by J. S. Fields
Neek fished the little disc from her pocket and handed it to Yorden. The captain activated the connection, his thick fingers finding it hard to gain purchase on the slick surface. Finally, the Minoran captain materialized on the tiny screen.
“Captain Yorden Kuebrich of the tramp, Mercy’s Pledge,” the female Minoran said, her long face dispassionate. Neek glanced over to the comm disc’s screen. She could just make out a quadruped form, but little detail. “This is Captain Elger Tang of the Galactic Baltec Wind. We have your ship clamped to ours and are about to fire our lightspeed engines. We should enter the Neek Wormhole momentarily. Please ensure all passengers are secured for the flight.”
“The other liner—what about it?” Yorden asked, glancing back at the big screen. “It’s taking damage.”
“The Risalian gunner appears to be having some issues working hir controls,” Captain Tang noted. She pivoted slightly on her four feet and then sat back on her haunches, gesturing with a front foot, the long, yellow claws separating widely in an imitation of pointing. “My sensor operator has been tracking the Risalian cutter since before we left the wormhole. All that tech and they can’t seem to hit the same spot twice. You must have damaged their auto-targeting system. If they can’t maintain a steady laser stream, we don’t have much to worry about.”
“If you say so,” Neek muttered.
Tang’s ear perked, and she tilted her head to one side, letting her brown hair fall over her eyes. “Ah, Exile,” the captain said, blowing the strand from her face. “The high priest mentioned you. Used to be a pretty fancy pilot back on your homeworld.” Tang’s eyes roamed the screen. “I can’t imagine a tramp transport is as engaging to drive as a settee.”
Heat flushed Neek’s cheeks, but she refrained from speaking. Once, just once, she’d love to run across a species in the Charted Systems that didn’t know who she was.
“Captain, we’re entering the wormhole,” a Minoran called somewhere offscreen. Captain Tang nodded. “Strap in, friends. We have access to some of the less traveled lines. Should be able to get you to Neek in a few days at top speed.”
“You have our thanks,” Yorden responded heavily. “Mercy’s Pledge out.”
When the screen blanked, Yorden faced the crew. Neek watched several emotions play across his face. Around the captain, loose panels and frayed wires swayed and clapped in the poor internal gravity. He’d had the Pledge when they’d met in the Terran System, nine years ago. It was one of Earth’s first private spacecrafts, nearly as old as Yorden was. To see it like this now—a softened mass of biometal and fried circuitry—had to hurt.
“Neek,” Yorden finally managed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “Any chance your people won’t be as cool to us as they were the last time we tried to enter your system? We’re barely holding together. At this point, a rock thrown by a religious zealot would break the Pledge apart, and I remember how many of those we had to dodge the last time we tried to get planetside.”
Neek sighed and then stood as straight as she could manage. “We’re bringing back a god. They should throw andal bark, not rocks. Besides, I have it on good authority that I am much more charming now than I used to be.” She took a step towards Nicholas then and put her arm around his shoulder, giving him a tight hug. “Right? I’m downright charming.”
Nicholas pushed her off. “Neek, you are overbearing, loud, and devoid of emotional depth.” He started up the ladder to the turret and then turned his head back. “Why don’t you deal with this Ardulan thing, instead of acting like an ass all the time?” He finished the climb, slammed the hatch door closed, and yelled in English, “Why do we keep calling them wormholes? They’re tesseracts. Common language is stupid!”
Neek forced a smile, debating the wisdom of either punching someone or screaming. When she gathered herself enough to speak, she did so through gritted teeth. “Just wait until we get to my homeworld. You think I lost my shit over the girl? Wait until you see an entire planet lose their minds over the return of a child god.”
Chapter 10: Markin Council Room, Risal
The Neek people alone are responsible for their past and their future. How long can we expect to coast through time on the advances of our ancestors? Fill the empty place in your hearts with progress instead of legends! Stop being afraid of becoming more than you are now!
