27: Security Control

The makalvari had been hard at work down here. The laboratory that took up much of the facility's lower levels had been an impressive piece of work even before the Calsharans had taken the facility for themselves. The laboratory was a large open space, reinforced walls on all sides, with the centrepiece comprised of a cylindrical metal object about three metres in length and one in diameter. It was covered with cables and wires that snaked off of it, winding across the floor to where they connected to various computer terminals and outlets. The Calsharan scientists present, a handful of some of their brightest minds in weapons design, worked diligently, even as night fell and the hour latened. There were four of them, three older males and one somewhat younger female, and they exchanged hushed conversation as they worked at their respective stations around the central platform. About the room, guards kept watch, some standing upon catwalks running above them, others on the laboratory floor itself. The space had become cluttered since the Calsharan takeover, as more and more resources were shipped here to commit further to the project. Some of that research was being prepared to be moved back to Calsharan space, away from the volatile frontlines of the conflict with the makalvari. As for the device itself, it would likely end up on some remote Calsharan outpost, far from any population centre as to prevent any accidents from killing a whole lot of their own.

In terms of rank, Faron Dravesk was roughly the equivalent of a 'Major', although in the Calsharan language, his rank more closely translated to 'Operation Leader'. Major Dravesk was a tall, forty-year-old male Calsharan with a solid build and blue-grey skin, his eyes an equally pale blue, his black uniform perfectly pressed and adorned with the silver trims expected of someone of his station. At one arm, he wore the silver band of a member of the Union Political Directorate, and in the case of this facility it had fallen under the close eye of the High Protector himself. Using the makalvari research as a base, they had developed a prototype of their proposed subspace device. Dravesk intended a test at the earliest opportunity, presumably right here on Dalabrai so that they could put a stop to the makalvari and their stubborn resistance. However, as expected, the resident scientists were all too cautious about the device, worried that an accelerated timetable would only increase the likelihood of a disastrous accident.

Dravesk supposed he could see their reasoning. However, he answered to the High Protector, sometimes directly through the reports he sent his way. He needed results soon, and so came the late-night work shifts that left the science team exhausted. Looking at the bunch of them now, appearing smart in their silken grey and white science officer uniforms, he could see that they were all tired. Their movements were slow, even sluggish; their voices low, croaking. He found them to be frequent complainers, and he could only wonder why given the fortune they were being paid to work here. Not even Dravesk got that kind of money.

He had wandered into the laboratory, as he so often did, driven by curiosity as to the work underway. Nothing had changed, as expected. The device was inert, no more dangerous than an empty metal drum. He could take his pistol to it right now and shoot it full of holes. Nothing would happen, save for him rendering the important work here a waste of time. Dravesk was not a scientifically minded individual, and so the resident scientists had needed to dumb down their technical explanations to a level that they were no doubt insulted by. Still, Dravesk had understood enough: here was a device capable of ripping into the fabric that held the universe together, the 'subspace' that existed just underneath their own universe. Whereas an Ancient zero-point module derived its power from subspace and hyperspace-capable ships used tears in that fabric to travel, this bomb could potentially undo that very fabric. To what extent, none of the scientists here were sure of. They did worry that it could create a reaction that could spread throughout the entire universe, which sounded absolutely ridiculous to Dravesk's ears. The universe had a way of correcting itself, no matter what happened in it. That was in his view, anyway.

He approached the group of scientists steadily, arriving unannounced as best to catch them off-guard. The leader of the group, an elderly male named Lordran, turned to the Major as he approached. He frowned, his yellow eyes tired, carrying in them the weight of the important work they did here.

"Yes, Major?" Lordran certainly sounded tired. The other three scientists had turned to the Major as well, the group's conversation having ended abruptly.

"I have a report to prepare for the High Protector," Dravesk said, his voice firm. "Is there anything new I should tell him?"

Lordran, with some reluctance, slowly shook his head.

"Not this time, Major, I'm afraid."

"The High Protector wishes to see this weapon in action soon."

