by Chris Fox
"Assuming they lower it," Reid said, scowl deepening.
"Oh, ye of little faith," Kathryn said, rolling her eyes. She hadn't dealt much with Primo, but other entities who were connected to the masters had. Through the larva wrapped around her spine she could access some of those memories--those the larva was willing to share, anyway. "Protocol dictates that they render assistance. They can't interfere directly in temporal matters, but they can save lives."
"UFC Sparhawk, this is Derinia. Proceed to docking port nine. If you deviate from this course you will be destroyed," the Primo said. He continued layering on threats about what else would get them blown up.
Kathryn only half listened, holding her breath until she felt a sharp tingle. Then she grinned. "We're passing through the shield."
She faced the view screen, which showed the enormous library beneath them. Two dozen immense plasma cannons were trained on the Sparhawk, but thus far they seemed not to suspect anything.
Kathryn blinked when she saw another vessel docked--and not just any vessel, but the unmistakable blue form of a harvester. There was only one harvester actively working against them, which meant Nolan had arrived first. At least he was still here. This sped up their timetable, but as long as they stopped him from leaving they'd stay on schedule.
"Dock as casually as possible," she called into the cockpit, though she knew it was a pointless gesture. The servants Reid surrounded himself with had so much of their body replaced they hardly qualified as people. Delta was the notable exception, though Kathryn was unclear why Reid had made such an exception. Reid did derive quite a bit of pleasure from pushing Delta around, so maybe that was it.
Kathryn turned her attention back to the docking, watching as the Sparhawk settled against the library's hull. She turned to Delta. "Okay, this is your show. Get your men ready. I'll take charge of the Judicators. Reid, it's safest if you wait here."
"What if those cannons fire on the ship?" Reid asked, voice rising as he spoke.
"Then you'll be dead before you can reach the airlock door," Kathryn said, turning away from him without another word. She ducked into the mess, then down to the airlock door.
Delta was already waiting there.
"Once all troops are deployed," she said, "link up with me. We'll head for the data core so we can head off Nolan. That has to be why he's here."
Chapter 35- Attacked
Nolan followed Atrea and Lena deeper into the library. The layout was identical to the last one, with corridors stretching off the cavernous main chamber like spokes from a wheel. A series of levels ringed the main floor, each rising toward a domed ceiling that showed the stars. It wasn't unlike the bridge of a Primo carrier, now that he thought about it. This place was many times larger, though.
A handful of Primos wandered between the shelves lining every floor, but Nolan doubted there were more than twenty in all. None looked up as Nolan's group entered; each was enraptured by whatever data cube they were studying. Atrea hurried through the main library room, pausing before a pair of massive double doors. The doors were made of the same blue metal, but unlike the walls they were adorned with vivid scenes of battle, much like the ancient ruins where he and Lena had found the first data cube.
Atrea withdrew a fist-sized signet from under her voluminous robes, fitting the device into the lock set in the middle of the doors. The signet flared a brilliant red, then the doors opened with a click and a hiss of air.
"This is unprecedented," Lena whispered, her tail flicking back and forth excitedly. "No lesser race has ever been allowed to see a master core before."
Atrea strode into the room, circling a wide, black table. A cube roughly twelve feet in diameter floated in the air above the table, though Nolan had no idea what kept it aloft. The cube glowed with its own inner light, a mixture of greens, blues, and whites. The lights changed and pulsed as the cube gently bobbed up and down.
"Please, sit," Atrea said, gesturing at the odd Primo chairs Nolan had still not learned to sit in. "We can use the table to interface with the master cube."
Lena, more graceful than Nolan, settled across the table from Atrea. She was clearly uncomfortable in a chair designed for a race with legs that bent the opposite way, but she mastered it well.
"I am skipping as many of the more tedious formalities as I can," Atrea said, raising a trembling hand to place a jeweled cube in the slot set into the middle of the table. "If you'll tell me why you've come, and what data you wish, I can copy it to this cube."
