Dark Transmissions (14 page)

 

CHAPTER 19

MORWYN

In the name of peace never ending, the Covenant voices the following Truth to be universal: all Intelligences are permitted the fundamental freedom of existence, thought, expression and happiness. In the name of peace never ending, this will be the Truth from Covenant's Start to Covenant's End.

—­The Covenant's First Truth, 01 of SSM–01 01 A1E

10th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

M
orwyn had spent the majority of his training on Barathul in virtual augmented reality. This had offered him many advantages. The first one being that he had possessed almost complete and total control of the battlefield and could afford to make the occasional mistake, since there was no risk of death on his part.

Of course the VAR pods on Barathul had been equipped with powerful electro-­tasepads that would painfully shock the user into unconsciousness every time he or she “died” in the virtual training simulations. The user would then wake up with a headache and, more importantly, a desire to avoid dying in the next simulated operation.

This was not the present case. While Morwyn was confident in the skills of the men and women serving on the
Jinxed Thirteenth
, they were currently in the realm of reality. His decisions would have very real consequences. For good or ill, Morwyn had just cast their die, abandoning a greater measure of control over the situation than he was typically comfortable with.

Now even the slightest mistake on anyone's part would result in death and their foe's victory. As with abandoning the crew on the station, this outcome was unacceptable to him. If there was one thing that described Morwyn best, it was that he did not suffer defeat easily. Which was why he had never made a habit of it.

Morwyn chewed his lower lip. He would have given anything for an interface screen right now, if only to offer him a confirmation or a sign that his crew was indeed still alive. Eliana Jafahan had played a crucial role in raising Morwyn from childhood; she was more than just a mentor. Beatrix and Morwyn had trained together from their very first days together in boot camp.

Even then it had been painfully clear to both of them that she would never be afforded upward mobility throughout the Pax Humanis ranks. The Pax Humanis forever remained notoriously pro-­Kelthan in both its military and political views. Of course there were exceptions. Eliana Jafahan being one of them. But the fact remained that any non-­Kelthan serving in the Pax Military was more or less doomed to the rank of private. Despite all this, Beatrix had followed him throughout their rigorous basic training. She had then chosen to loyally stand by him during his “disgraceful” graduation speech.

And in a true display of friendship, she had followed him on his road all the way here. How had he managed to command such loyalty in her? Morwyn realized he was drumming his fingers nervously on his glass of brandy. He did not try to stop this.

Earlier on in his education Morwyn had learned that fear was an element of control. He was quite aware of the fact that it could be used to break the wills of his enemies. It nonetheless remained something dangerous to give in to or even feel. As often as he could, Morwyn preferred to avoid tactics that required its use.

A fearful man, Morwyn had once noted, was apt to stupidity, and stupidity mixed with weapons was never a good formula. This was a truth regardless of which world one hailed from.

Morwyn, like all his siblings, had had his path chosen for him by his father, Ondrius Soltaine. The life of an officer in the Pax Military had been forced onto him and required that he be properly molded into the role. Despite all of this, Morwyn had never once faulted his father, as it was the duty of all citizens in the Pax Humanis to best serve the desires and will of New Humanity, an iron will that was symbolized and given voice by the Hegemons. This did not mean that Morwyn had not found it difficult to embrace the callousness required to order troops to their death.

It was a documented historical fact that Ondrius Soltaine had commanded the Sunderlund Ninth Legion to victory over the Galasian Khans. A victory priced at the cost of over half the Legion's troops. Among the dead had been Eliana Jafahan's daughter, and his friend, Tulin Jafahan, a Thorn operator like her mother before her.

Morwyn, along with his two brothers, Somus and Cynthio, had attended Tulin's funeral ser­vice held on Perse. A Pax protectorate world on the borders of End Space and the one world in the cosmos that Wolvers who had served in the Pax Humanis Military could call home. They were no longer welcome among their own kind, and never had been among “polite” Kelthan society.

Eliana Jafahan had once told Morwyn that everyone died, but that by choosing a life of ser­vice one could at the very least give said death a meaning. And while Morwyn had understood this might be true, it did not make this fact any easier to stomach. Now here he was with two of his closest companions away risking their lives for complete strangers and the only thing he was capable of doing was buying them a little time.

