Omega Force 5: Return of the Archon Read online

  “Maybe you guys are losing your touch,” Kellea said before looking off-camera for a moment. She looked back with a clearly annoyed expression. “I’ve got to head back to the bridge. We received clearance for docking a lot faster than I expected. Thanks for sending me a signal.” She smiled hugely before reaching over and disconnecting the link.

  Jason sat for a moment and stared at the screen as it reverted back to the main menu. The relationship between himself and Kellea had been progressing at a comfortable, if glacially slow, pace. There were some complications, of course, such as the fact they were two different species. Another was that they were routinely separated by no less than hundreds of lightyears at any given time. But they put no pressure on each other and were able to reconnect every so often thanks to the miracle of slip-space com nodes.

  Since he and his crew had saved her life a little less than a year prior, she had let her guard down quite a bit and allowed him to see a side of her she would never show her crew or even her employer. He had no idea how far things would go between them, or if it would ever go further than exchanged messages and vid links until one of them met someone else, but he was happy with that. He went to scratch his nose, but instead punched himself forcefully in the face.

  “Damnit!”

  He still wasn’t fully accustomed to the way his body now moved, and if he wasn’t concentrating, it seemed to have a mind of its own. It would take his brain a bit to recalibrate itself to the increased speed and strength. He stood up, stretched his back out, and made his way to the restroom where he intended to take an obscenely long, hot water shower before grabbing Doc and maybe hitting up one of the local pubs in the nearby entertainment district.

  Chapter 2

  “How’s he doing?” Jason asked for the fourth time.

  “Captain,” Doc said impatiently. “Please … quiet.” Jason went back to his seat in a huff. They were in a room in the lab section of the medical facility that was packed full of medical and computer equipment. Doc and his partner, Doran, were peering through the large window that made up the entire far wall. On the other side, hooked up to a host of medical machines, was Kage. His skull was now fully closed back up and the machines were hooked to him via passive connections only, a far cry from when Jason saw him with his head split open and full of wiring and tubing.

  It had been two weeks since then and now Kage was putting his new neural implant through its paces. This was the second day of trials and the Veran was already drawing a crowd of astonished medical staff and technicians as he began to far exceed not only their test plan schedule but the generally accepted capabilities of the device itself. The training had started easily enough with the specialists asking Kage to simply ping a networked computer with his neural implant, but the Veran, true to his nature, had quickly broken out of the confines of the supposedly secure network and began wreaking havoc with the facility's systems. Why? Because he could.

  As captain, one of Jason's most challenging tasks was keeping his crew out of trouble. They were all a little high-strung and bored easily, a serious problem when their ideas of entertainment ranged from petty theft to physical assault. Of them all, Lucky was by far the easiest to trust. Kage was far and away the worst. The smallest among them, he had a quick brain and an even quicker temper that manifested itself with him using his unique talents to make the person that angered him completely miserable. Toss in a gambling addiction for good measure and you had a volatile little package that needed near constant monitoring.

  "He's already through the primary and secondary firewalls," one of the technicians reported. "I can't tell what he's doing now. He's somehow split his presence in the network into four separate entities that are attacking different nodes simultaneously. How can he do that?"

  "Let's keep the speculation and conversation to a minimum," Doc said sternly. "You need to be focused on what he’s doing or you'll miss it." There were a few more minutes of silence as everyone studied their displays, and Jason tried to find a comfortable position in a chair that was in no way meant for humans.

  "That's impossible!" a technician exclaimed.

  "Stop him! Shut the system down," another said, stumbling out of his chair and trying to reach the switches on the banks of computers. Jason stood and looked in on his friend through the window. The faintest ghost of a smile was playing across his wide mouth.

  "He's outside the lab and on the public net! The hard lines are disabled, how is this even possible?"

  "Captain," Doc said, "you should probably go in and tell him stop. He's had his fun and I think he proved his point. Tell him the testing phase is over. I'm not sure what he has in mind, but this is a ConFed enclave." Jason just nodded and stepped in through the door separating the two rooms.

