Catherine Kimbridge Chronicles 7: Renegades (14 page)

The palace was, in every way, opulent as befitting the god anointed king of the Ashtoreth people. He knew from his earlier message that his brother was receiving him in the main throne room. He had removed his shirt before he entered. His brother would know the news was bad and he was here to receive his just due for allowing a failure to occur under his watch.

As he entered the throne room he bowed deeply and utter the ritual words of meeting. “Behold the sun yet rises. Behold the heavens yet gleam. All is well in the kingdom while our most beloved king yet lives.”

King Astarte looked up from a computer display built into the arm of his throne. “Well met, brother mine. I take it all has not proceeded as planned?”

“It has not, my brother and my king. A renegade faction within the GCP has proven more troublesome than we anticipated. My tacticians are currently planning a second attempt to secure our goals. I have their families under guard. They are… completely motivated… to develop a foolproof plan of engagement.”

King Astarte waved his brother over to the whipping point. “For your sake they best not fail.”

Chapter 16: What Makes a Man…

Lieutenant Stone sat quietly in the
Yorktown’s
small chapel. He was meeting the captain here at the captain’s request. It had been two days since he had awoken… if that was the word he could use… in the med bay.

They were two days he was not keen to remember. It had taken him the better part of an hour to get even minimally comfortable controlling his new body. He was strong… uncomfortably strong. It was like wearing a stark suit all the time. Every movement he made was too fast. Everything he touched he broke. It got so bad that Doctor Pulaski ordered her staff orderlies to put on their own stark suits just so that he could be assisted safely.

The first evening he had trouble sleeping in the med bay so the doctor suggested that he return to his quarters. At first it had seemed like a good idea. The surroundings were familiar but he was haunted by the persistent thought that these were another man’s quarters. The memories of the people he saw in the various photographs were of people who had never met this version of whatever the hell he was. The memories themselves were not even real. They were at best a high-fidelity copy of someone else’s experiences. 

By the second morning it was obvious that he was coming apart at the hinges. Every thought he had; every physical mistake he made because of his speed and strength; all served to remind him that whoever he was… whatever he was… he was no longer Lieutenant Anthony Grant Stone. He was something out of Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein
novel.

The last thing Admiral Kimbridge needed was an uncontrollable monster roaming the halls of the
Yorktown
in the middle of a crisis. Doctor Pulaski finally suggested he see one of the ship’s chaplains.  Reluctantly he put in the request. Most GCP ships of the fleet had three chaplains assigned to them. The
Yorktown
was somewhat unique in that she had four. The captain was the fourth.

The door to the small chapel swished open and Captain Ken Kirkland walked in. He wore a red monk’s habit as this was his order’s clerical garb. His bushy red beard pushed out from beneath the raised cowl.  As he entered the chapel he bowed his head towards the ornate cross on the wall and then stood straight and pulled his hood back and smiled.

“AG, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you up and about.”  The Captain said warmly using Stone’s nickname. It touched him that the Captain would do so… and yet. Was the nickname truly
his
or to the man he was replacing? Did Stone have the right to claim it as his own?

“Captain, I…”

“Son, in this room I am not the Captain. I am just like you… a lost soul looking for answers and comfort and hope.”

Stone looked at the older man. “Then what…”

“Call me Ken or Father Ken… whatever you are comfortable with. Just not Captain.”

“Ok Sir”

“And not Sir!”

Lieutenant Stone chuckled nervously. “Some habits are hard to break… Ken… Father Ken”

“Better,” the older man said kindly. “I understand you might be fighting through some issues regarding a medical intervention undertaken on your behalf.”

“Sir… Father…” He looked up at the other man. “This is rather more than a ‘medical intervention.’” He swept a hand in front of his entire body. “Am I even human anymore? Am I a man?”

“Let me ask you son, what makes a man?”

“I’m not sure I understand…”

“It’s a simple enough question. Philosophers have been asking the same question since the first human dared to have a coherent thought. What makes a man… a man?”

