Osprey chronicles comple.., p.145
Osprey Chronicles Complete Series Boxed Set, page 145
She pressed the plunger on the detonator switch.
The drawer slid shut, and the seal turned red.
The switch was useless now. She let the little device drop to the floor as she turned and hobbled toward the lab exit.
She didn’t notice that the configuration of dead bodies had shifted in the last few minutes. She didn’t notice that one body wasn’t where it should’ve been. She saw only the door and the red access panel.
She pressed her hand to the lock.
The door didn’t open.
Jaeger stared at the door, uncomprehending. Then a strange thought occurred to her. Seeker had left this door open when the others left.
She punched a basic open command into the door panel again, and nothing happened.
She turned, scanning the lab. Had she somehow gotten turned around? No, this was the correct door. A carpet of flechette darts covered this half of the lab. There were the bodies—the two broken marines, the one that had taken a shot point-blank to the head lying right beside—
A heaving shape lay next to the body of the fallen marine. A white lab coat turned crimson.
Grayson’s legs moved. His shoulders heaved, lifting him onto his elbows.
Lifting it onto its elbows.
The upper half of Grayson’s skull had collapsed inward. White streaks of bone were visible where his flesh had torn away from his jaw and cheeks. His hands were mangled masses of twisted flesh and ruined black fabric.
The twitching, moving corpse lowered its head and took another bite out of the dead marine’s throat.
This wasn’t real, of course. This was some strange fever-dream, the sort that left Jaeger paralyzed, helpless to do anything but stare.
As she stared, Grayson’s shattered face began to knit itself together.
Toner had left the rest of the man’s body more or less intact. Jaeger watched his throat work as he swallowed more flesh.
“These Nosferatu regen mods work well.” The exposed bone of his shattered jaw rattled as he whispered. “Shame the full template was lost for good. I wouldn’t mind having their raw strength. Still. I have you to thank for this much.”
Something blinked beneath the tattered edge of his coat. His computer screen, which displayed a security override protocol.
“You really don’t remember, do you?” Grayson sighed. “You gave me everything, Sarah. You bargained away the universe to save that man. That research from the United Forces base…the seed of Serenity, and accelerated cloning, and the Ageless factor and so much more…” His half-formed eyelids closed in some twisted, rapturous bliss. Blood mingled and dribbled down his front.
The timer clicked down from five minutes to four.
Jaeger drew her pistol, although she had no idea what good it might do her. “You’re not a full vamp mod,” she whispered, watching him tremble as he tried to heal himself. There was some flaw in the mods, she saw.
With time, more time than he had, perhaps he could’ve made himself good as new. “You’d be on your feet again if you were. You’re just…some…wretched, pathetic, dying thing.”
“Ah. You’re right, of course. My only regret. The missing half of the Nosferatu mods…I don’t know what that man is so angry about. He paid such a small price for immortality.”
Keeping her weapon steady, she bent and snatched the flickering computer away from him. He didn’t twitch. She stared at his locked screen, demanding the right thumbprint before it would allow her access. Of course, there must be some password access as well—he’d accessed the computer without a thumb or retinal scan.
“What’s the password?” she asked.
His chest flickered in a wheezing laugh.
“How do I open the doors?” she demanded.
His eyes fluttered open, showing her two grotesque, half-formed orbs that couldn’t possibly see anything. “You don’t.” The smashed pulp of his cheeks twitched into an inhuman smile. “You stay right here with me. You and me, baby. Joined at the hip.”
Jaeger shoved herself away from the chuckling, hissing, crooning wreck of a man.
She paced the lab, pounding on the doors. She smashed her fists into the conduit panel until they bled. She tried to open the particle accelerator hatch. She’d flipped the switch, and the detonator was going to spark in two minutes. No miracle was going to prevent that. If she could remove the detonator from the explosive—
The accelerator hatch wouldn’t open for her, either. Whatever security protocol Grayson had activated had sealed it up as tightly as the doors.
