by J. N. Chaney
I stared at him unblinking for several seconds. “You and I both know that the Celestials would have made it to our door eventually. Be it now or in another hundred years, they would have found us. At least this way, we had the element of surprise. Regardless, we’re here in this war, for better or worse, and we’d all best start acting like adults if we’ve any hope of lasting through this fight. I don’t care if you hate the name. I don’t care if you like it. Call this place whatever you want among yourselves, but let’s focus on what matters: the war against the Celestials. The longer we bicker and squabble over trivialities, the more time our enemy has to regroup and attack our people.”
Emissary Grennet nodded slowly. “I believe the name you’ve chosen would be acceptable to the Emperor.”
“Very well,” said Vick, the anger in his tone finally gone. He seemed to relax in his seat, a fresh and refocused look in his eyes.
“Tartarus will be the staging point for the war to come,” I continued. “As such, it needs to be a neutral ground for our three nations to act without fear that the other two will attack. No matter what, we can’t let this place become a battlefield. That includes this room and the three of us.”
“I take your point, Captain Hughes.” Grennet placed one hand over the other on the table, rubbing his thumb with his finger. “I will have to convene with the Emperor, but I think for now, the Sarkonian Empire will agree that Tartarus will be neutral ground for all three governments. Once the Celestial threat is eliminated, the treaty can be revisited.”
It felt odd to hear Earth referred to as having a government. I might have been the de facto leader, but there was no system in place. I had no desire to change that either. For now, all I wanted was for my people to survive.
“Fine,” Vick agreed. I supposed that was all I could expect from the man. “Hughes, tell us why you called this meeting,” he continued.
Now that we were back on track, I leaned forward and interlocked my fingers, ready to take an active part in the conversation. “Sigmond has detected evidence of surveillance aboard Tartarus,” I explained, getting to the real reason for today’s meeting. I deliberately chose to keep Dressler’s warning to myself on the off-chance that one of the other two governments did have a stealth operation going on that we were unaware of. As much as I wanted to, I still couldn’t entirely trust them.
Both Vick and Grennet came to attention at my statement.
“What do you mean, surveillance?” barked Vick, sliding a suspicious glance toward the emissary. If I was the one bringing the issue to light, that probably left the Sarkonians—in his mind—as the party responsible. It didn’t occur to him that there could be another faction.
Grennet looked at me with accusing eyes and held up his hands in a sign of innocence. “It wasn’t the Empire, I assure you.”
“Relax, Vick,” I told the Vice Admiral, waving calmly at him. “The reason we’re on your ship is because I don’t think it either of you.”
Now I got expressions of confusion. “Then who?” Grennet asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked, looking from one to the other. “The Celestials. The signal isn’t just coming from inside Tartarus, but from deep inside. As in, somewhere none of our people have been yet.”
Vick, the more tactically minded between the two of them, caught on first. His features went flat and hard. “The Celestials,” he muttered.
I nodded. “That’s our thinking.”
He paused a moment before continuing. “Do we have any idea where they’re transmitting this signal from?”
I shook my head and dragged a portable holo emitter out of my pocket, switched it on, and sat it on the table. “Siggy can explain better than me.”
The Cognitive’s miniature golden figure appeared a second later. “Gentlemen,” he greeted pleasantly.
Vick grunted in response. The emissary, on the other hand, perked up and leaned forward.
“As Captain Hughes has already mentioned, a signal was detected from within Tartarus. At first, I believed it to be a routine subsystem, nothing to be concerned about. Automatic responses to activity—like motion sensor lighting, for example,” he explained.
“What makes you believe they aren’t still automated?” asked Grennet.
Sigmond nodded in a courteous way that reminded me of a butler from an old holo. “After analyzing the transmission’s pattern, there appears to be intention behind it. The signal moves according to human activity on Tartarus, particularly certain individuals, such as Dr. Dressler and Dr. Davon. However, this also extends to any teams of scientists and engineers that we have operating on the station. For instance, in areas where our scientists are working on deciphering Celestial technology, there is a spike in sensor activity. In another area with equal human movement that doesn’t necessarily pertain to repairs or experimentation, the signal falls considerably.”
“What does it mean, though? Why not attack us?” Grennet’s eyes widened slightly and focused wholly on the AI. He leaned forward in anticipation.
I answered this time. “People tend to pay more attention to things they’re interested in. We’re going deeper into Tartarus every day. I have to imagine that whoever this is, they probably want to keep an eye on our progress. There’s also the fact that we’re looking at all of their tech, which obviously isn’t something you’d want your enemy to do.”
The emissary tore his gaze reluctantly away and looked at me. So did Vick. “I see why you wanted to have this meeting off-world,” said Grennet.
“Whoever, or whatever, is behind this hasn’t made any kind of move. Almost like they’re waiting,” I said.
“For what?” wondered Grennet.
I shrugged. “No telling until we have more information. I have Sigmond investigating the situation and I’ll keep you informed of our findings. For now, all we have are theories, none of which can be confirmed. Inform your scientists and engineers, but only do so away from the planet. We don’t want to reveal any key information to whoever the hell is down there.”
