Alarms were blaring, internal inertial dampeners and artificial gravity
generators were faltering, and sparks were flying. Everything was falling
apart. They were suffering severe damage from the onslaught of weapons
fire. The teleportation field was not designed to handle this much debris
all at once. “Who the hell is shooting at us?” Leona shouted.
“No idea, Captain! Sensors are down!” Marie cried back.
“Twenty-eight percent of the objects are crossing the teleportation field!”
Angela added. “Some of them are hitting uncomfortably close to the
generators themselves!”
“Slingdrive!” Leona questioned.
“Overheated!” Angela replied.
“Reframe engine!”
“Offline!”
“Teleporter drive!”
“Where should we teleport?” Marie asked. “Our sensors are down. We could be
jumping deeper into the battlefield.”
“We don’t even know if it’s a battlefield,” Angela noted.
“At least tell me we’re still in full stealth mode,” Leona asked.
“Yes,” Angela confirmed, “but we are taking hits, and whoever is
firing might have a predictive algorithm that measures the trajectory of its
projectiles, which could lead it to detecting a discrepancy in the final
trajectory results.”
That was an insightful answer. The team was learning. Though, it would have
been really nice to have Ramses here, or even Mateo with his idea to shoot
people with solid holograms.
“Sir?” Marie prompted. “Do you want us to fire back?”
“We purged the hot pocket before we left,” Leona reasoned. “We have nothing
to fire.”
“The hits were taking on are recharging it,” Marie explained. “We’re not at
full capacity, but we have something.”
Leona shook her head. “Like you said, we don’t have sensors. We would be
shooting blind.” She sighed. “Helmets on. I’m gonna shrink us down to model
size...lower our surface area.”
“Can we survive that?” Angela asked.
“Ramses tested it in Stoutverse. Helmets on. Where the hell is Olimpia?” As
if to answer, the hits suddenly stopped. “What just happened?” Leona asked.
“I did, Captain,” Olimpia replied through comms. “On screen.”
The monitor turned itself on. It was fuzzy from the damage, but they could
see enough. Olimpia was somewhere else, holding a knife to Bronach Oaksent’s
throat. “We got eem.”
“You have nothing,” Bronach contended.
“If that were true,” Olimpia began, “why did you stop firing?”
Bronach didn’t answer.
“He’s got a teleportation block on now,” Olimpia said to Leona. “I don’t
know why he didn’t have it activated before, but I can’t escape, and you
can’t come get me.”
“What’s your, uhh...endgame here, Pia?” Leona asked.
“You kill me, they’ll kill you seconds later,” Bronach said to Olimpia,
surely referring to the crowd of guardsmen standing at the ready behind
them.
“I don’t understand,” Leona said, confused. “If you knew we would be here,
why would you come yourself? Why not just send an army of redshirts?”
“I didn’t know you would be here,” Bronach clarified. “I was shooting at
them.”
“Sensors back online,” Angela announced. The rest of the monitors switched
on, giving them the panoramic view of their surroundings. They were indeed
in the middle of a battlefield. A fleet of ships were at their port while
another was at their starboard. It looked very neat and organized, like a
battle formation that the Regulars liked to use during the Revolutionary
War. Not very efficient, and too restrained. They were not in any star
system, but apparently out in interstellar space somewhere.
“How do you suppose we’re gonna rectify this situation?” Leona asked
Bronach.
“Well, I was thinking that your bitch here could put down her knife so I can
pick it up, and slit her pretty little throat. Then you could stick your
heads between your legs, and kiss your kitties goodbye—”
“That’s enough,” Leona said defiantly. She turned an imaginary dial in the
air, which prompted the computer to genuinely mute Bronach’s words. She
stood there for a while, staring at her enemy in the eyes. His lips weren’t
moving anymore, but that didn’t mean he was finished expressing his vulgar
thoughts. She turned to Angela for a private conversation. “Do you know
where they are? Which ship, which part of it?”
“It’s the big one that looks like a compensator,” Angela answered. “Specifically,
they are in the tip.”
“They have a real viewport to the outside?”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
Leona turned the dial back. “Are you done acting like a child?” she asked
him.
“Are you done acting like a—?” he started to respond until Olimpia tightened
her grip around his neck. “Yes, I’m done. I don’t know how to resolve this.”
“Olimpia,” Leona said with a raised voice.
“Sir!”
“Remember that show we watched together, with the guy in green tights?”
“Sir?” Olimpia asked, puzzled.
“I pointed out one of the characters, who’s a lot like you.”
Olimpia thought about it. “I think I remember that. Are you asking for me to
put on a performance?”
Leona sighed. “Sing your heart out.”
