Wyvern’s Angel: The Dragons of Incendium #9

by Deborah Cooke

There was no sign of the Gloria Furore or of the shapeshifter who had attacked Percipia and Bond at the end of his mission, which was frustrating.

  Ignita had protested that Percipia should rest rather than join the reception for Thalina, but Ignita would have had all of her daughters spend their entire pregnancies being idle—even though she had been anything but idle herself during her own. It was easy for Percipia to convince Ouros to take her side by developing a sudden fascination with the Star Station.

  She had to activate Bond’s code as soon after Thalina left the Archangel as possible. It was the only way to ensure the safety of her father’s realm and the completion of Bond’s quest.

  “I’m glad to see you take an interest in trade,” Ouros said to Percipia as they left the shuttle and entered Incendium’s Star Station. As usual, there was an honor guard waiting for the royal party, in full uniform. They bowed in unison to the king, who waved, smiled and continued to the control pod. “There will be roles for all the children of the royal family, whether they are dragons or not, and since you are remaining on Incendium, you could take a more active role.”

  “Especially as Drakina seems inclined to keep Gravitas on Terra,” Ignita complained.

  “She believes his presence there is helping to change the orbit of Incendium,” Ouros reminded his wife gently.

  Ignita sighed. “I know. I understand all of that, but he is my first grandchild.”

  “And we will go to Terra soon to hunt verran,” Ouros insisted.

  “I doubt that,” Ignita replied. “You are always inclined to find one last matter to be settled first.”

  “I will be gone for a while if we travel to Terra. All must be in order here, first.” Ouros gave her a firm look. “The confiscation of the Archangel definitely had to be resolved before we could leave.”

  “Anguissa must be taught a lesson,” Bellatora said softly, then exchanged a smile with Percipia. They both knew that Anguissa would never truly be tamed. “You’re quiet,” Bellatora whispered to Percipia.

  She shrugged. “Thinking of him,” she whispered and her sister put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

  “Thank goodness you claimed the Seed before he left,” Bellatora said, but Percipia didn’t feel celebratory.

  She wanted Bond with her, even though she knew it was his fate to be with the Host and his own kind. Percipia felt full of the secrets and obligation of his mission: she hadn’t confessed any of it to anyone, and was more than ready to be rid of its burden.

  All she had to do was fulfill Bond’s quest in his absence.

  In his memory.

  They entered the control pod then, and the large central screen was filled with the image of the approaching Archangel. The tug vessel seemed too small to be towing the freighter, but Percipia knew that it didn’t take much propulsion to move large masses in zero-gee. There was something mesmerizing about the slow progression of Anguissa’s ship, with the array of familiar stars behind it.

  The commander stepped forward to confer with Ouros. “A dock has been isolated at the end of the J7 spur, your majesty, where the Archangel will be sealed and quarantined. The spur itself will be secured after the survey of the interior is complete, and there will be a force field activated around the vessel so it cannot be approached from the exterior.”

  “Someone is going on board to survey and inventory the contents?” Percipia asked.

  “Droids,” the commander supplied. “They will seek life forms, but leave the other cargo untouched.”

  Would they consider the virus to be a life form?

  “What happens if they find anything?” Percipia asked.

  “It will be removed from the vessel and brought into the import hall to be identified.”

  “And taxed,” Bellatora interjected.

  Her father gave her a glance. “Tariffs ensure the welfare of our citizens, Bellatora, by guaranteeing a fair price for goods, and protect our industries.”

  Bellatora’s eyes lit but Percipia spoke, hoping to avoid a discussion about galactic economics. “But how can there be droids?” she asked the commander. “Isn’t that a violation of Scintillon’s Law?”

  “They aren’t sentient, your highness, but follow a programmed suite of directions.” He flicked a glance at the king. “Although technically, there are some who think them sufficiently sophisticated to be in violation of that law, they are machines with no capacity for reasoning. King Ouros added a codicil to the law to allow their use here at the Star Station, in order to keep citizens from being put into danger.”

  “Is there often danger in investigating vessels and their holds?”

  The commander straightened. “We see very little piracy here,” he said with care and Percipia wondered if her sister was the exception. “But it is not unlikely for a vessel to have taken on a hostile life form without realizing its presence. The investigations are to ensure the safety of all, and the use of droids adds another layer of security.”

  “I see. I assume you have control of the droids from here?” Percipia asked.

  “We do.” The commander gestured to an entire team waiting to activate the droids, their screens apparently showing the visual feeds from those droids. Percipia had been prepared for this. She thanked the commander and watched the Archangel draw closer. She couldn’t allow anyone to realize what was in that ship’s hold, much less to move the virus to Incendium. She’d considered the merit of sharing what she knew, but it was all conjecture and second hand reporting. She hadn’t seen into the hold and she couldn’t prove its contents—and she would guess that the labeling was misleading.

  Bond’s worm and the summoning of the Host was the best solution.

