War Fleet: Resistance

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War Fleet: Resistance Page 14

by Joshua James


  Intense pain seared through him. His muscles tensed under the voltage, and he felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

  The sound of the rest of the Arstan CIC fell away. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. The muffled sound of someone yelling at him. Olsen, maybe? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter.

  He launched his warp module, feeling it leap forward in space through a subtle feedback on the yoke in his hand.

  The pain made his teeth chatter, but he clamped down on the yoke with a vice-like grip. He stared at the controls, feeling the moment of impact, willing his hit to be true.

  Something sparked in the controls in front of him, blinding him. Sound washed over him like electrical systems going haywire. Intense light flickered around him and then, just as suddenly, everything went dark.

  Redrock was sure he was dead.

  44

  Chang saw Redrock slam his hands into the yoke in front of him, and swore under his breath. He’d run out of time.

  He knew that Redrock was in pain, and he was responsible. But he couldn’t let himself think about that now.

  Because he’d found a way to save him—and maybe all of them.

  He’d not just studied Morse code at university, but also the KASDL programming language, developed by the Foorint civilization and stolen by the humans and Arstans, because it was much more powerful than anything they’d ever known.

  Moments ago, as the others had leapt to their own controls, he’d scanned green symbols streaming down his black computer screen, looking for patterns.

  He didn’t see a wall of alien symbols, like most common observers would. Instead, he saw a collection of abstract objects that someone had programmed into the system’s architecture. They represented not only each module’s essential systems, but constructs like mathematical operators, data structures, and primitive ideas that only programmers would understand.

  And underneath it all, in one of the simplest of objects, he saw a link. Anything that needed to take a millisecond of processing time used that link. They’d put it there for safety, to log the data and keep a record of every command the CIC gave. But with it, they’d left a possible trail to exploit. Chang could travel anywhere within the entire modular configuration’s infrastructure, if he only had the time.

  The weapons modules that Chang had acquired had started to charge their weapons. But if this worked, not a shot would be fired on this battlefield.

  He scrolled back up the code. He only needed to make a modification, and he could short-circuit everything. Cut off all systems for thirty seconds, then relaunch. If he timed it right, the weapons modules wouldn’t open their valves fast enough. Their firepower would instead redirect inside the module, overheating them in seconds and frying any living crew within. Meanwhile, the intense current in the yokes would power off.

  But he had to time it right, and he had to act now.

  Chang typed in a quick hack to the code. Olsen had picked up on what Redrock was doing. He rushed across the CIC.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” he said to himself.

  He had less than a second before Redrock got fried by the automated punishment mechanism. He pressed two keys on the keyboard.

  The ship jerked, and a massive mechanical roar sounded.

  In a moment, the entire room went black.

  45

  Olsen had always wondered if there was an afterlife, but he wasn’t sure if this one was heaven, hell, or purgatory. Nor did he expect it to begin in pitch blackness. And if he was dead, his entire crew had joined him there. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear their heavy breathing and confused murmurs. He could also smell the sweat and relief of tension in the room.

  But this wasn’t the afterlife. Somehow, they’d survived.

  “What the hell happened to the power?” he said, turning on his wristwatch display to let out a little light. He directed it at Chang, so he could make out his outline. The engineer was hunched over the computer, his head in his hands.

  “I found a back channel,” Chang said. “If you’ve not done it already, I recommend you all take your hands off those yokes. The power will switch back on, and I don’t know when.”

  Olsen spun around, his light dancing in the dark until it faced where he’d been running when the lights went out.

  Redrock lay slumped forward over his station.

  Olsen leaped forward and reached him just as Kota did. They quickly dragged him out of the chair and clear of the yoke.

  “Redrock!” Kota said urgently. “Redrock, can you hear me?”

  Redrock opened his eyes until they were just slits. “Hey, babes.”

  Olsen let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

  Kota looked like she might cry. “What have I told you about calling me that on duty?” She was smiling through misty eyes.

  “Your hair isn’t on fire,” Olsen said. “That’s a good sign.”

  Redrock sat up under his own power. “Fingers aren’t burned off, either.” He shrugged, looked himself over. “All joking aside, why the hell aren’t I fried?”

  “You can thank Chang for that.”

  “Well, thanks, Chang,” Redrock said.

  Chang blinked back at Redrock. “We’ve not been blown apart by a supernova, sir,” he said. “So thank you.”

  “Everyone else all right?” Olsen glanced around, taking in everyone in the CIC.

  “All accounted for,” Novak said.

  “Rob, find where Redrock managed to send that warhead. And please tell me it’s not about to fall into that star anyways, after all that.”

  As he spoke, Olsen continued to scan the room with the miniscule light coming from his wrist. “Well done, everyone.”

  Before he could say another word, an electronically generated sound crescendoed, and the lights pulsed back on. With it came an intense zapping sound, so sudden it caused Olsen to recoil as if he’d been shocked himself.

  Olsen shielded his eyes, his vision now adjusted to darkness. But soon he could see through the blurry lights, and he turned his head up to the screen. Half of the display showed the view from the warhead camera display from before, but now the glare from the sun filled the panorama from the right-hand edge. The other half of the screen showed the weapons modules, glowing patches of orange and blue painted in broad strokes upon their metalwork.

  “Chang, why aren’t they firing on us?”

