“Kez’Erel?” Norris said with a furrowed brow.
Tindas called up the visual representation of a leggy creature on the holo-display. Norris looked and saw what seemed to be the unnatural product of an armor-plated tarantula mated with a metal shredder.
“Holy shit,” Norris said, “They’re arachnid?”
“Not an overly intellectual species,” Tindas said, “but they are deadly marksmen at distance and more than capable in hand-to-hand engagements if they are allowed within reach.”
Norris stood and inspected the image again, turning at last to Rantara.
“Have you ever run across these things?”
“A few times,” she said with a shrug, clearly unmoved by the terrifying image.
Norris frowned and said, “That is hands-down, no bullshit the biggest spider I’ve ever seen; are they going to be a problem?”
“Not for me,” she replied blandly.
Norris could only smile and shake his head with a chuckle.
“Of course not. Still, they look like they could do a lot of damage if they get those jaws around you.”
Rantara had faced the Kez’Erel in battle and she knew their history; Kol did, too.
“When my people found and saved them from an extinction event centuries ago, the Kez were formidable—savage and bloodthirsty. They feared no one and lived for battle, establishing a reputation for violence that remains today. However, their numbers have dwindled and those whom Toa keeps as his guardians are a much smaller detachment than others might maintain to such a purpose.”
“Extinction event?” asked Norris.
“Their world was on the brink of destruction, simply for a decaying orbit that brought them closer to their parent star with each passing year. Many were removed to other systems, and in gratitude, they became the physical force my people ceased to be long before.”
“They’re mercenaries?”
“Yes, and feared by many.”
“Are you sure we can get past them?” Norris asked.
“They’re heavy and slow,” Rantara replied. “The particle weapons they carry are most effective when they have time to aim carefully, but in close combat, they won’t have that luxury. If we penetrate before they can react from long-range, we’ll have the advantage.”
“There will be considerable security measures and code-locked doorways that must be cleared,” Tindas said, “but you will have little difficulty with them, once the Kez have been eliminated. Toa seems to regard the Kez’Erel as an effective enough deterrent by way of their reputation. Few even know of the facility’s existence, except for the Porseth technicians who maintain thermal power generation stations on Esharam, but they are timid and unwilling to test the Kez’Erel.”
“Is Settis coming with us?”
“No, but you will carry with you all he knows of the facility, including a complete understanding of the structure’s layout.”
“How is that possible?” asked Rantara, but Qural nodded at once toward the Transceptor.
“When you and the others came out from Bera Nima, we realized our window to move had arrived. We recalled Settis from Esharam to protect him should Toa discover his facility’s security had been compromised, and we archived some of his memories of the library into the Transceptor; what Settis knew, Darrien will know from those memories.”
“Okay, so how do we get there without being detected?” Norris asked at last.
“The vessel that will transport you has been equipped with a masking device similar to the mechanism Doctor Kol’s people use to conceal their ships’ movements,” Tindas said, pointing at the display and within it, diagrams and specification sheets none of them understood. “We were allowed to deploy the technology for our own use three years ago, so refitting your ship was not difficult. When you approach Esharam, you will be invisible to the Merchants’ planetary detection and defense systems.”
Norris smiled and looked at Rantara.
“A neat and tidy stealth interdiction run,” Norris said with a smile.
“It is,” Tindas said. “You will be able to land inside their perimeter defense zone and infiltrate on foot from there. Once you engage the mercenary soldiers, Sergeant Rantara and Miss Doleval will be, well…highly efficient methods of eliminating the Kez’Erel, shall we say?”
Rantara looked with surprise at Doctor Kol and Qural.
“Wait—you allowed my Navy this masking technology, but the Anashi were kept from it?”
“Not precisely,” Qural replied. “As it was with the matter weapon Ommit just described, both Khorran and Anashi designers have been developing simultaneously such a device for some time, but Khorran engineers reached a breakthrough shortly before our researchers and because of this, your Navy was able to deploy a limited number of masking engines to a handful of your ships. Kol’s people don’t interfere with such events, particularly when a technology is emerging as a matter of course; your people simply found the way through shortly before ours and Searcher enhancements have been applied to this specific vessel only as a necessary part of this mission.”
“All right,” Norris said at last to steer discussion back to the task. “After we clear the place of these mercenaries, we move on to the library?”
Qural nodded as she pointed again at the display.
“Using the information from Settis’ memories, you will establish access to the library’s archives. It should not take long, but when you have done so, it will be necessary for you to prepare.”
“Prepare in what way?” Norris asked.
“You must return to the ship and connect to the Transceptor; it will be moved to your vessel before you depart for Esharam, and it is the reason Haleth needed you to become accustomed to the sedating agent, Darrien.”
Rantara understood at once and said, “The memories from those Saroqui who fell to the Namadi attacks.”
Qural continued.