"He will have to wait a little longer." Lordran's tone became slightly defensive, and Dravesk frowned. "This is the kind of thing that must not be rushed. We work with something incredibly volatile, as I have stressed to you before."

"Yes, you have. Stressed, that is." Dravesk glanced to the device itself, once again finding its apparent innocuous nature amusing, in some small way. So much power, contained in something so ordinary in appearance.

"We still don't know the full extent of just what the device's exotic energies could do to someone," Lordran added, and Dravesk turned back to face him.

"That's what the prisoners are for, Lordran. Use them."

The old scientist appeared repulsed then, and Dravesk offered him a cruel smile.

"Come now, Lordran. They are but birds. See what happens when you hit them with the particles contained in that device." He nodded to the subspace device for emphasis. "I bet their feathers will fly right off."

"I will not test the weapon on defenceless prisoners of war, Major. You know my opinion on this matter."

"The fact is, Lordran, you're going to do just that once I get the order from the High Protector. There are a few dozen makalvari in the detention area. We brought them here for a reason. It would be a waste not to use them." Dravesk paused, watching the scientist carefully. He was resigned, it seemed, and so he did not argue the point further. Whatever he was ordered to do, he would do.

Dravesk could not force him to conduct experiments on live subjects, as Lordran did have some real authority here, being the leader of the science team. However, an executive order from the High Protector was something not even Lordran, despite his many accolades over the years, would be able to decline. Besides, they were wasting supplies feeding those prisoners. Dravesk would have to shoot some of them if they did not make use of them soon, just to save on the rations intended for the Calsharan soldiers stationed here.

A guard appeared then, marching into the laboratory and crossing the room at a brisk pace. He stopped by the Major's side and leaned in close, speaking in a whisper as he relayed information to his commanding officer. Major Dravesk stood and listened closely, nodding his head in acknowledgment of the information once the guard was finished. With that done, the guard turned about on his heels and left the room, returning to his post.

"Well, Lordran, we shall speak more about this later." Dravesk checked the communicator at his left wrist, eyeing the chronometer on its small display. He could do with some sleep, for it had been a long day. Even so, one could not keep the High Protector waiting on hold. "I have a call from the boss himself. I expect you to prepare this device for controlled testing by tomorrow afternoon." He would get his order, and from the dour look on Lordran's face, the old scientist knew this too.

"I'll see you soon, old man," Dravesk said, before he turned and left the room. Once he was done speaking with the High Protector, whose call awaited his acceptance within the privacy of his office, Dravesk would wash up and get some sleep. Running a facility such as this often resulted in long days and much weariness by the end of them.

Yes, he would go to bed soon. Maybe have a glass of some of that expensive liquor he had tucked away in his office, the bottle of which he had had sent here at great expense from the home-world. He was confident he would have his way here, and those prisoners would be put to better use than menial labour. Creator knows those filthy birds were stinking up the place enough. Getting rid of a few of them would hopefully clear the air a bit.


It was foolish, reckless, a guaranteed misadventure even. And yet here John was, doing what he had thought he would not need to do. He walked confidently down the halls on the facility's upper level, having passed through the initial warehouse/loading dock beyond the main entrance before taking a bleak, concrete corridor in the general direction of the security room. To those guards he passed by, he appeared as a young junior Lieutenant, a broad male Calsharan with a pale green skin tone and wide, blue eyes that darted about with some measure of anxiety. They did that because John's own eyes moved like that, and the elaborate holographic disguise he wore duplicated his movements exactly, extending them and transmitting them into the shroud that encased him, making him appear as a Calsharan Lieutenant to all outside eyes.

He felt that he had made a mistake, having told the lab techs at the SGC to program an officer's appearance than that of a regular ranker. He had figured that a decent rank would be helpful, although it could not have been a high one for that would only draw further attention. A young Lieutenant had seemed a safe bet, and the lab techs had used data from several images they had on hand of Calsharan males to build the hologram John now wore. Because of the officer's uniform and insignia, the few guards John went by did salute him, fists clenched to their chest before they extended the arm to their right-hand side. John was not sure if he should return the gesture. He walked on by the saluting guards, hoping the courtesy here was not too dissimilar to how it was on Earth. With this in mind, he offered those that saluted a curt glance, a slight nod, anything to show that he acknowledged the courtesy.

