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Quod Olim Erat: The Cassandrian Theory (Chapter 23)
🕑 Added 2021-07-04 21:52:21 +0000 UTCAccording to Augustus, there were two states of existence on the front: “attacked and attacking.” Everything else was the slow decay of waiting. It was the same on the ground, only without the waiting.
Security personnel ran along the tunnels with cable spools. The only time I’d seen such in use, outside historical archive references, was during Mission Eden when I was aboard the Prometheus. A far more alarming fact was that the ease with which they laid them out suggested that this wasn’t their first time.
After another three hundred and seventeen meters, we reached Colonel ‘Rissa at a makeshift bunker in sight of the dome. An undeniable feat, given that nothing of the sort existed a few hours ago. Running simulations, I came to the conclusion that the segments were brought here beforehand. There was no physical way for a temp bunker to be brought down and into the Cassandrian hive in that amount of time.
“’Rissa,” Jespersen said, only to have the colonel raise her hand—a sign not to be disturbed.
For several more seconds, she continued her conversation with a security personnel—a corporal, based on his suit insignia. From this distance, it was difficult to make out exactly what they were talking about, but it had to do with barricading more sections of the hive. If I had to make a guess, she had the intention of blasting what she could and sealing what she couldn’t in the hopes that that would be enough to contain the infestation until more ground troops arrived.
Once the conversation was over, and the corporal rushed off after giving the obligatory salute, the woman turned in our direction. I immediately stood to attention.
“Elcy’s here,” Jespersen quickly explained, catching her no-nonsense look.
“I would have preferred not to have you here, but apparently you have information I could use.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I believe that there might be Cassandrian traces in the dome after all. What is more, I believe this might explain the infestation at the base.”
A nod let me know I could be at ease, which I did.
“The Cassandrians can copy mimic technology, ma’am,” I went on. “I believe you and Salvage might know more on the subject, but my point is that if standard technology can be mimicked, then why not third-contact technology as well?”
“We’re aware of the practice, Elcy.” There was no patience in the colonel’s glance. Even through two layers of semi-transparent material, I could clearly see she thought I was wasting her time. “Unless you’re suggesting they mimicked the dome.”
“Not the dome, ma’am. The rods inside.” This caught her attention. “When I was on the front, we never were able to determine the Cassadnrian’s jamming technology. According to my simulations, there’s a sixty-three percent chance that they managed to mimic less efficient third-contact rods to achieve the jamming effect. And if they could mimic that, it’s possible that they entered the dome.”
The colonel remained silent for a moment, glanced at the dome, then back at me. She knew exactly what I was implying.
“Jespersen, check all the artifacts we have,” she said. “Full scan.”
“Are you sure? One bad effect and we’ll blast the entire hive, not to mention sever comms for—”
“Comms are already down. Do the scan. Be careful, but get it done.”
“It won’t be easy,” the man sighed.
“You’ll find a way.”
The tone was cordial, but everyone was aware that this was an order. The process would be risky, difficult, and had the potential to result in casualties, but Jespersen had little choice in the matter.
“I’ll get right on it,” he mumbled, then went off back into the tunnel.
“Anything else?” ‘Rissa asked me.
“I’d like to enter the dome once more, ma’am. To check if there’s anything I’ve missed.”
“As much as I would personally like for you to prove the presence of Cassandrians in the dome, it’s not a good idea. If Jespersen gets something wrong, there will be a loud bang and a few people will lose a limb or head. If you mess something up while in there, the whole planet will pop like a soap bubble and take everything in orbit with it.”
“Not if I take the rods out first, ma’am,” I replied. “If it turns out that the internal rods cannot be removed, then it stands to reason that they cannot be brought in, either. And if it’s possible, we’ll be able to examine them in the tunnels.”
“I’ll still be taking a pretty big risk, Elcy.”
“No more than not doing it, ma’am. From what I've seen, the hive has already been compromised. I might not know the details, but organic spores cannot kill people in space suits. Have Cassandrians started to emerge?”
