A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  Nemo was silent for at least a minute, long enough to make Sato consider asking the question again before the alien answered. “I can’t really explain that.”

  “Try.”

  Nemo was again silent for even longer the second time. “Brains—Human brains in particular—are actually just overly complicated switchboards.”

  “Overly complicated?” Sato asked.

  “Yes, you don’t use half the connections your brain makes via neurons and you have triple or even quadruple redundancy in many cases. Some of those redundancies make sense to compensate for possible damage, yet there are too many!”

  Sato was amazed. In all the years he’d known the Wrogul, this was the first time he’d ever detected a possible emotion; Nemo appeared frustrated.

  “That confuses you?” Sato asked.

  “It perplexes me,” Nemo corrected. “Brains have always been a favorite organ of mine. They are infinitely creative in how they work. Take the mixed elemental function of a Depik brain with what they call quintessence. I’d very much like to get another look at one of their brains…” Nemo seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment—which was ironic—then he continued, “or the Tortantulas. Their females’ brains are organized on almost a quantum structure! So organized, so…incredibly powerful! And yet, they’re systematically underutilized, like using a starship fusion reactor to warm your lunch. I wish I could have the chance to examine a male; I bet that might answer a lot about why the females are that way.”

  “You were talking about uploading a consciousness?” Sato prodded.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Well, you see, your brains are efficient machines, as best as they are capable with their design, yet machines they all are. Those neuron connections are detectable.”

  “And?” Sato persisted.

  “Don’t you understand? I worked on Corporal Rick Culper’s brain to assist with his injury.” One of Nemo’s tentacles wiggled out of the tank and reached over to the cylinder. Inside, the vine-wrapped body took no notice, even though its eyes were open. Nemo’s tentacle pointed at the face, and Sato could see a pale line of scar tissue. “That wound caused considerable damage to the brain, and I was trying to map it in order to fix some or all of those effects. That’s how.”

  “I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” Sato said. “How can you remake that person after you examined him?”

  “I can’t,” Nemo said frustratingly, “but the Bregalad can. I kept some small samples of Corporal Rick Culper.”

  “Did he know you did that?”

  “No,” Nemo said, not realizing this was a problem. “I did it internally.”

  “You what?”

  “I kept a sample internally, in my J’kk’pfz.” The colors of Nemo’s pulsing communications luminescence were particularly odd as he said the last word.

  Sato checked the translation, there wasn’t one. He assumed it must be a piece of medical equipment unique to the Wrogul. “Where is the J’kk’pfz?” he asked.

  Another of the Wrogul’s tentacles touched his large central body. Sato’s eyes bugged out. “Are you saying this J’kk’pfz is part of your body?”

  “Yes,” Nemo agreed.

  “So, you…ate…part of Rick Culper and kept it inside you?” Sato’s level of horror was quickly approaching Eko Azarak levels.

  “That’s a crude analogy,” Nemo complained. “I didn’t consume parts of the Human marine. I stored them as a byproduct and for future encoding.”

  “Did you say encoding?”

  “That’s probably the result of the translator,” Nemo said. “Closer might be to suggest memorizing? Plus, I copied the entire internal construction of the brain’s neural pathways.”

  “You mean you have his essence, his soul?”

  “We do not ascribe to this idea of a transcendent entity that lives outside your body after death,” Nemo said, and the tentacle indicated the tube again. “I will be able to demonstrate that shortly.”

  Sato was about to tell Nemo that was a bad idea when his Achilles Heel kicked in—curiosity. He wanted to know if Nemo was right. Could the Wrogul recreate Rick Culper by uploading all the details of his brain’s neural processes? “Why haven’t you tried yet?” Sato asked.

  “Your neural pathways are numerous. Something in the order of 1 times 10 to the 15th.”

  “That’s a lot. So, it would take you years?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Nemo said, “about two weeks. In the meantime, the Bregalad have continued to produce extra neural copies for redundant research.”

  Extra copies, Sato thought, then he returned to the uploading idea. “When are you going to start?” Sato asked, now eager to see the results.

  “I already have,” Nemo explained, “sixty-seven hours ago.”

  Sato looked at the nearest Rick Culper. I guess that’s why it opened its eyes, he thought. Sato looked back at the former marine floating in the tank. One of the Bregalad’s vines moved to a new area and an infinitely small amount of flesh began to appear on an incomplete ear. It was both fascinating and horrifying at the same time. A memory tickled at the back of his head, and he jerked slightly. “Oh, yes, I need help with something. Can you spare time from this?”

  “For you, of course. What is it?”

  Sato took out a computer chip and held it up. One of Nemo’s robotic arms plucked it and inserted it into a reader on his mobility platform. It only took the alien a moment to analyze it.

  “Oh, interesting,” Nemo said. “This is a radically different design than previous pinplants.”

  “Yes,” Sato agreed, “and I need it to access my cognitive centers.”

  “Fascinating challenge,” Nemo said. “Where did you get this idea?”

