As was its duty, the Krell’s stronghold released LOR from its life sustaining armor. The Darkness consumed the sticky layer left by the stronghold on the front of his carapace and LOR continued to follow the shield’s stalk, searching for his own stronghold.
Pride filled his thoughts and LOR quickly switched to the open thought-stream, he wanted all the clans to know of his position. Directly in front of him stood the last pod on the stalk and the final warrior stronghold. A great honor bestowed on the bravest of warriors, the stronghold was furthest from the vast protective shield built of the Creators ultimate armor. LOR hardened his own carapace, clicking his armored plates to pay homage to the great Shield that carried the clans of the Darkness safely through the Void and smashed through their enemies.
A single stronghold sized for a Warruq, the leader’s position. The orifice opened and LOR, leader of all the Warruq clans pushed through the narrow entrance. The opening sealed the moment his last appendage moved inside, then flashed open, belched out the Darkness within and closed. The protective sac adjusted to its contents then hardened into a protective shell.
Far below LOR’s stronghold sac, the shield’s stalk continued through the churning mass of the Darkness and ended in the territories where the planets of the Creators orbited their fiery twin stars in open space. The ends of seven other stalks joined it, each swaying a great distance from the other in the confluence where the open space of the Clans Territories ended and the Darkness began.
In the great-open, eight creatures the size of small moons, ignited a full energy bloom and freed themselves from their orbit around their home world. Streams of flame shot from behind them, lighting the dead space while they moved toward the swaying ends. Each of the creations known only as Movoo, slowed their colossal bulk by cutting their burn, rotating and sporadically firing their heat bloom in the opposite direction until each was positioned under a stalk.
They attached to the swaying umbilicals, adjusted their positions and ignited a full energy bloom. Each Movoo shook and vibrated, their thick, layered hide rippling with the force of their heat bloom pushing from underneath. Each stalk tightened its endless web of fibers. Fractions of cycles passed and stalks began to move.
The Darkness welcomed the eight Movoo and the shields they pushed by thinning her mass and creating currents to speed their movement toward the Void. Each shield protected and concealed a stalk with hundreds of stronghold sacs attached.
LOR opened his systems to the pleasing pressure of the stronghold. Where his carapace started and stopped was impossible to tell, the fitting of the protective shell was designed for the mass of a Warruq and then adjusted to LOR’s individual shape. The drip of the warrior’s rage began as it always did before a battle. The gentle movement of the mighty shield pushing through the Darkness only added to his stimulation while the drip of the warrior’s rage fueled his need for battle and the opportunity to reach the Realm of Warriors.
56
Captain Fei
the Black Field
Captain Fei wiped his dripping brow. The dark field swirled and flowed around the Kwan Yin, the lone surviving vessel of 10th Fleet’s Viper class battle group. He feared running on anything more than emergency power. Most sensors would only show his boat as a minimal heat signature, similar to those created by a thousand different scenarios on the edge of the solar system. But this scenario was different. Whatever or whoever hunted the Kwan Yin had never been seen or dealt with before.
He pushed up and away from his captain’s chair and moved across the bridge toward his pilot. The Virtual Surround Vision was almost feeling normal, he thought, except for the motion sickness induced by the ever-moving dark field that rushed around them.
His pilot estimated the Kwan Yin was anywhere from ten to five hundred klicks from the entry point into the enemy’s camouflaging field. It was little more than a best guess based on systems that could only read a meter off the hull, after that the black field blocked everything. And what if the field had moved again, would they notice or see it?
If they had a chance to make a run at open space Captain Fei needed to know how far they would travel blind in the field. But, he pondered, we have no weapons and if the enemy is blind within the field as well, we are safer to remain hidden.
Fei focused on the far bulkhead. His peripheral vision continued to take in the swirling black and dark grays of the murkiness that surrounded them. He made his way towards his science officer who continued to pour over the streaming data from the processing sample taken from the field. It flowed across his screens in waves of formulas and symbols. Captain Fei stood behind him, seeming to float over a dark storm.
