The Star Gate

by Dean C. Moore

  “Yes, sir.” You keep calling me “little girl” and you’ll see how much attitude I have to throw your way, she thought. But that was Patent for you, always looking to rankle you in just the right way.

  “How the hell did she get out there so fast?” Ariel asked.

  “Jumped out the portal of her private chamber.”

  “Like I said, bad ass.”

  Patent grunted. “We shouldn’t be using the queen on the chessboard like she was a damn pawn. No telling what’s going on with that star gate; we have absolutely no intel to go on. I don’t approve, not one bit. You hear me, Cassandra! God damn you!” He bellowed out the last part at the top of his lungs.

  ***

  LANEY’S LAB ABOARD THE NAUTILUS

  Laney looked up from her research at Leon staring out the viewport. He was leaning against the metal-glass with his hands as if he’d just finished running a marathon, and he needed it to hold him up. Of course, there were plenty more realistic reasons he could have come up short of air right now.

  “You forgot you came to pay me a visit?” she said, chiding him playfully.

  He grunted. “Fate seems determined to come between us.”

  “We’re a long way from figuring out how to activate that thing. First things first. Come over here and I’ll show you what you really need to be worried about.”

  ***

  Leon finally peeled himself away from the viewport, taking a step back from the metal-glass, if still not able to turn away from the vista entirely. He already had an idea what powered that portal. Five pulsars imploding at the same time, and strategically positioned in the heavens so as to direct the laser beams escaping the freshly forming black holes with the collapse of the suns straight at the five tips of the pentagram surrounding the portal. It was weird how the image popped into his head. It also suggested why the gate hadn’t been used up until now. Such a cosmic alignment couldn’t happen too often. Hell, for it to happen at all, suggested that the suns had been farmed, seeded in place in the heavens and nurtured in such a way to come to fruition at the same time—and therefore to implode in sync; or perhaps in sequence if they were different distances from the star gate—so that the laser beams they emitted on imploding could strike the star gate at the same moment. If Leon’s flash of intuition regarding how the star gate out the port worked were at all correct, it didn’t bode well for a return trip for anyone going from this side to the next.

  Such cosmic-scale sun-farming would have required a civilization capable of geoengineering at a level that boggled the mind. Some scientists had already argued that nothing short of such a feat could explain Earth’s own existence. Its moon, apparently, was required for life on earth—but it had to be the right size and the right distance away, its orbit just so. And for the Earth to have survived being bashed to oblivion like the moon, over billions of years, it required not just the moon as a shield, but the super-sized planets of the outer solar system to act as catchers mitts. And what were the odds all the elements would be in place to beat the odds?

  Was this quest they were on as much about finding out their own origins and the people who ensured they’d survive this long, as it was about finding out how to stop the one force that no amount of solar-system engineering was going to shield them from?

  But why should Leon’s vision mean anything? He wasn’t the psychic. Yeah, in battle, his intuitive sense was second to none, but… Was some part of his psyche already suiting up for war? And it was only his cresting level of denial that was keeping the rest of his brain from catching up?

  The nanite potion he’d drunk earlier in his cabin? Could it have created a more lasting link with the Nautilus’s AIs? Had they linked with his intuitive mind to do some of the heavy lifting for him with the mathematical calculations necessary to posit such a crazy idea? The fact that he knew they had less than 72 hours to jump through that portal suggested that was indeed what was going on. That, or he was just manufacturing all this malarkey as a security blanket; what better thing to do than imagine yourself more able than you really are when scared shitless? Or was that really why Solo had lent Leon his Samadhi tank? After soaking in the fluids himself, there might well be enough sloughed cells from Solo’s person, or nanites he’d shed that might allow some of Solo’s prescience to leak into Leon—again, just enough, and no more than he could handle at once. Maybe Solo would prove to be as instrumental at getting their minds ready as those star gate worlds they’d yet to encounter. Maybe that’s why he hopped aboard—being several steps ahead of the rest of them and understanding the role he’d play long before anyone else did.

