Alpha strike, p.3
Alpha Strike, page 3
As she exited the treatment area, she saw him standing there and walked over with a wide smile. “Alan, I wasn’t expecting you until later this afternoon. How are you feeling?”
“I’m ready to be done with this damned cane,” he confessed. “I know it’s not the time for that, but that’s how I feel. Maybe once I’m given leave to resume my duties, Christine will stop hovering over me like a protective fury.”
Jesse laughed. “She’s protective because she cares. Besides, even if we give you leave to resume whatever you see as your duties, it’s not going to keep her from hovering, and you know it.”
“True enough,” he grumbled. The strength of Christine’s feelings for him still surprised him. They’d only known one another for a few weeks, and it seemed like she was rushing forward with blinding speed. He had feelings for her, but sometimes her passion made him uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you step into the examination room, and we’ll take a look at you?”
She led him into the same room she’d just exited, which was now being cleaned by one of the medical staff, and had him sit on the examination table. Getting up was a bit of a pain, but he could make it work with the stool close at hand.
Knowing what was coming, he tugged off his shirt and winced as he stretched his torso. Selter had shot him twice during the attack, though he’d been lucky nothing critical had been hit.
The wounds were beginning to scar over, so he was sure he was mending. All he needed was to get the official word so that maybe Christine would let up on him just a little.
Jesse examined the wounds and took his vitals. She even brought over a portable scanner and took a look inside his chest.
Once she’d done so, she nodded in satisfaction. “Everything is healing just fine, and I have no concerns about releasing you from medical care at this point. If you have any problems, of course, come back right away. Keep using the cane until you feel comfortable without it, but don’t rush things. You can get dressed again.”
It took a minute for him to work his shirt back on and get off the table, but she was still waiting outside the treatment area for him. He appreciated her courtesy. Besides, he still had a few questions for her.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how goes your examination of the aliens?” he asked. “Have you found anything interesting?”
“I’d say everything we’ve found has been interesting, but I suspect that’s not what you’re asking about. You want to know if we found something that stands out, and we have. Would you like to take a look?”
“Biology was never my strongest subject, but if it helps me understand what makes the aliens tick, I’d like to see what you’ve found.”
She walked him to a hatch leading into an adjacent series of compartments. These weren’t technically part of the medical center itself, but they’d been converted for use as a morgue and laboratory. Sadly, some of the tables held body bags he was certain contained deceased crew members.
Once they were through that depressing area, they came into another morgue and laboratory that was much colder than the previous one. The tables here held alien bodies, and doctors were working on them.
Unlike a routine autopsy—of which he’d seen one back in the day—this was more akin to butchery. To find the secrets of the alien species, there was the unfortunate necessity to take them apart. It was a gory and bloody scene that, in retrospect, he might have been best off avoiding.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Jesse said. “This is a somewhat ghoulish process. If you’d like to avert your eyes and step over to this table near the bulkhead, I’ll bring everything we need to look at so you don’t have to see it in situ.”
Alan was happy to turn his back on the work taking place behind him. It fell into the category of necessary work that he just didn’t want to be part of.
It was much like hunting. He had friends that loved to hunt, but he’d never been a fan of the process. He wasn’t hypocritical enough to condemn them as he ate his fair share of meat, but that didn’t mean he wanted to harvest it.
Jesse returned with a small container holding what looked like a thick worm with lots of thin tendrils. He’d never seen anything like it. It seemed like a separate entity rather than being part of a living being.
“What is that?” he asked as he examined it from several directions.
“A mystery. You’re aware that we recovered a hundred bodies all told. This creature was wrapped around the upper end of their spines. Well, not all of them. Only the ones actively working in engineering, and the two we recovered from the damaged, yet functional, pods.”
He frowned. “So, you’re hypothesizing the vast majority of the beings aboard that ship didn’t have these? Also, you’re lumping the people still left in the functional pods with those in engineering. That suggests some interesting possibilities.”
The older woman nodded. “This seems to be a different creature joined with the humanoids in either a symbiotic or parasitic relationship. We’ve done some genetic sequencing and can confirm that these creatures are not related to the humanoids. They’re not even from the same biosphere.”
“Aliens inside the aliens? That’s somewhat ironic.”
“Indeed. When we examined the bodies that had them, we found old scars where they’d been implanted. Someone opened those beings up at the upper spine, placed these creatures inside, and then sewed them back up.”
The idea made Alan grimace. Science fiction was filled with examples of both aliens and symbiotic/parasitic relationships. Rarely did the two subjects meet, and when they did, it was almost always a bad thing.
He crossed his arms and looked at his friend. “Do you believe these smaller creatures controlled the larger? Were they a separate intelligence dominating their hosts?”
She shrugged. “The interior of the smaller creature is made up of what we might consider brain-like material. I have difficulty imagining how something like it could live in the wild, as it doesn’t seem well suited to getting food on its own. The smaller creature is helpless if not implanted into a host.”
