#captain calen

[gh0stfactory]

Remember that time Lt. Steel from the original Ben 10 went Turbo and joined Providence under a different name?

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Episode 165: Collision Corps

“They’re definitely panicked,” said Vince Flashman, checking the exterior camera.  “Something’s come up.  Their hijacked spaceship isn’t a priority anymore.”

“Great,” says Carmen.  “We might not have to blast our way out of here after all!”

“Observers: unseen: probability.”

“Good point,” said Vince.  “But from what little I can see, anyway… there’s confusion.  Some shouting… must’ve been some sort of accident elsewhere on the ship.”

“If there’s a moment when you can’t see anyone looking in our direction, let us know,” said Carmen.  She kept her hand on the emergency ramp control, a button located by a terminal with deactivated camera features, likely a parting gift from The Soul Survivor.  She wasn’t sure if the all-but robot was still locked in the bridge or had already made some sort of escape that didn’t rely on conventional exits, but she didn’t care.  Xorn’Tal waited by the emergency ramp itself, ready to literally leap over and through the exit as it opened.  While he was probably the most fragile of the three racers, he looked larger and intimidating, and bullets or lasers searing off his vines was likely to be more temporary than it was for the two humans, things he’d pointed out while volunteering for the most dangerous part of the plan.

“Are we still clear on how this goes down?” asked Carmen.

“Cessation requested: asking.”

“Sorry, Xorn’Tal.  Jumpy, I guess.”

“Same here,” said Vince, keeping his eyes on his functional terminal.  “Even if no one’s looking, the odds of us getting on unseen a-… no one’s looking, now, now!”

Carmen punched the control button and the ramp began to open, with its magnetic seals breaking and pneumatic machinery rapidly lowering a ramp and making a quick hole in the side of the small ship.  Xorn’Tal leapt over the dropping plates of hull while they were still articulating into a form acceptable for humans to disembark.  The plant-like creature marveled at the complete lack of eyes on the ship, with only a few guards and hangar technicians in a nearby shed-like control room, all frantically looking over a monitor that he couldn’t make out.  There were interior weapons trained on the ship, but none were activating, likely based on manual controls instead of computerized ones.  Xorn’Tal raised a signaling vine, and saw the hallway stretching away from the hangar, just alongside the control room.

Carmen and Vince jumped over the still-lowering ramp, and the three ran, Xorn’Tal only outpacing the two humans by virtue of a head start.  As they passed the control room, the sight of an ambulatory tangle of vines and leaves rolling by followed by two brightly dressed humans in professional racer garb caught the eye of two soldiers who gaped at the sight.  One lifted an arm to point just as they fell out of Carmen’s view.

“They saw us!” she said.  “Hurry, find a place to hide!”

“Juncture!” said Xorn’Tal.  “Path chosen: left: obfuscate!”

“Left, got it,” confirmed Vince.

The trio neared the branching path where the hallway was joined by another, but collided into two soldiers who were darting around the corner.  The five collided into each other, tripped, and sprawled across the ground, with only the multi-limbed Xorn’Tal maintaining some semblance of balance.

“Captain!” shouted one.

“Don’t worry about me, Trell, run!”

The two soldiers leapt to their feet quickly, with one of them racing down in the direction the racers had just come from.  Carmen noted the oddity of not being immediately apprehended or killed, as Vince shakily rose.

“Hey, lady, we don’t-”

The soldier identified as Captain pulled a rifle from the receptacle at her back and clubbed Vince in the skull, sending the racer back.

“I don’t know what moral transgression you committed in your past life to deserve getting in my way now, but know that I’ve neither the time nor inclination to let the one unsecured ship out of my clutches when a hull breach has-”

Xorn’Tal exploded toward the soldier.  Carmen expected the series of vines to rapidly overwhelm the humanoid, but the soldier easily bent her arm into a hook, swiped it forward to clear a massive section of vines, and head-butted the revealed root-like structure that comprised Xorn’Tal’s body.  Xorn’Tal tumbled back, rolling onto the floor instead of instantly righting itself due to the soldier’s tentacle-sweep.

“Wait,” said Carmen.  “Wait!  I think we’re on the same-”

The soldier turned, running back down the hall but stopped at the sight of the second soldier returning.