  Leon turned to face Laney. She was as beautiful as ever and he supposed he was as in love with her as ever. It was hardly a well-kept secret. Natty should have hated him for straying over the lines in this regard. But they both knew she’d never leave Natty; Natty needed her in ways Leon never could. Leon’s own self-reliance had lost him that gig.

  He approached her and hugged her and kissed her all the same as if playing the part of Odysseus returned home to his wife after being away for ages, knowing full well, the stay would be brief before he was off yet again on a journey no less long, and no less taxing.

  “You still in love with me?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “You should really knock that off. It’s detrimental to your health.”

  He chuckled half-heartedly; it was honestly more of a chortle. “You’re telling me.”

  ***

  Laney had only had a little time to peruse the latest intel coming from the probes she’d jettisoned into the planet’s atmosphere; even less to divine how best to modify her earlier cocktails based on that information. But, she could spend until the end of time tweaking the cocktails from up here and not only did Leon look disinclined to bestow such largesse upon her; he looked ready to beam down to the planet now.

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said, “to bring you up to speed on the biotech I’ve designed for you to use on the planet’s surface below, but the nanites’ limits I’m afraid you won’t truly discover until you’re in the field.”

  ***

  At the mention of the planet, Leon’s eye went back to the viewport. Funny how he didn’t see it before, but it was kind of eclipsed by the star gate—which had a far greater diameter than the planet—not including the pentagram shape itself. Another ominous sign; just thinking of the size of the armada that could slip through that thing in one pass sent shivers up his spine.

  “You’re the guinea pigs, I’m afraid,” Laney explained. “Each time you and your soldiers come back to the ship, I’ll be able to refine the formula a bit more from what I’ve learned from what’s been recorded in your systems.”

  “If we come back,” he corrected, returning his eyes to her. It was also a cheap shot meant to pull at her heartstrings.

  “Yes, if you come back,” she said guardedly. He supposed they were just being honest. Every time they deployed there was always the risk that one or more of them wasn’t coming back. That was the odds-on favorite outcome in fact.

  They released one another from their yearning desires and proliferating fears surfacing in their eyes like shooting stars across the blackness of their pupils.

  She slid into character directing his attention to her inventions like the supremely sexy female Q the James Bond film franchise so desperately needed.

  “The biosphere is the first big hurdle, of course,” she said. “It’ll kill you on contact without this cocktail. Even with it, God knows how sick you’re going to be initially and for how long until the nanites go through the rest of their learning curve. Let’s hope this turns out to be the peace mission it’s supposed to be, because if you have to fight before the nanites can fully acclimate you… Well, you’ll think you’re in one of those ‘Zombies do Pluto’ holo vids.”

  Leon grunted. “Alpha Unit should get a rise out of that. Though they tend to acclimate faster than us old geezers in situations like this. They might ha
ve to have our backs until the rest of us are fully on line. That is not a novel scenario.”

  She glanced at him, reprising her sense of alarm. She didn’t like thinking that his life might be in anyone’s hands but his; he was the best fighter she knew besides Cassandra, who was currently outside the viewport crawling over the star gate. Ergo, no one much fancied her chances for making it as far as the planet. So he might well be fighting without the most powerful piece on the chessboard to cover his back. Again, not an entirely novel experience.

  “What else you got for me?” he asked, trying to get her mind unstuck and back where it needed to be.

  “These other five hypodermics you’ll all be carrying in your first aid kits are all for me.”

  “For you! No way you’re coming…”

  “If the nanococktail comes up short, you’re all dead if I’m not on location. Even then, I’ll need to be clear-headed enough to figure out how to tweak the concoction on the fly. That’s what the other hypodermics are for. I’ve keyed the nanites that will be floating around in each of your systems to the potions in these canisters. Depending on which cocktail is indeed the best immune-booster, one of you will know which one to grab for me. Once I’m back on line, I’ll hook up with Alpha Unit that’ll have most of my gear in their protective custody. With their help, hopefully, I’ll be able to keep tweaking the formula fast enough to keep you ahead of whatever you find down there.”

