by Rob Dearsley
“We have our orders, and we’re willing to make the sacrifice. Besides, once we take the ship, we can shut down the computer virus.”
Were the whole crew in on this? Lloyd doubted it. They couldn’t all be that stupid. But if someone didn’t stop this, Saltzman was going to get them all killed.
Twenty-Two
(Hope’s Folly)
Why did these things always start with him falling?
It wasn’t the harsh rushing off his tumble into the Terran X-Mind, it was gentler, softer. Dannage still had the sense of falling. Or maybe drifting, like a feather. Around him, pinpoints of light appeared.
Stars?
He fell through a sea of stars.
You must come to me. I can help you. We can stop it.
The voice seemed to come from somewhere beneath him.
“What are you?” His voice whisked away, echoing through the darkness. Or maybe just through his head.
Let us say, I am your progenitor. Time is short. We must meet.
“Why? What’s in it for you?”
The Entropic Force once trapped below is now free. It must be stopped.
All around Dannage, the stars started winking out.
Time is short. Stop fighting this and come to me now!
Dannage shocked awake, bolting upright. The final words of the vision echoing through his head. An imperative he had to follow. He had to find whatever it was and confront it. If for no other reason than to make it leave him alone.
Arland appeared in his vision, concern filling her face. Hale and the Doc helped him stand.
“I’m good.” He pushed them off, looking around the bridge. The flight deck’s lights spilt through the cupola.
“How long was I out?” he asked.
“Not long,” Arland said, “maybe five minutes.”
“Niels wants us to report in,” Grayson said over the com. “Let him know what we found on the surface.”
Hale and Arland started toward the bridge door. Dannage made to follow them, but the summons resonated in his head. His eyes drifting toward the back wall. He had to get back to the shipyards.
He shook it off – the damn thing could wait – and followed the others out into the freefall of the hold.
Arland caught his arm before he could push off. “Sir, you good?”
The words ‘I’m fine’ were on his lips. But Arland deserved better from him. “I don’t know. I’ll be glad to have all this done. Let’s off-load the others and get back to Luc.” He gestured toward the cargo doors.
She frowned, still concerned about him, but let it drop.
Dannage pushed off into the bay, landing beside Hale at the top of the loading ramp. The ramp had taken quite the beating during their rescue. The lower edge was scarred and dented, but hey, it matched the rest of the ship now.
Hale and the marines, their armour in various stages of disassembly, joined them and they descended the ramp into the Feynman's flight deck.
Even now, Dannage was a little in awe of the size of the SDF super cruiser. It rivalled the massive Terran ships in scale. The compartment was wide enough that he could see the curve of the deck.
Niels entered, escorted by a pair of armoured guards. “I’m glad you all made it back.” The admiral smiled at them, before turning to Dannage. “Thank you for the rescue. While you’re here I’d like to debrief Commander Arland and Sergeant Hutch on their experiences at the shipyards.”
“Sir,” Arland said. “We left Luc, Mr Danes, at the shipyards. We should get back as soon as.”
Niels said, “I understand. But if you can swing by the armoury and download the armour telemetry first.”
Dannage sighed, but he respected the elderly admiral too much to argue the point. “The station’s empty and Luc’s armed. Another ten minutes won’t hurt.”
Arland glared at him.
“Just go. We’ll be fine.”
She conceded, following Niels and the rest of the group from the flight. Dannage turned and started back up into the Folly.
Stop fighting and help me. The Darkness will kill them all if we don’t stop it.
Out of nowhere, Arland’s smiling face flashed through his mind, amber eyes shining with laughter. He remembered the moment. They’d just won the Triskelion Race. He still had the crew photo somewhere. The image darkened, falling back into rolling shadow.
You can’t fight it alone.
Dannage blinked his eyes open to find himself in the Folly’s pilot’s chair. His hands halfway through the pre-flight.
Someone pulled him around. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to wait for Arland and Hutch to come back?” Vaughn pushed his glasses up his nose.
