The Epherium Chronicles: Echoes (15 page)

Sanchez called Maya inside and both joined Patton near the rear of the tent. “Do you have the antidote?” he asked in earnest.

“No, not quite,” Patton replied. “However, I did discover an interesting anomaly in the tissues we retrieved.” He held his data pad in the hand hanging out of the sling and accessed a new file. “Remember when we opened Ulrich’s tube? She looked old. Much older than Pile remembered.”

“Yeah. He mentioned she hadn’t shown any signs of aging when she was attacked in the woods,” Sanchez said. “Could this be related to the effects of the toxin?”

Patton shook his head. “When I started my analysis of the samples, I wanted to verify the sample integrity. Pile told us that Ulrich died over a month ago, but the cell degradation puts her death in the past few days.”

“What?” Sanchez had to restrain himself to keep from shouting. “How is that possible? Pile said the cylinders would preserve the bodies, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but I factored in the slower rate of decay.” Patton held up his right index finger. “Plus, I found triopenthal-48 in her blood. It’s been used for inducing comas for decades now.” He set down his data pad. “I think she was placed into the cylinder, kept in a coma and buried alive.”

“That would explain her aging,” Maya interjected. “The other colonists you tested showed signs of the rapid aging process while experiencing nightmares. If she was kept in a medically induced coma, it stands to reason that the nightmares would continue.”

A sharp pain throbbed in Sanchez’s forehead. It felt like an ice pick was being jabbed into his skull. He hated stress headaches, and this was a real winner. Everything was piling on at once. He wished he could sort it like Captain Hood. The man seemed to roll with adversity like a seasoned pro.

Fighting through the pain, he realized there was still one question left unanswered. “Why would the colonists bury one of their own alive?” He stared at Patton and Maya. He didn’t like the looks he received in return.

Maya was adamant. “Someone in the colony had to know the nightmares and the aging were linked. Grange was my best suspect, but Dr. Gracen was the acting medical officer. I’ll need to talk to the remaining colony leaders and medical staff again,” she said. “There’s no physical evidence to tie this to anyone.”

A low roar passed overhead. The shuttles were returning from patrol.

He needed to set up a recon of the area the
Armstrong’s
sensors discovered. “Focus on the antidote, doc. If you can disrupt the aging of the colonists, we might save the colony.”

Sanchez left Patton to his work and exited the tent with Maya. “Find Gracen and be careful. There’s no way a single person could have handled Ulrich’s burial. I’ll bet the others on that mission who supposedly died were buried the same way.” His team’s quest for answers was revealing answers right out of a bad horror movie. Now wasn’t the time to lose focus. Patton’s work was crucial and if anyone at the colony tried to disrupt it, he needed to be ready to counter them.

Maya sprinted across the camp toward the
Cabot
. Her quickness didn’t seem to be hindered by the higher gravity. He knew she’d be fine, but his doubts were beginning to weigh in on him.
Could I be the one asleep and in a nightmare?

In the vehicle yard, the first shuttle had already landed and the second was gliding in past the front gate. He hustled toward the gate. The shuttles needed to be refueled and manned to recon the area to the south.

He rounded the exterior pole of the gate just as the shuttle landed and the entire vehicle yard erupted in a fireball that sent flames as high as the
Cabot
. The concussion of the blast sent Sanchez reeling. He hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. While he struggled to get up, a second explosion tore through the first shuttle and a piece of its port-side wing was thrown into the plasma fence. It struck one of the tall metal poles, snapping it off at the base. The energy discharged in a powerful thunderclap and brilliant display of light blue energy sparks. Still suspended by the horizontal wires between the pillars of the fence, the broken pole swayed back and forth. The wires on one side snapped and the metal pole began to fall. It was heading right for Sanchez.

He summoned whatever strength he could muster and sat upright. He pulled both legs under him and in one powerful surge, he leaped to his right. Sanchez landed in a roll and narrowly dodged one of the sparking wires. The pole crashed to the ground where he’d lain with a hollow metallic thud.

