Sweat beaded on Mach’s brow. He avoided eye contact with the rest of the crew. There was a possibility they could be crushed to a mangled wreck or meet a fleet of unknown ships on the other side. It was pointless sending a probe through; they’d lose comms as soon as it transported.
Danick and Lassea focused on the controls as they entered, drifting through the first half a klick until they reached the spinning part of the transparent wall.
“I’m losing response,” Lassea said.
Bright lights flashed around the edges of the wormhole. The Intrepid vibrated and jolted forward, similar to a feeling of plowing through a thick cloud of space dust.
An electronic pulse sounded from the main console. Energy readings on the sensor array were off the scale. The screen showed a solid green mass.
“We’re increasing velocity, but it’s not down to us,” Danick snapped.
“Just go with it,” Mach said. At least one of them had to keep their cool. The Intrepid was committed and he had no intention of turning back. He raised his smart-screen. “Babcock, Tulula, how are things looking down there?”
“Normal. The energy is taking us through, just as I expected.”
The bright light at the end of the tunnel intensified. As the Intrepid accelerated forward, the white surface ahead shimmered. Mach squinted at the glaring screen, not wanting to miss a moment of the experience.
Vibrations increased, and the superstructure let out a metallic yawn. Lassea grabbed the arms of her chair. Danick hunched down as they approached within seconds of hitting the light source.
“Here we go,” Sanchez said.
An earsplitting crack blasted around the ship, followed by silence. The ship returned to a smooth cruising speed and the display screen returned to normal measurements.
Mack shook his head and focused on the scanner array. “What the hell is that?”
From the display, it looked like they were surrounded by a five-klick ring of interconnected meteors and planetoids. The location displayed as unknown, which wasn’t a huge surprise considering they were in uncharted territory. The ship would reorientate once it decoded a known signal—if they were close enough to receive one.
Danick engaged the retro thrusters to reduce their velocity.
Lassea switched the main screen to the upper camera and zoomed in on one of the larger dark planetoids. Giant metal rods connected two meteors to either side of it. Two small ships buzzed between them. Clusters of lights peppered the planet’s surface, looking like the areas of population on Fides Prime when viewed at night.
“Something’s locked on to us,” Adira said. She spun the holocube and primed the laser.
“Scrap that,” Sanchez said. “We’ve got multiple locks, and I mean hundreds.”
“Do you want us to engage the LD?” Lassea said.
Mach quickly considered their options. Getting out of here seemed like the most sensible option, but if the inhabitants of the surrounding cluster intended to blast them into pieces, they probably would have already fired. Besides that, the Atlantis ship came this way and the scanner array only showed small ships in the surrounding area. If he could communicate with whoever lived here, he might find some answers.
“Prepare to engage the LD, but send out a fighter drone,” Mach said. “I want a closer look at this place before we split.”
Sanchez moved across to the drone controls and initiated the launch procedure. Mach, the JPs, and Adira peered at the screens, waiting for any signs of weapons being fired in their direction.
The comms console pinged.
“We’re receiving a laser signal,” Danick said.
The Intrepid’s advanced systems automatically calibrated the beam, and a soft garbled voice came through the speakers. Mach glanced around at the vacant expressions pasted across the faces of the crew. He raised his pad. “Babcock, we need you and Squid up here.”
They were the only people on the ship capable of attempting to translate an unknown alien language—assuming it was even possible.
“We picked it up on our console,” Babcock replied. “Squid’s already running it against some translation algorithms. Give him a minute.”
In an attempt to show them a friendly front, Mach transmitted back in Salus Common until they worked out a way to communicate. He thumbed the pressure pad on his armrest. “This is Captain Mach of the Intrepid. We have traveled from the Salus Sphere and have peaceful intentions.”
No immediate response came back. Mach considered if they could send anything else. When humans first communicated with the fidesians, they used mathematics and physics as a starting point, using common rules to gain a basic understanding of their different words.
The entrance door punched open with a hiss. Babcock, Squid, and Tulula entered and peered up at the screens.
“Seen anything like this before?” Mach said to Tulula.
“Nothing. We sent out some pings to try to reach the vestan and salus networks. Got no reply.”
Mach watched the screen as Lassea swept the upper camera around the joined formation surrounding their ship. The wormhole was still clearly visible behind them. Stars dotted the distant space. Nothing like the amount they could see from any planet in the Sphere.
“Two destroyer-sized ships have taken off from one of the planets,” Danick said. “They’re heading straight for us.”
“But they haven’t fixed us as a target,” Adira added.
“We don’t even know if they do that,” Danick said.
Mach shook his head. “Their ground defenses have.”
“I’m ready to launch the drone,” Sanchez said. “Just say the word. At least we can probe the ships and get a better idea of their capability.”
Squid extended his tentacles and chirped.
Babcock’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“What did he say?” Mach said.
The comms console pinged again.
“Salus Sphere ship,” a quiet voice said through the speaker. “Land or die.”
