City of Phants (Argonauts Book 6)

by Isaac Hooke

  Feeling like a man walking to his execution, Rade went over to the jumpsuit closet and began suiting up. Harlequin and Algorithm didn’t join him—they wouldn’t be wearing jumpsuits for this mission.

  “There’s no way I can make you change your mind?” Tahoe said. “And let me go?”

  “None,” Rade replied.

  As he stretched the cooling and ventilation undergarment over the hardpoints of his body, Rade kept his back to the bulkhead, that way he had the Argonauts in sight at all times. He wouldn’t have put it past Tahoe or any of the others to jump him from behind, and then restrain him while someone else took the shuttle. Good friends had died in the past after performing similar interventions.

  “Give me some room,” he told Tahoe as he shrugged on the suit assembly. He eyed his friend warily until Tahoe backed off. Then Rade continued gearing up until finally he attached the last piece, the helmet; he flinched at the pain in his right hand as the sonic injector applied the accelerant. He felt a bit woozy, and had to place a steadying hand on the bulkhead.

  “The interactions between the accelerant and the anti-rad subdermals will make you feel dizzy for a few minutes,” the suit’s local AI informed him.

  “Great,” Rade said. He had had a Weaver embed an anti-rad patch under the skin of his forearm earlier: the radiation armor in the shuttle would provide only about half the protection as that aboard the Argonaut, necessitating the subdermal.

  Rade made his way toward the open ramp of the Dragonfly, the feeling of doom only intensifying with each step. It felt like he was walking into a black pit from which there was no return.

  He wanted to go to sickbay one last time. Wanted to see the twins with his own eyes. But he suppressed that urge, because if he did that, once again he risked another of the men taking his place aboard the shuttle. Besides, he had no time to spare at the moment.

  Harlequin boarded in front of him, while Algorithm entered the second shuttle beside him.

  “Harlequin, you get to be the pilot,” Rade said.

  “Thank you, boss,” Harlequin said.

  Rade walked up the ramp and sat in the cabin. Clamps secured him in place. It felt odd to see so many empty seats around him.

  “Good-bye, Shaw,” Rade sent on a private line direct to her Implant. “I love you.”

  She didn’t answer him.

  Rade nodded slowly.

  So this is how it’s going to be.

  He tapped into Cora’s video feed. The Centurion was in sickbay, next to the two cribs. She was currently gazing down at Sil, who was awake, and moving her arms up and down gleefully. Rade heard Cora making cooing sounds.

  He smiled sadly. So blissfully unaware of what her father was about to do...

  And yet he knew it was better that way.

  “Cora, look at Alex, please,” Rade sent.

  Cora obeyed, switching her gaze to the uppermost crib.

  Alex was awake, though he was not so gleeful. Instead, he merely stared off into space, seeming almost contemplative. Rade almost had the impression that his son knew what he planned to do. Then again, if Alex really did know, he probably would have been bawling his eyes out. Rade was relieved that Alex was not.

  He dismissed the feed. Those would be good last memories to have of his children.

  “Harlequin, take us out,” Rade said. “Algorithm, launch.”

  The shuttles accelerated from the hangar bay.

  As the nauseating feel of zero G took hold in his stomach, Shaw’s voice finally came over the comm.

  “Don’t you dare die out there,” she said.

  nineteen

  On the tactical display overlaying his vision, Rade saw that the second shuttle had set a course for the missile segment at the three o’clock position, while Rade’s Dragonfly was headed toward the segment on the nine o’clock, which proved a little closer. The Argonaut maintained its position above the two parting craft, and between them.

  Rade glanced at the cockpit. The windshield had autogated to reduce the brightness of the star beyond.

  “How’s the temperature?” Rade asked.

  “Thermal tiles are reading eight hundred degrees Kelvin,” Harlequin said.

  “A little hot,” Rade said.

  “Just a little,” the Artificial replied.

  “So here we are,” Rade said. “Facing our doom once again. As we have countless times before.”

  “Yes,” Harlequin said. “Strangely, I am not afraid.”

  Rade was puzzled. “I didn’t know you ever felt fear.”