“They were already moving,” she said.  “Something tipped them off to-”

The captain held up a hand to silence the first, turned back to Carmen, and pointed.

“The same what?”

“Team,” said Carmen.  “We’re… I think we’re on the same team.”

“Doubtful,” said the captain.  “I’m Calen.  Captain Calen, of Morcala.”

“Morcala,” growled Vince, standing and massaging his skull.  “What are you-”

“That way!” shouted Trell, pointing down the hallway.  “Hurry!”

The two soldiers ran around the corner and the racers took less than a second to organize their thoughts and follow behind.

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Episode 157: The Teleporting Puzzle

Captain Calen stood by the door to the computer terminal station, eyeing the few people who walked by without noticing her.  Each passing agent of the Dyson Empire reminded her that she was focusing on remaining hidden, and that vengeance needed to wait.

“This is curious, Captain.  If I’m reading the schematics properly, this ship is actually three vessels.”

“What?” said Calen, leaning in to look at Trell, sitting at the terminal that extended from the pillar in the center of the room along with the other five unoccupied stations.

“There are three ships, but they’re functioning as one.”

“Didn’t Ortega think that all of this technology came from other ships?  I’ve heard of many unusual vessels in my day Ensign, and personally discovered many others, but I’ve yet to see a ship like this, so clearly designed for humanity, that could function in that fashion, apart from the Astroguard’s experiments with saucer and nacelle integration.”

“The… captain from the Astroguard did say this, yes,” said Trell.  “And for the smaller ships like Tan’s fighter, he was accurate.  The technology within this larger vessel, while also largely borrowed from other sources, has been customized, altered, or built from scratch where needed.  With the proper commands, we could cause this ship to break into two or three functional pieces that would act on their own as vessels.”

“I see,” said Calen, taking a step into the room.  “Trell, would this create piloting complications?  Flying a ship that was multiple ships?”

“It might, but I believe they would be negligible in a vacuum at most standard velocities.  The nature of the integration seems to be built with the avoidance of potential stress-fractures from inertia in mind.”

“How similar would it be to our trial exercises with the Scuttler?” asked Calen.  “We could have five ships working in tandem to force another vessel in another direction, and usher them to safer harbor with ease during the challenges set before us and the other Scuttlers.”

“I believe there would be similarities, but it would be even easier.  Our experience with Scuttlers might give us a piloting edge, though.  Especially considering the lack of training that we’ve seen in all of the Dyson Empire’s conscripts.”

“Oh, I like hearing that, I truly do.  How do you suppose the vessels connect?  Do they take the time to couple and decouple in space? What if they felt a need during the heat of battle?”

“I suppose they’d manage without unless they truly felt safe.  These are very intricate connections, and while separating could be done quickly, I don’t see combining being reasonable mid-combat.  Unless…”

Trell grew silent and began tapping the interface, quickly scrolling through commands and schematics in the screen of tangible electricity that sparkled in front of her eyes.

“Captain, do you remember the Phoenix Circuitry?”

“Of course.  That horrid secret technology was all that stood between me and destroying Tan’s vessel, a request made when you and Captain Ortega worked together to pacify me.”

“Unpleasant as the captain from the Astroguard may have been, the crash course it gave me on the Phoenix Circuitry was useful here… it’s laced through the connections of the ships.”

“So?  You said there were tracings of the circuitry throughout the entirety of Tan’s vessel.  Why would any Dyson empire ship be different, especially custom-built jobs like this that would differ from Tan’s?”

“Because the circuitry here is designed to move through the connections.  The Phoenix Circuitry can create a larger circuit pattern through all of the connected ships.”

“Wait… Trell, if we were able to bring the Scuttler through the teleportation by just clinging to the vessel with the Scuttler’s own machinery…”

“These vessels are built for coordinated receiverless teleportation, Captain.  They might even be able to teleport from a disconnected state to a connected one.  Ordinarily I’d assume that this wouldn’t be possible, but a lot of the coordinating instructions I’m seeing here look like they can teleport to a position in relation to their space within the phoenix circuit relative to all the other participants rather than to a specified distance or set of coordinates.”

Captain Calen fully turned her back from the doorway, and approached Trell’s screen, leaning over her ensign’s shoulder for a better look.

