by James Palmer
“Lock on and destroy as many of them as you can,” said Thran. “We will get their attention this time.”
The Fang obliterated one of the fighters as it came around for another pass. Thran’s crew cheered, and he ordered them to be silent. It was only a small victory. The weapons master slid his hands deftly over the controls, sending three more of the odd, razor-winged fighters to oblivion.
“The Egg Mother will feast well upon our enemies this night,” Thran muttered. But it wasn’t enough Still the big ships came.
The Fang rocked again, the smell of ozone and burnt wiring filled the space as a control panel shorted out.
“Evasive action,” muttered Thran.
“These fighters are fast,” said the helmsman. “They’re countering our movements. Ah!”
The helm controls exploded in a shower of sparks. The helmsman fell backward onto the floor, his face burned black. He didn’t move.
“Kill them, by the Empress!” Thran roared. “Kill them all!”
“My Leader,” said the communications officer. “Reinforcements have arrived.”
Thran clicked his teeth together. “These lower creatures will rue the day they challenged the Children of the Egg.”
They watched through the viewer as familiar ships—their ships—entered the fray. But they were no more successful at putting a dent in the alien fleet than the Fang had been. Thran watched in horror as the vile ships spat more of their buzzing fighters, and searing beams of blue light lanced out, the ships containing his egg brothers and sisters vanishing in brief blossoms of white-hot light.
For the first time in his life, Thran felt fear. He could not show it. He would not. He was Grand Leader of a ship of the Empress, as his mother had been before him. Generations of Draconi pride were at stake.
Thran watched helplessly as the invaders quickly and easily destroyed more Draconi ships. What else could be done?
A series of hollow thuds rang out all over the ship.
“What was that?” Thran barked.
His Second checked her instruments. “Those razor-winged vermin,” she spat. “They’ve pierced our hull.” She turned and looked at him grimly.
“We’re being boarded.”
Thran pulled his sidearm with his right hand, and with his left brandished the ceremonial knife that all Leaders carried. “Prepare to repel boarders,” he said.
Everyone in the command pod reached for their weapons, mirroring, Thran knew, everyone aboard the Fang.
“I am eager to see what these interlopers look like,” said Thran.
“And how they taste,” said his Second. She clicked her teeth together, as did everyone else in the command pod.
They did not have to wait long.
“I’m getting casualty reports from all over the ship,” said his communications officer. “Our brothers and sisters are being slaughtered.”
Thran roared with rage. This was not possible. Not even the humans were this advanced, or this vicious.
The outer door of the command pod dented as something struck it. Thran wasn’t sure if it was a weapon or a fist. Everyone stood and faced the door, their weapons at the ready.
Thran aimed his weapon at the door as it began to melt. It expanded as the superheated metal bubbled and popped, spattering his communications officer with molten titanium. A huge glittering shape entered through the still cooling hole it had made, a strange energy weapon in its hands. Beautiful, like a metal sculpture. It seemed to be an extension of the creature’s own appendages.
The thing standing before him was a being unlike any being Thran had yet encountered, uglier even than the mammals It appeared to be a thing of machinery, yet its basic shape was not unlike the tiny insects that buzzed about the Draconi homeworld, only this one was much larger, towering over Thran as it stalked onto the command deck. Glittering red eyes surveyed the room before opening fire, searing his second officer in half as he lunged at the intruder, claws extended, a roar of rage in his throat.
