by Chris Fox
“Do you?” the captain broke in. “Let me tell you how it will sound to OFI. You want me to tell them that a Primo fairy tale has returned after 26,000 years, and is now wiping out colonies. Don’t worry though, because we have a magic cube…that we can’t actually understand or use in any way. Is that about the length of it, Commander?”
“Sir, that’s not fair,” Nolan said, fists clenching under the table.
“I didn’t say it was fair, but we need proof, Nolan. Hard evidence, or we have no chance of convincing either the Primo or OFI that there is a real threat out there.” The captain steepled his fingers, staring hard at Nolan.
“What we need is a way to translate this cube,” Nolan offered. “I’ll reach out to a friend of mine at OFI and see what she can recommend.”
“That friend of yours wouldn’t happen to be named Lieutenant Commander Mendez, would she?” the captain asked, voice reproachful.
“She would, sir, though I’m not sure why that should matter.”
“Because she’s the reason you were exiled to the 14th,” Dryker growled.
“Does that mean you’re ordering me not to speak to her?” Nolan asked, as neutrally as he could. Kathryn was bad news, but she was the only option he could think of.
“There might be another way,” Lena offered. “It’s possible that a Primo library could translate the cube. I think it’s our best shot.”
The captain glanced at her, seeming to consider her words. “We’re due in Primo space today. When we don’t show up, they’ll be hunting us, too. I’m not sure that making for one of their libraries is a good idea,” Dryker said, shaking his head.
“Clearly, you’re uneducated where the Primo are concerned,” Lena said, even more primly than before. “Primo libraries are considered holy repositories of knowledge. They are neutral ground. If we visit one, they cannot apprehend or harm us while we are on the premises.”
Captain Dryker stared hard at Lena, then finally broke eye contact. He heaved a deep sigh.
“Very well, then we’ll take both courses. Lena, see if you can arrange a visit to a library. Make it as close to human space as possible.” He turned to Nolan. “Commander, reach out to your ‘friend.’ See what she can tell us, but don’t take any risks, and don’t divulge anything beyond our need for a translator.”
“Yes, sir,” Nolan said. He dreaded talking to Kathryn again.
28
Old Flame
Nolan made the call from his quarters, after finally deciding a direct quantum call was better than an electronic message. He didn’t want to talk to her; if he was going to have to, then the best way to do it would be all at once. Like ripping off a bandage.
Waiting for the call to connect was brutal. After several moments, the comm panel flashed green and the screen lit up. It showed a face he wished he could forget: Kathryn’s beautiful eyes and her addictive smile. Her long dark curls spilled down the shoulders of her uniform.
“Nolan,” she said, blinking. “This is a surprise. After how we left things…well, I didn’t expect to talk to you again.”
“Hi, Kathryn,” Nolan said, clearing his throat. “Listen, this isn’t a social call. I need your help. Given circumstances between us, I’d say you owe me.”
“That’s true,” Kathryn said, biting her lip. Her eyes shone with emotion, but after a moment the mask descended and she was all business. “What do you need?”
“If I needed to translate something from ancient Primo, is there anywhere in Fleet space I could do that?” he asked, trying to give her as little as he could.
“I’m not sure, but I could find out. What do you have?” she asked.
“I can’t talk about that,” he countered, shaking his head.
“Nolan, listen. I know you don’t trust me, but I need you to try,” Kathryn said, leaning closer to the screen. She stared searchingly at him, and for a moment he wished he was close enough to touch her. “OFI is acting awfully strange. They’ve shrugged off Dryker’s reports of new technology, which seems really out of character. I’d have expected them to leap at the chance to learn about a new race, especially an advanced one.”
“Maybe they want to avoid pissing off the Primo? We did destroy a Tigris warship.”
“True, but there’s more to it than that. They could have smoothed over that incident, and still investigated Dryker’s report,” Kathryn said. “Admiral Mendez has been making a lot of off-log calls, and OFI has been sharing a lot of intel about the Johnston with both the Primo and the Tigris. It sounds like they’re working on a joint task force to hunt you down.”
