The Ascendant Stars

by Cobley, Michael

  Horst nodded. ‘They were a very deliberate people and over time they had arrived at a principled and compassionate system of ethics, much of which was centred on the worth of self and existence. They reasoned that the Godhead would intercede and stop them killing themselves if it truly loved them: if it did not then their existence clearly had no instrinsic worth and continued life was without meaning.’ He sighed. ‘They prepared doses of fatal poison, and the Advisers did nothing to prevent them. They deduced that the Godhead knew of the plan and was allowing it to proceed.

  ‘The day arrived, then the hour. The Advisers moved among them, assuring them of the Godhead’s love, but the seconds ticked away to nothing, they took the poison and they died, down to the last. The Godhead did nothing.’

  ‘The machine intelligence,’ said the Construct offcam. ‘It clearly witnessed all this but how did it escape the Godhead’s domain?’

  Horst was silent, his gaze distant. ‘It told me that after the dying was done, the Advisers stopped, fell to the ground and lay motionless. The Tanenth AI transferred itself to an exploration vessel and departed on a course of semi-random cross-tier jumps that took it far away.

  ‘It showed me all of this in the simulation and went on to explain its own theory that the Advisers’ collective lapse into inertia had been a sign of the Godhead’s shock and distress at what its creations had done. But in the middle of it I suddenly found myself back in my body and on board the bridge. I had been immobile for a little over five minutes, according to the Ship, but it felt like a day or more. Then the Ship said that another vessel had appeared near the tunnel entrance to the vast cavern, sensors sweeping, then vanished seconds later.

  ‘The Tanenth machine was in no doubt as to its origins – “It was a Postulate-craft of the Godhead. You have somehow led its servants here. Now you must leave and never seek me out again.” And without warning, the hyperdrive came online and with no input from myself or the Ship AI we jumped. And it was a long jump.’

  ‘A superior technology.’

  ‘It took control of the ship as easily as it filled my mind with the history of the Tanenth.’ Horst spread his hands. ‘After that it took us a little while to get our bearings before starting on our way back here.’

  The vid faded to black and the wall brightened to its normal pure blankness. The semiorganic turned its expressionless face to the Construct.

  ‘He was not accompanied by a Rosa this time,’ it said.

  ‘I offered him one but he declined,’ said the Construct. ‘As he did again before leaving five days ago.’

  ‘Did you send him off to track down this Tanenth machine again?’

  ‘Yes,’ the Construct said. ‘And two days ago all communications with Horst and his ship ceased abruptly. I sent an augmented analyser drone to the last known coordinates; it deduced an ambush and capture from the initial micro-evidence, corroborated with microparticle clouds cast off by the use of grappler fields. The drone also detected residual ripple resonance from a recent hyperspace jump, abstracted a likely field signature from it, then dispatched probes to the four nearest enemy bases, one Vor and three Shyntanil. One probe registered a pattern match near a Shyntanil battle group on Tier 57. The probe then sent in a flock of sensormotes to investigate the sole cryptship there and after some hours they detected and verified Horst’s lifesigns.’

  ‘Now that you know the location of his captivity,’ said the semiorganic, ‘I assume that this is where I enter the picture.’

  ‘Correct. Once your shell appearance is complete to the last detail you will be leaving for the depths. Your task is to free him and then to aid him in the search for the Godhead.’

  ‘You remain convinced that it is responsible for both the return of the Vor and the Shyntanil and for the release of the Legion?’

  ‘Now more than ever. Too many large-scale strategies are proceeding in concert for this to be coincidence.’

  The semiorganic inclined its chalky-white head. ‘I would hope to be provided with resources appropriate to the hazards which lie ahead.’

  ‘Unfortunately the Aggression is fully committed, stretched thin across multiple fronts, to be precise. I will be able to give you the use of a fast tier-scout and a squad of combat drones, and directional data for a course to Tier 23. There you will find this vessel … ’

  The Construct indicated the screen. Against the backdrop of a ringed planet hung a large, heavily damaged warship, its prow a sheered-off melted mass, its stern crawling with bots and suited crew members. The semiorganic nodded.

