by Scott Warren
“Who? And how?” demanded Best Wishes, directing the question at Earthen Musk.
The runner looked uncomfortable as he answered. “Lightest Grove, her mate witnessed it. He’s near catatonic. He said … he said it was space walkers.”
An ancient superstition, beings that walked through space and haunted those who traversed the stars. They were a myth, a legend even. How could she be dead? Best Wishes would have to see the still blood within her veins through his top eye to believe it.
A heavy thump behind him and the frightened recoils of his crewmates caused him to glance back. The Grah’lhin was once again active, and lumbering towards them. Its forelegs collapsed, bringing its slick sensory band level with Best Wishes as the protective carapace slid away. Moist, shiny mandibles clicked to either side of a nightmare mouth, and Best Wishes resisted the urge to step away.
“You will go to look upon this fallen Dirregaunt?” asked Bargult, his chittering voice so deep it almost blended with the engines.
Best Wishes grimaced. “If there is a fallen Dirregaunt. I’m not given to fanciful tales of space walkers.”
The giant insect resumed its full height. Its wings buzzed softly within the confines of its carapace. “I would look upon her as well,” it affirmed.
“Master hailman, contact the Paralt. Tell them to be prepared to receive the human vessel. And summon Measured Calm, if he has not already been. His expertise will be required to enlighten us as to the true nature of our sister’s death. And to absolve these foolish notions of …” he eyed Earthen Musk, who shrunk beneath his gaze. “Space walkers.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Very good. First Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”
Best Wishes made his way back toward the shuttle bay, through the hydroponic jungle and induced fog which the Praetory believed kept the Dirregaunt grounded in their planetary history. To traverse the length of the Springdawn would take perhaps a quarter hour, but the shuttle bay resided amidships, just aft of the center of gravity and the habitation chambers. Upon entering the compartment, onlookers cleared from his path while his medical crew examined the body. It was unmistakably Lightest Grove, she had a distinct pattern of spots on her shoulders. Blood hung in the air, teasing his mane, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Several holes had been torn in Lightest Grove’s torso, great ragged things that had sprayed the foliage with her life’s blood.
Bargult tried to approach the body, but at a grunt from Best Wishes, his crew moved to block him. A security team was present, their weapons raised a twitch before checking themselves. He didn’t want the thing profaning her with its proximity. He had half a mind the Grah’lhin intended to devour the body. Six long legs turned the monstrosity toward him, swinging the bulk of the matte black body. “What do you smell, Dirregaunt Best Wishes?” it asked.
“Blood, death. Fear from the crew. Dirt, and the fiber of the vines above.”
“What else?”
Best Wishes focused on the olfactory nodes in his mane. There was something, brushing against them ever so slightly, teasing them, switching the tips of his receptors. A sulfurous odor, like an acid bath. And… smoke? Combustibles?
Bargult gestured to the body. “The wounds are as living flesh, yes? No burns, nor scoring of the meat?”
That meat had been part of his crew. Best Wishes suppressed a wave of revulsion. Measured Calm had beaten them to the shuttle bay. He looked up from the body, visibly sickened by the ordeal. “There is not, my Commander. No plasma burns, no particle scoring, no irradiated inflammation. It’s as though she was killed by air.”
The wings chittered again, the buzz grating his nerves. Best Wishes held no desire to draw closer to the body, yet the only witness to the deed, Broad Resolve, knelt cradling his mate’s head. The whistling keen of his mourning song filled the hollow chamber. Best Wishes approached, kneeling beside the body.
“Who did this? Who has taken her from us?” he asked.
“She went to check the shuttles, and when she opened the airlock, they were waiting. They were the void. Two, the purest black of the space between stars, they carried the thunder of storms. I … Oh dear Praetor I can still hear their echo. Make it stop, make it stop.”
Best Wishes drew back as the crewman’s recounting devolved into a howl of primeval terror and loss. Security officers moved to restrain him, but Broad Resolve simply collapsed over his mate once again. The engineer was mad, his mind shattered by the trauma of the long service and witnessing the death of his mate. He would find a new place to call home, on one of the many planets beneath the Praetory’s canopy. But his service in space was over.
