“Building energy and radiation currently obscures their mass reading, yet they appear to be small craft, likely inner-system vehicles.” Proxis announced as numbers rolled.
“Missiles?” Solok asked as he observed the speeding craft on screen.
“I’m certain they are warships, Master Solok. The power increase is, no doubt, from energizing forward batteries. The energy has peaked. Any discharge will—”
The two sickle-shaped warships opened fire from their large cylinder elements. A glow of ionized dust at their bows flashed brighter as bolts launched at near light speed from internal rail guns. Powerful electrostatic discharges followed as the bots struck the outer flames of the hellship. The rods and lightning flashed and vanished. Anguhr’s ship sailed forward, undamaged.
“Ineffective,” Proxis finished. He sighed at his readings “Yet—”
Another bolt and lightning attack followed as the two ships cleared the dust band and sped toward the hellship. The auroras faded.
“This must be some welcoming display,” Solok shrugged as the bolts flashed and ebbed on the bridge display.
“Doubtful,” Anguhr sighed. “They may be the bravest of their kind, attacking us to save their world.”
“Then the message was a ruse!” Solok said in near glee.
Anguhr replied in another low grumble.
“You were right about their courage, Lord.” Proxis said. “They still attack.”
On the twin attackers, the rail gun ports went cold as plating opened and cannons deployed from their sides. Energy lances fired into the hellship’s crimson aegis. The lances of accelerated particles appeared to burn before they reached the hull of jagged beams.
“As yet, no one has seen fit to learn our aegis cannot be defeated purely by directed energy.” Proxis observed as the main screen showed the two ships opening fire with a furious assault.
Proxis mused on the lament of alien scientists gaining triumph over most known physics in spacetime, and then seeing defeat by technology that employed forces beyond them. The bosons lances struck the aegis and were shifted in phase and shunted to another plane to be absorbed and power the very ship they hit. If Proxis knew the martial art, he might describe the aegis’ effect as a sort of quantum judo. His mind focused on other concerns.
“Shall I destroy them, Lord?” Proxis asked Anguhr.
“If they, somehow, become a threat. Right now, contact them.”
Proxis and Solok exchanged another glance as Proxis replied.
“Broadcasting, a—” Proxis paused, and then tapped keys on his command dais, “a greeting, Lord.”
“Retreat!” the world from the alien pilot was clear, but not if it was an order for his two ships or a command to Anguhr.
“We have answered your entreaty,” Anguhr said and leaned forward in his throne. “Why do you attack?”
“Tantabor ally!” the pilot screeched as its helmet swayed left. The ships camera had been jarred off-center as the ship careened in its attack. The image of the alien was only the upper-quarter of a wide helmet coupled to several heavy tubes. The helmet appeared clear, but the internal fluid was dark and opaque. A flicker of lights that might be eyes or reflections of interior meters flashed yellow and red as it communicated. The rest of the pilot was likely inside a suit built to withstand acceleration and extreme maneuvers. Its ship likely had no internal field to suppress their effects on living tissue.
“Explain. Quickly.” Anguhr demanded.
“We know you are allied with the tyrant. We came to answer a call for help from Kaekus. Your alliance is with Tantabor. We act to defend innocents. Retreat! Not even Hell will stop us!”
“I am not representing Hell.” Anguhr replied. “I—we too received a message. It is we who may be allies. If—”
“Lies! You are Hell! You attack to kill us all!”
“Not yet,” Solok grated in a low voice.
“We seek,” Anguhr paused, “intelligence. If you can—”
A garbled voice screeched through another channel inside the alien’s cockpit. The connection broke.
“They have renewed their joint barrage, Lord Anguhr.” Proxis said in a sigh.
“Target at will,” Anguhr replied and leaned back into his throne.
“At least you will not need the main batteries, Ship Master.” Solok sneered at the images of the attacking craft.
“I will not even need missiles,” Proxis answered.
Outside, the aegis of the ship expanded. A wave front of crimson fire enveloped the nearest alien attacker. Its force field crackled and died. Then its silvery hull glowed hot. The metallic craft quickly resembled a flaming arc as it pulled a sharply away from the hellship. The second ship dove under its burning twin in an attempt to cut the flames and save its partner. It exploded. The first ship lost control and tumbled in flame. Its connecting sickle fractured between the two cylinders and the wreckage burned into more radioactive dust.
“Course, Lord?” Proxis asked.
“Continue to Kaekus,” Anguhr answered. “The world appears more complex than insane. We may yet find who sent the message.”
“Or more ways for Proxis to innovate with our weapons,” Solok nodded in respect to his demon colleague.
“Indeed.” Anguhr grumbled.
Soon after, Anguhr ordered Proxis to reduce the ship’s aegis. He then climbed above his bridge to stand on his ship’s exterior. As he stood, he rose over the crimson flames. He felt the cold embrace of vacuum through the frontal gaps in his helmet and across his exposed arms. Anguhr had seen mountain-sized glaciers and entire worlds of unbroken ice. Many frozen realms had inner layers of deep blue, and faces of solid white. As Anguhr looked out into space, it appeared solid black. But there was nothing to touch but radiation and scant light as his ship crossed the planet’s terminus.
