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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Noah - 12. Chapter 12

Date: 2nd April 2395
Location: Orbital-Three, Orbiting Europa


A sharp electric shock shot through my body when the wire was removed from behind my right ear. The last seven hours had been spent having my memories and recollections of the last few days being downloaded and poured over in detail; every miniscule thing questioned and checked.

The security teams knew more about my thoughts from my time aboard the Tallinn than I did, and I hoped that they were now more certain of my actions and loyalty. Having gone through the interrogation experience once, I was going to make sure I never had to again.

“This way please, Cadet.” One of the unidentified Lieutenants called over from the doorway. Since I had been manhandled into the chair, an override had been placed on my motor functions through the Neural Link, preventing me from moving; I was so tired that I didn’t even notice when it was deactivated.

Steadying myself on the chair arm, I stood on very shaky legs, waiting for a few moments to regain my balance before moving towards the door. Standing in it was the Lieutenant in a uniform with a cyan bend who had spent the last seven hours grilling me.

I got halfway before my legs gave out, sending me sprawling across the floor. Within seconds, I was being carried by one of the Marines present, but this time more gently, assisting me rather than forcing me.

I was exhausted from the interrogation and was thankful that I was being carried; there is no way that I could have walked myself. I felt myself fading in and out of consciousness as the Lieutenant led us through a maze of identical corridors until stopping at a room. Inside the empty quarters, the Marine set me down on the bed and left me alone with the Lieutenant.

“Get some rest, Cadet. You’ve been through a lot recently and I think you deserve it.” He said, then turned and quickly left. I couldn’t have replied to him anyway as I was asleep before the door had closed.


Thanks to the Neural Link giving greater conscious control over our minds, the majority of M citizens’ dreams were lucid, allowing them to do as they wished. During my dreams following the interrogation though, something was...different. It seemed that I could change the world with the same level of control as usual but it was as if there was a new limit somewhere, perhaps not a limit but some sort of latency between what I thought and what happened.

Then there was a figure. Normally my dreams don’t have very many people in them, and those that did were people I knew. This person was nobody I had ever seen before; presumably a he, he wore some sort of metallic red armour from head to toe. I only saw him for a fleeting moment from a distance before he vanished, but there was definitely something different about him. Who knows, maybe it was just my overtired mind playing tricks on me....

&HR&

A message was waiting for me when I awoke, flashing away in the back of my mind; An order from a Lieutenant Rocke to report to the station’s command centre when I was ready, and apologising for the IV drip which I had not noticed sticking from my left arm, which was slowly replenishing my energy.

Removing the IV from my wrist I walked over to the sequencer where a steaming mug of coffee and cooked breakfast had just appeared. I don’t know exactly how long it had been since I had eaten, at least a day, but it felt wonderful to have some hot food inside me and by the time I had recycled the cutlery and entered the cleanser I was feeling far better.

“You are one lucky, lucky bastard.” A voice said from behind me as I walked naked to the sequencer to get my new uniform. Spinning around I saw someone obviously recently revived lying on my bed, his eyes somewhere between blue and green and blonde hairs just beginning to sprout from his near-bald head. “What’s wrong? Don’t you recognise your old pal Larenko? Has it been that long?” He laughed.

“You look...different.” I replied. It would be a few more weeks until his own genes took over from the null body’s and restored his appearance, though since the approximate age of a null body is 21 and he ‘died’ at 16, he was going to miss a few years of physical development.

“That’s because I’m dead. How are you?” He said sarcastically with a grin.

“Oh you know, same old, same old.” I grinned back.

“Had a fun time?”

“Not bad. A little dull.”

“Oh, I expect so, what could possibly be interesting about constant dog fighting and uncovering a secret Cannelli taskforce? You must have been longing for a chance to come back here and do...nothing.”

“Cannelli taskforce?” I asked, I hadn’t heard anything about this.

“Yeah, they’re the ones who destroyed the Tallinn. There’s a fleet heading that way now to squash them.”

Pulling on my uniform I sat on the bed next to him.

“Were they in range...?” I asked, trailing off at the end.

“No, only you and the other two guys got away.” He replied, shaking his head.

“What’s it like? Dying?” I asked slowly after a few moments.

“Stings a bit.” He replied, smiling. “Really I don’t remember that much of it, just one second I was lining up on one of those bastards, the next I was waking up in the yellow goo. Oh, then I was carted off and interrogated; that was fun.” He ended sarcastically.