“Claws of the Empress!” Thran shouted, emptying his weapon into the oncoming invader. His slugs bounced harmlessly off its metallic hide as it turned to face him. Thran watched in horror as it made quick work of the rest of his command crew, cutting them down where they stood with surgical precision. Only Thran remained, fear warring with the rage within him. “What do you want, sub-creature?” Thran snarled. Slowly the Ix warrior lowered its weapon and stepped forward, mechanical mouthparts working ominously. It reached up with one of its four appendages and wrapped its strange hand tightly around Thran’s snout, forcing it closed. He kicked and thrashed, swiping the Ix with his tail, but it was no use. Thran felt the pain of multiple pinpricks in the scales of his snout, and something strange started happening. His whole body felt numb, going limp. What was happening? Why didn’t the insect thing simply kill him as it had all the others? Why this torture? Then he knew the answer. He spasmed as a sharp pain ripped through him. Something was wrong. He could feel his skin starting to bubble and swell. His blood burned. In a moment he realized he wasn’t dying. By the Empress, if only he were. Instead he was changing, changing…
Chapter Seven
Exodus
Commander Leda Niles stepped onto the command deck to find it busier than she had ever seen it, even during shift change. Captain Hamilton paced slowly between his command chair and the long ops workstation that included the helm and weapons. Leda looked around the command deck, her eyes latching onto the viewer. Far out ahead of the Zelazny was a line of ships stretching thousands of kilometers to the Devlin system’s Q-gate, which was still little more than a flickering speck in the L1 of a lifeless planetoid.
“What’s going on out there?”
Hamilton turned his head toward her. “Gridlock. Everyone in the system is trying to use the gate, but they have to wait their turn. Ships are coming through it, apparently from all over several solar systems.”
Leda stepped up beside him. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Neither have I,” said Hamilton. “My father told me it had been like this during the early days of the war with the Draconi. He was second lieutenant aboard the Haldeman. Their entire battle group was wiped out by the Dragons while they waited their turn at the gate.”
Leda didn’t like the sound of that. “The Chaos Wave.”
Hamilton nodded. “Looks that way. Comm traffic is extremely heavy. We’ve been getting reports from the Gavlan system all the way to Prollux B.”
“Vargas is right in the middle,” said Leda.
“Yep. This Chaos Wave, whatever it is, is making a devastating sweep of the system. Several Draconi interests have also been compromised.”
Leda watched the great line of ships. “Those look like commercial vessels, civilian transports.”
Hamilton nodded. “A few military vessels made it through, bound for who knows where. We’re the only ones heading to Vargas.”
“So what’s the plan, Captain?”
“I’ve checked with Fleet. Our orders remain the same. We’re to proceed to Verdant to assess the situation, but not to engage. At least not yet. I’m about to pull rank on these ships so we can use the gate next.”
“Where are they going to go?” asked Leda, staring at the ships. “Their homes have been destroyed.”
Hamilton shrugged. “Anywhere but here seems like a good enough choice for the time being. Space is vast. If they can keep ahead of the Wave, they’ll have a chance, however small.”
“We can stop the Wave,” Leda said.
Hamilton returned to his command chair with a frown. “I hope you’re right. Until we know exactly what we’re up against, we won’t know for sure.”
Leda took her seat beside him. She knew. She had seen them, in her mind’s eye, just a few short standard months ago. Why had the Swarm probe shown her what was coming if there was no way to stop it? She couldn’t accept that it had only been a warning, a message to flee. She touched her right temple, where the silvery strands of
circuitry were still visible. It had been itching a lot lately, and now there was some burning accompanied with it. Whatever the probe had done to her was still working inside her. It scared her, but also filled her with a strange confidence. They could beat the Wave. She didn’t know how she knew this, but every fiber of her being told her it was so. A memory came to her, fleeting. In it she saw something the Swarm probe had shown her, a precise arrangement of stars, each of them twinkling. Then it was gone. She shook her head to clear it, and wondered what they were getting themselves into.
“The other rail ships have arrived,” said Lt. Brackett, the communications officer.
“Excellent,” said Hamilton. “Send out a general tightbeam to ever ship out here. We’re pulling rank. Military vessels have first priority.”
Brackett relayed the message. For a few minutes there was excited and angry comm chatter, then ships started to move out of the way and reposition themselves farther back. Lt. Hudson navigated the Zelazny toward the waiting Q-gate, the two rail ships flanking them briefly before moving aft.
