by Chris Fox
“Jesus, is that thing alive?” Annie said, blinking. She picked up a second biscuit, absently chewing as she approached Edwards. “You some kind of robot? Doesn’t look like UFC tech, any more than this ship does.”
“I’m a…what did Lena call me? A cybernetically enhanced life form,” Edwards said, offering Annie a massive blue hand. She grabbed his index finger and shook it.
The exchange made Nolan smile. Edwards had kept his distance during the long voyage home, though the longer they were out here the more he seemed to be adjusting.
“Captain,” Lena said, breezing into the room. She sat daintily on the corner of the bench next to Izzy, her feline eyes alight with excitement. “I’ve discovered something monumental, something I think may be very important.”
Nolan finished his biscuit, then offered Lena his full attention. She’d come to him during the trip home with several monumental discoveries, none of which were relevant to their situation—or all that monumental, in his opinion.
“What did you find?” he asked, scooping up something resembling a potato from the stew on his plate.
“I found an account from a Primo scientist. He was a citizen of the empire you and I discovered back on Purito, one who did groundbreaking work on genetics. He believed that his race had been genetically modified, but his ideas were dismissed as wild conspiracy theories,” Lena said, leaning across the table. She licked her chops in a most alarming way, seemingly unaware of Hannan shrinking back from her. “He found markers indicative of tampering. He was certain of it. So he spent over forty years cataloguing Primo DNA, looking for blood stains, ancient sites, and anything else that might yield an intact genome. After many years he found it, a sample from a skeleton that was at least forty thousand years old.” Lena paused, perhaps for dramatic effect. “This sample lacked the genetic markers found in modern Primo. By comparing the samples, the researcher realized that someone had deliberately altered the Primo, and that the alteration occurred somewhere between fifty and sixty thousand years ago.”
“What does that mean?” Edwards asked. His metallic face turned in their direction.
“It means,” Lena continued, shooting Edwards an annoyed glance, “that someone bred the Primo, in the same way your species breeds dogs. Their markers encouraged specific traits—in this case, aggression and increased fertility.”
“They were breeding soldiers,” Nolan said, making the connection instantly. “This is further evidence. Look how the Void Wraith function. They depopulate worlds, and convert those they harvest into Judicators. It would make sense that they want those Judicators as lethal as possible. Why not modify the species you’re abducting to have the traits you find most desirable?”
“I believe you’re correct, but I think there’s a greater revelation here,” Lena said, positively beaming now. “If I’m correct, there are three distinct eras of Primo development. The one I am studying now isn’t the first, as I’d originally assumed. There’s an even earlier empire, probably the one that first encountered the Void Wraith. This reshapes tens of thousands of years of Primo history. Everything they believe about their origins is a lie. Their ancestors were space faring when mine were hunting monkans in the jungle.”
“That’s fascinating, Holy One,” Fizgig allowed. She’d been using a claw to carefully spear chunks of meat from the stew, but was ignoring the rest of the food. “Yet, I am unsure why you consider this discovery so important.”
“Because I don’t believe the Void Wraith are the real enemy. Their weapons and ships are clearly of Primo design,” Lena explained. “I believe that someone or something else showed up, turned the Primo’s own citizens and weapons against them, and then harvested them into a massive army. When they were finished, they modified the remaining Primo to have their desired traits. Then they left.”
“So you think these are literal harvests,” Nolan said, understanding. “The Void Wraith, or whoever made the Void Wraith, pop by every so-many-thousands of years to build another army.”
“If that’s the case, that’s terrifying,” Hannan said. “What the hell do you use an army that size for?”
“Lena, is it possible that this first group of Primo might have left behind a library? Some source of knowledge we can tap into to learn more?” Nolan asked. “If the war really is cyclic, we need to know as much as possible about it. If they’re the ones who first encountered the Void Wraith, then they have the best chance of knowing what really happened.”
“Very possible,” Lena said, nodding. “Now that I know what to look for, I believe I might be able to learn more. We could do that at any of the oldest Primo libraries. One of their researchers could point us in the right direction. In the meantime, I’ll study the early mythology in the current data core. It’s possible there’s more there. Myths and legends often hold a bit of literal truth.”
13
Dryker
Dryker shifted uncomfortably in his brand-new uniform. It fit perfectly, but it felt stiff and confining after spending the last few months in the flowing Primo garments they’d been provided. He had no idea where they’d gotten the uniform, either. Did the Primo just happen to have captain’s bars on hand? It didn’t really matter, he guessed.
“Are you ready, Dryker?” Khar boomed, flexing his claws as he approached. The Tigris had been given a full set of black war armor, and now carried a gleaming silver spear. The weapon was an ancestral favorite for the Tigris, used to kill fleeing prey. Fleeing humans, the last time Dryker had seen one used.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Dryker said, turning from the mirror and exiting the lavish quarters.
Juliard was already waiting in the hall, her face buried in her comm. The fact that they couldn’t reach the Quantum Network didn’t seem to phase her. She had a seemingly endless number of games, and was playing one of them now. She stopped at his approach, sliding her comm into her pocket.
“Sir,” she said, nodding.
