by Dan Worth
‘Maybe, maybe our earlier results were incorrect. Let’s take a sample from this chap here in the chair,’ said Rekkid and reached over to the figure slumped in what appeared to be the command position in the centre of the bridge. He took a scalpel from his belt and fumbled with it. ‘Sorry, Katherine can you do this? It’s a bit awkward for my seven fingered hands to do this in a five fingered glove.’
She took the scalpel from him and pared a layer of keratin from the corpse’s head crest then placed it in the portable analyser she carried. It whirred for a moment as it examined the sample’s chemical and genetic composition, then displayed a table of information. Katherine stared at the results, so did Rekkid. Three lines of data in particular caught their eye:
Sample type: Organic
Cellular match: Crest keratin, Arkari male.
Age estimate: 1,000,000 years (standard) +- 1,000
Rekkid hurriedly contacted the ship. He jabbered excitedly. ‘This is Rekkid to the Mary-Lou. You really aren’t going to believe this. This ship is of Arkari origin, and it’s a million years old! We verified the date with an organic sample we took from one of the dead crew in the bridge, who are all undoubtedly Arkari. This is absolutely unbelievable! Get a message back to the university and to the Shipping Authority at once. We have to preserve this find and tow it back to base so we can fully investigate it.’
Katherine was looking at the corpse of the ship’s captain, if that’s who he was. She noticed that his dead hands were tightly gripped around a portable electronic device of some kind, roughly the size of her analyser. Gingerly she moved the withered hands aside and picked it up.
What appeared to be a miniature microphone was set into the device as well as a series of buttons. The surface was printed with a number of brightly coloured symbols in the same indecipherable script which they had encountered throughout the ship.
‘He certainly wanted to hang on to that,’ commented Rekkid, ‘I wonder what it is?’
‘I think it could be the captain’s log,’ said Katherine. ‘It’s seems to be some sort of recording device anyway: he must have wanted someone to know what happened to his vessel. If I’m correct this could answer all our questions, providing we can access it.’
Captain McKinley cut in over the comm. ‘Guys, sorry to butt in like this but we have a problem. We have some visitors and they mean business. They wanted to speak to me initially, but since the Prof. is in charge of the expedition I referred them to you two.’
Two images flashed onto the helmet displays of Katherine and Rekkid. One showed the view from the external cameras on the Mary-Lou. The star field was blotted out by the shimmering bulk of an Arkari naval destroyer. Its massive manta ray shape dwarfed even the huge wreck they were currently exploring, titanic wings beat lazily in the void as it held station.
The other image was from the destroyer’s bridge, it showed a stern, aged Arkari dressed in the standard high collared naval uniform who introduced himself in heavily accented English.
‘This War Marshal Mentith of the Arkari Navy destroyer Shining Glory. You are ordered to vacate the wreck you are currently plundering immediately. We will not tolerate piracy. I repeat, you are ordered to vacate the wreck immediately. If you do not comply your ship will be boarded and seized and you will all be placed in custody.’
Rekkid replied angrily: ‘This is Professor Rekkid Cor of the Archaeology Department of Cambridge University, Earth. We are on a Commonwealth Government funded archaeological mission to investigate this ancient relic. You have no right to speak to me in that tone War Marshal and this is Commonwealth space. You have no jurisdiction here.’
‘The “ancient wreck” you mention is nothing of the kind,’ came the curt reply. ‘You are currently plundering an experimental vessel belonging to the Arkari Navy. She was lost on engine trials several days ago. You may find yourself on charges pertaining to breaches of military security Professor Cor, if you do not comply with our demands. I might add that we also have warrants for the arrest of yourself, Doctor O’Reilly and the crew of the Mary-Lou from the Commonwealth authorities should you attempt to defy us,’ he transmitted the image of a signed arrest warrant over the link. ‘You have fifteen minutes to vacate the wreck and undock.’ He snapped. ‘Mentith out.’
Rekkid turned to Katherine. ‘This is a load of crap, but I don’t see that we have much choice,’ he said angrily. ‘The only thing we can do right now is to comply with them and then lodge a complaint. We can’t outrun that destroyer. But there’s something very odd going here and I’d love to know what.’
‘No kidding, this isn’t an experimental vessel. It’s barely more sophisticated than current human craft and we can’t dispute the age of the thing or its crew. I hate having to leave her, this is a fascinating find.’
‘I strongly suspect it’s far more fascinating than either of us realise, given the response its discovery has elicited from our governments. I suspect that your own changed its tune at the behest of mine and I would dearly like to know why they’re trying to cover up this vessel’s existence. I don’t think we really have a choice though. I don’t know about you but I don’t fancy being dragged off to face some trumped up piracy charges.’
Katherine nodded sadly inside her suit.
They had a last despondent look at the bridge and its occupants and trudged sullenly back to the ship, retracing their trail of dark boot prints through the silent bowels of the ship to the docking umbilical that had invaded its interior. Once the two archaeologists were back on board the Mary-Lou, she undocked from the umbilical, leaving the shiny metal tube plugged into the wreck’s hull. The salvage vessel retreated to a safe distance whilst the Shining Glory swooped in raptor-like and snatched the wreck.
