Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children

by Robert W. Ross

  “Stop!” yelled Omandi, and everyone froze in place. She glared at the avatar and noted how its side had begun to glow again. It’s charging…not much time…but some. Charlotte said, “I am Hath’sede of this ship and am responsible for the safety of its crew and all those on the planet below. Abort your attack now or I will destroy you, that pod, your pathogen weapons, and then track down whoever sent them in the first place.”

  The avatar cocked its head, considering, “You do not have the power to destroy me. Nerra’th Salmix has been revived from stasis so she can experience her final sentence. It does not matter whether her death is at your hands or caused by this system’s star. Your ship, your crew, and your species are forfeit, Hath’sede.”

  “Annchi,” said Charlotte, “do it!”

  The avatar silently split apart as if part of a horrific vivisection. Scales, muscle, bone, and organs all hung suspended by a cloud of writhing nanites, then they collapsed to the deck, except for one glowing organ, that continued to pulse menacingly.

  “Coleman, open command deck mag-lift,” yelled Omandi, as she ran forward and kicked the capacitive organ. It slammed into the lift and exploded just as the doors slid shut. The force of the blast bent them outward, leaving an empty vertical tunnel where the lift had been.

  “Stations!” cried Charlotte, and everyone began scrambling, except Misha, who continued to grip James to her chest. “Chao, get us moving toward those pathogen missiles.” He didn’t bother responding, but jumped over Omandi’s command chair and slid into Branson’s nav station. “Misha,” said Charlotte, “I need you on tactical.”

  “Why did he do that!” she yelled. “I could have survived another blast. I could have.”

  “No, you couldn’t and he knew it, now let him down or his death will mean nothing.”

  “He is not dead,” said Annchi, and the two women stared at her. “His heart and respiration have stopped, but he is not dead.”

  Misha’s eyes went wide. “Can you—”

  Annchi shook her head. “No, my flora no longer have the capacity to heal anyone but me. I’ll take him to Carpenter. He may be able to repair the damage, if I can get there quickly enough.”

  Misha stared at the ruined mag-lift. “There’s no way to medical except the maintenance ladders. You can’t—”

  Annchi reached down and her nanite cloud surrounded both the young woman and James. She lifted him, glanced at Misha, and said, “I’m taking a more direct route.” A moment later Annchi stepped toward the open mag-lift and froze in place. She tried to move forward but both feet remained firmly planted on the deck. Her face took on a cast of fierce determination as she struggled to move forward. “It seems the nanites don’t like what I have planned.” She took a half-step forward then stopped again. “But, they…must obey…my commands.”

  “That’s over a hundred feet down,” whispered Charlotte.

  “Which is why the nanites are so insistent,” said Annchi, just before seeming to finally break free of an unseen restraint. She moved to the mag-lift threshold, looked down into darkness, and then at her father. He still had his back to them all as he wrestled with Bladerunner’s navigation systems. She smiled at Misha, nodded toward James, and said, “You look at him the way Mother looked at Father.” The young woman lifted her chin, then stepped off the command deck and vanished from sight.

  Misha dragged a uniformed sleeve across her eyes, then reached up to accept Omandi’s offered hand. The Captain pulled Sokolov to her feet and said, “I need you.”

  “You got me,” replied Misha, through gritted teeth. “Now get in your chair, sir, and let me blow some shit up.”

  Chapter 48

  Pathogens and Pods

  “I have a weapons lock on the first pathogen missile,” said Misha. The Russian’s voice had the forced calm Charlotte had learned to expect from Sokolov during the most stressful of situations. “Weapons lock on two and three as well, ready to fire HID array on your command, Captain.”

  Omandi was about to give the order when Damien called out. “Do not fire on missiles two or three. They have entered the atmosphere and the pathogen might survive reentry.”

  “Fire array at missile one,” said Omandi. Four beams of blue energy lanced outward from the Bladerunner. Seconds later, a fireball bloomed against the dark blue of Earth’s night side.

  “Splash one,” said Misha, “two and three have changed direction. They are heading on opposite vectors.”

