Galactic Breach

by J. N. Chaney

  “Very well, my lord.”

  “That is all, Fleet Admiral.”

  Brighton snapped to attention and then did something peculiar. He bowed.

  Moldark tilted his head, examining the man. The gesture was unsolicited. So far as Moldark knew, the Galactic Republic did not require such deference.

  Where did it come from? Is it genuine awe? Contrite reverence? Perhaps it is worship.

  He tipped his head in acknowledgement of Brighton’s act. He could grow to like this… submission. It was quaint. And it would most likely be contagious among his followers. Yes. He rolled the word around in his head. My followers.

  Brighton stepped backward, spun on his heel, then walked toward the exit. Moldark watched him leave and then marched up the stairs to his chair. He sat and spun toward the window once more. The starships hung above Oorajee like insects swarming over a large piece of citrus fruit. Some, he knew, would follow him. They would do his bidding.

  And those that do not? Moldark smiled. He would sweep them from the air and crush them between his fingers.

  He tapped his thumb and forefinger together several times, feeling the flesh stick, then pull apart. He could feel the souls on those vessels, sense their life force. They would meet their end in the glorious pursuit of his will, hastening it to completion. They would never know the valuable role they’d played. But Moldark would still be grateful to them for the sacrifice that allowed him to achieve his end. And what a glorious end it will be.

  He tapped the holo-pad that was built into the arm of the captain’s chair and brought up a menu. With a few small swipes, he selected comms for all three Republic fleets then opened the channel.

  “Fleets of the Republic, this is Fleet Admiral Kane on the Black Labyrinth. We have received orders from Republic Navy Central Command, ratified by the Senate, to initiate combat operations against all Jujari vessels in orbit over Oorajee. I repeat, we have been ordered to initiate offensive operations and eliminate all Jujari vessels in this system.”

  Moldark paused just long enough for the news to settle over every starship’s bridge, arrest each captain, and startle each crew member. He could almost feel them trembling with excitement—and fear.

  “Assume your battle stations. Set Condition One throughout the fleet.” He paused long enough for a klaxon to start echoing through all compartments of the powerful Republic dreadnought, a sound now repeated on every starship under his command. “All hands, battle stations. This is not a drill.”

  Moldark closed the public-announcement channel and connected directly to the Black Labyrinth’s bridge. He envisioned commanders springing to action, echoing his orders, and selecting targets. They wouldn’t have time to double-check with the navy’s central command or the Senate to corroborate his instructions. But why would they want to? The Republic had been hungering for this conflict for far too long. Besides, he was the ranking fleet admiral—well, Brighton was, but the man served at Moldark’s pleasure—and thus held command authority over all the fleets currently in the system. Moldark was simply giving them what they’d always wanted. It was time to bring anything that stood to its knees. It was time for war.

  “Admiral Brighton, are our fighter squadrons ready?”

  “They are, my lord.”

  “And have you acquired satisfactory initial targets?”

  “I have. Awaiting your command.”

  Moldark squeezed the leather arms of his chair, a squeaking sound coming from beneath his grip. “Fire.”

  12

  “It’s incredible!” Awen said, holding her hands to her face—both those in the natural realm and those in the Unity. She was overcome by elation, her heart beating wildly in her chest, flooded with a mix of emotions. The four of them had waited for a discovery of this sort for so long. No, not of this sort—this was way beyond anything they could have hoped to find. This was the discovery of a lifetime. And Awen had no idea what it was.

  In the physical realm, the lid on the black box remained closed, but in the Unity, it was flipped open, laid back on its hinge. “I can’t believe… I can’t believe they were able to create this!”

  Ezo made no attempt to hide his excitement either. Out of all of them, he seemed the most eager to get back home. “What do you see? What is it?”

  Awen was having a hard time finding words. “I think it’s some sort of management system, or maybe a control room? I… I don’t know yet. But it’s beautiful.”

  Awen stared straight up and turned in circles. Directly overhead was a brightly glowing orb that stretched to within a few meters of the ceiling. The sight dominated her vision, the rest of the library fading to black beyond her view. The sphere contained millions—no billions—of stars that appeared as vibrant as if she’d been standing in the void unprotected. A sweet polyphonic melody emanated from the orb, like a giant wind chime on a summer evening. The notes were full and round, turning over on themselves and slipping through musical space like silk ribbons.

  The sight was dizzying, a sensation Awen had never experienced in the Unity before. She had to stop turning and brought her eyes down. A wide circle of workstations sat on the floor surrounding the orb. A second, third, and fourth bank of workstations ascended behind the first in concentric rings as they extended from the orb, each level connected by stairways.

  The workstation layout reminded Awen of any number of holo-movies she’d seen or even some that she’d seen in real life, like on starships or in orbital traffic-control rooms. The difference here being that these stations had no chairs and were larger than anything a humanoid would use—which seemed fitting for the Novia Minoosh, given what they’d observed throughout the city so far.

