by Alex Kings
Between jumps, they talked:
“So, you're related to the Tethyans,” Serafin offered.
“Correct.”
“But you're not Tethyans? Or … you don't consider yourself Tethyans?”
“They are creatures of the light. We are creatures of the dark.”
“You think that's more important than your common heritage?”
“You have common heritage with the animals of your world, but not with the Tethyans. With whom do you interact as partners?”
Serafin sat back in her chair, and shrugged. “Point taken,” she said. “But you're both thinking beings …” She paused, then tried another line of attack. “Why did you and the Tethyans separate?”
“There was a disagreement. For the first few millennia of our existence as a spacefaring civilisation, we knew only of the Ancients and our own species. We knew of their final war, and how destructive it was. Then we discovered other species, intelligent, but primitive. The ancestors of the Tethyans wished to guide the other species, and form the Pax Galactica to keep peace among them. The Ancestors of the Shadowwalkers, as you call us, had no interest in them. Instead, they wished to follow the Ancients' example of self-modification. There was nearly a war.”
“Nearly?” asked Serafin.
Vlad paused. “Yes. As I said, we were aware of how destructive the final war of the Ancients was. Five thousand supernovae – enough to sterilise most of the ecosystems in the galaxy. Neither side wished to repeat that. So instead, we split apart. The Tethyans remained creatures of the light, and remained to guide the other species. With our understanding of genetic modification, we freed ourselves of our dependence on water and air, on light and heat. Like the Ancients, we became true creatures of space. And space is where we live.”
“And you have no contact with the Tethyans?”
“They hold no interest for us, and we hold no interest for them. We have not interacted with them in the fifty-five thousand years since the schism.”
Serafin sat back and considered this. Each answer raised more questions. But the picture was becoming clearer. It seemed obvious, in retrospect. The Tethyans had perfected genetic engineering before humans developed fire. Their ships were living organisms, adapted to live in space, with organic monopole reactors and jump engines. The Shadowwalkers had instead given themselves monopole reactors and jump engines. And with monopole power, you had plenty of energy without ever needing sunlight. They really were true creatures of space. Or rather, as they said, creatures of the dark.
No wonder they'd never been noticed. Out here, in the vast gulf between the stars, there was billions of times more space than actually around stars. The chance of running into one accidentally … it would be like two gnats in a concert hall accidentally bumping into one another. She'd only found Vlad because of the Ancient signal.
They made their last jump together, again, into darkness.
But there was something here. A gravity well, not far away. She checked the sensors. They were in orbit around a planet as big as Neptune. Like everything else, it was far below freezing.
And there were signals here, too. Other Shadowwalkers! Dozens of them. No, hundreds. They weren't all like Vlad. Some were larger, some smaller. They have different shapes, though all had a great mass of tentacles. The orbit of this frozen, nameless planet was filled with the radio waves of their conversations. Some of it was open, and she could listen in – she heard snatches of conversation about science, about astronomy, mathematics, what seemed to be gossip, and what might have been a sort of radio poetry.
One of them came skating towards her on a fast approach vector. Its signal was tightbeam, aimed directly at her: “The Visitor! The Creature of the Light!”
It seemed she'd been expected. Perhaps Vlad had been communicating via bulkwave on his way here.
In her mind, she dubbed the second Shadowwalker Angel.
Vlad had gone silent. Angel said, “You wish to learn about the Ancients? They are an object of my study.”
Serafin leant forward. This could be it. “Yes,” she replied. She told Angel about the signals she had found, and about the Ancient ship that had attacked Tethya.
He was silent for some time.
“What you saw was not an Ancient ship,” he said at last. “It was an actual Ancient. Like us, the Ancients modified themselves extensively.”
“I've seen the reports,” said Serafin. “You're still organic. That thing wasn't.”
“No,” said Angel. “The Ancients were far more advanced than we are. They went beyond biology and machinery, and became an optimal combination of both.”
“So the earliest Ancients were organic?”
“Yes. The first Ancients came into this universe, we believe, from another plane of existence. They were entities adapted to live in space, as we are, but they were still biological. In time, they progressed beyond that. At the end of their civilisation, they went to war. As far as we can tell, the survivors left this galaxy – perhaps this universe – and never returned.”
Serafin sat back and thought this through. “But … some of them were killed in the war, and were left behind? And their bodies are what we think are Ancient technology?”
“You are beginning to understand,” said Angel. “But Ancients do not die as we do. They can be broken apart, fragmented. But the fragments remain alive, and can still recombine.”
“That's why the artefacts are talking? They're trying to recombine?” She remembered what the artefact back on Mars had said: Existence of Self.
“Yes. They may lack the intelligence and understanding of the original Ancients, but their instincts remain. They still wish to recombine and become whole again. But they have been alone so long they are beyond the point of reason.”
Serafin turned to more practical matters. “Do you know any way of finding them? If one was moved, say, could you find out where it had gone?”
