The Catherine Kimbridge Chronicles #4, Retribution Page 13

  “Captain…,” the ship’s executive officer said,“we are getting a transmission from the Moon-Tide. The situation in the prime territories is deteriorating rapidly.”

  The captain looked at Snatch-Bait. The Chairman turned to face the ship’s XO.“Explain, Commander.”

  “There are reports of general and wide-spread uprising on Naanac. The loss-mitigation systems are currently on highest alert.”

  “I’ve already deployed forces to deal with this,” Snatch-Bait said, dismissively.

  “Yes, sir; however, there are now reports of similar uprisings on Drian IV, Haden, Morrtan, and about a dozen other systems. Most, if not all, are receiving aid from the GCP.”

  ***

  “They seem to be pulling out,” Admiral Faragon said, with a relieved sigh. The Bridge of the GCP Victory was subdued. Fourteen ships had been lost in the battle for Sol. The losses had been hidden from the Syndicate forces by the clever use of holographic decoys. Even now the GCP New Sidneywas falling into Jupiter’s gravity well. She was a lifeless hull, with all hands lost. At the same time the New Sidney appeared hale and stalwart on picket guarding the Sol system with dozens of other phantom ships.

  It was a victory… but it felt hollow.

  “Notify the fleet,” Admiral Faragon said.“We’ll take twenty-four hours to lick our wounds and then we are heading to support our new allies in the Betaverse. Any word yet from the Suhtian Defense League?”

  Lieutenant Commander Sherry Melbourne picked that moment to step on to the bridge. She had been coordinating non-aligned world participation in the executive conference room.

  “I can answer that, sir,” she said.“Their flagship, the Divine Purpose, will meet us at sector 1-1-4 to offload some special technology they say will help us.”

  “Did they say what this technology was?”

  “Negative, sir. They were‘characteristically vague,’ however I got the impression they were excited for us to have whatever it is. It was the same look my parents had when they bought me my first bike but wouldn’t tell me what was in the big box.”

  The Admiral smiled weakly. Lord, he was tired.“Have we heard from any of the others?”

  “Yes, sir, the Kay-Bees are on board, as well as the Agur.”

  “That’s a relief. Have the Kay-Bees been apprised of the modifications we want to make to their FTL links?”

  “They have, sir. Understandably, given what they just went through, they were somewhat reluctant, until we explained what the Hupenstanii had in mind.”

  ***

  Jason Ruck paced back and forth on the Bridge of WhimPy-101. He was trapped in the Naanac sun’s corona, hiding from an adversary that was impossibly strong. The massive Heshe weapon’s platform had nearly been destroyed by a Modos war ship that was sporting technology that was in many ways superior to the Heshe weapon’s platform. Admiral Kimbridge had begun to suspect there was another player operating behind the scenes in this battle with the Modos, and it seemed she had been right. The truly scary part of this situation was the speculation by WhimPy-101 that the Heshe’s ancestors, the Uruk, might well be this mysterious third party.

  “What I don’t understand,” Jason said to Ben, who shared the bridge,“if the Uruk are the Heshe’s ancestors… how is it that their technology is superior to the Heshe’s?”

  The D’lralu engineer was pacing on all six paws; this was a clear sign of his agitation.“It’s not as if time stood still for them, sir. They’ve had several thousand years to perfect their art of war while the Heshe have spent the same time engaged in peaceful pursuits. It’s not surprising the Uruk are more powerful at this point.”

  Jason nodded his head. His friend had a point. The question was, why were the Uruk operating behind the scenes using Modos proxies? Even more interesting, why were not all the Modos equipped with Uruk technology?

  “Commodore?” The WhimPy platform voice filled the bridge.

  “Yes, 101?”

  “I have distressing news.”

  “More distressing than being trapped within the corona of a sun trying to hide from the Uruk?”