Nolan suddenly realized what that meant for Kathryn. Even talking to him could end her career, not to mention causing a rift with her father. Part of him wanted that to happen, but the rest was grateful for her taking the risk.
“There’s more. Nolan, you’re into something deep. I’ve seen the Tigris call for blood; we expect that. But the Primo? They don’t get involved. For them to want to hunt you down…there’s something we’re missing. Something big. Big enough to hang you out to dry. Don’t expect any help from OFI. In fact, consider them hostile.”
“I already do,” Nolan replied. He touched the screen with his palm. “Thanks for the info, Kathryn. Find out what you can about translating, and get back to me. If you learn anything you’re willing to share, you can use the usual drops.”
“I’ll do that. Take care of yourself, Nolan.” She sighed quietly, and brushed her bangs out of her face. “I wish I’d made different choices.”
“You and me both,” Nolan said, and cut the connection.
He needed to get some sleep before they reached the library in Primo space.
29
Planatos
“Commander, we’re in communications range,” Juliard said, rousing Nolan from his thoughts. He straightened in the captain’s chair, stifling a yawn.
It was late, a little after 2 a.m. ship’s time. They’d just arrived in system to Planatos, one of the oldest Primo systems—so old, in fact, that the star had gone from a red dwarf to a blue. It burned hotter to retain equilibrium, painting everything in the system with a different brush than Nolan was used to.
There were no planetary bodies here, just a single orbiting station. Like all Primo structures, the station bore fluted columns and had plasma funnels built in at regular intervals. It was breathtaking, and the star’s sapphire illumination made it even more so. The Primo had no doubt designed it here for that reason, as they were obsessed with aesthetics. Form was just as important as function, even in their weaponry.
The station bristled with particle cannons, each capable of ripping the Johnston to shreds. The cannons were designed to fire beams of ionized particles that tore through armor, and were powerful enough to cook anything close. The place was a veritable fortress.
“UFC Johnston, this is Planatos station. State your intended business, or be destroyed,” a metallic voice echoed over the comm.
“Planatos, this is UFC Johnston,” Nolan said, shifting in the command chair. “We’d like to request a meeting with a librarian. We’ve recovered something we think you’ll want to take a look at.” He knew that the libraries were supposed to be neutral, but part of him still wondered if the Primo station was about to blast them into atoms.
Long moments went by with no answer, and the Johnston held its location. Then the voice finally spoke again. “Approach docking port seven. Keep your weapons powered down, and do not deviate from your course, or you will be destroyed.”
“Acknowledged,” Nolan said, nodding to Juliard. She gave him a thumbs-up when the connection had been severed.
“Touchy bunch, aren’t they?” Emo said, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.
“They’re not overly fond of ‘lesser’ races,” Lena said. She sat cross-legged on the floor, a few feet to the right of the captain’s chair.
“If they’re willing to help us, I’ll happily put up with a little arrogance,” Nolan said. He ros
e from the captain’s chair and moved over to Juliard’s station. “Can you get me the captain on the line?”
“Sure,” Juliard said, keying in a sequence on her terminal. A blue light began flashing, then the screen resolved to the captain’s sleepy face.
“Captain, we’ve arrived in system at Planatos. We’re docking now,” Nolan explained.
“Good,” the captain said, rubbing blearily at his eyes. He gave a cavernous yawn. “I’ll be in the CIC by the time we dock. Once you’ve been relieved, I want you to take Lena aboard that monster to see what the Primo can tell us about this cube of yours.”
“Are you certain they won’t alert the Primo government, sir?” Nolan asked.
“No,” Dryker admitted. The camera shifted to show him sitting on his bed. He began pulling on his boots. “They could rat us out, and we need to be ready for that. I’ll have Hannan standing by to extract you if things go south.”
