Archangel One

by Evan Currie

“That’s good to hear. The kid creeps me out.”

  “Really?” Eric asked, amused. “I find him refreshing myself. He’s an eager student, and brilliant.”

  Miram rolled her eyes. “He has access to the minds of every member of the crew. If he weren’t brilliant, I’d be concerned.”

  “Brilliance is more than information, Commander, you know that. It’s how you use it. I wouldn’t put Odysseus up against any of our senior crew in their specialties yet. They would beat him with experience, but he’s gaining that. In time, the ‘kid’ is going to be truly impressive.”

  “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘terrifying,’” Miram corrected him. “Are you documenting your findings?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who do you submit them to?”

  Station Unity One, Earth Orbit

  Seamus Gordon couldn’t quite shake the itch at the back of his neck as he looked over the files along with the reams of video and audio data that accompanied them, supplied by Commodore Weston on the entity known as Odysseus. The data had already been collated through dozens of analysis filters looking for more connections, but the key ones remained the same as the commodore had originally pointed out.

  The very idea of entities such as had been discovered on Earth, the Priminae homeworld of Ranquil, and the Odysseus itself rankled at him.

  The mind reading wasn’t what bugged him. No, that was the holy grail of intelligence gathering, and he was rather used to dealing with it. Medical methodology had cracked mind reading a long time ago, after all. Yanking secrets from someone’s head was a lot trickier than just taking a peek at their thoughts, however.

  Slap someone into a quantum magnetic imager, or QMI, and you could pull visuals right out of their head easily enough. The problem was that you could only pull immediate thoughts from a mind, the images that the subject was thinking at that moment.

  Long-term memories were stored differently; they weren’t susceptible to the same sort of interception.

  Not by medical science, at least, Seamus thought. And now, apparently, not by alien entities with superpowers either.

  That actually made him feel a lot better. At least he wasn’t dealing with magic powers. The entities were as confined by the laws of physics as mortals were, even if they were a little better at twisting them than your average human.

  Weston’s work has given us some holes to exploit, if nothing else, Seamus noted carefully as he went through the old files. And if they’re tied to the same limitations as our QMI systems, then they might be affected by the same countermeasures.

  Seamus found himself glancing aside to another file, one that was unrelated but had been sent to his desk just the same.

  The admiral’s new project is interesting, but I think they might just need another edge.

  Seamus reached across his desk and tapped a command into the touch surface. “Get me Admiral Gracen.”

  “Yes sir. Can I inform her as to the reason?”

  “I’d like an introduction. I believe I have something one of her programs will benefit from.”

  The entity known as Gaia walked behind the man known as Seamus Gordon as he made his way through the human space station. Unity One was within her range, as limited as she was by the Earth’s magnetic field. She rather enjoyed the creative nature of humans, how they dealt with problems and threw everything they had into surmounting challenges.

  Unlike Saul, she found herself interested in how the humans were reacting to the revelation that a nonhuman intelligence shared their world.

  Gordon, with prompting from Eric, of course, had jumped directly to something that had once irritated her to no small degree. As Eric had determined, there were limits to her omniscience within her sphere. Over the millennia, mostly through natural phenomena, some people had lived and died beyond her notice. Entire lives lost to the universe, when they should not have been, when they should have been remembered.

  She mourned those losses, those lives that went unknown and unremembered.

  In recent years, manmade methods had accomplished the same thing, cutting people off from her experience, though entirely as a side effect to their true purpose. No one, at least until very recently, had even known of her existence, so they had not been trying to block her. And yet, some had managed to do so anyway.

  Generally these were rather spectacular events: the nuclear bombs dropped on the cities of Nagasaki and Hiroshima had erased the last moments of so many lives from her experience. Other nuclear tests had done much the same, but to lesser degrees, as few of them had involved people so close to the blast.

  However, the humans had gotten better with their toys, and it no longer took such massive destruction to accomplish such a thing.

  Masking a human thought from her was no simple matter, but it could be done. It had been done—and between Eric and Mr. Gordon, she had no doubt that it would be done again, and for the first time, intentionally.

  She had mixed feelings about that.

  Still . . .

  “Ah, Mr. Gordon,” she whispered, her voice subaudible to humans. “You’re becoming someone of interest. How fascinating.”

  Seamus shivered, rubbing the back of his neck as a chill ran down it.

  “Are you alright, sir?”

  He nodded to the guard who was posted at the entry to the restricted portions of the station.

  “I’m fine,” he said, brushing off the feeling. “Just a chill. Someone walked on my grave, I suppose.”

  He forced a smile as the Marine nodded curtly.

  “If you say so, sir.”

  Seamus passed through security at that point, making his way up to the Admiralty deck.

  Gracen was waiting for him as he entered the outer office.

  “Mr. Gordon.”

  “Admiral, always a pleasure,” Seamus said.

  “Is it, now?” Gracen responded, sounding more than slightly dubious. “I haven’t seen you since before the invasion. Until five minutes ago, I didn’t even know you had an office on the station.”

