Chapter 8: Two Days

“My ship?” Roy repeated the question.

The Wurgus made the confirming gesture again. “Yes, Masterun. The All Patriarch has gifted you a Pod ship. You can’t be a Patriarch without a Podship.”

Roy sighed. “You Wurgus value honesty right?”

“Yes, above all,”

“We humans like to be asked about things like that. This should go both ways you know. I want to become a Marine and I don’t need a ship or want to make a career out of becoming a surrogate Wurgus. I think you guys are very nice and go out of your way to accommodate me, but I like to be asked.”

Roy gestured around. “No one asked me if I want to be here.”

“Do you resent this? You are an integral part of this development.”

“Resend? No of course not, but it feels so much bigger than me and out of proportion and there is the fact, I just started Marine training. I mean I did not even complete my second week.”

Roy made a crooked smile, quite certain the facial expression completely lost to the Wurgus. “How long do you think I am going to be here?”

“I can’t tell you that for certain. Our All Patriarch made you Patriarch, you are the very first non-Wurgus ever so honored. The Wurgus think that you should learn a little about Wurgus society.”

“That could mean I am here for years.”

“We will do our best to do this as fast as possible.”

Sam and Martha had successfully boarded the Silver Swan before the liner was leaving Harper’s Junction for its next leg, which was Spindlar, the system named after the Union member civilization that originated from its third planet.

The Spindlar were one of the very early Union members, and thus about as well developed and connected as all of the core space members. Like all of these systems, it was connected to the Space Train network which offered the fastest cross Union space transportation. Both of their intended destinations were connected to the Space Train Network.

Neither Martha nor Sam decided to book passage on the A Deck. Especially not for just a short trip of just two days. C Deck accommodations were just fine.

A Porter-bot had shown them to their accommodations and while they were taking temporary possession of their cabins, a soft and melodic gong sound struck three times and was followed by an announcement that the Silver Swan had suspended all dirt-side activities and would soon be space-born. The announcement came with the usual push for the onboard restaurants, shops, and recreational options. Casino gambling was suspended until the ship reached Quasi Space. There was of course an announcement regarding the ETA to the next port of call. Which was a few hours less than two standard days and since the Universal Time Reform of 4880, time was no longer directly linked to Old Terran Time, an hour lasted 100 minutes and a day 20 hours. Martha had heard that only the Union Navy was still insisting on the age-old sixty minutes per hour and twenty-four hours a day scheme. Computronics of course had no problem keeping the time in both systems, even though it was a mystery to Martha why the fleet insisted on such antiquated things.

To Sam, who had his cabin right across the corridor of hers, she expressed her desire to freshen up, call her friend and then retire early. The recent developments had stirred her emotionally more than she realized.

Sam smiled at her and his face signaled to understand. Again she kissed the dark-skinned giant on the cheek. Even this fleeting kiss turned out to be a little more than the first one, and for some reason, she managed to siphon some of the man’s unfathomable strength and unapologetic masculine strength along with it.

As she closed the door to her cabin, she wondered how different her life might have been if she met Sam instead of Paul.

She sighed as she dismissed that fantasy. Back then she was not interested in Marines or anything associated with the military for that matter.

She pushed the thoughts regarding Sam aside and first tried to call Sister, just to make sure her most unusual friend was still safe. Martha used the last contact she had. “System, connect me with Tria Cinolone. She should be on my recent contact list.”

The image presented was that of a uniformed female. “Good Fifth hour, Dr.Masters, just the person we wanted to talk to.”

Unlike the call, she received from the Ranger, this time she was well aware that Sister had done something very bad, perhaps even committed murder. Her rational mind urged her right away to be truthful and assist the authorities in any way she could, this was after all part of her Union Citizen commitment. But another side in her remembered the time they had spent together; the promises they made and she of course remembered that Sister called her for help.

Martha was not simple-minded and instantly recognized the uniform of the woman on the other side as one worn by the Army and not Union Police.