"I will also try to be brief," Lena said, leaning forward and resting her furry arms on the table. "We have evidence that there were, in fact, three great Primo empires. At some point between the first and second empire, the Primo were genetically modified. The added markers were designed to increase fertility and aggression."
"Hmm," Atrea said, blinking her large, lantern eyes. "I suppose you have evidence to support these claims, but that given the time constraints you will not be able to share it? Pity. I've long held unpopular notions about the origins of my species, origins that you might be able to substantiate."
"Can you help us?" Nolan asked. "I mean, is there data about the first empire? Or the original Primo DNA?"
"We'll start there," Atrea said, placing both hands on the cube she'd socketed into the table. She closed her eyes and the cube began to glow.
Nolan wasn't sure what she was doing. Was this a ritual, or some sort of Primo ability?
After a moment Atrea looked up. "The data transfer has begun. I'm including all references to the dark times, all information about the genetic drift of our species, and the location of every ancient outpost. What else can I add?"
"Myths," Lena said, rising from the awkward chair and beginning to pace. "Stories of your origins. Parables and the like. Particularly those including the Void Wraith."
"That seems an odd request," Atrea said, cocking her head to the side. "Why?"
"If the data we seek were obvious, then it would have been discovered long ago," Lena said, excitedly. "I believe it may be masked under mythology. There could be real truth buried there, perhaps even the key to unraveling the mystery of the Void Wraith."
"Interesting," Atrea said, giving a single nod. "I'd not have considered that line of thinking. Clearly, I've been correct that we should mingle more with the so-called lesser races. My colleagues would not hear of it, of course. They believe you have nothing to teach. If any of our race survive this, I will make a case to have you appointed a full librarian, little sister."
"That would be wonderful," Lena said, her eyes lighting up. "Why, I--"
The entire library shook. Nolan rose to his feet, drawing his plasma pistol as he scanned their surroundings. They were in the safest place they could be, locked in the vault at the heart of the library. A second shudder rocked the station, this one more violent than the first.
"What's happening, Atrea? Do we have a way to find out?" Nolan demanded.
"Yes, yes...give me just a moment," Atrea said. She pointed at Nolan's comm. "You can now access the library's security cameras."
Nolan swiped the screen several times until he arrived at a camera on the edge of the library. His heart sank when he realized what he was seeing. Two Void Wraith harvesters had just rammed the station, and were no doubt dumping full compliments of Judicators inside.
How the hell had they gotten past the Primo's shields? So far as he knew, harvesters possessed nothing that would let them ignore a field of that strength. Nolan's gaze landed on a smaller ship, and he choked back a curse. A Photos-class vessel had just docked, and he was positive he knew which one. That had to be the Sparhawk.
Kathryn had arrived.
He looked up at Lena and Atrea. "We need to leave, right now."
Chapter 36- Boo
Dryker clasped his hands behind his back, staring out the Primo dome. Dozens of tiny freighters flitted from Ceras Station out to the three colonies in this system. All three were terraformed for one purpose: to provide foo
d for the entire periphery. Nearly every outer colony depended on this station for its very survival, especially during the early years when they were getting established.
Ceras Station was close to the sun, a mere million miles above the surface. Keeping it that close meant the station had to move actively to avoid coronal mass ejections from the star, so it possessed more thrusters than he'd ever seen a station have. Ceras was also larger than anything he'd seen outside the core worlds, large enough to hold ten thousand citizens.
Behind it he could see two of the three worlds that had been terraformed in the system. New Mars was a red world, though due to its size the gravity was higher even than Earth. Most of the terraformers who'd colonized the world never left it again. Vega was a small blue world, roughly two-thirds the size of Earth. Its beaches made it a perfect vacation spot, one Dryker had visited twice during his time in the UFC.
"Why have we journeyed to this system, Admiral Dryker?" Celendra asked, gliding up to join him. She somehow made the awkward Primo gait elegant.
