by Colin Weldon
The Black tried to access what it was that Aron was referring to, but those events seemed to be locked away tight. It seemed the more personal the experience, the more difficult it was to see. Whatever had happened in the room was with Carrie, now locked away in her mental fortress deep inside her mind. The Black decided to give a nondescript response.
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t see you. I have a lot on my mind right now. I must have been daydreaming,” The Black replied through Carrie’s mouth.
“Where’s Tyrell?” Aron asked, “I haven’t seen him around.”
There was a look in his eyes that told The Black that he wasn’t entirely convinced by what it was saying.
“He’s sleeping,” The Black replied.
“Right. Well, I wanted to let you know that a colonist attacked Vishal earlier. Nothing serious. We could really use some guidance about what’s going to happen to us once we reach The Agathon. I have a lot of scared people to take care of,” Aron said.
“We’re going to have to figure that out,” The Black replied feeling the rise of something deep within Carrie’s mind.
She was up to something in that castle. It would have to find a way to break in.
“What does that mean, Carrie?” Aron said.
“Aron, I’m very sorry, but I must attend to some issues on the main flight deck,” The Black said turning away from him and stepping onto the transport pod.
It looked at Aron who was staring at it with suspicion in his eyes. It needed to remain unnoticed for the time being and judging by Aron’s body language towards her, it guessed there might have been something intimate. It decided to try something and stepped off the transport pod. She walked slowly over to Aron and stopped just in front of his body. He looked at it curiously. It looked behind Aron to see if they were alone in the hallway. They were. It looked back at Aron and raised its right hand, gently touching Aron’s cheek. It ran the nail of its index finger along Aron’s jawline, moving Carrie’s face closer to his and gently kissed him on the lips. It pulled its head back and looked at him in the eyes. The pupil dilation and relation of his muscles told it that it had made the right move. There had been some physical attraction between Carrie and Aron. That could prove useful. Without saying another word, The Black, controlling its host body, stepped onto the transport pod and activated it. Their eyes met as the cold grip of the machine dissolved its molecules.
17:
THE AGATHON
“Sir, it seems that we’re clear. There’s no activity coming from the planet and the surrounding shield seems to have solidified again,” Chavel said from the navigation station.
Barrington looked over at Tark’An. He readjusted his neck as the translation device was cutting into it.
“I need a full damage report,” Barrington said turning to Tark’An, “Okay, so you want to have a talk?”
Tark’An seemed to ignore the captain and turned to one of the other creatures.
“Shri’An, return to the Praxis and find out what damage the ship has sustained. I will remain here and seek answers from these creatures,” Tark’An said.
The other alien seemed to take issue with that and stared at Barrington. He couldn’t quite figure it out, but it wasn’t a friendly gesture.
“General, your safety is of paramount concern. I must insist on leaving a security contingent,” Shri’An said.
Tark’An looked at Barrington.
“I can assume that you pose no threat to me, Captain,” Tark’An said looking Barrington in the eyes.
“Not unless you pose one to me or my crew,” Barrington replied.
Tark’An’s lips spread ever so slightly revealing a set of sharp teeth. He turned to Shri’An.
“I wish to be alone with this one. Return with all personnel to the Praxis. I will transmit to you in one cycle,” Tark’An said.
Shri’An turned in protest.
“I presume you have a secondary airlock where my ships may dock?” Tark’An said.
Barrington turned to Chavel who was blatantly staring at them trying to understand what they were saying. Without the translating device, it must have sounded like complete gibberish.
“Lieutenant, clear the main airlock on deck twenty-one, some of our guests will be departing,” Barrington said.
“Eh ... Yes, sir,” said Chavel sounding baffled.
Barrington turned to Tark’An, “I think we should speak in private.”
CONERENCE ROOM
Barrington walked around the long table in the conference room and took a seat. Tark’An’s body was far too large to fit into the chair so he remained standing and looked out of the window. Barrington stood from the seat and leaned against the table. He adjusted the translation collar around his neck again and took a breath.
“So, what’s your deal then?” Barrington said staring past Tark’An’s huge shoulder and gazing out at the multicoloured nebula.
Tark’An, unmoving, seemed to let out a long breath.
“Captain, how advanced is your civilisation?” Tark’An said.
“How advanced?” replied Barrington.
“Yes, how many worlds have you colonised? How many ships do you have? To have travelled so far, you’ve clearly discovered how to bend space,” Tark’An said turning his large head and looking at him with his almost glowing eyes.
Barrington thought about how to answer that. His military mind told him not to. Normally that sort of information was only divulged after a subject had been broken by an interrogator.
“If you are trying to gauge our military strength,” Barrington paused, thinking about what to say next, “then you’re pretty much looking at it.”
Tark’An looked at him.
“You have no colonies? No ships?” Tark’An said.
