Remember the Starfighter (25 page)

As the cold fingers touched his face, Julian opened his eyes.

“You’re injured” the voice said.

He wanted to push away, feeling the bruises on his body and the air choke in his lungs. But he was no longer standing. He was floating, his body only a few inches above the ship’s floor.

Around him, the cockpit room had turned silent, not a system on the ship operational. He could see the icy fog from his exhale, the life support down. Everything had turned dim. Everything except her.

“You’re bleeding,” she said.

He touched his forehead, and saw the drips of blood suspend in the air.

“No gravity…” he said, coughing. “The inertial dampers… Must have slammed my body into the ship wall.”

“Yes,” she said. “My scans show you sustained minor injuries.”

She extended out her hand again, moving to touch where he had been cut.

“No,” Julian said, moving away. He took his right hand, and began putting pressure on the wound.

The android backed off.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. But you?”

Julian rubbed his hands and arms, feeling the cold air. “This is not good,” he said, seething. “Where are we?”

The android turned her gaze to the cockpit window. Julian followed, seeing a blue glow emanating from the glass. Pushing himself off the floor, he moved closer, his body drifting toward the pilot’s seat.

Outside was more than just a field of stars, but a stellar nursery. Radiating in indigos, the nebula stretched on and on for what was hundreds of light-years. Clusters of bright stars shined in the distance, as pillars of ionized gas and dust gathered in the shadows, growing to form more new-born sun.

“The Landale expanse,” Julian said. “It means that we’re further off course than I thought. The system failure fractured the Lightning’s hyperspace field, sending us out here.”

Julian went to the ship’s control dials, trying to turn on the Lightning’s systems. There was no response, the keys on the command console dead to his touch. He slammed his fist down at the controls.

“We need to get the ship online,” he said. “Somehow, they disabled us.”

“They?”

“Before the systems went off-line, the computer detected a vessel. A large one. I don’t know how, but our sensors failed to detect them. Not until it was too late.”

“A stealth technology?” she said.

“I’ve never encountered that before, but we can’t rule it out.”

“Will they be able to track us?”

“With power and engines down, we shouldn’t be generating any heat signature or energy trail. That may be able to buy us some time,” he said. “At least until we run out of oxygen.”

Julian moved to the ship’s floor, opening a large panel embedded on the surface. He manually turned the lock with his hand. “Power Systems” a label on the panel said. As he removed the metal slab, a compartment opened, showing a large cylindrical capsule lodged into the ship. Normally, it funneled energy from the primary power core, but now the capsule appeared lifeless, empty of any fusion reactions circulating through its systems. Julian reached down, typing in the commands at a keypad attached to the compartment.

“The converter is totally drained,” he said. “A power surge must have wiped out the entire core.”

“Can it be repaired?”

“I don’t know. This isn’t my specialty,” Julian said. “Maybe I can create a backup power supply using a sentry drone, or a probe we have in store. But that could take hours to do manually, and I’m not even sure it’ll be enough to power the ship.”

Julian rubbed his hands, at a loss for what options he had left. He cursed, knowing that whatever attacked them posed an even greater threat than he had imagined. For minutes, he remained silent, wanting to say something.

“There is an alternative,” the android uttered, floating beside him.

“I’m open to anything.”

She placed her hand on her chest.

“Let me power the ship,” she said.

“You?”

The android opened her right palm, showing it to Julian in the dim light. For a moment, the metal surface across it appeared normal, a cold gloved hand as hard as steel lying before him. In seconds, the metal surrounding it began to change, and then seemingly liquefy. In front of his eyes, the chrome substance started to morph.

Now in the android’s palm sat a replica of the Lightning, its features simplified into an ornament, colored entirely in silver.

“My systems can easily adapt and should be able to connect to the ship’s systems,” she said. “Via my own independent power core, I’m confident I can bring the Lightning back online.”

The android’s suit was more than just metal. As Julian recalled, it had been forged out of nano-technology, the armor entirely fabricated from an army of microscopic machines.

Those machines had begun analyzing the Lightning’s systems. Touching the hull, the android had placed her hand against the an inner power node, letting the work begin. Julian could see lines of metal stretching out from her fingers and into the ship’s wall.

“Power transfer is ready,” she said. “Commencing.”

Immediately, the ship’s computer responded, the display and lights in the cockpit’s command console all powering on. Gradually, other systems went back online, as Julian could feel the gravity return to the ship.

Stepping onto the floor, he moved to seat himself in the pilot’s chair.

“Computer, gravity, and life-support, are all functioning normal,” Julian said. “The quantum charge is fully optimal.”

