Solcom strategic planners don’t strike me as being stupid. So, what’s the deal, Grandad? Those were my exact words. I asked my question in a relatively calm, inside voice, exasperated as I was by that time.
Grandad’s... Tee’s... whatever. His sincere initial response bade me to sit down, smile, and gesture for an emitter ray, that I might take copious notes.
Tee smiled. “Well, we now have a much faster ship, of course.”
“Do go on, please.”
“There were a lot of wrecked Empire dreadnaughts after the battles near Oort Base during the last invasion. Who knew what we might find? Look! That might be part of a matter/antimatter generator. What’s that over there? Could it be a matter/antimatter containment field housing, half full of fuel? Put them together and you have the makings of a whole lot of horsepower.
“We still can’t manufacture enough antimatter to make a matter/antimatter propulsion system to replace our fusion drives. But, a rudimentary matter/ antimatter generator, with half a tank of super fuel, fitted to one of our quantum warp engines, that could be useful. At least for one very important operation.
“A little of this and a little of that. Behold. A gate-ship. A matter/antimatter quantum warp field engine fitted to a complete teleportation gate. The warp anomaly should reach close to FTL-20. Soon, the gate-ship will cross the new portal gate bridge, from Oort to Cygnus Minor. They’re calling the gates Venom. From there, the gate-ship will move out at full speed to Cygnus Prime, about a nine-day cruise. The science guys say there is plenty of fuel to make the trip.”
That was certainly jaw-dropping news. “Won’t the Primers see it coming and blast it to atomic bits?”
Tee shook his head. “Not really. Even at that speed, sure, they’ll see it as it passes one defense base or another. And they’ll radio ahead. But the ship will reach Cygnus Prime 20 times faster than their warnings.”
I knew that, of course. “I’m thinking more along the line of their repeater-ring comms. Their warning will jump through those little portals all the way to Prime, almost immediately.”
Grandad was all smiles. “Nope. We know all about their repeater-ring signals.”
That’s right. “Oh, right. That scary warp anomaly detected near Saturn, the one we thought was the secret gate that would seal our doom. It was only a communication repeater gate. We can track repeater signals and I bet the Port Tech Brigade is just itching to blast them to smithereens.”
A smile and a nod from Grandad. “Yup. Once Venom Gate is completed, we start a 9-day countdown to the beginning of the end for the evil Empire via operations Viper and Goodnight.”
Chapter Four
OF FRIENDS AND ENEMIES
Tee is preparing to interrogate the highest-level Prime officer taken prisoner during the throne room assault on Kreahaam-In. It’s May 29th. I’ve been allowed to observe. Sitting in front of me are several SID
Tee has a look of deep concentration as he moves close to touch the prisoner. Now he looks confused. He can’t get through. The Empire commander must have a means to block the delving process. Tee’s BID is linked to a vid-grid, allowing him to push out what he’s getting through the delve.
The Primer sent a coherent thought: “Insignificant human. You act above your estate, to think you might interrogate a Citizen of Prime. Yes, your choice of the term Prime is an accurate designation for my people. Your people are inferior in every way, and will be eradicated. We will keep only a few of your kind alive, to serve as those who clean our footwear with your filthy tongues. You, personally, will in this way pay for your insolence. So it is said, so it will be done.”
Oh, my. Tee is about to backhand the commander. A guard has managed to grab his arm. Now two military guards are holding him back. It must be an act, though. Two men wouldn’t be able to hold him back. It must be an act, like one of those old TV shows, a game of good-cop, bad-cop.
“Let’s try this again,” said Tee.
He then grabbed the commander by his shirt and hauled him up, chair and all, to reposition him near a machine that looks like a fancy encephalogram. A doctor stepped up to place a helmet on the prisoner, with an attached set of goggles. She’s checked a monitor and is nodding to Tee.
I don’t know anything about the machine, but Communal is looking on through my Ivees. He says the device will map the various control regions of the Primer’s brain, probably as a means to amplify the delving process. There shouldn’t be much pain, but I’m not so sure, watching the way the commander is gripping the chair. Bright pulses of light can be seen on the edges of the goggles.
