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CRADLE OF WAR

A CAPTAIN'S CRUCIBLE

BOOK THREE

Isaac Hooke

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

Text copyright © Isaac Hooke 2016

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

www.IsaacHooke.com

Cover design by Isaac Hooke

Cover image by Shookooboo

table of contents

prologue

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

seventeen

eighteen

nineteen

twenty

twenty-one

twenty-two

twenty-three

twenty-four

twenty-five

twenty-six

twenty-seven

twenty-eight

twenty-nine

thirty

thirty-one

thirty-two

thirty-three

thirty-four

thirty-five

postscript

about the author

acknowledgments

prologue

Captain Daniel H. Thompson of the United Systems corvette the USS Stalwart frowned when he saw the notification on the display.

“Carter,” he said to the lieutenant manning the ops station. “What’s going on with the comm nodes near 2-Prius?”

“Looks like both of them have gone offline again,” Lieutenant Carter said.

The Stalwart was at the center of the tactical display overlaying his vision. The corvette was in orbit above the planet Prius 3A, which housed the only colony and military base in the system. Further out, about two hundred million kilometers away, resided 2-Prius and the Gate in front of it. The yellow dots representing the comm nodes there had winked out.

Comm nodes were drones that passed back and forth through the Gates to which they were assigned, transmitting data to and from the adjacent systems, and were an integral part of the InterGalNet; however, the two drones in place around 2-Prius were more observatory in nature, as no return Gate existed on the other side and so neither one would be passing through.

Daniel rubbed his chin. “Both offline again...”

NAVCENT had dispatched Task Group 72.5, commanded by Admiral Knox, to Prius 3 seven months ago. The fleet headed directly toward the outgoing wormhole, 2-Prius, and passed through into Vega 951. At the time, Daniel had been a little surprised to see a battle group in a backwater system like Prius 3, what with the tensions between the Sino-Koreans and United Systems and the resultant military buildup taking place along the front line systems. But who was he to judge the orders of Central Command?

A little over six months ago almost all of the telemetry drones in the system had gone offline, including the comm nodes near 2-Prius, thanks to some electromagnetic pulse event. The comm nodes above the opposite Slipstream, 1-Prius, had remained intact, likely because the devices were performing an update in the neighboring system at the time.

The scientists had theorized that the EMP was caused by some unknown property of the stars that orbited each other in the middle of the system—those two were like pugilists in the ring, locked into a boxing match that would last until the end of time. The third star, Rook, around which Prius 3A revolved, would have protected the colony from that pulse, as Rook and its magnetosphere had eclipsed the inner suns at the time.

Daniel had a few repair drones dispatched to the wormhole. After becoming operational again, the AIs in the comm nodes studied the gravimetric fluctuations from the Prius 3 side and determined that no return Gate existed beyond the wormhole. Task Group 72.5 was stranded in Vega 951. That observation made Daniel doubt that the stars were the actual source of the EMP.

But once again the scientists came to the rescue with their theories, and they explained away the destruction of the return Gate by claiming that the Slipstream must have transmitted and magnified the EMP event somehow, despite the fact that such an aberrant transmission had never been recorded before. The captain had been reluctant to believe it, but when a routine sweep of the system turned up nothing else, he had no other recourse but to file his report and include the theories.

“Status on the remaining telemetry drones?” Daniel asked the lieutenant.

“Strangely, still operational,” Carter said. “Though they’re in full view of both inner stars.”

“I guess that rules out our hypothesis that the stars produced the EMP,” Daniel said.

“Actually, I haven’t detected anything that would indicate an EMP event,” Carter said. “Maybe the nodes have failed for a different reason, this time.”

“The failure definitely isn’t some problem inherent to the nodes themselves,” Daniel said. “The odds of two comm nodes failing at the same time on their own has to be astronomical.”

He stared at that wormhole on his tactical display. 2-Prius. That mystery wormhole.

What secrets do you hide?

When Daniel reported the situation six months ago, NAVCENT promptly sent Task Group 12.5.2, composed of a Harvester, Builder, cruiser and four destroyers. Daniel thought that was a little odd, given that Task Group 72.5 already had a Harvester and Builder with them. At the time he didn’t read too much into it, as standard protocol dictated the inclusion of a Harvester and Builder when dispatching a fleet through a wormhole that lacked a return Gate. But something else bothered him, and that was how soon Task Group 12.5.2 arrived after his report. Once again NAVCENT was sending all these ships to a relatively unimportant border system, moving precious destroyers away from the Sino-Korean front lines. It seemed obvious that Task Group 72.5 had been doing something significant in the system beyond.

After calling in some favors, three months ago he finally discovered that Task Group 72.5 had harbored a planet killer in its midst. What exactly the fleet had planned to do with that world-destroying bomb in Vega 951, Daniel didn’t know, but he finally understood why Task Group 12.5.2 had come along so soon—if he had misplaced a planet killer, he would have dispatched a fleet to retrieve it ASAP, too.

“I’m detecting three heat signatures,” Carter announced, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Ships, Captain. They just emerged from 2-Prius.”

“2-Prius?” Daniel glanced at his ops officer. “You mean 1-Prius, don’t you? From Anvil Rappel?” That was the other adjoined star system, a frontier territory the United Systems had purchased from the Franco-Italians and then resold to the Asiatic Alliance, who allowed the United Systems to continue operating a military base there.

“Negative,” Carter said. “I definitely mean 2-Prius. From Vega 951.”

“I thought Task Group 12.5.2 wasn’t due to finish construction of the return Gate for another three weeks?”

“They aren’t,” Lieutenant Carter agreed. He paused. “The Gate, Captain.” A strange tremor undermined his tone. Urgent. Fearful.

Daniel glanced at his tactical display and zoomed in on the wormhole. The Gate to Vega 951 no longer existed. In its place was debris.

“How old is this data?” Daniel asked.

“Approximately ten minutes old.”

“Do we have a positive ID on those heat signatures?” the captain pushed.

“No,” Carter said. “The signatures don’t match anything in our database.”

Daniel clenched his jaw. “They have to be some new Sino-Korean ship type.”

“You think Vega 951 has a Slipstream that loops back to SK space?” Carter asked.

“There’s no other explanation. Hermes, can you confirm?”

The Stalwart’s AI, Hermes, answered. “Slipstream data for Vega 951 is currently classified.”

“Ah yes,” Daniel said. “And so we hit a brick wall once again, thanks to NAVCENT’s overuse of the classified initiative. Come on, Hermes, help me out here. We’re kind of in a bind.”

“Slipstream data for Vega 951 is currently classified,” Hermes repeated.

“Fine.” Daniel turned toward the comm officer. “Transmit an emergency message to NAVCENT. Tell them unknown assailants have destroyed the Prius-2 Gate. Send along the heat signatures of the ships.”

In about twelve minutes that message would reach the comm nodes orbiting 1-Prius on the far side of the system.

“And Hermes, sound general quarters please,” Daniel said.

The AI’s voice came over the main circuit and made the announcement for all hands to man battle stations.

“Send a message to the USS Artifice,” Daniel said as the klaxon sounded in the background. The Artifice was the Stalwart’s sister corvette, the only other military vessel in Prius 3. “Tell them to join us above the colony, and to prepare to assume defensive formation Bravo Five.”

Three minutes later Carter made another announcement. “Six more unidentified heat signatures have just emerged from behind Hercules 951-A.”

“What the hell is Hercules 951-A?” Daniel said.

“It’s an asteroid, Captain. Fairly close to 1-Prius.” He paused. “Some of the new heat signatures match the other unidentified craft.”

“What?” Daniel said. “You’re telling me the Sino-Koreans sneaked these new ship types into Prius 3 right under our noses, and hid them here for who knows how long?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Sirs,” Hermes interjected. “I have extrapolated the trajectory of that asteroid back in time by six months, to when the first EMP struck. It would have been close to the further Slipstream, 2-Prius. When the telemetry drones were offline in the system, the intruders could have entered via 2-Prius and hidden behind the asteroid.”

“Interesting conjecture,” Daniel said. And probably accurate, given that his search team hadn’t paid too much attention to asteroids when performing their sweep of the system; all the intruders had to do was hunker down on the big rock and cut all power and his team would have missed them completely.

“Active sensors are detecting a highly directional EMP pulse emanating from the six newcomers,” Carter said. “Looks like it’s aimed toward 1-Prius.”

“Trying to disable our comm nodes there...” Daniel said.

“The beam struck,” Carter continued.

“Status on the comm nodes?” the captain asked, though he guessed the answer already.

“Both disabled,” Carter replied. “Wait. We got lucky. Looks like the attack just so happened to coincide with the transmit time of one of the comm nodes.” That was the designated time a given comm node would pass through to the adjacent system for the transmission and receipt of data. “It got away through the Gate.”

Daniel exhaled in relief. “Did the comm node get our message?”

“No, but it would have witnessed the emergence of the six thermal signatures from behind the nearby asteroid. It will transmit those signatures to NAVCENT. One of the AIs on the receiving end will inevitably notify someone.”

Daniel hoped that would be enough to rouse Central Command into action, because the comm node wouldn’t have yet detected the attack on the farther Gate.

“I’m detecting a spike in thermal energy from the six near 1-Prius.” Carter looked up. “1-Prius Gate has just been destroyed.”

We’re trapped, then. Three enemies in front, and six behind.

As the Artifice moved into position beside the Stalwart to defend the colony, Daniel found it hard to contain his dread. There were too many opponents, with armaments and capabilities entirely unknown. A part of him wasn’t even sure they were Sino-Korean.

But who else could they be?

Well, either way, he couldn’t let his doubts show.

He had a battle to fight in a few days’ time. A probably hopeless battle, maybe, but he would fight it nonetheless. Someone had to protect the two hundred thousand colonists below.

He buttoned up his collar.

“Well ladies and gents,” Daniel said. “It looks like we’re finally going to see some action.”

one

Five days earlier...

Jonathan stared at the video feed provided by his aReal—augmented reality—glasses. On it was the latest arrival to the system: a giant, golden ship. It was shaped like a Möbius strip in that it doubled back upon itself, the rectangular edges twisting one hundred and eighty degrees before joining so that it possessed one continuous surface.

According to the aReal’s tactical display, the new ship was located two million kilometers off the Callaway’s nose, in the one o’clock position. It had emerged from the inner Slipstream of the system only moments ago.

“Ops, do we have a heading for her yet?” Jonathan said.

The fifth watch ops officer shook her head. “She’s not moving. The moment she emerged, the ship issued a full stop.”

Jonathan glanced at the tactical display. Instinctively his gaze drifted to the survivors of the enemy fleet: six Raakarr vessels, located on the far side of the binary stars. Ninety million kilometers away, they weren’t a threat. For the moment.

A lone Raakarr vessel resided closer to the human fleet, roughly thirty thousand kilometers off port. Crewed by defectors, those particular aliens were supposedly Jonathan’s allies. He had christened their vessel the Talon.

“Any attempts at contact?” Jonathan asked the fifth watch comm officer.

The specialist looked up from his position at the Round Table. “Negative sir.”

“Relay a welcome message in all languages and comm protocols,” Jonathan said. Somehow he doubted any of those languages would be understood—they were in a different galaxy, after all. But he hoped the protocols themselves would be recognized for what they were: a peaceful communication attempt, not an attack.

“Aye sir,” the comm officer responded.

“And tell our Raakarr friends to attempt communication as well,” Jonathan added. Then: “Helm, full stop. Tactical, transmit the order to the fleet. I don’t want us getting any closer to that ship.”

The respective officers issued a chorus of affirmative replies.

Jonathan tapped his foot impatiently. “Comm, anything?”

“No response yet,” the comm officer answered.

“I’m detecting a concentrated gamma ray burst from the Talon,” Ensign Lewis said. “It looks like a communications signal. Aimed at the newcomer.”

At least the alien defectors are following my orders, Jonathan thought.

“The burst reached the strange vessel.” Lewis paused. “So far, no response.”

“Maxwell,” Jonathan told the Callaway’s AI. “Summon Miko to the bridge.”

“Lieutenant Miko has been summoned,” the AI responded via the aReal. “The tactical officer should arrive shortly.”

Jonathan glanced at the current tactical officer. “No offense, but I want someone experienced at your station when this turns bad.”

“None taken,” the officer replied. He seemed relieved.

“I couldn’t help but notice you said when the situation turns bad,” Maxwell intoned over a private line. “Not if. You’re already assuming the worst, Captain?”

“I have to.” Jonathan momentarily raised his noise canceler so the bridge crew wouldn’t hear. “We haven’t had good luck with first contacts lately, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“While that may be so,” Maxwell said. “You are exhibiting classic signs of a confirmation bias. Just because our first contacts have gone poorly in the past does not mean they will continue to do so. So far the new arrivals have done nothing to demonstrate any hostile intent. Their silence could be attributed to something as simple as the aliens not using radio or gamma waves for communications.”

“Be that as it may,” the captain responded. “The universe isn’t full of fluffy pink elephants who want nothing more in life than to be our best friends, Maxwell. I’m not about to fly up to this unknown ship with open arms and present our damaged side to them so that they can fire at their leisure.”

“I’m not suggesting you do,” Maxwell replied. “Only that you keep an open mind, as specified by first contact protocol.”

“Fine. My mind is open.” Jonathan wasn’t about to tell the AI that he had further reasons to distrust the newcomers. Earlier he had had visions, courtesy of the three golden anomalies in the Callaway’s cargo hold, linking that vessel, or those of its ilk, to the annihilation of both the human and Raakarr races.

He repealed the canceler. “Comm?”

“Still nothing,” the comm officer said.

Miko arrived and relieved the fifth watch tactical officer.

“Morning, Captain,” Miko said, rubbing his eyes. It was a little after midnight.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Miko,” Jonathan said cheerlessly. “Maxwell has brought you up to speed?”

“He has,” Miko confirmed. “A massive vessel emerged from the wormhole ahead of us and isn’t answering hails.”

A silo-shaped robot assistant deposited a steaming cup of coffee at Jonathan’s station, and then Miko’s. The two drank gratefully.

Jonathan returned his attention to the oddly formed vessel on the video feed. He magnified a portion of the object and the display pixelated slightly as digital zoom was applied. The gold hull seemed slightly translucent, and he saw the vague outline of structures inside.

“Ops, what does the CDC make of it?” Jonathan asked. CDC stood for Combat Direction Center, where all tactical and sensor data was processed by the ship’s AI and a team of specialists before being bundled up into something the bridge crew could use.

The fifth watch ops specialist spoke up. “The general shape matches the ruins of Elder vessels we’ve discovered in our own galaxy, including the wreckage on Achilles I in the Vega 951 system.” That was the system they had been exploring when they first encountered the Raakarr. Apparently the Raakarr had been using Vega 951 as some sort of breeding ground, but whether their usage of the Elder wreckage had been coincidence or necessity, no one knew.

“Apparently their ship design hasn’t changed much in the five hundred thousand years since they left our own galaxy,” the ops specialist finished.

“And I thought human beings were creatures of habit,” Jonathan said. “Kind of brings new meaning to the phrase, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

“Maybe they’ve forgotten how to build ships, and this is all they have,” the specialist said.

“Forgotten?” Jonathan said. “Doubtful. But if they managed to create ships that were completely self-sufficient and self-sustaining, I suppose at some point there would be no need to build any further vessels.” He stared intently at the golden shape. “So these are the Elder.” He couldn’t help the slight awe that slipped into his voice.

“There is one big difference between this ship and the ruins,” the ops specialist said.

“What’s that?” the captain asked.

“Structures of some kind seem to be housed underneath that hull,” the specialist answered. “We’ve never seen anything like it before. The Elder ruins found previously were all hollow inside.”

“I noticed them, too,” Jonathan said. “Does the CDC have any guesses on what those structures are?”

“They look almost like buildings,” the specialist said. “Grouped in clusters. It’s almost like... like there are entire cities housed within.”

Jonathan felt his brow furrow. “What are you saying, it’s some kind of generation ship? Or an artificial world?”

“No idea,” the specialist answered. “But there are no obvious weapon mounts, if that’s any consolation.”

“Not really.”

His eyes focused on the center of the display, where his own fleet resided, composed of six human vessels, plus the Raakarr defector ship, the Talon, thirty thousand kilometers off port. He still wasn’t quite sure of the latter’s allegiance, or intentions. Certainly, that dart-shaped alien ship had turned on the other Raakarr in the last battle, shooting down two of their own vessels. The action had caused the surviving Raakarr to flee.

There was a human telepath stationed aboard the defector vessel, a man named Barrick. The explanation the telepath had given for the unexpected help was members of the so-called Zarafe faction had risen up and usurped control of the ship from the other Raakarr, whom he called the Elk.

It was probably true, but Jonathan’s distrust for the telepath ran deep. After the man had awakened from his mind link with a captured alien six months ago, his psychic abilities had somehow skyrocketed, and Barrick had easily assumed control of the flagship. He had almost succeeded in making the bridge crew fire on their own vessels, but Maxwell and Stanley had saved them. He wondered if something similar had happened aboard the alien vessel. What if the telepath was controlling all of the defectors? It was certainly possible. Still, Jonathan had a feeling the alien minds were far too different from that of human beings to make such mass control feasible.

After that initial incident aboard the Callaway, Barrick had been sedated for six months, but had somehow awakened to kidnap the first officer’s wife, bringing her to the Raakarr. He had learned to speak to the aliens via telepathy in a suspiciously short amount of time, and then he had released his hostage, or rather, arranged for her escape with the help of some alien friends.

The telepath remained aboard the Talon, partly because Jonathan wouldn’t have accepted him back even if he wanted to return, but mostly to facilitate communications with the aliens. So while Jonathan didn’t entirely trust the man, and definitely didn’t like him, without Barrick there was no way to have any sort of dialog with the Raakarr. Again, that assumed Barrick wasn’t actually in control of the alien minds. And even if he was not, Jonathan couldn’t know with absolute certainty whether the telepath was truthfully delivering everything both parties said, and not altering the exchanges to suit his own hidden agenda.

Still, Jonathan had little choice for the moment. He almost wanted to send Robert or another officer aboard to act as a true liaison officer, but he was too worried about the Raakarr—and Barrick—taking another hostage.

“Get me the telepath,” the captain told the comm officer.

two

Jonathan waited impatiently for Barrick to tap in.

Several moments later the telepath’s voice came over his aReal.

“Good morning, Captain.” As usual, Barrick answered the request with audio only. “To what do I owe this late night call?”

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t know the news,” Jonathan said.

Barrick didn’t reply immediately. Then: “My apologies, Captain. I was in fact asleep, but Valor has now informed me of the situation.”

Valor was the leader of the Zarafe faction, and he currently served as captain of the Talon.

“The Raakarr know who these newcomers are, don’t they,” Jonathan said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He waited for a reply, but when none came after thirty seconds, he added: “Barrick?”

“A moment,” Barrick responded. Finally: “Valor says these are their ancestors.”

“Their ancestors?” Jonathan asked. Robert, his first officer, had theorized as much.

“Yes,” Barrick answered. “An ancient race, once resident in our own galaxy, though apparently they left it long ago. The same race humanity refers to as the ‘Elder:’ the makers of the Slipstreams that connect the sundry systems in our corner of the galaxy.”

“I asked you something before,” Jonathan continued. “But your friend Valor wouldn’t give me a straight answer. So I ask again: why did the Raakarr insist we go down to the surface of the greenhouse planet with them? They lied about not having exploratory shuttles... they could have 3D-printed more, just as they built those six ships to ambush us. They already knew we would find those anomalies down there, didn’t they? They knew we would be attacked by humanoid guardians. So what I want to know is, why bring us to the site?”

The line remained silent. Jonathan thrummed his fingers anxiously. Finally, after almost a minute, Barrick spoke again.

“Valor has agreed to answer the question,” the telepath said.

“Generous of him,” Jonathan replied.

“He says the Raakarr indeed recognized the site as an Elder breeding ground from orbit. They wanted to summon their ancestors in the hope the Elder would help the Raakarr return to their own galaxy. But the only way to summon them was by invading the nesting site. They were afraid of the Elder’s wrath, so they spent six months building more ships in case they needed to defend themselves from their ancestors. But then the human fleet showed up and provided a convenient scapegoat. They wanted it to look like we humans were the actual invaders of the breeding grounds, and hoped that when the Elder came, they would show the Raakarr mercy.”

Jonathan felt a sinking feeling deep inside of him. He muted his microphone.

“We took the anomalies we found down on that planet,” the captain said quietly to Miko. “And recovered the bodies of those who were probably their guards. So even though the Raakarr lost three of their own down there, we played right into their little game. When the Elder find out we’ve taken their offspring, I doubt they’ll be very pleased.”

Miko frowned. “Probably not.”

“I must add,” Barrick said, oblivious to the exchange that had taken place between Jonathan and his tactical officer. “Valor claims the Zarafe faction had no involvement in any of that plotting. None whatsoever. He lays it squarely at the feet of the Elk faction.”

Jonathan unmuted his side of the connection. “He would do that, wouldn’t he? But why didn’t Valor try to stop them?”

“There was nothing he could do at the time,” Barrick responded. “Valor had to bide his time, waiting for his chance to strike, and when the opportunity arose he took it.”

Choosing a time that was convenient to him, of course, but not to us.

“Ask Valor about the humanoids who attacked us down there,” Jonathan said. “I want to know how they’re connected to the Elder.”

Barrick’s reply didn’t come immediately. Then: “Valor says he has answered enough of your questions for the moment. I’m sorry, Captain. I have to go.”

“Wait, will our weapons harm them? Our lasers? Our particle beams?”

“Valor says he doesn’t know.” The connection terminated.

Jonathan sat back and sighed. “I can’t believe how badly the Raakarr set us up.”

“Maybe we can return the eggs to the greenhouse planet?” Miko suggested.

“It’s looking like we’re going to have to,” Jonathan said. “I wanted to avoid moving toward the other side of the system while the six Raakarr were out there, but I don’t think we have a choice now.”

“The question is, do we stop by the nearest gas giant to refuel first, as we originally intended?” Miko asked. “Or head directly to the greenhouse planet?”

“I’m thinking we can’t forgo a refueling,” Jonathan said. “We have to be ready when this situation turns sour.”

The fleet had nearly exhausted all of their propellant in the last battle, and much geronium, which was the fuel that powered starship reactors. The fleet-wide inventories of offensive mortars and point defense slugs were similarly depleted, so while the Harvester vessel Grimm collected fuel, the rest of the task group would have to mine ammunition from the gas giant’s ring system.

“Once we’re done restocking,” Jonathan continued. “We can use the gravity well of the gas giant to slingshot us toward the greenhouse planet.”

“And if the six Raakarr decide to intercept us before we get there?” Miko asked.

“Then we blow them out of the stars,” Jonathan said simply. “Nav, bring us back on course toward the nearest gas giant. Give the newcomer a four million kilometer berth, at minimum. Prepare to engage at half speed: let’s not show them how fast we can travel. Miko, transmit the order to the fleet.”

“Course set,” the nav specialist responded.

“Helm, engage,” Jonathan said. “Half speed.”

“Engaging at half speed,” the helmsman echoed.

Jonathan waited a few moments. “Ops, is the Möbius strip making any attempt to follow?”

“Negative, sir,” the ops specialist said. “She’s just sitting there.”

“Notify me if that changes.” Not that they would be able to do very much if the newcomer did actually pursue, thanks to their low propellant levels.

He tapped in Lieutenant Connie Myers, the chief scientist.

Her hologram appeared in the center of the Round Table. Her long dark hair fell in disheveled locks around her face. Like Jonathan, she wore the spectacles version of the aReal.

She reached underneath her aReal with one hand and rubbed her eyes. “Morning, Captain.”

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said. “I forgot the time. I should have sent a message to your mailbox.”

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Connie said. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to stop any experiments you’re performing or plan to perform on the specimens we collected from the greenhouse planet. I want them completely unharmed.”

“I had a batch of slightly invasive experiments planned for tomorrow, but I’ll cancel them,” Connie said.

“See that you do,” Jonathan said. “Our lives might very well depend on the well-being of those things.”

“What about the dead humanoid specimens?” Connie asked. “And their enhanced suits?”

“You may continue experimenting on them for the moment,” Jonathan said. “But I want them moved to a separate container.”

“I’ll make a note to do so first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks Lieutenant. Captain out.”

Jonathan terminated the call. He stared at the Möbius strip on his video feed.

Why won’t you move? he thought. Or otherwise make any attempt to contact us?

Perhaps it was for the best. Because if that ship came for them before they returned the anomalies to the planet, he somehow doubted their intentions would be peaceful.

three

The next few days passed in a tense blur. The task group gave the newcomer a four million kilometer berth and then proceeded toward the gas giant. During the entire voyage the Elder vessel hadn’t broken orbit, remaining above the Slipstream where it had emerged. Jonathan had the comm officers sending out hails hourly, but the new arrival still didn’t respond. The ops specialist confirmed that the Raakarr fleet—and the local defector—were similarly outputting the occasional gamma ray communications ping toward the Elder craft, however their radiation streams so far went unanswered.

By the time the task group reached the gas giant, the Elder ship resided six hundred million kilometers behind them. Jonathan felt somewhat safer at that range. The enemy Raakarr, meanwhile, had moved to twice that distance from the human fleet on the opposite side of the system, three hundred million klicks from the greenhouse planet.

The Grimm moved into low orbit around the gas giant and proceeded to deploy its collection device to sieve geronium and hydrogen. Via a special reactor, the latter was converted into helium—the inert gas used as propellant. The energy produced by the reaction was also employed to convert the geronium into a usable isotope.

The Aurelia mirrored the Grimm’s position in a higher orbit, keeping watch on the vessel. Meanwhile the rest of the task group concentrated on mining mortars and slugs from the ring system that surrounded the giant. Jonathan diverted the unused machinery of the Marley, the Builder ship in their midst, to the conversion process, which helped increase production threefold.

Jonathan also rerouted some of the raw materials toward repairs so that the drone swarms could continue the work they had begun on the Callaway after the first battle. Halfway to the gas giant the repair elements had run out, forcing a shutdown; but with the raw materials flowing freely again, the swarms had begun anew, 3D-printing superheated metal into the remaining gashes in the port side. When that was done, the swarms would focus on restoring damaged compartments and passageways, such as launch bay three and mess hall two. It would likely take a few more weeks before everything was restored, but Jonathan hoped to leave the gas giant in two or three days; the robot miners would stockpile the raw materials, ensuring that enough remained for the planned repairs and any subsequent work thereafter.

Roughly two days into the refueling and restocking operation, Ensign Lewis, first watch ops officer, announced: “I’m detecting gamma ray emissions from the Elder ship. They’re low intensity, and appear to be communication-based.”

“Directed toward us?” Jonathan asked.

“Negative,” she said. “The pulses are aimed at the Raakarr fleet. I’m only picking up the residue.”

“So they’ve finally deigned to answer their descendants,” Robert mused from his seat beside the captain. The commander rubbed his earlobe. “It’s telling, isn’t it, who they chose to answer first?”

“It is,” Jonathan agreed. “Lazur, get me Barrick.”

“Aye, Captain,” the first watch comm officer answered.

Barrick tapped in, audio-only, a moment later. “Captain?”

Jonathan wished Barrick would tap in with video for once, because when someone constantly communicated via audio only, it made Jonathan feel the individual in question had something to hide. Then again, video couldn’t be trusted either, not when it could be readily manipulated by realtime digital image processing.

“Tell me our Raakarr allies can intercept that signal,” Jonathan told the telepath.

“Negative,” Barrick replied. “Like you, the Raakarr are only detecting aberrant photons that aren’t part of the original message. The pulses are highly directional.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said. “It was worth a try. Captain out.”

He terminated the connection.

Shortly thereafter Ensign Lewis reported the Raakarr fleet had issued an answering gamma ray; the vessels proceeded to exchange short-wavelength messages like that for several subsequent hours, each communication and its corresponding response taking half an hour to propagate across the vast gulf between ships, as dictated by the speed of light.

The watches changed, and when the bursts subsided, Jonathan received a message in his quarters. He looped in Robert and Miko when he answered. He chose full visual mode, so that it appeared he was standing at the center of the Round Table on the bridge, with Miko and Robert at his side.

“The Raakarr fleet is setting a direct course toward the Slipstream on the outskirts of the system,” Ensign McNamara, second watch ops officer, told him.

Robert’s hologram glanced at Jonathan. “What do you think they talked about?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure whatever it was, it involved blaming us for what happened on the greenhouse planet,” Jonathan answered.

“The fact that the Raakarr fleet is heading toward the farther Slipstream tells me that they cut some sort of deal with the Elder,” Robert said.

“How so?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, as the creators of the Slipstreams,” the commander said. “In theory the Elder should have the ability to edit the endpoints. Likely they did just that to the farther Slipstream, to allow our enemies passage back to Vega 951. Valor, through Barrick, did say that the Raakarr hoped the Elder would help them return to their own galaxy, after all.”

Jonathan cocked his head slightly. “So the question is, who edited the Slipstream endpoints in the first place to bring us all here? And why?”

“Very good questions,” Robert said.

“Captain,” McNamara said. “The Elder vessel is accelerating. No, I take that back. There was no acceleration, at least not in the conventional sense. It’s speed change was instantaneous. And now it’s turning... I’m not seeing any evidence of propulsion of any kind. I’m checking the gravity bands...” His hologram looked up. “This is incredible. According to the weak gravity waves I’m reading, the Elder appear to be contracting space in front of them, and expanding it behind them.”

“An Alcubierre drive of some kind?” Robert asked.

“It seems so, commander,” McNamara answered. “Definitely something reactionless. Like I said, there’s no evidence of propulsion.”

“That’s great,” Jonathan said, the sarcasm thick in his voice. “They’re not limited by Newtonian drives like we are. For some reason I find myself unable to share your excitement.”

The ensign lowered his gaze. “Sorry sir.”

“Do we have a calculated trajectory?” Jonathan asked.

“We do,” McNamara said. He paused. “I hate to say it, but they’re headed directly toward us.”

four

Jonathan stared at the tiny dot on the tactical display that represented the Elder vessel.

“Can we outrun them?” Jonathan said.

“Negative,” the ensign answered.

“How long until they arrive?” Jonathan pressed.

“Roughly a day,” McNamara responded.

“So they’re three times as fast as our maximum speed,” Jonathan calculated. “And they can contract and expand space in order to move.” He shook his head, feeling utterly outclassed. “Comm, try hailing them again. Get our Raakarr allies to make a similar attempt.”

A moment later the comm officer said: “No response to either party.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Jonathan said. “I need some combat options here, Miko.”

“There aren’t many against a foe like that,” Miko’s hologram responded. “They’ll easily dodge our mortars. And as for slugs, even if they don’t detect them until the last moment, when they do detect them, they’ll effortlessly step aside. Lasers are our only chance. And perhaps the Talon’s particle weapon.”

“Too bad the ranges on the lasers and particle weapon are so damn short,” Jonathan said. “I definitely don’t want to let that bad boy get close. Work with Maxwell. See if you can come up with something viable.”

“I’ll get on it,” Miko said.

Robert spoke up. “Keep in mind, we don’t know if that’s their maximum speed. They could be holding back. Not wanting to reveal their real capabilities.”

“Much like I myself would do in a similar situation,” Jonathan agreed. “Miko, factor that in to any strategies you come up with.”

“I’ll set upper limits for their potential speed and weapons capabilities,” Miko said. “But at this point, I’m basically putting together a strategy to fight against a black box. We don’t even know if our weapons will have any effect.”

“I hear you,” Jonathan said. “Do your best.”

“What if they’re not hostile?” Robert said.

“At this point, we can only hope that they’re not,” Jonathan said. “If it’s any consolation, I’ll give specific orders not to fire first.” He spread his fingers but resisted the urge to tap his lips. “Commander, I want you to arrange the transfer of two of the anomalies to other vessels in our task group. I want one aboard the Salvador, and another aboard the Marley.”

“You’re thinking they won’t target those ships harboring their offspring?” Robert asked.

“Right or wrong, that’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Jonathan said.

“Need I remind the captain, the usage of civilian shields is strictly prohibited by the rules of war,” Maxwell intoned.

“Those rules apply to human shields,” Jonathan told the AI. “Not alien. Besides, we don’t really know if the offspring are civilians.”

“But Captain,” McNamara said. “They’re babies.”

“Are they?” Jonathan remembered the apocalyptic visions those ‘babies’ had injected into his mind. “How do we know they’re not advanced soldiers imprinted with instructions to kill from birth? We’ve achieved similar engram programming on Earth.”

“We have,” McNamara agreed. “But you forget that such birth programming is now illegal. Isn’t that right, Maxwell?”

The AI answered immediately. “The Kipps-Ricot Agreement prohibits the engram manipulation of prenatal embryos and has been signed into treaty by twenty-two governmental entities, including the United Systems and the Sino-Koreans.”

“The child assassin program was a mar on the history of the United Systems,” Jonathan agreed. “But that doesn’t mean the aliens feel the same way about their own offspring.”

“True,” Maxwell replied. “I understand now why you’ve ordered me to vent the entire contents of cargo bay seven into the void at the first sign of trouble.”

“That would be one of the reasons, yes,” the captain said. He glanced at Robert’s hologram. “Commander, get those anomalies transferred to the Salvador and Marley.”

“On it,” Robert said.

JONATHAN STOOD IN cargo bay seven. Robert had finished arranging the transport of the two anomalies a few hours ago, so that only one of the golden, cigar-shaped objects remained in the translucent container before him. He gazed intently at the remaining object, daring it to inject a vision into his thoughts, but none came.

Connie joined him. She wore her dark hair in a bun that day. The hair, in conjunction with her aReal spectacles, gave her the look of an academy professor. She dressed in standard blue utilities like the rest of the crew.

“Apparently you were right about these being eggs,” Jonathan told her.

“Normally I would be happy to be proven right,” the chief scientist said. “But not under the current circumstances, unfortunately.”

He shook his head. “Elder eggs. Who would have thought?”

“We are in a different galaxy, after all,” Connie said. “Anything could happen out here.”

“While that’s true,” Jonathan countered. “We are making one small assumption: that the Raakarr aren’t lying to us.”

“You’re never going to trust them, are you?” Connie asked.

Jonathan glanced at her. “Would you, in my position?” 

She pressed her lips together. “Probably not.”

He returned his attention to the alien embryo. “The commander thinks the humanoid that originally fled from us on the greenhouse planet traveled through the Slipstream and summoned the Elder.”

“What do you think?” the chief scientist asked.

He rocked his head from side to side. “It’s possible. Those suits of theirs are big unknowns to us. They give the humanoids the ability to journey between planets, blurring the line between smart missiles and fighters. But could those suits give them the power to pass through Slipstreams? I don’t really know. Maybe the humanoid is hiding on one of the inner worlds back there, in a secret base whose equipment he used to summon the Elder with. Either way, it doesn’t really matter does it? The Elder are here and we have to deal with them. By the way, speaking of the suits, any progress?”

His gaze momentarily drifted toward the second container in the cargo bay, where the environmental suits collected from the planet were held alongside the dead humanoids.

She pursed her lips slightly. “I’ve made some progress. I took samples of the fabrics. The composition is vastly different from our own technology, unsurprisingly. It’s mostly silicates embedded in a flexible carbon nanotube-like base.”

“Anything we can adapt to our own suit technology?” Jonathan asked.

“The material could certainly help us construct less bulky, more robust spacesuits. The problem is fabricating it.”

Jonathan frowned. “The 3D printers can handle nanotubes, can’t they?”

“They can,” Connie agreed. “But those tubes have to come in pre-produced packs. The fullerenes in the molecules form hollow cages of one hundred eighty carbon atoms. Stuffed directly inside those molecules are silicates. We don’t have anything that can mass produce molecules like that, not easily.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Jonathan said. “You won’t be able to repair the holes we’ve shot into those suits.”

“I’m not sure yet,” Connie said. “I might be able to use a substitute material. A bandaid, if you will. But keep in mind, even if I can repair them, there are likely security protocols in place. They’ll have to be bypassed before us ordinary humans can use the suits.”

Jonathan nodded. “Do what you can.” He paused, remembering something. “What about the energy fields we theorized surrounded those suits, and protected against our laser weapons?”

“We haven’t figured out where the fields were sourced from,” Connie said.

“And the ability to fly?”

“There aren’t any obvious jetpacks on the suits, as you know. I have Sil Chopra leading a team full time, but our best guess at this point is that they’re using a miniaturized version of the reactionless drives found on the Elder ship.”

“Contracting space in front of them, and expanding it behind?” Jonathan said.

“Yes,” Connie answered. “I finally had a chance to review the recordings from the battle on the planet. I watched it on every available frequency, electromagnetic, gravimetric, you name it. And I discovered that when the humanoids took flight, their suits emitted weak gravity waves similar to what we’re reading from the Elder ship itself.”

“I can’t tell you how important it would be for humanity if we could reverse engineer that tech,” Jonathan said.

“I know,” Connie told him. She smiled weakly. “No pressure, right?”

“None.” He turned his attention to the naked bodies arrayed around the suits. They were obviously still frozen: their skin was porcelain white, reminding him of a certain mountain climber he had been forced to abandon on a summit long ago. He had forgiven himself for leaving her, but he would never forget her. Famina was her name.

He focused on those lifeless faces, which appeared vaguely human: each visage had two eyes, a nose, a mouth. The thick noses, receding foreheads and prominent brow ridges betrayed their divergent origins, however. Even so, according to Connie and her team, the DNA base pairs of the dead individuals were a ninety-nine percent match to modern humans.

One of the humanoids lay in a separate holding tank nearby, isolated from the others. Its skin was not porcelain, but rather olive colored. Its belly bulged visibly, more-so than the others, and above that its chest had been cut open, and the ribs forced apart. Its half-removed lungs rested on those ribs, laid out on either side of the heart; the sight made Jonathan think of the ancient ritualized killings the vikings supposedly inflicted upon defeated warriors, known as the blood eagle; except in that method the lungs were removed from the back.

Like the other tanks, a glass partition separated it into two sections, with robotic arms mounted in the partition to allow for manipulation of the body without actually entering the main chamber. Metallic, telescoping limbs led from the dissected body to those arms.

“And what have you learned about our mostly human friends?” he asked Connie.

five

Jonathan turned toward her, eager to hear the answer.

“They have nearly the same number of organs as we do,” Connie answered. “But their spleen is slightly larger. They have no appendix or tonsils, but they do have an extra set of wisdom teeth, which makes the lack of appendix odd.”

“How so?” Jonathan said.

“Well, an extra set of wisdom teeth would imply that they chew a lot of cellulose tissue—plants. Meanwhile an appendix, while mostly useless in our species, is utilized by other herbivores to hydrolyze cellulose and other indigestible plant material. So you’d think that because of those teeth, they’d have at least the equivalent of our appendix. The only reason I can think of to explain its absence is that the extra set of wisdom teeth are all the help they need to predigest plant matter.”

“All right. So what else?”

“Well,” Connie continued. “Brain scans have determined that they also have large temporal lobes, similar in size to those found in psi-capable humans.”

“Interesting,” Jonathan said.

“We’ve also found cyanobacteria in their skin, embedded in the dermis layer,” Connie told him. “The bacteria seem to be in some sort of symbiotic relationship... in exchange for shelter and warmth, the bacteria return some of the energy they produce from photosynthesis, dumping the necessary amino acids into the subcutis via capillary action.”

“Photosynthesis?” Jonathan felt his face scrunch up. “Then shouldn’t their skin be green?”

“That was my first thought, too,” Connie said. “Until I remembered that their flesh was freeze-dried when we penetrated the suits on that planet. Any bacteria in the dermis would have died instantly.”

“Freeze dried?” Jonathan said. “It wasn’t that cold.”

“Cold enough,” Connie said.

“Why is the belly swollen on this one?” Jonathan said.

“Some of the gut bacteria survived, apparently. When I thawed out the body, the survivors multiplied. I extracted a small colony for study.” She glanced at Jonathan and, apparently sensing his unease, she added: “Don’t worry. I am following complete quarantine protocols for the colony.”

“I hope we learn something valuable from them...” He found it hard to keep the disapproval from his tone.

“Depends,” Connie said, either not noticing, or pretending not to notice his displeasure. Likely the latter. “I learned that they’re not a whole lot different from the bacteria inhabiting our own intestinal tracts. The nucleic acids are a ninety-nine percent match to their equivalents in our own gut bacteria. Though if ingested, these bacilli strains would of course cause severe food poisoning. They could definitely kill, if not treated promptly. We’d probably have to perform a complete colon cleansing and recolonization of any infected individuals.”