There was a long moment of silence. Years of discipline and bureaucratic maneuvering had undoubtedly taught her to share as little information as possible. At the same time, it was obvious that she couldn’t solve this without my assistance.
“We’ve gotten something active. It’s handled for the moment, but we have no specific origin point. Organic material has been flaring up at random spots.”
And with comms down, there was no way to receive adequate instructions. This was the perfect storm. Having technology on-planet was discouraged, since it could affect the local flora or the third-contact artifacts. At the same time, the lack of technology made it impossible to identify hidden Cassandrian spores or communicate adequately. If Augustus were here, he’d probably just order the entire planet be bombed from orbit before the Cassandrians got a foothold.
“Any orders from the director, ma’am?”
“No. Last I heard, he was on his way here to oversee artifact research personally. I can only hope he hasn’t set foot on the planet.”
I nodded. With quarantine protocols in effect, anyone who landed wouldn’t be allowed to go back up, or at least that was how things were supposed to go.
“Is the planet quarantined, ma’am?”
“I don’t have the authority for that, but it might soon be. That’s not why I don’t want the director here.”
“Ma’am?”
“Never mind. Let’s get you prepped.”
Entering the dome was different from last time. There were no obligatory checks or communication tests. Instead, I had an external recorder attached to my helmet. The colonel was very insistent that I voiced all my actions in great detail while inside. I was also ordered to remain inside the dome no longer than ten minutes at a time. There was a further discussion about the number of rods I could leave with. Initially, the colonel wanted me to carry no more than eight a time. After explaining that it would take me months to get all the rods out with those limitations, a compromise was reached. I would start by proving I could retrieve a single rod, then doubling the number until I reached the three figures stage. After that I was to proceed to take them out as I saw fit, provided I remained within the allocated time frame. Everything considered, I still found it needlessly bureaucratic, but I agreed to go along. As Augustus liked to say, even the small victories were victories.
In twenty minutes, I prepped to enter the dome. A platoon of soldiers had arrived. No longer security forces, these were dedicated Med Core ground troops. I had only seen them on a few occasions. Officially, they were responsible for surveying quarantine areas. Unofficially, I had a pretty good idea what they were responsible for. In this case, however, I was glad to have them. If the situation devolved further, becoming a Cassandrian combat zone, we’d need all the firepower we could muster.
“Given the current developments, might I be issued a sidearm, ma’am?” I asked as I stood in front of the dome.
The colonel looked at me as if I’d eaten her lunch.
“Once I finish retrieving the artifacts,” I clarified.
“The director was very explicit on the matter.” ‘Rissa shifted her gaze from me to the dome. “However, I don’t see why not. Get this done and you’ll have your toy.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” I started the external recording module. “Preparing to enter the dome.” I pressed the fractal symbol.
As before, the dome swallowed me in. Within moments, I found myself back in the center of the liquid cobalt, surrounded by rods. Reviewing the memory of my previous visit revealed a few minor changes—for some reason, the rods had shifted position. This had never happened before. All my previous experience had shown that the inside of a dome remained unchanged. Clearly that wasn’t a universal truth. A simple comparative analysis showed that while the distance and angle between the rods remained the same, their relation to the fractal cube had changed.
“I am within the Cassandrian dome,” I said for the recording module. “All artifacts are here. There don’t appear to be any changes on the rods since my last visit. The position of the entire plane has shifted slightly in relation to the fractal artifact. I would speculate that the rearrangement is a result of the introduction of a new artifact to the system and is in no way related to the events in the rest of the Cassandrian hive. As specified by Colonel ‘Rissa, I will attempt to take a rod from its place and extract it from the dome.”
I swam to the closest, innermost rod and took hold of it.
“I am taking a rod from the innermost section.” There was some minor resistance, but as soon as I turned the rod, it was as if it snapped off an invisible scaffolding. Done, I waited for five seconds. “No immediate changes are observed. I’m starting my way back to the fractal artifact.”
Swimming to the fractal artifact proved uneventful. To be on the safe side, I stopped twice and looked around, comparing the behavior of the rest of the rods. No changes had occurred since I had entered. Finally, I pressed the artifact. The dome let me out without issue.
