Beyond Mars Crimson Fleet Page 8
It was a great labyrinth held together by a network of interconnecting granite and resin support beams. Although its walls seemed mostly smooth, they still retained random jagged patches that reflected their sharpness in the sudden flares of light. But the great pit was awash with activity. Wider than two football fields, it was filled with supplies, machinery, and raw materials—and it stretched and dissolved into an outlying inky horizon. Only the flaming light from huge induction furnaces and cold fusion reactors gave some illumination while hinting to the vastness of the area. The machines hummed in a foreboding melody as the beating and forging of metal accompanied their song.
Armon continued to look in spite of the mounting apprehension that quivered his body in a precipitate long shudder. In the pulsed reddish glow of the inextinguishable sources of power and fire, Armon saw grand, raven machines of unrecognizable design being fabricated and assembled. Furthermore, all this was tended by silhouetted specters that bore a striking resemblance to large ghastly centipedes. They darted about with only reflections of light betraying their presence. Working as drones; they tirelessly performed their mysterious tasks while neither knowing fatigue, nor rest.
Conceived in secret and with hidden purpose, all this was a recent development of productiveness within the last year by Ektos. With much trepidation, Quinton witnessed alone at what could only be guessed at. He lingered in thought for a moment longer, and then gladly journeyed onward to the other side.
A fork of several lamp-lit corridors was offered to him on the opposite side of the chasm. Quinton chose the path second on the left, and ambled down it at a laggard pace.
Finally, the second trail of lamps ended and Quinton halted as if on queue. A moment later, an array of multi-colored beams of light showered him from above and distorted his body in visual perception. The man was scanned thoroughly for weapons as well as to verify his DNA fingerprint and other bio-traits. The scan lasted only a few seconds, but it was all that was needed. As the scans were cut off, a huge round hatchway whirred and split open, flooding the area in brilliance. Quinton hesitated for an instant, but then stepped in.
The man paused again within, taking in his surroundings. The ceiling of the room disappeared into shade while scaled-archways formed architectural ribs that spanned room's width. The chamber's walls were tiled in green and looked similar to an operating room. But he knew that this was nothing close to a hospital.
Even though there were many examination tables side-by-side in rows, the room was not staffed by doctors and nurses. Instead, robotic arms of black anodized and passivated metal mounted on both horizontal beams, and walls worked speedily with their various medical device extensions. They swiftly inspected, probed and modified their charges: adult human beings kidnapped from the city above.
Armon watched with dismay as a group of unconscious humans were move from a multi-transport carrier and placed on the tables. They were then quickly stripped of their clothing and physically explored.
Next to each table were huge cylinders of clear plastic, mounted on their own movable cradles. Every cylinder was open, having its top cap removed. This exposed the inside of each plastic container, which tainted the air with a pungent odor that smelled of bile. More ominous, however, was a backboard with straps on metal slides that stuck out like a black tongue from each plastic tube. It more than hinted at its purpose.
Suddenly, Quinton's stomach became very queasy. He struggled with himself, feeling the queasiness turn to nausea. The man quickly left the room behind. After some distance away, Armon stopped and took a few deep breaths. The nausea began to fade as suddenly as it came.
Turning a corner, Armon came upon a platoon of androids, and rows of closed cylinders set upright and held in place by braces of metal. Mounted near the top and bottom of each cylinder were hose lines that ran into a single huge metal orb that was centered in the room. The globe was the reservoir of a green slime that was used to fill each cylinder during the “nutrient” processing. However, it now sat idle as empty cylinders were being replaced by the tending androids. With great care, new cylinderseach containing a human beingwas installed as a replacement. Quinton's head dropped a little lower as he pretended not to see what was unfolding around him.
Unexpectedly, there was a banging to his right that brought the Chairman out of his stupor and into reality. The banging was accompanied by a frenzied of pleas for help in muffled and desperate female tones. Armon's head snapped in surprise to the cries that called his name. The man was taken back as he looked at a conscious nude woman whom he immediately recognized.