His breathing labored, Sanchez rolled onto his back. He heard the vague sounds of shouting in the distance, but the ringing in his ears drowned them out. He closed his eyes to keep the world from spinning and slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter Sixteen

Sanchez sat on the edge of a bed in the medical tent. With a tentative slide off the bed, he placed weight on his feet, hoping to stand. It was a process he’d tried for over an hour and he still wasn’t sure if he was ready.

The tent was filled with wounded. Most of the injured were Marines who’d been close to the vehicle yard when the explosion occurred. The air was filled with the smell of burned flesh and med gel.

He peered out the tent entrance. It had been hours since the attack, and there was still daylight. Maya and McGregor had been in to check on him a few times. The news they’d brought painted a dismal picture.

Two of the shuttles were completed destroyed. The third shuttle and all of McGregor’s assault shuttles had sustained heavy damage and would be unable to fly for days. The plasma fence closest to the vehicle yard was still down. The rest of the grid was still operational, but the power surge had destroyed the breakers. He didn’t know when it could be repaired.

He was tired of sitting around taking up bed space. There were others who needed it more. He eased away from the bed and took two shaky steps. The explosion had disrupted his equilibrium. Dr. Patton had been able to repair his damaged eardrum, but it would take time for the disorientation to pass. He took a few more steps. There wasn’t any wooziness this time.

Inspired with a new sense of confidence, Sanchez walked toward the exit. Before he left, he gave a curt wave to Dr. Patton, who frowned in disapproval. He understood Patton’s concern, but he needed to get more details on the shuttle explosion.

The natural light outside was dim, but better than the pale yellow in the medical tent. His new shirt felt loose against his skin. He took a deep breath. His nausea had passed, and that reminded him he had to apologize to that poor nurse who’d helped him to sit up the first time.

Smoke was still rising from the ruins of the vehicle yard, and he shambled in that direction. McGregor met him halfway there. “Commander, should ya be up?”

“I’m fine, Major.” Sanchez sighed. “I just needed to walk.” His vision started to blur and he stopped. He closed his eyes for a moment to let it pass. “What’s the casualty count?”

“Thirty-five. The pilots of both shuttles were the only fatalities.” McGregor pointed toward the wreckage of the shuttles. “We’re still searching the rubble for any colonists. Lieutenant Greywalker is checking the surveillance video of the yard.”

A long shadow passed over them. A boom lift hoisted the end of the broken plasma fence pillar into the air. Several colonists guided the base back into place. Two Marines stepped closer to the pillar and activated their plasma welders. It would take time, but getting the pole secured into place was a major step in the right direction.

The grass crunched beside him, and he turned to find Maya at his side. He saw strength and confidence in her eyes and it lifted his damaged spirit. Even encased in her armor, she was stunning. He doubted there was anyone else he’d want to be stuck with on a planet than her.

In Maya’s left hand was her data pad, and her eyes scanned him for a moment. “Glad to see you up and around.” She continued to ask questions about his injuries and even offered small exercises to relieve any soreness, but her demeanor was different. It was almost as if she was just talking and not really saying anything. During her ramble, she darted her eyes twice toward her data pad.

Sanchez’s gaze followed them. On the data pad’s screen was a simple message. “Ears everywhere. Barracks 10 min.”

When she finished talking, he thanked her for her concern. She walked away, and he turned back to McGregor. “You know, I left something in the barracks. Can you give me an update on the equipment repairs while we walk?”

Sanchez kept his steps small and paused a few times on the way to the barracks. The small trek gave McGregor enough time to give him the full rundown. It would be days before anything that could fly would be serviceable. The colony’s rovers and the Marine APCs had been spared.

They entered the barracks, and Sanchez closed and secured the door. Inside were Maya, Dr. Patton, Lieutenant Searcy and a very nervous Henry McCraken.

Maya walked to the center of the barracks, pulled a small device from her pocket and pressed the button. A high-pitched tweet sounded, and she set it down on the trunk next to one of the beds. “This will ensure our privacy.”

Sanchez sat on one of the beds and looked up at Maya. “What did you find?”