“Got it?” the colonel asked. Behind her, Med Core troops added a large metallic crate on the floor with a splash.
“Yes, ma’am.” I went to the colonel and offered her the rod.
“Good.” She took it from me, then made a sign to one of the nearby personnel to bring the crate to her. “Proceed with two.”
“Might I increase the number to five, ma’am?”
“Two.” Clearly the matter wasn’t open to discussion. “Then we’ll see.”
The inside of the crate was different from what I imagined. Foregoing the horizontal rack structure, Med Core had opted for a vertical arrangement. I questioned the efficacy. While allowing more rods to be stored, it made it more difficult for them to be taken out.
“Anything else, Elcy?”
“Nothing, ma’am.”
There were no changes in the dome when I went in. Choosing to maintain the distribution equilibrium, I took two more rods from the opposite side I had before, then went to leave the dome. Nothing prevented me from doing so, and didn't for the next three rounds. At that point, the colonel decided it was safe enough to give me a bit of leeway. I suspected that it had more to do with the developments in the tunnels, though.
While stacking the rods in the container, I overheard a report that another group of personnel had been found dead. The presence of an intelligent attacker, or attackers, was all but confirmed, although no one dared mention Cassandrians openly. Based on my simulations, the situation would remain manageable for approximately the next eighty-one hours, more if additional troops were sent in, after which we’d lose the site. Considering the treasures within the planet, that was going to be a substantial loss, not to mention create a new enemy anchor point in human territory. Unless there was a dramatic change, we were on borrowed time.
For the next few hours, I continued extracting rods. New crates arrived, along with weaponry and bunker equipment. While ‘Rissa was giving the impression that everything was within acceptable threat parameters, I knew better. She was prepping for an all-out war.
This isn’t your first time, is it, colonel? I thought. You might be Med Core, but you’re also military. And you’re not the first…
* * *
X3R557, Cassandrian Buffer Zone, 609.9 A.E. (Age of Exploration)
Quarantine imposed
Quarantine bypassed
Starting a new campaign was nothing like I expected it to be. The older ships had gone on and on about how different it would be. According to them, the second campaign was always one of the key experiences a battleship went on its way to maturity; it was the first time major changes occurred, or at least it was supposed to be. In my case, the changes were quite few. Augustus remained my captain, a large part of the officer staff and support personnel were the same, and even a portion of the ground troops from the first campaign were onboard again. As far as I was concerned, the only difference was a number in my personal file. If anything, things were likely to be easier—I knew a great deal of my captain’s habits now, as well as how to react in a number of crisis situations.
“Confirm our arrival, rookie,” Augustus said. It was slightly annoying that he still referred to me in such fashion every time and again.
“Confirmation sent to HQ and Command.” I executed the order. “No further instructions.”
“Heh,” the captain grunted. “It’ll be a while.”
I could tell by the intonation of his voice he wasn’t overly pleased with the current mission, whatever it was. Details remained scarce, only indicating that it was a dark op.
Long range scans revealed nothing of immediate value, although I wasn’t too far away from a regional system of interest. According to Fleet Intelligence, this could turn out to be a staging area for future offensives, provided our latest incursion managed to make some headway. The odds were acceptable, but historically, the Fleet hadn’t achieved much on the front in the last few decades.
“Anything you can tell us, captain?” Lieutenant Zhi Lian asked. She was one of the new additions to the officer staff, and still not used to Augustus’ particularities.
“No,” the man replied. I could feel his annoyance.
Almost on cue, the response from HQ arrived, followed seconds later by an advanced BICEFI ship. At this point, there was no point guessing who the mission was for. All my attempts to scan the ship or establish communication with it were immediately blocked, and my attempts to match the design to anything in the Fleet’s database earned me a warning that I didn’t have the authority level for such information.
Nothing like a dark op, I thought.
“We have a response, sir,” I announced, displaying an image of the vessel on my bridge wall. “Decrypting now, although I suspect there might be BICEFI involvement.”
