by James Palmer
“What do you call this, um, ship?”
“The Snark,” Zarl said proudly.
“That’s an unusual name,” said Drizda.
“She’s an unusual ship,” replied the twins in unison.
“It comes from an old Earth poem,” Tarl explained.
They exchanged knowing glances before reciting:
Zarl: ‘Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:’
Tarl: ‘A thing, as the Bellman remarked,’
Zarl: ‘That frequently happens in tropical climes,’
Both: ‘When a vessel is, so to speak, “snarked.”’
The conjoined pilots clicked their teeth together excitedly, as if this nonsensical snippet of alien poetry was the funniest thing they had ever heard, while Drizda looked on, perplexed.
“She’s faster than,” said Zarl.
“She looks,” added Tarl. “And she has—”
“Black market stealth tech,” they both finished proudly, in unison.
“I see,” said Drizda.
She waited while Zarl opened up the ship, which extruded a dingy ramp. Drizda tasted ozone and machine oil on her tongue.
They stepped inside first, followed by Drizda, both of them hitting switches as they went, waking things up, turning on lights and telemetry. It was roomier than it looked from the outside, but only slightly, and the design was markedly human.
“The interior is from a gutted revenger class Warsprite,” said Zarl.
“Still smells like mammal,” Tarl added, wrinkling his nose.
“But it’s home,” they both agreed.
Drizda noticed that the pilot seats had been ripped out and replaced with a single wide, low Draconi stool, and other accommodations had been made for Draconi anatomy, though she noticed a few human accouterments remained.
“We cater to both species,” said Zarl.
“We don’t discriminate,” agreed Tarl.
They sat themselves atop the stool and began going through their preflight checklist. “Strap in,” said Tarl.
“The takeoff’s a bit bumpy,” said Zarl.
Drizda sat upon a stool and wrapped crash webbing around herself, curling her tail around the bottom of her stool for added support. She was reminded just how much she really did not enjoy spaceflight.
“Why do you want to go,” said Tarl.
“To Shazara?” finished Zarl.
“Would you believe I’m on a treasure hunt?” said Drizda with a click of her teeth.
Chapter Eleven
The Draconi War Fleet
“I repeat, what is the meaning of this outrage?” said Grand Leader Zara.
“Grand Leader,” said Hamilton. “This is Captain Noah Hamilton of the railship Zelazny. We are on an exploratory mission in search of the forces who attacked one of our colony worlds a few days ago. That search has lead us here to this debris field. Are you or any of your crew injured? Do you need medical—”
“A ship of the Sovereign Empress does not need any assistance from mammals,” Zara snapped. “You are in violation of Draconi space. I demand that you surrender yourselves to my forces immediately or face extermination.”
Hamilton glanced at Brackett and made a slashing motion across his neck. She muted the feed.
“She’s angry her forces were decimated and looking for someone to take it out on,” said Leda.
“Five ships is hardly a force,” added Gunner Cade. “They could sure give us a run for our money.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Gunner,” Hamilton said. “But be ready just in case.”
He signaled Brackett to un-mute the feed, then said, “Grand Leader Zara. We are not in a position to surrender. We are pursuing a hostile force which has also attacked Draconi interests in this sector. We are on the same side here. Let us help.”
Silence and tachyon static greeted his words. Finally, “Very well, mammal. We know it was not your forces that did this. Whoever it was is far more powerful.”
“Did you see who it was?” asked Hamilton.
“No, but we received a tightbeam description of the attackers, along with sensory data.”
“May we have access to that information?” Hamilton asked. “It would really speed things along.”
Zara’s tongue darted from her mouth. “It must go through the proper channels,” she said brusquely, then the feed cut off.
Hamilton shook his head. “Their civilization under attack and they’re playing politics.”
“The Draconi are very regimented in their command structure and their thinking,” said Leda. “Old habits die hard.”
Hamilton nodded once but said nothing. He didn’t have the patience for bureaucratic nonsense, not right now.
The screen flickered to life once more. “You have been granted special dispensation,” said Zara, who said the phrase as if it were something distasteful. “We are sending the data now.”
“Thank goodness for small favors,” Hamilton said after the transmission ended. “I wonder if the Admiralty has been in touch with Draconi high command.”
“It’s possible,” said Leda. “I’m just glad they’re talking to us instead of shooting at us.”
“That’s something at least,” said Hamilton. “What have we got, Lt. Brackett?”
“The info is coming through now, sir,” she said, keying a sequence on her workstation.
“All right,” said the Captain. “I want everyone’s eyes on this. Tactical, navigation, science stations. Let’s figure out what we’re dealing with here.”
Everyone got to work collating and analyzing the data.
“Hudson, what are our friends doing out there?” asked Leda.
“Maintaining their position,” said Hudson. “They have us surrounded, but so far they’ve done nothing more overtly hostile than raise their defense fields.”
“Good,” said Leda. “Let’s make sure it stays that way.”
“Brackett,” said Hamilton. “Open a channel to Zara’s ship.”
There was a crackle of tachyon static.
“Grand Leader Zara,” said Hamilton. “We are going to continue following this new ion trail left by our attackers. You’re welcome to join us if you wish.”