The android had been right; she did contain the power to return critical systems online. However, as Julian read the computer’s status, he began to see something odd.

“The computer says we also have enough power for shields, engines and weapons,” he continued.

Julian rose from his seat, staring at the android as she sat attached to the ship’s wall.

“How is that possible?”

The android, unfeigned by his reaction, answered coldly. 

“My systems have more than enough power to accommodate the Lightning’s energy needs.”

“But the Lightning’s power core alone weighs almost three tons. And even that has limits. How much power are you using right now?”

“Currently, this is less than 17 percent of my total power systems. But normally when my body’s at optimal operational capacity, it would amount to less than 1 percent,” she said.

“You mean, your body has enough power to run a fleet?” Julian asked, wide-eyed.

“That is conceivable,” she said, knowing that it was more than just that.

“But with that kind of power, you should be generating an immense amount of heat,” he said. “Yet you’re clearly not.”

“My power system is unique,” she simply said.

Julian stared harder, wondering if the android understood his disbelief. She only stood there silent, completely unaffected, as her systems continued to supply what were vast amounts of power to the Lightning.

Julian didn’t have time to ask anymore. A ship alert had gone off.

It was a coded message, one that was being detected on all frequencies.

“Is it the attacker?” the android asked.

“Not sure,” Julian replied. “The Lightning has traced the message to less than 0.16 light-years away. It’s coming from an object.”

Julian returned to the pilot’s seat, wanting to see the scans for himself. The display showed a heat signature of a vessel moving at high-speeds, but in a direction opposite of the Lightning.

“My guess is they’re looking for us,” he said

As the ship’s computer processed the message, Julian could see that the encryption was based on Alliance-SpaceCore codes.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Julian pulled the message up on display, wanting to know why the message was being catered to their frequency codes. What he read alarmed him.

Surrender Julian Nverson. And you will not be harmed.

The being was not what some might consider alive, at least not in the traditional sense. Such terms could never sufficiently describe or encapsulate what it had become. Like billions of others, the being had discarded the organic form long ago, moving on to what it believed was the next stage of evolution. Described as liberation by some, while abhorred by others, the state of existence had gone to encompass one of the great powers of the Alliance — the vast and powerful Ouryan Union.

It would be far too simple to call them sentient machines, or ghosts. It was true members of the Union had essentially abandoned their physical bodies, and converted their minds into data. But the transformation was not a reduction, as some had criticized. No, it was an uplifting, turning their kind into what they described as “energy,” unbounded by the physical constructs that so limited them before. Here in the Union, one could know all, and be all, living in virtual universes that could never exist in reality. And still, they could inhabit physical constructs, taking the form of not just one body, but many and all simultaneously, if they so wished. 

Hundreds of different races had joined the cause. But there was no need for names. Not when entire collectives of people within the Union responded beyond speech, sounds or touch. However, when dealing with so-called “organics” the being in question, simply referred to itself as the Ouryan agent, one of the many clandestine representatives in the galaxy that operated both as an individual, but spoke as one for the Union.

The agent, specializing in tactics and strategy, had come to its current position relatively recently, only operating in the field for the last century. However, in that time, the enforcer had been repeatedly deployed. Not so much for warfare, but to ensure stability within both the Union and the Alliance itself. When diplomacy was no longer an option, the agent had authority to sabotage, coerce and when necessary, to even kill.

Lately, there had been a lot of killing. Assassinations of every kind.

In fact, the body count was so high, that the agent no longer cared to keep tally. It merely needed to serve, hoping to one day regain its status, and take its rightful place among the Unity.

As for its latest mission, the agent had been tasked with something more delicate, and nuanced. It involved the capture of a target. An android of all things. And from a Terran world called Earth, a planet under Endervar dominion. 

The agent had consumed all available data relating to the mission, and immediately understood the importance. Unfortunately, the Union had failed in its last two attempts to apprehend the subject. The tactics and perhaps “tenacity” of some within the Alliance had prevented her capture. But this had all been a temporary setback, as the agent had now proven. Hours ago, its ship had managed to disable the starfighter escorting the android. Now, it was only a matter of time before the Union would find it, the agent doing well yet again to satisfy the whole of the collective.

Appearing out of hyperspace, the agent’s vessel had pinpointed the approximate location of the Lightning. So far, the scans and deployed probes had found nothing, barely a heat signature or energy trail seen in the vastness of space. According to calculations, the Lightning was likely in an area measuring in about a quarter of a light-year in diameter. The time needed to fully scan the entire area: three days.