  "All right ... what are you up to?" Jason asked, standing at the foot of the reclined seat Kage was secured to. He received no response from his friend. "I know you can hear me." At this, one of Kage's eyes cracked open and an impish grin emerged.

  "I'm just having a little fun," Kage said. "Nothing illegal or immoral. By the way, we have dinner reservations at that place we saw in Aracoria Center. The place at the top of the tower."

  "Kage, that place is nearly a thousand credits a plate and it was booked solid for the next three months," Jason said in a pained voice.

  "I took care of it," Kage answered. When he saw the look on Jason's face, he elaborated, "I didn't steal the funds ... exactly. I routed it from Crisstof's expense account that he has us tap for operational expenses. It will look like a fuel and service charge for the Phoenix."

  "The Phoenix is four-hundred lightyears away right now, and you said this wasn't immoral."

  "It isn't," Kage insisted.

  "You're siphoning thousands of credits from Crisstof Dalton so we can go have a good time," Jason said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's stealing."

  "We steal all the time," Kage said. "Besides, wouldn't it be nice to go there at least once? Just to say we did it?" Jason's admonition died on his lips as he considered Kage’s words. It has been a long few months.

  "You can guarantee Crisstof's bean counters won't figure it out?"

  "You have no faith in me," Kage said in a mock-hurt tone. "It's handled, Captain. Now, can I get unhooked from all of this and go get cleaned up?"

  *****

  "How can we afford this?" Doc asked in a hushed voice after a prissy, olive-skinned alien ushered them to a private table in the upper level of the venue. The entire outer ring of the floor slowly revolved, affording them a three-hundred and sixty degree view of Aracoria Center as they ate.

  "It was just—"

  "I have a special 'Captain's Fund' for things like this." Jason cut Kage off. Doc had made his opinions on Kage's creative accounting very clear over the years.

  "How special?"

  "Relax, Doc," Jason lied smoothly. "Just some slush funds I picked up from things like selling off my outdated armor." Doc was about to protest again when he saw a tray loaded with expensive drinks and delicacies move past on its way to another table. The life of a mercenary didn't present him with many opportunities to enjoy the luxuries of the life he had left behind as a preeminent geneticist.

  "Well, if you're sure we can spare the credits," Doc finished lamely as his eyes followed the tray. Jason knew he had him, so he let it drop and began keying through the interactive menu that had been placed in front of him.

  It was nearly three hours, and six courses, later and all three of them were leaning back in the plush seats, watching the city of Aracoria Center drift by. Jason recognized at least three high-ranking committee members also dining on the private floor and had to wonder exactly how much cash Kage had skimmed off the top of their operational account to cover it. His com unit's persistent beeping shook him out of his post-meal lethargy as he dug the small device from the pocket of his expensive suit pants. He read the message twice and compared it with local time before clearing his throat and addressing his friends.
"Kage, go ahead and pay up. Let's head back and all of us grab a good night of sleep."

  "We have something pressing to do tomorrow?" Kage asked, his feet propped up on the empty chair across from him.

  "The Phoenix is due to make landfall midday tomorrow."

  Chapter 3

  "Here they come," Kage said, pointing to the sleek shape of the DL7 gunship descending out of the traffic pattern and towards the designated landing pad where Jason, Doc, and Kage were waiting, their bags stacked neatly in a pile on the tarmac. The ship continued down in a lazy arc that would put it over the landing spot in a few minutes.

  When it was still nearly a quarter mile away, the gunship jerked to a halt, her nose bobbing slightly as she settled into a hover. The Phoenix stayed there for nearly thirty seconds as the three crew members on the ground looked at each other in confusion. Jason was about to pull out his com unit when the ship began moving again, spinning around so it was facing the opposite way and reversing towards the landing pad on repulsors only. A moment later, the landing gear dropped with a few loud clunks as the ship continued its backwards march towards the pad.

  Jason's eyes narrowed in suspicion as the ship stopped at a hover ten meters above the tarmac before gently lowering down and settling onto her landing gear with a few groans and pops. Now convinced that something was amiss, he waited for the drives to spool down and the main ramp to open so he could interrogate his crew.

