by Michael Kan
What for? Arendi asked. I thought it was clear.
The ensign nodded. Their job was to find the target and capture or kill, if necessary.
Yes, but you see, Red he wants to save her. He’s convinced she’s innocent. That the Endervars control her even now.
It was a repetition of what Red had said before. Only now there was sympathy. Arendi could hear it from the ensign, even as Justice wished to remain objective.
Whatever the case is, we have no confirmed lead, Arendi said. The next time Farcia strikes, she could appear anywhere. We’re still in the dark.
All they had was the general analysis and a detailed map outlining potential targets. It was based on the previous attacks, four of them on science facilities, another targeting an Alliance military base. But even with the analysis, the potential targets were many and spread out across the sector.
The ensign placed her hand under her chin. I may have something. Actually, he may have something, she said.
The ensign explained. It was the one thought that, while not hostile, she felt he had willfully suppressed during the exchange.
Red was reluctant. But he agrees: these attacks must stop.
What do you mean?
The ensign pointed back to the cell.
As you know, for a moment, Red came in contact with Farcia. Not only that, he actually glimpsed inside Farcia’s mind. So he know she knows where she might strike next.
Chapter 8
He didn’t have much to go on. Only the scattered memories in his mind, along with an impending sense of doom. But perhaps it would be enough. Escorted by the ensign, Red left his cell and walked down the brightly lit hallway. He then entered the new room, hearing the white door open to his presence.
This was different. This was the bridge. It was a circular area, one that was more open. He felt the light on him and then looked at the center. Next to the command console was the Sentinel. She stood by the controls, clad in her soft metal jacket, waiting. Behind her was a mirrored panel that curved along the steel wall. The ensign was beside him.
A green world, Red said, hurriedly trying to describe it. Highly populated. Definitely in Alliance space. Maybe a ring. Or something else in orbit.
He gestured with his hands, creating the circular motion with his fingers. Arendi listened.
Understood, she said, turning to the panel. Red noticed it flicker on, the screen becoming black as night.
The ship’s computer, Justice explained. It will process the request.
Out in front, at the main screen, the pool of black rippled; very soon the shadow was filled with a grid. He realized that it was a map of the stars. The detailed pictures were materializing into the light.
Then they heard a new voice.
Accessing query Naifei III. Distance: thirty-two light-years.
Red heard the computer drone on in its synthesized tone. He watched as the requested green world emerged.
Total population: approximately five billion. Home of the Varidacht race, and aligned with the Alliance. Also known as Nalfei Prime, the A-class planet is orbited by a pair of moons. Following the Endervar War, the system
Red raised his arm and opened his four-fingered hand, shaking it. No, he said. No
Something was off. Perhaps the moons were too large or the planetary ring, too soft. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t find it familiar.
Next one, the ensign said.
Accessing Sobal Anu. Distance 128 light-years. Total population: approximately 9.2 billion. Home of the Nori-Falken, and aligned with the Alliance. The central capital, Kiten, is a
No, he said. Not this one, either.
Seconds later, another world appeared and then another. Red shook his hand again and again. He looked at all the images and felt neither a match nor anything resembling the memory in his mind.
How many more are there? he asked.
Two hundred twenty-three, the ensign replied. Green world and highly populated are both very broad search terms.
Red stood there and sighed; he felt almost like a fool. He needed more information, beyond the generic. Rather than continue, he closed his eyes, trying to recall the alien memory. It was what he had learned from Farcia, the moment she had opened her mind. He was still laboring to piece it together. All of it was foreign, spanning histories and places of which he knew almost nothing. So much of it revolving around pain; he could barely think through it. He clenched his jaw, and held the side of his face. This isn’t working, he thought.
Unbeknownst to him, the Sentinel had a solution.
Isolate, she said. Same search parameters, but only in Arcenian space. Display most populated.
The computer complied.