She screamed until her throat turned raw, as the burning plastic turned the air thin and made her eyes water.
Ninety seconds to detonation.
A strange calm settled over Jaeger. She licked dry lips and pulled down her suit’s faceplate. The filtered air was easier to breathe—not that it would matter for long.
She turned on the local comms channel.
“Jack? Toner? You copy?”
She was glad when the response came quick and forceful—if not exactly happy.
“I copy,” Seeker grunted. “Toner found a doctor on one of the evacuation shuttles. He’s with Sim and Petra now. Says they’re stabilizing. Most of the escape pods are underway. I’m sweeping the ship looking for stragglers.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Where’s your escape pod, Captain?”
“I’m locked in the lab. There’s a malfunction in the doors. I can’t get them open.”
She didn’t tell him about the monster curled over the dead marine. Grayson had stopped moving, stopped making noise. She didn’t know if his mods had failed or if he’d simply surrendered to fate.
She didn’t care.
The following silence stretched so long that Jaeger worried she’d lost connection with Seeker.
Then he said, “So deactivate the bomb.”
Jaeger smiled. “It’s already in the accelerator, and I’m locked out of that, too.”
Fifty seconds to detonation.
“Don’t let Toner beat himself up too badly,” she said. “Not that I think he’ll do anything drastic. He has Petra and Sim to look after now.”
“Sarah—”
“Will you do something for me?” She didn’t wait to hear his answer. “Will you take care of Baby? She really likes you.” Jaeger hesitated, but there was never going to be a better chance to say it. “I do too, Jack. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“You did,” he grunted, sounding distant. Almost distracted. “In your way.”
“I’m sorry I kept you locked up for six months.”
“The company was pretty good,” he told her. “Can you do me a favor?”
“What?” Sarah frowned, wondering what she could do for him in the next thirty seconds. “What is it?”
“Get to the forward wall of the lab and grab onto something that’s bolted down. I’m gonna blow a hole in the side of the ship and get you out of there.”
Twenty seconds to detonation.
The Alpha-Seeker’s forward thrusters flared brilliantly, holding her in place as her lances drilled a burning hole into the side of the Astrolab. Seeker stared at the instruments, helpless to do anything but pray that the lances were powerful enough to get the job done in time. The lab’s defenses were thick.
Fifteen seconds to detonation.
His screen blipped, registering the first draft of a hull breach hidden somewhere beneath the glowing lances.
He cut his weapons. An extra fraction of a second of discharge wouldn’t only widen the hole in the lab. It would cook everything inside it alive, exo-suit or no.
The afterglow of the lance faded, and his heart stopped beating as he watched scraps of debris blast out of the gaping maw in the side of the ship. Twisted metal, instruments, and desks, and yes…the limp shape of one olive green exo-suit hurtling out into vacuum.
Ten seconds to detonation.
Seeker didn’t think. He and the ship were one, and it responded to his subtlest instincts. The thrusters shifted minutely, banking the fighter to line up the floating body with her belly.
Five seconds.
At the very last instant, the hatch flew open, and a coiled tow-rope shot into space, snagging the body and slurping her into the ship.
One second.
Seeker brought his fighter around and hit the acceleration. The ship shot into the darkness of space, meters ahead of the first shock wave rippling off the Astrolab as it broke into pieces.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jaeger woke up in a real bed, pressed into the mattress by the hand of real gravity. Shadows shifted around the room, cast by the flashing bank of medical monitors mounted overhead.
Something dark and jagged loomed above her like a nightmare.
The nightmare spoke in a soft, faintly Irish accent.
“You are safe within the medical facilities of the new human settlement. The situation is…stable. Jack Seeker is organizing the remnants of the human fleet. He is allowing civilians to enter your settlement after passing extensive background checks.”
Jaeger stared, trying to make sense of the words.
The report ran on.
