Echo Rift

by G. S. Jennsen

  “Oh. Good. I mean, they’ll be more comfortable on their own ships.” Alex frowned. “But didn’t you say their wormhole drives were damaged? Concord space is a great distance from here. It will take you centuries to reach it at superluminal speeds. And the Rasu may be able to chase you there, which we do not want to happen.”

  “It is true that the wormhole drives on the docked vessels are nonfunctional.”

  Alex spread her arms wide. “Well, what’s the state of the repairs? I guarantee I can help speed them along.”

  “You misunderstand. If they were easily repaired, we would have done so years ago and fled a far greater distance, to a place beyond the Rasu’s reach. Unfortunately, we have been unable to locate the rare materials necessary to return them to functionality.” Wyddoniiet gestured with an extended arm to the outer row of buildings. “A portion of these foundries are dedicated to recreating the required materials, but as yet they have not succeeded.”

  “Then we’re going to need a bigger wormhole than the Siyane can produce to evacuate your ships. Give me a minute.”

  Her gaze unfocused for a moment, and her expression morphed through mild surprise to consternation. A blink and she refocused on Wyddoniiet. “How long do you think it will take to prepare the evacuation?”

  “Three of your standard hours.”

  Caleb grimaced. “That long? I’m sure we don’t have to impress upon you how much time is of the essence. You’re the one who voiced doubts about how effective the improvised neutron bomb was going to be—and you’re right. We don’t know how long the Rasu will be hobbled, but every second we spend here brings them closer to functionality.”

  “We will endeavor for speed. We have done so before.” Wyddoniiet glided off to hopefully start issuing orders, leaving the two of them unattended. They must have passed whatever tests they were being measured by.

  “What’s the story?”

  Alex rubbed at her eyes; her energy for dealing with recalcitrant aliens had always been finite. “Mom is currently engaging a Rasu armada over at the Taiyok homeworld, but she promised to send a spare ship with a Caeles Prism to us soon.”

  “How’s the battle going?”

  “She said ‘strangely.’ I’m not entirely sure what that means. Anyway, now I don’t know who to comm about preparing for the Ourankeli’s arrival. Mom doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with refugee issues while she’s fighting Rasu in the Gennisi galaxy. Dad’s stopped issuing orders now that Mom’s back on top of Concord matters, and Mia’s no longer at the Consulate. I guess I could comm Veshnael, but I don’t know him well.”

  “Comm Marlee. It’ll make her week. And she’s actually proved to be rather skilled at refugee resettlement.”

  “The Godjans and whatnot. Good point. Do you want to do the honors? It’ll show her how much you’ve come to trust her.”

  He smiled, because she was right. “I will. It should present a new challenge for her, which she claims to want to tackle whenever possible. These aren’t exactly Godjans.”

  “No. No, they are not.”

  Hey, Marlee, is the Consulate ready for a new influx of refugees?

  Where did you find more Godjans?

  Not Godjans. Ourankeli.

  Who? Oh, the species Corradeo Praesidis met a gazillion and a half years ago.

  And how do you know that?

  Don’t be silly. I know everything that happens at Concord HQ.

  This, he believed. Do me a favor and don’t tell me how. We’ve got sixty-three Ourankeli who need a new and eventually permanent home.

  So few? The poor souls! It won’t be a problem. We can simply stick them in a hotel until they tell us what they need, then what they want.

  He took in the habitat, where dozens of Ourankeli now hurried about. A new urgency gave purpose to their hastened actions, but each one remained utterly composed, calm and dignified. Better make it a nice hotel. The Ourankeli make the Novoloume look like slum-dwellers.

  They sound fantastic. I can’t wait to meet them.

  54

  * * *

  EARTH

  Vancouver

  Malcolm strolled along the shore path in Stanley Park, hands stuffed in his pockets and his collar pulled up high to fend off a gusting wind. Ahead, waves crashed into the pillar bases of Lions Gate Bridge, and his gaze drifted up toward the foothills. Their home was less than a kilometer away across the bridge, and he’d spent a miserable morning there before seeking the refuge of the outdoors.