There is no time for this. Come to me now or they all die.
He yanked his arm free of the Doc’s grip.
“There’s no time. We’ve got to get back there.” Besides, it was safe over there. If there were any Turned on the station, they would have seen them the first time. At his touch, the Folly shot out into the orbital graveyard.
Arland’s face, falling into darkness, filled his thoughts.
◊◊
Hale clasped her hands on the briefing room table and leaned forward. "The darkness spoke to me. It was something intelligent."
Niels was clearly taken aback by their story. It stood as a testament to all Niels had been through that the SDF Admiral even believed them. "Are you sure? Could it have been shock or something on your com-link?"
Fyffe sat next to her in contemplative silence. Ellis had been taken to medical, and Grayson was still in the armoury.
“It wasn't coms or anything, the voice was..." Hale paused, searching for the right word. It had felt so completely alien, and yet somehow familiar. It was like the ship-link, but wrong. It felt like an intrusion, words forced into her consciousness. Whatever it was, was beyond her frame of reference. "It was alien."
"We've never encountered aliens before," Niels said, some small excitement entering his voice. "We've never even found signs of other intelligent life before. We’d started to assume we were alone in the galaxy. This, this could change everything."
This excited Niels? Angels. Hale couldn’t fathom it. Whatever this was, had killed her people. They’d sacrificed to stop it, to contain it, and now Niels was excited about it escaping. It cut deep, and harder than Hale expected. After a year living with the SDF, she thought she’d gotten past the loss of the Imperium. She’d never expected to be back here.
Some of what she was feeling must have shown on her face. Niels stopped, swallowing audibly. “I’m sorry, Miss Hale. Didn’t mean to diminish what you and the others have been through. We’re safe up here and I don’t plan to send anyone else down there.”
Fyffe relaxed slightly.
They were interrupted by a chirping from the table. Niels reached over and tapped a control. In response, the screens at the back of the room sprang to life.
Hale turned to watch as the screens flicked over to showing the camera footage from one of their armours’, Fyffe’s if Hale didn’t miss her guess. The view was from just behind Hale, to her right as they climbed the stairs up to the DFHQ entrance. Yes, the tech.
Niels sped up the footage as they moved through the deserted facility. The VR suite. Fyffe had stayed outside when they watched the last user’s session. Hale was grateful for not seeing that again.
The footage returned to normal speed when they entered the medical lab, and they started exploring.
The table console pinged again and the view on the screen divided showing a second man's view. The cameras wobbled and swayed almost drunkenly, as the Terran rose from the Cryo-pod and was swathed in shadows.
Hale’s mind flashed back to the Darkness crawling over her hands. A pitiless cold, and emptiness sliding up her arms devouring her. The voice, forcing its way into her mind.
With a force of will, Hale pulled herself back to the present. But her breathing remained fast and shallow, her skin crawling.
She c
ast a quick look over her shoulder, half convinced one of those shadowed figures would be waiting at the back of the room, about to attack them.
"Miss Hale," Niels said, pausing the playback. Ellis and Fyffe’s armour cams showed different views of the shadowy Terran and Turned. "Do you have any idea what this is? Did you ever hear anything back when you were an officer?"
Hale stood, walking toward the screen. Four different views showed the Terran and the Turned from different angles. Niels had paused the playback. Hale replayed her own memories of the moment. She didn’t recognise the man in the cryo-pod. She’d never heard of anything like this, officially or otherwise. The closest thing was the ancient dark that the Angels and the first stars had driven back.
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“No matter,” Neil’s replied, starting the footage up again.
The tendrils of darkness flashed out toward Hale and Grayson.
Fyffe joined Hale at the screens. “Where’s Grayson’s feed?”
Grayson’s armour. Something bugged her about it. She looked at the screen as she and Grayson were pulled from the shadows. Hale leaned in inspecting Grayson’s armour, something had caught her attention, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“What you looking for?” Fyffe asked.
She looked up. “I’m not sure. Something, I just can’t see it.”
