Flagship (A Captain's Crucible #1) (26 page)

"Send me the external feed," Robert said. An instant later a square, hulking capital ship appeared on his vision. "That's definitely not a friendly. Override the targeting system and prepare to fire."

Since their escape, Wolf and Lin had been hiding, avoiding the alien patrols, struggling to stay alive. They had kept to what could best be described as maintenance passageways on the vessel, and though they had tried, they hadn't been able to locate the prisoners.

Wolf had known something was wrong when the blue filaments that lit the passageways had turned to red and the hatches between compartments had sealed. Shortly thereafter the deck had rumbled, and a temporary drop in inertial compensation had thrown him and Lin to the floor.

He had realized the fleet was making an attack, and resolved to do whatever he could to cause damage from within. He and Lin had roamed through the passageways with the intent to melt down as many sealed hatches as they could, hoping to reduce the breach containment effectiveness of the ship. Unfortunately, the aliens themselves seemed impervious to the plasma rifle he possessed, so he and Lin had to run whenever one of those dark masses presented itself. At one point in his rampage, four aliens had chased him and Lin, but the pair had managed to lose them. Their darkness cloak had helped, no doubt.

When they found Rade and his team, Wolf shared the map data his aReal had gathered. Rade immediately dispatched the HS4s to perform a scan of the areas Wolf and Lin had opened up.

They were waiting in that large compartment for the HS4s to report back.

"How long do the drones usually take to X-Ray the bulkheads?" Wolf asked Aaron, Rade's second.

"Depends," Aaron said. "They—" He broke off, then turned away. "Contact, Chief!"

"What's wrong?" Wolf asked him.

"Look at your map," Aaron said. "The HS4s are reporting humans beyond the bulkhead of one of the passageways you opened up for us."

Wolf glanced at the map on the upper right of his HUD. Several blue dots had appeared.

The prisoners.

Rade ordered a Centurion to stay put to guard that compartment, then the party proceeded forward. The robots led, followed by Rade and his men, then Wolf and Lin, with two more Centurions bringing up the rear.

Rade left behind two more robots along the way to watch the different branches, and to keep a route open to the shuttles. Wolf and Lin assumed the burden of the spare spacesuits those robots had carried on their backs.

When they reached the location of the waiting HS4, Rade surveyed the bulkhead. There was no obvious entrance point.

"Looks like we're at the back of the prison," Aaron commented. "That's about perfect, isn't it Chief?"

In answer, Rade waved the rearmost Centurions forward. They carried a portable airlock between them. "Set it up."

The robots unfolded the twin frames and extended the accordion-like fabric that joined them. It was lucky this was one of the wider passageways, able to hold three men abreast, because that airlock wouldn't have fit otherwise.

When the airlock was in place, Aaron grabbed the plasma rifle and stepped inside. He barely fit with the spacesuit strapped to his back. He glanced at Rade for confirmation.

The chief nodded and Aaron shut the hatch.

"Waiting for the pressure to equalize," Aaron said over the comm. A few moments later: "I'm switching to the laser cutter. Not enough room to fire the plasma rifle safely in here."

Two minutes passed.

"I'm through," Aaron sent. "Closing the inner hatch behind me."

Rade must have vented the atmosphere via his aReal because a red light appeared on the outside of the hatch. When it turned green, Rade turned to Wolf. "You're next. I'm sure they could use a familiar face."

Wolf went inside and closed the hatch behind him. He waited for the atmosphere to pressurize, then opened the inner door. A rectangle had been cleanly cut into the bulkhead beside him. He hurried inside, bringing the spare spacesuit.

Aaron was already there, surrounded by excited prisoners.

He saw Chopra.

"Told you I'd come back," Wolf told her, using the external speakers on his helmet.

The others came through, one at a time, and offloaded their spacesuits to the prisoners. Rade came, too, but purposely ignored Chopra.

