Hell's Razer

by S. F. Edwards

  He turned to Officer Mioshay, head of Flight Operations. “Increase patrols. They were looking around here for a reason, but hopefully the loss of the Sloop won’t scare them off.”

  Tadeh Qudas stepped up. “What about its destruction beacon? We can light it off and shoot it into hyperspace, falsify the data to make it look like an accident and fake a nice juicy target.”

  Damn I love having a Telshin aboard. “Let’s get a crew on that.”

  Ward Room

  “Not the dinner I was expecting,” Alieha sighed as Arion set two steaming plates down on their table.

  Arion had to admit it wasn’t what he’d had planned either. The ingredients for the meal he was ready to prepare were still in his common room refrigerator. The platter served up by the officer’s autocook was a poor substitute. He felt his shoulders slump and dropped into his seat. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that debrief took so long and…”

  Alieha placed a hand on his. “I’m just messing with you. I completely understand.” She motioned to her outfit and the stains marring the jump suit. “I’m not exactly dressed for a nice dinner anyway. It took longer to unload all that cargo than I’d planned.” She rubbed his hand with her thumb. “I just want to eat something and go back to your quarters.”

  Arion felt blood in his cheeks and perked up. “You’re sure?”

  “I didn’t say anything would happen, but yes. I just want to spend some quality time with you.”

  For Arion that was more than enough, and it left him filled with hope. “Sounds good to me.” A thought occurred to him as he dug into his dinner. “That package you brought Gavit?”

  “Oh that, that’s some seriously expensive hardware?” Alieha commented. “That girlfriend of his back on Cathedral Seven had it special ordered. A quantum-linked virtual interface, next gen shreg.”

  “Wow. How interactive?”

  “Fully. I think your flyboy friend will be getting lucky later, with a lady dozens of light-annura away.”

  “I prefer it up close.”

  Alieha tickled Arion’s ankle with her toes and smiled at him. Blood rushed from his face to beneath his beltline. “Oh, me too. And I have something I want to try later.”

  UCSB Date: 1005.179

  Room PQ-453, UCSBS-Wolfsbane, Neshid System

  The package that Tris had asked Alieha to deliver intrigued Gavit. The case was labelled Virtual Neural Interface, VNI, but it was unlike any Virtual Reality or Neurosimulation rig he’d ever seen. This wasn’t some head-encompassing helmet, or face-covering screen. It looked more like one of the sets of Augmented Reality glasses he’d wear when working on an aeroracer. The simple glass frames however had additional bands and sensors that went over his head. Those looked like versions of the neural interface nodes he was familiar with.

  He looked at the handwritten letter in the case again. Tris’ atrocious handwriting had almost forced him to feed it into the computer to translate the cryptic script. Once he was able to recognize a few of the words and letters his micomm translated the rest. The quantum-linked present would allow them to communicate in real time in a simulated world with a set of her own design. She, of course, used the local time aboard Cathedral Seven instead of Confed Universal.

  He stifled a yawn. I shouldn’t be up this early, he mused and looked at the clock; 0090. Laying in his bed, he slipped the device on and linked it to the psicomm network. Despite the quantum entanglement link, it still required a psicomm connection to perform the handshake. At least he hoped so. He didn’t want to guess how much it would eat into his hyperweave data threading allocation otherwise. Connecting the device to some stitch weave back at Cathedral Seven, he activated the device.

  It was a slow build. He began to feel new sensations overriding his own. A virtual environment built up around him, familiar, the shelter in which he and Tris had used to meet. The smells, the feel of the air, the sights, even the sounds were there and correct. But down low, just above the subconscious, he could still feel his real body aboard the Wolfsbane. He tried to ignore the sensation as he ‘walked’ about. That low-level feeling told him that he was still in his bed. It was almost like a dream, surreal in its authenticity, yet just disconnected enough from reality to remind him that it was a simulation.

