Renegade Rising

by J. N. Chaney

  1

  I stood on the edge of the world, staring into the chasm below. The metal walls of the Celestial planet surrounded me on all sides, the sleek architecture a stark reminder that I was far from home.

  A stranger in a strange land, as the story went.

  The pit before me had been found some days ago by one of the discovery teams tasked with exploring and mapping the planet’s interior. From what we had found, there appeared to be hundreds of layers to this world, each one enclosing the next. I recalled having the same feeling upon seeing Titan for the first time too. It had seemed impossibly big, damn near indestructible, but this monstrosity dwarfed it.

  This place, however, lacked all of the elements that made Titan feel like home. It had no viewports, for one. It seemed to rely strictly on external sensors, but Sigmond had yet to decipher a way to access them. Besides that, for all the shiny surfaces and symmetry, it was too austere for me. Too perfect, as it were, and filled with that kind of frigid atmosphere that had nothing to do with the temperature. No sign of life.

  The hole, or whatever it was, began on the seventeenth level of the planet, though we had no idea how far down it went. Not until Sigmond dispatched his drones to scout it, which was exactly what was about to happen.

  A drone half the size of a strike ship hovered about thirty meters in front of me, gently humming in the middle of the chasm opening. “I’m ready to begin, sir,” informed my trusty Cognitive. Sigmond was not only my former ship’s AI, but I considered him a good friend. There was no way that I could have gotten through what I had without his assistance. I was grateful that he had been able to continue as a Cognitive, particularly after he sacrificed so much to keep me and my crew alive.

  I leaned over the ledge, peering below and counting the layers. The pit went through every single floor, random lights at various points guiding the drop before darkness and distance overtook it. I could only get to about thirty before I could no longer distinguish between each of the decks and the whole thing began to blend together.

  I rubbed my thumb on the screw in my fist, then flicked it over the side with a snap of my wrist and watched it disappear into the depths below. “How long do you figure this will take, Siggy?” I asked, taking a step back, put off somewhat by the short distance between me and the edge. I didn’t relish the idea of going over, nothing but air beneath my boots. I smiled grimly at the thought.

  “Based on the approximate size and density, and if the cavity truly goes to the core of the construct, I believe it will take approximately five hours,” explained Sigmond.

  “No time at all,” I said dryly, turning around from the pit to face the team of scientists and engineers as they scurried around the array of desks and equipment. I wouldn’t call this enormous place a corridor or a room, exactly. The walls stood nine meters tall and there was enough space here to fit a small fleet of strike ships, but it certainly wasn’t a landing bay or a storage compartment. Not unless the ships and equipment were stored inside the walls beyond what we could see.

  Maybe they are, I thought, glancing around at the sleek metal nearby. We could scan the planet for movement, but we couldn’t tell what was under the ground or even if it was stationary. Gods only knew how many surprises awaited us inside this place, down in the depths of the world. We might have been sitting on a treasure trove of secrets—the keys to winning the Great War—or maybe we’d accidentally activate the self-destruct sequence and blow ourselves to hell.

  Time would tell on both, I supposed, shrugging at the unknown quantities before me.

  “Captain,” said a familiar voice, generally brisk in quality.

  I turned my head to see over my shoulder Dr. MaryAnn Dressler approaching from the door, Davon at her side, matching her stride for stride, intent on their mission. “Docs,” I said, giving them both a quick, cursory nod. My gaze sharpened when I noticed that Dressler had a bandaged wound on her left arm. There was no blood seeping through, and she didn’t appear to be favoring the arm, swinging it briskly as she strode purposefully toward me. “MaryAnn, what happened to your arm?”

  She brushed off my concern. We each tried to stay in our own lanes, but sometimes they merged and we conflicted with each other. However, if she was injured, I wanted to be aware of it and make allowances, even assist her. “Nothing, an accident. Where is the drone?” she asked quickly, craning her neck to look at the pit behind me.

  I threw a thumb over my shoulder. “You’re late to the party. Siggy just took her down.”

  She walked over to the desk I was standing at and activated the portable holo. An image appeared all around where I was standing, blinding me for a brief moment with the brightness of it. “Gods, woman,” I snapped, shielding my eyes and taking a step back.

  “My apologies,” she said offhandedly, though it didn’t sound like much in the way of contrition to my ears. Sometimes I suspected that Dressler was a passive-aggressive prankster, and that served to endear her to me more, although I would never admit it. I preferred to maintain the distant, slightly aggressive relationship we had.

  It looked like she was smirking, but it was hard to tell, what with all the spots in my vision now and the fact that she hid her emotions well. I blinked a few times until they went away, then focused on the image. “What am I looking at?”

  “This is from the lower decks,” she explained. “Only the outer scan for the moment, but I believe there is something of great interest here.”

  “There’s thousands of rooms to be explored,” I said, waving a hand in dismissal. “The place with the pods, the med bays; hell, even the mess hall. What makes this one so special?”

  “We’ve detected an energy source,” Davon said. He skillfully manipulated the image, a true tech-geek, zooming in and turning it until I could make out what I recognized as a Celestial doorway. He tapped once and the image began to move, zooming in.