"If mankind had an official capital of the periphery, Ceras would be it," Dryker replied, glancing briefly at her before returning his gaze to Ceras Station. "They're the second-richest corporation in human space."
"So you come seeking money?" Celendra asked, her confusion evident. She opened her mouth to speak again, then closed it, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, Celendra. I haven't been very good at explaining myself," Dryker said, turning to give the Primo his full attention. "I've been too focused on keeping us alive, and haven't spared the time to properly explain. We came to Ceras because they have a contract with the 14th fleet. Their donations account for sixty percent of the 14th's funding. When Ceras calls, the 14th fleet comes running."
"Ahhh," Celendra said, giving a smile made comical by her tiny mouth. "So you will call the 14th fleet to this place, and attempt to win them to our cause."
"That's the plan," Dryker said, reaching for his comm. Thanks to the Primo, it was now linked to the Quantum Network. It still terrified him how easily the Primo had done that. "If we're lucky, one of the Ceras higher-ups is on station right now. If I were her, and I saw a Primo battlegroup enter the system, how do you think I might react?"
"We're picking up several communications coming from the station," Celendra said, looking out the dome at the station. "One of them is utilizing heavy encryption. Ahh, there we go. I've decrypted the data stream, and will play the audio."
"--get your ass here now," a woman snarled, in exactly the kind of tone that knew it would be obeyed. "I don't care how drunk your officers are, or who's locked up in some local prison. You get every ship in your fleet to Ceras in the next eight hours, or we find another fleet to sponsor next year."
"I can't just strip the periphery," a tired voice answered. A familiar voice. "I'll get four capital ships there in the next few hours, but--"
"But nothing," the female voice snarled. "You'll--"
"I apologize for interrupting your call," Dryker said, maybe a little too cheerily. It wasn't every day that disgraced captains showed up with a Primo fleet under their command, and damned if he wasn't going to showboat a little. "This is Admiral Dryker, and I'm in command of the Primo fleet orbiting Ceras."
"Jim?" the male voice said. "Is that really you?"
"How did you crack this encryption?" the woman roared, drowning them both out.
"Lady, I don't really need you on this call," Dryker said. His time for putting up with corporate bureaucrats was past. "I needed to talk to the acting head of the 14th fleet, and you just put me in touch with him. The Primo aren't going to harm Ceras. You can go back to your wine party."
"Ceras will censure you. You'll be stripped of your rank," the woman sputtered.
Dryker ejected her from the call, making doubly sure her icon had disappeared before he spoke again. "Jamison, I need to ask you a favor. I want you to reach out to captains you trust, no more than a handful. We need the influential people, like Sheng. The ones who can get the rest of the fleet on board with the craziest idea they've ever heard."
"Why? And what the hell are you doing in command of a Primo battlegroup?" Jamison said. There was no heat to his voice, just confusion. Maybe a little excitement.
"Because the war with the Tigris is a smokescreen," Dryker said. He paused to give Jamison a chance to respond, but the man said nothing. "Most of the Primo have been wiped out by the same people who've made a third of the periphery go dark. They're called the Void Wraith, and they've got us fighting the cats to weaken both sides. When the war is over, they'll sweep in and mop up whoever is left."
"Okay, let's say I buy this. Why do you want to gather the 14th? We're the underfunded 14th, remember? We don't have the manpower or resources to make a difference. Our whole fleet wouldn't be the equal of one of your carriers," Jamison protested, more than a little bitterly. Like most captains in the 14th, he'd been ground down under years of frustration. They were given an impossible job and next to no resources, then left to flounder.
"Because I can outfit the 14th with Primo weaponry," Dryker said, his smile leaking into his voice. "Are you interested?"
Chapter 37- Refitted
Dryker sat down with Juliard, the last member of the Johnston's crew to stick with him. She slid deeper into the booth, all but sinking into the torn leather. The short blonde looked like a toddler at the oversized table. Dryker slid in next to her, surveying the bar. He'd been to McMalley's half a dozen times over the years, and rarely remembered the trip back to his ship. He definitely remembered the hangovers, though.
