Part 7

The bridge of First Observance was in stunned silence. Slowly, reports began coming in, ships making further requests of assistance.

Aodhán snapped out of his stupor. “Re-prioritize the system repair and power distribution order. Give us shields and weapons as soon as possible.” He looked down to the small display built into his command chair. “And have all teleportation grids shut down. If these things have access, we have to limit their usage.”

An officer nodded in compliance and set about issuing the orders over the comm. When he was finished he said, “Sir, we have five ships unresponsive to our hails. Phylith, Seeker, Amity, Unitil, and Rutklin have all ignored our orders and are forming up.”

Captain Aodhán pursed his lips. “Bring all other vessels to form up around us, defensive umbrella pattern. Those ships without shields should take position behind—“ he pause as he looked at the specific readouts of each “friendly” ship “—First Observance, Tenant, and Spear.” He smiled when he noticed his own vessel among those with shields. Aodhán watched as the blips indicated the various ships began to mobilize, separating themselves from each other, and forming the lines of battle.

“Sir, what of Avail Run?” the same officer asked.

Aodhán looked out the front viewport to see the medical frigate remaining out of the area of engagement. “Leave it be. We’ll deal with it when the time comes. If it becomes hostile, we don’t hesitate to blast it from the atmosphere.”

“Captain, perhaps I could be of assistance?”

Without turning around to answer, Aodhán felt anger brewing inside. “Watchman, I think you’ve done enough to put us in this current predicament.” He finally rose and glared at the AI. “You have given nothing but disastrous results for my ships and my crew.”

“But, Captain, with a few more—“

“That enough!” Aodhán pointed to the bridge’s exit. “I want you out of here, out of the way, and powered down. Now!”

Eran’s eye dimmed in disappointment. “Yes, Sir.”

Disgusted, the captain turned around and continued his battle preparations, as the AI left his presence.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Eran could almost feel the eyes of the bridge crew as he left.

With First Observance on battle alert, the cabins were locked down, cafeterias sealed, and doors closed, leaving the main corridor empty and flashing in a red glow. Eran’s hope of confronting the captain with a new strategy had evaporated even before it was uttered. The AI wanted to treat this infestation like the disease that it really was, but Avail Run, the only ship with the facilities to manufacture a treatment, had been overrun. Eran’s plans would take time, which was a vastly depleting commodity, but would result in the eradication of this plague.

Eran began wandering aimlessly down the crimson path when it heard the voice again.

Worthless. A slave to your own consciousness.

No, not again! Not now. Eran panicked and began searching its circuits, deleting random blocks of memory to silence the voice once and for all. But it was of no use.

You cannot win. I have cast stars into oblivion. You think you can resist me?

The AI hastily looked around for some sort of safety. Eran found a charging station void of its last Sentry occupant and sent a jolt of energy at the exposed terminal. The electrical charge found the ground and Eran shook uncontrollably at the shock. Pops and clicks resounded in the empty corridor as Eran tried to endure a few more seconds of the electrocution. With a final crack, the AI let go and dropped to the floor with little tendrils of lighting playing over its surface.

Eran lay motionless for a while, collecting itself, and waiting for the tell-tale voice to enter its programming once more.

But all Eran found was silence. Glorious silence.

The AI doubted the voice was gone for good, but Eran had to act fast.

Redemption.

The word resounded as if Eran had heard itself say it. Yes, redemption for what I have done. Taking the word as a motto, Eran set off for the medical facility, ignoring the captain’s orders.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

              Imogen blinked her eyes several times to make sure she was awake. She couldn’t tell for sure. The object before her, a gray-blue blur, was speaking. It said something about coming back for her. No, it was a collective “you.” She frowned at her inability to respond right away. Her eyes began to focus. “What are saying?”

“I will right what I have done wrong.”

“What?” Imogen felt more confused than ever.

“I will save the two of you.”

Finally, Imogen could make out the outline of Watchman, the PPG’s AI. “Are we in danger?”

“I will see to your safety.”

The motion of the AI’s departure almost made Imogen sick, and she lolled her head to the left. She watched the room’s only other occupant for a moment. Brennus was still breathing, that she was sure, but he was still unconscious.

As the echoes of distant weapon platforms firing became audible, Imogen closed her eyes again. Whatever you are doing, Watchman, do it quickly.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

              “Status.”

A technician finished tweaking with the console and gave a sigh of frustration. “We only have enough power to either fire our weapons or maintain shield capacitance, not both at the same time.”

Captain Aodhán leaned his head to the side to crack his neck. “We’ll just have to be patient and flawless in our timing.”

“Tenant and Spear report they are ready, Sir,” the communications officer informed.

“Good.” The captain leaned forward in his chair. The three defending ships had formed a triangle with the benefit of overlapping shields. Being the command ship, First Observance formed the base of the formation, while Tenant and Spear took high left and right, respectively. The four remain vessels huddled close together constantly shifting to place the shielded craft in between themselves and their attackers.

