“Yes. We won’t be returning to Roger anytime soon, I suspect.”
“Explain,” Trissk hissed as he gathered his possessions. “Will we fight? Or try to escape?”
“Neither,” Ezekiel said. “Unless I miss my guess, we’re about to be drafted into the rebellion.”
“That is, if we’re not killed outright,” Spooky murmured. “You two stay back. Let them see us apes at the start, shall we? And Ezekiel…do you think it wise to be wearing your yellows?”
“Probably not.” He quickly stripped out of the golden silks and stuffed them back in the compartment, sealing it up with his hand, leaving him in a utilitarian jumpsuit. “Hey, what are these slashes?” he asked, running his hand over the damaged wall where it still oozed pus.
“Someone got…restless,” Spooky answered.
“Dammit, Trissk. And Bogrin,” Ezekiel said, “don’t tell them you’re a Blend yet. If they are sharp, they’ll figure one of us must be to control a Meme ship. Might as well be me. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to contact one of my family. Now –”
Just then the wall quivered and split, forming a misshapen hole.
“What the hell are you doing, you idiot? You’re hurting my ship!” Ezekiel yelled at the man standing there holding a sprayer. Behind, others raised weapons.
Even as Ezekiel spread his hands, placating, Spooky slipped past the first man with cybernetic speed and disarmed the other two with economical motions. As if by magic, the two guns now pointed toward the invaders. “Let’s everyone keep still, shall we?” he said.
One of the disarmed guards, a small woman, reached quite slowly up to remove her faceplate, revealing bright blue hair framing a Eurasian face. “Who are you…people?” Her accent was tinged with Australian tones, and the last word came out as a disbelieving question as she caught sight of Bogrin and Trissk. “Holy mother of God. Aliens.”
“What the hell did you use on the wall?” Ezekiel said, stepping forward to seize the small pressure tank and spray gun from the first man.
“It’s a secretion that forces ship walls to retract. It’s not harmful,” the man said defensively.
“I’ll decide what’s harmful when my ship is involved.”
“Wait, please.” the woman said, apparently the one in charge. “This is all…look, whatever’s going on is way above my pay grade, and I have orders to bring you to the Raven. My boss. Will you come?”
“It’s not like we have too much choice, correct?” Spooky said. He liked the look of this one, despite, or perhaps because of, the blue hair. She very much reminded him of Ann, his lost love.
“Well…” The woman’s mouth quirked upward, staring at the barrel of the gun pointed at her.
Spooky glanced at Ezekiel, then the other two, before addressing the woman again. “Obviously we can’t stand here for the next few hours. I presume it will take that long to reach your deep base.”
“How do you…?”
“I’m sorry, we neglected the introductions.” Spooky abruptly lowered the weapons and, with motions too fast to follow, stripped out their magazines and ejected the chambered rounds, handing the empty guns back to their owners. “I’m Tran Pham Nguyen. This is Ezekiel Denham, Bogrin, and Trissk. We’d like to join the rebellion.”
“Tran Pham Nguyen, huh? You got balls, calling yourself that, but then, you do have some moves. What’s with that word ‘rebellion’? And where the hell did you get a Meme ship, anyway?”
“I’d rather tell our story only once, if you don’t mind, miss –”
“Alkina. Major Naomi Alkina, EarthFleet Marines.”
Spooky smiled faintly. “Nice to see our descendants keeping a hand in. What relation are you to Ann Alkina?”
“Lady Ann was my great-great aunt, I am told. I never met her.”
“Was?”
“She died in the Third Holocaust.”
“I’m sorry, dear grandniece,” Spooky murmured in Vietnamese.
This new Alkina merely look at him quizzically. Perhaps she had not learned the language.
Unexpectedly Spooky found himself threatened by an unfamiliar wave of emotions - grief, regret, anger. He’d thought himself prepared for Ann’s death, but he realized in that moment he had held out the unreasoning hope she had survived. After all, she had been a powerful figure in Australia, with access to deep bunkers and all the resources of covert operations.