  “Increasing the chance we will be unable to destroy both,” said Damien, then added, “I suspect the pathogen is both airborne and highly contagious. If so, the deployment of three missiles represents basic triple redundancy thinking, and only one needs to successfully deploy for the pathogen to spread worldwide.”

  “If that’s true, Captain,” began Misha, “then the approach you took with me during your initial Howard simulation wouldn’t work…assuming you were going there.”

  “I had already gone there and back, Lieutenant, and was not yet ready to kill all of us even before Damien’s revelation. Karishma, what’s the maximum distance you can project a singularity gate?”

  The chief engineer looked up from her panel. Patel’s normally coffee colored skin appeared several shades paler and she stuttered slightly as she responded. “Wwhat, what was that Captain? I’m sorry. The sub-light engines are out of balance. The deuterium pellets are at risk of not fusing and I’m having to hand balance every few seconds. I’ve been building this bloody ship while all of you have been training for this shit.” She gestured roughly toward the ship’s navigation station, then said, “…And James.” Her voice caught in her throat. “James is—well I’m not like Misha. I can’t just move on and—”

  The engineering panel flashed red and a warning chime sounded across the command deck. Patel turned quickly around and her hands flew across the console. A second later the panel returned to its previous blue. Charlotte crossed the deck and leaned close to Karishma. “You can and you will,” she said quietly, “because we all need you to. I’m sorry you weren’t properly prepared for this, truly I am. However, let me assure you of something, Lt. Commander. You may think Misha has some preternatural ability to sublimate her emotions. She does not, and has not moved on from anything. In fact, she’s hanging on by her metaphorical fingernails right now, and I need you to show her you can, too.” The younger woman stiffened, then shot a glance toward the tactical station. She nodded, and Charlotte took a step back, then raised her voice to a normal level. “So, Chief Engineer Patel, with all your free time in between rebalancing Bladerunner’s rogue fusion engines, can you please answer my previous question. How far are we able to project a singularity gate?”

  Karishma cracked her neck, then cleared her throat, and said, “If I’m correct about your intentions, Captain, the answer is not far. Without two fusion-based anchor points, I have to either use energized dark matter, as a temporary anchor, or the destination gate needs to be static.”

  Charlotte frowned, and said, “I don’t think those missiles will be kind enough to stop for us, so find me a workable solution in…” she turned to Damien, “How long until impact?”

  “Ground-based impact in approximately seven minutes, but Captain, it is likely the missiles are designed to detonate several seconds before impact.”

  “I don’t need a lesson in alien extinction protocols, Damien, I need a number.”

  “Call it five minutes, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Charlotte tapped Karishma’s shoulder. “What are our options to drive both those missiles through singularity gates in the next five minutes?”

  Karishma huffed, “I’m an engineer, not a magician, Captain. I don’t even know if we can get close enough—”

  “I’m not as good as James, even by half,” called Chao, “but this is pretty straight forward flying. I can get us there, Patel. Vectoring toward missile two, now. Intercept in ninety-seconds. You just figure out what we’re going to do once I’ve gotten us there.”
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  Karishma shook her head. “I can’t open a gate without a destination and that requires a previously established static location, which we don’t have. I can’t use dark matter to project the destination anchor because it would still be within Earth’s atmosphere.”

  “What about a localized fusion reactor?” asked Omandi. “You’ve used that as an anchor before both at Ice Station Zebra and Bladerunner’s construction cavern.”

  Karishma’s panel flashed red, and she shook her head as her hands worked. “I only know of four such reactors, Captain. Three of them are on Earth, which obviously defeats the purpose and one on this ship, which I suppose could work but we’d all be dead from the first missile, and then couldn’t stop the second.”

  “Actually, there are only two fusion reactors on Earth,” offered Damien, “The U.N. destroyed the one at Bladerunner’s foundry.”

  Misha growled, “Two…three…what’s the difference? Fuck’s sake, Damien. Say something useful or shut the hell up.”