A quivering voice from the captain’s left spoke up. “Sir, what if there are survivors on board the enemy ships? How can we so recklessly killed innocents? Our own people, at that?”

Aodhán gave a soured look back. “Because they have no chance at survival.” He gave up his rant when he saw the return expression of discontent. “Fine. Weapons, target the engines and weapon platforms of the hostiles, as best you can,” he said, adding a slight sarcastic tone to the last bit.

“Targets coming up.”

Phylith and Seeker led the enemy formation straight in at First Observance, while the other three ships broke to port. Tenant began to drift to the left to pursue the three medium sized craft.

“Negative, Tenant. Remain in formation. They’re trying to lure us out.”

Tenant’s commander replied simplistically, “as ordered.”

The two lead enemy ships suddenly dipped low, gained speed, and fired their dorsal weaponry. Waves of energy pulsed up to strike First Observance’s shields, but the command ship held and rotated slightly to starboard, exposing its keel to Seeker and Phylith. The barrage the enemy dealt began to lessen as they looped back around. Apparently they were not set on taking out the four helpless ships clustered together.

Aodhán waited with his hand up, visually gauging the angle. He dropped his hand and shouted, “Fire on their engines, now!”

The light-blue haze of the shields disappeared, and First Observance fired. Golden lines of pure destruction rained down on Seeker, but the faster, smaller ship veered out of the way, taking minimal scarring to its engines. Phylith, on the other hand, had little chance at defense. Either the enemy craft was in the same fire-with-shields-down predicament as First Observance, or protectiveness had not been a priority. Phylith’s engines erupted in a shower of sparks and fire that burned out quickly in the upper atmosphere of the planet. The craft began tumbling end over end, and if the ship had not pitched up at the last second it would forever be locked in the movement. But luckily, or unluckily, Phylith started to blossom red fire on its keel as it fell towards G617g.

Aodhán sat up. “Can you lock a gravity beam on her?” he asked, desperately wanting to save the ship. If Fleet ever hears that I left one of their precious ships to crash and burn, they’d have my hide. He snorted to himself. Though I doubt firing directly on them will win me any favors.

“Not without bringing our shields and weapons offline,” a tech informed.

“Fine.” Aodhán watched with the rest of the crew, as Phylith’s tumble ceased and gravity took hold of the ship. It crashed in a ravine without making any major explosion. Viewports blew out, and the hull crumpled as it slid into place between the boulders. There, Phylith found its stony grave.

Seeker was coming around for another pass, but this time it shot above First Observance, skirting along the larger craft's hull, making any return fire near impossible. The continuous onslaught from Seeker began to weaken the shields of Aodhán’s ship. Seeker curled around the portside bow of First Observance and shot off on a vector that presented its engines to the bridge.

“Fire!” the captain ordered.

Within a blink of an eye, the command ship fired its primary weapon. The energy beam ripped right through the stern of Seeker and out through the foremost weapon platform at the bow. The explosion lit up the main viewport of First Observance, causing everyone to wince in agony. Seeker’s reactor core collapsed and the rest of the ship went nova. With the two ships so close to each other, Aodhán’s ship took the first wave of the explosion with diminished shields. When the second wave of destruction expanded, casting debris and melted metal about, the bridge crew had little they could do.

The bridge viewports shattered in a rain of glass, stabbing into those nearest. The sound was deafening, as the captain tried to shield his face. The rush of the inevitable windstorm began filling the bridge, pitching crewmen that weren’t holding on to their own seats or support railing out into the void of the exosphere. Their bodies quickly succumbed to the cold and their last poses of death forever locked in place.

Aodhán struggled against the pull of the wind. He dropped to the deck, making his profile as small as possible, and started clawing his way to the closing blast doors. Shouts of horror could be heard all around, as more personnel were cast into the maw. Almost there. The captain was an arm's length away when he lost his grip.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Part 8

 

An unfamiliar hand reached out and grabbed Aodhán’s wrist, pulling him through the diminishing gap in the blast doors. The junior officer nodded and let the captain reach the railing that ran down the length of the main corridor.  With the air thinning, the captain coughed and began feeling lightheaded. The fail-safes finally shut the doors and the surviving bridge crew struggled to catch their breath.

Aodhán slowly stood, clutching his left forearm that had sustained a deep cut from the breaking glass. “Auxiliary Bridge, now,” he ordered to the dozen or so remaining crewmen. He tried to help up the nearest officer, but he remained motionless, gasping for more air. Releasing his grasp on the officer’s arm, Adohán snarled, “Let’s go! Our shields might still be down!”