The officer’s eyes jumped from screen to screen, while the underpowered Battle-Net processed the sample at a slower, but efficient rate. Every few minutes a number dropped out of the streaming data into a dimly lit square on the bottom of the center screen. A few minutes later and the fallen digit had a decimal number attached to it.
Captain Fei watched as one of humanity’s greatest achievement, the Battle-Net, continued to process the sample of the dark field. The Battle-Net was based on the recent TERRA Computer designed and used for the 2217 Global Species Survey (GSS’17). The supercomputer processed twelve months of data compiled from every conceivable means of gathering information from outer space to the ocean floor and everything in between.
In the end, the data from the GSS supported the growing thesis that the Earth, losing half its population in the 2214 terrorist attack was now able to heal itself due to humanity’s population base being forced into a sustainable model. Scientists had estimated there were nine million species. The TERRA Computer recorded and identified over thirty-two million species living in, around and with Homo sapiens.
And now we can add a few others to that list, Fei thought, seeing another number drop to the glowing box, plucked from the stream of data that continued to drift across the monitors. Seconds later .00023 was added behind it. The Kwan Yin’s science officer remained focused on his screens, occasionally writing down a number or sequence that was of interest.
Suddenly he stopped, turned and looked at Fei, paused and quickly shot forward and began writing again. Fei leaned closer to the monitors. The officer motioned him downward.
He spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Normal exterior hull temperature this far from our sun should be thirty-five to forty Kelvin.”
Fei raised both hands, palms up, confused.
“Negative 250 degrees Celsius,” whispered the officer.
The science officer raised a finger, pointing to one of the numbers he had just written down. 275.15 was underlined twice.
“That’s Kelvin, sir.” He scratched down another number. “Kwan Yin’s exterior hull temperature is 2 Celsius.”
That is impossible, Fei thought. We are nowhere near a sun or any known heat source. Even our cutting-edge solar skins were straining to filter radiation from any spectrums before we entered the black field.
The oxygen was sucked out of the bridge. The black field surrounding them thinned to a gray mist seconds before a vast shadow pushed past the starboard side of the Kwan Yin.
Captain Fei caught the flash of red from the Battle-Net station and hurried toward Commander Zhu.
“Captain, Battle-Net sensors now have a limited ten-klick range, partial scan of eight objects, starboard side, each similar shape, but larger than Station Pluto.”
Fei caught a panicked motion and found his science officer waving an arm.
“Keep tracking them, Commander, as long as we can,” Fei ordered and moved back across the bridge.
“Analysis is complete, sir. Wait…” The science officer’s station started scrolling data again and it streamed across each monitor. “The Battle-Net is updating the analysis based on the new sensor range. We should get a better breakdown of the sample if we obtain additional data on a larger area.” The data stopped. “It’s complete, Captain. Or at least finished for now.”
&nb
sp; Fei was tired of focusing on each whispered syllable, it was exhausting and scary as hell. “Let’s hear it.”
“Black field sample assessment: UNKNOWN ELEMENT. COMPARABLE DOCUMENTED EQUIVALENT: MARINE ENVIRONMENT, MARIANAS TRENCH, WESTERN PACIFIC OCEAN.”
Fei pointed at the now gray mist beyond. “You’re telling me this,” he paused and looked out at the shifting shadows beyond their hull, “field… beyond Pluto… is comparable to the deepest ocean waters of Earth? An ‘environment,’ not something off the periodic table or a substance?”
The officer turned and looked directly at Captain Fei. “Yes.”
“A marine environment?” Fei looked at his science officer. “How does the Battle-Net define it?”
The officer entered the term and the answer scrolled across the main monitor.
SEA OR OCEAN INHABITED BY ONE OR MORE SPECIES
57
Captain Falco
Battle Station Pluto
Falco sat heavy on his bunk staring at the shaking glass in his trembling hand. He grabbed the scotch bottle on the steel fold-down-table next to his bed and left the bottle in the air a bit longer to get the heavy pour he needed. His breath came in quick puffs only stopping when gulping his scotch.
