Omega Force 5: Return of the Archon (27 page)

“Preferably someplace where I can grab something to eat,” Kage agreed and followed the big warrior out of the square.

“Actually, I have something a bit more entertaining in mind,” Morakar said speculatively as a lieutenant of the 8
^th
Legion strolled by, obviously intoxicated.

*****

Crusher paced back and forth in the small chamber just off of the main assembly area, his formal armor creaking and rattling with each movement. His annoyance with the attire was beginning to reach critical mass. How he had ever worn the ridiculous outfit every day of his previous life was a mystery to him. He did notice that his temper and irritation seemed directly proportional to the lack of information about his friends. He had sent Morakar out a day ago and had yet to hear anything back.

“We’re almost ready for you, my lord,” Connimon said as she poked her head in.

“Please enter, Caretaker,” Crusher rumbled. She moved apprehensively into the small antechamber, as the current foul temperament of the Lord Archon had become somewhat legendary in recent days. When she had fully entered the room, he continued, “What do you make of the current troop buildup in the city of Ker?”

“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean, my lord,” she said smoothly. She was good. Crusher would have accepted the lie at face value had he never left Restaria. But being around the scum of the galaxy, not to mention world class liars like Twingo and Kage, he was able to detect the slight narrowing of the eyes and the involuntary twitch of her mouth. Whatever was going on, she didn’t trust him with the information.

“Of course,” he said. “Just some random reports I’ve been receiving. Nothing firm.” He listened for a moment as the three Praetores addressed the assembled crowd. “Do you think this is wise? Will a unified Restaria be enough to stave off the unrest on Galvetor?”

“Perhaps for a time,” Connimon said carefully. “But we’re being inexorably pulled into the larger galaxy around us. A purely isolationist policy may no longer be practical for our worlds. You, more than any of us, should be able to appreciate that given your recent past.” Her tone of voice told Crusher she was trying to suss out his feelings on the issue rather than making a declaration of her own.

“That is not for us to decide,” Crusher said firmly. “We’ve been the guardians, the last resort, and the main deterrent for any potential enemies for as long as we have a written history of our kind. I will not throw away a millennium of tradition and tip the balance of power to any one political side.”

“Of course, my lord,” she said, almost sadly.

“We are ready for you, Lord Archon,” Fordix said from the doorway. Crusher hadn’t heard him approach and wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“Very well,” he said with a deep sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

When he emerged onto the raised stage, a thunderous roar rose from the crowd, such a noise that it could have drowned out a starfighter’s engines. Crusher stood in the center and let them view him. Though there had been rumors and sightings, this was the first time their Guardian Archon had been before them in an official capacity in over a decade. He could feel the energy in the room. It was intoxicating, electric. He raised his arms, trying to signal for silence so he could begin his prepared remarks.

As he slipped back into his old role, the thrill of being on stage soon fled and was replaced with an old familiar ache. With his new perspective gained from his time with Omega Force, he now knew that ache to be self-loathing.

“We have three hours until daylight, Captain Burke,” Kade said. “They will undoubtedly be starting their dayshift soon.”

“I’m aware of the time, Kade,” Jason said patiently. “This cannot be rushed, however, unless you want to be atomized in less than a millisecond if it goes wrong.”

The warrior said nothing, but did turn and leave the engineering bay so Jason could continue his work uninterrupted.

Starting an antimatter reactor that had been shutdown was a touchy thing. First, there had to be enough power available to engage the isolators: magnetic constrictors that prevented the antimatter from coming in contact with the conduit walls and destroying most of the ship. Then the antimatter generators had to be brought online, and they used a tremendous amount of power. They would convert hydrogen atoms into anti-hydrogen and send them through the antimatter manifold, along the short conduit, and into the injector housings. At the same time, hydrogen atoms from the same fuel source would prime the injectors on the other side of the core. When the controller fired the injectors, hydrogen would meet anti-hydrogen and the resultant atomic annihilation would release a tremendous amount of energy the converters would then use to power the ship. Once it was all up and running, the reaction was self-sustaining and quite stable; any problem and the small amount of antimatter on hand would be jettisoned.

One problem, however, was the fact that if there was less than eighty percent emergency power, all the needed subsystems could not be safely operated. A deep space combat vessel wasn’t without more than one backup, but now Jason had to figure out the best way to employ them without the help of his engineer. He looked over the myriad of individual control panels and indicators, sighing in disgust. Twingo always made it look so easy.

“Computer,” he said. “Are the two emergency fuel cells charged?”

“Affirmative.”

“If both fuel cells are activated to supplement Main Bus A, will there be enough power to start the main reactor?”

“The power level would not be within acceptable safe limits to attempt a main reactor start sequence,” the computer told him dispassionately.

“What would the available power be up to? Give me the answer in a percentage based on emergency power cell outputs,” Jason said.

“Eighty-seven percent.”

“What are the power levels needed to start the main reactor given it starts on the first attempt? Tell me the accepted minimum and the absolute minimum.”

“A nominal reactor start needs ninety percent to be within acceptable safety limits. Absolute minimum is eighty-five percent,” the computer droned.

“How long would it take to bring the backup fusion reactor online?”

“Two hours and twenty minutes would be required for the backup fusion reactor to begin supplying power.”

“And how long after that before we could start the main reactor?” Jason asked, knowing it was a useless question.

“An additional three hours would be required.”

“Shit,” Jason muttered. “At least an absence of choices means it’s impossible for me to make the wrong one … start both emergency fuel cells and apply the power to Main Bus A. Decouple Main Bus B from emergency power cells and alert me when peak power from all three sources has been reached.”

“Acknowledged.”