Without letting go of Bronach, Olimpia pulled off the necklace that she used
to suppress her echo powers. She screamed towards the screen as loud as she
could. It didn’t take long before the feed was disrupted by the noise. The
VA’s monitor automatically switched to the next interesting thing that the
sensors were picking up. The window on the tip of the phalloship had
shattered, and dozens of people were being expelled into the cold vacuum of
space. The view narrowed in on Olimpia, who was still holding onto Bronach.
They expected all the guardsmen to die, but they were still moving around;
not convulsing, but reaching out towards their weapons. Some of them were
too far away, but they had backups in their holsters. They weren’t human.
“Shit,” Leona muttered under her breath.
“She needs to let go,” Angela decided. “We don’t want him on our ship. She
needs to let go of him, and teleport.”
“She can hear you,” Leona explained, tapping on her comms. “Olimpia. Let him
go and teleport back in.”
The guards all had their guns trained on her. Olimpia seemingly managed to
disappear just in time before the bullets started flying. They shot up
Bronach’s body instead. He apparently was still human.
“Get us out of here,” Leona ordered the twins. She jumped to the infirmary,
where Olimpia was already lying down in a medical pod, beginning to
convalesce. “Report.”
Olimpia opened her mouth.
“Not you. Computer, report.”
“Patient is suffering from mild hypoxia and minor subcutaneous emphysema.
There is also a single gunshot graze just over her left ear. Body
temperature is low, but rising. Prognosis: the patient will recover within
the hour.”
“You did a brave thing,” Leona said to Olimpia.
“Thanks—thanks—thanks,” Olimpia replied in an echo. She reached up with her
necklace to try to put it back on.
Leona gently took it from her. “Just rest. We’ll reattach it once you’re
fully recovered.” She felt that Olimpia was distressed and confused. “The
scream. It took a lot out of you. That’s why you’re not recovering as fast
as you would have. Hopefully you’ll never have to do that again.”
Olimpia nodded, then looked back up towards the ceiling, and closed her
eyes.
Leona almost jumped out of her shoes when she saw Tertius walk into the room
out of the corner of her eye. “I forgot you were still aboard.”
“I stayed off the bridge,” he began to explain. “I don’t have much
experience with this kind of technology. I would just be in the way.”
“It would have been fine had you been there,” Leona said. “But you can stay
with her now, let me go back.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Leona returned to the bridge. They were currently traveling at reframe
speeds, zigging and zagging to confuse anyone trying to track them, as well
as occasionally teleporting to random vectors. “Good strategy. I appreciate
you taking over.”
“How’s our girl look?” Marie asked.
Leona tapped her comms off, so Olimpia couldn’t hear. “Not great, but she’ll
get through it.”
“We intercepted a transmission,” Angela said. “Bronach’s not dead. I don’t
know how he survived, they didn’t give any details, but they’re confident.”
“I’m not surprised,” Leona responded. “I shouldn’t expect it to be that
easy. Maybe he has an upgraded body too, or persistent consciousness backup,
or some other wacky contingency. Right now, we have to focus on finding
Mirage.”
“I made contact, but I think we should hold off on a rendezvous,” Marie
explained. “I suggest we intentionally destabilize attitude control for half
an hour, and vacillate the power conduits to appear derelict. If we’ve been
tracked, I don’t want us to lead them to Mirage’s location.”
“Another good idea,” Leona said. “I don’t think y’all need a captain
anymore. Computer, can you do as she said?”
“Randomizing maneuvering thruster activations, and power distribution
systems now.”
While they were waiting, Olimpia continued to recover, and Leona looked over
the diagnostics for the slingdrive to make sure that it was recharging, and
going through the proper automated maintenance procedures. Ramses had
installed a coherence gauge, which measured the drive’s readiness factors,
boiling them down to a color-coded scale. Red meant that it was too early to
make another safe jump. Violet meant that it was fully charged, stable, and
ready to go. He warned against using it again until it was at least in
Green. Right now, it was still on Orange, so it was likely at least a couple
of hours from being ready. Leona also finally realized that it was July 5,
2487. They had jumped a year into the future. The navigation system was
not calibrating correctly, so Ramses would have to look at it again.
They had to get back to Castlebourne first, though, which might be a bit of
an issue. A ship was on approach.
Leona jumped back from the engineering section. “Have they announced
themselves?”
“No, sir,” Angela replied. “Should we open a channel?”
Leona watched the main monitor. The VA was spinning—supposedly out of
control—but the computer was compensating for this, and keeping the image of
the other ship straight. “No. If they think we’re derelict, we want them to
keep thinking that. We’ll only react if they send a message, or launch a
salvage team. I’m not sure if the people in the Goldilocks Corridor do
that.”