“Some artefacts can locate others using faster than light signals through the bulk,” said Angel. “The one you found on Mars is of this kind. It may be a primary node, a controller of some sort.”
“Then could you show us how to use it properly? Some of my people have Ancient technology and wish to use it to hurt others. We need to stop them.”
Angel was silent for some time. “These affairs are among creatures of the light. It is no concern of ours which group rules the stars.”
Serafin's jaw set. “That's an easy belief to hold,” she said coldly. “Until they come for you.”
“They will not come for us. They do not know we are here. And even if they attempt it, we can simply move away. There is a lot of space among the stars.”
Serafin stared up at the false-colour image on Angel on his display, and gave a joyless smile. She knew she wasn't in a position to convince a species that had kept to itself for millennia. But now, at least, she knew what the artefact on Mars did. With this information, it might be enough.
“Very well,” she told Angel. “Thank you for telling me.” She fired up the jump engines and began a calculation to travel back to Earth.
“Do not jump,” Angel said.
“I have to go back. With what you've told me, I could save my people.”
“This is not a request,” said Angel. Sensors in the Black Cat felt shifts in the magnetic fields surrounding his body. The dynamics were similar to a charging monopole cannon. “Power down your jump engines.”
Ice creeping through her veins, Serafin, calmly and slowly, did as he said. “Why?” she asked.
“We have remained hidden from the creatures of the light for fifty-five thousand years. The younger species do not even know we exist. We are unwilling to change that. You will remain with us. We will do nothing to harm you so long as you do not try to leave, and I am quite willing to tell you all I know about the Ancients.”
“I don't suppose you would accept a promise not to tell anyone about you when I get back?”
“No.”
Serafi
n sat back. Her gaze came to rest on the bulkwave distress signal she'd prepared several hours ago. It was still ready to go off if her ship was damaged or her systems corrupted. Could the Shadowwalkers stop it? They were advanced – at least as advanced as the Tethyans. She had to allow it as a distinct possibility.
That was her last resort. But until then, she decided, she'd try to find another way – something more certain, and more likely to end with her surviving.
She contacted Angel again: “Well, I guess I'm stuck here, then. Tell me more about the Ancients … ”
Chapter 49: Empty
The Dauntless jumped in close to the station. Its weapons were charged, its shields up, its crew at action stations. They were ready for anything.
Nothing happened.
The station and its docked ship sailed along its orbit, utterly unperturbed.
“Hail them,” Lanik said.
Miller frowned at her console. “No response,” she said after a moment.
“Try the ship.”
“Still nothing, sir.”
Lanik considered the situation for a moment. “This is how it's going to play out,” he said. “We stay vigilant. Be ready from an attack from any side. Recharge the jump engines so we can get out of here on a moment's notice.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want a slow burn towards the station. When we're fifty klicks away, hold relative position.”
The background hum of the Dauntless shifted slightly as the jump engines recharged and the sublight engines activated.
They approached the station. Still it did nothing. Lanik kept his attention on the command console, still waiting for a sudden attack. None came.
“Jump engines are recharged,” said Fermi. “I've prepared an emergency calculation, so we can jump out of here on a moment's notice.”
“Good work,” said Lanik. “Send the station a docking request. There might still be an automated system active that would allow a shuttle to dock.”
“No response,” reported Miller.
No way to use the docks, then. They'd have to do this the hard way. “I want a breaching shuttle ready to go in ten minutes. Tell Sergeant Moore to get her team together.”
*
Moore settled herself behind the shuttle's console and did a final check of the systems. Everything was in order. She picked up her helmet, spun it around once, then put it on. On the benches behind her, Agatha and Yilva did the same. Srak and Vyren, of course, had their own systems.
“Moore to Dauntless. We're ready,” she said over the comms.
“Acknowledged, Sergeant. You have a go,” came the reply.
The shuttle dropped out through the ship's belly, and the view through the window gave way to space. As soon as she was clear, Moore accelerated toward the station.
She kept her eye on the readouts, ready to respond to any change. The station remained quiet.
She slowed as they reached their destination, until the station's hull filled half the view. Then, she gently brought the shuttle's belly against the shallow dome on top of the station. There was clang, followed by a brief electrical hum as the magnetic seal activated. The shuttle's automated systems checked to make sure the seal was good, gave Moore a quick analysis of the patch of hull they were locked to, and asked her permission to begin.
She gave it.
Two white-hot needles of superheated plasma began to cut through the station's hull.
Moore checked the readouts one last time, wondering if the station would finally react in response to this insult. It didn't.
The console told her they were through, and that the air on the other side was breathable.
“Let's go!” she said.
Srak, with one arm, unlocked the hatch in the floor of the shuttle and swung it open. Below, they could see the floor of some generic corridor in the station. The square chunk of hull they'd cut out sat on the corridor's floor, its edges still cooling to cherry-red. Agatha checked, holding the newly-fixed Mr. Shooty, to make sure the corridor was empty.
Because Moore had landed on the relative top of the station, the gravity of the shuttle and the station were almost exactly aligned.