  The space was just how he remembered it, exactly even. He walked over to a wall cabinet and opened it. It was one he’d never opened back then. It was empty, less than empty - it was a blank white space. He smiled at that. The system used his memories to construct the environment, and since he’d never seen inside here, it had no data from which to draw. He could imagine anything inside and did just that. Sex toys for a dozen different races filled the locker, threatening to topple out before he slammed the door shut. He couldn’t help but laugh.

  The feeling of hands creeping around his sides made Gavit jump. It felt so real, yet unreal, knowing that his real body was light-annura away from this scene. He grabbed the hands as a head rested on his back, the sensation feeling all too familiar: Tris. “It’s been too long,” she cooed. “Do you like your present?”

  Gavit allowed her to sink into him, drank it in. “It’s nice. If it hadn’t been for this I would have had no idea when I’d be seeing you again.” He left out the part that he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  “Isn’t technology and a rich girlfriend wonderful?”

  Gavit laughed, it sure was. He pulled her around to face him. She was just how he’d remembered her the cycle before they’d left, just like he’d remembered: no change at all. He pushed a lock of hair out of her face and kissed her. It felt wonderful and she reacted the way that she always did, pulling in close and returning the passion of the embrace. It was like living a memory. He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. “This is amazing!” Her hair and face began to change and he realized why, her own memories had caught up and filled in the gaps. Her hair now had a purple sheen and her heavy makeup was smeared, as if she had rushed straight there from the set. He smiled at that. “Latency issues. Gotta love it.”

  She laughed. “Yes. You’re in your underwear now.”

  He looked down and sure enough he was. He hadn’t even realized it. The quantum link may have been fast, but they were still processing a vast amount of data through a computer back on Cathedral Seven. He doubted that even this expensive rig featured a powerful enough machine. Gokhead had once remarked that the master computer for the Neurosimulators back at the academy was larger than his childhood home. “I can change that,” he smiled and found himself in his uniform after a moment.

  Tris shook her head and her clothes disappeared into a negligee. “Much better wouldn't you say?”

  Gavit pulled her in close and kissed her again. The clothes disappeared at his command. “It sure is a time saver,” he said as he broke the embrace.

  She returned a pouty look. “But I like the way you peel my clothes off.”

  “Next time,” he said and guided her towards the bunk.

  She giggled as he laid her upon it. “Straight to business, good. It’s been way too long.”

  “Yes, it has,” he said as he went down on her.

  She moaned in pleasure as he proceeded. He could feel his real body respond too. Though he wasn’t moving a muscle, blood flow had certainly increased within his underwear. Bringing Tris to the edge of her pleasure threshold, Gavit proceeded to kiss his way up her body. She cooed in delight and restrained pleasure before he met her lips and proceeded to make love.

  The sensations were all too real, all too amazing. But that low-level feel of reality kept intruding, throwing off his equilibrium. He did his best to cancel it out, to ignore it. Every time he closed his eyes it got worse so he forced them open.

  He stared at Tris, mapped every emotion that crossed her face. She was enjoying every micropulse of it. He smiled as she squeezed him, but as he stared at her face it changed. It was no longer Tris, it was someone else, but no one else. In an instant every person he’d ever been with played across his
vision, Tris’ whole body changed with each micropulse. It was unnerving, but the image finally settled on a tight, lithe body he found to be his ideal. The skin was just the right shade, hair darker than his own, flawless save for tiny imperfections that accentuated the perfection of the rest. He looked up at her face again, it was Tris’, but also someone else’s, someone familiar. He tried to push it aside as he continued.

  He tried to make it Tris again. He succeeded for a moment. Raw animal passion overcame him as her moans of pleasure rang out. As he slowed however, wanting to drag out the moment, he felt other emotions and she changed again. He loved this woman he was with now. Her raven hair, tinged red, beckoned to him. It all felt like a dream again. He slammed his eyes shut and with a final thrust felt his own pleasure flow forth.

  Panting and sweating, he opened his eyes to her smile. It was something he saw far too infrequently. Recognition washed over him and he jumped back. This was no longer Tris before him, but her, the one he longed for deep inside and could never have. The shock threw Gavit back into reality.

