Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘How . . . How does it work . . . the interstellar spacecraft transport?’

  He chuckled again. ‘You haven’t studied that at the Institute?’

  ‘Not quite yet. I don’t think so, anyway.’

  He leant on the railing and cocked his head as though thinking carefully. ‘When the original colonies of Luna and Mars were first founded,’ he said, ‘we’re talking millennia ago now, old methods of nuclear fusion were used. When it came to exploring Proxima, antimatt power proved pivotal. That sped up colonization, but never enough to get us to the point we are now. No, it was the technological revolution of the twenty-third century that gave us the gift of space travel. Ultimatt energy acted much like Robotic Intelligence did centuries after its discovery. Everybody that goes through the Institute learns about Sik-Whang and Petra Marka—the great scientists who created the first ultimatt engine.’

  ‘Wait!’ she said. ‘Just wait. Slow down. You said ultimatter works like Robotic Intelligence did. But in what way?’

  Ferranti turned and walked back across to the opposite window. Anna followed. ‘It’s never been proven,’ he said. ‘Nobody I know would have the faintest idea where to begin, of course. But it has always been said that these engines . . . ultimatt engines . . . that they’re alive.’

  ‘Alive? How?’

  ‘I’m no scientist, but I do know that energy can be neither created nor destroyed, nor harvested indefinitely. Energy stays the same—it is only transferred. There was a time when unlimited power sources didn’t exist, long ago now. And because of that the light-speed barrier couldn’t be broken. We could not make the leap. Humanity knew that.’

  ‘Then what changed?’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘What?’ She leaned closer.

  Ferranti cleared his throat. ‘The theory goes: life is unpredictable, life is the only thing that changes, the only thing we cannot foretell or prophesize.’

  ‘Sounds like rubbish to me.’

  He leaned back on the railing and seemed to think carefully of an answer. ‘It’s a hard concept to grasp,’ he said. ‘Most of it is unexplained, mysterious. Simply put, ultimatt engines are supposed to be living . . . everlasting. The radiation our engines leave behind—radiation which allows faster-than-light travel through the Systems, leaping from one planet to another—that radiation leaves a detectable pathway through space. So when we’re leaping, we’re not leaping blind. We’re following the paths already laid before us. Like footprints in space.’

  ‘I never knew. It’s real?’

  ‘Oh, it’s real alright. It’s just difficult to handle for most.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they don’t understand it, Anna. They can’t control it.’

  ‘Is that what happened with Callista? With the Iástrons?’

  Ferranti took a long pause, before looking at Anna and sighing. ‘Yes.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  LESPER CLAPPED HIS hands over his ears, closed his eyes, and attempted to shut out the horror as a deafening hiss devoured the room. The lights within the cage containing the last of the beasts poured into the enclosure; a flickering poison disturbed only by the erratic movements of the creature within. He forced himself to watch the dying demon. After this he would only have Subject Sixteen to deal with. The terrifying scream reached its peak, piercing Lesper’s eardrums with the synchronised sound of a thousand deadly serpents. The fifteenth and last beast charged about the cage, violently slamming into its sides, horns and claws striking the glass. And if Lesper had heeded the threat, he may have feared that it would get free.

  Then at once the sound stopped. He turned the light off. The beast was dead. He left the hatch up, still revealing the thing as it lay, like the others, unmoving. He watched it for several minutes after which he turned his attention to Subject Sixteen. Of all the creatures within Section Six, number sixteen was special. Because number sixteen they had not found inside the asteroid Erebus. Nor had they brought it with them. This one they had created themselves.

  The beasts didn’t scare Lesper; not as much as this thing anyhow. It was an abomination. It deserved to die. It was a mistake he never should have made. He stepped back towards the console—

  ‘What are you doing?!’

  Lesper spun to see Xerin Kramer stood at the opposite end of the room, eyeing the exposed cages. The Professor took a nervous step into the room, the door closing behind him.

  ‘What’s that I can smell?’ he said. ‘Have you been drinking?’

  The Commander shifted.

