“There's more to it, though, sir,” she pressed. “We need to find the location of the wormhole that will take us home...”
“Assuming one even exists.”
“Granted, but the Sphere remains the best chance we have to find it, and we can't afford to pass that up. Let me get a few volunteers for a party to remain behind. Alamo can come back as opportunity permits, and...”
Shaking his head, he said, “Again, rejected, Lieutenant.” He paused, took a deep breath, and said, “The Sphere probably holds the secrets we're looking for, but searching it could take thousands of years. Unless we can find some sort of better lead, then the odds are that we'll never find it anyway. And I don't think that leaving the Sphere means giving up, either. It's a big galaxy out there, and the answer we're looking for could be waiting for us in the next system.”
“Perhaps, but even so…,” she paused, then said. “Sir, the ship can spare me.”
“Just you?”
She glanced at the door, and added, “Lance-Sergeant Fox is willing to come along for the ride. All I'm asking is that you leave us one of the buggies, some supplies, and a solar collector. We'll do the rest. Alamo can spare a hacker and a trooper. And if we can find what we're looking for...”
He paused, then said, “Realistically, this is going to happen no matter what I order, isn't it?”
“I wouldn't like to put it that way, sir.”
Rubbing his forehead, he added, “Lieutenant, I was under the impression that I was in command of this ship in the absence of Captain Salazar. That is not a conditional situation, and you will obey any and all commands I give. Unless you are planning to launch a mutiny.” He paused, then said, “I will consider it. That's as far as I'm willing to go, at least for the present. Now that might change if a more viable plan presents itself. For now, I suggest that you head down to the surface and take command of the remaining complement of Base Camp. I'd strongly advise making work on Flyer Three your top priority.”
Before she could reply, the door slid open, and Maqua walked inside, grim concern on his face, saying, “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but something's come up. We've just had a message from the team we set to rescue Foster and the scientific crew, and...”
“And what, Lieutenant?” Francis asked.
“You'd better listen to it for yourself, sir,” he replied, reaching down to the desk and tapping in a sequence.
“Echo Four to Base, for scheduled check-in,” the voice of the trooper began. “Nothing to report as yet. We should be at the ruin in about...”
“Hey, Jerry, what's that?” another voice said. “Two o'clock, right there, behind those trees.”
“I don't,” the first trooper began. “Wait a minute. I see them. Good God, they're moving fast.” There was a pause, and he said, “Right between us and the ruin. Damn it, Liz, they're catching us! How the hell are they catching us?”
Panic filed the second trooper's voice, and she replied, “Gun the engine! They're almost here!” The crack of a gunshot echoed from the ceiling, and the voice continued, “Oh, God, look. They're...”
“Keep firing! There are more of them, ten o'clock, and I think...”
The message ended with a desperate, final scream, and the three officers looked at each other, Harper finally breaking the silence, saying, “Sir, request permission to mobilize a squad to investigate.”
Francis looked at her for a moment, nodded, and said, “One squad. I want the rest of the platoon to defend Base Camp during the evacuation. And your mission is purely reconnaissance, Lieutenant, not rescue. If you get a chance to safely pick up Foster and her team, or any survivors from the first relief force, then by all means take them, but your top priority is to find out what killed those troopers.” He paused, then said, “We might have to evacuate the rest of the force ahead of schedule.”
“We've still got four more groups heading back in,” Maqua said. “One of them fairly close to that buggy. I've already warned them to be on the alert, but I think someone should go out and bring them in. I'll volunteer for that.”
“Very well, Lieutenant, but I do not want Base Camp stripped too thin. Have Ensign Rhodes prepare defenses for an orderly evacuation.” He looked at the two of them, and said, “I know what you are both thinking, but if this is the same thing that attacked Captain Salazar and the others, then in all probability, they're already dead.”
“No, sir,” Harper replied. “I'd know if he was. Don't ask me how, but I would.”
“Another Intelligence secret?” Maqua asked.
“Instinct,” she said. “Is that all the information we have?”
Holding up a datapad, the Neander replied, “I've got the exact location of the last transmission from the buggy. About sixty miles from Base Camp, on the edge of the forest.” He frowned, then added, “I was with the tribes in that region for months. We never heard of anything like that before, and they'd have reported anything like this to us. There might be more to this than we think. Or it might be as big a threat to them as it is to us.”
“Feel free to issue a warning, Lieutenant, but we're going to have to look after ourselves. With hostile ships in-system and hostiles on the ground, my instincts are telling me to pull out as soon as the last expedition returns to Base Camp.” Turning back to Harper, he added, “I'm willing to suppress my better judgment for a while, Lieutenant, but not for long.”
“Understood, sir. Understood.”
Chapter 9
The door rattled open, and a pair of white-uniformed figures stepped inside, an old man and a younger woman, the former holding a trio of plastic bottles in his hands. He passed one each to Salazar, Carpenter and Lombardo, then took a seat opposite them, a smile on his face, while the woman waited at the threshold of the entrance.