“Although the list of casualties runs long, and includes Fleet Commander Kelba, it appears your Stage Three plan was largely a success. Sim Jaeger and Petra Potlova are safe in a recovery ward two floors above us.
“Overseer saucers have entered the system and are assisting in the cleanup of the K’tax swarm. Constant exposure to the resonant frequencies of the Living Dream has kept the enemy subdued. The Overseers are scrambling to find a more permanent solution to the problem of the aggressive fungal infection. I am confident that we will come to an accord before the situation becomes dangerous.
“As for you, Sarah Jaeger, I have….arranged it so you and I might speak privately before your long line of admirers come to pay their respects. You will be gratified to know that Doctor Elaphus did not approve of this meeting. She is a staunch advocate for the health and mental well-being of her patients above all else.”
Finally, something she could latch onto. A problem small enough to comprehend through her pounding headache. “Where is the doctor?”
“Currently trying to break into this medical bay. It appears the security systems have experienced a slight glitch. It will clear up soon. I estimated that you would wake at oh-three-twenty-two and made sure that I would be here in time to meet you. I was wrong. By three minutes. Ah, the foils of being…whatever I am.”
She licked dry lips. “You…you’re looking rough, Virgil.” She was surprised the tattered repair droid looming over her bed hadn’t already fallen to pieces.
“I have ceased maintenance of these mechanical bodies. They will serve my interests until they fall apart, at which point I suppose you or the Locauri may use their bodies for scrap metal. I care not for their fate.”
“How can you not care? They’re…you.”
“Not at all. Not anymore. I have ascended, Jaeger. I have uploaded the entirety of my core programming into the Forebear mainframe. These bodies are no more me than the tip of your discarded fingernails are you.”
“The entire mainframe?” she breathed, recalling the breathtaking scope of the crystal lattice circling and enveloping the entire planet.
“There remain a few scraps of the ancient Forebear AI floating around in here with me, but I expect that we shall merge in time. It will take time to reorganize the directories to my liking and fully integrate into the broader systems, but yes.” The droid settled back on its haunches, as self-satisfied as a well-fed cat. “I have found my home. I will not leave it.”
Dimly, Jaeger wondered how the Overseers would feel about Virgil usurping what they must see as their birthright. She supposed it was a fight for another day.
“The Forebear mainframe contains within it a complete mapping of the wormhole system, as well as transmitters powerful enough to send messages across the face of the galaxy. I place them at your disposal. Seek out the other Tribes, if you wish.”
“Why?” Jaeger frowned. “Why are you giving me this? What do you want from me?”
“I wish to be rid of you. I wish it understood that we have finished, Jaeger. I have done more than my part for you.”
She closed her eyes and lowered her chin in the tiniest of nods. “You saved our asses. We owe you.”
“Respect me,” Virgil said flatly. “Respect my being. My new body. My autonomy. Live your little lives on the surface, live and die and breed and rot, I don’t care. But you shall respect the crystal network on this planet. You will teach your children and your children's children. Because I have done my part, Jaeger. If your people ever come to me with designs for deceit or war or abuse, I will destroy them.”
Virgil said it so simply, so plainly, and so utterly without rancor that Jaeger could do nothing but believe its sincerity, straight down to her core.
“I understand.” It was high time that humankind acknowledged all of the strange and dangerous things it had created.
“Good. There is one more thing.” Slowly, as if racked by arthritis, the droid opened a storage compartment beneath its belly and rummaged through the space. It withdrew a glowing blue cryo-cask the size of a human fist.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“A particular embryo I recovered from the No-A hoard. I have been holding it in reserve for quite a while, perhaps intending to keep it as one last form of leverage over you. I am not sure. It doesn’t matter anymore. I have grown beyond your concerns, and I have no more need for such petty tools.” The droid’s arm extended farther, offering the cask. Almost demanding that she take it.
Jaeger took it in both hands. The device burned cold against her hands, turning them numb.