“Let’s get this over with,” Dryker said, walking down the corridor and into the ship’s main chamber.
The First Light’s central chamber was an invention unique to the Primo. Human and Tigris vessels were both compact. They had only enough room for their crew to function, and no space was wasted. Even the most modern UFC ship used an economical design.
The Primo had taken the opposite route. The central chamber was cavernous, with a ceiling that vaulted several hundred feet into the air. Globes of energy dotted the ceiling, making the blue metallic walls sparkle. In the center of the room was a huge, flat disk. The center of that disk was slightly raised, and appeared just large enough for a single person to stand on.
The entire aft wall was transparent, a gigantic dome providing a spectacular view of space. Three golden thrones floated in the air near that dome, bobbing slowly up and down. Their occupants wore shimmering silver garments unlike anything Dryker had seen the others wear. Some sort of parade dress, probably. He recognized one of the three figures as Celendra, but the other two were unfamiliar.
Both were male—one with deep purple skin, the other a pallid grey. Celendra floated between them, though Dryker had no idea if that signified anything. He still had very little understanding of how Primo politics worked, which made them damnably difficult to navigate.
Below the chairs, several hundred Primo were gathered, more than he’d ever seen gathered in one place. Primo were powerful, but rare. They were secretive about their numbers, but he’d guess there couldn’t be more than a hundred thousand remaining. Their colonies had long been abandoned, and they’d retreated all the way to Theras Prime, the world the First Light was currently orbiting.
“As the hosting navigator, I call this conclave to order. Endari of the Fist of Endari and Kayton of the Rising Star sit in witness,” Celendra’s clear voice echoed through the room as she gestured first at the grey-skinned Primo, and then the purple. Dryker realized the timing wasn’t a coincidence, as she was staring in his direction. She must have been waiting
for him before starting. “I have called this conclave to discuss the threat posed by the Void Wraith, and to decide how our people can best respond.”
“I have still seen no evidence that these Void Wraith even exist,” Endari said, eyeing Celendra sharply. His grey skin had a waxy look Dryker had seen on the oldest Primo aboard the First Light. “You’ve presented a primitive recording contributed by a lesser race. Surely you don’t believe that worthy of a conclave.”
Soft gasps whispered through the ranks of the Primo, and Celendra’s eyes narrowed. Her voice was frosty when she spoke. “Do not mock me, Endari. I have irrefutable proof that the Void Wraith exist, and that proof has been made available to you. In addition, I offer testimony from eyewitnesses.”
Dryker knew a cue when he saw one. He strode forward, walking onto the large, empty disk. All eyes were on him as he mounted the steps up to the raised dais, clearly intended for a speaker to address the conclave.
“The ‘testimony’ you offer comes from the same source as the recordings,” Endari protested. He gazed down at the conclave, finding support from more than a few Primo. “Are we to listen to the theories and ramblings of lesser races now?”
“Let the human speak.” The purple-skinned figure—the one called Kayton—finally spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. “We can judge for ourselves whether this is worthy of a conclave. I, for one, find the presented evidence disturbing. We cannot know if this new race is, in fact, the Void Wraith. Yet their technology is clearly derived from our own, and must therefore be investigated.”
“Very well, if you both wish it we will proceed with this foolishness,” Endari said, waving dismissively at Celendra. “Speak, human. Give us your limited understanding of galactic events.”
“The Void Wraith are real, but I don’t expect you to believe that,” Dryker said, turning slowly atop the dais. He looked from Primo to Primo, a sea of emotionless faces. Tough crowd. “The data core I provided to Celendra contains something that should concern you far more: it shows an attack on one of your libraries, an attack perpetrated by your own people. I asked her to wait until today to show you that data, because it proves that at least some of your people are working with the Void Wraith.”
“Lies,” Endari barked. “Our people would never attack a library, not for any reason. Libraries are sacred. If one were attacked, it could only be by lesser races, and we would easily repel them.”
“See for yourself,” Celendra said, coldly.
She gestured, and the entire dome displayed a holographic image. It was a familiar scene, one that evoked painful memories. Three Primo carriers launching fighters to fire on the Johnston, then the Johnston speeding away toward the star. Behind them, more fighters attacked the Primo library. Plasma beams scored its pristine surface, and the damage worsened as the Johnston retreated. Then the library exploded in a wave of intense white light. The dome went translucent again.
“Why have you waited until now to show us this?” Kayton asked. He leaned toward Celendra, almost threateningly.
“Because of what it means,” Celendra said. “Dryker is right. We have been infiltrated by the Void Wraith. It is possible that some of the people in this room are actively working to destroy our race.”
14
Shipwarming Present
Nolan circled warily, prowling the edge of the dueling circle as Fizgig did the same just a few feet away. The pair watched each other, each waiting for a weakness.
“Hey, Nolan, if you’re through getting your ass kicked I brought you a present,” Annie said, drawing Nolan’s gaze.
It was a fatal error. In the split second Nolan’s gaze was averted, Fizgig darted forward and rammed her plasma blade into his chest. His muscles spasmed in the by-now familiar pain of paralysis, and he flopped about for several agonizing seconds, clawing the deck as he waited for the pain to subside.