Was he doing the right thing? He had no idea. With his guns left back with the team at the entrance, he felt vulnerable. He still had his pistol, shrouded under the holographic disguise along with his uniform. Even so, it was not likely to be enough in an outright firefight. As such, he had to take extra care, not to mention be quick about it. At the very least, he had his earpiece in, and so he had the others ready to offer him advice if he needed it. For now, they were radio silent, keeping so until John asked them for help.

Jonas had volunteered to use the device, as his understanding of Calsharan was better than most. However, the device itself had been programmed with John's overall build in mind, as well as his own voice. The pitch of it was altered as he spoke, another wonder of the holographic net. Those alterations in place would not necessarily work upon someone else as effectively. It had been more expedient for him to go ahead and use it, partly because of the technical limitations and also because it was his own reckless idea. He did not want to make anyone else carry it out. If anyone was going to risk doing this, it would be him.

He likely had about twenty minutes before the power supply on the device started to falter. Something to do with an imperfect replication of the original devices, which had somehow worked on a telepathic connection to the alien wearer. This, in turn, had not been successfully and exactly duplicated by those in the SGC. So, he had twenty minutes to get to the security room and release the prisoners. Twenty minutes to navigate the winding halls of the facility, all mostly dour concrete, and get to the security control terminal. He was on his way there, according to the layout he had tried to memorise in the space of five minutes. Time was not on his side, and so he moved briskly, trying to appear with the kind of intent an officer on an important duty might display. However, he could not move too quickly without arousing suspicion. It was a fine line he had to tread, made all the more uncertain by the manner in which he was guessing his way to the security room.

He rounded a corner at the end of the hall, pacing down the next stretch before coming upon a junction. To the left was an elevator and stairwell, to the right a set of double doors. He assumed the option needed was the latter, and so he hurried for the doors and pushed them open. Awaiting him on the other side was a large room used for apparent storage, with shelves packed with machine parts and electronics and data crystals typical of the Calsharan design. A set of stairs to the left lead to a room above, where a window there overlooked the warehouse space. Two Calsharan technicians in plain grey uniforms stood towards the centre, relaxed in posture as they spoke quietly.

"Aithris, Jonas." John paused by the stairs, looking about the room. It was lit well by a set of white fittings in the ceiling above. Another corridor started at the other end of the space. John spoke quietly, finger to his ear, a movement that was duplicated by the hologram he wore. "Can you hear me? I'm in another warehouse area."

"We hear you, John." It was Jonas. "The security room should be there, above you somewhere."

"Above…" John's eyes went to the room at the top of the nearby stairs. "I see it." He started up the stairs, receiving no second glances from the two workers below. At the top, he rounded a corner onto a gangway and came to a double door that slid open as he approached. The room he entered was small and illuminated in a bluish light from banks of computer displays that were lined up against the far wall. There was a Calsharan technician here, a young male, and he turned around as John entered, the doors sliding shut in his wake.

"What brings you in here, Lieutenant?" The technician asked, rising from his seat. He turned to face the presumed Lieutenant who walked in and stopped a few paces before him. This Lieutenant's eyes darted about the room in a way that suggested some measure of anxiety, and immediately the technician felt some small uncertainty at this unexpected visit. Here was an officer he did not recognize, and his enduring silence only worried him further.

"Sir?"

The Lieutenant stepped before him. Without warning, he punched the technician squarely in the face, sending him falling back against the computers. John's wrist ached from the blow. Nonetheless, he pushed the advantage and ignored the pain, hands going around the Calsharan's neck, scaly skin smooth and cool under his fingers. He headbutted the Calsharan, hitting him square in the nose, causing his head to snap back and hit the console behind him with a sharp clunk. With the technician dazed, John pulled the combat knife from his waist and plunged it into his neck, cutting through the thick scaly flesh and severing a critical artery. Blood gushed out in a torrent, spilling across the consoles and the front of the technician's uniform. John released the Calsharan's body, allowing him to slump slowly to the floor, still twitching as the last vestiges of his life left him. A cruel and cold kill, but a necessary one. How long would it be until someone walked in here and saw the body? He had to assume it would not be long, all the more reason to speed up his work.

