and launch propellant to aid in steering. Some of that propellant fired.
Hoodwink opened the inner airlock and then the outer hatch. There was no explosive decompression, as the interior atmosphere was already evacuated. The hydraulically-actuated ramp descended to the hull—not that Hoodwink needed it in the weightless environment.
“Now we’re going to see how well your spacewalk training went, we are,” Hoodwink told Zak over their local line.
He and Zak shoved the bomb forward. The overhead of the shuttle fell away, revealing the empty void above. Jupiter hung there, the size of a fist, its swirling clouds reminding him of where he was.
Hoodwink vented propellant from his suit to keep close to the alien hull. Zak did likewise from his position on the opposite side of the nuke.
When they were well clear of the shuttle, Hoodwink said: “Vent dorsal propellant. Let’s plant this thing.”
The pair descended toward the hull and the flat-bottomed nuke struck soundlessly. They activated the mounting magnets.
As a test, Hoodwink attempted to pry the bomb free of the surface. His arms shook as the servomotors shuddered in protest.
“We’re good,” he sent Zak. “Arming the weapon.”
He set the countdown to ten minutes and then armed the nuclear core. The HLED display updated.
9:59.
9:58.
9:57.
He synced the countdown on his aReal to the timer, then switched to the squadron line and transmitted: “Armageddon One, deployed. We’ve got ten minutes, lads. Then shit’s going to get radioactive.”
Hoodwink and Zak vented propellant to return to the shuttle. When they were in, Hoodwink shut the airlock hatches and buckled himself in to his seat.
Zak released the magnetic mounts and jetted the craft from the surface to rejoin the waiting shuttles. The three moved forward, staying close to the hull, putting distance between themselves and ground zero. The autopilot of Hoodwink’s flyer was programmed to follow Zak’s lead by that point, and it kept within five hundred meters behind them.
Hoodwink ordered a halt when the group was just out of range of the nearest Satori point defenses, and well outside the blast radius of the planted bomb. They were still within radiation range of the latter, but in theory the armored hulls of the shuttles combined with the shielding in their suits would protect them from any serious radiation poisoning. And Hoodwink’s Satori body could handle whatever dosage passed through his alien flyer.
“Now we wait,” Hoodwink said. He glanced at the countdown indicated on his helmet aReal. Three minutes to go.
“I wonder what my sister is doing right now,” Zak said into the silence that followed.
“She’s probably enjoying her life on the Inside,” Hoodwink said. “Eating ice cream.”
Zak laughed nervously. “She’s not the ice-cream eating type. But I hear you. Compared to what we’re doing...”
Hoodwink fidgeted. He stared at that countdown, willing it to go faster, wishing he hadn’t set so much time.
“She’s a good girl,” Zak continued. “Wouldn’t harm a fly. My death probably tore her up, though. She’s got no one now.”
“She’ll manage,” Hoodwink said. “She’ll have to.” He thought of all the people close to him who had ever died. Cora. Fhavolin. Sarella. It hurt him greatly, the knowledge that most of them had died by his own hand, or because of something he had done.
Ah Sarella, forgive me.
He’d disposed of her body on Ganymede shortly after arriving; he lay her to rest beside the corpse of his previous surrogate. That their mummified remains should lie there together for most of eternity seemed somehow fitting.
“You know,” Zak said. “It’s funny. Growing up on the streets like I did, in a world where space travel was something people only did in books, where finding the next meal was the greatest and only goal in life, I never thought, not in my wildest dreams, that I’d ever find myself on a space craft in orbit above Ganymede, waiting for a nuclear bomb to go off so I could blow a hole in an alien ship and then board it afterward.”
“You and me both, lad,” Hoodwink said. “It’s a long way from the streets of Severest to the moons of Jupiter.”
Hoodwink watched in trepidation as the remaining seconds ticked down.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Zak said.
“It’ll work,” Hoodwink said. “The engineers refurbished both warheads with the help of the training AIs. They replaced the metal parts and joints, and 3D-printed completely new carrier vehicles. They assured me that every part passed the recommended spec.”
“Oh, I’m sure the bomb will go off,” Zak said. “But I mean, what if it doesn’t create the crater we need?”
“The Satori aren’t invincible,” Hoodwink said. “Trust me. Their technology can only take them so far. Without the nano robot shield they are no more than sardines in a very large tin can. And we’re about to peel that can open.”
The timer on his aReal reached zero.
