MissionSRX: Deep Unknown Page 4

  In the distant sky above, and across to the horizon, similar ships glided silently by. “Is this your ship? Are these your escorts?” Grant asked the leading alien.

  Omega nodded awkwardly from his shoulders, as if he had just learned the movement from observing his guests only moments before. That is correct. Our flight consists of a dozen identical ships designed to maximize our survival should we come under attack.

  “Are they retrofitted differently?” Scott asked before he could stop himself. Grant shot him a glance of ‘stop badgering,’ but Omega replied without retribution.

  It’s all right. Yes, they are all the same frames, but some are designed for defense and crew transportation while the rest are equipped with longer-range targeting systems and weapons. Outwardly they are identical. We are too valuable to allow our lives to be risked on a single, unarmed transport. Omega continued while he walked up to the wide, gracefully sloping entrance to the gray-camouflaged form.

  “That’s something,” Fox said to Grant, keeping his voice low. “They wouldn’t have known we wanted to see the Flagstaff until we made the request down there.”

  “I know,” Grant replied. “They must have coordinated all of this in those couple minutes.”

  “Exactly. That’s powerful by itself,” he confirmed and followed up the loading plank. The entrance spilled into a wide hallway that was darker than the previous ship and graced with more protrusions. Obviously a service passage, it gave way to an open passenger bay only a couple of meters forward.

  Like the last, this one was filled with more flowing white surfaces and wide windows to the outside on every wall. Each one was exquisitely framed with a metallic border of multiple glimmering shades of silver and gray, molded and carved in elaborate fashion. As he scanned the room, Grant saw dozens of surfaces utilizing the ornamentation.

  He tried not to dwell on any individual point for too long but the art took his attention. An elegant crossover roughly between Celtic knots and the finest floral engravings, they almost looked three-dimensional. He could only guess at the effort it took to create and continued to hypothesize at Omega’s importance to warrant such accommodations.

  The group took their seats around a central area, with Omega and the Emissary facing each other fore and aft. The humans filled in on each side in uneasy silence.

  Fox broke the tension first. “Where are our people?” he asked Omega.

  Your crew and ship are located at a sizeable support facility where they have been managed and healed.

  “How is that different from the base we were just at? The place we woke up in?”

  The Emissary’s flat voice filtered through first. That is an experimental medical outpost. Due to the nature of your procedures, you could not accompany the others.

  “You still haven’t revealed much about your expectations for us,” Grant interjected.

  Agreed, but this deviation was by your request, which we have honored, Omega broke in as the ship came to a near silent hover and slipped into the air, the ground rapidly shrinking below them. Don’t be troubled by it. After this, we shall return to the home fleet and enlighten your souls.

  The comment was odd, considering current standards, but the humans let it pass. The thin air whisked by outside, interrupted only by the momentary flickering of their escorts and fell away to the blackness above. While they watched, a small ring came into view far off in the distance.

  “What’s that?” Scott asked the room, watching out a leading window.

  That’s a gate. We use them to calculate our quantum jumps.

  “Do your ships work similar to ours?” he continued.

  To an extent, yes, but it is far more complicated than that. Your self-contained engines do not have the precision necessary to make the jumps we do. We can cross a galaxy in moments. Using a gate awards us better abilities. While ships move, the gates remain stationary and constantly refine their position to provide accurate coordinates. If there’s a gate at the destination, we can even cross a void in relatively short time.

  “What’s a void?” Fox asked before Scott could formulate the question.

  “The space between galaxies?”

  Precisely. Omega answered his anxious guests. The expanses between galaxies and clusters are collectively called voids, although we have names and terms for those that are more relevant.

  “That’d be impossible,” Scott began, “traveling between galaxies. Our ships can barely jump between stars. I don’t think the navigators could compute a path in deep space like that.”

  You’d be surprised to know how little is truly impossible, Omega answered and glanced out the long window to his right. We’re nearing the gate. You might feel some discomfort but nothing you shouldn’t be used to.

  Grant felt himself become lightheaded, similar to light turbulence but it wasn’t even close to what he normally felt on the Flagstaff, much less his fighter. The transport swayed and his conformal seat moved with it to adjust. The sensation increased as they closed on the gate and the ring flashed by outside.

  The starlight disappeared as they entered, leaving them in darkness except for a few short-lived flickers of energy somewhere beyond. Seconds passed but quickly the ship again shuddered and in a burst of light, stars again filled the sky.

  Scott studied their surroundings as the escorting ships materialized nearby. “What was that? Was that it?”

  Yes. As I said, the journey was not far. We simply had to move radially, two arms around the galaxy.

  “That would have taken the Flagstaff the better part of a day. Maybe two,” Fox added.

  There was no doubt Omega knew what they were thinking. So much as their technology was similar, it was the equivalent of a musket against a rail gun.

  The Emissary looked to their left. The facility will be coming into view momentarily.

  Grant and the team mirrored their guide. Scott stood and walked to the shielded window. “Holy hell,” he murmured.