Jonathan let his features harden. “You better be following those quarantine protocols you told me about.”

“I assure you, Captain, I am.”

Jonathan nodded. He decided that she grasped the gravity of what she was doing, so he let his gaze move on.

In a final container near the dissected humanoid was yet another body, that one entirely alien. It was one of the Raakarr. Its mummified form was vaguely insectile, like a mantis with three large, spiky forelegs. Horned plates lined a segmented abdomen. It was topped by a round head from which bifurcated mandibles protruded on either side of a tube-like proboscis. Three round domes on the crown could only be eyes. These were shielded by horny plates that extended from the sides of the head. Underneath the body were two jointed legs, currently folded as if the thing were sitting. 

It wore a chest harness: on the backside there appeared to be a jetpack replete with black tanks and nozzles. The small rectangular device that had been clipped to the chest was removed, and lay at the bottom of the container—the nonfunctional darkness generator. Fitted onto the top joints of the forelegs were small black tubes: infrared laser weapons, Connie had theorized.

Her team had not begun any dissections on that particular specimen, yet. Since it was the only one they had, all of her scans had been of the noninvasive kind, with the occasional tissue and blood sample.

Apparently sensing his gaze on the alien, the chief scientist said: “I have nothing new to report on the Raakarr. We’ve been concentrating on the new specimens, as you know.”

Jonathan nodded curtly. He returned his attention to the container immediately in front of him and the golden object it contained. “What about the egg? Anything new?”

“Well I’ve stopped any experimentation on it, as requested,” Connie replied. “However, passive sensors are still receiving signals from it: reflected photons. Gravity waves. Sound waves.”

“Sound waves?” Jonathan said. “That’s a new one.”

“Yes,” the chief scientist agreed. “The egg seems to be vibrating on some sort of resonant frequency, timed to the gravimetric pulses emitted by the Elder ship.”

“Answering mommy’s call...” Jonathan mused.

“Something along those lines, I’m sure.” Connie momentarily removed her aReal glasses to rub her eyes. “I reviewed the logs. The vibrations in fact began when the Elder ship first emerged from the wormhole. You were in the cargo bay at the time, do you remember? The logs show you staring through the glass at the eggs.”

Jonathan clenched his jaw and nodded very slowly. He remembered all too well.

Damn alien visions.

“The subtle vibrations have continued ever since,” Connie said. “Even now that we’ve separated the eggs. My counterparts aboard the Salvador and Marley have reported similar continuing vibrations.”

“Counterparts on the Marley?” Jonathan said. “I wasn’t aware the Builder ship had a real scientific department.”

“I had a couple of the robots manning the ship repurposed to act in a scientific capacity. It was a matter of installing a few apps.” She smiled sardonically. “Sometimes I wonder why NAVCENT hasn’t replaced us all with robots.”

“To understand why, you only have to look to the first alien war,” Jonathan said.

Connie pursed her lips. “You’re talking about when our robots turned against us?”

Jonathan nodded vigorously. “That right there is the main reason why we’re never going to replace humans entirely.”

“But seventy years is a long time,” Connie said. “Human beings forget, grow complacent. Surely by now we would have begun to experiment with completely automated crews.”

“Oh, we’ve experimented all right,” Jonathan said. “But in the end, some neo-conservative navy admiral always pulls the plug. And rightly so. These days the closest we come to completely automated crews are the Builders, and even those vessels have human babysitters aboard.”

Connie sighed. “All because of something that happened seventy years ago.”

“It almost sounds like you want to be put out of a job,” Jonathan said. “There are other reasons, too, of course. Least of all is human happiness. There are some of us, you know, who need purposeful work to give our lives meaning. And the navy understands that, and is happy to oblige, filling its human quota with our eager ranks.

“And you’re forgetting entirely about cyberwarfare. We wouldn’t even need an alien invasion to lose control of a substantial number of our robots. All it would take it is a coordinated cyber-attack from the Sino-Koreans or other nefarious actors, state or non-state.

“The military keeps a close tab on its machines, monitoring them continually: from production, to delivery, to theater of operations, but even so there are a few high-ranking officials who firmly believe the Sino-Koreans have already embedded latent trojans in the complex code of our AIs. Most would label these higher-ups kooks and conspiracy theorists, but the fear is there. Can you imagine if all Centurions of a certain make, model and software revision served as a secret botnet, ready to respond to whatever orders their Sino-Korean masters should transmit? Or what about a hacked AI at the core of a starship? That could spell ruin, not just for the starship in question, but for the fleet it was attached to.

“So you see now why, despite the many failsafes and security protocols we’ve implemented, for the foreseeable future there will always be a place for humans aboard ships and fighters. We rely upon the machines and AIs, yes, but we cannot rely upon them absolutely.”

Connie regarded him curiously. “Have you ever thought of running for office?”

Jonathan laughed. “Political science was never my forte.”

“I don’t know about that,” Connie said. “Sometimes, you talk exactly like a politician. You would make a good speech writer, at least. Think about it. Something to do when we return home and you retire from the navy.”

If we ever return home, Jonathan wanted to say, but he thought it best to keep his morale-lowering comments to himself.

“I’ll keep it in mind, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said instead. “Thank you for the update.”

With that, he left the cargo bay and began to make his way back to the bridge.

He considered paying a visit to his chief weapons engineer, Lieutenant Harv Boroker, for an in-person update on the captured Raakarr fighter in their possession, but he already knew Harv’s team had made no progress in reverse engineering the alien tech. The craft had been in Harv’s hands for the past six months: his team had cracked open the hull and discovered various components embedded within an organic jelly. When those components were breached, a similar substance was found inside. Harv guessed the gel was not inherent to the components, but rather some defensive measure meant to prevent the tech from falling into enemy hands.

Harv had finally detected energy readings from one of the intact components when the Callaway had encountered an actual Raakarr vessel, but the readings hadn’t helped the Lieutenant discern the component’s function.

Paying a visit to Harv would do little to further his progress. When his team made a discovery, Harv would contact the captain immediately rather than waiting to announce it as part of the morning update, Jonathan knew.

The Aurelia and Dagger had similar dismantled fighters aboard, and their respective weapons engineering teams had made just as little progress.

The failure of those crews to make any headway, combined with Connie’s general lack of useful progress, was disheartening to say the least. Jonathan supposed he was hoping for a miracle in a place where no miracles would come. Maybe he was expecting too much. The understanding of the underlying science and physics involved was potentially lacking, and without that understanding, his teams simply couldn’t reproduce the tech, let alone control it.

And yet, what was the point of capturing alien technology if his fleet couldn’t put it to use? Especially if seizing some of that tech had actually turned an ancient alien race against them? The Elder were coming, and they definitely seemed pissed.

Jonathan sighed. He hoped Miko could conjure up some viable strategies. The captain had a few ideas himself, but as to whether any of them would actually work, he had no clue. They knew so very little about the enemy. That Möbius strip vessel might be impervious to all of their weapons.

We’ll fight the good fight. And if we die, we’ll return to the void, to the state we existed in before we were born.

If consciousness was truly an artificial construct of the living brain, which itself was an extension of the universe, then he would simply cease, none the wiser to the life he once held. He would still exist as a part of the universe, but he would not be aware of that existence, just as a rock isn’t self-aware.

It was a somehow peaceful thought, the notion of utter oblivion.  Almost preferable to living on in some bodiless state where the rules of the game were changed entirely, where concepts such as ego, personality and senses faded away, leaving behind only raw, emotionless being.

If the end should come, his only regret was that the crew—and the crews of those captains who served beneath him—would have to fall, too.

six

The Grimm returned to a higher orbit six hours before the Elder vessel was scheduled to arrive. The Marley, Aurelia and Dagger had joined it, forming Task Unit Two, together flying to the far side of the gas giant, where all four were to hide behind one of the moons.

The Callaway, Salvador and Talon remained behind, forming Task Unit One. Jonathan had the Elder embryo returned from the Marley to the Callaway beforehand, so the Callaway harbored two of the eggs, and the Salvador one. He wanted to give an egg to the Talon, but Valor flat-out refused to allow the Elder offspring aboard the Raakarr ship. If things went sour, the plan was for those three ships—or the survivors, anyway—to slingshot past the gas giant, toward the moon, drawing the enemy with them. As the Elder vessel flew by, the Aurelia and Dagger would emerge from behind the moon and swing past in a classic pincer maneuver.

Of course, there were many things that could go wrong with that plan. The Elder vessel might realize the trap, and give the moon a wide berth. Or it might change course to pass the moon from the opposite side, catching the hidden ships off guard. It might not even pursue at all.

The civilian-crewed Grimm and Marley were to remain in hiding behind the moon during all of that: if the rest of the fleet was lost, the survivors would have to fend for themselves and find a way to survive.

While it might seem he was granting the civilian ships a small mercy by allowing them to opt out of the battle, Jonathan kept the latter vessels in hiding for selfish reasons: he needed the Builder to eventually construct a return Gate, and he required the Harvester for refueling purposes.

As for himself, if he was to die, he much preferred to do it in battle, not months or years down the line, stranded in some faraway galaxy, trapped aboard a starship, dwindling supplies forcing him and his crew to commit abominations. Jonathan knew the warship captains were like him in that regard, which is why the others hadn’t debated the battle plan very vigorously during the fleet conference. Most of the captains had seemed resigned to their fates, and none of them really hoped to win the coming engagement. Jonathan didn’t blame them. There was some contention over the matter of not firing first, namely from Captain Rail of the Salvador, but in the end she agreed restraint was the best initial course of action.

When the Elder ship grew near, if it didn’t blow up the fleet outright, no doubt its crew would demand the return of the humanoid bodies and environmental suits, and of course the eggs. In anticipation of that demand, Jonathan had Connie dispatch one of the suits to the Dagger before that ship went to hide behind the moon of the gas giant. If the task group somehow managed to emerge from the engagement peacefully, he wanted to ensure humanity still had some Elder tech to study. He knew it was a dangerous game he played, but hopefully the rewards in such a scenario would be worth it.

When the Elder ship was only two hours away, Jonathan gave the order for the Callaway, Salvador, and Talon to begin their slingshot maneuver across the gas giant.

“Helm, advance, half speed,” Jonathan said. “Miko, relay the orders to the task unit.”

The helmsman echoed his orders, as did the tactical officer, who had stayed on for the second shift.

“Is the Elder continuing its pursuit?” Jonathan asked the ops station.

“It is,” Ensign McNamara, the second watch ops officer, said. “Their course and speed are holding steady.”

Jonathan sat back, preparing for the long, tense wait.

An hour later the ensign announced: “The Elder vessel is coming to a full stop.”

Jonathan frowned. “Distance?”

“Two million kilometers.”

Jonathan sensed Robert glancing at him and turned to meet his gaze.

“You think they can fire from that distance?” the commander asked.

“I truly don’t know,” Jonathan said. “We can’t assume anything.”

“If they had the ability, why didn’t they open fire when they first emerged from the Slipstream?” Robert said. “They were two million kilometers from us at that time as well, if you’ll recall.”

“True enough,” Jonathan ceded. “But they may have been debating their course of action at the time. Holding back.” He glanced at a nearby station. “Helm, maintain current speed and direction.”

“Maintaining current speed and direction,” the helmsman answered.

“Captain,” Ensign McNamara said. “I’m reading gamma ray emissions.”

“The Talon is still trying to communicate with them?” Jonathan asked.

“The ray isn’t coming from the defector ship,” McNamara said. “It seems to be sourced from the Elder vessel itself.”

Jonathan felt his brow crumple. “An attack?”

“Negative,” the ensign said. “I don’t think it’s an attack. The emissions match the previous communication-grade pulses sent to the enemy Raakarr fleet. The target is the Talon.”

Jonathan sat back.

“So they’ve finally decided to talk after all,” Robert said.

Jonathan chuckled softly. “We have their eggs. Of course they want to talk. Though I suspect they’re sending over the terms of our surrender. Comm, tap in Barrick. I want to know what the hell the Elder are telling our so-called allies.”

A moment later Barrick’s voice came over the comm. “Hello Captain. I assume you’re getting in touch because of the transmission we’re receiving?”

“Very good assertion,” Jonathan said.

“All right,” Barrick replied. “A moment... apparently the message is grammatically fragmented, and uses strange mental symbology, some of it so out of place that the translation drifts into the ridiculous. One of the Zarafe science officers has theorized the Elder are using the equivalent of AIs to communicate. Which would make some sense. Language is always changing. The English in use today, for example, is nothing like the English from the twenty-first century. The roots are mostly the same, but the words entirely different. So you can imagine how much the Elder language has changed in the five hundred thousand years since they left our galaxy. Without AIs, I doubt they’d be able to communicate at all.”

Jonathan pursed his lips when Barrick finished. He was about to reply when McNamara spoke up.

“The gamma ray emissions from the Elder vessel just ceased,” the ensign said.

Jonathan nodded. “Barrick. I understand the Raakarr are having trouble translating it. But they must have some idea of what the Elder want.”

“They do. The gist seems to be that the Elder have asked for our unconditional surrender. If we agree to return their offspring, the four humanoids, and their suits, they will let us go on our way.”

Jonathan glanced at Robert and muted his microphone. “Seems very lenient.”

“It does,” Robert agreed.

“That they asked for the return of the suits tells us that the humanoids were serving them after all,” Jonathan said. “Or working for them, anyway. So we can rule out any theories about the humanoids hunting those eggs.”

“That was a weak theory, anyway,” Robert said.

“You think all theories are weak,” Jonathan replied.

Robert smiled slyly. “You taught me not to believe everything I heard.”

“And so I did.” The captain unmuted the remote connection. “What assurances do we have that the Elder won’t open fire the moment we give them what they want?”

“No assurances were specified,” Barrick answered. “Even so, Valor thinks we should agree to everything. He suggests we deposit the requested items in a craft and dispatch them toward the Elder vessel. Meanwhile, we continue moving away. He— hold on.” Barrick paused. “Valor is becoming increasingly agitated. He says you and I are taking too long. He urges you to make your decision soon, and says he will not consult with us again if we continue to delay.”

“You make it sound like he’s doing us a favor by consulting with us,” Jonathan said. “Remind him that he’s part of the fleet only because of my leave. And he’s under my command. Therefore he is required to consult with me before making any sort of response.”

“I will remind him,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan muted the line and glanced at Robert. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure we have much choice,” the commander said. “Either we do as the Elder ask, or we fight.”

“Do you really think they’re going to let us go, just like that?” the captain pressed. “They’re not angry about what we’ve done?”

The images of war planted by the offspring came unbidden to his thoughts; he saw the Möbius strip in his mind’s eyes, bringing death and destruction to the colonies of Raakarr and human alike.

“Maybe the Elder are as enlightened as you once believed,” Robert argued.

Jonathan frowned. “Maybe. But enlightened doesn’t necessarily mean they won’t ever show wrath.”

“If their offspring are fine,” Robert argued. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t let us go our way.”

“You’re forgetting we harmed their humanoid servants,” Jonathan reminded him. “Those four might have been the favorite pets of the Elder captain. Or perhaps the one that got away desires vengeance for the death of his comrades. Maybe he’ll convince his masters to strike. Or it could be the Elder want to capture us either way, to study us and our tech, and to see how far we’ve advanced since they left our galaxy.”

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” Robert shook his head and sighed. “Still, if we base our response on human ethics alone, giving up the eggs is the right thing to do. We did essentially steal them. How would you feel if an alien craft landed outside your nursery and stole your babies straight from the cribs? I say we load their specimens into a lifepod and eject it toward the Elder, and then quickly accelerate away. After that, we hope to hell they leave us alone.”

seven

Jonathan looked at his tactical officer. “And what are your thoughts, Miko?”

“If we give up their eggs,” Miko said. “We give up the only thing preventing them from firing on us. Like you said, we don’t know the range of their weapon systems. They could fire the moment we release the cargo.”

“Maxwell?” he asked the AI.

“I would recommend a compromise,” Maxwell replied. “Tell them we will give them what they want, but first they must return to the immediate vicinity of the Slipstream. Only then will we dispatch a craft containing their eggs.”

Jonathan tapped his chin.

“So?” Robert asked.

“I’m going to go with Maxwell’s suggestion,” the captain said. “It seems the best option. Assuming the Elder go for it.” He unmuted the line. “Barrick, have the Raakarr tell the Elder we agree in principal, but we will launch the craft only when they’ve returned to the immediate vicinity of the Slipstream. Surely they’ll excuse us for not trusting them entirely.”

“I will inform Valor,” Barrick replied.

“Also,” Jonathan continued. “It seems obvious the Elder altered the properties of the farther Slipstream to allow the other Raakarr to return to Vega 951, otherwise why else would the enemy fleet be traveling toward the wormhole at maximum speed? We need assurances the Elder will keep the Slipstream pointing to Vega 951 so that we too can return to our own space. And also, I want to know why they brought us here in the first place. Since it seems fairly obvious that it was them, or another member of their kind.”

Barrick’s reply came a moment later. “Valor is fine with sending everything you’ve said. The Zarafe are formulating the transmission as we speak.”

A moment later Ensign McNamara announced: “I’m detecting a gamma ray communications burst from the Talon. It’s directed toward the Elder vessel.”

Jonathan nodded absently, then muted the connection to Barrick.

“I wonder if the Raakarr will transmit our terms without making changes,” Robert said. “And I thought trusting the telepath to translate between the two of us was a big leap of faith. Now we have to trust Barrick and the Raakarr.”

Jonathan smiled bleakly. “Let’s hope the two of them don’t bring new meaning to the phrase, lost in the translation.”

It took the gamma ray signal six and a half seconds to traverse the two million kilometer distance to the Elder vessel. The signal remained active for approximately eight seconds, until the Talon ceased sending it.

Several minutes passed. Jonathan thrummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest.

“They’re sure taking their damn time,” the captain commented to Robert.

“For good reason, I’m sure,” the commander responded sarcastically.

“Indeed,” Jonathan said. “They want to make us squirm. I’ll be sure to return the favor.”

“The simple explanation could be that the Elder are having difficulties translating it,” Maxwell commented.

Finally Ensign McNamara announced that the Elder ship was dispatching a gamma ray transmission.

“By the way, Ensign,” Jonathan said. “Does the CDC have any guesses where that ray is sourced from, yet? You said there are no obvious turrets or weapon mounts on the hull...”

“Well,” McNamara said. “One of the specialists has done some digging into the archives, studying data collected from the ruins of crashed Elder vessels humankind has found in its space. Along the outer portion of the Möbius strip, near the bottom, are several small openings. They run along the entire lower rim. While those openings were empty in the ruins we encountered, the specialist is guessing they housed beam emitters at one point. That lines up with where the beam is emanating from the current vessel.”

“I see.” Jonathan leaned back. “Any idea why we never found any actual emitters in the ruins?”

“The current theory is that most of the Elder technology liquified upon crashing,” the ops officer answered. “Similar to how the insides of the captured Raakarr fighters turned to gel when broken open.”

Jonathan glanced at Robert.

“It would certainly be a good anti-theft measure,” the commander said. “Just as good as rigging our own tech with explosives, anyway. If not better.”

Barrick’s voice came over the comm, ending their discussion on the alien weapon systems.

“The Elder have agreed to your conditions,” Barrick said. “They will return to the Slipstream, and allow you to remain in your current orbit above the gas giant. When they reach the wormhole, the Elder will wait there while you dispatch their offspring in a shuttle whose climate and atmosphere have been tuned to match the surface of the greenhouse planet where you found them.”

All of that was doable, of course, especially considering the embryos were already stowed within containers that matched the planet’s atmosphere and temperature profile.

Jonathan unmuted the line and asked: “What about our second request? Will they keep the outermost Slipstream pointing to Vega 951? And were they the ones who brought us here or not?”

“The Elder have admitted to bringing us here,” Barrick said over the comm. “They made the modification to the Vega 951 Slipstreams a little over six months ago, after we detonated the planet killer there.”

“It was the first detonation of a planet killer ever,” Jonathan mused.

“Yes,” Barrick responded. “It seems the Elder can use Slipstreams as telescopes of sorts to peer into star systems—it allows them to keep tabs on the various systems under their dominion. They haven’t been paying us much attention over the last few millennia, but the detonation of that planet killer really caught their attention. Apparently the powerful gravity waves from the detonation propagated through the network of Slipstreams, eventually reaching them here in this galaxy. They immediately turned their eyes on our space and were able to determine that we, the humans, possessed more of those planet killers.

“They altered the Vega 951 Slipstreams to lead here and waited patiently for those who had apparently detonated the bomb—us. When the Raakarr vessel arrived, the Elder remained in hiding. When we did not arrive after four months, the Elder craft departed, called away to deal with another matter. But when we interfered with the offspring on the planet, they returned as fast as they could.”

“Why would they abandon their offspring in the first place?” Jonathan asked.

“That wasn’t clear,” Barrick said. “Maybe they thought the guard contingent they had left in place was sufficient to watch over them. Or maybe they did it as a sort of test, to see if we would try to take them, I don’t know.”

Jonathan took a sip of the strong coffee the robot assistant deposited at his station. “So they brought us here because we detonated a planet killer in Vega 951.”

“Yes,” Barrick said. “Apparently they want to issue a stern warning regarding those planet killers.”

Jonathan frowned. “They’ve been gone half a million years, and yet they still think of themselves as custodians of our galaxy?”

“You forget, they weren’t entirely gone,” Barrick responded. “I don’t know their entire history, but some of them stayed behind, eventually evolving into the Raakarr.”

“Those who stayed behind were the more progressive types, I’m guessing, judging from the Raakarr ship design,” Jonathan said.

“Yes,” Barrick responded. “And that progression extends outside of ship design. Off the record, I have reason to believe the Raakarr employ some sort of accelerant to increase mutation rates. They’re trying to evolve into what they believe is a higher species—the species they were meant to be. It’s part of their religion, I think, and the two major factions in the Raakarr follow different variations of that religion, and hate each other for it. In any case, because of those accelerants, I suspect at this point they look nothing like they’re Elder ancestors.”

“We’re digressing a bit,” Jonathan said. “You said the Elder have a warning to give us. And you still haven’t told me if they’ll agree to leave the farthermost Slipstream pointing to Vega 951.”

“The warning...” Barrick replied. “The Elder have been watching us since we took their offspring, and they saw us battle the Raakarr. Originally they only intended to give the warning to us, but after seeing the two of us war, they’ve decided to warn both of our races.”

Jonathan felt his patience growing thin. “And the warning is...?”

“Only, be careful.”

Jonathan frowned. “Be careful...”

“Yes,” Barrick replied. “They are going to be watching us in the coming months and years, to determine if we’re worthy of wielding the power of the planet killer. You see, the Elder nearly destroyed themselves when they discovered a similar weapon five hundred thousand years ago.”

Jonathan glanced at Robert uncertainly. “And by what criteria will they determine our worthiness?”

“They haven’t said. Only that they will be watching us as part of some grand test. And to answer your last question: yes, they’ve promised to change the endpoints of both Slipstreams to point to Vega 951 so that we can return to our own galaxy.”

Jonathan had to suppress a laugh. “This is ridiculous. What kind of warning is that? They’re going to be watching us... are you sure there was nothing more specific?”

“No,” Barrick said. “Only that we must use the power of the planet killer wisely.”

Jonathan finally chuckled aloud. “And if we prove ourselves unworthy and fail this so-called test? A test whose metrics of examination we know nothing about?”

“The punishment for failure was not mentioned,” Barrick responded.

“Well get Valor to ask them for clarification,” Jonathan ordered brusquely.

Barrick gave the response two minutes later. “If we fail the test, they promise to knock one or both of our races back to the dark ages, if they don’t obliterate the two of us entirely.”

“Nice guys,” Robert said. “Promising to obliterate their own descendants...”

Jonathan nodded distractedly. He thought of the vision he had seen and wondered if the Elder had somehow used their offspring to send that warning directly to him. Because that was what it had to be... a warning only, not a guarantee of things that would come to pass.

He glanced at the 3D display.

“One thing,” Jonathan said. “I’m looking at my tactical display, and it’s obvious the Raakarr fleet is going to exit the system before us. Ask the Elder what they’re going to do to ensure the Raakarr don’t ambush us when we pass through to Vega 951.”

“You mean the Elk faction?” Barrick asked.

“Yes yes,” Jonathan said. “The Elk faction.” He didn’t really approve of any of the names Barrick had come up with for the aliens and their factions, but Jonathan supposed humanity needed to call them something.

The prerequisite exchange of gamma rays occurred before Barrick replied.

“The Elder claim they have given the Elk faction the same general warning as us,” the telepath said. “That they are watching them, and if the Elk do anything the Elder deem ‘unworthy’ over the next few months or years, the Elder will return to wipe them out. Obviously that worthiness is open to interpretation, but according to the Elder, for the short term the Elk faction have promised to leave the wormhole open to us.”

“So all we have to go on is a promise,” Jonathan said.

Another gamma ray arrived from the vessel, and Barrick spoke again.

“The Elder want confirmation that you understand and agree to all of this,” the telepath said.

“Yes yes, we understand,” Jonathan said. “And I suppose we don’t have any choice.” At that point he would have agreed to almost anything to get his fleet home; he felt a mixture of both triumph and suspicion for having gotten off so relatively lightly. Still, the promise of destruction if humanity ever proved itself “unworthy” was more than a little unnerving. “Have Valor tell them we will launch the shuttle as soon as the Elder ship returns to the Slipstream.”

The Talon dispatched the gamma ray response. The communication arrived six and a half seconds later, and a minute later the Elder ship began moving away.

Watching it retreat on his tactical display, Jonathan slumped. He was suddenly very weary.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just run a marathon?” the captain said.

“Probably because you have,” Robert said. “Mentally, anyway. We all have.”

“I’ll be in my office,” Jonathan told him. Lying down.

eight

Jonathan awakened, expecting to be greeted by the tight confines of his quarters, but instead finding himself in his office. He knew because of the steel desk that greeted his vision, rather than the nightstand. Other than the desk, and the couch, the two compartments were basically the same.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He only intended to nap a few minutes, but from the groggy way he felt, he knew he had been out for hours.

Forgot to set the alarm again.

He stared at the bulkhead beside him. The metal was bereft of any decorations or windows, and so close as to be claustrophobic. His gaze drifted to the steel desk; the only item on it, personal or otherwise, was an uncleaned tea cup. Behind the desk was a safe that contained a centuries-old bottle of Scotch, among other things. Atop the strongbox was a high speed convection kettle and a tin of green tea. Other than the couch and two chairs, there was nothing else in the cabin.

He shook his head slightly. It never ceased to amaze him how bare the compartment seemed when viewed without an aReal. Even the colors seemed muted.

He grabbed the spectacles from where they rested on the desk and slid them on. Immediately the hues became warmer as the lenses applied a chromatic filter to his vision. A virtual bookshelf had appeared, along with a sword-wielding Caravaggio on the far bulkhead. These were virtual adornments created by his aReal, existing solely within the cloud computing resources of the Callaway. These adornments would be shared with the aReals of any other person who visited the office so that they, too, would live the illusion.

In big cities on Earth or colony worlds, most of the streets were so cluttered with virtual overlays that Jonathan often had to turn off sharing, or at least selectively limit it—all of those embellishments interfered with his concentration. So many overlays turned reality into a video game of sorts. An unwelcome one at that, where every shop was trying to compete for his attention by constantly offering sales and points. Pop-ups and jump scares were banned on most worlds, but even so people still died due to improperly placed overlays, walking into traffic or off cliffs because a virtual augmentation obscured their vision. 

Starships were a nice break from all that clutter, though occasionally Jonathan still encountered crew members who littered their offices with virtual adornments to the point of distraction—something that was quickly remedied with a few choice words from the captain.

Overhead, the HLED lights flickered on and off faster than his eyes could detect: that flickering transmitted data to and from his aReal at terabit per second speeds, facilitating the shared virtual overlays as well as keeping him connected to his crew and the captains who served underneath him.

He stared at the false portal his aReal had created on the far wall. It currently displayed the feed from an external camera on the starboard side. The gas giant resided in the distance below and to the left, while a thumb-sized moon floated in the upper right, almost out of frame.

“Maxwell, status on the Elder vessel?” Jonathan asked.

“The Elder vessel is approximately four hours away from the Slipstream,” the AI returned.

“Four hours? I was out for eight, then.”

“You were,” Maxwell agreed.

He glanced at the tactical display overlaying his vision. Jonathan had ordered the Callaway, Salvador, and Talon to assume a high orbit around the gas giant. Jonathan had instructed the rest of the fleet to remain hidden behind the moon for the moment, in case he needed to fall back on his previous strategy. Several moons orbited that giant, and as far as the Elder were concerned, the remaining ships might be behind any one of them.

He supposed it was possible the Elder had deployed the equivalent of scouting drones throughout the system already, allowing them to see behind most of the planetary satellites. The moon in question was out of sight of both Slipstreams at the moment, however, so at least Jonathan didn’t have to worry about the Elder discovering the hidden task unit from that avenue.  

“Do you believe the Elder are traveling at their full speed toward the Slipstream?” Maxwell asked, rousing him from his thoughts.

“Doubt it,” Jonathan said. “Just like us, they’d want to hide the full extent of their abilities as long as possible.”

“Why would they transport us all this way, simply to issue a vague warning?” Maxwell said.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. “Maybe they wanted to see what humankind had evolved into. Humankind, the creators of planet killers.”

“It doesn’t seem like that great of an achievement,” Maxwell said.

“Why not?” Jonathan said. “The ability to destroy an entire planet-sized object seems like a big deal, to me.”

“Not in the cosmic scheme of things,” the AI responded. “The death of a planet is a small thing.”

“Even a planet with a population of over fifty billion?” Jonathan said.

“Well yes,” Maxwell replied. “If it is a key planet, then obviously it is a problem, and the affected governments would take many decades, even centuries, to rebound. But a remote colony world? While it would mean the loss of tens of trillions of dollars in terraforming costs, and one hundred thousand to a million lives, it is not something the overarching government could not recover from.”

“Well, I disagree of course,” Jonathan said. “Once one planet killer is used, even on a remote colony world, the doors open for more usage of the bomb. Soon its application becomes routine. When does it stop? When finally we destroy one of those key planets you mentioned? Perhaps Earth itself? We almost destroyed a star in our original mission, if you’ll recall. What a disaster that would have been. We’d be facing a war on two fronts, one against the Raakarr, and another the Sino-Koreans.”

“But we will eventually sign a peace treaty with one of the Raakarr factions,” Maxwell argued.

“So what?” Jonathan said. “That doesn’t change the fact that the rest of the Raakarr are still against us. When that enemy fleet gets home, their government isn’t going to be too happy when it discovers we’ve shot down more than thirty of their ships. Even though we were acting in self defense.”

“Perhaps they’ll realize they are outclassed, if not outmatched, and they will proceed to engage in a peace treaty.”

Jonathan chuckled softly. “I hope you’re right, Maxwell. But I somehow doubt it will be as easy as that. Since when did you start wearing rose-colored glasses, anyway?”

“A peace treaty would seem the logical solution at the moment,” Maxwell pressed. “At least from the alien point of view.”

Jonathan sighed. “When dealing with alien ways of life, logic often doesn’t factor into the equation. Besides, you’re forgetting the human point of view, which is equally irrational. Our government won’t be too pleased when they learn of the attacks, which are, all things considered, acts of war. The president will consult his military advisors. Most will urge caution and restraint I’m sure, but there are always a few hotheads among the bunch who will sue for all out war. And it wouldn’t surprise me if the president agreed with them, regardless of any overtures of peace from the Raakarr.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, either,” Maxwell said.

FOUR HOURS LATER the Elder ship reached the Slipstream.

“I’m picking up a gamma ray transmission from their ship,” the fifth watch ops officer reported.

A minute later the comm officer tapped in Barrick.

“They’re waiting for us to dispatch the shuttle,” the telepath announced.

“Ops, launch the Dragonfly,” the captain ordered.

After the unmanned craft departed, Jonathan retired to his quarters. It would be a few days before the Dragonfly was scheduled to arrive.

The next day the CDC reported that the enemy Raakarr fleet had passed through the far Slipstream. All six ships had left the binary star system.

While no longer a threat for the moment, Jonathan wasn’t entirely thrilled at their departure: he would have preferred to leave the system first. Because despite the reassurances from the Elder, the enemy Raakarr might decide to forgo their promise and camp out on the other side to ambush them. Or perhaps the Raakarr fleet would heavily mine the endpoint. He could easily determine if either was the case by sending probes through after the Builder finished creating the return Gate, but the knowledge wouldn’t help his fleet very much. The task group would be trapped either way.

Jonathan made sure he was on the bridge when the shuttle was due to arrive. He watched the blue dot halt next to the red that represented the Möbius strip of the Elder vessel.

The blue dot abruptly vanished, leaving only the red.

“Well, we just lost a perfectly good shuttle,” Jonathan said.

The commander shifted beside him. “You should have told them to leave it behind.”

“I don’t think they would have, either way,” the captain replied. “Would you, if you were them?”

“Probably not,” Robert admitted.

“Now we see if they live up to their end of the bargain,” Jonathan said.

Several tense moments passed.

“This is odd,” Ensign Lewis said from the ops station.

“What is it?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, it’s so subtle that our sensors almost didn’t pick it up, but... well, it looks like we’re being bombarded with gravity waves.”

“Gravity waves?” Jonathan said.

“Yes,” Lewis replied. “Sourced from the Elder ship. And now I’m picking up a focused gamma ray. It seems destined for the Talon.”

When the beam finally reached the aforementioned vessel, Barrick tapped in, voice-only.

“Captain Dallas,” Barrick said. “The Elder wish to know where the fourth suit is.”

Jonathan had left that suit aboard the Dagger of course, which was still hidden behind the moon of the gas giant with the Marley, Grimm and Aurelia.

He swallowed nervously, unsure if he would get away with what he planned.

Well, I’ve come this far...

nine

Tell them the suit was aboard one of our other vessels,” Jonathan sent. “The Maelstrom, which we lost in the battle against the Raakarr.”

The Elder got to keep some of humanity’s technology in the form of the shuttle, so it was only fair that humanity should receive some of theirs in return. It was a gamble, of course, but Jonathan was betting the Elder would be so relieved to have their offspring back that they’d quit while they were ahead. That was what he would have done, anyway.

Even so, if the Elder refused to back down Jonathan was fully prepared to give up the suit.

When the gamma ray reply finally came, Barrick once more spoke over the comm.

“The Elder ask why four of our ships continue to hide behind the far moon of the gas giant,” the telepath said.

Jonathan muted the line and glanced at Robert. “So much for the pincer maneuver we planned to employ. It seems they knew precisely where our ships were hidden the whole time.”

Robert nodded. “I don’t like these Elder very much.”

“Ops, any idea how they’re able to detect our ships?” Jonathan asked.

“It can’t be via the Slipstreams,” Lewis responded. “Since the moon isn’t in the line of sight of either at the moment. It’s possible they have detection units scattered throughout the system, maybe on the moon itself. Either that, or they’re using those gravity waves of theirs somehow.”

“Would those waves allow them to detect the suit hidden aboard the Dagger?” Jonathan said.

“No idea, sir,” the ensign responded.

“They could be bluffing,” Robert said. “They know four of our ships are absent, but they don’t know for certain which moon they’re hiding behind, and took a guess.”

“It’s possible,” Jonathan agreed. He thought for a moment, and then unmuted the connection. “Barrick, tell them what I do with my fleet is my business.”

Jonathan waited anxiously while the Talon dispatched its gamma ray. Was he going to have to back down? Would the Elder even let him, or would they simply attack?

The gamma ray response came. Jonathan tapped his fingers uneasily on his thigh; he noticed several of the bridge crew watching him, and self-consciously stopped the tapping.

Have to pretend I’m in complete control.

He folded his arms and allowed his features to smooth into a mask of serenity.

Barrick finally spoke over the line. “The Elder wish to know if there is anything else we would like to inquire of them before they depart this system.”

Jonathan slumped very slightly as relief coursed through his veins. He took a moment to compose his thoughts and then said: “Yes, there is one more thing. They said the enemy Raakarr promised not to ambush us when we passed into Vega 951?”

“They did,” Barrick agreed.

“And the Elder also said they could peer through Slipstreams, and use them like telescopes of sorts?”

“Yes...” Barrick replied.

“Well,” Jonathan said. “Before they go, can’t the Elder take a look into Vega 951 and confirm no ambush awaits us?”

“I’ll have Valor ask them,” Barrick responded.

After the prerequisite exchange of gamma radiation, a few minutes later Barrick had a reply.

“The Elder say they have examined the endpoint,” Barrick said over the comm. “There is no ambush, and no mines. It is safe.”

“Really,” Jonathan said, not convinced. He muted the line and glanced at Robert. “There are a couple of small planetoids near the Slipstream. I have a feeling they didn’t bother to check behind those.”

“What if they can’t?” Robert said. “Maybe they can only observe other systems via the optical properties of the Slipstreams.”

“Either way, they certainly wouldn’t reveal the full extents of their capabilities to us,” Jonathan commented.

Barrick came on the line. “The Elder also say they’ve already reconfigured the Vega 951 endpoint to point to Prius 3.” 

Jonathan unmuted the connection. “Is that wise? What’s to stop the Raakarr fleet from performing a raid deeper into human territory?”

“You don’t trust anybody, do you, Captain Dallas?” Barrick said.

“No,” Jonathan said. “I’ve learned a few painful lessons in my long navy career, the biggest being that the only people you can truly trust are your own officers. And sometimes not even them.”

“Probably an accurate assessment of humanity in general,” Barrick transmitted. “We all have our own agendas in the end. Even AIs, which we designed in our own image.”

“Yes, well, getting back to final questions for the Elder,” Jonathan said. “I don’t suppose they can alter the properties of the Slipstream so that we don’t have to create a Gate to pass through?”

“I’ll have Valor ask them,” Barrick replied.

After the exchange of gamma rays, the telepath’s voice came back over the comm: “The Elder said it isn’t possible. But, they will leave the Slipstream endpoints here pointing to Vega 951 for the next year, though, giving us time to build a Gate. They also hinted that perhaps the Zarafe faction should share some of their traversal tech with us early, to help decrease the time it takes for our return.”

“That would certainly be appreciated,” Jonathan said.

“I’ll see if I can convince Valor,” the telepath responded.

“Do your best,” Jonathan said. “I can’t tell you how important it is that we return to our space early. If we have to wait here another six months while the Builder finishes a Gate... well, in that time the Raakarr could easily prepare an invasion force and launch a surprise attack. We could return to find humanity on the losing side of a galactic war.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the telepath replied.

“Thank you, Barrick,” Jonathan said. “Captain Dallas out.”

The captain was aware of Robert’s disapproving gaze upon him.

Jonathan extended his noise canceler around the commander so the rest of the bridge crew wouldn’t hear his next words. “You still don’t trust him.”

“How can I?” Robert said. “After what he’s done.”

“I don’t either, of course,” Jonathan said. “But tell me, if he can get us that Slipstream-traversal tech, what will you think of him then?”

Robert frowned. “Either way it’s not going to change the fact that he’s going to be tried for treason and kidnapping if he ever returns. No matter his reasons.”

“True enough,” Jonathan said.

“The heat signature of the Elder vessel has disappeared,” Ensign Lewis announced. “They’ve passed through the Slipstream.”

Jonathan repealed the noise canceler and sat back. “So they’ve finally gone.”

“Do you really think the Elder are going to be watching us over the next while?” Robert asked. “Judging us?”

“I have no doubt whatsoever,” Jonathan said.

Robert smiled wanly. “It’s too bad. Because we’re probably going to fail their test.”

“I have no doubt of that either,” Jonathan said. “That they haven’t told us the pre-conditions for a passing score tells me they want us to fail.”

“Why let us go, then?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Maybe to justify their actions to whatever alien consciences they have. Or to their government. I can imagine the dialog: we gave them a chance to abide by our rules, and they failed. Now we’re going to wipe out their race.”

“It’s possible they’ll invent the pre-conditions as they go along,” Robert said. “If we make peace with the Raakarr, they’ll destroy us. If we war with the Raakarr, they’ll destroy us. Basically no matter what we do, they destroy us.”

Jonathan extended his noise canceler around the two of them. “You’ve grown rather dark since Bridgette was kidnapped. What happened to the optimist in you?”

“He’s still there,” Robert said. “But he only rears his ugly head occasionally these days.”

