by Richard Fox
An orange warning light flashed on the console in front of Lincoln, accompanied by a short drill alarm that made Greer jump. A notification panel appeared on Lincoln's display screen, identifying coordinates and range from the Valiant.
“What the hell?” Lincoln said, leaning forward reading through the data pouring into his displays. “Not a ‘tick.’ At all.”
Greer pulled her feet off the console, following the pilot’s lead, fingers working furiously on the terminal in front of her. “Significant spike in surface pressures,” Greer said. “Weird energy wave form. You ever see that before?”
Lincoln tapped a command into his console. “Nope. I'm trying to raise the Pathfinders team, but they’re still dark.”
“Damn, those power levels are off the charts. Sensors picking something up in the Eastern Hemisphere, almost exactly where Carson and her team sat down.”
“What the hell did you do now, Carson?” Lincoln asked.
“Whatever it is, it’s lifting out of the gravity well pretty quick,” Greer said. He pointed at one of the displays. “Look, it’s already broken through the stratosphere.”
“These numbers have to be off; nothing that big can move that fast in atmo.”
Greer cocked her head to the side, looking at the data. “Well, it is. Matter of fact, we should be able to see…there, look!”
The horizon of Negev stretched across space in front of them, its red hue bright against the blackness beyond. The pilots watched as a large disk-shaped craft, with a large bulbous drive section on one end, rose into the void. It seemed to hang in low orbit for several minutes before rotating in place. It shot away, its hull stretching into a long, blurred image before disappearing into the endless black.
The two pilots sat there in silence for several moments, both staring at the empty space where the ship had just been. Lincoln felt his head shaking involuntarily as he processed what he’d seen.
“That’s…not possible,” Lincoln said. “It looked like it warped out of here. Like it went faster than the speed of light. That can’t happen.”
Greer pulled up video and watched the moment the alien ship vanished on repeat.
“It’s not possible, but we just saw it happen,” Greer said. “And we recorded it happen. So it happened.”
“And I thought the Crucibles were the only way to get from star to star.” Lincoln ran a hand through his hair. “Guess there’s all sorts of surprises out here.”
“Getting a signal from the surface.” Greer activated a holo panel and Carson appeared on the forward screens.
“Valiant, there’s an alien craft heading—”
“Nope!” Greer shook her head. “It’s gone. Shot out of here like a bat out of hell. Didn’t even say hello or shoot at us.”
“It’s gone?” Carson’s brow furrowed. “I can’t tell if that’s good news or bad. Doesn’t matter right now. I need you to set down in the mountain, then we need to get these colonists out of here.”
“You found them?” Lincoln activated an alert on the ship and began his pre-landing checks.
“All that are left,” Carson said. “We’ll send exact coordinates. But when you see the mountain with the screaming faces, you’ll know you’re in the right place. Carson out.”
The holo faded away.
“Screaming faces?” Greer looked at her co-pilot.
“I really wish I’d brought some of that booze with me,” Lincoln said. “Could definitely use a drink right now.”
Chapter 17
Carson stepped off Valiant’s cargo ramp, onto the deck of Spirit’s main shuttle bay and watched as the refurbished ore miner set down on the other side of the expansive bay. Sergeant West appeared next to her, wearing his ratty utility overalls, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. They watched as the ship settled onto its landing struts, pressurized gases streaming from relief valves as they absorbed the weight of the miner.
“I have to say, Chief,” West said. “There was a minute there when I didn't think we were going to make it back.”
Carson nodded. “You're not the only one.”
“Chief Carson.”
Carson and West turned, both snapping to attention as Director Hale approached.
“Sir.” Carson held his gaze, trying to guess the man’s demeanor.
Hale held out his hand and she took it. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sergeant West.” The two men shook hands. “I hear you had a rough time out there.”
“Not at all, sir. Just another day for a Pathfinder.”
Two large cargo ramps unfolded from the sides of the ore miner, and passengers streamed out without waiting for the ramps to finish lowering. Several of Spirit’s crew waited a few feet away with food, clothes, and other supplies. Two medical teams stood by, scanning the new arrivals.
“They look tired,” Hale said.
“Four days in the ship that took them to slavery on Negev,” Carson said, “and this was the last batch of survivors. There was some healthy skepticism that the ore ship wouldn’t come back. A little pessimism after years in captivity is expected. But that's all of them, every last colonist from Negev.”
Hale nodded at the ore miner. “We’ll get them shuttled down to the surface after medical clears them. Reintegrating the early arrivals has had a few…hiccups. I still can't believe you were able to salvage that old freighter. It still doesn't look like it could make the trip once, much less several times.”
“The colonists were...” Carson paused, trying to think of right words. “Extremely motivated, sir.”
“Indeed.”
“I’m sorry about your brother, sir.”
The corner of Hale’s mouth twitched and for a moment Carson thought she saw a flash of anger, but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced with regret. He nodded. “Thank you.”
“I am curious about something, sir.”
Hale raised an eyebrow.
“What did he mean when he said ‘Clouseau would never have gotten caught’? What's a Clouseau?”