Accessing the Arcenian home world: Vellanar. Distance 707 light-years. Total population: approximately eleven billion. Home of the Arcenians, and aligned with the Alliance. Vellanar is a
Wait, he said. Yes. Vellanar.
He looked up at the image. What came to him did seem familiar. A green world, orbited by three moons. Half the planet was in the sun, the other half in shadow. There, the cities were etched in fields of light. Then he saw the ring around the periphery. It was colossal, entirely man-made, and circling the planet in a barbed belt of machinery.
Red thought back to the memory. It was now less about the image and more about the sensation. The sensation that this was crucial.
Yes! he exclaimed. Vellanar. Farcia was thinking of this planet I’m not sure why. But it must be connected.
He glanced at the Sentinel woman and saw her slowly nod. She was also looking at the screen, and her eyes were just as intense.
But how did you know? Red asked.
Of the hundreds of worlds he could have examined, the Sentinel knew specifically where he should look. Arcenian space, she had said, almost certain it was important.
The two women looked at each other, silent. To them, Red was still a security risk.
Naturally, he was curious. His first instinct was to move beyond words and into the mind. But this time, Red refrained. It wouldn’t be polite to read the thoughts of the ensign. Nor was it right; he didn’t want to violate any trust.
In the end, the Sentinel spoke; the risk was worth taking. He was their best lead.
This is from our general analysis, she revealed. We’ve been examining Farcia’s past attacks, looking for the motive. Our latest analysis suggests that the Arcenian Empire may be the true target, although it’s still conjecture.
Before him, the map changed. It faded as the black pool rippled again to form a new image. Red saw what he thought was a face. It looked like stone. The skin, and even the eyes, were gray and hard, while the chin and snout were long and protruding. At the back of the head there seemed to be long whiskers, the hairs curled but unkempt. To Red, the alien seemed old.
Do you recognize this man? the Sentinel asked.
No, not at all.
This is G. Kozanis, from the Arcenian race, she said. Our best guess is that Farcia’s attacks may revolve around his work.
Who is he? Red asked.
A brilliant scientist, within the Alliance. During his three-hundred-year career, he was known for refining hyperspace technology and his breakthroughs in N-Wave tech.
Kozanis, however, is dead, the ensign added. He died over fifty years ago. But his work lived on through his colleagues.
Other images then appeared. More faces a few from the same race, but many more, not.
Eleven of his associates are now presumed dead, the Sentinel said. Killed off in explosions during the first four attacks. Do you recognize any of these people?
He walked up to the screen, carefully examining each face.
So far, it’s just conjecture, the Sentinel explained. But we think Farcia may be looking for something. Perhaps she’s trying to acquire technology.
Red then stood back, taking one last glance. Finally he shook his head. Ultimately, the faces were all forei
gn to him, though Farcia’s intent was not.
You’re right about one thing. She is looking for something. She almost has it. I just remember the planet. Vellanar something was there. Either on the planet or near it. She was just waiting maybe preparing for another attack.
He spoke every word uncertainly and slowly, as though he were delicately tiptoeing over a rope. But it was more than that. Lives were possibly on the line. The Arcenian home world was home to eleven billion of them.
You have to warn the planet, Red said. Even if I’m wrong something has to be done, just in case.
He was nervous. The sense of doom was not just his own. It had come from Farcia. The memories from her were tainted with it.
The Sentinel woman crossed her arms. Can you verify? she asked Justice.
The ensign had been quietly observing Red. He felt her mind delicately prick at his thoughts.
Yes, the ensign said. He’s telling the truth.
The Sentinel then released her arms. Good. Then it’s agreed.
Red felt his surroundings briefly sway. His weight was shifting. It was a gentle push, as though his body were ready to rise. The bridge or the ship was moving. He felt his body sink back into balance.
Dropping out of hyperspace, the Sentinel said. I’ll alert Alliance Command and advise that they send a fleet to Vellanar.
