The Beacon: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

This was their goal—the rock planet that the Iks’ ship would use to slow down in this system.

  Competitors

  Netmaster, the asteroid ship has begun a braking maneuver! The remote scout was clearly excited, as indicated by his arrhythmic drumming. His mandibles also trembled uncontrollably, and he involuntarily released a pheromone cloud that smelled of anxiety. Kasfok wondered why Holmak was so nervous.

  Kasfok tried to conceal his disappointment and irritation. With particular care, he tapped his two front legs on the communication thread that connected the command web and the location station. His vibrations would signal a calm Netmaster who was not shaken by any emotion.

  Can you draw any conclusions from the data about its destination? he asked.

  Currently, the data is still insufficient, the remote scout replied. I’ll be able to make a prediction in a few hundred pulses.

  With great willpower, Kasfok forced his pheromone organ to emit confidence and control. He also danced a few steps to communicate reassurance. As a Netmaster, his job was to show the entire network that he was deserving of his position at the top of their community. Yet internally, he was just as agitated as the remote scout.

  What were the chances that this extraordinary system had been discovered by another species, doubtlessly also seeking the system’s helium-3 supplies? Kasfok couldn’t imagine what else the generation ship—that was what it had to be, given its size—could be looking for here. Even if in an infinitely vast universe, every event, no matter how unlikely, had to happen eventually somewhere, he cursed the misfortune of it happening to his species here and now, under his leadership—as if their position, and his own in particular, weren’t precarious enough already.

  Kasfok was the 17th Netmaster since they’d had to leave their home planet. For almost 20 generations they had been traveling through this galaxy with their fleet in search of a new home. What had originally been almost 100 ships had now become a fleet of only 20 units. Nearly one million Mendraki had escaped the catastrophe, but after such a long time their population was now just a fifth of what it had been. By Kasfok’s estimate, they had at best five or six generations until the genetic pool would become too small to ensure the long-term survival of his species.

  Besides, their ships were old, failure-prone, and badly in need of repair. But they had neither the means nor the knowledge to maintain, much less to fix, what their ancestors had built. Knowledge had been lost from generation to generation, and today the Mendraki, lacking an understanding of the technology, could barely operate the ships and their equipment.

  More and more ships had been lost to accidents, and others they’d had to abandon. Some had been devastated six generations ago when they’d encountered the only other species on their journey through the galaxy. Only a quick escape had saved the rest of the fleet from destruction at that time. Fortunately, the unknown enemies with their fearsome battleships had not been vengeful, and therefore had not pursued them.

  And now this! They’d discovered a source of energy that was rich and easily accessible, and that could meet their needs for many generations. Their reserves were as good as empty, and the tokamaks could no longer supply energy for further jumps. The fate of the Mendraki had to be decided in this system! Kasfok vowed he would not let a second encounter with an alien species destroy what had survived the first encounter.

  Yes, the wormhole generators had run out of power, the tokamaks had become inefficient and decrepit, the ships had started to crumble in every nook and cranny, and opposition among the Mendraki had already begun to form. Still, the 20 ships’ weapons systems were operational, and he was ready to fight for the future of his species.

  This future—their survival—depended on the Mendraki having unimpeded access to the gas planets. He would not let anyone get in their way. This system belonged to the Mendraki alone!

  Holmak, the remote scout, interrupted Kasfok’s thoughts. The ship is taking a course for the inner planet and quickly decelerating, he announced.

  Kasfok was aware that everything they saw had already happened several macropulses before. They were still on the edge of the solar system, and all the data they now received had needed a long time to reach them at the speed of light. Whatever the aliens had intended to do, they’d already accomplished it—or failed—by now.

  The Shipmasters of the fleet network’s other units had followed the developments of the last pulses with a mixture of worry, fear, and excitement. So far, none of them had spoken. Kasfok wanted to avoid being indecisive and timid, and he knew he had to do something before losing the initiative. His opponents were just waiting for him to show weakness.

  He drummed his command on the communication thread. All units accelerate in the direction of the fifth planet. Once there, we will swing into a stationary orbit, which will allow us the uninterrupted observation of the aliens. This will enable us to get closer to the aliens and thus receive data in a timelier fashion, while simultaneously making clear our claim to the four gas planets. As soon as we know exactly what the aliens are up to, we will take the appropriate action!