  The facility, if it could be called that, stretched out far and wide below them. From Scott’s angle, it resembled a massive disc, slowly spinning above a small alien planet. Hundreds of small bands were wrapped around the surface, illuminated by tens of thousands of lights.

  “That’s got to be half the size of that moon,” he added and continued the inspection, noticing an outcropping of stone near the center. “Did you build it around an asteroid?”

  You could say that, but it’d be more accurate to say ‘built from.’ Our predecessors used over half the mass of the moon to construct the primary structure. Today the center is mostly unrefined waste.

  “You said this was only a support facility. Are there others?”

  Of course, yes! With a civilization cast to the wind like ours, we need a sizeable infrastructure.

  “And our people are here?” Fox asked.

  Yes, as well as your ship, Omega continued. A large portion of the station is devoted to trauma medical, well suited to service your crew. Your vessel has likewise been maintained in one of the repair bays.

  Both commanders shared another glance, but Kael broke in first. “Would this station accompany you into a battle?”

  The two aliens shot a look to the major and an uneasy silence fell onto the group. Omega changed his stance and let his head sag ever so slightly. I cannot lie to you; at one time it did, but never again.

  Grant caught the infantry officer’s eye and shook his head to drop the topic. Although he wanted to know more, he didn’t want to press their luck with an oddly sensitive topic.

  “That’s amazing…”

  He heard the engineer talking to himself again as they got closer. The escorting ships had widened their spacing to each side and now looked insignificant against the bulk of the station.

  Together they dropped until their destination stretched from one horizon to the other. Landing lights flickered and reflected off the polished surfaces of the expansive bay, casting long shadows across their faces. On each side of the sh
ip, metal structures jutted up as if they were diving to the ground inside a massive city. More lights zipped by on each side and the glass frosted over, obscuring the team’s view.

  Almost as quickly as it began, the transport shuddered and everything went silent. Omega stood and the humans turned to face him, waiting for their next instruction.

  We have arrived at the primary care facility. Your crew is waiting here. Please follow me. He ordered and strode silently with easy grace back through the same door through which they had entered and back down the ramp.

  Grant followed first, with Fox just behind. Both stopped short at the edge to take in their surroundings. The landing bay by itself was massive. While their ship was sizeable, it was nothing but a miniscule spec in the sprawling room.

  To the side, the area went on forever, disappearing into the distance and wrapping around the station’s axis. Above, at least two dozen walkways overlooked the room, crisscrossed higher by hundreds of elegant hooks, arms and loading contraptions.

  Like the last facility, most surfaces were gray or white, clean and polished. The floor resembled a brushed metal, but Grant couldn’t see any breaks or fasteners in the plating. There were few straight lines; everything curved along the station and every fixture seemed integrated to the surfaces around it, suggesting the facility was built in a single step instead over many procedures.

  He half expected to see the Flagstaff parked in the space beside them. It was certainly big enough to fit their vessel, but their transport was the only one present.

  Omega continued to lead the way from the bay and into the station. The alien walked even easier than on the shuttle, swaying gently with each stride but not lumbering. Grant tried to estimate the creature’s mass, but couldn’t come to a satisfactory number. With the armor and height, he should have been double the size of a loaded human soldier, but again it didn’t match the flowing motion he was seeing.

  Spread across the various platforms above, Fox could make out the silhouettes of more of their alien hosts. They watched his team intently, as if they were as interested in him as he was of them. It almost caught him off-guard, since so much of the adventure thus far had seemed scripted, seeing a normal staff of the creatures seemed out of place.

  Together they exited the bay through a wide set of doors and descended a wide ramp, extending far below into the heart of the station. At the first landing, Omega stopped and faced his followers. The wall behind him was blank from one end to the other, over fifteen meters wide, with small darker hallways branching off to either side.

  We have arrived. He stated simply again, and the wall disintegrated with a rush of air from the space below. Grant stepped up to the edge first and looked down across a wide open bay. More of the smooth white surfaces and lines were visible in every direction along with the rows of overlooks above.

  Along the ground were dozens of rows consisting of hundreds of beds similar to what his team had woken up in earlier. While the others joined him, Grant looked over at the alien. “Is this the crew?”

  Yes. They are healing. Some have already risen.

  Grant stared back at the scene below. “Is this a medical ward?”

  Yes. It is for recovery. Surgical procedures are performed elsewhere in the station.

  “Can we see them?” Fox asked.

  Of course. Omega gestured to the right. The hall will take you to them.

  The two commanders turned in unison and led the way down the spiral ramp. The first member Grant recognized was the hunched form of Master Sergeant Miller, the Flagstaff’s full-time ranking member of the enlisted corps. It was obvious he had just regained consciousness and was still staggering under a haze of confusion and immense pain.

  The sergeant looked back at the sound of footsteps, instantly recognized the group and sprang to his feet from the edge of his oversized rack and called the room to attention. A quick rush of activity permeated the air as several hundred pairs of feet hit the ground and was followed by a hushed calm.