When it starts, this may be the last peaceful moment I have left, he thought. The storm is close and we are as ready as we can be. So, we wait.
A gentle rhythm wrapped on the hatch. An unintended smile pulled at his unshaven jawline and his hands steadied. Only his officers knew he was on the Anam Cara, tucked deep inside Station Pluto, hoping to steal an hour of peace in his personal quarters.
“Enter Ensign Holts.” He added his usual grit for show, but Falco was happy to see her. A muffled thump sounded and the hatch slid open. Holts stood in the opening, a tall elegant form pushed in all the right directions. Her snug uniform only accentuated her natural gifts. Her collar was unbuttoned; a sure sign Holts was off duty and also intent on finding a moment of peace.
“In or out, Ensign.” Falco reached for another glass. “Either way, close the hatch.”
Holts took a step forward and pushed the release. The door hissed shut and she stood in silence, eyes scanning her captain’s quarters.
Falco started to laugh. “Smaller than you remember?” He poured three fingers for his guest. “I think it was once maintenance storage. You know I couldn’t pass up the location.”
Holts smiled. “This is not the usual placement for the captain’s quarters.”
“Ah, but then I am more of a back of the boat type of captain.” Falco found her presence more than comforting. Sierra Holts rarely ventured to the stern of the boat and this was only one of a handful of times she stood inside Falco’s private room since they left Earth over five years ago. The other times were purely professional, an on-duty officer with a question for her off-duty captain. This time was different.
“How did you know it was me, Jack?”
Falco swallowed hard at hearing her use his first name. “Here, Sierra,” Falco made a grand gesture with his free hand, “in these lands, the United Nations and its Navy do not exist.”
He held out a glass, pulled out the chair that lay hidden under the steel desktop connected to the bulkhead. Sierra smoothly took the glass and pushed the chair back under the desktop.
“Slide over.”
Falco’s body moved before his mind deciphered the order. Her natural scent was intoxicating. She simply smelled right, Falco thought as he took another drink and watched Sierra take a sip followed by her tongue sliding across perfect lips.
“You never answered my question. How did you know it was me?”
Falco again found it impossible not to smile. She was a strong soul and one of the few that found peace in conversational pauses. Sierra could remain quiet while maintaining full eye contact far longer than he was comfortable. Most would take her silence as a method of manipulation or a power play similar to that used by Admiral Chen. Falco knew the woman well enough to understand its natural role within her character.
“Your knock.” Falco moved the glass under his nose, inhaled deeply. He had smuggled five cases of the finest single malt onto the Anam Cara from the Mars Station and it had not disappointed. He glanced towards the corner of the room, taking great pride at the site of the large wooden crate strapped to the bulkhead.
“My knock? You can determine who is at your hatch by the knock?” Sierra looked to the hatch and slowly moved the glass towards her lips.
“Well, there’s the walk up to the hatch, the length of the pause prior to the knock, and the knock itself… knuckles, fist or a back of the hand tap.”
“Which tells you it’s me?”
Falco’s eyes fell to his glass, and the now steady hand that held it. He turned, their faces only centimeters apart. “The sound of your uniform on your hips as you walk, a light, yet purposeful footfall of your stride, the bottom pad of your loose fist rhythmically wrapping on the steel, almost as if you hope I won’t hear it.”
Sierra stared at him, slowly raising the glass to her lips for another sip. Falco followed her progress. “You can leave the polite sipping routine outside.” Sierra stopped the glass just short of her lips. Her stare gained focus as she waited for the rest, a devilish grin showing white teeth.
“I saw you chugging Pema’s Chang at the fight,” he told her. “If you can toss back that Tibetan’s firewater, you can handle the finest Scotch in the outer solar system.”
A bright smile greeted the liquid as she took a sip that happily grew into a swig. A hint of rose warmed her high cheekbones and seemed to migrate up and over her smooth scalp and she leaned into Falco. Nestled her head against his shoulder.
