Federation chronicles th.., p.53
Federation Chronicles: The Complete Series, page 53
“Reminder is set,” Radek said.
“Excellent. Make it daily until the task is done,” Becker said.
“Acknowledged. Reminder preferences updated.”
Quinton’s gaze darted between Becker and Radek. Then he chuckled. “Thanks, Radek,” he said.
Becker smiled, white teeth gleaming amid the dark skin inside his helmet. “You brought this on yourself.”
Quinton laughed. “I guess I did.”
He received a comlink request from Harper. Quinton answered it.
“The drones were unable to locate any other ships docked with the station,” Harper said.
“What about the other hangar bays? Does anything look like they’ve been recently used?”
“Negative, Commander. I’ve recalled the drones.”
“Understood. Thanks for the update,” Quinton said and told Becker.
“Maybe they already left or weren’t able to get inside the outpost,” Becker said.
“Come all this way and just give up?”
“If they’re salvagers, they might. Whoever came here knew what they were getting themselves in for. I wouldn’t risk my ship to come here, and with news of increased Sentinel activity, they might have decided it wasn’t worth the risk either.”
“Unless the ship didn’t stick around.”
Becker frowned. “Boarding party.”
Quinton nodded.
“That’s a hell of a risk to take. We should warn Oscar.”
“They’re already monitoring for any ships that enter the area,” Quinton said.
The elevator chimed as it reached the central operations deck. He tried to access the outpost’s security system to see what was beyond the elevator door, but the system was offline.
Quinton’s reactions were startlingly fast, well beyond the capabilities of even the most enhanced human. As the doors opened, he had a little over a second before a barrage of plasma bolts rapid-fired at them. Quinton threw himself toward Becker, knocking him into the wall. Then he leaped off the wall, propelling himself to the other side of the elevator. He’d caught sight of two automated defense turrets that had risen from the floor in the middle of the corridor beyond.
Quinton increased the power output of his assault rifle and fired a quick three-bolt burst. One of the turrets exploded. The other turret pinned him into the corner.
Becker recovered from being shoved into the wall and looked at Quinton, nodding his head toward the remaining turret.
The turret stopped firing and Quinton burst from the elevator, firing his weapon in a suppressing spray. His shots were accurate, but they didn’t need to be. He was the distraction. Becker destroyed the second turret.
Central operations was a few dozen meters away. No other defense turrets appeared, and Quinton couldn’t detect any power cables that led to more turrets on standby—not under the floor or hidden inside the ceiling.
“Why don’t you hang back while I scout ahead?” Quinton said.
Becker nodded and kept a pace several meters behind him. Quinton peered through the clear ceraphome doors and saw several rows of workstations beyond. He scanned for local computer systems and they were offline, but someone had enabled the defense turrets. He reached the door first and took up a position just outside the doorway.
“See anything?” Becker asked.
A few metallic storage containers sat beneath several large holoscreens.
“Yeah,” Quinton said. “Cover me from here while I go take a look.”
Becker hastened to the other side of the wide doorway and kept out of sight.
Quinton palmed the door controls and walked into the operations center. The interior was a large round room that was more akin to a command center. The black Alari Star Council emblem shone from the holoscreens.
Quinton scanned the layout and didn’t detect anyone inside. He walked toward the storage containers. They looked familiar. He went to the onboard controls and brought up the status interface. They were CDA storage containers. Inside each of them was an android designed to house a Personality Matrix Construct. There were two of them here. If they had an ESS inside of them, then there were two PMCs here.
Quinton detected a PMC broadcast that seemed to be coming from the other storage container. He walked over to it but didn’t acknowledge the broadcast. The contact protocol wasn’t one he was familiar with. The storage container lurched forward hard, knocking Quinton several meters back.
“Stay away from it!” a deep voice boomed.