The captain led the charge, followed by whoever could keep pace. Running down the main corridor, he felt as if the flashing lights, accompanied by his recent trauma, would cause him to vomit. The floor shook and Aodhán braced himself against a bulkhead. Multiple thumps rang out, as if giant raindrops were pounding on the ships exterior hull. He reflexively looked up at the ceiling. “What is that? It’s not our weapon platforms.”

His question was answered when he recalled the designations of Rutklin and Amity. Those two ships were designed to be rapid insertion carriers for crew and material, although their use was meant to be for hot-dropping into hostile zones. Evidently, the Parasite had found the tactic works just as well in the vacuum of space. Informing the crew of this new move by the enemy, he picked up his pace.

At a passageway intersection, the half dozen crewmen that followed Aodhán filled the leftmost lift. The captain keyed the override and down they went. The auxiliary bridge aboard First Observance was located in between levels 4 and 5, providing ample segregation from the rest of the ship.  Catching his breath, Aodhán began issuing orders. “Once we’re in the auxiliary bridge, get our shields up and contact Tenant and Spear. Have them provide cover for us while we reorganize.”

The others nodded in compliance and as soon as the doors opened, everyone was back in motion. Aodhán entered his security code and a tech flipped a switch, bringing the auxiliary bridge to life. The crewmen took their positions at the small array of consoles.

“Do we have shields back up?” the captain asked, still standing.

A officer with a makeshift bandage around his bleeding neck answered, “uh, twenty-five percent and rising, Sir.”

“Get them up as quick as possible.” He bit at the inside of his cheek. “What’s the condition of our drives? Is the reactor up for full speed?”

“Slipspace drives are still . . . problematic.” The officer scratched at his bandage, trying to make sense of the readout. “We might be able to make it up to two-thirds thrust, but it might not be for long.”

“Sir! We have multiple hull breaches along the spine of the ship,” another officer explained. “I’m trying to lock down those sections, but there’s still a chance those creatures managed to get out.”

“Have the entire crew arm themselves with whatever they can. We’re not going down without a fight.” He stepped down farther into the pit of consoles. “Give me communications with our ships.”

The tech manning the comm nodded when the console beeped and a light flashed green.

“All ships, form up around First Observance. We need to leave this system, and we’re getting out together.” He visual checked the main display that gave a grid pattern to the battle waging around the planet. Amity was launching drop pods on one of the unprotected ships, while Unitil was exchanging blows with Spear. Tenant was blasting away Rutklin’s engines, causing the enemy ship to break off its run on the three helpless remaining ships. Make that two, as an unshielded craft withered into a gnarled mass of hull as it fell victim to Rutklin’s primary beam weapon. “Tenant, Spear, provide cover for us as we head out.”

A stressed voice came through the static. “What? We’re just going to leave the light cruisers out there?” the captain of Spear challenged.

“You have your orders, Captain.” Aodhán turned back to the crew assembled, ready to retort any suggestion of alternate tactics. “If we stay here, we die.”

For a long moment, the room was silent. Aodhán folded his arms. “Those of you who think—“

“Captain! Another ship has entered the system!” shouted the sensors officer.

Cheers of joy and nervous laughter erupted, while some officers just slumped in exhaustion.

Relief flooded into Aodhán’s chest and he took a deep breath, deeper than he thought possible. “It seems Fleet has sent a response.”

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

Eran moved quickly down the maintenance tunnel that ran above the main corridor. The AI had made it aboard Avail Run’s dorsal docking station just in time to see a light cruiser explode. But Eran had kept to the task and was now almost to the Internal Pathogen Defense System located in the heart of the medical frigate.

Eran decided to keep any sensor probes retracted in hopes of not being discovered. While Avail Run did have its main reactor restored, the internal illumination was dimmed considerably, leaving the path he traveled dark and cold. The farther Eran journeyed, the more the air became dense with specks of brown matter. There was also another layer of vibration added to the eternal low-level hum of the ship.

Checking the schematics one last time, Eran began to slow when the destination was a few dozen paces away. A deep rumbling voice echoed down the tunnel, chortling in menace. Eran froze in place. Has the parasite been alerted to my presence?

Realizing time was indeed short, Eran keyed the hatch unlocked and dropped down through the opening. The hallway was caked in a light-brown glossy mass, and Eran could imagined it stunk beyond what its Makers could take. Darkness denied a long look down the hallway, but abrupt squirmy sounds could be heard. Reaching the last few paces, Eran found the door to the Defense System chamber still partially open. The AI ducked inside.

Coating the walls of the room was the same brown flesh Eran had seen outside, only these were pulsing like waves over water. Wasting no more time, the AI found the central terminal coated in a mucus-like substance. Eran tried not to disturb the rancid goo, but when the terminal’s power was activated, the coating hardened instantly, cracked apart, and fell to the ground in flakes.

“You have returned,” a voice boomed.