  Sato laughed and then fell silent. He screwed up his face as he thought. “You know what?” he said. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  * * *

  Tunnels, Underdeep, Paradise

  Walker’s first indication they’d arrived at the breakthrough was when the boy he was following turned a corner, screamed, and ran back toward him. Walker let the boy go past, then eased around the corner. His blood ran cold. Down the passageway was a large cavern that held a variety of machinery used to circulate the air around the caverns. It also held the second largest concentration of Goka he’d ever seen, and more continued to drop from an overhead vent.

  He pulled back and turned to DuBois. “The cavern down the passageway. Are there any other entrances to it?”

  “No, that’s it,” she said.

  He eased a camera around the corner then immediately jumped back and armed a K-bomb. “Good,” he said. “Then all we have to do is hold them here.”

  “Do you think we can?” she asked.

  Walker threw the oversized grenade around the corner.

  “Hold them?” he asked. “Not a chance in hell.”

  * * *

  Golara Command Center, Golara System

  “Hey, Ruiz!”

  The tech looked up the central spire from the charge he was placing. Major Greenville waved from the next level up.

  “Time to go,” the major said. “The Merc Guild is here.”

  Sergeant Ruiz nodded as he connected the last wire. “On my way, sir.”

  The major’s head disappeared, and Ruiz mounted the control box to the adhesive he’d spread on the spar, careful not to get snagged on the wires trailing down to the warhead one level below his feet. He smiled as he pushed off toward the open panel where the major had just been. The Golara Command Center had soaked up a lot of damage when the Humans had taken it. Although they’d made repairs, the station’s spin had never been quite the same—one of the arms was slightly out of calibration. While you couldn’t tell it from the outside, he could hear the groaning here, where all the main structural members met. The song of the metal straining at its limits had worried him the first time he’d come through to check on the station’s integrity; now it just made him smile.

  This was going to
be easy.

  He slid through the panel and pushed off again down the passageway. He definitely didn’t want to get left behind here.

  * * *

  MGS New Era, Emergence Point, Golara System

  “Emergence in the Golara System,” the Bakulu navigator said, looking at his console. “Frigates are detaching.”

  “The fleet is accounted for,” the sensor operator added. “Some minor repositioning is underway, but most ships are close to their intended positions.”

  “What about the enemy?” Admiral Galantrooka asked. “Get the drones into space. I want to know where the Humans are, now!” He looked at the tactical Tri-V. He could see all the shipyard facilities filling in, however, there were no icons indicating the presence of Human ships. With all of the space docks and other shipbuilding structures in orbit around Golara, though, there were a lot of places for the Humans to hide.

  “I am searching for them, Admiral,” the sensor operator replied, “but I am not currently finding any near the emergence point. I am expanding my search.”

  All three of the admiral’s eyestalks were out as he scanned the Tri-V screens in his quest for answers. It didn’t make sense for the Humans to not be waiting for his fleet—they had to know the Merc Guild would send a force to reclaim Golara, and he had expected to be attacked upon entering the system while his ships were in disarray. Allowing them to get situated and in position was…sloppy, and he hated sloppy tactics. Still, he hated death and losing his forces more, so if the Humans were going to allow him to prepare his forces, he would do so.

  He wasn’t particularly worried. The Humans weren’t known to have battleships. Even if they’d captured the two battleships which were under construction in the system’s shipyards, they still wouldn’t be able to crew them or operate them effectively. He had two additional battleships under his command, as well as a plethora of cruisers, destroyers, and other supporting ships.

  He also had his command ship, the Mercenary Guild Ship New Era. The first of its kind, it had been built for the Merc Guild under Peepo’s orders. It was meant to be the flagship of the Guild, the rock on which future Merc Guild fleets would be based. It was aptly named, as it ushered in a new era in space warfare, and it would crush any foes foolish enough to try to stand against it in battle. Well over two million tons—closer to 2.5 million tons—the dreadnought was the largest warship in existence.

  It was also the best armed, with four 10-terawatt particle accelerators, eight 5-terawatt particle accelerators, and sixteen that were rated at 1-terawatt. The New Era also sported 128 missile launchers and an array of 256 40-megawatt, close-in defensive lasers, that could also be used offensively, if needed, as well as a complement of frigates carried the way most battleships carried gunships. It was a ship made for one thing only: the complete and utter reduction of enemy fleets and planets. While it would be effective at showing the Mercenary Guild flag and influencing races to do as the Guild suggested, it had been built—secretly—to do what he was brought to Golara for: to crush Humanity’s rebellion and destroy any planets that couldn’t be brought into line.

  He was just killing time here while waiting for information on the location of the Winged Hussar’s hidden base. Once that was found, he would destroy it and end their rebellion. His eyestalks vibrated in excitement at the thought.

  “Contact!” the sensor operator called. “I have contact with the Humans!”

  “Calm yourself!” the admiral admonished. If there was anything wrong with the ship, it was that with all the new personnel, some of the crew weren’t quite as seasoned as he would have liked. “Give me a correct report!”

  “Sir, I have contact with the Human forces,” the sensor operator replied, calmer now. “There are two shuttles leaving the command center at a great rate of speed.”