The dragon tattoos that covered it, were stunning. Falco had never seen them this close before. The ink was a shade darker than her skin and the detail was staggering. Perfectly scaled limbs with rippling muscles on a sea of clouds.
Sierra pushed away, threw back the contents of her glass and gently set it on the table next to the bunk. “For over five years you and I have danced around one another…”
Falco opened his mouth only to find her finger pushed a crossed his lips.
“I’m not finished, Jack.”
Sierra moved so close he could see the striking green flecks circling her pupils, that perfectly smooth ebony skin, the smell of scotch, the warmth of her breath.
Sierra pushed even closer, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “If this is where our journey soon ends, no more dancing.”
Soft, wet lips covered his own. Falco dropped his glass to the side and gave into the only person that could heal his battered soul.
58
Admiral Chen
10th Fleet
Crawling Toward the Oortian Field
Admiral Chen and 10th Fleet awaited the upload that could give their scanners the capability to find Oortians in waiting. I miss Station Pluto, Chen thought. The difference in location could not be more dramatic as methane clouds and asteroid fields spun off by the Kuiper Belt hung in the distance off 10th Fleet’s portside. It looked like a graveyard, no Chen corrected, it felt like a graveyard. Fields of tombstones…
And then there was the light sucking black field, towering five thousand klicks dead ahead. The field was so vast that distance from it quickly became meaningless. All one saw was a flat, endless wall of nothingness. The path to oblivion.
“Upload seventy-five percent complete, Admiral,” stated Lieutenant Mi Bai self-consciously from her current position next to Commander Lee at the Battle-Net station. The first sensor pack upload was not precise enough and found multiple objects sharing the same surface area. Chen had learned the meaning of ‘exact’ was not… well, exact.
He and Commander Lee felt optimistic as Captain Falco and his crew on Station Pluto uploaded and scanned the area around Station Pluto with not a single match. 10th Fleet sat .0044 Astronomical Units from Station Pluto, as soon as the original sensor upgrade had been initialized the Battle-Net found
twenty-four potential ‘Oortians’ lying in wait.
That had not inspired confidence with his twenty-nine captains and their crewmen were less than impressed, and may still be recovering from the full-fledged alarm it caused. If the Fleet had been at battle stations Level Four instead of Three… missiles would have been wasted.
On the bright side, the original sensor upload worked and found exactly what Bai had programed it to. Like a microscope, Lieutenant Bai had stated, ‘we need greater magnification due to the number of objects and size of the asteroid fields.’
Admiral Chen still grappled with the vastness of space. He looked over the current holo-charts showing the asteroid field off the Fleet’s portside. He ordered Commander Lee to move two battle-groups comprised of five patrol boats each, off the Fleet’s vulnerable portside flank. The eight remaining patrol boats protected the starboard and stern of the Fleet.
That left the starboard flank and the stern light, but if you were going to hide, the asteroid field would provide perfect cover.
Lieutenant Bai let out an audible sigh. “Upload complete, Admiral.”
Chen nodded. “Here we go. Back to your station, Lieutenant.”
Briskly, the lieutenant stood from the Battle-Net station, glanced down at Commander Lee and crossed the bridge of the Qing Long. The admiral observed his promising young lieutenant pass by more senior officers. When Bai reached her station and found her seat, Chen turned from his command station, looked across the bridge to the far corner where Bai was once again examining data.
He cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Mi Bai, excellent work, you make the People proud, carry on.” A spark, Chen thought, yes, he could see Bai grow from the remark. The statement and the scene were exactly as he had intended.
Lieutenant Bai did not hide from her oversight with the upload, she took ownership of it and improved it. The initial sensor pack worked perfectly, it simply needed to be honed. She was only getting started, Chen was sure of that. He turned toward Commander Lee. “Maximize spread formation for optimal sighting and firing positions.”
Darkness: Book One of the Oortian Wars Page 26