by GARY DARBY
She let her eyes rove over the small crowd. “If we extrapolated out the amount and concentration of this Kolomite gas, it appears that the whole nebula is filled with the stuff.
“The question is why and where did it come from because there are no reports of Kolomite gas in the cloud itself before this, even in minuscule amounts.”
She turned back to the image and caused the view to zoom in on the Mongan Kolomite facility.
As the picture filled in, Dason couldn’t help himself and took several steps to get a closer look. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, and his mind went numb with the realization of what was on the screen.
Two enormous cylinders rested end to end near the lake’s shoreline. Their whitish outer hulls gleamed against the browns and greens of the planet’s foliage and all but dwarfed the nearby hills.
Their rounded, smooth exteriors ended in blunt noses at each end and from their size in comparison to the nearby forest line, Dason guessed they were thousands of meters long and over a thousand meters in diameter.
“You’re wondering what those things are, no doubt,” Stannick said. “I’m sorry to say that our best guess is your best guess. We honestly don’t know. If they’re ships, that’s the oddest, strangest ship design we’ve ever seen.”
“They resemble giant gas storage cylinders,” Brant offered. “But I’ve never seen anything that massive used for holding gaseous material before.”
“Neither have we,” Rosberg replied.
He turned to Stannick but before he could speak, Dason mumbled, “It isn’t any of those things. I know what it is.”
He turned to Rosberg, a grave expression on his face. “Sir, I think that is what the Mongans were waiting to finish.”
Rosberg stood frozen in place though his eyes grew wider. He peered at Dason with an initial look of disbelief before he asked earnestly, “You’re sure?”
Dason took in a deep breath before answering in a flat voice, “Yes, sir. I’m sure.”
Rosberg returned Dason’s forthright stare before he nodded. “Well then, Lieutenant Thorne, I think it’s time to fill everyone in on what you learned about the Mongans’ real intentions. I take it that these all tie together?”
“Yes, sir. It all fits.”
Dason stepped forward and turned toward the assembly. He cleared his throat and began.
“The reason that the Mongans are congregating in the Helix Nebula is that they’ve discovered that the AP planet is full of Kolomite. Hundreds of times more than the combined discoveries of Kolomite by the Imperium in the last several centuries.
“They have a sophisticated refining and enhancement process that increases the explosive power of Kolomite on a scale and magnitude that’s far beyond anything that we can create.
“That’s how they can destroy a star. But they’re not destroying stars simply to do so or as a weapon of war against another civilization.
“In fact, from their viewpoint, there aren’t any other civilizations in existence but theirs. To them, we and every other sentient being Out There are little more than intelligent animals.”
He glanced around the room before going on, “The Mongans are dying, and for some reason they believe that the only recourse they have is to leave this universe for another.”
“Wait,” Stannick stammered, “did you just say that they have the ability to cross over to another universe?”
“Yes ma’am,” Dason answered. “But no one knows what the technology is that allows them to do it, only that they are crossing over to adjoining universes.”
“And they’re doing this because their race is becoming extinct,” Stannick mused aloud. “Do you know why they’re dying?”
“No,” Dason responded. “From what Elder Tor’al told me and my own understanding it has something to do with severe and long-lasting gene mutation.
“There is something in this universe that is affecting them and it is so pervasive that they haven’t found a way to either get away from it in our universe or prevent the mutations from occurring.”
“Are you talking about a constant,” Brant asked, “such as the cosmic microwave background radiation, for example? It thoroughly permeates the observable universe.”
Dason’s raised open hands gave the impression that Brant’s conjecture might be right or it might be wrong. “Maybe,” he offered, “it could be that or something similar, but I can’t tell you exactly what.
“I do know that the mutations are so acute that the Mongans’ birthrate is virtually nonexistent now, and they’re incredibly desperate about the situation.”
“Well, if that’s the problem, why don’t they just ask for help?” Stannick demanded.
“I asked Elder Tor’al the same question,” Dason replied. “The Mongans don’t believe that anyone can help them but themselves.”
Dason gave a shrug. “As I stated, from their viewpoint, we’re animals, little more. Think of it as if we would ask a cow or a horse to solve quadratic equations. That’s exactly how the Mongans view us.
“They are The People and the rest of us are less than sentient beings. Period.”
“Pride cometh before the fall,” Rosberg muttered.
“And this has what to do with causing a star to nova?” Stannick asked.
Dason nodded and continued. “When the Mongans send their nova device into a star, it has two parts.
“The first part is the Kolomite detonator; the second part is a protected habitat that carries thirty or so Mongans.
“When the Kolomite detonates, it causes an instantaneous and massive chain reaction from the star’s core outward that results in the nova blast.
“The force-pressure from the two combined explosions causes a momentary rift in time and space, a—”
“Portal to another universe,” Nase stated.
“Exactly,” Dason answered. “The Mongan habitat slips through the portal and into the adjoining universe. Or so they believe.”
“And they enter the rift,” Jadar asked, “without knowing where they’re going or where they’ll end up?”
