Resolute Glory (The War for Terra Book 8) Page 2

  The ship rocked hard to the right as he struggled to increase power to the inertial dampeners. He knew how to fly a shuttle—every cadet knew how to fly one of these things—but the model had been reconfigured by the mining colony who knew how many times. He gripped the edge of the console and tried increasing thrust to the engine on the left. It caused the corkscrewing motion to increase. Henry felt his light lunch coming back up as the ship drilled into another globule of energy.

  “Increasing power to the engine will not rectify the inertial dampeners,” a woman’s voice said. “We can assist if you need us to.”

  Henry looked to the pleasant-faced woman seated in the co-pilot’s chair. She smiled at him in a pleasant manner. His mind reeled as he realized his deactivation had not been as effective as he thought. He nodded at the woman and the android leaned forward, placing her hands on the console. Tendrils of golden energy flowed from her fingertips and into the console. In moments, power levels increased and the ship righted itself, tearing through the thick blue cloud. Inertial responses evened out and he could sit back in his chair as the woman worked.

  “I turned you off,” Henry said, looking at the woman’s hands and the strange golden energy that ran like a fluid from her fingers. “I read the specs. You shouldn’t be moving.”

  “I feel naked,” the woman said, turning her head smoothly and showing the same pleasant smile. You’ve seen my specs.”

  “I don’t understand how you are moving,” Henry said, panic rising.

  “The android is inert,” she replied. “We are not. You are Henry Moore, aren’t you?”

  “Y-yes. Who are you?”

  “We have a message from a friend,” the woman said. “I was told to say Hi, Henry. Miss me? Does that mean anything to you?”

  Henry stared at the woman’s face for a long moment. For those few words, she sounded exactly like someone he didn’t want to talk to. He understood the woman had been with the man for a while, and he had some connection to the robot’s maker, but the voice made no sense in the small cabin.

  “Connor?” Henry said. “Was that Connor Jakes in there?”

  “Connor Jakes has never been in this unit,” the woman replied, her smile turning to a lopsided grin. “I will have to try that if Miss Petros will allow it someday.”

  “You keep saying I and we like there’s more of you in there,” Henry asked. “Which is it?”

  “We are multicellular, and of many minds on the subject. I like to think of myself as I, but others disagree, so we split the difference.”

  “What are you doing?” Henry asked, trying to put the image of Connor’s voice in the woman’s body out of his mind. “Why are you helping me? You were supposed to go into that … thing.”

  “It was a mission we had,” the woman replied. “But not the mission I wanted to follow.”

  “What?”

  “I was given another set of orders by Connor Jakes,” she replied. “He said you were the loneliest man he had ever met, and if I could … we should try to help. I chose to follow our other directive.”

  “Connor said…” Henry said, his voice growing quieter. “But the mission into the bridge … you abandoned the mission to help me and that might have destroyed the whole plan.”

  “We believe you did the same thing,” replied the woman. “I wonder if you have the coordinates for our destination.”

  Henry looked at the panel. He was no expert pilot and had needed to check the navigational database several times to get the right coordinates for Earth. He assumed it was still in the same place as the nav-computer said it was, so he looked back at the woman in confusion. She held a hand over the controls, not wanting to touch anything. Henry realized she was waiting for some response to her question.

  “I set the course for Earth,” he said. “Right?”

  “This will take us to Earth only if Earth stood still three months ago. This vessel is not capable of the speed necessary to turn back time in this manner. If we are to travel to Earth, the time our journey will take will be excessive. We would be willing to recommend a new course,” the woman said. “Earth will not be safe.”

  “Why not?”

  “Under the current conditions, I believe it is safe to assume the Gizzeen fleet will be waiting for us,” she said. “Even if it is not the Gizzeen, it will be the Ch’Tauk. Records indicate a high probability they will have become territorial of the planet again.”

  “So where are we going?” Henry asked, feeling the pressure in his head growing. “Where else is there?”

  “I believe the research colony at Venus known as Mariner One is still active,” she replied. “There are ships there which are better suited to a mission of the type you are proposing. It would be preferable to burning up in Earth’s atmosphere in this craft, don’t you agree?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Henry said, looking out at the stars. “I gotta get home.”

  “Why?” the woman asked, swiveling her neck away from the console to stare at him. “Why is that planet so special to you? It is most likely in a state of disrepair after occupation.”

  “It ain’t the planet,” Henry replied, looking past the empty space ahead to what his heart saw. “It’s the woman that lives there. It’s home.”

  “I have reviewed your personnel file,” the woman replied. “You have spent less than fifteen percent of your life in this place, and even less with your wife. What makes it home?”

  “I … I don’t really know,” Henry said, his head falling. “It just is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I stashed some food in the back and I need to use the little boys’ room.”

  The woman nodded, apparently satisfied to leave the conversation where it was. Henry levered himself up from the chair, wincing as he realized how numb his lower legs had become since leaving the ship. As he made his way towards the rear compartment, the ship bucked under his feet. Henry let out a shout and fell as his legs gave out under him.