  Charlotte ignored them both, and leaned forward to tap her hand terminal against Karishma’s console. It chimed to acknowledge the data transfer and Omandi said, “What about that? It sure looks like a fusion-based engine to me.”

  “Oh my gods,” exclaimed Karishma, as her breath escaped in a rush. “I’m a bloody idiot.”

  Charlotte’s lips quirked up, “You are a bloody genius…just a distracted one. I’m helping you focus. So, will it work?”

  “I’m already halfway there, Captain. Dark matter is in tube one, and ready to go. I just need to lock in that Pod’s reactor core.”

  “What the hell is going on?” yelled Misha.

  “The Captain is going to use Nerr’ath’s pod as the destination anchor,” said Damien evenly. “It is actually quite ingenious and I’m disappointed I didn’t provide that option myself.”

  “We are within two clicks of the missile,” said Chao. “How much closer do I need to get us? We still need to turn tail and burn toward that last missile so—”

  “I’ve got two green lights,” yelled Karishma. “Transferring dark matter control to tactical. I’ll retain control of the pod’s fusion anchor.”

  “I’ve got it,” said Misha. “Captain do—”

  “Fire dark matter. Commander Keung, turn us about and chase that last missile.”

  “Dark matter away,” said Misha.

  “Pod destination anchor set and stable,” said Karishma, “Origination anchor initiating in three…two…origination anchor set. Gate opening. Fuck me, this may actually work. Gate is open.”

  “Pathogen two is…gone from scope,” said Misha slowly.

  Damien turned from his console, and said, “Sensors have detected a minor detonation, Captain. Nerr’ath’s pod appears undamaged.”

  “Well, thank God for that,” sighed Omandi, “I was afraid it might be destroyed and then we’d have no destination anchor except ourselves for pathogen three.”

  Keung shook his head, then whistled air through his teeth and said, “Have to tell you, Captain, I’m glad you kept that one to yourself.” A second later, he added, “Three clicks and closing on pathogen three.”

  “I’m getting anomalous readings from the last missile, Captain,” said Damien, “I believe it may be initiating its detonation sequence.”

  “Dark matter in tube two. Control transferred to tactical. Destination anchor still set and stable,” said Karishma.

  Misha didn’t wait for Omandi. “Dark matter two away.”

  Everyone involuntarily sucked in a breath as they all turned toward the command deck’s primary display.

  “Magnify,” said Omandi, and felt her stomach twist, as the image seemed to jump ahead. The pathogen missile’s nose cone split open and dozens of small spheres exploded forward. Half a second later, the air warped and an oval filled with stars appeared to drink up both the pathogen spheres and missile.

  Silence blanketed the command deck for several heartbeats. Finally, Karishma asked, “Did we do it? Did the third missile detonate against Nerr’ath’s pod?”

  All eyes turned to Damien whose hands blurred against his console panel. He looked up and smiled. “The third missile became inert upon exiting the destination gate and all pathogen spheres were consumed by the pod’s drive plume. Congratulations, Captain Omandi, you just saved the human race from extinction.”

  Charlotte barely managed to talk through a short burst of hysterical laughter. “I’d say it was a team effort, Damien, but we’re not done yet. Chao, I want that pod.”

  The Commander swiveled his chair around. “Captain?”

  “I want that pod,” said Omandi again. “Those alien bastards never intended to grant humanity a reprieve. They lied to us and, given that her pod is still streaking toward the sun, I’m guessing they lied to Nerr’ath too. If she can give us any insight into the Drac’ath’s motivations, I want it.”

  “Who gives a shit if they lied to her?” growled Misha, “I say watching her burn is a good start for cross-species relations.”

  Charlotte’s voice lowered to something close to a whisper, and she said, “This is not a debate, Lieutenant. I fully expect we have not heard the last of the Drac’ath, and I want to know what she knows. Commander, get me that pod.”

  “Changing course,” said Chao.