Quinton bounced off the workstation and stumbled to the floor. Before he could regain his feet, something heavy and mechanical bounded toward him, fast. Quinton lifted his rifle. He glimpsed a pair of CDA red robotic eyes in battle mode as it grabbed the end of the rifle and tried to yank it out of Quinton’s grasp. He held on as the CDA pulled him off the ground and flung him toward the wall. He spun in the air and his shoulder bore the brunt of the impact.
Quinton regained his feet. “Wait!” he shouted.
The CDA charged. “You can’t have them, Agent of Harding!”
Quinton had just enough time to see Becker coming through the doorway, weapon raised. Quinton threw his rifle at the CDA’s face and slid forward, tripping the android and scrambling onto its back.
“I’m here to help you, dammit!”
The android spun and pushed himself up, trying to knock Quinton off.
A plasma bolt hit the wall behind them.
“Hey!” Becker shouted. “Either you stop moving, or I start shooting at those storage containers. Which is it gonna be?”
The CDA craned its neck toward Becker and stopped.
“Becker?” said a familiar feminine voice.
Quinton stood up. Two spacers came out from behind the storage container. Both held a hand blaster, but neither of them was aiming at anyone. The leader looked at Becker and then at Quinton. From inside a clear face shield, celestial blue eyes widened in recognition.
“Quinton?”
“Hello, Maelyn.”
19
The nervous shifting of Quinton’s feet revealed his discomfort as he looked at Maelyn. She lowered her hand blaster and stepped toward him, stabbing him with a poisonous glare full of fury and betrayal. It was the betrayal that Quinton felt in his gut. If he had to choose between a hand blaster and the look in her celestial blue eyes, he’d choose the blaster.
“You’re alive,” she said, sounding as if she couldn’t believe it. Then she glanced at Becker. “You’re both alive.”
“Guttman and Oscar are fine, too,” Quinton said, and her gaze swung back to him.
The second spacer approached and stood next to Maelyn. Quinton recognized Simon as the face shield became translucent.
Simon’s eyebrows raced upward, and then he smiled. “Quinton, is that really you?”
Maelyn raised her hand blaster, pointing it directly at Quinton. “That’s a good question.”
“It is me. I realize this is probably a shock to you both,” Quinton replied. Maelyn didn’t lower the hand blaster, and Simon looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I can prove it to you. Simon, you helped me when I was stuck in that agricultural bot from Zeta-Six,” he said and looked at Maelyn. “Were you able to find those colony planets from the data repositories on the Endurance Starbase?”
Simon stepped forward and took a good look at Quinton. “I… How did you survive? Where did you…? You look so real, like flesh and blood, but that body must’ve been destroyed.”
Quinton nodded. “It was. My PMC was transferred via subspace into an ESS in this cybernetic avatar.”
“You can’t trust him,” said the CDA that attacked him.
Becker still had him covered with his plasma rifle.
Quinton looked at the CDA. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m Quinton Aldren.”
The CDA regarded him. “You could tell me you were Admiral Elias Browning, and I still wouldn’t believe you, Agent of Harding.”
Quinton frowned and glanced at Maelyn and Simon for a moment. “I don’t even know what that is. What’s an Agent of Harding?”
The CDA looked at Maelyn. “You said you came here to help me. If you mean that, you’ll shoot him. You can’t trust anything he says. Agents of Harding are the enemy.”
Quinton shook his head and grinned. “She’s not going to shoot me,” he said and looked at Maelyn. “Right?”
For a few moments, Maelyn appeared as if she was seriously considering it.
“Walsh,” Simon said, “this is Quinton Aldren. He’s not an agent of anything.”
“Walsh,” Quinton parroted, quickly exploiting the advantage of a name, “I came here because of the PMC activation signal. I’m actually here to help you. Simon is right; I’m not anyone’s agent. How can I prove it to you?”
Walsh regarded him for a few seconds. “PMC authentication. You denied my initial request, but it’s the only way. Then you’ll know who I am, and I’ll know exactly who you are,” he said and looked at Maelyn. “Be ready to act.”