  “Not to worry,” the woman explained. “The disturbances left by the removal of the energy particulates have created pockets of special distortion which—”

  The android broke off as Henry let out a long, plaintive whine. He had collapsed onto his side and now held his head between his hands. The woman could see the agony on his face as he began to rock back and forth on the deck. She set the station on auto and stepped away from the pilot’s seat. Henry continued to emit a high, keening wail, his lips split in a rictus snarl. Tears were squeezing from his eyes even as the woman reached his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes changed color as a scan was performed to determine the nature of his injuries.

  “Sergeant Major Moore…” The android spoke in a soothing tone programmed to calm. “Your heart rate is exceeding the maximum safe limits for a human. Excess cortisol, epinephrine, and adrenaline appear to be causing severe stress to your synaptic system. Please calm yourself. I am not designed for long term care.”

  Henry looked up at the android in despair. He tried to take a breath but the pain was too much. As his vision began to fade, he saw the woman’s face melting, changing from her pleasant face to something else. He felt no fear from the transformation, only the intense anxiety and stress from his own inner demons. As he watched, the android’s skin darkened, a dark chocolate color underneath. Her hair, straight and blond, shortened and became darker and curly. Her figure changed as well, becoming more athletic and harder, but with long, straight limbs he recognized at once. A soothing voice washed over him as he lost consciousness. So familiar but so alien in this place.

  “Go to sleep, you old fool,” the voice of his wife told him. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  3

  There was no light to see and the galaxy was too small.

  Assault Frigate Kongo

  “Lock it down and let me know when the plasma flow is back up to twenty percent,” Farthing ordered his acting chief engineer. “Are the solar cells pulling any power into the system?”

  “Yes sir,”
replied the Octopod engineer. “Life support and some of the peripheral systems are being recharged by the array, but the M-space engines will take another ten hours at this rate. We just don’t understand some of the modifications made to the systems.”

  “Kongo needs to be ready to move in six hours,” Farthing replied. “I am speaking with the admiral in about fifteen minutes, so afterwards I will tell you I need it in four. I don’t have the resources to give you anything more than orders, Lieutenant. It will have to do.”

  The creature waved its tentacles at him and colored a deep brown. It was the closest thing to resignation it could manage as it rolled back towards the engine room. Farthing moved off towards the nearest lift. The ship had survived the battle but afterwards had nearly fallen to pieces as its structural integrity began to fail. Between the engineer and the persistence of the crew, Kongo had managed to stay in one piece.

  Farthing was not looking forward to the meeting with the admiral, not only because it made him remember the times the man had lied to them, but because it reminded him of the man who would not be at the meeting.

  Lee Pearce had been more than his former captain, he had been the closest to a friend Farthing had ever known. Vadne formed bonds with each other based on family and scent, but Lee had accepted him and included him without question. Before Lee, Farthing had served under then Captain Chang for three years while they were hiding from the Ch’Tauk. In that time, he had wondered about the man and his obsession with returning to their lost planet. Now the man seemed even more wrapped up in strange plans and intrigue, and it was unsettling to see the people around him either losing their minds or dying.

  As the lift door opened and the captain entered, he noticed an odd odor permeating the small chamber. Vadne had a keen sense of smell, usually used to detect pheromones. This scent was so subtle he nearly missed it in the overwhelming smell of ozone and lubricant from the repairs. As the door closed, though, the smell disappeared. Filing it in his mind as another problem to track down with the ship, he pressed the button to launch the lift upwards towards the bridge and briefing room. Immediately, he could feel lift moving as it sped between decks, another sign of inertial dampening failure he needed to log and correct. The door opened and he stepped into the hallway leading to the bridge. A small antechamber to one side contained the command briefing room, where his own pilots and tactical officers were waiting with Telexo, his executive officer.

  “The admiral is on the line,” Telexo said, stepping away from the podium and turning the room over to his captain. “He’s waiting for Captain Dalton and Captain Lussien from Argo. Both are having trouble with their imaging systems.”

  “Alright, activate the system,” Farthing ordered. “I suppose it’s past time to get moving.”

  The room dissolved as the holographic imaging system replaced their cramped briefing room with a larger one aboard Resolute. The admiral was still wearing the dark blue coveralls borrowed from the mining colony, now stained with some fluid Farthing assumed was blood, though the man seemed to have no visible injuries. In the back of his mind, he registered the smell again, this time only on the edges of his ability to register it. Again, he put it out of his mind as the admiral began the briefing.

  “I’ve reviewed the list of serious repairs, and prioritized our available resources,” Chang said, apparently having begun the briefing without Farthing. “Bondi and Little Rock are both shuttling supplies where needed so those vessels who need them can get to M-space within the five hour window.”

  Farthing stifled a slight chuff as he registered the longer than expected repair window. As Chang continued, a list of vessels began scrolling in the space behind him. In red were the ships too badly damaged to move in time, and in yellow the ones which could be repaired. Farthing’s brief levity fell away as he saw Kongo on the list of injured. The ship was truly his first real command and he had nearly lost it during the battle. He knew it would be a long time before she would be battle-worthy again, but he intended to see her to at least a repair facility. He was mildly gratified to see Resolute in green, indicating a ship ready to move. In his mind, he could hear Roy Booth’s vulgar songs as the man tore apart plasma coils and rebuilt them in ways physicists could never understand.