“It’s an incredible bounty you’ve found, then.  Tactical teleportation for rapid redeployment… like stuffing all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle into its box, shaking it, and then pulling the assembled picture from within.  Trell, I see an armada of a dozen vessels, adeptly cutting through the Magellan Mine-Cloud without tripping a single security measure, and then reforming into a battleship capable of destroying any resistance on the opposite side!  Farthest Fleet, this is technology that can turn barbarians into emperors!”

“Wouldn’t the ships be able to simply teleport to the opposite side of the mines?”

“We still don’t know the limitations of Dyson’s technologies, Ensign, I make no assumptions.  On that note… be sure to save as much of this data as you can without raising security concerns.  If we can’t reclaim Morcala and strike the death-blow to Dyson himself, we may yet have an incredible career of piracy ahead.”

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Episode 78: Neutrino Load

Ensign Trell and Captain Ortega jumped into action almost before the video from the Emperor’s Herald finished playing.  They ran for one of the doors at the side of the ship’s command chamber, but the door slammed into place as they reached it.  Trell angrily punched the door before she turned to a maintenance panel at the side of the door and ripped it open.  The dangerous humming around them began to increase as the timer on the monitors in the room gradually ticked down.

“That humming is the ship’s reactor core kicking into overdrive,” said Ortega.  “It’s the sound of a systematic overcharge designed to cause an explosion.”

“You’re sure?” asked Trell, tossing the panel’s cover away from the wall and looking into the maintenance niche.

“Pretty sure,” he said.  “Zamona’s wrong when he says that no one alive’s experienced this kind of self destruct sequence from a firsthand location.  If we can get to the reactor core quickly enough, we might be able to disable a lot of these systems.  Or we could just make a break for it and try to reach the airlock.”

“The airlock’s too slow,” shouted Trell as she disconnected two cords and reconnected another to the vacated connectors.

“Only if we let it cycle.  In emergencies it can be reworked for an explosive jettison.  It might even help launch us further away from the explosion.”

A sudden spark and cloud of smoke issued from the maintenance panel and the door reopened.  Trell pushed her way out, picked herself up, and ran through the door, Ortega moving along with her.  Another door slammed into place at the end of the hall and Trell clenched her fists, stifling a frustrated scream before she moved to the wall.  She paused and frantically began moving her fingers along the gray metalwork.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s no maintenance control point,” she said.  “At least… none I can find.”

“Should we go back?”

“No time!” she said.  “And even if there was, do you think any other route from that room wouldn’t have more security doors?”

Another noise, a high-pitched whine, floated through the air, and Ortega turned his head in the direction of the reactor.

“That’s new,” he said.

Suddenly, all the lights in the corridor grew brighter before going off with a sizzle and a pop.  After a moment, emergency lights powered up, creating a dim glow that outlined the path and the location of most exits.  With a gentle hiss, the door in front of them lifted up.

“Definitely new,” said Ortega.  “I don’t… I admit I’ve never seen a self-destruct mechanism do this.  Have you?”

“No,” she said.  “This isn’t a standard protocol.  Unless…”

“Is everyone alive over there?” said Captain Calen’s voice from over Trell’s communicator.  Trell activated it to respond.

“Yes, Captain,” she said.  “Some sort of self-destruct sequence was activated, but all the power has turned off now.  I don’t know if we’re still in danger or not.”

“You’re not,” said Calen.  “I’d been monitoring your situation and the reactor was going to blow.  I decided to fire a neutrino load, something that could harmlessly reach through the hull to neutralize the energy.”

“You had a weapon that could do that?” said Ortega.  “I mean, I know weapons exist that can do that but most ships aren’t armed with them.”

“Our ship is designed to be able to neutralize ships without fully destroying them so that they can be salvaged later,” said Trell.  “We also have features for gradual retrieval operations.  Why do you think the ship type is called a Scuttler?”

“I… guess I hadn’t thought about it,” said Ortega.  “Do they power up quickly?”

“No, I was targeting your ship in case of treachery,” said Calen.

“Of course,” said Ortega.

“Trell, you may be interested to know that you’re not entirely without power over there,” said Calen.  “Some extra system lines your vessel, tracing its way through the exterior hull.  It seemed like part of the main systems when everything else was running, but it’s clear now.”

“Can you tell what its purpose is, Captain?” asked Trell.