Carly Nogales was one of the most popular and beautiful singers that the Earth counted among its top celebrities. Her talent well exceeded her 24 years of age and to the admiration of billions. More so, Quinton knew her personally as a frequent guest at his house. She was a woman he had admired and shared several intimate liaisons with. Yet, seeing her like thisfrightened, and encased in one of Ektos' processing capsulesbore Quinton with a great shame.
Though secured to a backboard, she banged away with hands and feet as she begged for help, but to her surprise none came. Casting a long sad face that was guilt ridden, Armon merely dropped his head in disgrace. He then quickly turned away and dashed off, trying to run from both the girland what remained of his conscience. Somewhere in his head, he cursed himself for not getting there sooner—or much later.
Finally after a distance away, the Chairman slowed and caught himself. He paused for a second and looked back.
"I'm sorry!" he confessed with real aggrieved emotion to the girl who could no longer hear him. Armon stood silently for a moment, despairing to Carly's fate. He then stumbled on.
Armon now approached the end of the great hall. However, a formation of uniformed figures in black cloaks and hoods stood as statues, blocking any further passage. Although they appeared monk-like, each was armed with a metal staff-like weapon that was tipped in huge multiple cutting blades that surrounded a single output rod of a laser weapon. They were fearsome carriages of an honor guard that protected Ektos from any unwanted intrusion.
Armon slowed his gait even further, but still continued his advance. As he neared the figures, a sentinel bigger than the rest stepped out from the shadows.
"You will proceed no further," the sentinel commanded.
Armon halted promptly to the challenge of the mysterious warrior, his fear quite apparent. "Logos, I need to see him! It's urgent!" Quinton tried to reason.
"You will proceed no further," Logos repeated.
"I AM THE COUNCIL CHAIRMAN! I ORDER YOU TO ALLOW ME ENTRANCE!" Armon demanded.
Suddenly, Logos removed his hood, revealing a shiny black, translucent sphere of metal. His facial features appeared in flashes that changed and vanished like an image within a mirror. Yet, he was lacking in any form of eyes, which seemed nothing more than a dark pool of a soulless void. Logos was as intimidating as death himself.
"It is Ektos I serve, not you!" the android replied in a deep growling tongue.
Quinton became more passive. "I need to see him! Things are getting out of hand! I may not be able to shield him much longer!"
Logos paused seemingly in thought. Then, the machine turned his head to gaze at a wall next to him. For an instant, the dark pool began to glow and swirl in bright red. Laser beams were then emitted from the android's induced face. They danced upon the wall in a high-speed sequence of blinking codes; and in return, the wall fluttered in liquid waves.
Logos indicated by a hand motion for Quinton to walk through. With reluctance, Quinton stepped through the liquefied metal, followed by the android. Like a stone vanishing beneath the stillness of a pond, they each displaced the wall as they went.
For a moment, there was only a noiseless dark void. Then suddenly the blackness leaped to a blinding white light, which emanated from a platform that appeared as if in a dream. Quinton drew an arm up to block the
brilliance from his vision.
The platform held four huge curved electrodes that generated a burning orb of white light between them. It cast off rays like a burning sun, yet the room was filled amazingly with a biting coldness. Quinton became more anxious.
The metal platform itself was barely visible in the radiance, but it stretched out into a chamber that was larger than a stadium and completely circular. Added to its oddity, the walls were erected totally in huge black plastic panels. Red neon lit the panels created by electronic circuits that were encased in each rectangular cell. The circuits, however, were not of a static nature. They were forever changing their connections and configurations from moment to moment. This was the heart and the mind of False Star 6: a living, evolving, bio-machine that called itself Ektos.
Quinton walked forward a few steps with his arm still raised as Logos stood by the entrance. The man's eyes glanced away from the blinding light that held covert thoughts, and the combined essences of human and reversed-engineered alien design.
"You seem a bit on-edge, Armon, but then you always are," a pleasant multitude of male voices resounded from every direction.
