Ignotus

by Kevin Hardman

  “So you’re politicians now?” Maker asked, his disdain evident.

  “We’re here representing a lot more than just military interests,” Lafayette answered, gesturing to include Steiner and Grasso. “There’s a score of people who wanted to be part of this conversation, but it was felt that you’d respond better to folks in uniform.”

  “And these special interests groups, first and foremost, all want to reclaim the missing sub rosa tech,” Maker concluded.

  Grasso nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Well, you’ve got the people who took it,” Browing noted. “At least one of them, anyway. Just make him tell you.”

  “Again,” Lafayette droned, “he’s a foreign dignitary. That means he’s a guest and will be treated as such.”

  “Ha!” Maker barked. “He’s not a guest. He’s a prisoner. This little subterranean site” – he spread his arms in a gesture encompassing the entire facility they were in – “is a holding tank. A place to stick people you may never want to see the light of day again. That’s why it’s buried a mile underground. That’s why there are guards at every door. That’s why the train cars are on rails instead of having anti-gravs. All those things are obstacles, make it more difficult to get away should one of your ‘guests’ ever manage to break out.”

  “Regardless of appearances,” Lafayette countered, “his official status is that of ambassador. As to having him in this ‘holding tank,’ as you put it, that’s for his protection. Apparently we’ve got people around here who will shoot him on sight.”

  “That’s called displaying good judgment,” Maker stated, “and it’s not too late to exercise some.”

  “Hold on,” Browing said. “Before we talk about putting someone in front of a firing squad, I’d like to know a little more about how our guest survived that last battle. I would have sworn he died when the Vacra invaded our region of space. In fact, that’s what I reported.”

  “Well, there are two versions of what happened,” Grasso began. “There’s the official record of what occurred, and then there’s the unofficial record.”

  “Why don’t we take the official version first?” Maker suggested. “Might as well get the lies out of the way as soon as possible.”

  “That’s fine,” Grasso assured him, ignoring Maker’s taunt. “But just to be clear, this is the only narrative that will be cleared for public consumption, and it’s the story that Ambassador Vuqja will articulate if asked about it.”

  “Oh?” Maker droned. “So what exactly is our esteemed visitor’s recollection as to what happened?”

  “That it wasn’t an invasion, for starters,” Grasso explained. “Simply put, he came to open a dialogue between mankind and the Vacra – to initiate contact between our two species and see if we could treat with one another in mutually beneficial ways.”

  “And the armada he brought with him?” Maker asked. “I suppose that was just for show-and-tell?”

  “The ambassador states that he was accompanied by an escort befitting his rank and title,” Steiner replied. “It wasn’t an invasion force, but we, unfortunately, treated it as such.”

  “So how does he explain the obliteration of the Hundred-and-Twelfth fleet?” Browing chimed in.

  “He says there was some weird spatial anomaly,” Lafayette answered. “It destroyed both his escort and the Hundred-and-Twelfth. However, much like General Roche’s flagship on our side, the ambassador’s vessel was out of range of whatever force came into play.”

  “How convenient,” Maker uttered sarcastically.

  Browing frowned. “So if his ship wasn’t destroyed, how does he end up in a lifepod?”

  “Despite everything that happened, he still wanted to make contact,” Lafayette explained. “However, he didn’t know how he would be received after what happened to the Hundred-and-Twelfth, so he ejected in a lifepod while ordering his crew to return home in his ship.”

  There was silence as Lafayette finished talking, with the other two general officers nodding satisfactorily at his narrative.

  “That’s a good story,” Maker admitted with a nod. “Did Skullcap come up with that on his own or did we coach him?”

  Steiner seemed to bristle at this and was on the verge of responding but didn’t get a chance.

  “I believe the lieutenant’s question was rhetorical,” Browing stated. “That said, I think we can all agree that it’s a plausible cover story, but it does raise the question: what does the crew of Roche’s flagship say happened?”

  “Frankly speaking, none of them are sure,” Lafayette assured him. “They just know that one second the Hundred-and-Twelfth fleet was there in all its glory; the next, it was gone.”

  “And a moment later, the alien armada had vanished as well,” Steiner added. “So there’s no one who can really contradict this version of events.”

  “No one except the people who were on the Black Pearl,” Maker corrected. “Namely, the people in my unit, along with Browing and Dr. Chantrey.”

  “Well, let’s address that,” said Lafayette. “First of all, you and your people claim that all the destruction was the result of contact with an anomalous entity that you refer to as Efferus. Call me crazy, but that seems to dovetail nicely into the official story.

  “Next, your operation was classified, as are any reports on it and any related debriefings. Plainly speaking, while we appreciate your efforts to complete your mission and your candor in reporting what happened, none of that info is ever going to see the light of day.”

  “In short,” Maker concluded, “there’s no formal evidence to dispute your version of events.”

  Lafayette shrugged. “Don’t take it too hard, son. This isn’t an unusual course of action, and based on your record, this can’t be the first time you’ve encountered something like this.”