  “I powered down every single module, sir,” he replied. “They ended up releasing the payload of the weapons internally, destroying everything inside.”

  “Will they be usable?”

  “Highly unlikely, sir, but we should be able to procure whichever modules we choose.”

  “And what about the Extractor? Did the hangar module we landed on survive?”

  Chang turned to his screen and typed in some commands. “It seems so, sir.”

  “Rob, have you found that warhead?”

  “Affirmative, sir. It’s in an unstable orbit, but one that will be maintainable for several months.”

  Olsen took a deep breath. Somehow, against all odds, they’d made it through. “Chang, Rob, work on getting the hangar module with the Extractor back. Then Redrock, I want you to go out with Santiago and get hold of the warhead. Then we’re getting the hell out of here and back to the URSA Providence shipyard station.”

  As everyone scurried around to carry out their orders, Olsen finally had a moment to collect his thoughts. His shoulders sagged. He suddenly felt so exhausted he could barely stand up. He’d lost his ship. He’d lost more than a few crew. But he’d managed to stop a catastrophe that could have altered the course of human history.

  Novak slipped up beside him. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Finally Olsen asked, “Well, Commander, what do you think of your first mission with us?”

  Novak gave him a sideways glance. “I haven’t completed my report yet.”

  Olsen snorted. “I can’t wait to read it.”

  She looked bac
k forward toward the viewscreen and the bright star burning in the center of it. The corners of her mouth upturned the slightest bit. “It won’t be all bad, sir.”

  Epilogue

  Fleet Admiral Liz Brownstone entered the conference room of the URSA Transcendence, also known as Diplomat Station. The four other male fleet admirals — Scanlon, Nguyen, Owandi, and Anderson — sat around the famous octagonal chrome table.

  Brownstone was late. She had had to meet their guest, so she could escort him to this meeting room with no Marines raising a rifle at him. “Come in,” she said, and turned to the alien.

  As Brownstone strode over to her seat and sat herself down in it, the glowing lithe creature from another galaxy entered the room.

  She scanned the wizened brows of the other men in the room. None of them had seen a Tauian before, and so their eyebrows hovered high above their eyes in surprise.

  The alien didn’t take a seat, but stood standing at the door. He had a foreign device on his hip — some kind of disc, which Brownstone assumed to be a weapon, but he’d refused to remove it, when prompted. But then, the Tauian had only had to look at the Marines who greeted him, and they’d let the alien pass without question.

  “This is Ambassador Oort,” Brownstone said to the room, “and this is the first time he’s graced our presence in council.”

  The men in the room stood up as one — their eyes transfixed on the alien, who seemed to watch every single one of them at once, with each eye containing two irises that flitted around the cornea.

  “Very good,” Ambassador Oort said. “I see you’ve released the virus. Soon this station will bow to our command.”

  “It is as you have bidden,” Brownstone said. “And I have installed the patch to Admiralty AI, as you instructed.”

  “Thank you. You have done a great service for the future of intergalactic civilization.”

  “Whatever we can do to help,” Brownstone said. Her words came out of her mouth as if in a dream. She didn’t judge them; she felt nothing about them. She simply watched her own behavior, a passive observer to an unfolding act.

  “Now, on to other matters. My sources tell me that the deployment of the spatial detonator was unsuccessful. One tiny mining vessel against an Arstan warship, and the ship gets destroyed. Perhaps, it seems, the galaxy shouldn’t be controlled by the Arstans, but either by you humans or the Foorints. You shall each have your test, and my superiors will ensure you play your part.”

  “As you wish,” Brownstone said, her voice long and slurred. “What do you want us to do about Olsen and the Okranti?”

  The Tauian raised his hands and steepled his webbed fingers together. “That has yet to be decided. It will soon have the spatial detonator, which we must reacquire. We brought the weapon here, and now destruction must be wrought. We will inform you later of where, and give the orders. All you need to do for now is wait.”

  “I understand,” Brownstone said. “And I’m truly sorry that my mission failed.”

  “You have no need to be. That man, Frank Olsen, may yet play a large role as events unfold and escalate.”

  “He is difficult to control.”

  “Sometimes, in war, you need that, Admiral. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to start the procedure.”

  Brownstone didn’t feel the compulsion to say more, and so she watched as the Tauian unlatched the disc from his belt and placed it down on the table. He murmured out some words in a strange language, and the device began to glow. Brownstone watched it, transfixed, a sense of calm washing over her.

  Suddenly, white tendrils of light shot out of the object’s surface. They lashed out into the air and found their way towards Brownstone’s and the other admirals’ foreheads. An intense throbbing pain flared at each contact point, almost as if someone had just branded Brownstone with a dozen red-hot pokers. Then the tentacles withdrew, the pain subsided, and that sense of inner calm returned to her.

  Oort reached forward and lifted the disc off the table. “The upgrade has completed,” the ambassador said as he latched the object back onto his hip. “Hopefully, this configuration won’t fail as dramatically as the last.”

  Without saying another word, the Tauian turned on its heel and stepped out of the room.

  Brownstone sat there, saying nothing for a moment. She felt nothing. Thought nothing.

  Soon, her mind returned to her. She examined the faces of the other four fleet admirals, who also looked at her in confusion. She had no idea why they were here, or how she had come to be here.

  It was like she’d just woken up from a dream. Or a nightmare.

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  PLANET SIEGE!

  (War Fleet Book 2)

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