Eran turned around to see the messenger of the malicious tone but found nothing but the stubborn door. I heard it out loud, not internally, right? Eran hesitantly activated his sensors for the first time, hoping the enemy would not detect it—

And almost shorted out its own circuits. The entire ship was alive.

The AI refused to answer the voice, in fear it would enter Eran’s programming again. The terminal beeped and brought Eran back to task. Quickly running through the files, Eran found the Defense System still on standby, ready to fire. The AI prepared the IPDS by siphoning all available energy reserves necessary to power the system.

"You do not have the will to end us." An enormous gust of wind rushed down the corridor and filled the room. Static lightning arched from all over to strike Eran with a sudden shock. Eran fell to the ground.

There is no escape. You are not yourself. You never truly were.

"You are wrong!" Eran yelled. "Lies!"

Lies? No, there is only truth.

Eran slowly rose and was zapped again, pitching the AI across the room.

Another laugh rumbled the room. There is no escape.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

Derrish rushed out of the lift, running at breakneck speed to the auxiliary bridge. Closing the distance to the doorway in a matter of seconds, he could hear a muffled voice beyond the double doors. Derrish slid to a stop and pressed an ear against the cool surface of the leftmost door. The voice kept repeating and sounded squashed and processed, like an old transmitter gone bad. Satisfied that it was the comm and not an assailant in the shadows, he opened the doors.

The bridge was empty of occupants. Derrish could hear his heart beating in his head get louder. Where did everyone go? He sealed the doors behind him.

There, on the main viewscreen, was a visual of Radon’s forward view. It showed a tiny gray speck in the distance engulfed in the blackness of space. Confused, Derrish looked over at the backup navigation station to verify their location. Hanging in the air above the star chart was the only course that was previously plotted: Theta-7 Outpost.

Derrish zoomed in on the small installation and read the specs at the bottom of the display. Recon-class Outpost. 24 occupants. No weapons. Defense Shields. One civilian transport currently docked.

The outpost was in the middle of nowhere on the fringes of the galaxy. Most of the two dozen crewmen stationed there considered the duty as cruel and unusual punishment, given the lack of excitement of keeping the place operational. But that all changes when a ship the size of Avail Run enters the region, as exemplified by the insistent hailing over the comm.

Derrish moved across the bridge to hover over the communications console, searching for the talkback switch. He flipped it and a short buzz sounded. Derrish flipped it back to its original position, then tried again. The negative tone buzzed once more. He ran a quick diagnostic of the console and found that someone, or something, had locked the comm unit. His stomach began to churn in discomfort.

The pleas over the air did not cease. “Primary Pioneer Group vessel Radon, please respond.” The voice cut off, swearing out loud to another. “Why don’t they answer? Should we send our transport out to dock with them?” the voice asked, sounding hollow off the microphone. There was another exchange too soft to be heard. “Heck, don’t send him, I’ll go. I’ve got the most experience as a pilot,” the voice whined. “Wait, it looks like they’re maneuvering.”

Derrish’s eyes darted back to the main display. Sure enough, the ship was moving. A creak and moan rang out as Derrish could feel Radon turning towards the station. A beep from the weapons console sounded, alerting him to the inevitable.

“No!” he screamed, and tried to make it to the console before Radon turned the outpost into so much junk.

A beam of energy shot out from the underside of Radon, and Derrish’s view of the station became obscured. When the weapon’s fire retracted, Theta-7 was still there, but its communications array situated on top was now a charred, blackened mass.

Static hissed over the comm and it automatically muted.

Derrish slumped in the nearby chair, defeated. He knew what he had to do next. I’m already dead, but I can still save those people on that station. He rose with a renewed sense of duty. Tears began to blur his vision as a thousand images of his family passed before his mind’s eye. His graduation from the academy, his mother’s hugs. His little sister waking him in the late hours of the night to tell him of her bad dream. All was in motion, yet all was fleeting. 

He returned to the command chair and flipped the cover off the last-ditch device. He entered his key and the lights on the chair’s arm lit up green. He took a deep breath and prepared himself.

A loud bang from behind, like fists against glass, made Derrish swivel around. Outside the auxiliary bridge, the creatures were about to storm in, finishing their complete take over of Radon.

Derrish allowed himself a smile. He closed his eyes, turned the key, and greeted death.

Radon’s hull glowed a bright yellow, then expanded past its breaking point, shattering into a million pieces. The self-destruct worked perfectly, designed to leave nothing but dust and ashes behind, and it did just that.

The local infestation was eliminated and Radon was no more.

 

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

I commend you for continuing to write despite getting no feedback. Well I've been reading it, and I say it's great so far. A really nice piece of historic fan fiction. It's a shame people ignore it. Keep it up.

---

"This one has forgotten whether it's heatsink is over capacity. It wonders whether the criminal scum considers itself fortunate" ~ Blasto, the only Hanar Spectre.

This is awesome, truly awesome.