“I suppose your DNA…”

“Nonsense!” Ken barked. “Commander Ben First… is he a man?”

“Of course he is… Sir – Father”

Ken smiled at the Lieutenant’s inability to forget he was the Captain. He would have to loosen the man up if he were going to get anywhere.

“Ben is half D’rlalu, half machine… what makes him a man?” Ken asked.

“He thinks… he feels…”

“He loves. He is alive. He thinks. He can ask the questions: Am I right or am I wrong?”

Ken looked at the younger man. He carefully took the man’s hands knowing full well that the other had the ability to crush his.

“You have traveled a road very few of us have. But because you have traveled it, a large number of us might yet travel that very same road. Are you the same entity that piloted that scorpion and defended the lives of not just everyone on this ship but also on that world down below us? Maybe… maybe not. But you are the best part of that man. You are what made him who and what he was. Now you have a decision to make.”

Lieutenant Stone stood very still. To be honest he was afraid of crushing the Captain’s hands. “What decision is that Father Ken?”

“You have to decide what makes a man a man. Is it his flesh and bones… or is it his sense of right and wrong. Is it his ability to die? Or is it his ability to live and love?”

Ken stepped away from the younger man and walked up to the altar of the small chapel.

“We chaplains serve the needs of all beings of faith without regard to the nature of that faith. But I am a member of a Christian sect. Do you know what that means?”

“I do Father. My grandmother took us kids to church every Sunday. I was baptized when I was fourteen.”

“One of the most meaningful things said in the Christian Bible, if you believe it, transcends all other faiths. It comes from a letter written by one of the original disciples. In this letter the disciple says that ‘God is love.’ I believe with all my soul that our ability to love and be loved is a reflection of the divine within us.”

Ken touched the base of the bronze cross. “Now, I know there are those who do not believe and will never believe in a Divine Creator. That is their choice to make and I respect their decision. My faith is not contingent on their faith. But here is the beauty of what that disciple had to say; whether a person believes or not… that person has the ability to love and be loved.”

“Even the non-believer can be a reflection of the divine,” Stone said softly.

“Exactly. The person we Christians say died on this cross changed the world with his death. That is an undisputable fact of history… even for the non-believer. His death was a death undertaken as an act of love. Love is what makes both life and death have value. That is true whether you are a believer or not.

“My point, son, is a simple one. You died. Through technology we are just beginning to understand, you or some semblance of you, lives again. You must decide if you still understand what it is to love and be loved. Are you still a man – even given that you may not be exactly the same man?”

Lieutenant Stone thought of the lovely Doctor Janice Pulaski. He thought of the chances that might yet be. He knew the choice he was going to make. He looked up at his commanding officer.

“Sir, and I use that title deliberately, I choose to be what I am. I am a Marine. I’ve been to hell and back – and I’ll go again if need be to fight for what is right.”

Ken struck out his hand. “Welcome back trooper.”

***

One week later Lieutenant Anthony Stone was walking an inspection line in the Yorktown’s primary hold. Thirty six Marines, a light company, stood at attention as he walked the lines. He stopped every few feet to pause and look at the troop he was standing in front of. The man or woman in question would stand just a little bit taller, just a little bit prouder. These were the best of the best. They were marines and they were his marines.

The marine he was standing in front of this moment was Staff Sergeant Jeremy James Hammond. Hammond was top of his class in all proficiency tests and yet the man had an almost inhuman proclivity for getting into trouble. Usually said trouble came in the form of poor impulse control with regard to his mouth. Still, there was not a man here that Lieutenant Stone would rather have with him in the trenches. That was probably why they were the best of friends.

“Looking sharp JJ,” Stone said as he reviewed his uniform. He like all the marines in the room were now wearing naval aviator wings.

“One of us has to sir,” Hammond replied in his typical Geordie accent. Stone’s eyes twinkled but he said nothing.

