by James Palmer
“No life signs,” said McGregor, the Zelazny’s science officer. “And I mean nothing. Not even trace molecules.”
“If I had to guess,” said Leda, “I’d say it was an orbital bombardment.”
“There’s no signs of that,” said Gunner Cade. “No asteroid impacts, no rods from God.”
“He’s right, sir,” added McGregor. “Not even orbital bombardment would account for this. The building blocks of life are just…gone. It’s like the entire planet has been sterilized.”
“Is there anything left of the settlement?” Leda asked. “Verdant was a well-established colony. They should have had a thriving city down there by now.”
“Just ruins,” said McGregor. “Looks like it was heavily bombed, but not from orbit. An air strike, maybe. I wouldn’t rule out a ground assault either. There are search teams down there now. Hang on.” He cocked his head, listening to something through is cochlear implant. He turned to stare at Hamilton.
“Search teams reports no bodies, sir. Not as many as you’d expect from a colony this size.”
“Survivors?” Hamilton said hopefully, even though he knew the answer.
McGregor shook his head slowly. “No one could survive without an environment suit. The atmosphere’s a carbon dioxide and methane soup.”
“They must have fallen pretty quickly,” said Hamilton. “I don’t suppose they had any defensive capabilities to speak of.”
Leda pulled up the colony’s information on her slate. “No planetary defenses. Just personal sidearms. Looks like a large percentage of the population was Marine vets.”
Hamilton nodded grimly. “Lt. McGregor, any use in us going down there?”
The science officer shook his head. “A dozen crews are picking over every inch of the city now. I’ve asked the other ships to send all their data directly to my workstation. I can have a detailed report for you within the hour.”
“Fine, fine,” said Hamilton, waving his hand dismissively. McGregor was a smart and capable officer, and came highly recommended, but one of his reports could put Hamilton to sleep. McGregor was the kind of person who had to build a clock before he could tell you what time it was.
He turned to Leda, but addressed the entire crew. “All right, let’s focus on who did this, rather than how. We know they were here. Let’s figure out where they’re headed next.”
“We need a way to track them,” said Leda.
“Right,” said Hamilton. “McGregor?”
“Already working on it, Captain,” said the science officer. “There. I’ve got something.”
“What is it?”
“A trail of what looks like xenon ions trailing off towards this system’s sun, pulled in by the star’s gravity well.”
“Whoever they are, they use Ion propulsion just like we do,” said Hamilton.
McGregor nodded excitedly. “And we can follow their trail. The particles are becoming scattered, but I think with Hudson’s help we can follow them.”
Hamilton glanced at Hudson, who had twisted around in his chair when his name was mentioned. “We’re several standard weeks behind them, but yeah, we can catch up with them.”
“All right,” said Hamilton. “Let’s do it. There’s nothing else we can do here.”
“Plotting now, sir,” said Hudson. “There. Looks like they headed straight out of the system at full power. They could be almost anywhere.”
“Where’s the next inhabited planet or military installation?” asked Leda. Hamilton turned his head to look at her.
“The Draconi have some interests in that region of space,” said Hudson. “A couple of planets and at least one large orbital structure that we know of.”
“If we go into Draconi space,” said Leda. She did not need to finish the sentence.
Hamilton nodded. “I know the risks, Commander. The Dragons are still a bit touchy after that little skirmish in the Artra system. But remember, I have some pull with their science liaison.” He grinned as he sat down in the command chair beside her. “Best possible speed, Lt. Hudson.”
The grim scene in the viewer pulled away to show the rich velvet of deep space. Leda took a deep breath, excited to be underway once more. She felt the strange need to be in constant motion, as if something somewhere was pulling her toward it. Her temple itched, but she resisted the urge to scratch it.
“What do you think did this?” she said to Hamilton in a low voice. “And what the hell did they do with the bodies?”