"Finish getting suited up!" Rade announced. "My team has secured a route between here and the shuttle. You'll find the map on your aReal. One man or robot from my team will go with each of you. Once you reach the shuttle, wait there. The rest of you, my team will return with more spacesuits. We're going to get you all out of here."

People finished suiting up and proceeded into the airlock one at a time, followed by MOTHs and robots. 

Rade and Wolf waited by the entrance for their own turn to escort someone.

Chopra approached.

"Dad," she said.

Rade looked away.

Wolf saw tears in her eyes at the rejection.

He turned to Rade. "Talk to her, you fool! She's the reason you're here!"

Rade glanced at him. Wolf realized why he didn't want to talk to his daughter. His own face was covered in tears.

Finally Rade turned to her. "Hey, girl."

"Dad, why are you crying?" she said. Her own tears were flowing freely by then. "I thought you never cried."

"I don't." He hugged her fiercely. "Why the hell haven't you suited up?"

"I go last," she said insistently.

"Damn you, girl," Rade said. "Headstrong to the end."

"Just like my father."

He grinned. "Love you, hun."

"Love you, too, dad."

Wolf's turn was next, and he was spared having to watch their emotional reunion any further. He was close to tears himself by then.

After the second run back to the shuttles that were parked on the hull of the alien ship, Wolf began to worry that there wouldn't be enough room to fit everyone, even if all the robots stayed behind. It would certainly be a tight fit. Part of the problem was that the spacesuits weren't body-conforming and took up a large amount of space.

It required four trips before the final occupants left the prison behind. There had been some isolated shooting during that time, with the combat robots firing from their guard positions at approaching aliens.

The second shuttle had departed, so Wolf loaded himself onto the remaining Dragonfly beside Lin and the latest passenger. They were waiting for the final two members, Chopra and Rade. He had no idea how the two of them were going to fit: there wasn't any room left. The suited occupants were packed, standing, right up against the bulkheads, with the overhead directly above them.

Outside, a helmet poked through the hole that was cut into the alien hull. Chopra pulled herself out and gripped the lifeline that led to the Dragonfly.

Rade joined her a moment later.

"Make some room people," Rade said over the comm when they reached the shuttle.

Wolf shoved against the occupants immediately beside him; the passengers shifted and somehow made a tiny space.

"You first," Rade shoved his daughter up and forward. She squeezed in beside Wolf.

Rade pulled himself in after her. His exoskeleton resided half outside the entrance. It seemed obvious to Wolf that he didn't fit.

An alert sounded.

"Clear the door!" the pilot sent.

"People, squeeze closer together!" Wolf said. But they were basically packed in as tight as they could get already.

"Can't you take off with the door open?" someone shouted over the comm.

"No can do," the pilot returned. "The inertial compensators won't function with the door open. Do you want to be dumped out when I make a turn?"

Wolf tried shoving against the people beside him once more, but it was like pressing against a solid mass.

The door started to move downward but when it struck Rade's helmet it immediately reversed.

"Still can't shut the doors!" the pilot said. "Someone is going to have to stay. Draw straws on your aReals, do whatever it takes, but clear the damn door so my craft can launch!"

"I'll stay with the robots." Rade got off immediately.

"Dad no!" Chopra said, reaching for him.

Rade intercepted her. "Wolf, hold her back."

Wolf wrapped his arms around her without preamble. She kicked against him. "Let me go, you bastard!"

But Wolf held on like his life depended on it. With the way Rade was acting, it probably did.

Rade looked at Chopra with such tender sadness on his face. "Pilot, shut the door."

The hatch began to close and Chopra struggled against Wolf even more violently. He was worried she was going to compromise one or both of their suits.

"Forgive me, Sil," Rade transmitted.

She kicked at the closing hatch but the metal was unaffected.

When it finally sealed Wolf released her.

"Pilot, open this door!" Chopra shouted.

"No can do—"

"I'm the captain here!" Chopra interrupted him.

"Chief Galaal is in charge of this mission. He wants to stay, he stays." The Dragonfly shook as the engine started up.

"Rade," Wolf said into the comm.

