by Isaac Hooke
Laser fire erupted from within; Rade couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there, because bore holes appeared in the exposed wall beyond the bend to his left.
“Why aren’t they using their energy weapons anymore?” Tahoe asked.
“No idea,” Rade replied. “I’m sure those weapons will be coming soon.”
“Don’t jinx us, Cyclone!” Fret said.
Rade switched to Snakeoil’s viewpoint, and watched the man throw grenades, while Lui followed up with laser fire. In only a few moments, they had downed the four aliens that had come to stop them.
“Clear!” Lui said.
“All right,” Rade said. “We proceed. Through the breach, people. It’s time to see what else these aliens have waiting for us.”
17
The corridor here was wide enough to fit them two abreast. Sometimes, the ribs that lined the pulsing bulkheads at intervals also overflowed onto the deck below, forcing Rade and the others to step over them. Speaking of that deck… his boots continued to sink slightly into that soft, spongy surface. It was the oddest feeling, and seemed very out of place aboard a starship.
“Feel like we’re walking through a swamp, or something,” Kicker said.
“Or a living entity,” Praxter said.
“I’m just waiting for Bender to say the pulsing walls remind him of his dick,” Manic said.
But Bender didn’t answer. He was muttering to himself.
Rade slowed down until he was on drag, and striding alongside him. “Bender, what’s wrong?”
Bender looked at him. “What?”
“You seem distracted…” Rade said.
Bender glanced at the others, narrowing his eyes when his gaze touched Cynthia. He lowered his voice, and disabled his internal microphone so that his voice wouldn’t carry over the comm. “Something’s not right.”
Rade nodded, disabling his mic as well. “Of course, something’s not right. We’re making our way through the innards of an enemy starship. We could be attacked at any time. Or incinerated by some hidden weapon.”
“I know, but there’s something else,” Bender said. “I can’t place it. These enemies feel too easy, for one.”
“I have a feeling the aliens are going to be getting a lot tougher when we get close to our target,” Rade said. “Don’t you worry about that.”
“You’re probably right,” Bender said. “But it also feels like, well, that something is watching us. I know there’s probably an AI observing our every move, but I get the sense it knows exactly what we’re thinking, and planning. As if it’s cracked our communications protocol. If that’s even possible at this early stage. I don’t like anything about this op. Not one friggin’ bit. I can’t shake the feeling that this Anarchist is going to betray us in the end, spacing us, cutting us loose while it takes the ship. And probably our mechs.”
Rade studied his friend. “We’re all on edge. It’s the stress of the mission, that’s all you’re feeling. You can’t let it get to you.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Bender said. “Shit, I’ve been on hundreds of ops like this. Many of them aboard enemy starships. What the hell is wrong with me? Let’s do this.”
Rade patted Bender on the shoulder—he had to hit him quite hard for him to feel it beneath the jumpsuit—and then squeezed forward until he was closer to the middle of the platoon. He stopped just behind Cynthia, wanting to keep her in his line of sight.
He hadn’t admitted it to Bender, but he too was on edge. Mostly because of Cynthia and the Anarchist, who still ranked low in his books when it came to trustworthiness. Not to mention their rapidly dwindling oxygen supply.
He wondered if he should have left Cynthia in the hangar bay. What better place for her to sabotage the mission then by allowing her to embed among them, after all. And yet, it wasn’t possible to leave her there—her oxygen had run out at the same time as everyone else’s.
She has to come with us whether I like it or not.
Still, he wondered if he should leave her behind the next time he deployed men to act as repeaters.
The team reached a T intersection. “Which way, Anarchist?” Rade sent.
“Left,” the Anarchist said over the comm, voice clear and crisp. “The command and control is that way.”
“Are you sure?” Rade asked.
“From what I’ve been able to hack from this ship since arriving, yes,” the Anarchist said.
“Why not send that data our way?” Rade said. “And mark off the route?”
A moment later Rade received a data request. He suddenly regretted asking for that data, worried about a hack.
“TJ, scan this, would you?” Rade said over the Alpha platoon line.
“That’s right, TJ gets to be the guinea pig,” TJ said. A moment later. “The scan turns up clear. I’m unpacking it.” A few more seconds. “Seems to be free of viruses. None of my custom antiviral code tripped.”
“All right, thanks,” Rade said. “Can you share the data directly with the platoon?” That avoided sending any of the wrappers the Anarchist might have used.
“Sure, but it won’t help,” TJ said. “If I’m infected by some unknown virus, the rest of you probably are too, by now. Assuming it’s designed to propagate over our network.”
“I don’t think so,” Bender said. “I’m seeing nothing in my logs. I think we’re good.”
That was enough to convince Rade it was safe. If Bender said they were good, then they were good: he and TJ were among the top cybersecurity experts on the Teams, after all.
He accepted the request from TJ and the map filled out with the partial blueprints of the alien starship that the Anarchist had hacked. A route was marked on the map, leading to the command and control.
Snakeoil and Lui led the way down the left corridor, and the others followed behind them.