Katherine and Rekkid changed out of their suits and arrived on the Mary-Lou’s bridge just in time to see the massive Arkari vessel come about. The view twisted impossibly as the Glory jumped: the distortions caused by the vessel’s jump drive resembling a pool reflecting the night sky that had suddenly had a large smooth rock dropped into its centre. Human brains were incapable of fully interpreting the multidimensional space folding that was taking place.
Rekkid swore loudly and thumped the bulkhead. He looked at Katherine: she was grinning insanely.
‘What are you so happy about?’ he snapped. ‘We just saw the find of a lifetime disappear from in front of us in the clutches of those morons.’
She held up the captain’s log she had taken from the wreck. Rekkid grinned back.
Chapter 1
Hurrying through the gas-lit gloom of the backstreets towards the brightly lit corporate hub around the spaceport, Steven Harris tripped and fell, grazing a hand on the slimy cobblestones and spilling the contents of his pack into the muck. Cursing, he gathered up the sheaves of paper and wallets filled with data wafers then paused to see what had caused him to lose his footing.
Half hidden beneath a drift of un-collected rubbish, the pitiful form of a Vendiri, a native inhabitant of the planet Urranakar, lay sprawled, its toad-like features slack and pallid. One long, scaled arm was outstretched, four webbed fingers contorted as though grasping at something invisible. Steven guessed it was this that he had fallen over. He looked closer. The poor creature looked quite dead. Lifeless milky eyes gazed back at him, rheumed with fluid. Another victim of Pollen addiction that had crawled here to die.
A lone steam whistle pierced the night from the direction of the marshalling yards on the edge of town, its sound plaintive in the unnaturally quiet city night. The Vendiri spasmed, causing Steven to move back with a start. The outstretched arm began to thrash about, clutching at things that only it could perceive. Not dead then, not yet. There was nothing he could do for the creature. Its mind destroyed by the drug, its eventual ignominious death was only a matter of hours, maybe minutes. Sadly he turned away and trudged onwards between tumble-down brick built dwellings that stank of disease and decay, of the unburied dead and the endless piles of rubbish that heaped
against their damp, crumbling walls.
He couldn’t help these people one at a time, but the contents of the bag he carried could save this world.
Guran was the former capital of the nation state that had held sway over much of the northern continent of Urranakar. It was here that the interlopers from other worlds had made their home. The demarcation line between the old town and the new could not be more clearly marked. Dingy, cobbled streets gave way to smooth, brightly lit, broad concreted boulevards and tall gleaming corporate buildings that sprang from the ground like shards of glass. Here, Commonwealth money had made an outpost for itself on this world as the mining and trading companies had moved in and set up shop. Now the division between the old and new capitals of Guran was even more clearly marked: by barricades manned by corporate security packing the latest hardware. As Steven approached the boundary between the two worlds, a dozen armoured forms regarded him with nervous expressions then, after checking his ID, waved him through. They weren’t interested in him, humans weren’t a threat. It was the angry locals that they were worried about. A disorganised mob from the countryside had become organised, had gained leaders and tactics and had become an army. Before long an angry populace armed with whatever they could lay their hands on, including off-world weaponry, would descend upon the cities and would come charging through these streets, hell bent on revenge and against such numbers, even these hired guns would stand little chance. Weight of numbers would see to that.
Steven hurried on.
The planet of Urranakar had been a typical corporate world. Its native inhabitants were the Vendiri, a race of bipedal amphibians with squat newt-like bodies. An industrious and largely peaceful people, they had reached a level of early industrialisation and had established a global civilisation consisting of numerous nation states and a variety of developed political systems. The Vendiri had achieved much in science, the arts and philosophy and were entering what many of their greatest thinkers began to see as a new golden age of progress. Then a Commonwealth survey vessel had appeared in their skies.
The arrival of an alien ship was an immense shock to the Vendiri. Though their knowledge of astronomy was advancing rapidly, they had not seriously contemplated the possibility of life on other planets or indeed the existence of planets beyond their own solar system. Nevertheless, they welcomed their strange visitors and eagerly agreed to trading relations and cultural exchange. The Commonwealth would supply knowledge of hitherto unimaginable technology in exchange for supplies of natural resources from the Vendiri.
The deal began to turn sour for the unfortunate Vendiri within a few short years. The principal company trading on the planet, Khonsari Mining, began to demand greater and greater tonnages of raw materials in exchange for its goods, money and scientific wealth which it gave up grudgingly to the Vendiri. Since the company now had its claws buried into significant chunks of the planet’s economy and was larger than any of its nation states in terms of money and resources, the Vendiri could do little but comply as their natural resources were strip mined for little return.
Slowly but surely, the company was turning itself into the sole ruler of Urranakar. They controlled the economy, they manipulated governments to their whim, they bled the planet dry and worked its people into the ground unchecked and unnoticed by the very Commonwealth that claimed to be the bastion of free and fair commerce. Fifty years after they had first arrived, Khonsari had crushed the civilisation of the Vendiri underfoot in their pursuit of profit. Their next course of action was to prove even more disastrous, for all concerned.