—Excerpt from a dissident rally speech in N’lln, Neek, 220 AA
Another emergency meeting of the Markin Council to deal with the growing Mmnnuggl problem. How many had already occurred this cycle? Six? Seven? Markin Kelm shifted in hir chair and tapped a cluster of gems on the inlaid conference table. Xe had promised to take hir child, Belm, on a tour of the Cell-Tal nursery today—a new batch of Ardulan offspring were being born, and Belm had begged for weeks to see a live Ardulan birth. They’d actually made it as far as the crèche building before Kelm’s communicator pinged, calling hir in for another meeting.
The current ostentatiousness of the room’s decorations only added to hir frustration. The room had been recently renovated, and Kelm briefly wondered which of hir cohort approved that unnecessary expenditure. For the past two years, the motif had been Risal-specific—mostly andal wood furniture and paintings done by artists on Cell-Tal grants. The current designer had gone with a more intergalactic look, with tapestries and gemware from across the Systems littering the walls and writing surfaces. The conference table was the same, however—made of andal wood and polished to a high gloss. The chairs, too, were andal, all made from Neek trees so old they’d been planted before Kelm’s last two progenitors had lived.
Kelm looked at the table again. The five markin, each of whom represented a sector of Risalian life, sat equidistant around the circumference. They were all identically dressed in blue tunics, with their scaled, black hair tied back from their necks in the style of their respective provinces. The overhead lighting brought out the different melanin contents within their skin, making a striking monochromatic blue ring around the wooden table. Hovering just above the table lay a glittering patchwork of finely woven cellulosic cables and colored diamonds—one of Cell-Tal’s finer creations. Thin, translucent cables ran to the seats of all five markin, allowing each one to control the holographic interface. Recessed in a wall just behind Kelm were two printers—one for food and one for tech. They were both the newest models and superior to anything currently available on the consumer market. The food printer had code for over fifty thousand fast-print perf entrees, able to produce three a minute. The tech printer, when loaded with andal cellulose, produced the highest quality biometal in the Systems.
Kelm hoped one of the markin had something useful to present this time. Xe had no update from Captain Ran yet as to the recovery of the girl, and Markin Sald, of the Capitol sector, and Markin Raek, of the Genomics sector, had been so completely consumed with the new genomics project that Kelm doubted either of them even knew what day it was. Markin Xouy, of the Science sector, had been out on border patrol, and if xe had called the meeting, Kelm didn’t want to hear the report. There had been too many Mmnnuggl attacks recently and too many Risalian casualties. They couldn’t take any more losses, and the Systems couldn’t afford any new weaknesses. There were too many gaps in the Charted Systems borders now—too many opportunities for invasion. If they didn’t recover the girl soon, the entirety of the Systems would dissolve into chaos.
The sun had yet to rise, and the glow of artificial lighting within the meeting room reflected off the embedded gemstones in the tabletop mesh, creating harsh glares when looked at with too sharp an angle. All five markin were in attendance, and all five, Kelm thought, looked haggard.
“There was a Mmnnuggl incident at the fifth intersect yesterday,” Xouy began, hir tone weary. Xe bent over the biofilm in front of hir, and a cascade of hair fell onto the table. Scales fell from the strands and clinked onto the wood. “The third since the attack on our cutters near Oorin. The Mmnnuggls grow bolder.” Xouy pulled several additional pieces of
thin biofilm from the inside of hir tunic and pushed them towards the others. “These documents show the locations of the Mmnnuggl attacks, plus the other, smaller skirmishes over the past cycle.”
Kelm studied the sheet, absentmindedly rubbing hir right neck slit. This was going to be a long meeting, judging by the reports. It was unlikely xe would make any of the births today, not even the evening ones. Belm would be disappointed, but hopefully they could make the next cycle. It was a shame Belm was too young to have witnessed the birth of the missing girl. Her genetic line had been in development for fifty years, and she was the last offspring her progenitor was capable of producing. To have been present at the birth of Risal’s greatest achievement would have been something Belm could have impressed hir friends with for decades.