  The workstations glowed in soft golden light as if reflecting the light of the stars in the orb. Awen moved behind the closest bank of terminals and studied them, moving to the next and then the next. The control surfaces were black geometric sections delineated by thin white light. Segment types ranged from small keypad-like shapes to wide rectangular areas as one might expect on the bridge of a large starship—except that these control surfaces were far more elegant. Their designs flowed in and out of another like the lines left by waves on a beach.

  Awen took a few moments to try to explain what she saw to her friends as well as provide some idea of what purpose everything served. The task was harder than she imagined, and she was sure they were in just as much disbelief as she was but without the visual proof. The most logical idea she had was that the smaller orbs on the shelves could be fed to the giant orb in the room’s center, like some sort of stellar-display computer.

  “Awen,” TO-96 said, “is this management system, as you have described it, something you can control?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But I’ll try.”

  “Very well. We will wait for you to try.”

  “But sooner rather than later, please,” Ezo added.

  “Idris,” Sootriman said, smacking him on the back of the head.

  “What was that for?”

  “You’re just…” Sootriman let out a deep breath and then smacked him again—on the butt.

  “I saw that,” Awen said. Sootriman smirked, and Ezo blushed.

  Awen continued moving among the terminals, passing through rows, using the steps between the levels. When she arrived at the topmost ring—which didn’t even reach a quarter of the orb’s height—Awen looked over the back edge and saw her friends below. Their physical bodies stood outside the floral ring. Awen thought back to the sense of warning she’d gotten when she first stepped inside the ring, and she wondered if it had something to do with this.

  “I’m going to see what happens when I touch one of the control surfaces,” Awen said. “You might want to—I don’t know, stand back? Or hold on to something maybe?”

  “You really think that’s necessary?” Ezo asked.

  “I don’t know what I think is necessary. I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “Let’s do as she says,” S
ootriman said. She and the others moved toward a case of shelves and stood beside it. “You’ve got this, Awen. No fear, girl.”

  “Okay, here goes nothing.” Awen turned to the nearest control surface, extended her shimmering hand in the Unity, and placed her fingers on the black surface. It was glassy to the touch but not cold as she’d expected. Rather, it was warm, as if the whole thing had been powered up and running for days. “Something’s happening,” Awen called over her shoulder then realized her physical body was still in the center of the ring, facing the others.

  Along the black control surface, swirls of golden light emanated from her fingers and moved in either direction. The Novia Minoosh’s strange script flared to life, appearing on small buttons and titling large screens. The typography pulsed in golds and purples, blues and pinks and was accentuated by drop shadows that seemed to lift the text off the screens.

  The swirl of golden light continued to race over the workstations to the left and right then moved to the banks below. Circular images that resembled star systems emerged on the screens. Holo-projections displayed spinning planets encircled by small moons. Other projections showed misty nebulae suspended in midair. Everywhere Awen looked, the workstations glittered with text and cosmic images.

  “It’s unbelievable!” Awen finally said. “You can’t believe what I’m seeing right now!”

  “What?” Ezo asked, betraying his impatience. “What is it?”

  “It’s magnificent! It’s like a massive control room to—well, I still don’t know what it does.” She described everything as best she could, but her words fell short. It would be so much easier if her audience knew how to enter the Unity and could see this theater for themselves.

  “Awen, TO-96 here.”

  “I know your voice, Ninety-Six.”

  “Ah, very good. Forgive me. I just thought, given the frenetic activity in your cerebral cortex, you might mistake me for someone other than myself. As far as you can tell, is the apparatus you are observing more of an archive and retrieval system, or might it serve another purpose?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Awen replied.

  TO-96 hesitated. “I have not enough data to determine whether or not my estimations would be comparable to yours, Awen. Therefore, I am doubtful that your assumption is valid.”

  “It’s an expression, ’Six,” Ezo said.

  “Ah. My apologies.”

  “I don’t even know where to start,” Awen said. “The language is the first hurdle.”

  “If only I could join you in the Unity,” TO-96 said.

  “Maybe you’d be less obnoxious there,” said Ezo.

  “Do you find me obnoxious, sir?”

  “Almost all the time, actually. What I need you to be is helpful. If you were in Awen’s shoes, what would you be looking for?”

  “But, sir, Awen’s shoes are far too small for the dimensions—”

  “For all the gods, no, ’Six. Expression. It’s another expression.”

  “Duly noted. As always, I hope I prove to be less obnoxious with time.”

  “Don’t we all,” Ezo said.

  TO-96 looked back at Awen. “Is there anything that looks like it might be a central command station? Perhaps a workstation that appears more primary than the others? It may vary in size, shape, or even prominence with regard to its position in the space.”

  Awen looked around, searching for anything that might stand out. “Now that you mention it, there is one terminal by itself on an elevated platform in the middle of the theater.”

  “That sounds promising,” TO-96 replied.

  “Going there now,” Awen said, grateful for TO-96’s experience as a navigation robot.

  Awen stepped onto the raised floor and noticed she had a commanding view of most of the other terminals, save those behind her. This perch also protruded slightly, providing a breathtaking view of the orb.

  “Do you notice anything about the console?” the bot asked.