30
Library
Nolan shifted back and forth nervously as Hannan spun the metal wheel to unlock the hatch. It opened with a hiss, revealing the Primo docking tube. The walls were made of blue-black metal, reinforcing the troubling connection between the Void Wraith vessel and the Primo.
“Let’s complete our business swiftly,” Lena said, stepping into the tube. Her ears twitched in a way Nolan linked to nervousness, not that he could blame her. He stepped in with her, and they crossed the dozen paces to a black iris-style door on the far side.
The iris slid open at their approach, revealing two imposing figures in blue-black armor. Nolan recognized the staves they carried, though he’d never seen an arbiter before. Arbiters were the elite Primo guards, widely feared across every culture in known space. Each held a six-foot staff that crackled with blue plasma at either end. Their shock staves could knock a man unconscious with the simplest brush.
The weapons were made still more intimidating by the aliens that held them. They were personifications of the hologram Nolan and Lena had found: tall, thin aliens with no nose and a tiny mouth. Their eyes were the same—a bright red, unbroken by iris or pupil—but their skin was different. The one on the right had dark blue skin that blended well with his armor. The one on the left had black skin that contrasted with its eyes and made them stand out demonically.
“You will accompany us to the library proper,” the black-skinned arbiter said. Its voice was flat, yet still carried a note of disdain. It turned on its heel and started walking back to the library. Its legs bent oddly as it moved, in the opposite direction than a human’s, or even a Tigris’s. This made for an awkward gait, but did nothing to diminish the Primo’s imposing demeanor.
“Lead the way,” Nolan said. He and Lena fell into step behind the arbiters, who led them through a wide corridor and deeper into the library. Tiny floating pedestals with brightly glowing flames lit the corridor at even intervals, an odd contrast to the incredible technology around them.
They entered a huge chamber, easily hundreds of feet tall. Above them, Nolan could see floor after floor, each containing near-endless rows of shelves. Those shelves didn’t contain books, as he’d expected. They looked a lot more like the shelves in the Primo ruins, and were lined with data cubes. The entire library was silent, not a single voice raised. There was no clink of armor, no occasional sneeze or cough. This place felt as empty as the dead city on Purito, even though he could see Primo scholars dotting the floors above.
There weren’t many, maybe a dozen in total. That seemed tragic somehow, especially given the sheer size of the library. Given the tables around them, hundreds or even thousands of scholars could have worked here without making the place feel crowded.
A few scholars looked up as they passed, but most ignored them. They had different skin color, ranging from light blue to deep purple. Those last received a low bow from the arbiters as they passed. Nolan didn’t know what their skin color signified, but clearly it was important in their culture.
“Wait here,” the lead arbiter finally said, pausing next to a large table with four chairs. The chairs were awkward affairs, designed for the Primo’s very different legs. Nolan chose to stand, though Lena sat as gracefully as she could manage.
The arbiter who’d spoken turned on his heel and strode off into the library, leaving them with a single guard. Nolan took the opportunity to sit, and Lena sat next to him.
“I’ve always wanted to see one of the original libraries,” she said, gazing around her in wonder. “There’s more knowledge here than everything gathered by your culture and mine, put together. It’s been here longer than either of our races have been spacefaring.”
“Let’s hope they’re willing to share that knowledge,” Nolan said, gazing up at the levels above them. The place was impressive, though being here unnerved him. If the Primo decided they wanted the cube, or wanted to detain them, there wasn’t much he’d be able to do about it.
Several minutes later, the arbiter returned with a robed Primo. This Primo had dark blue skin and studied them impassively as he approached. He stopped before their table, and looked from Nolan to Lena.
“One of you is a scholar?” the Primo asked in a flat, emotionless voice. It still managed to imbue the question with an unflattering amount of skepticism.
“I’m an anthropologist, specializing in early Primo ruins. Pre-dynastic mostly,” Lena offered, ears twitching.