“I’ll work on that,” said Calen.  “Right now I can tell you that it generates some sort of energy field.  It’s low-grade right now, but could be increased, infusing the entire ship and everything immediately around it with some sort of high-energy radiation.”

“Immolating itself,” said Trell, opening her eyes wider.

“What?” asked Ortega.  “Oh.  Oh!  Good call.”

“What that?” asked Calen.

“Captain, you may have discovered the Phoenix Circuitry we’re looking for,” said Trell.  “It’s a long-shot, but it’s possible that the Phoenix Circuitry is a device designed to surround the vessel with some sort of energy.  If we can figure out what that energy does, we might know what the Phoenix Circuitry is designed for.”

“Then you’ve got work to do,” said Calen.  “With any luck, the Dyson Empire’s just given us a weapon that we can give right back.”

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Episode 76: Laser-Puffed Goodness

Pilot Tan entered the course corrections as he moved through the mists, grateful that the Soul Survivor’s alterations to The Signal no longer made it toxic for any computer hooked up to sensors.  The Cypulchral Cloud was now no more dangerous than your standard nebula, and at only the size of a large planet it was easier to navigate.  He wondered if, at some point, the planet might normalize in both its consistency and orbit enough to become an outlying gas giant of sorts, but that level of science was outside his general expertise.

An alarm sounded, suggesting that someone was trying to board the ship from one of the airlocks, using an entrance code.  This confused him, but suggested good news; he wanted to help The Soul Survivor, of course, but it seemed strange that the Survivor’s plans would require marooning everyone at the remains of the space station.  Perhaps some of them had made it back after all.  He input commands that would allow the boarders access, after the airlock had time to cycle.

Minutes later, he heard the sound of the airlock door preparing to open.  He double checked that he was in a safe patch of the cloud, and walked back to see who was entering.  The airlock door spun open, and he smiled at the sight of Captain Ortega, carrying his helmet in one hand and holding up an Astroguard pistol with the other.

“Captain!” shouted Tan.  “I mean… Ortega!  Andrew? Can I call you Andrew?  What’s… with the gun?”

Captain Ortega quickly holstered his pistol.

“Sorry.  Wasn’t sure if I’d be welcomed when I got here.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Long story,” he said.  “Didn’t think I was gonna make it here in time.”

“Yeah, shame about that,” said Tan.  “But the Soul Survivor’s got his plans.”

“I’m sure,” said Ortega.  “What’re you working on now?”

“Just piloting out of here.”

“Can I see?”

“Absolutely!”

Tan turned around to walk to the bridge, but stopped short when Ortega slammed the space helmet over his head.  Moments later, there was a bright flash of light.

***

Captain Ortega sat in the tiny galley of Captain Calen’s scuttler.  Flight suits were bulky and generally didn’t allow room for personal effects in their limited storage capacity, but Ortega had found ways to smuggle a few things over the years.  One of the oddest was the box of cereal and flash-frosted milk he kept along with a shallow bowl and spoon.

With Calen back in command and the Soul Survivor’s body locked in a crate and Pilot Tan secured in the medical bay whether he wanted to be there or not, Ortega felt like he had the first moments of genuine relaxation since before he’d started climbing the volcanic fortress that Doctor Rogers had hidden away on Morcala days earlier.  He took a few deep breaths and started eating the cereal.

“You’ve smuggled in your own meals?” asked Ensign Trell, entering and walking to the tanks where chilled water was kept.  “I wouldn’t have thought a seasoned soldier like you would risk the extra weight.”

“The flight suit carries the weight, not me,” said Ortega.  “Besides, I take out a set of rations to make it fit.  The two cereal boxes and milk are small enough to weigh less.”

“I never did like milk on cereal,” said Trell, filling a glass.

“I eat it dry if I have to,” said Ortega.  “I always liked this cereal a kid.  Deliciously puffed wheat and rice, the only cereal shot with a ray gun.”

“Are you quoting something?”

“One of the commercials.  I was thinking about it after getting back to the ship, and got really nostalgic after everything calmed down.  Not sure why.  How’s the captain?”