  “Admiral Kimbrigde has been gravely hurt… by the Uruk”

  ***

  Private Anthony Stone was surprised to see Admiral Kimbridge standing in the middle of a small room drooling. Her expression was blank, and as far as he could tell she had no idea who he was, or even who she was. All attempts to talk with her had resulted in blank stares. She basically didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Whatever had happened to her was serious.

  He tried to guide her out of the room, but she resisted. The private knew they had very little time. The Modos security forces were even now making their way down the makeshift tunnel he and the Admiral had created. Again, he tried to lead her out, and again, she resisted.

  This was definitely not something that had been covered in boot camp. Normally he would have signaled for help, but all of his equipment was fried… probably by the same thing that had hit the Admiral. He looked about the room. There was a lot of computer equipment, but all of it seemed dead… except for a handful of stations that were actively sparking and sputtering. There was no help here.

  Slowly he sensed the Admiral was beginning to recognize that he was present… even if she didn’t know who he was. He also knew she was many times as strong as he was, even if he had being wearing his Stark -- but he was not. Nevertheless, the Syndicate forces could now be heard making their way through the tunnels. He had to get her moving or they would be captured or worse.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and began to move her physically toward the door. Thankfully she seemed no stronger than a normal human. They were almost to the door when she spoke her first word.

  “No.”

  It was more of a soft moan, but she followed it up with a powerful backward roll of her arms. The action caused him to lose hold of her. At the same time, she dropped to a squat and spun about using an outstretched leg to sweep his feet out from under him.

  “No!” she said, more forcefully.

  He rolled as he hit the ground and was instantly back on his feet.

  “Admiral… we have to go,” he pleaded.

  “Admiral?” she said, hesitantly.“We… I… have to stay. There is something important I have to do… I must do… lives depend on it.”

  “The stand-down codes. Yes, I know, ma’am!” he yelled.“But look at this room! The equipment is fried. There’s no way you’re going to be able to enter them from here.”

  The Admiral looked around the room… seeing it for the first time. Panic filled her face.“Codes…,” she said.“Yes, codes… what codes?”

  Private Stone shook his head. Clearly the Admiral was thoroughly confused. He had to get her out of there. They were running out of time.

  “Ma’am… We must go. We’ll have to find another way.”

  It was at that moment that Lieutenant Quick-Kick of the Uruk Battle Cruiser Retribution entered the room leading a squad of fifteen combat-hardened Modos Syndicate soldiers.

  Chapter Eighteen– Confusion

  The woman was having trouble remembering what was going on. Her mind felt like mush. She knew she had something important to do, but whatever it was… it lay just beyond her mental grasp. They were in a small landing craft making their way to a ship in orbit around the planet. The name of the planet was Naanac. It seemed odd to her that she could remember that little detail but not others—like who she was or what it was she had so desperately needed to do.

  The beings who held her captive kept asking her confusing questions. Questions to which the answers seemed perpetually elusive. How would she know how many ships were in route to this system? Why would she know how many troops were deployed… or how they were armed? Who were these rebels they kept referring to?

  “I don’t know—I don’t know—I don’t know!” she screamed.“How many times and in how many ways do you need me to say the same thing?”

  A Modos soldier drew back to slap her
face, but another of the soldiers, a Lieutenant Quick-Kick, grabbed his arm before he could deliver the blow.

  “Enough,” he said.“It’s obvious her current mental state will not allow her to answer. Continuing to beat her will only make the job of the medic onboard our ship that much more difficult.”

  The Lieutenant used a cloth to wipe away blood from a small cut above her right eye—a souvenir from an earlier conversation. The woman stared at the blood on the rag and shuddered. It seemed odd to her. Somehow she had been under the impression that she should not be able to bleed, but that made no sense… of course she could bleed.

  “Why are we even bothering to treat them?” the other grumbled under his breath.

  “Because, Sergeant… treating her injuries represents the best chance we have of restoring her mind and gaining an intelligence bonanza. She is currently the highest-ranking enemy officer in theatre.”