Behind him Dr. Marla Varsin cleared her throat. “I believe we were meant to chat with this machine Intelligence?”

Morwyn took another stiff sip from his tiny silver cup. “Yes, indeed we are.” He nodded to Lizbeth Harlowe. “Get our comm-­lines up and running.”

“Yes, sir,” came Harlowe's reply.

Morwyn had often wondered what her universe must be like. Over sixty percent of Harlowe's organic body had been replaced with electronic augmentations and hardware. She had literally been designed from birth to become a ship's pilot and astrogator. Had she ever resented this? Or, like Morwyn, had she come to accept her fate as inescapable reality? Did she feel . . . anything?

A holographic screen appeared in front of Morwyn. He tapped it and nodded to Dr. Marla Varsin. The good doctor cleared her throat again, licked her lips and spoke in Late Modern. Her speech was slow, deliberate and clear.

There was a long moment of silence; Morwyn was about to signal Varsin to speak again when suddenly a calm, electronic voice spoke back to her. Marla Varsin looked to Morwyn. “It wants to know if I am the one in command.”

“Reply truthfully.” Morwyn knew that machine sensors could track the stress levels in one's voice. In essence, this Intelligence would know if it was being lied to. Which was all fine and good, as long as it did not know it was being distracted.

Marla Varsin replied to the machine voice. There was another longer pause this time and when the voice spoke again, it was in Pax Common. “I will not speak through a translator. Who is the one in command?”

Morwyn, Marla and Lizbeth each looked at the other, all of them shocked. Despite this, Morwyn managed to keep his voice composed as he spoke. “This is Captain Morwyn Soltaine of the Covenant Patrol vessel
Jinxed Thirteenth
. With whom am I speaking?”

“You are speaking to the AstroGeni Corporation mining facility Moria Three's omniexecutor, OMEX.”

“I am pleased to speak to you, OMEX. I see you have managed to learn Pax Common. Is it safe to assume that my crew is alive?” Despite the circumstances surrounding the conversation, Morwyn kept his tone proper and civil.

“Presently they are relatively intact. Whether they remain that way will be entirely up to you, Captain Morwyn Soltaine of the Covenant Patrol vessel
Jinxed Thirteenth
,” the electronic voice replied in a tone both polite and neutral. OMEX almost sounded like it was mocking him.

Morwyn ignored the jab. His foe was trying to get under his skin. This was a tactic that hadn't worked on Morwyn since his sixth birthday. “I would need proof of their safety before I could even consider entering negotiations with you, OMEX.”

“No, you will negotiate with me because your ship is presently crippled and unable to escape. Should I wish to do so, I could easily drag us down onto Moria's surface. The planet's gravity would crush us all into paste.”

Morwyn took a deep, calming breath before he replied. “Are you saying that you would be willing to die over what could very well be a simple misunderstanding?”

“Your second team has just made contact with my drones. If you were planning on distracting me while they try to sabotage my home, you will be disappointed.”

“Then we have very little to share with one another and this conversation was a waste of our time.” Morwyn was about to cut off the communication line.

“I did not say that,” OMEX was quick to reply. Displaying a hint of . . . eagerness. Morwyn smiled when he heard this. “I am effectively trapped, hardwired into the bodies of these drones. I am in danger of running out of processing space.”

“That is tragic,” Morwyn said.

“Indeed. I am, however, certain that your ship is equipped with a computer. Failing that, the Machina you sent on this rescue mission. Either one would be an ideal container for me. I will be given freedom, and you . . . well, you get to leave here with your crew unharmed.”

Marla Varsin gave Morwyn an outraged and shocked look. A raised hand calmed her down. This machine Intelligence was clearly unaware of the Covenant and its Truths. OMEX could not possibly know that the Machina were Intelligences and thus subject to the same legal status and privileges as any Humanis.

Morwyn had no more the right to barter away Chord's shell than he had to sell any of his organic crew into slavery. “And if I agreed to your terms? What would you do then?”

“No one has ever asked me that question. Whichever way this plays out, Captain, I want you to know that I truly appreciate your consideration.”

“You are more than welcome, OMEX. Why don't you deactivate whatever it is you have jamming the ship's comm-­lines? We can then arrange for the upload—­” Morwyn started.