Barrington turned away from Tark’An and moved to the table. He tapped in his command codes and brought up astronomical data on Earth. A thin screen emerged from the centre of the table and began displaying the information. Tark’An turned and looked at an image of Earth from an old weather satellite. Barrington took a seat again and crossed his legs, leaning his elbow on the table.
“That is Earth. It was destroyed roughly a thousand years ago,” Barrington said.
Tark’An gazed into Barrington’s eyes.
“We had a malfunction in the FTL drive when we left the colonists to search for a new planet to call home. We were not entirely insulated from the effects of faster than light travel and consequently we lost a thousand years,” Barrington stopped and rubbed his fingers over his eyes.
“Saying it out loud like that, seems so surreal,” Barrington said, “but it happened. We were lost. We left our system in search of the signal makers, leaving behind a small convoy of space stations and transport ships. We thought they were long dead. Turns out we were wrong. They banded together and drifted into interstellar space. They thought we were coming back to rescue them, but we had no idea where they were much less knowledge that they’d lasted the last 1,000 years. By chance, we found some survivors in a small ship and they informed us that there were others still alive.
Meanwhile, my daughter, Carrie, had made contact with another race of aliens, I presume, the ones you call the grey race. She convinced them to go and pick up the survivors from the space station. As far as I know, they did, and are now on their way here. They told us to wait by this planet and that we could set down on it. They gave us weapons. A fighting chance against this mechanical planet machine, or so they said. So, there you go. Basically, we’re fucked.”
Tark’An tilted his head.
“Fucked?” he said in a strange growling voice that was translated into Barrington’s mind.
“It’s an expression. It means we’re not doing well, in trouble, out of options. So, there you go, my cards are on the table. Your move,” Barrington said.
“My move?” Tark�
��An replied.
Barrington sighed.
“Are you going to destroy my ship?” Barrington said deciding to cut to the chase.
Tark’An turned to face Barrington and seemed to tense the muscles in his arms.
“If I must, but not that it matters. In fact, nothing will matter in this galaxy soon,” Tark’An said.
“You’re talking about the Targlagdu?” Barrington replied.
“No, I’m not, Captain.”
Barrington leaned back in his chair and wondered how long his ship could last in a firefight.
“Who’s on the planet and why were they shooting at us?” Barrington asked.
“They were not shooting at you, Captain, they were shooting at us. More than likely, it’s an old remote weapons system still active from the war. They detected my ship and automatically locked on. When the war ended they were meant to be deactivated, but it’s a large galaxy,” Tark’An said.
“The war?” Barrington said.
“A great war. A war that nearly ended both races, a war with the potential to end all life as we know it. The Targlagdu, as you know it, was created as the ultimate last assault. A planet sized machine capable of mimicking and harvesting life. Transforming it, using the monsters it creates as armies against us. Thousands of years ago, our race controlled vast quadrants of the galaxy. It was a powerful empire. Our leaders made a fatal error. They attempted to colonise the home world of the grey race. We were arrogant, and we paid the price. The race of beings that you have allied yourself with nearly wiped out my people, but they too made a mistake. Their great weapon turned on them. Became self-aware. It started with the outlying worlds. The machines consumed, replicated, grew. When the others realised that it was out of their control, a peace was negotiated and work on the Sword of Stars began,” Tark’An said.
Barrington listened intently.
“I do not understand why they have chosen to contact you,” Tark’An said unfolding his top right arm and pointing one of his thick fingers at Barrington before tucking it back inside his bicep.
Barrington thought about it, Which side was he on?
“Where does my home world fit into all of this? You destroyed Earth?” Barrington said.
“I did not destroy anything, Captain. I was not born when your world was taken from you. The efforts to halt the Targlagdu and cut off its fuel supply have been running for millennia. Worlds that were deemed to be free of life were targeted and when sentient life was detected it was contacted to warn them. You must understand that control of the Targlagdu machines was lost long ago. It was determined that all life would be consumed. If they find the porthole, then life as we know it will be gone forever,” Tark’An said.
“The porthole?” Barrington said.
“A tear in the fabric of space time connecting galaxies. My race has been evacuating through it for over 100 years. The galaxy nearest to this one, Tralactia, will be our new home,” said Tark’An.
Barrington was astonished.
“You mean Andromeda? A spiral galaxy?” Barrington said.
“Yes, if that is what you call it,” Tark’An said, “the others do not know about this. Their technology has allowed them to find a new home world in the void. They prefer isolation. We have no problem with that. They were out of harm’s way. For them to return, to ally with a primitive race and to arm you is something unexpected.”
Barrington stood, taking a moment to absorb what the large alien standing in the conference room was saying.
“What is this Sword of Stars?” he said moving over to the window and peering out.
“I opposed it for most of my military career. I had little say in its construction. The Device Commission was established when a strange element, contained within a comet, was discovered a few hundred years ago on an outlying world. Unnatural in nature, its trajectory had it originating in interstellar space. Possibly from Tralactia, or whatever you call it. Our scientists experimented with it on a remote star outpost called Gri’Elk. It was four light years from our home world. The resulting explosion destroyed not only the outpost, but the star itself. It imploded on itself and created the darkness.”