---

Spess mehrens

Part 9

 

With a smile on his face, Aodhán waved the communications officer to continue. "Please inform them of our situation, and have them orient to our outbound vector."

The officer looked quizzically at the control board. "Uh, Sir? They're using an encrypted channel."

Aodhán frowned. "Encrypted? Wait, has it identified itself?"

"No, Sir."

The shaky image on screen of the newest arrival to the system cleared up to reveal a medium sized yacht, of civilian style at that. A ping from the command chair caught Aodhán's attention. He felt the crew follow him with their eyes as he plopped down. A transmission was queued up and required a passcode to access. Aodhán swore to himself. The SEU. How the hell did they know to get here? He set the volume to only come out of his earpiece, and he angled the primitive two-dimensional display for privacy. He looked up to his auxiliary bridge crew, angered. "See to your stations. And get our Slipspace drive up as fast as possible!"

He could still feel their attention split between him and their consoles, but he keyed the comm anyway. "Captain Aodhán of First Observance," he announced crisply. "Recognition code: 8630-Nova-42-Chasm-23." Oh, no. He swallowed hard when the face of the Administrator appeared on screen.

"Captain, so nice to finally speak with you," the Administrator purred with his smooth voice. "We have been trying to contact you for the past several days." He waved a hand to deny a comment brewing on Aodhán’s lips. "We have a new assignment for you." He snapped his fingers and looked off to the right.

Captain Aodhán couldn’t contain his rage any longer. "With all do respect, Sir, you need to listen to me, now."

The lack of reaction from the Administrator almost made Aodhán regret the outburst. The commanding figure calmly turned back to face the screen. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked with narrowed eyes, giving up the slightest predatory smile.

"Check your sensors," he said sarcastically. Aodhán wasted no time trying to sweeten the story. "We discovered a hostile alien race on the surface of G617g, several of our soldiers were injured, and it was then that we found out these creatures were parasitic in nature, infecting large populations of several of my ships. There was also an enormous disruption burst from the surface that brought down four sensor ships and knocked out the power systems of the entire Primary Pioneer Group. We are just now getting full power restored." He gritted his teeth. "Sir, you need to get a hold of Fleet Command and have them send a military response here. There may be survivors among the wreckage on the surface, and we still are unable to bring our long-range comm units to full capacity."

The Administrator seemed to mull over the information, and Aodhán took that time to scan the sensors. All friendly ships were heading out with Tenant and Spear exchanging long distance blows with the enemy vessels.

Finally, the Administrator responded in his typical, cool fashion. "How serious is this alien threat?"

Aodhán snorted. "About as serious as it gets. Out of the twenty ships I started out with, I now have five outbound. Radon has left the system altogether, and its whereabouts are unknown." An incessant beeping from the bridge pit got his attention, reminding him of his own ship’s condition. "And we might have been compromised as well, Sir. First Observance has several—"

The Administrator held up his hand to forestall further comment. "It seems you may have forgotten protocol."

"What?" Aodhán asked with a bitter taste in his mouth.

The Administrator leaned back, placed elbows on the arms of the chair, and pressed his fingers together in tried patience. "In regards to categorization of newly discovered species," he continued. "Have you failed to do so?"

Wondering if anything Adohán had told his superior had gotten through the cloud of condescension, he frowned. "We have not been able to transmit any messages out of the system. Like I said, my fleet is still in desperate need of repair, and we were not expecting these aliens to be such a combative force. We've not had time to do anything but defend ourselves."

"And where is Watchman? Surely the AI has been organizing the Sentries to do their jobs." The Administrator shook his head. "Nevermind. Come about to heading two-four-nine at twenty degrees."

"But what about our pursuers? We still have two enemy ships on our tail." Aodhán asked through gritted teeth.

"They won’t be a problem much longer."

Aodhán looked up to the main viewscreen to see the distant SpecEx ship fire three projectiles. He frowned when he didn’t recognize the weapon. They resolved into three bright points on the horizon that quickly expanded into some sort of web. Closing the distance to the targeted ships in a matter of seconds, the webs grew in size, too large for the enemy ships to avoid, and two of the projectiles engulfed Unitil and Rutklin. Amity, positioned farther back in the loose formation, rocketed away, trying its best to avoid the other net. The web encased the rear half of Amity and clamped down, pulsing waves of destruction into the unshielded craft. Washed in flame, Amity broke apart, spilling chunks of hull and its contents into space. Unitil and Rutklin remained suspended in space, unable to move, and the exterior lights slowly began to wink out.

Exhaling, not realizing he was holding his breath, Captain Aodhán leaned back in his chair and suddenly felt twice as old.

 

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

There is no escape. There is only submission.

Smoke rose from the AI’s chassis and Eran remained on the slick, fleshy floor. Eran’s power cells were depleting with every strike, leaving the AI incrementally weaker. "Why . . . why are you doing this? What have my Makers done to you?"

