Desolate 3 - Redemption, page 1
Desolate 3– Redemption
Robert Brumm Jr.
Copyright 2013
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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v 1.0
Prologue
Senior Medical Officer Maylew inspected his patient’s wounded foot. Despite the thirty arsects injection of Pfilison, Junior Crew Enlistman Furlon still wailed in pain. The very potent pain retardant seemed to have no effect.
“Come now, Furlon. You carrying on only makes my job more difficult. Please try to remain calm.” Maylew sprayed disinfectant into the wound causing Furlon to howl even louder.
Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer appeared in the medical bay doorway. Furlon fell silent at the sight of his superior. “What is it now?” Lanmer said. “Why is it every time I lay my head to rest some problem occurs?” He turned his gaze to Furlon’s bloody foot. Besides a significant gash, the normal gray skin of the foot had grown to a darker, almost green, tint from cell damage. “What in hellfire happened to him?”
“It was Specimen Six, Mr. Lanmer.” The pain retardant slowly became more effective but Furlon still winced as the doctor began to close the gash in his foot with sutures. Furlon tried his hardest to mask the pain in front of Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer. Mr. Lanmer thought pain to be a sign of weakness and made no effort to hide his disgust when one of his crewmen showed any signs of discomfort. “I merely passed through the laboratory and it lashed out at me.”
“Did I not inform the entire crew to keep at least six fills from its cell?”
“I swear I was at least twice that, Mr. Lanmer. The reach of that beast is deceptive. I fear nowhere in the hold is safe from its attacks.”
Lanmer ignored him, all too familiar with Furlon’s tendency for exaggeration. “How will this affect his mobility, Mr. Maylew?”
Senior Medical Officer Maylew finished the last stitch on Furlon’s foot and removed his gloves. “I recommend he spends the rest of the cycle in his bunk. The Pfilison will affect his judgment and cause drowsiness. He should feel significantly better next cycle.”
“Curses!” Lanmer tipped over a tray of Maylew’s instruments. Both the medical officer and young enlistman were taken aback by Lanmer’s sudden outburst. He was gruff by nature and often lost his temper due to impatience, but neither man had ever seen him lash out in a physical way before.
“Curses to this mission and curses to this blasted vessel,” he roared. “Capturing that beast was the last straw. Look at what the captain’s blatant disregard for the law has gotten us. Furlon could easily have been killed. Am I not right, Mr. Maylew?”
Senior Medical Officer Maylew cleared his throat and lowered his gaze to the deck.
“Answer the enlistman, Maylew.”
The deep voice resonated from the passageway behind Lanmer, who remained silent and straightened his spine to attention. The action was pure muscle memory, a subconscious decision due to many yarwens of military conditioning.
Captain Sekwee strolled into the quiet medical bay. His heavy bootsteps sounded like hammers in the small room. “Our young enlistman Furlon could have been killed by our new guest. That much is obvious, judging by the nasty wound in his foot.” The captain made a soft hissing sound with his mouth.
Maylew knew Captain Sekwee well enough to know he wasn’t looking for his input at all. He remained silent.
“Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer,” the captain said. “Do I sense some frustration with our mission?”
The captain’s large black eyes bored into Lanmer and he resisted the strong urge to look away. Born of Drillian descent, the captain’s facial features were imposing and aggressive, even when he was calm. It was a natural advantage for a Federate commanding officer.
“Permission to speak freely, Mr. Sekwee?”
“Of course, Lanmer.”
“You know I would never question your authority or judgment.”
“But?”
Lanmer finally allowed himself to look away from the captain’s eyes. “It’s just that…I’m sure the captain is well aware RZ-237 is deemed inhospitable. The Federates prohibited exploration of the surface several yarwens ago. We don’t understand why you…why the captain deliberately broke Federate law by landing on the surface.”
Maylew and Furlon shifted uncomfortably in their seats, noticing his use of the word “we” without their consent.
“Yes, Lanmer,” Sekwee said, “I am fully aware we broke the law, and I know you,” he nodded and waved his hand over the three men, “all of you, know the penalty for such transgressions are severe. But I don’t want you men to worry. As captain of this vessel, I take full responsibility for my decisions. You were merely acting as a result of my orders. If anyone were to face prosecution the punishment would be mine and mine alone.”
Furlon may have only been a young and naive junior enlistman, just a yarwen out of the academy, but even he knew what the captain said was laughable. If the Federates discovered not only had they landed on RZ-237, but captured one of its native creatures as well, the entire crew would face court-martial. The captain would take the most punishment of course, but the magistrates would surely question the rest of the men. Even the lowliest of junior enlistmen like himself. Why did they do nothing to stop their captain from committing such a serious crime? Following orders was no longer a valid excuse. Any person familiar with history knew the troops involved with the RS-494 massacre learned that the hard way.
“So I don’t want you men to worry,” Captain Sekwee said again. “What the Federates don’t understand yet is how important Specimen Six is. The beast that just lashed out and injured you, Furlon, that creature will go down as one of the most important discoveries for dectars to come. Mark my word.”