  “Five minutes to the docking of the Archangel,” said one of the controllers. “Port nineteen, spur J7. Archangel, you are cleared for final docking. All vessels, the Archangel is not to be approached.”

  “Archangel ready for final docking,” replied someone from that vessel.

  It was a man. “The Carrier?” Bellatora asked, mouthing her question silently.

  “The HeartKeeper,” Percipia replied in kind and the two sisters smiled at each other.

  “We should go to the dock,” Ignita said. “I want to see Thalina immediately.”

  “You want to see if she truly is pregnant,” Ouros replied.

  “I’m certain of it. I smelled the Seed before they left.” The queen seized her husband’s elbow. “I want to make sure she’s well before you rescind that law.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Ouros replied, but he went with his wife.

  “Coming?” Bellatora asked Percipia.

  “I’ll just stay here,” she replied. “I want to see how it all works.”

  Bellatora studied her for a moment, as if she guessed that Percipia had another agenda, then nodded and followed their parents.

  The commander of the control pod appeared by Percipia’s side. “You might be more comfortable here, your royal highness.”

  “And out of the way,” Percipia teased.

  He barely smiled but there was a glint of acknowledgment in his eyes. He indicated a chair by a console that wasn’t in use, its display screen dark.

  “Thank you. Can you tell me, is everything connected in the control pod?”

  “There is one central system in the entire Star Station, highness, although it is compartmentalized for security reasons. The central system can access everything about the station itself, as well as the nav data on arrivals and departures. In addition, from here we can access the records for any vessel and any crew member, as well as connect directly with the comm system of ships that are in dock.”

  “So, from here, everything is accessible?”

  “True. Which is why we have such security on entering the pod. There are many access points for data in the Star Station, but each has a limitation on access.”

  Percipia nodded, knowing that her own known interest in code was the reason the commander was so forthcoming. “So, a thermometer would pro
vide data to the central system but not be able to access any other information?”

  “It would be able to access the programming for that zone in terms of climate control, and would have a feedback loop with the regional cooling and heating devices. Beyond that, though, no, it would not be able to access any other information.”

  “Could it be made to?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No. Each access point has been configured with the capacity only to accept the amount of data that it needs to know to fulfill its function. There are hardwired limitations, so that no worm or hack could compromise the station.”

  “That’s fascinating. What a clever system.”

  “Even in the loading docks, the workers receive codes for the containers of goods they’ll be moving.”

  “I know many things are moved in containers.”

  “Exactly. So, the unique code of the container is passed, along with its dimensions and weight, but its contents, origin, destination, and even its ownership is not available to anyone outside of this pod.”

  Percipia nodded. “Unless a crew member talks in the bar.”

  The commander laughed. “There is no failsafe against that, your majesty. We do, though, strictly control access to all freight. Our theft rate is so low as to be nonexistent, one of the best rates in our quadrant.”

  Percipia didn’t have to pretend to be impressed. “I hope you don’t mind if I watch a bit longer? I’m just fascinated by this.”

  “Of course not, your highness.”

  “I don’t want to keep you from your responsibilities,” she said with a smile. “A system so complex as this only works when everyone does his or her part.”

  “That is true, your highness.” He bowed. “But do call me if you have further questions.”

  “Archangel docking, sir,” said one of the controllers.

  The commander left then, striding to his station. Percipia watched as the tug maneuvered the vessel into place and the Archangel was hauled closer to the gate. It was docked, and various checks sounded from around the control pod. The commander returned briefly to Percipia’s side and tapped on the console before her, bringing up a display of the gates. She saw her parents and Bellatora outside the gate.

  “In case you want to see the reunion,” he said with a smile and a bow.

  “Thank you. I do.”

  He returned to his own console, and Percipia pretended to be watching the image of her family. She leaned over the console, hiding the keypad from the view of the others. Thalina emerged from the Archangel, looking tired but happy, followed by a man with short dark hair. He had his hand on the back of her waist and looked wary of the greeting he might receive. Percipia saw the droids roll down the gangway. There were a dozen of them, each about knee-high and covered with sensors. The screens of the droid team came to life, each showing the changing view of one droid. The images were of lower resolution than was typical, but Percipia knew that meant they could be transmitted faster. The door was secured behind the droids and she heard the reports begin to come into a nearby console. The droids measured the oxygen, the carbon dioxide, the temperature, the humidity.

  Percipia surreptitiously slid the chip containing Bond’s worm into the receptacle on the console. She waited for it to transfer, removed the chip, then tapped in the code to activate the worm.

  She caught her breath then added the last digit.

  It was done. The Host would be summoned.

  And the worm could not be stopped.

  “Sir?” one of the controllers turned to the commander. “The droids are reporting activity in the nav system of the Archangel.”

  “But how can that be? The vessel is out of fuel. Its systems are completely down.”

  The controller lifted his hands. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  The commander gestured to one of the big screens. “Put it up!”

  “That’s a departure sequence, sir.”

  “A final crosscheck.”

  “But the Archangel has no fuel!” the commander roared.