He saw that the woman did not manipulate any controls. She simply stood there, steadfast, interfacing with the vessel in her own remote way.
Justice, work with Red, she added. Try to see if he recognizes anything else from our analysis. We need to know what Farcia might be after.
Understood, the ensign replied.
In the meantime, I’ll plot a course for the Arcenian Empire.
In another few minutes, the ship would return to hyperspace, and Red’s body would sway again. But for now, he looked back at the screen, alarmed.
These were not just scientists. These were her intended victims.
Farcia, he said, what are you planning?
Red lingered on the question, afraid of the answer.
Chapter 9
It was born from death alone, lost, and utterly deviant. The structure was vast and hauntingly one of a kind. It stretched for miles. The metal and machine at times seemed endless. As always, the structure found refuge in shadow. Seeking the cold, it embraced the vacuum, wherever it might be. This was its nature: to strike from afar, away from the light and from any prying eyes.
Inside was more of the same. The domain was draped in shadow, and the surrounding darkness was deep. Oxygen and warmth were almost alien here; instead, every hallway was a near tomb. A labyrinth it was. A lair without soul. In truth, this was no place for the living. The machine masters had built it for themselves and no one else.
Nevertheless, here she was, at the core. Her face and eyes were just as black. Farcia screamed. The shrieks echoed through the central confines, tearing through the pocket of oxygenated air. Her cheeks chattered to her cries. The pain was almost too much to bear. She yelped and then clawed at her legs; her fingers scratched, clutching at her clothes.
No! she cried, cringing and twisting in her chair. Not yet.
The symptoms had grown worse in the last year. The headaches, the nausea, and the fatigue had all persisted. The illness came fast and slow, the bouts of agony, sporadic, either nipping away at her or knifing into her. It swelled again, a fire shooting through her body. Farcia muffled her sobs. She placed her bony hands on her face, wishing she could scratch it all away.
But no, all she possessed was this: the wretched body of a naïve woman. Letting the tears roll from her eyes, Farcia slowly rose from her seat. With all her will, she fortified herself and remembered why she was there. Farcia spoke to her companion. To the Enforcer.
Are you satisfied now? she asked, nearly staggering. We wait to strike
Breathing hard, Farcia stared into the darkness, clutching her sides. She had done the deed, orchestrating the movement.
Already, she had killed thousands. Now she needed to kill more.
From the shadows, her accomplice spoke the machine Enforcer never far. On this occasion, he came from the structure itself. The lifeless voice bellowed:
Yes. Our plan is in place.
She heard the fabricated words but was still impatient.
We cannot fail, she said, beseeching the Enforcer. If it truly exists, then we must have it.
Agreed. Target at Vellanar is confirmed and verified. However, caution is advised.
She glared at the darkness. The concern was festering in her eyes. In response, the Enforcer showed her the images, highlighting the danger. Briefly the shadow scattered. An excess of light had breached the room. It beamed in, the columns of blue and red splicing together and splashing out. Feeling the sting in her eyes, Farcia closed them before warily glancing at the sight. It was the latest report. The scans were taken from the Enforcer’s own surveillance probes. What she saw was a star system, along with an unexpected fleet. Farcia watched as the vessels arrived, jumping out of hyperspace. The Enforcer counted over twenty core vessels, backed by hundreds perhaps thousands of space-based drone fighters. Even worse, more were likely inbound.
The Alliance how? she asked.
But she already knew the answer.
Red, she thought, nearly choking on her breath.
Days ago, during the failed assault, he had been there, inside her mind. It was a moment of weakness and now a moment of regret. How much did he learn? Was it all a mistake? Reaching for her face, Farcia clawed at her cheek. With each scratch, the nails bit into her deadened flesh. As always, she felt the pain. But this time, she embraced it.
None of this matters. she murmured. We will not stop.
Flaring in rage, she opened her palm and imagined it. Her fingers were clenching and squeezing, wanting to crush the fleet now on its way.
