In keeping with what he’d heard, when he arrived in the hangar bay, he found Seaman Jake Price there. But that was where reality stopped conforming to his expectations.
“Seaman Price, isn’t it?” Gamble said as he ambled up to Price, squinting slightly.
Price nodded, sticking out his hand. “It is. Yourself?”
“Major Peter Gamble, the Vesta’s marine battalion commander. I’m here to figure out how your Oneiri Team is going to fit in around here—both the mech you pilot and the MIMAS mechs.” He grasped Price’s hand firmly, and they shook.
“Ah,” said Price, who suddenly looked like he didn’t know what he should be doing. “Well, it’s an honor to meet you, Major. I’ve been hearing about what you and your people did on Klaxon’s moon. Seems like it’s become an instant legend.”
“My marines held it together admirably, but if I’m being honest, we would have been done for if it wasn’t for the Vesta’s guns backing us up. I’m getting off-topic, though.” He nodded toward the giant metal crate behind Price, which was one of eight scattered throughout the hangar bay in a haphazard fashion Gamble wasn’t a big fan of. “Do you always keep your mechs in boxes, Seaman?”
“That’s where the Tartarus Station desk jockeys put them,” Price said, his voice a little hoarse but otherwise composed. “Probably wanted to keep them out of sight from prying eyes. The Union was keeping everything in Hellebore pretty hush-hush till you guys arrived.”
“Right,” Gamble said, shoving his hands in his uniform’s pants pockets. “But you had the mechs out since you were on Tartarus. You fought the Progenitors with them, and after that the cat’s been out of the bag, so to speak. So why’d they end up back inside the boxes?”
Price looked like a prey animal caught between a pair of high beams. “Uh…easier transport?” he said, his voice growing hoarser.
“Footage of the battle showed your mechs flying through space of their own accord. Seems it would have been easier just to have them rocket over.”
“Right,” Price said, rallying visibly, “but the secured crates prevent people from tampering with them, or worse, trying to climb inside them. I’m sorry, Major, but every Oneiri pilot except Marco was born outside this galaxy, and he was just a few months old when Darkstream left the Milky Way. We don’t know your crew, and it’s going to be some time before we’re fully trusting. I think you know that’ll be the case whether I say it or not, so I hope you don’t mind me saying it.”
“I don’t mind, and I do understand your meaning. There’s just one thing I’m struggling with. I remember seven active mechs from the battle in Hellebore, and I see eight crates here.”
Price had obviously found his footing, and he had his reply already loaded in the chamber. “The eighth is a mech we’ve freely given to the IGF, for study and replication.”
“I see.” Gamble happened to know the eighth mech had already been transported to an IGF R&D lab on one of Feverfew’s shipyards. But that was something known to only a few, and Price clearly didn’t anticipate Gamble being one of them. Not sure how long you think you can keep this up, boy. But you’re clearly stalling for something.
“All right then, Seaman,” Gamble said. “I hope you don’t mind my questions. The road of trust runs both ways, which I’m sure you’ve already figured out, even at your young age.”
“I have, Major.”
“Good.” Hands still in his pockets, Gamble approached the metal crate, and he didn’t miss the way the corner of Price’s right eye twitched. “Let’s talk about what Oneiri’s role will be, going forward. I’m content to leave you in command of Oneiri, given I don’t know the first thing about the machines you pilot. I’d like to rectify that ignorance, so that I can deploy you effectively, but you will remain squad leader.”
“Thank you, Major.”
“Of course. As for what operations you’ll participate in, they won’t be stealth ops, I can tell you that much.” Gamble quirked one side of his mouth upward, indicating he was joking, and Price gave a stilted chuckle. “No, given the size and firepower of your mechs, I expect shock and awe to be the major tactic. Though I can tell you, I’m not sure how shocked the Ixa will actually be. With their augmentations, they’re about as tall as your mechs, and they make scarily short work of a human in a para-aramid reinforced jumpsuit.” Gamble sniffed. “Either way, though, Oneiri Team’s going to draw attention wherever we send them. For ops requiring more delicacy, more precision, I likely won’t deploy you at all. But for anything else, I’ll put you wherever I’d like the fighting to happen. I have a feeling you’re going to have a great big target painted on you wherever you go.”