  ‘So the Earthsphere ship survived the Spiralist invasion of Darien,’ it said. ‘Which is more than the Brolturan battleship managed. Suddenly, elements of my assignment become clearer. I am curious as to how it comes to be there.’

  ‘Although the Earthsphere vessel Heracles managed to survive the thermonuclear explosion with drives intact, it very quickly came under attack. With the defences disabled, the captain ordered an emergency hyperspace jump.’ The Construct zoomed the frame in on the ship’s stern, where several sections lay exposed. ‘Certain control systems had been badly affected so the engineers had to make non-calibrated adjustments to the hyper-drive fields while traversing T2. Unfortunately this resulted in their unintentional descent to Tier 23.’

  ‘Uncalibrated tier descents are highly risky,’ said the semiorganic. ‘They were lucky that their ship did not fly apart in a blaze of energies.’

  ‘Indeed. I shall send a suite of ship-tech bots with you, and as much material as I can spare. You should provide the Human captain with a suitable story about my assistance without going into any intimidating detail then quickly move on to the matter of Horst’s rescue. Given your eventual circumstances, it should not be too difficult an excuse to concoct.’

  The semiorganic stood, a naked male template without any apparent clue to its age, other than physical maturity. It looked at the Construct with a hint of a smile.

  ‘I assume you are aware that Robert Horst was holding something back,’ it said.

  ‘Behavioural analytics did bring this to my attention,’ the Construct said. ‘Finding this out is a vital part of your mission, although my own conjecture is that the Tanenth machine said something about its makers’ fate which cast meaning upon the death of Horst’s own daughter. Ideally, I should like you to help him to return here to the Garden of the Machines but if the information he possesses indicates another more valuable course of action then pursue it.’

  ‘I shall keep it at the forefront of my cognition,’ the semiorganic said, then strode from the room whistling a jaunty tune.

  After it was gone the Construct replayed segments of the Horst recording, with behavioural data glimmering in overlay. Another part of its cognitive awareness was sifting and prioritising frontline bulletins and resupply requisitions, while its higher-level sentience pondered the meagre reports emerging from the Darien system. It seemed that in the wake of the loss of their most prestigious warship the Brolturans had requested assistance from their patrons, the Hegemony. Advance units were due to arrive in a matter of days, all while rumours abounded that an Imisil fleet was also on its way. Then there was the question of the part that Earthsphere would play, a part which might turn out to be crucial.

  This convergence of multiple strategies felt oddly coincidental but the Construct was sure that this was the final grand marshalling, a colossal orchestration of pieces, tactics and strategies on a board that extended down into hyperspace as well as across the starry expanses of this region of the galaxy. And with the first wave of Legion cyborg-craft due to exit the Darien warpwell in three, perhaps four days, another more vicious, more chaotic element would be added to the mix. Then, as the Human expression put it, all hell would break loose. And if the Godhead and its Legion, Vor and Shyntanil puppets triumphed, then even the deepest, most far-flung corners of hyperspace might not be a safe hiding place.

  GREG

  The captain’s chair was significantly more comfortable th
an the fold-out seat. Slightly incurving parts of the moulding supported both the lower back and the shoulders, while the console with its holopanel could be swung out or brought in close and adjusted to whatever level the occupant desired.

  ‘Are you sure this’ll work?’ he said.

  ‘It’s going to have to, Mr Cameron,’ said Ash from the bridge entrance. ‘Ah, at last … ’

  The Tygran commander hurried into view, arms full of grey garments. He tossed one to each of the bridge officers, then swiftly tugged one on himself, a long cloak with a hood, which he pulled up.

  ‘Just the thing for indoors,’ Greg said drily.

  ‘It’s storm-weather gear,’ Ash said. ‘All that matters is that our buzzcut scalps are not on show.’

  ‘They’re repeating their demand, sir,’ said the tactical officer. ‘They don’t sound very patient any more.’

  Ash nodded. ‘Mr Cameron, you know what to do.’

  ‘Aye, you type it, I say it.’

  ‘Correct. Right, open a direct channel.’

  The vidframe reappeared on the viewport and the white-garbed humanoid was there, eyes widening slightly, its facial spot-clusters pulsing red to orange. According to Ash, he was of a species called the Vikanta.