While the agent’s vessel continued its scans, the Union had sent a transmission over faster-than-light N-wave frequency. A dead body of a New Terran operative found on Alliance Command had been “extracted,” the deceased brain scanned for any vital information. Re-constructed memories revealed where the android was being taken, and already twenty additional Ouryan ships had been dispatched to intercept any vessels heading toward the New Terran fleet of Amredies Prime. What the agent had found more compelling, however, was the pilot escorting the android. A hacked SpaceCore file had shown the man to be named Julian Nverson, his military rank starfighter captain. Previously, Alliance files had shown him to be de-commissioned and en route to a colony called Isen. Obviously, they had been fabricated, with his military status reactivated by the Terran Hegemony under some unique confidential order.

The agent thought of the human, wondering about his current condition. It had killed hundreds, perhaps thousands in its career. Some had died by its own hands. Others had been killed off with a remote order. But as always, the terminations had been done only when necessary. This was not one of those times. By deploying an enhanced disrupter beam, the agent’s vessel had been able to quickly disable the Lightning. The being concluded that the pilot had only a few more hours of oxygen left. Perhaps, the captain could prolong his life for several hours more if he had access to a spacesuit. But eventually, he would have to surrender, or allow himself to die. The agent saw no need for any of this.

After deploying the signal calling for his surrender, the SpaceCore captain had yet to respond. Maybe this was because the human was stubborn, as so many often were. Or perhaps even his emergency distress beacon was disabled. However, minutes later, the agent’s vessel detected a heat signature in the distance, located in quadrant 051. The object was moving fast. Somehow, the agent surmised, the captain had been able to restore power to his starship. An intercept course was plotted immediately.

Open N-Wave frequencies, the agent ordered, as his ship began to transmit its message in universal code.

“Captain Julian Nverson. I see that you are trying to run. But you will find it is of no use,” the agent said. “This vessel will be within weapon’s range in 12 standard minutes. And I assure you, your craft is outmatched by us in both speed and weaponry.”

Following the agent’s hail, the target sent a new coded transmission through space. It was not recorded sound, but words. Basic and rudimentary.

“Who are you?” the translated message said.              

“I am of the Ouryan Union. We have come to claim the android. Do not resist, or I will be forced to disable your ship again.”

“Why?” a new message read back.

“It is true, the android marks a political threat to the deployment of the Ouryan collapser. Yet we do not wish to destroy the android, at least not completely. No, there is indeed great value in the android.”

“Explain.”

“I expect you already know. That is why you were able to power your ship, isn’t it?” the agent asked. “While studying the android, Alliance scientists had discovered a strange and unparalleled energy source powering its systems. The technology is beyond anything ever developed. We believe it to be of Endervar origin.”

“Do you wish to claim it?’

“Indeed. The Ouryan Union wishes to dismantle the android immediately, and study its power source. The New Terrans and their allies, however, are more concerned with the destruction of their former homeworlds. I understand their priorities, but we can no longer stand by and watch world after world be conquered by the enemy.”

In that moment, the Ouryan vessel began to gain on the Lightning, the ship almost in scanning range.

“A starfighter pilot like you, Captain Nverson, should know how futile this is. The Ouryan Collapser will be deployed regardless of any political maneuvering by your people. Furthermore, the android is just a drone, holding technology crucial to the war. With such power, we can end this war more quickly than we thought possible. You know this Captain Nverson. Do not deny it.”

The agent had seen the captain’s military record. Nverson was the last surviving member of his former squadron. All 27 others were now dead or missing. Surely, he would understand the stakes, and that the Ouryan collapser was the only option for victory?

The captain neither agreed nor disagreed. In fact, the Ouryan agent had never even spoken to the human. As the Ouryan vessel reached closer to its target, scans showed it to not be the Lightning, but to be a cluster of drones flying together in close formation. Now suddenly, the drones had turned around their trajectory, in an attempt to target the Ouryan vessel.

It would not matter. In minutes, the drones would all be completely destroyed, crushed by the Ouryan vessel’s own long-range weapons and automated fighter craft.

The agent could only conclude that the transmissions it had received were simply a decoy produced from an A.I. on board one of the drones. No doubt the captain had been listening in, trying to understand his enemy — a cunning, though pointless tactic. The pilot must now realize the hopelessness of his situation, the agent surmised.

Soon the Ouryan vessel would detect another energy signature appearing on the sensors. In quadrant 058, a hyperspace portal had opened, only to close seconds later. It seemed the human captain would not give up.

Pleased, the agent plotted a new course to intercept.