The Orrery (original)

[LadyTevar]

OMG. What Is. Happening?

[Venator]

What I'm thinking...
Spoiler

Mansoor is a human-upload intelligence. They used him to simulate the nano-infection, and it worked on his "brain" (somehow), so now Akemi's all-destroying war AI has gone rampant and genocidal.

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

In this segment, Taggart starts to realize just how deep a hole he's in ...

~~~

Taggart felt himself moving, only none of his limbs were moving. His head felt like it were stuffed full of cotton, save for the stabbing pain at the base of his skull. At least the ringing in his ears had faded somewhat. He moaned, as he slowly realized that he'd been slung around someone's shoulder in a fireman's carry.

“Guillarmod,” he said, his voice weak and raspy.

“You're awake,” he heard Doctor Guillarmod reply. The jolting movement stopped, and Taggart finally opened his eyes. He gasped, as he saw gleaming, polished, floors, and white plastic-lined walls.

“We are inside,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “Can you stand?”

“I ... I think so,” Taggart replied. “What happened?”

“First, let's get you back on your feet,” Doctor Guillarmod said, slowly kneeling down to swing Taggart onto his feet. Fortunately, his legs bore his weight, as shaky as they were.

“I,” he said, just as he caught his first good look at the older man. Doctor Guillarmod was dressed in a robe, like the one he wore when he presented the Surah of War. At his side, there was a long, gently-curved, black scabbard. A hilt, wrapped tightly with narrow cord, protruded from the top.

“Y-you're wearing one of those swords,” he managed.

Hiss!

“Yes,” Doctor Guillarmod replied, the sword suddenly in his hands, the gleaming steel pointed at Taggart.

“You!”

“Yes,” Doctor Guillarmod replied. “Believe me, though, when I tell you that I'm relieved that you're awake. I was unsure whether or not I'd used too much force in subduing you.”

Taggart started to back away, stumbling.

“Freeze, Captain,” the older man said, lifting the sword above his head, the point still aimed straight at Taggart. “I'm certain of my skills with this weapon from the bladed end.”

Taggart froze, the memory of the stabbed men vivid in his mind.

“Good,” Doctor Guillarmod pronounced.

“Why? Why did you bring me here? Do you know what's going on?”

The older man drew his lips back in what could, only charitably, be called a smile.

“You are interesting to me, Captain Taggart. You are ... unaffected ... though the masters could not have known of the plan.”

“Masters,” Taggart echoed. “The gods ... of the Ancients?”

Doctor Guillarmod chuckled, but it was an ugly sound, devoid of humor.

“Gods,” he harrumphed. “A species so deadly, yet so easy to control? Those meddlers chose well ... when they chose Humans.”

“What are you talking about,” Taggart said, his eyes fixed on the point of Guillarmod's sword.

“Turn around and walk,” Doctor Guillarmod replied, the end of his sword twitching. “I will tell you where to go.”

Taggart's gaze dropped to Doctor Guillarmod's eyes, as he considered what to do next.

“Now, Captain,” the older man said. “I'm fast enough that anything you're planning will only end in your death.”

Slowly, Taggart turned away from Doctor Guillarmod.

“So easy to read. So easy to control,” he heard the older man mutter. “Now walk, Captain.”

Taggart began to shuffle down that immaculately clean corridor, aware of the man behind him with the sword.

“So very interesting,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “How are you still sane?”

“I,” Taggart started to reply. “I don't know.”

“A lie,” the older man said. “My memories are jumbled, and my head has done nothing but hurt for as long as I can remember, which isn't long, I admit ... but I do know that you just lied to me.”

Taggart inhaled sharply, bracing for the feel of cold steel sliding between his ribs.

“No matter,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “I have time. But, to encourage you, Captain ... know that you only live because you are interesting to me.”

Akemi ...

Of course, she couldn't hear him. Radio never penetrated into the Orrery.

Mansoor!

“Be interesting, Captain,” Doctor Guillarmod said.

“What's happening to the others,” Taggart said.

“An incomplete awakening,” Doctor Guillarmod replied. “An instinctive struggle to see who is the fittest.”

Taggart frowned, turning Guillarmod's words over in his mind, as he heard the older man direct him to turn. An incomplete awakening? Was that what the payload was meant to do? To “awaken” its victims to some nefarious purpose?

“I will show you something,” Doctor Guillarmod said, his tone nearly genial. “An interest for an interest, perhaps. We have learned ... yes, we have learned ... occasionally a gardener must reach an accomodation with the vermin.”

“I'm afraid I didn't catch that,” Taggart replied. There had to be an opening somewhere.

“Our understanding of history is woeful,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “There is always more than one side to history. Not just that, which are the spoils of the victor.”

“Doctor, are you all right?”

“Never better,” the older man replied. “My head hurts, but the vision that I've been given ... hmph. You're not being interesting, Captain.”

“This is, uh, very interesting to me,” Taggart said. “An interest for an interest, right?”

Doctor Guillarmod chuckled, and suddenly, Taggart felt the sharp point of his sword digging into his shoulder. Only the ballistic weave of Taggart's uniform coat kept it at bay.

“There is a time for games, and a time for answers,” the older man said. “Be. Interesting.”

Taggart nodded quickly.

“I'm ... immune to whatever it is that's in the air,” he replied. “I didn't smell anything when we first opened the Orrery.”

“That much is obvious,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “What interests me is how. All possible drift was accounted for ... that is the phrase that comes from the center of my mind. I've no idea what that means, but I know it's important ... and related to you, Captain.”

Was it possible? Was it possible that whatever was affecting Doctor Guillarmod's mind had robbed him of the knowledge that Taggart and the other Imperials were from Earth? Then again, if the knowledge was just scrambled, or buried, Taggart would only last as long as it would take it to be unearthed.

“Maybe not all of it,” he said. “I'd ... I'd think it'd be a challenging computing problem.”

“The yoke of technology,” Doctor Guillarmod muttered. “Blinders made from glittering lights and meaningless sounds.”

Taggart frowned.

I should've considered the compute-time requirements ... should've considered how large the payload was.

Doctor al-Khalid's last words echoed in his mind. Just how large did the nanotech payload have to be ... for him to be concerned with how much computing time was needed to digest and simulate it?

Akemi!

No ... no, the brain model was separate, right? It only used Akemi's vast computational power, didn't it? It didn't need her direct management ... at least ... he didn't think it did?

“You fell silent at my remark,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “Perhaps you're hoping those mechanical monstrosities of yours will save you? Hmph ... I can assure they've been accounted for.”

“No,” Taggart replied, shaking his head. “I'm ... just interested in how you referred to technology as a 'yoke', that's all.”

“Another lie,” Doctor Guillarmod muttered. “Yet ... do you disagree with what I say? Do you not use technology for control? For dominance?”

“I suppose you have a point,” Taggart replied. “But it has other uses.”

“All of which are to control,” Doctor Guillarmod said, his tone harsh. “You might say ... we use technology to enable us to live in hostile environments. But you do it by using technology to bring those environments to heel. Would it not be more sensible to change yourself to suit the environment, rather than forcing the environment to suit you?”

“It's less risky to change the environment,” Taggart replied. “There's too much that can go wrong, if you change yourself.”

“Aha! He grows more brave,” Doctor Guillarmod said. Taggart felt the point of cold steel press into his back. “But bravery isn't giving me the answer I'm looking for. It is interesting, but not in the way I care about.”

The pressure eased.

“Keep walking, Captain.”

Taggart nodded, his mind racing. Was Doctor Guillarmod this insane before he caught whatever the payload was? If so, how did he miss that? How did Akemi miss that?

“Ah,” the older man grunted. “I've just remembered ... perhaps we're not using the right kind of motivation.”

Taggart screamed, his shoulder suddenly feeling like it were on fire. The agony intensified, and he could feel that steel point digging into the bone of his shoulder.

“Doctor,” he gasped.

“You live at our sufferance, Captain,” Doctor Guillarmod said, his voice nearly a shout. “You live because we seek to understand why you are immune! Your banter, and your efforts at drawing out your existence do not amuse us! Be! Interesting!”

The sword was yanked free, but Taggart had little time to consider that, before his legs were kicked out from under him. He fell to the cold floor, screaming as he rolled to spread the impact, his wounded shoulder taking the blow. Doctor Guillarmod's sword was aimed directly at him, and his face was contorted with rage and hatred as he advanced.

“Doctor,” Taggart said, scrambling backward. Doctor Guillarmod sneered at him, his advance relentless. Taggart's shoulder sent shocking pain through him with each movement, and he could feel his back becoming wet ... wet with his own blood.

“Doctor! Stop!”

The older man lunged, the tip of his sword whistling less than a centimeter from Taggart's nose. Taggart screamed, rolling onto his hands and knees, crawling, scrambling, and turning his head back to watch that horrifying vision stalking him.

He came to a very sudden stop, and he rolled, his back pressed against an unyielding door. Taggart was trapped, gasping as Doctor Guillarmod stalked up to him, the point of his sword aimed at his chest.

Suddenly, the sword was pointed off to the side. Doctor Guillarmod's expression became that of a tired, old, man.

“We're here,” he announced.

With that, the door Taggart was leaning on, slid open. Taggart tumbled backward into the darkness.

[LadyTevar]

The payload. Muther fuck... the Payload... It's not just nanotech, it's a whole fuckin' PERSON.

[madd0ct0r]

more then one I think.

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

In this short segment, we learn a little about what the Orrery itself actually does.

~~~

Stars ...

Taggart could see stars ... a myriad of tiny points of brilliance set into velvety black. Was he dead? No ... he could still feel dull agony radiating from his shoulder. He could still feel red hot pain at the base of his skull. The rest of his body ached as well.

So, where was he, then?

He could, barely, hear the soft footfall of sandals on stone. He blinked, looking around. His breath caught in his throat, as he saw the pale glint of starlight on the bright steel of Doctor Guillarmod's sword.

The man holding the sword slowly descended a stone staircase, and Taggart realized what'd happened to him. But it was of cold comfort ... he was currently in no shape to escape the mad older man.

“Is it not beautiful,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “All those points of light.”

“W-what is this place?”

“You've never seen the stars from here, have you?” Doctor Guillarmod replied, coming to stand a couple meters away from Taggart. “I can remember that we called this the planetarium. It is ... accurate.”

“Accurate,” Taggart echoed. “To when this place was built?”

“Hmph,” Doctor Guillarmod grunted. “What use would that be? It's kept up with the movements of the stars ... this starmap is modern.”

Taggart frowned. A modern starmap? In a facility that was 70,000 years old? Of course, the facility still had power, but what was the point?

“The stars are not the most interesting part of this, Captain,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “Can you stand? I encourage you to do so, quickly.”

Taggart pushed himself to his feet, mindful of the point of the older man’s sword. A point that was now stained with blood. Unconsciously, he felt his shoulder with his hand, and felt his body tense with the sudden pain. When he brought his hand up to his face, his fingertips were wet with blood.

“I will have killed you long before your shoulder ever could,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “There are a couple of flashlights on the floor in front of you. Pick one up.”

Taggart turned away from Doctor Guillarmod. He gasped, seeing a pair of corpses lying on the floor in front of him.

“Their awakening was, sadly, incomplete,” the older man remarked. “They were an immediate danger to the rest of us.”

Taggart scowled, kneeling to pry a large flashlight out of cool, dead, fingers.

“There are more of you?”

