Sitting at the far side of the desk was a Ghast. It was a male – Duggan couldn’t recall ever seeing a female – and he stared at Duggan with piercing eyes. This Ghast looked much like all the others Duggan had seen, talked with or fought, except this one was clearly very old. Lines spread across the skin of his cheeks like fractures left in stone from a spacecraft’s landing.
“Captain John Duggan. I am Subjos Gol-Tur. We will talk.”
Duggan had learned not to wait for an invitation to sit. He pulled one of the two spare chairs into position, trying not to show the effort it cost to do so. He lowered himself into it, finding it as unsuitable for sitting as he’d expected.
“Subjos Gol-Tur,” he acknowledged. “There are many things to discuss.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GOL-TUR DIDN’T BEAT around the bush. “It seems fitting for Admiral Teron to send the man who destroyed Lioxi to discuss the loss of Vempor.”
“The Confederation has not attacked Vempor.”
“Admiral Teron said as much. However, our home world did not shatter without reason.”
“The Confederation is not sure it believes your planet is gone.”
“Does not believe? Why would we lie?” There was a dangerous glint in Gol-Tur’s eye.
“Amongst humans it is not unusual for enemies to lie to each other, in order to obtain an advantage.”
“Yes, this is something we have learned. I do not approve.”
“Nevertheless, there is little trust between humans and Ghasts. We have no proof that Vempor is gone and there are people amongst the Confederation Council who are asking why we are being blamed for something we didn’t do. Since they do not trust the Ghasts, they believe your declaration of war is proof you were never seriously interested in peace.”
“A war we didn’t start in the first place,” said Gol-Tur with a mirthless, rasping chuckle. “A war I’ve fought in since the outset.”
This was the second time Duggan had heard a Ghast point the finger of blame at the Confederation for starting the war and the history books were starting to look a little less trustworthy. Duggan knew each side in a conflict would justify their actions and from the Confederation’s perspective there was no doubt who was to blame. The Ghasts evidently had a different set of facts to refer to.
“Now is not the time to visit the past,” said Duggan.
“Indeed it is not,” said Gol-Tur. “The past is gone and the future is waiting to be written.”
“Do you want a resumption of the war?”
“No!” said the Ghast. “We have known almost two generations of nothing else. Our industries have built naught but warships and guns. The air in our atmosphere stinks with the acrid smoke of our smelters. We have sunk much into this conflict and many of us grow tired of it!”
“Many?”
“There are some amongst us who have never experienced peace, or were too young to remember it. They wish to strike back against the Confederation in order to punish you severely for what you have done.”
“We did not destroy Vempor, but if war begins again, the Confederation will not hesitate to destroy your other worlds. We have the weapon and the means to deliver it.”
“Who did destroy Vempor, if not the Confederation?”
“The third species,” said Duggan. “I witnessed them shatter a planet in their search for a rare material which they use as a power source.”
Gol-Tur stiffened at the words – the Ghasts were unwilling liars and poor at concealing their emotions. He rose from his seat, standing well over seven feet tall. He was not stooped in spite of his age and he crossed easily to one of the display screens, which he studied for a moment. Duggan tried to make sense of the scrolling lines of symbols, but could glean nothing from them.
“The point of impact was on site Originator-A,” said Gol-Tur. “We thought it was well-shielded from detection, but it appears not. They have come for us.”
“What do you mean?” asked Duggan.
“I may tell you at some point,” said Gol-Tur. “Not today.”
“This is why we do not trust the Ghasts,” said Duggan. “There are unknowns which appear significant to us, yet you make efforts to keep them hidden. The greater your efforts, the less the Confederation will trust you.”
Gol-Tur looked away from the screen. “If that is the result, then so be it. Tell me, Captain Duggan – amongst humanity, are secrets not permitted, even between friends?”
“They are,” said Duggan, aware of Gol-Tur’s meaning. “Things are not so simple here and I reject your example. Would your site Originator-A perhaps be a pyramid with base dimensions of one-point-five kilometres?”