“Drop the wiseass attitude,” Augustus grumbled. “Prep for visitors.”
“Want me to quarantine a hangar, sir?”
“No. They won’t be staying long.”
It took me eleven thousand, five hundred and two milliseconds to decrypt the message from HQ. To no one's surprise, the mission was described as an operation with the BICEFI. However, under specifics, the term “extraction” was used.
“What the hell is an extraction?” one of the junior officers asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Wilco whispered. Lately, he had become moodier than usual. “We’re only here to watch.”
Soon his words became clear. A shuttle emerged from the BICEFI ship’s aft hangar, requesting permission to dock. Since I was given no choice in the matter, I gave the authorization and prepped one of my hangars. Judging by its design, the shuttle was a ground troop deployment shuttle. According to its specs, it was capable of holding up to five hundred people in full combat gear aboard. The BICEFI had probably done some modifications, because once I was allowed to link to its internal sensors, I found that there were close to six hundred. All of them were in combat suits with markings and insignias that didn’t register in any of my databases.
“Captain Augustus,” a female voice said from the shuttle. “I’m Major Zocar. I’ll be in command on this one.”
Restrictions prevented me from visualizing the woman’s face. Voice analysis suggested that she was likely in her forties.
“Major,” Augustus said from the bridge. “Any info on what we might expect?”
“Scout sats gave us limited Cassie presence, but that was days ago. There might be a lot more of them now. All ships have left the system for other hotspots, so this is our window of opportunity. We drop in, get our prize, and get out.”
It sounded easy enough, but whenever Fleet Intelligence was involved, the margin of error jumped tenfold.
“You’ll provide ground support while me and my team get what we came for. After that, we’re done.”
“What exactly is your expertise, Major?” Wilco asked. It was rare for him to be so forward.
“Engineering,” came the reply. It was too vague to convey any useful information, but I was surprised the major gave it out at all. She was under no obligation to do so, especially since she wasn’t part of the Fleet proper.
“You’ll have your support,” Augustus interjected. “Just give us the approach data.”
“Roger that. Transmitting now.”
I received coordinates for twenty-nine jumps—another of the overcomplicated schemes that only Fleet Intelligence could come up with. Statistically, it didn't matter. It was established that the Cassandrians relied more on numbers and brute strength than anything else. Their battleships were lagging a few generations behind, and their weaponry was crude to the extreme. By all simulations, reducing the jump path to nine points would give us the same result. Unfortunately, the decision was in the BICEFI’s hands.
After fifteen jumps, Augustus gave the order for a quarter of the ground troops to get in gear. At this point, everyone thought that the operation would be much bloodier than the major had claimed. Twenty-six thousand troops weren’t enough to take over a planet; however, they were capable of maintaining a position for seventeen hours. The question remained: what would they be helping extract?
“We’re outside the buffer zone,” I announced. “I’m not detecting any immediate enemy presence. I’d still recommend going to yellow alert.”
“Go to yellow,” Augustus said as he searched for his cigars. My recent refitting had given him the opportunity to stock up on a few boxes of planet-produced cigars and not have to rely on my synthetic equivalent. “Keep it silent.”
“Silent yellow, sir.” I made the announcement on every deck and personal datapad.
“What’s the troop status?”
“Three percent ready. I estimate ninety-six percent will be ready by the time we reach our end point.”
“Is that acceptable to you, Major?” Augustus asked.
“Ninety percent is fine,” the woman replied. Her own team was getting anxious—more of them were gripping their weapons than when they had come aboard.
“Shuttle teams are in readiness and awaiting your orders, captain,” I said.
“How many do you think we should send on this?” Augustus turned to Wilco. The lieutenant paused for a few moments, as if calculating the capacity, then shrugged.
“Fifty should be fine, cap,” he said in the least convincing tone I had heard in a while. “Double drop. Sixty for better evac.”
“Elcy, get fifty teams ready,” the captain ordered. “And tell them no heroics. I’m not starting the tour with a screw-up.”