The vice admiral nodded, the wheels already turning in that paranoid head of his. “That would be wise.”
My data pad beeped before I could answer.
“An urgent message from Dr. Dressler,” Sigmond said privately over my comm, though his holo figure gave no sign of it.
I held up a finger to the other two men in the room, then accepted the call. “What’s up, Doc?”
“You should come down, Captain. We’ve found something,” she replied, sounding a little out of breath. “Another room where Sigmond’s scans picked up trace amounts of that unknown material.”
“I’m sort of in the middle of something here, MaryAnn—”
“That can wait,” she snapped, and the sharp tone in her voice was enough to convince me.
“Fine, woman. Don’t get all worked up. I’m on my way,” I said, pushing back my chair. The transmission cut out. Dressler never was one for pleasantries. “Seems we’re about to peel back another layer,” I said, glancing at the other men. “You two coming?”
Vick cast an uninterested look my way. “I’m afraid I have to report all of this to my superiors, and the next slip tunnel opening falls within the hour. Keep me informed of your findings.”
I nodded my agreement. “What about you, Grennet?”
He shook his head, albeit a tad more disappointed. “I’m afraid not. The Emperor’s technical advisor arrives today. The very same slip opening that the Vice Admiral mentioned.” The emissary checked the time on his pad. “I must meet him upon his arrival and begin his briefing.”
“Fine, I’ll keep you both posted,” I assured them. “With any luck, we’ll have this situation handled before the end of the day.”
* * *
I met up with Abigail after I got back to Tartarus. We hadn’t seen much of each other and I couldn’t help the jolt that shot through me at the sight of her leaning against the ramp to the Star, her eyes closed as I made my way down from the ship. Light
brown hair spilled across her shoulders, framing the angles of her face. She might look relaxed, but I had reason to believe the woman was alert, mostly from the way one side of her mouth ticked up into a slight smile.
“Just going to stand there and stare, Jace?” she said, confirming my suspicions without moving. She knew what I was thinking too, which caused me to return the smile. I felt my face grow warm.
“Nah, I just had Siggy take a holo still, so I can do that later.”
Abigail’s eyes snapped open, just like I predicted. “You did not. Sigmond?”
“Of course not, Miss Pryar. I value my circuitry,” the AI replied.
I dodged the fist that struck out in my direction once I got within reach and arched an eyebrow. “Careful, nun, or people might begin to get ideas.”
She scowled at me. “I told you not to call me that, Renegade.”
“It must have slipped my mind,” I said, raising my hands in a gesture of peace and taking a step closer. “You know, I reckon Dressler can wait a few extra minutes. I think there’s still a few spots left be christened.” I jerked my chin at the Renegade Star.
“Sir, do excuse the interruption, but Dr. Dressler has sent another message,” Sigmond cut in.
“That’s terrible timing, Siggy,” I growled. Damn that woman and her urgent findings.
“My apologies, sir. The doctor requests that you stop lollygagging and, to quote her directly, get your ass down here,” he replied, almost sounding embarrassed.
“Looks like that christening will have to wait,” Abigail said with a wink. “Business calls.”
* * *
“No Davon?” I asked Dressler once we arrived at the designated spot.
“He went with the emissary. Something about picking up another expert.”
I could tell by the way she spoke and slight frown that she wasn’t particularly looking forward to that. “Okay, Doc, you got us here. What’s going on?”
Like the rest of Tartarus, the door was smooth and completely nondescript, its design so seamless that it was impossible to see where it opened. I had to give the Celestials credit where it was due. Even if I didn’t care for the aesthetics, the entirety of this planet was a feat of engineering.
“Do you remember the unknown compound we discovered?” Dressler asked.
“Sure, from the tanks, right?” I responded.
“I believe there’s more behind this door. A lot more. Enough to give Sigmond a reading despite the interference from the walls surrounding it,” she explained, her excitement apparent as she spoke.
I didn’t see what was so fascinating to her about metal, but I wouldn’t impede on the woman’s excitement.
In the interest of our newly formed treaty, I’d reached out to Vick and Grennet to let them both know what we were up to. Each had sent along two soldiers to assist and report back to them. I noticed both pairs stuck close to each other and didn’t speak much. Treaty or not, old rivalry wasn’t quickly forgotten. Still, the fact that they were on the same team to begin with said something. The rest would come.
“Alright, open it up.” I motioned for the group to get into position. Dressler worked on her pad and inclined her chin to let me know she was ready.
Abigail sent me a look to say the same and adjusted her grip on her rifle. All traces of our earlier exchange had evaporated, replaced with the steady calm I knew so well. Once our team acknowledged they were ready, the door slid open.
“Talk to me, Siggy,” I ordered.
The Cognitive didn’t reply immediately. “My apologies for the delay,” he finally answered. “I still do not have enough access to do a complete scan. I suggest approaching with caution.”
“Got it,” I said, readying my weapon. “Eyes open, folks.”
