by Darren Beyer
As Mandi watched, Nassir opened a hinged panel and folded out a long handle. Two looped straps on the floor snugged tight as soon as he slid his feet into them, and he began to pump the handle.
Mandi moved beside him. “What is that?”
“The ship’s reactor. In the attack, its safeties cut in, and magnets slammed the control rods into place. To get power going again, I need to remove them. Normally—” Nassir grunted with exertion. “Normally, counteracting electromagnets pull them out, but for that, you need power—and we don’t have power.” He paused to take a couple of deep breaths. “Working this lever provides enough movement to start at least a small reaction.”
He continued pumping the handle. After another thirty cycles, a white light flickered on in the compartment.
“Ah. There we go.” Nassir breathed heavily as he stowed the handle. “Now, we tie into the ship’s systems, and—”
“Hello, I am OLIVER, the Over Land Independent Vocal Exploration Rover, and I am detecting multiple communications systems onboard.”
“Hello, OLIVER—and please do not call me Mandi Rosen,” Mandi said. “My name is Mandi Nkosi. Just call me Mandi.”
“Welcome, Mandi, it is good to hear your voice again.”
“Comms clear,” Nassir said. “I need a ship status. Bridge team, what about those reaction controls?”
A voice came over the comm. “One sec—the system is still coming up. Here it is. The starboard fuel and oxidizer tanks have zero pressure. Port side showing seventy-six and seventy- three percent, and all thrusters operational.”
Nassir let out a frustrated sigh. “Zhara.”
“I take it that’s bad,” Mandi said.
“An entire side of reaction controls is out. That means we have only half our maneuverability. Under the best circumstances, trying to do any sort of travel with that handicap would be difficult—finer maneuvers like docking are out of the question. But in addition, we have only one working engine, meaning our thrust is off center. And we can’t compensate for that without fully operational reaction control.”
“Your inbound ship—the one bringing us the bomb—why can’t we use it?”
Nassir shook his head. “We can’t transfer the transponder. It would take days to install— days we don’t have.”
Mandi furrowed her forehead and tried to bring her hand to her face. When it met her helmet’s faceplate instead, she quickly lowered it back to her side, embarrassed. Though Nassir was turned away slightly, he might have smiled. Mandi pressed her lips. Yes, he was definitely smiling. She flattened her mouth even more.
“Gisela used to do that when she was mad,” Nassir said.
At the mention of her mother, Mandi softened. “She still does.”
Nassir chuckled.
“What about the launch capsule?” Mandi asked.
“What about it?”
“What if we used its reaction controls and engines?”
Nassir paused, considering. “If the hatch could take the stress… but I don’t think that’s the problem. Control, that’s the difficult part. The systems are disparate, and calibrated for each ship independently. We would have to do it manually. I don’t know how we could keep it stable.”
“I might.” Mandi keyed her mic. “OLIVER, are you there?”
“Yes, Mandi. How may I assist you?”
“Half of the thrusters, and three of the ship’s four engines, are nonfunctional. There’s a launch capsule attached to the docking hatch. If we were able to connect you to its systems, would you be able to use its reaction controls combined with what remains on this ship to effectively maneuver?”
“I would need to perform some tests, but the exercise should be trivial.”
“Trivial.” Mandi felt triumphant. “Is the jump drive working?”
“It appears to be.”
“Good. Then why can’t we reroute your bomb ship to Eridani, we’ll head there too—and fix a few things along the way—then we do the transfers there. Before we head in to Eridani we jettison the capsule.”
Nassir again chuckled.
“What?”
“You are Gisela’s daughter.”
Chapter 51: Eridani
Erik looked out the helo’s window at the stark terrain passing by below. Golden grassy hills were dotted with sporadic low copses of dark green trees. Eridani was devoid of complex animal life, which meant it was a blank canvas on which he could paint the future. That future—his future— would begin within hours.