  Miller wobbled on his feet as Fox approached. The officer looked his man over, happy to see him still alive. “As you were!” he shouted to the room before buckling over in a raspy cough. The pain clenched within his chest, but he hid the wisp of blood on his arm before the gathering crowd could see.

  “Commander!” Chief Robins pushed his way forward and heartily shook Grant’s hand. “I was getting worried; you guys weren’t among us. What the hell is this? Where are we?”

  “It’s good to see you too,” Grant said, forcing a smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know, but I don’t think we’re in danger. At least not yet.” He played the scenario over in his mind and decided against expanding too much on their circumstances. Commander Fox was still shaking hands and similarly following up with his crew. Between them, Scott was already throwing questions back, just as eager to hear their experiences as they were of his.

  From the back charged two more. Fox recognized the pair and shifted towards them, “Clark! Rans!” he shouted and the others instantly parted.

  Both wore the scars of anguish and stress: Lieutenant Commander Rich Clark, from having been dealt the responsibility of leading the crew in their commander’s absence and Lieutenant Sarah Rans, still from the general shock of captivity.

  Fox quickly exchanged salutes with the duo before shaking their hands as well. He was beaming the entire time. “Thank God you’re alright!”

  “Sir, what is all this?” Clark replied first. “We just woke up here; no one’s got any idea where we are!”

  The commander looked between them. “It’s a long story, but I think we’re safe for the moment.” He looked back at his companion. “In fact, why don’t you fill them in?” Fox nodded toward the group. “They’ve got an affinity for you.”

  Grant read the meaning in his voice and climbed onto the top rack of the nearest bunk. Looking down on the sea of anxious faces and searching for words, he cleared his throat. “Forces of the Space Corps, as you can see we are no longer on board the Flagstaff. Although we do not have all the answers, we have been in communication with our host since we arose like you a few hours ago.” He gestured with a hand to the blue alien standing on the landing above his head. “They have asked for our assistance and it will be our honor to oblige them however they see fit. We will be clearing up what they will require but until then make sure everyone’s accounted for, get rested up and follow their instructions until we return.”

  The audience’s collective expression started to change from fear to a thin look of steely resolve, as if it only took his handful of words to reassure them of their purpose. He hardly considered himself or the brief statement so effective. Half of the crew members still watched Omega as the alien left the balcony and followed the ramp down to the ground floor. Hesitating, they stepped back as he approached while Grant slid off the mattress.

  “Sufficient?” he asked Fox.

  The other commander nodded. “That will work. They now know as much as we do and I’d rather not speculate to them further.”

  “I agree,” Kael said, approving as well.

  Grant looked towards the alien who had joined them. “They’re all yours. Please take good care of them.”

  Without question. My people shouldn’t need to interact with them much until we return from our next engagement. We might need to provide them some familiarization like you’ve already received but nothing more for now.

  “Thank you.”

  4

  Clark watched as the small inner conglomeration mumbled back and forth with the blue alien before they said their goodbyes and quietly left via the same stairs through which they had entered. He looked back at Lieutenant Rans. “What do you think’s with the circle of disciples?”

  She shook her head. “The commanders aside, I’m not sure. I think I saw a couple of them roll through during the fighting but I’m not sure.” Rans paused, looking more inquisitive. “I wonder how they communicate…” she said, her voice trailing off.


  “I’m sure we’ll find out sooner rather than later,” he replied before getting their superintendent’s attention. “Sergeant Miller, who was that with Commander Fox?”

  The sergeant weakly looked up from his trek back to his rack, still unsteady on his feet. “Some of the soldiers who we picked up on the last mission. The one’s Major Kael, the guy we left on Mars.”

  “They wouldn’t pick up the command crew?”

  “Sir, who knows?” Miller shrugged. “Judging by what I’ve seen so far, I seriously doubt these guys need our little boat. Plus,” he continued, “Those guys are some serious badasses. Maybe they were looking for something else entirely. I wouldn’t want to start any shit with them.”

  He continued to groan as he collapsed onto the white padded surface. “Holy hell, I feel like every muscle in my body just got torn apart. This’s worse than rhabdo.”

  “I know how you feel.” Clark shifted his weight, feeling the persistent stinging within his joints. “Just get some rest. We’ll try to get some answers.”

  Miller looked to be asleep in a second. “Whatever they’re looking for, I hope they find it,” Clark remarked to the lieutenant.

  ***

  “Where are we now?” Scott asked the Emissary while he watched the thin seams in the wall zip by a few meters from his head.

  We’re taking an axial transport out to the next ring in the station. Your equipment is contained there.

  They were standing on a featureless block of the white material, sliding silently through a wide tunnel. He felt and heard no rushing air, so he wagered a guess that they were surrounded by an unseen shield that enveloped the platform. Before he could complete the thought, their speed dropped and the transport came to a stop.

  They were left at the edge of a moderate sized landing, only a few dozen meters deep but stretched far to each side. The ceiling was again high, resulting in a vertical wall bigger than a football field before them.