Terminus (Fringe Worlds #1) (4 page)

“Two reasons,” Maker replied. “One, I was still trying to save the head, since it might be able to tell us more about what had happened. And two, I thought it might serve as a distraction for the rest of us, assuming we made it back to the shuttle.

“In the end, it worked out great. I don’t think our attackers realized that the sick bay could break away, because the one I was fighting jerked his head left and right, as if confused about what was happening. I used the opportunity to swipe one of his legs with my own. The shaking already had him off-balance, so when I tripped him, he fell over onto his back.

“His arms and legs started wriggling madly. He wasn’t stuck, but just like a lot of Old Earth insects, he had trouble getting up from a recumbent position. As I got to my feet, he stopped struggling long enough to swing at me with the lance, but from the way he was laying, he couldn’t get power or accuracy. I gripped it by the shaft, then yanked it away from him.

“Remembering Cho, I sliced down at him with the blade – not knowing where any weak spot was, just trying to do some damage. He twisted wildly, and the blade ended up connecting with one of the middle arms, severing it almost where it joined his body. If I thought his limbs were wriggling crazily before I was wrong, because now he was like an insane octopus.

“Before I could strike again, there was movement in the corridor that I had tossed the flash grenade into before. The bugs in there were recovering. I flung the lance in that direction, not knowing if it was going to hit anything, then I turned and gave the one on top of the shuttle with me a good solid kick in the side.

“I didn’t hold anything back, and with the armor augmenting the force of my punt, he went flying. A second or so later, he was outside the shuttle’s gravity and started to float.

“Satisfied, I scrambled into the shuttle. Powell was still strapping Bennett in, so I jumped into the pilot’s seat and took us out of there, not even bothering to take my helmet off. Surprisingly, our ship was still there, waiting.”

Browing lifted an eyebrow. “And that was surprising because…?”

“The entire time we’d been fighting our way back to the derelict’s landing bay, I had been in contact with our ship, the
Orpheus Moon
. She was helmed by Captain Wendren, a good man. I had ordered him to take off as soon as the attack started, but he hadn’t.”

“Wait a minute,” Dr. Chantrey said. “You were a master sergeant – a non-commissioned officer. Since when does a NCO give a captain orders?”

“I can answer that,” General Kroner interjected. “The captain was in charge of the ship, but Gant was in command of the mission. As his assignment took priority, Gant had the authority to direct Captain Wendren’s actions.”

“As I was saying,” Maker continued, “Captain Wendren disregarded my order to leave. Even more, he kept the ship’s shields down so that our shuttle could make it back. And we almost did.

“We were closing in on the landing bay when this vessel just appeared out of nowhere. It was an alien construct – again, something foreign to my experience – but there was no doubt that it was a warship. Cannons, turrets, missile tubes…after enough campaigns, you learn to recognize weapons, no matter how exotic the design. And the barrel swinging towards us was another dead giveaway.

“A second later we got hit by…something. Whatever they nailed us with, it wasn’t like laser or plasma fire, shearing through metal like a giant overheated scalpel. Instead, it was like a fist punching through a paper bag; one second we were fine, and the next, the rear portion of the shuttle – where Bennett had been – was pretty much ripped away. As for Powell, he hadn’t strapped in. Even worse, he’d taken his helmet off. He was sucked out into the void, screaming.

“We were already on our final approach when the shuttle got hit. Afterwards, I fought like the devil just to crash the thing. As it was, the shuttle scraped along one wall, gouging the metal of the hull but, thankfully, not piercing it. Then it skidded along the bay floor, sparks flying like fireworks, before banging into another shuttle and coming to a halt.

“I unstrapped myself and raced out of the shuttle through the torn-open rear. Klaxons were sounding all over, and the bay doors were already in the process of closing. I dashed through the airlock and into the ship proper as fast as the doors would open, heading straight for the bridge. All the while, the ship was shaking like it was dead center in an earthquake, and I knew that we were getting battered by whatever weapon they had used on the shuttle.

“When I got to the bridge, Wendren was just giving the order to go to hyperspace. We jumped. At that point, we all felt relief. Whoever – whatever – it was that had attacked us, we’d left them behind now.

“We had about a second to pat ourselves on the backs, because a few moments after we appeared, the ship started getting battered again. It was the alien vessel; it had popped up next to us. They had followed us through hyperspace.

“It took us a moment to collectively get over our shock. Outside of convoys with synced navigation systems, ships don’t usually jump with each other like that.

“Captain Wendren recovered pretty quickly. He ordered another jump, and a second later we were gone. When we reappeared in normal space, it was another short reprieve. The alien ship had followed us again and continued its relentless attack.

“We had been firing on them, but our weapons weren’t particularly effective. They had targeted our big guns – the cannons – when they first appeared, so we’d lost those early on. Basically, our offensive capabilities were limited, so we jumped a third time. Needless to say, they came out of hyperspace right next to us again.

