Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series

by Hystad, Nathan

  Wylen wiped a string of drool forming at his lips and stared into the viewscreen centering his massive colony ship’s bridge. A million years ago, the Pilia had sent this ship out with their people on board in an attempt to ensure their survival, and this very vessel had been stuffed full en route to what would become Earth. He felt a connection to that ancient race, a bond that powered him as they entered the solar system’s deepest recesses. Soon they would be at Nolix.

  But he couldn’t help but recall the sudden shock of pain yesterday. The tear in the Vastness as something had occurred nearby. It was like his people’s souls were burned away. When the flash of intensity had vanished from Wylen’s mind, he’d sought out the scout ship’s inhabitants, but came up empty. The Concord had killed them. They’d pay for what they’d done.

  “What of the Ugna fleet?” Wylen asked the captain, who was unusually quiet.

  “The ships from Obilina Six have arrived, sir,” Nerlip confirmed.

  “Good.” Wylen closed his eyes, feeding off the Vastness, pulling in the power of his surroundings. He tugged at the Ugna around him, borrowing their energy to seek out Elder Fayle. His eyelids pressed tightly together, and he heard Nerlip grunt as Wylen continued to steal focus from him.

  His hand slapped onto the chair’s arm, and he sat upright, bolting to his feet. “Where is Fayle? Why can’t Ven Ittix be detected? I want answers!” With that much power flowing through him, Wylen should have been able to track Fayle if she was within three days’ travel from this spot. But his search had come up empty. Was Fayle dead? Had something happened to her and her little protégé?

  “I’ve checked with my sources, sir. Fayle is very much alive. She has been spotted,” Nerlip said.

  Wylen snapped, using his mind to shove Nerlip from the console. The man’s head bashed into a low-hanging screen, and he fell to his knees, ear bleeding. “Then your contacts are lying to you. We must act now!”

  He marched from the bridge to his private office. A moment later, he was accessing his encrypted communicator, sending word to every single concealed Ugna in the Concord. A smile found his lips as he sent the note. Chaos would ensue, and just in time for their imminent entrance to their new home world.

  Two hours. Be vigilant. The Concord saying was a slap in their face, but it worked for the purpose of his communication. There were over two thousand Ugna around the Concord that no one knew about, but only a small number were near Nolix. Many were working in administrative buildings of partner leaders. Others were on starships, in various roles, but a few specific postings gave Wylen extreme satisfaction.

  The Concord wouldn’t stand a chance.

  A thought crossed his mind, and he tapped the console. “Captain Nerlip. Any sign of the great Constantine at Nolix?”

  The reply came out muffled. “Sir, we have no visual of Constantine.”

  Wylen grinned, confident they would be fighting his carefully orchestrated distractions. He sent another message, a private one, to the Ugna aboard Baldwin’s old ship. Don’t let her return to Nolix.

  He sat back and waited as the fleet ascended the Concord defenses.

  ____________

  The clock counted down as Ven’s shuttle approached the planet. It was unnamed, to his knowledge, and there was absolutely nothing special about it—at least, not to the naked eye. The closer he came to it, the stranger he felt.

  Four hours ago, the instant he’d first seen the world visually through the viewscreen, he’d drifted into a comatose slumber, his eyes rolling into his head. The lights of the Vastness meditation he’d often witnessed had danced with reckless abandon in his mind. He was being called home.

  He’d lingered in this state until ten minutes ago, when the flow of the Vastness had snapped out of him, waking Ven suddenly. Ven was cold now, lonely as he sought out the comfort of the invisible embrace that had cocooned him for the hours leading up to this moment.

  “I hope you were right about this, High Elder Fayle,” Ven said, if only for the sound of a voice in the otherwise silent shuttle.

  Two hours remained on the clock, as they’d flown faster than the basic thrusters should have been able to take him. The Vastness had urged him to accelerate the engines. It was the only explanation that made sense.