“I see,” the Primo said, with a little distaste. It folded its spindly arms under voluminous sleeves. “Why have you come to library alpha seven two?”
“We wish to invoke safecall. I’ve brought an artifact we’d like examined,” Lena offered. She reached into her satchel, pulled out the data cube, and set it on the table. “This came from ruins that pre-date the Primo empire. I’ve estimated the age at twenty-six thousand years.”
“Clearly, the academy on Tigrana is as ignorant as we feared,” the acolyte scoffed. “I mean no insult—you cannot be blamed for your race’s lack of knowledge, of course—but data cubes weren’t created until post-dynastic times. They first appeared in the third dynasty, and were not properly refined until the seventh.”
“Why don’t you verify the cube’s age?” Nolan said, trying to keep his tone even. “Maybe you can enlighten us about it.”
“And what does this ‘ancient data cube’ contain that would make it worth our time?” the acolyte asked, cocking its slender head to the side.
“It’s a VI, but one that speaks a dialect that seems to predate all Primo culture,” Lena explained. She seemed hesitant, but then forged ahead. “The syntactic guides are very similar, but I can’t quite place most of the words it used.”
“I see,” the Primo said, its mouth becoming a flat line. It stared hard at Lena, then bent to pick up the data cube, inspecting the runes. “I can have this examined. If it’s what you claim it to be, then the library will be grateful for its return.”
“Return?” Nolan asked, rising to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw both arbiters tense, ready for combat. He moved his hand away from his sidearm. “That cube belongs to us. You can study it, but it’s leaving with us.”
“I see,” the acolyte said, this time with more than a little distaste. “If you wish to deny us possession of the artifact we will not stop you, of course. Unlike both humanity and the Tigris we hold our traditions in high regard. Please wait here. We’ll study it, and attempt to verify your ‘findings’.”
The acolyte strode away with the cube, and both arbiters followed. Lena and Nolan were left alone at the table.
“Cheerful bunch,” Nolan said darkly.
“I understand their hesitation. They don’t respect younger races, because they have almost ten thousand years more experience than we do,” Lena said, sighing heavily. Her tail swished back and forth behind her.
“You seem as well-versed as they are,” Nolan said, shrugging.
“I doubt that. Primo universities are renowned across the galaxy. They spend two decades training. My own stud
ies only lasted three years,” Lena said. She rested her elbows on the table, staring around her in awe.
“So how did you get into all this?” Nolan asked. He propped his feet up on the table, partly because he knew that would annoy the Primo. “Scientists are rare among the Tigris, right?”
“Extremely,” Lena said, meeting Nolan’s gaze. “I was a very curious child, even more so than my siblings. My parents encouraged that. I started asking hard questions at a young age, so they enrolled me in the academy on Tigrana.”
“What kind of questions?” Nolan asked.
“Things like why every sentient race in the quadrant is bi-pedal,” Lena said, her gaze taking on a feverish glint. “That just shouldn’t be possible. Surely at least one other type of sentient life would have developed. Why not an amorphous blob, or something with three legs? Or six? I also wonder why most races can reproduce with one another. Primo don’t like to admit it, but their DNA is compatible with both humans and Tigris. If we evolved separately, how is that possible? We should be radically different, yet we share over ninety-five percent of our DNA across all three races.”
“I’m no anthropologist, but that definitely raises some interesting questions,” Nolan admitted. “So what’s your theory?”
“I don’t have one. At least not yet. But that’s why I began studying ancient Primo culture. They’re the earliest known race. It’s even reflected in their name. Primo Genitus. First race,” Lena explained. “If answers exist, they’re in the roots of Primo culture.”
“Commander?” Nolan’s comm crackled. At the sound of the captain’s voice, several Primo glanced their way in annoyance.
“Yes, sir?” Nolan asked.
“Let’s finish this up quickly,” the captain said. “We’ve just received word that two more colonies have been hit.”