Best Wishes prepared to remand him to the sick bay for a sedative to dispel, this notion of space walkers, but stopped. How would he react were it Dutiful Heiress on the deck? Broad Resolve had crafted a demon of his own imagination to blame. Creatures that walked through the black of space outside the safe hulls of the Praetory haunted the nightmares of the Dirregaunt, Malagath, and Kossovoldt for millennia. Each had their variation on the tale. And yet, something killed her. Something he could not explain.
“What say you of space walkers, Dirregaunt?”
The Grah’lhin had spoken softly, bringing Best Wishes back to the present. The story of space walkers was just that, a story to scare children. He stood, turning to regard the Grah’lhin.
“There is no such creature. All who enter the void perish.”
Again, the chittering wings. Best Wishes began to realize the noise as an indication of amusement. He was tempted to crack open that shell and tear the wings off the disgusting creature. How dare he disrespect the death of his crew before her widower.
“Pray, do you find something about this funny, Grah’lhin Bargult?” he demanded, teeth bared, claws sliding forward on his fingers.
“The irony, Dirregaunt. We lay in wait for the humans, yet did I not tell you? The humans are as ghosts. They are already aboard your ship.”
“Impossible,” said Best Wishes, rejecting the implication. It made no sense, they had arrived at Taru only after the human ship had already left. Or so Bargult claimed. Were it not for the alien’s familiarity with the elements of his crewmate’s death, he would have Grah’lhin Bargult removed from the bay. He showed an intimacy with the details that spoke of his experience hunting them. But it was little better an explanation than space walkers. They hadn’t even docked at Taru.
But the shuttles had.
Another runner arrived, pausing before Best Wishes to regain his wind. The commander of the Springdawn didn’t need to hear his message to know what news he brought. Humans may or may not have been aboard his ship. That was yet to be determined.
But they were most certainly in Pilum Forel.
Chapter 8: Forel
The harsh, mind-bending blue-white shapes of horizon space flashed to the black matte of the stellar scape on the primary view screen of the Condor. The star, Pilum, dominated the port side of the ship, spiking radiation sensors along the level azimuth. In the distance, Forel burned softly, the only other star visible in the sky while the binary pair were in view.
Victoria stood behind Huian, all her command displays within easy reach. She had repeaters for sensors, weapons, navigation, and engineering feeding her details about the Condor’s current status. From the ablative plating to the xenon-powered engines she could call up any information she wished. And behind her, First Prince Tavram once again occupied the XO’s chair.
Activating the general circuit, Victoria cleared her throat and addressed the crew.
“This is the Captain, we have reentered normal space and are en route to Forel. From now until jump, battle stations are to remain manned and ready. There’s no certainty the Springdawn is here, but I didn’t get to be an old iron bitch by getting caught with my pants down,” she said. Perhaps not the most accurate turn of phrase, since she had been caught just so on several occasions, often by someone’s wife.
She closed the circuit, and addres
sed her sensor team on the open microphone.
“Avery, what have you got for me?”
“Entry was smooth, but the Paralt picked up on it right away. I’ve got a carrier a half million klicks out. Two fighters inbound, within visual range. No hails yet.” A subdivision of the main screen showed the two sleek fighters, cruising in, beginning to decelerate a few dozen kilometers away. They flew at a ninety-degree cant from the Condor’s perspective. While the human fleets oriented themselves parallel to the local stellar plane, the Paralt method of orientation held the local star as down, and the stellar plane more of a stellar hamster wheel.
Damned fast, even for the Paralt’s comparatively advanced sensors. She had debated climbing out of the stellar plane, maintaining full dark all the way to Forel. But if they were caught, the Paralt would blast them out of the sky without word or a second thought. Not big on trespassers who tried to avoid transit fees, were the Paralt.
“Incoming data-link request, Vick. Standard comm protocols.”