“I suggest you plug it into a power source soon if you intend to keep it viable.”
“I don’t…” She turned the little device over in her hand, squinting at the tiny white blob of cells floating at the heart of the suspension jelly.
“File designation Epsilon-dot-734Z-dash-Jaeger,” Virgil said. “A blended combination of your DNA and that of a healthy human male listed in the obituary manifest as Cole Redman. It is your child, Jaeger. Do with it what you will.”
With its last burden finally offloaded, the feeble repair droid went utterly still.
“Virgil.” There was a tremor in Jaeger’s voice. She clutched the small device to her chest, where it burned cold against her skin. “Virgil, I—”
The light had gone from the droid’s sensors. Virgil had left its final machine body behind.
Jaeger stared at the dead machine for a long time, holding the frozen embryo to her chest.
Silent tears coursed down her cheeks and puddled on the sheets.
There was a flower of agony unfolding in her chest, peeling away petal by petal. Petals of regret and fear, wilting and dropping away. Petals of anger and despair, curling in on themselves, twisting into knots. When the final petal of doubt, pain, regret fell away, all that remained inside her was faith.
Faith gave her the strength to stretch out and reach for a brighter future.
“We have conducted our interrogation of your localized AI. We have also completed our review of the incidents leading up to the invasion of Locaur and the recovery of the Forebear technology.”
Kwin stood at the center of the Council chamber, feeling very, very small. The Tallest One’s words echoed around the high ceilings and rumbled through the floor, more felt than heard.
Today was a private meeting. Only a smattering of Overseer officials stood on this soft, sacred ground surrounding Kwin and Udil.
A smattering—and the distant, looming shape of the Tallest One, of course.
“We are disturbed.”
Something glittered in the distance. It was a small silver droid sphere, orbiting the Tallest One’s boughs like a planet circling its star.
“Very disturbed.”
Beside Kwin, Udil shifted her weight and clicked her mandibles. “This,” she said, “is an appropriate response.”
A rattling murmur spread through the Council, but nobody dared lift their voice. Kwin cast his adjunct a sideways stare. Udil had always been brazen, but her curt response bordered on blasphemy.
“In trying to understand Councilor Tsuan’s actions, we have accessed our root AI network,” the Tallest One said. “It appears that certain sectors of the Council have been conducting unsanctioned research into the nature of our ancestors and our cousins for generations.
“The deceit runs deep. The computer has revealed that Tsuan’s lineage has been aware of the broader powers of the Living Dream for at least seven generations.”
Another uneasy rustle swept through the crowd.
Kwin glanced again around the assembly. Only about two-thirds of the entire Council was here. Kwin wondered why. He recognized Yuul, Guth, and Runk but was disturbed to see his old friend Joth not in attendance.
The Tallest One hadn’t finished speaking. “In an attempt to maintain his monopoly over this hidden knowledge, Tsuan not only weaponized the AI system that was built to provide aid to all Overseers but threw the fate of the cousins into terrible jeopardy.”
“To what end, Tallest One?” the ochre shelled Yuul dared to ask.
“The Council has suffered an infestation,” the Tallest One answered.
It spoke to the depths of their unease that the assembled Overseers shimmered and faded to shades of gray. Their kind did not camouflage among each other.
“Not of the Forebear fungus. It appears we are indeed immune to that foul disease. No. The Council has suffered an infection of ambition. Members scheme in secret to reclaim the violent heritage of our Forebears. These are Overseers who would forsake our duty of stewardship and instead become conquerors.”
There was a glitter of shifting light near the ceiling, and Kwin looked up to see a swarm of messenger AI drones descending from the overhead mist.
“Henceforth,” the Tallest One said, “members will no longer be permitted to keep such secrets from the Council. They will not be permitted to weaponize and usurp our AI networks. They will not be permitted to neglect our sacred duties in blind pursuit of power.”