“Ugly?” Jonathan smiled sardonically. “Maybe you should take some time off. Spend some time at her side while she recuperates.”

Robert shook his head vehemently. “I need to work. I need something to distract me. Because whenever I’m with Bridgette, all I can think about is how I want to blow Barrick and his Raakarr friends into the void for what they did to her. Her physical wounds will heal someday. But the mental wounds? I think she’s scarred for life.”

“You misjudge her,” Jonathan said. “She’s not so fragile, Robert.”

“She is,” Robert replied. “And after what happened to the baby, I don’t blame her. Hell, I’m nearly broken by it.”

Jonathan chose his next words carefully. “Do we know if the baby will survive, yet?”

The commander pressed his lips together tightly. “The medical officer tells me the baby’s chances have improved. We’re looking at eighty-twenty, instead of fifty-fifty.”

“Well that’s good news,” Jonathan said.

“Maybe,” Robert said. “They had to cut him out of her, and they’re feeding anti-rads directly into his umbilical. The medics say his growth will probably be stunted, at least in the short term. Long term, they have no idea what the effects of the radiation poisoning will be, nor the consequences of his treatment. If he survives that long.”

Jonathan closed his eyes. The poor child was off to a hard start. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Robert said. “Because now you understand why it’s important that I come to work everyday.”

But Jonathan didn’t, not really. He would have been a nervous wreck himself in such a situation. He was close to that state as it was: Bridgette was a good friend. He’d known her since assuming command of the Callaway all those years ago. He would have given his life for her, and in fact he almost had at one point. As for the baby, he was partially responsible for its fate, because he had convinced Bridgette to keep the child. Perhaps that had been a poor decision.

I shouldn’t meddle in the personal lives of my crew. There are always consequences.

He sighed, and turned his attention to the nav specialist. “Nav, set a course for the moon. Let’s go pick up the rest of the fleet.”

“Aye sir,” the specialist responded.

When the course was set and the task unit was on its way, Jonathan glanced at Robert. “Once we’ve rendezvoused with them, we’ll make for the Slipstream on the outskirts of the system.”

“The farther Slipstream?” Robert said. “That’ll add days to our return trip. You were the one emphasizing the importance of speed. Why not take the closer? The Elder said they would update the Slipstream properties of both Slipstreams to point to 951, remember.”

“I know, but I don’t completely trust them,” Jonathan said. “I’d rather go through the same wormhole the Raakarr did. Besides, if Valor doesn’t share his traversal technology, it’ll take us another six months to return anyway.”

Robert spread his hands in a pacifying gesture. “You’re the captain.”

“I am indeed.”

ten

Bridgette resided in the ICU, where she recuperated with four pilots: Lieutenant Commander Jason Wolf, Lieutenant Frank Turow, Ensign Lin Akido, and Ensign Hop Grisham. She had memorized the full names and ranks of these men and the woman who had risked everything for her. Lin and Hop had once been lieutenants, but they had been demoted for disobeying orders to save her.

Her belly still throbbed somewhat where the weavers had made their incision, though she supposed it was mostly because of the staples, as the majority of the wound had healed thanks to the accelerants the units had applied.

She felt queasy most of the day. She wasn’t sure if that was from the radiation poisoning, the treatment, or both. All of her hair had fallen out, as had the hair of her companions. It was probably for the best, as her scalp felt extremely itchy.

Her body was dangerously underweight. She wanted to eat naturally, but she had no appetite at all. Hence the intravenous feeding tubes.

She wished she could see her baby, but Eugene was hooked up to an umbilical inside a tank in another room. Still, sometimes she thought she could sense him, almost as if he were lying beside her; once, during one of her many midday naps, she could have sworn she was viewing the world from inside of his holding tank: though Eugene was no longer inside her, she couldn’t shake the feeling they were still linked, somehow. Perhaps it was just the natural bond all mothers felt with their children.

The head weaver disallowed Bridgette and her “cellmates” from using full-blown VR, because it would only worsen their nausea and prolong their recovery. As such, to pass the time, they often chatted when they weren’t browsing the cached copy of the InterGalNet on their aReals, or listening to music.

“Have you ever been to an Asiatic Alliance colony?” Lin said.

Bridgette was listening to some music with her aReal, and she lowered the volume when she realized Lin was talking to her. She refused to disrespect the woman who had disobeyed orders to save her life.

“What? No, I haven’t,” Bridgette said, wearing a smile for her. “Why, Lin?”

“I’m from Anvil Rappel,” Lin said. “An AA colony. Really beautiful. You would like it, I think. The capital sits on a terraformed planet that orbits a double star. Have you heard of the aurora borealis?”

Bridgette looked it up quickly on her aReal. “An atmospheric phenomenon that occurs sometimes in the northern hemispheres of Earth. It’s called aurora australis in the southern hemisphere. Streamers of greenish blue light appear in the night sky when charged particles from the sun interact with atoms in the upper atmosphere.”

“That’s right,” Lin said. “Well, on Anvil Prime, we see auroras at all hours. Every day. The intensity of the streamers varies based on whether or not one of the stars is undergoing a solar storm, but otherwise, you merely have to look up and you’ll see those streamers, a constant reminder that you’re not alone in this world, but watched over by the goddess of the dawn.”

“I should like to see that some day,” Bridgette said. “With Eugene.” She momentarily teared up when she mentioned the name of her child, but she quickly recovered. Wanting to draw attention away from the fact that she had become emotional, she quickly added: “Didn’t the task group originally pass through Anvil Rappel on the way to Vega 951?” She wiped the embarrassing tear that slid down her cheek.

“We did, yes.”

Bridgette nodded. “It’s a long way from Anvil Rappel to the United Systems Navy.”

“Not so long,” Lin said. “My parents immigrated to the neighboring system when I was twelve.”

Bridgette checked the location on her aReal. “Delta Avalon?” That was a United Systems territory.

“Yes,” Lin said. “I joined the Delta Avalon navy when I turned seventeen, and here I am. How about you? How did you end up as a commander’s wife?”

Bridgette chuckled. “I was actually a specialist first class when I joined the Callaway. I met Jonathan, our captain, and fell in love with him. But he seemed too unattainable. Robert was his faithful first officer, and it was obvious he liked me. One time, on shore leave, when I was drunk...”

“All the best stories start with that sentence,” Lin said.

Bridgette smiled. “Yes. Long story short, I left the navy to marry him. It hasn’t been so bad. Robert is a good man. And eventually I fell in love with him.”

Lin’s face darkened and Bridgette remembered that Lin had originally served aboard the Callaway, but Robert had been the one who had separated her from her squadron, ordering her to serve aboard the Salvador. Bridgette still wasn’t sure why.

“But you still love the captain, don’t you?” Lin asked, making Bridgette forget the question that had come to her.

Bridgette shrugged. “Don’t all the women aboard?”

Lin’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I suppose so.”

Wolf was looking at her, and Lin obviously knew it.

The lieutenant commander grabbed a small paper bag from beside his bed. He reached inside, produced a chip of some kind, and crunched it loudly.

“Where are you getting your appetite from, Jason?” Frank asked. He was Wolf’s current copilot.

“I’m forcing myself.” Wolf raised his arms, and the intravenous tubes flopped about. “I’m getting mighty sick of these, and I figure if I make it look like I have an appetite they’ll disconnect the damn things.”

“What are you eating anyway?” Frank asked.

“Chips.” Wolf stuffed another into his mouth and chewed loudly. He offered the bag to Frank, and the pilot reached inside and produced a red-black, corrugated-looking chip.

Frank held it up to the light. “Chips? This looks suspiciously like a Krenuvian variant.”

Bridgette looked up the term on her aReal, and nearly gagged. Apparently, the denizens of Krenuvia created a special type of edible, organic “chip” by scraping off portions of their skin so that they bled, and when scabs developed over the exposed tissue, they collected and sold them as “chips.” Apparently it was a delicacy served by certain exotic restaurants as part of their appetizers. Some variants were derived from livestock, but the practice was frowned upon in most districts, and human “chipping” was often preferred. Funny that cruelty to humans should somehow be considered more acceptable than that to animals, though she supposed financial incentives negated any perceived barbarity on the human side: it was okay for men and women to suffer, as long as they were paid for it.

“They’re not,” Wolf said.

“It’s a bit disgusting you’d even bring something like that up,” Bridgette told Frank.

“We’re in a medical setting. We have nothing to look at but our own scabs all day. Why wouldn’t I think of it?” Frank popped the chip into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

“Actually I lied,” Wolf said. “They are Krenuvian.”

Frank retched.

“Notice that he waited until Frank actually swallowed it,” Hop said. He was Lin’s current copilot.

“You’re a bastard, Wolf,” Frank said, dry heaving.

“When people call me that, I know I’m doing something right.” Wolf gave Lin a wink.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Bridgette said. “Lin. When we’re all well, would you be willing to come to a going away party I want to hold in your honor? My way of saying thank you, for saving my life. Before they send you back to the Salvador.”

“I think I can do that,” Lin said. “But I have to warn you, there will be some tears shed that night.” She glanced at Wolf, who very carefully didn’t meet her eyes.

“Thank you,” Bridgette said.

“I’ll expect you to keep me updated with Eugene’s progress,” Lin said. “I have a vested interest in the child now, you know.”

Bridgette smiled. “You saved us both.”

“I can’t take all the credit. My copilot Hop did half the work.”

Hop laughed. “I was there mostly for moral support.”

“You know, I kind of envy you,” Frank told Lin when he finally recovered.

“How’s that?” she replied.

“You’re not stuck on the Callaway anymore,” Frank continued. “I for one would love the opportunity to serve aboard the Salvador, if only for the change. You can fall into a rut sometimes when you serve year in and year out on the same starship. Still, I know I speak for us all when I say we’re going to miss you.”

Wolf finally met Lin’s eyes. “We’re all going to miss you.”

Lin sighed. “And I’m going to miss you all, too. Saying goodbye once was hard enough. Having to do it all over again?” She shook her head sadly.

Bridgette reached out and held her hand. “We can still talk over aReal every day.”

Lin smiled sadly. “Yes we can.” Her gaze drifted once more to Wolf, and Bridgette finally understood.

The two were lovers.

How could Robert break them apart like that? She resolved to speak to him about it at the first opportunity.

In the meantime she would rest and recuperate, and hope, with all her heart, that Eugene pulled through.

ZHIDAO HAD BEEN greatly disappointed when the “Elder” had retired from the system. He had been working on a means to board their vessel, but his plans hadn’t come together soon enough, and now they were gone.

The Elder had something his species desired greatly. He was certain the opportunity to acquire that something would present itself in the future, because when he returned to that place of timelessness shared by his race, the probabilities greatly pointed to such an event. He need simply wait a while longer.

Probabilities.

The humans called it Quantum Bayesianism, but theirs was a centuries old theory that was so very incomplete. How little humanity’s understanding of the universe was. They were like snails compared to him.

He moved through the passages, aware that the Callaway’s AI was tracking his every movement, and yet it didn’t matter because the AI was complicit.

He reached the compartment that he sought, and when the hatch shut behind him he said: “Do you know me, Maxwell?”

“Please reconfirm access code,” the AI responded.

“5452940 tango bravo delta,” Zhidao said.

“Access granted,” the AI returned. “Proceed.”

The bulkhead slid aside and Zhidao stepped into the adjacent compartment, where several Artificials rested in stasis, secured to their holding frames.

“I’ll take this one,” Zhidao said, resting his hand on one particularly appealing unit. “I have instructed you on what will happen next?”

“You have,” Maxwell said. “Complete authority will be granted to the new unit.”

“Good.” Zhidao retrieved his blaster and placed it on the deck behind the Artificial, and then he initiated the transfer to the new body.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at his old face. Those eyes merely gaped back at him, apparently stunned. Zhidao struck out, hurling the automaton backward, and then he broke free of his holding frame.

He retrieved the blaster from the deck and fired a shot before the Artificial could get up. The automaton’s head melted away and the useless being collapsed.

“Maxwell, please dispose of that body when you have a chance,” Zhidao said from his new form. “Also, overwrite the personnel entry for my current unit with what I’m sending you now.” That way, if anyone accessed his profile they would see the tailored entry.

“It will be done,” the AI intoned.

Zhidao hid the weapon on his person and proceeded from the compartment. He couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched his face.

eleven

About a day from the far Slipstream, Barrick tapped in, audio-only. “I have some news, Captain Dallas.”

“Tell me,” Jonathan said.

“I’ve been working on Valor,” Barrick replied. “And trying to get him to share the Slipstream traversal technology early. He finally told me that it won’t be possible.”

Jonathan wasn’t surprised. “Does he care to explain why? Other than the obvious reason that he doesn’t want to share his tech with us unless he gets something in exchange?”

“From what he’s told me so far,” Barrick said. “The Slipstream traversal capability isn’t something you can simply tack on to an existing vessel. You have to design and build a starship from the ground up with the tech in mind. It permeates the hull, apparently.”

Jonathan crossed his arms. “Well why doesn’t he share the science behind it, and the schematics of his hull with my crew, and we can decide for ourselves?”

“He’s not at liberty to do so at the moment,” Barrick said.

“I order him to share the tech,” Jonathan tried.

“I’m afraid he’s not going to follow that order, Captain,” Barrick replied. “And if you persist, he says he will be forced to abandon the task group.”

“All right, all right.” Jonathan sighed. He glanced at Robert. “So we’re stuck here for six months, then.”

“That would appear to be the case,” the commander agreed.

“Unacceptable.” Jonathan tapped his lower lip with one finger. An idea slowly coalesced in his thoughts, but he found himself reluctant to pursue it. Still, if it helped expedite the return of at least a few of them...

“Barrick,” Jonathan said. “Would Valor be willing to loan us the Talon for a while?”

“What do you mean?” The confusion was obvious in the telepath’s voice.

“I guess what I’m asking is, would he be open to carrying a contingent of say, twenty of us, back to human space?”

“Good question,” Barrick replied over the comm. “I’ll ask him.” After a moment: “He is willing to carry twenty of you back to human space, yes.”

Jonathan muted the connection and glanced at Robert. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re going to have to do it,” Robert said. “If only to warn the United Systems of the Raakarr presence.”

“Maxwell?” Jonathan asked the AI.

“I agree,” Maxwell replied. “It seems the logical choice. The United Systems must be warned as soon as possible. If it means the rest of the fleet must stay behind while the Talon returns, then so be it.”

“What if the aliens decide to use those we send as bargaining chips when they get to United Systems space?” Miko said.

“Bargaining chips?” Robert asked.

“He means hostages, I think,” Jonathan answered for the tactical officer. He had that same fear himself.

“Yes,” Miko said. “This Raakarr faction has already stated they want to negotiate a peace treaty with the United Systems. The release of whoever you send to that vessel could be part of those negotiations.”

“So you’re suggesting we send only robots?” Jonathan asked Miko.

“Not necessarily,” the tactical officer replied. “Only that, be careful who you choose. It might not be wise to place too many high ranking officers aboard, if any.”

Jonathan rubbed his chin. “It would be bad form, I think, to hold us hostage, especially if their goal is a peace treaty. There is such a thing as starting off on the wrong foot, believe it or not. If I was headed deep into alien territory, carrying a delegation of those aliens, I’d be careful to treat them very very well.”

“And you’re certain you would let all of those aliens leave the ship when you were deep in foreign territory?” Miko said. “You wouldn’t keep at least a few of them aboard, as a safeguard against treachery on the part of those you were negotiating with?”

“Good point,” Jonathan said.

“They might be lying about the Slipstream traversal tech, too,” Robert said, apparently throwing in his lot with Miko. “It might not be as difficult to implement as they describe, but it’s in their best interests to withhold the technology. For the moment anyway. Maybe they wanted events to unfold precisely this way, leaving us no choice but to travel aboard their ship as potential hostages.”

“All relevant points,” Jonathan said. “Either way, I don’t think we have much choice. We’ll just have to include a fully-armed platoon so that we can fight our way off their ship, if necessary.”

“All right,” Robert said. “Then the question is: who’s going?”

“I’ve already decided I’ll be leading the contingent,” Jonathan told his first officer. “I’m placing you in command of the Callaway, and the fleet.”

“Is that wise?” Robert said. “You’re the perfect hostage.”

“The aliens might certainly feel that way,” Jonathan said. “They’ll be in for a surprise, however, when they realize just how little I’m worth.”

“You devalue yourself,” Robert scolded him.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” the commander replied. “Listen, I should be the one to go.”

Jonathan regarded his first officer uncertainly. “Do you really want to leave Bridgette’s side?”

“She can come, too,” Robert said.

“In her current state, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Jonathan replied. “Unless you plan on transferring our whole ICU unit over to the Talon, which isn’t feasible.”

Robert sighed. “No. I suppose you’re right.”

Jonathan patted the commander on the shoulder. “I leave the ship in good hands.”

“Once you leave,” Robert said. “You won’t be able to come back. Barrick did say the Slipstream points to Prius 3 from the Vega 951 side.”

“We’ll just have to meet you when you return in six months,” Jonathan told him.

“Assuming the Elder keep their word,” Robert said. “And continue pointing this side of the Slipstream to Vega 951 for a year.”

“They’ll keep their word,” Jonathan said. “And if not, I’m sure you’ll find a way to hold them to it.”

“That might be hard,” Robert said. “Given that they’re long gone from the system.”

Jonathan chuckled sadly. “You won’t have long to wait until their return, I’m sure.”

Robert crumpled his brow. “How so?”

“We’re going to fail their test, remember?”

FROM HIS “QUARTERS” aboard the alien vessel, Barrick concentrated.

The Callaway was thirty thousand kilometers away. Distance affected his psi ability, even though it shouldn’t: he had come to realize that psi was beyond the mind. Everything around him was an illusion. Bundles of properties. There was no such thing as solidity, not really. Matter was composed of vortices of energy called quarks and leptons. The proton in an hydrogen atom was made of one down quark and two up quarks. Its electron was simply a lepton. When an electron jumped to a lower energy level around the combination of protons and neutrons it orbited, the resultant disturbance in the fabric of space time produced yet another energy vortex, characterized as a photon that traveled outward from the lepton like a vibration traveling along a string. And just like a string, that vibration could travel backward and influence the source lepton in subtle ways, in a phenomenon known as quantum entanglement.

Yes, nothing was solid. Nothing was real.

With his psi powers, Barrick reached into that multidimensional realm above this one, the true reality, and searched for the bundles of properties that represented his target.

There were so many energy vortices out there. An infinite, chaotic sea. Life was somewhat easier to find among those multidimensional properties—he simply searched for an organization to the chaos. The bundles that represented chains of amino acids and triglycerides formed a familiar pattern, and each individual possessed a unique layout. He had trained himself to recognize those patterns.

Barrick found the one he was looking for. The representation seemed so weak, so faded, that he could barely discern it. That Barrick could reach him at all in that mess was only because his target had undeveloped psi abilities himself.

Even with the powers he had, Barrick wouldn’t be able to exert much influence. But he would be able to make a small suggestion. Whether or not that suggestion “stuck” was another story. He hoped it did, for the sake of humanity.

He focused on the bundle and repeated one sentence again and again in his mind. The target should have already made the decision Barrick hoped for, but just in case he had not, Barrick wanted to make sure there was no doubt in the man’s mind.

Leave the fleet. Leave the fleet.

LEAVE THE FLEET.

JONATHAN RETIRED TO his office a short time later, and Robert asked for permission to join him.

“You should really consider someone else for the mission, Captain,” Robert said after taking a seat.

“You’re not going to make it easy for me to do this, are you, Commander?” Jonathan said.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I did,” Robert replied.

“We have to trust them at some point,” Jonathan countered. “Keep in mind, the Talon did fire on its own ships.”

“What if it was all a ruse?” Robert said. “Just to get us to trust them?”

Jonathan sat back. “Seems like a lot of work, not to mention a waste of lives, to earn our trust like that, only to betray us in the end.”

Robert rested an elbow on the table and pressed his chin into his palm. “Maybe. But what happened to the Jonathan I know, the Jonathan who wouldn’t trust an alien if his life depended on it?”

“Like I said, at some point we have to trust them,” Jonathan said. “If they’re going to be our allies, shows of good faith must be made on both sides. Sending a human delegation back to our galaxy by means of their vessel is a good start.”

Robert shook his head. “And I agree, but I’m only saying that you don’t have to be part of that team. Send someone else. Do you really need to personally convey our discoveries to the navy?”

Jonathan sighed. “My return is not so much about conveying. It’s more about surrendering. My days in the navy are numbered, Robert. You know that. What do I have to gain by prolonging my captaincy by another six months? I just want to return and submit myself to the board, and get my punishment over with.”

“And what about my punishment?” Robert said. “My days are numbered, too.”

 “I’ve already told you I’m going to take full responsibility for what happened,” Jonathan said. “I’m going to protect you and the other senior officers. You’ll get a mar on your record, yes, and you might find it hard to advance further up the ranks, but you will still have a job. I, on the other hand...” He sighed. “I enjoyed my tenure while it lasted. But I always promised I wouldn’t hang on by my fingernails when it was time to step aside. I’ve had a good career. It’s time for me to pass the torch to someone who’s just as qualified, if not more so. You have proven yourself in the crucible of battle already. The fleet is yours, Robert. Guide it well.”

The commander was quiet for a time. “Why do you have to be so self-destructive career-wise?” Robert finally said.

“Is that what you call it?” Jonathan countered. “Self-destructive? I call it doing the right thing.” He studied his first officer. “What’s wrong, Commander? Don’t you want the Callaway?”

“Of course I do,” Robert said. “But not like this. Not at your expense. You have several good years ahead of you. It doesn’t make sense to flush your career down the toilet. You’re hardly hanging on by the fingernails. You fought well out here.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to assume command for now, but you have to promise me when you stand before the inquiry that you’re going to fight to stay on your ship.”

“Oh I intend to fight,” Jonathan said. “I’m not going to give up everything so easily.”

“Good,” Robert said. “That was what I needed to hear.”

It’s just that I don’t think I’m going to win.

“No other commodore in the navy would do this, you know,” Robert continued. “Leaving their fleet behind... the sensible thing to do would be to send someone else. I know you want to be punished, but come on.”

A part of Jonathan knew the commander was right. And yet another part of him was stubborn, and refused to back down on a decision he had already made. It just didn’t fit with the carefully crafted code of conduct he had built for himself.

But there was something else, too...

“These are extenuating circumstances, Commander,” Jonathan said. “We’re basically stranded in another galaxy for the next six months. And—” He hesitated. Should he tell the commander? “Call it an inborn instinct, but I have a feeling that if I don’t personally return with the Talon, things will go very badly for the United Systems. I want to make sure our message is delivered and heard.”

It was Robert’s turn to study the captain, and Jonathan felt slightly uncomfortable under his dubious gaze.

“Did you ever think to get yourself tested for psi ability?” Robert said, obviously choosing his words carefully.

Jonathan frowned, but then shook his head.

“Why not?” Robert pressed.

“I never had any interest in reading the minds of targets to further political agendas that weren’t my own,” Jonathan said. “Besides, telepaths aren’t allowed to become captains.”

Robert smiled fleetingly. “I’ve always thought those of us with few family or political connections who’ve risen high in the ranks have undeveloped psi abilities. When those gut feelings we have turn out to be correct nine times out of ten, we start to wonder if those hunches were truly rooted in the subconscious mind as the scientists tell us, or somewhere else.” He rubbed his earlobe. “Instincts are telling you to return with the Talon, you say? I have a tendency to believe you. Still, if there was an imminent crisis, of course I would disagree and refuse to take the reins. But it looks like we’ll be spending the next six months here by ourselves, idling away while we wait for the Builder to complete the Gate. There’s no real crisis, unless you count boredom and the resultant increased incidents of fraternization.”

“I’m sure the crew won’t be bored under your watch,” Jonathan said.

Robert lowered his arm and sat back. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just wanted to avoid having to spend six months downtime with the rest of us.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Definitely can’t say I’m sorry to miss out on downtime.”

Robert’s jaw seemed to tense slightly. “But is it truly downtime? You’ll be leaving us behind in an unknown galaxy, far away from everything we’ve ever known, camped out beside an unknown Slipstream. We think it leads back to our galaxy, but that doesn’t mean some other wormhole from a nearby system won’t lead here. An assailant from this galaxy could come through and attack us at any moment.”

“That is an unlikely proposition, I think,” Jonathan said. “At least while you remain in Elder space, and under their auspices.”

“Are we under their auspices?” Robert asked. “Or merely tolerated?”

Jonathan frowned. “Probably the latter. Still, hopefully they would treat you as the guest that you are.”

Robert didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t think we can count on human hospitality extending to alien cultures.”

“No,” Jonathan said. “I suppose not. Still, that the Elder felt safe enough to gestate offspring on one of the planets tells me the system can’t be that dangerous. Come on, it’s only six months, Robert. A minuscule, infinitesimal amount of time in the cosmic scheme of things.”

The commander inhaled deeply and sighed. “I suppose I can manage without you for six months.”

The captain smiled widely. “That’s the spirit.”

twelve

Jonathan held a fleet conference to let the other captains know what he had decided.

“I’m coming, too,” Captain Rail of the Salvador said. “Someone needs to be there during your inquiry.”

Jonathan felt one of his eyebrows rise. “You’ll defend me?”

“Incriminate you, more likely,” Rail said. “I’m going to testify against you. I want to see justice done.”

Jonathan sighed. He remembered Miko’s warning about the Raakarr potentially taking hostages, and he probably should have refused her request on the spot, but a part of him hoped she would be taken hostage. She certainly deserved it, for always causing him so much strife.

Another part of him wanted to ensure she was there for the inquiry so she could testify against him, like she wished; that part of him yearned to be punished for the deaths that had occurred on his watch, even if he had done everything in his power to prevent them.

Rail mistook his hesitation for something else, apparently, because she added: “If you leave me behind, I’m going to file a formal complaint when I get back. I have an extensive network of contacts among the admiralty, and if the board of inquiry lets you off lightly, I’ll see to it that you get another review. And you can bet that with me there, your punishment won’t be so lenient for what you did to Admiral Knox. You only delay the inevitable by leaving me behind. You’re not going to get away with what you’ve done.”

“You think I’m trying to save my own skin by leaving you behind?” Jonathan was beside himself, and against his better judgment he finished: “Come with me then if you wish.”

Rail seemed about to protest, but paused as his words registered.

“Thank you,” she finally said, her face brightening as it always did when she got her way.

“I’m coming, too, then,” Captain Rodriguez of the Dagger said. “Someone needs to be there at the inquiry to defend you, Captain.”

“No, Rodriguez,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want to give the Raakarr too many of our high ranking officers. We still don’t know the extent we can trust them.”

“You’re probably overestimating my worth a tiny bit,” Rodriguez said. “As the AI of my ship would say, no captain is irreplaceable. I’m just a small cog in a very large machine, as are we all. My first officer is fully capable of commanding the Dagger in my absence, just as yours is the Callaway. If anyone should stay behind, it’s probably you, the commander of the flagship.”

“While that may be true—”

Rodriguez interrupted him. “Please Captain, if you’re truly set on going, and you’re allowing Rail along, then there’s no question: you have to take me.”

Jonathan capitulated.

Captain Carter of the Aurelia elected to remain behind with his ship. The two civilian captains of the Grimm and Marley wanted to come, of course, but Jonathan told them their place was aboard their ships—they would be needed in the coming six months. The Gate wouldn’t build itself, after all.

He filled out his team with two MOTHs: Chief Rade “Rage” Galaal and LPO Aaron “Helium” Johnson; a platoon of sixteen combat robots; and two scientists: Lieutenant Connie Myers and one of her assistants, Sil Chopra. He took along Connie mostly so she could personally present her findings to Central Command. Jonathan considered taking an engineer, too, but decided the technical aspect of his crew was well represented in her. 

As for Sil Chopra’s presence, it didn’t seem right to separate the chief from his daughter by the distance of a galaxy. Besides, it made some sense to take along Sil, as she was a qualified xenobiologist and perhaps could continue to surreptitiously study the aliens from aboard their own vessel. And she was a captain in her own right: it was very possible the navy would assign her a new ship when she returned.

A few of the other shipless captains who took refuge aboard the Callaway had also requested a place on the mission, but Jonathan had denied them, choosing to bolster his security personnel instead—in the form of the combat robots.

After the conference Jonathan gave a short address over the ship’s main circuit. Those who wanted video could watch him deliver his speech over their aReals, thanks to the cameras Maxwell had set up.

“Civilians and crew of the Callaway,” Jonathan said. “I want to thank you for everything you have done. The past few weeks have been trying for us all, but your untiring devotion, your refusal to give up, and your fighting spirit have truly been an inspiration. Without your coordinated efforts, none of us would have pulled through the last crisis. It’s not every day that a fleet joins battle that close to a binary star and lives to tell about it.

“We spent six months in Vega 951, building the return Gate that was to take us to Prius 3, but instead led here. You have been patient, and I ask that you are patient for a while longer. As many of you have no doubt heard by now, we encountered the Elder, who admitted responsibility for changing the wormhole endpoints. They agreed to restore the Slipstream endpoint on this side to Vega 951, and on the Vega 951 side to Prius 3. We are going to build a Gate to take us back, and the estimated completion time is another six months.

“I know you were expecting more. Perhaps hoping that our new alien friends would share their Slipstream traversal tech with us. But apparently it’s not so simple. So six months is all I can offer you. Six months, and then you’ll be back in your home galaxy.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be with you during that time. I must leave you. I’m going to board the Talon, the vessel of our Raakarr allies, and return through the Slipstream immediately. We have to warn NAVCENT of the threat posed to our borders. But while I may be going, I’m leaving you in good hands. I’ve instructed Commander Robert Cray to assume command of the Callaway and the fleet. He’s led you in battle before, and while I highly doubt you’ll face a combat situation under his tenure, he does have the experience if it’s needed.

“Good luck to you all, and I look forward to welcoming you on the other side in six months. Captain out.”

The latter statement was a bit of a lie, as he highly doubted he would remain in the navy long enough to welcome anyone, but he felt the statement would help keep morale high.

The task group reached the Slipstream shortly thereafter and Jonathan gave the order to orbit the wormhole.

“Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “Probe the entrance. See if you can confirm that the Slipstream will indeed take us to Vega 951.”

By measuring the redshift and gravitational lensing of the star patterns at the wormhole’s entrance, among other parameters, the endpoint of a Slipstream could be estimated with surprising accuracy.

After a few minutes Maxwell intoned: “Analysis complete.”

“So, what do we have?” Jonathan said. “Will it take us to Vega 951?”

“Data inconclusive,” the AI replied. “It’s impossible for me to determine if the wormhole will lead to Vega 951.”

He exchanged a glance with Robert.

“You’re still going?” Robert said.

“I have to,” Jonathan replied.

He instructed the mission crew members to assemble in hangar bay five in three hours, and then he retired to his quarters to gather his few personal belongings. He gave Robert his convection kettle and tin of green tea, and liberated the Scotch from the safe in his office, gifting it to Stanley, the chief engineer.

“I’ll expect you to return that in six months,” Jonathan said, still trying to give the crew the false hope that he actually was going to return to the captaincy.

“Not on your life,” Stanley said. “You give me that fucker, don’t expect to find a drop left in six months!”

When the time came, Robert and other well-wishers had gathered in the hangar bay to see them off. Jonathan shook the hands of his first officer.

“See you in six months,” Robert said.

Jonathan smiled wistfully. “Six months.”

“What’s wrong?” Robert said.

“Nothing,” Jonathan lied. “Just... I’m going to hold you to those six months. Don’t make me come looking for you and Bridgette.”

Assistants helped Jonathan suit up. He flinched as the local AI of the suit injected an accelerant into the radial venous network of his hand: the concoction would help him adapt faster to the simulated environment, thereby avoiding the effects of any decompression sickness. The shuttle was capable of providing an atmosphere, of course, but Jonathan had elected to make the crossing without one, since they’d be required to wear suits when they emerged on the other side anyway.

He secured the helmet in place and climbed the ramp of the Dragonfly, taking a seat beside Chief Galaal. Cylindrical restraints telescoped from either side of the seat and secured him in place.

Jonathan and the other occupants wore spacesuits equipped with the psychic shielding Connie had developed, with the hope that it would protect them from Barrick’s influence. She had also developed special shielded tents they could use when in oxygenated environments, so that they could sleep without wearing their suits, for example, and still be protected.

“Are all of you ready for this?” Jonathan asked the mission participants. He ran his gaze between Captains Rail, Rodriguez, and Chopra; then Lieutenant Myers, Chief Galaal, and LPO Johnson.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Connie commented, her voice sounding slightly tinny over his helmet speakers.

“You don’t have to ask if we’re ready,” the chief said.

Jonathan glanced at the MOTHs and grinned. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

The sixteen combat robots boarded last. Fourteen Centurions, all M-4 models, led by two Praetor units. Every one of them looked the same: featureless faces set on box-shaped heads connected to polycarbonate torsos, from which emerged blocky arms and legs with circular joints. The subtle whir of servomotors accompanied every movement.

The Raakarr had agreed to allow an armed escort with the group, though perhaps they weren’t expecting so many. Jonathan hoped they enjoyed the surprise. It would certainly make the aliens think twice about holding them hostage.

Two of the Centurions carried a locked cargo container between them, and secured it to the deck. That metallic container housed the high-tech environmental suit salvaged from the humanoids, DNA samples from the humanoid body, and the captured Raakarr body with its equipment. Jonathan debated whether to leave the specimens behind with the fleet, but thought it best to take them back for the navy scientists to study. He considered taking portions of the captured Raakarr fighters, too, but there wasn’t enough room in the container. The naval scientists would simply have to wait six months for that.

Also in the container was a holographic drive containing a partial backup of Maxwell’s memory core from key incidents from the past seven months, along with a similar backup of the Salvador’s AI, Frederick. It was an information-only dump, as the storage requirements for the actual electronic engrams that formed the personalities of the AIs used up far more space. Backing up AI personalities was frowned upon, just as human brain dumps were—while it was possible to transfer those memories into a new unit, no actual transfer of machine consciousness resulted. A duplicate was merely created.

Laws had once been in place to prevent such duplications among humans and machines, but those had fallen by the wayside. As the law currently stood, any man, woman, or AI could choose to duplicate their engrams, even though it would not provide any real benefit to themselves. It was for those who felt the world wouldn’t be able to handle the loss of their contributions after death, mostly scientists, politicians, and creative types: the usual narcissists.

Jonathan planned to keep the cargo container aboard the Dragonfly and under guard at all times. He had no intention of revealing the contents to his hosts.

The sixteen robots crowded into the center portion of the craft, between the facing sets of seats, and secured themselves to the deck around the container with their magnetizable foot assemblies. When that was done, the Centurions folded their bodies to prepare for flight.

Jonathan glanced toward the cockpit. “Pilot, take us out.”

There was no one actually sitting in the pilot seat—the local AI would be doing the flying that day: Dragonfly 1.

“Affirmative,” the AI responded. The ramp closed, and when the atmosphere of the hangar vented, the bay doors opened. The shuttle took flight, leaving the starship behind.

His stomach immediately somersaulted as the queasiness of zero-G took over. He remembered Robert complaining to him about how shuttles had inertial dampeners and yet lacked artificial gravity, when they should have both. Jonathan had to agree with the commander: it seemed logical that one was an extension of the other, yet that wasn’t quite how it worked in the real world.

Robert. He smiled wanly, unable to shake the feeling he would never see the commander again. Robert was still logged in to Jonathan’s helmet camera, of course, and connected to his audio channel; he would remotely observe the mission from the Callaway’s bridge for as long as he could. Even so, it felt like Jonathan’s first officer was already gone.

Jonathan watched the Callaway shrink to nothingness beyond the portal, and when it vanished to the naked eye his sadness was complete. The fleet would make it back of course, of that he was certain, yet he believed in his heart he would never see them again.

This is our final farewell, then.

“Is everything all right, sir?” Helium said. The MOTH LPO sat across from him.

Jonathan hadn’t realized he was crying. He forced a smile. “Everything’s fine. I just get a little emotional when I leave my ship, that’s all.”

He leaned slightly to the left so that the folded form of one of the Centurions blocked him from the LPO’s view.

thirteen

The instant the craft entered the Talon’s hangar bay, Jonathan felt the artificial gravity from the alien vessel glue him to the seat. The aReal in his helmet reported it at one point one Gs.

Jonathan felt the vibrations as the craft touched down.

Gazing through the portal across from him, he watched two human telemetry drones land in the hangar shortly thereafter. The spherical craft would boost the signal from the captured comm node Barrick utilized aboard the Talon; without those drones, the communications range of the node was limited, and the alien vessel risked a long range missile attack from United Systems patrol ships when it reached human space.

When the two drones had landed, Chief Galaal addressed the robots. “Prepare to assume defensive formation Cigar!”

The Centurions unfolded and unmounted from the deck, then moved to the shuttle’s armory. Like clockwork, they retrieved laser rifles in turn from the rack, sliding the straps over their shoulders. There were only two kinds of weapons: the M114s and the heavier M1170s, and the robots took them seemingly without preference, though Jonathan suspected the Praetors had determined the weapon assignments before the mission had even started.

Both types of rifles had been modified to penetrate the Raakarr darkness shields, though it was likely the aliens had already updated their shielding to obsolete the rifle changes. That was another reason Jonathan had brought Connie along—so she could hopefully keep their defenses up to date. It might involve the surreptitious “borrowing” of one of the on-board darkness generators, of course.

Chief Galaal turned to Jonathan. “Captain, stay aboard with the science officers and captains until I give the all clear.”

“Understood,” Jonathan said. He glanced at Sil Chopra, but her gaze was lowered to the deck. She gave no indication she was concerned for her father, though she was probably worried to death.

“The bay doors have closed,” the AI announced. “Detecting external atmosphere repopulation...”

“Commander, are you still reading us?” Jonathan said over the comm.

He glanced at the the guest connection area of his helmet aReal. The commander was still listed as his sole remote viewer. The wireless signal passed from Jonathan’s aReal to the communication node of the shuttle before heading toward the telemetry drone placed between the Talon and the Callaway. At the current range signal reception should have been quite good, unless the Raakarr had done something to degrade it. He glanced at the upper right of his faceplate: three of the the four stacked half-circles that represented signal quality were lit.

Some moments later Robert’s reply came. “Loud and clear.”

“The atmosphere of the external compartment has stabilized,” the Dragonfly’s AI announced. “Movement has been detected near the far bulkhead.”

Jonathan glanced at Chief Galaal. “Pilot,” he told the AI. “Open the external ramp.”

The aft ramp lowered.

“Deploy deploy deploy!” the chief yelled over the comm.

The combat robots piled outside. Chief Galaal and his LPO soon followed. Via the tactical display of his helmet aReal, Jonathan watched their dots form an elongated ellipse around the craft. Three red dots appeared on the far side of the hangar: their welcoming party, no doubt.

“It’s clear, Captain,” Chief Galaal transmitted. “I have Barrick waiting here with two of his alien friends.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Jonathan said. His restraints retracted and he stood.

Rodriguez stretched nearby. “This is going to take a little getting used to. The gravity, I mean.”

“Come on, it’s only one point one Gs,” Sil said.

“Hey, I feel it, you know?” Rodriguez lifted his hands as if testing the new weight of his arms. “At least the suit is compensating a little bit. But not much. We really need those MOTH exoskeletons.”

“Look on the bright side,” Connie said. “You’ll be in the best shape of your life when you return to standard gravity.”

Jonathan beckoned toward the ramp. “After you, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Gentleman, you mean,” Captain Rodriguez said. “I’m the only other man here, besides you.”

Jonathan glanced at Rail. “Some might disagree.”

“I heard that,” Rail growled.

Jonathan raised his palms defensively. “I meant that as a compliment.”

“I’m sure you did,” she retorted.

Near the ramp, Connie paused beside the storage compartment, where the flight deck crew had stowed several canisters of extra oxygen for the mission. “Should we stock up on oxygen now?”

“Might as well,” Jonathan said, shoving two spare canisters into his harness. The Raakarr had promised to refill their empties, but it never hurt to have extra.

Jonathan stepped into the alien hangar bay. Small filaments glowed blue in unique, almost floral patterns on the metal bulkheads, providing dim background light to the shuttle’s headlamps. Everything was hued yellow, thanks to the hydrogen sulfide and methane that composed much of the alien atmosphere.

