“I’m afraid I’m forced to agree, sir,” Rochford replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure all the senior staff take ten minutes before we return to battle stations.” He paused, then asked, “Might I inquire if those orders also apply to the Admiral, sir?”
With a wry grin, Scott said, “If you insist, mother. You have the deck. I’m going down to Sensor Control to take a look at the new data we gathered in our last transit. They should at least have a start on interpretation by now.” As Rochford nodded, moving to the command chair, Scott made his way to the elevator, the doors smoothly sliding shut to send him speeding towards his destination on the far side of the ship.
He looked at the monitor screen, calling up the engineering after-action reports on the display. No combat damage, not yet, which was something of a miracle, but the ship was already starting to show the strain of the repeated stresses to her systems. Amber lights on a lot of the power conduits, especially aft, by the engine manifolds, and cautionary warnings on life support, long-range communications, a dozen other critical systems. The ship had been brought out of mothballs far more rapidly than was wise, and there had never really been a chance to make good on that omission, to sit back for a couple of months with an engineering crew, rip the guts out of the ship and repair all the aging components.
Still, she was performing far better than he could have dared to hope, and he knew that they were as ready to face whatever they would find in the next system as they would ever be, the crew now increasingly expert at dealing with the limitations of the equipment they were forced to work with. The doors slid open, and he walked out onto the deck, a pair of technicians snapping to attention, saluting him as he approached.
Returning the salute, he asked, “How are you guys doing down here?”
“Raring to face the enemy, sir,” the senior of the two replied. Looking at the open inspection hatch on the wall, he added, “We’ll have this relay fixed in a few minutes. There won’t be any more trouble.”
“Sir,” the other one asked, nervously glancing at his superior, “How much longer will we be out here?”
“As long as it takes, Spaceman,” Scott replied. “You got dinner plans?”
“No, sir,” the red-faced man, barely more than a boy, replied, “I just…”
“Spaceman Cartwright is getting married when we get home, sir,” his supervisor offered. “They haven’t set a date yet, not with the war, but I know he’s getting a little anxious about it.” Turning to Cartwright, he added, “The Admiral knows what he’s doing, kid, and if we’re going to be out here for…”
“It won’t be much longer,” Scott interrupted. “The wormhole home is only going to be open for another week or so. We’ll be reaching our target tomorrow, late. With a little luck, we’ll be on our way home soon, and we’ll have one hell of a victory party waiting for us when we get back to Earth.” Clapping the young man on the shoulder, he said, “I expect an invitation to the wedding, Spaceman.”
“Of course, sir!” the young man replied.
“Good. Carry on.” With a nod to the supervisor, Scott walked away, heading down the corridor towards his destination, glancing back after a moment to look at the two technicians continuing their labors. He hated the idea of lying to anyone under his command. Perhaps it was an element of moral cowardice, but somehow he simply couldn’t bring himself to tell the boy that the odds of him getting back to his fiancée were remote at best. He should have known the odds when he signed up, knew that this was likely a one-way trip, but for someone of his age, the concept of death was a remote and distant thing, destined to happen to other people, not to him. All he had seen was that he would return home covered in glory. Not the bitter truth that he would likely end his days out here, a burned-out corpse in the twisted remnants of his ship, floating through eternity forever.
Scott paused, took a deep breath, and shook his head. He couldn’t afford thoughts like that. He couldn’t afford to slip into defeatism and despair, no matter how paradoxically comforting those thoughts might be. They still had a chance to win, and for the sake of billions of lives on Earth and across the galaxy, they had to find a way to beat the Exterminators. Or all of the sacrifices they and others like them had already made would have been for nothing.
The door slid open, and he walked into the lab to see an eager Bendix hovering over the sensor display, a trio of technicians working the controls at her direction, while an amused Belinsky looked on. The old man nodded at Scott as he walked into the room a smile on his face as he gestured at the monitor.
“Amazing, isn’t it,” he said.
“What am I looking at, Professor?” Scott asked.
“The product of ten million years of civilization. Almost every system we’ve detected has signs of intelligent life of one sort or another. Atmospheres that show evidence of deliberate modification, planets that could not possibly have formed in the orbits they now hold. Almost no gas giants, either, and the few we’ve seen were probably saved for purely aesthetic reasons.” At Scott’s puzzled frown, he added, “They’re an excellent source of raw materials, and aren’t usually inhabitable, though I suppose you could mount aerostats if you really wanted to.”
“How many advanced races have you seen, then?”
“More than two hundred, and we’ve only been looking for an hour. Conservatively, we’ll be able to treble that number before we reach our target. Admiral, this means that there might be hope for Commander Novak’s diplomatic solution after all. There might be something we can do to work out our salvation. Evidently it is quite possible to come to some sort of terms with the Exterminators.” Looking at the monitor again, he added, “Given what we’re seeing here, we might have to come up with another name for them, I suppose.”
“Are you sure you aren’t just looking at the Exterminators, Professor?”