  Seamus shrugged. “It’s the nature of the business, I’m afraid.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of your business, Mr. Gordon. What about it brings you to me?”

  Seamus smiled thinly. “I’ve heard about your new Archangel program.”

  Gracen raised an eyebrow. “And . . . ?”

  “I want in.”

  Chapter 7

  Imperial Eighth Fleet, Deep Space Dropping In System

  “No sign of enemy patrols, Fleet Commander.”

  “Excellent,” Helena said. “I was hoping they’d not moved back in yet.”

  The fleet was cautiously entering the scene of one of the Empire’s early “victories” in the persecution of the second phase of the war against the Oather colonies. Since the Drasin rarely left anything worth investigating, there was little point in looking over any of the systems involved in the first incursion against the Oather worlds.

  “Long-range scans indicate no signs of signals from the planets of interest, Commander.”

  Helena nodded absently, filtering through the raw feed from the fleet’s scope of long-range scanners. The planet they were focusing on had been a small colony before the last Imperial incursion, and her best intelligence indicated that, while there had been survivors of the assault on the world in question, they had been few in number and likely below the threshold required to sustain a stable colony.

  Clearly the Oathers evacuated the population. Good.

  “Put us in orbit of the target world,” she ordered. “Establish pickets patrols, and position ships for long-range interception. If anyone even looks in our direction, I want to know about it before they do.”

  “Yes, Fleet Commander, orders already issued, just waiting for confirmation,” her second responded as he tapped a command. “Which I’ve now sent.”

  “Excellent and efficient work, as always,” Helena said. “Thank you.”

  She turned her attention to the tel
emetry data as the fleet continued its descent into the system’s gravity well.

  The planet was a nice one, she had to admit. She could imagine why the Oathers had moved into the system, and Imperial protocol made it clear why the Third Fleet had targeted it. The world would be ripe for colonization when the Empire expanded into the region. All the better now that there wouldn’t be any irritating locals trying to resist Imperial rule.

  The climate was temperate and orbit was stable, as was the system itself. Many systems were essentially large shooting galleries, and the work required to clear out the comet shield in order to prevent an inevitable doomsday collision was simply not worth the effort.

  Not this system, however.

  The Oathers knew how to pick them, she mused as the planet grew closer.

  Helena flipped open another file, examining a list of the Oather worlds and the system information for each. The pattern wasn’t unusual, of course. The Oathers had a clear preference for certain types of planets, the sort that the Empire liked, as did any human or near-human culture.

  What was unusual, and very interesting, was the number of worlds within the sphere of Oather influence.

  “Sub-Commander,” she said.

  “Yes, Fleet Commander?”

  “Get someone from the statistical analysis team up here. I have something I want them to crack open.”

  “On your orders.”

  “Fleet Commander.”

  Helena didn’t look up. “Welcome, Mr. Birran. I have a task for you.”

  “I assumed as much,” the elderly-looking man said with a confident smile as he walked over to the computer display and examined the data Helena was working with. “System analysis? Basic material, Fleet Commander. You hardly need my services for this. As I recall, I trained you to do this in your sleep.”

  Helena smiled as well. “That you did. Now step back, stop looking at the rocks, and look at the field.”

  Birran chuckled. “That is a familiar refrain. I seem to recall saying it to you quite often.”

  Helena didn’t say anything as Birran frowned softly and cast an eye over the data.

  “Anomaly,” he said after a few moments. “Too many worlds.”

  “That was my read,” Helena confirmed. “I need you to tell me why.”

  Birran nodded slowly. “If the data has the answer, I’ll dig it out for you.”

  Helena had no doubt that he would, and she transferred system access to the data, along with orders, over to Birran’s personal authorization.

  “Do it,” she ordered.

  “Yes, Fleet Commander.”

  Helena cleared the statistical data from her screens as Birran walked out, shifting her attention to matters requiring more immediate focus.

  Long-range scans of the worlds in question, as well as database entries for the colony sites, had plenty of information on the Oather infrastructure and people. The majority of it fit the expected parameters the Empire had calculated before entering into the current endeavor, but she was looking for the exceptions.

  Everything about this mission revolves around anomalies, it would seem.

  A sound brought her attention back to the present sharply, and in an instant Helena was crossing the command deck to where the sensor stations were suddenly abuzz with activity.

  “Speak,” she ordered.

  “Inbound gravity signal,” the technician responded instantly, not pausing in his work. “Twelve hours from our location, on an intercept course with the main body of the fleet.”

  Helena leaned over, examining the data. “We tripped a perimeter sensor somewhere. They’re responding.”

  She straightened up, considering the new information.

  “I wonder . . .” Helena said after a moment. “Are they Oathers or the anomalies? Sub-Commander!”

  “Yes, Fleet Commander?”

  “Signal our pickets. I want them to move to positions . . .”

  Helena traced a finger along the map on the closest display, tapping to send coordinates for each picket vessel in turn. “Here . . . here . . . and here. Bring our intercept vessels around through the orbit of the gas giant.”