The feeling of triumph could not be tempered, and Erik had to fight back nausea. As he looked over at the motionless body of his adversary, both feelings—triumph and nausea—grew in intensity, and he was forced to look away before his control faltered. The two security troopers either didn’t notice, or feigned ignorance.
“Call Karis.”
His assistant’s face appeared on his comm, and Erik didn’t wait for her standard greeting.
“Give me a status of critical ops.”
“Pathogen injections are complete on all Coalition vessels in orbit.”
“And on the surface?”
“With the additional ships the Coalition fleet left behind, we had to divert supplies from surface allocations, and we have not been able to make up the difference, even with the ramp-up in production.”
Erik frowned and glared. “And the subject categorization with the new allocations?”
“Given the schedule, we did not have time to reprogram. We are working on the solution to mitigate the issue.”
Erik sighed angrily. “We have no room for error. Fix it.”
“Yes, sir.” If Karis felt personally admonished, her placid demeanor didn’t reveal it. “As to the rest of the Coalition fleet, it will enter the Casimir bridge on schedule. All indications are that the first ship will enter less than four hours from now.”
“I arrive back in New Reykjavik in just over three. The bridge represents the first of many critical steps from which there is no going back. Keep me informed of even the most minor issues that may arise.”
Erik leaned back in the helo’s passenger seat. He looked at Grae Raymus and asked one of the security guards, “How long will he be out?”
“Two days, or until I administer the sedative’s counteragent.”
Erik turned his attention back to his comm screen. “Karis, I have a special task for you once I return.”
The corners of her mouth turned down in the most minute exhibition of dismay. With everything on her plate, Erik could understand her feelings. But he didn’t care. He demanded everything from those who served him.
“It seems Grae Raymus somehow survived the Pathogen termination sequence.”
Karis raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, we will have to uncover where the failure occurred. Fortunately, I have Raymus here with me. You will have an opportunity to sharpen your enhanced interrogation skills.”
“That is certainly fortuitous.”
“Fortune had little to do with it,” Erik spat. “The last time I encountered him, he bested me. But I am not the same person. This time, I beat him.”
He felt anger grow, and the sickness along with it. Closing his eyes, he breathed out a long sigh and willed his emotions back into check.
“I am bringing Raymus to you, Karis, and I expect you to use your most effective—and uncomfortable—methods. When Jans Mikel arrives, between the two of them, I expect nothing short of the location of their hidden facility at Ascension—Helios. Only then will our victory be complete.”
Karis gave a slight nod.
Erik shut off his comm and turned to the guard responsible for his prisoner. “Have him awake and lucid before we arrive. I want him alert when he watches the inception of my ultimate victory.”
Chapter 52: Eridani
Severe pain across his nose and face brought Grae back to consciousness. He tried bringing his hands to his face, but bindings about his wrists and waist constrained him. Opening his eyes, he saw the scarre
d face of Erik Hallerson above him. They were in a helo—one of AIC’s originals—in flight. Two security personnel, clad in black tactical gear with compact assault rifles resting in their laps, watched him impassively.
“Grae Raymus.” Erik sneered, then turned the corners of his mouth upward in an evil grin.
“Erik Hallerson.” Grae sat up to look at Erik at an almost even level, struggling to hide his pain as he did so. “I hope you didn’t need those lackeys I did away with.”
The two security guards glared.
“I have more where those came from.” Erik waved his hand dismissively, earning shifty- eyed glances from the two guards. “But you…” Erik grinned. “I don’t believe your pitiful resistance can afford to lose you. Or Jans Mikel.”
Grae couldn’t hide his surprise at the mention of Jans’s name.
Erik clearly noticed, and his grin grew. “Yes. My people captured your esteemed leader on Ouricsen—and I have you to thank for the information that led to his capture. They will bring him here to me, and when they have the Nkosi woman as well, my retribution will be complete.”
Grae felt like a vise had locked around his heart.
Erik gazed upward as if trying to find a long-lost memory. “Your interaction with her at the spaceport… it would indicate some amount of personal connection, no?”