“That I can’t answer,” Dason replied. “From what I understand, the reason they choose some stars over others is that they are trying to disperse their race throughout the multiverses.”
“To increase the odds of success,” Alena observed.
“Yes,” Dason agreed. “And they believe that by opening a portal at different galactic coordinates, they slide into a different universe each time.”
“Russian roulette on a cosmic scale,” Stannick observed.
She drew in a breath and asked, “I take it they’ve never had any of their people return and report if it’s a success or not?”
“No ma’am,” Dason replied. “It’s strictly a one-way trip.”
“Well, I’d be more than happy to give them a one-way ticket to somewhere,” Sami muttered. “And it’s not in this universe or any other universe. In fact, it’s not even in this life, I’d like to send them straight to—”
“We get it, Sami,” Dason replied.
He spoke directly to Admiral Stannick, “You were wondering where the Kolomite gas was coming from that you found in the nebula and why it was there? It’s the Mongans’—they’re seeding the Helix with Kolomite gas.”
He waved a hand toward the image. “And all those Mongan ships? They’re not only bringing the last of the Mongan race to the AP planet, but when they passed through the nebula, they discharged the Kolomite gas during their transit. Then they pick up another load from the planet and repeat the process.”
He turned to point at the giant cylinder-looking objects. “Those are enormous habitats, designed to carry the remaining Mongans through a giant rift in space and into another universe.
“They’ve concluded that they can’t continue destroying one star and sending just a few Mongans at a time through the portal.
“They believe their time has about run out and that this is their last, best chance to save their race.”
> Stannick turned to Dason with a dour expression and in a reluctant voice, as if afraid to press the question, asked, “And just how are the Mongans going to create this huge portal and send everyone through?”
Dason turned to her, hesitated, and then explained, “By detonating both the Kolomite gas that they’ve spread throughout the Helix Nebula and the Kolomite on the AP world.
“The planet will be the portal’s focal point, and that’s why they built their life habitats there.”
His voiced matched his grim expression. “The explosion will be the equivalent of a thousand-million supernovae going off at once.
“The resulting shock wave will travel at just under the speed of light.
“It will spread out from here and sweep through all of the Imperium space destroying every planetary system in its path.”
He drew in a breath and murmured, “And beyond . . .”
Chapter Thirty-One
Star date: 2443.116
Aboard the INS Dauntless
His words ringing ominously even to him, Dason let his gaze drop to the floor before he raised his head. “It will eventually reach the Solar System and Earth.
“By the time it has spent its force, the galactic spiral arm that we live in will be nothing more than mere fragments of stars and planets, without a single living being, anywhere.”
The silence in the room was so weighty that Dason could hear his own thudding heart. No one moved, no one spoke, each face a mask of shock and outrage.
Rosberg stepped forward. “Now you know what’s at stake and why we’re headed to the Helix Nebula.”
“Sir,” Deklon sputtered, “shouldn’t we warn the planetary governments and try to get some help from them?”
Rosberg snorted in return. “Don’t you think I’ve tried, captain? I’ve used every back-door channel that I could find to deliver the message.
“I received a few lukewarm responses and none willing to send even a single ship or offer even one hand in help. Most thought it was a trick I was playing to get them to rise up against Peller.”
Rosberg shook his head and muttered in a disgusted voice, “Believe it or not, most were so cowed by Peller’s immediate threats that they were willing to live with a menace that might or might not materialize, and even if it did, it was years and years in the future.”
“What about Peller?” Jadar asked. “Does he know what’s going to happen if the Mongans set off that galaxy buster of a bomb?”
“He knows,” Rosberg replied in a hard voice.
“But, if he knows . . .” Jadar sputtered.
“He knows,” Rosberg answered firmly, “that even if the Mongans set off their galaxy buster as you call it, that he will be long dead before the force wave hits Imperium space.
“What is important to Peller is the here and the now; to be the most powerful ruler the Imperium has ever known.”
His voice turned cold and hard. “For Adiak Peller, nothing else matters and he will stop at nothing to ensure that happens. After all, a man who murders his own family, why would he care about anyone or anything else?”
He peered at Deklon and Jadar, “No, I’m afraid we play this hand with the cards we were dealt.”
The silence stretched out as the assembled scouts digested Rosberg’s troubling and dire assessment.
Alena spoke up and asked, “What about the Sha’anay? Can we get any help from them?”
Rosberg gestured to Dason, prompting him to answer Alena’s question. “At General Rosberg’s behest,” Dason replied, “I delivered the same message to Elder Tor’al that I did to you. He promised that the Sha’anay would help, but we haven’t heard from them, yet.”
“And,” Rosberg continued, “with what we now know, it’s apparent that the Mongans are a lot closer to their final objective than we thought, so I’m afraid that we don’t have the luxury to wait for the Sha’anay. We’ve got to act, and act now.
“I’ve sent the SlipShip ahead of us to the nebula. Obviously, it can get there a lot sooner than we can.
“I’ve asked Scoutmaster Tarracas and Mr. Rhee to reconnoiter as much as they can without endangering themselves or letting the nova device fall into the wrong hands.