  One thing had remained true for all these years: he still preferred the sensation of soil beneath his feet and wind in his hair. He preferred what was solid and real, where if you could see it you could touch it, feel its texture between the tips of your fingers.

  Today, the violently brisk air and enthusiastic sea-spray were like continual slaps in the face, which was definitely what he needed. He’d taken Richard’s advice and talked to a priest after their conversation, but the father had been about as much help as he’d expected, which wasn’t much at all. He understood, for the priest was bound by doctrine and Papal directive. But it meant a meaningful resolution of this overdrawn soul-searching continued to elude him.

  He’d never pretend to consider himself a deep thinker; he was a doer, a man of action. But he’d ‘actioned’ himself directly into captivity, a trial run of his death and a pseudo-rebirth. Now, out the backside awaited a semblance of a new life for him. It wasn’t the one he wanted, but it increasingly looked like he wasn’t getting the old one back.

  “You broke my world. You broke me—and there’s no unbreaking any of it now.”

  Only, since her world was his world, he’d broken his own in the process. So where did he go from here?

  A Concord Command alert flashed in his virtual vision, drawing his attention. Even during his leave of absence, the concept of cutting himself off from critical events was unthinkable.

  ACTIVATION ORDER:

  Mission: Rasu Engagement Alpha Three, Gennisi galaxy, planet designation ‘Toki’Taku’

  Instructions: All Battle Groups cleared for Rasu action and not previously activated are ordered to report to your assigned staging points by 1425 GST, where you will receive deployment orders.

  He wasn’t so arrogant as to believe God responded to his personal pleas on command, but the coincidence was notable enough that he should probably take the hint?

  Without making a conscious decision to do so, his feet were carrying him up one of the cut-through paths toward the skycar station. He’d never make it in time, if for no other reason than he wasn’t on active duty and the Denali was in dry dock and crewless at the Presidio. But a powerful need to try propelled him forward.

  He broke into a jog as he filed a Resumption of Active Duty Notification with AEGIS Operations, then immediately followed it up with a request for all personnel not on reassignment to report to the Denali ASAP.

  He didn’t want for any of this to have happened. He wanted to wrap himself up in Mia’s arms and kiss her forever. But he, somewhat unexpectedly, found he now knew one thing with a reassuring clarity. He needed to be on the bridge of his dreadnought.

  AFS DENALI

  The Presidio

  One hour and twenty minutes later, Malcolm stood on the bridge of the AFS Denali. He hadn’t set foot on it in months, but the ship welcomed him back nonetheless.

  For so long, he’d hated serving on ships in the void of space. But he’d turned out to excel at it, so in time he’d accepted the necessity of doing so, and that decision had carried him to the rarefied heights of his profession. Then he’d run from the obligation and nearly gotten himself killed and lost Mia for his effort.

  Now, standing here on a bridge bustling with activity as crew members reported in and flight preparations began in earnest, with the adiamene hull, bright lights and virtual screens surrounding him…it felt right. He’d missed it. The skid-resistant flooring wasn’t soil, and the atmospheric recycling system wasn’t a fresh breeze, but…he ran
his hand along the railing…this was solid and real enough. And until he stumbled his way out the other side of this crisis of faith and love, maybe he could again find purpose in duty.

  He’d somehow yet to face the Rasu in battle, which shamed him. With nothing else to do but brood, he’d stayed up late the last two nights studying battle footage from every encounter so far, watching and learning until he had a reasonable feel for their battlefield tactics. He was ready.