Several... I don’t know... discs, are moving around the outside of the helmet. Communal says those will settle over particular regions of the captive’s brain, and thin probe wires will drill in and set. And it looks like the discs have settled. Tee has donned another helmet and is connecting directly with a thick cable. I’m not sure why a physical interface is being used.
The Prime commander is starting to sweat, and looks... ill.
He sounds... astonished. “You son of a wassel. Stop what you are doing. I demand it! Stop now, or you will die a thousand deaths. Out of my head! Stop. You can-not be allowed to know these things.”
Tee is up, grabbing for the commander’s head even as it snaps hard to the left. The man shouts something, and dies.
***
+ TIMELINE DROP.
Note from Viz. The Drop object is an interrogation of a Prime Kreahaam System commander. The information was gathered from Stellar Intelligence Division collections of Primer documents, recorded encounters between Primers of interest, and surveillance of Dahkoreen operatives. The SID finds it very helpful that all Prime operatives must wear a passive recording device at all times. It helps to know Spatial Anomaly Recognition Systems are now able to pierce the veil of Nahaash’ereem cloaking devices and detect low aspect teleportation fields in real time, or when reviewing scans and recordings initiated through level 5 and higher quputer database systems.
Morg thumbed his “needle” as he watched the interrogation. He knew the commander well. If this scum managed to break him, Morg was certain the commander would do what was necessary. Still, the commander had direct knowledge of a good deal of actionable information. Morg would keep the needle at hand as a precaution. He smiled as he watched the death of the commander from the observation room. Then he ported to his tinkering room on Cygnus Prime. No one was ever allowed in his tinkering room.
Morg updated his file with all the information he had collected regarding this human invasion nonsense. He had developed as much intelligence about their ridiculous plans as could be managed. Such audacity, and from a backward band of an inferior race no less; little more than tavern brawlers. He had gathered the information required of him and safeguarded any potential breach in security, which in this situation meant he had made sure the commander died before he gave over any secrets. Morg would soon be able to approach his handler at Prime Command.
They would not like hearing of how quickly and deliberately the humans had dealt with Kreahaam and the Imperial fortress. This delving operation was certainly interesting. He would include that in his report. These humans, he had to admit, did bewilder one at times. Morg decided he would let his mind settle before he went inside. He was pleased that the humans had settled on Cygnus Prime for the name of his world. He genuinely liked the name and even the sound of it as it rolled off their tongues. He understood prime meant chief, central, foremost.
That definition was not too far from the meaning behind the actual name of his glorious people, the Dahkoreen, those-who-are-superior. He smiled at that. True, the humans had a slightly different meaning in mind, an alternative meaning, when they used the term Prime and Primer. The time would come when they understood the term in the correct sense. Ev
en so, perhaps using the term Prime was in line with the concept put forth by their quite interesting philosopher, a Freudian slip. Morg was fascinated by Freud. But his favorite was Jung.
He left his special room, moved to the front of his house, and stepped lightly into his home. Honey, I’m home early.
END TIMELINE DROP. +
***
The doctor is working at a nearby console, apparently a medical station, as a defibrillator jolt courses through the enemy commander. Again. Next, a shot of something injected directly... in the Primer’s heart.
Nothing was working, causing her to glance nervously at Tee. “The amplifier shouldn’t be able to do that.”
Tee patted the doctor’s arm. “No. Not the amplifier. I saw. Just not in time. He had an imbedded suicide device.”
The doctor still looks concerned. “The commander was fitted with a full suite of probes, for the examination. We scanned for implants. I’ll conduct the autopsy personally. And be very... thorough.”
I gathered my things and left the viewing room, the feeling of disappointment weighing me down. Tee wanted to cheer me up, but only managed to get me half-way out of my doldrums before he had to run for yet another meeting. He hoped there would be some time in the morning to have breakfast or something. Shockwave has the rest of the day off. What’s left of it. So tired... this planet is so... gloomy.