In his own way, Anguhr understood the concept of beauty. Once, he spared a planet from complete destruction by his ship’s scythe because he admired a native bird of prey. If he still served Hell, the planet Kaekus might inspire such defiance. The ecology was lush from tropical to temperate zones, and thrived beneath polar icecaps. Around them and over most of the planet flowed emerald oceans with life from wave crests to their darkest depths. That was the world historical data showed. It was not what he saw.
Anguhr’s burning eyes looked from atop his bridge and through space at a vast sandstorm over an ochre ball. The falling dust threatened to blot out the shallow waters of the retreating ocean. There was life. It clung to forest remnants surviving as island of green and blue. There were signs of war. Cities of steel were now decaying fortress walls. On the nightside, burning torches lit the structures, not lights of electric or other powers. Satellites still orbited. Some still functioned. They bore differing insignias and language codes on warning panels. Whomever they served was no longer listening or sending commands. Unlike many species that died as the world slowly perished, the war was ongoing.
Anguhr came seeking subjects for his empire, or perhaps allies. He found a world that had become a battlefield. He once worshiped War as a personal god. Now, more odd ideas rolled in his head beneath an impenetrable helmet. He found war again. It had leveled a technologically capable world and shattered its ecology. Once, he ordered the annihilation of planets. Now, he was disappointed to see one dying.
Solok alit next to Anguhr. His squadron of demons flew over in salute. Their dark wings nearly disappeared from view in the black of space. They flew along the vast stretch of glowing beams and crimson flames that served as Anguhr’s top deck. They disappeared in the distance among the red haze. Solok had returned from planetary reconnaissance. Anguhr looked down at his new Field Master and watched him shoulder his massive rifle. His eyes drifted back to the surface of Kaekus.
“Lord, Proxis confirms there is one, small ship, perhaps a shuttle or discarded lifeboat. It is moored. Immobile. Wherever the ships that attacked us came from, they were the most advanced force in this planet. I am certain they w
ere a self-contained force. There is no evident infrastructure to support such warships.
“There are armies, or at least sentient lifeforms organized into massed camps and armed. But their weapons are all a mix of firearms, spears, and sharp sticks.
“Their protracted, global conflict has become the world’s culture. They have institutionalized war into a feudal economy. Resources are obviously amassed and controlled by the warlords who live apart from their soldiers and workers. It is certain that if they do not rediscover their technology through more efficient use of resources, they will all die along with their world. For now, and likely forever, there is no threat to us, Lord. We are, if we wish to be, the masters of the planet.”
Anguhr looked back at Solok. He smiled. “Impressive, Field Master. Once you were a warrior, knowing only the fight. Now you are also my anthropologist. Demons are ever adaptable.”
“I serve as I can, Lord. Hopefully exceeding your standards.”
“As you say, this world must change if they are ever to be strong enough to join us. Thus, I have a new tactic to employ. You will lead this mission.”
“It is my honor to serve you, Destroyer.”
“Perhaps in ways you may find—will find—different.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Great Widow finished the new strands of her web. It would focus the resonance the intruder when it returned. She realized this intruder might be closer than she first thought, or found comfortable. It may lurk not in a distant orbit around a black star or parallel void, but be on the very surface of Hell.
Impossible, thought the giant, sentient spider. But she knew it was true.
In her vast realm, trapping minds was similar to snaring crawling prey. The intruder could only enter her web's dimension via the quantum link to a discarded strand. Its mind could only cling to her silken lines. She, the spider, moved in the dimensions above them. The new strands would ensnare the intruder. More silk would then contain it forever. It would become one more, slight bulge in a universe mostly composed of intersecting, straight lines.
That was the plan. Rarely had she failed to capture prey. She realized the intruder was strong. However, in her days as a mindless spider descending on insects and small creatures, she would feel the vibrations and descend from her dark hiding place, little caring about the size of the trapped victim. All she needed was an area to bite. The silk and the venom did the rest. Then, she ate. Life and liquefied tissues gave her life. Dead husks became debris on the floor the living ran over as they blundered into her web and died. This mind she sought would not die until she fully understood it. In that way, she would digest it. Then it would stay trapped within silk, inside a pocket dimension that was contained in Hell. Spiders were adaptable creatures.
What nearly frightened her was a slim potential of who this intruder might be.
Impossible, the giant, sentient spider thought again to reassure herself.
She checked the sleeping remnant of the Dark Urge secured on her back. Then she set to lure her prey. To solicit a new intrusion, she plucked the web strands with the right resonance. She withdrew to a place above her trap, and waited.
“It’s in here? The captive?” Myra asked Niko, the man who summoned her to the Hull’s interior. When she brought her group into New Poledoris, the city was already beginning to celebrate the invasion’s end. They treated Myra as a hero, but what she wanted most was a bed. She was given medical treatment, and found her thin, medical cot more comfort than eternal paradise. She had little time to dream. Niko was mayor of New Poledoris, and thus the highest official on Tectus. He was also an old friend. Myra knew he wanted her presence for more than political gain.