“The volume of memories is staggering, but worse still, many are fragmented and disjointed. Because Darrien can accept and store them with such astonishing fidelity, he will become the conveyor through which our leaders feel the emotional effect as if they had lived through those events themselves.”
Tindas saw Rantara’s worry building once more.
“The volume of memory data will require a clear and open storage path, Sergeant; Darrien’s mind must be free of other memories competing for space within his neural network.”
“Free of memories?” she asked warily.
“A significant amount of Darrien’s current memories will have to be stored within the Transceptor temporarily so that he can receive and compartmentalize the incoming data from the archive library’s systems. As before, this will be accomplished much faster if he is completely sedated.”
Norris moved toward the Transceptor.
“How much of my memory are we talking about, Professor?”
“Most of it,” answered Tindas with a matter-of-fact tone the others found unsettling.
There was silence as each of them looked to Norris, knowing the risks ran high, particularly for him. Rantara had waited and watched, but something else in Tindas’ description still pulled at her until suddenly, she understood.
“This Toa person; he’s on Esharam now?”
“That is correct, Sergeant.” Tindas nodded.
Rantara walked to Qural, moving closer as she spoke, but this time with a much softer tone—low and nearly at a whisper.
“He has her memories, doesn’t he, Ambassador?”
Qural looked at Rantara, but there was only sadness in her eyes. After a moment she turned away.
“Yes.”
Norris knew what it meant.
“Settis found Marelle’s memories inside the library?”
Qural nodded and said, “Toa keeps them in his private archive, away from the central library; it is…personal for him. Marelle’s memories are intact and can be accessed by one of their small playback devices he keeps as an interface to the library’
s central array.”
Rantara’s expression changed and the others saw it. She knelt and took Qural’s hand in an abrupt and surprising gesture.
“Don’t worry about this anymore, Qural; we’ll get them back. Marelle will be restored to normal—I promise.”
Qural nodded with a smile. It was the first time Rantara addressed her by first name, but there was more. Knowing only they could give back what the Merchants had taken from her sister long ago, she looked and saw Marelle’s last chance held in the strength of Rantara’s determined power.
“Okay,” Norris said at last, “we know what has to be done on Esharam, but when we head back out after you’ve shown the politicians those memories, we still have to get inside the Namadi station out in the Dome and find the bombardment fleets’ exit locations. They’re going to figure out pretty quickly we aren’t there to sell cookies.”
Qural pointed again at the three-dimensional map within the display.
“The final phase of the mission is less predictable and therefore more difficult. We know the Namadi facility occupies one of the planet’s moons, but its general layout and configuration are not clear. Also, it is uncertain how much resistance you will encounter and to what degree. The Namadi themselves are an unknown; their capacity for armed conflict seems to have been limited, at least historically, to their machines, but that does not guarantee they are incapable of defending themselves at a more personal level.”
Banen had been listening to the discussion quietly, but his experience took him at once to a time when battlefield treatment of wounded soldiers had been his primary duty. He saw another image forming in his mind from Qural’s words.
“Perhaps they also employ mercenaries, similar to the Memory Merchants?”
“No,” said Tindas flatly. “One thing we do know about the Namadi is their intolerance of other species. We now believe they are profoundly xenophobic and temperamentally incapable of coexisting with other beings. This condition may be the reason that compelled them to attack their neighbors without provocation, and it suggests you are unlikely to face any others working on their behalf.”
“That doesn’t guarantee they won’t have automated systems to do the dirty work for them,” Rantara noted. “We may have to fight through an army of machines as well.”
“I wish we could provide you with sufficient intelligence,” Qural continued, “but we could not risk exposure and lose the element of surprise by mounting a reconnaissance mission; you are going to a place none of our people have ever been and you must rely on each other’s particular strengths to find and copy the locations of all the bombardment cloud exit points, but also to survive and escape.”
“Hold on a second,” said Norris. “What about the language difference? We can understand each other here because of the translation nodes stuck in our heads, but no one has even seen the Namadi, let alone spoken with them. You said the Saroqui managed to figure out a little bit of their language, but if that’s our only edge, it’s pretty thin.”
“We anticipated this, Darrien. A fellow linguist who is quite skilled in understanding alien communications will accompany you on the mission as a specialist—an expert who has also been briefed in every detail of the mission and has been studying the translations Haleth discovered.”
As she listened, Rantara inventoried the details Qural and Tindas discussed, but for all the talk of the mysterious Namadi and Darrien’s role as a memory vessel, the specter of convincing notoriously intransigent politicians remained.
“How far up does this go, Professor? You have your cease-fire, but that’s a temporary condition—a diplomat’s game. Most of our admirals and generals care nothing for truces and I can name at least ten flag officers who would order your immediate arrest if they ever found out what you’re doing here.”
“So can I,” Tindas replied, “but we have secured the cooperation of two senior naval commanders—one Khorran and one Anash. They were given enough detail to know what we’re planning in broad terms, but not enough to compromise them should others find out before you can conclude the mission to Esharam.”