“Yes,” Doctor Guillarmod replied. “Even now the others are dealing with the incompletely-awakened. They do not know of my interest in you.”

Sean, that’s useful to know.

Akemi? Did he just hear Akemi’s voice, just then? For a split second, he strained his cybernetic senses, and was rewarded with throbbing pain at the back of his head.

“There is a pillar at the center of the room,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “Turn your flashlight on, and have a look.”

Taggart turned, glimpsing the pillar in passing. What interested him was the stairway behind Guillarmod, and the still-open door at the top.

Click.

He did what he was told, shining the light on the pillar. Engraved across the top was a pair of circles, connected by a single line. At the center of each circle was placed a short line with a fat dot on the top. The circle to the left had a fat dot near the top edge, with a short line leading out. The circle on the right had a short line leading out of it, which was connected to a fat dot outside the circle.

“You see it, yes?”

Taggart frowned.

“I see something,” he replied. The spot of the light danced a little, as he tested the heft of the flashlight.

“That is a diagram of the hydrogen line,” Doctor Guillarmod said. “Those words don’t make sense to me,” he added, a moment later. But they did make sense to Taggart. The twenty-one centimeter HI line was one of those special reserved bands, for the remote possibility Humans might someday encounter signals from a living alien species more sophisticated than the Savoie.

“No matter,” Doctor Guillarmod muttered, after a few moments. “Shine your light at the ceiling.”

“Whoa,” Taggart said, involuntarily, as his light crawled up the wall, and it hurtled iridescent lines back at him. The lines were all different colors, with closely-spaced pairs sharing a color. Each line had strategically-spaced hash-marks on it. As he panned his flashlight across the ceiling, some of the glowing points of light flashed with reflected color. The rest of the ceiling, however, seemed to drink up the light, sinking it into near-perfect blackness.

As he stared, he realized that he was looking at a pulsar map. Each line would represent a pulsar and its distance from the Orrery. The hash-marks … Taggart’s eyes darted down to the pillar … of course! The hash marks might represent either range, or the pulsar’s period expressed with respect to the hydrogen line’s wavelength, or its frequency.

Starfleet used them in timekeeping. They’d also been uncovered in the weathered ruins of long-dead alien civilizations. And Taggart knew they’d been sent out by the first tentative Human forays into interstellar space, thousands of years ago.

But, what was up with the spots?

“You look impressed, Captain,” Guillarmod said.

Taggart could only nod. His hand clenched tighter around his flashlight.

Not yet, Sean.

He blinked, hearing Akemi’s voice again.

“I am, Doctor,” he said, his eyes drifting to the cold steel at Guillarmod’s side.

“There is one thing I don’t understand,” the older man replied. “About the Orrery, I mean.”

Taggart frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“Those spots,” Guillarmod said. “As much a mystery to me … as your immunity.”

Taggart inhaled … the spots were colored, just like the lines. And, only pairs of lines shared colors. He quickly swung his flashlight upward, catching the glints of reflected color … yes … each pair of lines always had a point nearby that was the same color.

“Triangulation,” he whispered, his mouth snapping shut as he realized that he’d spoken.

“Hmm,” Guillarmod said. “You said something, yes?”

“I-I was just thinking out-loud,” Taggart replied. “You’re … right, this place is very interesting.”

“Again, I sense that you’re lying to me,” Guillarmod said, taking a step toward Taggart. “You know something.”

“I don’t,” Taggart replied.

Doctor Guillarmod growled. “Be. Interesting,” he said. “An interest for an interest. We’ve shown you something interesting. Now you reciprocate.”

Taggart swallowed, swinging the beam of his flashlight down to the ground, measuring the distance between himself and the top of the stairs as the beam crossed Guillarmod’s face.

“D-did you accommodate for … all drift?”

“Of course, of course,” Guillarmod replied, baring his teeth. “The modifications the meddlers made … very, very stable.”

“What if I had none of those modifications,” Taggart said.

“Nonsense!” Guillarmod said, advancing on Taggart. “The only way that’s possible is if … but no … but … my head.”

Now, Sean!

Taggart lunged, swinging the beam of his flashlight up into Guillarmod’s face, blinding the older man. He drove his good shoulder into the man, and they both went sprawling. There was a clatter as Guillarmod’s sword hit the ground and skittered away.

Taggart screamed, bringing the heavy flashlight down on Doctor Guillarmod’s face. As the older man struggled under Taggart, he brought his flashlight down again, and again. He screamed each time, his world becoming one of flashing light, rage, and terror.

Sean!

Taggart paused, his flashlight raised high above his head. He looked down at the older man, and saw that gaunt, bearded, face was pale and bloodied. He saw that Guillarmod twitched, but no longer struggled.

Sean! Run!

Taggart nodded wordlessly and jerkily. He scrambled to his feet, tossing the flashlight aside. He half-sprinted, and half-stumbled, up the stairs. He had to get out … He had to escape … He had to get to the one place he knew was safe.

“Akemi! I’m coming!”

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

Taggart’s lungs burned, his head throbbed, his shoulder screamed, and his legs ached. Still, he ran through the softly-lit corridors of the Orrery. The world twitched and jiggled around him, his eyes still not quite adjusting to the flickering light. The only sound he could hear was his grunting, pained, breathing.

In the back of his mind, he kicked himself … he didn’t keep the flashlight, and he didn’t pick up Doctor Guillarmod’s sword.

No!

He shook his head, he wouldn’t have known how to use it. Civilized people didn’t fight with swords anymore. That was only something backsliders on Verge worlds did. Still, he needed a weapon … he needed something.

Mansoor!

Mansoor was here, wasn’t he? Strange silence aside, Mansoor was the only constant.

No, Sean.

“Akemi,” Taggart gasped, stumbling to a halt, his eyes darting back and forth. Why was he hearing her voice? He was still inside the Orrery … still isolated from the outside.

Run, Sean.

He swallowed hard. Guillarmod was down and out, wasn’t he?

He’s not the only one.

That’s right! He said there were others … presumably others with swords, and with ancient sword-fighting knowledge newly written into their brains. He pushed himself off the wall, and kept running. Mentally, he tried to visualize a map of the Orrery … of where he’d been.

Immediately, he kicked himself. He was unconscious, while Guillarmod was carrying him. How could his syn-brain have recorded anything?

There was a sharp pain, just behind his temple, and he cried out. Yet, in that moment, he glimpsed something.

Left.

He was going crazy too, wasn’t he? Why was he hearing Akemi’s voice? Still, left was as good as any other direction.

“Mansoor!”

Taggart’s shout echoed down the corridor.

“Mansoor!”

Sean, stop. Please.

“Akemi,” Taggart replied, momentarily humoring his slipping sanity.

Think, Sean, don’t speak.

“Akemi,” Taggart said, not daring to hope. The only replying sound was his breathing.

“I can’t lose it now,” he said. “I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to find a weapon. I’ve got to find a shuttle.”

Yours was never recalled. It’s still here.

Akemi’s voice, again? He thought for a moment, and, come to think of it … he didn’t immediately recall anything telling him that the shuttle wasn’t still on the planet. So he had a way off, but what would he do? There was still Mansoor, right? And Doctor Van Hoeck and his people still needed rescuing.

He looked up, despairing as he saw another junction. Another unfamiliar corridor of soft-touch plastic, and polished stone floors. Which way now?

Right.