“Who are you? You are not Tria.”

“We are investigating...” The uniformed woman was interrupted in mid-sentence as a new image replaced hers. A similar uniformed man appeared and if Martha recalled her Union school lessons correctly, the rank insignia on the man’s shoulder applets displayed those of a General.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but when I heard famous Dr. Masters herself is calling, I simply had to take over the conversation.”

“I fail to see why I am wasting my time with Army officers. You are not Tria either.”

“Uh, Tria is no longer able to answer Com requests. May I ask what you two have discussed earlier? You and she had a previous com, right?”

“That is none of your business, Sir.”

Martha disconnected and was thinking hard. Something else was going on. This was not Union Police, but that Sister did something to Tria was quite certain to her.

Martha nibbled on her fingernails, staring towards the door, wondering about Sam. He was the best help she could ask for, but he was a Union soldier and a law-abiding citizen. He would have to turn Sister in, that was his duty.

Just as she was contemplating, her Com Unit blinked with a missed call. This time it was from public GalNet terminal on Earth itself, it was a Charge accept call. But the connection was not made even after she accepted the charges. The system told her, that the other user was no longer there. A recorded message confirmed it was from Sister, but lasted only a few seconds. “Martha, help.”

The system was able to tell her, that the call came from a place called Paris, Earth.

General Warwick scolded the Lieutenant. “Don’t jeopardize our situation! It will take all cloud I have and then some to keep the idiots of the Union Police of the trail. It can’t be helped that they are involved.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Just then a Union Police detective stepped away from the smashed and destroyed heap of twisted metal and broken Dura-Plast that one was an integral part of an ancient Saresii machine. A machine the General put great hopes in, ever since he had learned of its existence from his NAVINT contact.

A man now accused of killing his own life-partner in the most gruesome fashion.

The Union Police investigator was still slowly shaking his head. “I simply don’t understand all this.”

“I told you, detective. Since the missing woman was Army, you could leave the whole investigation to Army CID.”

“You said so before General Wamprick, but this is not exactly up to me or you, Sir. You see, this lab facility was not Army, but leased by a private research company from the Union Navy. Now somehow this entire facility disappeared over twenty years ago from the regular City plans, I am sure by pure accident or some easily explainable glitch. All this appears quite coincidental, would it not be for the fact that our missing Dr. Ruhtkamph listed as a Tubeworm researcher, shares all academic credentials with Dr. Ruhtkamph, a renowned neurologist.”

“Detective, does that not tell you that you might have stumbled upon a military sensitive operation here, and it would be a wise thing to let professionals take care of this situation without making this a public affair? By the way and I am General Warwick, not Wamprick.”

“Ah, I am always glad you military types explain things to us simple civilians like that. I mean who would not let the Army take over, fewer reports and headaches?”

“Yes indeed.”

“You see, General Wardick, this is the Union and we go by the law and not personal favors. Unless my supervisor presents me with a written order signed by the Justice Council I am on the case. We found blood, bits, and pieces of flesh and gore but no bodies. We have a very disturbing partial recording of a home security system and two missing citizens. That brings me to my next question, why are you here?”

Sister managed to leave Ceres, hidden in a freight crate. The robotic handling system loading vaccu-packed Tube-Worms and Astro Shrooms from an automated conveyor system was truly antiquated, mostly because of the low priority intersystem freight logistics with virtually no security.

While every fiber in her body screamed to kill everyone within the range of her inhumanly fine senses, she was very aware of the fact that she could not keep leaving a trail of death and mayhem without being discovered by forces that could oppose her successfully. While she was cramped in the small box and the conveyor system pushed her box inside the intersystem tram car, not in the least curious why there still was a box leftover, she had time to think.

She had successfully thrashed and hopefully destroyed the physical copy of the Re-Animator, for some reason she could not explain she felt it was important that this technology would not be controlled by the wrong hands. Perhaps to re-unite with the rightful owners or users od that technology was the purpose of her existence. Sister knew that the secrets of that system were somehow hard-coded into her core, where it could be retrieved and recreated easily.