Rade tested his signal strength at every new bend to confirm that he could still communicate with Taya and the Anarchist. Eventually, it became low enough that he ordered Kicker and Pyro to stay behind to ensure the link remained active. The pair ducked inside an alcove—some kind of empty storage closet—while the rest of the platoon advanced.
Rade decided not to leave Cynthia with the two. As a civilian, she was safer with the rest of the team. Plus, he decided it was better to keep her under his watchful eye anyway.
They encountered more resistance on the way to their target, in the form of laser-totting aliens and spider robots, but the team was able to defeat them. He was definitely feeling Bender’s doubts about all of this being too easy, because none of the tangos ever used energy weapons.
But then Skullcracker went down during a surprise attack, when the enemy tossed grenade equivalents from around the far bend. Lui and Snakeoil dove to the ground, but Skullcracker was a little too slow, and he took some heavy shrapnel. His green status indicator dipped to yellow, bordering on the red section.
Snakeoil dragged him to safety around the closest bend, and Rade worked on him while the others dealt with the threat.
Rade retrieved the suitrep kit Skullcracker had in the cargo pocket of his jumpsuit, and applied the necessary blood clotting substance. Even though a lifelike skull tattoo inked the man’s face, hiding his expression, Rade could still see the pain clearly in his friend’s eyes.
“You’ve severed your femoral artery,” Rade said. “I can’t get the blood to clot. You’re going to have to instruct your suit to tighten the leg area, here.” Rade indicated the spot on the suit above the thigh. “Can you do that? Or you can grant me override?”
Rade saw a circular section of the suit tighten, so he knew Skullcracker had done it. But a moment later Rade also received the override request, and accepted.
“My life is in your hands, Chief,” Skullcracker said.
“Not much more I can do,” Rade said. “Until we can get you to a sick bay.”
“Then I guess I’m getting back on my feet,” Skullcracker gritted his teeth and tried to get back up, but then
fell down again. “Hurts.”
“I’ll leave someone here to stay with you,” Rade said.
Skullcracker shook his head. His expression relaxed. “Had my suit inject a painkiller. You think I’m going to stay here, while the rest of you have all the fun? Now help me up.”
Rade smiled grimly, then pulled Skullcracker upright. Praxter was there beside him, offering his shoulder as a crutch.
“Can walk on my own,” Skullcracker said. But when he took a step, he nearly toppled. He leaned heavily on the bulkhead, panting.
Praxter slid underneath his arm; this time Skullcracker didn’t protest. Praxter walked forward, and Skullcracker limped alongside him, placing the least amount of weight, for the shortest possible time, on his injured leg with each step.
Rade approached the edge. The others had ceased firing, but remained in place with their laser rifles aimed past, watching the corridor beyond.
“Sit-rep?”
“Threat dealt with,” Tahoe said.
“Lui, Snakeoil, lead the way,” Rade said.
The pair advanced into the corridor.
“I don’t want to make it sound like I’m glad Skullcracker got injured,” Bender said. “But it does put me at ease, a little. Things were seeming a little too easy there.”
“Nothing like having a team mate’s blood drawn to sharpen one’s sense of danger,” Manic said.
“Still, is it bothering anyone else that those grenades seemed oddly similar to our own?” Bender asked. “Or am I just a nervous bitch?”
“You’re a nervous bitch,” Manic replied.
“Explosives are some of the cheapest and easiest weapons to develop,” Tahoe said. “My guess is, we caught the enemy with their pants down, and they have yet to deploy their heavy guns. In fact, some of those guns might not even be feasibly operated inside ships like this. The scouts and energy turrets we encountered on the surface, for example, would never fit in these cramped corridors.”
Rade stepped over the bodies of aliens, and followed the others deeper into the organic starship. He caught Cynthia looking at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. There was fear in her eyes, but also something else. Doubt?
Lui reached the bend just before the supposed command and control room, and when he peered past the edge with his rifle, he immediately pulled back.
The exposed bulkhead beside him became littered with plasma blasts.
“Well, looks like we’ve finally reached the big guns,” Lui said. “They’ve got turrets on the deck and overhead. Anyone have any grenades left?”
Rade gathered up all the grenades left in the platoon, and gave them to Lui. “Here’s all four of them.”
“Hm,” Lui said. He amped up the output of his servomotors, and leaned past, moving almost in a blur to throw a grenade. Then he ducked again.
The explosion followed almost instantly, coming so close that the orange flames were momentarily visible past the edge. More plasma bolts slammed into the exposed bulkhead that formed the L shaped turn.
Lui waited until the attack ceased, and then held his scope around the bend; he withdrew as still more incoming fire erupted.
“They shot down the grenade, far as I can tell,” Lui said. “I can try the others, but I think they’ll be wasted.”
“We’re almost there…” Rade said. “I can’t believe we’re going to get stuck here. Anarchist, is there another route?”
The Anarchist took a moment to respond. “No, I believe this is the only way to the command and control.”
“Can we cut through the walls?” Snakeoil asked.
“According to my data, they are too thick here,” the Anarchist said. “If you want to reach the command and control, you have to get past those turrets.”
“Lui, send me the footage you recorded of those defenses,” Rade said.