“They might shoot us out of the sky,” Angela said. “They’re powering
weapons.”
“Ready the hot pocket, but keep all available power queued to plasma
shields.”
“We have plasma shields now?” Marie asked. “That wasn’t in the lessons.”
“They’re untested, and a huge power drain,” Leona said to her. “But they’ll
stop pretty much anything. The EM deflector array isn’t as effective, and
the teleporter field only works with projectiles. But yes, we technically
have all three now.”
“Why aren’t they firing?” Marie questioned.
“The guns aren’t pointed towards us,” Angela said as she was looking
at the screen. “They’re pointed at nothing. Maybe they need to occasionally
purge too, like our hot pocket?”
“Wouldn’t explain why they don’t just kill two birds with one stone, and use
it against us,” Marie offered.
“They’re firing,” Angela said.
They were indeed projectiles; missiles, to be exact. Two of them flew off in
the same general direction for no apparent reason. Suddenly, though, another
ship appeared, right in their path. They had no time to react before the
missiles struck the hull simultaneously, and all but vaporized them.
“Vellani Ambassador, this is Captain Mirage Matic of the Enlister. We know
you’re playing opossum. Please respond.”
Leona just nodded at Marie, who opened the channel for her. “Mirage, it’s
good to hear from you. This is Leona.”
“Welcome back, stepmom,” Mirage said with humor in her voice.
“Restore normal operations,” Leona ordered the twins. “Mirage, we would like
to negotiate a new conflict tactic, if you’re up for it,” she said into the
mic.
“Allow me on board, and I’ll teleport right quick.”
Leona nodded again. “Direct her jump to Delegation Hall, please.” She jumped
over there herself, just before Mirage showed up. They shook hands. “Where’s
Niobe?”
“Still on the Enlister,” Mirage answered. She looked around. “I’ve been
scanning your systems. You’ve made some upgrades.”
“I hope that’s okay.”
“This here ship is yourn now. I heard about the Rock Meetings. Nice to know
you’re using it for diplomacy, as was its original premise.”
“Yes, and we would like to keep using it for nonviolent purposes, though not
necessarily diplomatic discussions. Before we talk about that, I have a more
pressing question. We killed Bronach Oaksent, but he survived. Do you have
intel on that? Is he posthuman?”
Mirage laughed. “No. He has the Philosopher’s Stone.”
Leona tilted her chin. “As in...Nicholas Flammel?”
“As in the dome of the Insulator of Life.”
“That’s where that is,” Leona whispered. “It’s powerful enough on its own?”
“The Philosopher’s Stone is more powerful on its own. There are four
main components of the Insulator: the actual insulator, the revitalizer, the
primary memory chamber, and the regulator. The first one is the exterior of
the glass itself, so the dome contains part of it—enough of it to maintain
someone’s life under certain circumstances. The rest of the dome is the
revitalizer, as well as temporary memory storage. When all four components
are combined, the regulator prevents the revitalizer from generating a new
substrate for someone in storage. That’s why you have to transfer someone’s
consciousness into a clone, or an android, or whatever.”
“So without the regulator, the stone can just make a new body.”
“It’s not that it can, it’s that it will. There’s no way to control
it. It’s like a computer without I/Os. I think it takes a few days, but it
will do it whether you want it to or not.”
“So he’s effectively immortal, as long as he has the stone in his
possession.”
“There’s a downside,” Mirage goes on. “Once it resurrects you, you’re bonded
to it. You’re the only one who can use it until this bond subsides. If
someone else uses it, you will experience their damage. So in this case,
it’s bonded to the Oaksent. If, say, his lieutenant takes possession, and
gets a cut on his arm, a cut will appear on Oaksent’s arm. If he breaks his
leg, he breaks Oaksent’s leg.”
“And if he dies?” Leona proposed.
“If the lieutenant dies, he basically steals Oaksent’s life. Oaksent will
die for good, the lieutenant will live again. But then he has to keep it
protected until his own bond fades.”
“How long does that take?”
“I’ve never seen it firsthand, but I believe months; maybe a year. I think
the time gets extended when you keep using it. So if you cut your own arm
every day, the bond will never dissipate. I’m not sure why you would want
that as I consider it a bug, not a feature, but I dunno.”
Leona stared into space, and nodded. “I don’t wanna kill anyone, but...”
“I know. Is that why you’re here?” Mirage asked. “Is this a reluctant
assassination attempt?”
“What?” She came out of her trance. “Oh, no. It’s a rescue mission. Rather,
a rescue operation. I’d like to see you captain this ship once
more...for a new crew.”
