by C. Gockel
In the back seat, Jerome said, “It’s Patrick Shore…wasn’t he the guy who designed Sundancer’s armor? Is he coming with us?”
“Remember to call him Doctor Shore,” Ramirez grumbled. “Yeah, that is the guy.”
Young, Noa, and James were also there, standing by Sundancer. Silvery drones were in the process of peeling inky black chainmail-like armor from the ship’s hull, and Volka noted that the cannons mounted above and below each of the ship’s delicate wings looked very real.
Sixty’s head jerked back. “Gate 5 has put the System 5 Guard’s levels on quarantine.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Jerome…you were right. There is significantly less ethernet traffic than normal in the quarantined sections of Gate 5.”
Volka’s stomach churned, and she felt bile rise in her throat. There were likely uninfected among infected on Gate 5. Hopefully they would realize what was happening, and defend themselves, the gate, and the galaxy.
Volka squeezed Sixty’s hand. “See. It has a crush on you.”
“It insists on referring to me as Android General 1,” Sixty muttered.
Ramirez smacked a hand on Sixty’s shoulder. “Glad you can be a general when you need to be.” He exited the hover, with Jerome close behind him. Sixty remained motionless, staring at nothing.
“You’re still you,” Volka said. “You’re still our Sixty.”
On Sixty’s shoulders, Carl cheeped. “Always, Hatchling.”
Bracelet pinged. “Miss Volka, Noa needs us.”
Reluctantly, Volka exited the hover and followed Ramirez and Jerome over to Admiral Sato. Sixty’s heavier steps rang on the metal floor behind her, and he murmured, “There has to be some consequence. You can’t change who you are without there being some bugs…”
Volka almost turned around to ask him what he was worried about, but, dropping a hand from her temple, Noa said, “System 5’s Local Guard has disabled Gate 5’s time bands.”
Volka drew to a halt. Why would they do that if they were infected? Her eyes widened—because even though that meant the Dark could not spread, it also meant Fleet could not get in. And refugees, potential carriers of the Dark, could not get out.
Sixty whispered, “It’s my fault. I asked Time Gate 5 to—”
Noa waved a hand. “I know. This gives credence to what you did being the right thing, Sixty. It knows we know the Local Guard is compromised—”
Tapping his temple, James said, “There’s a message on the general channel I think the team needs to hear.”
Young’s eyes went wide, and his hand rose to his forehead.
Someone, maybe Ramirez, said, “Damn,” so low that Volka didn’t think she would have heard it without her wolf ears. Everywhere around her, eyes were vacant, and backs were straight. Carl hissed.
“Bracelet, show me what they’re seeing!” Volka said.
“Oh…it’s psychologically…disturbing, Miss Volka,” Bracelet murmured.
“Show me anyway!” Volka commanded.
A hologram rose from Volka’s wrist, and she was staring at two women and three men. Four were in dark blue uniforms. “Those are the uniforms of System 5’s Local Guard,” Bracelet whispered in explanation.
Volka barely heard. Her eyes were riveted to the man at the very center of the group. It was the pirate from the Copperhead. The one who had tried to wipe Sixty’s memory. The one that had promised Sixty his crew would rape her and sell her into slavery. They’d seen him at the camp where Alexis had been held, hadn’t they? Sixty had stunned him…evidently, he’d escaped before the Luddecceans dropped a fission bomb on the camp. The man’s eyes, like the eyes of everyone in the holo, were trained on the camera. As one the group in the holo roared, “Android General 1, you have stolen one of our names, and you tricked the gate into defying us! Because of you, we will take this gate and then we will take the galaxy. We are the only path to peace. Humans…will…join…us. Or be destroyed!” Their lips moved in sync. They even curled in the same grimace at the end for their final threat.
Sixty took a shaky breath. “I tried to pretend I was something I am not…”
Noa took a step toward him. “You are not to blame for anything, and this is a ruse to draw us to Gate 5. It’s not where you’re really needed.”
Volka’s lips parted in shock.
Sixty stepped closer to Noa, voice rising in protest. “If the System 5 Local Guard is compromised, no one will prevent the Dark’s agents from infecting the water supply of New Grande...and with Time Gate 5 out of commission, Fleet will have difficulty sending reinforcements.”