Abigail and I entered the chamber at the same time and started a sweep. The rest of the team followed, falling in with heavy boots against metal grates. The lights turned on as soon as I passed through the ingress, filling the room with a bright glow.
So far, no booby traps leapt out to ward us off, and I saw no sign of any Celestials waiting in the dark. Instead, we found what looked to be a workshop of sorts. Unlike the other rooms I’d seen so far, the ones with the tanks, there were long worktables. The ceiling looked to be higher than usual too, by at least a few meters, lines crisscrossed in an odd design.
I was suddenly reminded of Ollie Trinidad, my old friend and the man who used to get me my Renegade contracts. He’d had a place like this on Taurus Station in the back of his little souvenir shop. He liked to make his little trinkets sitting at tables just like these and even had a smaller version of the overhead work light. At least until he’d been killed.
Point was, the Celestials had been building something here. What that was, exactly, I didn’t know yet, but I suspected it must be important.
Abigail swept her eyes across the room. “There’s no pods in here, so I don’t think they were growing more of their kind. It could be weapons,” she suggested. That would make sense on the surface, but there was more to what we were seeing.
“I don’t think so,” I said, studying the room again. “Those tables, and the boxes around them. They don’t seem like weapons, do they?”
Dressler nodded, her sharp eyes scanning the space with interest. “That’s a good observation, Captain.” She paused, tapping rapidly on her data pad. When she looked up again, it wasn’t at us, but the workstations. “Sigmond, can you verify the measurements of the room?”
“Of course, Doctor,” Sigmond replied.
Something appeared on her pad, which I guessed must have been the answer to her question. “Mmhmm. That’s what I thought,” she said, tapping at her pad once again.
“And what’s that?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away, her eyes transfixed on the screen.
Abigail and I exchanged a look, both remaining on guard as the doctor worked out the puzzle she was no doubt deciphering in her own mind. “Everything on Tartarus appears to have a specific purpose,” she finally began. “Size and proportioned to fit their needs. I don’t believe this room is the exception. Do you see those tubes? The ones just over there.” Dressler pointed at the wall where a cluster of hoses and nozzles stuck out over each table.
“Those look just like what was inside the tanks,” said Abigail. “Funneling in the goop mixture, wasn’t it? Do you think those are doing the same?”
“They’re certainly similar,” Dressler agreed. “Take note of the tables. According to Sigmond’s data, they’re almost as long as the height of the room.” She looked at us meaningfully. “More importantly, they’re nearly the same size as the pods we discovered in the above floors, and the tubes are positioned where one might expect them to be if there were pods there.”
I examined the room again, taking it in with a different eye than the one I’d used to clear it. Each table was a single piece, lining the distant wall. Their surfaces were clean and the bins affixed to their sides were empty. A thought occurred to me, another memory of Ollie and his workshop. Every desk in his place had been cluttered with various pieces scattered throughout. Even when he cleaned and organized, his bins remained full of scraps and pieces of metal. Rows upon rows of his little creations made from space junk, many half-finished. Even Dressler’s lab, clean as it was, could never be without its tools or spare parts. That was just how workshops went, at least for humans. Maybe I was missing something here about how the Celestials did things, but it did seem strange that a place like this should have nothing out in the open, with no sign of work except the furniture and light fixtures.
That was when I noticed the ceiling again and the strange pattern. They were tracks; the kind hospitals used to hang curtains to give patients privacy. My gaze followed them to another door at the far end of the chamber.
“You see it now, don’t you?” asked Dressler, nodding at the ceiling. “Those are tracks, likely used to move equipment. I couldn’t say for certain, but I can think of no other purp
ose to them, and yet I see no attachments anywhere.”
“Any idea what they were working on down here?” asked Abigail.
“None,” Dressler replied. “Without any evidence to speak of, I can’t make any determination. All we have are those tubes in the wall, which seem to have once been attached to something, which likely rested on those tables.”
“But we don’t know what,” said Abigail.
“And we may never know,” said Dressler. “Though, I do have a hypothesis.”
“Which is?” I asked.
“So far, the only purpose for them seems to have been the development of certain Celestials,” said the doctor.
“Might be,” I replied.
She nodded. “There’s also a chance that we could be looking at an entirely different birthing chamber than the one we discovered last.”
“But why would it be locked all the way down here?” asked Abigail.
Dressler took a slow breath. “Now that, Ms. Pryar, is a question I would very much like to answer.”
7
Dressler led us to her lab, only telling us that she had something she had to retrieve. She navigated the corridors from memory, as though she’d lived in Tartarus all her life. I still got turned around almost every time that I ventured into the metal planet. It reminded me of a multilevel labyrinth, and without Sigmond and a data pad to act as a guide, I would have gotten lost.
It didn’t help that each level was set up exactly the same. Main corridors ringed around the length of the planet with a number of shorter hallways that branched off to the inner corridors and different rooms like a giant honeycomb. None were marked and it was still a puzzle to us how the Celestials kept track of where they were.
“We should do something to mark the hallways,” I suggested after Dressler turned down another identical passageway. “Strip lighting that leads to different areas.”