The Pathfinder Trilogy

by Todd Stockert

  “Is there something else?” asked the Zaketh squadron commander curiously.

  “Yes. Take this with you and keep it active,” suggested Adam as he tossed the portable transceiver to his colleague. “A lot of people, Zaketh and Yakiir alike, are wearing those local earwig communicators like the one you gave me. I’m certain that at least a few of the Yakiir will try to use them to give away our presence here if we manage to pull within range of another Yakiir vessel. The likelihood of this will only increase as we move farther into their territory.”

  Unconvinced, Vasten looked the small device over carefully. “Why would you think that? They all looked pretty scared when they saw the body of that thing you killed. If it truly looked like one of us then they would not have known…”

  “Some of the Yakiir do know about the Kuth secret and serve with them willingly,” pointed out Adam. “Ali Rinai told me, before she died, that she used to work on one of the home planets but fell out of favor with their ruling Caucus. She was demoted and sent to the front lines to fight in the war. That’s why there are women on this ship… they’re people whose families have lost influence with the elites.”

  “I begin to see what you are driving at,” acknowledged Vasten with concern. “The fastest way for a Yakiir outcast to regain favor with the elites, even if all sins are not completely forgiven, would be to betray our presence on this ship.” He attached the device to his belt. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “It’s even worse than that, I’m afraid. I believe that some of the Yakiir on this ship were actually working with Bok, serving as undercover intelligence officers and keeping an eye on their Captain. They may not have known what he truly was, but you can bet for damn sure they knew who and what the Caucus is… a government entity not to be trifled with.”

  “I’ll be able to let you know if someone tries to transmit over unauthorized channels, but tracking them down is another matter entirely,” noted Vasten. “We’re on a huge ship crewed by several hundred people who can move around at will. By the time we detect the signal and contact Command to localize it, they’ll have sent their signal and be back among the ship’s general population.”

  “That’s why I’ve made some changes to the command functions of this communications console,” chuckled Adam. “It will automatically detect an unauthorized transmission and immediately implement a jamming field. This console will send a signal to your transceiver with the location of the perpetrator, who will in turn hear only static in response to his message. The really determined traitors will continue to try for several minutes, expecting our response time to be slow.”

  Vasten nodded with a satisfied smile. “Excellent,” he decided. “And those who are caught…”

  “Disarm them, search them, and toss them in with the rest of the prisoners,” Adam told him. “We’ll sort them out when all of this is said and done.”

  “How long until we arrive at our target destination?”

  “It will take at least three or four additional transits.” Adam frowned slightly as he spoke. “I can retool this communications console fairly easily, but the crappy Point-to-Point hardware in use here within the Wasteland could really use some work. We’ll make it in two hours or so, all things willing.” He reached out and touched another console, bringing up a large, colored map of the immediate area. “We’re destined for a point deep within a huge nebula,” he continued, pointing to a dark blue spot on the map. “Historically the Caucus hasn’t cared where its quashing weapons were used, only that they were used. But the two we’re carrying would seem to be different somehow. They want both of them detonated in the center of heavy nebulae concentrations.”

  “The Yakiir don’t want anyone to see what happens,” speculated Vasten.

  “That’s my assessment,” Adam agreed. “I’m going down to the starboard cargo bay to examine their programming more thoroughly. But once we arrive at our intended destination, the best possible way we can learn more about what these things are truly used for would seem to be to detonate one, then stick around and watch what happens next.”

  “Traditionally, when a quashing weapon was captured, our clan would use them against another clan that managed to gain a foothold in some random star system,” Vasten informed him. “But that happened only occasionally and the ship delivering the weapon rarely stuck around in the vicinity. You can watch a sun explode from pretty much any distance, and that was always our own objective.” His expression was dismayed. “Why would anyone ever think that there would be anything else to see after that?”

  Adam pointed a stern finger at him. “Your people were lucky. I’m only theorizing, but it’s highly probable that ships of some sort come through from the other side of the transit wormhole that the detonation triggers,” he observed. “They’re most likely armed and would promptly destroy any unknown vessel hanging around in the immediate vicinity.”

  *

  Tran Wuu found Adam in the starboard cargo bay after flashing a quick nod to Arte Kasik and Cren Hollis, who both stood guard outside the main corridor entrance. He noticed that one of the quashing weapons was gone, and for a moment his heart leaped into his throat. “Has someone been in here without authorization?” he asked incredulously. “We were certain that couldn’t happen.”

  Lying on the metal deck plating, Adam was studying the lone remaining missile from below. He stood up at the sound of Wuu’s voice, wiping his hands together and brushing off the front of his uniform. “Relax friend,” replied Adam reassuringly. “Snee Vasten’s men dismantled it into three pieces and are taking it toward the damaged area just up the corridor. They’re going to use EVA suits and drop the three segments into space, and then reassemble them outside. We’ve arrived at our destination, so it’s time to actually use one of these things and see what develops.” Glancing at the Crasel soldier curiously, he smiled warmly. “How’s that shoulder of yours doing?”