  ‘What are all the cages doing open? Get away from there now!’ Kramer shouted. He stepped forward again, and Lesper backed up, leaving the control panel between them.

  ‘How long have you known me, Xerin?’

  Kramer inched closer. ‘Long enough to know this isn’t you.’

  HE’S WRONG . . .

  Lesper’s neck twitched. ‘And we always thought what we were doing here was for the betterment of mankind.’

  ‘It was,’ Kramer said. ‘It is!’

  ‘I don’t think so. Not anymore.’

  ‘What aren’t you telling me, Lesper?’

  ‘I read Edgar Mokrikov’s journal. The one he asked for. I wish I hadn’t.’

  ‘You did what?!’

  ‘You don’t understand! But I do. We’ve been used all this time. The Córonat intends to kill us when it’s all over. When we’ve succeeded in the task he set us. I have to kill it.’

  He glanced back. A shadow stirred within cage sixteen.

  ‘You’re not going to kill it, Lesper.’

  ‘Why?’ Lesper wiped sweat from over his eyes. ‘After all, we made him! We’re the cruel monsters who created this thing. He is no more a beast than I am!’

  ‘Constantine, stop it.’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ he said. ‘It happened right here. The captain said no. You hit him. I knocked him unconscious—’

  ‘Stop it!’

  ‘How proud you must be.’

  Kramer pulled a small blaster from his black coat and aimed it in his commander’s direction. Lesper simply smiled.

  ‘Do it,’ he said. ‘Don’t make me beg.’

  Kramer lowered the weapon.

  Lesper stepped away from the cage. ‘I want to end it. You and I both know that there's something else going on here, Xerin. This place isn't derelict, not by far. We found life on it for goodness sake. This place is altogether—’

  ‘Alien?’

  Lesper shuddered. The throbbing in his head ceased. He felt clear-headed, sober, steadfast. ‘I think it’s time we shut this operation down.’

  ‘Constantine, we've worked together for as long as I can recall. You remember we would speak for hours about just how momentous our find was, and still is. No discovery like this has ever been found. We'd be complete fools to abandon it, to ignore the secrets it holds.’

  ‘Even if those secrets end up destroying us, along with everyone else here? You’re not the only one to have studied this place in its entirety, my friend.’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘I think you know, Xerin. These creatures aren't the only secret this hell hole is hiding. The question we need to be asking is not what they are, but where they came from. And if they're the ones in the cages . . . then who really has the keys?’

  ‘You fear the Masters may return?’

  Lesper’s eyes widened. ‘I fear they never left.’ Kramer did not answer. ‘It is fear which brought us here, to this point, Xerin. Fear of the unknown. It’s time to leave.’

  Kramer crossed his arms over his chest. ‘What would you have us do?’

  ‘Evacuate the station. Destroy the thing altogether. Set some charges and get the hell off this rock!’

  The Professor laughed. ‘If I did that I’d be destroying the best chance of understanding this universe humanity has ever had.’

  ‘But at what cost? Damn it, Kramer! This place bleeds m
alevolence!’ Lesper put his hands behind his head, tearing where there was no hair to tear. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

  BUT IS HAS. KRAMER HAS FORCED YOUR HAND. IT IS UP TO YOU NOW. DO IT!

  ‘This alien station and its secrets can offer more than just answers,’ Kramer pleaded. ‘Erebus will stop the inevitable conflict escalating among the Systems . . . burning at the heart of the Alignment itself. The Córonat said so.’

  ‘The Córonat has used us!’

  ‘Erebus will rise to glory, I’ll make sure of it! The army we can create would halt war in the Systems altogether!’

  But Lesper wasn’t listening. Stepping toward the command console he gazed at his reflection in the metal, eyes wide and unsettling, dark with the distress of trauma and age. His gaze shot up as Kramer stepped closer one more time, blaster raised to chest-height, his expression a combination of irritation and terror.

  ‘Step away from the console,’ he said.

