The Sigian Bracelet

by George Tome

  The other planet slipped on the screen. It was a desert world devoid of atmosphere, its surface covered in a chaotic mix of volcanoes and huge canyons. Around the mountains, the bright-yellow land bordered pitch-black areas dotted here and there by small, red spots.

  The image expanded a bit more, and he noticed a thin ring of asteroids of all sizes circling the planet—the largest ones being dozens of miles across. The worlds may have been amazing, but the asteroids left him out of breath: their silvery-gray color could only mean they were made of metal! All of them! Antyrans had nothing even remotely close to this. Most of their ore came from the Blue Crevice, a rift in the thick crust of Antyra III where the mining town of Ropolis was built. Surely the planets and the asteroid field had to be invaluable for any civilization that possessed them!

  The commander gave an order, and the resolution increased again, accompanied by a low hum. The image became distorted at the edges, but it quickly stabilized, the asteroid field slowly unfolding in front of their eyes. And then they saw it: a space battle was in full swing!

  The gods burst into cries of horror.

  All the barriers of communication broke at once, the bracelet bearer’s maddening thoughts flowing through his kyi like torrents of fire. Gill managed to understand most of them easily, whereas others eluded him altogether.

  But… how’s that possible? the horrified god asked himself. We left the enemy around Sigia! What’s their fleet doing here?

  Sigia. The name brought with it the kind of warmth meant for the cradle of their civilization. Gill quickly found the information in their shared memory: the aliens were called Sigians!

  The asteroid field was under attack. Long flames coiled around an asteroid, followed by fountains of sparks. Shortly after, huge fireballs vaporized parts of its body or broke it in millions of pieces. In the absence of an atmosphere, the nuclear blasts lasted only for a moment, barely visible. Each explosion was accompanied by the angry exclamations of the Sigians around him.

  At first, he didn’t know what was attacking the asteroids. It took him a while to spot the gray flashes. The ships moved so fast that they never stayed in one place for more than a heartbeat before disappearing into the night. They seemed to pull the space at their leisure, going instantly anyplace around; all he saw were long strips of color stabilizing into ships, only to vanish the next instant and become visible elsewhere. Their movement wasn’t chaotic, as it may have seemed; it had a precise logic: the ships always stabilized close to the asteroids, attacked them with nuclear charges, and then jumped away before getting fried by the lasers of the mining bases.

  Even though the chances of inflicting some punishment on their speedy enemies appeared ridiculously low, the asteroid gunners were fighting back with astounding precision. They always hit the same ships in the same spots as they did before. They chased the bombs, too, and most of them exploded too far away to cause any damage. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stop all of them. After a full hit, the asteroid defenses became silent. Other bombs closely followed, digging into the rock before smashing the asteroid into pebbles or chopping off parts of it.

  Just when he thought that no Sigian ships were fighting the swarm, one of the color arrows stabilized—a golden vessel damaged more than it could bear. It had a much broader outline than the attackers, and its fuselage was horribly pierced, smoke and gas leaking out of the holes. The Sigians attempted to steer clear of the battle, even though they had no hope of escape. Dozens of gray ships exited from the swarm, stabilizing around its flanks like a pack of guvals ready to tear their prey into bits. They all started to hit the wounded ship at the same time, firing at the engines with everything they had. One by one, the engines exploded, leaving the hopeless derelict to float adrift.

  The grays began to frantically dismantle it. Whenever they punched the armor, a decompression shock burst debris into the void. Several rescue modules detached from its belly. At least some Sigians were trying to keep fighting, steering toward the mining bases. The enemies didn’t bother to chase them, knowing all too well that the defenses of the asteroids would soon be silenced, too.

  The wreck wobbled from all its seams when a series of blasts began to propagate inside. With the enemies still firing, a huge explosion obliterated the vessel, throwing millions of fragments everywhere. The grays didn’t appear affected by the rain of metal. The splinters that reached the ships were deflected by some kind of energy shield—a bluish shock wave appeared in front of them, and the shards accelerated along the invisible force field, followed by trails of fire.