“The Chaos Wave,” she whispered. Hamilton nodded, his gray eyes never leaving the viewer. “As for those poor people down there, I have no idea. But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
Leda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t know how to explain it, not even to her captain, but she could feel it out there, could feel them out there. Somewhere. She didn’t want to tell Hamilton yet, not until she had a better idea herself. He would just think she was crazy. Hell, maybe she was.
Until then, there was nothing to do but wait while the crew tracked the trail of rapidly dissipating xenon ions through the void.
Hours went by, and they fell into the practiced routine of a military ship going about its appointed rounds. There were a thousand minutae to occupy their time, duty rosters to sign off on, maintenance schedules to update, and crew performance evaluations to process. Leda busied herself with these, her slate resting in her lap, while Hamilton paced the deck and barked the occasional order. She had spent enough time with the newly minted captain to know that he was as on edge as she was; he was just better at siphoning off that nervous energy into something a bit more productive than pure worry. In his mind she knew he was developing a half dozen scenarios for what to do once they caught up with the alien force that had destroyed Verdant. Until finally—
“We’ve just entered Draconi space,” said Hudson.
“General alert,” said Captain Hamilton, ceasing his pacing just long enough to review a slate McGregor handed him. He glanced in her direction, and Leda got up to stand beside him, the science officer hovering nearby.
“What kind of force can we expect?” said Hamilton, addressing both Leda and McGregor.
“Well,” said the science officer, “they’re using ion propulsion just as we are. I’d say that puts them on par with us technologically.”
“That may be true,” Leda added, “but their weapons systems are probably highly advanced. We still don’t know what they used to sterilize Verdant, or what happened to the colonists.”
McGregor nodded, considering this. Then he said, “I posit a fully space-faring race. Let’s assume for the moment that everything we’ve heard about this Chaos Wave is true. Then we’ve got a civilization that sweeps back and forth through the cosmos, on a trajectory that takes millions of years to traverse. They’re probably a highly ordered, highly structured society. Functionally immortal, either through altering their own genome or cybernetic enhancement.”
“They could be completely mechanical,” added Leda. “It’s possible the Makers the Swarm probe told me about created them as artificial constructs.”
“They’ll be programmed somehow,” said McGregor, “To order their entire existence around destroying other sentient species, without reason of survival or some other factor…” he trailed off.
Hamilton nodded. “I like the machine hypothesis. But until we actually meet them face to face it’s all just speculation. Still, it lets us know what we might be in for.” He stared toward the viewer, a far off look in his eyes. “I wonder if we can expect them to use the gates.”
“I wonder if they’re using the Q-gates,” Hamilton mused.
“They might,” said McGregor. “If they can access them. But a patient, long-lived race like them wouldn’t have much need for a shortcut. Especially if they might miss an inhabited world by jumping from gate to gate.”
“Sir,” said Hudson.
The captain spun around. “What is it?”
“I’m picking up a debris fie
ld, sir,” said the navigator. It’s massive.”
Hamilton stared at one of the holographic readouts. “What kind of debris?”
“Spectra consistent with Draconi vessels,” said McGregor, returning to his workstation.
Hamilton frowned. Whatever had come through here had wiped out an entire Draconi fleet. Not an easy task. “Any alien energy signatures or unrecognizable debris?”
“None, sir,” said Gunner Cade. “It’s all Draconi.”
Hamilton massaged the bridge of his nose. “All right. Pick up the trail and keep going. Lt. Brackett, tightbeam the fleet and give them a heads up.”
“If only we knew their next target,” said Leda. “Maybe we could warn someone, mount a defense.”
“I don’t think they have specific target in mind,” said Hamilton. “They’re attacking whomever they happen to run across. I think we were right before. This Chaos Wave, whatever it is, is sweeping the system free of all sentient life. How do we even begin to counter something like that? A race that doesn’t fight for territory or in retaliation?”
Leda’s temple itched, but she didn’t dare scratch. “I don’t know, sir. But we have to find a way.”