“Brackett, send the tones,” ordered Hamilton, and the eerie alien tones that opened the Q-gate flowed from the command deck’s speakers.
The gate flickered, and a different set of stars was suddenly visible in the wide gap in the massive structure.
“Helm, take us in.”
The Zelazny entered the Q-gate and vanished.
Chapter Eight
Knowledge Keeper
Drizda still wasn’t sure what she was doing back on the Homeworld, but now that she was here she was glad. She had seen many changes taking place all over the planet, many of them a direct result of her efforts. Today she was standing watch over a dig site, where a very important discovery had just been made three weeks prior to Drizda’s arrival. The fossils of a small winged lizard had been found, perhaps the first true Draconi ancestor. And within roaring distance of the Empress’s chambers in the Throne City. It was remarkable. It was validating.
But old traditions still held sway, especially here, just a few spans from the spires of the Egg Mother’s temple. Drizda left the diggers to their work, and wandered back toward the outskirts of the city. Her position as Science Liaison had sent her all over known space on one errand or another, but today she was here to see an old friend.
She found him in his usual place near the market square. The market season was over, and the stalls sat empty. Gone were the hawkers of fresh, raw meat, finely braided prayer cloths and holy ointments. But nonetheless her friend was there, ready to impart his stories to anyone who would stop to listen.
“Knowledge Keeper,” said Drizda, as she approached.
The old Draconi turned his head, clicked his teeth together when he saw her. He had changed much with age. The scales of his snout were scarred and faded, and his right eye was completely covered by a milky white cataract. Drizda bowed low to him, and he nodded. A Knowledge Keeper was a revered member of Draconi society, second only to the priests and ruling castes. Drizda did not have much respect for the latter, but she still held the former in high regard. Especially this particular Knowledge Keeper.
“Drizda,” he said. “You do me honor by your presence.”
“It is you who honor me, great one,” said Drizda.
“It has been a long time, hatchling. I still remember the first day you crouched at my feet, full of questions I couldn’t answer. I hope you have found your answers elsewhere.”
“Some,” Drizda admitted. “Yet each answer poses two more questions.”
The old lizard clicked his teeth together. “That is the way of things. Now. What do you want of me this day?”
“I want you to tell me a story,” she said.
Knowledge Keeper swiped his taloned fingers through the air dismissively. “You don’t want that. To you, they are just that, stories. Besides, you have already heard them all.”
“Twice,” Drizda added with a click of her teeth.
“Yes. Twice. What story would you have from me this day?”
“Tell me how we lost our ability to fly.”
Knowledge Keeper’s tongue flicked from his mouth, and he regarded Drizda with his one good eye for a long moment before beginning. “In the Long Ago there lived a young Draconi called Zamon,” Knowledge Keeper said. “He was swift and fierce, and good at hunting. He was also the best flier. He could unfurl his great wings and the slightest breeze would send him aloft. He flew high and fast, and swelled with pride as the others down below admired his enormous wings. One day, he flew too near the Egg Mother’s temple, weaving between the spires and clicking his teeth in mockery of her, calling out, ‘I am the greatest of our race!’
“Angered by his presumption, the Egg Mother shrank his wings as soon as he’d landed, causing them to dry up and shrivel. Because of Zamon’s transgression, all Draconi were similarly punished, and their wings shriveled to the size of a mota’s. And they have been that way ever since.”
Drizda clicked her teeth in approval. She had heard that tale her whole life. “I used to pretend I could fly like Zamon in the before times,” she said. “I used to run around the courtyard at Zitheri while flapping my little wings as hard as I could. I thought that if I ran fast enough and wished hard enough, apologized to the Egg Mother for Zamon’s pride enough, then my wings would grow and I could fly.”
Knowledge Keeper nodded. “But you do fly, hatchling. You’ve been to the stars. Many of our people have. Zamon’s wings couldn’t do that.”