Volka remembered her trip to the brilliant sparkling city of New Grande, and the green canyons that crisscrossed its icy-blue world.
Sixty continued, “Admiral, reconsider. Thousands of civilians are aboard the gate. Sundancer could ferry Marines in—half a platoon at a time. They could drop in with thruster packs and help the gate’s local police force.” His eyes met Volka’s. Nodding at him, Volka stretched her feelings to Sundancer, imagined them doing just that, and felt the ship’s resolve.
Noa’s shoulders sagged, but her lips pressed in a stubborn line. “The mission we have for you is more important than securing Time Gate 5.”
Volka’s skin prickled. What could be more important than securing a massive time gate that could be used by the Dark to leap from star to star?
Noa’s dark eyes softened and went to Sixty. “But we are working on getting reinforcements to Time Gate 5.”
It was Patrick, doctor so-and-so, the scientist with the large neural port who blurted what Volka wanted to know. “How will you do that without faster-than-light travel?”
Noa’s eyes darted to a security camera.
Carl’s voice echoed in Volka’s mind. “She can’t say.”
But Volka had a sudden sinking feeling she knew how…and who.
22
At the Gate
Luddeccean Space: Time Gate 8
Alaric’s boot steps echoed in the corridors of Time Gate 8. Commander Ko, his first, kept pace beside him. Captain Ran and his first were a few steps back. Alaric’s breath frosted in front of him, but he was not cold. He and the others wore Galactic envirosuits from neck to toe. The suits had been gifted by the Republic for the Luddecceans’ service patrolling System 33. The gifted suits had been bugged, of course, but those bugs had been removed, as had ether control. Galacticans did not wear ribbons or identifiers on their suits—they used “apps” to determine name and rank. The Luddecceans had glued their rank insignia and name tags to their suits. The suits were lighter than Luddeccean tech and were so close to invisible that at the moment he and the others carried their helmets in hand as a courtesy. The suits could withstand vacuum, were stunner repellant, phaser resistant, and environmentally controlled. Only Alaric’s ears, and Solomon, twisted around his neck, were cold in Time Gate 8’s nearly abandoned promenade.
During Alexis’s treatment, Alaric had spent a great deal of time on the promenade of the Republic’s Gate 1. Gate 1 had bustled with life. Brightly lit and warm, it had been filled with travelers: humans—some with bizarre plastic surgery—androids, and ‘bots of all sorts. Hover cabs had zipped overhead, and the main thoroughfare had been lined with cafes, restaurants, hotels, and shops—even a bookshop. The ethernet had largely supplanted books and magazines in the Republic, the shopkeeper had explained, but hand-bound books were still prized as works of art. There was no exchange rate between Luddeccean and Galactican credits, but the shopkeeper had been so pleased that Alaric could read cursive that he’d given him a hand-inscribed copy of the Tao Te Ching. It was a work of Galactican philosophy, or perhaps it was more appropriate to call it poetry. One of the first verses was Heaven and Earth are impartial. It had been confiscated when Alaric had returned to the Luddeccean system—heaven could not be impartial in Luddeccean theology.
Luddecceans loved books, but there were no bookshops on Time Gate 8. There was barely anything at all. The lighting was dim, there were no zipping hove
rs, or colorful, weary travelers. What might have been the doors and windows of shops and eateries were all covered with titanium plating. Occasionally, Guardsmen passed silently on their rounds. The gate no longer spun, so gravity was supplied by grav plating. Only half the width of the walkway was covered, and at the edges of the corridor dust and the occasional bolt or screw hung in the air, dark and surreal.
Galacticans didn’t speak much in public. They tended to have conversations over the ether for privacy’s sake—and yet Gate 1 had been full of sounds. Footsteps, spontaneous laughter erupting from silent jokes, the swish of clothing, hovers humming, the soft jingle of shop bells, and music from promenade performers. Time Gate 8’s corridor was comparatively silent—their footsteps, their echoes, and the deep mechanical hums of life support were the only things to be heard.