  “Oh, I do,” Harlequin said. “I never show it, of course. No robot does. But it’s there, deep inside of us. But as I said, I am not afraid today.”

  “And why is that?”

  Harlequin glanced at Rade. “Because you are here with me, boss.”

  That comment made Rade feel emotional, and he had to look away.

  “I could have done this mission on my own,” Harlequin said. “And yet you came with me. Why?”

  Rade took a moment to compose himself. “As I told Shaw, I have to be involved in the rescue. You might be the host Surus uses to return to us, but I still have to be present. I couldn’t live with myself if I was not. I have to be willing to do the same risky tasks I might order one of my men to do. I have to be willing to get my hands dirty. It’s what leaders do.”

  “So you’re doing this only to save face with the men?” Harlequin said. “To prove to them that you’re capable of leading them?”

  “No, that’s not it at all,” Rade said. “I meant what I said earlier about the AIs being part of our brotherhood. About you being one of us. If I’m going to order you to fly close to the corona of a star, I’m going to damn well be there with you.”

  “And what about Algorithm?” Harlequin said. “No one went with him.”

  “Yes,” Rade said. “But there’s only one of me.”

  Rade kept an eye on the tactical display as the minutes passed, and watched the two shuttles proceed toward their targets.

  “Temperature is at one thousand degrees Kelvin,” Harlequin announced.

  “Rad levels?” Rade asked.

  “About ten millisieverts per minute,” Harlequin said. “The armor is holding up well so far. With luck, you’ll only get a small dose of radiation poisoning.”

  “Wonderful,” Rade said.

  “Your anti-rad patch should provide adequate protection,” Harlequin said. “Though you might need to get some microvilli repair work done on your lungs when we get back. One of the downsides of being human.”

  “Thanks for that little tidbit of knowledge,” Rade said. Assuming we do actually get back.

  There were so many things that could go wrong in that shuttle. Human-made devices invariably had flaws, even when those devices were large craft such as shuttles put together mostly by machines controlled by AIs. He wondered what would go wrong first.

  A tiny streak overlaid Rade’s vision, and its afterimage slowly faded away. He had no doubt it was caused by an energetic proton from the star as it interacted with his optic nerve. Similar protons would be interacting with the electronics of the shuttle, potentially culminating in a malfunction.

  “How are you holding up out there?” Tahoe asked over the comm. The radiation interference from the sun was fairly bad, and it caused Tahoe’s voice to digitally warp badly as the error-correcting code struggled to keep up with the lost packets.

  “As well as can be expected for dipping a tin can into a molten vat,” Rade said.

  “Hang in there,” Tahoe said.

  “Easier said than done, my friend,” Rade replied.

  “Hey, you’re an ex-MOTH,” Tahoe said. “This is like a walk in the park compared to what you’re used to. Hell, you’ve surfed on the day side of a lava world, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I haven’t,” Rade said. “But this scenario is slightly different, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “As I said, you’re an ex-MOTH,” Tahoe said. “Suck
it up.”

  Rade had to smile at that. “Oh I intend to.” He didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

  Another minute passed.

  “Hull temperature eleven hundred degrees,” Harlequin said.

  “Steady...” Rade said. He glanced at the temperature display on his faceplate HUD. The external cabin reading was forty-five degrees Celsius, but inside his suit it was only thirty-five. Still enough for beads of sweat to pop out on his forehead.

  He tried switching to the shuttle’s nose camera; though the display autogated to filter out the brightness, it was nearly impossible to make out anything in the whiteout caused by the star. He attempted the LIDAR band of the same camera, and saw the small shape of the missile slowly coming up.

  “The missile appears to be intact,” Harlequin said. “And hasn’t broken apart so far. That makes our job easier.”

  “We need easier at the moment,” Rade said. “Start rotating the shuttle around. Looks like we’ll be in range of the grappling hook momentarily.”

  “We will, at that,” Harlequin said.

  The shuttle revolved on its axis as Harlequin applied a burst of lateral thrust; at the one hundred eighty degree mark, Harlequin fired canceling thrust. Momentum carried the shuttle backwards on its previous course.