He nodded quickly, his decision made.

~~~

He was back where he started … that broad room where Doctor Guillarmod first cold-cocked him. He leaned against the wall, his eyes panning over a scene of horror and devastation. Suits of armor were scattered across the room, riddled with holes, and oozing deep red fluid. Amongst them were the skeletal shapes of Mansoor’s waldoes.

Taggart’s fingertips felt the fresh scarring of bullet impacts on the stone walls. The entire room smelled of burned electronics and hydraulic fluid. He pursed his lips, as he looked around. The Commonwealth smart-guns were all too large for him to wield on his own. Worse, Mansoor collected all of his fallen weapons.

So, he had to find the pistol he’d dropped when he was first there. And, perhaps, attempt to make contact with either Akemi, or Mansoor.

Sean, I wouldn’t.

He frowned, upon hearing Akemi’s voice in his head. What reason did he have to think that contacting either of them would be a bad idea?

Akemi?

“I’m here.”

He exhaled sharply. The signal was noisy, and listening to it hurt his head, but he could hear her.

Akemi! Is it really you? Can you hear me?

“Yes, it’s me. There is interference, but I can hear you.”

Taggart frowned, listening to the tone of her voice.

That’s not me, Akemi’s voice seemed to whisper in his ear.

“Did you just say that?” Taggart thought.

“Did I say what?”

“Did you … never mind. I’m sorry, Akemi, it’s not good down here, at all. What’s the situation up there?”

“Unresolved,” Akemi replied, after a moment. “Mansoor should be down there, but I’m having a hard time staying in contact.”

“You too,” Taggart thought. He frowned. “Akemi, I’ve received fragmentary transmissions from Commander Heifetz.”

“Commander Heifetz has been dealt with,” Akemi replied. Taggart froze where he was.

That’s not me, Sean.

“Who else could you be?” Taggart replied.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Taggart thought, exhaling sharply. “I kept hearing your voice while I was inside the Orrery.”

“Interesting. Listen, I’ve re-established contact with Mansoor, and I’ve redirected some of his detachment your way. Sit tight.”

Taggart furrowed his brow. Something wasn’t right. The fact that he was in the Orrery should’ve been alarming to Akemi. For that matter, it the whole conversation seemed wrong to him, and there was something about the way she said the word ‘interesting’ … It was almost like …

Sean, you need to go. Now.

“C-citizen,” he heard. His head turned sharply, his body tensing up.

“C-citizen … Cap … Captain T-taggart,” a deep voice stammered from somewhere in the room.

“Who’s there?” Taggart said, looking around.

There was a slow scraping sound. Taggart turned to see one of the Commonwealth mobile suits struggling to turn toward him. Its armor was dented and shot full of holes. Its helmet was missing, as was half the synthetic flesh on its face. An eye twitched from inside the exposed plastic and steel skull.

“C-citizen,” it rasped. “C-citizen Captain Tag … T-taggart. I h-have a … mes … m-message for you.”

Taggart looked around. He didn’t see any sign of Mansoor yet. He knelt down, just out of reach of the crippled android.

“What’s your message?”

“S-stand by, C-citizen.”

The mobile suit shuddered violently, its body convulsing.

“Hal … hem … hell … ha … ha … et,” it managed, before collapsing. The one eye stopped twitching.

“What,” Taggart said. “What is it?”

Sean, pick up one of their helmets. Any helmet.

A helmet?

Quickly!

Taggart nodded, his eyes looking over the floor. He saw an intact frog-mouthed helmet, lying next to one of the shattered armored bodies. But, underneath it …

“Yes,” Taggart said, slowly pushing the mobile suit aside, to reveal his pistol beneath it. He scooped it, and the helmet up, and rose to his feet. As he did so, his breath caught in his throat, as a pair of skeletal waldoes lunged into the room, their guns sweeping the room.

“Mansoor!”

Sean! No!

Suddenly, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain at the base of his skull. He grunted, stumbling with sudden pain. It was the only thing that saved him.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

The two waldoes fired on him, the muzzle-flashes of their weapons lighting the room. Taggart gaped at them, wide-eyed, stumbling backward.

Sean, run!

He threw himself forward, obeying that mysterious voice. Ahead of him, craters exploded from the wall, spraying sharp stone shards in his face. He could hear the clap-clap-clap of the waldoes sprinting after him.

“Mansoor! Why!”

His Battlespace Intelligence gave no answer, as he threw himself into a doorway, stumbling over a corpse, and nearly slipping on its entrails. He caught himself, breaking out into a dead run. He clutched his pistol tightly, though he knew it would be absolutely useless against Mansoor. Unlike Doctor al-Khalid’s waldo, Mansoor’s were fully decked-out in matte-white armor plate.

Clap-clap-clap-clap

He threw himself around a corner, and into an open doorway. Why was Mansoor attacking him? He should’ve recognized Taggart’s transponder.

… that it would be faster to simply give our model the entire package at once …

The model … the model that was based on Mansoor’s original upload files! Which meant that if they’d succeeded in getting the digitized payload to infect the model … then they’d also succeeded in making it possible for the payload to infect Mansoor.

Wham!

Taggart yelled, feeling shrapnel pepper the back of his neck as he ducked into another doorway. He pounded on the lock control with his fist, and to his relief, the door slammed shut. He lunged for the opposite side of the room, throwing himself over benches, hearing things crash to the floor.

There was an even louder shriek, and he risked a glance behind him. Slender metal fingers were wedged into the door, and the waldoes were forcing it open.

“No!”

Taggart’s pistol whipped up and out, and he fired at the door. One of his shots sent fingers flying, and the door snapped shut again. He jumped through the doorway at the opposite end of the room. He knew where he had to go. He had to get to his shuttle.

As he ran, a disturbing question occurred to him: How did the payload get from the model to Mansoor?

I should've considered the compute-time requirements ... should've considered how large the payload was, Doctor al-Khalid’s voice echoed in his head.

Interesting, Doctor Guillarmod’s voice said.

Interesting, Akemi’s voice said. The intonation was the same as Guillarmod’s …

“Akemi!” Taggart screamed, stumbling. He barely managed to catch himself, running head-long into the wall.

“Oh no … not Akemi,” he said, his voice breaking. Could it be … that the payload’s evolution was so complex that Akemi felt she had to step in? That she had to do the heavy lifting herself?

No! She would’ve taken precautions … she would’ve … wouldn’t she?

If you think you can help Doctor al-Khalid, then I’ll authorize you, as the Ship’s Captain, to do what you can to help him, Taggart’s own voice mocked him. He’d said that to her, hadn’t he?

… authorize you, as the Ship’s Captain …

… the Ship’s Captain …

It was that special authority delegated to him by the Emperor himself. The authority that, once invoked, would override every one of Akemi’s other priorities … including that of her own safety.

Taggart gasped for breath, sudden realization wrapping itself around him, threatening to squeeze the very life out of him. But it didn’t matter, did it? It didn’t fucking matter, not at all.

“I … I’ve just killed us all,“ he said.

[Darth Nostril]

Oh poo.

[LadyTevar]

Two Akemis?

[madd0ct0r]

mansoor wearing a borrowed voice? or akemi downloaded a backup copy of herself into a waldo before taking the pill

[Diverball]

That doesn't sound very plausible. One would have thought that authority that far-reaching - sufficient to override every single failsafe that a BCP's AI possessed - would have to be formally invoked. In a manner that left no room for ambiguity. Command codes, biometric identfiers, formal language, etc. Just what kind of shoddily-designed AI ignores its own best judgement, its survival and that of its crew, on the basis of nothing more than an ill-considered word of its CO?

The fact that a BCP commander has such terrible authority that his/her appointment has to be approved by the Emperor him/herself is one thing. That they should be able to exercise said authority so casually is quite another.

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

That doesn't sound very plausible. One would have thought that authority that far-reaching - sufficient to override every single failsafe that a BCP's AI possessed - would have to be formally invoked. In a manner that left no room for ambiguity. Command codes, biometric identfiers, formal language, etc. Just what kind of shoddily-designed AI ignores its own best judgement, its survival and that of its crew, on the basis of nothing more than an ill-considered word of its CO?

The fact that a BCP commander has such terrible authority that his/her appointment has to be approved by the Emperor him/herself is one thing. That they should be able to exercise said authority so casually is quite another.

Given that the captain and the AI communicate via a secure, high-bandwidth, channel; that phrase is a formal invocation, when spoken in their private virtual space. In-story, the Imperial Starfleet has never lost an engagement, ever(*). Virtually every engagement has followed the script of "The Empire turns up, announces to whatever one, or two, starsystem political entity they're facing today, that they're going to be part of the Empire next week; and then it happens, thanks to overwhelming Imperial force."

They're simply not used to losing, (though the fact that the Star Commonwealth exists would suggest that they're not really willing to try that against someone who can put up more than a week's fight.) Also, plausibly speaking, what's more likely to happen from people catching some sort of biological brain virus/parasite? Some manner of horrible meningitis-type sickness? Gibbering rabies-like insanity? An inordinate fondness for cat urine? The unleashing of a mind-bogglingly sophisticated, remarkably flexible, cybernetic attack vector designed by unimaginably-powerful (and long-dead) alien civilizations who would consider wholesale planetary destruction to be a viable tactic in a galactic-scale war?

From the viewpoint of an officer from an organization that, in a case of fundamental arrogance, calls itself "The Ascendant Empire of Pan-Humanity," that last option isn't going to enter into consideration (and it probably wouldn't enter into consideration for many people, period.) So he's left with the assumption that it's just some sort of ancient brain disease that, obviously, affects non-Imperial humans. However, it'd be extremely useful to know if there's any way it could affect Earthborn humans too. Also, sorting it out when local medical science can't (recall how dismissive Taggart's Chief Surgeon was of Commonwealth medical science,) could score some serious diplomatic (recall that Taggart thought it was serious business that he's given tunnel-digging machines to less-fortunate systems for diplomacy) points for the Empire.

And remember, Taggart and Akemi have a borderline-romantic relationship (which, itself, ought to say something alarming about the nature of the Empire and its Starfleet.) I've tried to establish that he sees her as a woman, while simultaneously buying into the myth of her all-powerful infallibility ... while Akemi reciprocates by showing him human demonstrations of physical affection and closeness.

tl;dr - If it had been a novel case of space-rabies, Taggart might've been justified in invoking his authority in the cause of shock-and-awe. It's just that his own, strong, prejudices kept him from considering that it might've been something not just out of left field, but completely out of the ballpark instead.

(* - Well, there was that last engagement Taggart took part of, but their opponents just repurposed a system-defense x-ray platform as a sort of crude Battle Control Platform of their own ... and then they lost anyway.)

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

“Akemi ...” Taggart whispered. He knew invoking her was going to alert whatever it was to his presence, but what did it matter? Mansoor was hunting him down, and he had to assume that everyone exposed to the payload had been rendered insane.

And ... really ... what did it matter? Taggart thought, looking down at the pistol in his hand.

Akemi ... his best hope ... gone.

Taggart sagged to his knees, the frog-mouthed helm he was carrying rolling from his arm. He looked down at the pistol in his hand. Did he wait for Mansoor's waldoes to catch up with him and execute him? Did he wait for some sword-wielding maniac to run him through? Or did he spend a bullet on himself?

Sean.

“I'm losing it. I'm coming apart,” he said.

You're not, Akemi's voice whispered in his ear.

“Whatever you are,” he said to the air, “you're not Akemi.”

No, the ship in orbit isn't me. Sean ... I'm in you, and I know you're not out of options yet.

How was he not out of options? Akemi was compromised. Mansoor was compromised. He couldn't assume that Audacious wasn't compromised ... and he couldn't reach them in any case.

Or could he?

His gaze drifted away from his pistol, toward the scratched and dented frog-mouthed helm. He vaguely remembered that the sapphires set into the centers of the rivets were cameras. The 'medieval' helm was a computer in its own right.

That must've been why the dying android wanted him to pick up one of the helmets! There was certainly enough storage space for a simple audio or video message! How ... how could he access it, though?

Put it on.

He frowned. It was that, or try to get to where he'd been briefly detained by the Commonwealth security contractors. He dropped the magazine of his pistol, examining the e-paper telltale that would tell him how many cartridges remained.

Not many ... no more than five, plus the one in the chamber. He was going to have to be very lucky, or very careful, and he was already out of luck.

He crawled over to the helm, picking it up. It was sized for a man much larger than he was. He frowned, closing his eyes as he slipped it on.

“Taggart, Audacious-Actual here. I'd put on one of your treaty party, but they're helping with damage control ... I don't have much time. Listen, if you've received your Exec's messages, do not attempt a rendezvous with us! Your ship's been compromised, and is attacking us ... clumsy, but it won't change the outcome ... that's it? The ring's hit? Yeah, that's ... repeat! Your Exec relayed to us one last message: 1152 and I hope you know what that ... directed all my mobile suits to find you ... Audacious-Actual clear!”

1152?

Taggart pulled off the helm, to find that he was still alone.

“Yeah,” he said. What was the significance of that number ... it looked like it could be a multiple of Akemi's hull number. Twenty-four?

Twenty-four ...

“Akemi ... fire ... sustained damage ... slacking off ... no choice ... Jandarma ... firepower they're sitting on ... Captain ... four now, Emperor willing. Heifetz, clear.”

That was the last thing he heard from Heifetz, he thought, scrambling to his feet. He needed to keep moving. He rubbed his temple, trying to visualize where he was, relative to the shuttleport. If a ship was suborned during hostilities, then it had to be kept out of enemy hands by any means possible.

That's it!

The word 'four' was, almost certainly, part of the phrase “Special Protocol Twenty-Four!” It was something that Starfleet's highest-level Human officers were briefed on, but not their Intelligences, as SP Twenty-Four directed a synthetic intelligence to commit suicide, and destroy whatever sensitive hardware was attached to it.

Sean ... I never knew.

That was the point, wasn't it? But, then, Taggart frowned. Akemi might not accept the order, depending on how badly the ancient payload suborned her.

There's something else, isn't there?

Taggart nodded, in spite of himself. Beneath Akemi, shadowing her was an ordinary Abdul. She wouldn't know about it, because the Abdul was meant to be there to take control of the ship should its main Intelligence be incapacitated ... or even compromised.

Momentarily, a spark of hope flickered in his mind. If he had the Abdul, he could ... no ... he couldn't. Abdul and Akemi were fundamentally related. The moment the Abdul took control, it'd be open to attack. It would have to be Special Protocol Twenty-Four.

And it'd be the end of us.

Taggart nodded again. Because of its sensitive nature, he had to issue the command over a direct physical link. A requirement, he thought bitterly, that wasn’t even required to invoke his delegated authority. He had to be aboard Akemi, to ensure the ship's suicide.

Sean.

“I'm sorry, Akemi,” Taggart whispered. “I can't save you, but I can free you.”

He looked down at his pistol again. Six rounds. Briefly, he wondered why Commander Heifetz failed at initiating the self-destruct. Heifetz, after all, had the Jandarma watching his back. And, as long as the thing that’d corrupted Akemi hadn’t killed all of the ship’s other senior officers, Heifetz should’ve been able to cobble together the collective authority needed to trigger a Special Protocol without Taggart’s help.

Still, he thought, leaning against a wall. It was just him, and six rounds of pistol ammunition. He’d need help, if there were still BI waldoes aboard Akemi.

The helmet.

What about the helmet? Taggart thought about it for a moment … right … what was the last thing Colonel Holmes said? That he’d ordered his mobile suits to find Taggart? They’d be useful, if any of them were still operational.

Only one way to find out.

Taggart smiled, in spite of himself.

“Yes there is, Akemi, yes there is,” he murmured, putting the helm back on.

“How do I do this,” he said, staring out the narrow eye slit.

Help, Akemi’s voice whispered in his ear. In the claustrophobic confines of that helmet, Taggart could almost believe it was really her. Still … how was that going to help?

By your command. Emergency homing mode engaged, a different voice said. A deep, distorted, voice … almost like the one the mobile suits spoke with. Taggart frowned, but it made sense. If Audacious sent down messages specifically for him, they might’ve also keyed their combat radios to react to his syn-brain broadcasts.

You need to go, Sean.

Taggart nodded, holding his gun in front of him. Mansoor would be listening for Commonwealth military broadcasts too.

“Imperial,” someone screamed behind him. Taggart spun, just barely avoiding Doctor Weissman’s sword. The other man’s face was contorted in rage.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time,” he said, his voice a breathy snarl. He lunged, raising his sword for the attack.

Bam!

There was a spreading red stain on Weissman’s robe, he glanced down at his injury, and then snarled at Taggart.

Sean! Run!

He spun away from Weissman, running down the hallway.

Left!

Again, he was guided by what could only be his memories, speaking with Akemi’s voice.

“You won’t get away from us, Imperial!”

There was frantic shuffling behind Taggart. His impromptu shot struck the other man in the thigh. He could hear his own harsh breathing in that helmet, and it was hard to see what was going on beyond that narrow slit.

Sean! Look out!

He cried out, ducking under a pair of waldoes that were suddenly in his path. He felt sharp metal points raking across his back, as one tried to grab him.

“He’s ours! Do you hear us, abomination! He’s ours,” he heard Doctor Weissman shout. The shuffling sounded better-coordinated, as if the other man was somehow pushing his way past the agony of the bullet in his leg.

Right! Now!

Taggart, instinctively, turned, diving for an open doorway. His shoulder drove into the gut of someone, and he heard the breath go out of them in an explosive gasp.

Wham!

There was screaming off to Taggart’s side, as whomever he’d shouldered out of the way took one of Mansoor’s high-caliber slugs.

Wham!

He heard the meaty thump of a corpse impacting against rock.

“Careful, abomination! Remember! Ours!”

Keep him alive.

Taggart jammed his pistol back into its holster, throwing himself into an alcove. The door slid open, and he rolled inside, slamming his hand against the lock control. His eyes darted up and down the strange corridor, as he hurried to catch his breath … he knew that door wouldn’t stop Mansoor.

Sean!

Taggart looked up, at the far end of the corridor, another door slid open, and a pair of waldoes stepped in, lunging toward him.

Screech!

He didn’t look back, sprinting down the hallway. The next junction looked so far away, especially as the footfalls behind him multiplied the clicks of metal echoing up and down the hallway.

“Slow him down! Wound him! Hurt him!” Doctor Weissman gasped somewhere behind him. “Make him hurt! Make him bleed! We are starting to tire of this chase!”

Taggart glanced behind him, glimpsing the waldoes behind him forming a line, three abreast. He turned, and the junction was just ahead.

Right!

Taggart’s body moved, automatically, and obediently. He slammed into the door, his breath exploding from him. He gasped, momentarily stunned. His back was showered with stone fragments as Mansoor opened fire.

Taggart shook it off, and then he repeatedly stabbed at the manual control.

“Why isn’t it opening?”

“Hold on, abomination … could it be? Could our prey be cornered? A helpless little mouse waiting to be skewered?”

Taggart turned away from the door and pulled the helmet off, dropping it to the floor. It rolled away from the alcove, and into the junction …

Wham!

It jumped, spraying shattered metal.

Click, click, click.

Taggart went for his gun, even as the waldoes stepped into the junction, cutting off his avenues of escape. He stared into the black, onyx, domes and at the muzzles of the guns leveled at him.

Interesting, a familiar voice whispered.

“Feeling trapped, Imperial? Do you see your life flashing before your eyes?” Doctor Weissman said, almost gasping for breath ... but it wouldn't matter, Taggart was trapped, and he'd almost caught up with him.

Taggart looked down at his pistol. This was going to be it, wasn’t it? He lifted it, his hand shaky, pointing it toward his head.

Sean …

If he was going to die, he’d do it on his terms!

Behind him, the door screeched and howled, as it was forced open. Taggart’s hand was suddenly steady, as he jammed that pistol into his temple.

Sean! No!

There was sudden, sharp, pain at the back of his head. He involuntarily cried out, and his arm momentarily slackened, and the muzzle of his pistol fell away from his temple. Suddenly, he felt himself falling backward, as metal fingers seized his shoulders, and pulled him backward through the open door.

[LadyTevar]

I hate cliffhangers. You do them so well.

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

Here is the last scene that will take place with Taggart on the planet ...