John looked over the consoles. There was a large screen before him, taking up much of the wall. At the moment, it displayed various readouts that he had to assume were to do with overall security operations and systems. Looking at all the controls before him, he realised he was utterly lost. However, he recognized a palm scanner when he saw one, and he grabbed one arm of the mostly dead Calsharan technician and pressed the alien's hand against the scanner. The display there changed, lights went green and some apparent functionalities became accessible.

"I'm in the security room," John said. He deactivated the holographic disguise then, ridding himself of the outward appearance of a Calsharan Lieutenant. For the time being, he tucked the small disc-shaped device into a pocket. Barely any charge had to be left by now, so he doubted he would get any more real use out of it.

"There should be an option controlling security doors." It was Aithris who said this, being the team's resident Calsharan computer expert. "If you can find that, deactivate it. Every locked door in the facility should open."

"Sounds like it could raise an alarm."

"More than likely. However, the confusion is what we need."

John tapped at the display directly in front of him, upon which various options were given that corresponded to what was shown on the larger main screen. He saw himself looking at a layout of the facility, specifically the floor he was on. He cycled through to the one below, wherein the cellblock was located. Flashing icons denoted secure areas, and he tapped on each one, Calsharan text flashing up at him in bold red lettering. He had come prepared, considering his knowledge of the Calsharan language was sorely lacking. From a pouch in his uniform, he removed a small camera. He directed it to the screen in front of him, sending a real-time feed to the receiving screen that Jonas carried with him. Little larger than his palm, it allowed Jonas and the others to view whatever John wanted them to.

"Pick the third option from the left," Jonas instructed through his radio. John did so, and another list of options appeared. "There's a security door override in there somewhere."

"What's that one there?" Aithris directed this to Jonas, having seen something else of interest.

"What?" A short pause. "Oh yeah, I see it. The weapon lockout network. Looks like this facility is a main transmitter for it."

"What's that?" John had an idea, but he wanted to be sure before he made any assumptions.

"That means this facility is a major hub for the network that keeps the Calsharan small-arms locked out to anyone without Calsharan genetics," Aithris explained. "If you deactivate their security protocols, that will likely take down the lockouts as well and make things easier for all of us."

"You mean we could use their guns?" The lockout system was a recent addition, intended to shift the war in Calsharan favour. Out here, in enemy territory, using the enemy's weapons would certainly simplify the whole mission.

"For a time. Maybe a few hours, before they work out what went wrong. You'll need a network key for it, though."

John looked around and saw what he assumed was the 'key' in question hanging around the neck of the dead technician. It was a small, transparent cylinder not unlike the control crystals that made up most of the Calsharan computer systems. Some of the technician's blood had caught on the device, so John gave it a few wipes on one trouser leg before he searched the console before him for the appropriate slot. It was in an obvious place, and he slid the key crystal in, turning it one way and another before it moved and further green lights lit up about the main display. The option to access the weapons lockout network lit up, among others.

"Don't worry, I found one." John scanned the camera across the display, showing the others what he saw.

"Choose the second option," Aithris said. John did just that, and further options appeared. "The third one here." Again, John did as instructed. The option he pressed turned green, and he found himself looking at what he assumed was a warning screen. There was a pause on the other end of the radio then, as both Aithris and Jonas thought hard on what was written there. John felt a pang of worry, and he glanced back at the security room's entrance, half-expecting someone to come barging in.

"Well, that's a problem." Jonas sounded almost chipper. John turned back to the console, frowning.

"That's not what I want to hear."

"Yeah, sorry Colonel, but we need an authorisation code here. A code we don't have."

"Who would have it?"