  “As you order, Commander,” the man said firmly. “And the main fleet?”

  “Hold the course,” she ordered.

  The sub-commander paused. “Fleet Commander?”

  “Don’t even flinch,” Helena ordered. “Remain on course to the target planet.”

  “As you order.”

  Priminae Squadron on System Approach

  On board the battle cruiser Kravk, Captain Javrow examined the telemetry signals his squadron was responding to.

  “Analysis of target gravity signatures is coming in, sir.”

  “Report,” Javrow said.

  “Small fleet,” his second responded. “Approaching our former colony. Estimated mass . . . twenty ships.”

  Javrow grimaced. “Slightly out of our weight class, I hate to admit.”

  His squadron consisted of only eight vessels. A powerful force, to be sure, but against more than twice its numbers Javrow knew they’d have next to no chance.

  “Adjust our course,” he ordered finally, leaning forward over his own console and entering data quickly. “I want a glancing course, high speed, through the system. Let’s get a good scan of them, but stay out of their weapon range.”

  “Yes Captain.”

  The squadron shifted course, angling in for a more shallow entry into the star system, an oblong curve through the inner system with a gravity sling around the primary to boost the exit trajectory. It would keep them more than ten light-minutes from the enemy vessels at all times—more than enough time for the squadron to do an emergency correction if needed and escape any attempt to bring them into engagement range.

  He’d get information, if nothing else.

  Imperial Eighth Fleet Command Vessel

  “They’ve shifted course, Fleet Commander.”

  Helena nodded. “I see it. They want to avoid action.”

  “Can’t say I blame them,” the sub-commander said. “We outmass them by four times.”

  Helena smiled slightly. “They think we only outmass them by a little over two, but yes, it is an intelligent decision to avoid action.”

  Sub-Commander Steppen nodded absently but glanced at his fleet commander.

  “You seem . . . happy with their action?” he said.

  “Happy? No, not particularly,” Helena said. “I am, however, satisfied. These are Oathers following standard procedures. Their course selection fits exactly with Imperial protocols for intelligence gathering against a superior force. It is also distinctly different than what the anomalous species would do.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Quite, yes,” she confirmed. “The anomalous group uses subterfuge. They would detach a scout component under cover of an apparently more brazen approach. The commander we’re looking at here is . . . unimaginative. The very opposite of an anomaly.”

  Helena turned, looking to the primary screens before she started snapping out orders.

  “Signal the picket ships, tell them to remain in position but ready for action on my command. And order the interceptors to move closer to the gas giant. Main squadron vessels are to increase drive power to maximum. Shift to combat formation and adjust our course to intercept the enemy squadron.”

  “As you order, Fleet Commander.”

  Helena didn’t look back as she remained focused on the telemetry.

  “Let’s see how they react to that.”

  Priminae Cruiser Kravk

  The enemy patrol had remained steady on their approach to the planet, no signs that they’d noticed the approach of the Kravk squadron as they continued their downward plunge into the system’s gravity well.

  Javrow scowled, noting the time.

  They should have detected us hours ago. What are they doing?

  “Widen scans, check for—” he started, only to be cut off.

  “Enemy squadron i
s changing course, power usage increasing, Captain!”

  Javrow leaned in, examining the change on the telemetry. The enemy squadron was turning as he observed them, coming around in a tight combat formation. They settled into a classic intercept course, aiming to bring him and his squadron to action.

  They have to know I’m not going to allow them to do that.

  “Wide area scan,” he ordered. “See if there’s anyone else out there we might need to worry about.”

  “Yes Captain.”

  “Adjust course to evade their intercept,” he continued. “Keep them outside engagement range as we approach.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Javrow scowled at the screen. “Why are they in one of our abandoned systems? This isn’t how the Empire has acted in the past.”

  “Sir?”

  Javrow waved off the question from his second in command. “Nothing. Just wondering aloud. This is a new action for the Imperial forces. Normally, they pick up where they ended. Why are they back here now? Why not show up deeper in our space, closer to the core worlds?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Well, let us gather what information we can, and perhaps someone at home or with the Terrans will be able to figure out what their new play is,” Javrow decided. “I’m surprised to see the Empire so quickly after what the Terrans did to them, so perhaps this is what passes for Imperial caution.”

  His second looked askance at him. “I’m not sure we use the same definition of the term, if that’s the case.”

  “All too true.”

  Imperial Eighth Fleet Command Vessel

  “Enemy squadron is evading our interception course.”

  Helena nodded. “I see it. Continue to adjust our course along the vector I plotted. Ease into it, but do not look hesitant.”

  “On your orders, Fleet Commander.”

  “Indeed,” she said before walking back to the strategic command and control area, where the systems allowed for control of her entire fleet.

  The picket vessels she’d left in the outer system were closing on the escape trajectory of the Oather squadron. A few more course corrections would move the Oather squadron along the course she had chosen, and it would be time to close the trap.