Federation chronicles th.., p.26
Federation Chronicles: The Complete Series, page 26
Quinton had already hardened the communication capabilities of the agricultural bot. Communications could work in a number of different ways. Data communications between computer systems required that one party send information while the other received it. However, even the most hardened security systems had to account for the vulnerability of the initial communication. Neither sender nor receiver was totally secure. This was why he had effectively sealed off every conceivable way for a comlink to register with him unless he approved it. Furthermore, he had routed all comlinks to a virtual sandbox that was controlled by Radek. It was an additional layer of security that gave Quinton some comfort. He couldn’t get around the fact that he was vulnerable, and the odds were stacked in everyone else’s favor because of his ignorance of the galaxy. He’d have to improvise if the situation called for it.
A short while later, they boarded the shuttle and Maelyn flew them to the Astra. The DUC Astra was a Tilion Empire cruiser that had been heavily modified during its lifetime. Quinton could still see the original design elements, which pointed to a heavy cruiser design. He supposed he should be thankful that it was an actual warship and not some kind of converted freighter. According to the shuttle scanners, there were two more cruisers and a civilian transport ship.
No one was left behind on the Nebulon. Becker kept looking in Quinton’s direction, as if there was something he wanted to say. Quinton was sure it was nothing he wanted to hear, so he ignored him.
The shuttle flew through the hangar bay shields, and Maelyn landed the shuttle. After opening the side doors, the loading ramp extended to the ground. Quinton was closest to the door, but he waited for Maelyn to lead the way. She was the captain, after all, and as he was almost constantly reminded, this was her ship.
She looked at him for a moment and then exited the shuttle. Without a backward glance, Quinton followed her.
He hadn’t known what to expect when he got out of the shuttle. He thought there would be an escort of some sort, and definitely armed soldiers. There was a large group of them, but the hangar deck was essentially empty. They were the only ship in attendance. He glanced around and thought this would’ve been a good ambush site.
Rows of black-armored soldiers held their assault rifles in front of them. Power signatures appeared on his HUD, showing that the armor and rifles were fully charged. A DUC delegation walked through a break in the rows of soldiers. Quinton recognized Admiral Brandt as he strode over to them. Walking next to him was a woman with blonde hair and a mixture of mature and youthful features. Quinton found that he couldn’t estimate her age, but if her eyes were any indication, she looked to be of an age of experience and intelligence. There were other people who followed them, but he assumed the most important people were the two in front.
Maelyn came to a stop and said, “Director Cantos, Admiral Brandt, I’d like to introduce you to Quinton.”
“Severin Brandt,” the admiral said. He paused for a moment, taking in Quinton’s appearance. “I have to admit I didn’t expect . . .” his voice trailed off.
“I didn’t expect it either,” Quinton replied, breaking the awkward silence.
Director Cantos laughed. “Well met, Quinton. Sherilyn Cantos, one of the elected leaders of the Dholeren United Coalition.”
Quinton felt an urge to stand up straighter. Maelyn introduced the rest of the crew.
Brandt looked at Quinton after the introductions were concluded. “My understanding is that some kind of activation signal was sent to the Zeda-Six Star System and that’s how you came to be here.”
“That’s the long and short of it,” Quinton replied. Then he added, “The reports you’ve no doubt read are accurate. I have limited access to my Energy Storage System. This body was the best of the extremely limited choices available.”
Brandt chuckled without humor. “I can identify with that—the limited choices, I mean.”
Brandt looked at Cantos, his eyebrows raised. She gave him a small nod and then looked at Quinton. “We also heard about the Sentinel attack near the Mozeyian Outpost.”
“Crowe’s Union ships were there as well,” Maelyn said. “He opened hostilities against my ship. Quinton was helping to defend the ship, but he didn’t fully understand the capabilities of the Sentinels.”
The rest of the delegation looked at Quinton, as if trying to somehow peer past the rough exterior of the agricultural unit. Maybe they were trying to find his ESS.
“Captain Wayborn said we might be able to help each other,” Quinton said. He figured that if they were being formal, he should address Maelyn by her title.
Sherilyn Cantos interlaced her fingers in front of her and regarded Quinton calmly. “Yes, we’ll get to that, but I’m interested in your intentions.”
“My intentions,” Quinton repeated, “are that I’d like to get out of this body. I’d like to be put back in my own body so I can have access to my own memories. You have no idea what it’s like to be so close to who you once were and have it kept from you.”
“That’s just the thing. We don’t know who you are,” Sherilyn said.
“I’m happy to get to know you, if that’s what it will take to get your help, but I don’t have a lot of time,” Quinton said.
The barest hints of a smile lifted Sherilyn Cantos’s lips. “You misunderstand me. We cannot find any record of a Quinton Aldren at all in our records.” She looked at Maelyn. “We’ve checked all of our data repositories.”
“Surely there must be some kind of mistake,” Maelyn said.
“I’m afraid not,” Cantos replied.
“So what if you can’t find a record of me. Aren’t your records incomplete?” Quinton said.