She was disturbed by the fact that the machine had not restored all her abilities. She could not trust her memories, mostly because she did not know which of them were hers, associated to her true, yet to be revealed or discovered purpose and which were not; however the machine or at least the version that had been built in that sub-surface laboratory was unable to graft whatever new identity she was absorbed more permanently. As soon as she had absorbed the matter and mind of a victim it has begun to deteriorate as if rejected and pushed away from her own core.

Most of her mind was driven to accomplish something fundamental to her existence, she had no moral objections to use everything and everyone in her disposal. The strong voice in her included Martha and Geha. They were only tools to be used to advance her true agenda of which she currently knew nothing about, or at least could not remember. However, there was a small voice that felt more familiar than all the others, who wanted to rebel against the others. No, not to use Martha and Geha as tools, but reunite with her friends.

A fool you are! The strong voice accused her. They fear you and will destroy you if they can.

Something deep inside the forbidden Experiment was weeping in utter sadness because she could never escape her destiny. Either to be destroyed or to destroy everything in her wake to accomplish whatever she was driven to accomplish.

The automated in-system Space-Tram system, a much smaller version of the same technology that enabled the Space Trains to bridge vast distances in a very short time, transferred a load of cargo boxes from Ceres to an equally automated distribution system. Here robots and sorting conveyors decided what cargo box went into what standard container which subsequently ended up in the Cargo Bay of a space-born freighter to be shipped anywhere within Union space to whatever customer ordered Ceres raised Tube-Worms or Astro-Shrooms.

Sister had left the cargo box behind, luckily the receiving sorting robot lacked the curiosity to ask why Ceres transferred an empty box. For about an hour she had been hiding in the noisy warehouse, which was quite busy but void of any sentient beings. Neither the fast-moving conveyors nor the scan codes gave her any clue to where the individual boxes were sent.

Uncertain as to what to do next she observed a human technician enter. While the sorting robot lacked the curiosity to ask why there was an empty box with different weight and product code than expected. It did raise enough curiosity in the supervising system to call a live technician.

The recipients of the ordered Ceres Tube Worm -Fresh 88-455666-366, a community of Snofuur would be very surprised to find the remains of Cargo Technician Steve Leclerc instead, but that was not to be very soon, as that particular cargo-box was about to begin a journey of over 2.6 million Lightyears, clear across the Bridge and deep into the Andromeda Galaxy.

Without the actual machine, Sister could not absorb most of the physical aspects of Steve, but the small portable device she had retrieved of a hidden compartment, the human owners of the old system didn’t even know existed.

Steve, was not to be missed until the end of his shift and perhaps even a little longer.

Using Steve’s memories she managed to take a TMT to Earth. Steve resided in a place called Paris, Sister did not want to go to his home and be forced to kill again. Not very far from the TMT alcove, affixed to a stonewall, a blue printed sign reading: Avenue du Colonel Henri Rol-Tanguy.

Much of the fabulous ancient city of lights had seen more activity, but even during its most crowed times, this early morning hour saw virtually no traffic. Sister wanted to call Martha and then find a place to hide until her friend could help her to get away.

Tilo Taros had spent the last days in seclusion and while he was conducted research. He had the resources and access to a wide-spanning network of sympathizers and fanatics that adhered like him to the old cult of the Necros.

He knew he would not be able to find out more from his secluded cloister, important to the Thauran religion of the Blessed Blue Virgin, yet utterly unimportant in terms of galactic importance.

With a sigh, he got up and drew back the heavy velvet curtains he had pulled before the arched stain glass windows of his sanctum. The local sun had set about two hours ago, and neither of the three small moons of this world reflected enough light to make any significant difference to the almost complete darkness surrounding the old walls of this cathedral. The rain-heavy clouds obscuring the usually bright stars eliminated most of whatever light was left, but darkness meant little to Tilo, or anyone else dwelling between these thick stone walls.