  “Let’s see… I have an empty circle projected to my left, what looks to be a list of some sort projected to my right, and in front of me, several screens and pretty big buttons with single Novia characters on them.”

  “Sounds like she’s found the jackpot.” Before TO-96 could say anything, Ezo added, “It’s another expression, buddy. Let it go.”

  Awen looked into the natural realm to see the bot hold up a finger in protest, pause, and then put it back down. “Any recommendations, Ninety-Six?” she asked.

  “Are you able to view something if I project it in front of me?”

  “Yes, no problem.”

  “Very well.” TO-96 straightened, mimicking the human behavior of preparing for a task, and projected a set of four Novia characters about four feet in front of his chest. “Do any of these look familiar?”

  Awen stretched her vision toward the bot and examined the script. She glanced back at the console then at TO-96 again. “No, none of those.”

  “And these?” A new set of four characters replaced the others. Awen compared them again.

  “No, none of those either.”

  “What are they?” Sootriman asked the bot.

  “They are my best guesses for what I think the Novia might place on a control system. I am basing my assumptions upon similar markings we have discovered on ships throughout the city.” He paused then projected another set of four. “And these?”

  “Wait,” Awen said. “That one there. Your upper left, my upper right.”

  TO-96 eliminated the three other characters and expanded the one Awen selected to fill the projection. Beneath it, the bot displayed the character’s meaning in Galactic common.

  “It means initialize?” Awen asked.

  “Among its many other meanings, yes.”

  “Its many other meanings?” Awen repeated. This wasn’t exactly a thing that she wanted to mess up.

  “As with any language, the Novia Minoosh seem to have multiple meanings for words depending on their context. I have merely applied the one that I have judged most applicable to this scenario.”

  “You have this as a scenario?” Ezo asked. “What’s it listed under—‘Female Elonian Luma Needs to Interpret Random Alien Script in Alternate-Universe Dashboard’?”

  “Not exactly, sir, though that would make for a very fitting entry.”

  “They don’t call me silver tongued for nothing.”

  “But, sir, only Provestial escorts have ever said that you—”

  “Let’s leave that one alone, shall we?”

  TO-96 looked at Ezo, who seemed to be avoiding a glare from Sootriman. “Ah, I see. Let’s.”

  “So you think I should press it?” Awen asked.

  “I do,” said the bot. “At least insomuch as I hope the Novia have not used an alternate definition for the word.”

  Awen tensed. “Like…?”

  “Like detonation, explosion, or self-destruct.”

  “Those are the word’s alternate meanings?” Awen asked, jerking away from the console.

  “Of course not. That was just to make you laugh.”

  “I’m not laughing, Ninety-Six,” Awen replied, her heart beating rapidly.

  “None of us are,” Ezo added.

  “Well, I seem to have misapplied my sense of humor. My apologies.”

  “So, I should press the button with that mark?”

  “What you should or should not do seems to be irrelevant, Awen. That said, I see no harm in employing this button as an initial means of actuation, so long as it appears to be centrally located.”

  “It is,” Awen replied. “It’s right in the middle of the main screen, in fact.”

  “Well, then, I say, tallyho!” TO-96 said with an outstretched armed, pointing.

  “Feeling a little liberal, are we?” Ezo asked, smirking.

  “I saw it on an old holo-movie,” the bot replied. “I thought it was fitting, given all the plays on words that seem to be sailing around the room.”

  Ezo and Sootriman
both rolled their eyes, but not Awen. As humorous as she found the robot, she was too concerned with not blowing everyone up.

  “Okay, you might want to stand back, everyone.”

  “We’re beside the closest shelving units, love,” Sootriman said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Awen took a deep breath, stepped toward the console, and let her hand hover over the smooth black button with the golden character. “Here goes.” She pressed down with her otherworldly fingertips, and the floor began to tremble.

  13

  “Simone?” Magnus asked.

  “What d’you you want?”

  “I want overwatch in the third building on the right.” Magnus was still seated in the Basket Case, calling out orders over comms. “After that blast, I’m guessing the street should be clear of more explosives, at least up to there.”

  “Copy,” she replied.

  “Rix?”

  “Talk to me,” the brute said.

  “I want your fire team on the left side of the street, and mine will take the right. Clear those buildings. Slow is smooth, and smooth is deadly. But don’t dawdle either.”

  “Understood,” he replied in a gutsy bass voice.

  “Then, Cyril, I want you scanning so hard that your equipment wants to kick you in the balls. If anyone’s dying today, it’s not going to be us, and it sure as hell won’t be because of some coward’s backyard bomb.”

  “That’s a loud and clear, Lieutenant. Loud and clear all the way, sir.”

  “Anyone sees anything, you call it out and take care of what you can. If it overwhelms you, I need to know before that happens. Copy?”

  The team leads acknowledged the order.

  “Good. Rix, leapfrog with our fire team to the next intersection. We stop if Cyril calls something out.”

  “Copy,” Rix said.

  “Simone, I’ll rely on you to spot your overwatch positions as we go unless I see something first. Abimbola says you have good instincts, and I trust him.”