  The bracelet bearer finally understood what was happening, and the reality turned out to be even darker than his worst nightmares. When the enemies stabilized behind the Sigian ship, he realized he had never seen them before. The ships were of a new class—built for speed and power—with slick fuselages and bigger lasers than the older models. They had segments of different diameters welded together and laser turrets mounted at the joints. The four main rear engines were complemented by several silvery spheres with bluish iridescences at the front—the distortion front engines. Clearly the fleet couldn’t be the one orbiting Sigia, but a brand-new army that seemingly appeared from nowhere!

  That the grays had two fleets of such power crushed any hopes the gods had of winning the uneven war. Their enemies had more ships than the Sigians were aware of, much more than they could ever dream of defeating. How did they fool them like that? No manufacture of this scale could be hidden from the spy drones—factories, mines, or cargo convoys. Alas, it was of little interest how they built them. They had the ships, and this spelled the end of the Sigians.

  However, instead of breaking their will to fight, the impending doom strengthened them. With extraordinary speed, the Sigians accepted their fate, and just as quickly, they lost the fear of death.

  Soon, it became clear that other Sigian ships were inside the twister, fighting against an enemy a hundred times stronger. From time to time, huge fireworks, laser beams, and even nuclear blasts flashed into the chaos. One by one, the golden ships stopped jumping and shared the fate of the first vessel, being torn apart by lasers. But the enemies didn’t destroy them all: after disabling two smaller fighters, a swarm of pods boarded them. Neural probes! the sinister thought flashed in his memory. The prisoners would share a fate more dreadful than death.

  The battle was drawing to an end, as the asteroids had quit fighting. About half of the silvery ships, shining in the light of the star like the mercury scales of an aquatic monster, stabilized around them and pounded the surviving structures with impunity. The other half departed the planet, drifting toward the hydrocarbon world.

  The despair of the Sigians became unbearable.

  “Our cities!” they wailed.

  Another surreal image came to life. The Sigians had built their cities on platforms suspended twenty miles from the planet’s surface, right above the hydrocarbon lakes. The structures were anchored on three solid pillars curved on the inside, thick pipes coiling all the way down to the black waves. Hundreds of shiny domes crowded the platforms of the sky cities, surrounded by two-mile-high skyscrapers. At least ten such colossal cities—with their buildings colored in bright red, violet, or scarlet—streamed on the ship’s display.

  The gray ships slowly approached them through the smog clouds. Suddenly, from all the buildings, hundreds of thousands of vehicles darted at the same time toward the skies, in a desperate attempt to break away. The small ships of the city dwellers came out of the fog, strewing the orbit with bright streaks. The grays immediately opened fire, but the sheer number of the refugees made their losses truly insignificant.

  Not wanting to miss the hunt, the fleet around the asteroid field turned to intercept their escape route and quickly covered the distance. The Sigians started evasive actions—a far cry from the abilities of the enemy armada—while the grays launched several waves of nuclear charges at them. But no matter what they did, most of the Sigians managed to get through the dea
dly net.

  The god-Gill looked at the unfolding drama with his hearts broken. Where are they going to run? Even if they fly to Sigia, will they find anything on arrival? They’ll be forced to surrender or die in the dark coldness of space. The ones who didn’t leave the sky cities are the lucky ones.

  Then, predictably, disaster struck: the grays resumed their approach to one of the platforms and synchronized their fire on the pylons holding the structure. Their laser beams, together with a couple of nuclear charges—much brighter in the dense atmosphere—smashed them easily, despite their redoubtable strength.