“We need to get the hell off this planet!” McCraken was the first to speak, and Sanchez noticed he’d gone pale. His face was ashen and eyes bloodshot. Whatever had happed to him before this meeting had spooked him.

Maya put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Calm down.” She held up her data pad for Sanchez and activated the video. “I reviewed the few video logs before the explosion. Three people were close to the landing area. All of them were colonists.”

Sanchez recognized them. They were the three he’d seen carrying supplies after his comm session with Captain Hood. He watched the people place the boxes around the shuttle landing area. When they turned to head back toward the
Cabot
, he noticed one of their faces. The man wasn’t wearing sunglasses like the others, and his eyes were white and moved in a quick weird dance. “Hold on. That’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Yeah,” McCraken eked out. “I saw that, too, from one of Grange’s assistants about twenty minutes ago. He walked past me and didn’t even realize I was there. It was like he was in a trance.” He pointed to Maya. “That’s when I ran to find her.”

“The trance Mr. McCraken described was identical to the one Jillian Howard experienced aboard the
Armstrong
, when she attacked Captain Hood. Instead of a knife, there were mining explosives in the boxes triggered to detonate when the second shuttle landed,” Maya stated. “Combined with their fuel, it created a lethal blast.”

Sanchez hated to admit it, but he was beginning to feel a bit like McCraken. It looked as if the colonists were being controlled. But who was pulling the strings, and why? “Where are they now?”

“They left the area before the explosion and headed back to the
Cabot,
” Maya said. “They haven’t left.”

Red-faced with anger, McGregor stood. “Well, what are we waiting for? I’ll send my people in there and get ‘em!”

Maya shook her head. “That’s not the right move. It’s clear that any of the colonists could be a threat now. More could be activated, and we wouldn’t see them coming.”

Sanchez looked out the small window behind McGregor. He could see the
Cabot
across the camp, and an idea popped into his head. “We don’t grab the three involved. If they’re as dangerous as you say, we need to lock all the colonists up.” Everyone in the room spun to stare at him. “Listen, we can gather them together calmly and lock them away under guard of the Marines. We just need to do it quietly so it doesn’t cause panic.”

“Where would we put them?” McCraken asked.

Sanchez pointed out the window. “We house them in their rooms aboard the
Cabot.
The Marines could lock it down and keep them contained.”

“But for how long?” McGregor crossed his arms in front of him with a slight scowl. “We can’t hold ’em there indefinitely.”

The discussion was making Sanchez’s head swim. “I know, but it will give us time to find a solution.” He stood and walked past Dr. Patton. “On board the
Armstrong
, you mentioned Commander Howard was experiencing nightmares while in Medical after her attack on Captain Hood.”

“That’s correct,” Patton affirmed. “There’s definitely a link.”

He spun to Maya, almost too fast, and stumbled. “Maybe the antitoxin can keep these trances at bay as well as ward off the nightmares.”

Patton stood. “The antidote isn’t ready yet, but the thought of it may present our method to get the colonists into the
Cabot.
”

“I don’t follow,” Sanchez said.

“We conduct a mass inoculation to cure the aging. Since we haven’t had time to diagnose all the side effects, everyone administered the serum would be confined to quarters for observation.”

“That’s a brilliant idea, doc.” Sanchez patted him on his uninjured shoulder. “How long will it take to whip up the fake serum?”

“My team can fill injector files with a simple saline solution in an hour.”

“Excellent. Let’s get moving.” Sanchez unlatched the bar on the door and opened it. Standing outside was Sergeant Toronaga.

Sanchez filed out followed by McGregor.

“What do you need, Sergeant?” McGregor asked.

“Sorry, Major, I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting, but Corporal Andrews’s team has gone missing,” Toronaga’s voice was grim. “The colony’s rovers are missing, as well.”

The nausea returned, and Sanchez could taste acid in the back of his throat.
Oh, hell!

* * *

True to his estimate, Dr. Patton and his team had set up enough inoculations for the colonists and had already begun administering them. Many of the colonists seemed eager to participate. The few questions offered pertained to the side effects and their durations. Patton’s team was prepared. They instructed the colonists to watch for rashes and nausea symptoms, but the observation period was to monitor them in their sleep.