Victoria thumbed her console, switching one of her screens to show the interior of the fighter hailing her. Within, the pilot was fully enclosed in his suit, his narrow, wedge-shaped helmet betraying his alien anatomy. He was treated to a similar view of her. He moved jerkily in the low-resolution camera.
“Unidentified ship, you have entered Paralt territory. Declare yourself and your intentions, and present your benefactor code if you possess one.”
“This is Captain Victoria Marin, of humanity’s UEP Condor. Our intentions are to transit to Forel for a jump. We are sponsored by the Jenursa, sending the authorization code now.”
The video com cut out. There was a pause, longer than she liked, before the pilot came back on with his response.
“Very well, Human Victoria. The Jenursa accounts are in good standing and you are cleared to transit via the Forel six-two standard procedure. Maintain subluminal speeds within Pilum Forel.”
The deviant procedure was hardly strange in and of itself. It could just mean the Paralt were seeing heavy traffic through the system. But Victoria didn’t like all the little things stacking up, not with such precious cargo.
“Huian, plot the procedure and take us to point-seven. It’s 40 AU’s to the closest Forel jump point.”
“Aye ma’am, plotting now. Estimated time to horizon jump is seven hours,” said Huian. The hum of the Alcubierre drive began to drone through the hull of the ship. Typically used for faster-than-light maneuvers, it also significantly cut down on the time it took to accelerate at sublight speeds compared to the Condor’s primary engines. But it also left almost no room for maneuverability, the risk of compression shear was too great.
“Sensors to the conn,” came Avery’s voice. He appeared a moment later, no longer bedraggled and unshaven. He approached Victoria’s sensor repeater, bringing up the passive display.
“Here’s what we’ve got so far, Vick. Liners, cargo, a couple smaller ships. If the Springdawn is here, then she’s dark. What we’ve got on the Dirregaunt favors ambush tactics.”
“So don’t expect much warning before they take their first shot. And you can bet the Paralt will be giving them all the information they goddamned need. Violating their own neutrality pact, but I can’t blame the fuckin’ cowards if they’ve got a Dirregaunt battleship breathing down their necks. We’ll have to be ready to cut the Alcubierre and switch to maneuvering engines. We’re floating shit-scrap on a predictable compression course, especially subluminal. The Dirregaunt can work out a firing solution from a half-million klicks. Avery, I need to know the second you get a whiff of them.”
“Aye skipper.”
Victoria turned back to the main view screen, where the star, Forel, slowly began to enlarge as they accelerated to seven tenths of the speed of light. In saving the First Prince of the Malagath Empire she had made an enemy of the Dirregaunt. Were they out there, even now? Or was she worried over nothing?
“Tess, the engines.”
Tessa boosted the audio sensors on her vacuum suit. Around them, lights in the massive chamber began to dim, casting the forested interior of the Springdawn into an artificial twilight. What passed for trees to the Dirregaunt began to give off a soft phosphorescent glow that highlighted the marks where the panicked Dirregaunt had scratched her ablative plating before Aimes shot it almost five hours ago. They meant to sneak off the shuttle, but the only thing sloppier than getting caught and killing one of the Dirregaunt was leaving the second one alive. Now the crew knew there was a hostile presence aboard the Springdawn, if not the precise nature of it.
They had been avoiding armed patrols for several hours. Luckily the ship was so enormous and the plant life so dense that the crew had trouble policing it, and two small humans were easily lost as they mapped the interior of the vessel. Their ocular implants were constantly pinging new data to their suits’ onboard computers, data that would never be useful to the Union Earth.
“You think that’s for us?” asked Aimes as the Dirregaunt reactors continued to spool down. But Tessa knew it wasn’t. Their access to intel was limited, but they had picked up some chatter from the crew of the Springdawn. They were waiting for Captain Marin and the Condor. The Dirregaunt were ambush predators, attempting to reduce the chance their ship might be picked up by passive sensors by powering down non-essential systems. The darkening bay meant the Condor must be close, and yet, unreachable. Taru Station felt like a lifetime behind.