  He reviewed the staff report. The Denali was only sixty-eight percent crewed due to reassignments and leave, but its Prevo pair could pick up the slack and cover any unmanned stations. If asked, he’d opine that AEGIS warships were now chronically overstaffed in light of the many technological advances of recent years. In fact, as the fleet admiral, he’d asserted precisely that opinion several times to the various committees which oversaw such matters. But military bureaucracies were slow to change unless shoved off a cliff and forced to do so.

  He considered the bridge again, reviewed the newest ship readiness update as soon as it came in, then sent a message.

  Commandant Solovy,

  The AFS Denali stands ready to assist in the Toki’taku battle in whatever manner you can best use us. We await your instructions.

  —Admiral Malcolm Jenner

  He busied himself with last-minute flurries of arriving crew and tactical scenario updates until a response arrived in a more personal pulse.

  Malcolm, welcome back. As much as I would value your assistance at Toki’taku, we are thus far managing passably well. Instead, I have another mission for you.

  55

  * * *

  CONCORD HQ

  CINT

  Richard studied the recorded Ghost footage from Savrak with a mixture of disgust and growing dread. The Savrakaths were not merely resilient, but as stubborn as mules. He’d grudgingly admire them, if only their stubbornness wasn’t directed at trying to murder as many Concord citizens as possible.

  In the overly crisp images of an enhanced long-range capture, he watched as a team unloaded antimatter missiles from the lone warship docked at a secret encampment deep in the jungle far to the northwest of the capital city. The team trudged it to a long, fully enclosed tent erected nearby. A makeshift cleanroom?

  The imagery transitioned to washed-out infrared to penetrate the tent. A lone Savrakath opened up a missile and removed a package from its interior. Surely the antimatter casing itself. The package was transferred to a smaller box on an adjacent table. The Savrakath then moved to a tall, circular container situated on a second table. The visual wasn’t good enough for Richard to make out the details of the alien’s work, but according to the log, they continued their work for almost an hour. Richard sped up the video until the Savrakath closed up the open materials and left the tent.

  Intel estimated with sixty-eight percent certainty that the Savrakath scientist Dr. Khalik was on site at the camp, which made him the one performing surgery on the lethal antimatter. The size of the circular container, around two meters by three, combined with the material extracted from the missile, suggested only one reasonable possibility. They were making an antimatter bomb, one that could be easily transported anywhere.

  While he kept one eye on the video feed, he sent Miriam a message. Yes, she was currently spearheading a battle against the Rasu five megaparsecs away, but this was legitimately important.

  We need to increase the alert level for Savrakath incursions. They’re trying to make a small-payload antimatter bomb.

  Considering her current state, the reply arrived quickly. The alert level can go no higher than Red Flag. Any Savrakath vessel will be shot down the instant they are caught in Concord space.

  I know. I’m simply saying we need to be on the lookout, now more than ever.

  Then implement whatever measures you believe are appropriate to ensure we’re doing so.

  She was right—the Savrakaths would never get a ship close enough to fire a missile at a Concord target…but they were no longer trying to fire a missile. They were trying to plant a bomb.

  The video again drew his full attention as Dr. Khalik returned to the tent. He and two assistants transferred the contents of the box to the circular container and, after much fiddling, closed it up. The container—now a bomb—was trolleyed out of the tent and loaded onto a small transport-type vessel. It didn’t display the usual Savrakath design sensibilities; in fact, the ship more closely resembled a Dankath or Barisan design. The vessel lifted off and vanished into the sky.

  The Ghost was tasked with surveilling the secret encampment, so it didn’t follow the vessel when it departed. And this footage was six hours old, having first passed through Cliff’s algorithms then directed to Analysis for greater scrutiny by CINT analysts, before finally being cleared to land on his desk.

  Dammit! What was that ship, and where had it taken the bomb?

  The Savrakath’s strike options were pitifully limited. No Savrakath vessel would be permitted to dock at any Concord station or land on any Concord world. But this wasn’t a Savrakath vessel!