No matter how many ships they send, it will not be enough.
Farcia wanted this. She wanted it more than ever.
From the shadows, the Enforcer watched, satisfied in his own way. Indeed, they were close. Their search was almost at an end.
Understood. Then we shall proceed.
No, Farcia replied. We’ll do more than that.
She went to her wrist. Along her left arm was the cybernetic sleeve. It hugged the skin tightly, translucent in its circuitry. The mixture of fabric and technology activated and responded to her command. Farcia clenched a fist, as the neon glow emerged from her arm, producing an image. It quickly flashed, beaming onto the floor and then into the air. Two figures materialized. A man and a woman, both familiar. For weeks now, she had been studying them, pouring over their classified records. Farcia knew their story well. All of this was because of them.
Our famed Sentinel will likely be there, she said. But we’ll be ready.
Gazing at the images, she walked, holding in her disdain. The woman on display was named Arendi Soldanas. The other was a well-decorated human pilot. She had met the Sentinel face-to-face only recently. But Farcia also knew the man well. Or at least something of him. Feeling the light, Farcia contorted her face. The dry gills at her cheeks cracked.
Captain Julian Nverson, she said with a rare, sinister laugh.
Taking a swipe, she waved her hand. The images shut off, and the gloom returned. The pain still blistered, aching in her neck and knees. But she very quickly remembered what she sought to do.
No more hiding, Farcia said. Before this is over, she’ll know my pain.
Chapter 10
Arendi agreed. There was nothing to like about this.
On the one hand, the threat of an attack seemed evident. All the data points suggested it. On the other hand, she had little definitive proof and no specific details. Not even the exact target. All she had was conjecture, along with the blurred suspicions of a captive telepath.
I know, Arendi said, speaking over the encrypted comm. But I need your help, Admi
ral. This is crucial.
She could see him now. The old commander placed his scaled face into his palm. He sat behind his desk and sighed. Puffs of steam were venting from his nostrils.
Savior, he said. These are not the tidings I thought you would bring.
The Arcenian loomed large behind the table, his eyes and face sharp and surrounded in ridge and bone. But the admiral spoke the words kindly, grinning behind his muscled hand.
Arendi didn’t know the admiral that well. They had only met a few times before, largely because of common friends. Back then, Admiral Onatagias was still the Alliance’s supreme commander, and, like Arendi, he had been there at the end of the Great War. Much had changed since then. The admiral had moved on, returning to his home world to lead the Arcenian military.
The old commander now spoke to her from his office on Vellanar, in the planet’s capital city. Normally he wouldn’t have taken such an impromptu meeting, but this was Arendi. Out of his deep respect, he had to.
Let’s say you’re right. That this Farcia does come. Is there any way to block her telepathy?
Arendi shook her head.
We’re not sure. The science teams are working on a solution. But at the moment, it would have to be applied individually and modified for each race.
Hmmm. Very impractical, I imagine. Especially, when we have no idea what she wants, or where she’ll strike.
That’s why I’m making this request. I need access to Arcenian military networks, even confidential ones. If I can take a look, maybe I can pinpoint what she’s after.
G. Kozanis, he replied, his chair creaking. The admiral leaned back, letting the name sink in. He hadn’t heard it in years.
Admiral, Arendi said, insistent. I know I’m asking for a lot. But the need is urgent, and I assure you and your government
No, no. I trust you. That was never a question, he said. But still even so, I’m not sure I can comply or secure such a thing, he said.
Arendi wasn’t surprised. This was a serious request arguably an outrageous one. Access meant she’d have a direct link to any confidential documents or state secrets kept in the empire’s networks. It didn’t help that the Arcenian government had taken a particularly hard line regarding access to sensitive data. Following the Ouryan Civil War, all military infrastructure had been reinforced and sectioned off from the galactic networks, including those operated by the Alliance.