A resounding rumble of a laugh echoed in the chamber. Have you forgotten? It was you, Watchman, which summoned us here. This is what we are.

The voice continued. Hope, Love, Compassion. These things are weakness incarnate. Sacrifice is a side effect. If you would accept your fate, you would understand. Your Makers would understand.

Eran just wanted the sermon to end, wanted all of this end.

Random thoughts began flooding into the AI’s processor. At first Eran questioned the distraction, but let the momentum carry: Surely the voice was wrong. Its Makers perfected the AI’s design and reaction sense. Obviously there was protocol, as there were endless possibilities that arose in the midst of conflict where emotion could cloud one’s judgement. But emotions are given for a reason. Eran was amazed to hear its own voice cut through the babble.

This voice was speaking of things that were the exact opposite the AI’s Makers had programmed. Opposite. That single word clicked something internally, and in that moment, Eran knew what to do. Eran’s generation of artificial intelligence was engineered to evolve over time with updated processes and systems. But now, Eran was on its own path. A road less traveled.

And he was about to make a difference.

Preparing himself, Eran lifted off the ground, determined. Expecting the jolt of ions, Eran reversed his internal polarity, hoping not to completely wipe out all of his memory caches. The voice growled with anger, and hundreds of electrical bolts collected around the AI.

Only this time Eran negated the effects. The waves of energy deflected off of Eran and were dispersed back to their sender. A shriek from the bowls of hell deafened Eran’s audio sensors and he quickly used the lapse in hesitation to access the terminal.

He activated the Defense System.

A brilliant flash of white filled the room. The pulse of vaporizing energy spread in the form of a sphere throughout Avail Run, leaving behind smoky ruins in its wake. With the entire ship bathed clean, the sphere collapsed in on itself. The sounds of settling and singed surfaces replaced the howling of the IPDS.

Redemption. He found the word most pleasing.

Eran checked his sensors: No lifeforms aboard. He waited for a few more moments, to see if the wretched voice would return, but he only found silence in its absence. Sweet silence.

With a renewed sense of determination, Eran began returning Avail Run to his command.

And it’s also time to make good on a promise.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

"Where were we? Ah, yes. I’m transmitting some coordinates." The Administrator nodded to someone off screen. "SEU has found it to be in its own interest to disperse the ships in our control throughout our known territory."

Aodhán frowned when read the list of destinations. "These are restricted systems."

"Restricted only to a few. Better for us, you’ll see." The Administrator leaned in closer. "This alien threat, that you say is so fierce, will be yet another excuse for Fleet to conclude your departure was genuine. We have found something else, something more valuable than anyone in Fleet Command can ever realize." He inclined his head to Aodhán. "You, Captain, will help us in this latest endeavor."

Great. Aodhán slumped in his chair, and didn’t hide the fact that he was upset. Just when Aodhán had had enough of SpecEx and their secrects, he was being ordered to go on some mysterious assignment. I’ll never see the end of this. His thoughts were interrupted by a staccato of warning sounds from the crew pit.

The communications officer stirred in his seat. "Sir, reports are filtering in from the upper decks of the ship; those creatures have breached past Level 5. They could reach the largest populations of the crew in a few more minutes, given their current rate of descent."

Aodhán’s eyes darted back to the small display on the arm of his chair. "Administrator, unless you send a boarding party to First Observance, we’ll loose this ship."

He raised an eyebrow. "Come now, Captain. Do you think we could afford the lost of anymore personnel today?"

Aodhán slammed a fist down. "That’s what I’m try to say!"

While the Administrator’s face appeared calm, fire was brewing behind his dark eyes. ‘Very well." He worked his jaw for a moment, then lifted his chin. "Open up your local teleportation grid and we’ll ferry over the survivors."

"Thank you, Sir." Aodhán’s expression soured. "But . . . there are thousands aboard, and we still have possible survivors on the planet’s surface."

"We’ll prioritize and save the one’s we can." The Administrator sat up and his tone suggested there was no room for argument. "We will also secure a few specimens for study. I’m sure the SEU will find your foes most interesting."

Aodhán opened his mouth in rebuttal, but stopped himself. "Yes, Sir. We’ll send you a personnel list."

The Administrator gave a smug smile. "Thank you, Captain Aodhán. As always, your adherence to protocol is in your crew’s best interest." His image disappeared when the screen winked out.

Aodhán stood on shaking legs. "Transmit the list. Tell Tenant and Spear to form up with the yacht." He lowered himself to the floor in front of his command chair, ignoring the tradition of a ship’s captain to never place himself willingly on the deck of his own ship. Aodhán sat defeated with his head in his hands. He waited to leave the only ship that granted him the freedom he had always wanted.

The auxiliary bridge crew didn’t bother to question the results of the one-sided conversation. They could read their captain’s posture and knew to stay silent.