“You let Annie’s arrival distract you. Such distractions are common in combat. They separate the warriors from the kits. Kits will chase whatever draws their attention,” Fizgig said, offering Nolan a paw. He accepted it and she effortlessly heaved him to his feet. “You must be more than that. You must be a predator, fixed on your prey. If your focus is greater, then you will be ready to take advantage of their lapse in attention.”
Like all of Fizgig’s lessons, this one was practical and easy to understand. Nolan nodded, bending to pick up his towel as he walked over to the doorway. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Fizgig said, nodding. She leaned forward to lick her forearm, then glanced back at him. “You have impressed me, Nolan. You learn quickly. Pursue this with the same persistence you have pursued strategy, and you will become deadly.”
Nolan gave her a grateful nod, then joined Annie in the hallway. She carried a large brown sack that bulged with a rectangular object. A trail of red and yellow wiring, long enough to brush the floor, hung from the bag.
“Is that what I think it is?” Nolan asked, toweling sweat from his face.
“Yep,” Annie said cheerfully. “I figure Bock will get by without one for a few days, and none of the miners care. Coronas will pay for a replacement. I can have it installed on the bridge whenever you like, but if you want something quick and dirty all it needs is power. There are conduits all over the ship.”
“Okay, let’s get it installed then,” Nolan said, starting for the bridge. He was quiet as they walked, considering Annie’s actions. They were a little ruthless, but also pragmatic. They’d needed a quantum transmitter, so she’d acquired one.
Underhanded, but the longer Nolan played this game the more he realized principles could get you killed. Principles were the reason Admiral Kelley had died in his sleep. Yet if one gave up one’s principles, what was left? It was a troubling line of thought.
He trotted up the last set of stairs, striding onto the bridge. “Set it up on the far wall there; you can wire it to that access panel.”
Nolan moved to the hastily-installed captain’s chair, sitting stiffly on the sharply angular metal. It wasn’t comfortable, but it beat standing for the entire shift. He watched as Annie worked quickly and efficiently. She had the access panel off and the wiring exposed within seconds. It didn’t take much more than a minute for her to connect the red and yellow wires to the pulsing blue lines that powered their ship.
“The nice thing about these portable transmitters,” Annie said, closing the access panel, “is that they have limiters built in. It will automatically regulate the flow of power it draws from the ship.”
“That’s it? You installed a quantum transmitter into an alien vessel, and all it took was two minutes of your time?” Nolan asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m pretty good with this stuff, but it’s just not that hard,” she said, shrugging. She pressed the green button on the front of the transmitter and it hummed to life. “The network strength is really weak. You can’t check your messages in your bunk or anything, but at least we should be dialed in now.”
Nolan got out his comm. It was already syncing, the tiny QN logo swirling across the screen. A moment later, his home screen began to populate, and he saw he’d missed several messages. He thumbed open the app, selecting a message.
Kathryn had requested a meeting for the following day.
“Annie, get the crew together. Looks like we’re taking a trip to Mulholland Station,” Nolan said, hitting the Reply button.
15
Mulholland Station
Nolan was more than a little jittery as he entered Mulholland Station’s food court. Hundreds of people flowed between tables, each carrying trays from one of the station’s eleven restaurants. They were all different flavors and cuts of the same basic soy protein served in backwaters like this, but after three months in dead space they smelled heavenly.
“It’s so weird being around this many people,” he muttered under his breath, knowing Hannan would pick it up. She’d injected him with a sub-dermal transmitter just before they’d arrived. He couldn�
�t hear his team, but they would know everything he knew, as soon as he knew it.
Nolan carried his tray to an empty table and sat down to wait. He glanced around him as he used the chopsticks to shovel noodles into his mouth as quickly as he could get them from the bowl to his face. God, he’d missed real food. As the noodles disappeared, his pace slowed, and he began to survey the crowd a little more carefully.
The guards lurking on the fringes of the crowd carried stun batons, but no firearms. That made sense. The super-dense hull of a starship was designed to pass through a star. Small arms had no prayer of punching through them, no matter the caliber. But stations like Mulholland were built cheap, and since they were stationary the developers hadn’t given them more than a thin steel membrane. Bullets were a real hazard here, which was why station security was so strict.
Nolan had no firearm, but he did have a plasma blade. He’d tucked the bracelet under the leather coat he’d borrowed from Annie. The coat was loose around the gut, but fit snugly around his arms and shoulders. The bracelet didn’t even make a bulge in the arm, and whatever scan the security guards had used hadn’t seemed to pick it up.
“Nolan?” came a familiar voice from behind him. It cut through the din, drowning out everything else. He shifted in his seat to see Kathryn, just as she dropped into the chair across from him. She shot him a dazzling smile, but there was something…off about it. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. Stress maybe?
Nolan wasn’t really sure how he felt about seeing her. They’d never been a couple, not officially, but things had been headed that direction right before he’d been exiled to the 14th. She’d been wrapped up in that, though he didn’t hold it against her. Admiral Mendez had likely strong-armed her just as he had Nolan. Either way, Kathryn had helped them a lot. It was only because of her that they’d even known about the Ghantan system.