  “We are in grappling range,” Harlequin announced a moment later. “Ready to launch the hook.”

  “Do it,” Rade said. He hoped the grappling hook wouldn’t set off any proximity fuses in the floating weapon; then again, when Rade had prepared missiles to launch into stars previously, he had always been forced to remove the warhead to make room for the Phant containment device, so there was a good chance this weapon didn’t even have a warhead, let alone a proximity fuse.

  “Firing grappling hook,” Harlequin said.

  Rade felt the cabin floor vibrate slightly as the hook released.

  “Direct hit,” Harlequin said. “The hook has wrapped around the aft portion of the missile.”

  So no warhead after all.

  “Reel her in,” Rade ordered.

  “Reeling the weapon in,” Harlequin replied. A moment later: “The missile just contacted our hull.”

  “Now we see if we’ve grabbed the right one,” Rade said. “Begin orbital deburn.” That involved thrusting back up to their previous altitude, with the intention of docking with the Argonaut. The maneuver would expend nearly all of the shuttle’s available fuel.

  The cabin shook as the engines ignited.

  “We’ve grabbed the first missile,” Rade told Tahoe over the comm. “Now we’re just waiting for Surus to show herself. Assuming we got the right one.”

  Rade glanced at the cabin floor and waited for the characteristic green condensation that would mark the appearance of Surus. The anti-Phant EM emitter in his jumpsuit would prevent the Green from accidentally incinerating him when the alien came aboard. The shuttle itself had extensive anti-Phant shielding around its AI core, so that left the alien only one unprotected AI to possess: Harlequin.

  “By the way, how are we doing for temperature?” Rade asked.

  “Even though we’re rising in altitude, it’s still very slowly increasing,” Harlequin said. “We’re at eleven hundred twenty-five. The heat tiles are holding. Hull integrity remains one hundred percent.”

  Rade continued to stare at the cabin floor as the minutes passed, but no condensation appeared.

  “I’m not seeing any signs of the Green seeping inside,” Rade said. “Have you spotted anything in the cockpit yet?”

  He half expected Surus to answer instead of Harlequin, but instead the Artificial replied: “No. I’m beginning to suspect that Surus resides in the other missile segment.”

  “I’m beginning to suspect that, too,” Rade said. “Or rather, something worse.”

  “Worse?” Harlequin said. “What do you mean?”

  “Let me update Tahoe first,” Rade said. He tapped in the Argonaut. “Tahoe, it looks like Surus wasn’t in this missile.”

  “Roger that,” Tahoe replied. “It’s all in Algorithm’s hands now. His shuttle is closing with the second missile segment.”

  “So what did you mean by something worse?” Harlequin said when Tahoe disconnected.

  Rade smiled sadly. “Only that Surus might not be in either of the missiles.”

  Harlequin’s eyes momentarily widened. “You believe Falon deceived us?”

  “I’m not sure what to believe anymore,” Rade said. “But there’s a good chance that he fired both of these merely as a diversion. He could be saving the real missile launch for later.”

  “But then, why did we detect the missile slowing down as it was fired into the sun?” Harlequin said. “Which would point to possession by Surus?”

  “You’re right,” Rade said. “I forgot about that. Too many energetic protons interacting with my brain.”

  “They are affecting my AI core as well,” Harlequin said. “Even with my multiple layers of error-correction and redundancy, I am experiencing moments of lost time. Two hundred to three hundred milliseconds at once.”

  “Only two to three hundred milliseconds?” Rade said. “Poor you.”

  “The time perception of an AI is very different from that of a human,” Harlequin said. “Believe me when I tell you that the loss of two hundred milliseconds is disturbing to me.”

  “If you say so,” Rade replied.

  “But regarding the missiles once more,” Harlequin said. “I suppose another option could be that Falon might have purposely programmed the original missile to slow down. Once more to deceive us.”

  “Oh I hope not,” Rade said. “Because if he did, then we just risked our lives for nothing.”