Hale sniffed. “Jared and I watched a lot of movies as kids. Our parents were gone a lot and we had a lot of free time. One of our favorite movies was called The Spanish Prisoner, about a con man trying to scam money from some corporate executives. The movie ends with the con man being out-smarted by his victim, and he’s taken to jail.”
Carson frowned.
“So, the actor who played the con-man starred in another movie called The Pink Panther, as a bumbling inspector named Clouseau. But no matter how bad Clouseau messed up, he always seemed to come out on top.
“Well, Jared always had a hard time separating the two characters, and was convinced the Clouseau would have been able to anticipate the con man’s downfall and come out on top. He just didn’t understand that the actor was playing two different characters.” Hale shrugged. “It turned into a reoccurring joke.”
“So,” Carson said. “He was trying to tell you something?”
Hale nodded thoughtfully. “I know my brother. And despite everything I read in your report, I don't believe that he would willingly turn against us. I have to believe there is something else going on that is forcing him to act the way he is. Making the reference to Clouseau might be his way of telling us that he’s playing a long con. I just wish I knew what the endgame was. Be that as it may, we have to treat him as hostile if we ever encounter him or the Ultari again.”
Carson straightened. “That’s…I agree with your assessment, sir.”
“You did good work out there, Chief,” Hale said after several long moments. “Get you and your team to New Jefferson before sunset. There’s a party.” He looked down at the screen on his gauntlet and walked off, grumbling.
“Did someone say party?” Nunez asked, coming down the Valiant’s ramp.
Birch, Popov, and Moretti followed him down. They all looked as tired as Carson felt. Weeks of fighting and labor had taken their toll even on the Pathfinders.
“Well, that's inconvenient,” Popov said, looking down at her stained overalls. “I have nothing to wear.”
“I'm sure you'll find something, Cherry,” Nunez said. “This is probably one party you don't want to miss.”
Popov glared at him. “Don't call me Cherry.”
Nunez held up his hands, as if he was surrendering. “Hey, don't get worked up. It's all in fun.”
“The fun comes later,” West said. “After our gear is inventoried, stowed, and replacement parts ordered from the foundry. Just because we’re home doesn’t mean we quit on the objective.”
Nunez groaned, his shoulders drooping.
“Turn and burn, team,” Carson said. “We could all use a breather.”
Chapter 18
Pain and agony were the only thing Jared Hale knew when he opened his eyes. He felt vibrations to the floor underneath him, and as his vision focused, he could see a line of empty pods around them. He reached down and touched his chest. His flesh was tender to the touch and the muscles underneath sore.
He sat up and coughed. Flecks of dry blood spat from his mouth and to the deck.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself into a sitting position, grunting against the pain. He felt the wires running up and down his spine moving, like worms just beneath his skin.
“There we are.” The duke put a finger beneath his chin and lifted him up. Jared’s armor moved of its own volition to obey the duke’s command. “Can’t lose such a tool. Who else will lead your dog soldiers?”
“Just…kill me,” Jared said.
The duke shook his head slowly, the lights of his eyes never wavering.
“We had a bargain, don’t you remember? Your service for the survival of your people. The emperor can be a bit…rash. To condemn all those on Negev to die was not in keeping with our agreement, and I argued that you were right to stop that act. Hence, you were not permitted to die. Are we not kind?”
The duke took his hand away from Jared’s face and walked to a pod in a wall. The shell melted away, revealing three small sacks filled with neon green fluid and a dark lump within.
“We will be glorious,” the duke said, “but it will take time. To feel again, to taste food, smell air…yes, we can wait a bit more.”
It pointed to the end of the chamber where a bank of four doughboy constructor units sat unpowered.
“You will begin work on the next generation of Netherguard,” the duke said. “We allowed some leeway with their appearance as their function was more important than the form. Now you will craft them exactly as we specify. Understood?”
“Master.” Jared felt his heart ache. He’d thought his last act of defiance would be the end of him, the last of his pain with the Triumvirate. “Master…may I see them?”
“Ah, you need motivation.” The duke’s head tilted from side to side. “A human’s oath is not enough. You require more than our method of coercion. So noted. Perhaps you think we left with such enthusiasm you hoped we might make a mistake. If it’s the former, I’m disappointed in you. If it’s the latter, I’m insulted.”
The duke twirled a fingertip around and Jared’s armor spun in place.
A pod floated off the wall and the front faded away. Jared's breath caught in his throat and his knees buckled, but his armor kept him standing. His stomach twisted and he couldn’t stop the tears from coming. His wife Sarah hung in stasis, head down slightly, her beautiful brown hair hanging over her face. The simple dress she wore accentuated her pregnant belly. One slender arm wrapped around their four-year-old daughter, Mary, clutching her leg. Both appeared peaceful as if they were sleeping.
“Do you understand your usefulness to us?” the Duke asked.
“Oh, Sarah.” Jared's voice was barely a whisper as he struggled to fight back the rising tide of emotion. “Please, don’t hurt them anymore. Please.”
“Who do you serve?” the Duke asked.