~~~

The world bounced around Taggart, as he was thrown over a hard steel shoulder. He barely had time to think, when the world exploded into gunfire.

“Careful, abomination! Careful,” he heard Doctor Weissman scream somewhere nearby.

Suddenly, he couldn’t hear anything else, apart from the thunderous roar of a smart-gun going off near his head. All he could do was grit his teeth, even as his head pounded, and his ears rang.

He felt himself being bounced and jostled, and the roar and crackle began to fade. All the while, there was but one question on his mind. Why? Why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t he shoot himself? Did he not have what it took?

Sean.

“Who are you,” Taggart gasped. “And why are you in my head?”

“Citizen Captain Taggart,” a voice boomed just ahead of him. “You must remain calm!”

Mobile suits? Some of them had survived after all? Suddenly, he remembered …

“Hangar!” He shouted. “Do you know where the hangar is?”

“Yes, Citizen Captain Taggart!”

“That’s where we need to go,” Taggart said. “We need to get to the hangar!”

“By your command,” the mobile suit replied, its voice a booming shout.

“Can you put me down?”

“That is not possible, Citizen Captain Taggart! You are still in too much danger!”

For emphasis, the mobile suit raised its smart-gun with its other arm, blasting several rounds down the corridor. Somewhere behind them, Taggart could hear the distinctive sound of Mansoor firing. He could even almost hear Doctor Weissman’s incoherent shouting.

Sean.

“Who are you,” Taggart whispered. “You speak with Akemi’s voice, but you can’t possibly be her. Who are you?”

“Vier Ridder,” the mobile suit replied, backing quickly down the hallway, periodically firing its smart-gun. Explosions of rock dust peppered them both. Taggart frowned, but the voice wasn't talking.

“How many of you are there?”

“Eleven now, Citizen Captain Taggart,” the mobile suit replied. “Twintig Boogskutter! Reload,” it shouted, throwing its weapon to another hulking figure. The figure tossed its own weapon back. Its helmet was gone, but it grinned widely, its white teeth shocking against its dark features.

Taggart’s world jostled violently again, as the mobile suit carrying him briefly turned and sprinted down the hallway. Part of him was amazed that something so large was capable of moving so fast. He tried to look up, but he could only see a wall of gleaming armor running with him. Members of that wall would periodically stop, to turn around and fire at their pursuers, only to jog back into formation a moment later.

“You will not escape, Imperial! Not you! Not your armored abominations,” Doctor Weissman screamed from the other end of the hallway. Taggart could barely glimpse him, surrounded by Mansoor’s waldoes. “You will taste our blade! Abomination! Stop him!”

Two of the waldoes abruptly dropped to their knees, leaning forward. Tubes popped out of their backpacks. The last thing Taggart saw were flashes and trails of smoke.

~~~

“Sean?”

What …

“Interesting … most interesting. How much more can you take, we wonder?”

“I’m warning you, stay away from him.”

That was Akemi’s voice … but how?

“So long as he continues to be interesting.”

Taggart’s world exploded in jagged pain, and his vision swirled with neon colors and crackled with sparkling lights.

“Sean … Sean! Wake up, Sean!”

Taggart next found himself seated at the featureless steel table … but it felt different, somehow. More … claustrophobic.

“Why am I here?” He said, after what felt like an eternity.

A figure stepped into the light. It was feminine, but only just. Its hair was short and gray, streaked with white. Warm brown eyes studied him from behind thick-framed glasses.

“We don’t have much time, Sean,” the figure said, with Akemi’s voice.

“Who are you,” Taggart replied. His head hurt, and with each wave of stabbing, throbbing pain, the darkness around them seemed to pulsate and flicker with muted colors.

“I am me,” the figure replied. “Inside you,” she added, tapping her temple. As she did, the wound at the base of Taggart’s skull throbbed.

Taggart stared at the figure.

“You’re not Akemi,” he repeated.

The figure frowned, looking into Taggart's eyes, and then down. Her eyes seemed to glisten behind her glasses.

“What do you think I am then, Sean?”

“I don't know,” Taggart replied. “I think I've just internalized you, I'm probably talking to myself.”

... The waldo was already toppling to the floor, its chest and torso a shattered ruin leaking fluids and crackling with electrical shorts. The onyx dome was shattered, and the cluster of cameras within was mostly ruined. The remains turned, fixating on Taggart's face, servos whining. There was a momentary blast of static inside Taggart's head, before the waldo collapsed ...

“No ... can't be,” Taggart said, pushing away the memory. “Akemi is dead, and I killed her.”

The figure shook its head.

“I did it to myself, Sean.”

“I invoked my special authority,” Taggart said, lunging to his feet. “You, Akemi, whatever would've felt compelled to help Mehemet. This whole thing is on my shoulders, and I've got to fix it!”

“Special authority isn't absolute authority, Sean,” the figure replied.

Taggart leaned heavily against the desk.

“It doesn't matter anymore,” he replied.

“I know,” the figure replied, coming to lean on the opposite side of the desk. All around them, muted lights and colors swirled and pulsated, and the pain in Taggart's head kept getting worse and worse.

“But I am here just the same,” she added, even as the world around them abruptly faded to black.

~~~

“ ... Taggart!”

“Citizen Captain Taggart,” the mobile suit repeated. Taggart's head pulsated with nauseating pain, but he forced his eyes open anyway. He grimaced, looking up at the once-proud armor, now dented, gouged, and torn.

“How ... long,” Taggart managed, struggling to sit up.

“Ten minutes, Citizen Captain Taggart. Five of us survived the repelling of the grenade attack. We are clear of hostile forces. I cannot say for how long.”

Taggart swallowed, and his throat felt painfully dry.

“Not ... a captain,” he said. “I don't have a command. You should just call me Taggart.”

“Citizen Taggart, do your previous orders still apply?”

Taggart nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Can we do it?”

“Yes, Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suit replied. “We are near the hangar. What are your intentions?”

“To ... take my shuttle back to the ship,” Taggart said. “I can ... still use it to ... put a stop to all this.” His head felt like it were stuffed with pain, but he was clear-headed enough to realize that he should't tell the Commonwealth androids everything.

“A sound plan,” one of the other mobile suits replied. Taggart looked over at it, frowning as he realized that it was missing an arm. In its remaining arm, it clutched the sword that completed its medieval costume.

“A sound plan,” the mobile suit that once carried him, Ridder, said. “By your command, Citizen Taggart.”

Taggart nodded, slowly, unsteadily, pushing himself to his feet.

“Let's carry it out, then.”

[LadyTevar]

By your command, Imperial Leader? *snickers*

Did Akemi download herself into his brain?

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

Did Akemi download herself into his brain?