  Ariga’s star was rising above the area. Like every morning, its rays caressed the huge domes, whirling iridescent rainbows along the sparkling walls. But this time, the magic of the dawn only lasted for a few moments. In solemn silence, the huge city started to fall. At first slowly, then faster and faster, it inexorably approached the planet’s surface. The tall towers broke apart almost immediately, leaving a trail of debris behind, while the purple domes survived until the terrible impact with the methane sea. During the fall, the city’s platform listed, hitting the sea at a sharp angle. A huge tidal wave, over a mile high, rose on the surface of the water.

  As soon as the air escaped from the shattered buildings, a huge explosion lit the hydrocarbons, and a fire mushroom rose up to the orbit, blowing away the smog around the impact site.

  The gray fleet, taking note of the city’s destruction, moved away to the next one. It was already too much for Gill’s crew. Even though they could do little to save the others, no one wanted to keep looking at the slaughter from a safe distance.

  “We’re synchronized,” exclaimed someone in a cold, metallic voice.

  The smell of war permeated the ship’s bridge. Soldiers with murderous looks on their faces and strange instruments floating close-by hopped in the battle cockpits, aware that their time was over. A Sigian—very old, judging by his wrinkles—appeared on the screen. He was an important and respected leader, the shared memory told him. Gill didn’t understand the rank, apparently some sort of fleet commander or maybe a war strategist. When the alien spoke, he understood everything like it was Antyran.

  The Sigian barely mumbled his words. Soon, it became obvious he was overcome with relief to see them coming.

  “You… you came! I lost hope of seeing your arrival, Kirk’an! I thought everything was lost!” he exclaimed euphorically.

  A silent question rose in the god-Gill’s kyi. The old Sigian’s joy didn’t seem appropriate for the situation. Everything was lost, regardless of their presence there. Did the Torres base hold the illusion that their destroyer could somehow change the fate of such an uneven battle? Which was lost already since the defenders had all but quit fighting.

  “Deko, we came as fast as we could. I’m sorry to find you like this,” the ship commander murmured, holding his head in his palms. With difficulty, he continued, “We’re ready to join the shadows.”

  Deko turned his eyes to see something on his right. Answering an unspoken question, the display wall split in two, and Gill saw the gray fleet attacking. On the hydrocarbon planet, another huge flame rose to the sky.

  “Emporya is gone…” the old Sigian sighed heavily.

  There was a brief moment of tense silence.

  “Let’s get over this!” he said, trying to sound upbeat, as if nothing happened. “Kirk’an, I’m so glad you made it! You’re going to save our world!”

  The soldiers on Gill’s ship exchanged startled looks, beginning to question Deko’s mental health. After all, who could keep his sanity in such circumstances?

  “Yes!” continued Deko, ignoring the effect of his words. “I ordered everyone to fight till the end to give you time to arrive. They died, but you’re here!”

  “And how’s that going to help?” exclaimed Kirk’an with despair. “We’ve lost the war!”

  “We may have lost this war, but we’ll win the next one!”

  “You’re insane!” Kirk’an seemed about to shout. The reverence he held for his companion must have stopped him from saying it aloud, though. Instead, he shook his head incredulously:

  “There’s no other war. There’ll be no one left to fight it.”

  “Ahh, but here’s where you’re wrong, my dear commander. It will be up to you,” Deko smiled.

  “What can I do?” exclaimed Kirk’an. “How…”

  He paused, trying to discover if the nearby enemies had noticed their approach.

  “They found you or will do it soon,” said Deko. “And the neural probes will tell them the rest. You’ll get a package and then have to run. Run like no other Sigian has run before.”

  “Run from the battle? What kind of foul words are these?” exclaimed one of the soldiers on the bridge, without hiding his disgust.

  “You will take everything we gathered till now—all our culture and technology, along with five million Sigian eggs ready to be hatched in incubators! You’ll have millions of spores, seeds, and animal eggs as well. With these, you’ll rebirth us somewhere else!”

  The god of the bracelet didn’t want to run; as a soldier, his place was on the battlefield and not hidden like a coward in the darkness of space. The idea of them surviving their world ending was grotesque.