These men and women were members of
Yorktown’s
Marine Assault Contingent. They had each received the same synaptic copy of fighter pilot training engrams care of specialized cerebral nanites that he had.

“Contingent! Stand at ease!” Stone barked in a voice that had no trouble filling the large room.

Immediately the marines in the room assumed a precision stance with their feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind back.

“You are marines. That means you are held to a higher standard than other soldiers. It is for this very reason that marines don’t like to be called…
soldiers
, instead we refer to ourselves as troop.” Lieutenant Stone paused to look at the assembly.

“You have been given a rare privilege. You are among the first to receive engram training to make you proficient at a task that others… that
soldiers
… take years to learn. The fact that you have received this training is not what makes you superior to other men and women in the armed forces. It’s what you will do with these new skills.

“You will go first where others fear to tread. You will go first where others cannot tread. You will go first because THAT is what marines do.”

“HURRAH” Gunny Sergeant Ramirez barked.

“HURRAH!” Thirty six voices echoed.

“Outstanding!” Lieutenant Stone said. “Your engram training gives you an advantage but do not forget for a second that it comes with its own set of challenges. Each of you will initially respond to situations you encounter in the cockpit of your fighters in exactly the same way. That is understandable. You are accessing the same experiential memory in the form of those implanted engrams.”

He paused to let that sink in before continuing.

“But understand, that uniformity will make you predictable. A smart enemy will pick up on this. Starting today you will begin a series of flight maneuvering drills. I want you to go with your gut and begin to innovate beyond your training. Adapt and overcoming. It is in your blood.”

Lieutenant Stone walked back to the raised podium that allowed him to see all the marines at once.

“Gunny, have your marines report to the flight deck in fifteen minutes. We will be flying real scorpions against computer simulated targets. You will divide into two wings. The wing with the most confirmed kills and fewest deaths will receive an extra beer ration. That is all. Dismiss the men.”

“You heard the Lieutenant. You have until 05:15 to report to the hanger. Use your vacation time wisely. DISSS… MISSED,” Gunny Sergeant Ramirez barked in a voice that was even louder than the Lieutenant’s.

Chapter 17: Divided Loyalties

Cat sat back in her command chair on the bridge of the
GCP Yorktown
. She could have worked in her office or even in the adjoining ready-room but she enjoyed being on the bridge… even if hers was not the primary command chair. The bridge was the heart of the ship. In her hand she held a datapad. It was slowly scrolling a series of notes that her staff felt needed her attention as well as updates from the various ships within her renegade taskforce. A new addition were status reports from the GCP High Orbital stations.

Now that the fiction of a Hupenstanii based contagion had been exposed and the horror of the gene-drive modifications identified, the local GCP and Hupenstanii Council of Elders were working together for the first time in decades. A massive eradication program had been started that vaccinated the Hoppers against the artificial contagion and at the same time removed them as potential vectors for spreading it.

Sadly the vaccine that was being used had been developed within the first few months of the quarantine. Because the BioOps team that was charged with testing the efficacy of the vaccine had its own Ashtoreth agenda, the initial test results had be falsified. Those tests showed the vaccine to be a complete and utter failure. Cat, on a hunch, had the initial research verified. The pathogen was easily eradicated and an effective vaccine existed to prevent reinfection.

More critical was the tempering that had occurred to the general populations fundamental genetic makeup as a result of the gene-drive technology that had been employed. A Hupenstanii Medical Corps lead researcher, a female named Triska’nar, was actively developing a plan to address the situation. Cat had personally pledged those resources at her disposal to helping the Hupenstanii revert their genome to its pre-tampering configuration. 

Cat put down the data pad and yawned. She had been reading for hours and making small adjustments as she saw fit. She had just reviewed the Hupenstanii’s contribution to the High Orbital fighter wings. The scorpions needed to be modified to accommodate the larger Hupenstanii but the reconfigurations were easy enough to make, especially with the Yorktown’s fully functional Heshe nanites fabrication technology.