"It's just a little nerve racking being so near to panels holding enough of your hybrid flesh-eating bacteria to kill an entire city. I'm always afraid that one of them might crack open," Armon confessed. "Why our scientists insisted on using them for your circuits is beyond me!"
"They're actually very practical," Ektos answered. "They can transfer signals faster then your human brain and are extremely energy efficient. This is true of each of the many bacteria variants I hold, regardless of their different morphologies, they work together through electrical stimuli to mimic your brain structure, creating my consciousness. But you did not come here to discuss my technology, have you? So why did you come?" the bio-machine questioned.
"Ektos, I came to tell you that the Crimson Fleet is now in pursuit of the Martians," Quinton spoke, reluctant to confront Ektos with his real complaint.
"I know. I have been monitoring all transmissions. This Martian problem is nothing more than a trivial diversion. Their blight will soon be eradicated from the universe. But then, you know all this. So what is the real reason for your presence?" Ektos grew a little impatient at Quinton's deceit.
Armon dropped his head momentarily, but then it swiftly lifted. "Councilman Blake's daughter!" Quinton's voice exploded. She was one of your latest victims! He's looking for her and has demanded that the Global Investigation Bureau find her! And he's not the only one! With so many disappearances, others in the government are beginning to notice and ask questions too! Soon, it will all unravel! I can't see why you have to abduct so many conspicuous people, when I can supply you with others who won't be missed!" Quinton concluded his grievances.
"It is a matter of genetic attributes, DNA linking, and the physical quality of their bodies. The ones that are selected are the most compatible as well as being the most desirable. They must have the right amount and type of chemical nutrients as well as being in the most optimum condition. Remember Armon, it is me they're feeding. You wouldn't feast on a piece of slimy fat gathered from the gutter of the street, would you? Besides, it should be of little concern. You control Administrator Arnett, and she controls the bureau," Ektos defended.
"How do you think I'm managing this now?" Quinton argued. "Eventually both the parliament and the council will press for an investigation with Blake will leading the charge! And I won't be able to stop it!"
Ektos laughed. "You take things way too seriously, Armon. Opportunity knocks and you do not hear it."
"What do you mean?" the man was puzzled.
"Let me explain then," Ektos was confident. "I think it's apparent that the Martians had help with their little rebellion. I would not be surprised if Councilman Blake was one of these traitors. Perhaps, he had his own daughter murdered for fear of being exposed by her. And who knows what other traitors lay within the council and parliament as well. A man of strength and vision would recognize this opportunity—and seize it! What do you think, Armon?"
Quinton's fears began to abate as he thought about what Ektos suggested.
"And all the others who vanished?" Quinton asked.
"As for the others, they probably had pro-Martian sentiments as well. Knowing of this, it is safe to assume that they fled from Earth with their Martian friends."
A smile of relief slowly formed on Quinton's mouth, and he nodded in agreement. Armon began to surge with a newfound courage. "With the right spin, and a little manufactured and well-placed evidence, it wouldn't be difficult to prove that at all! You’re right, I can turn this to my advantage!"
Flashing a broad smile and an assured look, Quinton quickly turned and vanished back through the wall: a man with a mission not to be deterred.
After Quinton left the chamber, Logos sealed the entrance from within.
"Why do we need to tolerate this fool?" Logos questioned his master.
"We do need him right now. Although time is really inconsequential, his importance will end shortly. However, do remember that he does provide the necessary distractions we need to complete our work in secret."
"Let him war with the Martians and play the stupidity of politics with his government. It is we who act decisively. In this hour, our production facilities for the Mort-Hia have just conceived the first batch. And we have secured a great quantity of meitnerium, lonsdaleite, and baryonic dark matter for our dimensional gravitational accelerators and portal ships, which are now under construction. When the moment is right, the universe will bow to us and become our tool." Ektos chuckled. "Yes, we do need him now—but only for a little while longer."
Logos smirked with his vaporous features and hoped that he would be the one to slaughter the human named Armon Quinton.