Barrick was waiting near the far bulkhead beside two of the black, living fogs that were the Raakarr. Those dark tendrils groped at their surroundings constantly, as if searching for some tiny prey to snatch out of the air. Connie had determined that the darkness was an environmental suit of some kind, in addition to a shield. Though the aliens were obviously using it mostly for the latter purposes at the moment.

“Enough combat robots?” Barrick’s voice came inside Jonathan’s helmet. There was a slight echo, because the telepath was using his external speakers, rather than the comm system.

“We agreed I would be allowed an armed escort at all times,” Jonathan said, using his own external speakers.

“We did,” Barrick said. “But I wasn’t expecting a whole platoon of the robots. I get the feeling you don’t really trust me or Valor.”

“Your intuition would be correct,” Jonathan said. He turned toward Chief Galaal. “Chief, send him our private broadcast code.”

A moment later Barrick’s voice came much clearer over the comm. “So I’m part of the team now, am I?”

“Think of the broadcast code as a favor from me to you,” Jonathan said. “A favor I can easily revoke. Your purpose here is to facilitate communications between the Raakarr and I. While you’re nothing more than a translator, as my former crew member I expect you to obey my every command, and to translate faithfully.”

“Thank you for clarifying my position, Captain,” Barrick returned.

Jonathan smiled coldly. “You’re very welcome. So, have you arranged living quarters for us?”

“I have. But before I can take you there, please lay out your belongings on the deck.”

Jonathan glanced at the party. His companions seemed incredulous.

The captain sighed. “Do as he asks.”

He shrugged the backpack down from his spacesuit and placed it on the deck. The others did the same beside him. The Centurions remained still, as none of them carried any personal belongings.

“Open them,” Barrick said. “And empty the contents.”

“I thought we were guests?” Jonathan said.

“Captain, please,” Barrick replied. “You would make a visiting party of Raakarr do the same.”

“Would I?”

He obeyed nonetheless, and emptied his few belongings from the backpack. A pack of animated playing cards. An ancient watch made of gold. His personal aReal spectacles. Various items of clothing. A bar of soap—though he doubted the aliens would provide showers. The last item took up half the room in the container: it was the psi-shielded tent Connie’s team had made for him.

When everyone had emptied their backpacks, Barrick had the party members step back and the aliens proceeded to examine the belongings. Tendrils of black mist enwrapped the empty backpacks; Jonathan at times saw claws momentarily emerge from the darkness.

Jonathan was sure the aliens had scanners available that negated the need for such physical searches. He believed the sole purpose of the procedure was to debase and humiliate them: the Raakarr’s way of letting them know who was truly in charge.

One of the black fogs confiscated Connie’s portable scanner.

“Hey!” Connie said. “I need that!”

“Let it go, Lieutenant,” Jonathan said gently. So much for studying the aliens firsthand.

The second Raakarr took away the monitoring equipment Sil Chopra herself was carrying.

“That’s important scientific equipment,” Connie protested.

“Though we are allies,” Barrick said. “You must understand if the Zarafe don’t want you spying on them and their technology.”

“That’s fine,” Jonathan said. “But ask Valor when we can expect our equipment back.”

Barrick paused, presumably communicating with Valor, who was likely on the bridge. That Barrick could reach him from there showed the extent of the telepath’s abilities.

“Valor says he will hold onto the equipment indefinitely,” Barrick replied.

“Wonderful,” Connie said.

“Do you want me to intervene in any way, Captain?” Robert sent from the Callaway’s bridge via a private line.

“No,” Jonathan answered. “Not for this. Barrick does have a point: we wouldn’t want visiting aliens to spy on us, either. Besides, we have to choose our battles. In the interest of promoting a good relationship with them, I’m going to let it slide.”

“You may retrieve your belongings now,” Barrick announced.

“Pack up, people,” Jonathan said.

He stuffed the psi-shielded tent and his other personal belongings back into the backpack, then shrugged it on once more.

“Valor is telling me that the robots must give up their weapons,” Barrick said. “And that you must submit to a search of the Dragonfly.”

The dark masses approached two of the robots.

“No on both accounts,” Jonathan said firmly. “Tell them to back off.”

“I tried, but they won’t listen, Captain,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan glanced at the chief. “Tell your robots to defend.”

“Gladly,” Chief Galaal answered.

A moment later the servomotors of the Centurions buzzed into action and all sixteen combat robots in the bay pointed their rifles at Barrick and the two dark masses.

The living fogs halted in place and a tense silence followed.

“Even if our rifles don’t penetrate the Raakarr shielding, nothing will protect you, Barrick,” Jonathan said. “How would Valor feel about losing his translator?”

Jonathan was bluffing of course. The last thing he wanted to do was sever his communication link with the aliens.

“I’ve told him your words,” the telepath replied. “Valor hasn’t responded yet.”

“Damn it, Barrick,” Jonathan said. “We arranged all of this beforehand. Valor agreed to an armed escort. And that our shuttle wouldn’t be searched.”

Barrick nodded. “I know, Captain Dallas. And I’m sorry. I believe he is merely prodding the proverbial horse: he wants to test his limits with you.”

“Well tell him not to prod too far,” Jonathan said. “He might not be all that pleased when the horse kicks him in the proverbial ass.”

Barrick remained silent, ostensibly communicating with either the present Raakarr, or Valor himself. Jonathan had thought Valor was on the bridge, but it was possible he was right there in the hangar bay with them, pretending to be one of those “guards”—Jonathan and the others would have never known it. Barrick would have, of course.

“We’re here if you need us, Captain,” Robert reminded him over the comm.

“I know, Commander,” Jonathan replied.

“Valor says you are on his ship now, and must obey his rules,” Barrick said. “And if you harm his translator, there will be grave repercussions.”

“No dice,” Jonathan said. “We’re not backing down on this. Tell him that humans don’t allow others to back down from something they’ve agreed on. It sets a bad precedent, especially if the Raakarr want us to sign some sort of peace treaty with them down the line. If we can’t trust them now, how are we supposed to trust them going forward? We’re not giving up our weapons. Nor may he search the Dragonfly. If he wants to keep us confined to the hangar bay for the duration of the journey, that’s fine.”

The silence stretched out.

“Valor says he will allow the combat robots to keep their weapons,” Barrick announced a moment later. “And there will be no search of the shuttle.”

“How magnanimous,” Captain Rail said.

“But,” Barrick continued. “The rest of you must give up your weapons if you wish to enter the ship proper.” He glanced at the two MOTHs.

Jonathan could have laughed. The combat robots were deadlier than the two MOTHs combined. It didn’t make sense to allow the Centurions to keep their weapons, but then take them away from Chief Galaal and Helium. It was Valor’s weak attempt to save face, to prove he was the one still in command.

 “Do it Chief, Helium,” Jonathan said.

Chief Galaal pressed his lips together behind his faceplate, then turned toward Helium. “Come on.” The pair walked back to the shuttle, lowered the ramp, and went inside. They emerged a moment later without the weapons, which they’d obviously stowed in the Dragonfly’s armory. However, Jonathan suspected the pair had hidden smaller pistols somewhere underneath their harnesses while in there.

A hatch opened in the nearby bulkhead.

“This way,” Barrick said, stepping into the yellow-hued cylindrical passage beyond. The two Raakarr joined him.

Six robots formed up in pairs before Jonathan and the other humans, while another six took their places behind the group. The remaining four Centurions assumed positions around the Dragonfly to guard it and its important cargo.

In the passageways beyond, Jonathan noted that more of those glowing filaments lined the metal bulkheads, placed between strange symbols.

The human, alien and robot party proceeded through those convoluted passages and compartments.

Jonathan transmitted over a private line, excluding Barrick.

“Keep your mapping programs active,” he said. That would ensure their aReals recorded a blueprint of every compartment or passageway observed by their external cameras.

“Captain, drag position,” one of the Centurions transmitted.

Jonathan glanced over his shoulder. Two more black mists had shown up, and followed behind the rearmost robots.

“Why do I suddenly feel like a prisoner?” Captain Rodriguez said.

“I almost think it would have been better to stay in the hangar bay,” Rail added. “At least then we’d know we had only one bulkhead separating us from freedom. A few blasts from the Dragonfly’s lasers and we’d be out.”

Jonathan didn’t answer, but he was experiencing similar doubts.

Don’t tell me I’ve given the aliens seven high ranking officers as hostages, just like Miko predicted. Was I wrong to trust them?

In that moment he was very glad he’d taken along so many combat robots.

So far, it seemed Barrick was leaving their minds alone, so the psychic shielding in the suits must have been working. Then again, if a psychic attack was taking place, Jonathan likely wouldn’t know it.

Bridgette had reported that Barrick was able to transmit full sentences into her conscious mind. That he had not yet done so to anyone present was a good sign. Of course, the telepath might be holding back, merely pretending he couldn’t penetrate the shielding.

What a quandary we find ourselves in.

In time the group arrived at a dead end. A hatch opened, and the Raakarr waited outside while the party entered. The hatch sealed behind them, and the yellow fumes vented until the air was clear. An inner hatch opened, and Barrick gestured.

“After you, Captain,” the telepath said.

fourteen

Jonathan stepped beyond the inner hatch and found himself inside an expansive compartment with a low overhead.

“Look familiar, Captain Chopra?” Jonathan asked.

“It’s similar to the holding compartment they arranged for us on their prison ship, T300,” Sil Chopra answered. “A bit too similar for my tastes, actually.”

Chief Galaal gave her a concerned look from behind his faceplate, but Sil was careful not to glance his way, Jonathan noticed.

“The air is safe to breathe,” Barrick said casually.

“I can confirm,” Connie said. Even without her scanner and full scientific equipment, the spacesuits had built in atmospheric samplers that constantly monitored the external environment.

Jonathan checked his own readings. Sure enough, the air was safe.

All eyes turned to the captain. They wanted to test the air, Jonathan knew, yet he suspected a trick on Barrick’s part.

He wants us to remove our helmets so he can get into our heads...

Jonathan switched to a private channel that excluded Barrick. “I want you to set up one of the tents, Connie.”

“Aye Captain,” the chief scientist returned. She lowered her backpack and removed the frame rods.

Barrick stood there with a knowing smile the whole time she raised the portable shelter, just as if he knew precisely what the tent was for, and thought it useless against him.

When Connie was done, Jonathan switched back to the main channel and said: “Barrick, get in there.”

The telepath smirked and then shrugged. He crouched and entered the tent.

“Seal it behind you,” Jonathan instructed.

He saw the zipper close as Barrick sealed the entrance flap from the inside.

Excluding the telepath from the channel, Jonathan said: “Connie, are we safe?”

“His psi powers should be shielded,” Connie said. “It shouldn’t matter whether he’s on the inside of the tent and we’re on the outside, or vice versa.”

“All right,” Jonathan said. “Any volunteers?”

Chief Galaal glanced at his LPO. “Helium, care to do the honors?”

The MOTH LPO removed his helmet and abruptly wrinkled his nose. “Gah! Smells like something died in here!”

Jonathan removed his own helmet. It indeed smelled like death—the scent of rot and putridity was almost overwhelming.

“Why would it smell like this?” Chief Galaal said. “There were no captured humans held here.”

“As far as we know,” Jonathan said. “Which is very little. We never did recover all the prisoners that were taken from the Selene.”

Beside him, Sil seemed visibly ill.

“I think it’s more likely they penned up some of the Raakarr from the opposing faction here after the uprising. At least for a little while.” The chief nodded toward one corner. “Those look like bloodstains to me. Who wants to hazard a guess what they did to the rest of the crew...?”

“I’m liking this mission less and less by the minute,” Rodriguez said. “Tell me again why I volunteered for this?” He glanced at Jonathan. “Oh yeah. To save your wrinkled behind.”

“If these are going to be our quarters, you’d think they could have taken the time to air the place out,” Rail said. “It would be the hospitable thing to do. Barrick, tell them I want this place fumed out and meticulously scrubbed immediately.”

Barrick’s muffled voice came from inside the tent a moment later: “I seem to be having trouble contacting them, at the moment.” That was a good sign that the psi-shielding was working. Assuming he was telling the truth. “But they told me earlier that your quarters were provided ‘as-is.’“ He sounded slightly tinny, which meant he still wore his helmet, and his voice was coming from the external speakers.

“As-is?” The disgust rolled off Rail’s tongue. “Surely they can afford to send in some cleaner robots?”

“I don’t think they have anything like that,” Barrick replied. “At least nothing I’ve seen. They have machines of course, but most are restricted to surgical or construction roles.”

“Tell them to bring some sanitation equipment then,” Rail ordered. “And we’ll do it ourselves.”

“I’ll see what I can get them to drum up later,” Barrick said.

“All right, people,” Jonathan said. “Helmets back on.”

When everyone had replaced their helmets, Jonathan switched back to the private channel that excluded Barrick. The built-in noise cancelers of the helmet ensured that without the external speakers turned on, the sound of his voice wouldn’t penetrate to the outside.

“Stay in the tents at all times when you take off your helmets,” Jonathan said. “We don’t need any psi interference from the telepath, or the aliens for that matter.” Switching back to the general channel, he said: “Barrick, you can come out now.”

The telepath unsealed the flap and emerged, all smiles behind his faceplate.

Jonathan removed his backpack and set it down against the bulkhead. “When will I be given access to the bridge?”

Barrick seemed puzzled. “Captain?”

Jonathan had trouble keeping his voice under control. “Again, I thought we had an understanding that I would be given access to the bridge. I need to be present when we enter United Systems space to ensure no misunderstandings occur between human vessels and the Talon.”

“Ah, yes. A moment.” Barrick’s eyes defocused. Then: “Valor is intrigued by you, Captain. He says he was impressed with the strategies you threw at the Raakarr in the last battle.”

“It was only partially me,” Jonathan said. “Most of the credit goes to my tactical officer, and the Callaway’s AI.”

“Even so, he admires you,” Barrick said. “And believes you are a great tactician. As a show of goodwill, he wants to offer you a place on the bridge as an observer.”

“That’s mighty kind of him,” Jonathan said, his voice oozing sarcasm. “Considering that we already agreed I would be given a place on the bridge.”

“Yes,” Barrick said. “Do you wish to come now, then?”

“Obviously,” Jonathan said.

“I’ll go as well,” Rail said.

“Me too,” Rodriguez stood eagerly. “It’s better than staying locked in this dreary compartment playing VR games all day.”

“Count me in,” Chopra said.

“Well if you’re going...” Chief Galaal said.

Barrick raised his hands. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid Valor’s invitation extends to Captain Dallas alone.”

Rodriguez frowned in disappointment.

“This is an outrage,” Rail said. “We’re all of equal rank here.” She glanced at Connie and the MOTHs and sniffed. “Most of us, anyway.”

Barrick regarded Jonathan with an expression that seemed uncertain. “Captain? Do you want to come alone or not?”

“Tell your friend Valor we deserve better than this,” Rail said. “And we’re going to inform the fleet about our treatment when we arrive.”

“I shall,” Barrick told her.

“Sorry, people,” Jonathan said. “I’ll have to agree with Valor on this one. If it was my bridge, I wouldn’t want too many nonessentials standing around, either.” He turned toward the Chief. “I need to borrow two of your Centurions.”

“Alpha one and two, with the captain!” Chief Galaal ordered.

The specified robots formed up on either side of Jonathan.

Barrick gave him a look of surprise.

“You don’t expect me to travel this ship unescorted, do you?” Jonathan said.

“I suppose not,” Barrick said. “I’ll have to clear it with Valor.”

“You’re in charge in my absence, Captain Rodriguez,” Jonathan told the man. Excluding Barrick, he added: “I’ll grant everyone full remote viewing access to my aReal. You’ll see everything I see, hear everything I hear. We’ll maintain radio contact at all times.”

“It’s a big ship, and we don’t have HLED lights in the overhead to retransmit our packets,” Captain Rodriguez said. “How do we know the raw signal will pass through all the bulkheads in between our positions?”

“You forget that we have signal boosters,” Jonathan said. “The Talon contains an active comm node, previously captured from the Selene. And three more, if you include the comm nodes aboard the shuttle and the telemetry drones. Our aReals would have automatically logged into all of them by now. I didn’t see a ‘credentials refused’ message pop up anywhere on my HUD, so I know we’re using them all.” He passed his gaze over the other members of the party. “Any other concerns?”

There were none.

Jonathan turned to Barrick. “Let’s go.”

He soon found himself following Barrick and two Raakarr guards through the yellow-fumed passageways beyond; one Centurion marched directly in front of him, the other directly behind.

He switched to a private line with Barrick, excluding even Robert. His next words were for the telepath alone.

“I want to make something clear,” Jonathan told the telepath. “I don’t trust you, and I never will. I can’t forgive you for what you did. Bridgette almost died because of you. You could have kidnapped someone else. Anyone. But you chose her.”

“There is a specific reason I chose her,” Barrick stated flatly.

“Really? And what is that?”

The torso of Barrick’s spacesuit swiveled and the telepath glanced at him sidelong. “I can’t reveal that to you, unfortunately.”

“When you released her from the ship while we were in orbit above the star, did you know she would survive?” Jonathan asked.

Barrick turned away. “In some futures, she died during the crossing between the ships. In others, she died shortly after retrieval. But in most of them she and her child lived. And they were strengthened by the ordeal.”

Some futures. He kept talking as if he’d seen multiple branches of the future. In her debriefing report, Bridgette said he had claimed something along those lines.

“So you didn’t know then, you’re saying,” Jonathan pressed. “Not for certain.”

“No, I did not,” Barrick admitted. “How is she, by the way. Bridgette?”

“She’ll live,” Jonathan said. “We think. No thanks to you. But the doctors don’t know if her baby will survive.”

“Did Bridgette tell you why I tried to take over the Callaway?” Barrick asked.

“Something about... you thought you were trying to save us.” Jonathan said.

“That is correct. There was a man aboard the prison ship, T300. An Artificial, to be precise. A prisoner taken from the Selene.”

“You’re talking about the Phant?” Jonathan said.

“So you know,” Barrick replied. “Good. Now you understand why I wanted to destroy that ship. He is the greatest threat to humanity.”

“But you were making us target the Salvador,” Jonathan said.

“She would have gotten in the way,” Barrick told him. “Once the Salvador was disabled, I would have concentrated fire on T300. And eliminated the Phant. But I failed.”

“You talk as if the Phant is still alive,” Jonathan said. “Even if it survived T300’s destruction above the subgiant, its body will be on a decaying orbit with that star. The Phant will never escape the massive gravity on its own. It is a threat to no one.”

“You’re wrong,” Barrick said. “Somehow the Phant always escapes the destruction of T300. Sometimes it stows away in the lifepod I take with Valor to the Talon. Sometimes it sneaks aboard Bridgette’s Dragonfly.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan said. “He’s aboard the Talon? Or the Callaway? Why didn’t you warn us before?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Barrick said. “I tried that, in some iterations of the future. Didn’t help. The Phant always goes into hiding, surfacing again only near the very end. The Phants, they are a very long-lived, very patient race. It is not beyond them to plan the downfall of a species for millennia.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure what to believe. In any case he unmuted Robert and said: “Commander, I want you to perform a full sweep of the Callaway. Apparently there is a chance the Phant is still aboard.”

“I’ll get on it,” Robert replied a few seconds later.

“While you’re at it,” Jonathan added. “Have every ship in the fleet perform a similar sweep.”

“Will do,” Robert returned.

Jonathan turned back toward Barrick and switched back to the private line. “Some iterations of the future... you keep saying that, or variations on the theme, anyway.”

“And so I do.”

“How did you get this ability to see these different futures?” Jonathan asked.

“Do you remember the Raakarr we captured?” Barrick said. “When I linked with him, he used my mind to unveil humanity’s paths and way points.”

“So the Raakarr can see our future, too?”

“No,” the telepath replied. “I don’t believe the aliens can see those paths on their own, not without a human of my abilities. The alien had intended to report back on our future to its higher-ups, no doubt, but I grew too powerful. I lived many lives, you see, and retained all my abilities from one life to the next. I overwhelmed the creature and it died.”

Jonathan found himself losing patience. “That’s quite the good story. But why don’t these aliens use a similar mind link to accelerate their own development? Or to see their own futures?”

“Perhaps they do,” Barrick said. “Or perhaps my link was unique, because I am of a different species. I cannot be sure.”

“All right.” Jonathan grinned mockingly. “So you can see the future. Or different variations of it. Tell me then: what’s going to happen next? Lay out the different paths for me.”

Barrick shook his head. “I tried that. Never helps. In fact, it usually makes matters worse.”

“Try me.”

Barrick sighed. “I’m sorry, Captain. I cannot.”

The two Raakarr guards turned down a side passage, and Jonathan and Barrick followed.

Jonathan glanced at the telepath. “Did you ever bother to think that maybe, just maybe, the alien you linked with was planting false memories of the future into your mind to mislead you?”

“The thought has occurred to me,” Barrick said. “And in fact, I believe it was some subconscious suggestion on the part of the alien that caused my attempted coup of the Callaway to fail. I’ve since learned to protect myself, so the Raakarr will never use me like that again. And they’ll never know what I saw. Though Valor asks me at least once a day.”

“Can the Raakarr read these futures from me, too?” Jonathan asked. “Did they read Bridgette?”

“The alien minds can’t initiate a link with a human being,” Barrick said. “So unless you attempt a psychic connection first, you’re safe. Needless to say, while you and Bridgette both have psychic potential, neither of you are capable of such a thing.”

Jonathan wondered if Barrick was wrong. He remembered the visions the Elder embryos had sent him: those things had definitely initiated the link with him, or the Elder had, through them. And if they could reach his mind, it didn’t seem like too much of a leap for the Raakarr to do so, too.

He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. Either way, he was very glad he had a psi-shielded spacesuit. Then again, back on the greenhouse planet, the embryos had reached Robert while the commander was wearing such a suit.

Staring at those claustrophobic alien bulkheads, Jonathan suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable.

fifteen

Still wearing his spacesuit, Jonathan stood on the cramped alien bridge. The two Centurions resided on either side of him; Barrick lingered a meter away from the rightmost. Both Centurions were unarmed—the Raakarr had made the robots give up their weapons outside the entry hatch, with a promise to return them on the way out. Jonathan had readily agreed—in his mind the robots were weapons in and of themselves.

He observed his surroundings through the thick yellow mist of the alien atmosphere. The metal bulkheads of the bridge formed a seamless compartment so that Jonathan felt like he stood inside an elongated sphere. There were strange, seemingly decorative hollows in that sphere, matched symmetrically on three sides. Barrick had told him he believed the shape was based on the inside of a Raakarr skull.

A cylindrical pit resided in the center of the compartment, giving the impression that Jonathan occupied an elevated walkway. Six Raakarr, absent their usual darkness generators, sat side by side in the pit, their backs to a thin pillar that climbed to the overhead. Their heads and upper bodies overflowed onto the deck beside them; they appeared to be treating the surrounding floor space as one big armrest. Thanks to the cramped confines, Jonathan was so close to the pit that he could’ve touched the closest alien merely by extending his boot half a meter in front of him.

Clad in the living black of their darkness generators, two Raakarr stood guard by the main entry hatch. Another two bookended Jonathan’s party.

“Which one of them is Valor?” Jonathan asked the telepath over the comm.

“To be honest,” Barrick replied. “I don’t actually know.”

Jonathan stared at the unshielded Raakarr in the pit and tried to guess which one was the captain. They all looked the same to him. No, not quite. There were subtle differences. That one had a slightly smaller head. The horns on another were bigger. The mandibles slightly crooked on a third. Because of those differences he thought Barrick might be lying: perhaps the telepath was trying to protect Valor out of some misguided sense of loyalty. Either way, Jonathan decided not to press the matter.

He continued studying the aliens. Overall, they were vaguely insectile. Those large, spiky forelegs reminded him of a mantis insect. Horned plates lined their segmented abdomens. He couldn’t see their jointed hind legs from his current position, but he assumed they must be folded underneath their bodies in the pit.

The round heads contained bifurcated mandibles on either side of tube-like probosces. Three round protrusions on their crowns could only be eyes, protected by plates that extended from the sides of the head. According to Barrick, members of the Zarafe faction had slightly longer necks, and didn’t naturally possess those eye plates; the sleeper cell members who had commandeered the ship had apparently used gene-therapy to physically modify themselves, allowing them to blend-in with the “Elk” and pass on-board biometric security measures.

If these aliens were truly descended from the Elder, they couldn’t look that much different from their ancestors, even if they employed an accelerant to increase mutation rates as Barrick claimed. Only six to eight hundred thousand years would have passed since they branched off from the main species—assuming that was when the Elder left the galaxy.

After all, humans looked much the same as their own ancestors of eight hundred thousand years ago. Modern humans stood taller and had a slightly larger brain case, the product of an environment that selected for size and intelligence—ancient man didn’t have much leeway for stupidity.

Jonathan often wondered if humanity had come full circle, with the overall intelligence of human beings on the decline; many a Darwinist had argued that mental capacity was no longer an attribute selected against, nor had been for several hundred years thanks to all the comforts and automation of the modern era. Indeed, Jonathan was questioning his own intelligence at the moment: he had chosen to leave behind a perfectly good ship to board an alien vessel, after all.

Once again he wondered if he should have listened to Robert and stayed with the rest of the fleet.

Too late, now.

“It’s almost like our own Round Table,” Barrick said over the comm. “Except in reverse.”

“What’s that?” Jonathan answered, roused from his thoughts.

“The way they’re sitting,” Barrick answered. “It’s like our Round Table, except they’re seated back to back. Their minds are linked of course, so that when the captain wishes to issue a command, he need merely think it to the individual in question.”

“How does he communicate with the AI?” Jonathan asked. “Assuming there is an AI...”

“Oh there is,” Barrick replied. He nodded toward one of the indentations in the bulkhead. “See that sensor? They wear matching devices on their heads. I’m guessing that’s how they communicate with the AI.”

Jonathan stared at the indentation and finally spotted a small, dark disk set against the lighter metal of the backdrop. He glanced at the symmetrical opposites of the indentation in the compartment, and noted two more such disks.

“You’ll never guess how they eat,” Barrick said.

Jonathan glanced at Barrick and stated, slightly deadpan: “How do they eat.”

“You see those corrugated lines all along their bellies? I’ve figured out that’s their digestive tract. It’s completely external. Before they go to sleep, they slather their bodies with some kind of goo, which I think is their food. And most of it is absorbed by morning. They shake off the dried flakes that remain when they wake up. Their equivalent of taking a shit.”

“Thanks for that,” Jonathan said. “I’ll be sure to share it with our scientists.”

“I think they’ll appreciate it,” Barrick said.

Because I sure don’t, Jonathan thought. He noticed something. “Wait. If they digest food externally, what’s the point of the probosces on their heads?”

“Those are for sexual reproduction,” Barrick said.

Jonathan gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you sure you’re not making all of this up?”

“Maybe some of it,” Barrick admitted.

Jonathan shook his head. “Damn it.”

“I feel sorry for you, Captain,” Robert’s voice came over from the Callaway on a private line that excluded Barrick. “I’d hate to spend even a few minutes, let alone a few weeks, cooped up with that telepath.”

Though the range to the Callaway wasn’t far, and the human comm nodes in the hangar bay boosted the signal, the commander’s voice suffered from severe digital warping—if the Talon’s bridge was anything like his own cruiser, there would be extra armor and radiation shielding around the compartment. Without HLEDs to retransmit the data via Li-Fi, the packet loss would be relatively high.

“I’ll manage,” Jonathan replied to his first officer.

He ran his gaze once more across the compartment. It was still hard to make the connection that he was actually on the bridge of a starship. The aliens manning the place didn’t help: he felt like he stood in some illegal menagerie, where he observed genetic freaks put together by academy scientists with too much time on their hands looking to justify the expense of their department’s DNA printers.

Also, he was used to having a wealth of information overlaid onto his vision: the 3D tactical display showing the battle space immediately surrounding the starship, the external video feeds that provided images in the visual, thermal, and other radiation bands. He could still have them if he really wanted, lagged as the streams would be, but he had turned them off to preserve bandwidth for the live digital video transmission he was sending Robert.

The commander’s voice came on the line again. “I’m still surprised they let you transmit video from their bridge. Not that I’m complaining.”

“They’re going to have to share what their bridge looks like at some point,” Jonathan said over the private line, excluding Barrick. “When we assign them a real liaison officer, for example. That the Raakarr are doing it now shows me they’re somewhat serious about an alliance. How’s my video feed by the way? Still pixelating?”

“As ever,” came the commander’s reply a few seconds later. “We tried compensating for it, but they certainly have some powerful shielding in place around that bridge. Though that armor makes me wonder... you claim they’re giving you permission to send video, and that it shows how serious they are about an alliance? Have you considered that maybe they thought we wouldn’t be able to punch through it at all?”

“I’m sure their AI would have pointed that out to them by now,” Jonathan replied. “And they haven’t made me shut it off.”

“Maybe,” Robert said. “By the way, we finished the full sweep of the Callaway you requested earlier. And the remaining ships in the fleet have completed similar internal searches.”

“And...?” Jonathan replied.

“If the Phant is aboard any of our vessels, then the thing has found a way to evade our scans,” Robert responded a moment later. “There’s no sign of it anywhere. Should I be worried?”

Jonathan glanced at the telepath. “No. It was a false alarm, I think.”

Barrick spoke over the main comm a moment later. “Otter tells me the Talon is nearing the Slipstream.” Otter was the liaison officer that Valor had assigned to them so that the telepath wouldn’t have to “constantly pester Valor,” as Barrick put it. He had come up with the name on his own, because when Barrick asked the alien what he should call it, the creature apparently returned a point cloud that vaguely resembled an otter.

“How long until we cross over into our own galaxy?” Jonathan asked the man.

“They’re launching exploratory probes now,” Barrick said. “We’ll leave as soon as they get back.”

Several minutes passed.

Barrick spoke again. “Otter says the probes have returned. Apparently the space beyond definitely corresponds to Vega 951. However, there were two Raakarr comm node equivalents camped out beside the entrance. They have been disabled by an EMP from the probes, and the area is now clear.”

Jonathan felt his brow crumple. “I thought you said the Talon launched ‘exploratory’ probes.”

“Well, they are. An EMP is the only offensive measure the probes are capable of.”

“Fine,” Jonathan said. “Are there any indications of other ships nearby? Raakarr or human?”

“None.”

Robert’s voice came over the comm. “The Raakarr have to be hiding somewhere in the system.”

“I agree,” Jonathan said over the private line. “As I doubt they could have reached the farther Slipstream, 2-Vega, by now. I’m sure they’ll show themselves soon—when they realize their comm nodes have been disabled.”

“Your arrival will probably catch them by surprise,” Robert added. “I highly doubt they were expecting any of us so soon.”

“I hope so.”

“The probes have docked,” Barrick announced. “The Talon is accelerating toward the Slipstream.”

Jonathan felt his heart rate increase.

“This is it, Robert,” he said through the lagging connection to the Callaway. “Anything you want to say before I jump a few million light years away?”

“Only one thing, Captain,” Robert replied. “Give them hell.”

Jonathan laughed softly. “I expect you to return my ship without a scratch on her.”

“I don’t know about that,” Robert said. “Micro-meteor accumulations can cause quite a mess on the Whittle layer, as I’m sure you know.”

Jonathan chuckled once more. “Micro-meteor accumulations are the least of my worries.” He blinked several times and added: “I leave the ship in good hands.”

Robert replied a few seconds later. “Maxwell says he’ll burn some toast in your honor. I have no idea what that means.”

“Tell Maxwell—”

Robert’s connection indicator abruptly winked out.

“We’re through,” Barrick said.

Good-bye, Commander. And good luck.

sixteen

Jonathan listened to his own breathing as he waited patiently for Barrick to update him. Each breath sounded relatively loud, thanks to the amplification induced by the confines of the helmet. A built-in noise canceler muted the sound somewhat; there were various settings to the canceler, and it could actually silence the noise entirely, but then he wouldn’t hear his own voice.

After several moments Jonathan turned toward Barrick and said: “So, are we in Vega 951?”

“Otter says we are most certainly in Vega 951,” Barrick told the captain. “But the Gate you built? It’s gone. There is, however, debris consistent with the structure in orbit around the wormhole.”

Jonathan nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me. When the fleeing Raakarr passed this way, they decided to leave us a little parting gift by destroying the Gate.”

NAVCENT would have to dispatch a Builder to the system as soon as possible, otherwise Robert and the rest of the fleet would have to spend another six months in Vega 951 to construct their own return Gate.

“Any sign of the Raakarr yet?” Jonathan asked the telepath.

“Otter says the system appears empty, so far,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan recalled the planetoids that orbited in relatively close proximity to the Slipstream: the perfect spots for an enemy to wait in ambush. “Even so, we should proceed to Prius 3 as soon as possible. Some or all of those six enemy ships could easily be hiding—”

Barrick raised a hushing hand. After a moment: “A Raakarr laser ship has emerged from behind the nearest planetoid. Two vessels are providing escort. I believe you call them ‘dart’ ships. They are currently four million, five hundred thousand kilometers away.” He paused, then glanced at Jonathan. “One of the ships is sending us a message.”

After a minute, Barrick continued: “The three ships belong to the Elk faction, of course. Their commodore is calling for our surrender. He promises leniency if Valor gives up his human prisoners.”

Jonathan studied the six aliens in the command pit. There was no physical indication that the Zarafe had received a message of any kind. The crew remained completely motionless; if they were debating the contents of the transmission, then they were doing so solely in their minds.

“Valor has to refuse.” Jonathan turned to Barrick. “He’s going to refuse, right?”

“I don’t know,” Barrick said.

Jonathan glanced at the combat robots, then he tapped in Chief Galaal on a private line. “Chief, be ready to stage Operation Chaotic Breakout.”

“We’re ready,” the chief returned. “Just give the word.”

Jonathan waited several tense moments.

“So what’s going on?” Jonathan asked.

“Valor is deliberating with the bridge crew, as far as I can tell,” Barrick said.

Jonathan tried to consider the situation from the alien captain’s viewpoint. It was essentially Valor’s last chance to renounce the path he had chosen. If he refused to surrender, and traveled through the Slipstream to Prius 3, there truly would be no going back for any of the aliens.

Jonathan continued to wait. He was ready to trigger the last-resort operation that would see his party fight their way to the hangar bay, when the blue filaments in the bulkhead changed to red.

“What’s happening?” Jonathan asked.

“Otter says Valor has decided to refuse,” Barrick replied. The relief was evident in his voice.

Past the point of no return, then. Good.

“Chief, stand down,” Jonathan sent over the private connection.

“Standing down,” the chief replied.

“Valor has instructed his communications officer to play along,” Barrick said. “We are feigning surrender.”

“Is it making a difference?” Jonathan asked.

“Hard to tell, yet,” Barrick replied. “The enemy vessels are still on approach.” He paused. “Valor just ordered an advance probe through the Slipstream.”

“Will the enemy Raakarr detect that?” Jonathan asked.

“Probably.”

Jonathan instinctively reached for his face, wanting to touch his lips in that nervous habit of his, but his fingers bounced off the helmet. He lowered the glove, feeling somewhat sheepish.

Jonathan waited another minute, but then he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s going on now?” he asked, feeling powerless.

“We’re still waiting for the probe to get back,” Barrick replied. “Meanwhile, the Elk have sensed our deception, and are accelerating toward our position.”

Jonathan missed the tactical display. The Dragonfly could generate a workable one, but not while it was locked up in the hangar bay.

He tried to envision the layout of the battle space in his mind: the Talon near the Slipstream; the three Raakarr vessels approaching from the planetoid.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way we can interface our aReals with their computer systems to get some sort of battle space display going?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you,” Barrick said. “That our systems are incompatible. And even if we could somehow interface, their data is represented in a manner that only a Raakarr mind could understand. A three dimensional point cloud.”

“But you can understand it,” Jonathan said.

“I am unique.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Well, it was a nice dream.”

A minute later Barrick announced: “The probe just returned... Otter says the Slipstream definitely leads to Prius 3 and not the Elder galaxy. There was no Gate there either, nor at the Slipstream to the next system. And once again there were two Raakarr comm node equivalents loitering by the entrance. Those have been taken care of. The probe also launched EMP pulses toward the farther Slipstream, to eliminate two more in orbit there.”

Jonathan found himself momentarily speechless. Those should have been human comm nodes, not Raakarr. And the Gates should have been intact.

“What?” was all he could manage.

Apparently Barrick mistook his surprise for something else, because the telepath further explained: “I know what you’re thinking. The EMP is going to miss, because the positional information of the farther comm nodes is out of date. But trust me, even though the visual information from those two is more than twenty minutes old, Otter tells me their orbit is highly regular and predictable. The EMP pulse will hit them, a mere moment after the probe becomes apparent to their sensors.”

“No no, the targeting isn’t my concern at all,” Jonathan said. Was Barrick simply pretending to misunderstand, so that Jonathan would believe the psi-shielding worked? “Those should have been human comm nodes there. And the Gates... they can’t be destroyed. Are you sure the probe wasn’t mistaken?”

Barrick frowned behind his faceplate. “The probe has been programmed to differentiate between the heat signatures of human comm nodes and Raakarr, based on previous encounters, and data shared between the rest of the Raakarr fleet while the Talon was still with them. So the odds of the probe being mistaken are fairly slim.”

“But if that’s true, that means...” Jonathan swallowed. “Tell me the colony on the second planet in orbit around the third sun is intact.”

Prius 3 was a tertiary star system, with two suns in close proximity, and a third orbiting an average distance of nine hundred million kilometers from the other two. The satellites in orbit around the third sun were pseudo planets more than anything else. The United Systems had raised a dome colony on the second such planet, Prius 3A, which was a barren, atmosphereless world akin to Mercury, replete with light and dark sides.

“The colony world is on the dark side, is it not?” Barrick asked.

“Yes it is.”

“Well,” Barrick continued. “The dark side is facing us. And according to Otter, the probe detected no indications of a surviving colony, at least not from the Slipstream opening.”

“The probe has to be wrong,” Jonathan said flatly. That colony had once been home to more than two hundred thousand people. He hoped they had evacuated in time. Then again, if they had no warning...

“Otter tells me there is debris in orbit,” Barrick replied.

“Debris?”

“Yes. The material is consistent with a United Systems vessel. Or two.”

That would be the corvettes assigned to Prius 3A.

“I don’t believe it.” Jonathan slumped slightly. He was counting on those corvettes to escort them deeper into United Systems space. “When we pass through, I want to launch our own telemetry drone immediately. I need to confirm the readings for myself.”

“That will be difficult,” Barrick said.

“Why?” Jonathan was growing more suspicious by the moment. “Valor is going to refuse?”

“No,” Barrick replied. “There are mines outside the Slipstream endpoint.”

“Mines?” Jonathan asked. “Of human make?”

“No. Raakarr. Wait... I take that back. I had Otter clarify. They aren’t mines, but Raakarr fighters. Immune to the EMP weapon in the probe.”

Jonathan still wasn’t sure he believed Barrick, but he supposed he had no other choice at the moment. “Valor can’t just launch a few disposable probes to clear a path on the other side, like we’ve seen the Raakarr do before?”

“Not against fighters,” Barrick said. “But if they really were mines, then yes.”

Jonathan regarded the telepath uncertainly. “This ship doesn’t carry any fighters?”

“That is correct,” Barrick said.

“The prison ship T300 was in control of several fighters when we first encountered it in the Elder galaxy,” Jonathan told him. “I don’t suppose the Talon can assume control of the waiting fighters?”

“Apparently the probe already tried to do so,” Barrick said. “But the Elk changed something—I’m guessing the Raakarr equivalent of human authorization codes.”

“Too bad. So how is Valor going to handle those fighters then?” If they’re real.

“The particle cannon is charging as we speak,” Barrick explained. “Valor plans to fire the conical beam the instant we emerge on the other side. With luck we’ll take down most of the waiting fighters, assuming they haven’t moved too far from their previous positions, as recorded by the probe.”

“I think the odds are fairly high that they have,” Jonathan said. “Though some of them are probably racing toward the Slipstream at this moment, intending to travel through and attack us for disabling their comm nodes. If they’re lucky, they’ll get here before we finish charging the particle beam.”

“According to Otter, they’ll never reach the Slipstream in time,” Barrick said. “The enemy fighters weren’t that close to it.”

“What about any slugs they launch?”

“Those won’t reach either, but you’re right, we will have to be careful of slugs when we emerge,” Barrick admitted.

“Well, at least lasers and EMPs can’t travel through Slipstreams, so we’re safe on that front,” Jonathan said. “By the way, you never did say what rank and rating Valor held before he took control of the Talon. Nor that of his bridge crew.”