  On the fleet ship the Solstice Bud, Shipmaster Tolkut terminated the transmission and released a cloud of disgust mixed with the pungent odor of contempt. He didn’t have to try to conceal his emotional state. The entire crew of the Bud knew what the Shipmaster thought and supported his position. In fact, he’d even been urged to rebel, but Tolkut was a careful and level-headed Mendrak—some even said hesitant. He did not dare to openly oppose Kasfok until he was sure he had the support of a majority of the Shipmasters.

  In his eyes, and those of his co-conspirators, if one wanted to give the small group such a lofty name, the current Netmaster posed a threat to the continued existence of their species. He took unforgivable risks and had everything hanging from a single thread now that they’d jumped into this system. Of course, the remote scout had indicated no fewer than four of the gas planets with deposits of urgently-needed helium-3 deposits. But there had also been the option of jumping into a system where one of these rare celestial bodies had been sighted, also orbiting its central star from a greater distance.

  That other, alternative planet had been much closer, and they still could have jumped here afterward. But Kasfok had insisted on heading straight for this destination, even if there had been a risk of encountering unforeseen obstacles here—like now! Tolkut didn’t want to imagine what the situation would be like if it turned out the remote locator had been mistaken.

  They had come here with the last of the helium-3 that remained in their repositories, and if the locator was wrong, they would likely be stranded here for a very long time, probably several generations. That was how long it would take to extract enough helium-3 from the ground of one of this system’s moons to hazard at least one more jump.

  Whatever the case, Kasfok’s stubbornness spelled disaster. Now they had come across another intelligent species that had also traveled into this system. Since there was nothing remarkable here other than the four gas giants, it was clear what they were looking for. Kasfok would have only one response. War!

  Tolkut thought this was ridiculous. First, the net fleet’s ships were in pitiful condition, which made combat operations highly risky. Second, nobody knew what resources the unknown species might have, and in the past, this had almost wiped out the remaining Mendraki. Third, the atmospheres of the four planets could provide enough helium-3 for both species.

  Perhaps it would even be possible to collaborate and exchange technologies, even though the other species seemed to be inferior to the Mendrak technologically, as indicated by the lack of FTL-compatible propulsion. The giant asteroid's mass—the generational spaceship—was far too great to be moved through the higher-level continuum using wormhole generators. The energy requirement for such a maneuver would be astronomically high and could not be met using any of the known methods.

  But collaboration had never been the strong suit of the Mendraki. Long ago, Tolkut had conceded th
at their situation was attributable to the extremely high potential for aggression among his kind. Kasfok was a product of the ancient civilization shaped by war and struggle. He was the representative of an era that had ultimately led to the loss of their home planet. And now, if he couldn’t stop Kasfok, he could lead the last of the Mendraki to extinction.

  Netmaster Kasfok scurried through the corridors of the ship. He was pensive and worried, not so much because of the other species or their plans. He was convinced that despite the smaller size of their ships, the fleet would emerge victorious in the event of a conflict. Though the Mendraki spaceships were much smaller than the considerable generation ship, they were far more agile and versatile. They could circle the hulking giant like a swarm of kletz mosquitoes. And the 20 ships in the net fleet could attack the asteroid just as the tiny mosquitoes could drive an adult Mendrak insane with their lightning-fast attacks and furious bites.

  The difference was that the ships’ attacks were not just nasty and painful, like the bite of a kletz mosquito, but instead, they would be made with weapons that could tear deep lesions into the asteroid’s surface. What started as small wounds would continue to grow relentlessly until they eventually fused into one large and fatal wound. Once it managed to tear open one of the cavities that must surely exist as living space within the asteroid, this would be the beginning of the end of the generation ship. The encroaching vacuum would have devastating consequences, and the ungainly colossus would then die, just like a Mendrak who’d been attacked by a swarm of kletz mosquitoes and ultimately fell victim to the countless bites that would bleed profusely.

  It was also evident that the asteroid’s inhabitants didn’t have the same technological sophistication as the Mendraki. The analysis of the available data left no doubt about this. They wouldn’t have anything to fight against the fleet’s weapons.