  “I’ve been on missions where a cover story was required,” Maker admitted. “Recon, skirmishes, and so on, where it was necessary to sweep things under the rug. But we’re dealing with the Vacra here – a new breed of enemy. This is different.”

  “It’s no different than a thousand times in the past when we made peace with an enemy,” Grasso argued.

  “But that’s just it,” Maker stressed. “The Vacra don’t want peace. They never did. They want something else entirely.”

  Lafayette studied him for a moment. “You’re speaking of your, uh, ‘friend.’”

  Maker nodded. “Erlen. They’ll do anything to get him.”

  “Not anymore,” Steiner blurted out.

  Maker’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “They’re no longer asking for him,” Steiner continued.

  Maker frowned. “I take it this is another instance of there being an official and an unofficial story?”

  Grasso shook his head. “No, not this time. There’s only one rendition of the facts.”

  “Hmmm,” Browing mused. “The Vacra have always stressed a trade: Erlen for the sub rosa tech. If they no longer want him, there must be something else they’re asking for.”

  “There is,” Steiner agreed with a nod. “Since he’s achieved his aim of making peaceful contact and paved the way for cooperation between our two species, Ambassador Vuqja just has one request: he wants to go home.”

  There was silence for a moment as Maker waited expectantly, then he realized that no more information was forthcoming.

  “Wait,” Maker murmured in confusion. “That’s it? He just wants to go back to Vacra Prime or wherever he comes from?”

  “Yes,” Lafayette confirmed. “And he’ll hand over the sub rosa tech in exchange if we allow it.”

  Expecting someone to expound, Maker quickly glanced at each of the general officers in turn. After a moment, it became clear that none of them was going to speak without prompting.

  “So what’s the problem?” he finally asked. “Just get the tech back, then pack him up in a ship on autopilot and send him on his way. Good riddance.”

  “He’s aski
ng for an escort,” Lafayette replied. “Someone to shepherd him back to his homeworld. In fact, he says that part is nonnegotiable.”

  “Okay, so assign a squadron to take him back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of,” Maker practically dictated.

  “It’s not that easy,” Lafayette insisted.

  “Why not?” Maker asked, looking nonplussed.

  “Because part of his demand is that a specific individual be assigned the duty of escort,” Lafayette explained. “You, to be precise.”

  Chapter 13

  Maker stood in stunned silence for a moment, then blurted out, “What?!”

  “The ambassador wants you to escort him home,” Lafayette repeated.

  “And I want to be a hologram star,” Maker shot back, “but neither one of those things is likely to happen.”

  “And if you were ordered to take him back?” Grasso inquired.

  “Then I’d say the odds are high that he’ll suffer an ‘accident’ before reaching his destination,” Maker said.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll do all in your power to keep that from happening,” Lafayette retorted without missing a beat. “After all, from what Browing here says, you’re a stickler for obeying orders and completing the mission – even if it’s an assignment you don’t care for.”

  Maker frowned, not liking where the conversation was going. “Are you ordering me to do this?”

  Lafayette shook his head. “No, but I’m curious as to why you’re so adverse to it.”

  “Because it’s Skullcap,” Maker declared, as if that explained everything. “He’s as devious as they come. If he’s asking for this, that means it’s a trick or a trap.”

  “And if I could add my two cents,” Browing chimed in. “I don’t often agree with Maker, but I think he’s right. Who’s to say that when we take him home, we won’t drop out of hyperspace and find ourselves hemmed in by battleships?”

  “I think that’s unlikely,” Grasso asserted. “Regardless of the official story, they just lost an armada – a lot of ships, and even more people. I don’t think they’re eager to tangle with us again.”

  “I wouldn’t bank on that,” Maker said. “I’m sure they have some hive mother or monarch bug that can lay a million eggs a day. They’ll be back at full strength before your afternoon tee time.”

  The three general officers exchanged glances. Plainly disregarding the comment on how they spent their afternoons, it seemed that Maker’s assessment posited a theory they hadn’t considered.

  “While we’re mulling over egg-laying queens,” Browing suddenly interjected, “I wanted to ask how, exactly, this exchange is supposed to take place. Does the ambassador have to hand over the sub rosa tech before being taken home, or vice versa?”

  “He’ll take us to the tech first,” Steiner said. “Apparently realizing how dangerous it was, the Vacra didn’t want it anywhere near their planet, so it’s being stored in a distant star system. After it’s retrieved and fully accounted for, our new friend gets to go home.”

  “So this is actually a multi-stage trip,” Maker summed up in a frosty tone. “That means the Vacra will have two chances to stab us in the back. Skullcap has to be practically giddy that anyone’s even considering this.”

  Lafayette drummed his fingers for a moment, eyeing Maker critically.

  “I suppose I should have led with this question,” he finally said, “but what exactly is your relationship with the ambassador?”

  “Relationship?” Maker echoed, visibly taken aback. “We want to kill each other, so to the extent that implies relations, there you have it.”

  “Well, it’s just odd,” Lafayette commented. “When we picked him up, he inquired about you. We told him you were dead – that all evidence pointed to the Black Pearl being destroyed in that incident with his, uh, Vacran escort.”