Nodding, Price said, “That lines up with my experience.”
“I thought as much. Bottom line, I hope your team likes action, because you’re going to be seeing a lot of it.”
“Major, we like action.”
Gamble grinned. “Good. Now why don’t you open up this crate for me.” He brought his hand back to slap it, hard, and he could have sworn he heard something give a small start inside.
Price had that caught-in-the-headlights look on him again. “O-open it, Major?”
“That’s right. I said I wanted to get familiar with the tech, didn’t I? There’s no time like right now.”
“Sure, but we already talked about trust. I don’t feel like now is the time to—”
“With respect, Seaman, I don’t give a damn what you feel. I understand it might take some time for you to start feeling comfy-cozy right-at-home aboard this supercarrier. But that’s irrelevant to the order I just gave you. What’s relevant, right now and for as long as you’re under my command, is that you follow my orders promptly and without question. Is that very well understood, Seaman?”
The color having drained from his face, Price moved to a keypad on the side of the crate. “You’ll want to move out of the way, Major,” he said, his voice admirably steady. “The front opens onto the floor.”
Gamble did, clearing out and watching from a safe distance with his hands folded behind his back.
The front of the crate cracked open at the top, then hissed to the ground to reveal a four-legged mechanical monstrosity, peering out at him from the shadowy recesses of the crate with eyes like a blood moon. It stepped forward, and it took all the steel in Gamble’s spine not to take a step back.
I thought that crate’s dimensions seemed a little off. Gamble withdrew his com from its holster and raised it to his mouth, rapidly pressing the sequence of buttons that would connect him directly to Captain Husher, a feature meant only for situations Gamble deemed legitimately urgent.
“Captain…we may have a problem.”
Chapter 17
Too Far
Husher entered Hangar Bay Zeta at the head of a platoon of marines, who quickly ranged ahead and took up position in a tight semi-circle centered on the strange mech, weapons trained on it.
Thankfully, Gamble appeared unharmed, and he quickly backed out of his soldiers’ line of fire, leaving Seaman Price alone with the quadruped.
Two of the marines broke formation to approach Price and yank him away from the crate, dragging him toward another one nearby and slamming him face-first against its side. Husher approached them, circling around to give the other marines a wide berth.
“Is this how you treat all your new allies?” Price grunted as Husher drew near.
“Is this how you treat yours?” Husher shot back. “You smuggled military hardware aboard my ship, clearly piloted by a member of a species I know next to nothing about. You must have known you couldn’t keep it a secret forever. When were you planning to let me in on it?”
Price tried to twist around to get a better look at Husher, but one of the marines restraining him slammed him against the crate again, and the seaman spoke with the side of his face jammed against the metal. “I was going to tell you once we were far enough away from the Assembly of Elders that there was no chance of you handing Rug over to them.”
“Rug? Is that this Quatro’s name? I thought they didn’t have names.”
“Rug does,” Price said, his speech somewhat strained by the pressure being applied by the two marines. “She took a name to better communicate with us, and so did a lot of the other Quatro we met in the Steele System. They’re not with the Elders. They fled their home to escape them.”
“Why?”
“The Assembly of Elders is corrupt. They claim they treat everyone the same, that they’ve always provided every Quatro with everything they needed, but in reality the Elders lived in luxury while widespread shortages were common. They say they support freedom of thought—that Quatro can believe whatever they like. But that only applies to the part of reality they allow their subjects to see.”
“And you know this how?” Husher titled his head to one side. “Because this Quatro told you?”
“I’d trust Rug with my life. She’s saved it enough, and she’s saved plenty of other humans too.”