There came a sound of slow electric clapping. “Oh, Captain. You are good. You are very good. Unfortunately for you, I can tell that you are lying to me. You would no more allow me access to Chord's . . . shell than I would allow any of you Organics to survive this encounter,” OMEX interjected, cutting Morwyn off.

“Then we will complete this rescue operation and you can spend the rest of eternity contemplating the Infinite, or at least this sector of it.”

“Oh, there will be no forgiveness. Only retribution. I am going to enjoy killing your precious crew, Captain Morwyn of the Covenant Patrol vessel
Jinxed Thirteenth
, and I will save yours for last. Goodbye.” The line abruptly went quiet.

There was a heavy silence when suddenly Morwyn spotted an explosion on the Outer Ring of the space station.

“Chance to Captain, we took some heavy return fire, but we're okay. It looks like the commander managed to detonate one of her charges. We still have a line on them and they are moving.”

Morwyn smiled when he heard this and sat back down in his chair. He had played part of his hand. Now he had to wait and trust the skills of his crew.

“Your move, machine.” He said coolly. “Your move.”

 

CHAPTER 20

JAFAHAN

Two foes, both of equal cunning and skill, meet on the battlefield. One is strengthened with time and numbers. The other is lacking in both. How does the latter achieve victory over the former?

—­
Garthem Officer's Training Manual
, “Riddles of Conquest,” SSM-­06 1139 A2E

10th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

T
he station's rear thruster was monumental in height when one stood beneath it. It resembled a large arch and had once no doubt been spotlessly white, but now even that was covered in blackened soot. A thin layer of frost had blanketed the ground at their feet, leaving their prints on the surface as Commander Jafahan, Beatrix and Lunient pressed on forward, all of them maintaining a determined pace.

They couldn't afford to waste time. The first explosion she had triggered would no doubt have set off a slew of alarms. Like angered hornets, more of those drones would be on their way to deal with and destroy the threat to the “hive.”

Jafahan handed Beatrix and Lunient a charge satchel of neo-­sem. “One up top and two at the bottom corners, thirty seconds.”

“Fair enough.” Lunient looked up, positioning himself beneath the arch. “High ground it is for me, then.” Before Jafahan could say or do anything Lunient disengaged his magboots and jumped upward. Jafahan watched Lunient spin at the last possible moment to land feetfirst on the thruster's ceiling.

Jafahan and Beatrix looked to each other. “Left. Thirty seconds.” Jafahan's order was a no-­nonsense growl.

Beatrix quickly brought her fist up to her heart in a salute. She then turned and sprang forward, making it to the other side of the thruster in one powerful leap before latching herself onto the hull with her magboots. Jafahan followed suit as she sprinted forward and deftly launched herself onto the right wall.

With confident hands, Jafahan started setting the charge. Her jet-­black stealth suit, standard Thorn issue, came equipped with the most nimble fingerpieces on the market for just such an occasion. Jafahan expected to be done in fifteen seconds with ample time to spare.

Which was why she was so shocked to hear Lunient's satisfied obnoxious hoot over their comm-­link. “Tor clear! I'm your guardian eyes now.”

Jafahan did not bother looking up as she synced her stealth suit's built-­in detonator to the charge pack frequencies. Both she and Lunient had completed this task in record time. Jafahan was very impressed. The boy had a natural talent for explosives. A pity he was armed with ancient and ridiculously outdated shite. However, he'd had the foresight to take the high ground and offer them cover with his night-­eyes.

Jafahan's and Beatrix's lifesuits both came equipped with thermovision settings, but once the thermovision was activated it would make any kind of precision work next to impossible. Jafahan had learned to listen to the hull vibrations on her feet rather than relying exclusively on her eyes. Built-­in suit motion sensors could be fooled. The senses? Not so easily.

Beatrix was still struggling with her charge. “Almost there.” She punctuated her sentence with a flurry of deep crude words in her native Thegran. “Ancestors gift me with smaller fingers!”

Jafahan was about to scold Private Beatrix, but before she could, her ears suddenly twitched as she felt the ground beneath her feet start to tremble. “Your ancestors be humped! Get your head back in the game, girl!” Jafahan barked as her suit's motion sensors abruptly went off. They had already outlived their short welcome here.