  Leon took a deep breath and held it. “You should have briefed Ariel. She at least would have a chance on the battlefield.”

  “You forget I was there with you in the Amazon jungle? I’m not quite the fine orchid in need of rarefied air you think I am.”

  “Well, you gave us a backup plan. What’s yours?”

  “Cassandra, of course. She and I share one soul; she’s the pragmatist; I’m the idealist.”

  Leon snorted. “Maybe you are stronger together and I’m foolish for trying to keep you apart.”

  “The first sensible reaction you’ve had yet, except of course for the one you had to that star gate, when you took a step back.” They both turned their eyes toward it.

  “Something tells me,” he said, “we should both be a lot more worried than we already are.”

  ACT TWO

  NOUVEAU VIKINGS

  NINE

  THE NOUVEAU VIKING PLANET, ERESDRA

  Skyhawk slid in tight next to the biggest guy on the field he could find. They were all hunkered down beneath the crest of the hill since beaming onto the planet’s surface. “What lunatic okayed this mission without going past me first?” The big guy restrained a smile, but beyond that couldn’t even be bothered to crane his head to see who was talking to him. “Did it occur to anyone that we might just beam one of these giants up to the ship, maybe for a cup of tea and an interview, before invading their territory—in force! You know, the former strikes me as something that might go over better. Hell, if the interview didn’t go well, we could see if they’re susceptible to brainwashing, a complete nanite rewrite of their entire personality—thus saving us, I don’t know—all-out war! A morally compromised move, admittedly, but no more so than this. And did I mention they’re giants! Am I the only one that gives pause to?”

  Patent picked up Skyhawk with one hand and dangled him off the ground. “You’re talking to the lunatic who approved this mission.”

  “I am? Then why the hell are you coming between me and helping him to see reason?”

  “Sorry, Leon,” Patent said, sounding his usual contrite self whenever one of his teens got away from him. “He’s the runt of the litter. I’ll see he grows a spine if I have to yank out the one he has and put in one made of solid titanium.”

  Leon smiled. “Go easy on the kid. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point.”

  Patent ignored the advice, shaking Skyhawk until he felt like one of those Bobble Head dolls on the dashboard of a car—like the one of Nixon back in the day. Leave it to Skyhawk to be a fan of political satire to even have the appropriate analogy for why he was convinced his brain had become a hand ball ricocheting between the walls of his skull.

  “Why didn’t you come to me with your concerns?” Patent barked at him.

  “Um, he looked bigger, you know, a larger shield to block any arsenal coming my way.”

  “Yeah, well, he can’t be blamed for going a little soft. Not like he has to chase around after you ducklings all day long until you learn to imprint on me.” Patent took his prize with him, refusing to let Skyhawk down for fear no doubt he might run off in the wrong direction.

  ***

  Satellite slid in beside Leon next, filling the void opened up by Skyhawk’s dismissal. “The Nautilus’s AIs sent probes to the planet earlier to get the lay of the land and the distribution of the various tribes. Looks like it picked this tribe for us to investigate, probably because it’s the largest. That would likely make them the most dominant, and possibly the oldest. It’s customary for smaller units to break away from the original unit to help keep tensions among up-and-coming alphas to a minimum.”

  Satellite showed him his flat screen display which had the warm bodies illuminated against the background of trees and yurts. It appeared that the greatest number of the Nouveau Vikings were on the move, possibly on a hunt, well away from Leon’s and his people’s current location. “I’ve got insect droids keeping a closer eye on things,” Satellite explained. “They should blend well, considering this primitive backwater world.” He slapped a mosquito taking a bite out of his neck, then regarded the crushed bug. “Shit, it’s bigger than my insect droids. Hope the droids don’t get eaten.”

  “And the nanites?”