  No, it wasn’t the strange species that worried Kasfok. They would be devastated. Rather, it was the fact that such a crisis could offer his adversaries an opportunity to bring his leadership into question. Kasfok was aware that from now on, he had to be more on guard than before.

  He reached a restricted area of the ship that could be accessed solely by select Mendraki. Only he, Netmaster, was allowed to enter this sector at any time—one of the many privileges of his position.

  A soldier stood in front of a closed bulkhead. Seeing Kasfok, he raised the pair of legs closest behind his head to bring them together in the traditional salute.

  Kasfok briefly danced a gesture of impatient confirmation of the greeting with his second pair of legs, but didn’t bother to produce a thread of communication that would have allowed for personal conversation. He simply drummed his command on the floor. Across the short distance, this would be enough to transmit the vibration and make it clear to the soldier that he was to promptly open the door.

  The soldier waved his mandibles submissively and obeyed.

  The bulkhead closed immediately behind him, and Kasfok entered a richly-decorated room. Skillfully spun webs of different colors covered the walls and ceiling, and changing light created a relaxing atmosphere.

  A door opened in a side wall. The Mendrak who entered was somewhat smaller than Kasfok and wore a red and gold cloak over his bifurcated body, a sign of his status.

  Netmaster, he drummed on a thread running diagonally across the room. He also raised his rear pair of legs. What gives us the honor?

  What do you think, Eggwatcher Lotrak? I need some relaxation.

  Of course, Netmaster! Is there anything special you’d like?

  Number 17 was pleasingly docile last time, Kasfok replied.

  Do you want to reproduce, or just relaxation? In the first instance, I could give you a recommendation...

  Just relaxation, Kasfok interrupted Lotrak.

  I’ll see to it that Number 17 is prepared. The smaller Mendrak lowered his mandibles, turned, and disappeared through the door. The reason for his small size was that Lotrak and the other Eggwatchers had their genital organs removed shortly after hatching to prepare them for their position. This stunted their growth, making them too scrawny for any other work. They were scorned in private by the fully grown Mendraki, especially those of the leading Warrior Caste, although simultaneously envied for the privilege of always being able to live in the company of females.

  Kasfok settled into one of the immaculate webs on the opposite wall. A few pulses later the side door opened again, and Lotrak entered with a female Mendrak.

  Number 17 at your service, Netmaster, he drummed, then retreated and closed the door behind him.

  The little Mendrak stood motionless in front of Kasfok. Hesitantly, she lifted her rear pair of legs in a clumsy attempt to offer the greeting of respect. Her mandibles sagged loosely, and her gripping legs rested lightly on the communication thread. The two middle pairs of legs, which now had to bear her entire weight, trembled slightly. She was clearly nervous.

  Kasfok felt anger rising within. Sometimes he wanted to be able to have an intelligent conversation with a female. But this was, of course, impossible. Every female Mendrak was lobotomized shortly after hatching. In the ships' narrow confines, this was the only way to keep them from killing each other. Each female would try to destroy another female’s clutch but protect her own.

  It had always been possible in the home world to ensure sufficient distance between sexually mature females, but this was impossible on the ships. It had already become common in the first generation of ship crews to treat the females for any aggression they had shown toward other females by operating on their brains. Kasfok thought this was a shame, but not because he pitied the female Mendraki. Rather, he regretted that after the procedure, they were no longer able to perform the tasks that nature had designed them for—particularly those that made life as pleasant as possible for the male Mendraki.

  Now they were only suitable for mating and laying eggs so as to ensure the procreation of the species. Educational duties now fell to specially trained Mendraki who were not suited to be Warriors, and this group now formed the bottom of the Mendraki patriarchal social structure.

  Number 17—females did not need names because they were not considered full-fledged individuals—was one of the rare cases in which a lobotomized female still had some residual self-awareness, and therefore could cater to a Warrior’s sexual desires. At least she understood how Kasfok expected her to satisfy him, if he repeatedly explained it to her.

  Read more? hard-sf.com/links/1691018

  Copyright © 2021 by Brandon Q. Morris

  --

  www.hard-sf.com

  brandon@hard-sf.com

  Translator: Stephen Vladimirov

  Editing team: Marcia Kwiecinski, A.A.S., and Stephen Kwiecinski, B.S.

  Cover design: Jelena Gajic