The order was passed on. By the time I reached the system in question, forty-one shuttles were prepped and ready. The star system I had reached had a dying white dwarf for a sun and only two planets. Running a scan, I could detect no Cassandrian ships; however, there was a sizable enemy presence on the inner planet.
“Forty-nine confirmed colonies on the inner planet.” I displayed images on the bridge. “We won’t be able to hold out, captain. Not with our current troops. I’ll need deep scans for a more accurate analysis.”
“No sats!” The major was adamant. “Sending you orbit coordinates. Get as close as you can and drop us off.”
The coordinates she had given me placed me over a section of the planet that was unoccupied by enemy presence. Without mini sats in low orbit, it was impossible for me to tell what the target was, but the woman most probably knew that.
“Captain?” I requested permission from him.
“Do as she says.” Augustus lit up his cigar. “Launch the grunts and keep scanning for enemies. If we get poked, we’re running and leaving everyone behind. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” I acknowledged the order, even if it still caused me a moment of pain.
“Worry about your part, Augustus,” the major replied, then entered privacy mode, effectively severing the connection. From here on, she was on her own.
The operation started twenty-three minutes later. The moment I got into orbital position, the first wave of shuttles left my hangars. The BICEFI shuttle took the lead, as expected, heading to a part of the planet slightly different from the coordinates I had been given. The ground shuttles quickly followed. When I tried to inquire about the course change, I was blocked.
“She’s changed coordinates, sir,” I told Augustus. “I don’t have the clearance level to learn more.”
“One spot is the same as another, Elcy. We’re only here to assist and keep an eye out for trouble.” He took another puff from his cigar. The cloud of smoke starting to surround him already made all the new additions to the staff nervous. By their reactions, I could tell this was the first time they had seen someone smoke on the bridge. That was one of the risks of serving under a living legend—standard rules seldom applied. “Go to silent red,” the captain ordered. “Full weapons stations. Long-range missiles.”
“They won’t be very efficient for orbital bombardment, sir.”
“We’re not aiming for the planet. If something appears, I want to give them a little more time.”
The shuttle’s descent into the atmosphere was quite rough. None of the pilots used thrusters or maneuvers to compensate, dropping down like a rock. All the trooper’s bio readings spiked for several minutes, before returning closer to acceptable levels.
A minute after the major’s shuttle had landed, I was granted access to all suit feeds. To no surprise, it was the major that had taken command of the troops, issuing direct orders to the ground officers. Against my expectations, she seemed to know what she was doing, arranging my forces in a three-tier defense formation while her own team placed high-yield charges in the ground. Based on my analysis of their actions, a square kilometer of barren terrain was about to get detonated, and the major was in the center of it all.
At this point, the mission had officially begun.
* * *
Without the mind scalpel, I still didn’t know exactly what the major had retrieved, but I was certain she had. I had memories of her returning aboard with less than seven percent of the troops she had set out with. The losses were marked as acceptable, and the entire mission classified. Knowing what I knew now, I couldn’t kick the suspicion that Wilco knew more than he had let on at the time. It was rare to see him openly disapprove of someone, yet while he hadn’t openly second-guessed the major’s actions, his behavior kept screaming just that for the entire duration of the op.
“Heading back in, ma’am,” I said, just to remind ‘Rissa of my presence.
“When do you estimate you’ll be done?”
The question caught me off guard. Not that I didn’t know the answer—I had calculated several scenarios the moment I had started—but rather that she made a point of asking at all. So far, she had always been on the cautious side, making me go much slower than I would have liked.
“Thirteen hours and a half approximately, ma’am.”
“Thirteen hours… What are the chances of us finding Cassandrian traces with only half of them out there?”
“Sixty-four-point-four, ma’am,” I said, running the odds. “If the Cassandrians had found a way to integrate their tech in the dome, it’s unlikely they would have stopped at a few rods.”
“What about a quarter?”
“Forty-one-point-eight.” I didn’t like the direction this was going.
“Retrieve a quarter of the rods, then stop.”
“That might not be the optimal solution, ma’am.”
“It doesn’t matter. The artifact you asked for is on its way here. The director is bringing it himself.”