  “It’s healing much faster than it should,” admitted Wuu with a grin of his own, firmly massaging the still-bandaged shoulder with his right hand. “Most of the time, people who are wounded as badly as I was would never see another fight. I can never thank you enough for that.” Glancing around inquisitively, he noticed that the smell of death that had been so pervasive in the large cargo bay was completely gone. There were still faint but recognizable red and green stains smeared on the walls and deck plating, but overall the chamber was considerably cleaner than it had been only hours earlier.

  “Well, the ultimate goal is to get you four men back to your families,” pointed out Adam. “Remember that.”

  “What are you doing?” Tran Wuu asked with growing interest. “Is something wrong?”

  Adam sighed and smirked for a moment, returning his attention to the open access panel on the second missile. His fingertips danced across the full keyboard within, and he studied the resulting output on the computer screen recessed within. “It’s more like something is missing,” he pointed out. “My people analyzed the programming of the first missile, so we pretty much know what it’s supposed to do once it detonates. This one is different… the programming only covers guidance and the detonation sequence. The rest of the routines that should govern functionality haven’t been loaded yet.”

  “Perhaps it’s a spare,” suggested Wuu. “In case the first weapon malfunctions.”

  “No,” decided Adam with a quick shake of his head. “If that were the case, the same program would have been loaded in both missiles. And the Command Center’s computers have official recorded orders that this vessel’s former Captain received – orders that require a visit to two different healthy stars in this region.”

  “You are speaking with a simple soldier,” Wuu reminded him. “I do not understand the mindset of those who would build and use such weapons. Forgive me if I cannot be of further help.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Adam told him with an amused chuckle. “I think that whatever happens here will determine whether or not the second missile receiv
es the rest of its programming. This Caucus that governs the Yakiir is cautious and extremely secretive. If the first part of this mission failed, I don’t think they wanted whoever stopped it knowing what the second objective was.” He ruminated on the matter for a moment, but failed to come up with any other reasonable options. “How are you and the other Crasel doing?” he asked suddenly. “There are only four of you, after all, on a ship filled with dueling Zaketh and Yakiir.”

  “Mostly they leave us alone,” said Tran Wuu grudgingly. “The Yakiir in particular. I think they are extremely arrogant and consider us to be irrelevant, but it is more than that. It is also because they are terrified of you and what you have done… in particular your standing up to those they only recently believed to be invincible. Most of Vasten’s men are much better – they have treated us with respect and courtesy thus far.”

  “They know we saved their lives.”

  “Yes. We four and the Zaketh have been rotating, taking turns guarding this location and also the engine room. Vasten assures us that you and he have control of the Command Center.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask another favor from the four of you before too much longer.”

  “Anything. What do you need?”

  There was a dramatic pause, mostly because Adam didn’t know how his colleague would react. “We five and all of the Zaketh are going to have to trade in our uniforms and put on the Yakiir equivalent,” he replied tentatively. “It is quite probable that enemy ships are going to come through the wormhole generated by the first quashing weapon, probably from somewhere very, very far away. They’re going to be expecting a Yakiir crew on this vessel and may even send over specialists to finish programming the second weapon. If they do, we have to be ready to put up a false front for as long as we need to.”

  Wuu shrugged indifferently. “A uniform does not make the man or his Clan,” he stated confidently. “And it will be nice to have new armor and weapons, for a change.” Pulling a long chain from around his neck, he showed Adam a complex, circular medallion consisting of finely interwoven, crosshatched metallic strands, similar to mesh but made of carefully honed steel. Upon its surface two thin, crescent moons rested side by side, one slightly lower than the other. “My wife gave this to me when we married,” he said with glowing pride. “I wear it above my heart always. It is how I keep my head during the tough battles, by reminding myself that one day I might be able to go home again and serve only her. It is the only thing I need to wear and keep with me.”

  Examining the piece carefully, Adam smiled. “This looks very, very old.”

  “It is. It is a simple creation, one that has been in my wife’s family for at least nine generations. More than likely it was cast back when our clan held a brief foothold on some long forgotten world. To most it isn’t much beyond the common metal that comprises it, but to me it is a precious piece of Crasel history because of when it was made and who it comes from.”

  Nodding with understanding, Adam watched him replace the chain around his neck. “How do you think the Zaketh will feel about wearing the uniform of a Yakiir? Will they object to it?”

  “I think they will do whatever Snee Vasten tells them to,” decided Wuu. “He is a good commander and his men trust him. I sense that many of them would have preferred it if he had been the Captain of the Pyrhh.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Adam slapped Wuu firmly on his good left shoulder. “Relax. We’re going to make it through this and get you back to your family.”

  “Of that I have no doubt. I believe you can do anything you say you can, Adam Roh.”

  *

  In preparation for the missile detonation, Adam made certain that the largest of the Ali Rinai’s navigation telescopes was focused directly on the target star. It took him a few minutes, but in the end he managed to hook its output into the ship’s video system so that he, Snee Vasten and the four Crasel could watch from the Command Center. The video feed was also available on other shipboard monitors in the Mess Hall, engine room and other common areas. The quashing weapon’s first stage was surprisingly simple – its rocket engines fired and moved it to optimum range, then shut down again once a stable orbit around the hot yellow sun was established.