“Intersects thirty-seven and one hundred and five were also attacked,” Kelm said, returning hir attention to the sheet. “But those two intersect attacks were not attributed to the Mmnnuggls.” Xe pulled one of the sheets closer and studied the ship schematics presented near the bottom. Being the head of the Ship Operations sector had its advantages, one of which was being a little too familiar with ship architecture. “They’re not Mmnnuggl and don’t follow the design patterns from any Charted Systems manufacturers.” Kelm flipped the sheet around and tapped one of the images, expanding it to fill the screen. “Despite all the noise we made at our last meeting about Ran’s unfortunate decision to separate the girl from her mother before her metamorphosis and speculation about her mother’s unusual Talent usage, we now have a bigger issue to deal with.”
Markin Sandid, of the Sheriff sector, raised a thick, gray eyebrow and responded with a less than impressed tone. “A few new ships aren’t that alarming, all things considered. Especially since the only ships being attacked appear to be randomly selected and are of no strategic or monetary value.”
“I agree,” Raek said, taking the sheet from Kelm and studying the image. “The girl should be our top concern, not more inconsequential pirates. Without her, the Talent breeding program is completely over. We have no genetic base from which to start again, unless we want to clone. This means thorough testing will have to be done on all our remaining stock to determine suitability for a secondary breeding program. The data could take years to gather, even with Cell-Tal’s resources. Going on a hunt for that stupid traveling planet is completely out of the question, and even if we did find it, there is no guarantee they would trade with us again.”
Kelm felt warmth creep up the sides of hir neck and took a deep breath. “I’m not arguing that retrieving the girl is inconsequential. But look—look at that ship. Look at the mark it bears on the wing tip.”
Raek squinted hir eyes, brought the sheet up to hir face, and then looked back at Kelm questioningly.
“We’ve had reports of three different ship architectures thus far—other than Mmnnuggl—and all have this same marking. They’re allied.”
Sandid dropped hir head back and closed hir eyes. Xe tugged at the neckline of hir tunic, which was too snug and pressed into the sensitive flesh. Kelm watched with detached fascination as the gemstones reflected glittering specs of light across the markin’s throat and deep-blue tunic. “Unified, but as to what? If they’re looking to start a war—why? There hasn’t been a war in the Charted Systems since we implemented the entire Ardulan program. The Systems are completely incapable of defending themselves. No one here has any concept of true conflict. There hasn’t even been any serious crime within our borders for the past twenty years. We have a completely demilitarized populace—by choice, I might add. What could this outside alliance hope to gain by taking out random Risalian cutters?”
“It’s a good question,” Kelm responded. “For years, the Mmnnuggls have only been interested in petty thievery, taking small items that are easily resold. Whether they have always been working within an alliance or whether this is a new development doesn’t matter. Their tactics are changing. Something has moved them from hit-and-run to outright frontal assault. I’d like to know what, or who, is responsible.”
Xouy nodded. “Beginning with the theft of the Ardulan girl, the Mmnnuggls are now more focused. They’re coordinated. The last two ships they attacked were reduced to rubble, and recovery teams found evidence of currency and other valuables. The ships were not sacked prior to attack. Monitoring of the communication relays shows that before each attack there was no communication, no attempt at bargaining.” Xouy dropped hir voice an octave. “We’ve lost over five hundred Risalians this cycle alone to a group of aliens that won’t even tell us why they attack, or how to appease them.”
“That’s unacceptable,” Kelm said. Xe rubbed hir neck slits harder, willing the purple tinting to fade with the encroaching sunlight. “The loss of Risalian life is discomforting under standard peace conditions. To lose so many for no apparent reason—we cannot allow this to continue. What should we do?” Xe turned to Sandid. “Diplomatic envoys maybe? Negotiations? If they’re using faster-than-light travel, how will we even get to them?”