The holographic sensorium that sat in the middle of the spherical command deck, between the crew and the main viewer, flickered with renewed life. Five yellow triangles appeared above the plain of the ecliptic, moving rapidly in the Zelazny’s direction.
“Sir,” said Hudson. “We’ve got five incoming bogeys.”
“Identify,” said Hamilton.
“Ion signature consistent with raptor class Draconi light battle cruisers.”
“They’re armed to the teeth,” added Cade, checking his instruments.
“Yellow alert,” said Hamilton. “Brackett, get them on tightbeam as soon as possible.”
“Aye, captain,” said the communications officer, working her virtual controls.
“What if they think we did this?” whispered Leda.
“We’ll just have to convince them that we didn’t.” Hamilton said, his eyes never leaving the display.
Leda sighed. She had been on edge since they left the Citadel, and this new possible threat didn’t help matters.
“We’re receiving a transmission from them,” said Brackett. “I’m putting it through now.”
The Zelazny’s speakers sputtered static, then a gruff voice said, “This is Grand Leader Zara of the Egg Mother’s Tooth. I demand to know the meaning of this outrage. Why have you attacked us?”
Chapter Ten
Zarl and Tarl
In the time of the First Ships, there was a Dragon brave and true called Tolok. He loved going into space and looking down at the Homeworld and beholding the beauty that the Egg Mother made. He also loved the boundless stars She had placed in the sky, once dim like distant jewels, now so close he could touch them. He journeyed many cycles, and found the first quantum gate, and went through it to find many planets for the glory of the Empress. He was gone many, many cycles, leading a crew that explored the Egg Mother’s creation.
On day Tolok returned. He was very old, and most of his crew had died, but he had evidence of plays undreamed of. Before he died of extreme old age, Tolok told the story of a world with the ruins of an ancient city. This city had many wonders, but was not built by Draconi. The elders thought he had gone mad from his long travels. But the ship’s memory banks confirmed the city’s existence. He had brought back many artifacts from this place, most of which were hidden from view and eventually destroyed, for this was obviously a place created by the lowly creatures of the void the Egg Mother had created to serve as food for the proud Draconi race, and wasn’t worthy to exist on the First World She made.
Eventually, curious Draconi followed in Tolok’s footsteps, eventually arriving at this world and beholding its wonders, and the quiet beauty of the long-dead city. They named this place Shazara, which means in the Draconi tongue the First Place. And they made it holy.
* * *
Drizda felt crazy for coming here, but it was the only way she could hope to reach her intended destination. She walked into the bar self-consciously glancing at the other patrons, who paid her no notice. She had removed her title sash and exchanged her uniform for commoner’s wear, but she still felt conspicuous under her leather hood and coverlet. She looked around the crowded bar, where humans and even a few Draconi milled about in conversation. An acrid haze filled the air. A thin, small-boned man sidled toward her with a whir of servos from his powered exoskeleton. League civilians, Draconi outcasts, and even the infamous human tribe known as the Wanderers co-existed here in something akin to harmony, mainly because they were all criminals. Drizda composed herself and moved deeper into the sea of bodies, tasting human sweat and mind-altering chemicals on her tongue.
As promised, she found whom she was looking for in the rear of the establishment, hunkered against a far wall that had once been part of a large plastic storage container. Two pairs of reptilian eyes glanced up at her as she approached.
“Zarl and Tarl,” she said.
“Guilty,” said Zarl.
“As charged,” said Tarl.
“And who might you be?” they said in unison.
Drizda was a bit taken aback by their odd method of communication, but she knew differences were to be expected. Zarl and Tarl were conjoined. Two heads shared one body. Zarl was the head on their right, and Tarl was the one on their left. Zarl and Tarl heaved themselves into a standing position, resting most of their weight on their shared tail.