“I doubt it very much, Admiral,” Bendix replied, glancing back at Scott. “All of the systems are different, different configurations, as though whoever worked on them had some separate goal in mind for each system. A few have worlds clustered in the habitable zone, all of them showing signs of terraforming. Others have Dyson swarms collecting all the energy of their star, with smaller space colonies scattered around, all linked in a latticework of power generation. One of them seems to have attempted a ringworld, though I can’t tell whether it’s in the process of construction or whether it failed and fell apart. Hard to tell at this range. We’d have to go and take a look.”
“That could just mean that the Exterminators are experimenting.” Scott paused, then asked, “What about wormholes? The local network…”
“That’s very interesting as well. The only focus point is what we assume to be the Exterminator home system. That’s the only system for a hundred light-years with more than two wormholes present. And all of the wormholes are at extraordinary distance from any habitable planets, billions of miles from the star. If the Exterminators built them to link the systems into a trading network, they’ve done a damned bad job of it, Admiral.” Shaking her head, she added, “There are hundreds of races that were sentient when the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth, close enough to touch.”
“I’m afraid we can’t, Doctor,” Scott replied. “Even if we didn’t have a military objective, we don’t have time to reach more than a couple before we lose our return window. Not much point gathering data that will revolutionize the thinking of humanity if we can’t ever tell anyone what we found.” Turning to Belinsky, he asked, “What about our target?”
“Well, they’ve got four planets in the habitable zone, all in the same orbit, perfectly balanced gravitationally. I don’t need to tell you the odds of that being artificial. There are another three with thick atmospheres, further out, and I suspect they’ve been tailored to be suitable for a different sort of sentient life. We’re looking at two long-lived races sharing the same system, probably the same culture, the same technology. Isn’t that astonishing? There’s plenty of evidence of spacefaring, but
no communications as we know it. I don’t know what they might use, but it’s obviously well ahead of us.” He paused, then added, “Something else. They’re ahead of the Exterminators. I’m pretty sure of that.”
“What makes you say…”
“They seem to have control of their star. It should be variable, but it isn’t. There’s enough Hawking radiation that they’re using black holes for power as well, and I’ve picked up fast laser lines linking the habitable worlds, probably transport links. Incredibly efficient designs, and as I said, a long, long way ahead of anything we have, as well as the Exterminators. With technology such as that, I’ve got to admit that I’m puzzled about the status quo.”
Nodding, Bendix added, “I can say the same about dozens of these races. I suspect that if they all managed to work together, they could probably have wiped out the Exterminators if they had chosen to do so. One or two of them could probably pull it off with an effort. I don’t understand it.” She paused, then added, “There are some dark systems as well, sir. No sign of intelligent life, today, but some signs that they might have been inhabited in the distant past.”
“Then they’ve done their work out here, as well,” Scott said, shaking his head. “I hate to make assumptions about an alien race, but I can’t understand why they would permit the destruction of their neighbors. We’d fight with everything we had, even if it was simply to prevent us becoming the next course on the menu.”
“Maybe, sir, but even so…” The ship shuddered, and Bendix asked, “What was that?”
“Damn good question, Doctor,” Scott replied, racing to a wall communicator. “What’s going on, Clyde?”
“I was just calling you, Admiral. We’ve increased speed. Massively. As though something is pulling us through the wormhole to the far end. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“How’s the hull?”
“That’s the other thing, sir. Whatever this force is, it’s being damned careful to push the superstructure to the limits, but not beyond them. As though they’ve managed to get a full readout on Leonidas’ technical specs.”
“Time to emergence?”
“Eight minutes, assuming nothing changes, sir. Our best guesses suggest that the enemy ship is being given a similar boost. I guess somebody is anxious to see us fight it out.”
“Battle stations, Clyde. I’m on my way.” Turning to Bendix, he added, “Store all your data, Doctor. I’m going to need everyone you’ve got to analyze the new system. Let’s not worry about places we can’t possibly reach at the expense of where we’re actually going.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied. Scott raced down the corridor, sirens wailing from every speaker as he charged towards the elevator. The doors slammed shut behind him, hurling him to the bridge, and he looked up at the monitor, watching as the departments rapidly registered their readiness for action. Most of them had barely had enough time for a short stand-down, and the brief respite he’d hoped to provide his crew before their return to battle was now out of the question. Though if they flew through as rapidly as he feared, it might all be a moot point in any case. One slip, and Leonidas would be destroyed, torn to shreds in the gravitic turbulence at the end of the wormhole.
He stepped out onto the bridge, Rochford gratefully yielding the command chair and returning to his station. Novak looked up from her console at his arrival, her face bleak. Scott turned to Cunningham, about to issue orders to the young helmsman, but the look of intense concentration on his face silenced him before he could speak. Cunningham knew what he was doing, and he knew what he had to do. Any orders Scott could give would only distract him at a critical moment. He settled down in his chair, forcing a reassuring smile to his face, and looked around at his command crew.
“Guess we’re not going to be waiting too long after all,” he said. “Novak, watch the field sensors. I want to know in a second if anything changes out there. See if you can get a look at our friend behind us. Rochford, you get to liaise with engineering. We won’t have long to make any repairs before we’re back in battle again.”
“On it, sir, but so far, so good.”