“You…the true Emperor of the Ultari. I serve the Triumvirate. Always.”
The pod sank back into the floor. Jared tried to reach for his family, but his armor held him still.
“Once we have our empire,” the duke said, “once the blasphemous construct is destroyed…you will be made whole again. Our bargain remains.”
“What must I do?” Jared’s gaze fell to the floor.
“Create your perfect soldiers. Obey. We will arrive at a remnant world soon and then the fallen empire will rise again.”
Chapter 19
Carson leaned against a railing and looked down at the party in the middle of New Jefferson’s administration building. Tables with wide bowls of punch and piles of food were being picked over by a crowd of happy people. She took a sip of a beer in an unlabeled bottle and felt a slight buzz, even though she still had a quarter left. There was a strict one-drink limit at this soiree, a precaution she could understand as the survivors from Negev had lost their tolerance long ago and with the colony still on high alert anyone that got drunk would be useless in an emergency.
She could make out the original colonists easily enough; they still hadn’t recovered all their lost weight and they moved timidly, as if the Netherguard still watched over them.
We’re not going back to normal anytime soon, she thought.
She looked out a window to distant floodlights. She’d done a quick survey of the security perimeter around the city and shared a number of pressing concerns with Captain Handley. She felt the urge to inspect the southern towers again, but Marie Hale had “strongly encouraged” her to show up to the celebration.
Carson took a sip of her beer and scanned the crowd. She found Tony and Stephen sitting at a table near the corner of the room, smiling and talking with their parents. The two boys from the mountain outpost had found their parents just before the party officially kicked off and it looked like they had finally stopped crying. Tony still hadn't let go of his mother; he sat on her lap, his arms wrapped around her, head nestled against her chest.
A burst of raucous laughter drew her attention to the bar where she found Popov and Nunez. Nunez had a small flask in hand that he slipped into his jacket. Popov took a slow sip from a clear plastic cup filled with soda—and a little kicker, Carson suspected.
West smells that on them and they’ll wish they’d never heard of alcohol, she thought.
Birch and Danielle talked to each other at a table along the outer wall, the Gremlin between them and opened up. The two had spent an inordinate amount of time together repairing the ore miner and discussing technobabble that made Carson’s eyes glaze over.
Moretti had opted to do another shift at the hospital. He’d seemed more interested in healing the sick and injured than spending time with the healthy.
West decided to forgo the party to spend some quiet time with his family in their new apartment, a decision Carson didn’t fault. She’d managed five words with West’s wife before the sergeant had slipped away with his family.
Families…Carson felt a twinge of guilt. West had been injured on Negev, tortured, nearly killed. If Carson hadn’t rescued him, she would have had to look his widow in the eye and say she’d failed. She’d done that before and never wanted to do it again.
She went to take another sip of beer but was interrupted by a chime from her forearm computer. A message on the screen, requesting her presence in the new headquarters area set up near the spaceport.
“What now?” Carson asked aloud, then tossed back the beer, finishing it and setting the empty bottle on the balcony’s floor. She took another look at the partiers below, then turned and headed for the exit.
A text message on a small screen on her wrist read RTB ASAP. Return to base, as soon as possible.
Carson shivered as she stepped out into the chill night air. A fog had settled across the city during the evening and lights from the surrounding buildings barely managed to cut through the gloom.
She jogged through the city, passing small grou
ps of colonists, nodding and returning greetings as she went. If there’d been a full scale alert, sirens would be blazing across the city. The summons could have been anything else, and if she tore back to the command post, it could spark a panic. Rumors were almost as dangerous as a feral doughboy to the city’s order and discipline.
She reached the temporary headquarters building, nodded to the two sentries, and slipped inside. Computer stations lined the walls, and a large hollow table took up much of the center of the room. Hale and his staff stood around this table, studying a star map projected above it.
Carson stopped at the edge of the hollow table and studied the star field, waiting for Hale to finish his conversation. She recognized it as a map of the Terra Nova system, complete with the human fleet in orbit. Her eyes tracked across the map to a red orb labelled Negev, where a large cluster of red dots orbited the planet.
“Chief Carson,” Hale said, looking at her through the holo. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Of course, sir.”
“We just picked up a massive energy signal from Negev,” Hale said. “One of the sensor platforms you left behind is relaying some…data.”
“Sir?”
“It appears that a fleet of 100 ships have arrived in the orbit of Negev. The sensors picked up an energy reading in line with what the Valiant collected when the Triumvirate’s ship vanished.”
“How many?” Carson asked. “Where did they come from?”
Commander Edison shook his head. “From what we've been able to gather, they simply appeared in orbit.”
Carson thought about that for a moment, then said. “Lieutenant Lincoln said he watched the Triumvirate’s ship go to warp and disappear. The Ultari are already back…”
“It’s possible,” Edison said.
“Very probably,” Marie Hale corrected.
Hue shook her head. “Faster than light travel without Crucibles. Incredible.”
“How big are these ships?” She did some quick math, and if the new arrivals were the same size as the Triumvirate’s escape ship, and filled with Netherguard troops, Terra Nova didn’t stand a chance.