“That’s because I don’t know,” Barrick said.

“You’re telling me you have no idea how qualified they are to run a starship?” Jonathan said.

Barrick’s grin seemed slightly sheepish behind his faceplate. “Maybe they have really good training AIs.”

“Great,” Jonathan said. “We could be crewed by deck swabbers.”

A minute passed.

Barrick spoke: “The probe has docked, and the particle beam is fully charged. We’re proceeding through the Slipstream.”

seventeen

Jonathan compressed his lips anxiously.

“We’re through,” Barrick said. “According to Otter, we had to initiate an emergency climb to avoid the incoming slugs launched from the mag-rail equivalents on the fighters. The Talon released its particle beam at the same time, and took out sixty percent of the fighters with one shot.”

“Not bad,” Jonathan said. “Except now we have to wait two minutes for the beam to recharge.” He set a timer on his aReal.

The bridge rumbled slightly.

Before Jonathan could ask, Barrick said: “Remaining enemy fighters are making a strafing run. We’re taking fire from their lasers.”

“The Talon has no other point defenses?” Jonathan asked. He suspected as much from the previous engagements, but wanted confirmation.

“No,” Barrick said.

“So we’re sitting ducks until they complete their flyby,” Jonathan complained. “Mag-rails on the fighters, but none on the ships.”

“Yes. Unfortunate.” Barrick glanced upward as if receiving a mind message. “The squadron has passed. Valor has ordered the Talon to accelerate to full speed. The enemy fighters are still turning around, struggling to compensate for their previous momentum.” He paused. “Otter says Valor just cut all thrust, and he’s swiveling the Talon’s nose, bringing the conical beam to bear on the fighters.” An instant later: “He’s fired slight braking thrust. Allowing the fighters to approach.”

The timer on Jonathan’s aReal reached the two minute mark.

“The Talon just fired,” Barrick said. “And apparently eliminated another five fighters. He’s ordered the Talon back to full speed, putting some range between his ship and the fighters while the weapon recharges. It looks like the plan is to pick the enemy off one by one like that: accelerating out of range while the cannon recharges, then slowing down again until the pursuers enter firing range... wait... the remaining fighters have turned back. They’ve realized the pointlessness of the pursuit and are retreating toward the wormhole.”

“Good,” Jonathan said. He sighed. “My first battle as a non-participant. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

“We’re braking again,” Barrick said.

“What? Why?”

“Apparently we’re going to pursue them,” Barrick said.

“Why not let them go?” Jonathan said. “We’ll lose valuable time that could be better spent putting distance between ourselves and the Slipstream. There are other enemies approaching from the other side, remember. And besides, it’s the right thing to do. Always show mercy to a defeated opponent. Tell Valor.”

Barrick responded a minute later: “Valor says if we destroy them now, that means less fighters we’ll have to worry about in future engagements.”

“And that’s where we disagree on military doctrine,” Jonathan said. “Tell him it’s not worth it. We might sustain more damage. We were lucky to emerge relatively unscathed during the initial flyby. That might not be the case if he persists.”

Barrick took a few seconds to reply. Then: “Valor says he will teach you Zarafe courage.”

Jonathan raised his hands in exasperation. “It’s not about courage! Ah, forget it.” He leaned against the bulkhead, and watched his aReal count down the seconds until the beam was ready for its next discharge.

“The fighters are spreading out,” Barrick said. “They’ve realized they won’t make the wormhole before they are in range of our particle beam. Some of them are turning back at steep angles. The Talon is firing... three more fighters taken down.”

The Talon spent half an hour hunting down the last few fighters in that manner. Two of them managed to escape through the wormhole. Luckily, the ship took no further damage.

When the last of them was gone, Barrick said: “Valor wants to know what you think of his command abilities now. He’s gloating, I think.”

In response, Jonathan muted Barrick and addressed Chief Galaal instead; he knew the MOTH was listening because his name was on the guest connection area of the aReal, alongside the names of everyone else in his party. “Chief, instruct the four combat robots guarding the Dragonfly to take shelter inside the craft. I’m going to have the AI launch the telemetry drones.”

“Will do, Captain,” Chief Galaal returned.

Jonathan tapped into the Dragonfly’s AI. “Dragonfly 1, activate the telemetry drones and attempt to make contact with the comm nodes in the system.”

“Aye, Captain,” the AI responded. “By the way, the combat robots are safely aboard.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said.

A moment later the AI responded: “The telemetry drone is unable to contact any comm nodes. The alien hull is likely interfering. Either that, or there are no compatible comm nodes out there.”

“Prepare to launch telemetry drones on my mark,” Jonathan sent the Dragonfly.

He intended to dispatch the drones thirty thousand kilometers on either side of the Talon to increase the chances of reception. It was possible the hull was interfering as the AI said, however previously Barrick had been able to contact them via the onboard comm node alone, so that might not have been the problem. Even so, Jonathan wanted to get his own sensor reading on the system, and he couldn’t do that while the drones were locked up in the bay. 

“Aye, Captain,” the AI responded. “Ready to launch.”

Jonathan turned toward the telepath. “Barrick, have Valor evacuate the atmosphere of the hangar, and open the bay doors.”

“Valor asks why,” Barrick replied. “Given that I have already relayed all the details of the system to you.”

“Tell Valor to vent the atmosphere and open the hangar bay doors,” Jonathan repeated.

“Valor doesn’t see the point—”

Jonathan took a step toward Barrick. “Tell him!”

Barrick paused. Finally: “He will do as you ask.”

Jonathan switched channels: “Dragonfly 1, inform me when the hangar doors are open.”

A moment later the AI replied: “Hangar bay doors are open.”

“Launch telemetry drones,” Jonathan said.

The AI echoed his orders.

He waited a few minutes. “Well?” He sent the AI. “Do we have a comm ping yet?”

“Negative,” the Dragonfly’s AI answered. “There do not appear to be any comm nodes in the system. However, I am detecting what appears to be debris consistent with such nodes above Prius 3A, and near the farther Slipstream. There is more debris directly surrounding both wormholes. Likely the remains of the Gates. I am also detecting intact alien probes in orbit around either Slipstream, however they appear to be deactivated.”

“And the dome colony on Prius 3A?” Jonathan asked.

“It is non-responsive. Maximum zoom on the thermal band reveals no heat radiation from the dome whatsoever. It appears that the colony, and the military base it housed, is destroyed. Debris consistent with two United Systems corvettes resides in orbit.”

Two hundred thousand people.

Keeping his back pressed to the bulkhead, Jonathan bent his knees at a ninety degree angle, and hardened the rear portion of the leg assemblies so that the spacesuit would hold his weight. Then he relaxed his muscles, effectively sitting down. His right knee throbbed slightly from the effort of momentarily holding that position, but the pain quickly subsided as he settled in place.

“Did you hear all that, Rodriguez?” Jonathan said.

“I did.”

“Thoughts?” Jonathan asked.

“The Raakarr obviously came this way,” Rodriguez replied. “Some of them, anyway. They were days ahead of us, remember.”

Days ahead, because of the detour I made.

In the Elder galaxy, he should have flown to the closer Slipstream like his crew counseled. Instead he had chosen the farther wormhole, wanting to directly follow the Raakarr, not trusting the Elder. And now there was an alien fleet on the loose out there, wreaking havoc along the United Systems border territories.

While the choice was perhaps a mistake in hindsight, he refused to second guess himself. He had done enough of that in the past.

“What the Raakarr have done here should count as a failure of the Elder’s test,” Rodriguez continued, interrupting his thoughts. “Attacking our colonies for no reason, without provocation.”

Jonathan considered that. “Maybe. But remember, we don’t even know what the rules of their game are. What constitutes unworthiness in the eyes of the Elder? And here’s an angle you probably haven’t considered: maybe the Elder want us to fight. And maybe they’ll eradicate whichever of us loses the resultant war.”

“Losing makes us unworthy, then?” Rail asked over the comm.

“Like I said, we don’t know the rules,” Jonathan told her. “They said we have to prove ourselves worthy of the planet killer. Does that mean fighting without it? Or using it strategically? Perhaps not using it at all? Or maybe simply keeping the Elk faction from forcibly taking the planet killers from us?”

“I hate aliens,” Rodriguez said.

Jonathan laughed. “I won’t disagree there, Captain.”

Barrick interrupted their discussion. “Valor asks that you recall your telemetry drones so that we can proceed at full speed toward the next Slipstream.”

“Dragonfly 1,” Jonathan said. “Return the drones to cove.”

“We should head to the ruins of the dome colony on Prius 3A,” Sil Chopra said over the comm. “And search for survivors.”

“Ordinarily I would agree with you,” Jonathan said. “But unfortunately time is of the essence at the moment. We can’t tarry. An enemy fleet is out there, ravaging our other border colonies. We have to inform Central Command of the threat as soon as possible, and do what we can to mitigate it.”

“But surely NAVCENT knows of the threat by now,” Chopra said. “An invading fleet wouldn’t be able to destroy every comm node in time. Nor every ship in a given system, not before they fled to the next one.”

“We don’t know that for certain, not yet,” Jonathan said. “The invaders may have initiated some sort of stealth attack. And what about the valuable data we carry, and the specimens? NAVCENT definitely doesn’t have those. And you’re forgetting we have three more ships in pursuit. If we spend several days detouring to Prius 3A, we’re only giving our pursuers time to catch up. Besides, if the colonists didn’t evacuate in time, we both know it’s unlikely the Raakarr left any survivors. Those who escaped the particle beams would have died of radiation poisoning a few hours later anyway. The lack of oxygen from the dome failure would have compounded matters.”

“It sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself, rather than me...” Chopra said.

“Perhaps I am,” Jonathan admitted.

“Several sentient AIs might have survived,” Dragonfly 1 interjected.

“They’ll have to fend for themselves for the moment, I’m sorry,” Jonathan told it.

“Drones have returned to cove,” Dragonfly 1 said a moment later.

Jonathan hardened his resolve and then stood up fully once more. “You can tell Valor to close the bay doors and get under way whenever he’s ready.”

The bridge crew set a course for the far Slipstream and accelerated. The expected arrival time was three days.

Since there was nothing of interest transpiring on the bridge, Jonathan made his way back to the party’s shared berthing area. The two combat robots escorted him and Barrick, along with two of the darkness-clad Raakarr. The filaments lighting the passageways had returned to blue in coloration.

Barrick parted ways some distance from the destination—he quartered in a different area of the ship apparently, which suited Jonathan just fine. The telepath’s description of the compartment made it sound like a sick bay of some kind.

After passing through the airlock and into the shared berthing area, Jonathan discovered that one of the waiting combat robots had already erected a psi-shielded tent for him; Jonathan went inside, removed his helmet, and ate some of the vitamin-laden gruel the Raakarr had provided for them.

Jonathan called a meeting of the crew shortly thereafter. He had everyone pull up the map of Prius 3 on their aReals, and they discussed various ways of ambushing the pursuers, should the enemy come.

They all agreed that the best course of action at the moment was simply to run. Jonathan wasn’t entirely pleased with that conclusion, and found himself missing the tactical input of Maxwell and Miko.

But discretion was the better part of valor, as Robert was so fond of saying.

The pursuing laser ship and its two dart escorts entered Prius 3 half a day later. The enemy mirrored the Talon’s trajectory, heading directly toward the inner Slipstream. Their commodore once more called for Valor’s surrender.

The Zarafe captain didn’t bother to respond.

Yes. Discretion. The better part of valor.

eighteen

Robert sat at his place before the Round Table, and ran his gaze across the officers who manned the various stations. Rald Lazur at the comm station. Tara Lewis at the ops station. Peter Moley at the helm. Sarah Ernest at nav. The other officers.

His eyes drifted to the windowless, curved bulkheads beyond them, and settled on the master-at-arms near the entry hatch. He recognized Petty Officer Connolly, the MA who had obeyed without question when Robert had ordered him to remove Captain Scott from command during the battle for the planet killer.

All of these loyal men and women, ready to obey me. The Callaway and her crew, and the other captains of the task group, mine to command. For the next six months, anyway.

He never wanted the command thrust on him. He had always wanted to earn it, and a part of him resented the fact that Jonathan had unceremoniously departed, leaving him in charge of the fleet like that. While it was doubtful anything of note would transpire in the Elder galaxy while Jonathan was gone, still Robert wasn’t entirely happy.

Though he had to admit, if he was truly honest with himself, that it was good to sit in the captain’s chair again.

He had in fact been offered a command position on a vessel called the Rampage, due to enter service five months from the current date, but by the time he got back to his own galaxy the position would be long since taken. He doubted the offer would have remained even if he returned earlier, because of the inquiry he had to face for his part in the mutiny. Jonathan said he would protect him, and Robert knew the captain would certainly try, but somehow Robert doubted he would be able to. Robert’s involvement was clearly documented in the holographic drives of Maxwell’s memory banks. A partial copy had been included with the drives Jonathan had brought aboard the Talon.

He wondered who would be given command of the Rampage in his stead. He hoped someone worthy.

He remembered telling the captain he intended to turn down the position anyway. But after experiencing a taste of command shortly thereafter, he had regretted that decision. He felt he was holding himself back, perhaps out of a misplaced sense of loyalty to the captain.

He sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t get another chance at command again for a long time. If ever.

Better enjoy it while I can.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then glanced at Miko beside him. The officer was talking to someone, though Robert couldn’t hear because of the noise canceler.

When Miko finished his conversation, Robert extended his own noise canceler around him and said: “Liking your new chair, Lieutenant?”

“I could definitely get used to this,” Miko said.

Robert had chosen him as his acting first officer, though Miko still served as tactical officer as well.

“Really?” Robert said. “And what about all the administrative paperwork? Dealing with complaints from the various department heads?”

Miko shrugged. “It does eat into my spare time a little. But it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Robert cocked his head. “I thought you composed symphonies in your off hours?”

Miko nodded. “Well sure, but it’s really just a hobby, something to do to pass the time while on deployment. To be honest, I haven’t made anything new in a while. Guess I haven’t felt inspired, lately.”

“Not much inspiring out here these days, is there?” Robert said. “You’d think, being in another galaxy and all, we’d see some fairly amazing stuff. And yet it’s not so different from our own. Not at all.”

“Same feces, different pile,” his first officer agreed.

“Miko,” Robert said, feigning surprise. “Watch your gutter mouth!” He grinned mischievously. “Though in the future, if you’re going to spout a crude saying, I’d prefer if you used the actual words. The effect is kind of lost in euphemism.”

“Sorry, sir,” Miko replied.

“You’ve met Stanley, right?”

“On a few occasions,” Miko said.

“Well, you’ll be interacting with him a lot more in your new role,” Robert said. “And trust me, you’ll never hear a euphemism leave his lips. When you talk to him, you’ll understand where the origin of the phrase cuss like a sailor came from.”

“I’m sure I will,” Miko replied.

“Have you ever—”

“Sir,” Ensign Lewis interrupted. “I’ve got something.”

Robert retracted the noise canceler. “What is it?”

“One of the telemetry drones we dispatched to scout the system has reported in,” Ensign Lewis said. “It’s discovered an anomalous thermal reading on a moon orbiting the third gas giant.”

“Another anomaly?” Robert mused. “More Elder offspring?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“The third gas giant...” Robert glanced at Miko. “Isn’t that where the six Raakarr ships emerged from last week? Those vessels the Raakarr built in this system?”

Miko nodded. “That’s right.”

He glanced at Lewis. “Why are we detecting the thermal reading only now? Those drones have been out there for days.”

“The telemetry drone in question only passed behind the gas giant a day ago,” Lewis said. “The moon’s orbit is exceedingly slow, and it has remained out of our direct line of sight since we arrived in the system. The drone found the anomaly only after passing the far side of the moon. It had to return to a higher orbit, far enough away from the radiation belts of the gas giant to transmit the information to us.”

Robert nodded. “The Raakarr chose a good site for their shipyard.”

“Assuming that’s what this is,” Miko said.

Robert considered his options. “Maxwell, I’m taking the Callaway and Dagger to investigate. Inform the captain of the Salvador that he is in command of the remaining task unit.”

“Yes sir,” Maxwell replied.

“You know how Captain Dallas felt about splitting the fleet up...?” Miko said.

“I’m not Captain Dallas,” Robert told him, a bit more brusquely than he intended.

“All right,” Miko said. “But I wouldn’t be fulfilling my role as first officer if I didn’t remind you of what happened the last time two of our ships went off to investigate an anomalous thermal reading on the moon of a gas giant.”

Robert regarded Miko thoughtfully. “I’m hoping things don’t turn out so poorly this time.”

Because he definitely didn’t want the same fate as the Selene and Aegis to befall them.

“In the meantime,” Robert said. “Send the telemetry drone in for a closer look. Let’s see if we can get some insights into what’s actually going on down there.”

nineteen

Jonathan resided in his psi-shielded tent in the berthing area. The others had retired to their shelters, too, as the hour was late. He was wearing his aReal goggles and writing in his log for the day. Ordinarily he would have kept a video logbook, but since there were no lightfield cameras available and he didn’t feel inclined to hold out his goggles or helmet in front of him selfie-style, he had chosen the written route.

“You know...” Chief Galaal’s voice floated through the berthing area, sounding slightly muted thanks to the tent he spoke inside of. “If the Raakarr have conquered Prius 3 and the adjacent systems, we’re essentially behind enemy lines, right?”

Jonathan took a break from writing his log entry. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But you’re entirely right. Especially when you consider the Raakarr are placing the equivalent of comm nodes at the entrance to every Slipstream.”

“And destroying our own Gates in the process,” the chief said. “What happened in Prius 3 disturbs me. Greatly.”

“It disturbs us all,” Sil Chopra chimed in from her own tent.

“You don’t understand,” the chief said. “I’ve lived through similar events in the past. This is how it begins. You’re all witnessing history. The cradle of the next alien war. It starts with skirmishes on the border systems. And soon grows to all out hostilities. This won’t end well. Not for either side.”

“I won’t disagree with you there,” Jonathan said. “The cradle of war. Not really what any of us signed up for, is it?”

“If I’d known I’d be serving aboard an alien ship behind enemy lines,” Rodriguez said. “I probably would have thought long and hard before crossing illegally into the United Systems.”

“You’re one of those immigrant draftees?” Rail said. “I thought they struck down the Enforced Enlistment Act back in ‘06?”

“Oh they did,” Rodriguez said. “But I arrived in ‘05.”

“Never realized you were that old,” Rail said, the mockery obvious in her tone.

“I’ve had a few rejuvenations done,” Rodriguez admitted. “But I don’t consider myself old. Enlightened is the better term. Wiser.”

“More curmudgeonly, you mean,” Chief Galaal said.

“I actually think I’m cheerier than I used to be,” Rodriguez told him.

“I was talking about myself,” the chief replied.

“Ah. I can certainly vouch for that,” Rodriguez said, sounding amused.

“The two of you have served together previously?” Jonathan asked.

“On a couple of deployments,” Rodriguez answered. “Back then, Chief Galaal was still making a name for himself as leading petty officer. I’ll tell you one thing, you didn’t want to get on his wrong side. Still don’t, actually.”

“Very few people get on my wrong side,” the chief said. “Unless they call me sir.”

“I think that was a surreptitious insult aimed at us officers,” Rodriguez joked.

“Not at all,” the chief said. “I know my place. Just as you know yours.”

The conversation momentarily died.

“Sometimes I wonder if I truly know mine,” Jonathan said into the silence that followed. “Am I truly the captain of a fleet? If so, why have I led my intrepid crew here? What the hell have I done?”

“You’re doing the best you can,” Connie said. “Like us all.”

“Am I?” Jonathan said. Then why do I feel so powerless?

“I think we’ll all need a good talking to with an experienced counselor when this is over,” Captain Rail said. “Of course, I’m referring to after your inquiry, Dallas.”

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “Thank you for reminding me of that.”

“I thought that was what you were alluding to,” Rail said. “When you were questioning your authority over the fleet.”

“Not at all,” Jonathan said. “But you’re right. What happened between me and Admiral Knox is another reason why I’m not so sure of my place.”

“I don’t know why you need a governing body to validate your position,” Rodriguez said. “By now you should know in your heart that you’re our commodore. You’ve led us through thick and thin. You don’t need the approval of some board of inquiry.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Jonathan sighed. “Legally, I will have to answer for what I’ve done.”

“And you will answer,” Rail said. “Don’t you worry.”

“Why are you so vindictive toward the captain?” Rodriguez asked. “What did he ever do to you, other than save your life?”

“It’s not what he did to me,” Rail said. “But the Admiral. Disobeying a superior officer like that, trying to get the other captains to rise against him, that’s deplorable behavior. It strikes against the very tenets at the heart of the navy. If people didn’t follow orders, there could be no navy.” She hesitated. Then: “Also, on a personal note, Knox told me he was going to put me in for a commendation when we got back. I would have been given command of my own task unit. The Salvador would have become a flagship.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” Rodriguez said. “You think you’ve lost your chance of advancement now that the admiral you were all cushy with is gone. But I got news for you, Rail. He was playing you. He did it to all of us. He promised me the same thing. Back when we were in Vega 951, he told me I was second in line after Captain Dallas. That if Dallas weren’t there, I would have been given command of the second task unit.” Rodriguez’s voice quavered slightly. “That was one of the reasons I didn’t back you, Captain, when you called for the admiral’s removal. I thought Knox was going to make me the commodore of your task unit. But then Knox went and put Scott in charge of the unit, and I was like: what the eff. I’m guessing Knox made the same promise to all the other captains you tried to rally to your cause.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “I was wondering what sort of backhanded dealing was going on behind the scenes. Political plays were never my strong suit.”

“You’re too humble, Captain,” Rodriguez said. “I’ve seen your tactics. Politics and space battles aren’t so removed from one another. Misdirection, trojan horses, pretend alliances... in politics, it’s all par for the course.”

“Maybe so,” Jonathan said, though he wasn’t convinced.

“What are you saying,” Sil chimed in. “Our alliance with these Raakarr is pretend?”

“Not at all,” Rodriguez said.

“NAVCENT may treat it as such,” Rail added.

“I hope not,” Sil said. “I’d hate to think we deceived these Zarafe into bringing us home, only to betray them when we arrive.”

“You forget,” Rail said. “That they could be the ones deceiving us. They want our planet killers. And they’ll do anything to get their hands on one. Even if it means pretending to be our allies.”

The conversation almost died on that note. But a few minutes later Rodriguez started it up again.

“What’s it like serving on the same ship as your dad?” Rodriguez asked. His words were obviously directed toward Sil.

She didn’t answer right away. “Not as bad as you’d think. He’s not my CO, thankfully, and we don’t see each other all that much. The Callaway is a big ship, after all. I can’t really bump into him accidentally.”

“Imagine if your father was the captain,” Connie said. “And you served on the bridge with him.”

“Now that would be a bad, bad thing,” Sil said. “It would be bad enough if I were the captain, and I had to order his team of MOTHs to perform some suicide mission. I don’t think I could do it. I can only imagine the inner turmoil Captain Dallas experienced when he had to fight an enemy who harbored the wife of his first officer. A wife who was also a good friend of his.”

Jonathan knew he was expected to say something, but he elected to remain quiet. He glanced at his log, and thought of something he had been meaning to ask Connie.

“Lieutenant Myers,” Jonathan said. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck determining the new frequency our laser rifles need to penetrate the personal shielding of the aliens?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Connie said. “I’ve had the Dragonfly attempt an active scan of the guards in the hangar bay, but it hasn’t helped. I’ll actually need to get my hands on one of their darkness generators; only then can I use the tools I’ve stowed aboard the shuttle to determine the new frequency.”

“I’ll talk to Barrick,” Jonathan told her.

“Wait,” Rail said. “Is that wise? Can we trust him? What if he reveals our intentions to Valor?”

“Do we have any other choice?” Jonathan said. “I’m under constant observation when I leave the berthing area, so there’s no way I’ll be able to secure one of the devices myself. Plus I don’t even know where they’re stored.”

“How do we know Barrick isn’t under constant observation as well?” Rail said. “And perhaps looking for any opportunity to ingratiate himself with his alien masters.”

“If he wanted to, he could invent a fake plot at any time,” Jonathan told her. “As the only one of us capable of talking to the aliens, he basically holds our fates in his hands already. I say we give him a chance to prove himself.”

No one else disagreed, so Jonathan called Barrick via the aReal.

A moment later the telepath tapped in.

“Yes, Captain?” Barrick said.

“What if I told you there was a way to regain our trust?” Jonathan asked him. “At least partially.”

“I’m interested,” Barrick said, sounding cautious.

“Well,” Jonathan continued. “It would certainly go a long way toward that end if you could help us secure one of the Raakar darkness generators.”

“You mean a tartaan?” Barrick asked. He had named the generators after the tartans Scottish highlanders wore because the patterns of light and darkness given off by the devices apparently denoted clans, like their namesakes.

“Yes, fine,” Jonathan said. “A tartaan.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Barrick answered. “However, I should warn the captain I may require the aid of one of his stalwart crew members to complete the task.”

“Tell me who you need,” Jonathan said. “And you’ll have him.”

“It’s not so much a him I want,” Barrick replied. “But a her.”

twenty

Barrick approached the airlock of the berthing area, and waited while the Raakarr with him authorized the outer hatch to open.

Inside awaited a crew member in a spacesuit. There were no escorting combat robots: their absence would place the Raakarr guards more at ease, which was precisely what Barrick wanted.

He stared at the lone spacesuit. Those outfits were the great equalizers: their bulk hid male and female forms while enhancing strength. No matter what your gender or physical capability, a spacesuit made you exactly the same as every other human—discounting the specialized exoskeletons of the special forces, of course.

One thing the suits could not hide were the faces, however. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true—some people employed suits with one-way displays that could replace the owner’s face with another. But that was not the case with the woman who stood before him.

Behind the faceplate her exotic features readily stood out. He would have recognized those high cheekbones, pouty lips, and that immaculate nose anywhere. Throw in those expertly trimmed eyebrows above the steel blue eyes, with tanned skin framed by jet black hair... she was perfection embodied. The culmination of a billion years of evolution.

“Hello,” Barrick said, his voice shaking very slightly. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

“Captain Dallas gave me an order,” the woman said over the comm. She sounded bored. “So here I am.”

“But you could have refused that order,” Barrick insisted.

“Hardly. He’s my commanding officer.”

Barrick smiled sightly. “In any case, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Right.” Sil stepped from the airlock. “Can we get on with this?”

“Certainly. This way.” The hatch closed behind them, and Barrick followed the two Raakarr through the passageways. Sil strode at his side.

“You’re supposed to be pretending you’re ill,” Barrick told her.

“I doubt the Raakarr could tell either way,” Sil said. “Our physiology is just as alien to them as theirs is to us.”

Will the Organism make it to the examination room? one of the guards asked him mentally. Barrick called that one Banjo, because the ancient musical instrument was the closest match to the image the guard returned when Barrick asked his name.

The Organism will make it, Barrick replied. He could have mentally substituted the word ‘human’ for Organism, but the strange looking three-dimensional point cloud that the Raakarr sent to his mind was not specific to human beings—the aliens had used it to describe other species in the past, including the Elder.

Good, Banjo said. I don’t want to have to carry the repulsive thing.

Never fear, Barrick returned. If it comes to it, I shall carry the Organism. If only.

“Are you talking to them right now?” Sil asked.

“A little bit,” Barrick admitted.

“What about?”

“They’re wondering if they’ll have to carry you,” Barrick said. “I told them no.”

“Probably a good thing,” Sil said. Barrick thought she shuddered behind her faceplate.

“For a xenobiologist, you seem to have a remarkable aversion to these aliens,” Barrick said.

“Is it that obvious?” Sil asked. “You forget I spent some quality time as their prisoner. We were treated worse than cattle. They treat us little better even now.”

“The Raakarr are doing the best they can, under the circumstances,” Barrick said.

“Are they? Plumbing and running water would be nice.”

“I’m sorry that your quarters lack the usual amenities you’re used to,” Barrick said. “But you do realize the concepts of plumbing and running water are foreign to the Raakarr?”

“I suppose so,” Sil said. The two walked in silence for a few moments.

“Why me?” Sil asked suddenly. “You could have chosen any one of the team. But you chose me. Why?”

“To be frank,” Barrick replied. “I find you attractive.”

“Ah.” She sounded uncomfortable. “Ordinarily I appreciate frankness, but in this case you should have lied. I was hoping for something along the lines of, you admire my command ability, or my smarts, or my quick wits.”

“Those too, of course,” Barrick said.

“Though my looks are what sealed the deal.”

“Yes,” Barrick admitted. “I do apologize if I’d made a social faux pas by telling the truth. I have to admit, I never was the best at socializing. I often live inside my head, as you might imagine.”

“No it’s fine,” Sil said. “At least you’re honest. In the past, I’ve had officers promote me for my ‘abilities,’ and then all of a sudden they expected me to sleep with them in thanks.”

“Tell me who they are,” her father said over the comm. “So I can hunt them down and kill them.”

His voice reminded Barrick that they weren’t truly alone. Captain Dallas and the crew were listening and observing. Barrick had to be on his best behavior.

Sil must have muted him, because her mouth still moved behind her faceplate, but he couldn’t hear her words.

Barrick glanced at the overhead map the aReal overlaid onto his vision. Up ahead lay a section of the ship that was currently “blacked out” to the on-board AI due to damage sustained in the last battle. Though none of the Zarafe faction members had said so outright, Barrick had inferred as much from his mind discussions with Valor and other aliens.

Barrick had convinced his guards to take a long detour through that section at one point, and he discovered several interesting fixtures in the blacked-out area. One of them was an out-of-the way armory.

“Be ready,” Barrick sent to Sil.

The small party reached the aforementioned section. The dark disks that were omnipresent throughout the ship were completely black there. He was convinced those disks were the AI’s sensors, and that black meant they were offline. Good. He was worried that the repair units had finally made it down there, but they likely had higher priority areas to deal with first.

The group approached a side passageway. “Now,” he told her over the comm.

Sil silently broke away from the party, moving deeper into the black-out area. Earlier, Barrick had transmitted the full map of the region to her. She knew precisely where to go.

Good luck, Sil.

Barrick continued after the Raakarr guards, who had yet to notice her absence. He kept their minds occupied with idle discussion.

SIL HURRIED DOWN the side passage, making her way toward the armory marked on the map. She paused beside each bend to peer past first, as the last thing she wanted to do was to run into another Raakarr while she was alone and unarmed in those corridors. Who could say what the thing would do to her? It wouldn’t care that she was a renowned xenobiologist, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she was ripped limb from limb, giving her a lesson in her own biology.

“They’ve realized you’re absent,” Barrick said over the comm. “We’re heading down the side passage after you. Hurry up.”

“Almost there,” she said.

She glanced at the map. Only one final bend lay before her and the armory. She approached the corner and carefully leaned past.

A dark mist floated there, watching the armory.

“Barrick, there’s a guard here,” Sil sent. “Can you get rid of it?”

An instant later the dark mist accelerated toward her. She ducked behind the bend.

“What the hell did you tell it?” While she retreated, she glanced at the map and saw that a side passageway up ahead doubled-back and came to the armory from the other direction. She decided to take it.

“I haven’t actually transmitted anything yet,” Barrick replied.

“The alien must have seen me, then,” Sil said. Or you betrayed us.

She doubled back down the side passage and approached the armory from the other side. When she reached the bend in the passageway just before the armory, she slowly drove her helmet past the edge: the black fog was gone.

She hurried into the passageway.

“The hatch is closed,” she sent Barrick.

“Stand in front of it for a moment,” Barrick replied. “Because the AI is offline there, the hatches are hardwired to automatically open after a few seconds.”

Sure enough the hatch swiveled aside. She hurried into the compartment beyond. Around her lay strange layered holding units that could best be described as hexagonal shelves. They were full of alien gear. She spotted a unit full of the darkness generators and immediately scooped one up, securing it out of sight beneath her harness.

She considered grabbing some of the other strange items, but most were too bulky. She had what she had come for, and felt no need to press her luck, as it were.

“Got it,” she sent Barrick. “I’m heading out.”

She stepped from the armory.

The living mist of a lone Raakarr hovered there in the passageway beside her.

BARRICK HURRIED FORWARD, leading the two guards.

Shortly after Sil had departed, the guards realized she was no longer with the group. They made Barrick turn around immediately, and Banjo demanded to know why he had not reported her absence.

I only noticed myself a moment ago, Barrick had lied. The Organism was falling behind because of its illness, and when I looked back to check, the Organism was gone.

Talk to it with your communication device! Banjo had said.

The Organism is not answering, Barrick had replied. I cannot determine its position.

Barrick had only retraced his steps for a few moments when Sil’s voice came over the comm. “Got it. I’m heading out.”

Banjo sent him another message almost immediately thereafter: The Organism has been spotted. This way.

The dark mist of Banjo thrust past him and took point, while the other Raakarr kept the drag position.

“Sil, what’s happening?” he sent.

She didn’t reply.

Since the AI was offline there, the only way she could have been spotted was if another Raakarr had seen her—likely the armory guard she had mentioned. A sudden fear gripped Barrick, and he hoped Sil was all right. In the few times he had lived through the current moment, not once had the Zarafe ever left a guard in front of the armory.

He wasn’t sure what that meant.

Barrick and the two Raakarr moved deeper into the black-out region, rounding several bends as they neared the location where he had marked the armory on his map.

And then the group turned one final corner and Sil stood there, the dark mist of another Raakarr towering over her. She had her arm assemblies extended, palms out, and she was slowly retreating from the advancing alien.

Barrick hurried forward, squeezing past Banjo and the Raakarr that loomed above her, and he grasped her by the shoulders, screening her with his body.

“Quickly!” he said. “Give it to me!”

She retrieved the tartaan from her harness and furtively passed it into his glove. He turned from her, palming the device.

Step away, Banjo said. Ask the Organism what it was doing here.

Barrick stepped back, as requested. While their attention was on her, he surreptitiously slid the tartaan into a secret pocket in his forearm.

The Organism says it fell behind, Barrick told the guard. And then lost consciousness for a few seconds. When it awoke, we were gone. It took a wrong turn. Got lost.

Convenient, that the Organism should find one of our armories.

The guards proceeded to search her. Tendrils of black mist enwrapped Sil’s spacesuit, and clawed forelegs momentarily emerged from the darkness.

Tell the Organism to remove its upper exoskeleton, Banjo commanded.

“They want you to take off the harness,” Barrick told Sil.

She complied.

The Raakarr searched the harness, and when they were satisfied that nothing was hidden inside, Sil was allowed to put it back over her spacesuit.

They frisked him next, making him remove his harness as well, but they found nothing of course.

“How did you manage to hide the device from them?” Sil asked as the party made its way back down the passageway. “They searched your harness thoroughly.”

“I’ve seen this future once before,” Barrick said. And in that future, while there had never been a guard watching the armory, Banjo had always searched her, and then him.

“I see,” Sil replied.

“Yes. And I made preparations.” He showed her where he had stashed the device in the hidden pocket sewn into his forearm.

“Nice,” she returned.

Barrick found himself beaming.

They emerged from the black-out region, returning to the watchful gaze of the AI. Barrick was confident the machine would not be able to track the stolen device, as he had never foreseen such a thing previously.

After passing through an airlock into the examination room, which had breathable air as it also served as his quarters, Barrick made her remove the spacesuit. Then he put on a show of examining her with the various human equipment at his disposal, most of it salvaged from the Selene and flown over to the Talon via the lifepod of the downed prison vessel, T300. Included in the stash was a rather heavy comm node—moved into and out of the lifepod with great effort—and a run-of-the-mill medical kit.

After half an hour:

I believe the Organism is going to be fine, Barrick sent. It merely suffered from a passing ailment typical to my kind.

You organisms are so weak, Banjo replied.

On the way back to the area where the remaining humans berthed, the party passed the black-out region once more. Barrick used the opportunity to slip the tartaan to her.

When they reached the berthing area, Banjo gave the authorization for the outer hatch to open, and Sil stepped inside the airlock.

As the hatch groaned closed in front of her, Barrick said: “I trust you’re feeling better?”

Behind her faceplate, she grinned slyly. “Better than ever.”

The hatch shut.

With that, Barrick and his escorts departed.

twenty-one

The days passed relatively slowly as the Talon edged its way across the system toward the inner Slipstream.

Jonathan had been somewhat surprised that Barrick had come through for them. Maybe he really was wrong about the man. But even if Barrick was on their side, Jonathan couldn’t yet forgive the telepath for what he had done to his crew, and to Bridgette.

With the darkness device in hand, Connie, escorted by two Raakarr, had returned to the Dragonfly under the guise of retrieving more supplies; once there, using the precision scientific instruments aboard the shuttle, she had determined the new frequency the device used. Connie propagated the necessary modulations to the laser rifles of the party, so that their weapons would penetrate the shielding.

With the updated modulation programs in place, Jonathan felt more at ease already. Even so, Connie warned him there was no guarantee those frequencies would stay the same for long.

“Who knows,” she said. “Maybe they change out the frequencies daily.”

“If they did change it,” Jonathan asked her. “Would the new frequency propagate to the device we have in our possession?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” the chief scientist responded. “It depends on whether or not it’s linked to their ship’s AI. But if it is linked, I’d say we were in trouble, because then the Raakarr know we have it.”

“But that would depend on how it’s linked, wouldn’t it?” Jonathan said. In human systems, location data wasn’t always transmitted back by remote devices.

“Sure,” Connie replied. “Still, I’d take it as a good sign if our device didn’t receive any updates.”

PURSUED DOGGEDLY THE whole way by the Raakarr laser ship and its two escorts, the Talon finally reached the exit Slipstream five days later. Once there, it launched a probe to confirm the destination. When it was obvious that the endpoint opened into Anvil Rappel, and that no ships waited in ambush, the Talon crossed through.

Anvil Rappel proved abandoned as well. The system was owned by the Asiatic Alliance, though the local government allowed the United Systems to operate a military base there.

Debris consistent with comm nodes and starships was scattered in orbit above the colony world, Anvil Prime, a planet famous for the all-day-long aurorae that dominated its skies. Notable was the lack of Gate debris around either Slipstream in the system.

“What do you think happened to the Gates?” Jonathan asked Rodriguez over the comm.

“Hard to say,” Rodriguez returned. “Maybe the inhabitants hid them somewhere in the system. Or maybe the invading Raakarr decided to tow them away.”

“Where?” Jonathan said.

“I don’t know,” Rodriguez admitted.

Jonathan pulled up the system map on his aReal. Most star systems in the galaxy had more than one sun, and Anvil Rappel was no exception. It was a stable binary system of two main sequence stars, one blue, the other orange. Their orbital distance varied with time, and according to the corresponding note in the aReal database, if traced the orbits formed an outline vaguely reminiscent of a medieval anvil—Jonathan had tried plotting a complete revolution once, but the only shape he got was a sideways figure eight. The remaining seventeen planets orbited the same center of mass, forming ellipses of varying sizes. The Slipstream they had emerged from orbited halfway between the tenth and eleventh planets—gas giants—while the exit Slipstream to the next system revolved directly around Anvil Prime, one of the smaller terrestrial planets of the inner system.

“You know Anvil Rappel has seventeen planets and an asteroid belt, right?” Connie transmitted over the comm. “And some of those planets have up to thirty-two moons. That’s a lot of places to hide a Gate.”

“Yeah, I’m refreshing my memory as we speak,” Jonathan said. According to the aReal, the only military base in the system was located on the planet around which the inner Slipstream orbited.

“Nukes could have vaporized the Gates entirely,” Rail suggested. “We wouldn’t find any debris, then.”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Jonathan said. “But then we’d detect nuclear residue in the region.”

“Maybe we should launch a telemetry drone to confirm,” Rail said. “Unless you trust that our Raakarr masters are revealing everything to us.”

“What happened to the Gates isn’t our biggest concern at the moment,” Jonathan said. “Though we’ll certainly need them if the United Systems ever expects to pass this way again.”

“You don’t sound too confident the Raakarr will share their fabled Slipstream-traversal tech with us,” Rodriguez said.

“That’s because I’m not,” Jonathan replied.

“You know,” Sil Chopra said. “If the inhabitants really hid the Gates, that means Prius 3A managed to get a warning through. So NAVCENT has likely received news of the threat by now. As I argued already.”

“We still have our own news to deliver,” Jonathan said.

“We do,” Rail piped in snidely. “And an inquiry to set up.”