Hoodwink waited for the expected crater to appear.
The moments past. Still nothing.
“What happened?” Zak said. “Shouldn’t we have seen something by now? A flash? Debris?”
“It would seem our nuke didn’t detonate,” H
oodwink said.
So much for the engineers’ assurances.
six
Blaster in hand, Tanner made his way through the pod-lined passages with two more security men he had retrieved from the berthing area. The few robots he passed ignored his party, thanks to the rollback in their programming he’d performed. Still, he didn’t feel all that safe passing those emotionless bastions of steel, and he was glad for the weapon.
He’d dispatched another security team along with some relearning specialists down to cargo bay seven, where the robots had gathered most of the newly awakened. When that team had reported in, they informed him that the bay housed three hundred people in total. At least two hundred and fifty of those people would have to be returned to the pod world if the food sources were to last.
Tanner was still waiting to receive Jeremy’s location. It had been several minutes since Stanson had informed him that their old enemy was somewhere aboard, and Tanner hadn’t yet heard anything else. He had been checking random compartments since then, but hadn’t discovered anyone. He was growing frustrated, because he wanted to get back Inside and rejoin Ari. Time passed faster on the Inside, so the battle was probably over by then. Even so, his place was with her. He intended to capture Jeremy and return to her as soon as possible.
“Stanson,” Tanner said into the comm via his aReal. “Have you completed your scan of all organic life aboard?”
“Just did,” Stanson returned. “I was about to contact you.”
“So what did you find? Where’s Jeremy?”
“That’s the crux,” Stanson sent. “We can’t find him. He’s masking his signature somehow.”
Tanner wasn’t so sure that was the case. “Is it possible he isn’t aboard?”
“What do you mean?” came Stanson’s response.
“Maybe he found a wireless access port somewhere and then left the ship before we changed all the entry codes on the hatches,” Tanner transmitted.
“Sure, but the signal from those wireless ports wouldn’t penetrate the hull from outside the ship,” Stanson replied. “So he wouldn’t be able to connect if he was somewhere on the moon.”
“But we routinely communicate with shuttles out there,” Tanner pressed.
“We do,” Stanson returned. “But those transmissions rely upon large booster nodes in the shuttles themselves.”
Tanner considered that. “So you’re saying a wireless access port could penetrate if it was used from a shuttle?”
“Possibly,” Stanson said. “Though the bandwidth requirements are fairly high. The lag would render such a connection useless.”
“What about an alien signal?” Tanner asked. “As in: a signal from a Satori mind to its human surrogate? How easily would that penetrate the hull?”
“Probably very easily,” Stanson transmitted. “We have no idea how most of their technology works, but we can assume that it’s somewhat more advanced than our own.”
“I want you to redirect those active scanners of yours,” Tanner sent. “See if you can identify the position of any alien flyers resting on the surface nearby. If we can’t find Jeremy aboard the ship, then we’ll just have to track down his Satori body.”
“On it,” Stanson replied. “I’ll get back to you shortly. In the meantime, it’s probably a good idea for you to get suited up. Assuming you actually want to pursue this angle.”
“I do.”
KADE STUDIED THE two guards, Lana and Craig. Lana carried the blaster. She was the one to watch out for.
Kade sat on the floor. Pots resided to his left. Brown his right. Just beyond Brown perched Sammuel, and Kade’s wife from the Inside, Teanne. They all sat so close together that their shoulders were touching. None of them were bound, not any more, though they kept up the pretense, holding their wrists behind their backs for the sake of the guards.
After Pots was originally tied up, he managed to secretly grab a pocketknife he’d left on a nearby shelf while Tanner awakened Brown, Kade and the others. After Tanner left, Pots cut through his flexicuffs and surreptitiously passed the knife down the line. Each of them had sawed at their bindings until they were all free.
Good old Pots. Kade would have to see that he was rewarded once the ship was theirs again.
“Ready?” Kade said, underbreath.
“Ready,” Brown returned.
Craig stood up angrily. “I said no talking!”
“Sorry,” Kade said. “I really have to use the head.”
“Hold it,” Lana ordered him.
“What harm can I do?” Kade said. “We’re all bound and gagged.” He shook his leg, as if struggling against the urge to relieve himself. “I’ll piss on the floor if you don’t let me go.”
Lana exchanged a glance with Craig. “Should we let him piss on the floor?”
Craig wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to smell it for the next three hours.”