There was a hiss on the other end that Hamilton almost mistook for more static. “I do not work with lowly mammals,” said Zara. “But finding these creatures and destroying them is our highest priority. We will accompany you. For now.”
“Great,” said Hamilton, staring. “Nice, uh, to be working with you.” He sliced across his neck with his hand once more, and Brackett killed the feed.
“This should be interesting,” said Leda.
“Well, look at it this way,” said Hamilton. “If they’re working with us, they’re not killing us.”
After ordering Hudson to get under way, Hamilton stood in the center of the command deck. “All right, people. What does that data tell us about our cosmic trespassers? Propulsion? Weapons?”
“Their means of propulsion appears to be a typical ion drive,” said McGregor. “No different from what we or the Draconi use. This means they’re slow going at interstellar distances, though they could tear through the average star system in a couple of standard weeks.”
“Great,” said Hamilton. “So we’re evenly matched on propulsion. What else?”
“Weaponry appears to consist primarily of some sort of weaponized plasma energy,” said Cade. “It’s far beyond anything we or the Draconi have. Their ships are very tough too. I wouldn’t rule out some sort of exotic alloy we haven’t even thought of yet.”
“What does this tell us about who we are dealing with?” asked Hamilton.
“They’re patient,” said Leda. “Methodical.”
“It takes them a long time to get where they’re going,” said McGregor. “Especially if they’re not using Q-gate technology. And if the old Progenitor myths are to be believed, they don’t waver from their mission. I hypothesize a culture that is essentially stagnant
. This is a million year-old race who haven’t developed faster propulsion technology or found a new focus for their efforts beyond killing other sentient beings. This is a race who doesn’t reproduce, and has met their every other material need or want.”
“That makes it more likely that they are machines,” said Leda. “Like the Swarm probes. But we know even those can be damaged or destroyed. So how do you kill an Ix? And how do they recoup their numbers if necessary?”
“Good work, everyone,” said Captain Hamilton. “We should compare notes with the Draconi. I wonder if I can get their captains to meet with me.”
“Only if we can agree to meet here,” said Leda. “Where we can control the situation.”
Hamilton nodded to her. He had been on a Draconi vessel once, and had no intention of repeating the experience.
“It might be a good idea to wait a bit until we’ve gained their trust,” said McGregor.
“Agreed,” said Captain Hamilton. “Let’s table that for now. Brackett, let the fleet know that we have some new friends assisting in our search and request further instructions.”
Leda turned toward Lt. Brackett’s workstation. “Monitor all tightbeam channels. Military, civilian, anything else you can think of. When these bastards strike again we need to know about it.”
“Good idea,” said Hamilton. To Gunner Cade he said, “Stay frosty. Keep our weapons primed until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, sir,” said Cade.
“Now what?” said Leda.
“Now we wait,” said Hamilton. “That and hope the Draconi don’t decide to attack us after all.”
Chapter Twelve
Shazara
Drizda did not have to wait long to learn of Zarl and Tarl’s peculiar origin, nor did she even have to ask. As they guided the Snark toward the first Q-gate, the conjoined twins happily told her of their strange journey to adulthood, in that jerky way of speaking that Drizda had feared would become annoying, but was actually rather endearing.
The twins had been born on a distant Draconian outpost inhabited largely by human prisoners of war. The frailer mammalian specimens were used as slave labor, while the hardier members of the human species were either eaten or pitted against one another as a form of cheap entertainment. A hatchery had been set up at the very edge of the settlement. As per Draconian custom, birth defects, when they occurred, were not allowed to survive past hatching. Priests prowled the hatcheries and dispatched any hatchlings that were born with any abnormalities or deemed otherwise too weak to survive. The priest was about to destroy Zarl and Tarl, when a human woman interceded on their behalf. Her name was Roma, and she had ingratiated herself to the Draconi authorities that ran the hatchery by doing whatever was asked of her. She caused even the cold priest to feel pity on young Zarl and Tarl, and allowed them to live. But she had to promise to take them far away and to never speak of how they were allowed to reach adulthood. Roma agreed, and carried them to a distant province far across the planet, where they were raised mostly among humans.
Drizda clicked her teeth together as they finished their tale. This certainly explained their odd demeanor. In a lot of ways, they were more like humans than most of the humans she had met.
“That is a remarkable story,” she said at last.
“Thank you,” said Tarl.
“We think so,” said Zarl.
“Where is Roma now?”
Zarl and Tarl looked at each other sadly.
“She is dead,” said Tarl.
“But not forgotten,” said Zarl.
Two more Q-gate jaunts, and they had arrived at their destination. The fabled Shazara was an unremarkable planet, uninteresting save for the quarantine beacon that pulsed at regular intervals from the world’s L5 Lagrange Point, overriding the tightbeam receivers of any ship in range.
Zarl and Tarl ignored it as they moved their ship into a low orbit.
“Aren’t we going to land?” asked Drizda.
“Not yet,” said Tarl.
“We need the lay of the land first,” said Zarl.