Jonathan smiled grimly. Really itching to testify, isn’t she? Maybe she and Knox were secret lovers. Jonathan somehow doubted it, given Knox’s reputation as a strict disciplinarian, and Rail’s general bitchiness. Then again, he supposed he would never truly know.

The Talon began the journey toward the Slipstream situated in orbit above Anvil Prime. The estimated arrival time was four and a half days.

Jonathan had only returned to the berthing area for an hour when the illumination inside his tent became crimson in color. He quickly donned his helmet and emerged from the tent to find the bulkhead filaments glowing a bright red. According to Barrick, the color meant the ship was currently engaged in an elevated state of readiness, similar to general quarters aboard a human vessel.

He was about to tap-in the telepath but Barrick was the quicker, sending him a message first instead: “Captain Dallas, the two of us are to report to the bridge.”

Jonathan rounded up two Centurions and hurried into the airlock. After it sealed behind him, the two waiting Raakarr led them forward. Hatches that had been open before blocked the way, preventing ship-wide decompression in the event of a breach scenario. The hatches automatically slid aside when the Raakarr approached. 

He joined Barrick on the bridge momentarily.

“What is it?” Jonathan asked.

“Otter says they just detected an incoming heat signature,” Barrick told him. “Judging from the thermals recorded in our previous engagements, they believe it to be a human weapon. Nuclear.”

twenty-two

Where the hell did it come from?” Jonathan said.

“Otter says it was floating out there, and activated when we approached to within fifty thousand kilometers.”

Jonathan pressed his lips together. “Basically a smart mine. Why put it all the way out here? A better strategy would be to mine the entrance.”

“How do we know the residents of this system didn’t do just that?” Rodriguez asked. “And this could be all that remains of that mining. Whoever was operating them likely pulled back the nukes when they realized the Raakarr were triggering them with probes.”

“So there might be more,” Jonathan said.

Barrick spoke up. “Otter says they’re also detecting two more thermal signatures emerging from behind a nearby asteroid. A rather large one. The heat patterns don’t match anything they have in their databases, but the Zarafe believe they belong to human vessels. The pair currently reside eighty thousand kilometers off the nose.”

Jonathan wished the Raakarr tech was compatible with his own so that he could pipe the thermal feed to his aReal and do a look up. The situation would remain that way for some time, he suspected, even when the Raakarr signed a treaty with humanity—technology was often closely guarded, even among allies.

“Anvil Rappel had a small military presence,” Jonathan said. “Four corvettes. This has to be two of them. The question is, where are the other two? Barrick, are there any other moons of the tenth planet nearby? Somewhere the United Systems ships could emerge in ambush, perhaps to launch a pincer maneuver?”

“According to Otter,” Barrick said. “There is only one other asteroid nearby, though it’s too far away to make a difference at the moment.” He paused. “Otter says they’re detecting more incoming weapons. Looks like another nuke. And what he calls ‘rocks.’ I think he means mortars. They’re currently the same distance away as the ships. Freshly launched.”

Jonathan nodded. “The corvettes are trying to herd us into the second nuke. Classic strategy. Though in this case it’s more defensive than offensive. They want to steer us away from them.” He subconsciously reached for his lips, but remembered the glass faceplate.

“I think the refugees from the military base saw what they thought was an easy target,” Rail countered. “And decided to go for it. It’s an offensive strategy, in my opinion.”

“Well if that’s the case,” Rodriguez said. “They’re wrong, of course. A Raakarr corvette is easily a match for two human varieties.”

“Try telling that to them,” Jonathan said. “They’re itching for a fight, I’m sure, and maybe want revenge. They haven’t seen this much action since they were posted to the remote outpost. It’s too bad we’ll have to disappoint them.” He contacted Dragonfly 1. “Can you tap me in to the approaching vessels via the comm nodes in the telemetry drones?”

After a moment, the AI sent: “I am not receiving a reply to my pings. I believe our signal is not reaching them. The strength is inadequate at this range.”

“Because of our hull?” Jonathan asked.

“That, and interference from the gas giant’s radiation belts. I suggest stringing the drones out to act as repeaters in front of us.”

“Radiation belts?” Jonathan said. “This far from the giant?”

“Yes,” the AI returned. “While the gravity effects are minimal at our current range, the tenth gas giant is producing an atypical amount of radiation, and has an abnormally strong magnetic field. The field lines intersect our position, extending the radiation belts to here and beyond.”

“Fine,” Jonathan returned. “Calculate the locations for the drones to act as optimal repeaters, given the radiation belts, and prepare to launch.” He turned to Barrick: “Tell Valor I’m going to launch the telemetry drones and string them out to act as repeaters between us and the approaching ships. Once we launch the drones, I want Valor to reverse course. We need to give those ships time to respond.”

Barrick nodded. A moment later he replied: “Valor says he intended to reverse course already.”

Jonathan frowned. “That’s fine. As long as he does it.”

“He also says he planned to instruct you to launch your telemetry drones to act as repeaters.”

Jonathan couldn’t help the ironic smile. “All right.” Some officers always had to pretend they were the ones in control. Most of the time, those same officers didn’t know what the hell they were doing. But since Jonathan didn’t understand the alien culture, he wasn’t sure how applicable that conclusion was to the Raakarr captain. Perhaps it was important that Valor didn’t appear to be catering to the whims of a human in front of his crew.

Jonathan switched channels: “Chief, instruct the Centurions guarding the Dragonfly to take shelter in the craft.”

“Already done, Captain,” Chief Galaal replied. “When the aliens open the hangar bay, the robots will be safe.”

“Barrick,” Jonathan said. “Tell Valor to please vent and open the hangar bay in preparation for launch.”

“Done,” Barrick replied. “By the way, we’ve already begun reversing course.”

“What? I wanted to launch the telemetry drones first,” Jonathan said. “To take advantage of our momentum.”

“I know...” Barrick said.

He tapped in the Dragonfly’s AI. “Dragonfly 1, is the hangar bay open?”

“Negative,” the AI returned.

Jonathan glanced at the telepath. “The bay isn’t open yet, damn it.”

“I’m asking again,” Barrick replied.

“Valor really wants to prove who’s in charge, doesn’t he?” Jonathan grumbled. “Even if it puts us all at risk. Because if we don’t achieve communications lock soon, I can assure you there are more nukes where that one came from.”

“Preaching to the choir, Captain,” Barrick remarked. Then: “It’s done.”

“Atmosphere has vented,” the AI confirmed. “The bay doors are opening.”

“Launch the first drone as soon as you have enough clearance,” Jonathan told the AI.

“Launching telemetry drone A,” the AI responded.

“How do we know the incoming corvettes won’t shoot down our drones?” Rodriguez asked over the comm.

“They might,” Jonathan agreed. “But the pings should mark the drones as friendlies to their AIs.”

“Assuming they can achieve a decent ping in this radiation before they’re shot down,” Rail added dryly. “And even if they do connect, the approaching ships might think it’s a trick and shoot them down anyway.”

“Then we’ll just have to make a run past them to the next Slipstream,” Jonathan said. “And when our three pursuers arrive and blast them out of the void, I won’t feel any guilt. Okay, maybe a little.”

“We should at least take down the closer missile out there,” Rail insisted. “The Raakarr particle beam can easily handle one nuke. We’d be clearing the way for the telemetry drones...”

“But then we’d have to move closer to the corvettes,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want to make any aggressive actions for the moment.”

“Launching telemetry drone B,” the AI announced.

“We’ve completely reversed course,” Barrick said. “And are now accelerating in the opposite direction.”

Jonathan shook his head. That meant telemetry drone B would waste propellant accelerating up to speed.

Jonathan used the data provided by the drones to overlay a tactical display onto his vision. It was good to see that familiar representation of the battle space again, even if it was extremely lagged.

The next several minutes passed far too slowly for Jonathan’s tastes. The first nuke looked like it was going to pass right by the lead telemetry drone.

“Dragonfly 1,” he said. “Do we have a comm link yet?”

“Negative,” the Dragonfly returned.

“It looks like they’re turning the first nuke toward the nearest drone,” Barrick said. “The second nuke, and its mortars, are continuing on their previous trajectory. Toward us.”

He glanced at his tactical display. Because of the lag, the directional change of the nuke hadn’t been picked up yet.

“Dragonfly 1, pull back telemetry drone A,” Jonathan said. “I repeat, pull back—”

“Captain,” the AI interrupted. “We just lost contact with telemetry drone A.”

Jonathan gritted his teeth. “Damn it.” That was why lag on a tactical display was never a good thing.

“Valor tells me the nearest nuke just detonated,” Barrick said.

“Yes, I know,” Jonathan replied.

“What do you want to do with the remaining drone?” the AI asked.

“We don’t have a ping yet?”

“Negative,” the Dragonfly responded.

“Keep sending it forward, then,” Jonathan instructed the AI.

According to Barrick, in the next few minutes the Talon continued to put distance between the drone and the approaching United Systems corvettes.

The AI eventually reported: “Telemetry drone B is nearing its maximum possible range, and signal degradation approaches critical. If it continues moving away, we risk losing contact with the drone.”

“Have the drone reverse course and close to an acceptable range with the Talon,” Jonathan said. “Then maintain its distance from us. Barrick, have Valor ensure the Talon matches the speed of our drone.”

Barrick nodded.

“The second nuke is still fast approaching,” Barrick said a few moments later.

“Dragonfly 1,” Jonathan sent. “Is drone B in the clear?”

“Negative,” the AI returned. “If the nuclear warhead changes directions, it will impact the drone in approximately twenty minutes.

Even at their fastest speeds, telemetry drones were still slower than missiles. So while the Talon and the drone were retreating, it made sense that the missile would inevitably overrun them.

Barrick glanced at Jonathan. “Valor wants to retreat faster. He doesn’t want to limit us to the speed of the telemetry drone.”

“No,” Jonathan said. “If the Talon increases speed, we’ll lose our connection with the telemetry drone.”

“Valor is insistent—” Barrick started.

“No,” Jonathan said. “Not yet. We need that drone to stay in range. Tell him if we lose it, we’ll have no means of communicating with United Systems vessels going forward.”

Barrick responded a minute later: “Valor says we can link with existing telemetry drones or comm nodes the corvettes may be using, like I did before with you, using the human comm nodes already on board.”

“Well certainly,” Jonathan said. “Assuming we’re in range of those drones. But considering how intense the radiation belts are, we’d have to travel quite close, and I somehow doubt the corvettes would allow that, given how aggressive they’re behaving toward us.”

Barrick hesitated, then said: “Valor has agreed to maintain the Talon’s current speed for the moment.” He paused. “Otter says the nuke appears to be changing directions... it’s now aimed at the second drone. The mortars are proceeding on their original attack vector, of course, and will give the drone a wide berth. Valor is adjusting our trajectory to avoid those mortars.”

“There you go,” Jonathan said. “Valor has nothing to worry about. The nuke isn’t even aimed at his ship. Dragonfly 1, do we have an updated estimate on when it will overrun the drone?”

“Based on the proximity fuse found in that model of missile,” the Dragonfly responded. “We will lose the drone in nineteen minutes, eighteen seconds.”

“We’ll just have to hope we make contact before then,” Jonathan said.

“And if not?” Rail asked.

“Then we convince Valor to slow down enough to retrieve the drone,” Jonathan said. “Then we take out the nuke, cut our losses and make a beeline for the Slipstream.”

The moments passed. Jonathan swallowed nervously; he flexed and opened his fingers repeatedly inside his gloves.

“We’ve been flying backward for what, a total of ten minutes now?” Jonathan said. “These radiation belts have to end soon.”

When no one answered, he was about to ask the AI, but the Dragonfly spoke before the words left his lips.

“The drone is reporting a ping,” the Dragonfly sent. “We can attempt communications with the ship whenever you are ready, Captain.”

“If we’re getting a ping,” Captain Rodriguez said excitedly. “That means their AIs will shortly inform them they’re dealing with United Systems property.”

“That’s what we want,” Jonathan said. “Dragonfly 1, tap me in to those ships.”

“No reply,” the AI returned.

“Like I said, they think it’s a trick,” Captain Rail sent. “I would believe that, too.”

“Dragonfly 1,” Jonathan said. “Forget the standard tap-in protocol. I want you to transmit a specific message.”

“Ready to transmit,” the AI returned.

Jonathan cleared his throat. “This is Captain Dallas, formerly of the USS Callaway, Commodore of Task Group 72.5. I have returned from Vega 951. We have allied with a breakaway faction of aliens. We come in peace. We carry alien equipment and specimens on-board, and have much needed combat data. Cease firing. I repeat, cease firing.”

“No reply,” the AI returned.

“Dragonfly 1,” Jonathan said. “Transmit data bundle Minerva Unveiled.” That was the name he had given the excerpted log entries, tactical replays, and video clips he had put together. It was basically a summary of what happened to the battle group over the past six months—a heavily trimmed down version of the full bundle, which in itself would take about two days to transmit wirelessly.

The bundle was prefaced with an introductory video by the captain that started with: “This is Captain Jonathan Dallas of the USS Callaway, Battle Group 72.5. The following is an abridged version of the events that transpired during our deployment to the star system Vega 951. What you’re about to see will at times seem unbelievable, but I assure you none of these entries have been altered from their original state. This is not a fabrication. Everything you are about to see is real.”

“Transmission complete,” the AI replied.

“What now?” Rodriguez asked over the comm.

“Now we wait,” Jonathan said. At another time that transmission would have been more readily dismissed, but given the context, with these United Systems ships likely having experienced a Raakarr attack first hand, he felt certain they would believe him.

The minutes ticked past. The nuke slowly edged toward the retreating telemetry drone. If he waited much longer, there wouldn’t be time to retrieve the drone before it was destroyed.

“I’m receiving a tap-in request from the AI of one of the ships,” the Dragonfly abruptly announced. “Though the request is not for you, Captain.”

Jonathan felt his brow crumple. “Then who is it for?”

“Me,” the AI responded. “Should I take it?”

Jonathan hesitated only a moment. “Go ahead,” he told the Dragonfly.

twenty-three

The seconds ticked by uneventfully. Jonathan nervously tapped his toe inside the boot of his spacesuit.

So this is what it comes to. Our fate in the hands of two AIs, idly conversing while a nuclear warhead floats toward us.

Finally Barrick said: “Otter tells me the nuke is reversing course.”

Jonathan exhaled in relief. “You did it, Dragonfly 1.”

“Yes,” the AI returned. “I shared footage from your aReal to demonstrate that we are, in fact, on board the alien bridge, and not merely hostages. I was also forced to share a partial memory dump to prove that I had not been compromised. There are still doubts, but the two ships have agreed to talk with you.”

“Tap me in, then,” Jonathan answered. “Visual, if you can.”

“That won’t be possible,” the Dragonfly responded. “Both corvettes are unmanned.”

“Ah.” That made some sense. Many of the ships in the frontier military bases were AI operated. These two had probably stayed behind while the manned ships fled.

“This is Nikola of the USS Tesla,” a pleasant voice said over the line.

“And this is Galileo of the USS Galilei,” another mellifluous voice, though deeper in tone.

“And I’m Captain Jonathan Dallas, formerly of the USS Callaway,” Jonathan said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is ours,” the two AIs returned in unison.

“So my Dragonfly unit tells me you’re still trying to decide whether to stand down or not,” Jonathan sent.

“We have stood down,” Nikola returned. “For the moment. The data you sent presents a compelling case. Even so, if it is ever determined you are in league with the enemy, we will promptly incinerate you.”

“I’m not in league with them,” Jonathan said. “These aliens, in fact, are the ones in league with us. Or wish to be, anyway.”

“Unlike my esteemed colleague, I am inclined to side with you, Captain Dallas,” Galileo sent. “I have reviewed your record and psychology profile, and do not believe you are capable of betraying humanity. At least not of your own free will. You are a man of high morals.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Jonathan said. “It’s good that not all AIs lack common sense.”

“Still,” Galileo sent. “Some of the evidence you present is disturbing. A telepath capable of taking over the minds of all bridge officers? How can we know whether you are not under the influence of that telepath at this very moment? How would you yourself know?”

Jonathan double-checked that Barrick was muted from the connection, and then said: “My chief scientist has created special psi-shielded spacesuits. These protect us from the influence of the telepath.”

“But how can you know for certain that you are protected?” Galileo pressed.

“Because,” Jonathan sent. “I wouldn’t be talking to you right now, but rather, trying to destroy you.”

“But couldn’t you be plotting our destruction at this very moment?” Nikola added. “Attempting to convince us that you are on our side, but meanwhile scheming to destroy us the moment we lower our guard?”

Goddamn AIs.

“Look, keep your distance if you like,” Jonathan said. “The maximum range of the particle beam is fifteen thousand kilometers, though it can still do damage out to thirty thousand, especially when combined with beams from other ships. So do whatever it takes to ensure your safety. Don’t come closer than thirty thousand klicks.”

“The range is consistent with the excerpted data you sent,” Nikola said. “Though that data could have been fabricated, of course. Even so, we will assume you are telling the truth. For now. But we will keep a minimum distance of forty thousand kilometers from your vessel at all times.”

“Fine,” Jonathan said.

“If you truly are not under the influence of the telepath,” Galileo sent. “It is impressive that you have captured one of the alien vessels, complete with crew. It was a good trick, pretending to ally with them.”

“We didn’t pretend anything,” Jonathan said. “These aliens fought for us, and represent a faction of the aliens that wish to make peace with humanity. They are to be treated with the respect anyone would afford potential allies.”

“Whether or not NAVCENT agrees with that classification will be determined at a later date,” Galileo responded. “In the meantime, while we are assuming your good intentions, we will also assume these aliens are your prisoners, and will treat them as such.”

“NAVCENT will agree with me when they find out what the aliens have to offer,” Jonathan said. Though he wasn’t entirely sure himself. He wondered vaguely if he was leading all of these Zarafe to their doom, betrayed by the very man who promised them an alliance.

“We shall see,” Galileo replied.

“What happened in Anvil Rappel?” Jonathan asked.

“Approximately ten days ago,” Galileo said. “A comm node entered the system and transmitted imagery of six vessels emerging from behind an asteroid in Prius 3. The heat signatures of these vessels was not in any of our databases.

“Remote scans reported the destruction of the return Gate inside Prius 3 shortly thereafter. We evacuated Anvil Prime immediately. When the last manned ship departed, we moved the Gates using previously deployed Dragonflies. The shuttles hid the outermost Gate behind Anvil Rappel X, and the innermost behind Anvil Rappel III. The Tesla and Galilei were already in position near the outer Slipstream, so we mined the entrance with nukes, switched the remaining telemetry drones in the system to stealth mode, and then took cover. Six days ago, the mines began to detonate. Then the invaders entered the system from Prius 3.”

Six days, Jonathan thought. We barely missed seeing them in Prius 3.

“How many invaders were there?” Jonathan asked.

“Nine, of varying ship classes,” Galileo replied.

“Nine?” That meant reinforcements had likely already awaited in Vega 951 when the six from the Elder galaxy arrived.

“Yes. The intruders destroyed most of our mines, and evaded the rest, making their way toward the inner system. We were outnumbered, so remained in hiding behind the asteroid. We watched the invaders proceed directly to the Slipstream above Anvil Prime. Before they passed through, they razed the colony on the planet. Most of the robots and AIs that stayed behind were destroyed.”

“A terrible loss,” Jonathan said. “You mentioned Dragonflies moved the Gates behind Anvil Rappel III and X after the last manned ship departed. I don’t suppose you have more unmanned corvettes hidden behind either planet? Perhaps guarding the Gates?”

“No,” Nikola said. “Only Dragonflies.”

“Too bad,” Jonathan said. “Because we have some heat. Three alien pursuers, about half a day behind. One laser class, two darts.”

“These classes are in the data excerpt you sent, I believe,” Galileo said.

“They are, and I’ll go over the various classes with you later,” Jonathan said. “But the gist of the matter is, we require your assistance. I want—”

“Do you have a larger version of the data excerpt available?” Nikola interrupted.

“We do,” Jonathan replied.

“Please begin transmission of the full version,” Nikola transmitted.

“It’ll take two days,” Jonathan said. “Longer with this radiation.”

He had omitted the mutiny attempt against Admiral Knox from the excerpted data; he was reluctant to send the unabridged copy, because he was uncertain how the AIs would react when they learned of his actions.

“Please begin transmission of the full version,” Nikola repeated.

“All right, after we end this call,” Jonathan said, stalling. “Bandwidth is a little low right now, in case you haven’t noticed. And while you machines might be able to understand garbled speech, a human being has a tough time.”

“That is acceptable,” Nikola replied.

“Though I’m probably going to terminate the data transmission in roughly ten hours, before the pursuers arrive,” Jonathan continued. “Because I have a little plan in mind. And I’m going to need your help. And since I’m the highest ranking human officer in the system, you are duty-bound by your precious protocol to obey me.”

While there was slightly less urgency to return now that they knew NAVCENT had been alerted, Jonathan still wanted to get rid of their pursuers before they became a problem. The enemy ships would have to be faced at some point, after all. Better that it was during a battle of his choosing.

“We will obey,” the AI responded. “For the moment. But if it is ever determined you are in league with the enemy, we will promptly incinerate you and your vessel.”

“Yes yes,” Jonathan replied. “You said that already.”

He detailed the plan that had come to him, pausing at times to consult with his crew and Valor, and together they ironed-out something workable.

“While this is a good plan,” Rodriguez said at one point. “We should really wait until we join up with a sizable United Systems force before staging any sort of attack.”

“Why the cold feet all of a sudden?” Rail chimed in. “Like you said, it’s a good plan. I say we fight.” Ah, Rail, ever the reliable warmonger.

“We all know how important our cargo is,” Rodriguez said. “Even if it isn’t as urgent that we warn the United Systems anymore. We carry a wealth of tactics and information regarding the enemy that must get to Central Command.”

“Normally I would agree,” Jonathan said. “But we have nine more alien vessels waiting for us in Delta Avalon, the next system. The military garrison there is bigger than this one, but not by much, and we have no idea how many of them have stayed to fight. We could dash into the system and begin transmitting our two-days worth of information, but I suspect the Gates have already been hidden to spare them from destruction.” Without Gates, any comm nodes remaining in the system wouldn’t be able to relay the data. “Therefore, I say we strike now, and bring down our pursuers while we still have the advantage. Otherwise, when we move into Delta Avalon, we could find ourselves facing twelve enemy vessels in a pincer maneuver from the start.”

Rodriguez had nothing more to say, so Jonathan shared the final iteration of the plan with Barrick for Valor’s approval.

“Valor likes it,” the telepath said. “He agrees to help.”

“I thought he would,” Jonathan said, knowing how much the Zarafe alien hated the so-called Elk.

With the strategizing done, Jonathan closed the communication relay and began transmitting the full dataset to the corvettes, as the AIs had requested; because of the file transfer mechanism he employed, the latest packets were sent first. That ensured his mutiny attempt wouldn’t be seen by the AIs before the plan called for him to cut the transmission and switch to radio silence.

There was one thing he hadn’t yet cleared with Valor; it was an optional part of the plan, but something Jonathan felt he needed to do.

“Tell Valor I want to distribute the humans aboard the Talon between those two corvettes immediately,” Jonathan told Barrick. “I’ll stay here, of course, along with ten of the combat robots. And the Dragonfly will return after it finishes transporting our personnel.” He wasn’t going to mention that the Dragonfly’s secret cargo would be transferred to a corvette during one of the shuttle’s runs. Everything would go, except for the holographic drives, which he planned to keep aboard for the time being.

Disseminating the human personnel would go a long way towards gaining the trust of the AIs, and it would allay some of the unease he felt over keeping members of his crew confined aboard an alien ship.

Jonathan had a mind to leave the Talon for one of the human vessels as well, but he wanted to keep an eye on Barrick and the aliens for the moment. He doubted he would be able to convince Valor to let him go anyway.

“Chief Galaal, did you get all of that?” Jonathan asked the chief.

“I did,” the chief returned. “We’ve packed up our tents and personal belongings, and we’re suited up and ready to go. As soon as the airlock opens, we’re out of here.”

“Barrick, have Valor open the airlock of the berthing area please,” Jonathan said.

The telepath was frowning behind his faceplate.

“Barrick?” Jonathan pressed.

“Valor is refusing to let them out,” Barrick replied.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want anyone leaving until the peace negotiations have concluded,” Barrick said.

“But we haven’t even begun any negotiations,” Jonathan said in exasperation.

“Precisely Valor’s point,” the telepath said.

Jonathan nodded slowly. “So my tactical officer was right all along. The Raakarr want to use us as bargaining chips.”

“You have to look at it from Valor’s point of view,” Barrick said. “How can he be sure you won’t present his ship and crew to the United Systems as some sort of war trophy? Scheduling his people for dissection, impounding his ship for reverse engineering?”

“The same fate the Raakarr originally intended for the crew of the Selene?” Jonathan said.

“That was the Elk faction...” Barrick replied.

“As if that excuses anything.” Jonathan folded his arms. “Look. I said I would be staying here with ten combat robots. That should be all the assurance Valor needs. I’m the most valuable bargaining chip he has.” That wasn’t entirely true, given the mutiny Jonathan had committed, but Valor didn’t need to know that.

“Come on,” Jonathan said. “Time’s wasting away. Every moment we delay brings our pursuers that much closer. We have to move into position before they arrive.”

“Is it really necessary to distribute the human crew?” Barrick asked. “The AIs are fully capable of completing the mission on their own.”

“I would rest easier knowing my crew were off this ship,” Jonathan said. “Do whatever it takes to convince Valor those corvettes need to be manned. Tell him the AIs function better when human beings are aboard. That the ships take less calculated risks, because they want to increase the odds that their passengers will survive, and thus the AIs perform better.”

Barrick’s eyes defocused for several moments, then he returned his attention to Jonathan. “Valor doesn’t seem convinced.”

Because Valor was a control freak, Jonathan had expected some resistance, but not this much.

Jonathan stared at the telepath intently. “Should I order my crew to shoot their way out of the airlock?”

“I’ll pass on the threat,” Barrick said.

Connie spoke up, excluding the telepath from the line. “I want to remind the captain that while I’ve programmed our laser rifles to penetrate the frequency of their shielding devices, there’s no guarantee the aliens haven’t changed those frequencies since we acquired the darkness device.”

“Noted,” Jonathan told her.

Barrick swiveled his torso toward Jonathan. “Valor says he doesn’t believe you will attempt to shoot your way out of the berthing area.”

Jonathan didn’t want to jeopardize their fragile alliance by doing something like that, but then again, what kind of relationship did they have if the Raakarr wouldn’t even allow them the freedom to leave the ship?

There was one last tactic he could try...

“Ask him how much he thinks his bargaining position will be reduced when the United Systems finds out he kept us here against our wishes, when we had a chance to man two corvettes. Ask him what NAVCENT will do when it finds out we were forced to fight our way off the Talon. Valor won’t look like much of an ally then, will he?”

Barrick retreated into his head once more.

Jonathan literally held his breath as he willed Valor to accept.

Barrick shook his head. “He says no.”

Jonathan glanced at the two combat robots with him on the bridge, and wondered vaguely if they would be able to protect him if the Raakarr guards attacked.

“Tell Valor that if he does not open the airlock,” Jonathan said. “We will shoot it open.”

Barrick hesitated, then his eyes defocused. He said: “Valor begs you to reconsider.”

Jonathan decided to tip his hand. “Tell him we know the penetration frequency of his darkness generators. Tell him if he doesn’t open the airlock and allow my crew to proceed to the hangar bay, my men are going to shoot open the hatch and take down any Raakarr that get in the way. Tell him I’m not bluffing. I’m dead serious about this.”

Several tense minutes passed.

Finally Barrick had a reply: “As a show of his benevolence and good faith, Valor will allow the rest of your party to depart, so that they may crew the two corvettes. You must stay of course.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said, slumping inside his spacesuit.

“Have the crew leave quickly,” Barrick said. “Before he changes his mind.”

“Did Valor tell you to say the latter?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” Barrick said. “That was my bit. I suggest you hurry.”

“The airlock is opening,” Rodriguez sent.

“Then get going!” Jonathan replied. “Leave four of the robots behind in the berthing area, as part of my guard contingent.” Counting the four already in the hangar bay, and the two with Jonathan on the bridge, that made up the ten robots Jonathan had agreed would stay with him. The four in the hangar bay would have to take shelter in the airlock during departure, of course.

“Any preferences on crew assignments?” Rodriguez asked.

“Rail gets one corvette, you get the other,” Jonathan answered. “As for the rest, I don’t really care, as long as you all get off the Talon.”

Jonathan watched their progress on his aReal map, which displayed those portions of the ship his party had previously passed through. When they reached the hangar bay, and were in the process of loading into the shuttle, Rodriguez transmitted: “Good luck, Dallas.”

“You too, Captain,” Jonathan replied.

Rail ended up going alone to her chosen corvette, the Tesla. Whether that was by her choice, or the crew members, he didn’t know. She did take two combat robots with her, however.

Once she was aboard, she promptly rechristened the vessel the Artemis. “My ship, my name,” she sent.

Jonathan didn’t mind, as the original was too similar to the Talon for his liking.

Chief Galaal, Helium, Connie, and Sil Chopra joined the rest of the combat robots to serve under Rodriguez on the Galilei.

After delivering the crews, the Dragonfly re-docked with the Talon, and the three ships proceeded to their agreed-upon positions.

All that was left to do was wait.

twenty-four

When the Callaway and Dagger finally reached the fifteenth moon of the third gas giant, as a precaution Robert had both ships sound general quarters. They left a telemetry drone in high orbit around the gas giant, along with two repeater drones to boost their signals, so that they would be able to remain in contact with the first task unit through the interference of the radiation belts.

“Take us into geosynchronous orbit above the thermal anomaly,” Robert ordered the helm.

“Because of the moon’s slow rotation, such an orbit might be a bit higher than you expected, Commander,” the helmsman said.

“How high are we talking?” Robert said.

“One hundred thousand kilometers,” the helmsman said.

“You’re right,” Robert said. “That is a bit high. I was thinking something more along the lines of fifty thousand kilometers.”

While the telemetry drone had reported no sign of planetary weapons, Robert didn’t feel comfortable getting closer than that.

“I can certainly orbit above the site at that altitude,” the helmsman said. “But I’ll have to fire thrust occasionally to keep us there, to simulate a geosynchronous orbit.”

“That’s fine,” Robert said.

Several minutes later the helmsman said: “Simulated geosynchronous orbit achieved.”

“All right,” Robert said. “Maxwell, let’s get Dragonflies 3 and 4 down there. I want an automated party: spread a platoon of Centurions between the shuttles. Include a Raptor for close air support.”

Though the moon had no atmosphere, the weapons engineers had designed the MQ-95 Raptors to operate just as easily in the void.

“Combat robots only?” Miko asked.

“That’s what I said. Call it a preliminary scouting party.” He glanced at his first officer. “You were hoping I’d send you down with a couple of MOTHs, weren’t you?”

Miko shrugged. “The thought had crossed my mind. It would be nice to get off the ship. Now and again.”

“Sorry Miko,” Robert said. “Not this time. I had a bit of a close call on my last away mission, and I don’t want to risk any human lives this time.”

“I understand, sir,” Miko said.

“We’re going to have to string out three more telemetry drones between the landing party and the Callaway in order to receive a decent feed,” Maxwell said. “Because of the interference from the radiation belts.”

“Do it,” Robert said.

The two Dragonflies, three repeater drones, and their Raptor escort departed the Callaway shortly thereafter. The repeater drones halted in turn at preset heights on the way down. The Raptor assumed a high-altitude position above the site, and the two shuttles meanwhile decelerated until they were thirty klicks out from the target, codenamed Dark Base. At that point Robert switched to the lagged video feed of the lead Dragonfly to watch it perform a flyover. An orbiting telemetry drone had previously returned images of what indeed looked like a shipyard, with a half-built vessel currently under construction. The ship design was unfamiliar, with a hull that undulated as if alive; Maxwell had extrapolated from the existing footage and postulated that it was a Raakarr dart ship. Though the AI could not explain the living hull.

The video Robert received at that moment from the Dragonfly confirmed the initial sighting. And just like in the original video, the outer hull seemed strangely alive, gyrating and undulating as if some living thing swarmed the surface.

“Maxwell,” Robert said. “Get Dragonfly 3 to hover near the top part of the ship. Have it keep its distance, though. Fly no closer than an altitude of one klick. If there’s any sign of attack, or anything approaches from below, have it pull back immediately.”

“Yes, Commander,” Maxwell said.

The Dragonfly approached. As it neared the requested position, Robert zoomed in on the hull.

“That’s good, Maxwell,” Robert said. “No closer.”

He studied the feed and realized immediately what caused the hull to undulate like that: small, crablike robots swarmed over the inside and outside of the ship. Robert’s first inclination was to call them nanobots, but that wasn’t entirely correct, as the things were only a little smaller than the size of his hand, judging from the scale reported by his aReal.

“Are you seeing this, Miko?” Robert asked. 

“I am.”

“Maxwell,” Robert said. “Have the Dragonfly sweep its camera over the site. I want to see what kind of specializations those microbots are involved in. If any.”

As the Dragonfly slowly tilted the camera over the site, Robert had a better picture of how the microbots worked together. They resided side-by-side, forming long lines from the surface of the moon to the uncompleted upper decks of the ship. In mines dug into the moon’s surface, sappers delved small pieces of rock from exposed minerals and passed them to conveyor bots behind them, which in turn passed them on to other conveyors, and so on; the pieces rapidly moved up the hull in that manner, until reaching the top, where more microbots waited to meld the provided raw materials into the ship. Taken as a whole, the microbots were basically a massive 3D printer that used the surrounding surface of the moon as its building blocks.

It was an ingenious use of technology, something at least a few years ahead of what the United Systems had. Humanity partially produced their own starships with specialized 3D printers, though on a component by component basis, with individually printed parts joined together by larger robots. Humanity couldn’t 3D-print everything as a single unit like the Raakarr were doing, because humans didn’t have the miniaturized technology necessary to create the heavier elements used by starships. And of course there was currently no way to synthesize the geronium used by the reactors that powered said ships.

Robert suspected the Raakarr utilized an alternate fuel source for their reactors. Something that could be readily created out of the lighter elements found on that moon.

“There definitely appear to be specializations,” Maxwell said.

“Yes,” Robert said. “I’ve picked out sappers, conveyors, and welders so far.”

“Interesting terminology,” Maxwell said. “But apt enough. I will group all of those in the ‘builder’ category. But you’ll notice there are others, who I will call ‘salvagers’ for lack of a better term. These latter move throughout the ranks, collecting the spent shells of those microbots that have malfunctioned or deactivated, and return them to a smelting area to be melted down and built anew.”

“The United Systems would kill for ship-building technology like this,” Robert said. If we could solve the geronium problem, anyway.

“I get the feeling you’re not going to be unloading the Centurions from those shuttles onto the surface any time soon,” Miko said.

“No,” Robert agreed. “I want everyone to stay airborne. Just imagine how easily those microbots could swarm over our units if they touched down. They obviously have the tools to build things. I’m guessing those same tools could be used for dismantling purposes as well.”

“I did mention the salvagers,” Maxwell intoned. “If anything could dismantle our Centurions, it is them.”

“Right,” Robert said.

“I suggest we raze the place from orbit,” Maxwell added. “Sequential laser bombardments fired non-stop from both the Callaway and Dagger over a period of two hours, with each ship pausing only to recharge to fifty percent between shots.”

“I’m of a like mind,” Robert agreed. “But first I want to collect a few of those microbots for study. There is a containment unit available on the Dragonflies?”

“There is,” Maxwell said. “Both shuttles harbor a sample collection box measuring half a meter on all sides. It is made of a high-grade polycarbonate and steel composite.”

Robert pressed his palms together. “Good. Dispatch Dragonfly 3 to within ten meters of the ship, then lower a Centurion on one of the carbon fiber tethers to collect a few of those microbots.”

“The chosen Centurion, Unit C, asks how you wish it to collect said microbots,” Maxwell replied. “Should Unit C simply pick them up?”

Robert shrugged. “If Unit C thinks he can move fast enough, that’s fine with me. All we need are two of them. And they don’t necessarily need to be in working order, if you catch my drift.”

“I think I do, sir,” Maxwell said.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Robert said. “I don’t want the Centurion smashing them to bits before it loads up the microbots.”

“Not at all,” Maxwell said. “Unit C will treat them with the utmost delicacy.”

Somehow, Robert didn’t believe the AI. But he preferred that the Centurion in question took whatever precautions it deemed necessary, and if that meant destroying the microbots before collection, then so be it.

As Dragonfly 3 maneuvered into position above the alien ship, Robert tapped into the designated Centurion’s video feed so he could observe the operation unfold. It was the second best thing to actually being there. The only downside was the lag.

Unit C retrieved the collection box from the storage area and then approached the aft portion of the shuttle. It secured the carbon-fiber tether to its combat harness, and affixed powerful demolition charges to its torso, in case Unit C needed to prevent its tech from falling into enemy hands.

The other combat robots gave a farewell salute of sorts—camaraderie ran deep in the AI corps—and then the ramp opened. There was no explosive decompression as the cabin wasn’t oxygenated. Unit C approached the edge and leaped out.

The robot hovered above the construction and descended as the tether slowly lowered.

The Centurion tilted its body and folded its legs backward so that its lower arms were closest to the alien vessel.

It approached a relatively flat section, then lowered the open end of the container toward four of the closely-packed worker microbots. The things seemed oblivious to Unit C’s presence.

The Centurion abruptly slammed the open container down onto the hull, trapping all four microbots.

The surrounding automatons instantly swarmed onto Unit C. Robert’s camera feed became black.

“Cut the tether and pull up!” Robert said.

He switched to the viewpoint of Dragonfly 4 and watched as Dragonfly 3 scooted skyward. The shuttle had already disconnected the tether, and Unit C was lost to the swarming mass below.

A moment later there was an explosion as Unit C’s charges activated. Either Unit C had done that itself, or the Praetor in command of the unit had remotely detonated them.

“Dragonfly 3 is taking fire,” Ensign Lewis said. “There appears to be an infrared laser of some kind defending the shipyard.”

“I’ve pinpointed its location,” Maxwell said.

“Have the Raptor take it out,” Robert said.

A flash appeared from the surface.

“Done,” Maxwell replied.

“It’s too late for Dragonfly 3,” Lewis said. “The craft is quickly losing altitude.”

“Have them land as far away from the shipyard as possible,” Robert said. “And I want Dragonfly 4 to prepare for a retrieval operation.”

“I wonder why they took so long to fire upon us,” Miko said.

Robert glanced at his first officer. “Apparently they only considered us a threat after we attempted to capture some of them.”

“Dragonfly 3 just crashed into the surface,” Lewis said. “About half a kilometer east of the shipyard.”

“Get Dragonfly 4 in there,” Robert told Maxwell.

“It’s too late,” Lewis said. “The microbots must have followed its descent. They’re already swarming the crash site.”

Watching from Dragonfly 4’s point of view, Robert saw that a long stream of the things were marching from the shipyard toward the downed shuttle.

“Damn it,” Robert said. “Maxwell, have the Raptor shoot those things off of it.”

Groups of microbots dropped away from the hull of Dragonfly 3 as the invisible laser struck in turns, but always five more of the tiny robots were there to replace every one that fell.

“There are too many of them,” Maxwell said. “Would you like Raptor 1 to expend its complement of Hellfires to prevent our technology from falling into alien hands?”

Robert hesitated. Perhaps some of the combat robots would be able to fight their way clear. He hated to waste such expensive technology. Plus, the Centurions were sentient, possessing self-aware AIs. Ordering their destruction would be almost the same as commanding the execution of human beings.

The rear ramp of the shuttle dropped open. Centurions emerged, blasting with their laser rifles. They were quickly overwhelmed and began to fall as pieces of their bodies were chewed away. One of them apparently malfunctioned and fired at a nearby engulfed companion. No, it wasn’t a malfunction, Robert realized. But an act of mercy.

“Commander?” Maxwell pressed.

“Destroy them,” Robert said sadly.

The Hellfire missiles struck a moment later. The debris cloud quickly settled due to the lack of atmosphere, and all that was left of the Dragonfly, Centurions, and their microbot assailants was a large crater. The long line of microbots turned back from the edge of that crater to return to the construction site.

“I’m guessing you’re glad I didn’t send you down, now,” Robert told Miko.

“I am.” Miko said. “But what I’m wondering is... why haven’t the Raakarr weaponized this tech? Why use it only for ship construction?”