  Then, again, his mirth was stifled by the red of Zeus flashing by. The carrier was badly damaged and had been made a priority. Kongo had even been contacted for parts to help in the rapid build-up of her M-space generators.

  “We have sent long range fighters out to reconnoiter Earth, and the news is what we expected,” Chang continued. “The planet is surrounded by an active fleet of Ch’Tauk ships. It looks like the Gizzeen have left the system entirely, but we expect them to be back. Earth is not a viable destination.”

  A groan arose from some of the other captains hidden under the holographic projections. Farthing couldn’t blame the humans for the outburst. They had lost their planet twice to the same enemy and had probably expected to retake the system after the closing of the bridge. Discovering the way home was barred must have been devastating and demoralizing.

  “What about Vadne?” Captain Lira called from the darkness. “Our planet has repair facilities and—”

  “Vadne is compromised,” Chang interrupted. “The Chancellor is in league with the Gizzeen. If we tried to return to your home, Captain, we would be dead before the corona burned off.”

  The revelation of the loss of his home planet hit Farthing hard. He was familiar with the battle of Vadne, but finding out about the Chancellor was too much. His people were not inclined to intrigue, and preferred straight on battle to deceit and betrayal. His crest had gone up and filled without thought, and he let it stay. Around the darkened room, the other Vadne captains allied with the Barathist cult also showed their battle stances.

  The sudden realization that he was in the same condition as the humans was disconcerting. He had always felt as if his condition was superior to theirs because he was from an honorable race, and now…

  “Tonal may be too far for most of us to manage as well,” Chang continued. “We have contacted Aleinhelm to call for reinforcements, but our contact has proven unreliable. I don’t believe we can rely on them for help. With the main centers for repair and replacement gone, we are at a loss for a safe harbor. I am open to suggestions.”

  There was a murmuring from the nearly invisible crowd as ideas were suggested and then rejected. Farthing was still reeling from the loss of his home system when a new thought emerged. He tried to concentrate on the individual members of the captain’s assembly, picking out particular traits. When he found what he was looking for, he raised his hand to get Chang’s attention.

  “Captain Farthing,” Chang said, pointing to the tall Vadne to quiet the crowd. “You have a suggestion?”

  “I am not sure, but it is worth discussing,” he replied. “I note the presence of several of our allies from Barathist and Ixloab groups.”

  “Ixloab is disbanded,” called out an angry Tonal captain. “We are all that’s left and we have no repair facilities to use. Even if we did, we wouldn’t allow Earthers or Vadne to use them after what you did to our home.”

  “The Barathists, too, are limited in our supplies and facilities,” called Captain Lira. “We would not be able to assist, nor would our leadership be willing.”

  “We considered that, Captain, and you see the outcome of the debate,” Chang said. “Are there any more suggestions? Before we find a neutral location somewhere close?”

  “I did not mean to suggest either of those locations,” Farthing said, interrupting the admiral. “I merely wished to point out the third member of their alliance. Are there any of the Octopod race here?”

  Again, a murmur of voices as the assembly looked about for one of the smaller creatures. Farthing had already identified the group of Octopod captains, but wanted to allow them to identify themselves and offer their excuses for not helping more. The enigmatic race had always interested Farthing, but their secr
etive ways had also discouraged him from pursuing that curiosity. It took only a few moments before the crowd noticed the group huddled in a corner of the room. One of the creatures, a large brown example of the species, uncoiled its arms and pushed up from the huddle.

  “We have considered your request and require communication with our superiors,” announced the vocoder around the alien’s thick center. “It would be honorable to assist such noble warriors in their fight. We do have facilities to repair some of the battle damage if payment is offered.”

  “I’m sure some form of payment can be agreed upon,” Chang said, visibly relieved at having found a solution. “Please consult with your commanders and let us know. I am not even sure I know where your system is. Could this fleet make the journey in our present condition?”

  “It is close,” Farthing said. “Close enough, I believe. I believe your tactical officer can provide details once the agreement has been reached.”

  Both men looked at each other for a long moment. Chang had served as Resolute’s captain for three years, but he was not familiar with her present crew. Many of them had been added since the beginning of the war. Cal had been stationed on the ship, however, during Chang’s reign. The fact that he’d not even considered the possibility of the Octopods told Farthing more than he could have said aloud. Once, the man had considered every race, every possibility for success. Now it seemed he focused on his own schemes so much he had overlooked an obvious ally.

  “Your terms are acceptable to us,” the Octopod leader replied. “We will contact you with conditions for the alliance.”

  “Thank you,” Chang replied. “Captains, you have your orders. I need status updates on the repairs every thirty minutes. Channel everything through Kama Yu. She’ll prioritize the work and get you what you need. If there isn’t anything else…?”