Quinton was a little bit amused but also annoyed at the same time. Whoever Walsh was, he was deadly serious. Quinton looked at Maelyn. “It’s me, Maelyn. Don’t shoot me.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Go on, Quinton. Prove it.”
Quinton inhaled deeply and sighed.
“Would you look at that!” Simon said excitedly. “You can mimic our behaviors. You didn’t need to take that breath. It’s a mental stimulus for releasing tension. That’s amazing. I’d really like to know more about this avatar.”
Quinton smiled a little and then looked at Walsh. “Here it comes.” Opening a data comlink to the CDA, he transferred his PMC authentication. PMC authentication protocols drew upon unique identifiers that were encoded into his ESS. They went well beyond a simple data handshake that conveyed credentials. It was something that couldn’t be forged. This was to prevent anyone from impersonating another PMC.
Walsh’s credentials appeared in his HUD.
Walsh, Corvax, Alari Navy.
Specialization—defense tactical command.
Walsh frowned for a few moments and then stood up straight. “Commander, please accept my apologies. I had no idea that you were a Galactic class PMC of the Acheron Confederacy Navy. I have an update for you, sir, when you’re ready to receive it.”
Becker snorted and lowered his weapon a little. “Oh my God, not another one.”
Maelyn lowered her blaster and returned it to the holster on her hip. “What do you mean ‘not another one’?”
“We’ve encountered another PMC who believes Quinton is his commanding officer.”
Maelyn regarded Quinton for a few moments. Her expression gave nothing away beyond the fact that she was furious with him.
Walsh cleared his throat. “Commander, I must insist.”
“All right, what have you got to tell me?” Quinton asked.
Walsh gestured to one of the storage containers nearby. “The PMC in this container is of vital importance.”
“Who is it?”
“This is Commander Isobe Misako. She’s an ACN intelligence officer who has a mission briefing to give us when she’s brought back online,” Walsh said.
Quinton nodded and gestured toward the other storage container. “And who’s in this one?”
“That’s Lieutenant Chloe Bradshaw, also in the Alari Navy.”
“Are there any more PMCs here?”
“I don’t think so. I knew I was going to be stored with Lieutenant Bradshaw and that Commander Misako was going to join us. But that was before…” Walsh stopped and frowned for a moment. “The Federation Wars,” he said. “Agents of Harding were everywhere. We are preparing to make a major offensive.”
“Were,” Quinton said. “The Federation Wars were a long time ago.”
“But that’s not possible. We were to be part of the vanguard.”
“Who’s we?” Becker asked.
Walsh looked at him for a moment and then turned back to Quinton.
“Go ahead. It’s all right,” Quinton said.
“You don’t know…” Walsh said. “You don’t know about the offensive? You’ve never heard about the Agents of Harding?”
“I was uploaded before the Federation Wars. I was supposed to serve in Grand Admiral Browning’s Freedom Armada for the final assault in the Wildner Sector in the Jordani Federation.”
Walsh looked away and considered this for a few moments. “You’re one of the early ones. Before the Agents… Before Harding.”
“Before Harding did what? And which Harding are we talking about here?” Quinton asked.
“Miles Harding, the original PMC. The one who paved the way for all of us,” Walsh said.
“Miles Harding,” Becker said. “The Miles Harding, the hero of the Federation Wars?”
Walsh turned toward Becker so fast it seemed like his body had simply jerked in one direction. “Harding was no hero,” he snarled.
Becker glanced at the others. “Boy, have you got a lot to learn. And you think Browning—”
“Becker!” Maelyn said. “Not now. This isn’t the time.”
Becker’s mouth hung open a little, as if he’d been about to form a word but didn’t.
“No, don’t stop,” Walsh said. “What were you going to say about Admiral Browning?”
“Maelyn’s right,” Quinton said. “We can sort this out later. This isn’t the safest place for us to be right now.”
Walsh looked at Quinton and nodded. “Understood, Commander. There’s a lot you must be brought up to speed about.”