Drizda’s tiny wings flitted nervously against the leather fabric covering her back. “I am Drizda. We spoke via tightbeam. I have need of your services.”
“Of course,” said Zarl.
“Do you have—” Tarl began.
“Credentials?” they both finished at once.
“Yes,” she said, trying not to stare at them as she flashed her identity at them. They glanced at each other before both of them nodded. “Very well,” said Tarl.
“Can’t be too careful,” said Zarl.
“In our line of work,” added Tarl.
Drizda nodded. Part of the reason Zarl and Tarl came so highly recommended was their discretion, and their willingness to do almost anything if the price was right.
“You have our payment?” asked Zarl.
“Yes.” Drizda produced a small flat object and held it in one hand while she placed a finger of her other hand on it. A minute, self-sterilizing needle poked her finger, producing a tiny drop of blood for her DNA signature. Then she handed it off to the twins. Zarl held the device while Tarl moved their left hand toward it. After their DNA was confirmed, the device chirped.
“Your funds have been transmitted to your account,” said Drizda. “Now, how quickly can we get under way? I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”
Zarl and Tarl exchanged wary glances with one another. “We may leave as soon as you wish,” said Zarl.
“But first you must tell us where we are going,” said Tarl.
“Of course.” She glanced around quickly before lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. “I want to go to the planet our people call Shazara.”
The two Draconi glared at each other, then clicked their teeth for a very long time. When they were done, Tarl said, “You want to visit a children’s fable?”
“I’d love to know the coordinates for that!” added Zarl.
“I have coordinates,” said Drizda. “I assure you, Shazara does exist.”
“By the Egg Mother,” said Zarl.
“This we have to see,” said Tarl.
“Show us,” they said.
Drizda reached into a pocket of her tunic and removed a small memory chip. She handed it to Zarl as Tarl produced a mini slate from somewhere. Zarl inserted the chip as Tarl woke the device. They studied the screen for a few minutes.
“Where did you,” said Zarl.
“Find these coordinates,” said Tarl.
“An old planetary survey
map,” Drizda said. “Are you going to take me there or not?”
Tarl whispered something to his brother, then Zarl did likewise.
“We will take you,” said Zarl. “But your price—”
“Just went up,” Tarl finished.
“Why?” said Drizda.
“This world,” said Zarl.
“Is under planetary quarantine,” finished Tarl.
Drizda flicked her tongue at them. They had her there. If she could have visited the planet legally she wouldn’t have needed to hire them. “Fine. But you will get the rest after you have delivered me safely to these coordinates.”
The twins glanced at each other, some invisible communication no doubt passing between them.
“We accept,” said Zarl.
“Your terms,” said Tarl.
“Lead the way to your ship,” said Drizda.
She followed Zarl and Tarl out of the crowded bar and through the equally crowded market to the outskirts of the ramshackle city’s spaceport. The twins wore a leathern harness covered in pouches and pockets holding a multitude of items. A sidearm hung from each hip, rail pistols by the looks of them. Drizda watched them walk, curious how they coordinated their movements. It appeared that Tarl controlled the left half of their shared body, while Zarl controlled the right, while their long fat tail seemed to be controlled by both. It flicked back and forth sharply behind them as they moved. Their shriveled, vestigial wings quivered uselessly on their backs.
They were muttering something to each other as they neared the spaceport, but Drizda couldn’t tell what they were saying. It sounded like some strange amalgam of Draconi and Standard, a pidgin dialect that she wasn’t familiar with. She quickened her pace to move up beside them as they entered the spaceport.
“We’re right,” said Tarl.
“Over there,” said Zarl, pointing.
Drizda was unimpressed. Resting in a launch creche was a freighter that looked cobbled together from several other starships, both human and Draconi. The hull was composed of at least two different alloys, the engine clusters were mismatched, and the whole thing had heavy carbon scoring and pockmarks from micrometeorite impacts. It looked like a child’s toy left out in an orbital bombardment.