Khonsari Mining had experienced severe financial losses during the previous decade and until now had been successful in hiding much of it from the outside world through devious accounting and financial reports that amounted to outright lies. It was thought that these losses had largely been due to poor management and a well publicised case of fraud, but the board had answered evasively when questioned by government financial investigators as to what was happening on Urranakar, where the company based a sizeable portion of its operations. Steven Harris, a decorated Commonwealth Intelligence Bureau agent of some experience within the outer colonies, had been dispatched by the CIB to investigate the situation on the planet and report his findings in order to lay the ground-work prior to a full scale government investigation. He was also given a full search warrant covering all Khonsari property in the system should he need it.
Posing as an independent trader, Steven had arrived on the planet three weeks earlier. He had commandeered a Mercury class courier vessel Little Devil from the CIB’s own fleet. It was a small but powerful craft with a sleek rounded hull and high rated jump drive with four powerful fusion engines mounted in bulky tapering pods on either side of the hull. He had filled its hull with a variety of luxury items and trinkets and had the interior refurbished. The ship had to resemble the second home into which traders generally turned their craft, spending months or even years at a time plying the trade lanes that formed the backbone of the Commonwealth. He would slip in unnoticed and observe before making his presence known to Khonsari, not wanting to risk the possibility of them having a chance to conceal anything from him.
Upon landing at the virtually deserted spaceport Steven had wondered why he had been dispatched at all as it was blindingly obvious to anyone what had happened. The urban centres of the planet were falling into a state of civil disorder. Urranakar was in a state of virtually planet wide insurrection against Khonsari. The company had, illegally, brought in its own mercenaries to quell the revolt, but this had only inflamed the situation still further. In the face of full scale war, company operations had now retreated to enclaves around the principal urban centres which even now were being besieged by armies of Vendiri who had turned the weapons of their self appointed colonial rulers against them.
It didn’t take Steven long before he discovered what the root cause of the revolt was. Hanging around in one of the spaceport bars he got talking to the only other customers: two genuine independent traders, joint owners of a clipper who had been ignorant of the situation on the planet and who were cutting their losses and moving on to another system.
It seemed that on top of its other misdemeanours, Khonsari had found an additional source of revenue on Urranakar. It had begun drug running. They had discovered almost by accident that a plant known as Dorundi Pollen from the moon Orinoco in the Achernar system was highly addictive to the Vendiri, especially when inhaled. It produced an intense high and pleasant hallucinations and it began to sell incredibly well, particularly among the younger generation who took to it as the latest off-world fashion The trouble started however when the Vendiri discovered just how addictive it was and furthermore that it had almost universally fatal side effects.
The drug adversely affected the Vendiri brain chemistry, preventing the neurones from communicating with one another, thus producing a condition not dissimilar to the human condition known as Alzheimer’s disease. For a population already incensed by the wholesale pillaging of their world this proved too much.
The traders warned Steven not to leave the safety of the port. Even though Khonsari still officially held the capital, any human was a great risk walking the streets unescorted, especially at night. He booked himself into a hotel in Guran in the corporate zone and used it as a base whilst he collected information.
On his first night on the planet, Steven made a cursory tour around the capital which revealed everything the traders had told him in the bar to be true. The streets were awash with stoned and mentally crippled Vendiri who nevertheless were still queuing up to purchase more of the Pollen from Khonsari owned outlets; such was the severity of their addiction. They were hollow shells, amnesiac zombies who drooled and soiled themselves or raved incoherently. Much of the town’s infrastructure had collapsed completely, rubbish lay in piles on the humid, rain soaked streets, law and order were virtually non-existent and there seemed to be no concerted effort to help or treat those affected by the drug. Hal
f-sensible Vendiri brawled in alleyways for each others’ fixes or waylaid one another for something, anything they could sell for more of the Pollen. The stinking bodies of the dead lay unburied in the gutters, where packs of local vermin grown fat on the glut of food stripped the flesh from their bones without hindrance.
Steven was sickened by the sight. He spent the next few weeks documenting as much as he could about the situation on the planet to provide ample evidence for the prosecution of Khonsari. He amassed a sizeable dossier of photographic and documentary evidence, as well as recordings he had made covertly of discussions with Khonsari employees. Few of them seemed to care about the fate of the Vendiri. They were mostly concerned with the large bonuses that they had been promised, and were now about to lose, as well as their flashy lifestyles as de facto colonial masters of an entire world. Those who did object were generally afraid to speak out for fear of losing their positions.
He learned something else too - that the Company was amassing a large mercenary force to retake areas of the planet they had lost. The fleet of decommissioned Navy vessels would be arriving from the border worlds within a week, whereupon they would offload the force of mercs that Khonsari had trawled from the more nefarious reaches of the border worlds, armed with the latest weapons and equipment that the company had quietly purchased to deal with the revolt. They would be offloaded via the transfer station that Khonsari had built in orbit above Urranakar: Highpoint. The station was a large and luxurious ring habitat that served as the principal trading gateway in the system as well as acting as Khonsari’s local headquarters. Within its toroidal hull, the company’s executives decided the fate of their subjects below with absolute impunity.