Sadly, the Hupenstanii really could not take advantage of the newly developed engram teaching technology because the equipment Cat had been able to capture from the Ashtoreth sleeper cell was configured for humans. And while she had been able to duplicate it so that each of the ships her fleet now had access to the technology; no one had had the time to reconfigure it to work with the other member GCP member races.

“Admiral!” Lieutenant Zimmerman said in an alarmed voice. “We have a fleet-wide class one coded message coming in from Fleet Admiral Imera.”

“Decode and play it on the bridge speakers Ziggy. Ops recall the Captain to the bridge.”

“Belay that Mister Thompson, I’m already here,” Ken Kirkland said as he walked out of the turbolift.

“Message decoded. Playing now,” Lieutenant Zimmerman reported.

The image of Senior Fleet Admiral Imera floated in front of the bridge’s main holographic projector. Cat had to admit he looked haggard. Surely this wasn’t a result of her activities. Commander Dickerson had assured her that no abnormal communication between the GCP personnel in the Hupenstanii sector and the Earth-based Central Operations Center had occurred. In fact because of the nature of the long standing blockade, limited communication was the norm.

“Approximately four hours ago at 23:48 Earth Standard Time a message was received from an entity claiming to be a rouge Heshe Weapons platform known as WhimPy-101. This entity claimed to be in control of a monstrous weapons platform the size and scale of which has never been encountered. This platform has been identified as the weapon used to destroy the Mardarus home world as well as several other planets on its way to Earth. Over the next several hours we engaged the platform with our entire Earth Defense Force. That force was destroyed to the last ship. We are defenseless.

“This rouge weapons platform is on a course that will cause it to pass between Earth and its moon. Based on our previous experience with this platform we can only assume the worst and are attempting an evacuation of Earth. We are calling on all ships with hyperjump capability to immediately make their way to the Terrain system to assist in the evacuation effort.”

The image of Admiral Imera stepped closer to the holographic camera. “Please, we are desperate. We need your help. Senior Fleet Admiral Imera Out”

The bridge of the
GCP Yorktown
was dead quiet. In the midst of the silence, Yorky sent a signal to Cat’s internal AI, Cal. Her AI in turn relayed a stored message from WhimPy-101. She listened without saying a word. The news was not good. If
WhimPy
was correct the GCP was facing an external threat it might not be able to handle… on top of the replicant threat from within that Cat had discovered.

She stood and walked down to Ken’s command chair. “Ken I need you and senior staff from all ships in the Ready Room in five minutes. Those that cannot attend in person are to attend holographically.”

“Aye Aye Admiral”

***

“Admiral, I don’t buy it. It doesn’t fit with what we know of 101. There is no way he would attack Earth,” Commander First said from where he was seated at the conference table. Several of the others nodded. Captain Kirkland and Commodore Ruck were on his right. Lieutenant Stone and Admiral Kimbridge sat on his left. Captains Takei and Purohit along with their First Officers were present in avatar form across the table. Their holographic images flickering every now and then were the only clue they were not there in person.  Admirals Faragon and Melbourne were on the planet’s surface overseeing the planetary recovery effort.

Cat had just briefed the team about both the message from Admiral Imera as well as some of the information WhimPy-101 had shared with her regarding the Uruk Alpha Weapons Platform. The discussion had been going on for several minutes. There were not a lot of good options.

“Perhaps Ben, but if WhimPy was damaged in his fight with the Alpha platform then he may not be functioning according to his normal protocols,” Ken said in response to his First Officer’s statement.

Admiral Kimbridge shook her head. “I have to agree with Ben on this one, Ken. I cannot imagine a scenario in which a WhimPy could continue to function at any level and still not adhere to its primary programming. The Heshe simply put too many safeguards in place.”

Commodore Ruck’s hologram leaned forward. “Still that platform took out a number of top-of-the-line starships and is threatening Earth. Admiral Imera must know that any attempt to evacuate the billions of people on the planet’s surface is doomed to fail… It would take years… if it were even possible.”