“Looks fairly weaponized to me,” Robert responded. “Given what just happened to our Dragonfly.”

“But why not use the things during space battles?” Miko said.

Robert shrugged. “I think those bots would be fairly useless at the speeds involved in space combat. They’d be destroyed on impact: basically really, really expensive slugs.”

“Well obviously they’d need some kind of deployment device,” Miko said. “If they could land that device on a hull, and then release the little bastards, they could sure wreak some havoc.”

“I guess so,” Robert said. “Let’s just say, I’m glad the Raakarr don’t have anything like that.”

“Some of their ships might,” Miko said. “We just haven’t encountered the tech yet.”

“It’s possible,” Robert agreed. He wasn’t looking forward to the day when such an encounter would take place.

He studied the surface from the remaining shuttle’s point of view. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Maxwell, dispatch Dragonfly 4 directly to that crater. There have to be a few nearly intact microbots that survived the blast. Send another unit down. Let’s make sure the other Centurions didn’t fall for nothing.”

“As you wish, Commander,” the AI returned.

The shuttle approached the blast crater, and the designated unit, H, strapped in to the tether and descended with the sample container in hand.

Robert switched to its point of view and watched as Unit H landed on both feet in the crater, and then moved about the debris.

“The other robots are swarming back toward the crater,” Ensign Lewis warned.

“Maxwell, tell Unit H to hurry up...” Robert said.

In rapid succession, the unit retrieved three damaged microbots—one of them was still moving, though sluggishly—and then shut the container. The tether reeled in just as more microbots swarmed into the crater, and Dragonfly 4 took flight.

In moments the Centurion was back aboard the shuttle and the rear ramp closed.

Robert exhaled. “Well done, Unit H. Maxwell, recall Dragonfly 4 and Raptor 1, along with the repeater drones. Let’s get those hard-won samples back to the Callaway.”

“Aye, sir,” Maxwell replied.

After the craft had docked, Robert gave his final orders: “Helm, bring us down to optimal firing range. Miko, instruct the Dagger to join us. We’re going to raze that site with our Vipers.”

“If we miss even one of those microbots,” Miko said. “They might be able to begin the shipyard anew. The Raakarr will have a foothold in this galaxy.”

“An automated foothold, maybe,” Robert said. “Until the Elder decide to stop tolerating their presence. But point taken. We’ll keep firing until we’ve destroyed them all, down to the last microbot.” He tapped in the acting chief scientist, Hayley O’Rielly. “I’m bringing a few samples to cargo bay seven, O’Rielly. I want you to keep them under constant observation, at least until I can get them into the hands of our chief weapons engineer.”

“What kind of samples are we talking about?” O’Rielly returned.

“Small robots. I’m not sure how functional they are, but there’s a chance they might be able to break down the container. So it’s possible you’ll have to continually reinforce it.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” O’Rielly answered.

After spending the next few hours razing the shipyard, and then sending the Raptor down on survey runs to finish the job, Robert ordered the task unit to break orbit.

“Set a course for Task Unit One,” Robert said. “It’s time to rejoin the rest of the fleet.”

twenty-five

Jonathan waited patiently on the darkened bridge, the red glow emitted from the bulkhead filaments reduced to a dim smolder.

The Talon resided one hundred thousand kilometers past the asteroid where the two corvettes had hidden earlier, a rock that aReal records indicated was named David 25. The alien vessel had deactivated its engines and shut down its life support systems. While the yellow fumes of the alien atmosphere remained in the compartments and passages, the air had grown very cold, forcing the six Zarafe officers in the pit area to don the dark mists that served as their environmental suits. According to Barrick that fog interfered with their operation of the ship, but since almost everything was turned off the crew wasn’t overly concerned about that at the moment. One reactor still ran at a quarter power, providing energy to the passive sensor system so they weren’t running entirely in the blind.

The outside of the Talon would appear dark on the thermal spectrum, with only a small amount of heat radiating from the aft quarter of the hull thanks to the lone reactor.

A debris trail floated behind the vessel, simulating attack damage. As per Jonathan’s instructions, the Zarafe had ejected garbage at intervals into space, including organic matter Valor claimed had been stored in the equivalent of sick bay. Jonathan suspected the alien captain had grabbed one of the Elk prisoners from a holding cell somewhere aboard the ship and simply spaced him. In any case, the goal was complete: the Talon appeared to be a derelict, drifting in the void.

The Galilei and Artemis had launched four non-nuclear missiles into the void at different nearby locations. These kinetic kill missiles had been drained so that they contained only a quarter of their usual propellant. The human ships had driven the missiles toward the Talon from the forward and aft directions before cutting propulsion. From the trajectory and speeds of the missiles and the Talon, it would seem the ship had braked to avoid “smart” mines—the missiles—but had done so too late, triggering the proximity fuse of one of them. It would appear that the remaining missiles had also braked to pursue, yet had exhausted their propellants in the process.

Meanwhile, by design, there was no sign of the Artemis and Galilei. This included the entire EM band: all ships at the moment were under strict orders to maintain radio silence. The Talon appeared to drift alone—the perfect bait.

Approximately an hour and a half after they had set up, Barrick informed Jonathan that the passive sensors had detected exploratory probes of Raakarr make at the Slipstream entrance behind them.

“Otter tells me our pursuers have entered the system,” Barrick said. “The laser ship, and its two escorts. They’re remaining in orbit by the Slipstream for the moment and launching more probes. It seems they’re worried about an ambush.”

“Rightly so,” Jonathan said.

“The probes are moving outward,” Barrick said.

“And the ships?” Jonathan asked.

“So far they still haven’t moved,” Barrick replied.

“Let me know when that changes.”

Half an hour later Barrick announced: “The three ships are finally accelerating, maintaining the current distance from their advance probes.”

“They’ve discovered the radiation belt,” Jonathan said. “And don’t want to lose contact with their scouts. How far away are the advance probes?”

“Eight hundred thousand kilometers.”

When the probes reached the six hundred thousand kilometer mark, one diverted toward a nearby asteroid, ostensibly to check for potential ambushers. The system records labelled the rock Goliath 11 due to its relatively large size.

“According to Otter, the probe has passed behind Goliath and already looped back,” Barrick said.

Jonathan nodded.

The three ships reached the six hundred thousand kilometer mark from the Talon.

“The two dart ships are braking,” Barrick said. “They’ve come to a complete halt. Meanwhile, it looks like the laser ship is continuing forward.”

“All too predictable,” Jonathan remarked. Though he had to admit that predictability only extended so far. Luck was a large factor in the battle to come.

“Wait, one of the dart ships is accelerating,” Barrick said. “It looks like it’s going to escort the laser ship.”

Jonathan felt one of his eyebrows rise. “That’ll make things... interesting. Please refer to that vessel as the ‘escort,’ or T1, and the craft that stayed behind, T2.”

A minute later Barrick said: “The laser ship just crossed the five hundred thousand kilometer mark. It’s begun separating. The first lens segment has deployed, while the rest of the ship is moving forward. As is the dart escort.”

The laser ship continued to separate, leaving behind a segment every hundred thousand kilometers. The final segment and its escort halted at the hundred and fifty thousand kilometer mark.

“A hundred and fifty thousand” Jonathan said, echoing Barrick’s range quote. “A little farther than I had hoped.”

“But within the range of the weapon as Valor told you,” Barrick replied.

“At the very upper limits of that range,” Jonathan corrected him. “Unless Valor lied.”

Barrick’s eyes defocused. “The laser is firing.”

Jonathan felt nothing in the compartment. “Damage?” he asked after ten seconds.

“Minimal so far,” Barrick said. “Otter tells me the laser will have to strike the same spot four times to breach the hull.” He paused. “Valor wants to power up and increase our distance from them.”

“Not yet,” Jonathan said. “If we move now, it ruins the whole plan. We can hold our ground for a few more minutes. Forcing us into action is precisely what the aliens want. They’re testing if we’re truly dead in the water.”

Barrick remained silent for several moments. Then:

“Valor agrees to continue playing dead,” Barrick replied. “For now. But when the hull is breached, he’s going to power on and turn another side toward the enemy at the very least.”

Jonathan sighed. “Fine.”

A minute later Barrick announced that the laser had fired again, striking the same spot.

“Has the Artemis emerged from hiding yet?” Jonathan asked.

“No, but one of the alien advance probes is halfway to the closer asteroid, David, so I expect we’ll hear from the Artemis shortly.” He paused. “A kinetic kill missile just emerged from behind the asteroid.” The aliens were able to distinguish between nukes and kinetic kills by the heat signature.

Jonathan frowned when he heard the news. He felt the launch was a touch too soon.

Given the position of David, the kinetic kill was fifty thousand kilometers from the final laser segment and the closer dart ship, T1. More than enough time for the laser to adjust its firing position and take out the weapon. Then again, perhaps it was a wise move on Rail’s part, as it was drawing attention away from the Talon; Rail would have known by now how much of a loose canon Valor could be, and she must have imagined the alien captain would be arguing with Jonathan to remove their ship from the line of fire. 

“The heat signature of the Artemis just lit up our passive sensors,” Barrick said. “It’s maneuvering in front of David.” He paused. “The asteroid is moving, too. Very slowly. But it’s moving.”

The robot teams aboard the corvette had secured a long tow line to the rock before the battle. Those teams had drilled the hook into the outward-facing rim of the asteroid, and after a few test runs to determine the feasibility of the set up, the Artemis had flown around to the back to hide. Even with its engines and life support shut down, the irregularly shaped asteroid had barely concealed the residual heat signature of the craft.

“How fast?” Jonathan asked.

“She’s brought it up to ten percent of maximum thrust,” Barrick answered. “Eleven. Twelve. The speed is stabilizing. The Artemis just launched four more kinetic kills, and eight mortars. The craft is repositioning itself behind David once more.”

Jonathan nodded. Things were going somewhat to the plan...

“Location of Goliath?” he asked.

“Otter says the farther asteroid just crossed the five thousand, five hundred kilometer mark off the starboard bow of T2.”

The Galilei and Artemis had teamed up to alter the course of Goliath much earlier, and that asteroid had been steadily drifting inward on a diagonal vector toward T2’s current location six hundred thousand kilometers from the Talon.

“The Galilei has emerged from hiding,” Barrick said.

In a lucky break, the Goliath had an old mining tunnel big enough to fit the Galilei, which had allowed the corvette to escape detection by the advance probes. The Talon had tested the security of the location with its own telemetry probes.

“It looks like they’ve cut loose their tow line, given the distance they moved out from behind the cover of the asteroid,” Barrick said.

Jonathan nodded. The Galilei wouldn’t need to tow the rock, not at that range. Besides, in test runs the Delta V requirements necessary to move Goliath on its own had proven inordinately high, so he had advised Rodriguez to discard the tether at the earliest opportunity. The Galilei had remained connected only in case the opposing ships halted somewhere far removed from the expected position.

“T2 is issuing emergency thrust,” Barrick said. “The Galilei just fired its heavy lasers.”

At the five thousand, five hundred kilometer mark, the intensity would be enough to cut a gash halfway through the enemy ship.

“Damage?” Jonathan asked.

“Otter says T2 appears to be completely disabled,” Barrick answered. “The Galilei is accelerating toward the closest lens segment of the laser ship...” A segment that was a hundred thousand kilometers away.

Valor had explained through Barrick earlier that at least one ship was needed to power the laser ship, and it could do so from any of the segments. With T2 gone, that meant eliminating T1 was the highest priority.

Also, because of the design, the individual lenses could not repeat the laser backwards, so even though the Galilei didn’t have an asteroid to protect it, the corvette was in the clear, at least until it reached the firing range of the first segment.

“The first segment fired again,” Barrick announced. “It’s taken down the closest missile.”

“What about the other four missiles, and the hemming mortars?” Jonathan asked.

“Still in the game, thirty-five thousand kilometers from the targets.”

“And the Artemis and David?” Jonathan asked.

“Forty-eight thousand kilometers from the targets,” Barrick said. He glanced at Jonathan from behind his faceplate. “Valor wants us to power up and join in the hunt.”

“Not yet,” Jonathan said. “Tell him to follow the plan.”

“He’s insistent...” Barrick said.

“Hold him back!” Jonathan said.

A moment later, Barrick said: “I think I’ve calmed him down.”

The minutes passed tensely. The laser ship continued to fire, taking down the incoming missiles one by one. Then it focused on the asteroid, David. Fortunately for the Artemis, the rock was solid throughout, and the thick iron ore would take some time to penetrate at that range.

When the asteroid reached the thirty thousand kilometer mark from the targets, the Artemis emerged, and rotated another side of David to face the laser before returning into hiding, prolonging the durability of their shield.

Meanwhile, from its position five hundred and fifty thousand kilometers away, the Galilei launched a missile and mortar spread. It followed that up with another, slower volley of mortars to use as a shield for itself.

While not an immediate threat to T1 and the laser ship, that second attack triggered the flight reflex in the enemy.

“They’re accelerating,” Barrick announced. “Heading straight for the Talon.”

“That’s right,” Jonathan said, mostly to himself. “Fly precisely where we want you to. Come to daddy.”

“The laser is changing attitude, as is the escort,” Barrick said. “They’re reorienting toward the Talon.”

Jonathan nodded grimly.

“The Artemis emerged from cover,” Barrick said. “They’ve fired another couple of kinetic kills and mortars... and it looks like they’re diving back behind David. The laser segment is turning away from the Talon.”

“That’s what we want,” Jonathan said.

“Though T1 remains pointed at us.”

“But they’re still too far away to cause any damage,” Jonathan said.

The Artemis continued to fire missiles sporadically as the laser shot them down. T1 kept its nose pointed toward the Talon.

“The targets are approaching the latent missiles,” Barrick announced. Those were the missiles Jonathan had placed at the start of the battle, meant to appear as exhausted mines. “They’re currently ten thousand kilometers away, at a seven o’clock position to the targets.”

Come on, Rail, activate them, Jonathan thought.

A few moments later Barrick said: “The waiting missiles are eight thousand kilometers away, at an eight o’clock position to the targets.”

Come on, Rail!

He was ready to break radio silence.

“The latent missiles have activated,” Barrick announced.

Jonathan exhaled in relief.

“The targets are turning toward the new threats,” Barrick said.

“That’s right,” Jonathan commented. “Turning their backs on us. Tell Valor he can power us up. Let’s go hunting.”

The red filaments in the bulkheads glowed brightly as the bridge hummed back to life.

“Valor is swinging our nose around,” Barrick said. “He’s accelerating.”

“How far to the enemy?” Jonathan asked.

“Twenty thousand kilometers,” Barrick replied.

“Tell Valor to fire when within range,” Jonathan said.

Barrick nodded. “Valor says he intends to.” He paused. “The missiles launched in a previous volley by the Artemis are converging on the targets. They’ll come within range at roughly the same time as the latent missiles.”

“The enemy vessels are going to have to make a choice,” Jonathan said. “Keep their backsides exposed to us so they can shoot down all those incoming missiles, or turn around and take a hit so that they can fire on us.”

“Looks like the escort ship is turning its nose to face us,” Barrick said. “While the laser segment remains aimed at some of the incoming kinetics.”

Jonathan smiled grimly. “The choice has been made...”

He found it hard to still the pounding in his veins. Tinnitus in his left ear pulsed in sync.

Got to get that corrected sometime.

“Enemy range is fifteen thousand kilometers,” Barrick said. “They’re opening fire.”

“Damage?” Jonathan said a moment later.

“They’ve eaten away some of our nose section,” Barrick replied. “But the particle cannon is still intact.”

Jonathan nodded.

Barrick’s eyes defocused. “A missile just impacted the aft section of the escort ship. Another. A third. Another missile just struck the laser segment... Otter says it looks like the escort ship has lost half of its reactors. It’ll take twice as long to recharge their particle cannon. Four minutes, instead of the usual two.”

“Unless they’re bluffing,” Jonathan said. “And purposely shutting down reactors to alter their heat signature. In any case, transmit a message calling for their surrender.”

Barrick took a moment to reply: “Otter says there is no response.”

“I guess there’s no point in maintaining radio silence anymore,” Jonathan said. “Artemis, Galilei, do you read?”

Because of the range, and the interference from the radiation belts, and the fact that there were no telemetry drones out there to act as repeaters, he received only a garbled reply.

Three minutes later Barrick announced: “We’ve closed to within nine thousand kilometers.”

“Why hasn’t Valor fired?” Jonathan said.

Barrick shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The seconds ticked past. Jonathan kept expecting the enemy to unleash its particle weapon first, because the four minute recharge interval Otter had come up with had to be an estimate.

Thirty seconds later Barrick announced. “We’ve closed to eight thousand kilometers.”

“Fire, damn it,” Jonathan said.

“He says not yet,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan gritted his teeth. The seconds ticked past. He clenched his gloved fingers.

Fire.

Barrick glanced at him.

“He’s firing,” the telepath said. Then: “They cut the escort ship clean in half.”

Jonathan thought he understood why Valor wanted to wait: to cause as much damage as possible.

“Update me on the laser segment,” Jonathan said.

“Otter tells me it appears heavily damaged from the missile strike,” Barrick replied. “Though of course it’s completely useless without another ship to power it.”

“And the disabled T2?”

“The ship is still floating in the void, six hundred thousand kilometers away. Valor is asking for their surrender.” Barrick paused. “We just got our answer.”

“What was it?” Jonathan asked.

“The vessel self-destructed.”

Jonathan tilted his head. “Nice.”

The laser ship detonated a moment later, along with its remaining segments.

twenty-six

After the battle the Galilei collected its undetonated missiles, and then the ships gathered to take stock of their inventory. The Artemis had expended roughly half of its kinetic kills and mortars, while the Galilei had lost only a few mortars. Neither ship had wasted any nuclears, leaving them with three each. Overall it was an entirely reasonable expenditure, considering the victory.

Jonathan reminded himself that luck had played a large role. Nonetheless, he allowed himself some credit for the triumph, because even the best stratagems often involved a roll of the dice at some point.

The journey to the next Slipstream was estimated at six days. Though the Talon could have arrived in four and a half at its top speed, Valor agreed to limit the maximum velocity of his ship to that of the corvettes.

When they cleared the radiation belts, Jonathan had the corvettes radio ahead to the Dragonflies hidden behind Anvil Rappel III. A hidden telemetry drone in orbit above the planet relayed his orders to the shuttles, instructing them to move the Gate back to the Slipstream above the nearby Anvil Prime. Galileo promised that by the time the alien-human fleet arrived, the Gate would be in place. Jonathan told the AI that if there was time, a couple of the Dragonflies were to fly down to the razed surface of Anvil Prime afterward and search for survivors. He felt more inclined to render assistance to any refugees there as compared to Prius 3A, given that a) the pursuers had been eliminated, b) NAVCENT very likely knew about the invaders by then, and c) the planet was directly above their route.

The corvettes flanked the Talon, keeping a little over thirty thousand kilometers away at all times, well within range of the comm node aboard Dragonfly 1, which remained stowed in the hangar bay. That was closer than the forty thousand klick distance the AIs originally intended to maintain. Jonathan took that as a sign of trust. Either Captains Rail and Rodriguez had managed to sway the AIs to his side, or the actions of the Talon in the last battle had done all the convincing that was needed. Then again, at thirty thousand kilometers both ships were still well outside the range of the alien particle cannon.

The AIs had requested he continue the transfer of the full data files, and Jonathan complied. When the transmission finally completed a day and a half later, the AIs thanked him and said not a word more on the matter. They made no mention about his mutiny attempt against Admiral Knox, none whatsoever. He supposed the AIs had concluded the board of inquiry would handle his punishment. And rightly so.

Jonathan remained in the berthing area of the Talon for most of the journey. He evolved some semblance of routine. Wake up in the morning. Don the helmet. Unzip the tent. Walk to the open latrine. Relieve himself in the suit. Empty the drainage canister into the latrine. Retrieve the gruel the aliens had left in the airlock. Return to the tent. Zip up the fabric. Take off the helmet. Eat. Immerse himself in VR courtesy of his aReal. Don the helmet and repeat all of the previous actions. Again. Then take a dump and empty the suit’s fecal collector in the latrine. Return to the tent. Sleep. Start the process anew the next day. All under the watchful eyes of the Centurions, and likely the Talon’s own AI.

He felt very much like a prisoner. It was a bit of a warm-up, he supposed, for days to come. His current experience wouldn’t be too far removed from being locked up for mutiny, should it come to that.

He missed the philosophical conversations with Robert and Maxwell. The limited AI in his aReal didn’t have quite the conversational abilities of either of them. Sometimes he tried conversing with the combat robots that had stayed behind, and while their AIs were more advanced, they were programmed to kill, not talk. It was like trying to pick up an uninterested girl; the conversations were very one-sided.

Barrick visited occasionally, but their talks were mostly superficial. Jonathan was always glad when the telepath departed.

“How are you holding up?” Rodriguez asked over the comm one time.

Jonathan had to chuckle. “You mean alone, on an unfamiliar ship, surrounded by aliens of questionable allegiance and robots who would rather kill than talk to me, with the only other human aboard a telepath who would probably take over my mind if I ever forgot to wear my helmet before leaving my tent? Good, all things considered.”

Rodriguez’s return laugh arrived a moment later. It took electromagnetic waves a tenth of a second to traverse the thirty thousand kilometer distance between the ships, but factoring in the multiple layers of error-correction and redundancy to account for the packet loss, the lag increased to about a second either way, even with audio only.

“What do you think we’ll find on the other side of the Slipstream?” Rodriguez said. “King Arthur’s resting place?”

Jonathan smiled. “Hardly. The system is only Avalon in name, not reality. The real Avalon, just like King Arthur, never existed. Only war awaits us on the other side, my friend. War and battle. Such is our fate. And then when we are done fighting, we’ll be arraigned by the same people we fought for. I will be, anyway.”

“Are you always so dour?” Rodriguez said a moment later. “Arraigned. It’s an inquiry, not a trial. It’s a wonder Commander Cray can put up with you.”

“It is indeed,” Jonathan said. “He was probably very glad to see me go.”

“Delta Avalon,” Rodriguez said. “Delta. Fourth brightest star in the constellation.”

“That’s right, change the subject.”

Again Rodriguez laughed. “We can keep talking about how your first officer dislikes you, if you want.”

Jonathan grinned. “No.”

“Do you know which constellation Delta Avalon belongs to?” Rodriguez said.

“Avalon, obviously,” Jonathan said.

“Do you know where it is in the night sky?” Rodriguez pressed.

“No.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Rodriguez added. “It’s not a constellation visible from Earth.”

Jonathan felt his brow furrow. “I thought all stars were named for Earth constellations.”

“Most of them are, but this one is different. You see, after the Foot of the Centaur was colonized, when the first wave of inhabitants looked into the sky they saw a constellation that bore a likeness to an apple tree. They named it Avalon after the fabled island from Arthurian legend that was covered in perennial apple trees. The Avalon constellation. The colonists lobbied the United Systems to have the name officially accepted, and eventually the government capitulated and the involved stars were renamed. It was the first time a constellation visible from another planet superseded the names previously assigned to a set of stars from Earth.”

“I did not know that.”

“The Sino-Koreans have taken that a step further,” Rodriguz said. “Ever since they moved the seat of their government to the Aurora system, they’ve gone ahead and renamed a whole slew of stars, using constellations visible from Aurora Prime.”

“Interesting.”

Rodriguez was quiet for a time. “You’re dreading going back, aren’t you?”

Jonathan sighed. “Somewhat.”

“I wonder how things are at home,” Rodriguez said, apparently sensing that Jonathan didn’t want to talk about the inquiry. “I remember, the last comm drone we received from the United Systems told us that the coup on Aurora Prime had been put down. And that the hijacked Sino-Korean planet killer had been recovered from the rogue faction responsible for the coup.” He paused. “So many factions among humanity. Factions among factions. We humans aren’t so different from the Raakarr, are we?”

“In some things, I suppose not,” Jonathan said. “It would be naive to think an alien race would be homogenous, with every one of their kind exactly the same as the others. It’s not how evolution works.”

“Unless of course that race was extremely bigoted,” Rodriguez said. “And eliminated those others of its kind that were different.”

“We haven’t encountered a race like that yet,” Jonathan said. “But I suppose you’re right, it’s possible.”

“Homo sapiens wiped out the neanderthals,” Rodriguez said.

“That’s what we thought, at one point,” Jonathan said. “Though our discovery in the Elder galaxy might throw that theory out the window. Maybe the Elder snatched up all the neanderthals from the face of the Earth. For their own use.”

“Maybe,” Rodriguez said. He was quiet for a time. Then: “You think tensions are still high between the Sino-Koreans and the United Systems?”

“I know so,” Jonathan said. “And I’ll bet half the higher-ups in the navy are arguing at this very moment that the invaders are simply Sino-Koreans in a new guise, just as Admiral Knox did.”

“You can’t really blame them,” Rodriguez said. “An alien attack is hard to fathom.”

“Yes, well,” Jonathan transmitted. “Hopefully we’ll get our act together soon and unite humanity against the common threat posed by the Raakarr.”

“You really think we will?”

“No,” Jonathan admitted. “The United Systems won’t want to share the technology the Zarafe give us. I’m afraid we’ll be fighting the aliens on our own. It’s going to be a long, fruitless war.”

Assuming that the Elder don’t intervene and kill us all.

twenty-seven

The three ships finally reached Anvil Prime, the planet the inner Slipstream orbited. The Gate to Delta Avalon was indeed already in place.

Apparently some surviving repair drones had fixed one of Anvil Prime’s surface-based defensive lasers days ago, and that weapon had forced the Raakarr comm node equivalents to flee through the wormhole. It was likely some of those comm nodes would be waiting on the other side. Galileo had instructed the AI operating the weapon not to fire on the Talon.

Jonathan tapped in Captain Rodriguez.

“Did any Dragonflies return to the surface of Anvil Prime yet to search for survivors?” he asked.

“Two of them, as requested,” Rodriguez sent. “They’ve been conducting reconnaissance with HS4s.” Those were unarmed, fist-sized airborne scout units. “It’s a war zone down there. Almost everything has been reduced to rubble, with very few buildings left intact. One of them, a warehouse, seems to have served as a makeshift hospital. Inside, the HS4s discovered the bodies of residents who had refused evacuation. Dead from radiation poisoning.”

Jonathan shook his head sadly.

“There are several surviving robots, though,” Rodriguez continued. “Some with advanced AIs, like Centurions.”

“Load as many as we can carry onto the Dragonflies,” Jonathan told the captain. “And have them return to the corvettes. The rest will have to fend for themselves until a proper rescue party can be arranged. I don’t want to delay here too long.”

“I understand,” Rodriguez said.

While Jonathan knew sentient AIs weren’t all that different from human minds, in his heart he couldn’t make himself believe they were little more than machines, and he didn’t want to tarry for them, not with so much at stake. Besides, the remaining robots could survive much better than any abandoned humans ever could, so he didn’t feel too much guilt.

THE THREE SHIPS departed Anvil Prime and made the journey to the Slipstream that orbited the planet. Once there Jonathan had the corvettes supply propellant to the shuttles, as the Dragonflies had nearly exhausted their supply of inert gases while ferrying the Gate back and forth, especially the two that had flown to the surface of the terraformed planet. All four Dragonflies would stay behind of course; their instructions were to hide the Gate again after the three ships passed through.

The Raakarr sent an exploratory probe through the Gate first; Jonathan noted that the alien craft was able to pass through the Slipstream even with the Gate in place. He hadn’t actually been sure whether the Raakar had been destroying the Gates because they had to, or merely because they wanted to.

But now I know.

An interesting tidbit, though he wasn’t sure how useful the knowledge would prove in days to come.

Jonathan elected not to dispatch any human telemetry drones through the Gate, in case the enemy was watching on the other side. While that meant he would have to trust what Valor reported, he preferred that to signaling the arrival of United System vessels.

Jonathan stood on the alien bridge. While he could have communicated with Barrick from the berthing area instead, the invitation from Valor to join the senior officers on the bridge was still standing, so Jonathan took him up on that offer. Mostly he did it for a change of scenery, that and he hoped Barrick would be more truthful with Jonathan standing there beside him, ready to look the telepath in the eye.

Jonathan doubted he would have allowed an alien to join him on his own bridge, but he knew nothing Valor did was without reason. Likely the Zarafe alien planned to use that to his advantage during any negotiations with the United Systems. Jonathan could almost imagine the exchange: “Yes, I have kept the captain confined aboard, but I have treated him well. I have even let him reside on the bridge with me. Ask him yourself!”

The alien probe returned a few minutes later and Barrick spoke over Jonathan’s helmet comm. “Otter says there is no sign of any Gate near either wormhole. They’ve likely been hidden. And as expected, there were two Raakarr comm node equivalents camped out near the closer endpoint. The probe eliminated them with an EMP.”

“What about ships?” Jonathan asked. “That’s what I care about.”

“The Zarafe have detected human vessels near the inner planets, on the far side of the star. They appear to be guarding the Slipstream to the next system.”

Jonathan pulled up the system on his aReal. Unlike Anvil Rappel, currently in possession of the Asiatic Alliance, Delta Avalon was entirely owned by the United Systems. A yellow giant eight times more massive than the Earth’s sun, and twenty thousand times more luminous, Delta Avalon was a classical cepheid, which meant its brightness, temperature and diameter changed over a regular period. During its thirty-five day pulsation cycle, the radius of Delta Avalon expanded and then contracted by millions of kilometers. That feature might prove useful in the coming battle.

There were five inner, uninhabitable terrestrial planets, and three gas giants beyond them. A colony and military base had been built on the nineteenth moon of the first gas giant, which had been terraformed to support life. The moon, Tau Delta Avalon VI, orbited its parent in such a manner that the gas giant never eclipsed the star; because of that, a grid of special satellites had been installed in orbit above the moon to protect against the varying radiation, as the magnetosphere by itself wasn’t powerful enough to protect the inhabitants from the emissions of both the sun and the giant.

“Can he tell what kind of vessels?” Jonathan asked.

“Three heat signatures that are consistent with the corvettes accompanying us,” Barrick replied. “They’ve also spotted two larger heat signatures, virtually identical to one another, but they’re unfamiliar with the vessel types.”

Jonathan nodded. “Those are probably destroyers.” After some further back and forth with Barrick, the telepath refined the coordinate system he had worked out with the aliens, and Jonathan plotted the location of the ships onto the Delta Avalon representation provided by his aReal.

“Is that all of them?” Jonathan asked. “There should be more ships.”

“Otter tells me they’ve identified other vessels drifting in the void, obviously disabled,” Barrick said. “Three of them appear to be corvettes, their hulls gashed in several places, with sections broken off. There is a fourth, though it’s unrecognizable: mostly because it has been cut in half. They reside halfway between the first gas giant and the second.”

Jonathan sighed. “That’s about right.” He had Barrick identify the precise position, then added in the debris to his system map. “So what about the base on Tau Delta Avalon VI? Is it intact?”

“There are no signs of life on any of the planets or moons,” Barrick replied.

Another lost colony, then. Hopefully the residents had evacuated in time. He was thankful that none of the colony worlds on the frontier had populations greater than one million, as anything more than that proved a logistical nightmare, evacuation-wise.

“What about the Raakarr themselves?” Jonathan said. “Any presence in the system?”

“Yes,” Barrick said. “There is debris, consistent with two Raakarr ships, also residing in the gap between the two gas giants.”

“Well at least we know where the first engagement took place,” Jonathan said. “But... so there’s no sign of the actual Raakarr fleet?”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Barrick replied. “The Raakarr fleet is in orbit on the closer side of the star, about the same distance away from the sun as the human fleet.”

“So the Raakarr are closer to us, or rather to the Slipstream endpoint where we’ll emerge in Delta Avalon, than the human fleet?” Jonathan asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Barrick answered.

He had Barrick give him the coordinates, and he recorded the location of the Raakarr ships and debris on his Delta Avalon map.

“Do we know the composition of the Raakarr fleet?” Jonathan inquired.

“Otter says it appears they have seven surviving ships,” Barrick replied. “The pyramid ship is there—two of its four stilt cannons remain damaged from our previous engagement.”

“Stilt cannons?” Jonathan said.

“Sorry. That’s what I call the particle cannons mounted on the stilt-like structures underneath the vessel.”

“What are the classes of the other ships?” Jonathan asked.

“There is another laser ship,” the telepath answered. “And the remaining five belong to the dart class of alien vessels.”

Jonathan marked the composition of the enemy task group on his aReal, then turned to Barrick: “So, no capital ships?”

“No.”

“Then we won’t have to face any fighters,” Jonathan said, adding a note to his aReal. “Unless the pyramid ship can launch them?”

“It can,” Barrick said.

“Damn.” Jonathan amended his note. Pyramid ship: fighter capable.

“Why are both sides just sitting there?” Rodriguez asked over the comm.

“Licking their wounds, likely,” Jonathan commented. “Initiating repairs, preparing for the next inevitable engagement.” He stared at the ship positions for a moment. “Barrick, I tried to ask Valor this once before, but he refused to answer. So I ask again: does he know what their mission is? Are these Raakarr merely part of some advance party, meant to probe our defenses? Or are they here for some other reason?”

“I’ll ask him,” Barrick responded. After a moment: “Valor has decided to answer. He says their mission was to see how deeply they could penetrate into human space. None of them planned to return. Unless of course they managed to secure a planet killer.”

Jonathan felt his features scrunch up. “What are you saying, they’re here on a suicide mission?”

“Basically. What they didn’t expect was the involvement of the Elder, throwing us all into a different galaxy, nor that you, Captain Dallas, would prove quite so resourceful a foe. When they returned to Vega 951 with only six of their original number, they obviously decided to go ahead with their original mission to penetrate into human space because, according to Valor, the punishment for failure is a fate far worse than death.”

“What kind of punishment are we talking about?” Jonathan asked.

“Valor says you wouldn’t want to know.”

Jonathan shrugged. “So they’ll only return if they get their hands on a planet killer.” He remembered how hard the Raakarr had fought to secure the bomb in their initial engagement.

“No doubt as a deterrent against the Zarafe faction,” Barrick said.

Jonathan nodded. “And a deterrent against humanity, too, now. Because what they’re doing here isn’t buying them any friends.” Jonathan exhaled sadly. “The arms race. Not even alien beings are immune from its long, cold grip. The optimists among us thought the competition for weapons would end when we developed interstellar travel. With all the planets and resources available to us, they believed there would never be a reason for war. Well I’m sad to say, the optimists were wrong. As long as there are species in this great galaxy of ours, we will always be racing to find new and clever ways of destroying each other. Even if the sole purpose of the weapons we come up with is deterrence.”

“I did say they wanted the planet killers as a deterrent, didn’t I?” Barrick seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “But there is a real possibility that they actually intend to use them.”

“Like the Zarafe faction intend to do with any planet killers the United Systems gives them?” Jonathan asked.

“Yes.”

Jonathan would have tapped his lips if he were able. “You know, this whole thing—the attacks on human space, the two Raakarr factions, and the offer of help from one of those factions—it feels almost staged. Because the Zarafe will certainly get their planet killers after this, in some form anyway: humanity will definitely want to punish the Elk for what they’ve done. And it makes me wonder, how do we know these aliens aren’t actually all Zarafe in disguise, pretending to be Elk, putting on a grand show so we’ll give them what they want?”

“I don’t know what to say, Captain,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan muted the telepath and spoke over a private line. “What about you, Captains Rail and Rodriguez? You’ve been listening in.” Courtesy of Dragonfly 1. “Any thoughts?”

“If it is a ruse, it’s a damn good one,” Rail replied a moment later. “Especially considering how hard the Raakarr seemed to fight back there. I’m going to have to disagree.”

“Me, as well,” Rodriguez returned. “Like Rail said, they’re fighting too hard. Why risk destroying their emissary to humanity?”

“The only alien vessels to actually attack the Talon so far have been the fighters, when we first entered Prius 3. The other ships concentrated fire on the two corvettes in Avalon Rappel.”

“But that’s because the Talon pretended to be a derelict ship,” Rail said. “And you’re forgetting, one of their ships did fire at the Talon, at long range anyway, partially damaging the nose of your ship. And another nearly fired again, but because it was damaged, its particle beam recharge interval was four minutes instead of two.”

“Which may have been a ruse as well,” Jonathan said. “An excuse for them to spare us. But you’re right, we have no concrete proof. I guess we’ll just have to see how hard the enemy fight the Talon in the upcoming battle.”

“If it was a ruse,” Rodriguez said. “And there are no factions, and they trick us into giving them a planet killer...”

“Then there is a good possibility they’ll be using it against us,” Jonathan finished.

twenty-eight

Jonathan turned toward Barrick and unmuted the line. “Tell Valor to hold this position until I discuss what to do next with the corvettes.”

“As you wish.” Barrick seemed hesitant. “There is one more, small thing I should mention.”

“What?” Jonathan asked warily.

“Otter tells me the hull composition of six of the ships, including the laser ship, matches an iron ore found on a certain large asteroid in Prius 3,” Barrick said.

Jonathan looked at the man dubiously. “What are you saying, they built those six ships in Prius 3?” If those vessels were manufactured in Prius 3, that meant Jonathan had been wrong about reinforcements awaiting in Vega 951 when the Raakarr returned from the Elder galaxy.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Barrick replied.

“How is that possible?” Jonathan said.

“In the Elder galaxy you already encountered other ships the Raakarr had built there, during their tenure in that galaxy itself,” Barrick told him.

That was true. At the time, Jonathan and his crew had theorized the Raakarr had more advanced 3D printers than they did, and could print the components necessary for reactors and power systems from a few basic raw materials.

“But they only entered Prius 3 a few days ago,” Jonathan said. “How did they build them so fast?”

Barrick paused. “Otter tells me it takes six months to build six ships, given one shipyard. So that means they would’ve had to have done it in secret over the past six months.”

“But none of their ships passed through the Slipstream into Prius 3 while we were in Vega 951 six months ago,” Jonathan said. “They merely guarded the wormhole. When did they have time to build a shipyard in that system?”

“There is such a thing as a ‘shipyard’ probe class in Raakarr inventories,” Barrick explained. “They could have launched one of these probes through the wormhole at any point while they were in orbit. It is a fully automated device which, once landed, would develop into a shipyard with the ability to create approximately one unmanned Raakarr vessel a month, depending on the ship class.”

“When you say shipyard, I imagine giant mechanical arms and lifting arrays,” Jonathan said. “How could they get something like that from a small probe?”

“It’s nothing like your usual shipyard,” Barrick said. “Otter tells me self-replicating microbots are involved. They use a form of etching to create the components. Because they’re self-replicating, in theory the machines can create more vessels as time goes on, though my understanding is that what usually happens when the shipyard deploys is that a base number of microbots are created, and once critical mass is achieved, only a small number of the bots are tasked with ship production, while the remainder are devoted to creating more microbots. Apparently thousands of them cease to function every minute, so new bots are mostly replacement units. The process is similar to how human cells are replaced, and can be modeled via cellular automata, though on a reduced scale.”

Jonathan didn’t know what to say. He was a little surprised that the aliens had revealed so much. Assuming it was the truth, and that the telepath hadn’t changed or invented any of it.

“Apparently the laser and capital ships take the longest to build,” Barrick continued. “But their production time can be shortened if they leave out lens segments of the laser, or cut back on the number of fighters in the capital ship.”

Jonathan still wasn’t sure he bought it all. “You say they built the ships in secret over the past six months. But the human comm nodes at the entrance to the Prius 3 Slipstream would have immediately transmitted the appearance of the alien probe to the military base on Prius 3A. And even if that probe somehow evaded detection long enough to reach the asteroid, the thermal signature made by all that construction would have revealed them.”

“Would it?” Barrick said. “Check the data on your aReal. The asteroid in question, most likely Hercules 951-A according to my local AI, rotates extremely slowly on its axis. That means the Raakarr could have easily set up a base on the far side and operated it unnoticed for the past six months.”

“Then how did the original probe escape detection?” Jonathan asked.

“Six months ago, according to my aReal, Prius 3A was on the far side of the third sun, which eclipsed the Slipstream from view of the military base and any telemetry drones in orbit. If the United Systems ships were not on patrol, it would have been relatively easy for the probe to enter, disable the nearby comm nodes with electromagnetic pulses, and then deploy behind the asteroid, which would have been close to Prius-2 at the time.”

On his aReal, Jonathan accessed the stellar positions of the Prius 3 celestial bodies and rewound their locations to six months ago. Everything Barrick said was correct. It didn’t help that the former base was on the dark side of Prius 3A, facing away from the third sun and the Slipstream.