The countdown clock raced down, the seconds streaming away as the ship raced along the wormhole, Cunningham forced to make constant adjustments to the course, far worse than the bigger jump they’d made earlier, the acceleration uncertain, constantly changing. Almost before they quite realized it, they shot through the exit, returning to normal space. Cunningham took a deep, contented breath as he guided the ship into the new system, using as much of their speed as possible to throw the ship on a fast course towards the next wormhole, twenty million miles away. A good day’s flight, unless something else changed.
“Sensors aft,” Scott ordered. “Lieutenant Silva, I’m going to need everything you’ve got. Maybe we can get some good hits onto the bastard before he can clear the wormhole. Anything that slows him down.”
“Sir,” Novak said, “I’m getting something strange. Incoming objects, thousands of them, heading right for the wormhole. Estimated mass something on the order of ten million tons. I can’t see any equipment. As far as I can tell, megatons of debris just decided to get up and go by itself.” She paused, then added, “Magnetic fields are in flux, gravitic waves everywhere. Sensor interpretation doesn’t have any ideas at all.”
“Better tell them not to bother,” Rochford warned. “They’re just going to give themselves a headache. We’re watching hypertech in action, and I just hope whoever’s pushing the buttons is on our side.”
Scott looked at the trajectory plot, the image thrown onto the viewscreen for all to see, the systems struggling to cope with the sheer number of incoming targets travelling at constantly changing acceleration, as though ignoring their existence might allow the computers to manage the display with greater ease. At any second, the Exterminator ship would arrive, and as far as Scott could tell, their unseen allies had timed their move to perfection. Just as the enemy vessel passed through the wormhole, it collided with the first wave of debris, a ripple of explosions tearing and gutting the warship they had feared so much, the second wave finishing the job the first had begun.
“Signal, sir, all frequencies!” Chen said, as Scott watched the raging destruction on the screen.”
“Put it through, Lieutenant,” he ordered.
“We are the One,” a soft voice said. “And we have been expecting you.”
“That voice,” Novak said. “I know that voice.”
“Indeed, Commander,” the One replied. “You are not mad. Merely more aware of your surroundings than many others of your kind. Do not be afraid. We are your friends. We shall show you soon. Alter course five by ten, Ensign Cunningham, and prepare your docking ports for our arrival. We need to talk. Now.”
Chapter 15
It was like no shuttle Novak had ever seen, a ball of light that seemed to drift through space, barely under control, diving directly for the docking port. She stood at the airlock, Scott by her side, both of them with conspicuously empty holsters at their belt, demonstrating that they were unarmed. The familiar green light winked on, though without the usual signs of a hard dock, and the hatch slid open to reveal a strangely normal human figure walking towards them, wearing a pale-green jump suit.
“You were expecting a tentacled monster?” the figure asked.
“I’m not sure quite what we were expecting,” Novak replied. “This is Admiral Scott, commander of this ship.”
“Indeed,” the figure said. “I am well aware of the distinguished record of the good Admiral, as well as your own, Commander Novak. I’m afraid that your internal database is something of an open book to us, but I assure you that we will make no adverse use of our newly gained knowledge. We simply wish to gather information. That is our primary interest as a species, to understand both the universe, and what may lie beyond.”
“Forgive me for asking,” Scott began, “but your appearance…”
“Ahh,” the figure said. “This is a cloned replica o
f one of your people, designed according to the biodata we obtained from your database. Naturally, it was created with no intelligence, no mind, to allow our people to occupy it.” He paused, smiled, then added, “Call me Joe.”
“Why did you do this?”
“To put you at ease, and to allow for simpler communication. Understand that our people long ago abandoned what you would consider their corporeal form. It is difficult to explain, but perhaps it would be easiest for you to consider that our consciousness, our souls, if you wish, are the software, and we can use any hardware we wish. Some of my people occupy shells that are duplicates of the bodies we once possessed, others inhabit ships that roam through our space, or ride the networks of information from world to world. I will occupy this body for a time, while your people remain here.”
Novak glanced at Scott, and asked, “What can you tell us about the Exterminators?”
“Their story is not ours to tell, and we know little of the details, I fear. Only that they rule the bulk of the galaxy, maintaining their tyranny with their mighty warships, and that they permit no race to travel from star to star. We made it clear long ago that we wished such isolation, that we had no interest in physical exploration of the galaxy. Our minds, our instruments are more than able to tell us what we wish to know, what we need to know to satisfy our Prime Function.” He paused, then continued, “Think of it, perhaps, as a peace treaty, the terms of which the Exterminators have opted to violate. As a result, we feel free to intervene, at least to a degree.”
“With the weapons you possess,” Scott said, “you could easily take the fight to the Exterminators, defeat them forever. Their home system is but a single transit away. In a matter of hours…”
Shaking his head, Joe replied, “That is not our way, Admiral. We have no aggressive instinct. Our race grew on a world with few natural predators, and those we encountered faded into extinction as our civilization developed. The concept of war is strange to us, and we have no interests in territorial gain beyond our home system in any case. We are able to communicate with our local brethren through beams of force, and none we have encountered have shown any hostile desires, either towards us or the Exterminators.”
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