When the guards still hesitated, Kade added: “There’s a protocol for the ethical treatment of prisoners, you know. Ari won’t be pleased when she finds out you wouldn’t let us use the head. We’re not animals.”
Lana sighed, then told Kade. “Move forward. Away from the others.”
Kade wormed his body toward the guards.
Unfortunately Craig, the unarmed one, advanced to meet him. Too bad.
“Stand up,” Craig said.
“I can’t stand on my own,” Kade told him.
Craig knelt to grab his upper arm. He must have seen that Kade was no longer bound, because he said: “What the—”
Kade leaped to his feet, smashing Craig in the nose with the hilt of the knife. He slid the blade under his chin and spun toward Lana, who was pointing the blaster directly at him.
“Drop the blaster and kick it to us,” Kade instructed her.
“Don’t listen to him!” Craig struggled in his arms.
Kade pressed the tip of the blade to his flesh and Craig stopped struggling.
Lana raised her hands in surrender and lowered the blaster to the deck. She kicked it toward the group.
Teanne immediately scooped it up.
“Give me the blaster,” Kade instructed Teanne.
His wife scowled at him, as if considering shooting him down right there. “No. It is mine.” She pointed the weapon at Lana.
Kade wasn’t entirely sure how much he trusted his wife to carry the weapon, though she had certainly proven herself in the recent battle. Her Wraylor avatar had been a killing machine out there. Still, he hadn’t really forgiven her for warning Ari of his attack on Crane. He supposed he couldn’t blame Teanne: the place was her birth city, even if it wasn’t real.
Kade shoved Craig toward Lana.
“Bind them,” he told Pots.
While Teanne kept the blaster pointed at the pair, Pots proceeded to retrieve the flexicuffs from the belts of the guards and bound their wrists behind their backs in turn. He forced them to sit in a corner of the room. Craig and Lana scowled at them the whole time.
“We have to move,” Brown said. “This location is compromised.”
“Obviously,” Pots told him.
Kade heard a beeping then.
“What is that?” Pots said.
The beeping increased in frequency. Kade realized it was coming from the blaster Teanne held.
He stepped toward his wife urgently.
“Drop—” Kade began.
The blaster detonated. Kade was launched backward by the shockwave. He smashed into the bulkhead and slid to the floor.
He blinked his eyes several times. His hearing was gone, at least for the moment. He crawled to what remained of his wife. Pots was already there, holding her. He was saying something, but Kade couldn’t hear.
A large hole had been torn into her side. Her face was covered in blood. She wasn’t breathing. She had no pulse.
Pots handed her to him, and Kade held Teanne in his arms.
“My wife,” he said, though he couldn’t hear the words. “My wife.”
&
nbsp; Why did Teanne have to be the one to scoop up the blaster? She should have listened to him when he asked her to hand it over.
She despised him for letting her out of her pod and into the real world. For revealing the truth. He had broken the rules, risked everything to set her free, but none of that mattered. She resented him for it, mostly because he had failed to revive their sons. Both had proven to be extremely old and frail in the real world; the first died the instant he slid from his pod, the second shortly thereafter. He remembered Teanne’s accusing words as clearly as if she had spoken them yesterday: You should have left them alone. You should have left me alone. Yes, she despised him.
But how she felt about him didn’t matter, because in the end he loved her. They had seen so much together. Experienced so many different worlds.
And now she is dead.
Kade lowered her body and in a fit of rage took the knife to the guards. He could hardly see for all the tears. When their pitiful lives finally ended, he turned his attention to the terminals.
Ari was responsible for the loss of his wife, however indirectly. He prayed that his minions hadn’t eliminated her, not yet.
She needed to properly suffer.
What is the worst possible death I can give her?
He thought immediately of Brute and he grinned for the first time through the tears.
seven
On her knees, Ari watched hypnotically as Gemma raised her katana out to the side to perform the finishing blow. The woman obviously meant to take her head.
Ari could only watch, too stunned, and in too much pain, to do anything else.
The sword sliced through the air.
“No!” someone shouted. A woman’s voice.
Another blade intercepted the katana.
Renna. The Keeper drove the Dragon Lady backward under the strength of her blows.
“Men, attack!” Briar shouted.
Defenders rushed into the corridor that the enemy ranks had formed for Jeremy and Brute. The sally would buy Ari some time, but Briar had doomed most of those men to their deaths for it, she knew.
Briar knelt beside her. “Can you walk?”