  He tore the interface from his head and threw it onto the bed. He sat there panting, staring at it and the wall across from him. Chris slept in that room. He just stared for a long moment, contemplating what he’d seen. The body, the raven hair with its blood red streak, that perfect smile he was privy to far too infrequently. She was everything he wanted but could never have. He took a deep breath. He would have to tell Tris what happened, or make up some story. He reached for the headset again before he felt a stickiness in his pants. “Damn it,” he groused. “That’ll get old fast.”

  UCSB Date: 1005.188

  Bridge, UCSBS-Wolfsbane, High Orbit, Neshid Two, Neshid System

  Captain Sardenon couldn’t help but wonder what game his enemy was playing. For almost six tridecs he’d been hunting the Barker and its battlegroup with virtually no contact, even though reports still abounded of ships that might belong to the battlegroup making lightning raids throughout the sector. The Stealth Sloop the decle before had been their first solid lead, but had only served to keep them in place. The recoded destruction beacon they’d shot into hyperspace had given a picture of a star system empty of any enemy contacts except a ripe and juicy gas-mining colony. Instead of an attack, a failure in the hyperspace shield had ended the Sloop.

  The Captain had hoped that the signal would be enough to convince the Barker Battlegroup that the system was safe to travel through or attack. In order to keep up the ruse however his own battlegroup had had to remain in hiding. So, they waited in a low polar orbit over one of the system’s inner gas giants. They remain masked by the radiation and gravity, but the waiting was sure to drive him insane should it last much longer.

  Unable to sit still, he got up from his seat and strode to the overlook. He scanned over the command center staff below as they manned their monitoring stations. Senior non-coms and junior officers shuffled between the stations. It was all business as usual as the sickly yellow-brown gas giant swirled beneath them. Looking back up towards the stars he spotted a pair of Splicer 1000s approaching. There was something off about the pair. Why are there only two of them?

  He called up a holographic panel to float beside his overlook. A few taps of the virtual keys pulled the image of the pair of fighters close enough for him to examine. A black-marked craft, its weapon systems replaced with additional sensor suites, led the pair. Behind it a standard Splicer-1000 limped in. Battle scars marred its hull, the armor on one engine having been peeled away to reveal its inner workings. The third Dagger that should have been a part of the flight group was nowhere to be seen. Routinely, two combat Splicer-1000s would escort the recon fighter in case it ran into trouble. Their job was to provide much needed cover. It looked like one fighter might have been destroyed buying the others time to escape.

  The captain turned towards his Officer Mioshay at her Flight Operations Station. “What happened out there?”

  The younger Otlian officer pored over the data flowing across her display. After a moment, she turned towards the Captain, her upper right hand to her oversized earpiece. “Data dump coming in now. Preliminary report is that they ran into a Geffer convoy; three frigates, eight corvettes, an escort carrier and multiple… stand by… twenty-odd transports with fighter escorts.” She continued to tap away at her keyboard and the holographic display at the center of the command dais lit up. “The planet we’re orbiting kept us from detecting them. The scout patrol spotted them off the NRD-35 gravitational null point. It looks like they dropped a little over two and a half light pulses shy of the null point to avoid tripping the buoy’s proximity sensors.”

  The Captain studied the group. It was clearly a resupply convoy, but where were they heading? “Navigator Olza, show me our position in relation to that null point.”

  The hologram zoomed out to give a systemwide view. Vector lines revealed the convoy’s course. Plots towards the null point from their position formed as well. The system had three jump points, and that null point was an almost ideal way-point between two of them. The false data the Wolfsbane had fed the Geffers had said that the colony would be masked by the gas giant that they now orbited. It was no wonder they’d felt it safe to brazenly transit such a large convoy.

  That was also why he’d been sending out Splicer-1000 patrols. A small colony might have a squadron of them, but not heavier fighters. The fact that they’d been engaged told the convoy they’d been detected. He studied the plot. A course to the jump point they must be heading towards appeared. He shook his head. “Cancel that course.” He pulled the light pen from his shoulder pocket and dipped it into the hologram. Concentrating, thinking like a convoy commander, he traced a course towards the system’s largest outer gas giant. “We’ll intercept them here.”