“How’s Lark?” I asked, I hadn’t expected to see Larenko now but if he was here, there was a good chance Lark could be too.

“He’s fine. I think he’s down in one of the hangar bays tinkering with something on your Cutthroat and talking to the deck hands. Really, since we were revived he’s been messing with some settings or calibrations every day; he actually managed to get an extra 10,000km/s outta mine, that guy knows his stuff. Anyway, now you’re home Mister Adventurer, what’re you doing?”

“I gotta go report to the Command Centre, then I dunno.” I replied as the door burst open and a loud hulk of a person scooped me up.

“Theeeere he is!” Griff shouted, grabbing me in a boisterous hug. “Who’s the stiff?” He asked, nodding to Larenko when he noticed him.

“This is Larenko. He was one of the other guys with me, but he just wasn’t as good a pilot as me.” I introduced him, earning a punch.

“Yea, yea, make fun of the dead guy.” He quipped, “Only reason you aren’t looking like this now is ‘cos some Cannelli slave didn’t screw the warhead in properly.”

“Half of flying is luck.” I replied, mirroring Griff’s statement from seemingly so long ago with a wink, getting a hearty laugh from him and a confused look from Larenko.

“Well Thor my boy, I got myself a new job. In their infinite wisdom Command has decided that I would make a good teacher. I’ve been assigned to New Moscow, I get to teach cadets to pull the trigger and lock onto floating rocks. I’m gonna be yer teacher; it’ll be just like old times!” He draped false nostalgia over the ending but couldn’t cover his disappointment to being assigned inactive duty.

“What’s with the Thor thing?” Larenko butted in, hearing my new call sign for the first time.

“This guy is a fighting god, my friend,” Griff replied, grabbing me with one of his arms again. “Hey, do you even have a call sign yet?”

“No. I thought I’d make one up when I got to the Academy.”

“Bad move, Fireball!” Griff laughed, making it clear that he had one now.

“Oh, HELL no!” Larenko tried to object, but chances were that a new name plaque was already being attached to his fighter with his new name.

“C’mon, Thor, help me out here, will ya?” He begged me.

“Sorry, Fireball, nothing I can do about it. Griff outranks me.” I replied, barely suppressing my laughter as he leapt off the bed and ran to the door, hoping to get to the landing bay and register a new call sign while he still could; he would fail.

“How you feeling?” Griff asked, quickly changing into the almost father figure he had been on the Tallinn. “Interrogations can be pretty rough, especially after all you’ve been through.”

“I’m OK now. I had to be carried back here afterwards though.”

“We’ve all been there, kid.” He replied, “It’s worse when it happens just after you die; trust me, your friend there probably had it worse; just getting your first ship, getting killed and interrogated in the same day, ouch.”

“Griff, after an interrogation have you...” I began, wondering about the figure in my dreams but decided at the last minute not to ask. “No, never mind.”

“Oook...I guess you’ve got stuff that needs doing, I’ll probably see you later kiddo.” He said, rising to the door. “Oh, and I have a message for you. Apparently, a certain Commander of the Northeast sector port wants to speak with you. Can’t imagine why.” He left with a wink.

I had almost forgotten my father; I hadn’t even spoken to him since this whole thing began. I made a note to speak to him as soon as I could, then headed to the Command Centre.

As with every M installation, the corridors were purposefully identical and maze-like, so as to confuse any potential invader. With the help of a neural link connected to the station’s network though, navigation was simply a case of following your instincts and they would lead you where you wanted to be.

The command centre was located in the very core of the station, a large round room lined with monitors and stations along the walls and a number of holotables showing various sections of the station in the middle. Rising about fifteen feet into the air in the centre of the room was the ‘deck’, a floating island where the station commanders would observe everything from their own consoles.

“Help you, Cadet?” An ensign at a console near the door I was standing in asked.

“I was ordered to report here...” I replied, not knowing who I was supposed to report to.

“Commander’s on the deck.” He said, pointing to a grav lift at the edge of the deck before going back to work.

Being isolated from the rest of the ship’s transport network, the grav lift needed no instruction and lifted me to the deck as soon as I was inside the boundary.

“Cadet 2nd Class Jones reporting, sir” I announced myself to the Commander sitting in the central chair as I stepped up.

“Ah, Cadet. Good to finally meet you. I understand you’ve had an eventful few days.” He replied. “I’m Commander Delaney, welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s good to be back at Europa.”