“I wonder what its natural environment would be?” Alan mused. “Could it survive on its own?”
“Doubtful. And, though I have nothing to compare it to, the density and complexity of the matter inside this creature imply that it might be capable of high order brain function. Perhaps even sentience. Without having someone more knowledgeable about these creatures, we don’t have a way to be certain.”
“I suppose that brings us around to trying to wake up one of the aliens from the pods,” he said. “I know that’s something we’re not prepared to do yet, but after examining the bodies, do you feel we can provide an area where we could sustain them when the time comes?”
“Commander Danek told me their atmospheric requirements aren’t much different from ours. In fact, I see no reason why they couldn’t breathe the same air as we do. From what we’ve seen of their food supplies, they might need some dietary supplements, but our basic foodstuffs should provide almost everything they need.”
She gave him a wry smile. “On the other hand, how it would taste to them isn’t something I could comment on. Their lighting is somewhat unusual, but I think they could manage our lighting if they used something to shield their eyes. Maybe wraparound sunglasses with a light tint. In all, their default environment must not be that different from our own.”
Alan pursed his lips and considered the tiny creature. “So they chose to have these implanted, perhaps as a form of augmentation. What can you tell me about the hosts? How do their brains function compare to ours?”
Jesse waggled her hand. “We can only guess at this point, but I believe the humanoids’ brain structures are somewhat more primitive than our own. How that would translate into actual behavior and intelligence, I can’t say. Not without waking one of the living aliens and checking them.”
“And if the word were given, would you be able to do that safely?”
“That’s a question for Commander Danek.”
“Then I suppose I know the next place I need to visit,” he said with a lop-sided smile. “Thanks for showing me around. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ll show you out the side exit, and you can find your way to engineering without having to wander through the other autopsy lab. If you hear anything that might interest us, I’d appreciate you passing it along. Commander Danek is a good person but very focused, so prying details out of her is challenging.”
“Kelly can be challenging,” he agreed with a chuckle. “I promise I’ll pass on anything that applies to your work here.”
She opened the hatch leading to one of the side corridors. “Don’t overdo things, or Christine will hustle you back here, and you know I’ll back her up.”
“I promise to behave,” he said, making a production of crossing his fingers and hiding behind his back.
She laughed, shook her head, and closed the hatch behind her as she went back inside.
He made his way to engineering at a slow and steady pace, not wanting to push things. The last thing he needed was to have Christine angry with him. She was a beautiful woman with a bright personality and a grasp of invective that allowed her to strip the paint off the bulkheads if she wanted to.
When he arrived in engineering, he went down the lift and exited, already looking around to see if he could spot the chief engineer. He didn’t see Danek, but he did see something being assembled in one of the open areas: the massive hyperdrive from the wrecked alien ship.
His previous intentions forgotten, he walked over and watched the engineers assemble the large device. The new assistant chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Charlie Ferraro, oversaw the work.
“I’m certain Commodore Romanoff has no idea what you’re doing down here,” Alan offered.
Ferraro grinned and shrugged. “Commander Danek was loath to leave it behind, and I don’t blame her. It took a lot of effort to take it apart in such a short period, but she managed.”
“I hope you took good notes, or putting it back together might be a trial.”
“Damned right we did. We’re assembling it here because it’s the only spot in engineering large enough to hold it. Once that’s done, we can see about trying to understand the science behind it.”
Alan raised an eyebrow. “And when were you planning to tell Jack about this?”
“Sooner or later, I’m sure. What brings you down, Professor?”
“I wanted to see if you’d had any success in ferreting out the revival process for the aliens inside the pods. It turns out the medical folks have found a few interesting things that we’re not going to be able to pursue in detail until we can wake our new guests.”
“We have them in a compartment not far away from your laboratory. We’ve done some experimentation with the damaged pods and believe that they have an automated wake-up function. We’re not going to wake anyone until the commodore makes the call, though. If we do, it’ll be dangerous for the one we select.”
“That’s better news than I’d expected,” he admitted. “I know Jack is busy figuring out who we’re dealing with at the depot, but we’ll have to decide if we’re ready to wake someone once he gets back. What about the computers we recovered?”
Ferraro pointed almost over their heads, and Alan looked up. The computers were being put together in another empty area on the far side of the compartment. Because of the way the gravity plates were laid out in engineering, the very center of the cylindrical room seemed up from any point along the outside walls. To get to the computers, they had only to walk right or left, and they’d arrive at them in due time.
“We’d appreciate your input on those as we’re not familiar with the computers aboard Locust vessels. If you’ve got time, could you see what you think?”
“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Shall we?”
The two began walking around the massive chamber, already talking about what might be stored inside the computers. Alan had to admit that he was looking forward to digging into them. Perhaps they contained the secrets that would give them the tools they needed to win this war.