“I do not wish to say.”
“The same type of object the Dreamers have been leaving on planets around Confederation space? There was one on Vempor. Can you imagine how damaging that was to the trust we have been trying to build? This is not a case of minor secrets between friends. There are significant facts which are being actively hidden.”
“What do you suggest, Captain John Duggan? Our two sides are once again at war. There are things we are not willing to disclose. How can we alter the current state of affairs?”
“If you accept the Dreamers to be the ones who destroyed Vempor, you must agree to a new truce. The Space Corps is keeping its fleet at a distance and as far as I’m aware, there has been no new bloodshed.”
“Not so. We have destroyed two of your Anderlecht cruisers in the last three days. In addition, a Hadron has badly damaged one of our older Cadaverons and two of our light cruisers. This is not what I would call keeping your fleet at a distance.”
Duggan struggled with his temper. It was the Ghasts who’d redeclared war, so it was they who were to blame for the consequences. “It is not too late, damnit!”
“I am willing to accept the Confederation are not responsible for the loss of Vempor,” said Gol-Tur. He returned to the desk and sat, his sharp eyes never once leaving Duggan. It looked like the Ghast had finished speaking, but after a pause he spoke once more. “I came here to see if we can resolve the problems we face. In the spirit of that endeavour, I will trust you with some information in the hope it will be enough.”
“Go on.”
“There is history between the Ghasts and the race you call the Dreamers. It is something we believed we had escaped many hundreds of years ago. When they first appeared at the Helius Blackstar, we didn’t know who or what had come. Now, your words have made things clear. I believe you when you say the Confederation is not responsible for what happened at Vempor. The Dreamers have arrived and they are looking for us. We didn’t think they could locate our artefact, yet they have proven us wrong.”
“They came through the wormhole looking for the Ghasts?”
“That is almost certain. They seek to destroy us utterly.”
“These pyramids are linked, then?”
“They can detect each other across vast distances, yes.”
“I have studied the locations of the Ghast worlds – your planets are not clustered. How will they find you?”
“They will find us,” said Gol-Tur. The translating device the Ghast wore on his chest struggled to cope with something in his voice which Duggan recognized as sadness. “There is also a site Originator-B on Sinnar. Why they have not located and destroyed that, I don’t know. It is all a matter of time from now.”
The Ghast reached under his desk for something. Duggan was a good enough judge of character that he wasn’t expecting Gol-Tur to lift up a gun, but he wasn’t a good enough judge to predict the appearance of the clear decanter which the Ghast placed on the table. A deep red liquid swirled within. He reached down again and two delicate crystal glasses joined the decanter. Without asking Duggan if he wished to partake, Gol-Tur quarter-filled each glass. The Ghast picked up one and brought the glass to his nose for a moment, before he took a delicate sip.
“This Grask was drawn on the day of my birth.”
Duggan reached for his g
lass – it was chill, as though it had been kept artificially cold. He took a sip of the liquid, expecting it would take a layer from the skin of his throat. It didn’t – the Grask was cold, yet with infinite layers of complexity. The taste lingered on his tongue and would linger in his memory for much longer. “What are we to do?” asked Duggan.
“A resumption of the truce is the only reasonable outcome for our two species.”
“We have the makings of an accord, Subjos Gol-Tur. I will return to Fleet Admiral Teron with the details of our conversation. Will you call off hostilities? Our two sides can work together against the common enemy. If we can establish a new truce it gives us an opportunity to forge a lasting peace.”
“If only it was so easy,” said Gol-Tur. His eyes went distant. “Amongst your negotiating party, there was a man named Jin Buckner. I recall his face quite clearly. His manner was as bland and inoffensive as most of the other members of the negotiating group. Whilst engaging in small talk, Jin Buckner once made it known that he had an excellent memory. Photographic he called it.”
Duggan didn’t know quite where the Ghast was heading with this, but he knew he wasn’t going to like the conclusion. Gol-Tur continued.