“Yes.” Niko replied and glanced at the portal on the hatch within the passages of the repurposed colony ship. The hatch could seal to withstand the stress of inner atmosphere loss and sudden vacuum. Niko hoped it could contain the chamber’s occupant.
“I know you fought off invaders, but you still should give it a good look.” Niko looked at Myra. His eyes widened as he recalled his own shock. “Familiarize yourself with its features. It’s something like us, but, well, also totally alien. But I guess you know that.”
“I suppose. But I’m not sure you really get used to aliens,” Myra said.
“But you have experience we don’t. That’s why I need you. We may come from spacefarers, but not one of us has any experience with alien contact—direct, personal contact.” Niko looked up and realized the oddity of such words inside the Hull that was once capable of interstellar travel.
The old ship was now the built-over center of a larger city. Yet, generations later, the spacecraft was still the foundation of their society.
“Until today,” Myra said and looked through the portal. “Some of us had too much personal contact.”
Myra moved back from the portal as she saw eyes already looking at her. Memories flashed of the invader monsters, and the glowing eyes of the huge demon. The alien eyes, here, were different.
“I’ve never seen that.” Myra took a breath and flared her facial gill-like nostrils. “It’s not a demon, I don’t think.”
Niko paused in thought. He nodded to himself, and then looked back at Myra. “Some of the ship fragments our remotes have scanned indicate several differing alloys and manufacturing techniques. We have no idea how many species comprised the invader force.”
“All allied?” Myra asked.
“Yes. Except for Hell.”
Myra’s large, dark eyes drifted from Niko as her mind replayed the whirl of carnage when the demons killed the armored beasts in the low mountain chamber.
“Yes,” Niko said anticipating her questions of why Hell proved their planet’s savior. “No one understands why the same power that destroyed Poledoris saved its descendents.”
“Then, they too must have differing species,” Myra offered. “Or internal divisions.”
“That’s an interesting thought,” Niko nodded. “It appears so.”
“This captive alien abandoned the fight?” Myra asked.
“I can’t guess alien intent—well, actually.” Niko cocked his head and widened his eyes as he reconsidered his words. “Actually, I hope we can. But he seems to have deserted rather than experience an attack of conscience.”
“I hope he has one. A conscience.” Myra said. She slowly shook her head when considering the bizarre changes to life on her once-thought safe, solitary world.
“We all do. Our world does.” Another male voice came from down the passageway. The man continued as he approached. “But even if he—it—does, and will help us, we have no idea if it has any knowledge useful for our next challenge.”
“This is Laas Vollen Sune,” Niko motioned to the man. “He is—”
“An ethics professor at university.” Myra finished and smiled at Laas.
“I asked him to be the cultural bridge, the liaison, for the captive.” Niko nodded to Laas.
“This is the only one?” Laas asked and peered through the portal on the sealed hatch.
“So far as we know,” Niko said.
“The demons—they are, complete in their task. In killing.” Myra inhaled. “Why bring me here, Niko? I’m not a liaison or an interrogator. I am a teacher.”
“Yes. Now.” Niko replied. He tilted his head to Myra and looked at her with a knowing gaze. “But you were a district arbitrator before being elected to that high post. What’s important, now, is that you are a combat survivor, and a sudden expert on aliens. Plus, your story of leading your group through the low mountains is now lore. Your presence, here, will boost public confidence.”
“And I thought this wasn’t political,” Myra said and followed with a deep sigh.
“It is cultural,” Laas said with an entreating tone. “We are a world in crisis. We need our heroes, and we need confidence in all our leaders.”
Myra sighed again. “I don’t know what I learned that could help. Nothing, really. Just what end bullets come out a rifle, a
nd how to scream. The invaders and demons didn’t sit down to talk with us.”
“This one is sitting,” Niko said and placed his hand on Myra’s shoulder. “And he has no choice but to talk.”
In the cell, Su’anff did not know to be pleased or frightened. He was alive. But what did that mean? He was far from home. He had deserted his post and army. There was no one here that even looked like a true person. Only strange, harsh eyes occasionally peered through a thick portal in a heavy, locked hatch. Alien eyes. He was a prisoner, made so by his own acts. Worse, he was a zoological display. A thing. And completely alone.
On Ru’cenoria, Su’anff had wanted to be an engineer from personal desire. He became a soldier due to need. He became an officer, a Strike Leader, who saw combat through remote viewers and secure command posts. He witnessed enemy defeats on multiple worlds. He was a conqueror. Then, he saw his army being annihilated by demons. The horrific legends were suddenly real and killing everyone. He dropped his field magnifier and ran, terrified.
He stumbled into a group of Tectus natives massed at a gateway into their shielded city. Although he was much larger, he expected them to swarm and beat him. Instead, they stared up at him with accusing eyes. Endorphins had quelled his terror, but when seeing all the alien eyes stare at him with familiar emotion, accusation and disgust, he became afraid again.
He dropped his sidearm from his armor, and surrendered. He realized they had no translators. To their ears, his pleas sounded like shouting, so he knelt. They continued to stare. One came with a rifle. Two others collected his weapon. They took him into their former colony ship.
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