“Just who the hell are you, anyway?” Alkina asked again.
Spooky spread his hands. “I am he whom you see before you. No more, no less.” Gazing at the young woman before him sparked thoughts he decided to keep to himself.
For now.
***
Major Alkina and her two subordinates remained aloof after leading the four infiltrators down living passageways, through another hole forced in Roger’s tough outer hull, and into further, healthier corridors of flesh. Clearly, this was another Meme ship, a larger one, and better lit, with arrangement to transport personnel in relative comfort outside of bio-VR coffins. They debouched in a chamber large enough so the two groups could stare at each other across the floor and speak in low tones without being overheard.
Without being overheard by ordinary senses. Spooky’s cybernetics easily picked up the tiniest whisper, and he suspected Trissk’s twitching ears could as well. It hardly mattered, as the guards said little beyond remarking on the appearance of the aliens.
“You’d think people facing Meme and their various Purelings wouldn’t be startled by aliens,” Ezekiel said.
“I think their surprise is of our alliance,” Bogrin said. “To them, all aliens are enemies, no? Now they must change view.”
“Good point. Trissk, how are you doing?”
“I am in hell. Why did I come along on this journey?” Trissk snarled.
Ezekiel chuckled. “As I recall, it was because you thought life aboard Conquest was too confining.”
That seemed to shut the cat down, and with a muted yowl he threw himself onto a sofa-like piece of furniture extruded from the floor. The others exchanged glances and also settled down to wait.
Hours passed. Spooky took time to talk to his grandniece, who slowly came to accept his account and identity as truth.
Finally, the sound of passage through water diminished, and then died. Major Alkina escorted the four through more twists and turns, finally leading them to a rather ordinary-looking office, except for its obvious biological construction. After showing them there, she and the guards withdrew at a word from the sole occupant.
From behind a desk rose a tall, slim man with no hair and deep-set eyes. He stared at Ezekiel, face dour, ignoring the rest. “So you finally deign to return.”
Nonplussed, Ezekiel stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Ezekiel Denham, but you already seem to know that. And you are...?”
The man’s smile held nothing of warmth in it, strongly reminding Spooky of Skull Denham. His mind raced for a moment, and then he deduced the identity of the man who stood before them. “Ezekiel,” he said, a warning in his voice, as the tall man reached for the other’s hand in turn.
When their palms met the two men froze, as if locked in a contest. Spooky waited, ready to intervene, but knew whatever passed between them was not for him. Not yet, anyway. He’d long toyed with the idea of Blending with some form of Meme if the chance presented itself, but had never found the right opportunity.
After more than a minute, the two released their grips. “Do you understand, now?” Ezekiel asked.
“Do you?” the other countered. “Am I supposed to forgive you for abandoning us? Mother was inconsolable.”
“Bullshit, Charles,” Ezekiel replied. “Or should I call you Raven? Or even Ray? You’ve completely changed your appearance. Cellular alteration? You look like Dad, now.”
The tall man shrugged. “Raven will do. Nevermore, nevermore the chains is a rallying cry. My people have never heard that other name.”
“Because you hid who you were. You know, Mother
approved of me joining Conquest, and since the Meme half of her has lived through four millennia, and we have every expectation of very long lives, there’s no way she got as upset as you imply.”
“Have it your way. I know what I saw when I looked at her. Like her heart had been ripped out.”
Ezekiel’s mouth curled up in a bitter grimace. “Maybe you don’t know what you saw. Maybe it was someone else she was missing. Maybe you substituted your own feelings for hers. Charles, I’m sorry I had to leave, but Task Force Conquest needed a Blend, and you four were too vital to the war effort. In fact, as you now know if you’ll examine the memories I just gave you, without a Blend to talk to the Sekoi, we’d never have convinced them to rebel, and that turned the tide of battle. Without a Blend there, a million people would be dead and there would be no hope of liberating Earth.”