  "Captain!" Twingo shouted with a huge wave as he walked down the ramp. "You look great! How did it go?"

  "What did you idiots do to my ship?" Jason asked bluntly. There it was. A quick shifting of eyes and a pause in his gait.

  "What do you mean?" Twingo asked in a strained voice. "What did you hear?" That was all he needed. Jason marched off without another word and began inspecting the hull as he walked around the perimeter of the landing pad with Twingo jogging beside him to keep up. "I mean ... there was nothing other than the usual bumps and bruises. You know?"

  "No, Twingo, I don't know," Jason said, his eyes never leaving the Phoenix as he walked. "All this ship was required to do was transport Crusher and Lucky to Telamar Station. Why would there be any bumps?"

  "Well ... there are numerous navigational hazards one may encounter at any given time while moving a vessel through space. Interstellar travel is a dangerous game, as you've said so many times yourself," Twingo was talking very fast now that Jason had cleared the starboard flank and was walking around the pointed nose.

  "What the hell is this?!" Jason's bellow echoed across the tarmac loudly enough that some of the ground crew working on the next pad over looked up. All along the Phoenix’s port flank were the unmistakable scorch marks of plasma cannon hits.

  "What is what?" Twingo asked, making a show of looking up and down the hull. "Oh, that? That's nothing, Captain. Just some discoloration from high-energy discharges."

  "Would these discharges have been in the form of plasma bolts fired at my ship?" Jason asked. Not waiting for an answer, he turned and bellowed across the tarmac again, "Lucky, Crusher ... get your asses up here!"

  "Captain, there's no need—" Jason held up a finger to silence his friend as Lucky and Crusher came shuffling up from around the starboard engine nacelle.

  "OK," Jason began in a calm voice. "I want to know who shot up the side of the ship. I want this information in a concise and factual manner. Who wants to go first?"

  Twingo and Crusher looked at each other a moment before the latter decided it was every man for himself.

  "This is the first time I've seen any of this, Captain," Crusher said, gesturing expansively to the scorched hull. "I must have missed it when he picked us up. What happened, Twingo?" The big warrior had strategically placed himself next to Jason during his performance to give the illusion he was on his side. Jason wasn't fooled in the least, and it wouldn't be the first time the pair had tried to play him. Twingo's mouth dropped open and he stared at Crusher in shock. Apparently this wasn't part of their prearranged plan.

  "You son of a—"

  "Somebody better speak up," Jason cut Twingo off, trying to keep control of the situation while simultaneously trying to maintain his anger. Or at least the appearance of it. He could now clearly see that the blast marks were little more than superficial and hadn't actually damaged the hard alloy of the hull. It meant they were more than likely goofing off and it had gone too far, but he still wanted to know what happened and who the ring leader had been. This was precisely why he hadn't wanted to turn the gunship over to them in the first place. "Do I have to do this the hard way?" Jason asked with a weary sigh.

  "What way would that be?" Twingo said, taking a step back apprehensively.

  "Lucky, what happened?" Jason asked the battlesynth. Lucky's shoulders drooped a bit. He clearly had hoped he wouldn't be dragged into the mess, but his captain had just asked him a direct question. He looked helplessly at Crusher and then Twingo, hoping they'd bail him out. When they didn't, he turned to Jason.

  "The blast marks are from an outdated anti-aircraft battery that utilizes accelerated plasma discharges, but the ship was not engaged in combat operations when it happened." Jason stared the synth in the eyes, waiting for more. It was clear Lucky hoped he could get by with the barest amount of information.

  "Keep going," Jason said flatly.

  "We had concluded our mission and were preparing to leave when a group approached us at the spaceport with a business proposition," Lucky began. "They told us about an annual race the locals run within the system. It was mostly local ships but it was open to outside registration."

  "I think I see where this is going," Jason said, rubbing at his scalp. "Twingo, would you like to redeem yourself and pick the story up since you left your crewmate flapping in the breeze here?"