“Work the problem,” Fyffe said. “When did it first start bugging you?”
“When we got back to the ship.” What was it, damn it?
Niels interrupted her thoughts. “Sorry, there’s a problem in the armoury, I need to go.”
Hale’s head whipped up. “Is it Grayson?”
The admiral gestured for them to follow him as he hurried from the room. Guards fell in around them.
They rushed into the main room of the armoury. Off to the right was a live-fire range and weapons racks on the left. The small group bypassed all of that heading for the armour stations at the back of the compartment.
Arland and Hutch, out of their armour while technicians worked on it, joined them at the isolation and decontamination chamber. A pair of techs sat at consoles that looked into the chamber.
Grayson stood in the middle of an isolation chamber, his back to them.
“What’s the problem?” Niels asked.
One of the techs turned from her console. “The armour’s locked down. We’ve lost all telemetry and wireless connections. He’s not moving.”
“How long?” Hale asked.
“Armour locked four minutes ago,” the other tech, an older man, replied.
“What about the intercom?” Arland asked.
The female tech gestured to a com switch. Arland practically shoved her aside. “Grayson? Grayson? What’s going on? Damn it, Grayson?”
“Maybe it’s just damage,” Fyffe suggested.
Hale looked at Grayson's armour. Maybe, it had taken quite the beating. Her eyes strayed to the patch job on his leg.
The patch. She should have known. Should have at least guessed. The armour had been breached when the darkness engulfed them.
Still, her armour wasn’t sealed, but maybe that was the point.
The armour turned to face them. Oh, heavenly Angels, Hale took an instinctive step back. Beside her, Arland backed away, her hand covering her mouth, stifling a sob.
◊◊
Lloyd crossed the Scout Cruiser’s bridge in a pair of quick steps. “Commander Saltzman, stand down. That’s an order.”
“You’re not in command here.”
Lloyd reached for the gun on his chest. “I bloody well outrank you, muppet. I’m relieving you of command.”
Another voice came from behind him, one he knew. Lloyd spun to face the newcomer.
“No, you’re not,” James said, his gun steady on Lloyd’s chest, just out of reach. “I told you he wouldn’t play ball. Drop it.”
“Don’t do this, man.” Lloyd let the pistol fall from shock-numbed fingers. “Why?”
“Orders, right from the top.”
“You damn sock-puppet, Jerome’s got his hand right up your arse, hasn’t he?”
“No strings on me. But you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to believe in something. I’ll do what it takes.”
James was one of the better Nowhere pilots. Lloyd was sure if he and Slater hadn’t been there, James would have gotten fighter command. Heck, he could probably have pulled off stealing beta-three.
Oh stars, no. Please. “James, please – by all the stars – tell me it wasn’t you?”
“I’m a good learner, heh.” His long, sharp face split into a smile.
Jenna, lying in that state-room, twisted and broken. Lloyd saw red, his heart hammering up into his throat. “You shot me with a bloody fighter!”
“Sir, the cyber-attack package is ready,” said the coms officer.
Before anyone could react, Lloyds fist connected with James’ face, his nose crumpling with a satisfying crunch. Damn traitor. Lloyd threw him at Saltzman and lunged for the coms console, yanking the officer out the way. He didn’t know enough to delete the cyber-attack. Instead, he paged to an open com channel.
“Slater, scouts are hostile. Repeat, the scouts are hostile, kill them.”
Hands clamped around Lloyds arms, hauling him back from the console. Pain flashed through the back of his head and when he could think again, he was pinned to the cool metal of the deck.
Sirens sounded through the bridge, followed by Saltzman’s voice. “Go evasive and engage with CQC guns.”
“Ready to reactivate the link with the Feynman, but they could have heard that message,” the com officer said.
Lloyd twisted to look at the main display. Slater’s hound swung in, spitting tracer fire at the scout. The bridge shuddered as hull impacts rang through the ship, shortly followed by the dull thumping of return fire.