"The commanding officer of the facility, presumably." John had expected such an answer. He considered their options, few as they were. If he could shut down the security here, then the cellblock would open and the weapon lockouts would deactivate. A perfect storm, and unfortunately one that appeared unattainable at the present time.

"What are you going to do, John?" Aithris asked him. John tucked away the camera, mulling it over. All this work, just to be stonewalled by a glorified password. He was no computer hacker, certainly less so when it came to alien computers.

"No, no, it's okay. I have a plan." John had his doubts about this 'plan'. Even so, he had little else in mind. He pulled out his pistol, pointed it at the consoles before him and started shooting. Again and again he worked the trigger, planting about a dozen .45 rounds into the alien computers. Sparks flew and glass broke, smoke sizzling out of ruptured circuits and control crystals. The entire main display shattered, showering thin, brittle glass all over the bank of consoles. John took a step back as the smoke cleared and his gun fell empty, worrying for a moment that what he had intended through this action had not occurred. However, a fire detection system within the room noticed the smoke pouring out of the ruptured consoles and sounded a general alarm. That, in turn, unlocked every door in the facility, a means to keep those present from being trapped inside a burning, underground facility. A ventilation and air filtration system kicked into action then, working to clear the room of the rising smoke.

John knew he had only seconds before guards came running in. An alarm siren wailed throughout the facility, red lights flashing. He reloaded the pistol, turning around to look to the door. Footsteps were clanking upon the walkway outside. The door slid open and the two workers from outside appeared, both of whom carried plasma pistols. John shot the first one that came in, and the uniform he wore did little to stop the bullets. The worker grunted as he went down, catching three slugs in the chest, plasma pistol firing erratically into the wall as he went down. The second worker paused by the doorway, leaning around the side and returning fire, plasma bolts zipping across the room. John dived to the floor, pistol raised as the bolts struck the computers behind him. More sparks flew, showering over him.

John took a few seconds to aim, letting off a shot that hit the Calsharan in the arm. The plasma pistol fell from the alien's grasp and he stumbled, exposing himself just enough for John to shoot him again. One more round punched through his chest, another his stomach, before he fell against the railing on the walkway just outside the door and went over the top. The Calsharan worker landed hard on top of a stack of containers, sending some of them tumbling around him, blood pooling quickly around his limp form.

"What did you do, John?" Aithris asked, his tone one of carefully controlled curiosity. The team, hidden near the main entrance, had no doubt heard the racket.

"The brute force method," John replied. "You guys should move in. There should be enough chaos now to take advantage of."

"Understood." Aithris cut the channel then. John could imagine the group entering the loading bay just after the facility's entrance, gunning down whatever guards were present. Hopefully they would catch up with him quick, as John did not wish to wait around here for too long.

Out of curiosity, he picked up one of the plasma pistols from the nearest of the dead workers. The lockout device by the trigger guard was not lit up as it normally would have been, and so John took aim at the wall to his left and hit the pressure-pad trigger. The weapon coughed and a plasma bolt struck the wall, blasting a small, smoking hole into the concrete blocks. Smiling, John tucked the pistol under a strap at his vest. Something had gone right, at least.

Of course, the relief was fleeting when he remembered that he and the rest of the team had a small army out to get them now. Every Calsharan within the facility and in its vicinity would be alerted. Expecting their stealth to last for long had been too optimistic. John preferred a straight-up fight, so in a way he looked forward to the coming trouble.

He could hear ballistic weapons fire echoing down the halls. The team were on their way. Remaining upon the catwalk, John kept an eye upon the hallway below. He saw the first of his team appear from the opposite end, Natalia at the front with Aithris, Jonas and Elsie following. And then there was Kav'rak and his two compatriots, taking up the rear with their magnetic rail weapons held at the ready. John waved at them from his position above.

"What's the fastest way down to the lab?" He called, and he directed this to Kav'rak. The makalvari Captain stopped in the warehouse space below, looking up at the Colonel.

"The main lift, but that will be heavily guarded."

John had expected such an answer. Nothing was ever easy, at least not where he was concerned.