Charles the Raven sneered. “You are full of yourself, aren’t you? While you slept the decades away and played your spy games elsewhere, I’ve been fighting a brutal and unending war against our enslavers. But there’s far from ‘no hope.’ At least, there was hope before you showed up. Now you people might have destroyed our best chance to throw off the yoke. We may all end up dead, or in a far worse position, thanks to your Captain Absen and his premature actions.”
“Excuse me,” Spooky interjected. “May I suggest you two put aside your family squabbles for a moment? If the situation is dire, and there are unrevealed and important factors, fixing the problems and not the blame seems the best course of action.”
“Spooky Nguyen,” said Charles, still sneering. “Another who abandoned his post seeking glory.” He gestured at the aliens. “At least these two are innocent of your crimes. Perhaps I should deal with them.”
“Perhaps you are allowing yourself to be blinded by emotion,” Spooky replied mildly. “We can assist you, but only if you explain the local situation. That is why we came – to make personal contact. Not to be heroes, or seize your movement for ourselves. To help liberate Earth.”
“There would be a lot more to liberate if all of you had stayed to fight the Meme.” This time, Spooky heard unbounded, bottomless bitterness in Charles’ voice as the man locked eyes with Ezekiel. “Mother lived, but Stephanie and Andrew died in the Destroyer strikes that killed ninety-five percent of the population. Only those in the deep shelters survived. Then, when most came out, the Empire took over to begin forced breeding and rebuilding programs. Mother sneaked a ship down here in the confusion, and for the last fifty years we’ve expanded and spread our bases under the oceans, striking and running, dueling with loyalists and their navies… I haven’t set foot on dry land in decades, Zeke.”
“I’m sorry, Chas. I have no idea what you’ve gone through. Please forgive me. I should have stayed.” Ezekiel stepped toward the other man, and after a long wavering moment they embraced as brothers.
“No,” Charles said after they parted, still clasping hands. “You did the right thing, no matter how painful. It’s just…I’m…”
“It can’t be easy, me showing up like this. Let’s just give it time, all right?”
“Yes.” Turning away, Charles stepped behind his desk and sat down, waving the others to seats. “Now, I need to tell you some things.”
***
“You’re certain of this?” Spooky asked Charles after hearing his story. “And you believe it?”
“I’m certain the Meme believe it,” he replied, lips pressed into a grim line.
“This changes everything,” Trissk said, unconsciously needling the tips of his claws into the arm of his chair. Fortunately, the stuff seemed tough, impervious. “If the Empire itself is under existential threat –”
Ezekiel continued excitedly, “– then we may be able to get them to do something they’ve never, ever done, despite the efforts EarthFleet made from time to time.”
“Negotiate,” Spooky finished. “But what’s to keep them from just running away? Meme are effectively immortal in their ships. They can just go nomad. From what you’ve discovered, this new race is a planet-based, machine-using life form just like us. Why won’t the Meme leave us to our fate? What would make them fight?”
“Hubris, maybe. Or realism,” Charles said. “They aren’t total cowards, else they wouldn’t have an empire. They’ll fight if they think they have the upper hand. And, they might still be intending to run anyway. The eight Destroyers in orbit are eating everything available. Maybe they’re going to bolt as soon as the new enemy shows up.”
“That’s what I would do,” Spooky said. His eyebrow twitched. “If I were them, I mean. So that’s what you meant when you said Absen’s actions were ill-considered?”
“Yes. Two Guardians and one more moon laser might have made all the difference. Now, depending on the size of the invasion fleet…who knows?” Charles bounced his fingertips together like the mad scientist he had once personified and pursed his lips, brooding as he slouched in his chair.
Is it possible to see something more than these walls?” Trissk interjected, pacing at the back of the room. “Some kind of viewscreen?”
“Of course.” Charles placed his hand on his desk, which was really an extension of the living base they inhabited, and areas of the walls lit with displays depicting various natural scenes – a coral reef vibrant with tropical fish, a green mountain meadow, waves crashing on a seashore. “Better?”
“Infinitely.” Trissk planted himself in a seat facing the meadow and stared, as if to make himself believe he was within the picture.