4
Mac Turner watched the negotiations between Commodore Romanoff and the smuggler as he ate some of the admittedly delightful enchiladas and drank a beer. He had a stake in the outcome of the talks, but there was little he could do to influence what they were discussing, so he decided to look upon it as entertainment.
It was amazing how uncomfortable Jack looked. He knew the man was a good leader, but he seemed a bit put off by this ghost from his past. It didn’t stop him from doing what he needed to do, but it upset his equilibrium.
He’d need to look up their encounter. They had the computer from Hawkwing set up aboard Hunter, but he could also ask Captain MacKinnon for all the juicy details. That would probably be better than a dry recitation of the facts anyway. Anything she didn’t know, she’d find out. Of that, he was sure.
In the end, the draft agreement ended up being both basic, yet all-encompassing. In exchange for Jack agreeing that the Confederation would recognize Connor’s claim to the system on behalf of everyone living there—with the caveat that someone higher up the chain of command or on the Confederation Council might overrule him—Connor and his people would provide access to the spare parts, equipment, stockpiled weapons, and even the remaining battleships themselves.
In addition, the people of Port Royale would contribute to the war effort in whatever manner they could. The survival of the human race was at stake, so this wasn’t the time for one side to be holding back. If they were going to win, this had to be a joint effort.
Connor was very clear that while the governing council would likely approve this treaty, there would be people who didn’t care for it. Everyone here came from the dregs of society or were just rebels. Not everybody was scum, but Mac was sure none of them respected authority figures, which he suspected made governing them a real challenge.
Nevertheless, the agreement was better than he’d expected. Outright resistance by Connor and the people living here would’ve been more in character. The smuggler was a strange mixture of someone playing at being bigger than life and someone with real scruples.
With the negotiations concluded, Connor excused himself to take the treaty to his governing council for their approval. He reiterated before he left that they were free to come and go as they liked, honored guests of Port Royale.
The Navy officers had had a full day, so he wasn’t surprised when they decided to head back to Hunter. Tina Chen declared that she would explore the space station, and he decided to attach himself to that particular expedition. He wanted to see what kind of people lived here and what the actual conditions were.
Somewhat to his amusement, Christine Hooghuis decided to remain as well. She’d be recording everything in sight to add to her documentary, and since Connor had given her permission to record in public areas, she’d take advantage of it.
Mac’s only concession to fitting in was to strip off his overt combat gear and hand it to one of his subordinates. The marine would see that everything got back to Hunter, and Mac would make do with just a pistol and knife.
Connor assigned one of the people working at the restaurant to make sure they didn’t run afoul of any local customs. Mac had no doubt the young woman was also there to keep an eye on what they did.
After the dinner party broke up, their guide—Yvonne Shapiro—led them out of the restaurant and onto the concourse. Even at this late hour, there were still quite a few people out and about.
Most of them looked more than a bit spooked, which made sense considering there had been a Locust attack just a few hours ago. It would take a while for the fear to fade. If it ever did.
“Are there any local customs we should be aware of?” he asked their young guide. “I want to avoid stepping on toes. If I get into a fight, I’ll probably end up in jail.”
“As long as we stay out of the bad parts of the station, I think you’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. “Who in their right mind would start trouble with somebody that could break them in half?”
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. “So, I saw your boss paying for dinner with gold coins. Isn’t that a bit anachronistic? Besides, isn’t gold too common to be of monetary value?”
“Sure. The value doesn’t come from the metal itself but the chips inserted inside during the refining process. In a way, it’s like regular Confederation money. It’s made to be difficult to forge. Anybody that wants to can make a gold doubloon—or silver pieces of eight for that matter—but they won’t have monetary value without those chips.”
“That makes sense,” Tina said as they walked. “When we landed and didn’t have the docking fee, I couldn’t figure it out. If Connor hadn’t already been onto us, that might have given me away right there. That’s the problem with trying to slip into a closed society with different customs.”
Christine didn’t say anything, simply staring at everything around her with wide eyes as they walked. Mac wasn’t sure why she found it so fascinating. It looked like every other space station he’d ever been on.
Her drone was circling around with one of its lenses taking them in as they spoke while also grabbing a wide-angle view of the rest of the concourse. He’d watched the little things work before, and they were very clever.
“So what would you folks like to see first?” Yvonne asked. “Honestly, the decks we have working look like any other place I’ve seen in the Confederation. There are a few things you’re not going to find on a regular space station, but they might be a little rough for your tastes.”
Tina raised an eyebrow. “In what way?”
“Captain Connor told you that anything was available for a price here at Port Royale. That’s generally true, though there are some restrictions. We’re a bunch of rabidly independent people, and the rules we live under don’t allow for any kind of slavery or indentured servitude. Neither does the Confederation, just to be clear, but I wanted to make sure you know that we don’t tolerate certain things.”
