by Mick Fraser
“Why do you speak English?” she asked through her mouthful. “You phrase some things differently and some of the words are strange, but it’s certainly English.”
“Point of fact, it is Iniiran,” said Shimmer. “It is the language of the Founders. When the humans of Orren and Hanarua first made contact, they were surprised to learn that a number of their primary languages were close to identical. The Founders spent thousands of years guiding humanity wherever they found you; science, religion, technology, language.”
Angela swallowed her mouthful. “Far out...” she whispered.
“Indeed.”
Shimmer sat back and Angela finished the rummicub. She replaced her goggles and looked up. “And what is this?”
“This?” Rathe waved his hands dramatically. “This is Purespace.”
Angela looked at him sideways. “Yeah? I’m no closer.”
“It’s the means by which we travel interstellar. Long-range ships, like the Shadowstar, are fitted with a Phase-drive, which – without confounding you with science – uses very high frequency resonance waves to distort the fabric of space-time and create a rift, which we then travel through by way of this, a Warren. Or maybe a bridge, depending on your point of view.”
“Don’t bridges go over?”
“Semantics, dearheart.”
She turned back to the window. “How far can you go?”
“Current technology allows for a span of up to around fifty light years at a time, but we can link together several hundred spans in a single Warren, and then of course, Warrens can link and branch… It’s all terribly complicated, even for the physicists who work out here.”
Angela was getting tired of asking questions. Instead she sat back and enjoyed the view while biting into the rembah. The sweetness was intense, tangy, like cold kiwi fruit. She wiped the juice from her lips with the back of her hand as Rathe leaned in. “If you’re done with breakfast, Six-Tails would like to see you in Medical. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”
As they walked, Angela became aware of Rathe watching her. She felt her hackles rising, but avoided confrontation for as long as she could, which was about ten paces. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“No,” he replied. “You just remind me of someone. A friend I lost long ago.”
She wasn’t sure what to do with that. “This... friend – did he die?”
“She. And yes, I’m afraid she did. You move like her. She had music in her soul, and I suspect you do too.”
“I dance, if that’s what you mean...”
The old man gave her a sideways smile. “Not quite. I’m sorry about yesterday, introducing you to the crew like that. It’s hard to gauge what’s going to shock someone from your world. We know nothing of it. We didn’t know it existed until a few weeks ago. It’s further from the Reach than we’ve ever travelled.”
“I think it’s safe to assume that if it’s not human, it’s going to shock me a little. My world is industrious, but we only have one species. We’ve reached our moon, but no further except a couple of long-range scouters. And our brightest minds would tell you that everything you know is impossible.”
Rathe chuckled softly. “We were the same on Orren once. Before the Iniir revealed themselves. They left us markers, a path to follow when we were ready. We thought we had discovered them, we thought we were the brightest minds in our galaxy. Truth is, after eight centuries among the stars, we still know nothing of the Gaia Vahl.”
“The Gaia Vahl?”
“The Galaxy.”
“Huh. We call it the ‘Milky Way’.”
Rathe laughed heartily. “I like that better. The Milky Way sounds much more welcoming.”
“It’s so... big. I can’t believe I’m out here. I keep expecting to wake up. Or have a psychotic episode. Unless I’m already having one.”
“My dear, I assure you this is very real. And yes, the Galaxy is vast. Vaster even than we know. In relative terms, even the few score star systems that we know as the Reach is tiny, a speck on the map.” They turned a corner into a white corridor. The beige line terminated at the end of it. “That’s Medical. You’re in good hands, Angela. Six-Tails is the best Mender I know.”
“He’s An...dran...?”
“Endrani. His people come from Prenor, along with the Silsir, like Illith. They’re usually tribal, warlike, but he’s quite different. And he cares about you, perhaps instinctively. You’re important.”
“So you said.”