  The sergeant pointed with his trunk to the young human soldier who was shackled next to the woman.“What about him? His mind seems just fine.”

  Quick-Kick snorted.“He’s a mud guppy. He’ll gladly share his name, but that’s the extent of his knowledge. Mud guppies go where the rains lead them and no farther. At best he is leverage for our admiral friend here.”

  There was the sound of metal hitting metal, and a slight bump shook the shuttle.

  “I believe we have finally landed,” Quick-Kick said.“Take her to sickbay; take him to holding. I’m going to report to the captain.”

  ***

  Admiral Faragon stared at the holographic images seated around the conference table.

  “We may need to adjust our plans,” he said, finally. The meeting had been called hastily, when word had come via a trans-dimensional FTL link that Admiral Cat Kimbridge had been captured. Sitting around the table were representatives of all the major parties involved on their side of the current conflict. This included holographic representations of Captain Running Stream, Elder Farin of the Suhtii, Commodore Jason Ruck, the newly promoted Captain Kirkland of the Yorktown,as well as a Naan professor by the name of Debbu. A handful of others were physically present. These included the admiral’s XO, Commander Sherry Melbourne, as well as diplomatic liaisons from the Ashkelons, Hupenstanii, and D’lralu.

  “She’s one woman,” Dishkin, the second of the third from the D’lralu delegation, said.“Surely her loss, while tragic, is not that serious.”

  Admiral Faragon shook his head.“If we were talking about anybody else I would agree, but this is Catherine Kimbridge. She doesn’t just know our plans… she was the principle architect of many of them. We have no idea what has happened to her. Her Heshe tech has been fried and she is in the hands of a force that has access to Uruk technology. We have no idea what they may have been able to extract from her mind.”

  The familiar voice of WhimPy-101 filled the conference room.“That may not be entirely accurate, Admiral.”

  “Go on,” the admiral prompted.

  “Admiral Kimbridge began to suspect the presence of a superior technology at work. Logic dictated that it was the Uruk, or at very least another malevolent entity. She knew that at some point her Heshe technology might become compromised. She therefore had me construct a small and heavily shielded fire-safe data store within her encounter unit. That data store is programed to periodically send out a limited number of reconnaissance nanites into her blood stream. I started receiving FTL telemetry from them ten minutes ago.”

  Admiral Faragon noticed Jason Ruck perk up. The Commander was the first to speak after 101’s bombshell.

  “Does this mean we can communicate with her?” Jason asked quickly.“Can she tell us where she is?”

  “I’m afraid not, Commodore. The nanites are constructed to be broadcast-only units for security reasons. As predicted, the Admiral’s Heshe technology has been obliterated. As part of a preplanned defense strategy, the Admiral instructed her nanites to attempt to erase her memory in the event her systems should be compromised. It’s impossible to tell with complete certainty, but it would seem the effort was at least partially successful. We are receiving basic telemetry, including live feeds from her eyes and ears, but we have no way of interacting with her.”

  “So she is defenseless and very likely suffering from self-induced amnesia,” Jason said.

  “This is good news and bad news,” Second of the Third muttered.“She probably can’t tell the enemy anything useful; at the same time, she is pretty much useless to us as well.”

  Admiral Faragon shook his head.“If there is one thing I’ve learned over the years… it’s‘Don’t under estimate Cat Kimbridge.’”

  “Her strength was never in her Heshe tech,” Jason said.“It is and will forever remain her force of will. Trust me… she will find a way to help us,” he continued, with confidence.

  ***

  The medical bay on the Retribution could have been transplanted from virtually any medical center Cat had ever seen. The doctors demonstrated a sense of compassion that was at odds with her other captors. The physicians had given her an analgesic that reduced the shock-induced swelling in her brain. The result was she was slowly regaining some of her memories. She knew her name was Catherine but people called her Cat. Her captors insisted she was something called an admiral, which she assumed was some type of rank.