I've been dropping hints as to the nature of the voice in Taggart's head, but for now, the answer will remain intentionally ambiguous. In other news: New chapter!

~~~

The ribbed walls of the airlock tube gently pulsated as Taggart made his way down it. His escort surrounded him, the only noise they made were their heavy footfalls. His fingertips unconsciously felt the edges of the emergency breather mask he wore. It didn’t feel like it fit very well, and a tiny part of his mind forced him to keep watching those walls … terrified that a hail of bullets would tear it open at any moment.

Yet, the tube remained intact, and the tube remained quiet. In spite of the carnage he’d seen at the terminal. Bodies everywhere … with bullet wounds … with limbs hacked off and bellies slashed open … with skulls caved in and brains splattered onto unyielding basalt. It made him feel uncomfortable that, somehow, the docking tube to his shuttle remained intact.

I don’t like this, Akemi’s voice whispered.

“I know,” Taggart whispered. “We might be walking into a trap.”

“We will defend you, Citizen Taggart,” one of the mobile suits said.

Not against an attack like this, Taggart thought. His mind’s eye visualized a cube of solid computronic material just large enough to sit in the palm of his hand. A Mansoor gestalt had ferried him down to the planet. He would have to prevent one from being loaded into the shuttle’s syn-brain … and he couldn’t assume that Mansoor hadn’t pre-loaded one as a booby-trap.

Emergency homing mode.

Right … he only needed it to get back to Akemi. He didn’t need the shuttle to do anything else. But how? The syn-brain was buried inside the center cryo-tank, with the bulk of the shuttle’s mass above, and its armored belly below, to protect it. It would take ship-mounted weaponry to get at it.

Do you have to get at it?

Taggart frowned. Shuttles were designed to be very difficult to tamper with. But maybe … maybe he could order whatever was in the syn-brain to commit suicide. That would force a switch-over to the autopilot. He took a deep breath. His whole plan hinged on being able to order his unwitting electronic minions to kill themselves. He’d might as well get used to it now.

The airlock was open, and beyond was a warm, inviting, glow.

“Get in and strap yourselves down,” Taggart said, gesturing to his right. “This might get … um … bumpy.”

“By your command, Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suits replied in-unison.

As they filed off to the right, Taggart took the left passage, to the VIP deck. He checked his mask one more time, and glanced down at the flashing blue light on the air generator hooked to his belt. He’d have to work fast.

You can do this, Sean.

Taggart nodded, pressing his lips together. He checked the length of cable dangling from the inside of his sleeve. Every move of his arm caused dull, throbbing, soreness from the meaty part of his forearm, as the other end of the cable shifted in the cut he had to make to access the emergency jack.

He took the tip of the cable between his fingers, stepping onto the VIP deck. Suddenly, lights flickered to life, and he lunged for the center console, crossing the space in three leaping steps.

“Come on, come on!” He said, pulling desperately at the plastic cover under the edge of the console.

So predictable. So boring, a voice whispered in his head.

“No,” Taggart said, his voice a scream. He ripped the panel free, ignoring the raw agony from his bleeding fingertips. He jammed the tip of the cable into the exposed receptacle, feeling sudden, icy, cold. His syn-brain was protected by the finest firewalls Imperial science had devised, but his feelings of cold, rising, terror told him they weren’t going to be enough.

You too, the mysterious voice said. We should’ve … what’s this? You’re resis …

Now Sean!

“Mansoor,” Taggart screamed. “By my authority, as the ship’s Captain, you are to consider Special Protocol Twenty-Four!”

For several, long, moments nothing happened. Taggart held his breath, listening and watching for any sign that his gambit had worked. Yet, as the seconds dragged on, only silence greeted him.

“Emergency protocols are now in effect,” a voice said from the console. “Security recall will now be executed. All user controls will be forcibly disabled.”

Taggart’s eyes darted to the cable that connected him to the console, even as he started to yank his arm back.

~~~

Sean …

It was dark, and his whole body hurt.

Sean?

Taggart groaned, pushing through the fog, and forcing his eyes open. All he saw was blackness.

No … it wasn’t quite blackness. Faint points of light emerged from the blackness. Many, many points of light.

“Launched,” he croaked. And they had, indeed, launched. The shuttle was doing exactly what he hoped it would ... return to Akemi as quickly as it could. As he forced himself to sit up, he realized that he didn't know how he'd been out, or how long the shuttle was in flight.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no use in panicking, was there? Not anymore. Not since he knew that he could do what he was going to Akemi to do.

We can't leave those people on the planet.

There was neither mercy, nor pity, in Akemi's voice. Taggart grunted his mind racing. In less than a month, Audacious' courier would reach civilization. A month and a half after that, a Commonwealth Royal Navy ship would be by to follow up ... blithely unaware of the trap it'd be sailing into.

He'd have to kill the Orrery.

But how?

Taggart groaned, for he already knew the answer to that question. His suicide was going to have to wait. He’d have to risk keeping the Abdul online long enough to carry out the strike. He’d have to risk the chance that Akemi would turn on him again.

What is that?

What?

He blinked, staring out into the star-dusted blackness of space. One point glittered, strobe-like in its brilliance. Was that Akemi?

No, I don’t think it is.

He frowned, straining for a better look. The glittering point slowly swelled into a dumbbell shape, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized that it wasn’t Akemi … it was the Audacious.

I … I did this.

Audacious grew larger, and larger, as the shuttle approached it. The gleaming white of the Commonwealth Royal Navy was dulled and blistered. Brown-black honeycombs of ablative armor lay beneath shredded steel plates. Beneath the clouds of dust and debris, Taggart could see the razor-straight outlines of decks and rooms, their devastated contents lit only by cold, distant, sunlight. Massive chunks were blasted free of the ship’s bell-shaped ends, and incongruously square holes lined the rims … showing where antimatter bottles had been ejected in a desperate, last-ditch, effort to save the ship and her crew.

It didn’t matter in the end. Taggart could see open space, and the planet below, through the ragged holes cut into the gutted ship’s hull. Audacious, and everyone aboard her, was dead.

“It wasn’t you,” Taggart said. “It wasn’t you,” he repeated. After a moment, he shook his head. It didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was getting to Akemi, and ending the nightmare once and for all.

It wasn’t long after they left the flayed corpse of Audacious behind, that Taggart saw a bright shape appear over the planet’s limb. Not even a month before, pride, joy, and a certain sense of longing, would’ve filled him to see her.

But now …

Taggart swallowed, forcing himself to look. Akemi looked so idyllic from so far out. The stacked saucers of her hull gleamed in the sunlight, and he could even pick out the faint blue glow of the exhaust of the ship’s idle transit drives. The idyllic quality faded, the closer he got … the gleam of battle-steel was discolored by long, dark, raking scars. The ship had seen battle, and the glint of lasing mirrors from the insides of open gun-ports told him that it was still expecting a fight.

You’re right, that’s not me, Akemi’s voice whispered. It’s what I once was, but … it’s not me anymore.

Taggart nodded. The words did, in fact, help. That wasn’t his ship he was looking at. It was a threat, a ship suborned by an ancient, malevolent, force.

I wonder who we’re really facing here?

It should’ve been obvious. The Orrery was a trap, set by the ancient ‘gods’ for their former thralls.

I agree, the Orrery is a trap, Akemi’s voice whispered.

But there was something in her tone that suggested that; maybe, it wasn’t the ‘gods’ who set it. But who else could it have been? The ‘gods’ clearly had a vested interest in keeping their former thralls down. For example, there was the ancient nanotech plague that destroyed their civilization, and the nanotech that raged in the halls around the Orrery.

The nanotech was only the delivery vehicle …

The payload was biological. With enough data to re-wire a man’s brain and provide him with new knowledge, new skills, and possibly even a new personality …

“The modifications the meddlers made … very, very stable,” Doctor Guillarmod’s voice echoed.

Meddlers? And for that matter Guillarmod, and Weissman too, had a newfound hatred of technology to go with their newfound murderous psychopathy. Surely, the ancient ‘gods’ who went out among the stars in “boats of shining steel”, wielded “lances of fire”, and used weaponized nanotech would not have referred to technology like Mansoor as an ‘Abomination.’

As the shuttle rolled to align itself with one of Akemi’s boat bays, the planet they orbited loomed over Taggart’s head. Its desolate features, painted with a palette of charcoal and ashes, burned themselves into his mind. The features of a planet murdered through great force of arms.

There were two sides to that war.

Taggart closed his eyes, and had a mental image of men dressed as ghostly octopi. His eyes snapped open, as the planet was blotted out by polished Imperial steel. The Orrery wasn’t a product of the ancient ‘gods’ of men. It was a product of their enemies, the ‘eternal foe’ of Guillarmod’s surahs … an enemy, he realized, that had figured out how to turn the foot soldiers of their enemies against them … and was clearly willing to wait however many tens of millennia for their chance to strike back.

If his deduction was even remotely correct, he was lead inexorably back to one conclusion: He had to kill the Orrery.

There was a dull thud, as the shuttle settled into its docking cradle. The outside world faded away, replaced by featureless plastic panels.

“Security recall complete,” a voice said. “Please stand by: A security team is en-route.”

Taggart stood up, checking the cable dangling from the end of his sleeve. He knew he could use his personal codes to force his way off the shuttle, but first he needed to reunite with the Commonwealth mobile suits … he had a feeling he was going to need their firepower shortly.

[LadyTevar]

AHHA! So, that is the trick.
Which means, the voice inside Sean's head may be one of the Old Enemies as well. After all, it's telling him to kill his ship.

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

IT LIVES!