“I suspect Imera is simply trying to save as many as he can knowing full well that he will be lucky to get a million off much less the 9.6 billion people currently on the planet.”

Cat leaned back in her chair. “The solution is not to try and evacuate the planet. The solution is to eliminate the threat.”

“How do we do that?” Captain Takei argued. “WhimPy wiped out every ship sent against it.”

“I don’t think WhimPy-101 did,” Cat responded quietly. “I suspect the Alpha AI and WhimPy are fighting over control of that platform. WhimPy said that the Alpha utilizes an energy harvesting technology. It’s possible that Imera’s forces actually made the situation worse by supplying the Alpha with an energy source. WhimPy may have been fighting for control the entire time. If that’s true…”

“Then we have a potential ally already on that platform… if we can figure out how to reach him,” Jason Ruck finished.

Ben raised a tentative forward paw. “I hate to be the bad dog in the room but aren’t we expecting our Ashtoreth friends to be making a return?”

Cat nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. We are going to split the taskforce. Our four ships won’t make an impact in evacuating Earth’s population but we can provide a significant benefit to the defense of the Hupenstanii system. I’m going to ask Commodore Ruck to take command of a piece of the taskforce… the
Exeter
,
Mador
and
Relentless
. You’ll be in charge of defending this system. I’m going to loan High Orbital One our MAC unit under Lieutenant Stone. His thirty six scorpion fighters will provide the station with the additional close-in support they need.”

She looked at Jason for confirmation. He nodded.

“Meanwhile our little surprises have been seeded thought out the system. If they jump within sixteen AU of the Hupenstanii or anywhere near the normal jump point they will be incapacitated.

Meanwhile the
Yorktown
and I will head back to Sol and try to shut down, destroy or otherwise disable that Alpha platform.”

***

Asdartu watched from the bridge of his command ship, the
AE DorKra
. Fourteen battle cruisers, each with its own wing of 86 fighters were preparing to launch for an engagement at the Hupenstanii home world. With this many ships and fighters his victory was assured. They would overwhelm the forces protecting that world and at the same time salvage his honor and reputation with his brother, the King.

His adjunct approached cautiously. Adjuncts had a habit of not surviving until retirement around the royal family. The man was one of the Faragon replicants. They had been an early experiment in the development of human replicant line. Normally only one replicant of any given host was made. In this case, his people did not know if the bio-generation system that created the replicants was going to produce a viable human husk. As a result they created several spares. Sadly access to the target’s engrams was lost and the six husks matured without them. They looked like Admiral Faragon but they would never be able to replace him. The empire was not given to costly mistakes and so another use was found for these particular husks.

“Sir, the fleet is provisioned and ready to head out.”

“Very good.”

Asdartu turned without saying another word and walked over to his command chair. The seat looked more like an ornately carved throne but that was in keeping with his family’s ostentatious proclivities.

“Helm, make course for the fleet assembly point. Communications officer. Signal the fleet. We leave to salvage our honor within the hour.”

“Aye Lord Captain,” both officers acknowledged in unison.

The hum of power filled the large bridge. The twenty some personnel that staffed the bridge during combat operations busied themselves with final preparations and systems checks. Asdartu could hear the soft murmur of voices as his officers worked to make sure everything would be in order when the final command to engage the hyperfield drives was given.

Asdartu was not concerned with their efficiency. No one rose from the ranks to serve on the bridge of a starship, especially not
his
starship, with proving their worth. Those that failed did not live to pass on their genes… and if they already had offspring? Well that was just more incentive not to fail.

His First Officer, High Centurion Asktear, stood up from his station and approached his commander. He bowed slightly as he approached him.

“My Lord and my Captain, the ship reports fully ready and operational.”

“And the fleet?”

“All are in place. You have but to give the order and our glory is at hand,” the man answered crisply.