“That is why I didn’t tell you what would happen when you entered the pool,” Omira said. “The aggression and other negative emotions that normally lead to disharmony in a clutch are too mild to affect the change you’ve brought to the issyrian people here. Normally, exposing them to human anger would be a tragedy, but not here, not where they are dying and defenceless. They needed that outrage to survive.”
“The youngest became almost feral,” Clark went on. “The elders in the spawning pool were able to calm them, but the fighting instinct will always be there. As for the rest, well, they became warriors, and more issyrians joined me over the next week. I learned from them too, and since I have full control over this version of the framework tech, I was able to adapt, to create a warrior class of issyrian. For the first time in thousands of years, the issyrians have a warrior caste, and from the ashes of Trest they will rise and found a Great House.”
“Ashes?” Wheeler asked, alarmed for the first time. “I thought you were looking to restore Uumen so issyrians could rebuild their colonies.”
“The Order of Eden will enact a scorched earth policy, reducing Uumen to barren rock, but not before they have analyzed the canister used to deliver the toxins into their atmosphere. It’s of Freeground design,” Clark said. “It’s time for Freeground to get involved with the war, whether they like it or not.”
“You son of a bitch!” screamed one of the soldiers. Captain McPatrick gestured towards the lunging soldier and two more held him back. If he gave the order to blast Clark Patterson to pieces, Captain McPatrick was sure it would be followed without hesitation. That wasn’t the wise course, but it was the one he’d rather see followed.
“Freeground has been on the galactic sidelines for too long,” Clark said. “It’s time for the Freeground Nation to wake up and see everything humanity and the other races have done out here, the good and the bad. If they don’t open their borders and their minds, Freeground will descend from stagnation to extinction. Whatever good we have to offer the universe will simply disappear. Freeground will be just one of a hundred lost civilizations that are a minor footnote in history.”
“This isn’t about progress, it’s about revenge,” Doctor Anderson said.
“No, leading the Order of Eden to this ship was about revenge. The Sunspire, and everything it’s come to represent under the oversight of the Puritan Party is an insult to the legacy of this vessel. A legacy your nephew was an important part of,” Clark said to Captain McPatrick, who bristled at being singled out. “Terry Ozark McPatrick won’t welcome you with open arms if you survive to see him, not after discovering that you’re letting Freeground Intelligence Oversight tell you how to run your ship. A trap he didn’t let himself wither in.”
Captain McPatrick had heard enough. “Take him and everyone else into custody. Signal the helm to execute a retreat course.”
With inhuman speed and power, Clark Patterson struck the guards nearest to him, driving them back into the soldiers holding position at their rear. Isabel, Mary, and Remmy were ready. They sprinted for the lifts just down the hall. Captain McPatrick stepped over a recovering soldier and drew his sidearm.
“Stun!” Doctor Anderson shouted.
With Remmy dead in his sights, he flipped his weapon’s switch from kill to stun and downed the former Intelligence Officer. He took a shot at Mary, but she made it into the lift just in time.
“Disable the lifts,” Captain McPatrick ordered.
“Too late, the express lift has already activated. They’re already in the launch bay,” replied an officer from the bridge. “And we’re-”
“Then vent the atmosphere, lock the ships and emergency vacsuit stations down,” McPatrick replied.
“Yes, Sir. There’s something else, Sir; we’re picking up incoming signals. At least four squadrons of fighters and several gunships. They’re blocking our retreat course.”
“Here we go,” Captain McPatrick said to himself. “Launch alert fighters from the aft bay, and send security down to the auxiliary launch bay. I want those traitors taken, dead or alive.”
“Tell your bridge staff not to vent the launch bay. I need that next generation framework, and the others will be important to Intelligence,” Wheeler countered.
“You can have that one,” Captain McPatrick said, gesturing to Remmy as soldiers rolled him onto a collapsable gurney.
“He has nothing to do with framework tech,” Wheeler replied. He tapped his comm unit several times as he strode out of the observation deck. “I’ll just have to do this myself.”
“Sir, someone has taken control of the environmental and launch controls of the auxiliary bay,” announced a bridge officer in Captain McPatrick’s ear. He watched as the door closed behind Wheeler. He gestured towards it, commanding it to open and there was no response.
“Let him go,” Doctor Anderson said. “We follow him, and we keep ourselves tangled in whatever he’s cooking with Oversight. I bet he’s headed off the ship.”
“I hope you’re right,” Captain McPatrick replied. “Today is getting worse by the second.”
Chapter 29 - Full Circle
They were being allowed to leave. That was the only conclusion Clark could come to as they emerged from the express tube and didn’t see any soldiers. That would change quickly.
As they ran between the hastily landed shuttles they’d come in, Clark could feel the collective relief of the issyrians who had followed him. The hatches were open, the sounds of their footfalls echoed in the cavernous landing bay. The shuttles were already half empty.
When Clark completed the transformation from human to advanced framework, he inherited all the research Doctor Marcelles had been doing on the physiology of issyrians. How framework technology and their vastly different race crossed over was remarkable, and as soon as they returned to Trest, he followed through with an experiment that Doctor Marcelles himself was afraid to conduct. He waded into the issyrian home spawning pool and allowed his framework body to begin a cycle of assimilation and transformation.