He left Engineering and walked up through the darkened interior of his ship towards the bright lights of the infirmary. He looked in through the transparent double doors at his friends. Doc, his arm now set and in a sling, was dozing in a chair with a tablet computer grasped loosely in his good hand. His face was partially covered with med-patches that were addressing the swelling and soft tissue damage to his face.

Twingo almost couldn’t be seen under the coverings and various apparatus that Doc had brought to bear to save the little engineer’s life. Not wanting to disturb them, Jason went to the bridge where Mazer and Kade were standing watch, looking out the canopy at the cluster of buildings and waiting for signs of life from the morning crew.

“Anything?” he asked, slumping into the pilot’s seat.

“All is still,” Kade said. “There are not even any lights in the building we are assuming is their sleeping quarters.”

“Let’s hope even if they find our handiwork they won’t put two and two together and get four,” Jason said absently as he brought up a few of his displays.

“Isn’t two and two actually four?” Mazer asked, confused.

“It sure is,” Jason said, not bothering to clarify the idiom. The two warriors shrugged at each other and went back to their watch. Jason accessed the infirmary through his multi-function display and called up the computer’s assessment of Twingo’s condition. The explosive breath he blew out when he read it startled both geltens, but he hardly noticed them. It was right there in plain text what the computer thought Twingo’s chances were:

Prognosis: Full recovery after nano-treatment.

So Doc’s medical nanobots would work their magic and his friend would eventually make a full recovery. The sense of relief he felt nearly overwhelmed him. He drilled down into the report a bit further and saw that the ear his torturers had cut off would need to be cloned and reattached. It was all fairly standard treatment for everything else including a short bout of physical therapy once he was ambulatory again. The list of significant injuries was daunting, though. Those scumbags had really worked him over.

“Emergency power is now at eighty-eight percent,” the computer’s voice broke into his musings. “Fuel cell backups are now at peak power output.”

“Acknowledged,” Jason said. “Activate antimatter containment system. As soon as containment is stable start primary antimatter generator.”

“Confirmed,” the computer said. “Antimatter containment activated. Time until primary antimatter generator start: five minutes.”

“I’ll be in Engineering, guys,” Jason said as he hopped out of his seat. “Keep a look out and call on the intercom if things get interesting.” He took the steps off the command deck four at a time and jogged through the common area until he made it to the port engineering bay. More displays and indicators were now active and the familiar ambient noise of the area was picking up as the ship came back to life. He watched the indicators carefully as the magnetic constrictors were charged and stabilized and the entire antimatter containment system reached peak efficiency. The coolant lines hissed and frosted over as they kept the superconductors within the antimatter conduits chilled down to cryogenic temperatures.

“Activating fuel flow pumps,” the computer reported. “Antimatter generation from primary source will commence in approximately twenty-five minutes.” The ship had dual redundancy when it came to its antimatter generators, but with such limited power available for a restart, Jason didn’t dare try and bring them both online at the same time. Once the main reactor was providing power he would be able to bring the rest of their systems up individually. He watched as the manifolds were charged with antimatter and the countdown the computer provided marched towards zero.

They were coming up to the most dangerous part of the mission, or at least the part where they would be the most vulnerable. When the main reactor started there would be a lull until it produced enough power to bring the primary flight and weapons systems online. At the same time, the procedure would have exhausted their emergency power to the point that the defensive systems may not have enough juice to ward off a committed boarding party.

“Computer, open an intercom channel to the bridge,” he said as that last line of thought crossed his mind. When he heard the confirmation chime, he continued. “Mazer, I want you and Kade to rotate down here one at a time. I’m opening up the armory and I need you to grab some more substantial hardware than the pop guns that were on that shuttle.”

“
Acknowledged, Captain Burke
,” Mazer’s voice floated from the speaker in the ceiling.

“Computer, unlock and open the armory,” Jason said. “My authorization.”

“Acknowledged,” the computer said. “Armory now unlocked.”

He went back to monitoring the antimatter levels in the injector assembly. When Mazer walked into the engineering space, Jason simply pointed to the heavy blast door to his left that led into the armory. Mazer veered off without a word and smacked the control to open the door. An excited hoot floated out from the open doorway as the warrior walked around in a circle, taking in all the weaponry Omega Force had collected over the years.

“Just grab something that makes sense to repel boarders,” Jason called. “I don’t want holes in my hull.”

“No problem, Captain,” Mazer shouted back. “You know, with all these toys have you considered an assault on the enemy’s position while we have the advantage of surprise?”

“Jesus, he even sounds like Crusher,” Jason mumbled before raising his voice again. “Of course I did … I ruled it out. Enough people have almost died in this debacle already. We’re relatively safe in here and we have no idea what sort of force they can marshal out there.” As Mazer was still poking around in the armory, Lucky came into the engineering bay to stand beside Jason.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked.

“I have performed a complete security sweep of the ship,” Lucky said calmly. “It appears as if our initial assessment was correct: nobody has boarded the ship since we disembarked on Restaria.”

“That’s good to know,” Jason said. “It’d be a shame if we managed to survive this long to be taken out by a planted explosive as we leave.”

“Have you thought about what will happen before the reactor has enough power for us to lift off?” Lucky asked as he took a look at all of the indicators.

“I’ve got our geltens drawing weapons from the armory,” Jason said. “The fact they were waiting for the power to drain until they tried to board leads me to believe their main goal was to take the ship intact, so we’ll set up a defense in the cargo bay if it comes to that.”

“Why do you think they took the ship in the first place?” Lucky asked after a moment. Jason was well aware of Lucky’s borderline obsession with what the synth Deetz had said before he died and didn’t want to get into yet another conversation about it. But the cavern floor being littered with the carcasses of other, similar Jepsen ships did give him pause.

“I’m not sure,” he said, unable to think of anything that Lucky wouldn’t be able to see through. “It could be just a group of salvagers.” He could feel the battlesynth’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he refused to look over.