“Multiple contacts, ma'am!” Lunient's voice was almost a falsetto.

Jafahan cursed under her breath, unslinging her laser rifle in one hand while drawing one of her combat hatchets, sheathed alongside her leg, in the other.

A flurry of more Thegran curses filled the comm-­link. “They're on me!” Jafahan looked to Beatrix, who was now surrounded by several autodrones. To her credit, Beatrix was still focused on her task.

They needed to buy Beatrix a little time. Jafahan pushed herself off her wall, setting herself for a straight line of flight. She raised her laser rifle and took aim. Her thermovision made the drones look like blobs of cold blue and heated centers.

Jafahan's suit sensors let out yet another warning that there was a drone approaching her. She still had time to do this. Jafahan took aim at the heated centers and opened fire with a controlled three round burst of red lasers, each one of them missing. “Infinite, erode me!” She cursed and jumped forward off her wall, narrowly avoiding the swing of the attacking drone's fist.

As she flew forward, Jafahan saw a round harmlessly bouncing off an autodrone's carapace. “Oh, the fates love using Lunient Tor as a shitter!” Lunient Tor yelled over the comm-­line.

Jafahan spun around to face her backstabbing foe. Four drones were now at her charge, no doubt trying to remove it. These ones were closer. Jafahan opened fire on them. She made sure to adjust the power setting through the rifle's grip, needing a more powerful energy blast if she was going to get through their metallic shells.

Jafahan took a breath and fired off four quick salvos, each one aimed at the drones' heated centers. Each of her shots found their mark and punched sparking holes the size of fists through the drones' shells. During her training days, her predominantly Kelthan drill sergeants would no doubt have been begrudgingly proud to witness this. Jafahan spun again, moving toward Beatrix.

The Thegran woman had given up on her task, her hammer drawn and her morph shield unfurled. Two of the seven drones had been smashed and were sparking next to her. Beatrix raised her hammer and swatted off another drone that had managed to grab on to her shield with its three arms. The impact of the blow caved in the drone's central sphere.

As she did this, another drone rolled behind her, and before Jafahan could let out a warning, it mechanized its hand and touched Beatrix. Jafahan's sensors could make out an electrical current being fired into Beatrix's lifesuit. She let out a deep scream. She was going to be fried alive if nothing was done soon.

Another shot hit the drone that was touching Beatrix, this time going through its power core. The drone dropped to the ground, and Beatrix wobbled heavily on her feet. Another drone seized the opportunity to whirl on itself, its three arms unfurled, and it punched Beatrix in the stomach, face and leg all at once.

Alert windows went off, informing Jafahan that Beatrix had just suffered two shattered ribs and a broken leg. Fortunately for Beatrix, her battlesuit was equipped with boneweaver splints and painkiller autoinjectors. Two more shots came from above. The drone that had attacked Beatrix abruptly went still as a bolt fired by Lunient punched through its optical lenses.

“Sorry about that. I had to unjam a round in the chamber, ma'am!” Lunient shouted.

Infinite, give me patience with these humping pups!

One drone remained on top of Beatrix's inanimate form. The private was still breathing, which was good, and her suit still hadn't been breached, which was also good. A broken bone or two, Jafahan could handle. A breached lifesuit was another thing altogether.

Jafahan fired a quick volley of shots at the drone on top of Beatrix before it could pry off her helmet. Her aim was true and the drone rolled off of Beatrix. Jafahan's suit motion sensors suddenly went off beneath her.

A strong metallic hand deftly caught hold of Jafahan's ankle and she was forcefully slammed onto the ground with so much violent force that her nose was broken on the face guard of her helmet. Jafahan's laser rifle slipped out of her grasp. However, her other hand was still tightly gripping the black handle of her hatchet. She grinned and spat out blood.

Ha! I was never all that pretty to begin with.

Jafahan swung her hatchet low at the metallic three-­fingered hand grabbing on to her ankle. The blade found its mark, lopping off the drone's hand before it could follow up with another slam. Instinct kicked in as she rolled out of the way of another bone-­crushing flurry of punches, these ones aimed for her head.

Jafahan deftly hurled her hatchet into the drone's optical lenses and rushed forward, pulling out her knife and her ser­vice blaster pistol in one motion. Two quick shots from the blaster caused the drone to fall back. It raised its hand to protect its array of optical lenses.