A tracking beam shot from one of the planets, displaying a sequence of undecipherable symbols across the scanner array. The two large ships closed on either side of the Intrepid.
Lassea cupped her hand over her mouth and gasped.
“Salus Sphere ship,” the voice repeated. “Follow our guidance system.”
The fact that they spoke Salus Common was both encouraging and unnerving. With hundreds of weapons from the asteroids and dwarf planets locked on, two ships approaching, and a clear threat about what would happen if they didn’t land, Mach decided to follow the instructions.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Morgan read over Seazza’s latest communiqué and kicked the aluminum pot stand across his office. Artificial compost littered the tightly woven beige carpet, the dark fragments resembling some far-off nebula.
Orloza was beyond reach. Morgan’s efforts had failed, and now it seemed like the CW would sleepwalk into a war that they weren’t prepared to win. The horans had spent the intervening years improving their ships, their skills, and ultimately gaining a technological edge by uniting with the vestans within the Axis.
He slumped to his chair and spun round to look out the great open window across the beautifully landscaped picture of Fides Prime. Perhaps that was the problem, he thought. The planet was so comfortable, seemingly perfect in every way, that the idea of war light-years away on the edge of the Sphere just didn’t seem real enough.
Behind him, the door to his office slid open. The quiet footfalls of Seazza’s calm approach made him spin back to face her.
“You got my message, then?” she said, waving a hand toward the mess on the floor. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Orloza. He just needs some time. I’m sure we can—”
“No, he’s a lost cause, along with all the other old fossils stuck in their comfortable ways. Their heads are firmly buried in the silica.”
Seazza drooped her shoulders and sighed. She took a seat opposite him and reste
d her elbows on his desk, dropping her chin onto her hands. “So what do we do now? Orloza was my main contribution. Without him, I’m not sure what else I can do.”
“I’ve been thinking about that ever since Orloza became our last chance. I have to admit I wasn’t confident he’d listen to me. It seems the marshal has done a fine job of discrediting me across the CW hierarchy.”
“Oh?” Seazza said, sitting back in her chair. “What do you have in mind?”
Morgan scanned the room, more out of paranoia than any real concern they were being watched. In two places across the top of the rear and right side wall, wires poked from the plaster: cameras and mics that he had searched for and removed. That was a skill he had learned from Mach during their time serving together.
Sometimes, during war, it paid to be out of communication reach when trying tactics that were… experimental.
His assistant followed his gaze. Her forehead wrinkled with a silent query.
“I think it’s time for me to call in one last favor. But I need to know you’re not going to be a problem for me on this. What I’m about to do would be regarded as high treason. Your association with me would likely implicate you in my crimes if I were to fail and my actions become public.”
“Okay…” Seazza said, her body tightening with tension. “What is it you have in mind? Do I get a choice whether I keep this, whatever it is you’re about to do, a secret?”
“No,” Morgan said, standing and placing his fingertips to the surface of his desk. “I need to know now. Are you with me… or them? I need to know if I can trust you.” They locked eyes. Morgan drew a breath and waited for her answer… it could all stem on her next few words.
Seazza stood, pushing her chair back with the rear of her knees. She stared directly at Morgan as she said, “I’m with you, Admiral. Whatever it is you have planned, you have my trust. Just let me know what I can do for you.”
In any other situation, Morgan would have smiled with the relief and renewed confidence he had in his assistant, but the gravity of his actions prevented any expression other than a grim determination.
“We leave right away. I’ve procured an alternative ID pass. An unregistered ship is waiting for us in hangar eighteen.”
“Where are we going?”
“The vestan embassy.”
“That doesn’t seem so dangerous… why the cloak-and-dagger approach?”
“Because the embassy is more than it seems. We’re going to meet with the true rulers of the Vestan Empire, and we’re going to betray the CW to them—in order to save the CW.”
Morgan checked the message he had just received on his smart-screen. “They’re ready. Let’s go.” He looked up at his assistant, wondering if she would change her mind and become a problem for him. Over the years, he’d grown fond of her and he would prefer not to have to kill her.
After a moment’s hesitation, Seazza saluted him. “Lead the way, sir.”
***
The flight went without incident. They flew across the CWDF base during the evening, the sun setting, casting shadows over the lush tall trees that swayed back and forth together in the permanent tide of Fides Prime’s easterly breeze.
Morgan had always thought that the trees on this planet were interconnected, so synchronized and alive were their movements, but as far as he knew, no scientist had yet deduced any communication between individual specimens.
It was that same kind of telepathic inference he felt with Seazza now she was fully committed to his deceit and betrayal. Like he, she saw the bigger picture, realized they had to go above those in power if they were to save the lifestyle that they’d grown accustomed to.
Their actions would be for the betterment of the entire population of the Salus Sphere. Not just a handful of the elite.
Below them, the scenery turned from rural to urban in a hard line. Where once trees colonized the surface, here they were replaced with towers and spires, steel, glass and titanium, concrete and marble.