“Better now that she’s back in command,” said Trell.  “She’s approved your suggestion to go back to Tan’s ship and investigate the phoenix circuitry.  And since it looks like The Signal isn’t a danger anymore, we may see if we can pick up anything on its sensors from the Dyson fleet that we couldn’t pick up on our own, just in case there’s some high end encryption that would allow their transmissions to go undetected.  In half an hour we should be about ready to start a more thorough search if you can tear yourself away from your cereal.”

“Absolutely,” said Ortega.  “It’ll interrupt the day of classic adventure programs that I’d been planning on, but I can get ready.  Where should I throw this?”

He held up the box of puffed wheat and rice, and Trell raised an eyebrow at the outdated appearance of a man in a stylized Astroguard uniform who seemed to be giving a thumbs up to anyone who looked at the box.

“The Astroguard has its own cereal?”

“No, that’s Captain Mayday,” said Ortega.  “I watched it every day when I was a kid.  There was always some new interstellar danger or space pirate or unexplored planet for him to triumph against.  The cereal was one of the show’s primary sponsors.  He’s the reason I joined the Astroguard.”

Trell nodded and tapped a slot on the wall that opened, revealing a standard waste receptacle.

“It’s nice to see that at least some propaganda works,” she said, returning her glass and walking out of the galley.

“It wasn’t propaganda,” said Ortega, throwing away the box and following after.  “It was actually critical of the Astroguard in a lot of ways.”

The smiling face of Captain Mayday continued to smile as the two vacated the room, as sure as an inanimate object can be that it had once again helped out a cadet in need.

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Episode 70: Diplomatic Response

Captain Ortega’s eyes shot from Doctor Rogers to Captain Calen, knowing what would happen but not wanting to see it.  Historically, the best tactic against Rogers’ ultimatums was to temporarily meet them, giving him time to talk until another opening presented itself.  Instead, Calen narrowed her eyes at the request for unconditional surrender and launched herself across the room.

Rogers’ robotic body was faster than it looked, though, and stronger than most humans by far.  Getting within arm’s length of it, even when catching Rogers by surprise, was usually the fastest way to lose a situation.  Sure enough, as soon as Calen neared, his upper torso spun, and one of his arms slammed into Calen.

Rather than being knocked to the side, Calen latched onto Rogers’ arm and used the impact of the blow to spin around his metallic hull.

“What?!” shouted Rogers.

Calen didn’t respond.  Instead, she made a fist and slammed it into the back of Rogers’ crystalline helmet.  A crack formed in the metallic dome that sat where his head should have been.

“No,” he said.  “Do you really think a single blow would-”

Calen punched the dome again, striking with enough force to make the robotic body stumble forward just to keep its balance.  The crack was larger, spreading like a spiderweb.  Tiny droplets of water began pushing their way through the transparent crystal.

“Fine,” he said.  Electricity arced across his body.  Calen screamed in anger, spasmed, and nearly fell off of Rogers, but managed to hold on.  Some combination of willpower, experience, training and rage allowed her to push through.  She threw her arm forward once more and shattered the crystal.  Broken shards of the reinforced dome cascaded from the top of his red armor, carried by the falling water.  Ortega was worried that the water would make the electricity more dangerous, but Rogers’ body stopped generating it the moment that his “head” was gone.

The red suit of armor that had contained Rogers crashed forward, falling onto the ground.  Calen fell with it, splashing forward onto the floor of the neon chamber, but quickly pushing herself up.

“You and your enemy share one trait, Ortega,” she said.

“We don’t really have time t-”

“You both talk too much,” said Calen.  “If he’d activated that electric surge before speaking, it might’ve ended me.  Is your suit broken, or just repairing?”

“Repairing,” said Ortega.  “But I’ve still got two minutes to-”

“Trell,” she said.  “See if you can speed him along.”

“Calen, you need to return to your scuttler,” said Ortega.  “Don’t worry about me, get to your ship before Tan takes off and strands us here!”

“Your noble act of self sacrifice isn’t reasonable,” said Calen.  Trell ignored the two and ran to the plinth that Ortega had been placed upon when Rogers interrupted the armor.  Trell began working on a panel by his arm.  Ortega couldn’t see what was happening, but the repair meter on his display fizzled out, worrying him.

“It’s not self sacrifice,” said Ortega.  “We need someone to get there quickly, so that all of us can leave!”