"What is it, Wolf?" Rade returned.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for everything. If you were here right now, I'd shake your goddamn hand."

"And I'd shake yours," Rade said gruffly. "I was wrong about you. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to share some final words with my daughter."

Wolf cut the connection. He saw Chopra's lips moving frantically, as though she were pleading with her father, but Wolf couldn't hear a word. She shook her head, mouthing the word "no" again and again, her eyes red.

Chopra abruptly leaned against Wolf, pressing her helmet into his shoulder. Though he couldn't hear her, he could tell she was sobbing behind that face plate.

He glanced at Lin helplessly. Her eyes were wide. Stunned.

As the shuttle took off, Wolf heard one last transmission from Rade. It sounded like he was communicating with the combat robots that were left behind. The chief hadn't bothered to choose a private sub-channel for the broadcast: maybe he thought the Dragonfly and its passengers were out of range by then.

"Advance," Rade sent, his voice digitally warping. "I want to open up more of these compartments. In fact, I want to fight my way up to their goddamn bridge. I know you're robots. I know you don't have emotions. But I also know none of you really want to die. No AI does. So I commend you for staying. And I thank you.

"Now, let's give them hell, boys."

Torso-deep inside the coolant access panel of reactor one, Stanley squeezed between the wires and conduits. He was attempting to repair damage from the latest attack. There was so much to do that he had elected to personally assist the men, robots, and drones working under him.

"I told him not to press our engines so damn hard!" the chief engineer cursed, though he knew the
Callaway
had only traveled at half speed during the battle so far. "Nor to fly so close to the enemy particle weapon!"

The small flying drone beside him bleeped in agreement as it 3D-printed a new gasket for him to use.

A call from the ship's AI popped up on his aReal. Stanley absently accepted.

"Lieutenant Commander Stanley McTaggert," Maxwell said.

"Yes yes. What the fuck is it, AI?"

"Control of the bridge has been lost," Maxwell said.

"What?" Stanley stood up straight, banging his head on an overhead pipe. He flinched painfully.

"The bridge crew is about to fire on the
Salvador
. The commander has overridden the friendly fire prevention mechanism."

"I'm sure he has good reason." Stanley bent over to concentrate on his task once more. "Cray and Dallas know what they're doing."

"The telepath is in control of their minds."

"Why haven't you taken control then, machine!" Stanley said.

"Because you are in command now, sir."

"Damn it." He waded out from the wires and conduits. "Show me what you're talking about."

A video feed labeled "cargo bay seven" overlaid his vision. He saw Barrick seated against the glass chamber that contained the alien. The telepath's eyes were closed. Five MAs barricaded the entrance to the bay. An equal number of combat robots lay in a smoking heap behind them. Stanley worked out that the video feed was sourced from a selfie drone that had flown into the bay via a ventilation duct. Sneaky AI.

"Now show me the bridge," Stanley said.

The view changed. He saw the Round Table. Captain Dallas was sitting there, staring off into space. Robert and the rest of them seemed fine, though they were ignoring the captain.

Stanley pulled up the tactical display. The
Callaway
was on a direct course for the
Salvador
. The rest of the fleet, meanwhile, was heading toward the approaching capital ship. The fleet's course would take them within fifteen thousand kilometers of the enemy.

"Prepare to fire at the enemy vessel," the commander said.

On the tactical display the
Salvador
highlighted as the
Callaway's
weapons locked onto it.

It seemed that Maxwell was right.

"Shit," Stanley said. "You've informed the fleet of our situation?"

"I have," Maxwell said.

Stanley attempted to call Robert. The ping ran continuously but the commander didn't bother to dismiss it like a normal person would. He simply ignored the request. Stanley tried Jonathan next. Same response. It was as if they weren't even seeing or hearing the call.

"I have tried repeatedly to reach them," Maxwell said. "They ignore me regardless of whether I speak through the aReal or the bridge speaker system."

"Transfer control of the bridge to engineering," Stanley said. "And lock out their controls." He stated his passcode.