* * * * *
Chapter 6: By Storm
Although Commander Paladin stood before the Mariner's main viewer with his arms folded in a confident stance, his mind, however, was distraught. As he surveyed the vast collection of transport vessels assembling amid the Martian warships, he was concerned with the amount of time the entire process was taking. The deployment of his warships was dictated by his convoy experiences to distant worlds, affording maximum protection to the unarmed vessels. Yet, he knew it would surely not be enough should any of Earth's main battle fleets appear. Time was now his enemy.
"Mr. Winslow, give the order for the fleet to get under way immediately."
"Sir, not all ships are in position yet," Winslow excused with cautioned.
"We've wasted too much time here already. They'll just have to manage the best they can."
"Aye, Sir," Winslow's face betrayed a downcast look while his voice lacked any eagerness.
Paladin cast a suspicious eye at his subordinate. "You seem a bit distressed, Mr. Winslow. What's on your mind?"
The junior officer just stood silently.
"Mr. Winslow, you served with me long enough to know I don't like secrets, so out with it!"
For a moment the man hesitated, but then spoke his thoughts. "Commander, I don't like the idea of leaving a third of our population behind. I was hoping we could give them a little more time. Maybe we could convince some of them to get to the last few remaining transports and…."
"Mr. Winslow," Paladin interrupted, "we have given them every opportunity to leave Mars with us. It is by their own decision that they remain, and to whatever reason they base it on."
"I have it from very reliable source that if we don't do this today—right now—we will never be allowed to. And to this end, I will not jeopardize the lives of those truly seeking their freedom against those who do not."
"Sir, it just seems that we're abandoning them."
"That is a matter of opinion. I think it's more of them abandoning us. They don't share the same values or the same dream of freedom as we do. And not all the allotted time in the universe will see them change their
minds. Give the order, Mr. Winslow," Paladin refused to yield.
"Aye, Sir."
Just then, the communication's crewman called out to Paladin. "Commander, I have an incoming message from Mr. Damon aboard the Morning Star," the woman reported.
Paladin's face shifted to a deep frown, showing his disdain for the politician. "Put it on audio only."
"Aye, Sir," she swiftly obeyed.
A moment later, a familiar voice echoed from a speaker, "Commander? Commander Paladin?"
However, Paladin paused before answering. He neither trusted nor liked the administrator. Still, he thought Damon a necessary evil needed for establishing a new government. "Yes, Mr. Damon, I can hear you. If you'll excuse me, we're a little rushed for time. So, if you could make this brief."
"Commander, as the administrator of Mars, I just wanted to say how absolutely delighted I am in the performance of your fleet today!" Damon voiced pretended enthusiasm that he really lacked. "It was nothing less than miraculous! I think that I can speak for every man, woman, and child when I say…."
"Mr. Damon!" Paladin interrupted with impatience. "This is not the time for a congratulatory speech. The operation is still ongoing. I am still waiting for our space marines to report in on their objective before we can proceed out of the system."
"Objective? What objective?" Damon quizzed, having never been told the details of the plan.
Paladin's answer was short and to the point. "The Guardians!"
* * * * *
In the dimness of space close to Jupiter, two gigantic "paddle wheel" type structures turned on end, slowly in unison. These were the twin battle stations called The Guardians that protected the Earth's inter-dimensional jump-gate.
Jump-gates were the entrances and exits of automatically programmed hyperspace tunnels. They acted like a giant space telephone network, simply by connecting one jump-gate to another. This made them very easy to operate verses a starship that traveled by hyperspace engines directed by navigational run-time equations—equations that produced the exact time needed for traveling through hyperspace corresponding to the amount of distance to be traveled in real space. This demanded a well-qualified and seasoned navigator. For even a minor error made by a navigator in calculating these formulas, the probabilities of inadvertently materializing the vessel inside the center of a star or impacting other celestial bodies was greatly enhanced. This made jump-gates far safer, while giving them an added bonus of being utilized by any craft lacking its own hyperspace capability as well.