“True,” Drizda admitted.
“Why that story?” asked Knowledge Keeper. “Why today?”
“The fossils that were found in the ruins near the Old City,” said Drizda. “It is believed they are of the earliest known Draconi ancestor yet discovered. They may help tell the story of how we lost our wings.” How we really lost our wings, she thought but knew better than to say aloud.
Knowledge Keeper nodded. “And put me out of business,” he said, with a click of his teeth.
“I hope not,” Drizda said. “Whatever the story is, it won’t be as eloquent and beautiful as yours. There won’t be a moral point to it.”
“Thank you, hatchling,” said Knowledge Keeper. “For all your questions, you never stopped listening. For that I am most grateful.”
“There is value in your stories,” said Drizda. “There are truths to be gleaned. I guess I am in search of that truth now.”
“You were always a seeker of truth,” said Knowledge Keeper. “Our roles are not that different. We both seek knowledge to preserve and pass on to future generations.”
“Agreed,” said Drizda.
“And what truth do you seek today?”
“The humans uncovered evidence of a cataclysm that will affect both our races,” said Drizda. “A coming Chaos Wave that will wipe out all sentient life.”
“Do you believe them?”
“Yes. I now look for a way to stop it.”
“I see,” said the old Draconi. He swished his tail back and forth. “Did it occur to you that you may not be able to stop it? Perhaps this is the will of the Egg Mother.”
“I do not believe in the Egg Mother,” she said, her voice low for fear she would be overheard. “Is it the will of the Egg Mother that these humans should be lesser beings we consume as food, and yet they travel the stars as we do, with similar technology to ours? Is it Her will that there be other races more advanced than ours stretching back eons?”
“Then what do you believe?” asked Knowledge Keeper.
Drizda thought about this for a few moments. “I believe that if this Chaos Wave does indeed exist, then there must also exist a weapon that can stop it.”
Knowledge Keeper nodded. “Then you are not as faithless as many of our kind has said.”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Drizda. “Or what I should do.”
“You should act on that faith,” said the elder Draconi. “You should be the best daughter of the Empress you can be.”
Dri
zda bowed before Knowledge Keeper, and he returned the gesture. “Thank you, Knowledge Keeper,” she said.
“You have done our people a great honor, Drizda of Clan Tahk. I have faith in the Egg Mother and her chosen daughter the Empress that you will continue to do so.”
“Be well, Knowledge Keeper,” Drizda said, turning and heading out of the empty market.
The old man always did make her feel better, but she was still troubled. She still had an ancient alien weapon to find, and no discernible leads. If there was a clue within the Progenitor Epics, it continued to elude her.
“Drizda, wait,” called Knowledge Keeper.
She stopped, swiveled, and looked at him. “Yes, Knowledge Keeper?”
“Something just came to me,” said the elder Draconi. “Another story not quite as old as that of poor, cursed Zamon. Have you tried Shazara?”
Drizda looked at him for a moment before replying. “No. I haven’t. Isn’t it forbidden?”
Knowledge Keeper clicked his teeth together. “When has that ever stopped a Scientist?”
Drizda considered his words. “How did—”
Knowledge Keeper waved her question away. “You seek a weapon to defeat this Chaos Wave. Yes?”
“Yes,” said Drizda. “There is an ancient Progenitor legend known as the Light of Ages. It is believed to be either an energy source or a weapon. I think it is the latter. I wish to find it.”
“Ah,” said Knowledge Keeper. “Then let me tell you another story, this one decidedly more recent, though still hundreds of generations before I was born.” He cleared his throat and began.
Chapter Nine
Debris Field
It was still a standard week from the nearest Q-gate to Verdant, and by then there were already several ships in orbit above the planet, mostly science and medical vessels.
“Standard orbit, Lt. Hudson,” said Hamilton. He stared at the planet through the viewer. The planet, once green and bright, was now a burnt orange. “What the hell happened down there?”