“Ah, I did.” He gave her a gentle smile and halted, taking her shoulders in his hands. “We are soldiers, Angela. All of us. Roughened, hardened, maybe even calloused in places. We’re not good at caring, we’re not good at comforting. We deep-end everything, every time. It’s how we stay ahead and stay alive – but we do know that this isn’t easy on you. We are trying to readjust, as you are.”
She sighed, oddly comforted. “You don’t sound like a soldier.”
He laughed again, his eyes sparkling. “My fighting days are long behind me, but don’t let these old bones fool you. I’m still a menace when I need to be!”
She relaxed, smiling back. “I’ll be careful,” she said, before glancing down the corridor towards the double doors. “Where do I go when I’m done here?”
“Illith will collect you. She wants to spend some time with you. I apologise in advance for that, but it’s important. We’ll be at our destination in around sixteen hours. I wish we had more time for getting to know one another, but these are trying times. I fear the next few days will be... tumultuous.”
CHAPTER 11
~IF YOU’RE NOT FRIGHTENED,
YOU’RE STUPID~
ANGELA HAD NEVER much enjoyed visits to the doctor; she’d spent so many hours in hospital waiting rooms being questioned, or consulting rooms being examined, or on a comfortable couch being analysed, that the very thought now induced a kind of quiet dread. Now her doctor happened to be a 7-foot bipedal alien hybrid of lion, man, and bear, the problem had become somewhat compounded.
Six-Tails was waiting for her as she knocked and entered. Leaning back against the chrome operating table with his huge arms folded before him, he looked even more intimidating. Now she was closer and able to appraise him properly, Angela realised that his features were flatter than she first thought, and his eyes, while still vertically slitted like a cat’s, were duller, more human than a feline’s. He was heavily muscled, almost hulking, and his flesh was covered in soft hair that reminded Angela of deer hide. His silver and black mane was tied back in a high ponytail now, and Angela could see more similarities to the crewmember Illith; a ridge of bone, much less pronounced, disappeared into his hairline, and the clawed, three-fingered hands were identical, just larger.
“Do I pass?” he asked suddenly, and she jolted. Six-Tails smiled, baring his elongated incisors. “Forgot I could talk, didn’t you?”
She blinked. “I, er, no. It’s not that. I’m just... Well, look, you take a bit of getting used to. I’m sorry.”
He raised a hand. “Mind it not, lass. I imagine everything is a little strange.”
“That’s an understatement, I’m afraid. I’ll come around. I hope.” She paused, brushing back her hair. “So, Rathe said you needed to see me?”
Six-Tails nodded. “I’d like to run another test. Nothing invasive. I’m trying to pin down exactly what you are.”
“I’m human, last time I checked.”
“Well, yes, on the outside. But your DNA is a cocktail.” He turned and stood aside, motioning for her to join him at the medical console. “That Amplifier we put in you shouldn’t work. The majority of Founder tech, especially things like Amps, only work with Iniir DNA. Most of what they left behind is useless, and only good for displaying in museums. You shouldn’t be able to activate it.”
On the transparent glass screen above them, he brought up the display of a humanoid body. It was rendered in blue and green lines, and yellow crackles of energy chased one another through i
ts translucent veins. “That yellow residue there? That’s Radiance, also known as Essa. It’s an energy source produced by the Iniir, born in their very DNA. It’s like... being your own battery. It let them live forever, heal quickly, perform feats that looked like magic to us. Arcing, for example. But that isn’t a Founder’s body, Angela.”
“So what is it?”
“Well, it’s yours.”
Her stomach sank. “That explains a lot,” she muttered.
“I conjure it does.”
“No, I mean... The last few days, on Earth, I was having weird dreams, and affecting things. Electrical things.”
“That was your DNA waking up, I think. Maybe the proximity of the Exethan did it, maybe it was time-sensitive. It helped them find you, which helped us find you.”
She looked back up at the screen. “So, I’m not human?”