  "The prize money for first place was huge." Twingo picked up the story, dropping his act. "The course was across the system and had waypoints you had to cross, many of which were within the atmosphere of the various planets and moons.

  "We checked the other ships in the race. There were about fifteen, and none looked like they could match the Phoenix in this type of flying. We figured it would be a sure thing."

  "Two points," Jason said, stopping the tale. By now Kage and Doc had walked up and were staring at the scorch marks themselves. "One, you are a barely proficient pilot. Certainly not someone I would want flying my ship in a race. Two, did it ever occur to you that you were being hustled by the local crowd?"

  "It did," Twingo said. "And I wasn't flying. Anyway, like you said ... this was a local hustle. We put up the entry fee and right away we could see the locals ganging up on the outsiders to put them out of the race early. So we didn't bother being creative and just ran the course at full power. There wasn't anybody even close when we crossed the final waypoint on the way to the finish, but they'd set up that ancient anti-aircraft battery. We took three glancing blows on the port side but were quickly out of range."

  "So who was flying?" Kage asked.

  "I flew the Phoenix during the race," Lucky admitted.

  "You?" Jason asked, shocked. "I expect this sort of nonsense from these two, but I had hoped you would have been the voice of reason, Lucky, not helped them out. And when did you learn to pilot?"

  "It was clear they were going to enter the ship in the race regardless of my protests," Lucky said in his quiet, dignified manner. "I surmised our best chance of a positive outcome, which meant returning with the ship intact, would be with me piloting. I have been utilizing the simulator mode on the bridge during my night watch in order to expand my skill set." Jason struggled to find fault in his friend's logic, but came up empty.

  "So you got hit with an outdated gun they'd set up as a fail-safe," he said. "So you're out the entry fee and whatever it will cost to clean up the hull?"

  "Well ... not exactly, Captain," Twingo said uncomfortably. "We actually won. The Phoenix outran the next closest ship by nearly six hours. They didn't want to pay up at first, but
Lucky and Crusher were able to secure our winnings."

  "How much?"

  "Three hundred thousand credits, give or take a few thousand." Jason just stood and stared at Twingo, certain he had misheard the number. That was nearly twice as much as the contract they'd been filling was worth. After a moment he just shook his head.

  "Did the payout for your actual mission cover operational costs and end up deposited in the treasury?" When he received a few affirmative nods, he continued. "So here's how this is going to work ... the cost of fixing my hull is coming out of your winnings. The remaining will be split evenly between the three of you."

  "You're letting us keep it?" Crusher asked in shock.

  "You earned it, you keep it," Jason shrugged. "But I don't expect anything like this to happen again. This was a foolish risk you took with the ship just for fun and games."

  "Yes, Captain," came the chorus of relieved replies.

  "Now get with the dockmaster and get to work," Jason said, pointing to the hull before walking off towards the ramp. He hadn't seen the ship in months and was almost afraid to see the state it was in on the inside.

  Chapter 4

  The Phoenix lifted off from Aracoria nearly seven hours after she had landed, her port side sporting a splotchy, mismatched coating from the hasty repair. After negotiating the convoluted air traffic control system, then the orbital traffic control system, they were finally free navigating away from the planet at a brisk pace, all of them eager to leave such a heavy ConFed presence behind them.

  Jason was letting the computer do the flying for now. Although he was much more in control of his reflexes and strength compared to when he first underwent the procedures, the muscle memory from hours and hours of stick time would now be out of whack. He had a four-day slip-space flight coming up, so there was plenty of time to log some significant simulator time and recalibrate himself. He was also looking forward to sparring with Crusher during the flight. Despite being asked repeatedly, Jason had shrugged off his enhancements as somewhat insignificant, wanting to give his friend a nasty surprise later. Whenever they had trained before, Crusher's vastly superior strength was almost impossible to overcome. While he held no delusions that he was now somehow equal to the Galvetic warrior, he did think he might be able to get the drop on him in the opening seconds of a match.