Ember's Echo (The Nimbus Collection Book 2)

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Ember's Echo (The Nimbus Collection Book 2) Page 10

by D. C. Clemens


  With less than thirty seconds to go, the shuttle had progressed half a mile east from the site, gaining enough distance to allow its guns time to counter the lingering missiles. Sounds of war permeated outside, guns blasting and missiles bursting, but no sound was added from the inside, even the depths of our minds were hushed. Just as the remaining engine nosily pushed us past the three mile threshold, a blaze of the purest white I had ever seen engulfed the inside of the transport, effortlessly penetrating the little circular windows built to diminish the brightness of nearby starlight. The brilliance of the glare was so thick and viscous that I was sure I was looking at a burnished liquid. Before I cold completely shut my eyes from the invading light, the pulse of the reality-tearing shockwave reached the shuttle. I can’t say for certain how long it was before we crash landed, all I could recall was sensing that I was in a kind of freefall. I suppose I must have collided against the walls, ceiling, floor, and my comrades, but I felt none of it.

  When the haze had finished sweeping across my eyes and the perpetual ringing in my ears died down to a dull rumble, I lifted my chin off the floor, or what used to be the starboard wall, and noticed that no one was yet standing. Encouragingly, everyone who could was moving to some degree, however, not all of us stirred so easily. The unconscious lieutenant had been unsympathetically thrown on top of the groaning doctor. With Vasilissa and Briannika able to strap themselves into a seat, they were more quickly able to repossess their bearing, and it was the eldrick who was the first to stand unconstrained and relieve Dr. Oleson of her unsolicited encumbrance. In a corner of the crumpled shuttle was Emory, who had steadfastly held on to Fife’s body.

  “Everyone’s asses attached?” asked our captain with a grumble, uncoiling his elongated body.

  In one way or another, we all confirmed that are asses were indeed still joined to us. Kiran then ordered Hardy, who was now restricted to a single scout for external interaction, to open the door relocated above us. Eventually, but ever so inelegantly, it was able to slide open, giving us the ability to climb out of the wreck. It was the captain who once again bore the lieutenant on a mat of air. Even as the night was reclaiming its proper reign over the heavens, seizing it from the artificial light that had sadistically governed ever so briefly, a thick plume of white smoke was seen rising from the epicenter of the blast.

  As Emory gingerly placed his precious cargo on the ground, staring at his lifeless cousin’s face, he said, “I’ve been thinking about how we found Brent, how odd it was that those creatures basically gave him back to us. I know Brent wouldn’t willingly kill Fife, and now I don’t think the security team acted out on their own accord.”

  We all knew what he was postulating. Still, I was impressed that he was the one to say what must have crossed all our minds since the lieutenant’s unexplainable actions. In fact, I was surprised he had the capacity to think at all, not as he gazed down desolately at his dead cousin, but maybe that’s what forced him to think.

  Kiran was the one to articulate the theory aloud. “You think his cyber-network was hacked? Along with the security team’s?”

  “That answers everything, doesn’t? The security team was from a trusted company, and Brent would not do this. You know he wouldn’t, captain.”

  The captain grunted in agreement.

  “But we have military-grade defenses on our networks,” Vasilissa alluded, “as did the security squad. Plus, our networks are linked. We should have received some warning of an unidentified frequency hacking into the lieutenant, but nothing was detected. Even an A.I. could not remotely break into our network without a sign.”

  “A wireless hack is probably impossible,” Briannika began to clarify, “but if someone were to insert an invader file directly into the body using nano-hijackers, then…”

  “Gods, that must be it,” Dr. Oleson said with a gasp. “Mr. Harris must have been hacked directly, and it was through him that the enemy was able to influence the rest of his team, at least, some of them. There were a handful of occasions I can remember where he could have been vulnerable to corruption. The lieutenant might have also been undermined when he was taken.”

  “But I checked for foreign contaminants when we retrieved him,” Vasilissa declared with a strong trace of indignation, stepping to where Brent was laid. “He checked out.” She squatted down beside the insensible body and began a scan, apparently not completely satisfied by her previous diagnosis.

  Not entirely convinced of this hacking hypothesis, I said, “And I thought even the best invader files could only manipulate someone for a few seconds before even the most rudimentary of nanotech realizes the threat and either reboots or shuts down.”

  “Maybe the advok are testing some new hacking method?” Briannika speculated.

  “It’s a damn good one, then,” curtly said Emory, almost too inaudible to hear.

  “If the hacking theory pans out,” said Kiran, “then it indicates that an extensive system of hackers, likely supported by an A.I. or two, have been hiding out this entire time. This raises even more question as to the motive, but it does present itself as the most likely possibility. It’s even probable that some of the creature’s we’ve encountered are likewise under this influence. For now, we’ll operate under the assumption that direct contact with any creature could make us liable to a hack and we should take every precaution from being separated.”

  “Didn’t think the advok could go this far,” irritably said Briannika. “I’m betting Parliament will dispatch the Valor and send a little fucking message to Ispen once all this gets out.”