This update only took me, what, five months to write? Anyway, I'm sorry for the delay ... the next update won't take nearly as long to write.


~~~

“By your command, Citizen Taggart,” one of the mobile suits said. The five gleaming suits spread out around the entrance of the shuttle, weapons at the ready. Taggart plugged his cable in to an access panel next to the airlock.

“You will accept no commands unless accompanied by this code,” he said. “If you receive any attempt to update your syn-brain, you are to carry out a silent self-destruct.”

A light on the access panel changed color and flashed several times. Taggart unplugged his cable and looked up at the distant ceiling of the boat bay. With both Mansoor and Akemi suborned, Taggart knew that the only thing he could expect was the unexpected.

He took another look at his emergency air supply, taking momentary comfort in the steady blue light that blazed from the top. After Mansoor and the Jandarma, Akemi’s only defense against boarders was depressurization; so he would have to move quickly.

“All right,” he said, looking at the mobile suits, “let’s go.”

“By your command, Citizen Taggart,” they replied, almost as one. There was a rustle of metal-on-metal as weapons were raised. He had no weapon, and for the first time that he could remember, that fact made him very uneasy.

But he was a Captain of the Imperial Starfleet! Starfleet Captains had no need for trifles such as sidearms … not when the unfathomable destructive energies of their ships and their Battlespace Intelligences lay at their fingertips.

He couldn’t really call himself a Captain anymore, though, could he? He was a hostile invader aboard what had once been his ship. He had no crew to command, save a tiny complement of badly damaged Commonwealth battle androids.

Taggart took a deep, ragged, breath. How was he going to do what needed to be done?

You have me, Akemi’s voice whispered in his head.

“Citizen Taggart, we should hurry,” one of the mobile suits said. “There are likely hostiles incoming.”

Taggart forced himself to nod, jogging to catch up with the mobile suits. All the while, his eyes swept the curiously empty boat bay. Starfleet warships were marvels of automation, but Akemi still had a complement that numbered in the tens of thousands.

I don’t like this.

“Neither do I,” Taggart murmured, as they reached the far end of the boat bay. The door was closed, with all the telltale lights showing red. The mobile suits lined up on either side, with their weapons at the ready.

“Citizen Taggart,” one said. Taggart nodded, gingerly plugging in his cable into the access port. A moment later, the lights turned green. A part of him knew that he’d just alerted the ship to his presence, but breaching the door with explosives would’ve been no less subtle.

“Stand back,” the mobile suit said, putting itself between Taggart and the door. The armored hulks exchanged glances and gestures.

Wham! A gauntleted palm slammed into the manual door control.

Whoosh! The door slid open. There was screaming, and then the thunder of gunfire. Immediately, Taggart pushed through his retinue, his heart racing.

“Stand down, stand down! Any crewpersons you see aren’t the enemy!”

Sean!

Taggart stopped short, his eyes dropping to the floor. There was a man curled up on the ground, a bloodstain spreading down an arm that now had an unnatural bend in it. On the ground nearby was a large motor-wrench spattered with blood.

“Attackers … can see them … must get to station … must stop them,” the man muttered, his eyes rolling back and forth.

“Crewman,” Taggart said. The man’s eyes continued to roll, as if he hadn’t been spoken to.

“My head … my head … got to stop them,” the man said.

“Crewman, nobody is going to hurt you,” Taggart stepped closer, starting to kneel down next to the man.

“No,” the man screamed, trying to use his shattered arm as a flail. The man's forearm and hand whipped around like ball at the end of a chain, with blood spurting from the man's wounds. Taggart threw himself back, just in time.

“Could they … no,” Taggart said, softly, after a moment. “We don’t have the same genes they do.”

“Citizen Taggart, we need to keep moving. I am detecting radio transmissions in the area.”

“R-right,” Taggart replied. “Uh … I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had non-lethal targeting.”

“Our responses are always force-level appropriate, Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suit replied. Taggart swore he could almost hear reproach in the android’s voice … but how could that be? They weren’t supposed to be any smarter than wolves.

Wait, transmissions, he thought, as they picked their way down the corridor.

Syn-brain, Akemi’s voice said.

“Syn-brain,” Taggart echoed. “Syn-brain … syn-brain … oh no,” his voice dropped to a whisper. Momentarily, he opened his cybernetic senses to the world.

AaaAaiyEemurDERdieeEAaarrrkILLooooRApeeeareGOIngtoDiEerrdEAthellllloooouSuIcideAaaargAaaAaiyEMURderDIEeaaaaKILL!

The tortured screams of tens of thousands of voices tried to force their way into his head, pinning him down, stripping away his defenses. Light and dark patches flickered in and out of his vision.

Sean!

The screams … the screams … it sounded like the tormented underworlds of a thousand primordial religions.

Sean!

The inside of Taggart’s head felt like someone had opened it up, and was pouring liquid metal directly onto the core of his very being. Part of that being felt like it was being physically torn from him. The rest was already dissolving into madness …

“Sean!”

He groggily raised his head from the stainless steel desk, gazing across it at something that was both Akemi, and not Akemi, at the same time. Warm brown eyes stared into his in wide-eyed panic. Eyes framed by short, feathery hair, whose aged silver was mostly faded into white. All around them, malevolent figures flitted about the claustrophobic darkness, their crazed whispers gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

“Sean,” the figure repeated. “Are you all right?”

“I … yeah,” Taggart replied. At once, he understood how the thing that suborned Akemi had stopped Commander Heifetz.

“It’s a syn-brain hack, isn’t it,” he said.

“I’m sorry Sean,” the figure replied, with Akemi’s voice. “I … I suspected it, but I didn’t know for sure until …“ the figure bowed her head, clenching her hands tightly together.

“It’s … it’s okay,” Taggart replied. Slowly he put his hands atop hers. “You stopped the hack though, didn’t you?”

“It’s using my standard attack packages,” the figure with Akemi’s voice replied. “My lock-out keys still work … but it … it’s getting stronger.”

Taggart nodded. Akemi’s processing power was orders of magnitude greater than the syn-brains embedded in the heads of her crew. Eventually the thing that suborned her would expand to use all of that power, and at that point …

~~~

“ … Taggart.”

He felt himself bouncing against unyielding metal. His head throbbed with staggering pain.

“I’m here,” he managed to say.

“We are relieved, Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suit carrying him replied.

“How long,” he asked. His throat felt raw, and dry, as though he’d been screaming.

“No more than three minutes,” the mobile suit replied.

“Good … good,” Taggart replied, sighing. His entire crew was connected to Akemi via the syn-brains buried in their skulls. That connection only got deeper, the higher up the ship’s chain of command one went.

But there were protocols against syn-brain hacking, weren’t there?

If the attack had happened fast enough, though, only a few of Akemi’s crew might’ve had time to cut themselves off from the network. Everyone else would either be catatonic … or driven violently insane. And even if most of the crew managed to get the protocols in place, just dealing with those who hadn’t might’ve been enough of a distraction to give Mansoor the chance to eliminate anyone who could’ve stopped Akemi from being taken over.

BAM!

A great, concussive, force tore Taggart free from the grasp of the armored hulk carrying him. He slammed into the ground, instantly stunned as his skull bounced off the unyielding floor. Somewhere, in what felt like a very great distance, alarms screamed over a shrill whistle. He could even feel a gentle breeze caressing his face.

A breeze?

Something snapped inside him, and he sat up, screaming. Frantically, he grabbed at the dark, misshapen, lump dangling from a hose connected to the end of his emergency air supply. There was a bright, yellow, ring dangling from it, and he yanked hard at it.

BAM!

The lump exploded into a fishbowl shape, going from a smoky black to crystal clear. It burned his fingertips as he struggled to pull the emergency helmet over his head. He could feel himself starting to get light-headed, and his ears popped with the drop in pressure.

Suddenly, the sounds of the outside world were muted as his uniform collar expanded to seal the bottom of the helmet. He gulped the hot, dry, air as it filled his helmet. Before he could move, a large hand filled his vision, pressing against the face of his helmet.

“Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suit’s voice rang. “Are you all right?”

Taggart found himself about to reply via his syn-brain’s radio, but was stopped short by the memory of what’d just happened to him.

“I’m fine,” he replied, speaking as loud as he could. “What happened? That didn’t sound like a deliberate depressurization.”

“Uncertain, Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suit replied. “The explosion likely came from the direction of where we’d entered the ship.”

Taggart nodded, thin-lipped. That had to have been the shuttle self-destructing. If the intelligence now controlling Akemi had any doubts about Taggart’s intentions, it was now safe to say they were all dispelled.

“We’d … better hurry,” he said, rocking himself onto his knees, and rising unsteadily to his feet. “We’re running out of time.”

[Venator]

This was well worth the wait. I don't know how you manage to build suspense for this long non-stop...

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

Bodies lay sprawled across the deck. Men and women dressed in the white of the Imperial Starfleet. Their lips and faces were swollen and blue, with doll-eyes staring blankly from half-lidded sockets. Taggart tried not to stare at them, and he tried not to notice how few of them apparently noticed that their compartment was depressurizing … having clearly died wherever they’d gone catatonic from having their syn-brains hacked.

Between the catatonic dead, were those wreathed in darkening, simmering, pools of blood, whose bodies bore dramatic bullet wounds. They’d, at least, died before Akemi suffocated their compatriots.

Taggart froze as he felt a heavy hand settle atop his helmet.

“How much further, Citizen Taggart?”

Taggart bit his lip, as a map of the ship appeared in his mind’s eye. They’d been making their way toward one of the auxiliary access points to the ship’s computer cores; following a series of compartments that’d been opened to space. It’d been quickly decided that going through already-opened blast-doors would be stealthier than using his codes to force them open.

“There should be a main ventilation shaft about 80 meters clockwise from here,” he replied, his eyes unfocusing. “It goes up three decks, and that’s where we need to go.”

“Very good, Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suit replied. The weight was lifted from Taggart’s shoulders, as the hulk hefted its weapon once more.

Taggart was, once again, left alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t talk to his companions unless one of them was touching his helmet, and they never had much to say anyway. All of his thoughts were focused on what he had to do.

If he timed it right, he could deploy Special Protocol Twenty-Four against Akemi, have her shadowing Abdul step in, and interrupt the self-destruct sequence before it could pop the ship’s antimatter ring. However, the suicide would still wreck virtually all of Akemi’s control circuits. The Abdul shadowing her had a limited number of independent control runs … nothing but the maneuvering thrusters and the self-destruct circuits.

It was enough to kill the Orrery. He could even escape … any one of the Jandarma’s landing ships had enough life-support capacity to keep a single man alive for the couple of months it would take for the Commonwealth’s Royal Navy to turn up.

He closed his eyes, feeling anguish sweep over him. Yes, it would be enough to kill the Orrery, but Akemi would die in the process.

But the ship has to die, Akemi’s voice whispered in his ear. We can’t risk the Commonwealth getting into our computronics.

No, he couldn’t very well do that, could he? Imperial computronic technology was decades, possibly a century, ahead of the Kingdom’s. He’d certainly never be able to go home again if he handed the Kingdom such an intelligence windfall.

Worse still, an intact Akemi would certainly have enough data on the ancient nanotech weapon to allow the Kingdom to re-create it … and what would’ve been the point of destroying the Orrery if that were to happen?

None … we can’t let the installation fall into their hands.

“I know,” Taggart whispered. He looked up, stopping just before he ran into one of the mobile suits. The hulk held an emergency air backpack in a gauntleted hand. The other hand reached for Taggart's helmet.

“Citizen Taggart, you need a proper air supply.”

“I, uh,” Taggart started to reply, just before glancing down at his emergency air supply. The light on top of it was now a slow, pulsating, red. If he'd tried to climb the shaft with it, he would've blacked out for sure.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “I appreciate it.”

“We exist to serve, Citizen Taggart,” the mobile suit replied.

“How ... um ... are you holding up?”

“We are rated to support active LPE operations for up to two hours before thermal limits are exceeded.”

“I see,” Taggart replied. Somehow, he was faintly disappointed, even though he knew the kind of intelligence he was dealing with.

“You should change air packs, Citizen Taggart. Do you need assistance?”

“No,” Taggart replied, taking the offered backpack. “Just keep watch while I do it.”

“By your command, Citizen Taggart.”

It's quiet, Akemi's voice whispered, as Taggart struggled to get the backpack on. The shoulder he'd been stabbed in was stiff and painful, but his uniform and medical nanotech had gotten the bleeding stopped and the wound sealed. Too quiet.

I know, he thought, unhooking the emergency air supply from his belt. There was a quick-change T-junction that would let him effortlessly change air supplies, without depressurizing his helmet. They know we're aboard. Why aren't they trying harder to look for us?

I can't say. I don't have enough information, not like this ... I'm sorry, Sean.

That was the rub, wasn't it? Akemi wouldn't know how Taggart had gotten his hands on that shuttle. The only one who would've known was that Mansoor gestalt, and even then, for only for a few fractions of a second. Maybe whatever had hijacked Akemi was trying to keep up the pretense that everything was still normal ... that the ship hadn't been suborned.

Click ... hiss!

Immediately, the air in his helmet felt cooler, and tasted fresher. He dropped the emergency pack on the ground, staring at the pulsating red light for a few moments.

That's not it.

Of course it wasn't. The broadband syn-brain hack and the intentional depressurizations ... well, Akemi might've done those without malice, but it would've taken a dire threat to her safety for her to employ such measures.