“It wasn’t especially difficult for us to have him ingest a certain drug we use against our criminals. It was more difficult to separate him from the others in his party, but we managed it eventually. I’m sure with persistence we’d have been able to extract a considerable amount of useful information from him. In the end, there was not the time.”
Duggan looked at his glass and then at Gol-Tur. “Have you given me the same?”
“No, you are drinking nothing but Grask.”
“What did Jin Buckner tell you?” asked Duggan, keeping his voice neutral.
“The location of your planet Atlantis. He was born there, apparently, so knew the exact coordinates.”
“What about our other planets?”
“Bits and pieces. Some almost complete, others of little value. Enough for us to speculate and no more.”
Duggan had guessed the reason Gol-Tur was telling him this. “You have warships heading towards Atlantis?”
“We do. They were authorised to make full speed towards your planet after the engagement between our Cadaveron and your Hadron. The journey will take them many days at lightspeed, during which we are unable to contact them with alternative orders.”
“How many days?”
“Eleven or twelve. Once they arrive, they will launch incendiary devices into the atmosphere and then depart to search for other Confederation worlds.”
“Can you stop them?” asked Duggan, before asking the question he was more worried about. “Are you willing to stop them?”
“You have much to learn about us,” said Gol-Tur. “I have told you I wish there to be a new truce. I will order it as soon as you leave this room, with the understanding Fleet Admiral Teron will do the same. I have provided information which might give you time to prepare your defences against the vessels we have sent to enact the ruin of Atlantis. I will ensure there are instructions awaiting our warships as soon as they exit lightspeed, ordering their immediate withdrawal.”
“You sound like you’re doubtful those orders will be obeyed.”
“The man in charge of the lead ship is not sympathetic towards peace. He may prefer to overlook his orders, even though it will cost him his life.”
Duggan swore. “How many warships have you sent?”
“Seven, including the Oblivion class Kuidenar and Dretisear. It will be enough.”
“What else besides the battleships?”
“Two Cadaverons and three Kravens.”
Duggan tried to hide his dismay. There was enough firepower there to devastate the planet with conventional arms, without having to use their atmosphere bombs.
“Is Nil-Far with them?” asked Duggan.
“Nil-Far remains Captain of the Dretisear, though he does not lead the seven.”
Duggan looked into the alien face of the Ghast opposite. He was different to any human, yet somehow the same. There was a link between the two of them, faint and weak, but present nonetheless. There was much more Duggan wished to learn, but he accepted today wasn’t going to be the day where the remaining blanks would be filled. There was a chance Gol-Tur was telling him nothing but lies. Admiral Teron had seen enough in the Ghast to think his dealings would be honest and Duggan felt the same.
“This could be a difficult situation to extract ourselves from, Subjos Gol-Tur.”
The Ghast nodded his head once. “Such is war and such is peace. When neither side wishes its extinction, there will be a way, no matter how hard.”
“We are concluded for the moment. I wish to return to my ship.”
“Your escort is waiting outside of my door. I know you will inform Fleet Admiral Teron about what is coming to Atlantis as soon as you return to the Proximal. Afterwards, I suggest you make haste towards Atlantis to add your guns to whatever defence you can muster. If our warships ignore their orders, you are free to fire upon them without prejudicing our truce. I do not think you possess the means to stop the Kuidenar if its captain is determined.”
“I hope we can resolve our differences. The Dreamers are a foe we should face together.”
“Yes, Captain Duggan, they are. I dread to think what they might have become.”
Duggan paused mid-stride towards the door when he heard those words, but Gol-Tur didn’t say anything more. He left the room, finding two guards waiting for him. They were as uncommunicative as he’d expected and they walked off towards the hangar bay without a word. Duggan was grateful for the silence, since he had much to think about.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Duggan was back on the bridge of the ES Proximal. McGlashan was the one to ask what had happened, as if she’d been nominated for the duty.