  Now he was nearing orbit and unsure exactly what it was he was supposed to do, even if he found the Vast stone. Fayle hadn’t told him, because she was without answers. He didn’t think it would be as simple as turning off a faucet. This was a deeply metaphysical entity, an energy coursing through the universe. Until the first organic mutation had allowed access to the stream, no one would have been aware of the Vastness’ existence. Now they’d been bred by the thousands to feed from the flow. The Ugna weren’t what he’d come to believe. They were an army created by malevolent minds to serve a selfish function.

  If Ven was destined to lead the leftover members of a troubled race, he would do well to remember this. He needed to change their path, to make them see the light, and he would do his best. He’d be the opposite of a man like Wylen, with his greed and secrets.

  The planet covered the entire screen, the ruddy brown landscape visible beyond thin gray cloud cover. Everything had a harsh appearance to it, almost like paint streaks over the rough ground. There were no observable water sources, but when his senses searched for life, he found small traces of it.

  He suspected water lay underground, creating a harsh environment for any land-dwelling creatures. Ven pulled the tablet from under his seat and scanned for Fayle’s notes.

  I was only there once, and it was a long time ago, but I can share the landmarks I recall. A series of five mountain peaks making the points of a star, a valley between creating an open courtyard. It is flat, smooth from centuries of footsteps. I suspect this place was once the center of the universe, with a wise race guarding the entrance to the Vastness.

  Many rumors have been written over the years of this Vastness, with countless races worshiping it as an entity: a god, but few revered it like this first protector. I can only assume that millions of years later, the truth of the Vast stone can be comprehended, but perhaps you will be able to tap into it, to aid us in a time of need, and return to lead your people.

  Find the star and locate the entrance to the Vast stone in the courtyard. You will bring peace to the Concord and to the universe by doing so, Ven Ittix. I believe in you, and in time, you will make a great High Elder.

  Fayle

  Ven read it twice over, still unsure how the woman could have arrived at this distant location, and it hit him. She hadn’t done so physically. She’d been brought to this courtyard in a deep meditation. The Vast stone had shown her its location, knowing she’d one day need it.

  The implications ran deep, and Ven felt more pressure on his shoulders than ever.

  He lowered the shuttle, entering the atmosphere, and sent out a series of five probes to scour the planet’s surface, seeking a formation with any resemblance to the five pointed mountains forming a star shape that Fayle had instructed him to locate.

  A heavy wind gust shook his shuttle, but he continued to descend until he passed through the lazy clouds. Everything was the same below him: red and brown stretches of rock layers, unending in every direction.

  He flew on the dark side of the planet, an infrared scanner relaying a 3D rendering of the ground below. An hour later, his dash buzzed, and he checked the findings. One of the probes had discovered something reminiscent of the star shape, and he brought the results on screen. This was it. He checked the location, finding it halfway around the small planet.

  Ven’s heart raced with excitement as he set the destination. He failed to sense the Vastness he’d experienced prior to entering orbit, and that worried him, but all would be understood very soon.

  ____________

  Lark hated having President Basher on their ship, but it was the only logical move. He’d kept tight-lipped for the last few days, not responding with more than a vague murmur when questi
oned. Lark decided a visit was in order—with the admiral’s blessing, of course. It was still strange to ask someone for approval of his actions, but Lark Keen would do anything necessary to win this war and make amends for his life choices.

  His own footsteps were loud in the halls of the corridor as he neared Basher’s cell. Legacy wasn’t completed, with half of the ship empty and devoid of real rooms and bulkheads. The drones had erected this cell quickly, but the corridors were unfinished, with beams and pipes running above.

  “I wondered when you’d come and see me again,” Basher said. He looked better than the last time Lark had visited him with Baldwin: rested and fed.

  “Have you made up your mind?” Lark asked, staying two feet in front of the glowing green bars.

  Basher stood, wearing a black jumpsuit that was oversized. “Have my Protectors shown up yet?”

  “No. I suspect it will be shortly, and we have word that Wylen’s forces will arrive in the next two hours,” Lark told him. They really had no idea if or when these Invader Protectors would emerge, but on the off chance they did, he wanted to see if Basher would indeed convince them to turn on the Ugna leader.