The issyrians welcomed him, and after a painless transformation he gained the ability to communicate with them chemically. In trade for the secrets of their race and the ability to incorporate enough of the issyrian physiology to become something far more than human or framework, he gave them his rage, his need for revenge, and the desire to fight. With Omira’s assistance, Clark and the issyrians formulated a plan.
The plan, eventually perfected by Remmy who made a few devious changes, would firmly implicate Freeground Intelligence, and would violently transform the wild life of Uumen so it could become much more like a primordial version of the issyrian home world. It would also deliver them to the Sunspire, so they could take advantage of one of the greatest secrets held by the issyrian race.
They could disappear. Only focused scans would be able to detect them once they began to shift the pigment of their skin to redirect light and lowered their body temperatures to match their environment. An issyrian doesn’t even have to breathe for hours, even days if they are carrying the right liquid nutrients. As Clark ran towards the lift holding the Sunspire’s compliment of new high speed cloak ships, he knew he was surrounded by issyrians.
“We don’t have Remmy,” Isabel said. “How are we going to take three ships without him? We need a third operator.”
“We’ll have to take two instead,” Clark replied. “There won’t be much breathing room.”
“It’s doable,” Mary replied. “We’re not moving in anyway.”
Clark watched for any indication that the Sunspire crew realized that they weren’t headed to their own shuttles but to the rare high speed cloak ships. An invisible issyrian pressed a ripper into his hand, and by the time he looked up, the lighting in the bay went out.
“They’re about to flood this deck with soldiers,” Mary announced. “Everyone got their eyes on?”
“One sec,” Isabel said, stopping.
Clark collided with her, and picked her up
in his arms instead of stopping. He had no problem seeing in near complete darkness. “Get the rest of the issyrians out of the shuttles and moving to the new ships.”
“Yes, Sir,” replied one of the invisible issyrians behind him.
“What about Remmy?” Isabel asked him quietly. She had her environmental mask on, and could see his face in the sparse light.
He made an effort to make his face look as much like it did when he was human as he could. “He’s on his own. You know him, he’ll weasel his way through,” he answered.
“You’re probably right,” she replied dubiously.
Clark put Isabel down at the rear of the shuttle. An instant after her feet touched the deck, the Sunspire soldiers began their incursion. It wasn’t a blind assault, but well directed and fierce. Hatches opened in all directions and several squads descended from the ceiling. Dozens of ill issyrians were caught in the open and cut down in the first seconds. Clark found it difficult to adjust to the strobing white light of their weapons, but focused on the points of flashing light even as he caught a round in the side. The framework technology regenerated the skin over the wound, and his issyrian biology fortified the new flesh. The side of the high speed cloak ship was strafed several times by intense fire as they got the hatch open and he marvelled at his luck. The barrage of heavy rounds missed him, and missed Mary, who moved inside the shuttle fleetly.
Then he looked down and saw Isabel’s legs. Before he could stop himself he reached down for the rest of her, and touched what remained. Too little to save. Several rounds tore into him from behind, nearly cutting him in half despite the density of his flesh. During the seconds it took to regenerate he almost lost himself in the outrage he felt at losing her, but a voice drew his attention away.
“Clark! We need you in here!” Mary shouted. “We have to go now or it’ll never happen.”
He looked towards the ragtag shuttles that they’d arrived in and watched as two out of three issyrians were blasted to pieces by the Sunspire soldiers. They had their orders - to kill these traitors, deal with this situation so it could be resolved before the Order of Eden ships arrived. Clark tore himself away, knowing that he would have given the same order during his old life, the life in which he’d known Isabel and Remmy.
Instead of climbing aboard the cloak ship, he let his instincts lead him to the fight. From one hand he grew predatory claws, with the other he set his ripper on high. In a few swift leaps he was amongst the soldiers firing at the issyrian civilians, and he fired his ripper at point blank, weakening armour. His claws plunged into human bodies while the ripper tore into soldier after soldier.
Humans were shadows compared to issyrians. He pretended like Mary, Isabel, and even Remmy mattered as much as they did when he was simply human, but, in truth, they didn’t. Limited by verbal communication, humans were less important than any issyrian, who he could feel, taste, and smell even metres away. The soldiers he slashed, eviscerated, and ultimately obliterated were shadows in the dusk - insubstantial and immaterial. He leapt away from them before the last two lost their feet.
Human medicine would save most, but they would never forget how it felt to have his claws tear through their bellies, across their backs or throats. Just like he would never forget Isabel, and how she reminded him of what he was before his transformation.
Chapter 30 - The Exile
Remmy opened his eyes and sat up hurriedly. It took him seconds to get a read on the situation. He was in a one man cell in the brig. It was one of the nicer ones, thankfully, with a padded cot, blankets, a sink and toilet. There weren’t many classy units aboard the Sunspire, and the full length transparent steel door told him that he’d been dropped into one. The question was, why?
“Welcome back,” said the voice of Lieutenant Davi.
