Carson Mach 1: The Atlantis Ship by A. C. Hadfield

this.”
    Morgan squinted at the image of a carving on a wall of rock, brightened by artificial light. He recognized the shape of the Atlantis ship instantly. Boltan, the fidesian god of destruction, stood next to it and held a sphere.  
    “How old is that?” Morgan said.  
    “At least four thousand years. I’ve collected every single known occurrence and still can’t work out a pattern. It might help if I had access to the horan records.”
    “I’m sure you know a man who can get them,” Morgan said. He sat on the plastic chair in front of Beringer. “That’s the reason I’m here. I need your help.”
    “Why come to me? You’re an admiral with powerful resources at your fingertips.”
    Morgan sighed. “You’d think so, but it doesn’t work like that. I’m no more than a desk jockey nowadays, but finding the ship can get me back into active service. I’m putting a specialist team together, but it’s top secret.”
    “What kind of top secret?” Beringer said, raising an eyebrow, creasing the wrinkled skin on his forehead. “The type that Kenwright doesn’t know about?”
    “You know me too well. I’ve recruited Carson Mach and tasked him with putting together a crew.”
    “Mach?” Beringer laughed and continued to tap his spindly fingers against the smart-screen. “I can see why you need to keep this under wraps. I’m surprised he hasn’t drunk himself to death.”
    “He’ll survive longer than all of us. I want you to join him. If he finds the ship, we need to get our hands on the tech and harness it.”
    Beringer stopped typing and looked up. “I gave that kind of work up years ago. The only man I know who can do it and would join the crew is Kingsley Babcock.”
    Morgan shook his head. “You can’t be serious? I can take the heat for a secret mission using Mach. Babcock would kill any chance I have of returning to the fight.”
    “It was twenty years ago. Most people have forgotten about it.”
    “The marshal won’t forget the hundred thousand casualties after he hacked into the vestan artefact.”
    “He didn’t know about the virus,” Beringer said. “Marshal Kenwright should remember who programmed the AI-driven advanced combat systems that tipped the war in our favor.”
    “People always remember the screwups. I can pay him well and the fleet won’t know a thing.” Morgan sat back and thought for a moment. Babcock was the finest technical mind in the CW. He escaped into exile after unleashing the virus while trying to gain a better understanding of vestan technology. If Mach captured the Atlantis ship, Babcock would be the best man for the job. “The problem is locating him. He could be anywhere in the Salus Sphere.”
    Beringer bowed his head. “I’m still in touch with him. He keeps his finger on the CW pulse and we share information on the Atlantis ship. If anyone can track it or predict a behavior model, it’s Kingsley.”
    The revelation came as no surprise. Morgan knew Beringer and Babcock were tight during their time in the fleet. Kindred spirits with insatiable curiosities and a shared obsession about the Atlantis ship. Neither of them ever accepted the myth.  
    “Can you contact him and get his agreement?”
    “Only if you promise he doesn’t end up in a Summanun cell.”
    “You have my word on it,” Morgan said. “Please do it as soon as you can. I’ll communicate with Mach when you give me Babcock’s coordinates.”
    Beringer smiled. “I’ve already messaged him.”
    Morgan’s screen flashed. He glanced down at the display. “I’ve got to go. I’ll trust you to explain the situation.”
    Morgan stood and left the office, pleased that he had a team in place that was capable of finding and hacking the Atlantis ship. If they could survive an initial meeting.  

    ***

    Morgan left the Remembrance Center and climbed into a transport pod. Operations had messaged him, requesting his presence in the center. Horan destroyers were on the move. “Command