“But, sir,” Senior Medical Officer Maylew interjected, “simply getting the specimen past Consular Affairs…”
“You leave those details to me, Doctor.” Furlon looked appropriately uncomfortable when the captain placed his hand on his shoulder. "You have more pressing matters to attend to, such as the young enlistman here. Carry on, gentlemen.”
Captain Sekwee left the medical bay as quickly as he had entered and stormed down the passageway. He opened the hatch to the lab and stood in the doorway, observing the cells on the far side of the room. Specimen Six sat quietly in its hold between two empty cells on either side of it. The crew quickly learned to give it extra space after it killed and devoured most of Specimen Four, from RZ-118, through the bars.
The shortsighted fools he left in the medical bay still failed to comprehend the significance of finding Specimen Six. Before they captured it, Sekwee had heard only rumors and wondered if the beast was simply a myth. Then he laid his own eyes on it down on the surface. It was unusual but not unheard of for the captain of a Federate research vessel to accompany a landing party. Sekwee couldn’t bring himself to delegate the task of securing the creature after waiting for so long. It took the landing party several cycles, tracking the creature only to have it lose them on multiple occasions, before they finally cornered it at the bottom of a ravine near the continent’s edge.
It took twice as many tranq rounds as expected, and Junior Crew Officer Guzmel was nearly killed when the beast breached the armor of his exosuit, but they finally subdued the creature to be known as Specimen Six.
Captain Sekwee, still pleased by the encrypted sub-space transmission he read earlier, gazed at Specimen Six with a smile on his face. His gamble was paying off. Sekwee’s contact in the clandestine cell known as the Sons of the Confederates was overjoyed at the news of the creature’s capture.
The Sons of the Confederates patiently waited yarwens for the ideal candidate to arrive. A specimen to test their perfected, yet highly illegal, rapid clone technology. If it worked as planned, a single replica of Specimen Six could be deployed on any planet in the galaxy. Within mere microns, the beast would clone and multiply in exponential numbers, spreading across the planet like a virus. They would attack and devour anything in their path. No military force in the galaxy would be a match for thousands, eventually hundreds of thousands, of Specimen Six’s clones roaming the surface.
Captain Sekwee had no reason to doubt that if left unfettered, it would be possible for every single inchon of dirt on a planet to teem with the creatures. They would simply multiply until there were no more food sources to support them. Sekwee shivered at the thought. He’d seen firsthand how dangerous just one Specimen Six could be. What separated it from other predators in the galaxy was its natural ability to quickly reproduce. It was able to gestate from conception to birth in a matter of a few cycles and it reached adulthood just as quickly. Even without the rapid clone technology, the creature would flourish and procreate in vast numbers as long as there was ample food and hosts. The cloning simply sped up the process in order to assure the victim planet’s defenses would be overrun.
Sekwee closed the hatch to the lab and headed down the passageway to the bridge. Nodding at a passing junior crew enlistman, Sekwee walked the passageway deep in thought. The plan was relatively simple. When the Sons released the creature on one of the inhabited planets in the system, the Federates would watch in horror as hundreds of millions of its citizens were slaughtered in a matter of cycles. The planet would be in ruins. Left with no choice, the Federates would surrender to the Sons of the Confederates and a new order would spread across the galaxy.
Of course Captain Sekwee would be a very integral part of that new order. He didn’t dare flat out ask the Sons about his reward, but he knew it would be handsome. Quite handsome. Grand Emperor Sekwee, ruler of his home planet of RF-937 and surrounding satellite colonies, had a very nice ring to it. Perhaps even an entire system? His ambitions knew no bounds.
The captain entered the small bridge of the ship and acknowledged his executive officer, Commander Fahlew. Federate Vessel Artemis, being a ship modest in size, required only two men on the bridge. Actually, the Artemis required virtually no interaction at all, if the captain and his XO decided to let the ship’s artificial intelligence handle all the tasks of piloting the craft. All aspects of navigation and communication could be handled automatically from pre- and midflight programming via voice commands. Or, if the pilot wished, he could switch to full manual and fly the craft “by stick,” like generations before him had done.
“Is it time, Mr. Sekwee?” Commander Fahlew asked in a somber voice.
“I believe it is, my friend.” Sekwee put his hand on Fahlew’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “It is what’s best for the new order. These are good men on board. My men. I take this task with a very heavy heart.”
“I require no reassurance, Mr. Sekwee. I would gladly give my life under your command.”
“And yet something lingers on your mind.”
“Forgive me, Captain. I just wonder if it’s absolutely necessary. Perhaps the crew would share our vision.”
“There are ten other souls on the Artemis, all of whom have pledged their absolute loyalty to the Federates. Perhaps some of them would join us. Or none. I’m sorry, Fahlew, but that is not a chance I’m willing to take.”
Commander Fahlew nodded once, a look of shame flashing across his face for a moment. “You are correct as usual, Mr. Sekwee.”