“Trell and I can’t make it back quickly enough,” said Calen.  “Assuming that Tan has the ability to launch without my say so… something I doubt, but wouldn’t care to assume with any certainty… he’ll be long gone before any of us could run there.  You’ve got a rocket pack built into your armor, though.”

“If we’re too far to catch up after running, I don’t think the extra speed of a rocket will help us to get there in time,” said Ortega.

“No, but you might be able to catch up to it after it’s left.  With any luck at all, you’ll be able to catch that ship before we’re doomed to eternal seclusion in this haze.”

The display fizzled back into place, and Ortega was pleasantly surprised to see the status display readout indicating that all systems were normal.  With a quick spinning of servos, he felt the joints loosen as mobility returned to his suit.  He sat up on the plinth.

“His suit should be fully functional, Captain,” said Trell.

“Amazing,” said Ortega, stretching his arm and looking at it.  “Thanks, Trell.  Good work on-”

“We gained only seconds,” said Calen.  “Don’t use them up speaking to us.  Leave!”

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Episode 65: The Room of Neon Marble

The room was filled with strange, glowing crystals that shimmered with neon-bright rainbows of energy.  The shadows outside the colorful lights were untarnished by borders of dimmer light, remaining as black as any void that Captain Ortega had ever seen.  Doctor Rogers carried Ortega’s stiff space suit over his shoulder until he finally deposited his recurring enemy onto a plinth of marble.  Ortega watched the display on the inside of his helmet as it tracked the progress of the suit’s repairs.  Thousands of nanoswitches and hundreds of servos needed to realign, as Rogers’ energy blast had somehow triggered the flight suit’s reboot process, something that would ordinarily only be possible with several dedicated minutes of intentional work.  The fact that Rogers had discovered a secret vulnerability of the Astroguard’s flight suit was just another worrying tidbit that Ortega would have to add to his report about his mission when he escaped.

“What does the Dyson pilot know, Andrew?” asked Rogers, moving to a cracked geode.  Ortega couldn’t see much of the interior of the crystal, but based on how Rogers was interacting with it it was probably a monitor or control terminal of some sort.

“Why do you care?” asked Ortega.  “I thought that you didn’t think the Dyson empire was a long term threat.”

“Not for the long term, no,” said Rogers, tapping a crystalline protrusion.  “But the Cypulchral Cloud lies within Morcalan space, and the Dyson Empire is what passes for a ruling government just at the moment.”

“He knows nothing, but his ship had some interesting data,” said Ortega.  “I was examining it on our way here.  Some of it might be useful to you.”

Ortega waited, but Rogers had nothing to add to that.  He thought about his next words carefully.  They had passed the need to trick each other into revealing plans dozens of altercations previously, and had moved to an unspoken barter system of sorts.

“I admit that I’m a little unsure of what’s happening here,” said Ortega.  “You’re not needlessly violent or even remorseless, and you’re not greedy.  Well… not unless you count being power hungry and megalomaniacal.”

“What does this glowing review of my character have to do with anything?”

“I’m trying to see your motive here.  A lesser criminal would be here with the plan to finish what the alleged Terranda Xol started just to gain the energy without a follow-up.  You also said that you were here to learn about yourself or something.  What do you gain by coming here apart from the energy?  What’s the next step?”

Doctor Rogers turned from the geode to look at Captain Ortega.  He stepped closer to the plinth.

“The mechanisms that drive me have much in common with Pyrhian technology.  But not modern Pyrhian technology.  Their culture is older and far more varied than human civilization, and many alternate routes that their technology might have taken are lost to the ages.  The pipes and electronics cobbled together within me are much like the Pyrhian technology that was said to exist during the age of Terranda Xol.  And this station, this… mobile fortress of destruction, this temple dedicated to the fires of change and life and death, was their greatest accomplishment.  I can learn more about why my soul was imprinted onto that original robotic shell so long ago, and remove the guesswork from transferring myself to future upgrades.  I may even discover amazing secrets of mortality that could eliminate it from human life.”

“Noble,” said Ortega.  “It really is.”

“So you see the value in my work?”

“I’ve always seen the value in the results you’re trying to achieve,” said Ortega.  “But it never justifies the means you use to reach them.”

“Typical,” said Rogers, turning back to the geode.  “Millions, possibly billions, are constantly dying, many in pain.  Every moment my research delays hurts humanity, Andrew.”