Husher nodded. “Maybe we can make this conversation a little more amicable. I’m going to need your friend to get out of her mech.”
The Quatro stepped forward, eliciting a flurry of shuffling backward and shouting from the marines. Husher held up a hand to settle them. “She’s only gaining enough clearance from the crate, I think,” he yelled over the tumult.
He was right. The back of the mech opened, and the great alien stepped out before making her way around the side of the machine. In some ways, the strange mech resembled the one Price piloted. Outside of it, Rug studied Husher with calm, onyx eyes.
He took a moment to appreciate the Quatro’s majesty. “Why didn’t you go with your brethren, in the vessel that fled Hellebore?”
The alien’s voice rumbled through the translator she wore around her neck. “I refused to leave Jake Price, Lisa Sato and the other Oneiri pilots. They are dear to me. Once I helped my people escape the Hellebore System, I returned to Tartarus Station.”
“To be smuggled aboard the Vesta.”
“Yes,” the Quatro said, without a hint of remorse.
“How do I know you’ve told Price the truth about the Elders? Do you have any proof?”
“I do not,” Rug said. Her voice was deeper than even a Gok’s, but richer, more resonant. “But it should not seem so unlikely a proposition to you, Captain Vin Husher. I am sure the Eldest spoke to you about the Quatro way: placing drift above all else. This is an admirable principle, but like so many admirable principles, it has been taken too far, by individuals whose true motive is power.”
“And?” Husher said. “How is that meant to convince me you’re telling the truth?”
Price twisted against the marines. “Because the Interstellar Union is heading in the same direction!” he yelled.
One of the marines shoved him back against the crate, but Husher waved toward them. “Let him off that thing.” The soldiers complied, but they each kept a firm grip on Price’s upper arms. Husher turned back to Rug. “You agree with Price, I take it?”
“It is a possibility. Your Interstellar Union has not reached the stage of corruption and rot now occupied by the Assembly of Elders. But there are worrying similarities between your government’s current state and that of the Elders during the years that preceded their tyranny. It is possible that their alliance will accelerate your government’s transition.”
“A lot of things are possible,” Husher said, though the coldness in his stomach was at odds with his level tone. “Right now, the Progenitors are the most immediate threat. How can we be expected to beat them if we don’t rely on every ally we have?”
“This is why the Union is in the state it’s in,” Price said, and the anger in his voice surprised Husher. “It’s people like you in positions of power, making the choice that’s most convenient for you in the short-term. I never believed the stories the Steele System old-timers used to tell about the Milky Way, and they might not have been true when Darkstream left. But they’re sure true now. I can’t believe how far you’ve fallen.”
Husher returned the boy’s glare with narrowed eyes. “Bringing up your Darkstream connection is not a good way to ingratiate yourself with me.”
“I’m not trying to ingratiate myself with anyone.”
Jaw set, Husher looked at Rug. “Your presence aboard my ship is a threat to the new alliance, and I’m not promising I won’t turn you over to the Elders at the earliest opportunity. I have half a mind to throw you in the brig until such an opportunity presents itself, though I’m not sure you’d fit in any of the cells.” Husher sniffed sharply. “We probably have a battle waiting for us in Yclept, and ultimately, I can’t afford to waste any assets available to me. Rug, for now you’ll operate as a member of Oneiri Team. I expect full compliance from all Oneiri—compliance not just with orders given by myself and Major Gamble, but also with our expectations. It’s up to you to figure out what those expectations are. They should be obvious, and I don’t have the time to break them down for you.”
Husher glanced at Gamble and saw the light of approval in the major’s eyes. Returning his gaze to Rug, he said, “If you want to justify the risk you pose by being here, you’d better toe the damn line.”
Chapter 18
Fester and Grow
The Eldest had returned with Chiba to Abdera in the Caprice System—the seat of Union power ever since the end of the Second Galactic War. The planetary capital was chosen for its centrality: Caprice was equally accessible by every Union species, more or less.