“I'm sorry it's taken us so long to get to you,” he said. “You'll understand that running a facility of this type is a difficult task, and we always have to complete a full security check at dusk. Just in case we get any unwanted visitors.” He glanced at the woman, and said, “I'm Doctor Mendez. In charge of Behavioral Psychology.”
“Doctor Robertson,” the woman added. “Scientific Operations Director. Welcome to Lysenko Station. Though I hope you won't have any problem with the idea that your visit will be short. We have a lot of work to do here, and we don't need the distraction of unauthorized guests.”
“We wouldn't be here if someone hadn't lobbed a missile at us,” Lombardo said.
Frowning, Mendez replied, “That was an accident. We've periodically come under attack by a hostile force known as the Hegemony.” At the looks on their faces, he added, “I see that you've encountered them yourselves. I'm not surprised. They're just scavengers.”
“And what are you?” Carpenter asked. “What's the purpose of this facility?”
“Genetic research,” Mendez answered. “You'll have noticed that there are several variant types of humanity present in the Sphere. Our mandate was to investigate, analyze, and determine if there are any potentially advantageous mutations to introduce into our own genetic structure.”
Lombardo grimaced, and replied, “Eugenics. That's got a pretty bad reputation back home. Every so often a group of scientists decide that it's time to play games with the gene pool. It never ends well, Doctor. Usually those involved face charges. If a mob doesn't get to them first.”
Robertson sighed, and said, “It's nothing like that. If we can find cures to genetic diseases in the local population, then we have a responsibility to pass that knowledge on to wider humanity. And there are other things we can learn, as well. The nature of adaptive evolution, as well as the evidence that our own genetic structure has in the past been tampered with.”
“What?” Carpenter replied. “There's no evidence...”
“Out of academic curiosity,” Robertson said, flashing Carpenter a withering glare, “just what is your doctorate in
?”
“Paleontology. With a minor in archeology.” She rose to face Robertson eye to eye, and replied, “So you can take it that I'm well able to keep up with you, Doctor. Assuming, of course, that I wish to do so. What evidence do you have of primordial tampering.”
“Our research is classified, and it is going to stay that way.”
“Wait a minute,” Mendez said, raising a hand. “There's no need for this conversation to descend into acrimony, is there? We're all scientists, all researchers, and we're all out here to explore the unknown mysteries of the universe.” Looking at Salazar, he added, “Captain, you have yet to speak. What do you think of all of this?”
With a sigh, he replied, “I think it's your business, Doctor, not mine. We came out here to find a party of lost crewmen. Two of my people were overflying this region on a scouting run when their flyer was brought down by another of your accidental missiles.”
Looking down at the ground, Mendez replied, “I can only apologize, Captain.”
“Your people should have signaled before entering an inhabited area,” Robertson added. “The Hegemony launched an attack on us as recently as six months ago, and did considerable damage to our facility before we were able to stop them. That, and we're in the middle of hostile territory, and you'll have noticed that we're surrounded by savages. Inevitably, as they're the main target of our researches, but it requires maximum security at all time.”
“That doesn't excuse…,” Lombardo began.
“If I took a shuttle and attempted to board your ship uninvited, Captain, what would happen to me? Presumably someone would arrive to throw me off, if I wasn't shot down out of hand first, and you would be entirely correct to do so. We have a right to defend ourselves.”
Shaking his head, Salazar replied, “I'm not here to talk about the past. I'll accept your apology, Doctor Mendez. What I want to know now is whether you know anything about my missing crewmen?”
With a sigh, Mendez looked up, and said, “I'm sorry, Captain, but I don't have good news to report. When your people came down out in the desert, we sent a team to take a look, but before we could arrive, the savages had got there first. There are thousands of them out there, picking their way through the rocks. Little nest-tribes scattered all through this mountain range. And you have to understand that they hunt in packs. By the time we got there, it was all over. Someone had destroyed the flyer. We didn't even find any bodies, but given the scale of the explosion, there wasn't much chance of that.”
“If you wish,” Robertson added, “You can inspect the wrecked vehicle for yourself in the morning. I'll provide an escort to get you out to the wreckage. Tell me, can your vehicle recharge itself? Is it capable of returning to your ship?”
“It is,” Lombardo replied. “Unless someone's decided to tinker with it.”
“My people would not, Lieutenant, and the savages wouldn't know how. They're only interested in the living. The mechanical is of no interest to them whatsoever.” Mendez grimaced, and replied, “They have surprisingly simple thought process, analogous to that of the sharks of Old Earth. Eat, sleep, procreate. That's about as far as it goes. We've been working on them for some time, if only to determine just how such a perversion of the human form could have been brought about, but I'm afraid we can report lamentably little progress.”
Frowning, Carpenter asked, “Could I see some of your research? We're interested in...”