“They might be,” Brandt said. “But it could also be that your records were erased. We’ve compiled documentation over the years from all the old federations. They came from all the refugees that joined the DUC and have been pieced together for a century. So you must understand that our records are probably the most intact you’ll find.”
Quinton was quiet for a few moments. “Does that mean you’re not going to help me?”
“That’s what we’re trying to decide,” Cantos said.
He didn’t like where this was heading.
“We think Quinton is from either the Acheron Confederacy or the Jordani Federation. He predates the Federation Wars,” Maelyn said.
“If he’s from the Acheron Confederacy, that may complicate things. This could be some kind of latent ploy from Grand Admiral Browning. If that’s the case, no good can come of this,” Brandt said.
“Hold on a minute,” Quinton said. “I don’t even know who that is, so I’m not anybody’s ploy. I came here because I needed help. Maelyn said you were my best option and that we could help each other. You need access to technology and resources that only I can give you. Do all those wants go away because you suspect some kind of connection to this Admiral Browning from the Acheron Confederacy?”
The others around him went into a stunned silence, which wasn’t the response he’d been hoping for. The environmental detection systems in the agricultural unit showed him the nearest data access points, and he wanted to access the Astra’s systems to find out who Browning was.
Brandt stepped closer to him, and Quinton noticed that the nearby soldiers watched them intently. “Browning was a monster. He’s the reason the Federation Wars lasted as long as they did. He’s responsible for trillions of deaths. The Acheron Confederacy is gone. We’ve taken in refugees from there, but they’ve cut all ties to their former federation. And it’s a good thing too. Their contributions are the reason this galaxy is in the state it’s in. Entire worlds have been destroyed. Entire civilizations are gone. And all of this has given rise to anarchists in the form of warlords wielding old federation military might. I realize that your memories are an issue for you, but trust me when I tell you that I would love to forget the things I’ve seen. And I’m not the only one. So please don’t act high and mighty, flippantly challenging our concerns.”
Brandt had spoken evenly and coldly, which was much more effective than if he’d been yelling. Quinton looked at Director Cantos and saw the same battle-steel resolve in her gaze. In addition, there was general agreement from everyone who was standing nearby. He saw the same haunted bitterness in their gazes, although some didn’t shine quite so brightly.
Quinton looked back at the crew of the Nebulon. Simon gave him a small nod and a look of encouragement. Becker merely looked at him impassively. Kieva and Vonya watched with keen interest, as did Guttman and Oscar.
He turned and started to walk back toward the shuttle. Every soldier in the area readied their weapons, pointing them at him in a seemingly single fluid motion. He halted. The soldiers carried kinetic-style rifles that had computing systems he could access. “So you don’t intend to help me, but you’re not going to let me leave. Is that right?” he asked.
Brandt looked at Cantos.
“Who’s in charge here? Because I’m not sure if it’s you, Admiral Brandt, or if it’s you, Director Cantos. Who should I be speaking with?” Quinton asked.
Brandt looked over at his soldiers. “Stand down.”
The soldiers lowered their weapons but didn’t look any less dangerous because of it.
“Leadership is shared in the DUC,” Cantos said.
“Are you authorized to help me? Maybe I should have started off with that, because right now, I feel like I’m wasting my time. And as you can clearly see, my time is limited,” Quinton said, putting as much edge in his voice as he could.
“We are authorized to negotiate,” Cantos said.
“Okay, what do you want?”
“We have other ways to confirm your identity, but it will require your cooperation,” she replied.
“I can be reasonable,” Quinton said. He thought he heard Becker mutter and clear his throat. “What do you have in mind?”
“We have in our possession a data relay console that was frequently used by PMCs during the Federation Wars. They were part of the subspace communications network relays,” Cantos said.
“And you want me to access them as a way of confirming my identity,” Quinton replied.
Cantos nodded.
“Before I do anything, I’m going to need some assurances from you.”
Brandt exhaled explosively. “I don’t see how you’re in any position to request assurances.”
“Don’t you even want to hear what they are before you make your decision?”
Brandt regarded him coolly.
“I’ll take whatever test you have for me, but regardless of the results, I want your assurance that you won’t try to stop me from leaving here,” Quinton said.
“That is a reasonable request,” Cantos said. He looked at her and waited for her to continue. “You mentioned before that you would like to get back into your own body. That means Maelyn told you about the DNA vaults.”
“That’s right. The DNA vaults have the genome of all PMCs ever uploaded,” Quinton said.
Admiral Brandt shook his head. “That was the practice before the end of the Federation Wars.”
“The vaults were often attached to military outposts, but most are no longer around. The ones that remain are guarded by Sentinels. I’m telling you this so you’ll understand that what you want might not be possible for us to deliver,” Cantos said.
“I understand there’s a risk. Let’s get on with it,” Quinton said.
Cantos brought up her wrist computer and accessed her personal holoscreen. “I’m authorizing you to use this data access module to access the console.”
A data connection comlink initialized, and he accessed it. A challenge protocol presented itself, and something in Quinton’s ESS responded with the proper authentication codes. This back and forth went on for almost a full minute before he was granted access.
Confirm PMC identity.
Quinton Aldren, G class.