Becker shook his head. “He’s not the only one. You really think whatever mission you had all that time ago still applies today? Don’t you realize you’ve been on standby for five or six decades? Whatever your mission was, it’s over.”
“This is one of the contingency plans. The mission parameters might’ve changed, but the mission hasn’t,” Walsh insisted.
Quinton looked at Becker. “Come on. We don’t need to do this right here. We can sort this out later.” He looked at Maelyn. “We can sort everything out after we’re off this outpost. Agreed?”
“Fine,” Maelyn said. “We have a shuttle.”
“We have a ship in the hangar bay. You sure your shuttle is going to survive the trip? The outpost is barely maintaining its altitude,” Quinton said.
Maelyn rolled her eyes and shook her head but didn’t respond. Instead, she walked over to Becker. “I need to talk to you,” she said and headed for the door. Becker looked at Quinton, shrugged, and then followed her.
Walsh walked over to one of the storage containers and activated the counter grav option from the controls. The storage container began to hover above the ground, and he did the same thing for the other one.
“Are there any unoccupied CDAs here in the outpost?” Quinton asked.
“There should be some spare units, but the computing core is down,” Walsh said.
“That was me,” Simon said. “I had to take it down because there were hundreds of systems bleeding power. I had to reroute them into other systems or disable them to keep the outpost here. Actually, I was trying to get it to go back to its original orbit but couldn’t. The outpost did have an orbit well above the atmosphere before Walsh tried to bring it back online.”
Quinton nodded. “Did you also enable the defense turrets in the corridor outside the operations center?”
Simon flinched. “Whoops. I’m sorry about that. We thought the Sentinels might try to board this place.”
“The Sentinels send in boarding parties?”
“Sometimes.”
What would be the point of that? The Sentinels that Quinton had encountered had simply destroyed their targets. He hadn’t thought they were capable of carrying out other kinds of missions.
“You almost got us,” Quinton said.
“To be fair, we didn’t know you were here, and we didn’t know you were alive. Why didn’t you contact us?” Simon asked. He'd been about to say “her,” meaning Maelyn, but he’d switched it at the last second.
“It’s a long story, Simon. It really is. Becker and the others helped me get the ship running, and then it’s just been one thing after another,” Quinton replied.
Simon regarded him for a few moments. The spacer’s boyish looks had thinned out some, giving way to the more mature man he was becoming. Experience had aged him, and Quinton realized he wasn’t going to accept such a shallow response.
“Can we talk about this later?”
Simon swallowed hard. “We thought you were dead. That you sacrificed yourself. It was hard on all of us, but it was especially hard on her. She deserved better.”
Each of his words was like a concussive blast directed at his chest. He had sacrificed himself. At least he’d meant to. He’d thought it was better to just leave well enough alone and everyone could move on.
“Fine, I’m the bad guy,” Quinton said. “But what I need now is a CDA unit because we rescued another PMC that’s stuck in a spider-drone. Will you help me with that? His name is Nash Harper, and he’s on my ship. Remember how it was with me? How hard was it to keep it together? He has access to his memories…most of them, but he’s stuck in a damn spider-drone. I’ll let you beat up on me for the length of one voyage, but first, we help him. Does that work for you?” Quinton asked bitterly.
Simon brought up his personal holoscreen, and Quinton watched as he accessed the outpost’s local computer system. “There’s another unit in storage. I can have it sent to the hangar bay where your ship is. You just need to tell me which one.”
Quinton transferred the hangar bay’s location.
Simon watched the screen for a few moments and then nodded. “It’s on its way.
Quinton looked at Walsh. “All right, let’s get these guys out of here. I’ll help you with the storage containers.”
As they guided the containers out of the operations center, Quinton glanced toward Maelyn and Becker speaking quietly by the elevator. Becker looked like he was doing most of the talking. His avatar had a highly acute auditory system, and he could have listened in on their conversation, but he didn’t bother. He could guess what was being said.