“That is out of the question,” Robertson said, rising to her feet. “Our research is proprietary, and even if I wanted to, I am not permitted to share it with outsiders.” She gestured at the door, and said, “It would be best if you remain here tonight. We've had to place you near the top of the facility, and while intrusions by the savages are rare, they are not unknown, and our security force is limited. I suggested you keep the door closed, and leave it that way.” She reached outside the door, swinging in a holdall, and said, “Rations for tonight, enough for the three of you. I'll see that you are provided with more in the morning, when you return to your ship, after your inspection of the wreckage.” Moving to the door, she turned, and said, “Understand this. You are not welcome, you are not wanted, and you are not staying here a moment longer than necessary. I have no interest in being hospitable, and I have no interest in being nice. We have a job to do, and you are a distraction.” Without another word, she stalked away down the corridor, leaving a red-faced Mendez behind her.
“You'll have to forgive her,” Mendez replied. “Running a complex of this size is a difficult task, especially given the limitations we're laboring under. It's a miracle that we keep things going as well as we do, and there always remains the research work. We're making progress, but...” He paused, smiled, and said, “You don't want to listen to an old man complain.” Gesturing at the room, he added, “I've had bedding for three brought in, and there's an entertainment unit on the wall. Music, movies, that sort of thing. All old stuff, but hopefully it should ensure the night passes quickly.”
“And if some of the savages arrive during the night?” Carpenter asked.
“You still have your sidearms, and they seem more than sufficient to the task. If you fire a single round, it will set off our security system, and someone will come and investigate. Fire three times in quick succession, and we'll know that you have a serious problem, and we will arrive in strength in a matter of minutes. Though really, Nina is quite right. Stay here in your room, and you will be perfectly safe. I'll be along in the morning to escort you to the wreck of your craft. That will be in around eight hours, Earth-standard.” Gesturing at a watch, he said, “Now, I must be going. My apologies once again for the fate of your crew. If there was anything I could have done to save them, I would have, I assure you.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Salazar said, moving over to one of the bunks. “I think we'll just turn in. Oh, if you have any meteorological data about our route home, that would be useful.”
“Unless that is proprietary, as well,” Carpenter muttered.
“I think that can be arranged, Captain,” Mendez replied. “Good night.” He stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind him, the lock engaging with a single click. Lombardo moved over to it, tested it for a second, and nodded.
“We can open it from this side.”
Raising a hand, Salazar pulled a small box from his pocket, placed it on the floor, and tapped a button, saying, “We can speak freely now. Latest Intelligence device. Any microphones in the room will be broadcasting rather loud music. Hopefully they'll think we're having a party.” Looking at the two of them, he continued, “I probably don't need to ask this, but any thoughts?”
“They're hiding something,” Lombardo replied, “and have covered their tracks well enough that they're willing to let us inspect the flyer. Interesting that they were willing to admit their guilt.”
“What choice did they have?” Carpenter said. “We knew where the missile came from, and they attacked us themselves. Right now we've only got their word that we'll be released in the morning.”
“I believe them,” Salazar replied. “What would be the point in lying about it? Besides, they must know that our beacon signal reported a safe landing, and they'll assume that we're being monitored by our people. As far as they're concerned, if they don't send us home with a plausible cover story, then they run the risk of another party turning up, armed for bear.”
“We could do that,” Lombardo replied. “With a little work, I could get Flyer Three up and running in less than a week. We could land here again with a fully-armed Espatier squad, and find out what a few plasma weapons do to open up their sealed archives.”
“No, we don't have the time,” Salazar said. “I'm going to go ahead and guess that our people are in this base, somewhere, and that they probably saw something that this group are trying to keep secret. The idea of genetic research scares the hell out of me...”
“I hat
e to bring this up,” Carpenter interrupted, “but there's a chance they want them for their genes. Especially Mortimer. She's Earth-born, and if these people are some sort of offshoot, they might have labored under a restricted genetic inheritance. We've been finding all sorts of problems in some of the colonies from the First Diaspora. Trying to set up a self-sufficient colony is difficult enough with support, but when you've only got a four-figure gene pool to play with, the inherited problems build up pretty quick.”
“That brings up another point, doesn't it,” Salazar mused. “If they're opposed to the Hegemony, then where did they come from? I don't think they can be native to the Sphere.” He gestured at the musical selection, the menu flickering on the wall, and added, “All twenty-first-century stuff. The sort of material one of the early colony ships would have carried. That part of the story fits well enough, if nothing else.”
With a thin smile on his face, Lombardo replied, “Why do I have the feeling that you don't have any intention of sitting around all night and waiting to see what happens in the morning?”
“You've got that right,” he said. “They as good as admitted that their surveillance isn't up to much, though I don't think I believe that they would tolerate savage carnivores roaming the corridors at night. They're setting out to scare us, nothing more than that. I want to find out what's going on out here. There's something brewing in this little outpost, and I can't help but think that we're all at risk while it goes on.”
“And the savages?” Carpenter asked. “Whatever they are? It seems almost inconceivable that human-descendants could have devolved in such a way, though...”
“No, there are precedents on Earth, from cultures where all civilization was irretrievably lost,” Lombardo said, drawing surprised glares from Salazar and Carpenter. “The Ik people, for example and...” At their expressions, he added, “My ex-wife was a sociologist. Hard not to pick up a thing or two.”
Secrets of the Sphere (Battlecruiser Alamo Book 27) Page 7