“Don’t get too comfortable, Cadet. I know you were expecting a few weeks to yourself, but it has been decided that you and your friends will be sent to New Moscow in just a couple of days. I’m sorry to cut down your holiday time, but there are reasons I’m not at liberty to go into right now. Additionally, you have been cleared to be given your first set of basic augmentations, along with an additional suite immediately. You have until 26:00 today free, at which point you are to report to a medical facility for your augmentations. You will report to New Moscow no later than the fourth. Any questions?”

“No, sir.” I said on instinct.

“Very good; dismissed.” He replied and spun his chair away to give one of the Ensigns below an order.

I had hoped that after the mayhem of the Tallinn, I could wind down and relax at home for a little while. Ten weeks with no responsibilities or orders would have been wonderful, but now I was back, it was just as hectic. Checking the time, I saw that it was only 03:00 and decided that rather than calling my dad it would be better if I went in person.

I made my way through the station to the landing bay where my fighter was listed as being docked. When I entered the pilots’ briefing room the sight took my breath away. Whereas the Tallinn carried only a few fighters and the ground bases held a couple of dozen, stations were home to hundreds. Through the window dominating one wall, I could see that the bay was enormous, with row upon row of pads, each one having a fighter, bomber or shuttle sitting on it.

As there was a briefing in progress, I quickly slipped through to the changing room and changed into a flight suit. Upon entering the bay, I once again found myself astounded by the size. It occupied an entire arm of the station, wrapping round in every direction, hundreds of ships. With a bay this size, walkways and ladders would be totally inappropriate, so instead a mini-shuttle system was used.

Stepping up to the sequencer near the air lock, a cycle appeared. Little more than a small plasma engine and a few thrusters, cycles were a unique experience. Though their speed compared to a fighter was like comparing a snail to a cheetah, since you were riding ON the cycle and passing more stationary objects, the adrenaline rush of flying around the bay was incredible.

“Control, this is Thor. Requesting directions to the Mjolnir.” I called over the radio.

“Mjolnir is located on pad 1-5-21. Follow the path.” The Controller replied, a series of waypoints appearing on my helmet’s HUD, leading me safely to the pad. Powering up I goosed the throttle and was propelled at high speed from the sequencer. Gaining control, I reduced the speed and headed towards the first waypoint. A flight of Cutthroats flew a few feet above me towards one of the exits as I turned for the second waypoint, startling me and nearly causing me to lose control. I had been around ships like these all my life, but the sheer scale of this bay was overwhelming.

Four more checkpoints and another flyby by another flight later, I set down on the pad where the Mjolnir waited. I had expected to see it covered in damage and scars from escaping the Tallinn, but it was pristine and in perfect condition, except for one access panel underneath the engines that was hanging open.

I was about to close it when someone in a flight suit came tumbling out onto the pad.

“Hey there, Jones.” The shaken up pilot greeted me, “Or should I say Thor?”

“Lark?” I asked, recognising the voice. “What are you doing in there?”

“Tune-ups,” he replied simply. “Trust me, once you’ve taken her for a spin you’ll realise just how sluggishly she handled before.”

“It seemed responsive enough before.” I commented, looking at the number of fighters marked on the hull, which appeared to have grown since I last looked.

“Yeah, looks like you’ve been busy. I thought I had the wrong fighter when I found her, but really, you’ll love it now.” He seemed to be brimming over with excitement. It was obvious he loved tinkering with the insides of anything that could fly. He would get on great with my dad.

“Thanks...I think.” I replied, uncertain of whether I really wanted to fly it before one of the deck hands had looked over his ‘tuning’.

“Hey, you know what’s up with Larenko? I saw him earlier arguing with a deck hand over his ship’s plaque or something.” He asked.

“Oh yea, he’s got a new call sign; my wing commander from the Tallinn gave it to him. He’s Fireball now.” I replied with a grin.

I muted the radio from Lark, his amplified laughter was deafening.

“You best get to making one up yourself, Commander Griff’s coming to New Moscow with us, and he will make one up for you too.” I warned him, at which point his face changed to horror and I could see him desperately trying to come up with something he liked.

“Goddammit!” A new voice joined our conversation.

“Hey, Fireball, how you doin?” Lark asked, emphasising the call sign and once again laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up; maybe I should register you with your parents’ pet name for you, Slimey.” Larenko replied

“You DARE!” Lark warned, in a mixture of laughter and horror.

“Sounds good to me!” I joined in.

“Me too.” Another voice joined in.

“Who’s that?” Lark asked, not recognising the new voice.