Sald interrupted Sandid’s response. “I’d be more interested in understanding why our ships aren’t defending themselves.” Xe turned the document around so it faced the other markin and pointed to the second line on the sheet. “Cellulose runs throughout every component on those ships, from the hull to the lasers. Every Systems member in a Cell-Tal ship is, in theory, protected when an Ardulan is nearby. Every ship is also a potential weapon, depending on need. But look—take this attack at the twelfth intersect. Our ship is identified as patrol skiff 1154, carrying a second don Hearth Ardulan; 1154 was attacked by one unknown ship, which fired four short burst shots from a refracting diamond laser and managed to obliterate 1154.”
Sald dug hir claws into the andal table. “How is that possible? Our shield-trained Ardulans are tested extensively, can withstand over one hundred repeated laser shots before collapsing! This one lost control after just four. The other reports show similar issues—cutters with gunners never firing a penetrating shot; patrol skiffs with second and third don shields unable to even attempt escape.” Sald pointed at the bottom line on the document. “Perhaps most disturbing, a medical ship carrying three second don Ardulan healers recovered with no one left alive. There is a pattern right in front of us—we just don’t want to see it.”
“Genetic failures, Sald?” Raek asked, frowning. “Or something more insidious? We are working with a limited gene pool, true, but our scientists can find no compatible species with which to broaden the resource.”
Xouy frowned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Raek, but from what I understand, genetic failures occur at first sporadically, then with increasing frequency in a given controlled population. To see a slow increase in defects would be one thing, but to have so many at once…to me that seems more of the type of failure that could only occur through some type of link. Our Ardulans do not have telepathic ability outside of the mother-child bond, unless they have the Science Talent, so I don’t know how something like that would spread.”
“Mutation?” Raek asked. “Perhaps simple degradation of the genome? We do a fair bit of cloning along with selective breeding. Our process has never been perfect.” Raek folded hir hands. “As you all know, we’ve replaced so much of the original DNA that at this point I don’t think any of us would know how to reset the species back to their original parameters, and the Ardulans themselves tinkered with the livestock they gave us for years before we even saw them. Who knows what they were originally capable of.”
Xouy looked thoughtful. “Could a mass failure like what we are witnessing be due to simple genetic degradation or sudden mutation?” The markin frowned. “It just doesn’t seem like it would happen all at once. We should have seen other problems arising, slowly, over the past ten years or so.”
Raek shrugged. “Some sort of external stimulus may have started a chain reaction. As to what that stimulus could be, I don’t know.”
“Stop using your brains so much and just look.” S
ald grunted, and pushed the sheets towards Raek. “Forget genetics, genomics, whatever. We can debate mutations and lack of defense later. What’s more important is what is being attacked. All these attacks have one thing in common.”
Kelm scooted over to Raek and examined the documents as well. Exhaustion hung in the air, and the smell of body odor and clean linen assaulted Kelm’s nose. Bright sunlight was just beginning to filter into the meeting room, and Kelm wished to go home, wrap Belm up in a warm blanket, and forget about the brewing war. Except if Sald was right, if they were missing something big, then they all needed to see it.
Kelm read and reread the text. Ships of unknown classes. Destruction after one or two hits. No looting and, if Sald was right, no genetic failures. What did that leave? The only thing the ships had in common was that they were Risalian and contained Ardulans.
Kelm’s communicator pinged again. The text on the biofilm in front of Kelm changed from the meeting minutes to what appeared to be a hastily typed note from Captain Ran. Kelm pushed any hope xe had of seeing Belm today from hir mind. Sald was right.
“I think I may have our answer,” Kelm said in a low voice. “And I think we need to have a long conversation with Cell-Tal. The girl is alive, and she is manifesting. And somehow—somehow, the Mmnnuggls know it.”
Chapter 11: Neek
Intersects 201 through 250 are compromised. I repeat—attack by heavily armed Mmnnuggl pod-frigate and six unknown alien ships occurred approximately three hours ago. Attack appears to have been coordinated. All Risalian scout and defense vessels along intersects 201 through 250 have been destroyed. Estimated total life loss at over six thousand. Send reinforcements immediately.