***
SURPRISE
Shockwave is gathering outside Tee’s office tent for news of an upcoming meet and greet with a person of interest that Scotty met just yesterday. Scotty must not have stayed very long on Kreahaam-In. It’s May 30th. We’re going to meet Scotty and his new friend at a Kreahaam pub, of all places. We’re supposed to get there at 1:00. Most of the team went out on a morning exploration of the area, while I wasted my time trying to sleep. Rest is hard to find on this eerie planet.
It reminds me of our time on Io, when we were preparing to attack the bugs at Darkside Base. Jupiter seemed to loom over us, like the Kreahaam red dwarf star is looming over us here. The light is dim all the time, even though the planet is so close to its star. I can see stars, and several of the neighboring planets, even though it’s technically daytime. The planets are large enough to make out some murky details, rather than just having the appearance of a wandering star. It’s beautiful in its own way. And at least it doesn’t smell like Sulphur here, like on Ahaam.
Here come the guys now, and it looks like the pub is close enough for a stroll.
It’s the third day of cheering crowds marching in support of the change in government. I feel safe, even though the queen pheromone blocker has only had a couple days of influence. It’s been only 150 years since those of Kreahaam revolted against queen domination, provoking their overlords to relocate them to this new star system at the edge of Empire space. The timing of our invasion was perfect, the psyops guys doing a good job of sowing the seeds now sprouting in this historic time.
Shops of every kind line the street, the buildings made of stone and block, often intermixed with a substance similar to concrete. They’re seldom more than 2 or 3 stories tall, with much of the building underground. There’s an ornate metal sign, The Queen’s Health. Well, the building is close to the palace. The pub is on the top floor, with a steep switchback ramp leading the way. The main room has a few locals working on their lunch. There’s another more private room, but the walls are too thick to take a look without a deep scan.
Here comes an older bug gentleman to escort us to a large slab of cut stone supported by stone columns. Bugs don’t use chairs. We’re attracting some attention now. Bugs, with their shifting colors and almost human expressions, are easy to read. These seem friendly. Curious. A touch of wariness. I’m sure they have no interest in trading one form of despotic government for another. Thankfully, there was no need for the invasion to go beyond Phase One, with surgical strikes, damage limited to royalty and their attendants. Few in the general population lost a friend or relative.
Tee is chatting with the proprietor, wondering about the music in the background. That brings a burst of excitement from the gentleman as he confesses his good fortune at getting his claws on a few volumes, and a basic pid-player. Then he dips in low to share his secret, that it was a very kind human soldier who was willing to take gold coin in trade. He looked at us closely, then, and asked if we might have some music, or something else to trade? We don’t. No matter. It is good enough that we are here.
He’s apparently been doling out an occasional Earth tune since yesterday, adding to the delight of his customers, and his volume of business. This song sounds decidedly Country.
“I felt lost and forgotten, she was at her wits end.
All alone in the darkness, it was Covid times ten.
Now! When the rain started falling, she had nowhere to run.
Here! Share my Repeller, and our hearts beat as one.”
Our resourceful boss found some local coin and has ordered some ale and nuts that he thinks are similar to what he’s tried in Kreahaamtowne on Earth. The gentleman is bobbing his head up and down, the palms of his feeler-hands pressed against his forehead. He won’t accept our money; insists we can have anything we want, compliments of the establishment.
Here’s something odd. Someone just came in who isn’t human or of Kreahaam. His looks remind me of Steve. Just a touch of canine, but no snout. Maybe it’s the ears. I don’t know. Similar, with only a few subtle differences. Maybe from some remote section of Turkskee? I’m sure it’s not too unusual to have offworlders on Kreahaam, doing the Empire’s bidding in one way or another. Solcom isn’t focusing on any people-groups other than Empire citizens or known sympathizers. He looks to be waiting for someone, though his eyes keep wandering our way.