“At this point, our ship was practically a wreck. The aliens had punched holes through us like we were wet tissue. And then, they hit us with some kind of bioshock weapon. It was like a lightning bolt passed through the ship. It didn’t really appear to affect systems, only people – or rather, living organisms. We probably lost ninety percent of the crew right then and there. Those that didn’t die immediately were pretty much incapacitated…limbs scorched, skin fried to a crisp. They weren’t going to live long.”

“How did you get through unscathed?” Dr. Chantrey asked.

“Again, I was still in my armor,” Maker replied. “Their weapon scrambled my suits systems a little, but didn’t really cause any damage. But I was probably the only person on the ship still of sound body at that point, unless you count Erlen, who didn’t seem to have been affected.” He nodded towards the alien, which was resting in a corner of the room.

“Wait,” Browing interjected. “Your pet was with you? On a classified mission?”

Maker gave him a direct, almost furious stare. “I told you before, he’s not a pet. And yes, he was with us. Where I go, he goes.”

Browing appeared to be on the verge of saying something else, but the general cut him off. “I don’t think Browing meant anything by his question. Please finish telling us the rest of your story.”

Still glaring at Browing, Maker went on. “Wendren and the bridge crew were all either dead or completely out of commission at that point, like everyone else on the ship. The aliens stopped firing; I think they assumed that we had all succumbed, in one fashion or another. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were going to be boarding us shortly. I checked the navigation systems and power levels. We had enough juice for maybe one more jump, but it wasn’t going to do any good if they just followed us. I decided to take a gamble that would hopefully be too rich for their blood.”

Maker paused for a second. Even though they were surely aware of what happened next, this is where his story got
really
crazy.

“No need for the dramatic pause,” Browing said after a moment, clearly impatient. “What did you do?”

Maker sighed. “I overrode the navigation system…altered the protocols, annulled the safeties, everything. Then I plotted a nine-point jump and sent the ship into hyperspace.”

Chapter 2

Compared to interviewers in the past, they’d actually let him tell much of his story without interruption, reserving many of their questions until he’d finished – something for which Maker found himself grateful. It wasn’t that it was difficult for him to talk about what happened; he just preferred to tell the tale as quickly and succinctly as possible. When questions came in the middle of his narrative, it felt as though he was never going to get through. Now that he was finished, however, the questions started rolling out in machine-gun fashion.

“When you first encountered the derelict ship,” Browing started to say, “couldn’t you have simply noted the ship’s position? Couldn’t you have returned to base and then sent help back?”

“We didn’t know what the emergency was. Being adrift, they might not be in the same spot when help arrived. Hell, another ship might not have even gotten close enough to pick up the signal – assuming it was still broadcasting at that point.”

“I’m more interested in the nine-point jump,” Dr. Chantrey stated. “How did that end?”

“The ship practically disintegrated upon re-entry into normal space,” Maker said. “We exited well within the Hub, apparently causing a slight bit of panic since we came out of nowhere.”

Panic was putting it mildly. Early on, one of the first uses conceived of for hyperspace travel was military applications. Got a world that’s giving you trouble? Then just pop out of hyperspace, drop a dozen planetbusters in their direction, then zip away. With that in mind, laws restricting hyperspace travel got passed pretty quickly. As a result, the only hyperspace travel allowed inside the Hub was via jump gates – giant ovals in space that essentially acted like humongous slingshots, flinging ships through H-space to their destinations. (In fact, the gates were indispensable modes of travel for many alien ships, which were required to have their jump drives completely disengaged when passing anywhere through Gaian Space more centric than the Inner Rim.)

As an added precaution, the ship navigation systems that controlled jump drives were manufactured with a built-in kill switch, an automatic regulator that operated on the basis of proximity. In other words, a jump drive simply wouldn’t work anywhere within the Hub (nor within some regions of the Mezzo). In fact, the auto-regulator wouldn’t allow a ship to drop out of hyperspace any closer than two jump-points from the Hub.

Theoretically, it was possible to override the kill switch, but it was synced with navigation in such a way that any attempt to pervert the system was supposed to scramble the astro-coordinates. Simply put, if a ship made such a jump, there was no telling where it would exit hyperspace.

Bearing all that in mind, the sudden appearance of Maker’s ship had caused something along the lines of hysteria. In making his jump, he hadn’t just done the impossible; he’d done the inconceivable.

“Some time after re-entry, I lost consciousness,” Maker continued. “I came to in an ambulatory vessel. A couple of medics were trying to make sure I was okay, but Erlen wouldn’t let them come near me. I felt fine, so I basically discharged myself from their care.”

“And then?” Browing asked.

“I was essentially placed under house arrest,” Maker stated flatly. “Held in solitary confinement until someone of appropriate rank and authority could arrive to debrief me.” He glanced at the general, who said nothing.

“About a day later,” Maker said, “I gave my report to a panel of three general officers. Then I spent the next six months telling the same story over and over again to an endless barrage of people – specialists in various fields.”

“Specialists?” Dr. Chantrey asked.

“Military officers, doctors, scientists…” Maker said, trailing off. “The military wanted to know about the aliens and weapons we allegedly encountered. Doctors wanted to know how the hyperspace journey had affected me mentally and physically. And, of course, everybody – especially the scientists – wanted to know how I pulled off the jump.”