“This is Commander Griff, and I would guess that is Cadet 2nd Class Lark, would I be correct?” Griff’s voice came from the radio. He was trying to put on his best official hardass voice but I could tell he was nearly laughing underneath it.

“Yes, sir!” Lark replied, now standing to attention, despite Griff probably being the other side of the bay.

“Well, Mister Lark, a pilot needs a call sign so I’m giving you ten seconds to come up with a better one than Slimey.”

A snigger accidentally transmitted from Larenko indicated he understood Griff’s act.

“Well, I...ahh...” Lark was desperately trying to think of a good call sign but obviously couldn’t.

“Time’s up, Slimey.” Griff called out after just a couple of seconds, Lark’s face falling in resignation.

“This is SO not fair.” He muttered to himself, triggering a round of laughter from the rest of us.

“Thor, I think you should go see your father; he’s summoned me to accompany you, or to use his words ‘drag the little git back here by his hair’.” Griff finally managed to say after the laughter had died down.

“I’m in!” Larenko called out, “I have got to see sweet little Thor get bashed by his pops, payback’s a bitch!”

“Yeah, me too!” Lark added, “He can’t have all the fun.”

“Then it’s decided, we’re going to go see poppa Thor!” Griff said, now in Wing Commander mode. “Skids up in ten minutes.”

By the time Lark had finished securing his ‘modifications’ for flight and I had gotten myself strapped in, we were just about ready for lift off.

“Are we ready guys?” Griff asked over the comm, and was greeted with a series of affirmations. “OK, standby.”

“Control, this is Commander Griff requesting launch clearance for myself, Thor, Slimey and Fireball through lock four,” he called out on the Control channel.

“Roger, Griff, your wing is cleared for launch and rendezvous at lock four.”

A number of waypoints appeared on the cockpit in front of me. Firing up the main engines, I immediately felt the difference Lark’s modifications made as the nose of the ship shot up far more rapidly than I was expecting, every motion seeming more precise and responsive.

At the final waypoint, I joined up with the three waiting ships as the exterior door opened.

“Full throttle in five...” Griff called to us as the doors opened, wanting to irritate the Controllers with a blatant breach of protocol.

The second the doors were open wide enough for us all to fit through, he called it and we all opened up our engines.

With Lark’s modifications, I watched the velocity climb far more rapidly than I had ever seen it, and keep going up to 15,000km/s further than it’s normal maximum.

“Guys! What the hell?” Griff called out in shock. Checking the scanner he was already several thousand kilometres behind us, his ship accelerating normally and topping out lower.

“Sorry, Commander, I kinda upgraded our ships a bit.” Lark replied apologetically.

“Hey, don’t apologise kid; you got a gift. The ‘hands on the Tallinn all said these things were as tuned as they could get.” Griff responded. “Just promise me you’ll ‘upgrade’ my ship when we land.”

“No problem, Commander.” Lark replied, still not realising Griff’s nature and believing him to be a by-the-book Commander.

“Alright, we’ve stretched their legs and annoyed some Controllers, form up on me and we’ll head to the surface.”

Within a few minutes we were entering Europa’s atmosphere. Dropping our speed drastically, we pointed the ships’ noses straight down, minimising entry time and heat build-up.

Atmospheric flight was totally different to stellar; you had a completely different set of variables to think about. You were going far slower and manoeuvring was more sluggish, air resistance and gravity also came into play.

“Northeast Control, this is Commander Griff. Requesting wing landing clearance.” Griff called out as soon as we were in range.

“Roger, Griff, clearance granted.” The familiar voice of the controller replied. I knew most of the port’s staff in person and on a first name basis. “And by the way, Orbital Three control has a message for you; next time you burn out of their bay you’ll be working maintenance for a month.”

“Roger, Control, say what’s the tallest building in your area?” He replied mischievously.

“Don’t even think about it, Griff!” My father’s voice interrupted the conversation, sounding both angry and amused. “I don’t want my son being taught any bad habits! Besides, I live in that building.”

“Nothing wrong with a little flyby, Control.” Griff responded, “Bringing them in.”

The approach to the subterranean port was much the same as the school’s, and proved no challenge. The moment my cockpit retracted and my feet hit the ground, I was scooped up into the arms of my father.

“Aww, ain’t that a sweet sight?” Griff shouted from the other side of the bay where he had set down, causing me to blush slightly.

“Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?” He asked rhetorically while he squeezed me. “I like the call sign. Your mother would have been proud.” My mother had been killed during one of the skirmishes with the Argus when I was young and was very proud of her Nordic descent.