The vise was replaced with the fire of hatred. “You won’t get away with this. The story will get out, and the Coalition will come down on you like a—”
“The story will get out?” Erik chuckled in condescension. “It already is out. Who do you think leaked it? And the Coalition? It will be capable of coming down on me like precisely nothing.”
“‘Me’?” Grae said.
Erik looked at Grae with confusion.
“You said ‘coming down on me.’ Don’t you mean you and Andrews?”
Ignoring him, Erik turned to the helo’s side window. Grae followed his gaze. The skyscraper once named AIC Tower poked up above the horizon.
“Vanity.” Erik focused on the approaching high-rise. “The most worthless of human emotions. Joy increases the number of neural pathways the brain can keep open, effectively improving capacity. Sadness does the opposite, allowing the brain to rest and recover. Anger, while a waste of neural energy, also serves as a motivator. Fear stimulates adrenaline production. The list goes on. But vanity… What purpose does it serve, other than to spend mental capacity and physical resources for no tangible benefit? Jans Mikel is a vain man to have built such a large structure so early in the development of this planet. To spend resources that could have been put to better use.” He shook his head. “Vanity.”
As the helo drew closer to the tower, it climbed, then attained hover above one of the tower’s four rooftop landing pads. The pilot waited, judging the winds, then touched down.
Erik didn’t wait for the engines to wind down. He opened a door and stepped out, while the two guards roughly pulled Grae out by the bindings around his wrists.
No sooner had they taken a few steps across the landing pad than the door to the building opened. An old man leaning on a cane hobbled out, flanked by half a dozen armed guards. For the second time in his life, Gregory Andrews had Grae at a disadvantage. At their first encounter, Grae had had a plan. Now, he had nothing. Andrews had him.
Andrews narrowed his eyes at Grae, then slowly approached. Erik muttered something into his comm.
“You’re supposed to be dead.” Andrews’s voice carried a curious tone. He turned to face Erik. “What the hell is this all about?”
Erik eyed the six guards Andrews had brought with him. They all looked ready for business. Erik’s two men glanced nervously at each other; they carried only pistols in holsters on their belts.
“I found it just as much of a surprise,” Erik said in a slow, measured tone. “Until just a few hours ago, I thought him dead as well.”
“That’s not like you, Erik. In fact, you haven’t been yourself since you returned. The Erik I know wouldn’t say something was done unless he was sure.” Andrews tilted his head and looked down his nose at Erik. “The Erik I know also wouldn’t make major alterations to my plans without getting my full approval.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Erik’s voice carried no emotion.
“Cut the bull crap, Erik. The Coalition fleet is about to enter the Casimir bridge and transit back to Sol.”
“That’s correct. As we planned.”
“What we didn’t plan was that Pan Asian and Eastern Bloc would be waiting to destroy the fleet as its ships exit one by one. We didn’t plan that you would provide them the precise coordinates of the bridge’s exit. Yes—I have my own spies out there, Erik.”
Erik didn’t respond.
“No answer? No lies to cover it up?” Andrews flattened his mouth and shook his head. “This is one hell of a double-cross. What did you hope to gain? You’re working for someone who wants me gone. You’re angling to put so much pressure on me that I’d get forced out. Who are you working for?”
“No one,” Erik said flatly.
A smile of recognition crossed Andrews’s face. “Do you think you can step in?” He let out a derisive cackle. “That will never happen.” He shook his head. “I’ll push legal limits to get what I want—hell, I’ll break them. But what you’ve done… it goes too far. Even for me. I’m warning the fleet. They will not go through.”
“You can’t do that.” If Erik feared Andrews, he didn’t let it show. “The first ship is due to enter the bridge in less than twenty minutes. Any message you send will not arrive in time. All you’ll accomplish is to disclose your actions. You will be disgraced. You will go down.”