  The admiral chuckled. “Two shuttles aren’t worth even warming up the close-in lasers to destroy. Where are the shuttles heading?”

  “They are heading toward the stargate.”

  “No, they aren’t,” the admiral replied. When it looked like the sensor operator would say something else, the admiral held up a tentacle to stop him. “Shuttles can’t go through the stargate; they are headed to a ship. Focus your sensors between the shuttles and the stargate; you will find them there.”

  “I have them,” the sensor operator replied a few moments later. “The makeup of their fleet is strange. There is a battlecruiser, a frigate, and something in-between the two. The third ship appears bigger than a cruiser, but not quite a battlecruiser. There are also three smaller corvettes. They just lit their fusion torches and are moving toward the stargate.”

  “Pass me the data on the ship you can’t identify.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sensor operator said, and the information appeared on one of the tactical Tri-V screens.

  “Interesting…” the admiral noted. “It appears they have an old Izlian heavy cruiser, although where they might have found that old piece of junk is beyond me. An interesting question, but ultimately irrelevant. Full speed ahead. We will send it back to the scrap heap they pulled it out of.”

  “Sir!” the sensor operator said. “I am picking up explosions across the entire shipyard. It looks like a number of nuclear detonations on the major facilities. I see at least three explosions on Space Docks 17 and 22, and one explosion at each of the others. There are several more at the main command center. The station is—sir, it looks like the station is tearing itself apart.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Admiral Galantrooka said. “As long as the Humans have held this system, I would have expected nothing else. In fact, I would have done similarly.”

  “The shuttles have arrived at their fleet, and they are boosting toward the stargate.”

  “That is also not surprising. I wouldn’t want to face our fleet, much less with that pitiful group of escorts.” The admiral looked at the tactical screen for a moment, then said, “SitCon, send a cutter back to Earth informing General Peepo that the Humans’ main fleet wasn’t here when we arrived. The ships that were here left after destroying all the major facilities, including the command center and the battleship docks. We will inventory the destruction and then report back to her on Earth, but it appears the Humans have ceded the shipyard to us.” He chuckled. “Well, the remains of it, anyway.”

  As the SitCon carried out his orders, the admiral studied the strategic Tri-V showing all the systems in their area of the galactic arm. He hadn’t really expected the Humans to fight against the main guild fleet here, although he’d hoped to at least catch and destroy some of their ships before the rest could flee. He expected they were trying to recapture some of their systems, for what little good it would do them.

  Ultimately, they would have to face him. He didn’t care whether that was in their home system, at the Hussars hidden base, or at some other system. Sooner or later, he would find them and eradicate them. Peepo seemed to think she would have the location of the Hussars’ base soon. He experienced a warm glow at the thought.

  Although the Humans weren’t here, he would use this time to prepare so his crew would be ready when he finally caught up with them.

  “All ships, set formation Claw-7,” the admiral ordered. “Execute.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  One Kilometer West of Manaus, Main Continent, Chislaa

  The leader of the Baby MinSha waved his spear in the direction the Human male was being led off.

  “Bad beings come,” the alien said. “Carrying death.”

  “He said that before,” Mun noted.

  “Yeah, but we thought he was talking about the HecSha…” Sansar replied. “What if he was talking about us—about Humans—coming, bringing death.”

  “Well, the city guy certainly didn’t look like he had any good words to say about them, and he was about to shoot them before we stopped him. Do you suppose there’s been a war going on here between the colonists and the aliens?”

  “It looks l
ike it,” Sansar said. She got down on a knee in front of the alien leader. “We are sorry if there have been problems between your people and his. We can help make things better between you.”

  The leader leveled his spear. “Make better?” he asked. “How? Are the gods coming back?”

  Sansar toggled her canopy open.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Mun asked, as it started moving. “They obviously have some issues with Humans.”

  “I hope so,” Sansar said. “We need them to trust us. Still, it would be nice if you’d step a little closer so you can stop him if he tries to spit me on that spear of his.”

  As the canopy opened, the aliens jumped back, forming a circle with their backs together in a defensive formation, leveling their spears at the CASPers.

  “You!” the leader exclaimed. “Bad man!”

  “No,” Sansar said, climbing down from the cockpit, but transmitting through the CASPer so she could use the suit’s translation program. She began a background download of the MinSha language to her pinplants. “We are not bad, and we want to help your people.”

  “Not need help,” the leader said. “Gods will come from skies. Gods come before to help. They will come again and help us drive bad people away.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sansar said, noticing the translation was improving the more the aliens talked. “But there aren’t any gods who will come and help you. We will help you, though; we will stop the people in the city from killing you anymore.”

  “There are gods!” the leader said emphatically. “The grzch says so. They came and made us rulers.”

  “Did you catch that word?” Mun asked. “Who says so?”

  “No,” Sansar said, turning to Mun’s CASPer. “That word must not have been translatable.” She looked back to the alien leader. “Who says that the gods came?”

  “The grzch. Once, there were merksht. Then the gods came and helped us fight them. They made new homes for us. When they left, they took many people to the skies with them. They promised to come back to take the rest of us to the afterlife. We wait for them.”