  ‘You’re not going to shoot me,’ Lesper said. ‘And there’s one more thing I have to do. I have to kill our creation.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  Lesper drove the lever down and the light inside cage sixteen surged through. They both shielded their faces. A deafening hiss sounded, but it was louder than the others, and it sent shivers down Lesper’s spine like nothing else ever could. Kramer sprang across and knocked him aside. He slammed the lights in the cage off. However, the shrieking and hissing did not stop as before. The beast continued to throw its weight around in the darkness, pummelling the glass, threatening to break free.

  Lesper knew his greatest fear . . . or at least he thought he did. As he looked within the cage and into the glowing eyes of the creature he had once known as a man, his true fear dawned on him.

  And then it came true.

  The first fifteen caged beasts, creatures he had thought were dead, began hissing wildly too, ramming the mighty glass walls.

  ‘Close the hatches!’ Kramer screamed. ‘Seal the cages! They’re not dead!’

  Lesper went to do so. But then it happened. The two men looked to each other with expressions of dread as a powerful crack sounded, followed by the deafening shatter of glass.

  ‘No . . .’

  An alarm sounded. The two soldiers stationed outside the room charged in, bright red coilbolts ignited; but their assaults were worthless. The great beast that was Subject Sixteen charged across the room and tore them asunder. Blood and soaring flesh replaced the sickening screams in seconds. Kramer fell to the ground as Lesper rammed him out of the way. The Commander forced an old bookshelf aside, placed his thumb on the scanner, sunk into the wall.

  As the creature turned, covered in blood, it stared at Lesper; a piercing gaze. Hatred. And Lesper twisted, and cast himself down the dark escape tunnel, leaving his old friend with the beast as the hatch slammed closed behind him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  PERCHED IN A far corner of the noisy mess hall of Outpost Aurora, Anna looked up. The pale-faced man she had collided with earlier marched into the large room and sat down with half a dozen other men, also adorned in black uniforms. She watched them intently. Seeing the man a second time only made her sure: he was the man from her nightmares. He not only looked like him, but she felt something stir inside her when she saw his face. Perhaps he knew something of the Gilaxiad.

  Captain Ferranti sat eating silently beside her. She pushed her tray aside and continued to watch the pale man and his crew. Where could he be from?

  ‘What’s caught your attention?’ Ferranti asked her.

  She nodded her head in the black-clad crew’s direction. ‘What do you suppose they’re saying?’

  He glanced over at the table where the mysterious captain sat; he looked to be the only one talking. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Can’t we find out who he is?’

  He eyed her suspiciously. ‘Why so curious?’

  ‘Because, I told you, I have definitely seen that man before. I’d just like to know where from, that’s all.’

  Ferranti frowned and Anna raised her eyebrows piteously, the way she always did when she wanted something from her uncle. It only ever worked with him, however; her sister and Callista were much too wary.

  ‘I shouldn’t,’ he said. ‘He’s done nothing to warrant my suspicion, or yours.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Break the rules for once. Please?’

  He placed his cup down. ‘Okay, fine.’ He lifted a small, tubular device from within his jacket.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Never you mind.’

  He pointed the device covertly in the man’s direction, zoomed in, and quickly snapped an image of his face. A minute passed, then it bleeped and an extract appeared on the device’s long screen. Ferranti gazed at it in silence.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘What? What is it?’

  Surprisingly serious, Ferranti breathed in, held the device towards her.

  TITANESE DATASTORE

  FILE: __UNKNOWN PERSON__

  Searching . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  IMAGE FOUND:

  SEARCH RESULT:

  VIOLENT CRIMINAL

  ANTAL JUSTUS

  OFFICIALS ARE SEEKING ANY AND ALL INFORMATION ON ANTAL JUSTUS, A NATIVE OF PLANET EARTH AND CAPTAIN OF THE STAYREADY MODEL OF SHIP KNOWN AS THE CRIMSON FLUX. HE IS WANTED IN FOUR STELLAR SYSTEMS AND FIFTEEN PLANETARY SYSTEMS IN CONNECTION WITH CRIMES INCLUDING THEFT, MURDER, TERRORISM, AND TREASON . . .

  CONSIDERED ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS

  Anna searched Ferranti’s expression for some clue as to what he would do, her own filled with nothing less than absolute disbelief.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘Thinking.’

  ‘Diego . . .’

  ‘Let me think, Anna!’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Ferranti went to speak when a siren sounded suddenly in the mess hall, echoing throughout the connecting passages. Anna covered her ears. Everybody sat around the dozen tables jumped to their feet, weapons to hand. But Antal Justus remained where he was. The siren continued and he climbed up onto one of the tables.

  ‘Listen up, everyone!’ he shouted above the din. ‘I am captain of the vessel Fated Chaos. Moments ago we received intelligence pointing to an imminent attack on this outpost! None of your vessels currently docked here are safe, and we must for the meantime assume that all are compromised. The Fated Chaos is, however, safe and ready for immediate departure! I will ask you all to make your way towards my ship, stationed at the edge of the north-dock. You may return in due course, once the threat has been resolved.’

  At once Ferranti seized Anna by her arm, and before she could open her mouth he forced her away from the direction the crowd of panicked crews were being herded. Justus’ soldiers spread out and directed everyone through the exit on the other side of the hall.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she cried. ‘Weren’t you listening to him?’

  ‘Considering what we’ve just learnt about the captain there,’ he said, ‘I’d be inclined not to trust a single word he says!’

  ‘Captain!’

  As they reached the corridor leading from the great room they turned to see a flustered and panicked Lieutenant Avila running towards them.

  ‘We know,’ said Ferranti. ‘Now we—’

  ‘No, Captain!’ she said, attempting to overcome the alarming distress signal. ‘I know about the threat! But we have a bigger problem.’

  ‘Speak.’

  ‘It’s Gordian.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s not in his cell. His guard is . . . dead.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Sir, he’s escaped!’

  ‘NO!’ Anna cried. ‘Gílana’s still on the Stellarstream!’ She pushed Ferranti out of the way—

  ‘Anna, no!’

  C
HAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  ARAMAN ALWAR’S EYES shot open. Distressed, he jolted into a seated position and slammed his forehead into the cabinet above his bed. Dull pain joined the unnerving sense of disorientation, intensified a thousand fold with the piercing siren and intermittent flashes of burning red light now flooding his quarters. The latter caused all of his equipment piled up around him to spread numerous shadows darting through the confined space with a startling delirium.

  He rubbed the throbbing lump on his forehead, then reached beneath his pillow and pulled out a torch. The wailing alarm stopped, though the power remained off. Flashing red light continued to provide enough light for him to dress, pick up an advanced coilbolt, and charge from his room. Down the windowless corridor people surged from their rooms—half-dressed, flustered, and groaning.

  Araman knew where to go. All station personnel were to head straight to the barracks as a safety precaution if such an alarm sounded. Red light meant one thing: danger. Araman, however, circumvented everyone else and headed straight for the dock. Since Commander Lesper had sent Captain Justus away on the Fated Chaos, for whatever reason, there was only one craft left. If something were to happen to it . . .

  ‘Who’s there?’ someone said as he entered the dark of the dock. Torchlight gestured frantically.

  ‘It’s Araman!’ he replied, lighting his own torch. ‘What’s the problem?’

  A soldier rushed towards him; Araman recognised the frightened face of one Private Riess. ‘Emergency procedure s . . . seven, sir,’ he said.

  ‘What’s your name, Private?’

  ‘Riess.’

  ‘No, what’s your name?’

  Stuttering, he said, ‘It’s C . . . Carlos, s . . . sir.’

  ‘Okay, Carlos. Procedure seven, you say? That’s an alert. What’s caused the power loss?’

  ‘First and s . . . second generators, sir. It s . . . seems both have stopped w . . . working. Pine and Azal have gone down to Section Two t . . . t . . . to check it out.’

  Araman placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Relax, Carlos. I'll follow them down. Go and check communications on board the Nyx.’

  ‘Right away, sir!’ The soldier hurried up the ramp of the nearby craft.

  Emergency procedure seven was indeed an alert. It also meant an attack on the station. But the dock was clear. Shivers flew down his spine as the only explanation drove fear through his bones.