“Deploy! Dominate! Disappear!” the crew replied, their raised voices echoing across the massive open deck.
Captain Valance approached from behind. He had heard the whole thing from the express car doors. “How are they Chief?” he asked Frost as he watched the crews run to their stations.
“Better than I was,” he eyed a burly fellow who wiped his mouth as he made his way off the deck. “Didn't see that comin'. Thought he'd make it past today.”
“We've put some of the washouts to work on cleaning and light repair rotations. One started tending bar in the main Observation lounge and I've had requests for him to stay on duty there.”
“Mahajic, aye, good man. I'm surprised there weren't more.” Frost muttered. “This is a good, clean, well designed deck, but she's intimidating as all hell. We'll probably lose two more as soon as we depressurize.”
“I meant to ask about that,” Captain Valance said as he looked at one of the turrets. The Gunner was getting strapped into the seat as the four magazine wells were drawn closer to the deck so they could be loaded.
“Aye, we depressurize to minimize damage from fire or explosions, and so we don't lose people if there's a hull breach. We just seal a section off and they keep operatin' if there's anyone left. If there are no turrets left ta run in their section they make their way in through an external emergency airlock an' rejoin the crew.”
“So you expect to take damage.”
“We expect to get pounded, there's nothin' like a lot of rail cannons on the field to complicate things. A smart enemy sends their fighters right after 'em, tries to do as much damage as possible to shake the crew up and disable the guns.”
“Makes sense. How are the lower gunnery posts doing?”
“Better. They practically trained themselves, some even have experience.”
“Do you think we'll be ready?”
“Aye. They're shakin' but they'll pull the trigger.”
“Good work Gunnery Chief Frost,” Captain Valance said, offering his hand.
Frost shook it firmly. “Thank ya Captain, you mark targets an' we'll shred 'em.”
Captain Valance turned back to the express car and looked at the gunnery deck as the large doors closed. It was like watching a ballet, with the mechanics checking vital components on each turret, the gunners activating systems as they slid up into the firing position, and the loaders moving four ton magazines from the large materializers set into the floor between them. The noise was incredible, but he knew that in just a few minutes they'd depressurize the entire deck, and they'd perform their dance in silence.
The express car doors closed and the vessel began to move. A sudden pain, like a steel rod being jammed into the top of his head stabbed at him. He clenched his teeth and fell to his knees.
Memories of a strange bridge, commanding the First Light into a battle they couldn't win against cloaking ships that beat at their flanks and rear with massive disintegration weaponry. The massive station was surrounded by asteroids containing the same material the First Light was constructed from. It was like returning to a birthplace, only there was pain, so much pain.
As the research station fired its big guns crew members were tossed like rag dolls and shattered like glass under the high impact. The ship, the crew were dying, and then he remembered his ruthlessness. The idea to turn towards the largest source of damage, their objective, and use a technology developed for peace, their wormhole generator, to create a gravity well and destroy the station while making their escape.
“A bird does not sing because it has an answer,” came the last words from his best friend. He had to leave him behind, in the way of the stone and metal maelstrom that would erupt in their wake. Minh-Chu Buu was his name, and they had been soldiers together as well as civilians. His companionship was irreplaceable.
There was no time to reconsider, and they bore through the station, arriving at Starfree Port with their ship in shambles. Their objective had been to destroy framework research, to prevent it from getting out into the galaxy. The last memory was upon him then, looking out at General Collins' bearded face as he taunted him through the transparesteel of the long term stasis tube. There were two other tubes behind him. The profile of the shadow in one was that of Wheeler, he could see it even through the drug addled memory. The other he did not recognize, there was too much long hair in the way.
He balled his fists and braced himself as another wave of all consuming pain washed over him. “Every few generations there is a leap in technology so drastic the conditions of life change. This is such a time. Make sure this information lands in the right hands so it is a cure before it becomes a weapon. All your fears are justified,” the voice of Doctor Marcelles echoed in his mind.
The nature of his existence was revealed to him then, how he was built, the memory of his first breath, and the first time he opened his eyes to gaze upon the thin, smiling face of Doctor Marcelles. “I have betrayed my masters again and leaked your location to someone who will take you away from this place. She can be trusted. When you are activated again you will be able to decide which life you want. That of Jonas Valent, who will be destroyed if he cannot be tamed, or that of Jake Valance. One has a life you can only imitate long enough to learn from, the other is a slate on which you can write whatever you wish.”
“Why?” he managed to slur from the cold inspection table. There was a light behind the Doctor's head, he couldn't see the rest of the room.
“Because we should all have progeny and hope that they are better than ourselves. I have completed my work and when you are fully activated, can access the transferred memories of your human predecessor as though they were your own, yours will begin. Make no mistake my son, all that you feel is real but no matter how intense those memories may be, they cannot make you Jonas. His life is there as a platform, as a baseline to elaborate on, to grow from. He is a good man with principles, his example is important. Never fear losing yourself in his experiences, no matter how you use them. You can only ever be yourself and I believe the sum will be much greater than the parts. I must say goodbye to you now, they'll execute me once they discover I've betrayed them unless I can get away in time.”
His minutes old mouth worked to form the question. “Who?”
Doctor Marcelles laughed and raised an eyebrow. “Go to Zingara station as Jacob Valance and you will be found by someone with answers. There are other messages in the emergency storage unit contained within your framework, but they will only come if certain unfavourable conditions are met. I pray you never find yourself in such a situation. Go and be whole, my son.”
There was one more flash of pain before he woke. He was flat on his back, looking up at the faces of Alice and Stephanie. “Sir, are you all right?” Stephanie asked as Alice scanned him.
All the pain was gone. He could remember everything, as though he were Jonas Valance, but the gift he had been given by his creator was the ability to distinguish with certainty whose memories they were. Not his own, but he could delve in and feel, experience them as if they were. Emotional memories were harder to distinguish from his own, but within his mind was a firm grasp of where Jonas' history ended and his began.
He got to his feet slowly. “I'm fine,” he looked out of the express lift and saw the entrance to the bridge was open just down the hall.
The experiences he unconsciously drew from, the knowledge he had acquired from a past he didn't understand before all fit, it all made sense. He even knew why it had happened. He had met Alice. Jonas wasn't the trigger, it was Alice. The first time she brought him out of his stasis tube the process of remembering should have been triggered but she left before he could meet her, before he was awake.