Remmy stood and walked to the door so he could see across the hall, where Davi sat up on his cot. “My head doesn’t hurt,” Remmy said. “I’m not even fuzzy-brained. I’d think that after a stun like that-”
“You’d have a roaring headache under these lights? Maybe get stun sick?” Davi asked. “We both got the royal treatment when we were checked in.”
“What did you do?” Remmy asked.
“I tracked Wheeler down as he was leaving, tried to detain him. Guess that’s not what the commanders here had in mind.”
“Why chase after him at all?”
Davi leaned back in his bunk and rubbed his face before answering. He looked tired, worn thin. “You know, after watching most of my team get wiped out, one get checked into psych, and not knowing what comes next, I just wanted some answers. Wheeler seemed like the guy who has ‘em. I mean, he picked Clark out in ten seconds, and I couldn’t do it in three days.”
“Not like we let you anywhere near him unless we had to,” Remmy said. “Don’t put yourself down, man.”
“I just wish I was the guy with all the answers for once. I’ve been following orders for as long as I can remember,” Davi said. “I don’t know how, but Wheeler knew exactly when to be here, and he made sure he was gone by the time the Sunspire had to make a break for it.” Davi shook his head. “At least he took Kipley with him. He was my last man, but having him around was worse than being alone.”
“Why’d he take your broken wheel?” Remmy asked, surprised and still trying to get a whole picture of what was going on.
“The last thing he told me was, ‘you still owe me an officer’ and Kipley was stupid enough to go along.”
“Well, better off ship than on your back,” Remmy said. “The Order are after the Sunspire?”
“Affirmative,” Davi replied. “Your people got off clean and free. Went straight into that magnetic storm and disappeared. Wheeler was right behind, though. Shannon and two of her Intelligence lackeys just finished my interrogation and exit interview. I’m in Captain McPatrick’s hands now.”
“I bet you’re in for a nice, short stay in the brig,” Remmy said. “You followed orders, brought someone you thought was Marcelles back. I’m pretty sure the Captain will set you up aboard somewhere if he’s not being mind-controlled by Intelligence. Did you happen to overhear their plans for me?”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Davi said. “But if you ask me, you’re either in for some serious interrogating or Anderson has an assignment in mind for you. If there weren’t plans-”
“Then they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of treating my stun-aches and taking a little tender care putting me in here,” Remmy finished. “I feel better than I have in weeks.”
They sat silently for several minutes, and Remmy found himself taking comfort in the knowledge that Clark, Mary, Isabel, and the rest of the issyrians most likely made it to the Fallen Star.
“Remmy,” Davi said.
“No one else here, is there?” Remmy replied.
“Actually, there are a few others from other squads like ours,” Davi replied. “But they’re way down the block.”
“Oh, so insubordination isn’t as uncommon as I thought.”
“Apparently Clark’s squad and mine were two of the best,” Davi said. “But I’ve got to ask, what really happened on the Fallen Star the first time you boarded?”
“Most of the record is dead on,” Remmy replied. He looked up at the flat, beige ceiling. “I hope someone’s recording this, because I hate repeating myself.” He turned his attention back to Davi and continued. “Things get sketchy once the lab computers in the Fallen Star managed to deactivate the implants Intelligence put in Mary, Isabel, and me. They put something different in Clark, and it reacted badly, started to shut Clark down, or put him into a coma or something. Omira stepped in. We managed to kill a bunch of those big bugs and seal up a part of the lab while she got a framework seed ready. The thing looks like a pill, but it’s got enough nanobots and crazy techno mojo in it to turn someone into a framework in a few seconds. I don’t understand it, but it looked like Clark was being torn up on the inside. I’ve never heard anyone scream like that.”
“Omira did it while he was awake?” Davi asked.
“There was no time to put him out,” Remmy said. “I wish there was, though. There are some things you don’t want to see, to hear, and that’s one.”
“What about the body you delivered?”
“Just a construct. That’s a walk in the park for someone like Marcelles,” Remmy replied.
“So you did find Doctor Marcelles on the Fallen Star,” Davi concluded.
“Right, that’s another thing I had to alter a bit in the record. Omira is Doctor Marcelles. He made a lot of changes when he decided it was time to change his appearance,” Remmy replied. “Or should I say, when she changed her appearance. Where is she now?”
The cell block hatch opened and Doctor Anderson entered with two security guards. “She’s missing. We think she’s using a cloak suit, but there’s no way to be certain. Do you think she returned to the Fallen Star, Remmy?”
“No, she got what she wanted there. Her research is more important than the ship,” Remmy replied. “Even more important than the issyrians, now that the Order have been set back a few decades.”
“What did she want from the Fallen Star?” Anderson asked as the security guards opened Davi’s cell door.
“Just a copy of all the data in the vault,” Remmy replied.
“Do you think you could get a channel open to the Fallen Star?” Anderson asked. “Get a link open so we could get the information?”
“Why?” Remmy asked.
Anderson seemed surprised by the question. “You know how valuable that technology is.”
“To whom?” Remmy retorted, suppressing a little giddiness. “Is this ship still working for Freeground Intelligence?”
The Expendable Few: A Spinward Fringe Novel Page 23