  “And you think that my people will listen to me?” Basher asked. He sat on the cot, elbows resting on knees.

  “You’re their leader. Why wouldn’t they?”

  “You of all people should realize the hierarchy of leadership. Plus, I’m not a true Ugna, not like they are. I was tweaked.” He pointed near his ear, lifting the hair to reveal a slight pink scar. “They cut me open, surgically adjusted something within my brain. I did it with open arms, the promise of wealth and power too enticing. If I’d said no, I was positive I’d have ended up in a ditch, with some other sap taking control.” Basher shook his head, as if remembering a tough time. “No. I fear they won’t really listen to me, not with Wylen’s influence.”

  “Then convince them. Tell them about the Concord, about Fayle’s plan to implement Ven Ittix in charge, to remind them there’s a Class Zero Nine planet with their name on it, with ample space to exist as a Concord partner along with the local Ugna.” Lark’s voice caught as his emotions rose, and he stepped closer. “Basher, we have weapons. Tools that will harm your people. We don’t want to use them, but…”

  Basher stared at Lark, his gaze cold. “But you’ll do anything necessary to protect your people. I understand. Bring me to the bridge, and I’ll attempt communication should they arrive.”

  Lark smiled, hoping he’d finally gotten through to the man. If he had any sense of decency, any inclination for the safety of his Protectors’ crews, he’d do what was being asked of him, rather than letting harm come to them.

  “I’ll inform the admiral and let him make the choice. Thank you for listening,” Lark told him.

  Basher didn’t respond, choosing to lie on his cot and face the wall.

  Alarms began to ring throughout Legacy as Lark Keen strode away from Earth’s president, and he jogged for the elevator.

  ____________

  “What’s wrong with him?” Conner asked, frantically searching around.

  Treena was on her feet, rushing for Darl’s side. His hands were clasped to his head, his screams cutting across the bridge. Brax had a gun in his hand, scanning the room, and Treena understood what was happening.

  “The Ugna. One of them is here!” she shouted, and Conner turned to her slowly, his nose bleeding. He dropped to the floor near Darl, his eyes instantly bloodshot.

  Treena glanced at Brax and toward Pol Teller, who was no longer sleeping. For a second, she wondered if it was him, but her gaze finally settled on Missy, the old man’s aide. She was so good at staying out of sight, at blending in with the walls and going unseen. She lingered to the rear of the bridge, a maniacal expression across her face.

  Missy lifted off the floor, her feet dangling as she hovered in the air, directing for the exit.

  “Stop her!” Treena shouted, but the young woman slapped her palms together, shouting something nonsensical.

  Brax fired but stumbled as he fell to his knees. Pol groaned and rolled onto his stomach, reaching a hand out toward Treena. Her entire crew was incapacitated.

  To Treena, it seemed like time stood still as she scanned the room. Darl didn’t appear to be breathing, Conner gasped beside the lieutenant. Brax had toppled over, the PL-30 plunging from his grip.

  Pol’s raspy breaths came quick and loud as Treena lunged at the Ugna girl.

  Missy sent something against her, a force of air, but it wasn’t enough to stop her momentum. The girl had no idea Treena was different. She was trying to scramble Treena’s brain, but there was no organic matter to manipulate.

  “What are you?” Missy asked as Treena barreled into her. The Ugna woman was powerful of mind, but she was slight and weak in form.

  Treena lifted a hand to strike her but stopped as she heard someone clamoring to their feet behind her. Conner arrived, his upper lip caked with blood.

  “Are there any others on this ship?” Treena shouted.

  Missy’s eyes sprang wide, her lips trembling. “I was only following orders…”

  “From whom?”

  “The High Elder.”

  “Answer me,” Treena demanded.

  “No, not on Constantine. I was placed with Teller some time ago. Wylen knew he’d eventually join your crew. He pulled the strings to make it happen. Don’t kill me,” Missy said.