  Maker simply nodded. He already knew that he, along with everyone on the Pearl, had been presumed dead when the entity Efferus took them to his part of the cosmos. When Efferus returned them several days later, there had been general shock at the fact that they had survived.

  “Anyway,” Lafayette continued, “despite proof to the contrary, the ambassador insisted you were alive. He said that the Senu Lia – your alien companion, Erlen – wouldn’t let you die. Lo and behold, he was eventually proved right. And on your part, notwithstanding the fact that you had seen the Vacra armada destroyed, you seemed convinced that somehow, some way, the ambassador had survived. More importantly, no one could disabuse you of the notion during the times you were debriefed.”

  Maker shrugged. “So what’s your point?”

  Lafayette leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Just that you and the ambassador, in spite of evidence and information to the contrary, were each convinced that the other was still alive, and you were both right.”

  “And you think that means something,” Maker concluded.

  Lafayette shrugged. “If nothing else, it implies that you have an understanding of this individual – and maybe his entire species – that no one else does.”

  Maker shook his head. “There’s nothing deep or profound about my understanding of the Vacra. Just assume that they’ll do nothing but lie and be treacherous, and voilà – you’re an expert.”

  “Be that as it may,” Lafayette intoned, “it’s imperative that we get that tech back, and you’re the only person who can do it. Assuming we won’t order you to do this, what will it take for you to accept this mission?”

  Maker contemplated for a moment, then said, “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

  Chapter 14

  At the conclusion of their meeting with the general officers, Browing and Maker quickly departed the underground facility. Upon gaining the surface, the former cryptically stated that he needed to reach out to some people and would be in touch; he then got into his car (which Maker hadn’t even noticed when he’d parked his own) and zoomed away. On his part, Maker headed for his current base of operations, which consisted of a moderately-sized warehouse space that had been designated for his squad’s use.

  When he arrived, he found Adames alone in the warehouse, having sent the rest of their unit out on a training exercise. It gave Maker an opportunity to solicit his NCO’s opinion on what had happened, and Adames was brutally honest in that regard.

  “What’s there to debate?” he asked rhetorically after Maker gave him an overview of what had occurred. “You have to do this, Gant.”

  Maker didn’t immediately respond. At present, they were in a walled-off (and soundproof) area of the warehouse that he generally used as his office. Maker sat at his desk while the NCO occupied a chair across from him.

  “Without beating around the bush,” Adames went on, “you know what those sub rosa weapons can do. If we have a chance to get them back, we have to take it.”

  “I agree that someone has to take the chance,” Maker countered. “I disagree with the notion that it has to be us.”

  “But who else is really qualified?”

  “According to the bigwigs, it’s just escorting Skullcap home,” Maker replied. “Basically babysitting. You don’t really need any special qualifications.”

  “Come on, Gant,” Adames implored. “This mission is right up your alley. What’s really bothering you about this?”

  Maker stared at him a moment, then let out a deep sigh. “Look, if it was just me, I probably wouldn’t have an issue with taking on this assignment, but I’ve got our entire team to think of. I can’t put them in that kind of danger.”

  Adames frowned in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? Everyone in our unit is a Marine, and they understand that danger goes hand-in-glove with what we do. It’s part of our daily constitutional. If you start worrying too much about danger to your people, you’re going to lose sight of the mission.”

  “I can lead others into danger,” Maker assured him. “It’s what we were trained to do, and I have no problem with it. That’s the job. But I can’
t just waltz my people into what I know is a trap, and that’s what this thing feels like.”

  “And if it is a trap, who’s better equipped to handle it: our unit with you at the helm? Or some green lieutenant fresh out the Academy who doesn’t know which end of a rifle to shoot from, leading a bunch of chuckleheads who don’t know what the Vacra are capable of?”

  “But you heard Browing this morning. Our people aren’t the dregs the military previously thought they were. They have options now. They don’t have to keep risking life and limb by charging into minefields behind me.”

  “As I just said, they’re Marines – they’re going to be risking their lives charging in behind somebody. Better you than some clown who doesn’t care if they come home in a box.”

  “What I care about may not matter if I parade us into an ambush,” Maker stated. “That said, I see your point.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Adames asked.

  “Well, I’ve been given a choice as to whether to take on this mission,” Maker replied. “In light of all the facts, it’s only fair that I give my people the same option.”

  Chapter 15

  “I’m in,” declared Edison Wayne, the youngest and least-experienced member of Maker’s unit.

  At present, the entire team was seated around a small conference table in the middle of the warehouse. After Maker had opted to let his subordinates choose whether to join the proposed mission, Adames had called an early end to the training exercise and ordered the other five members of their squad to report in. Once they were present, Maker had quickly brought them up to speed on the situation. However, he had barely finished speaking before Wayne announced his readiness to volunteer.

  Sergeant Diviana, a striking woman with an exotic appearance, turned to Wayne. “We all realize you’re still wet behind the ears, but did you miss the part stating that this entire mission is probably a trap?”