  He sat bolt upright in his chair, fingers flying over his control panel in search of a file. He’d seen something this morning, one of hundreds of data points to pass across his awareness. Something in the daily briefing materials. A tiny thing—there.

  A Barisan merchant vessel had been reported missing yesterday by its owner, Manu Provisions. Normally such a report never would have been elevated to inclusion in the daily briefing, but the last known location of the vessel was Antlia Merchant Waypoint #3, the closest facility to the Savrak stellar system that Concord operated. As such, the Waypoint was under heightened alert and any anomalies were flagged for review.

  “Cliff, initiate a system-wide search for any information on Barisan merchant vessel #BSA-4162-dd6a.”

  ‘Acknowledged.’

  Richard sent a comm request to the reporting party at Manu Provisions.

  “Director Navick? This is a surprise and an honor. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to check on the status of the ship you reported missing. Do you have any updates, or have you heard from any of the crew?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Messages to the crewmembers bounce back as undeliverable, so I fear the worst for them.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. We’re investigating the ship’s disappearance, and I’ll update you when we have any information.”

  When the comm ended, he rocked his chair back and steepled his hands at his chin. Either the crew had collectively gone rogue to join some pirate group or other, or they were dead. Space was dangerous; ships were lost all the time, and because space was also vast, most of the time the wreckage was never found.

  ‘Director, the vessel in question has not interacted with any Concord facilities since it was reported missing. However, I have detected an anomaly.’

  “Oh? What is it?”

  ‘A merchant vessel belonging to Manu Provisions with the ID #BSA-4162-dd6b docked briefly at Concord HQ forty minutes ago. However, a vessel with that same ID is also currently docked at Andromeda Merchant Waypoint #2.’

  Richard’s pulse ticked up a notch. “Could the crew have altered the transponder code on the missing ship?”

  ‘Not legally, but someone with the necessary technical knowledge likely could have made such an alteration, yes.’

  “Show me the details on the vessel that docked at HQ.”

  A series of log entries appeared a screen. ‘I have also attached the visuals captured as part of the regular docking procedures.’

  He leapt up, sending his chair skidding into the wall. He hardly had to glance at the visual to confirm what he already knew—that it was the ship from the Savrakath encampment. “Where is it now?”

  ‘Records indicate its cargo was unloaded and sent to processing. As soon as the unloading was complete, the vessel departed again, approximately twelve minutes ago.’

  “Track every container transferred off the ship, highest priority. I n
eed to know where that cargo is right now.” As CINT’s official Artificial, Cliff’s quantum fingers extended into every system on Concord HQ. If anyone could find the cargo, it was Cliff.

  Richard forced himself to pause for a single moment. Was he overreacting? He had no hard proof, only a hunch based on logical lines he’d drawn from one event to the next.

  ‘Here are the current locations of all tagged cargo containers originating from the merchant vessel, with one exception. The container tagged #BSA-C859-fk24 never made it to its designated slot in Warehouse 3C.’

  Not a hunch any longer. He accessed the top security layer and activated a silent, Tier IV emergency protocol ordering Security to begin a quiet, orderly evacuation of Concord HQ. With more than ten thousand people on the station, it was going to take hours, but making a public announcement would not speed up the process and would only cause a panic.

  ‘I have also acquired a visual of a single individual departing Vessel #BSA-4162-dd6b with the cargo containers. Analysis of the Security footage indicates the individual did not reboard the vessel prior to its departure.’

  “Send me the visual, along with anything else you flag as related to the ship or its cargo. And issue an order halting the movement of all cargo containers on the station.” He latched his Daemon to his belt and headed for the door—where he ran smack into Will.

  His husband grabbed his shoulder. “What’s going on? I just saw the alert.”

  “I think the Savrakaths have sneaked an antimatter bomb onto the station. Will, I need you to go home.”

  “Home? No. I need to oversee the implementation of CINT emergency protocols and assist Security with the evacuation procedures, none of which can happen from home.”