He shook his great head. “We’re not dealing in absolutes. You’re one hundred percent human, technically speaking: heart, lungs, liver, blood, tissue. But your DNA has been altered at a fundamental level. There’s something added, and it makes you very special. Coveted, in fact.”
Coveted. She shuddered. “So what exactly do you want to test?”
“I’ve done it. The door has a tox-screen. It read your data when you came in, then cross-referenced it here.” He pointed at the display. “I wanted to be sure, and now I am.”
She waited for him to continue, but he appeared to be done. “So? I am human then?”
He shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“You said you were sure!”
“I’m sure of what you’re not. And what you’re not is human. Or Iniir. And you’re not, strictly speaking, a hybrid of them either. You’re… something new.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He smiled, baring his teeth. “Means what I said. You’re unique. Your genetic composition is really quite impressive.”
“Well I’m glad I intrigue you so.”
“You’re not afraid of me, are you? You were, at first, but you put it away. You’d have made a good Harlequin.”
“A clown?”
He chuffed, shaking his head with a grin, and turned away, busying himself as though she had left the room. Angela took a breath. “Sorry,” she said levelly. “I handle most things with anger. I’m working on it. Was... I was working on it. Going to be harder to get to the therapy sessions now...”
The door buzzed and slid open to reveal Illith. Her arms were crossed, and she was scowling.
“Quartermaster,” Six-Tails greeted over his shoulder with mock formality.
“Mender,” Illith replied in a similar tone. “How’s our guest?”
He turned, tapping the console so the screen went dark. “She’s in the blue. Try not to change that, will you?”
Illith turned her ice-green eyes on Angela. “Well, that depends on her. Come, mystraal. Let us determine what you are made of.”
With a departing nod to a nonplussed Six-Tails, Angela allowed herself to be led through the narrow corridors of the Shadowstar, following closely behind the woman known as Illith. She emanated something primal in the way she moved and held herself. If her ghost-white flesh and odd cranium weren’t enough to mark her out as inhuman, her mannerisms were. She didn’t move like a human; she slinked like a wolf, she prowled. Her hips rolled with a mesmerising cadence that even Angela couldn’t keep herself from watching; her feet, though clad in black boots, made no sound on the floor grating. At first glance she appeared to be every inch the fighter, but upon closer inspection it was evident that she wasn’t simply a fighter. She was a coiled cobra, a stalking panther, a spider whose silent feet barely tickled her web. The word “fighter” implied that she would willingly put herself in a position where she might be outnumbered or out-fought, but Angela could tell just from looking at Illith that she rarely started anything she couldn’t finish. She wasn’t simply a fighter. She was a killer.
After a few moments they reached a service elevator. Angela followed Illith inside and stood with her back to the wall. The doors slid closed, and a stony silence settled upon the small room. A readout beside the door displayed a countdown, but Angela didn’t recognize the symbols. Nervously, she glanced at Illith, who was staring straight ahead.
“It is rude to stare,” the cold woman said suddenly.
Angela almost jumped. “I—I wasn’t staring.”
The elevator came to an abrupt stop and the doors pinged open. Without replying, Illith strode out into a new corridor, this one brightly lit and wider than the last. Angela followed quickly, and was surprised when Illith led her into a large square room with a clean, panelled floor. The ceiling was high, the walls lit with strip lights, and various apparatus was arranged around the outside of the room; vaulting horses, swing-along bars, climbing ropes and balance beams. Illith halted in the middle of the room and spun on her heel, hand outstretched. Angela froze in place, awaiting instructions, and took a moment to study the other woman. She was wearing a dark blue sleeveless body-suit, possibly made from some kind of Lycra, and Angela noted the litheness of her build, the muscles of her bare arms and the pale blue scars that criss-crossed her skin. She was an almost perfect physical specimen, but her body was a book, a war story, an unfinished tale of violence and destruction. Angela wasn’t easily intimidated, but she was intimidated now.
“You like the way I move?” Illith asked her. The tone was stern, demanding, her exotic accent sharp, clean, crisp.