"Bridge controls locked out and transferred to engineering," Maxwell said.

"Now flood cargo bay seven with incapacitating agents," Stanley said.

"Wouldn't you rather open the cargo bay doors?"

"No I would not," Stanley said.

"Killing Barrick would be prudent."

"Don't lecture me on what would or would not be prudent, you emotionless AI!" Stanley said. "Flood the bay with the incapacitating agent as instructed!"

"As you wish."

"And call me sir, goddammit," Stanley said.

"Yes, sir."

He switched to the cargo bay seven feed. The telepath and his guards collapsed as the invisible agent took hold.

"Why the hell would the telepath try to take control?" Stanley said. "He had to know we had backup measures in place. Even if he had decided to take over engineering, too, he couldn't have stopped you from assuming the captaincy in the end." The continuity of command dictated that a ship's AI must take over if no capable officers remained to assume control.

"He may not have been aware of this," Maxwell said. "Or perhaps the alien, obviously influencing him, merely wanted to sow confusion during a critical part of the battle. A last, desperate attempt to help its companions."

"Whatever the case," Stanley said. "The fucker failed. Have some MAs mask-up. I want the six of them transferred to the brig ASAP. And have the doc keep the telepath sedated."

"As you wish, sir."

"And now, since I'm flagship commander for a day, update me on the battle plan."

Maxwell obliged. "The fleet intends to fly past the target and fire a combined Viper broadside at fifteen thousand kilometers out, directly into the nose of the enemy. The intention is to disable the particle beam weapon."

"Sounds reasonable. Bring the Callaway back in line with them." The engine room rumbled in response to an impact somewhere outside the hull. "And accelerate. Let's see if we can shake off some of these fighters!"

"I thought you didn't like pushing the engines," Maxwell said.

"No, I don't like the captain pushing the engines," Stanley said. "I'm fine doing it myself."

The minutes passed. The fleet reached the fifteen thousand kilometer range mark before the
Callaway
caught up.

"Sir, most of the fleet is in range," Maxwell said.

"Fire Vipers."

The fleet fired their combined heavy beams at the target.

"So, how did we do?" Stanley said, pulling up the external video feed.

"Their nose has sustained heavy damage," Maxwell said. "The particle beam nozzle doesn't appear to exist anymore."

"When we're in range, fire at the same spot," Stanley said.

He saw a flash on the external video feed.

"What happened?"

Maxwell was silent a moment. Then: "The target incinerated."

"They self-destructed?"

"Unknown."

"The enemy fighters harassing the
Callaway
have ceased operating," Maxwell said.

The
Callaway
hadn't achieved enough acceleration to escape them, so that was a nice bonus.

"Have Black Squadron fire grappling hooks into a couple of them and tow them aboard," Stanley said. "That should give the fleet scientists a few erections. What's the status on the prison ship?"

"Remaining target is fleeing sun-ward, toward 2-Vega. The vessel just directed a gamma ray pulse at said Slipstream."

"Bastards are calling home to mommy again," Stanley said. "Status on the MOTH rescue team?"

"Both Dragonflies have separated from the hull and are reporting that they have the surviving members of the
Selene
aboard, as well as pilots Jason Wolf and Lin Akido."

"We did it, then. We won. Or rather,
I
won." Stanley beamed.

"Should we have the
Aurelia
attempt an intercept on the remaining ship?" Maxwell asked.

It took a moment for Stanley to remember that the
Aurelia
was one of those ships that had stayed behind in the inner portion of the system to guard the
Marley
and
Grimm
.

"Let them go," Stanley said. "They've already called home. No point in hunting them down to the last. Or in putting our other ships in danger. If we send in the
Aurelia
, and she loses, the enemy might get the bright idea of attacking the defenseless Builder vessel. Not exactly the preferred outcome."

"I'm detecting a distress beacon," Maxwell said. "Roughly fifty thousand kilometers behind the prison ship. It belongs to Chief Rade Galaal."

"And who might that be?" Stanley said.