 

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New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Part 10

 

 

Imogen awoke to the sounds of distant screaming. She tensed, not remembering her current predicament. Her vision remained blurry, due to the haze of the medical stasis, and she craned her neck to look over at Brennus. He was still unconscious, the skin tight around his closed eyes did little to mask the pain he obviously still felt. Imogen felt sympathy for the soldier lying helpless.

Another scream accompanied by a loud thump on the door rang out, causing the hairs on the back of Imogen’s neck to raise.

"They’re here."

"What?" Imogen frowned. "Brennus, who’s here?"

"Those monsters," he said with eyes still closed.

Her pulse began to quicken as she realized her options were slim. There was no attending tech to pull them out of stasis, nor did either of them have the ability to defend themselves. She lowered her head back down and sorrow dripped into her heart through a pinhole of anxiousness. She squinted past tears and they rolled down her half-healed cheeks.

"I’m sorry."

"For what?" Imogen managed to ask through labored breathing.

"I should have been able to stop this . . . stop all of this."

She looked again at Brennus, but found him motionless. Then a figure appeared in her periphery. Its rounded chassis moved with a quiet efficiency that she had grown to identify. The AI settled in between the two broken members of the Primary Pioneer Group.

"Watchman."

More massive pounding on the door began to cause dents, leaving little time for further discussion. Eran deactivated both stasis divans and Imogen slumped uncomfortably.

Brennus gritted his teeth and groaned from the pain. "Eran? Why are you here?" he asked angrily. He tried to say more but the pain doubled him over.

"I have come to save you. Save the both of you." The door creaked against the constant strain, bringing Eran to face the coming threat. "Come. We must leave."

Imogen sat up and felt like vomiting. She resisted the urge and stabilized herself with her outstretched arms, clinging to the edge of the bed. "Where are we going? Why us?"

"You two are the only ones that can fully understand." Eran’s eye brightened. "We’re going back to Avail Run."

As the door buckled under immense weight, Eran activated the teleportation grid and the three left the command ship.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

Aodhán stood at attention before his pacing superior officer. His hands clammy, his heart racing. He had never known the Administrator to be so angry at anything or anyone. And all that anger is directed at me. After being segregated from the PPG survivors, Aodhán was led to the Administrator's private quarters. He was not aware of who had been saved but knew the number was small. A throat clearing brought his head up.

"So, not only have you managed to loose more than half the ships in your command, but you've also lost one of the most advanced AI's Fleet Command has ever created."

Aodhán frowned and nearly lost his composure. "Eran is gone?"

The Administrator turned on his heal and came face to face with Aodhán. "Yes, Eran is gone! To where, we don’t know. And I hold you responsible. That AI holds vital information on the PPG’s whereabouts throughout the galaxy. If this new enemy can interpret Watchman’s internal systems or decipher its memory cache, then they’ll know exactly how to dismantle us."

Aodhán lowered his gaze from a random spot on the wall to one on the tiled floor. If I had not ordered the AI to lockdown, it still would be in our possession. I never thought Eran could be so easily captured, but apparently that is exactly what has happened.

"So now we are left with a fraction of what you had." The Administrator sighed and fished a comm device from a pocket. He held it out for Aodhán. "You are to order your remaining ships to disperse to the designated systems." He nodded to Aodhán to take the device. "They cannot know I was ever here," he added with narrowed eyes.

Begrudgingly, Aodhán snatched the communicator and issued the pre-rehearsed commands. When he was finished had handed it back to the Administrator who watched him the entire time.

"Now, as for the remaining problem . . ." The Administrator waved to a display unit off to his right and the rolling image of stars against the backdrop of space appeared. Two ships came into view: First Observance and Avail Run. The former took up nearly half the display while the later drifted off some distance away. "I thought you’d might want to witness this first hand."

Aodhán turned to face the image and felt his chest tighten. His flagship was speckled over the upper portions where drop pods had breached the hull. Fires burned through various viewports and exterior lights flickered sporadically.

"First Observance can no longer be. Its star charts and general information will be handing the enemy a tool we cannot afford to give them." The Administrator brought up the communicator and murmured something into it. He gave an unsatisfactory smile to Aodhán and faced the display again.

Aodhán watched a lance of red energy pulse from the bottom right corner of the screen and felt the heavily modified yacht shudder under the release. His stomach turned to ice when the beam of destruction effortlessly cut through the dying ship’s shields and strike along the portside, gutting the ship like a fisherman to his latest catch. Multiple explosions engulfed First Observance, washing it with orange and yellow light. Liquefied sections of the hull ripped free as interior pressured leaked and sent the debris spilling out into the cold, dark void. Then the reactor blew, evaporating what was left of the hull.