  Percipia didn’t have to try to look astonished. She was.

  “The tethers are dropping, sir.”

  “The gate has disengaged.”

  “But that’s impossible!” the commander said, staring at the screen as the impossible happened.

  “It’s sucking power from our systems, sir,” said another controller.

  “A parasitic worm,” muttered another.

  “How much power?” the commander barked.

  “A lot. It was fast.”

  “And multi-pronged,” said the first controller. “Look. It’s as if it knew how long it would take our security system to discern the bleed.”

  “It took from all twenty power supplies.”

  “A bit from each one.”

  “Brilliant,” whispered the controller close to Percipia. “Just fracking brilliant.”

  “How much power does it have?” the commander barked. The Archangel surged to power, lights appearing on its exterior. A jet fired and it left the dock.

  “Too fast,” the commander hissed.

  “All vessels, alert. The Archangel is rogue. All vessels, clear from the path of the Archangel.”

  “It was that cyborg,” whispered one of the controllers.

  “HeartKeeper, my ass,” whispered another. “He planted a worm.”

  Percipia straightened.

  “It’s heading for the jump.”

  “How much power?” the commander barked.

  “Enough to jump.”

  “Jump where?” the commander asked. “Did you get its flight plan?”

  The first controller shook his head. “The Archangel terminated contact with us before our system could interrogate,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Who knows where the frack it’s going.”

  “It’s not the cyborg. Princess Anguissa has something on that ship she doesn’t want us to find,” speculated another man. “Look at this droid!”

  One of the displays showed a droid moving quickly toward the hold. It opened the secured lock with dexterity and no hesitation.

  “Where the frack did it get that code?” whispered one of the controllers.

  The others just stared.

  The droid cut a direct path through the enormous hold, bypassing cargo. Some of it was in containers and some of it was not. It headed to one container, hidden behind the others, one with a biological lock on it.

  “It won’t get that open,” a controller said, just as the droid locked on and poured a stream of data into the lock.

  “A DNA string,” its controller whispered. “Where did it get that?”

  “We could destroy the vessel,” suggested another controller, and Percipia felt the panic rising in the pod.

  The commander shook his head. “Not when the Archangel is between the station and the jump. There’s too much activity and there will be collateral damage. Let it go.”

  There was silence as they all watched the Archangel move toward the jump and the droid move into the container.

  “That’s a biohazard!” roared the controller.

  “It’s a virus!”

  “Destroy the vessel!” the commander cried, but suddenly the Archangel was surrounded with brilliant white light. Even on the display, it was hard to look directly at it. Percipia narrowed her eyes, knowing precisely what it was.

  There was consternation in the control tower. “What’s that?”

  “Is it an attack?”

  “Seal the jump gate!”

  She watched the feed from the droid and saw the white light focus before it, as if the droid approached a brilliant star.

  Then the radiance fried its systems and the feed wavered, crackled and disappeared.

  Its controller stood up, looking shaken. “Something detonated,” he whispered.

  The light around the Archangel grew brighter and brighter, filling that section of the sky with brilliant light.

  “There’s something happening in the hold o
f the Archangel,” a man reported. “The droids on the deck are reporting a chemical reaction of some kind.”

  Formulae streamed across the screens as the droids reported their observations. Percipia saw the first flaws in the feed, the missing characters, the delays in transmission. The gaps became longer and one droid after the other fell silent. The screens were all dark, and the Archangel couldn’t even be distinguished in the radiant light on the main screen.

  There was a shimmer. Percipia glimpsed feathers and faces in the radiant glow and thought she heard the hum of music coming through the comm. She wondered if Bond were in the Host at this event and guessed that he was.

  He would come to witness the completion of his quest.

  The light faded abruptly, just as it had that night above Finis Island. It became smaller and smaller, diminishing to a pinpoint, then flashing once before it faded from view. The Archangel was gone, as surely as the Host.

  The controllers stared at the screens in awe.

  “Report!” the commander said, breaking the silence. “I want to see all of that again. I want a damage report. I want the Archangel found...”

  “The vessel is gone, sir. There’s no sign of it, and it didn’t make a jump.”

  “There is no damage, sir. All systems operational at full capacity.

  The commander looked around in surprise. “There must have been heat from that...”

  “None reported, sir. No damage.”

  “I want to see it again,” the commander insisted. “And I want that formula.”

  There was silence, then the controllers shook their heads. “It’s gone, sir.”

  “Gone?”

  “Vanished, as if it never happened.”

  “But how can that be?” the commander asked as the door to the pod opened and Ouros appeared.

  “That would be my question,” the king asked, a thrum of annoyance in his voice, and Percipia knew it was time to leave.

  Her role in this piece was completed.

  Percipia returned to the palace and left her sisters chattering. She had been given the largest apartment in the end and had quickly put a lock upon the door. Her notebooks would never be disturbed again.

  She was glad to step into the quiet space that was all her own, and closed her eyes for a moment in relief before she realized she wasn’t alone.