“We’ve got good news and some very bad news,” he told her. She opened her mouth to ask another question and Duggan raised a hand to forestall her. “I need to get a message to Admiral Teron. Use my authority to force open a channel.”
“He’s unavailable, sir,” said Chainer.
“I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing, get him on the comms!”
When Teron finally spoke, he didn’t sound angry – there was only worry in his voice. “I need you to get to Atlantis at fastest speed, Captain Duggan,” he said, before Duggan could speak.
“I will, sir. You’ve heard about the Ghast fleet already?”
There was a sound from Teron, which Duggan took to be the Admiral assimilating new information and joining a few dots. “That’s what it is, then? I’ve had to take time out of an emergency meeting to speak with you. The Projections Team’s latest report arrived less than an hour ago. The chance of us losing Atlantis has jumped to over ninety-nine percent, according to this. The stats guys hardly ever predict above ninety percent chance for anything, since they think it’ll make them look foolish if they get it wrong.”
“The Ghasts know where Atlantis is, sir. They have seven warships inbound, with a mission to destroy the planet with incendiaries. What’s the breakdown on the report?”
Teron swore loudly – a sure sign he was feeling the pressure. “Eighty-five percent likelihood the Ghasts will be responsible. The remaining chance attributed to a Dreamer attack.”
“Gol-Tur has agreed to a truce. He’s ordered the withdrawal of the fleet heading for Atlantis. The message won’t reach them at lightspeed and their senior captain isn’t predisposed towards peace. He may well choose to ignore his orders.”
Teron swore again, took a deep breath and cursed twice more. “Fill me in and quickly. I have a meeting to return to and you need to be on your way.”
Duggan sketched out the details of his discussion with Gol-Tur. Teron listened without a word, remaining so quiet it would have been easy to think he was gone. When Duggan finished, the silence continued for a short while until Teron broke it.
&nbs
p; “Thank you, Captain Duggan. Bad mixed with good. Return to Atlantis at once and pray that we have time for sufficient of our warships to reach the planet before the Ghasts.”
The silence returned. Duggan looked at Chainer, who nodded to indicate Teron was gone.
“Prepare our return to Atlantis, Lieutenant Breeze.”
“Yes, sir,” said Breeze. “The Oblivion isn’t sticking around either. Their engine output has jumped several million percent.”
The Ghast battleship was gone twenty seconds before the Proximal was able to make the jump into lightspeed, illustrating the gulf between the two warships. There was no sensible reason to compare an old Anderlecht with a new Oblivion, but it didn’t stop Chainer grumbling about the quality of the hardware he was sitting in.
“What a load of crap,” he said.
“It was the best the Corps could find in the time available,” said Duggan, wondering why he’d bothered to respond. There must have been something in his tone which stopped Chainer from saying anything more and the Proximal soon began its own journey.
“It’s going to be a long ten days,” said McGlashan.
“And the bridge replicator is playing up,” said Chainer, still looking to complain about whatever was closest to hand. “I’ve got to walk all the way to the mess room.”
“Perhaps it’s a message, telling you to cut back,” said McGlashan with an innocent smile.
“I travel better with a full stomach, thank you very much.”
“I think we need to keep our focus,” said Duggan, stepping in early. It was unlikely an argument would start and he had no doubt the talk was simply a distraction from the threat facing Atlantis. No one said anything for a while, though Duggan could feel the tension. Eventually, it was Breeze who asked what everyone was thinking.
“Reckon we can stop them, sir?”
Duggan sighed. He’d known the question was coming and he didn’t want to answer it. “No,” he said at last. “If the Ghasts are determined enough, an Oblivion is big enough to fly through almost anything we might fire at it. When they destroyed Charistos and Angax, there was no build-up. Their spaceships appeared, flew to within fifty thousand klicks and dropped their warheads on opposite sides of the planets. There was little time for an interception – I believe we had a few Gunners that were close enough to launch, but from what I read about it later, there was nothing we could have done.”
Fires of Oblivion (Survival Wars Book 4) Page 13