  Sia’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What makes you think they’ll head there, sir?”

  “By now they’ve scanned or recovered the downed fighter’s debris and know that they’re our birds,” he turned towards his tactical officer. “Now, if you’ve got a convoy to protect against us, what do you do? Try and outrun us to your next jump point, or hide your freighters while a decoy draws us away? Then make for the jump point we’re blocking?”

  “I’d retreat through the jump point I just entered,” she replied, ever the pragmatist.

  Navigator Olza turned towards him. “Bad move. They dropped in here because the other two jump points may be nearer the jump point they’re heading to. Free-navigating across hyperspace could take them a few cycles that they might not have.”

  “Okay then,” Sia conceded. “So, you send the lowest priority transports with sensor masks or shadow amplifiers towards the wrong jump point, get us to chase, then lead the rest out.”

  The Captain felt a feral grin cross his face. “Olza, how long to get to that gas giant?”

  Olza looked to the helmsman, Margoy, his out of regulation puffed up hair tied up at the crown of his skull. “At maximum slipstream, we’ll be there in a little over a hect.”

  Sia perked up. “Given the maximum slipstream speed of the slower freighters, we should beat the convoy there by at least fifteen pulses if Margoy is right.”

  “Good. Helmsman Margoy, plot your course. Communications, order the Venerous and The Galiant to take four corvettes and intercept any decoys at the other jump point. Sia, Sound Battle Stations.”

  Sia turned from the tactical station. “Sir, the battlegroup is moving into position for slipstream entry.”

  Officer Mioshay turned, her docked ears up. “Flight control reports that the recon flight has landed, all squadrons are alerted.”

  “Margoy, at your ready, link with the rest of the battlegroup and enter slipstream.” The Captain took his seat before the ship lurched beneath him, nothing violent, but enough to make it notable. The SIS around him remained active and he watched as the stars ahead redshifted into darkness, those behind blue shifting into oblivion. He caught sight of their fighter escorts.

  Fighter
slipstream drives were, by necessity, limited to seventy-five percent the speed of light. The mass and energy requirements to lower their effective mass more were too considerable. Capital-scale ships like those of the battlegroup could slipstream in excess of 90 percent light-speed.

  If the fighters linked their slipstream drives to those of their motherships however, or stayed within the larger ship’s dark energy bubble, it was possible to ‘wake ride’ along with them. The tactic was not without its dangers however. At their lowered effective mass every burst from their maneuvering jets could send the fighter tumbling out of the slipstream bubble. At that point, assuming they survived the drop, they would have to follow on their own, slower, drives. It took a steady hand.

  The Captain smiled at the sight. He used to do quite a bit of wake riding as a bomber pilot himself. It served many tactical advantages, as not only were the craft already in space but they were hidden by the bulk of their carrier.

  He walked over to his Flight Operations Officer, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Lim, have all fighters readied for launch by the time we arrive. I want a full attack spread in place before the convoy arrives.”

  The Captain pulled out his macomm. He took a glance at the timer on the wall and set to work. Due to relativity, he would have only forty-three pulses to formulate his plan. Then, once they’d arrived, less than fifteen to execute depending on how fast the freighters would get there. With that in mind, he made his way to the ladderwell down to the tactical hologram, tactical officers and mission planners already at work. “Sia, with me.”

  Monstero Nach 003, Low Orbit, Neshid Four

  The wait was maddening. Twenty pulses since the Wolfsbane had arrived and the decks had been cleared of everything but the dropships and shuttles. The various fighters and bombers had received their instructions before the battlegroup had reverted and had taken up position as fast as they were able to. Blazer would have loved to have seen the sight of all those alert fighters blasting forth before the rest of the strike craft had poured out of the hangars. He could just imagine the sheer terror that it would impart to any opposing ship that bore witness