The shuttle extended a ladder of smart matter into the corridor. Moore descended first, followed by Yilva and Agatha. Srak dropped through with a thump, and Vyren floated down on graceful ribbons of effector fields.
“The shuttle says the atmosphere is breathable,” Moore said over the comms. “But keep your helmets on. Treat this as a high-risk, potentially hostile environment.” She was quite aware the air supply here was under computer control and could be used against them. “Now let's get going.” Carbine ready, she led them towards the centre of the station.
The station was Alliance design – the corridors were not far different from those in the Dauntless. Her own familiarity with it put Moore on edge. The bizarre insides of dead aliens and Ancient ships, she was fine with. But this place – it was like walking around in some stranger's copy of your own home.
They stopped outside one of the smaller operations rooms – the sort of place that would handle low-level stuff like refuelling and restocking docked ships. The door was closed. She tried spinning the wheel, and found it was locked, so Srak forced it open. The inch-thick carbide bolts tore open with a squeal.
Inside, the room was empty except for a computer terminal. The screen was blank. “Yilva?” Moore said.
“On it,” said Yilva. She gestured at the terminal. A moment later the screen lit up. She worked with lightning-fast motions for a few moments, then slowed down.
“There is nothing here,” she said.
“You mean it's been wiped?” said Moore.
“No. If it were wiped, I could do something. This is completely new. It does all the usual automated upkeep, but there's no history to it. No crew records, no updates, no logs …”
“There's a ship already docked,” said Moore. “There must be some mention of that.”
Yilva's ears perked up. “Good idea!” She went to work again, then said. “Now this is odd. We are locked out of the ship's systems. Even the simple ones. We should have access by default.”
“Can you get through it?” asked Moore.
“Easy,” said Yilva with a grin. “Just let me …”
The terminal gave a low warning chime, and Moore saw something flash red on the screen.
“Huh,” said Yilva.
“I take it that's not good news?” Moore asked.
“Monopole injection to the reactor is increasing. No safeguards are in place … At this rate there will be an overload in four minutes. It's okay. I should be able to reverse it before –”
The terminal made a sharp staccato twang, and the screen went dead.
“Oh, crumbs,” said Yilva.
Chapter 50: Something We Need
“Six jump-ins, all around us,” reported Dunn.
Now they arrive, thought Lanik. Of course they do.
“Dreadnoughts,” said Dunn as soon as the ships became visible. “All Firestorm class.”
The screens above the command console divided up to give a visual of each ship. The tactical map showed them spread around the Dauntless, in front and behind, left and right, above and below.
“Do we jump?” asked Fermi.
Lanik's jaw tightened. “No,” he said. “Keep shields raised.”
He was enough of a pragmatist to leave his team behind if the circumstances required it. But in this case, it would do no good. In the seconds it took to jump, while the shields were down, these ships could easily destroy the Dauntless.
Lanik had been prepared for many things, but not this. Firestorm was the most powerful class of dreadnought, and the single most heavily armed ship in the Alliance Navy. This was practically a battle fleet. In fact, if he recalled correctly, these were all the heavy dreadnoughts IL had taken when it went into hiding.
On the other hand, the Dauntless had its Tethyan upgrades. It was possible, Lanik thought, that Pierce hadn
't learned about the upgrades. That might – might – count for something.
“Sir, the lead ship is hailing us,” said Miller.
Good. That should give us some wiggle room. “Put them through,” said Lanik.
The message was audio only.
“Stand down and prepare to be boarded,” said a gruff voice.
“Understood,” Lanik said. “We're preparing to do so now. But if you could just wait –”
“No delays. If you don't drop your shields in ten seconds, we will open fire,” said the voice.
So much for wiggle room.
*
Yilva's fingers went to the panel covering the inside of the computer terminal.
A moment later, there came a distant-sound boom from down the corridor. Moore could feel the station vibrating from under her boots.
“Yilva,” she said. “We need to leave.”
Yilva pulled the panel away to reveal a set of clear cylindrical columns inside the terminal. One lay shattered near the bottom of the casing. Most others were riven with cracks. All were giving off a faint grey smoke. Her ears fell flat against her head.
“Overloaded,” she said. “We can't do anything with this.”
Moore grabbed her shoulder. “Let's go,” she said.
“Right, yes,” said Yilva.
They left the room and sprinted down the corridor to the shuttle. On the way, Moore tried to call the Dauntless. Her comms were being jammed.
Just before the place where they'd breached, an emergency pressure door had shut, closing the corridor off.
Fearing the worst, Moore looked through the thick circular window of sapphiroid.
The neat square they'd cut through was now a giant ragged hole in the top of the corridor. It looked out onto space. The shuttle was gone.
“Shit,” she whispered.
She recalled the distant explosion from earlier and quickly surmised what had happened. An explosion at the breaching point had blown the shuttle away from the station. The hole had been too big for the automated systems to seal, so the pressure door had shut instead to prevent a decompression.