He received the footage, and studied the positioning of the turrets. There were two sets, positioned on the deck and overhead, precisely as Lui had described, with the two on the deck placed in front of the two on the ceiling. All four were lined up with the corner. Past them, the corridor continued a short way, ending in a bulkhead. Beside that wall was a metal door, leading to the Anarchist’s fabled command and control.
“Looks like you were right about the enemy getting tougher, Chief,” Bender said.
“Yes,” Rade said. “Nothing’s ever easy. Anyone have any ideas?”
“We could go back, and fetch some of the spider bodies,” Lui suggested. “And use them as shields.”
“There are too many turrets,” Praxter said. “They’ll easily melt through any robot or alien bodies you bring. Take a look at the damage to the exposed bulkhead.”
Praxter was right. A good portion of it was eaten away. The damage was almost as bad as what energy weapons were capable of inflicting.
“You know, maybe we can use that,” Tahoe said. “Make them keep firing at that wall, and create a passage to another corridor.”
“Take a look at the map,” Snakeoil said. “If it’s correct, it winds between the other corridors and compartments, with nothing but metal all the way to the hull.”
“Maybe you won’t have to physically set foot in the command and control after all,” the Anarchist said. “I’ve just completed my latest hack… you should be able to detect a remote interface from your current position.”
“He’s right,” TJ said. “A remote interface just appeared.”
“That seems a little too convenient…” Bender commented.
“Yes, how is that even possible?” Tahoe said. “The Anarchist is too far away to interface directly with its own Nemesis technology. How is it providing the necessary wrapper?”
“I’m using your comm nodes to transcode the signal into a compatible protocol,” the Anarchist said.
“That’s some mighty fine bullshit right there,” Bender said. “Considering that our comm nodes can’t read gamma rays.”
“This particular section of the ship utilizes technology that is compatible with yours,” the Anarchist sent.
“You mean it’s using radio waves?” Bender said.
“That’s right,” the Anarchist said.
Bender switched to the private, Alpha only channel. “The Anarchist is so full of shit I can smell its stench from here.”
“The question is, do we continue with the hack, or do we call the Anarchist out on its bullshit and stand down?” Lui said.
“I’m not sure standing down is an option,” Rade said. “Since it’s obvious the aliens are shooting to kill, given Skullcracker’s condition.”
“Maybe that’s only because we’re forcing them to,” Lui said. “We’re boarding their ship, after all…”
“That’s a very good point,” Tahoe said. “But do we really want to surrender to aliens?”
Rade stared at the map, trying to figure out what to do.
“We’re under attack,” Fret announced from his position closer to the hangar bay. Rade saw the red dots on the map that had appeared around his and Rex’s position, marking the locations of the tangos.
“We are as well!” Pyro said, from where he had stayed back to act as a repeater with Kicker.
Once again, Rade saw more red dots.
There weren’t really many options. Not at all. It looked like they were going to have to try hacking into the ship after all. He’d also have to send some men back to help the other teams.
But before he gave the order, he turned to TJ, and muted his microphone so only his close-by team members would hear him. “If the Anarchist was able to enable the remote interface, why does the entity need you to finish the hack? Why can’t the Anarchist finish this on his own?”
“Well, we worked together on previous hacks,” TJ said. “Essentially bouncing ideas off of one another. Maybe he needs my inspiration… he’ll see my methods, and translate them into an attack of his own.”
Rade was suddenly aware that Cynthia was staring at him; very likely she was relaying everything she he
ard through her open faceplate to the Anarchist.
“Get her out of here,” Rade told Lui. “I want her well away from the rest of us. Put her on drag.”
“What, why?” Cynthia said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
But Lui and Snakeoil removed her, and when she was gone, he returned his attention to TJ. “You’re the Anarchist’s inspiration…”
Rade’s gaze drifted to the overhead map, where his two teams were dug in and in trouble. They were surviving, but in need of aid. If the enemy brought their grenade equivalents to the fight, his friends would be done for.
He zoomed out on the map to get a better idea of how far away the teams were from the rest of the platoon. As he studied that map, Rade had a sudden thought.
He executed a reverse lookup on the blueprints the Anarchist gave them, running it against the blueprints of other United Systems and Earth starship classes stored in his embedded ID.
He received a partial match. The design, at least for the small portion the Anarchist had shared, was identical to a Barracuda class starship.
That seemed impossible, given that the exterior shape wasn’t even close to a Barracuda. And the organic, ribbed corridors were as far removed from an Earth ship as one could get.
Unless his eyes were deceiving him…
His faceplate was open, which meant the helmet’s augmented reality capabilities couldn’t be overwriting his vision. He was seeing reality with his own eyes.
Wait.
There was still another aReal he had, this one inside his head.
On a whim, he turned off his Implant.
His connection to the other team members terminated instantly, and the status indicators and overhead map overlaying his vision vanished.
The rounded, pulsating organic walls disappeared as well, replaced by the cold, rectangular bulkheads typically found on United Systems starships. The soft deck, which had slightly engulfed the soles of his boots, was now solid, intractable metal.
We’ve had the wool pulled over our eyes.