"The MOTH in charge of the rescue mission."

"Is he still alive?"

"Unknown," the AI returned.

"How are we able to detect his Personal Alert signal this far out?"

"Also unknown," the AI returned.

"Launch another Dragonfly to retrieve him."

"Yes, sir."

"Now pipe me into the bridge." A moment later Stanley found himself standing on the bridge, in the center of the Round Table. Jonathan was still unresponsive, while Robert and the others seemed confused.

They probably have no idea what the hell is going on.

"Hello there, Commander Cray," Stanley said. "I'm terribly sorry, but I had to commandeer the
Callaway
for a while. Seems you fellas had lost your minds, so to speak. But don't worry, I saved the day. I made a fine flagship commander if I do say so myself."

The expression on Robert's face was priceless.

* * *

Robert stood beside Jonathan's cot in the makeshift sick bay. The captain hadn't awakened since the incident on the bridge. No one knew why. The telepath was kept sedated, so it was unlikely Jonathan was still under the influence of Barrick. The acting doctor was worried that the man had somehow permanently damaged the captain's mind.

Connie entered the sick bay and joined him.

"So do you believe in telepaths now?" Robert asked her.

She grunted. "I'm starting to. I did some research. No telepath is as powerful as what we've witnessed here. Reading thoughts is one thing but apparently it takes a lifetime to fully develop the skills necessary to invade a mind. Those telepaths with roughly a hundred years of practice can plant suggestions, but not issue commands outright, not like Barrick did. And they can do so only with one individual at a time. Barrick was controlling the five MAs in the cargo bay, and everyone on the bridge. That hasn't ever been seen before."

The deputy medical officer, Maria Young, came over. Her boss had died when the warren of rooms comprising the main sick bay was destroyed. "I think it's obvious the alien did something to him. Perhaps it put a part of its own consciousness inside him before it died."

"Is that even possible?" Connie said.

"I have no idea," the doctor told her. "You're the scientist."

"One thing's for sure," Connie said. "If we ever get home, Fleet is going to have a field day experimenting on Barrick."

Robert stared at Jonathan.

"I've often wondered what would happen if a hacker took over a ship's AI," the commander said. "And fed misinformation to the aReal of the officers. What Barrick did wasn't all that different. His actions were a little more intrusive, yes, but the concept is the same."

"There are too many safeguards and security measures in place for a hacker ever to take over a ship like that," Connie said. "I know. I minored in information security."

"It's happened before in the past," Robert said. "Our machines turned against us."

"Which is why we implemented all those safeguards in the first place," Connie said.

Robert crossed his arms and returned his attention to the captain. "I have a feeling the United Systems is going to be implementing some new safeguards regarding telepaths."

* * *

Jonathan couldn't see a thing. The blizzard had reduced visibility to whiteout conditions. He knew he should stop and dig himself a bivouac. Knew that he could walk off a ledge at any time, thanks to the zero visibility, and the loss of his portable LIDAR gear. But he trudged on. He had to make the summit at all costs.

He had already abandoned his oxygen tank. His frantic breathing was lost to the raging howl of the blizzard. The lower part of his face was wrapped in a scarf, his eyes shielded by thick goggles. He had tightened his hood so that no skin on his face was exposed. He wore a thick winter jacket with several layers of clothes underneath, along with thermo undergarments, thick gloves and boots. For all that the cold still bit into his body: factoring in the windchill, it was minus sixty degrees Celsius out there.

He trudged ever onward, the snow swallowing his feet to the knees with each step. It was like slogging through an inexorable, unending mire on stumps for legs—he had stopped feeling any sensation in his feet hours ago.

Have to make the summit.

He kept going for a short while longer but finally his body gave out and he collapsed in the snow.

Rest. Rest.

He sat there, panting, for several moments. But he never caught his breath. It felt like he was choking. No matter how much oxygen he breathed, he could never get enough. 

He willed himself to get up but couldn't bring his body to move. He just wanted to sleep. Yes. The welcome oblivion of sleep.