“I know full well how long it takes communications to travel, but I needed to be sure—to see your face—to hear your answer in person.” Andrews turned to Grae. “Which is why I took a page out of your book—yours and Mikel’s. You once used a communications jump pod to send a message from the outer system to Eridani to warn Jans Mikel of my plans.” He turned back to Erik. “I have set one up to do the opposite—to get a message to the fleet. You see, I still have cards to play. As for you… well, you’ve played your last.”
An evil grin grew on Erik’s face. “You’re wrong. I have one left—and it is the trump card.”
Andrews’s eyes narrowed.
“I hadn’t planned to do this until later.” Erik set his jaw and stared down Andrews. “Karis, activate Pathogen Protocol. All categories.”
“What the hell—”
Suddenly, all Andrews’s guards grasped their heads in pain. Pinkish liquid flowed from their noses, and they fell to the ground, screaming. Andrews spun, his eyes wide in anger and fear.
Erik stepped forward and pushed him hard. Andrews lost his balance and fell, his cane clattering across the helipad. Erik walked to it, crouched, and lifted it by the small end. Then he turned and walked back to Andrews, who was struggling to sit up.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” Andrews spat. Erik towered over him. “You’re wrong.”
More quickly than Grae could follow, Erik pulled back the cane and struck Andrews’s head with immense force. The sickening sound of breaking bone echoed off the wall of AIC Tower.
Grae’s mouth dropped open. The blow would have killed even a young man; Andrews had stood no chance.
Sneering, Erik dropped the bloody cane beside Andrews’s lifeless body. He stared down at the older man for several long seconds, then slowly raised his head to look Grae in the eye.
“You don’t strike me as someone easily shocked—or caught off guard.” He wiped a speck of blood from his cheek and rubbed it between his thumb and fingers. “I will take your reaction as a compliment.” He activated his comm. “Karis, any results from the Pathogen activation?”
Grae tried to listen in, but couldn’t make out the response. “Good. And the ground troops?”
Again, Grae couldn’t hear.
“Very well. Put our countermeasures
in play—keep them contained. And get a shuttle and pilot ready.” Erik shut off his comm and looked back to his guards and the helo pilot. All three looked as shocked as Grae at the scene that had just played out. Erik gestured to the helo. “Start that thing back up, and get us to the spaceport. Things will get a little too hot for us to stay here.”
Erik grasped Grae by the arm and started to usher him toward the helo.
With a quick twist, Grae pulled away. “You’re really sending the fleet to its destruction? You’re going to kill all those people, and cripple the Coalition. Why?”
“Cripple the Coalition—yes. Killing people? Of course.” Erik looked up and to the side. “Change like this is seldom accomplished without death, and people are but pawns in a much larger game. But you’re wrong about me destroying the fleet.” He smiled. “Why would I throw away such beautiful ships?”
Chapter 53: Casimir Bridge Entry Point, Eridani System
Coalition Cruiser Atlanta, this is Casimir bridge control. We have positive bridge link to destination Sol system. Arrival point HLAT five point two niner degrees, HLON one zero eight point zero niner degrees, AUs three four point seven zero four. Exit orbital parameters on file. You are cleared to enter the bridge.”
“Bridge control, Atlanta,” the cruiser’s navigation officer replied. “Arrival data is a match. Cleared to enter bridge.” He turned to his captain. “Sir, we are aligned, and cleared to enter the Casimir bridge for transit to the Sol system.”
“Very well.” The captain switched on the ship’s PA system. “This is the captain. We have been cleared to enter the Casimir bridge. Prepare yourselves for the effects. We’re going home.” He turned back to the navigation officer. “Engage aft thrusters, one quarter g. Take us in.”
The heavy cruiser moved slowly toward the bridge, a seemingly empty disc in space defined by three massive copper-gold metallic arcs, each glowing with a wispy blue light. The ship’s forward antenna array crossed the threshold, and a disc of blue-white light sprang into being. As the cruiser passed through and the disc reached the bridge, light filled the compartment. Some of the bridge crew squeezed their eyes shut, others doubled over with sickness. Time seemed to slow, then stand still, then it lost all meaning.