“So again,” Bogrin said, “these beings you call Scourges –”
“Actually, the Meme call them ‘the Scourge,’ as best we can translate,” Charles replied.
“Close enough,” Ezekiel said. “They’re big intelligent bugs, right?”
“It hardly matters what they look like,” said Charles, waving a hand. “The fact is, they have war fleets and they’re conquering Meme territory. What’s more, they possess some kind of rudimentary faster-than-light capability, which makes it lucky we even know about them before they get here.”
Spooky prompted. “Details?”
“We don’t have much,” Charles replied. “Only from what little the Meme give to their underling Blends, which in turn we can glean from our intelligence apparatus. The Scourge appear near stars, always close in, closer than the orbit of Mercury, within about twenty million kilometers. In our terms their ships are vast aerospace carriers. They have a dense manufactured metal core like a ship, and on the outside they build a cheap resin latticework that holds their assault ships, kind of like a wasp’s nest. It’s filled with aerospace fighters, gunships, assault craft and marines by the millions. They don’t seem to use capital weapons, but instead they overwhelm their enemies with swarms of fanatical attackers. Then they colonize, eat everything and spread, like bugs.”
“We have to get word to Absen,” Ezekiel said.
“I hope he already knows. Our sister will brief him if she survived the assault on Jupiter.”
Chapter 16
Captain Absen gestured to Leslie Denham, who stood before his senior staff at the front of the command conference room. “Tell them what you told me.”
Leslie’s eyes skipped from face to face, finally resting on Rick Johnstone’s, perhaps the least suspicious. “Sometime in the near future, as soon as two months or as late as several years from now, the Meme believe this system will be attacked by a heretofore unknown race of aliens they call the Scourge. They make Meme seem pleasant by comparison, for they don’t merely conquer and enslave. They ruthlessly wipe out all higher life forms and fill every planet with their teeming billions. Swarms of their ships are reported to appear without warning near stars, and then attack outward.”
“What a load of bullshit,” Ford scoffed. “Appear how? They must have planted this story to throw us off. Buy time.”
“I have to wonder about that too,” said Fleede. “Could this be disinformation?”
“That’s unlikely,” Le
slie said, “because we intercepted the report before the word of Conquest’s impending return or its upgraded technology reached the solar system. There’s no reason for the Meme to fabricate such a story if they still believed they were winning. No, this was a general biolaser beamcast from a Meme deep space communications relay, and is actually over a hundred years old. Unfortunately there is no video, just text.”
“But you said they just appear near stars,” Fleede pressed. “Does that mean they have a stardrive of some kind? To outside observers, Conquest seems to just appear when it drops pulse.”
“The report postulates they have a faster-than-light drive, or perhaps some kind of artificial wormhole gate. Something that allows them to show up without traversing intervening normal space.”
“Oh, this is really getting thick,” Ford said, throwing up his hands. “Nothing has ever actually been shown to move faster than light.”
“The math says it’s possible. A theoretical warp drive has been on the books since the twentieth century,” Quan Ekara said.
“Yes, but it takes the entire power output of a star to make it work!” Ford retorted. Quan and the others stared at Ford until his eyes widened. “Oh.”
Leslie lifted her head imperiously. “Yes, oh. It stands to reason that somehow they tap into a star’s power – fusion, gravity, even antimatter – to make their FTL drive work. And we have no information on how much faster than light it moves them – twice as fast? A thousand times? Instantaneously?”
“That really doesn’t matter in the short term, though,” Absen said. “This report, if true, changes everything. Everything,” he emphasized, rapping his knuckles on the table.
“Have the Meme ever beaten them?” Ford asked.
Leslie said, “Sometimes, it seems. When they have enough force waiting to hit them early, right when they appear. But when that happens, within a year or two another, much larger invasion force appears, and then another, until the defenders are overwhelmed.”
“Poetic justice for the bastards, I think,”’ Ford said. “The galactic food chain. They do it to us, and these Scourges do it to them.”
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