Sanchez made a few cursory observations of the process. Everything was moving smoothly. It was a bonus for the kind of day they’d experienced thus far. He left the
Cabot
and proceeded to McGregor’s operations center under the base of the defense tower. Inside several Marines were loading ammo packs, and he found Lieutenant Searcy glued to her terminal.

“Any sign of Andrews’s team?” he inquired with a hopeful tone.

The grunt and frustrated frown he received from Searcy in return told him enough. “Those trackers are designed for tough wear and hard to disable. Even if they were removed from the Marines’ armor, I should see a faint signal or echo.” Toronaga and two other MACE pilots had followed the rover tracks toward the south, but McGregor had recalled them after a few kilometers. Going after them without support was too great a risk.

“How far is the range?”

“Without the satellites, I can reach over two hundred fifty kilometers. The range would be much better, but ionization is causing more interference with my equipment.” Her finger traced the circular thin outline of the sensor radius on the screen. “If the rovers were used to take our Marines, they couldn’t have gotten that far in this short period of time.”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant.” Everyone turned to see Maya enter the tent, except Searcy.

“Do you have thing to add?” Searcy answered, but she didn’t look up from her terminal.

“Can your sensors be tuned to generate signals out of military bands?”

She slid back her chair and turned to face Maya with a curious look. “What kind of signal?”

“It’s an encrypted carrier on a civilian frequency. Larger corporations use this to track critical cargo shipped in areas frequented by pirates.”

“How does it work?” Sanchez asked.

“A small chip is attached to any part of the cargo in question. The device doesn’t emit any active traceable signal like other trackers and responds to a unique ident signal, which can be sent over normal channels. They are hard to find and with proper equipment, they can be tracked to within a few hundred meters.”

“That would be great if we had them,” Searcy stated with a harsh tone. “Unfortunately, we can’t get anything like that down from the
Armstrong,
and I’m not going to sit around and wait for more of my people to disappear.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Maya replied. “I placed a version of these small trackers on several of the Marines on patrol last evening.”

Sanchez’s jaw dropped and a few of the Marines in the tent stopped loading ammo and searched the outside of their armor for Maya’s tracker. “You did what?”

“I normally carry these specialized trackers on high-profile missions. I had them with me at Cygni, but there was no cause to use them. The Marine trackers have been reliable until now.” She gazed at Searcy, who was sitting with her arms crossed. “Whoever is taking our people knows what to look for. I merely provided an alternative.” She approached Searcy and handed her a small data cartridge. “All the information on the chips and the ident signal are here. This is our best chance to find them.”

Searcy softened her stance and accepted the cartridge. It took a couple of moments for her to adjust her equipment to initiate a series of signal pulses toward the south. A few seconds after the first pulse began, a red dot appeared on her screen. “I got one!” she exclaimed. “He’s approximately one hundred kilometers south-southeast.”

Sanchez gazed at the map on his data pad. The signal was just inside the large area the planetary satellite grid had identified as a possible source of the increasing atmosphere ionization. He opened the door and spotted McGregor a few meters away. His dizziness hadn’t returned, so he jogged over to the large Marine and explained what Maya and Searcy had discovered.

McGregor produced a fierce smile. “I’ve got teams ready to go.”

Sanchez looked at the sky then checked the time on his comm band. “There’s about ten hours of daylight left. Can we reach that area in time with the APCs?”

“Commander, I’ve driven one of those APCs farther than that distance over rougher terrain than that forest in less than two hours,” McGregor boasted. “We’ll find them and be back well before we lose the light.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Sanchez was tucked in his seat inside the second APC in the column, headed toward the last location of the missing Marines. Four MACE units flanked the APCs, and he could hear occasional identification calls of targets in the distance. The APCs made a lot of noise, but nothing seemed willing to attack them.

The APCs made good time following the faint rover tracks through the dense forest. They’d covered half the distance in less than an hour. Sanchez pulled out his data pad to verify the latest position of the missing Marines from Searcy, who’d stayed behind to provide them sensor intel and make sure the colonists stayed put.