  ‘Presignifier Remosca,’ Greg began, reading from the monitor before him, ‘I am Captain Cameron, commander of the Falcon, flagship of the Darien Navy. I have not been made aware of any exclusion zone. I would appreciate it if you would clarify this and explain your presence in our system.’

  Remosca’s face was expressionless but the facial spots rippled with contrasting colours, blue, amber, green, silver.

  ‘Captain Cameron, our resources say that your planet possesses no vessels this advanced. And as we have declared, your craft is of a make deployed by Hegemony mercenaries … ’

  ‘We purchased this ship in good faith from a passing trader less than two months ago,’ Greg recited, wishing that Ash had more of a flair for wordcraft. ‘We were offered a price that we were happy to accept. Now, would you please explain your presence?’

  ‘Captain, your claims do not correspond with our resource information.’ Resolute dark blue showed in the humanoid’s spot-clusters. ‘As stated, we are here to enforce an interdict lawfully placed by the Imisil Mergence. You have violated the exclusion zone, therefore you will be boarded.’

  On the monitor Ash was typing: If you attempt to board this vessel you will have to fight for every corridor and your losses will be heavy …

  Greg stared, appalled. Right, so in other words get your big boots on and come in swinging – do these Tygrans know the meaning of the word diplomacy?

  He leaned back in the chair with a relaxed smile.

  ‘I’m sorry, Presignifier, but I can’t let you do that.’

  He could feel Ash’s sharp stare even as Remosca tilted his head slightly to one side.

  ‘Captain, do you realise how outgunned you are? My vessel possesses multiple batteries, both missile and beam. All you have is … ’

  ‘Is what, Presignifier? Please, spare me no details. This is of great interest to me.’

  ‘ … two mid-range beam projectors and a single launcher battery.’

  Greg could sense Ash’s anger from the misspelt orders appearing on the couch monitor but he just couldn’t resist carrying on the bluff.

  ‘I see, fascinating. And no anomalous energy readings? You’re not picking up any odd particles? Anything like that?’

  Blank-faced, the Imisil commander glanced to either side of the frame, as if consulting readouts of some kind.

  ‘We are detecting nothing out of the ordinary. Are you implying … ’

  ‘No need for implications, Presignifier,’ Greg said. ‘But it’s only fair tae warn ye that this ship has been fitted with hullbreaker technology. Naturally, such equipment has to be masked from detection.’ He turned to Ash. ‘Lieutenant Ash … Ashwell, status report on the void shields.’

  Ash’s gaze was an intense mixture of aggravation and puzzlement and for a moment Greg thought that he was going to say something to knock over this demented house of cards. Then, frowning stonily, he looked round at his monitor.

  ‘Maintaining void shield integrity within operational parameters. Sir.’

  Greg smiled. Remosca shifted in his seat.

  ‘But … we cannot detect this weapon … ’

  ‘Yes, Presignifier, precisely! Which is how it should be.’

  ‘But a weapon cannot deter an enemy if it is invisible.’

  Greg shook his head. ‘The hullbreaker is not meant to be a deterrent, Presignifier, more like a weapon to be unleashed against the most vicious and unreasonable of adversaries. Now, you seem to be a reasonable person so why don’t we negotiate sensibly about this?’

  The Imisil humanoid made no reply, just turned to look at something or someone out of shot. He gave a sharp nod then looked back.

  ‘Very well, Captain. I have decided to extend to you dialogue courtesies. Please state your initial query.’

  ‘That’s kind of ye, Presignifier. Naturally, I am concerned about this interdict upon my world and why the Imisil Mergence feels compelled to impose it. However, uppermost in my mind is this – how big is your fleet and when’s it due?’

  Ash was giving him a wide-eyed, have-you-gone-totally-off-your-head? look while the Imisil officer’s thin-lipped mouth dropped open for a moment.

  ‘You will reveal how you came by this information – immediately.’ The humanoid’s voice was calm but his facial spot-clusters were pulsing with dark greens and reds.