"Do you think they'll show?" Juliard asked, taking a sip of her beer. She scanned the twenty or so patrons suspiciously.
"They'll show, but in their own time," Dryker said, savoring a mouthful of terrible soy beer. At least it was cold. The Primo served all their food at room temperature. "They're probably having a separate meeting right now. They'll settle things amongst themselves, then come to meet us."
"I think we're being watched," Juliard said, looking pointedly down at the table. "There's a man in a blue shirt next to the door, and another seated at the table two over from us. Both have been staring."
Dryker glanced at both men from the corner of his eye, running a quick threat assessment. Then he started to laugh. When Juliard's shocked face turned up to him, he laughed harder. It took several wheezing breaths to bring the laughter under control.
"What the hell do you find so funny?" Juliard hissed. "Now everyone is staring at us."
"Lieutenant, the men you indicated were staring at you, not at us," Dryker said, struggling to catch his breath. He shook his head, still smiling. "When was the last time you were in a bar?"
"I don't really do bars," she said, glaring at the men who'd stared at her. Both looked back at their drinks.
"Here they come," Dryker said, straightening, then giving a wave.
Jamison returned the wave, then led a cluster of hard-faced men and women over to the booth. He slid in next to Dryker, and the rest of the captains all slid in after. The booth was elbow-to-elbow by the time everyone had sat down.
"Sheng, Smith," Dryker said, nodding to the two he recognized. The former was a Chinese woman in her late sixties, the latter a brick of a man in his early forties.
"Dryker, meet Hawk, Brenner and Nagabushan." Jamison gestured at each in turn. "The rest you've already met. I told the boys--"
"There are three women here," Sheng interjected.
"I told the crew," Jamison said, correcting himself, "that you'd be paying our bar tab, and that all they needed to do was listen."
"That's the deal. Have a seat, and order whatever you want. It's all on my tab. Drink liberally, because my plan is terrible and that will make it sound better," Dryker said. He reached into his jacket, setting six cylinders on the table. "Each of you take one of these back to your ship. It contains footage showing the battle in the Ghantan system, plus the circumstances leading up to it."
"That's the ba
ttle where the Johnston bought it, right?" Brenner, one of the few Aussies in the 14th, asked. "Brass said you bought it too, along with most of the 7th."
"That's the battle," Dryker said, a knife twisting in his chest at the mention of the Johnston. "The brass is full of shit though, even more so than usual. The whole thing is a cover-up. They lied about what happened, and you're holding the proof."
If Dryker had said that to a table full of captains in any other fleet, odds were good he'd have been on the receiving end of the world's most enthusiastic ass kicking. The 14th was different, though. They knew they were the red-headed stepchildren of Fleet, and that if the top brass were involved, then the 14th was getting screwed again.
"This is the part that's going to be hard to swallow, and before you react I want you to remember that there is evidence proving it on those data drives I passed out," Dryker said. He took a deep breath, and said the thing that would make or break his case. "The whole conflict with the Tigris is a smokescreen. Higher-ups in both their fleet and ours have colluded to start a war."
Absolute silence at the table. Bad country music continued to play in the background. A woman laughed raucously as her date told a joke. Finally, Jamison licked his lips and spoke. "Why would they do that?"
"This one goes deep," Dryker said, leaning in close and lowering his voice. "They want to bleed both fleets, to keep us weak so we're easy to conquer. The people doing this just wiped out most of the Primo fleet. The rest of it? That's parked on the other side of this system, ready to help us take it to the real enemy in this war."
"Let's say we're willing to believe this--and I'm not saying we are." Sheng eyed him dubiously. "Who is this enemy, and what do you expect the 14th to do about it? Throw rocks? We're not equipped for a full war. We're a bunch of ancient ships put out to pasture. We police pirates, and barely have the ordinance to do even that much."