  A feed, I realized, from the drone. It edged in closer, pinpointing and making the image clearer, and scanned the hallway and door. A small readout in the top left-hand corner of the image registered activity of some sort, but it was unclear, at least to me. Whatever it was, Dressler or Davon could figure it out.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  Dressler shrugged. “There appears to be some form of non-ionizing radiation coming from the door, but I can’t speak to the purpose of it…or even the source. Once Sigmond’s drone finishes with its additional scans, I’ll send it back.”

  “I want a team down there too,” I said. “Have you found anything else worth mentioning, Doc?”

  Actually, now that I thought about it, given the unknown nature of this place, the smallest detail could serve to inform us on some level. I couldn’t discount anything, no matter how useless it seemed.

  She smiled and exchanged a glance with Davon. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “And?” I prodded, making a circular motion with my hand impatiently.

  “As you know, we are working our way through the layers,” Dressler began. She paused, her eyes sliding ever so slightly to the right at her Sarkonian counterpart. It wasn’t like her to hesitate. Usually, the woman said whatever she was thinking, and with a sharp tongue to boot. I got the distinct feeling that she was choosing her next words carefully because of his presence, which was wise, as our trust of the Sarkonians only went so far, starting at the top with their slightly crazy emperor.

  “Yes, but they’re protected. Siggy says the mainframe is sophisticated, even for him,” I said easily, trying to give the good doctor a moment. Davon didn’t seem to notice, distracted by something else on the holoscreen.

  I’d learned recently that the man was actually a doctor as well, though who knew what Sarkonian degrees were worth. It could be that the Emperor just handed them out or some other such nonsense. He must have been capable enough for Dressler, though, as I hadn’t heard her complain as of yet. I wasn’t sure what kind of doctor he actually was, but at least he was great with manipulating technol
ogy.

  Dressler worked her own pad and the image on the display changed. It now showed a scan of a room filled with what looked like tanks, all with several tubes going in —or out—it was hard to say. The Celestial’s foreign computer stations sat next to each tub, glowing in what we’d figured out was a standby mode. A pair of scientists walked around the room in crisp white clean suits, taking samples or some other science type activities. I still didn’t see why I should care. As one of Vick’s men had discovered, the goop inside was toxic to humans, turning them into psychopaths and melting them from the inside out.

  “You mentioned pods,” Dressler commented, eyebrow raised expectantly.

  Davon looked excited, leaning in to study the holo, as though it were new data to be examined. I frowned, about to ask Dressler why we were rehashing old news, but she kept going.

  “Observe,” she told me, the lightest touch of smug in her tone.

  Another, slightly different image replaced the first, this one with a few less tanks, though each still sported a computer. I peered closer, trying to make sense of what I was seeing until it clicked like a switch. “These are a different size,” I said as if I were the star pupil in a class of less intelligent children.

  She nodded approvingly, perpetuating that perception I had of myself momentarily. “Exactly, Captain. I believe each chamber is tasked with creating a different class of Celestial, like the Berserkers we previously encountered.”

  I looked up sharply in interest. This was something that Alphonse had, apparently accurately, hypothesized after our first encounter with the Scout that attacked Verdun. He had guessed that the enemy could more than likely engineer their physiology to meet specific needs. He’d called them specializations. Much like a specific kind of soldier in an army, each class of Celestial had been shaped to meet specific needs, such as the Scout or the warrior-types we had encountered recently. It was similar, in a sense, to the Eternals’ enhanced healing abilities and longevity.

  Except the Eternals still looked human, I thought.

  “Berserkers?” I asked. “You mean the heavyweights with the swords on their wrists?”

  Both doctors nodded, expressions of concern evident under their scientific exteriors. They might have found these creatures fascinating, but neither was without fear, and these creatures were the stuff of nightmares.

  “It’s all so new to me, I must admit,” said Davon. “Still, I’ve been catching up, thanks to Dr. Dressler here, and I must tell you, Captain, their physiology is something to be marveled.” Like Dressler, the unknown seemed to fascinate him, and the drive in his eyes for knowledge was evident to anyone familiar with the look.

  Thanks to Dressler, I felt like I knew this man quite well.

  Me, on the other hand…I could do without any monsters or pods or world-ending weapons for a change.

  “How about your best guess on the goop?” I asked, looking from one doctor to the other. They each wore an identical expression. Impressive, considering they had been born on different worlds in different empires.

  Dressler raised her brow. “My current postulation is that each class of Celestial requires a specific… goop, as you call it. Mixing them may cause issues, though I am tempted to experiment.” She reflected with a slight smile or maybe a smirk, her all-purpose blank expression ever present. “It would explain why each pod is shaped differently,” she continued. “Creating different shapes requires different engineering and design…” She trailed off, her eyes drifting to examine the pod.

  “Mold?” I supplied, pulling her attention back to us.

  Her eyes lit up and she bobbed her head. “Yes, that’s exactly right,” she replied, as though she hadn’t missed a beat. “Which leads me to the next feed.”