  Conner darted away, returning with the pack Missy held Pol’s medication in. He fumbled through it, searching the contents, and found an injector. “It’s a sedative! She’d been giving the old man this. No wonder he’s so docile.”

  “What else? How many of you are there? Sneaking onto ships, working within the Concord?” Treena anxiously awaited the reply.

  Missy shook her head, and Treena clasped her around the neck, starting to squeeze. “I don’t know… thousands. I have no communication with them,” Missy said.

  Treena relaxed, grabbing the injector from Conner’s grip. She pressed it into Missy’s neck and clicked it twice for good measure. The woman stopped resisting and slumped to the floor, her head flopping to one side.

  Brax was up, crawling over on his knees. He bound the girl’s hands behind her back and let Treena help him to his feet. He rubbed his temples while closing his eyes. “That’s going to leave a headache.”

  “Check on Teller and Darl.” Treena went to the commander’s side, and he groaned as she rolled him onto his back. His eyes opened, and he muttered something cynical before losing consciousness again. She ran to assist Darl, but Conner was over him, shaking his head.

  “He’s dead.”

  Treena didn’t have time to mourn his loss. They needed to return to Nolix and warn Baldwin.

  ____________

  “They’re advancing,” Reeve told them, indicating the gigantic fleet of enemy swarming their defenses around Nolix. They were an hour or so out, which did little to ease the growing tension in Tom’s back.

  “What’s the timeline on the installation?” he asked Reeve.

  She used the computer to zoom in on the row of five vessels loading the last of the twenty EN-01 units added to their hulls and interconnected to the weapon systems. “Shu’s been prepped, and we’re adding to the other two replica ships as we speak. Andron is a carrier, as well as ten of the Ugna crafts, mostly because they’re smaller and more maneuverable in a quick battle.”

  Tom appraised the work, seeing the five spacesuited crew attaching a unit to one of the flagships they’d acquired at Obilina Six. “Good work. Is everyone aboard the fleet?”

  Lark Keen entered the bridge, beads of sweat matting his forehead. “Are they here?”

  “They are. Where have you been?” Tom asked, trying not to sound accusatorial.

  “Where you wanted me to be. I was talking with Basher,” Lark quickly replied.

  “Right. And?”

  “If the Protectors come, I think we’ll have his support. He doesn’t want to end
up on the wrong end of the war, and I’ve done my best to convince him that Wylen will lose.” Keen had more confidence in the subject than Tom did at the moment.

  “That’s if these Protectors arrive,” Tom said.

  “They’d resolved the sabotage and were repairing each of the sixteen stranded fleet ships.” Lark took his seat, and the crew were all present.

  Tom glanced to his left, almost expecting to see Rene, but Reeve was in her stead. He already missed having Rene Bouchard around, even though it had only been a day since she’d returned to Shu to get things in order.

  “Captain, Prime Xune and Admiral Benitor have arrived. Would you like to…?” Tarlen started to ask, and Tom spoke over him.

  “Send them to my office. Reeve, make sure these EN-01s are finished and move into formation. I suspect Wylen won’t be up for a cup of Raca and a pastry before we’re trying to kill one another.” Tom’s stomach clenched at the promise of blood in the air. He was essentially in charge of this entire defense strategy, and so far, it felt like they were counting on these blaster rays to defeat the enemy. In reality, the Ugna were still alive, and their ships entirely operational, regardless if the crew had access to the Vastness and their En’or.

  He suddenly wondered if he shouldn’t have put his energy into outfitting every ship with a new longer-range pulse cannon, something that would extend well beyond the Ugna fleet’s telekinetic range.

  Doubt is an adversary, one intent on destroying the mind before action has occurred. Do not lose before you’ve begun. Tom reminded himself of the ancient Code saying, and it actually worked as he entered his office.

  He’d spoken with the Prime briefly since the Earon fleet’s return home, but the man had been quick to dissuade the on-screen communication. He wanted to be alone with Tom and Benitor, not that Tom could blame the man’s precaution. There were clearly spies among them.