Alexis had been interviewed here after her recovery. Walking down this same corridor, she’d remarked, “After Time Gate 1, it seems so…”
“Dead,” Alaric had supplied, at the time still annoyed that his book had been confiscated.
That vibrant civilization was under attack, and soon Luddeccea would be too. Luddeccea’s numbers were less, and their defenses lacking: a shattered gate, stolen and borrowed technology, and a society that believed it was invincible because it was protected by God were all they had.
Alaric didn’t believe in God, but he believed if he did, the dim, dreary hallway might test his faith. It was a relief to reach a security checkpoint at a pair of airlock doors. Entering, they climbed a flight of wide stairs, passed through another airlock and more Guardsmen, and entered the circular command center. There was an enormous skylight overhead. A sliver of Luddeccea showed in it, four Net-drive Littoral Combat Ships, four larger lightspeed transport ships, and the open space that stretched to the Kanakah Cloud. The command center was dim, but it was filled with people talking, gravity, and warmth. Men and weere in green priest robes stopped running between machines and halted as they entered. Any who were seated rose. All bowed before resuming their tasks.
At the center of the room was an enormous circular holotable. Archbishop Sato and Admiral Charles Nilsson sat at the far side, a captain of another Net-drive LCS, and an officer who was the Guard’s press liaison. The white werfle Issh was seated on the arm of the archbishop’s wheelchair. Unwinding himself, Solomon bobbed to his kinsman from Alaric’s shoulder.
A flash of blue jerked Alaric’s attention upward. The four Net-drive LCS had vanished. A heartbeat later, the transport ships’ engines flared to life, and they began the slower process of accelerating to lightspeed.
“They are off to Kanakah,” the admiral said in a grave voice. “Bearing gifts of grain and livestock.” He gestured with a hand. “Sit down.”
As Alaric and his party sat, Ran remained standing. “Will we destroy the gate in Kanakah?”
Alaric’s shoulders tensed, and his stomach sank.
“No,” said the admiral, no waver in his tone or eyes.
Alaric exhaled. The lifespan of his boys had just increased considerably.
Archbishop Sato said, “But we’ve pressed the people of Kanakah to reject any requests for gate access from System 5 and System 6.”
Hence the gifts of food. Kanakah imported 25 percent of its food from System 5—not all of it was produced there, but the shipyards and their repair docks were there. System 5 was the Republic’s hub of shipbuilding, repair, research, and a central transportation hub.
“Sirs,” Ran pressed. “If we destroy the gate in Kanakah —”
Holding up a hand, Admiral Nilsson said, “We’ll have a guerrilla war at our border just when we need the cooperation of our neighbors the most.”
Frowning, Ran stiffened visibly, but sat at the table. His first did likewise.
A light went off at one of the computer terminals beyond the table. Spinning in his seat, one of the weere priests said to Sato and Nilsson, “Sir, Your Excellency, we have a connection with our agent on Time Gate 5.”
Gesturing to the holotable, Kenji said, “Put him through. These men deserve the best intel.”
There was a rush of activity in the room, and then a holo sprang from the table. A man of medium stature appeared to stand at the very center. He wore modest Republic clothing, the sort that Alaric associated with shopkeepers. A tiny tabby kitten perched on his shoulder. Aside from the kitten, Alaric wouldn’t have noticed the man in a crowd. His appearance was remarkably unremarkable: average height, average weight, average hair, eye, and skin color, and middle aged. The man’s holo bowed toward Sato. “Your Excellency. My report on the situation on System 5 is ready.”
“You’re safe, Mr. Kim?” Sato asked.
The man bowed. “The general populace of Time Gate 5 is safe for now Your Excellency.” The kitten on his shoulder bobbed its head. “The Local Guard’s sections of Time Gate 5 have been cut off from the rest of the station. Travelers are being asked to return to their hotels, and I’ve closed my shop.”
Alaric tilted his head. The Dark was closing in on Luddeccea and the galaxy, and yet, just for a moment, Alaric wondered if Kim’s shop was a bookshop.
Kim continued, “I’ve prepared a timeline of events we’ve pieced together from news reports. Fleet and the local government channels changed their encryption as soon as the attack began, and we don’t have access to their intel yet.”