  “It would help if we actually see some signs of them,” I mumbled. “Just to make it definitive. You think we would have picked up some clues of them by now.”

  “The advok have always worked cautiously and through intermediaries,” explained the captain. “They might be the most powerful non-Parliamentary empire, but they wouldn’t dare take the chance to openly antagonize any of the Parliamentary species. Even if this is the work of Ispen, I doubt we’ll find something that will force Parliament to go as far as directing the Valor for anything more than just a show, which is not something they usually do with that group.”

  “Lieutenant Henring checks out, captain,” said Vasilissa. “No signs of externally introduced microtech. Of course, if this is an unknown hacking technology, we’ll need an actual lab to test blood samples and search for a virus. Furthermore, his med-tech has successful stopped the bleeding in his arms and legs, and the armor’s emergency foam should keep the ruptured sections of his armor sealed.”

  “Very well. We can’t stay in an exposed spot all night. Briannika, Uriel, check to see if the speeders are still operable.”

  The shuttle did not look to be in good spirits, its wrinkled frame laying on its side like an old wad of paper. It was quickly evident that the shuttle’s crash landing had crushed the speeder now positioned beneath it, but given the shape of the mostly intact portside pod, the second speeder is where our optimisms rested. Once we released the speeder from its pod by opening the little front hatch and carefully slipping it out, the speeder was found to be in good condition, exempting a few ashy stains and smears it received when the blast and missiles ripped some holes in its casing. Switching it on and seeing it hover a couple of feet off the ground showed its decent condition was not merely aesthetic. The low hum of its engine was also more than melodic to the ear. However, the thin conveyance could only manage to fit two passengers at a time and one seat was applied to keep Fife’s body. He was secured in the seat by two crisscrossing body straps, making him look like he was only sleeping as his solemnly changed cousin stayed by the body. The front seat was given to Vasilissa, the best rider in our troop, after Brent, anyway. Dr. Oleson was offered the driver’s seat, but she seemed uncomfortable sharing it with our lifeless comrade and assured us that she could walk with the rest of us.

  Meanwhile, I was charged with ferrying the lieutenant, using the warped soil to encase his body and have it
float off the ground alongside me. Before we began our venture to venture through a world unknown, somehow being even more unfamiliar than before, we gathered as many supplies as we could salvage from the shuttle’s storage units. Ammo blocks, nanotech phials, and a few spare armor pieces, which we harnessed to the speeder, were successfully recovered. The same could not be said of our hoard of mechanized scouts, as they had been completely destroyed by one of the missiles. Having little choice but to make for the nearest defensible position, we started the walk toward the city, never looking as ghostly and mystifying as it did then.

  Chapter Eleven

  As we made our way through the sandy hills and patches of cracked topsoil, we began a conversation about the logic for the hacking experiment, but there was no outright winner that sounded sensible. For one, we had to wonder just how long this illicit experiment had been going on. While it was inconceivable that the advok had any hand in the actual destruction of Ember’s civilization, it was feasible to believe that at least some portion of the bipolar creatures were being controlled with their nanotech. But that would still suggest the advok had actually known of this uncharted Coalition world for years and were using it for their own illegitimate purposes. Even if they believed the world to lie in their own territory, a common dispute between humans and their territorial neighbors, then why not contest the archaeological dig? The briefing did not specify any trouble from them during the seven years the archaeology team was seeking authorization from Parliament for their operation.

  This train of thought then led us to speculate that the advok wanted the team to fall into their trap, but this was an unthinkable act. There was no way they believed they could get away with mind-hacking, a heinous crime in of itself, and proceed to use those under their control to kill their colleagues on a planet they knew was drawing outside attention. The Coalition would not simply leave this world a lethal mystery so close to Ispen space. I knew there were some human politicians who lived only to sniff out any excuse to build up the military and use it on the most trivial of enemies, especially if that enemy was the haughty Ispen Imperium, a not so trifling opponent. By the time we started to see the half-buried, shriveled houses of the city’s outer suburbs, there was an unspoken feeling that the advok were not the ones behind the curtain, but given that there were no other alternatives to choose from, no one outwardly promoted the conclusion.

  Our march, with the skating speeder at the center of the group, went southeast. In consequence, we were soon ambling next to the once affluent homes at the edge of the sluggish river, each carcasses of their former selves. It was not hard to imagine traveling back in time to when this area was in its prime, to when duneless streets would be lined with bright lampposts that would be giving the river a fresh glow, and maybe some boisterous teens would be skinny dipping, if this species carried such a concept. There was no aspiration to head for the center of the city, given the high probability that those who wished us to suffer would be concentrated within its bounds, so we searched the waterfront suburbs for anything that looked like we could half-decently hold out in. For the next few miles, however, we were primarily presented with stocky, disintegrating buildings that were either suppressed under sand or appeared ready to collapse with a butterfly’s breath, despite many having stone at the core of their frames.

  It was disconcerting how losing our modes of transportation made a planet grow so much larger, made the sky and stars so much higher, and the horizon so much farther away. With a working spacecraft trekking past a myriad of interstellar bodies, even a red supergiant would be no bigger than a shiny Ping-Ping ball that could be circumvented as easily as a pebble on a hike, giving little thought to their untold stories. Now our lone speeder was all that was left to curb the full brunt of Ember’s horizon, doing its best to not give the sphere a truly infinite length.