  Waiting for the next step was exhilarating, since no one watching from Command had ever witnessed the use of this type of weapon. The six men all wore their crisp, brand new black Yakiir uniforms trimmed with green and stood patiently waiting and watching next to the biggest monitor they could find, wondering if they would be able to tell when the warhead in the nose cone detonated. After all, without more information regarding how it functioned there was no way to determine just how long a pause there would be between the weapon’s detonation and the star’s subsequent reaction. No one among them knew, after all, what specifically was supposed to happen once it went off.

  “Do your people understand the warhead’s composition?” asked Snee Vasten curiously. “Have you determined specifically what kind of explosive force is generated upon detonation?”

  “No,” Adam told him with tight-lipped anxiety. “I noticed during my analysis of the second missile that much of the material within the nose cone is composed of elements that likely do not exist within this universe. The Kuth undoubtedly brought it with them from theirs.” His fingers drifted to the pants pocket of his uniform. “I shaved off some of it so that my brother can analyze it, but that will take some time to complete even after he receives the sample.”

  “This whole thing kind of makes me wonder what other surprises they have in store for us,” observed Arte Kasik. Together they stood and watched the image of the star, as transmitted from the ship’s telescopic observatory, patiently for another half hour or so. And then the crucial moment finally arrived.

  “Detonation occurred five seconds ago,” Adam declared suddenly, watching rows of statistics fly by on the HUD display still projected on the inside surface of his right eyeball. “The weapon just generated some sort of massive, electromagnetic pulse with readings that are completely off the standard scale. Whoa…!”

  He trailed off as the results of what they had just done became instantly clear. One moment the star was a bright golden orb sitting in the midst of a massive, pervasive nebula with roiling purplish dust clouds containing leftover matter from other stars long since demolished. The Ali Rinai held position at a safe distance after having fallen stationary in a remote area where the navigation telescope’s view was only partially obscured. Then, in the next moment, a devastating transformation began.

  While they watched, the entire eastern hemisphere of the star abruptly collapsed inward, forming what looked to be a massive crater, as the leading edge of the electromagnetic pulse from the quashing weapon struck its target. Immediately a series of large, continuously expanding finger-like tendrils exploded outward from the star’s western hemisphere, colossal bundles of white-hot stellar material that expanded and then curled away from the point of impact. There were thousands upon thousands of fiery prominences of varying sizes – and it was truly an astonishing sight to behold. The weapon’s pulse lasted only a brief fraction of a section, allowing the eastern hemisphere to rebound back to its normal size soon after. And yet, in that single brief instant when the star was so savagely assaulted, the nuclear furnace burning bright and hot at its center was punched so severely in its gut that it completely lost its natural cohesion.

  It was obvious to Adam that the quashing weapon had reached all the way to the star’s core, disrupting the vast majority of the fusion taking place there and pushing the hottest, most active portion of the sun toward its western corona. Immediately, the remaining material comprising the outer seventy percent of the star’s general mass collapsed inward, filling the sudden void at the center and triggering a blinding explosion that completely filled the small computer screen with a light so brilliant that it forced everyone in the Command Center to shield eyes and look away. Adam touched keys on the workstation’s keypad, zooming
out by several magnification factors, yet still could see only a blinding field of white light that continued to expand in all directions. For just a moment, colored dots danced across his temporarily blinded vision.

  “Mott’s Ghost!” gasped Janney Stox, gesturing almost frantically to ward off any perceived evil spirits that might be lurking about. He had moved over toward one side of the Command Center and was now looking out the windows. “Take a look at this, fellows!” he suggested, pointing toward a suddenly iridescent, golden shimmering easily visible far off in the distance. “I can see it without the telescope!”

  Adam moved over to stand next to him, watching the tiny, distant explosion continue to swell steadily outward. “We shouldn’t even be able to see the star at this range,” he pointed out to the others. “There’s so much dust in this nebula, its rays normally can’t penetrate this far out and still be visible to a human eye. Not even as the traditional twinkle. The telescope, on the other hand, gathers considerably more light and is specifically constructed…” He trailed off in awe, watching the nebula’s dust clouds begin to light up in a variety of colors. Bright crimson and orange glows began to slowly transform the purple and azure clouds into brighter, more actively heated pockets of dust.

  “What happens next?” asked Tran Wuu inquisitively, his gaze locked on the captivating phenomenon.

  “The nose cone from the missile is gone,” Adam informed him. “It was destroyed in the initial detonation. But the main body of the missile is still out there, collecting energy from the stellar explosion and using it to strengthen a protective shield that keeps it safe from the radiation excesses. As soon as the weapon believes itself to be safe it will divert some of that energy toward creating a Point-to-Point wormhole. One end of the transit window will open in close proximity to the weapon, while the other end… well, let’s just say we have no way for certain of knowing where that will be. Only that the location in question is extremely far away from here.” His gaze shifted toward a stunned Vasten, who also watched the event with undisguised fascination. “Are we ready for the next step?”