She remembered watching the Condor soar towards the star at the center of the system, in her head she could still hear the final radio chatter from the privateer ship, the background hum of the Condor’s engines behind it, before finally going out of range. How far had that been? A hundred thousand klicks? Two? Radios had come a long way ever since humanity gained access to xeno transceivers. Would the Condor pass within radio range before the Springdawn launched its attack? Within the range of the Springdawn’s communicators, certainly. They could broadcast further than they could shoot, on the order of millions of kilometers, at the very least.
What if they could use that equipment? What if they could somehow warn the Condor using the communication system on the Dirregaunt battleship? Shit, would they even know the comms gear if they were looking straight at it? The flora belied the advanced nature of the ship. The composite flooring looked like topsoil, but hardened when pressure was applied. The doors were almost like a liquid, sections turning transparent before sliding open entirely without hinges or apparent mechanisms. Most obvious tech they’d stopped to examine came back with three or four likely possibilities. Even the lighting filtering down through the red canopy seemed to mimic a star’s path across the sky, without any apparent light source once you climbed above it. But how alien could a radio room look? Thus far, anything with an interface had proved little problem for them, the suit computers were excellent at handling any required inputs, and humans had encountered Dirregaunt computers before. Only good for opening doors, turning on the lights, and warning humanity of impending death and disaster.
“Hey boy, it’s getting late. What say we give Mommy a call?” said Tessa, eyes on Aimes through the hard shell of her helmet. She saw Aimes pause for a moment before following her line of thought. Smart kid, boarding tactics had been his area of focus. Plotting and running scenarios to invade hostile craft had been a passion since she’d known him. It was probably why they hadn’t been caught yet. He stilled, pulling up whatever schematics he could find on his suit’s data drive similar to the ones he’d been building. A moment later Tess received a file-share request. She accepted, and her ocular implants began to fill with drawings and computer generated plans.
“Obviously we don’t have an exact layout for a Dirregaunt Dreadnought,” said Aimes, “but this ain’t the first time we seen one, either. Closest I can compare to what we’ve got are some of the fourth-gen hulks.”
A Praetor-class cruiser design appeared in her vision, a subsection outlined in red. “Here’s the communication hub for the
fourth-gen cruiser. But here,” said Aimes as another diagram came up side by side with the first, “is a Hawk-class. See the communications hub is further aft along the dorsal? Here’s what we’ve got on the Springdawn.”
A third image displaced the first two, an incomplete profile view of the ship, with likely areas filled in by their mapping algorithm. Two compartments along the dorsal ridge of the ship were highlighted.
“Two possible spots,” she whispered.
“Well, hundreds of possible spots. Hell, we don’t even know if it’s dorsal on this class, except that we saw the external equipment there. But if I were betting, here’s where I’d put my money.”
“To hit both we’ll have to split up,” said Tessa. She didn’t like it as soon as she said it. It was easier for a wide search to find two people apart than two together.
“Every problem is an opportunity. Here, catch.”
She looked up in time to see Aimes toss a small canister her way. She caught it, looking at the cylindrical profile of the exotic matter grenade. Tessa brought her gaze back up to matte black faceplate of Aimes’ vacuum suit. She could imagine him grinning behind it. And a smile crept onto her own face as she guessed what he would say next.
“I’ll take the forward compartment, you take aft. You get there and it don’t look like comm gear, blow the shit out of it, raise hell, and get out quick.”
“Quicker than greased lightning. You know this is likely to be a one-way ticket.”
“Aw hell, we were dead the moment we set foot on that shuttle, and you know it. ‘Sides, what are two marines against everyone on the Condor? You know what the Major would do if it were him here.”
Aimes climbed to his feet, picking up his rifle from the tree he it leaned against and reattached it to his magnetic sling. He drew close to Tessa, and cupped a gloved hand to the side of her helmet. Her eyes stung as she leaned into him, two black panes of composite armor preventing her from touching him one last time.