“Assuming you’re correct,” said Ortega.  “If you’re wrong, then you’re hurting people needlessly and adding to that total.  You need to return with me to the Astroguard.  I’ll speak on your behalf.  Perhaps your research can continue as part of your sentence, without a Morcalan genocide.”

“Cretinous fool,” said Rogers.  “The Astroguard’s leaders are not made up of people like you.”

“Not entirely, no.”

“Not in the majority,” said Rogers.  “How many would side with me? How many ever side with you?”

“That’s not relevant.”

“We find the proposition laughable,” said Rogers, though in a voice that was not his usual sonorous tone.  Ortega recognized it as the voice of Admiral August Tachyon.  “Basing this research on the baseless myths of another culture does nothing to justify the belief that The Soul Survivor’s research would medically benefit anyone.”

“Admiral Tachyon is hard to convince of anything, yes,” said Ortega.  “But-”

“The Frankensteinian goals of this plan suggest what we’ve already known,” said Rogers, this time in the voice of Admiral Gloria Vines.  “Effectively, it reinforces The Soul Survivor’s madness, and his belief in grandiose goals that have more to do with flights of imagination than with grounded science.”

“Rogers,…”

“The best case scenario from allowing this research to continue is that it would reveal the folly of The Soul Survivor’s plans,” said Rogers in the voice of Admiral Susan Planck.  “The worst case scenario is that some other scheme is at work, and that allowing Rogers to research it would give him exactly what he wanted, thereby revealing our own folly, not to mention terminating all life in the Morcalan system if even a fragment of what he suggests is possible.”

“Your impersonations are impressive,” said Ortega.  “You know that the admirals aren’t the only ones who would decide your fate, though.  Return with me, and let’s undo this all.  Hopefully we can leave in time to warn people about the Dyson Empire’s forces.  People need to know how much more capable their invasion fleet is.”

“I’m not convinced,” said Rogers.  “Tell me, how long do you have until that suit of yours repairs?”

“About five minutes,” said Ortega.  “I’m hoping that I can convince you to not blast me again in four and a half minutes.”

“I’ll make it three, just to be sure that you’re not trying to give yourself some extra time to escape,” said Rogers.  “Tell me, how did you avoid the hypnotic flash?”

“I didn’t,” said Ortega.  “But my helmet was designed with a sort of counter-flash after this happened before.  Five minutes after being on your side, my helmet flipped down and flashed its own pattern.  It won’t be too long before it becomes standard issue.”

“They felt you were an effective field tester?”

“They had this crazy notion that I might get in a situation where it would be useful before anyone else,” said Ortega.  “Unfortunately for me, they were right.  Thanks for helping the field test, by the way.”

“I’m glad to assist,” said Rogers.  “I’m surprised that you didn’t use the helmet to…”

Doctor Rogers trailed off and looked at the door.  He looked back down at Ortega.

“You weren’t lying about how long you had,” said Rogers.  “You didn’t think you’d need to lie.”

“True,” said Ortega.

The door to the crystalline chamber shattered, destroyed by Captain Calen’s Maelstrom Ray.  The two Morcalan soldiers stepped through the door, their weapons lowered at Rogers.

“Time’s up,” said Calen.

“I’d surrender now,” said Ortega.

“Too late for that, Captain,” said Calen, walking toward Doctor Rogers.  “You couldn’t talk sense into him.  It’s time for us to try.”

[3vcoins]

Episode 59: Lens Flare

The CryptoBrick was a miracle of technology in the same way that a neanderthal’s cudgel could miraculously shatter a computer that contained advanced security clearance data.  The question of needing a fast and reliable method of seeing if certain data could be hazardous to a computer had come up many times, often when the data in question was important enough for it to not matter.  The CryptoBrick’s solution was to actually be a computer, a cheap and nearly disposable one designed to receive input in a number of ways but to only present its output through the screen built into one of its rectangular sides.  Every model came with advanced cyber security features that allowed its users to clean files or quarantine and delete infected code, but it was understood that anything put onto a CryptoBrick wouldn’t be coming off again.  The Astroguard generally only gave a few of them to each ship it sent on a mission, but Captain Andrew Ortega had specifically requested one as part of his equipment after a number of unusual digital crimes, most committed by Doctor Silas Rogers.  Given his track record, the Astroguard was willing to grant the request.