  She remembered also that the planet they were orbiting was called Naanac, and that the ship she was a prisoner on was part of a task force that wanted to enslave or destroy the planet. She no longer knew how to save the planet, but perhaps she could stop this one ship.

  Chief Physician Whitefin leaned over her and looked in her eyes with a lighted instrument.

  “Well, now, as far as I can tell this is promising,” the doctor said.

  “What is?” Cat asked.

  “The pupils in your eyes are finally reacting evenly to light stimulation. Tell me… how is the headache?”

  “Much improved,” Cat admitted.

  “I must say, there is a lot of inorganic material floating around in your system. Your species uses filtration organs that utilize an osmotic differential to filter out undesirable factors from your blood. Whatever happened to you has interfered with this process. These organs are becoming clogged and shutting down.”

  “What happens if they do?” Cat asked.

  “Hard to say,” Doctor Whitefin admitted“but my guess is it will be unpleasant and involve your early death.”

  “Options?”

  The doctor rolled her over on her side and began to palpate her lower back on either side of her spine.“Well, the easiest and fastest thing to do would be to hook you up to an external filter and remove this foreign material and hope your internal filters…”

  “Kidneys,” Cat said.

  “Yes… Kidneys,” the doctor continued,“ can recover on their own.”

  ***

  Private Anthony Stone shivered in his meager cell. His uniform had been confiscated and replaced with a simple one-piece pair of overalls. He wondered how the fit had been made so perfectly, but then he remembered the bioscan they had done to detect if he had any embedded cybernetics. He supposed that scan would have given their automated fabricators all the information they needed to make a custom uniform for a prisoner.

  He didn’t know for a fact, but he suspected the simple pair of overalls were anything but. The level of technology on this ship put the best of the GCP to shame. At the same time there were obvious gaps. It was like the tech belonged to someone else and they only doled out the pieces they wanted the Modos to have. He supposed it was similar to what the Heshe had done with humanity, but humanity had worked with lightning speed to fill in the gaps and even extend the technology. There was no evidence that his Modos captors were doing the same thing.

  The result was a strange mishmash. The lighting in his cell was completely uniform and coming from every surface. Because it was so uniform, there were no visual cues as to where a floor or ceiling or for that matter wall began an
d ended. The result was highly disorienting… which he supposed was probably the point. On the other hand, where the GCP would have used a force field or energy barrier for the door, this ship had some type of transparent material with small ventilation holes in it. If he had to guess, he would say it was some type of transparent aluminum or sapphire glass.

  The floor was slightly warm to the touch, but the room itself was cold. On the whole, the room was uncomfortable without being excessively so. Again, he suspected this was deliberate.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a noise outside of his field of vision. It sounded like something was being wheeled down the hall toward his cell. The use of wheels rather than a grav-sled was another of ever-present oddities on this ship.

  He stood up just as the cart he had heard made its way down the hall to stop in front of his cell. A white sheet covered whatever was on the long cart. One of the two Bearephants that had been pushing it pulled the sheet off. There, laying on the stretcher was Admiral Kimbridge. Apparently alive, but unconscious.

  Chapter Nineteen–Deception...

  Snatch-Bait was fuming. The trip back to Prime space, what the humans called the Betaverse, was half over. The fact that it was taking place at all was a source of immeasurable fury. How had the Intelligence Corps Acquisition Department so bungled their assessment of the GCP’s available assets? ICAD had a pristine record when it came to such assessments… and yet clearly the GCP had far more ships available than their battle plan had been designed to handle.

  Even worse was the need now to secure existing holdings in Prime space. This, fortunately, could be easily laid at the feet of his predecessor. Had he not been so lax, the latent insurgencies that festered in all client worlds would not have been allowed develop into the pox that now threatened the Syndicate.

  The Board would not be happy with what was happening. Fortunately, Snatch-Bait was an astute observer. He knew the key to surviving this hiccup in his plans was to quickly redefine what constituted victory. True, the war with the GCP could be cast as a failure, but properly managed it could be seen as a victory. He pressed a button on his desk.