“I wouldn’t mind knowing that myself,” Browing said. “You mentally plotted and successfully executed a nine-point jump in under five minutes. You want to explain how you managed that?

“I had a powerful incentive,” Maker answered, “called ‘wanting to live.’”

Browing snorted in disdain, clearly dissatisfied with Maker’s response. Erlen, plodding over to stand next to Maker, let out a low, rumbling growl.

“No,” Maker said, seemingly in reply to the Niotan’s snarls. “Not just yet.”

A look of surprise crossed Browing’s face, and his gaze shot from Maker to Erlen, then back again. “Did it speak?” he asked. “What did it say?”

Maker seemed to consider for a moment before responding. “He wants to know if he should kill you.”

As if in confirmation, Erlen suddenly spat on Browing’s hat. The spittle, acting like some advanced corrosive, began eating up the cap like acid.

“My spectrum-tam!” Browing screamed, reaching for the hat. Somehow, showing incredible responses and reflexes, Maker got there and placed an iron grip around the man’s wrist before contact could be made.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Maker said. “Unless you’ve got a wild desire to lose some fingers.”

Browing angrily shook him off, and then gave him a look of utter fury. “Do you know what those cost?!” he shouted, pointing at the remnants of his hat.

“Probably less than a new hand,” Maker said, smiling.

Browing looked like he was on the verge of taking a swing at Maker, something that would have been completely ill-advised given the latter’s military and martial training.

“So,” Dr. Chantrey said, clearly trying to defuse the situation. “What happened next, Sergeant?”

Maker took a step back, putting some space between himself and Browing, just in case the man decided to do something stupid.

“About six months after the incident, the military issued its official report,” Maker said. “Their conclusion was that somewhere during our mission, the ship’s hyperspace shields began malfunctioning. The result was that it exposed the entire crew to something…exotic.”

Dr. Chantrey nodded in understanding. Hyperspace as a region was generally acknowledged to be unknown in a great many respects. It contained – among other things – obscure forces, unidentified radiation, and strange forms of matter. A ship’s shields normally guarded against any of these; failure of those shields, however… She’d heard horrific stories of what that could lead to.

“In essence, the report stated that the failure of the shields allowed significant damage to occur to the vessel while we were in hyperspace, which ultimately led to the deaths of the majority of the crew,” Maker continued. “With respect to me, the official statement was that whatever penetrated our ship caused me to become mentally unstable – imagine we were under attack. Thus, while under this delusion, I bypassed the navigation system and made my infamous jump. In the end, they couldn’t pinpoint exactly why or how I did what I did, but I couldn’t be trusted any longer. It also didn’t help that word somehow leaked out about what I’d done, so people started calling me little nicknames. ‘Maniac’ Maker, ‘Madman’ Maker…stuff like that. I was placed on leave for another six months, then forced to take early retirement for ‘medical reasons.’”

“So they didn’t believe you,” Dr. Chantrey noted. “Why not?”

Maker shrugged. “They said the ship’s remnants were imbued with a strange radiation, among other things, but they didn’t find the kind of damage that would have been consistent with any known weapons.”

“Well, could they have retraced your steps?” Browing asked, apparently over the loss of his headgear. “Maybe sent a warship back to see if they could find the alien ship you mentioned?”

Maker shook his head in the negative. “Once I overrode the navigation system and disabled the kill-switch, the coordinates scrambled. So, while the nav system could confirm that we’d made a nine-point jump, it couldn’t provide any specific info on exactly where we’d come from.”

Browing frowned. “If it muddled the coordinates, how’d you manage to get even close to Gaian Space – let alone the Hub?”

Maker gave an unconcerned shrug. “The program that scrambles the coordinates doesn’t do so completely at random. At least part of it is based on an algorithm.”

“So, you figured out the formulaic portion of it,” Dr. Chantrey concluded, “allowing you to control at least a portion of the jump.”

“That’s the theory,” Maker said, nodding in agreement. “But I wasn’t able to reproduce the same outcome in a simulator, no matter how often I tried; the ship always ended up in an unknown region of space. Ultimately, they concluded that whatever had caused my mental instability must have also increased my natural acumen, albeit only temporarily – similar to the way a lot of geniuses are also crazy.”

Dr. Chantrey gave a sympathetic nod. “I can only imagine the kind of nightmares you must have about all this. Losing your men…”

“Doctor,” Maker said almost contemptuously, “I appreciate the attempt at psychoanalysis, but I sleep just fine. My men were Marines; we knew that any of us could buy it at any time, on any mission, for any reason. And we all made our peace with that a long time before this happened. And now that I’ve done my song-and-dance, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.”

There was silence for a moment as Browing sent an inquisitive glance towards Kroner, who nodded. Browing then pulled a holodisk from his pocket. He held it face-up in his palm, and a second later, a three-dimensional holographic image appeared in the air above the disk.

The hologram depicted the head on an insectile alien, encased in armor. On top of its helmet was what appeared to be the bony cranium of some wild, horned animal.

Maker drew in a harsh breath. It was
him
.

Skullcap.