Sekwee waved his hand in a gentle dismissal and took his place on the bridge “Artemis. Security feed, up. All areas, full screen.”
The artificial intelligence’s synthetic voice spoke over the bridge intercom system. “Yes, Mr. Sekwee.” The display screen beyond the ship’s controls switched to a video grid of all areas of the ship.
“Artemis, camera four, enlarge.”
The live video feed of camera four grew larger while the others grew smaller. Sekwee and Fahlew had a clear view of the lab and all the specimens inside. The captain could make out Specimen Six crouched in the corner of its cell. His pulse quickened with anticipation.
“The sedative is prepared?” he asked Fahlew. “For…afterward?”
“I mixed it myself, Captain. The canister is online with the ventilation system and will disperse through the entire ship on your mark. With exception of the bridge, of course. It will be enough to incapacitate Specimen Six but leave no permanent damage.”
“Excellent. Artemis, release the door to cell number four in the lab.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Sekwee,” Artemis’ syrupy baritone voice filled the bridge. Too loudly as usual, grating on the captain’s nerves. “According to my records, cell number four holds a highly dangerous xenomorph from RZ-237. It is not advisable to release Specimen Six at this time. Do you wish to continue?”
“Obey my command, Artemis.”
“As you wish, Mr. Sekwee.”
Fahlew and Sekwee leaned forward and watched as the door slowly opened. Specimen Six remained motionless.
“Come, my friend,” the captain whispered at the pixelated image before him. After an agonizingly long wait, Specimen Six finally stirred and crept to the threshold of the cell. Even in the low resolution of the security camera feed, it looked hideous and made the captain’s skin crawl.
“Artemis, all doors, shipwide, lock into open position, with the exception of the bridge door,” said Commander Fahlew. “Revoke permissions for all crew members, with exception of myself and Mr. Sekwee.”
“Yes, commander. I will need Mr. Sekwee’s confirmation to execute your command.”
“I concur, Artemis.”
Captain Sekwee and Commander Fahlew sat back and watched as they released hell on the rest of the Artemis.
Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer left the medical bay with intentions to return to his bunk for some much-needed rest. Unfortunately, Furlon’s injury and the conversation with the captain had left him agitated. Although his body was dead tired, his mind still raced.
Lanmer turned the corner and scowled as he noticed the lab hatch wide open. Of all the careless and idiotic things. The ship was indeed heading downhill quickly. He approached the doorway and paused at the threshold, reaching for his sidearm out of habit but only touching the material of his flight suit. Personnel aboard a research vessel didn’t carry weapons but Lanmer was a twenty-yarwen veteran of the Federate Marine Corps. His assignment on the Artemis was his first tour on a noncombat vessel and he was accustomed to being armed at all times.
He peered around the corner of the door into the dimly lit interior of the lab. “Artemis, increase lighting in the laboratory to full.” The lighting remained unchanged. “Artemis?” The ship’s AI didn’t respond.
“Hellfire and all who inhabit it,” Lanmer cursed. He entered the lab slowly as his eyes adjusted to the low light. “Artemis, increase lighting in the laboratory to full,” he tried again. Nothing. He reached the middle of the lab, as far away from the cell of Specimen Six as possible, just as he'd instructed his men. The cell that he realized was now wide open and empty.
Senior Medical Officer Maylew patted Furlon on the arm. “I’m all finished. Let’s get you to your bunk, shall we?”
Furlon opened his eyes with much effort. The pain retardant Mr. Maylew had given him acted slowly but he was feeling much better. Much better indeed. He smiled at the three images of Maylew that danced in his vision. He blinked a few times and only one remained. “S-sounds good to me, doc.”
Maylew frowned at the junior enlistman’s lack of protocol but let it slide. The Pfilison was obviously impairing his judgment, which wasn’t too surprising. Furlon acted in a similar fashion the last time the crew was on leave on RF-074 and he consumed too many inebriants. Furlon stood up and took a deep breath.
The medical bay hatch opened but nobody walked in. Maylew shrugged it off. The Artemis was nearing the end of her commission and it wasn’t uncommon for mechanical glitches these days. It wasn’t too long ago that the hatch wouldn’t open at all until one of the engineers repaired it.
He held out his hand to Furlon. “I’ll assist you to the sleeping quarters.”
“Not necessary, Mr. Maylew. My head has cleared and it’s just down the corridor.”
“You’re certain?”
Furlon smiled and nodded. His eyes were focused and he appeared stable.
“Very well. Get some rest, Furlon. We both know Senior Crew Enlistman Lanmer will expect you back to full capacity sooner rather than later.”
Furlon gave a halfhearted salute and left the medical bay. He shuffled down the hall, lost his balance briefly, and slammed his shoulder against bulkhead. He took a deep breath and forged ahead. The floating sensation from the Pfilison was pleasurable at first, but he was starting to feel queasy. At least the pain in his foot was gone for the moment.