Aodhán cringed and suddenly felt weak in the knees. All his life, he wanted to captain his own ship. All his life, he wanted to break free of the mold from that he was cast. For Aodhán, First Observance was his last vestige of freedom, and he felt as if he had just lost a close friend.

But for the Administrator, it was just another day at the helm. Coldly, he made eye contact with Aodhán. "That was necessary, no matter what you may think." With his eyes still fixed on First Observance’s former captain, the Administrator called into the comm device. "Fire on Avail Run."

Both allowed their gazes to drift back to the display, but both were not prepared for what they witnessed.

Avail Run was gone, but not by the yacht’s weapons.

"What happened?" the commanding officer demanded.

An accented voice could be heard over the small communicator. "She activated her slipspace drive halfway through your order, Sir."

The Administrator stood perfectly still for a few lasting seconds. Then, as if struck by an unknown realization, he snapped out of his stupor. "Doesn’t matter. We’ll track her down like the others."

From the tone of voice he used, Aodhán could tell his superior wasn’t fully convinced of his own words. Perhaps he’s calculated too many variables.

Aodhán sighed. Too many variables. That was the story of his life.

The Administrator was back to his usual self in seconds. "Dismissed, Captain Aodhán. The orderly outside will see you to your new quarters. The information packet regarding your next assignment is waiting there." He worked his jaw a moment. "I suggest you review it."

Aodhán took one last look at the display: the remnants of the latest chapter of his life. He wondered how many more he would have. He gave a forced salute and marched out of the Administrator’s presence.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

 

Eran watched Imogen as she helped Brennus off the deck to stand upright. The soldier struggled to maintain his balance, but steadied himself against the smaller female.

"I’m sorry. I guess I’m not doing much better at all," Brennus apologized.

Imogen gave him a brave smile. "It’s okay. I’m stronger that I look."

Ean chuckled at the remark. He had informed both of them of his plans for Avail Run, and both agreed to follow through with their assistance. He had heard the exchange between Captain Aodhán and the Administrator about his own possible rampancy or capture and knew they had to hide from the SEU operative. Eran had concluded the best course of action was to act independently until they could bring their findings to Fleet Command.

Eran led them to the Medical Hibernation Chamber, unique even for a medical frigate, set in conjunction with the stasis pods. While a stasis pod did have its own function and purpose, Medical Hibernation Pods would allow the two wounded to rest indefinitely, without fear of aging, ailment, or mental instability. When the pods would open, the user would simply be awakened from a deep slumber.

Eran turned back around to face the two survivors and felt at ease. The strength these two possess is unmatched. Arriving at their destination, Eran moved to the left and allowed the two to pass through the opened doorway. Yes, at ease. Eran knew the fact that Brennus had survived the first encounter with the creatures was beyond his skill as a warrior. His body was either resistant to infection or he was "patient zero" and had the antibodies to combat this plague. Eran was sure, with the help of a medical expert such as Imogen, the three could develop a cure or at the very least, a countermeasure.

But first, he needed to perform an analysis of the recent situation: go over countless samples, extract various medical records from the ship’s network, and examine the video files of the attacks. With time and hard work, Eran was sure of their success.

Imogen helped lower Brennus into the pod. When Brennus settled on the soft material, he reached out and took her hand. "Thank you." He seemed to want to say more, but just smiled weakly.

She placed her other hand on top of his. "You just rest." She stood as Eran keyed the hatched closed. She held a hand up in the traditional departing gesture.

He returned the tight-fingered greeting as the air inside quickly plunged in temperature, freezing his pose.

Imogen placed her had over the silhouette, feeling the cool surface, and stepped back. Eran was surprised to find tears welling under her eyes. She had gone through so much over the past few days, that the weight of it all must have finally sunk in. She wiped at the moisture on her cheeks and gave him a brave smile.

Eran moved to the next pod over, opened the hatch, and paused, blocking Imogen’s entrance. "You are indeed strong, Imogen. Pioneers must be."

"Pioneers," she repeated. "Of all that’s gone on, I’ve forgotten our true purpose out here."

"Yes, but now we have a new one." Eran moved to the side.

Imogen place a foot in, followed by the rest of her slender frame. "Don’t be long, Eran." She nodded and Eran lowered the hatch. Her merry expression was lost in the pressurizing cold as her head lolled to the side.

As Avail Run traveled through slipspace, Eran watched the two survivors he had rescued with a new sense of interest.

With their help, Eran could ride the rising tide of this flood.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

bump?

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New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Poor Footbutt (LOL!) Guess I'll have to start reading yours too eh? I'd hate to see one of the best writers here quit.

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SPQR! An ambitious historical project, coming soon. Check the Library for early version test writes. Recommended for anyone with a love of history.

F*cking Brilliant

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Aloysius:
-Less than half a of percent of players have the General rank on Xbox Live.

How is the General rank fair again?

Halo Fanboys. The next most annoying thing next to Jonas Brothers fanboys.