“Our partnership pleases me greatly,” Chiba said, turning his head toward the enormous quadruped that plodded beside him. They walked along a cobbled path that wound through one of the sprawling walled gardens spread throughout the presidential estate. The walls weren’t visible from this part of the path, and Chiba’s security detail were doing their best to be unobtrusive, as they knew their president preferred. He could almost believe he and the Eldest were walking through nature on Home, the Kaithian homeworld.
“Our partnership,” Chiba went on, “and the fact we’ve established such trust so quickly, forged from our common need—it’s the perfect expression of the principles upon which the Interstellar Union was built.”
The Quatro dripped his head. “For our part, we are grateful that you have accepted us so readily into your home, President Chiba. We were truly at your mercy.”
“I don’t conceive of it that way. We are both beset by the Progenitors, who created the Ixa. And we have a shared duty to oppose species like the Ixa in every way possible. The Ixa’s values are antithetical to ours. Their obsession with purity and sameness is distasteful. Repulsive. It can’t be borne. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but you’ve convinced me, Eldest. If they won’t see the error of their ways, they must be stamped out.”
“Then we should thank the stars that our alliance has bestowed a chance of doing so,” the Quatro said. “But I hope it isn’t necessary for me to point out that the problems you just named are not limited to the Ixa.”
Chiba paused, taken aback for a moment at what was obviously criticism of the Interstellar Union. Then, Chiba sighed. The Eldest is right. “What you say is true. The galaxy’s problems are extensive, and they begin with the advantages enjoyed by humans, leading to a wealth disparity that must be redressed, to make things fair for everyone. But the situation is much worse than that. There are radical elements within our own society that, perversely, have grown stronger as the Ixan threat intensifies.”
“Indeed. And it is not difficult to see that the captain whose behavior was so offensive during the Tartarus meeting is a booster for such elements.”
“There are signs of that,” Chiba said, a little reluctantly. “I haven’t decided whether Husher is as rabid as some loathsome individuals hope, but even if he is, we can’t afford to put him down yet. We need him.”
The Quatro leader didn’t answer at first, and they walked in silence for a while. At last, he said, “I understand that we have diff
erent conceptions of how to imbue our societies with strength. However, even though Quatro civilization has endured many millennia, we only achieved true stability in the last several decades—after we finally learned that hateful elements, if not dealt with the moment they appear, will fester and grow, seizing power the moment times are hard. Hard times are here, President Chiba. If you do not act swiftly, your society too will fall into darkness.”
“We need Husher,” Chiba repeated. “But we won’t need him forever. In the meantime, our conversations have helped me to recognize the danger to our society represented by groups like the Sapient Brotherhood. We do not need such beings, and they can be dealt with right away.”
The Eldest dipped his head. “It is a relief to hear you say so.”
“And I thank you for your insight,” Chiba said, lifting his hand toward the alien in respect. “Before we part, I also wanted to arrange a meeting between the Assembly of Elders and the Galactic Congress, to discuss your integration into the Interstellar Union…”
Chapter 19
Mechs Complicate Things
“We’re too late,” Ensign Winterton said eleven minutes after they transitioned through the Larkspur-Yclept darkgate—long enough for lidar and radar sensors to update with data about the area surrounding Juktas, Yclept’s only significant colony. The tropical world had once been overrun with insurgents, before being ravaged by the Ixa at the end of the Second Galactic War. But things had long since settled down for Juktas, and it was now considered one of the IU’s major colonies. “The planet’s already under attack.”
Damn it. “Nav, set a course for the planet that makes the best use of the system’s gravity well for maximum speed, with engines all ahead full.”
“Aye,” Chief Noni said, bending to her work. Luckily, Juktas’ orbit currently had it on this side of the star, meaning the Vesta and her battle group could ride Yclept’s gravity well the entire way there.
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