  Dressler worked the pad again, shifting the image once more. Another chamber, with more pods. This time, the difference was much less subtle. Again, there were less of the pods, but their bulk made the computers next to them appear tiny. Whatever came out of this mold we hadn’t encountered yet. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to.

  “Any chance they left one of those behind for us to study?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I did, however, find some evidence. A residue that didn’t match the—” She paused. “—the goop…and metal flaking.”

  “Neutronium, I’m guessing?” I asked.

  Dressler shook her head. “It’s an unknown compound at the moment. I’ve never come across it in my research for the Union or on Earth. It has properties that defy every test we’ve run.”

  Davon chose that moment to cut in, a smile on his face. “I have seen this compound before. There is an artifact within the Emperor’s collection that exhibits similar properties.”

  “So, you can tell us what it is, then?” I asked.

  The smile faltered a little. I gave him a mock look of encouragement, hoping for more information. “Well, no, not exactly. I, that is to say we, lacked the resources to make any determination,” he said.

  I nodded, a half-smirk on my face. “Hmm,” I said, deliberately turning my attention back to Dressler.

  “We do have some cogent theories,” Dressler continued as if Davon hadn’t spoken. She pulled up a side by side comparison of Neutronium and the unknown compound, but it just looked like a bunch of numbers and symbols to me. “It’s not that different from the Neutronium we know. From what we’ve learned so far, it is still light and strong, though it does seem to lack the same conductive capabilities, making it rather inferior for slip-drive application.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that conclusion. “Then what good is it?” I asked. Slip-drives were the most important application for Neutronium that I’d ever heard about. That wasn’t to say it couldn’t be used for other things, like the container that Abigail had stored Lex inside of, back when we’d first met, but that was about it.

  “Correct. But it may have a different purpose,” said Dressler.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I prompted.

  She seemed to hesitate before answering. “Armor.”

  I cocked my head at the word. “What?”

  She sighed. “It’s stronger, thinner, and more durable than the Neutronium we’ve seen in the past, so theoretically it could be used to enhance the hull of a ship or possibly outfit some personal armor.”

  Before that revelation could set in, Davon’s pad beeped. He looked down at it absently, then straightened to attention, either from surprise or ingrained patriotism. “Excuse me. It is a transmission from Sarkon. I will return shortly.”

  The man hurried off, disappearing down a corridor to respond to the private call. I watched him go, waiting until he was well out of earshot so I could question Dressler about specifics and what was bothering her. “Something on your mind, Doc? You seemed—"

  “Take a look at this report, Captain,” she said, interrupting me and shoving her data pad in my face with an eye on the corridor, watching for Davon’s return.

  I took it begrudgingly, quickly spotting the message she’d typed. Inconsistent readings/signals. Might be watching what I say. Source and cause unknown. I tried to keep my face expressionless so as not to give us away and retained my nonchalance.

  I cleared my throat, feigning stupidity. The notion that someone might be listening in on my lead scientist disturbed the hell out of me. “I don’t know what any of this means, Dressler. I’ll put Siggy on the case. Maybe he can help decipher the alloy composite.”

  She nodded, a blank expression on her face. “Good. I will continue to analyze the findings and alert you with any updates.” She fiddled with the data pad and put it away.

  “See that you do,” I muttered as Davon came back into view, a spring in his step that had not been there when he left. The Sarkonian was smiling a genuine grin, always an odd thing to see.

  “I have good news,” he said brightly.

  “And what’s that, Davon?” I asked, keeping my voice even although I felt my teeth grit together. If Dressler really was being watc
hed, the most likely culprit would be either the Sarkonians or the Union. Both were paranoid and former enemies, though I’d hoped to reconcile the divide between us, especially now.

  I wanted to give Davon the benefit of the doubt, but if Sarkon had actually planted a bug to monitor Dressler, then Davon was the most likely culprit. Dressler obviously suspected him or she wouldn’t have waited until he left to show me the message.

  The Sarkonian’s eyebrows winged up in his excitement. It was hard to imagine this one being capable of deception. He didn’t seem the espionage type, but hardly anyone ever did. My observation didn’t absolve him, nor would the friendship I’d formed with any of the Sarkonian personnel. At the same time, I couldn’t jump to conclusions, since any one of Davon’s cohorts could have planted devices, with or without his complicity.

  “I’ve just received some intriguing news,” said Davon. “The emissary has received a report from the Emperor. He’s on his way to Earth and has asked that we both attend.”

  “You and me?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I narrowed my eyes in suspicion at the older man. “What’s he want?” I asked.

  “The emissary didn’t specify, but I might have some ideas,” Davon postulated.

  “Did you already make a report about the goop?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he replied. “Not long before you arrived a few moments ago.” He paused, hesitation in his voice. “But I don’t believe that is what he’ll request from you.”

  I leaned forward. “Then what is it?”

  “The way the emissary worded it, I believe the Emperor would like to speak with you about obtaining a live sample,” explained the scientist.

  “A what?” I asked. “What the hell does that mean?”