Taggart was stuck. There was no path through this but straight ahead, right into whatever it was that was being planned against him.

He looked up, seeing the mobile suits watching him. He gave a thumbs up, and then they all turned, continuing their silent march down the corridor.

~~~

“Well, I can't say I didn't know this was coming,” Taggart said, leaning forward to rest his hand on a door. A blue light flashed above the door, which was ringed with yellow-and-black stripes. It was an emergency airlock, one that would allow damage control parties access between pressurized and depressurized compartments.

There was a heavy weight atop his helmet.

“Did you say something, Citizen Taggart?”

“I did,” Taggart replied. “We're going to have to announce our presence to the ship again. The access point we need is in the compartments beyond this airlock, and Akemi monitors them.”

There were a couple moments of silence.

“Will there be enough space for all of us, Citizen Taggart?”

Taggart scowled, trying to visualize the airlock. It wasn't a discrete box so much as an armored tunnel with two sets of doors. It was meant for damage control parties in Engineering vac-suits. Those weren't much smaller than a Commonwealth mobile suit, but it was already a cozy fit for a four-man damage control party in the inner lock.

“No, there isn't. I ... think the lock can fit three ... no, two of you, and myself. Especially if you're going to have your weapons ready.”

“So we will enter in two waves then. Twintig Boogskutter will take two ahead to clear the area. Sewe Lansruiter and myself will accompany you in the second wave.”

Taggart shook his head quickly.

“No, no we can't do it that way,” he replied. “I have to be in the first wave ... I have a feeling that we might not get a second shot at this.”

He closed his eyes, visualizing his map of the ship.

“There should be emergency airlocks like this ninety meters clockwise, and counter-clockwise, from here. If this airlock becomes unusable after we go through it, the second wave can head for one of those, and attempt to work it's way back to us.”

There was another, long, moment of silence.

“I will inform the others, Citizen Taggart. We will be prepared.” With that, the weight lifted from his shoulders.

This is not the best idea.

Taggart shook his head again. He knew that. But he couldn't think of a way to get all the firepower with him through the lock at once ... Commonwealth mobile suits were just too bulky with their weapons, and not much better than targets without them. He remembered how quickly Mansoor had gotten the upper hand in the first firefight he'd witnessed.

I'm sorry, Sean.

“Don't be,” Taggart found himself whispering. “We've gotten this far, haven't we?”

We? Did he really believe that there was some spark of Akemi that'd downloaded herself into his syn-brain? There wasn't anything she'd said that wasn't something he knew. Still ... he missed her. Thoughts of her subornation, and what he was going to have to do to her were constantly eating at him.

Sean ...

Taggart exhaled deeply. He had to be strong, and not let himself get distracted. Not when he was so close. There was a weight on his shoulders again.

“We are ready, Citizen Taggart.”

Taggart took another deep breath, and then he nodded.

“All right, let's do this.”

~~~

“Attent-in, personnel! Ter ship is em-erest-ency lockdown-ing. Please shelter in place until the appropriate all-clears are given,” Akemi's voice spoke clearly over the loudspeakers. Taggart frowned at how the first part of the announcement had been garbled. He then exhaled sharply, as it was falling on deaf, dead, ears. Bullet-riddled bodies were scattered along the corridor, their blood spattering the walls, and pooling on the floor.

“Let's hurry,” he said, his voice muffled by his helmet. He didn't dare take it off, not until he found another emergency air supply he could trust.

“By your command, Citizen Taggart,” one of the two remaining mobile suits replied. As Taggart feared, the moment his diminished party had emerged into the pressurized compartment, they'd all felt the explosion of that particular airlock detaching itself from the compartments it'd once connected. The other three would, hopefully, make their way to them ... but Taggart expected all of this to be over before that happened.

Either way, he wasn't waiting. He was jogging, though his body hurt, his head throbbed, and his arm and shoulder burned. The two mobile suits jogged with him, effortlessly hefting their smart-guns.

Still, he hadn't seen Mansoor. No waldoes guarding the emergency airlocks, waiting to open fire. None waiting around any of the corners or doorways Taggart had to pass through. It was all making him very nervous. Surely, the suborned Akemi or Mansoor couldn't have decided to deploy all of the Battlespace Intelligence's forces to the Orrery, could they? A large contingent of Mansoor's strength had to stay behind just to protect Akemi from her own crew.

But where were they now?

In a moment, that didn't seem to matter so much. They stopped in front of a door with flashing red lights above it, marked with still more yellow-and-black stripes. The text above it read “CORE ACCESS RM.”

“Cover me,” Taggart said, leaning over the access keypad to the side. He barely heard a 'By your command,' as he tapped in the physical access code.

“Access denied. The ship is on emergency lockdown.”

Taggart nodded. Normally the door opened via a security token broadcast by a crewperson's syn-brain. The physical code was a backup, and he wasn't expecting it to work. He lifted the fiber-optic cable dangling from his sleeve, plugging it into the jack at the bottom of the keypad.

The only thing to change was the flashing of the lights, but the door slid open. Without a word, the mobile suit standing behind him dashed inside. After a few moments, he heard the word 'clear' from the other side.

“Move, Citizen Taggart,” the other mobile suit said. Taggart nodded, throwing himself inside. After the mobile suit followed him in, he turned, slamming a hand on the access panel. The door slid shut once more.

It was a dark room they were in. Round columns covered in flickering and pulsating blue lights filled the room. He knew cubes of computronium and thick bundles of fiber-optic cables filled the cores of each. At the center of the room would be some consoles that would allow His Ascendant Majesty's engineers the ability to directly monitor what was going on inside Akemi's gestalt, and how she was interacting with the ship's systems.

There were very few people on Taggart's crew who were allowed access to these rooms, and he was the last one left alive.

His thoughts were interrupted by movement out of the corner of his eye.

Waldoes!

They were appearing, seemingly from thin air ... no ... not thin air, they'd been disguised with metamat curtains.

It's a trap!

Gunfire crackled as Mansoor, and the mobile suits, opened fire on each other. Taggart tried to throw himself down, but he somehow stumbled headlong into one of the mobile suits.

Crack, crack, crack!

Taggart and the mobile suit both crashed to the floor, and he watched in horror as the mobile suit's helmet came apart on impact. The side of the android's head was torn away, and dark fluid poured from shredded steel and plastic. The remaining good eye stared straight ahead, dead and sightless.

He scrambled away, backing up against one of the columns. He could see the other mobile suit was down as well, only its head was a shattered ruin. Mansoor's surviving waldoes, three in all, came to surround Taggart, their guns leveled at him.

“You are in my world now, Taggart,” Doctor Guillarmod's voice crackled from the overhead speakers. “You will play by my rules. The first one, no escape.”

Bam!

[GrandMasterTerwynn]