The capital city of Fides Prime glowed like a rare, complicated jewel, still uncut and embedded into its stone womb. Amber and blue lights lit up thousands of windows overlooking the city from their elevated position of the towers.
Morgan sat back as the AI autopilot took them lower and banked around a pair of huge rectangular commercial buildings, their surfaces glossy mirrors with its black, smooth surfaces.
Their E-class ship reduced its velocity and swept down in a graceful arc until it landed atop the vestan embassy building in an empty bay spot. Without getting out of the craft, Morgan sent a message to his contact via his smart-screen and waited, staring out of the ship’s observation screen to the embassy’s rear maintenance door.
Seazza yawned and leaned forward. “So who is this contact?”
“I only know him by his false ID number: 6160.”
“And he’s vestan?”
“Not quite,” Morgan said. “He’s… a crossbreed, of a sorts. You’ll understand shortly. I once did him a favor, saved his life. This is his chance to return that favor.”
Before Seazza could ask him any more questions, they both spotted a dark shape appear at the maintenance door. It raised a hand and waved once before disappearing back into the building.
“That him?” Seazza asked.
“It is. Come on, we ought to move. Lower the robe over your face in case we have any drones floating about.”
The woman did as he suggested, and he followed suit. The two black robes were official vestan dignitary items, supplied to Morgan by 6160. It would buy them some time once inside to get to where they needed to go without being seen.
Being a human and in the embassy wasn’t an issue itself, but considering who he was, and Seazza’s known association with Orzola, it would raise more questions and exposure than Morgan was comfortable with. Not to mention his contact absolutely insisted.
“Ready?” Morgan asked, standing by his captain’s chair.
Seazza shrugged the robe in place and affirmed. “You can trust this guy, can’t you?”
“I did save his life.”
“I know, but these are vestans. They’re not exactly our best friends right now, especially as Orzola and his lot ended embassy contact recently over the whole Axis tension thing.”
“That’s only a good thing for us, fewer people to avoid. Come on, we better not hold him up.”
The two of them left the craft.
Morgan shivered. The slicing chilled air whipped harshly through the thin fabric of the robe, making it stick to his legs and body. The door to the craft closed. The back of Morgan’s neck warmed suddenly with the hiss of hydraulic air. He focused on the door ahead, a shadow a shade darker than the dull gray of the vestan embassy.
The tower rose up a further twenty stories from their current position. The needlelike protrusion created a long, thin shadow across the landing bay.
Staying within that narrow strip of shadow, Morgan led Seazza to the door, and when they reached it, he tapped three times. They waited.
Morgan knocked again, trying to ignore the flutters in his stomach, his anxiety manifesting as it always did when he was about to enter battle. That pre-adrenaline state where it seemed like the body was trapped within a series of quantum states, unable to settle on one thing or another, being everything at the same time.
When he thought he was about to lose his calm and knock again, the door opened. The waft of a minty spice flowed out, making his throat burn slightly. He stifled a sneeze and stepped inside, ushering Seazza with him.
It was so dark inside he couldn’t make out the corridor or the person he had come to meet. The door slammed behind him. Seazza startled, knocking into Morgan’s arm. He turned and placed a hand on her shoulder just as a bag was pulled down over his face. He struggled, but his attacker was too quick and too strong.
Something kicked him in the knees, sending him sprawling face-first to the hard floor. He opened his mouth to protest, but his effort was futile. A stun stick struck
him on the back of the neck with a sharp pop, knocking him out instantly.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mach had tried a number of communications after the threatening message but received no reply. Lassea and Danick set a course for the tracking beam’s source—a green planetoid. The two destroyers, blocky and dark gray with large cannons on either wing, cruised at the sides of the Intrepid.
Sanchez checked over his rifle and joined Adira and Mach around the viewing screen. “It’s a strange way to introduce themselves. Do you think they want our ship?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mach said. “They’re not getting it, unless they exchange it for the Atlantis ship.”
“How do they know Salus Common?” Lassea asked.
Babcock shrugged. “We don’t know how close they’ve got to the Sphere. I think it suggests they’re interested in us. The level and reason why remains to be seen.”
“I don’t like this,” Adira said as she gazed at the images. “Look at all that infrastructure.”
Details on the gloomy ground became clearer as they descended. They were heading toward a brown square space on the edge of a three-klick-wide area of metallic roofed buildings. Yellow lights surrounded the landing zone. Small arrow- and circular-shaped ships dotted around it. None were recognizable.
Both destroyers held their positions a klick above the planet. Whatever happened next, Mach knew they were committed to seeing it through.
Danick thrust near the ground and clouds of dust puffed from the surface, obscuring the view around them. Surface pressure displayed at 1.5 bars, temperature -4 and 85% carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. If they were leaving the ship, it’d have to be in suits. They had four available.
Four solid dark blue armored vehicles on six wheels powered through the murky sky. Their single headlights stabbed through the dust toward the ship. Two parked at the front of the Intrepid, two outside the side entrance.
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