Slater was a good pilot, she’d know what was coming, she could stay ahead of close-in fire. Please, Stars, let her get clear.
Lloyd let out a breath as the Hound swung back into view on the screen.
“Kill that damn fighter,” Saltzman shouted.
More weapons fire reverberated through the small ship. On the screen, tracer fire streaked toward Slater’s Hound. Slater danced away, staying ahead of the firing arks as she came in for another attack run.
“You muppets can’t hit the broad-side of a barn,” Lloyd said, addressing the tactical officer. “Maybe you should use missiles, and let the guidance systems do the work for you.”
“Shut it,” James jabbed Lloyd with his pistol.
“Commander,” the com officer said. “We’ve established the uplink with the Feynman. Ready to send the package.”
Come on Slater. It was now or never. Lloyd couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. The Hound closed in, firing. This time the ringing of impacts was accompanied by the dull booming of an explosion. The overhead lights flickered and the gravity fluctuated making the bridge crew stumble. Good on Slater.
More tracer impacts rang through the ship. The Hound came around, lining up on the com relay. Good.
“Stop her,” Saltzman ordered, frantic. “And start transmission.”
Tracer fire from the scout’s close-in guns swarmed the fighter. Slater rolled aside. Too slow, damn it, Slater. Bug out. Tracer fire raked down the Hound’s armoured flank, ripping into the fighter.
“Got you now,” the tactical officer crowed.
More tracer fire slammed into the hound from the other side. Smashing through the craft. Fuel and air combined in a flash of fire.
“No! Slater.” Lloyd bucked, knocking James back. His eyes never leaving the spinning wreckage of the fighter. “Damn you, you muppets.”
The wreckage of the Hound, still twelve-thousand kilos of armour and ammo, slammed into the Scout. Slaters last attack. Secondary explosions rippled through the Scout. The lights went down and the deck pitched beneath them.
Lloyd felt James’ weight shift and
threw himself up, going for the gun. Fuelled by rage, he punched James in the face again and twisted the pistol from his hand. The other man fell back, clutching his broken nose.
Lloyd spun and fired into the coms console; the sound cacophonously loud in the small bridge. The tactical officer rose from his chair. Lloyd belted the ass-hat with the pistol, shoving him down into his chair.
“You’re too late,” Saltzman sneered. “You’re both worthless.”
Lloyd’s gunshot echoed through the bridge and Saltzman’s head snapped back. Before the commander had slumped back into his chair, Lloyd elbowed the tactical officer and rounded on the coms officer. “Is it true? Have you transmitted the cyber-warfare package?”
She nodded, mute from shock, blood running down her face from a cut on her forehead. “I, I’m sorry. It was an order.”
“Don’t be sorry,” the tactical officer said, climbing from his chair. “We are true-”
Stars damn him to the deepest hells. The ass-hat had killed Slater. Lloyd’s world narrowed down. Incoherent with rage, he grabbed the man by the hair and slammed his face into the console in a spray of teeth. He hit him again, and again, slamming the pistol into the side of the officer’s head until his hands came away wet and sticky.
Still breathing hard, he turned to the coms officer. There had to be a way to stop this. Slater’s death had to mean something. “Countermeasures? Override codes? There must be some way to stop it.” Please, stars, please.
The coms officer, her eyes too wide, nodded. “Umm. Yes, sir. Shutdown codes. I’ll, umm. I’ll download them.” She passed him a flex. “I’m sorry.”
Lloyd snatched the flex and stormed from the bridge, shooting James on his way past. He had to get the shutdown codes to the Feynman. This all had to be worth something.
◊◊
The image of Arland’s face being swallowed by darkness haunted Dannage’s thoughts as the shipyards filled his view. The landing pad was just ahead of them, landing lights guiding them in like moths to the flame.
And just like the moth, Dannage didn’t really have a choice in the matter. He either got his head fixed or capitulated to this insistent new voice. Either way, this was it. Here and now. The Folly groaned onto her landing struts.