“I would guess you are Commander Jones?” Griff said as he approached us. “Griff.”

“He I am,” replied my father. “Good to meet you, and thanks for keeping my little warrior here safe.”

I was reasonably sure my face was now entering the infrared range.

“Hah! Half the time he was keeping me safe. He’s a hell of a pilot.” Griff replied, earning me a one-armed hug from my father.

“And who are these two?” he asked, nodding to Lark and Larenko standing behind Griff.

“The blond’s ‘Fireball’ Larenko and the redhead’s ‘Slimey’ Lark.” He replied with a laugh, which was mirrored by my father.

“Let that be a lesson to you two, never let someone else choose your call sign.” My father grinned.

“We didn’t have much choice.” Lark muttered, eliciting another round of chuckles.

“I’m pretty much finished on this shift. How about you all come around to our place and we can share stories to embarrass my son.” My father offered, which was very soon taken up by all three of the others.


I had given up trying to hide my embarrassment and was now simply resting my head face down on the table while my father, Griff and Cole traded stories about me, Lark and Larenko simply joining in the laughter.

Since I had left and my father had been alone, Cole had been around often to keep my father company, and had simply joined the party.

“What are these ‘additional’ augmentations you’ll be getting, then?” Lark asked when the conversation turned to our future. Being in null bodies, Lark and Larenko couldn’t yet be augmented until they had assimilated more completely, so their interest focused upon me.

“I don’t know, I was just told I would get a basic set and an ‘additional suite’. I don’t know what that could be.” I replied. That had been bugging me too slightly, the basic set of augmentations were really a foundation for more advanced ones to build on; such as increased blood flow and enhanced heart muscles, more acute senses and faster reflexes, but this additional suite was a mystery.

“I don’t know what it could be, either.” My father added. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

I thought about a few possibilities for a while but eventually came to the conclusion that he was right and that there was really no way to tell what I was going to get.

It was 17:00 when we had finished the meal and I was beginning to feel tired. Since the installation of my augmentations would require me to be alert, I decided to head to bed and go to the local medical facility later.


When I awoke, I found Lark and Larenko either side of me. Crawling out of the bed, I headed to the cleanser. It felt strange being back home, even though just a few days had passed, my life felt like it had changed a lot and the fighter models hanging from the ceiling and cluttered desk seemed to be from such a long time ago.

It was 25:00 when I was ready to leave, and it appeared everyone else was asleep. Griff was snoring, collapsed on the table with a pint glass, my father and Cole were nowhere to be seen.

Heading out of our quarters, I made my way to the grav lift, then out into the entrance to the building. As Europa was just moving into daylight, I decided to take the surface route, rather than the tunnels. The cold, crisp air took my breath a little when I stepped outside, after having gotten used to the dry, warm air aboard the Tallinn and station, and the crunch of the snow beneath my feet reminded me of all the times I had made this journey to go to school.

The shimmering skyline shone in the rising sunlight, a faint haze of vapour emanating from the buildings as the sunlight gradually heated the exteriors. It was still well below freezing and the vapour froze rapidly, forming a strange sort of frozen confetti around the sides of the taller buildings. Given the city’s design, it didn’t take long to reach the medical facility, and once I had identified myself, I was soon undertaking a number of physiological tests to determine my current statistics. Once I had completed the tests and my baselines had been identified, the doctors configured the nanobots and injected them directly into my bloodstream.

Almost immediately, I began suffering immense pain as the nanobots surged through my body, changing cell configurations, strengthening muscles and increasing the efficiency of my synapses. I was in agony for five hours while the nanobots did their work, and any sedative could interfere with the process. When the process was finally over , I was left coated in sweat and panting for breath.

I knew from my father’s stories that the process would be somewhat painful but nothing had prepared me for it. My body felt as if every muscle was now quivering and I had no energy.

“How are you feeling, Cadet?” the Doctor asked, while he ran some tests on me.

“Relieved.” I replied weakly, glad that it was over.

“Well, the basic set is always the worst. When you are granted further augmentations they will focus on one area, and will be applied much faster.”

I weakly nodded my understanding and let him get on with his tests.

I must have fallen unconscious at some point, as when I awoke I had been moved.

“Cadet 2nd Class Jones,” a distorted voice addressed me.

“Yes?” I replied, looking around, but not seeing anyone.

“I am Red Phoenix, and I do not exist. Please, relax....”

Copyright © 2011 Harrod200; All Rights Reserved.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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