  ‘Why, from you, Presignifier. From your actions.’ He glanced at Ash, who was frowning but gave a cautious nod. ‘Y’see, that vessel of yours is pretty impressive but a bit overpowered for a long-range spying mission, what with the Imisil Mergence being so far away. Not only that, it seems to me that a spying mission should be stealthy and concealed, which is not really how you’ve been going about it. You don’t look like you’re about to hide or head for the next star, which makes me think that maybe you’re the forward scouts for an Imisil fleet. Cannae be far behind ye, a few hours, I’d say.’ He smiled. ‘How am I doing?’

  ‘Your conjecture lacks rigour,’ said Presignifier Remosca. ‘Your suppositions are flawed. You are correct to say that other ships are coming but wrong to imagine them our allies … ’

  ‘Contact!’ said the tactical officer. ‘Single vessel, 96,500 kiloms on the other side of the planet, low exit velocity on a para-orbit course. They’ve not seen us … ’

  ‘It appears that you now have the opportunity to test your hullbreaker technology, Captain,’ Remosca said. ‘I think that you’ll find the newcomers sufficiently vicious and unreasonable.’

  The Imisil commander’s image vanished from the viewport while other frames showed the Imisil vessel moving off in a tight curve, its course then angling towards the far side of the forest moon Nivyesta.

  ‘ID on the new arrival!’ said Ash.

  ‘Tygran,’ said the tac officer. ‘It’s the Ironfist.’

  Greg felt the atmosphere on the bridge change. When he looked at Ash, the man’s expression was grim.

  ‘Okay, you seem to recognise the ship,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Hunter-killer,’ said Ash. ‘That’s what it’s here to do.’ He gestured. ‘I’ll need my chair.’

  ‘Wait – let me speak to the Imisil captain again.’

  Ash shook his head. ‘It was a good try, Mr Cameron. Now we have to get ready for combat.’

  ‘Ironfist is altering course,’ said the tac officer. ‘They’re tracking us and ramping up velocity.’

  Greg stared at the Tygran commander. ‘You’re not going to fire up the engines and get us out of here?’

  ‘The Ironfist is faster than any other Tygran vessel, or even that Imisil ship,’ Ash said. ‘Escape would be … difficult.’

  ‘Then let’s open a channel to them,’ Greg said. ‘I’ll give him every bit of offended pride and arrogant
conceit I can muster. Might make him stop and think.’

  ‘The Ironfist is an Iron Ravens ship,’ Ash said. ‘Its commander is Ethan Wade, a cold and ruthless man.’

  ‘I don’t care if he’s Sawney Bean, Dracula and Old Father Odin rolled into one, he’s about to find out that he’s trespassing on … ’

  ‘Ironfist is signalling us, sir,’ said the tac officer.

  Ash gazed at Greg for a moment. Then the ghost of a smile cracked his stony visage. ‘Very well, let’s see how far this charade can take us.’

  ‘And one more thing – leave the channel unsecured,’ Greg said as he and Ash swapped seats.

  ‘No encryption?’

  ‘None. The Imisil are still out there and I want them to hear every word.’

  Ash shrugged and nodded at his tac officer. A second later the head-and-shoulders image of a Tygran officer appeared on the viewport overlay as well as the command chair holopanel. The man had broad shoulders, a heavy jaw and dark, piercing eyes. Those eyes narrowed and he leaned forward but before he could speak Greg cut in.

  ‘Unidentified vessel, this is First Commodore Cameron of the Darien Navy. You have crossed into our security shell without authorisation. Stand down your weapon systems and defences and prepare to be boarded.’

  Fury flared in the Tygran’s eyes.

  ‘I am Ethan Wade, commander of the Ironfist, banner-ship of the Iron Ravens, and I will not be spoken to in that manner by a dog of a pirate!’

  Greg frowned. ‘Did ye not hear me, Commander? You have violated the sovereign space of our world, therefore we are entirely within our rights to question your motives and even inspect yer ship … ’

  ‘You are sitting on the bridge of a Tygran vessel!’ Wade snarled. ‘I don’t know how you got your hands on it, or where the traitors who seized it are, but you will cease your prattling and surrender to me immediately.’

  ‘Is this how you conduct yourselves every time you meet strangers, Commander Wade?’ Greg said. ‘With insults and arrogance? I mean, isn’t that a wee bit risky when you don’t know what these strangers are capable of?’