“Cowardly but practical,” said Ensign Trell, turning the device over in her hands.  “Spying on a problem without giving it a chance to strike back if it detects you may be effective, but it lacks something.”

She set the blocky box onto her workstation and watched its screen light up while its no-frills system booted quickly.  Ortega awkwardly looked over her shoulder, not having much room for maneuverability in the closet-sized room marked as the “Technician’s Bay.”

“I wouldn’t say there’s no chance of it striking back,” said Ortega.  “It takes a pretty unconventional virus to turn the CryptoBrick against its user, though.”

“How would it do that?”

“The first time I used it, I was trying to track down Doctor Rogers.  He’d been using a few different pieces of code to steal some quick cash for another project.  I put it in here to examine just how it worked.  Apparently, he’d designed the program to detect that it was being installed into a CryptoBrick, and the program activated a secondary function that caused a pattern of bright lights to flash in quick succession on the screen.  The effect triggered a pseudo-epileptic hypnotic aftereffect, and I wound up doing Rogers’ dirty work for the next two days.”

Ensign Trell’s eyes lit up and she smiled.

“Impressive.  It doesn’t spread the virus, but it does allow some victory to come from containment.  The Soul Survivor is a brilliant man.”

Ortega shook his head, but didn’t comment at the use of Doctor Rogers’ chosen title.  Instead, he gestured to the screen.

“I think I was able to get everything.  We should get started if we’re going to find anything worthwhile.”

“I can have a heuristic scan search for anything that might aid us,” said Trell.  “The process would take minutes.”

“Sounds good, but I still think we should check for anything the scan might miss once it’s done.  Any detail might be important.”

***

Captain Calen grinned at Pilot William Tan from across the brig’s table.

“Now then, you’ll be telling me everything I want to hear,” said Calen.

“Of course.”

“Don’t think it’ll be that easy for you.  I’m sure you’ve had some training for this, but know that it won’t go as easily as you’d expect.”

“I don’t really know much,” said Tan.  “I’ll tell you everything I can, and gladly, so-”

“Liar,” said Calen.  “You’re a liar.  You’re not just a pilot, I can see it in your eyes.  There’s something nervous hiding within, and I’ll see the light stolen from them before I’m through.”

“That’s probably just my lenses,” he said.  “Cybernetic overlays just over my eyes, said to be made by the Emperor himself.  They boost my reaction time and can relay simple information to me.  Sometimes I’m reading things they say instead of focusing on whoever I’m talking to.”

“That’s a habit you’ll want to break, and quickly.  I hate to say it, Tan, but you represent the forces that took everything from me today, and I’ve been looking for someone to murder because of that.  If it weren’t for the fact that Captain Andrew Ortega thinks you might have some infromation, this conversation would have started and ended with me blowing your ship out of the Cypulchral Cloud.  Do you understand me?”

“Absolutely,” said Tan.  “What do you want to knegh!”

The pilot lurched, clutching his skull.  Calen leaned forward, not ready for this turn in the conversation.  She’d been looking forward to building up to the point where she could start doing damage, but with Tan looking like he had a migraine she knew she’d have to abandon script.

“Tan?” she said.  “Tan!  Look me in the eye, cur.  Focus!”

William looked up at Captain Calen.  The readout on his eyes, previously only displaying general information about his location and Calen, changed.  All previous data left his field of vision and new text flowed across it.

CPT. ORTEGA MENTIONED/NEAR/ABSENT.  AWAITING SIGNAL.

“What?” asked Tan.

“I said Focus!” said Calen, rising.  “Don’t push me, you sorry excuse for a soldier, it won’t take much to rush me along to where I finally get to hear your screams.”

SIGNAL RECEIVED.  INITIATING FLARE.

A bright flash of light erupted from William’s eyes, and a series of lightning quick patterns appeared as afterimages in Calen’s eyes.  William saw the same, less bright but more accurately focused as his cybernetic lenses shot the image straight onto his retinas.

A moment of silence passed before the two looked at each other, concerned.

“We’ve got to go deeper into the cloud,” said William.

Captain Calen hesitated but nodded.

“You’re right.  I’ll probably die in this cursed place, but you’re right.  It seems there’s no other option.”

“None,” said William.  “The Soul Survivor needs our help.”