  “We will know shortly,” Harlequin said. “According to the tactical display, Algorithm is reeling in the second missile as we speak.”

  Rade glanced at the aforementioned display. Algorithm’s Dragonfly had just finished securing the remaining missile to its hull.

  “Right on the cusp,” Rade said.

  “Excuse me?” Harlequin said.

  “I’m merely commenting on the fact that Algorithm’s Dragonfly grappled the missile right at the point of no return.”

  “Our retrieval was just as close,” Harlequin said. “We were within two hundred meters of our own point of no return, as dictated by propellant levels.”

  “True enough,” Rade said. He tapped in Algorithm. “Do you have Surus?”

  “One moment,” Algorithm said. “I am waiting for signs of the Green.”

  Algorithm’s Dragonfly initiated orbital deburn as it too began its return to the Argonaut’s orbital altitude.

  Rade waited several more moments. “Algorithm, update me.”

  “I’m here,” Algorithm said.

  “Who?” Rade said. “Algorithm, or Surus?”

  “The latter,” Algorithm replied. “I have searched Algorithms memories. And I know now why you betrayed me. I thank you for coming back to get me. But you’ll forgive me if, when we are face to face once more, I slap you in the face in return for the blow you gave me.”

  “I can’t tell you what a relief it is that you’re back,” Rade said. “Nor how sorry I am for what I did. If it takes your steel palm smashing into my face for forgiveness, then I guess I’ll just have to endure it.”

  The two shuttles proceeded upward for many more minutes. The return journey took far longer than the descent, of course, because of the forces involved. Tahoe had Shaw slow down the Argonaut, allowing it to fall closer to the Dragonflies.

  And then Rade noticed something. On the tactical display, Algorithm’s shuttle was no longer closing with the Argonaut.

  “The engines just went offline,” Algorithm, or rather, Surus, said. “I’m afraid Algorithm and I will not be able to return. It was a valiant attempt, Rade Galaal. But it appears this is farewell.”

  twenty

  Of course something had to go wrong,” Rade said.

  Harlequin turned around in the c
ockpit to look at him. “Nothing is ever easy, as you’re so fond of saying.”

  “You were in the Teams,” Rade said. “You took the training. You remember the motto plastered over the grinder.”

  “Yes,” Harlequin said. “How could I miss it? The placard was placed right above the flint stone the recruits used to tap out. It read: The Easy Way. As if to imply, quitting is always easy.”

  “Exactly,” Rade said. “We can’t abandon her.”

  “I agree,” Harlequin said. “But I’m not sure what we can do at the moment.”

  “Set a course toward their shuttle,” Rade said.

  “Done,” Harlequin said. “But, you do know we won’t have enough propellant to return to the Argonaut afterward?”

  “We’ll siphon the propellant remaining from the second Dragonfly once we arrive,” Rade said. “I’ve accessed the remote interface and confirmed the amount. There will be enough.”

  “Interesting idea,” Harlequin said. “But siphoning presents its own difficulties, considering the external temperature.”

  “I’m well aware,” Rade said.

  “You’ve changed course,” Tahoe said over the comm. “Why?”

  “We’re going to attempt a pickup,” Rade said.

  “But your fuel levels—” Tahoe began.

  “We know,” Rade said.

  Shaw tapped in on a private line. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Always do,” Rade said.

  “Remember that you have two little children waiting for you here aboard,” Shaw said.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Rade said. “And I never will.”

  “Love you,” Shaw told him.

  “Ditto,” Rade replied, and disconnected.

  The tense minutes ticked by. On the tactical display, Rade noted that the Argonaut was mirroring his course, and positioning itself so that it was directly on top of his shuttle. It had also descended precariously close to its own point of no return. That point was determined by the mass of the craft, and the available propellant supply. Because of their smaller mass, the shuttles had a slightly lower such point, which was why the Argonaut didn’t simply swoop underneath the two shuttles and shield them from the intense rays. Or why the Argonaut itself hadn’t closed with the missiles and fired grappling hooks directly—not that Rade would have risked the latter action even if he could, not while he hadn’t been sure if the missiles contained live warheads.