Barrington turned and frowned at Tark’An, shaking his head denoting that he did not understand.
“The darkness from which nothing returns,” Tark’An said.
“You mean a black hole? Collapsed stellar matter that sucks everything into it?” Barrington said looking for clarification.
“Yes,” Tark’An replied, “But not only that, the Black Hole, as you say, continues to expand. The interstellar comet was captured and stored at a specially constructed base controlled by the Device Commission. We call it the Sword of Stars. They have connected its constituent elements to hundreds of millions of stars in this galaxy.”
There was a silence between the two as Barrington’s thoughts suddenly drifted back to the transport ship that he and Jennifer had taken to Mars. She had only been a few weeks pregnant with Carrie. Full of hope that the life they were about to embark on would be a happy and contented one. A new beginning for them both. Barrington turned to the huge Tark’An and suddenly realised how little control people had over their destinies.
“Your people are blowing up stars?” he said bluntly.
Tark’An nodded.
“How can you make that sort of choice? How many have you destroyed? How many are going to be destroyed?” Barrington said.
Tark’An took a moment and gazed out at the nebula.
“All of them. This is why I’m curious as to why you’re here with the others, Captain,” said Tark’An.
“I don’t understand,” said Barrington.
“We’re going to destroy all of them. Simultaneously. Every star in this galaxy,” Tark’An said.
“What?” blurted Barrington.
“It’s taken generations to develop and deploy, but the weapon is nearing completion. It was said during peace talks with the others that no member of either race could be harmed lest a new conflict be started. When their technology was once again detected in this galaxy, I had to find out if they had returned. They have. Now, Captain, I want to know why.” Tark’An said.
Barrington’s heart began to race. It was becoming harder and harder to see a way for his ship to survive their journey. It was beginning to look hopeless.
“What do you know about a black organic substance? A sentient substance that can somehow join with and control people,” Barrington said.
Tark’An turned his body and took a step towards Barrington. His face seemed to grimace. It was honestly not easy to know what facial expressions Tark’An was trying to convey.
“Yal’Ren? You have seen this?” Tark’An replied.
“Seen it? It murdered my wife. We found it in a cave on a planet called Mars. We took some of it back for analysis. There was an accident and it bonded with one of our crew members,” Barrington said.
“It is on this ship?” said Tark’An suddenly raising the growl in his throat.
Barrington could see that Tark’An was suddenly becoming agitated. There was something to this. He needed to tread carefully.
“Do you know what it is? This Yal’Ren? You know what I’m talking about?” Barrington said.
Tark’An took another step towards Barrington and unfolded all four of his arms. There was a change in the atmosphere in the room. An urgency had crept into it. Almost a panic.
“Is it on this ship right now?” Tark’An said now sounding like a wolf on the prowl.
Barrington felt danger.
“No,” he replied, “I assure you, Tark’An, that it’s not.”
Barrington made a point not to move. To hold his ground and look the alien directly in the eye. He wondered whether sincerity could cross interplanetary cultures. There was a change in those large eyes of his. A recognition.
“You sa
y it bonded with a crew member?” Tark’An said.“Yes, it’s in direct control of one of our lead scientists. It has, in fact, been responsible for saving both my life and that of my daughter,” Barrington said, “we were captured by a Targlagdu vessel. I was taken and a member of my crew was killed and replicated. It infiltrated my ship, killed my chief engineer, and several others. Carrie came after me with Dr Tyrell. He’s the one currently infected by this thing. Anyway, they saved my life, saved the ship,” Barrington said.
“How?” Tark’An said.
“How?”
“Yes, a Targlagdu vessel could crush this ship in a matter of seconds.”
“It was disabled, damaged,” Barrington said.
“You already had the alien weapons systems installed on your vessel?” Tark’An said.
Barrington suddenly realised that he was about to reveal a key secret about Carrie. He looked at Tark’An, there was something about him. He could almost sense some form of regret. At that moment, Barrington didn’t know why, but he decided to tell him everything.
“No,” he finally said, “my daughter disabled it.”
“I do not understand,” Tark’An replied.
Barrington took a breath.
“She’s different than most humans. She has abilities. We haven’t quite figured them out just yet,” Barrington said.
“Your daughter disabled a Targlagdu vessel?” Tark’An spluttered.
“Two of them actually,” Barrington replied.
Tark’An’s face changed and this time Barrington knew the expression without hesitation. His eyes widened and both his strong eyebrows raised up at the same time. It was shock. It had to be. There was no other way to take that kind of information.
“It would take some time to explain,” Barrington said clearing his throat.
“Well, Captain, let me put it this way, your ship isn’t going anywhere until you do,” Tark’An replied.
18:
THE SIENNA CLARK