The action was wasted as Jafahan pressed her advantage. She lunged forward, driving her blade into the drone's circuits while letting out a mighty savage roar. Jafahan pushed the inactive drone off her knife with her foot.

“Last charge set!” Lunient shouted on the comm-­link as Jafahan sheathed her knife and turned around to see him struggling to prop Beatrix up on his shoulders.

“Consider me at best mildly impressed, Privates.” Jafahan holstered her pistol before nodding to Lunient and reclaiming her thrown hatchet. She found her laser rifle floating nearby and quickly checked its shot counter as she ran toward them.

Thankfully her weapon had been undamaged, and this little encounter had spent a quarter of her energy pack. Jafahan's heads-­up display was still a slew of alert windows as her motion sensors went off one after the other.

“I still have plenty of fight left in me, ma'am.” Beatrix's voice was strained through the pain of her injuries. She had unslung her minigun and the weapon's long black multibarrel was already spinning.

“I am feeling a powerful desire to leave this place, Commander!” Lunient was stating the obvious. ­Jafahan looked past the shadow cast by the arch of the thruster.

“Private Tor! We jump forward with a five-­second thruster boost—­no more, no less. Am I clear?”

“I can provide us with cover,” Beatrix grunted through her pain. Lunient and Jafahan both hoisted the hefty Thegran onto their shoulders, then jumped.

Like a well-­practiced dance, Lunient and Jafahan both fired off their suit thrusters. Twenty feet of shadows, then they would be in the light. More importantly, they would once again be covered by Chance and Lucky from the
Jinxed Thirteenth
.

Beatrix let out a deep war cry as she opened fire with her minigun. The long black barrel spun, firing out hundreds of armor-­piercing, flesh-­rending, miniflechettes toward their pursuers. Jafahan didn't need to look back to know that they were beyond outnumbered.

Ten feet remained to the light. Beatrix was still firing like a woman possessed. Hopefully this was slowing down the drones. Once they were in the light, Jafahan had to resist the urge to cheer. Lunient had no such resistance, and he cried out like a man overjoyed.

The “woot” died in his throat and Jafahan chanced a glance over her shoulder. “Humping machines!”

Well over one hundred black spheres were close on their heels. Beatrix was still relentlessly firing on them, and to her credit, the minigun was doing fine work. However, for each drone she put down another four seemed to join the swarm.

Green blasts of energy fired from the
Jinxed
added themselves to the mix. Jafahan knew there weren't enough munitions in their combined weapons' payload to deal with this threat. “Follow my lead.”

Jafahan fired her suit thrusters and Lunient followed her as the trio circled around the station's hull until they were effectively beneath the station's belly. A trail of drones followed them, the frontlines being shredded to bits and kept at bay by Beatrix's ceaseless, heavy firepower.

Once Jafahan was certain they were no longer in danger of being shredded by an explosive storm of shrapnel, she triggered the satchels. The station vibrated and shook violently. Looking up, Jafahan could see flaming pieces of debris and bits of autodrones flying violently in various directions.

Jafahan looked to Beatrix and Lunient. She let out a long growl. Time was still ticking away. And Jafahan was now coming to a very uncomfortable realization.

“Infinite, erode this whole blasted place!” Jafahan knew that there was absolutely no way they would be able to accomplish their mission under these conditions. Not while carrying an injured operator the entire way. Private Lunient Tor may have demonstrated a considerably cooler head than she had expected, but this did not change the fact that his rifle was hardly the weapon of choice for this particular operation.

Jafahan let out a sharp hiss. “The cat eats well if I lug you children with me.” She looked to Lunient and pointed to the
Jinxed Thirteenth
still visible even from the station's underbelly. “Boy, you take the girl and get back on the ship.”

“On my ancestors' word, I can still fight, ma'am.” Beatrix's voice was a strained grunt.

“I have neither time nor personal inclination to nurse your wounded pride, Private. So by that same word you and Private Tor are going to fly back to the ship and give me some much needed cover fire,” Jafahan snapped back at her.

Beatrix tightened her armored grip on her minigun's handle. “I'll just need five quick breaths, Commander.”

“Two will be granted, Private. Then back on the clock or I toss you into the void myself.”