And here’s Scotty, rounding the rampway and giving us his wonderful bug smile. But he’s moving off... toward the guy from Turkskee. A quick exchange of words, and they’re coming this way. That will be the person we’re supposed to meet.
Now there’s an odd whistling sound... coming from the bugs in the room. It’s not a sound I’ve heard before, nor has any in our group. We jump to our feet and spread out, hands on sidearms. There are bugs coming in from every doorway, gathering around Scotty. Bugs are suddenly everywhere, streaming toward Scotty. Most are coming from the kitchen area. Even the guy from Turkskee is reaching for a heavy mug to use as a weapon, ineffective as it would be against bug plating.
Tee has his arms spread out, shouting for us to hold. I see it too. The colors of their plating tell the tale. The whistling has stopped, giving over to shouts of admiration. It’s a celebration! Scotty and his messages of freedom have been broadcasting continuously for a couple of days now; a marketing blitz giving a bug face to the overthrow of the queens.
I had an opportunity to talk with one of the psyops strategists on a shuttle flight a few weeks ago. She expressed her confidence that her group had a handle on alien psychology, able to use the knowledge to exploit the aliens we’ve come across thus far. And she was certain we could readily manipulate their perceptions. The bug psychological database is... extensive.
It surprised me, when I mentioned the Colors of Ahaam, that she had no knowledge. With bugs, you just have to see through to their true colors. That’s really the meaning of the Colors of Ahaam. Bugs don’t lie. Except for queens and the unfortunates hopped up on berserker drugs. Other than that, bugs can’t help but display their true colors. Too bad it’s not like that with people. We should let others... see us.
Anyway, Scotty has managed to calm the crowd and drag his new friend over to meet us. “Dear friends, one and all, meet me new friend Rooofaxxxct, from Jaaaxiimin. It tis sure, that I am, ya will be happy to make his acquaintance. Ahhh, and ya will probably be callin him Rufus ta boot. He does speak Prime, just so ya know.”
“Thanks, Scotty,” said Tee as he set his pid on the table, selecting English-to-Prime.
Tee looked around at us, then made a decision, asking us to enable our hol
o-pins. We all have simple greeting holos. Mine just says: Hi! I’m Viz.
Para’s is a little... different, and with fancy scrollwork: Hi there! I’m so glad to meet you. My name is Para. What’s yours? How are you doing today?
So much for formal introductions, at least as far as I’m concerned. “It’s good to meet you, Rufus. I don’t mean to be abrupt, but Scotty says you have something important to discuss with us.”
Rufus seems a little nervous. Tee is smiling, no teeth showing, not knowing if that might be taken as a sign of aggression. He noticed the canine resemblance to no doubt. Well, not canine, exactly. Oh, I don’t know. Rufus is just standing there.
Tee thinks Rufus might need a little push. “Rufus, please tell us why you wanted to speak with us.”
That greased the wheels. “Yes. I apologize. This has been a lot to take in. Thank you, Tee. I am impressed with what I have witnessed of your invasion. You humans are an amazing race. I am a member of a group that is seeking to bring an end to the Empire. The people of Dahkoreen, Cygnus Prime, have not always been as you see them today. There was a time, long ago, when my people, the Karrin, were in alliance with Dahkoreen, working together for the common good.
“That was a wonderful time for our peoples. It has been many years, perhaps 2,000 of your years, a bit more. The Dahnahaash, made themselves known to the Dahkoreen. They supplied new technologies and terrifying weapons. You have faced their weapons, though I must tell you, the ancient weapons were 100 time more powerful. We do not know why the Dahnahaash have limited the Dahkoreen. Yet, that is the only explanation. It accounts for many things. Even so, our resistance has done little to slow their growing empire.”
Tee seems a little cautious. “Yes, we know a good deal about active resistance groups operating against Cygnus Prime. We also know of the Karrin. How did your people come to be on Jasmin?”
There seems to be a subtle sparing match going on here, as in why have you come to Kreahaam instead of using normal Resistance channels of communication.
Invasion: Journal Three (Shockwave Book 3) Page 23