Angela stammered. “Well, I— it’s not… I mean, I don’t like the way you move. It’s just… it’s interesting. You don’t move like… Well. You know.”
“The way you move is interesting,” Illith countered, narrowing her eyes. She faced Angela squarely, hands clasped behind her back, stance wide. “You are a dancer,” she observed. “Untrained and unrefined, but skilled nonetheless. You have had some training, fist-fighting I think, likely from a family member. Your left shoulder is troubling you; shrapnel wound treated with EC-10, healing at eighty percent. You are sure of yourself usually, but this is new and you are frightened—’
“I’m not frightened,” Angela snapped, feeling suddenly foolish. She had never enjoyed being analysed.
“Then you are stupid. There are times when you absolutely should be frightened, and this is absolutely one of them,” she paused. “You have fought before, so you know how it feels to take a hit and land one – good. Solid foundation… You are healthy enough, not nearly strong enough. Right-handed, short-tempered. You’ve potential, but not much. Your gift will change that, if you can harness it before it kills you.”
Before it kills you… Was the implication that it could kill her, or already was – slowly, incrementally? Neither option was a comfort.
“I’m sorry,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Why are we here? You’re assessing me as a fighter?”
“You can think of a more profitable employment of our time?”
“About a thousand, yeah.”
Illith began to pace. “I know you do not wish to be here with us. Everyone knows it. But nonetheless, you are here with us – and we are at war. Rathe and Drenno seem to believe your survival is paramount. My job is to make sure we aren’t all killed looking after you.”
Huh. “Well, don’t let me be a burden...”
“It is a little late for that, but here we are.”
Angela gritted her teeth. She looked around the room, wondering if it had been installed at Illith’s request originally. Of all the things she’d seen since Benjamin Park, a gym on a spaceship seemed the most unlikely. She realised Illith had stopped pacing and was watching her again with that curious feline quality.
“So… what now?”
“I intend to get you combat ready. The course upon which the Captain has placed us is highly likely to lead us directly into confrontation with one or more forces who would rather we not draw breath. I am going to teach you to defend yourself.”
“I know how to fight.
”
“I am sure you think you do. But I am not going to teach you to fight. I am going to teach you to survive. There is a marked difference.”
Nervously, Angela shook her arms loose. How bad could it be? She had been taught to look after herself – her granddad had insisted. A boxer for thirty-five years and Scotland Yard’s inter-department champion for three years in a row, he had started training Angela as a way to release her aggression and stress during her early teens. The biggest problem she had faced was that Frank’s teaching methods were regimented, and boxing was a discipline for which she had neither the patience nor the poise. She was as likely to scratch out someone’s eyes or head-butt her way out of trouble as she was to fight fair. Frank had done his best, but Angela knew she was messy.
She sighed. “Where do we start?”
“There is little sense training you to fight and then training you to arc. Arcing is your advantage, and must be a part of everything you learn moving forward. That is where we will start.” She stamped her foot, and a circular red light appeared where she stood. As she stepped aside she indicated the light with one graceful gesture. “Arc to here.”
Angela faltered. “I… don’t know how.” Which was true, she didn’t. Up to now, she’d been arcing involuntarily, and since Six-Tails had given her the implant, she hadn’t arced at all. Was it like flexing a muscle? Maybe something she had to somehow activate first.
“You have done it many times,” Illith told her firmly. “Remember the feeling, conjure it, and do it. Six-Tails says the Amp will regulate it, not prevent it.”
Reaching up, Angela stroked the smooth face of the Amp, embedded in the flesh at the base of her skull. It felt warm, the skin around it tender and sore. “What does it amplify?” she asked tentatively.
“Put simply: you. It has the potential to improve all aspects of your physical performance, but it also improves muscle memory – you will learn what I teach you quicker, adapt faster to a given situation. The Founders used them in such a fashion. How, is the mystery I intend to unravel.”