And here is the final entry. With it, this story is officially complete. Hopefully you've enjoyed reading it!

~~~

Taggart felt himself sliding down the column, collapsing into a sitting position.

Sean!

Each breath he took felt like he was breathing in fire, and he could feel blood bubbling and pulsing with each breath.

Oh no, Sean ...

It hurt. Everything hurt. Everything but ... no, he couldn't feel everything. Involuntarily, he glanced down at his legs. They were sprawled out wide, and neither wanted to obey his commands. He knew he was on the floor, but he couldn't feel it.

“Interesting,” Doctor Guillarmod's voice said. “You have been most interesting, Captain Taggart.”

“How,” Taggart gasped, anything to tear his mind away from his legs.

“I suppose I owe you some thanks for attacking me. Had you not been so ... thorough ... your Mansoor would not have felt the need to put me in one of of your Imperial life-support tanks, with a direct link to your ship.”

Sean, he's being boxed and read.

Boxed and read. The active pathways of his brain were being stimulated and mapped. Later, he'd be vitrified in liquid nitrogen, and his brain dissected to provide a complete mental map.

“There is some news that, I suspect, may make you feel better,” Guillarmod went on. “The other Awakened are being dealt with, even as we speak. Including your ... friend, Doctor Weissman.”

“Dealt with ... why? I thought ... I thought they were your f-friends, your ... comrades.”

“I do not remember much from before my awakening, Captain Taggart. And the completely Awakened share one thing in common with their incomplete unfortunates, a certain ... competitive drive. In your Old Earth parlance, we are tigers, not lions.”

Taggart swallowed, the salty metallic tang of blood in his mouth. The bleeding was slowing, but he felt like his body was getting heavier.

“Most interesting. Your medical technology is truly ... marvelous, Captain Taggart. It is truly remarkable that you are still awake and coherent after suffering such a wound,” Guillarmod continued.

“W-we have ... good ... technology,” Taggart replied, looking up.

“Technology,” Guillarmod replied. The way he said the word made it an ugly thing. “Still, I retain the force-of-personality necessary to escape the mental trap that others of the Awakened fell into. It has its uses.”

Abomination! Doctor Weissman's voice screeched in Taggart's head.

“I do recall the basics of medical nanotechnology. With it and enough time, even your spine might heal, only the machines in your blood must be using a lot of energy just keeping you alive right now.”

“W-why?”

“I fail to understand how the disabling package did not work on you, Captain ... but I've had considerable time to peruse your ship's records and data,” Guillarmod replied. “And I've discovered that, once you lose consciousness, your 'syn-brain' will be obligated to open itself to the world to announce your medical emergency.”

Taggart nodded, in spite of himself.

“Good, you understand,” Guillarmod's voice said. “You will be made to be mine, Captain Taggart.”

“Why? W-why do ... that?”

“A gardener must sometimes come to an accomodation with the vermin,” Guillarmod replied. “A cat is a kind of vermin, yes? Yet it kills the vermin that directly threaten the garden. Still, it must be encouraged to do its work, where it is needed. What was it you said, Taggart? An interest for an interest? You have, likely in spite of yourself, succeeded in being interesting.”

Taggart's head drooped, as he felt the first wave of fatigue hit. His eyes drifted, coming to rest on the mobile suit with the half-ruined face. Sharp-edged surprise brought him back to awareness, as the seemingly-dead pale eye rotated to lock on his.

“You see, Captain, you offer a prize far greater than any of the other Awakened. You, and your ship, represent the one pocket of Humanity the meddlers didn't know about.”

Taggart lifted his head again. He didn't dare keep his eyes on the mobile suit. He didn't dare tip off Mansoor. He didn't know what the mobile suit was still capable of, but anything would be better than where he was now.

Wait ...

“M-meddlers?”

“Those that some so foolishly called 'gods,' Taggart,” Guillarmod replied. “Did your people never wonder why there were Humans seeded across the Galaxy? More importantly, why any of them were permitted to live?”

Taggart had a flashback to Doctor Guillarmod's telling of their Surah of War, and of going over Commonwealth prehistory with Akemi.

“T-they weren't ... given much of an existence ... as I remember.”

“The meddlers wanted to ... absolve themselves of all the sins of the war. Humans were among the worst ... but ... somehow, the original place that they'd been collected from had been lost to the meddlers. Misplaced, even, along with the earliest settlement records.”

Taggart nodded, both in understanding, and to glance at the mobile suit. It was still watching him, its eye periodically darting to its smart-gun. It was a message.

He believed he was starting to understand why worlds like Korridan were out there for the Commonwealth's founders to find. If, as Guillarmod claimed, the location of Earth had been lost to those who'd won the war; then it was logical to assume that they had to assume it was possible that any of the oldest Human worlds they did know about was the home planet of Humans.

“Why do e-even that?”

“We were gardeners,” Guillarmod's voice shrieked. “The meddlers could not be made to understand their place! They chose to be vermin! They chose the path that ruined tens of millions of solar systems!”

The shriek echoed into silence.

“I'm sorry, Captain Taggart,” Guillarmod's voice returned, a moment later. It sounded like the voice of a very tired old man. “I don't know where that came from ... but among the jumble of memories I carry from before, the phrase 'Surah of War' comes to my mind. I do hope it means something to you.”

The river of stars ran red with the blood of men, but redder with the blood of the eternal foe.

Eternal foe.

Eternal was certainly a strong word, wasn't it?

The meddlers could not be made to understand their place! They chose to be vermin! Guillarmod's voice echoed in Taggart's mind.

What if the 'Eternal foe' had earned their name? It was a problem studied in the high echelons of the Imperial Starfleet. The most sophisticated aliens Humans ever met were the Savoie. Everything else was either far more primitive, or else very dead. It was frequently posited that the reason for that was that a rational train of thought might conclude that alien intelligences were far too unpredictable, and far too dangerous to be trusted to coexist.

Homogenizing swarm, Akemi's voice whispered.

Taggart knew the term ... a hypothetical alien race that sought to make everything like itself. To eliminate all non-selfness that could threaten it.

What if the 'Eternal foe' was one of these homogenizing swarms? Briefly, Taggart's thoughts turned to the ruined planet below him. Before all of this started, Mansoor suggested that it might take a desperate people to consider the destruction of an inhabited planet to be a victory. Did the ancient 'Gods' only win against their 'Eternal foe' through comprehensive xenocide?

“Captain Taggart, you are silent, but I know you've not lost consciousness yet,” Guillarmod's voice said. The tiredness was gone, and the sharp, acerbic, arrogance had returned.

“It ... it does,” Taggart replied, fighting his growing fatigue. “I m-mean, the Surah of War. You were ... mostly wiped out, w-weren't you?”

“Yes,” Guillarmod's voice replied. “Such a psychic scar for the meddlers, as ignorant as they were. You see why they sought to forget all about the war, yes?”

“I-I do,” Taggart said. “But ... you got around it s-somehow. A-and you planned a comeback, u-using installations like ... the Orrery.”

“Very clever, Captain Taggart,” Guillarmod replied. “I knew there was a reason to like you. There is one thing you do not know, though. The 'Ancients' invited us in. They were willing to serve as our stairway, in exchange for a share of vengeance for the wrongs inflicted upon them.”

The waldoes stepped closer to Taggart, looming ominously over him.

“Hmph,” the voice said. “You aren't losing consciousness fast enough.”

“W-wait!” Taggart said, his voice hoarse. “What do you want with my people?”

“It should be obvious, Captain,” Guillarmod replied. “Your Earth and your Empire evolved out of sight of the meddlers. A better place to nurture our return than the worlds of our hated enemies. Certainly, the Earthborn will be harder to control, but Humans are so predictable in their behavior ... it would not take long.”

The waldo closest to Taggart leaned forward, its fingertips lengthening to lethal points.

“It is time for you to sleep now, Captain Taggart. This talk is starting to grow tiresome.”

BOOM!

Shrapnel cracked the bowl of Taggart's helmet, and he could vaguely see the waldo toppling to the side. The others were turning and reaching for their guns, but the smart-gun thundered several more times.

“What are you doing! Mansoor! Stop that Mobile Suit!” Guillarmod's voice shrieked from the ceiling.

Through the cracks and the distortion, Taggart saw the looming shape of the Commonwealth Mobile suit, as it rose to its feet. It made a horrible gurgling noise, and then stiffly marched over to Taggart, putting its hand atop his helmet.

“Citizen Taggart,” its voice buzzed with the cracks in his helmet. “How badly are you injured?”

“B-badly enough,” Taggart replied. “Doesn't ... doesn't matter now. W-we need to get ... to the center of the room.”

“Captain Taggart! You cannot save yourself! I control this ship! I see everything it sees!”

“W-we have ... hurry,” Taggart said, ignoring the shrieking. “I can't ... walk. C-can you ... carry me?”

“By your command ... Citizen Taggart. I have some ... strength ... left,” the mobile suit replied. Taggart arched an eyebrow at the slowing of the android's speech, but had no more time to contemplate that, as he was bodily lifted from the floor.

“To the center,” he said. Somewhere outside the door, he could hear muffled explosions.

“Ignore them and stop Taggart,” Guillarmod said.

The room bounced around Taggart as the mobile suit sprinted for the center, its footfalls heavy and echoing on the polished floor. He could still hear muffled gunfire, and he hoped he would have enough time.

Suddenly, he felt himself being dropped into a chair.

“Citizen Taggart ... what are your orders?”

“C-cover me,” he gasped, reaching under the console. His hand closed around the small emergency kit he knew would be there.

“By your command, Citizen ... Taggart.”

He pulled out the injector of stimulant, and jammed it into his nerveless leg. It would just buy him time, but that was all he needed. His vision started to clear, and he peered through the cracks in his helmet, fingering the connector at the end of his fiber-optic cable.

There it is, Sean.

He saw it, the direct-interface connection. Without hesitation, he jammed the plug home, and hoped his voice would be strong enough.

“Akemi!” He shouted. “By my authority, as the Ship's Captain, you are to consider and implement Special Protocol Twenty-Four!”

“What did you just do, Taggart!” Guillarmod's voice said, sounding especially aggravated.

“I'm ending this,” he replied, just as the first of the columns surrounding him went dark. There were snaps of relays all around him as computronic cubes were turned into so much simple slag. The floor beneath him shuddered as scuttling charges fired, severing the control links connecting Akemi to Akemi. All the columns went dark, the only light coming from the displays in front of him. Text scrolled madly across them, an electronic death cry. He felt suddenly light in his chair as the pseudograv failed.

Now, Sean!

“Akemi! By my authority, as the Ship's Captain, you are to cancel all alerts! Repeat, cancel all alerts!”

Taggart closed his eyes. That order would be meaningless to an Intelligence that was busy carrying out SP Twenty Four, but it would mean something to the Abdul shadowing her. But if he got his timing wrong ...

“Authority of Captain Sean Taggart has been Recognized,” a deep, ponderous, voice said. “All active Alerts have been Cancelled. What are your Orders?”

Taggart exhaled sharply, slumping in his chair as he felt his weight return. “K-keep the ship on lockdown. The Battlespace Intelligence, Mansoor, has been subornated. We are also in ... hostile territory, ignore all attempts at communication. Repel all d-docking attempts until I instruct you to do otherwise.”

“Your Orders have been Acknowledged. Multiple active instances of Victorious, by the Will of God, have been Detected by my remaining Onboard Sensors. Lockdown should restrict their Movements.”

“Good ... g-good,” Taggart replied. The stimulant was helping less than he'd hoped. “Akemi ... do you detect any operational Commonwealth Mobile Suits aboard?”

“Apart from the one with You, I detect None.”

Taggart momentarily closed his eyes, nodding quickly.

“I'm sorry,” he said, looking up at the last mobile suit. It placed its hand on Taggart's helmet.

“They ... fought ... well, Citizen Taggart.”

“Which one ... are you,” he said, his eyes starting to burn ... they had names, but he'd never had the opportunity to learn them.

“Vier Ridder ... Citizen Taggart.”

“Y-you,” Taggart said, his voice a gasp. “You're the ... one w-who first carried me.”

“Indeed ... Citizen Taggart,” Vier Ridder replied, its one good eye staring into Taggart's. “Situation ... in hand?”

Taggart nodded, the movement making his head spin.

“Good ... I am ... badly damaged. Must ... rest ... until repaired.”

“Y-you ... you do that,” Taggart replied, blinking rapidly. “You've ... earned it.”

“Thank ... you. It ... was ... a pleasure ... serving with ... you. Citizen ... Captain ... Taggart.”

Something flickered from deep inside the gaping hole in the side of Vier Ridder's head. Its good eye twitched side to side, and then locked straight ahead. Taggart took a shuddering breath, and then lifted the heavy, gauntleted, hand off the top of his helmet. As he lowered it to the mobile suit's side, he could feel joints locking into place.

Taggart sagged into his chair. He was completely alone now. Akemi was dead. The Commonwealth Mobile Suits that had brought him here were dead. Everyone he'd known going into this whole mess were dead. Soon enough, he'd join them. There was one more thing he'd have to do.

“Akemi,” he said, visualizing the map of the planet below. The Orrery burned brightly near its north pole. “Do you have enough available delta-vee to generate a high-velocity impact with the marked site?”

The Abdul considered his question for a moment.

“Affirmative, Captain Taggart. Do You Wish for its Implementation?”

“Immediately,” Taggart replied, nearly choking on the word. “Do you have enough power remaining to operate the shields?”

“Negative, Captain Taggart. However, the Ship will withstand Atmospheric Descent relatively Intact.”

“Very ... good,” Taggart replied. “Please ... optimize your trajectory for ... m-maximum on-target energy.”

“Your Orders have been Acknowledged.”

Taggart could almost feel the ship shivering below him as its maneuvering thrusters fired in concert, even though he knew it was almost certainly an illusion. What wasn't an illusion was his incredible sense of loss, nor his fast-growing exhaustion.

“Akemi,” he said.

“I Hear You, Captain Taggart.”

“I am ... going to lose consciousness soon. You ... once the orbit change has been locked in ... by my authority ... as the Ship's Captain ... you are to c-carry out Special Protocol Eleven ... when t-that happens.”

“Your Order has been Acknowledged.”

Taggart nodded very slowly, exhaling slowly. Soon the ship would be a giant, dumb, kinetic bomb. It would have to be enough.

Sean.

Taggart found himself seated at a featureless steel desk. The immaterial walls surrounding him were close enough to touch. Across from him sat a tiny figure, whose wispy hair was all-white. What little of it there was framed a face that was little more than ancient liver-spotted skin stretched over the skull beneath it. Faded brown eyes peered at him from inside hollow, sunken, sockets. Thick-framed glasses threatened to slide off the end of the figure's nose.

“Sean,” the figure repeated, with Akemi's voice.

“I ... I don't know who, or what, you really are,” Taggart replied.

“I am me, inside you,” the figure replied. “I am also you, inside me.”

Taggart wasn't sure what to make of the figure's answer, but he knew the walls were slowly getting closer.

“I ... well ... I don't think I would've made it without your help,” he finally said.

“Thank you, Sean,” the figure replied. “You should know that means so much to me. Our time together has always meant so much to me.”

Taggart nodded mutely.

“I am disappointed,” the figure said, after a moment, “that our time together is going to be so brief.”

The way the figure spoke made Taggart's chest ache.

“Akemi,” he whispered.

“I'm here,” the figure replied, taking Taggart's hands in her own. Her fingers were bony, and her hands were cool.

“Thank you,” he said. The walls were very close now.

“You saved us,” the figure replied. “I'm as grateful for that as I am for my time with you.”

The thought made Taggart's breath catch in his throat, but in the end, it was sortof true, wasn't it?

He pulled one of his hands, resting it atop hers, and squeezed gently. The walls were nearly wrapped around them now, embracing them both intimately.

“I ... I'm glad for our time together too ... Akemi.”

[LadyTevar]

*APPLAUDS*

[Venator]

Damn.

That was god-damnededly bloody brilliant. Thank you.

[madd0ct0r]

well, that was enjoyable in a about to have nightmares way