“They know about this?”
“Only to the extent necessary for them to help,” Tindas replied. “If you are successful, and we are able to convince our respective leaders to act, they will provide both the crew for your ship, but also a team of commandos who will act as your ground support fire team for the last phase of the mission to Primus Station. At that point, the threat of exposure becomes irrelevant; everyone in the sector will know.”
“Why do we need a crew?” Norris asked suddenly. “Onallin already knows a Khorran assault ship from one end to the other.”
“The vessel you will take to Esharam is not suitable for the final phase, Darrien; a full complement of commandos may be needed if Namadi resistance at Primus Station is significant. Instead, Kol has arranged for a Searcher ship—larger and more capable—plus a combined force of Anashi and Khorran combat veterans who will pave the way for your insertion into the control station.”
“How long to Primus Station?”
“Our calculations project a transit time of twenty-two days.”
“That’s almost a month,” Norris said at once. “I thought these Hyperthreads are a hundred times faster than a Plexus thread.”
“They are,” Tindas replied.
“Oh. Well, shit.”
Kol brought up an image in the display.
“This is one of our armed expedition ships, Darrien, similar to the design that made possible your escape from Bera Nima.”
They remembered the sleek, needlelike ships, shimmering in iridescent colors as they crisscrossed the night sky above the chasm, pounding away at the upper compound and each of the three guard towers. Norris looked at Rantara, surprised to find her seemingly unaffected by the inevitable memories of that frantic, desperate night.
“The crew and ground assault team—when do we meet them?” she asked.
Qural walked to a communications console and keyed in a code. At once, it clicked into an unseen receiver, blinking to indicate a secure channel was open. A voice responded quickly.
“Good evening, Ambassador.”
“And to you, Sub-Lieutenant. You are on schedule?”
“We are. Commander Renn and his crew landed from Belex this morning. We concluded preliminary briefings only moments ago, and I believe Lieutenant Commander Lhorm’s detachment will arrive in the next day or two.”
“Were there any difficulties?”
“No, Ma’am. The Searcher engineering teams are nearly finished with their re-fit duties, and Renn has assumed command of the vessel; we are prepared.”
“Excellent. We look forward to seeing you soon.”
“As do we, Ambassador.”
The comm unit clicked again, disconnecting the channel. Qural turned to Rantara.
“That was Sub-Lieutenant Atreks Biral, an officer in our navy’s Special Operations group. They arrived at a secure staging area fifteen days ago, preparing for the third and final phase of the mission after you complete the first and second tasks.”
The historic mission would soon begin and its elaborate plan put into motion from within the dust and glare of a vast nebula. The room fell silent as each considered the days and weeks ahead. Norris’ thoughts took him suddenly to Qural’s grand summit and a moment when the face of Namadi ruthlessness became known. He shook his head and smiled at the image of high-level officials from the Khorran, Anashi, Revallan and Porseth governments, each expected to see and understand.
“It’s going to be interesting when you show this stuff to all those government big-shots; I don’t envy you having to herd that many cats into one room.”
Qural smiled at the thought, remembering Norris’ description seventeen years before. It was clear the others didn’t understand, so she made the translation for them.
“A small, Earth animal many humans keep as a family companion, but as I recall, they do not always interact well with other
cats. Is that accurate, Darrien?
“Yeah, it’s accurate,” he replied with a smile; “lots of teeth and claws.”
Qural paused, just for a moment.
“The summit we have planned will show them the memories and, we hope, its effect will compel them to set aside differences and act as one to meet and deal with the Namadi clouds.”
“Shared terror, shared resolve, right?”
“Precisely.”
She looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
“Darrien, there is one other part of this process we need to discuss, particularly with you and Onallin.”
“I knew this sounded too easy,” he grinned.
“Our combined military strength,” Qural continued, “even if we are able to approach and convince our neighbors in the Revallan and Porseth governments, will not be enough to bring this effort to its ultimate conclusion.”
Rantara bristled.
“What? Tindas just told us of these powerful weapons capable of destroying the Namadi clouds in a single detonation! Are you now saying those devices are not up to the task after all?”
Qural shook her head. “You misunderstand. We have the ability to destroy the incoming clouds, but that task is not the final act.”
“Go on, Ambassador.”
She turned again to Norris.
“Our time is limited, so I will be direct. When we send you through the Hyperthreads to Terran space, it must be for another reason than merely restoring you to your home. It is our hope you will agree to act as our representative to your people before you embark on the journey to Primus Station; we need them to be something more than they are today.”
Rantara nodded and smiled knowingly as the truth was pulled slowly from Qural’s words.
“Ah; I see it now. You want Darrien to convince his people to join you in this fight.”
“Yes,” Qural replied, “but not for the task of defeating the bombardment clouds, Onallin. Instead, we must add the Terran military’s strength and firepower to our own, and for another purpose.”
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