“Hopefully, on our run to the Helix they’ll transmit some useful information that we can use to formulate a feasible battle plan.”
He glanced around at the solemn group. “We’ve got eighteen hours before we hit the nebula’s outer limits. Take the time to rest, get any wounds taken care of, and ready your Zephyrs for their next engagement.”
He nodded toward Stannick. “The admiral has offered repair teams to work on our craft during the transit, and we’re going to take her up on the offer, and with sincere thanks for not only harboring us, but for standing shoulder to shoulder with us in our time of need.”
He glanced around again before ordering, “Let’s get to work.”
The scouts shuffled out of the room, until only Dason and Shanon remained. Dason reached down to take Shanon’s hands in his own and looked deep into her eyes. “Only eighteen hours,” he murmured to her.
She gripped his hands tightly. “We’ll make it a lifetime,” she softly answered and molded her body against his.
Close to eighteen hours later, the same group reassembled in the ready room. Their taut expressions underscored the fact that their actions within the next few hours could well determine the ultimate fate of every star, every planetary system, and every living entity in this part of the galaxy.
Rosberg and Stannick took their places in front of the scouts. Both looked haggard and grim.
“In the next few minutes,” Rosberg began, “Admiral Stannick will bring the fleet out of n-space. Shortly after that, just before we enter the Helix, we’ll deploy the Zephyrs.
“We still don’t have any word from the Sha’anay,” he confirmed in a disappointed air. “And the Faction is still right on our tails. However, we did receive a data burst transmission from the SlipSter.
“The Mongans are still seeding the nebula, but the Scoutmaster and Mr. Rhee have found something else that’s very disturbing.”
He nodded to Stannick, and she reached over to touch the small console on the nearby cherry-wood-covered desk. A holographic image formed midair of a large, dull gray sphere floating in the wispy gas clouds.
Moments later, the view shifted as the SlipSter drew closer to the orb. All at once, the large ball-like machine began to spin, gyrating on its axis. Red-hot lasers spit out of the orb in a dozen different directions.
The globe began to slip off to one side of the image as the SlipSter turned away from scarlet rays that sliced through the nearby clouds. After a few seconds, the lasers stopped firing as the ship retreated to a safe distance.
Within minutes, a flotilla of Mongan war cruisers converged on the sphere, without doubt responding to an automatic distress call that the ball had sent out.
Rosberg turned to the group. “The SlipSter found about a dozen of these orbs, but she got too close to the last one that they came across and took damage, mostly to her sensor array.
“She can still fly, but she can’t see a whole lot around her or out to any distance. Rhee and the Scoutmaster are trying to repair her, but they’re not having much success.”
He gestured at the spheres' image. “They’ve sent us the coordinates of all those that they found, and they also informed us that each time they set off one of these things, the Mongans responded in force.”
Rosberg went on, “However, being forewarned is forearmed, so they managed to scoot away before they got hurt again. So, we know two things about the orbs.
“First, they have an automatic defense system that shoots out laser bolts faster than the super-Hadron collider spits out quarks. Secondly, a squadron of Mongan cruisers shows up within minutes of when you trip the orb’s alarm.
“This next image is our extrapolation of how many spheres there are and their approximate locations throughout the nebula.”
He
nodded at Stannick, who brought up a second image next to the first one. This time, a 3-D hologram of the Helix Nebula appeared midair.
Seconds later, a ring of tiny dots, equidistant from each other, looped completely through and inside the giant gas cloud, glinting dully as if they stared at a pearl necklace.
Except that this necklace was hundreds of light-years around in circumference.
“We’re not a hundred percent sure,” Rosberg observed, “but we think that based on what we know about the Mongans’ intentions to set off the Kolomite gas, the orbs could be their detonators.”
No one spoke for several seconds as each scanned the images. “So, can we get close enough to destroy them?” Deklon asked. “If we take out their detonators, it just might throw a wrench in their plans.”
“Possibly,” Rosberg replied. “But we have to consider several questions. If the Mongans see us attacking their detonators, they might just go ahead and set off the whole ring.”
“And we’d get caught inside the nebula blast,” Deklon observed.
“Exactly,” Rosberg responded. “Or if we begin to blow their detonators, we end up fighting a sizeable portion of their fleet.”
Deklon turned to Dason and asked, “Son, anything in those images of yours that might give us some idea of any weaknesses in those things?
“Maybe some way we can sneak up on them and put them out of commission without waking up the whole neighborhood?”
After staring at the first image, Dason shook his head. “No, sir,” he replied flatly. “None of what I’ve seen matches anything close to that. Sorry.”
Deklon patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, you can’t be expected to have an answer every time.”
“If we try,” Jadar noted, “and slip a Zephyr in close to one of those things we’d end up being not much more than shredded cheese. Not to mention we’re out of torps so we can’t hit’em long distance.”
Sami piped up to say, “Aw, you’re looking at it the wrong way. What we need is a big wind to blow the gas away, so there’s nothing left to set off.”