  At long last, after seeing the same repetitive scenery for thousands of yards, our night vision aided eyes caught the sight of a small tower about half a mile out. Vasilissa zipped ahead of us on the speeder to give it a more scrutinizing gaze. Through her sight we could see that the tower was sixty feet high, made from a dark stone that was rounded at the edges, similar to many of the structures we’ve seen, and gave me the notion that it was a medieval lighthouse, though it was over a mile from the seashore. It was positioned on a small, unadorned island in the middle of the 180 yard wide river. Our side of the waterway continued to display the rows of the formerly lavish homes, while the contrasting south side was fitted with a wildly dense forest of dried, winding vines and dehydrated branches, making up what was once an extensive park or forest. Due to the protection of the water hurdle, the little island was mostly sand free, exposing the auburn weeds and smooth gray rock that comprised the islet, making it seem out of place here. Knowing we would probably never get anything better, the captain quickly approved of the site. As we paraded a bit faster to reach it, there was no small part of me that expected we would be joining a cursed woman weaving away on her loom.

  So none of us had to swim in the tepid water or take turns on the speeder, Vasilissa prepared our crossing by creating a thick bridge of ice for us to walk on, likely freezing this end of the river for the first time in its history. The alien arcanist brought back spring once we had all finished crossing the sleek overpass by rapidly melting most of the ice back into the river, leaving just a few chunks to liquefy on their own. With no door at the tower’s entrance, we were able to send the scout to inspect the inside. There was nothing of note, however. Dust was the only companion in the lowermost floor and some slim stairs rising against the wall led into an equally bare, vaulted room in the middle. A few more steps up had one reaching the roof, which was ringed with a crown-shaped structure of stone. At its epicenter was a large fractured lens, verifying that this was once used as a lighthouse. I studied the black stone that comprised the façade of the edifice, tapping the surface to sense the vibrations reverberating from the deed. It was immediately obvious to me that this building had been warped in its initial construction. There was a density and exactness to the masonry that could not be attained any other way on a structure sprouted from the aspect of stone.

  As we made our way through the archway, including the speeder, the captain instructed me to warp a durable door. I handed Brent to him and proceeded to do just that. I expected that odd disapproval from Ember to make my warping feel as though I was undertaking a delinquent act, but as I commanded the lighter-colored rock to rise at the entrance, the effect was the opposite. It was as if I had found a mini-oasis of generosity among the antagonistic wasteland we were in, both literally and figuratively. After I had finished making a tight seal of stone and mumbled a short prayer of thanks to whoever had kept this precious patch of land cleansed from sin, I followed the others to the second floor room twenty-five feet above, leaving the speeder alone at the bottom level. On reaching the others, I saw Kiran laying Brent’s body in the center of the decaying, wooden floor. At the same time, Emory was positioning Fife against the east facing wall, which had a small glassless window, allowing for the meager yellowish moonlight to kindle his body. The captain next ordered for the scout to keep a vigilant lookout on the roof.

  “Vasilissa,” continued the captain, “see if you can revive the lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She crouched next to the lieutenant and deftly unclasped his helmet, placing it on the floor. From within her gauntlet, she acquired a small vial with a hypodermic needle at one end and pressed the adrenaline and nanotech-filled syringe into his neck. She then quickly stood up to meld herself with the rest of us. With a minor convulsion going up his body, Brent opened his eyes, eyes that were bloodshot, but were his own. Without attempting to sit up, a challenging accomplishment under the influence of the adrenaline, he slowly turned his head from side to side to see his wary companions encircling him, guns ready to fire, even knowing he was, almost quite literally, unarmed.

  In a low voice, he said, “Emory… ca
ptain, I’m sorry. I-I saw everything, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

  As we lowered our weapons, though Emory was a bit lagging, Vasilissa asked, “So you were hacked?”

  “What else could it be?” he replied. His vision occasionally strayed to one of us, but it seemed to require a pained effort to do that much, so he mostly stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how they did it so easily. Even now I’m worried I’ll just snap again. One moment I was recoding the transmitter and the next I was seeing the back of Fife’s head…” He closed his eyes to ponder that grim moment. Lifting his eyelids back up, he said, “It just happened. It didn’t seem real. It wasn’t like the way it happened in training simulations. My tech had no chance to fight back or send out a warning to the rest of you. You guys believe me, right?”

  “I do,” the captain said adamantly. “But we didn’t pick up any foreign signals in our network and our scans don’t pick up anything in your system. I’m willing to assume this is some advanced Ispen technology we’re dealing with, but with no hard evidence yet backing that up, I do have to acknowledge the possibility that you could just be an asshole.”

  “Rodger that,” the lieutenant weakly replied, the faintest hint of effervescence escaping his lips.

  Conforming to our captain, Vasilissa said, “I’m quite confident you were infected with an unknown hacking technology when you were taken. We just need an actual lab to prove it.”

 

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