Alaric shifted in his seat, and his jaw got tight as he imagined the scant information they were about to receive.
Nodding at Kim, Sato said, “Proceed.”
Kim disappeared, and a world appeared in the holo. It was mostly snow covered, with blue seas at the equators, but cutting through the snowy expanses were canyons of verdant green and what appeared to be, from above, the shine of sunlight on mirrors. Seemingly hundreds of dark ships of various makes dove into the planet’s clouds. Kim’s voice narrated the scene. “Forty-five minutes ago, approximately one hundred ships that had been sheltering on the dark side of the system’s first planet attacked the city of New Grande.”
Alaric’s suit was temperature controlled, but he felt the prickle of sweat on the back of his neck. One hundred ships would be nothing against the forces of the Republic. It was an attack that would raise havoc and draw forces, but it was doomed to failure. Was it the feint he had feared? His fingers clenched at another realization. Forty-five minutes, and all this information was already known by the System 5 media? And they’d been authorized to disseminate it?
Kim continued. “The ships had been gathering while the first planet was on the opposite side of the sun. The attack came as the first planet’s orbit put the ships in view of the target and major shipping lanes.”
Kim’s voice continued. “Members of The One, living with civilians in New Grande, the planet’s largest metropolis, felt the presence of the Dark among the attackers. Within minutes, news of the Dark’s presence was flooding social media and the ethernet, along with images like these—”
The holo switched to scenes of a motley armada blasting sparkling towers. Blue and white atmosphere-only craft pursued the invaders. Alaric’s stomach fell. The planet should be defended by ships like his LCS, capable of traveling in and out of the atmosphere.
Kim explained, “Defense was undertaken by the planet’s police forces only. System 5’s Local Guard offered virtually no resistance because it was pulled back to secure the gate—”
Ran interrupted before Alaric could. “That isn’t standard Republic procedure.” The largest public gates were Republic property. Normally, a Fleet Garrison would protect the gate while the Local Guard protected their home world. Fleet wouldn’t move in until they were officially called in by the local system.
Images of buildings being attacked continued, but Kim said, “No, sir, but the Fleet Garrison at Time Gate 5 had been called to assist in the evacuation of Shinar, the main planet of System 3, currently in the midst of a volcanic eruption.”
Alaric’s mind unhelpfully called forth Sunday school lessons about
Shinar’s most famous edifice: the Tower of Babel.
Someone muttered under his or her breath, “Who would tempt the wrath of God by naming a city Shinar?”
The superstitious comment snapped Alaric’s focus to the present. No System 5 local forces to fight off the incursion meant more havoc, and more chances for infection, although commanding the citizenry to stay inside and boil water would go a long way to mitigate damage. Infecting the planet’s waterways was a real possibility, but the Republic’s fusion bombs could rapidly sterilize large areas without the danger of fallout. It was a mess. There would be tremendous suffering, but it could be much worse.
The scene shifted to an image of a time gate. It was larger than the one they were in, with ten levels of concentric rings. The outer four rings on a quarter of the gate were highlighted in red.
Kim continued. “Within twenty-six minutes of the initial attack, Time Gate 5 announced that under the advisement of Android General 1, it was going to seal the decks occupied by System 5’s Local Guard due to suspected infection with the Dark.”
“Android General 1?” said one of the other captains.
“Sixty?” the archbishop said. “Well, well.”
Alaric felt himself flush. Volka’s…companion?
Kim shifted on his feet. “It seems to be an honorary title, but the gate took his advice.”
Ran stammered, “It took the advice of that…that…deviant?”
Archbishop Sato steepled his fingers. His eyes focused on nothing. “He is no more deviant than a werfle. He is a slave to his programming in some ways, but in some ways seems to have become more.”
Kim reappeared in the holo and cleared his throat. “Within ten minutes of that announcement, members of The One were able to get close enough to System 5’s Guard’s decks to confirm that there are troops and high-ranking members of the Guard infected.” He released a breath. “Confirming that analysis, the infected forces shut down the time bands. It will keep the infected from leaving…”