Drizda nodded and sat back in the crash couch. They were right to be cautious, especially with a planet-wide quarantine in effect.
“Initiating ground scan,” said Zarl.
“Copy that,” said Tarl.
Drizda peered out the viewport at the curve of the planet. Officially it had only a three letter designation, and had never been colonized. Most Draconi were afraid of it. Its origins were shrouded in superstition. Beyond the story of Tolok, no one but the upper echelons of Draconi society knew what it was like on the planet’s surface.
Drizda watched as the system’s star peered over the curve of the planet, bathing the world’s eastern hemisphere in yellow light. She was pleased. It meant they would be able to better discern planetary features from orbit.
“Anything,” said Tarl.
“You are looking for,” said Zarl.
“In particular?” they finished in unison.
“Ruins,” said Drizda. “Progenitor ruins. Beyond that I’m not sure.”
The two pilots looked at each other as they continued their scan.
“We’re detecting--” began Tarl.
“Multiple heat signatures,” finished Zarl.
“That’s strange,” said Drizda, remembering the quarantine. “Lifeforms?”
“No,” said Zarl.
“Drones,” said Tarl.
“Drones? What are they doing?”
“We have no idea,” said Tarl.
“Let’s have a closer look,” said Zarl.
Slowly, the tiny vessel began to descend, an aura of heat appearing around it as it entered the planet’s atmosphere. The air was breathable, at least by Draconi standards. Drizda watched eagerly as the vague landforms they’d seen from orbit resolved themselves into distinct hills, valleys, and tall, willowy tree analogues with thick, feathery protuberances that served the function of leaves.
“Ground penetrating radar picked up a collection of ruins a few spans west,” said Zarl.
“We’ll land as close as we can,” said Zarl.
As they flew over a copse of the strange trees Drizda witnessed several vehicles of Draconi design trundling along on some mysterious errand. Spindly, metallic forms moved around them carrying heavy-looking burdens. Drizda had seen enough archaeological digs in her life to know what they were doing.
“Someone is using semi-autonomous drones to excavate the ruins,” she said. “But why?”
“And why do it in secret?” added Zarl.
“Quarantine, my scales,” declared Tarl.
Drizda nodded. The quarantine was just a ruse, leaving someone free to explore the ruins. But who? And why? And why didn’t she know about it? She was her people’s scientific liaison. Nothing of any scientific import related to the Draconi race went on without first crossing her desk. She would have some serious words with someone once this quest was over. In the meantime, she still had a job to do, and she was technically violating an Imperial edict just by being here.
“We haven’t been detected yet,” Zarl observed.
Tarl nodded. “They must think the quarantine beacons—”
“—in orbit enough to scare people off,” they finished together.
“Can we land?” asked Drizda.
“One moment,” said Tarl.
Drizda watched in amazement as the twins moved dials, pushed buttons and flipped switches, a series of precise, coordinated movements necessary for the safe landing of the ship. She surmised that their separate nervous systems were intertwined in ways she couldn’t possibly imagine. It was really something to see.
The Snark landed with a slight jolt, and Drizda unstrapped from the crash webbing.
“Now,” said Zarl.
“Where’s this—” began Tarl.
“Treasure of yours?” they said in unison.
“Let’s go and find out,” said Drizda.
Zarl and Tarl led the way out of the ship, their weapons drawn. Drizda
had her own weapon out as well, her tongue tasting the air, predator’s senses on edge. According to her reading, the planet’s most advanced indigenous lifeform was a small, scaly rodent analogue, but she was more worried about the automated drones.
Zarl and Tarl stepped into the spindly grass, their joint tail swishing spasmodically. Their tongues lashed the air, nostrils flaring. If they caught wind of anything, they gave no indication.
“The ruins are,” began Tarl.
“This way,” finished Zarl, and the twins turned to their left. Drizda followed.
The forest was eerily quiet, which set Drizda’s nerves on edge. Her eyes darted at strange shadows. She was starting to believe that this world’s odd reputation was well-earned.
“There,” Zarl said, gesturing with his sidearm. Drizda peered into the dense foliage, making out an old stone structure poking through the blue-green growth. Was it an entrance? It was hard to tell. They had to get closer.
Something flashed, and Drizda felt a wave of superheated air rush past directly in front of them. The three of them slumped into a crouch, Tarl taking aim at something in the distance and firing. Foliage collapsed as it was shredded by the projectile.
There was a metallic crunch and a puff of smoke. Drizda smelled ozone and burnt wiring. Drizda remained where she was while Tarl and Zarl moved to inspect the damage they had done. Drizda was rising from her crouch as something large thumped the ground at her feet.
“Sentinel orb,” said Zarl.
Drizda picked it up, inspecting it. A six-inch hole had been punched through it, revealing the inner workings.
“It almost killed us,” said Drizda.
“A design flaw,” noted Zarl.
“Someone doesn’t—” began Tarl.
“Want us near these ruins,” they both finished.
“The way is dangerous,” said Drizda. “You have done what I asked by bringing me here. I will not ask you to continue along with me. But I am more compelled than ever to explore these ruins.”
Zarl and Tarl looked at each other. “As are we,” they said in unison.