  “On which planet do you think we can hide?” asked Kirk’an. “One of the primitive worlds in our sector? Should we fly to Antyra?”

  Antyra! The gods knew about his world! Gill’s hearts started pumping wildly, close to breaking his chest wall. Even more remarkable, they called it by its native name. Antyra, in the same universe with Sigia—and even close-by, since the aliens thought about flying there! And they were able to traverse the Antyran firewall at will!

  “Sooner or later, Antyra’s going to be attacked, too. Their ruler, Raman, united them, and our enemies don’t like them united, even so primitive. You won’t have time to build a colony there before they wipe it out.”

  The Sigian tragedy happened during Raman’s years, before the sons of Zhan burned the ancient Antyran cities with their godly weapons! And before Beramis stretched his fire belly around the Antyran star system!

  “Do you think Mapu is a better choice?”

  “You won’t get away with it. They already have agents on the planet.”

  “What’s the plan, then? Did you find an uninhabited world?” Kirk’an exclaimed, confused.

  “No, and we didn’t search for one, either. We found something better. We figured that just as our worlds developed in the sector, others have to exist in Lliktakha.”

  Gill didn’t understand the last word because there was no correspondent in the Antyran language. Still, from the god’s visual representation, he realized that Deko meant the ribbon of millions of stars he saw on the ship’s display wall. The “house of stars,” Lliktakha.

  “Don’t tell me you found—” the commander exploded.

  “Yes, Kirk’an!” exclaimed the old Sigian, grinning with all his teeth. “We found them!”

  The news stunned everyone. Even though it came too late to save their planets, the implications were huge.

  “We burned most of our j-tubes26 to build the largest tachyon detector ever conceived! You won’t believe its size. We risked everything on this.”

  “The detector is here?”

  “In an ice cave under the Torres volcano.”

  “Too bad we didn’t think of it earlier! Maybe we wouldn’t be here now,” Kirk’an sighed.

  “During peace, we never found the resources for such a project.”

  “There’s not much time left,” said Kirk’an, worried, looking at the hundreds of enemy ships between them and the planets. “Tell me about the aliens.”

  “We found twenty worlds. In several months of scanning.”

  The Sigians on the destroyer fell speechless before the immensity of the number. Lliktakha held extraordinary surprises—they were aware of this—but the most incredible news was that so many worlds had reached the same level at the same
time.

  “Twenty civilizations with tachyon transmissions?” exclaimed Kirk’an, incredulous. “And in the last three hundred years, we found none?”

  “I’m shocked, too—”

  “It’s… I don’t understand! All developed at the same time? Impossible! How about Arnadok’s inference?”

  “I’ve no explanation and didn’t search for one, either. Though I’m sure one exists, and you’ll find it,” Deko said, smiling. “We already made contact with the Alliance of the Six Stars, or Rigulians, after their native star, called Rigulia IX.”

  “And they accepted to help our cause?” asked Kirk’an, skeptical.

  “We didn’t say anything. It’s too late for us anyway and a too-great risk of scaring them away. What kind of aliens would join a total war on our side after hearing a sad story?”

  “So what’s the plan, then?”

  “You’ll be our ambassador to the Six Stars. They already sent an escort to meet you in the Antyran space about two months from now. You can hide there until they arrive.”

  “Why are they coming so late?” asked Kirk’an, worried that in two months, the enemies wouldn’t have left a speck of dust unscanned in the whole quadrant.

  “Rigulia is far from here. Do what you have to do, but be there in time. And don’t forget that the enemies will read the memories of the prisoners.”

  “How many know about the meeting place?”

  “Only three. Rest assured—they won’t get any of us alive.”

  Because so many Sigians were involved in the project, the enemies would surely find out about the Alliance of the Six Stars from the prisoners’ memories. They’d know everything, save for the meeting spot. And Deko’s words meant something else: they had to warn the Rigulians. Otherwise, they would be the next to be attacked by the gray plague.