  Satellite smacked himself in the forehead with an open palm. “Duh! The atmospheric nanites the Nautilus saturated the area with a while back by way of its droids would have infested them as well as us by now, allowing us to understand one another, and even to speak their language. The genetic alterations inside us permitting us to make the necessary sounds will have been completed by the nanites as well by now. Their nanites will be less enabling, so they won’t understand us in our native tongue.”

  Leon nodded. “Good job, Satellite. I’ll take it from here.”

  Satellite was about to peel off when he said, “Oh, nearly forgot, they refer to this world as Eresdra, and to themselves as Eresdrans. Um, me being who I am, I’ve been reading their minds already, in at least a limited capacity. Don’t expect your nanites to be as accommodating.”

  “Let me know if your mind reading turns up anything more useful.”

  Satellite made a hole where he was that Patent filled as soon as it was vacated. “Well, what’s our play?” Patent asked, trying to lay as flat as he could; he was even easier to spot from a distance with that glistening bald head of his.

  “Oh shit!” Leon exclaimed. “The NARs are moving in. I don’t remember giving the order for them to deploy.”

  Patent made an embarrassed, throat-clearing sound. “They’re sort of self-starters.” Patent banged his head against the ground, blaming himself for this. “On the upside, if the locals are anything like our Vikings, they probably appreciate a good battle before breakfast to get the blood pumping. Might be our best move for making friends, actually. They likely won’t respect us as equals until we’ve kicked their asses.”

  Leon nodded. “I think you’re on to something. I especially like the idea now that we’re out of other strategic options. Pass the word, don’t hold back, don’t play, kill anything that moves.”

  “Leon! Maybe we could pull up a little short of that!”

  “Nah. We can bring back the ones we kill from the dead with our tech. If the initial overtures don’t win them over, that might. Besides, if they later learned we were holding back, that initial show of respect will turn into disrespect, and likely blow up in our faces.”

  Patent sighed and nodded. “My teens actually prefer it when I tell them we can kill the bad guys over and over again. Plays more like a video game
for them, seems less real. So the ones still with a weak stomach for fighting give it everything they’ve got a lot sooner.”

  Patent surveyed the enemy’s preparedness one last time. “They’re dressed like Roman Gladiators. Didn’t anybody tell them it’s friggin’ cold out here?”

  Leon grunted. “If those are hides they made off with, I’m guessing the animals around here are every bit as formidable as they are.”

  “Who says those are animal, and not insect, hides?”

  Leon did a double take to deliver his ugly look Patent’s way.

  Patent headed off to pass Leon’s orders down the line. Patent and Leon shared a secured COMM channel via their in-ear mikes for when they were apart that was on another frequency entirely from the one Patent was using now to get the word out to the boys and girls of Alpha Unit.

  Alpha Unit was hunkered down another ridgeline back entirely, a good deal farther removed from the tribe and any potential action. That was in part because they weren’t experienced enough to be included in the first wave. But also because they had the most hi-tech gear to stow and to secure in case any of it was needed, including the mini-fabs, or factories-in-a-box, that could be tweaked to fabricate replacement parts, or to construct new weapons tech on the fly. And, of course, some of the Alpha Unit teens were not cleared yet for fighting at all; they were here in an engineering or MASH capacity alone.

  Leon took a closer look with the binoculars at the faces of his opponents. From close up, the Nouveau Vikings’ countenances were commanding. The skeletal ridge over both eyes and connecting the two sockets protruded far enough from the forehead that it was as if to accommodate an additional frontal lobe of the brain—one perhaps tasked with making war. The prominent nose appeared to be undergirded by more than mere cartilage—its undercarriage hard enough for the warriors to use the noses as birds use their beaks, to peck things apart or create enough of a wedge on impact for their fingers to finish the job of prying apart their enemies’ skulls. The black eyes, set far enough back beneath the supraorbital ridges, looked sharp and as if windows to the cunning minds they connected to, forever sizing you up and calculating your next move and theirs.