Acheron Confederacy Navy – SP.
Quinton cranked up his frame rate to the max. The act of authenticating with the PMC communication console had activated more parts of his ESS than ever before. Data windows appeared on his HUD.
Data update available. Commence download.
The PMC console was following a standard set of protocols that were included in the update file. Quinton brought up a secondary interface and queried for the activation code used to initialize his PMC.
ACN – PMC recovery protocol.
Activation code trace running.
A long list of coordinates appeared in front of him, and Quinton copied it for future reference.
There was very little doubt that he had been part of the Acheron Confederacy Navy, but the information available didn’t indicate a rank or anything like that. His classification was G class. He didn’t know what that meant either.
Quinton then queried for DNA vaults that contained his unique genome. As the list appeared on his internal HUD, he wondered how many of those installations would still be intact.
His session with the PMC console closed before he was ready. They must have set some kind of time limit for access in anticipation that he could increase his frame rate to quickly access data.
He returned his frame rate to normal and looked at Director Cantos. “It worked, although I would’ve preferred a little more time.”
“A precaution on our part. What did you discover?”
“There is a record of my genome, and I saw my identity. I’ll transfer the data to you. I’m from the Acheron Confederacy Navy, although there was no record of anything more than that. There’s no rank or ACN identification for me other than a PMC classification,” Quinton said.
Cantos looked at Brandt. His eyes narrowed. “It could be some kind of special project. I’ll have it investigated.”
“Here are the lists of the coordinates for the DNA vaults. I assume you can compare these locations to your own star charts,” Quinton said.
Director Cantos regarded him for a few moments. “Thank you for sharing the information with us. I also want you to know that we don’t hold the fact that you are from the Acheron Confederacy against you, but for our own protection, we do need to confer with the rest of the DUC leadership before we agree on a way forward.”
Quinton looked at Maelyn, who gave him a small nod. “All right.”
Director Cantos smiled. “Thank you for understanding. I invite the rest of you to take your ease. We have a place for you to wait, and refreshments will be served.”
Quinton didn’t have any need for refreshment, but he certainly had plenty to think about. He’d been able to decipher the activation code, but there was a strange reference in it. He needed time to do his own analysis of the DNA vault locations. It wasn’t just a simple list of the coordinates. It looked like there was other information in the data upload he’d received.
They were escorted out of the hangar bay. Simon glanced at him a few times. Maelyn walked behind Brandt.
Director Cantos turned toward Maelyn. “Captain Wayborn, there are several things we’d like to discuss with you away from your crew.”
“I’m at your disposal,” she replied.
The group split and Quinton wanted to go with Maelyn, or at least listen to their discussion. No doubt they were going to be discussing him.
Maelyn looked at him before she joined the others. “It’s fine. I’ll regroup with you in a little while. At that point, I’ll tell you everything I’m authorized to tell you.”
He leaned toward her and said quietly, “I don’t think they’re going to help me.”
“They’re concerned, Quinton, and with good reason, but I’ll convince them that this is our best option.”
Maelyn rejoined Director Cantos and Admiral Brandt, and Quinton went with the others.
25
Refreshments were indeed served. Becker, Guttman, Oscar, Kieva, and even Simon immediately went over to the food and drink that had been set out on a table for them. Quinton supposed they were getting tired of the food available on the Nebulon, but he couldn’t be sure about it. Any table of delicious food in a room full of hungry people was sure to make them swoop down for a meal. Quinton’s gaze slid to an assortment of fruits in a wide variety of colors.
Vonya looked at him with a pinched expression.
“You better join them before there’s nothing left for you,” Quinton said.
She glanced at the others before turning back to him. “Do you miss it?” she asked and gestured toward the others.
Becker noticed them and looked pointedly at Quinton before he took a hearty bite of his food, chewed it, and then swallowed, looking content.
Quinton hadn’t thought about eating. Somehow, he’d managed to avoid it. Simon sometimes snacked while they were working, but it was nothing like the spread here. The agricultural unit had highly sensitive receptors equipped for scent, but he’d disabled them. He was tempted to turn them back on so he could smell the food. The others kept commenting about it.
He looked at Vonya. “Sometimes,” he said and meant it.
She nodded with a sympathetic expression and then joined the others.
Quinton couldn’t remember why he’d volunteered to upload himself into a Personality Matrix Construct. He must have been part of an Acheron Confederacy Navy project, but none of the records he’d found indicated what. At least he’d found the coordinates to DNA vaults that had his identification. He could become human again, as long as the vault was intact. The vaults had been established to offload PMCs who had decided to end their artificial existence.
His thoughts turned to the activation signal. He was able to decipher it, which meant he could trace it back to its origins, but what if Brandt was right and the activation signal was just some kind of latent protocol? He’d forgotten to ask them about the rumors of PMCs getting activated and whether there was increased Sentinel activity concentrated in a particular sector of the galaxy.
Both of Quinton’s choices were dangerous. Tracing the activation signal to its origins ran the risk of the agricultural bot breaking down permanently, and trying to find a DNA vault established for the Acheron Confederacy Navy was risky for everyone.