  Damien crossed the deck to stand beside Charlotte, “That pod will impact the sun in approximately twenty-two minutes, sir. I am fully aware of Bladerunner’s capabilities. I do not see how we could intercept Nerr’ath’s pod without supplementing our maximum velocity by executing a series of gravity assists. I’m afraid Commander Keung is not, in any way, capable of performing such maneuvers.”

  “Thanks Damien,” said Keung dryly, then added, “Your lack of confidence would be insulting if it were not also true.”

  “Can’t we gate to her pod, like we did the missiles?” asked Misha.

  Both Karishma and Omandi shook their heads, but it was the captain who said, “A destination gate large enough for Bladerunner to transit would rip that pod apart.”

  Several repetitive clangs caused everyone to turn toward the mag-lift. Seconds later the emergency access panel slid open and Misha leaped over her console. James Branson’s eyes widened. He raised his hands defensively as the Russian bore down on him. She grabbed two fistfuls of black hair and pulled him into a fierce kiss.

  The pilot pushed her back, as his face registered a mix of confusion and delight, then his eyes darted across the command deck. “What the feck!” he cried. “Did I miss it?” Branson saw Chao staring at him from the navigation station, and yelled, “Why is he in my chair? Doc said I was only out for about fifteen minutes or so and you replaced me…with him?” He turned to Misha, “and you let them, love?”

  Charlotte drew her lips to a line in affected seriousness, “Commander Keung, you are relieved of your temporary duty. Lieutenant Branson, are you feeling up to some impossibly difficult gravity assisted navigation?”

  The pilot’s face broke into a grin and he stared first at Omandi then Misha, “You mean I didn’t miss it? Well, damn straight I’m up to it. Why wouldn’t I be? Doc said I just took a little tumble when I pushed Misha out of the way of that robot lizard.” He smirked. “I know it was gallant, but nothing out of the ordinary, at least for me.” Chao got up and swiveled the chair toward Branson. The pilot sat down and looked at his console. “Eighty-five million kilometers, in twenty-minutes, with marginally balanced fusion engines, no grappler, and no fecking tractor beam.” His eyes seemed to dance with delight. “Well, all right then, let’s Leroy Jenkins this bitch.”

  Thrust gravity shifted for the sixth time in as many minutes as James’ hands continued to fly across his navigation panel. “That does not sound like much of a plan, love,” he said. Branson looked up and smiled. “Well, that’s it then, boys and girls. Please be impressed with your pilot’s precise execution of three gravity assists. We are now traveling at zero point three-seven that of light, no big deal, just ano
ther human race speed record. Of course, that won’t do us much good if the plan is for my fair Misha to tether herself to the Bladerunner, and try to cut into that pod, before all of us burn up in the sun’s corona.”

  “I agree with Branson,” said Damien, “The odds of this approach being successful are not great.”

  “The environment suit can handle it,” countered Misha. “I ran the simulation three times. At our current velocity, I’ll have almost five minutes to cut into the pod, pull Nerr’ath out, and reel myself back in.” She stared at Charlotte. “It’s really just a matter of how badly you want that alien, Captain.”

  “Not badly enough to risk losing you,” she replied evenly.

  “Captain?” Everyone turned toward Linnea who had one hand on her console and the other pressed to her right ear. “Captain, we are being hailed.”

  “Who?” asked Chao. “The U.N.? How much delay do we have now, about eight minutes?”

  “No, sir,” said Linnea, “It’s coming from that pod and the message is in Drac’athian. The person sending it claims to be Nerr’ath Salmix.”

  Charlotte felt the command deck hum with anticipation as she shook her head in disbelief. “Well, Ensign, I guess you should put her through and engage your translating script. Branson, keep us on course for intercept.”

  Ten minutes later, Misha Sokolov’s voice crackled through the command deck’s speakers. “I never thought I would say this, but I’m starting to think Branson was right about something.”

  The pilot nodded soberly but did not take his eyes off the navigation console as he said, “You two have to be perfectly synchronized for this to work. Are we all on the same communications channel?”

  “Well, you know I’m here,” grumbled Misha, “I’m right here, magnetically tethered to Earth’s only starship, and about jump off of it at nearly half the speed of light.”