He realized something. “What about other United Systems telemetry drones? Not all of them would have been in orbit above Prius 3A. For example, the comm nodes near the Gate to Anvil Rappel. Some of our drones would have witnessed the original entry.”

“Perhaps,” Barrick said. “But consider: the visual and thermal signatures of the alien probe wouldn’t have been visible until too late. If it fired a stream of relativistic electrons at any United Systems telemetry drones it detected, the resultant EMP pulses would travel at nearly the same speed as the thermal information, disabling the drones shortly after detection, and rendering any scant data received as inconclusive.”

Finally Jonathan sighed, accepting that what Barrick said was entirely within the realm of possibility.

“So they snuck in right under our noses,” Jonathan remarked. “One question, why didn’t Valor tell me any of this when we were in Prius 3? If a shipyard existed in the system, we should have stopped to destroy it.”

“I don’t think he knew. His rank, as you previously surmised, probably wasn’t all that high aboard the Raakarr vessel.”

Jonathan pressed his lips together. “The Talon’s AI would have told him I’m sure.”

“If he bothered to ask, perhaps,” Barrick agreed.

“Fine,” Jonathan answered. “Another question: how many of these ‘shipyard’ probes do their ships have? Is it something that comes standard with every Raakarr vessel?” He wasn’t sure Otter or whoever Barrick was talking to would tell him, but he figured he would ask.

“They usually come with one each,” Barrick answered a moment later. “Though in a rush construction situation like what would have happened here, the microbots are programmed to omit any shipyard probes, along with other unessentials like lifepods. So the new ships likely don’t have any.”

“But those vessels that were part of the original reinforcements, like the pyramid ship, do have them,” Jonathan said. “So it’s entirely possible there’s another shipyard hidden somewhere in this system, or  Prius 3.”

“Possible, yes,” Barrick replied. “Probable, even. The United Systems would be wise to perform a clean sweep of the system when it comes time to retake Anvil Rappel.”

Jonathan considered performing such a sweep right then, but the time necessary to send probes to all the planets, or even to personally fly out to them, would be better spent returning home.

Too bad there were seven enemy ships waiting in the next system, blocking the way. He would have to assume for the moment that they were actually Elk, and not merely Zarafe pretending to be so. He would also have to assume that they would fire on the Talon if they recognized the vessel.

We could try to run past them, or...

As he stared at the positions of those ships on his aReal, an inkling of a plan began to form.

Jonathan thrummed his gloved fingers on his upper leg assembly.

“These six new ships, they’re manned by AIs?” he asked.

“They would have been, until the pyramid ship and its escorts arrived to activate them,” Barrick said. “Otter says skeleton crews were probably installed.”

It didn’t matter either way, he supposed.

“Tell me something else,” Jonathan continued. “At what range will the enemy Raakarr be able to tell we’re not with them?”

“What do you mean?”

“How are they determining we’re the defecting Talon?” Jonathan clarified. “By visuals alone?”

“There are other identifiers,” Barrick explained. “Something similar to the serial numbers that United Systems vessels use, transmitted with every communication.”

“Have Valor change them,” Jonathan said.

“He already did.”

“Change them again,” Jonathan insisted. “I want something we haven’t used before. Something the Raakarr comm drones we encountered in Prius 3 couldn’t have sent on.”

“It will be done,” Barrick said. “But like you said, there are other identifiers, mostly visual, and once we close to a certain range they will know we are the Talon.”

“Hence my original question,” Jonathan said, feeling a rising sense of frustration. “What is that range?”

“Firing range, basically,” Barrick said.

Jonathan nodded. That would work for what he had in mind.

He wanted to discuss his plan with Captains Rail and Rodriguez, but he felt a sudden overwhelming sense of doubt and turned once more to the telepath.

“You told me you could see the future,” Jonathan said. “Or its possible paths, anyway. I know you don’t want to reveal any specifics, but at least give me a hint. If we fight the Raakarr on the other side of this wormhole, will we win?”

“That would count as a specific.” Barrick frowned behind the faceplate. “But even so, I don’t actually know. I’ve never seen this particular branching of events.” He sounded slightly afraid. “Not knowing is an odd sensation... I feel disoriented, adrift... like a child wandering in the forest at night, lost in the dark. I haven’t experienced the unknown like this in what seems a long time. It’s a feeling that’s both exhilarating and... disconcerting.”

“Welcome back to the human race,” Jonathan said. “Where the future is an open road, an unknown quantity that is what we make of it.”

“We can’t always make our own futures, Captain,” Barrick said. “Sometimes we are hemmed in to the path that destiny has set for us.”

“But you said it yourself,” Jonathan said. “You’ve never seen this particular branching of events. That tells me we’re making the future as we speak.”

Barrick took a moment, as if selecting the words of his answer with painstaking care. “While that may be true, there are certain key waypoints that transpire between events. And while the events themselves may change, such as the winners or losers of the upcoming battle, their outcomes are sometimes relatively unimportant in the cosmic scheme of things. The waypoints, however, those rarely seem to change. We are between two such waypoints at the moment. I have an inkling of what will happen going forward, and it will probably happen regardless of whether we win or lose the coming battle. Even if you or I meet our demise here, that waypoint will probably happen.”

“And is it a good waypoint?” Jonathan said. “Or a bad one?”

Barrick stared at Jonathan for several seconds, then lowered his gaze. “As I told you, it is best I don’t reveal any specifics.”

“But my question is hardly specific,” Jonathan said. “In fact, it’s one of the vaguest I’ve ever asked. Good or bad. All I’m asking for is whether I should bother to hope.”

“That is precisely why I will not tell you,” Barrick replied. “That way you may find hope regardless of whether it’s good or bad.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” Jonathan said. “Because no matter what the future holds, we’ll do our best to deal with whatever comes our way. That’s all we can do.”

Barrick smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes behind the faceplate. “And so it is.”

twenty-nine

Jonathan returned to the berthing area so he could feel like he had some semblance of privacy. On the way he retrieved some of the fresh gruel his Raakarr hosts had left for him in the airlock and then he cloistered himself in the psi-shielded tent to eat it. When he was done, he donned his helmet once more and tapped in Captains Rodriguez and Rail via Dragonfly 1. Audio only. He then explained his battle plan in full.

“I don’t like it,” Rail said when he finished. “You risk the Talon, our prize. The only fully intact alien vessel we’ve captured, complete with crew.”

Jonathan didn’t consider the Talon a prize, nor her crew their prisoners, but Captain Rail had chosen to align with the AIs on that point. Jonathan had ceased debating her and the AIs on the issue, as it wasn’t up to any of them: if the NAVCENT senior command wanted to throw away a potential alliance with an opposing faction of the alien race, that was certainly their prerogative. Perhaps Valor was wise to keep Jonathan as a prisoner. Then again, he doubted his captivity would sway the senior command toward an alliance—it was the promise of technology, and a map of key outposts and colonies in Raakarr territory, that would likely do the trick.

“A better plan would involve the Talon skirting the enemy fleet while the Artemis and Galilei provided a diversion,” Rail continued. “Race her to the Slipstream and seek asylum in the uncontested space beyond. I’d rather you sacrificed our vessels to get the Talon through, than risk its destruction.”

“I appreciate that,” Jonathan said. “But the risk will be minimal. If anything goes wrong, we can simply retreat. The enemy can’t outrun the Talon. Our ship has the same maximum speed as all of their vessels.”

“Unless you take a hit to one of your reactors during the flyby,” Rail said.

“We won’t,” Jonathan said. “Our biggest problem will be convincing the United Systems vessels not to fire on us.” He was being sarcastic, of course, as that wouldn’t prove a problem, not with the corvettes in tow. At least, that was the hope.

“We all know battles are unpredictable,” Rail transmitted. “Fluidic. Chaotic. Plans must change in real time, along with the changing battle space. What seems like a minimal risk to the Talon now, could at any point become a major risk during actual combat. Skirt the enemy fleet, Captain. Let the Galilei and Artemis distract the enemy.”

Jonathan sighed. “Even if we attempt to skirt the main enemy fleet, once it becomes apparent we’re rushing directly toward the far Slipstream, the Raakarr will intercept us. We’ll never make it, not without enduring at least one potentially crippling flyby.” He paused. “Come on, you don’t really want to sacrifice yourself for me. I thought you wanted to testify at my inquiry?” He forced a grin, though remembered at the last moment that she couldn’t see his face.

“My testimony will be useless if you’re dead,” she said. “And anyway, if you agree to avoid the battle, we can transfer the crews back to the Talon and let the AIs man the corvettes. We won’t be sacrificing ourselves at all.”

“You’d willingly return to the Talon, and essentially submit yourselves as prisoners to the Raakarr?” Jonathan said. “Because that’s what I am, basically.”

“If that was what it took, yes.”

“Another option is to simply remain here and wait it out,” Rodriguez interjected. “Let’s see who emerges victorious from the next engagement. If the United Systems wins, we pass through the Slipstream into Delta Avalon. And if the Raakarr win, we can evaluate the situation and decide what to do next. Maybe human reinforcements will have arrived by then. Or perhaps the Raakarr will have only one or two ships remaining after their victory, and we can easily finish them off.”

“We’d be remiss if we didn’t come to the aid of the United Systems fleet while we could,” Jonathan said. “Waiting isn’t an option.”

“I agree with that,” Rail said. “I prefer some sort of action, rather than nothing. Fly by them, or fight them, but don’t hide here cowering like a vole in its nest while the cats play.”

Jonathan considered his options a moment, then made up his mind. “I’m going to go with my original battle plan. The Talon will not skirt the enemy fleet. All three of our ships will play a part in the coming battle.”

“Wait, what about the cargo container?” Rodriguez said. “We have to ensure it survives, don’t we?”

The cargo container that held the hard-won specimens collected over the past six months had been transferred from Dragonfly 1 to the Galilei when the human crew boarded earlier.

“Even if we lose the Galilei,” Jonathan replied. “Keep in mind that the Artemis has a backup of the holographic drive. As does the Talon.”

“Well sure, but I’m more concerned about the specimens,” Rodriguez said. “There’s no backup of those.”

“Load up the cargo container in a lifepod so you can jettison it if you’ve suffered irreparable damage,” Jonathan sent. “We’ll just have to hope the Raakarr don’t intercept it if it comes to that. Now, if there are no more objections to the plan, I have to run it by Valor.”

There weren’t.

When he discussed the plan a few minutes later with Barrick, the telepath also advocated avoiding combat. Or Valor did, anyway.

“Valor says he wants to make contact with your government as soon as possible,” Barrick replied. “He says there is no time to pursue the enemy. He wants to bypass them and fly directly to the Slipstream.”

Jonathan repeated the same arguments he had given Rail, and after much back and forth, he finally got the Raakarr captain to agree.

He took a few moments for himself in the berthing area while the three ships prepared for the upcoming battle. He sat down inside the tent and removed his helmet to breathe the manufactured air, which was only slightly less stale than inside his suit. It stank slightly, thanks to the open latrine in the compartment. The blue light from the filaments outside was filtered slightly by the tent fabric, making it difficult to see. Even so he was able to swap out his suit’s oxygen canister for a fresh one. When that was done, he lay his gloved hands on his knee assemblies, and listened to his breathing.

I’m almost home, now. Just one more battle and I’ll be back in United Systems custody. When Valor gives me up, anyway.

He almost hoped the enemies would destroy the Talon in the coming combat so that he wouldn’t have to face the board of inquiry. Going down in a blaze of glory was far preferable, in his mind. Far, far preferable.

Come on, Jonathan, it’s not going to be that bad.

Sure, there was a good chance he would be dismissed for his actions, or jailed, but he would endure. He always had.

The blue glow inside the tent became crimson as the filaments lining the bulkheads outside changed color.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Time to fight.

Jonathan donned his helmet and went to the airlock. Escorted by combat robots and mist-cloaked Raakarr, he hurried to the bridge.

“The particle cannon is fully charged and ready,” Barrick informed him when he stepped inside the compartment.

Jonathan nodded. He glanced at the time on his aReal: 0600 hours. Just as the three captains had agreed.

“Commence the operation,” Jonathan ordered.

thirty

Jonathan waited patiently as the alien ship accelerated to eighty percent speed. He had ordered the Talon and the two corvettes positioned far enough from the wormhole so that they would hit their target speeds well before reaching the Slipstream: when the vessels emerged from the other side, he wanted to give the impression that the ships already moved as fast as they possibly could. Restricting the speed of the Talon to eighty percent ensured the Raakarr vessel didn’t outrun the corvettes—Jonathan needed the distance between them to remain constant for his plan to work.

“Otter informs me we’re passing through the Slipstream and into Delta Avalon,” Barrick said.

“Tell Valor to set a course for the Raakarr fleet,” Jonathan said. “And have him transmit the prepared script.”

In that script, the Talon portrayed itself as one of the dart ships that had escorted the laser vessel waiting in ambush within Vega 951. Earlier, Valor explained he had recorded the serial numbers of the actual ships escorting the laser, and changed theirs to match one of them so that any independent queries to the Talon’s AI would support that declaration.

In the script, Valor was also to pretend damage had disabled their particle cannon and limited their maximum speed to eighty percent: again, his crew had fed false diagnostic information into the AI so that any remote access would prove their claims.

Lastly, Valor was to assert that a single United Systems corvette pursued them. And he would request assistance.

Valor would do all of that using a mind signature calculated and transmitted in realtime by the AI, a signature based on the captain of the dart ship whose identity Valor had assumed, taken from the archives of the local computer system. It would be like Jonathan transmitting a realtime, computer-generated hologram to impersonate someone else when communicating with his own fleet.

“Initiating communications gamma ray,” Barrick said.

Ten minutes later the telepath announced: “The Galilei has emerged behind us.”

Jonathan was no longer in communication with the vessel and its crew, as they were once more under a strict radio embargo by his order; he had deactivated all comm nodes aboard just to be on the safe side.

However the corvette would be reaching out to the United Systems vessels in the system, just as the Talon had done to the Raakarr. No planets or radiation belts blocked the space between them, so it wasn’t necessary to have any repeater drones strung out between the fleets.

“Have the Raakarr replied to our transmission yet?” Jonathan asked.

“Negative.”

In another ten minutes, Barrick said: “We’re receiving a reply from the Raakar.” He paused. “Otter says they’re warning us that something destroyed their comm nodes near the Slipstream, and they’re not sure what. They want us to be vigilant.”

“That’s a good sign,” Jonathan said. “They still think we’re on the same side. One big happy family. Although, I suppose they could simply be pretending to believe us... there was no answer to our request for assistance?”

“Apparently not,” Barrick said. “But they do want to know why we abandoned the laser ship.”

“Go with the canned reply.”

Which was: we received a distress signal via the comm nodes strung between Vega 951 and Anvil Rappel. When we arrived, it turned out that the humans had captured one of our comm nodes and somehow reprogrammed it. We flew right into their trap. We managed to destroy one of them, but lost our companion ships in the process. The survivor chased us across Anvil Rappel. The humans had hidden a Gate with the help of their shuttles, and deployed it in front of the Slipstream as we grew near. We couldn’t destroy it, because of our damaged particle beam, so we passed through. The lone human ship pursued. And here we are.

“Valor is sending it,” Barrick answered.

Twenty minutes later, Jonathan asked: “Any answer?”

“None yet.”

“Still digesting our communiqué, then,” Jonathan said. “I wonder if they’ll buy it. No ships are breaking away?”

“None,” Barrick replied.

“Looks like we’re going to have to go with Plan B,” Jonathan said.

“How long until the Galilei switches over to that plan?” Barrick asked.

“We have another thirty minutes,” Jonathan told him.

At the thirty minute mark, still no answer had come, and the Raakarr fleet had dispatched no ships to intercept them.

“They still don’t fully believe us,” Jonathan said. “Well, let’s hope what happens next does the trick.”

“Otter says we’re detecting a missile launch from the Galilei,” Barrick announced. “It’s closing.”

Every five minutes Barrick spoke the range. “Fifty thousand kilometers.”

“Forty thousand.”

“Thirty.”

Jonathan clenched a gloved hand. If the Galilei mistimed the explosion...

At the sub-one thousand mark, Barrick said: “The missile detonated prematurely, as expected. Valor is modifying our attitude and course, cutting engines, and venting heat from cargo bay one to simulate damage.”

After the explosion, the Talon was to drift slightly off to one side, but otherwise continue forward at the same speed. Earlier, the ship’s engineers had shut down one of the reactors and installed a conduit between a radiation vent and a duct that led to the cargo bay; a hatch allowed that conduit to open and close, so once the reactor was back online it was simply a matter of opening the hatch and cargo bay doors to make the ship appear to have taken a terrible blow. The crew had also filled the cargo bay with detritus so that a debris trail followed the ship. Once again, Valor had managed to place “organic” material in with that detritus.

“Valor is sending the scripted distress signal,” Barrick said.

Jonathan waited.

At the current distance he knew it would take ten minutes for the visual and thermal information from the attack to reach the enemy, and another ten minutes before any response was perceived by the Talon.

Right on schedule, twenty minutes later three dart ships broke away from the enemy task group, leaving behind the pyramid vessel, laser ship, and two dart escorts.

“They fell for it,” Barrick said excitedly.

“I wish I could share your elation,” Jonathan said. “Because you do know, the battle is far from over.”

“Three ships,” Barrick said, sounding suddenly unsure of himself. “Is that too many?”

Jonathan didn’t answer.

JONATHAN SPENT THE next two days mostly in the berthing area, occupying himself with various VR experiences in an attempt to distract himself while the two opposing fleets closed. During that time, the four ships of the first enemy task unit were apparently content to remain in place, repairing their damage. The human task group on the other side of the system likewise made no change to its orbit.

The Talon and Galilei continued to observe strict radio silence with one another, though the Talon did exchange messages with the Raakarr fleet, mostly to update the approaching craft on the progress of pretended repairs.

Jonathan returned to the bridge on the second day when the range between the opposing vessels dropped to within one million kilometers.

Nothing happened over the next two hours as the ships closed to the one hundred thousand kilometer mark of each other.

As the range continued to decrease, Jonathan remembered his discussion with the captains on that particular phase of the plan:

“They’ll think the Galilei is using you as bait,” Rodriguez had said. “Keeping you alive to lure them in. They’ll be expecting missiles.”

“Then we give them what they expect,” Jonathan had answered. “And something more.”

Several moments later, when only fifty thousand kilometers separated the Talon from the enemy ships, Barrick said: “The Galilei is launching missiles and mortars.”

The weapon trajectories were specifically designed to herd the incoming ships toward the Talon.

“Otter tells me the enemy ships have changed course, but will still give the Talon a wide berth,” Barrick said.

Jonathan couldn’t suppress a feral smile. “For now.”

A moment later Barrick announced: “The corvettes are separating.”

The two corvettes had been approaching in a single line, with the Galilei in the lead, and the Artemis just behind. The reactors of the Artemis had been completely offline so that the pair would seem a single ship with a slightly hotter heat profile than usual.

But with the two ships separating, the approaching enemy would realize their mistake.

“The corvettes are launching more missiles,” Barrick told him.

“Good,” Jonathan said. There would be a spread of slugs from the mag-rail point defenses, too, undetectable until the last moment.

“One of the corvettes is breaking off by thirty-five degrees,” Barrick said.

That would be the Galilei.

“Let’s see if the enemy ships take the bait,” Jonathan said.

The Raakarr were known to concentrate fire on those ships that seemed the most vulnerable. A lone corvette, directly behind the Talon, was a tempting target. But tempting enough, given the enemy’s likely elevated sense of caution?

“The three ships have changed course again,” Barrick said. “They’re now headed almost directly toward us.”

Jonathan couldn’t help a rising sense of alarm. “We don’t want them headed directly toward us!”

“I know...” the telepath replied. “But the Artemis, who the Raakarr are no doubt tracking, is directly behind us.”

Come on, Rail. Alter your attack vector...

Several tense moments passed.

“The Artemis has changed course slightly,” Barrick announced. “The enemy ships are compensating. Their closest point during the flyby will now be ten thousand kilometers off our starboard.”

“That’s better,” Jonathan said, feeling the sweat ooze down his ribs.

Thank you, Captain Rail.

“Enemy ships are thirty thousand kilometers away,” Barrick said a moment later. “Eleven o’clock position. The Galilei is swerving back in and firing a fresh wave of missiles and slugs.”

The corvette was performing a tight pincer maneuver, as planned.

“Perfect,” Jonathan said.

Several seconds later, Barrick announced: “Enemy is at twenty thousand klicks. Ten o’clock position.”

“Start bringing the engines back online,” Jonathan said.

“Valor agrees to bring the engines online,” Barrick replied. Then: “Enemy is fifteen thousand klicks away. Engines are back online.”

The three Raakarr ships were close enough by then to recognize the unique repair marks in the hull that betrayed the ship as the Talon, but so far the attackers gave no indication they had made the connection. Likely they were too distracted by what was going on with the corvettes.

In a magic trick, one hand led the eyes of the audience with misdirection, while the fingers of the other hand secretly performed the actual trick, usually right in front of the onlookers.

It was time to set the fingers of the other hand in motion.

“Come about to fire,” Jonathan said.

“Valor is bringing the Talon about to fire,” Barrick replied. He paused. “Apparently the targeted ships have realized what’s going on, and are issuing emergency maneuvers. One of them is turning its nose toward the Talon.”

“Fire when ready,” Jonathan said.

“Valor is firing,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan waited a few moments. “Tell me we got them.”

“We did,” Barrick said. “The Talon split the closest vessel in half. The other two ships fired at the incoming missiles but didn’t get them all. They attempted to dive out of the way, but instead flew right into the path of the incoming slugs. One of the dart craft appears to be completely disabled, while the other is limping away, struggling to change its trajectory. Looks like it’s trying to make a run for the 1-Avalon Slipstream behind us.” He paused. “Valor is turning us around, and ordering a pursuit.”

“What, why? They’re done. We don’t need to waste any more time on them. Show some mercy, man.” He glanced at Barrick. “Tell Valor to show some mercy.”

“He says, it is my ship,” Barrick replied.

Jonathan knew he couldn’t expect to win every command struggle with the Raakarr captain, and he would have to grant Valor leeway at some point. It just didn’t sit well with Jonathan to allow the massacre of a helpless foe.

“Tell him the United Systems frowns on the destruction of disabled enemy craft, and it could affect the peace negotiations,” Jonathan ordered the telepath.

“Valor says he doesn’t care,” Barrick answered.

“Tell him if we capture them, and tow the ships back to United Systems space, that would definitely go over well, and improve his bargaining position.”

“Valor says the Elk will never accept capture,” Barrick replied. “He says they’ll self-destruct before they ever submit, and he is giving them the death in battle they desire.”

Jonathan sighed. He knew Valor wasn’t going to budge on the matter.

There was no point in maintaining radio silence, so Jonathan ordered Dragonfly 1 to reactivate its comm node and that of the telemetry drone, as well as the captured node in Barrick’s quarters.

Jonathan tapped in his two captains. “Rodriguez, Rail. Recall any remaining missiles out there. Our enemy is done.”

“We just passed the disabled ship,” Barrick said. “Valor had the Talon fire from almost point blank range. There’s nothing left of it.”

Jonathan exhaled sadly. Perhaps Valor was doing it to spite him. If he had kept his mouth shut...

No. I refuse to believe I’m responsible for Valor’s summary execution of that crew. He’s right, anyway: in the past, whenever we’ve had a chance to capture one of their ships, they’ve always self-destructed.

With radio silence broken, Jonathan tapped into the 3D display from the corvettes; the lag was annoying, and units flickered in and out of existence, but any sort of battle space representation was preferable to none at the moment.

“So the first part of the operation is complete,” Jonathan sent to his two captains, well aware that the 3D display would increase the communications lag thanks to the bandwidth requirements. “I suppose congratulations are in order. We pulled through that one with zero casualties.”

“The battle isn’t over yet,” Rodriguez replied. “Looks like your Valor friend is hellbent on inflicting some enemy fatalities.”

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Jonathan said. “He wouldn’t listen.”

“I suppose we should escort you to the target,” Rail sent.

“That would be appreciated,” Jonathan responded.

“By the way,” Rodriguez said. “The admiral of Task Group 80.3 is eager to talk to you.”

“I’m sure he is,” Jonathan transmitted. “But tell him he’ll have to wait until we’re done here.” Because the truth was, Jonathan wasn’t all that eager to talk to the admiral in turn.

Jonathan continued to watch the events unfold on the lagged tactical display. The fleeing ship apparently had engine damage, and couldn’t compete with the maximum speed of the Talon. The Zarafe vessel soon caught up and mowed down the enemy—the dart ship didn’t bother to fire back. Apparently their particle cannon had taken damage in the attack, too.

At least Jonathan had confirmation that the aliens weren’t merely pretending to be from different factions: it seemed very obvious to him that they hated each other.

“Ask Valor if we can set a course for the remaining enemy fleet now and proceed with the second part of my plan,” Jonathan told Barrick.

“Valor agrees.”

“Generous of him,” Jonathan said. He tapped in his two captains. “It’s time for phase two.”

thirty-one

Jonathan switched his comm channel over to Dragonfly 1. “I want to send a message to the admiral of Task Group 80.3, audio only. Use the comm nodes in the corvettes as repeaters, please.”

“Yes, Captain,” Dragonfly 1 replied. “I’m ready to record the message.”

“Begin recording.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “This is Captain Jonathan Dallas, formerly of Task Group 72.5. I trust the Galilei and Artemis have filled you in on our situation, and the strategy I propose? End recording and send.”

Because of the distance, it would take seven minutes for the message to reach the admiral. The commodore would spend a minute listening, perhaps another half minute to compose his thoughts, then the return message would take seven minutes to reach the Talon.

Jonathan left the bridge and the combat robots and Raakarr guards escorted him to the berthing area. Inside his tent, he removed his helmet, rubbed his eyes, then slid on his aReal spectacles.

What a day. Hard to believe I’m nearly done here. It’s almost time to return. Yes, the dreaded return.

His heart rate and breathing abruptly increased. If he had been aboard the Callaway, Maxwell would have been asking if he was all right. But he was as far away from the Callaway as was humanly possible. There was no AI to comfort him, not anymore.

I’ve done this to myself. I should have stayed in the Elder galaxy. And let Robert or someone else return in my stead.

He couldn’t believe that he was more afraid of the inquiry than the upcoming battle. Then again, he knew the Talon and her corvettes wouldn’t be involved in any major combat role during the next fight. Assuming the admiral agreed to his plan.

He forced himself to clear his mind. He concentrated on his breathing, using a relaxation technique the navy psychologists had taught him in his rating school. He had his aReal project the hologram of a candle onto the floor of the tent, and he stared into the flame.

Dragonfly 1 interrupted his meditation. “A message from the admiral of Task Group 80.3 has been received. Would you like to review it?”

“Not really,” Jonathan said. “But put it up. And please route any future correspondence between the admiral and myself directly to my inbox.”

The AI agreed, and the message began a moment later.

“This is Admiral Wade William Yale of the USS Ptolemy, Task Group 80.3. Yes the Galilei has sent your plan, Captain Dallas, along with two days worth of data documenting your previous encounters with the invaders. I have reviewed much of that data, and it’s consistent with our own observations. It’s good to have independent confirmation that they are actually alien. Some of the stuff in there defies belief however, but you’ve definitely been on an incredible journey, and made some interesting new friends, I’ll give you that. The United Systems is glad to have you back. I look forward to a longer debriefing when we are within range.”

There was no mention of Jonathan’s mutiny attempt against Admiral Knox. Good. Perhaps Yale hadn’t reviewed that part yet.

“Now, on to your plan,” Admiral Yale continued. “I have considered it in detail, and I believe it’s something workable. I agree to follow it, with some modifications. You see, unfortunately my sister destroyer-class starship, the Pharos, was heavily damaged in the last encounter: she’s basically out of action. The same is true of the Cleopatra, one of our corvettes. The other two corvettes are moderately damaged, with half their laser turrets inactive, and some point defenses offline. The Ptolemy itself is fully operational and undamaged, of course.”

How convenient, Jonathan thought.

“In any case,” the admiral continued. “Here are the modifications I propose...”

Jonathan was somewhat surprised Admiral Yale had agreed to his plan so readily, but as the man rattled off his modifications, Jonathan realized the admiral wasn’t agreeing after all. Jonathan hadn’t had the best of luck with admirals in the past. It looked like that trend was destined to continue.

“Dragonfly 1, prepare to record response,” Jonathan said when the message ended. He took a deep breath. “Begin. Admiral Yale, thank you for agreeing to my plan. But I believe two corvettes won’t be enough to hold the Slipstream 2-Avalon. You’re placing the Ptolemy, Cleopatra and Pharos too far back. At the very least the Ptolemy must be moved forward, if not the latter two as well. Please reconsider. End.”

Fifteen minutes later the reply arrived. “I’m the commodore of the fleet, and as such my destroyer cannot be allowed to enter the line of fire.”

But that’s the whole point of a destroyer! Jonathan thought.

“And as I already stated,” the admiral continued. “The Cleopatra and Pharos are out of action. With all the missiles and mortars we’re going to mine the entrance with, I’m sure the two corvettes will be more than enough. Plus you forget the Ptolemy will still participate with its long range weapons.”

Jonathan cleared his throat and recorded the next message. “Even with your long range capability, those two ships will be overwhelmed. I guarantee you. If you insist on this course of action, I hope you have the decency to transfer the crews over to other vessels. Let the AIs run the corvettes.”

The reply: “The crews will remain aboard, as per their duty. I find it outrageous that you would suggest otherwise. That you would address me so informally by encouraging dereliction of duty shows that perhaps you have spent far too long away from civilization. You’re in United Systems territory now. We do things a little bit differently here. Captains obey their superior officers. And starships are run by people, not robots. If events fare poorly for the corvettes, the crew can simply resort to the lifepods.”

Jonathan sighed. If there’s time to use them.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by your attitude,” the admiral carried on. “Given your mutinous actions aboard the Callaway. I hadn’t meant to bring that up, but you’ve forced my hand. And while I intend to overlook your actions for the time being, once this battle is done, I’m going to have to give you over to the appropriate authority.”

When the admiral finished, Jonathan sent his reply: “My apologies, Admiral. We will proceed with the modified plan, as you suggested. And when the battle is over, I will readily go to whatever authority you deem appropriate. I do have one question. What’s the status on the Tau Delta Avalon VI colony? Were the residents successfully evacuated?”

Fifteen minutes later: “That would be two questions, Captain.” There was a pause, and Jonathan guessed the admiral had deleted something nasty, like: you impertinent little shit. “The residents were evacuated, but the colony itself, and its military base, were completely destroyed.”

“Would you mind telling me how that came about?” Jonathan sent.

In answer: “While the Ptolemy remained behind to guard 2-Avalon, I dispatched Task Unit 80.3.2 to intercept the enemy. The battle occurred between the colony and the second gas giant in the system. The task unit tried to repel the enemy, but they were forced to perform a tactical retrograde. The survivors joined the Ptolemy at 2-Avalon while the aliens continued onward to the colony. The brutes razed the place. Afterward they moved into the orbits of the inner planets, assuming a position two hundred million kilometers from Delta Avalon itself. We’ve been sitting here orbiting on opposite sides of the star ever since.”

Jonathan sent one last message of thanks, and repeated his intention to proceed with the modified plan. He tapped in Barrick and the two captains, and gave the order for the Talon and her two escorts to proceed at eighty percent speed toward the four remaining enemy ships. They would reach firing range in two days. Jonathan could have reduced that by allowing the Talon to achieve full speed, but that would have meant pulling away from the Galilei and Artemis.

“The enemy fleet is accelerating away from us,” Barrick announced shortly thereafter. “According to Otter, their trajectory lines up with Task Group 80.3 and the Slipstream 2-Avalon beyond. We’ve forced their hand. They’re making a run for it.”

Jonathan had expected as much. If their positions had been reversed, with Jonathan’s fleet surrounded by enemies on two sides, he would have chosen a similar course of action.

“Task Group 80.3 is retreating to the Slipstream, as planned,” Barrick said.

Jonathan had the lagged tactical display active on his aReal, and over the next few hours he watched as the human task group reached the Slipstream and mined the entrance with mortars and missiles. When that was done, two of the corvettes, the Renaissance and the Giza, assumed defensive positions on either side.

As part of Admiral Yale’s modifications to the plan, the Ptolemy led the Pharos and Cleopatra to a position fifty thousand kilometers behind the Slipstream, forming a smaller task unit that would participate with long range weapons, but would otherwise avoid taking part in any close fighting.

Jonathan shook his head. He was still convinced that two corvettes at the entrance wouldn’t be enough to hold back the enemy. At least some of the enemy ships would still punch through the blockade, regardless of any long range support from the Ptolemy, Pharos and Cleopatra.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it. Admirals would be admirals.

He removed his aReal, lay down, and shut his eyes to get some much needed sleep.

TWO DAYS PASSED. The Talon and her escorts were two and a half days behind the fleeing enemy vessels by then, thanks to their slightly slower speed.

Jonathan had only just returned to the bridge when the opposing fleet braked to a halt, six hundred thousand kilometers from the Slipstream.

Also as Jonathan predicted.

The laser ship proceeded forward, escorted by fighters from the pyramid vessel. At the five hundred thousand kilometer mark, it separated, leaving behind a trailing lens segment.

“The Ptolemy and Pharos are scrambling Avengers,” Barrick said. “And the rest of the fleet is launching the first wave of missiles and mortars.”

It was a bit soon, but Jonathan always felt that way in regards to long range weapons. He supposed the slightly early launch wouldn’t matter in the overall scheme of things.

The laser continued to separate into segments every one hundred thousand kilometers. In the meantime, the Ptolemy launched three more successive waves of missiles and mortars.

Jonathan shook his head once more.

He’s going to expend everything to take down that laser ship, leaving nothing for the three behind it.

The lead segment was two hundred thousand kilometers from the Slipstream when the Avengers approached to within one hundred thousand kilometers. The fighters and missiles were behind the mortars, obviously intending to use them as shields against the laser weapon. Though as the range closed, those “shields” would rapidly lose effectiveness.

“The lead segment is opening fire,” Barrick said. “So far, all missiles and Avengers remain intact.”

The laser continued to fire as the final segment detached. When the Avengers closed to within fifty thousand kilometers, the laser began to drill through the mortars, eliminating the sheltering human fighters and missiles in turn.

At the twenty-five thousand kilometer mark, Barrick announced: “Enemy fighters are breaking away from the laser to intercept the incoming wave. Meanwhile, the lead segment is coming to a halt.”

Jonathan felt so helpless. He wished there was something he could do to participate in the battle. But at the current distance, he was nothing more than an observer.

What if Yale loses?

thirty-two

The opposing fighters closed, intercepting one another ten thousand kilometers out from the laser segment. While the two sides exchanged fire in repeated flybys, the laser continued to pick off missiles and mortars, and Avengers themselves.

Some of the Avengers attempted to make a run at the laser, but they were shot down by the enemy fighters.

The second wave of missiles and mortars broke through during that fight. A few of the Avengers diverted from the main fighting to escort the missiles in, and in moments the lead segment had fallen. The Avengers brought down the remaining fighters, and took their places behind the ensuing mortars to escort the next wave toward the second lens segment. 

Some of the enemy fighters had remained behind at that segment, so that the previous battle basically repeated itself. The Avengers thinned the enemy fighter ranks enough for the next wave of missiles and mortars to break through, and then a few Avengers escorted the missiles in toward the lens target.

The battle of attrition continued at the next two segments. By the time the Avengers reached the fourth segment, all the enemy fighters had been destroyed, and the two dart ships moved forward to help repel the Avengers and incoming missile waves; the dart ships didn’t reach the fourth segment soon enough. Only two Avengers remained by the time that segment was taken out, so when the dart ships closed, the remaining Avengers were quickly shot down, along with the few incoming missiles and mortars.

The final segment advanced, as did the pyramid ship. Once the laser segment reached the one hundred thousand kilometer mark from the Slipstream, it would be able to pick off the remaining United Systems corvettes one by one, at its leisure.

Jonathan sent a message to the admiral: “Admiral Yale. You have to take out that final segment at all costs. If you have no missiles or mortars remaining, I would suggest using the slugs from mag-rails as offensive weapons. The Raakarr can only detect them at the last moment. Hem them in by firing spreads in successive waves: the targets will be forced to turn into the next group of slugs as they attempt to avoid the previous wave.”

Before his message reached the admiral, a final volley of mortars launched from Task Group 80.3 and one of the corvettes, the Giza, accelerated away from the Slipstream, taking cover behind the mortars. Presumably the task group was out of missiles by then.

The corvette closed with the incoming enemies. The Giza was too big to be completely shielded by the mortars, and by the hundred thousand kilometer mark it began to take damage from the remaining laser segment. The corvette rotated so that different sides faced the enemy weapon, but Jonathan knew the ship was basically sacrificing itself.

Jonathan received a reply from the admiral. “I’ve instructed the corvette to launch mag-rail slugs, as per your suggestion. Let’s hope it works.”

With the approach of the Giza, the enemy vessels began to randomly alter their courses every few seconds, so that they approached in a three-dimensional zigzag pattern, reducing the chances that they would be caught at unawares by incoming slugs: they were familiar with that tactic from their encounter with Jonathan in the Elder galaxy.

But apparently the Giza got lucky, because when it reached the twenty thousand kilometer mark, the laser ship abruptly dived and then broke apart, presumably as incoming slugs struck.

The dart ships cut the corvette in half with their particle beams a moment later.

Jonathan doubted that any lifepods had been launched in time.

The survivors of the enemy fleet came in. No fighters remained on either side. Nor long range kinetic kills. Unless the admiral decided to repurpose some of the missiles and nukes mining the Slipstream entrance, the next battle would be between starships alone.

The Renaissance remained faithfully in place by the Slipstream entrance, while the Ptolemy, Pharos and Cleopatra cowered fifty thousand kilometers behind it.

The two dart ships positioned themselves in front of the pyramid vessel to act as shields. With their particle beams, they eliminated the few mortars that Task Group 80.3 had previously lobbed their way. They continued to randomly vary their courses slightly, but as a single cohesive group.

At the fifteen thousand kilometer mark from the Slipstream, one of the dart ships pulled ahead, taking damage from the Renaissance’s heavy lasers. The dart ship fired its particle beam, exploding its opponent. Again Jonathan doubted the corvette had time to launch lifepods.

The lead dart ship plowed right into one of the waiting nukes that mined the entrance. Half of the ship was incinerated and the remainder broke apart. Debris from the vessel continued forward with the same momentum, exploding more missiles and nukes in its path.

With their particle beams, the following two ships detonated the last of the mines and in moments the aliens had escaped through the Slipstream.

Jonathan slumped in defeat. Well, we tried.

HE RECEIVED A message a few minutes later.

“I’m ordering the Dragonflies to replace the Gate,” Admiral Yale said. “I want to pursue these bastards. As soon as you arrive, of course.”

Jonathan smiled sarcastically. Of course. That way you can sit back and avoid getting your hands dirty again.

“Otter tells me the Zarafe have detected United Systems shuttles emerging from behind one of the inner planets,” Barrick confirmed a moment later. “They appear to be dragging a Gate, and will arrive at the same time we do.”

Captain Rodriguez tapped in a moment later. Jonathan accepted the connection.

“What are we going to do?” Rodriguez asked.

“Only thing we can do,” Jonathan said. “Go to 2-Avalon, launch a probe to scope the other side, and then follow the Raakarr.”

“What about the Ptolemy?” Rodriguez pressed.

“We pretend she doesn’t exist,” Jonathan said. “And don’t factor her into any of our strategies.”

Jonathan had the admiral confirm his weapon inventories, and as Jonathan suspected, Task Group 80.3 had exhausted all long range missiles in the attack. They still had some mortars and point defense slugs left, however.

You could have fired those to coincide with the arrival of the enemy at the Slipstream, Admiral Yale, he thought bitterly. Then again, with the way the remaining ships had been randomly moving, even if the admiral had fired slugs, he likely would have missed.

When the Talon, Artemis and Galilei were roughly half a day to the Slipstream, Barrick called Jonathan to the bridge.

“A heat signature has emerged from 2-Avalon,” Barrick said.

“Only one?” Jonathan asked.

“Only one,” Barrick agreed. “It’s the pyramid ship. Otter says she’s badly damaged: there are dark streaks all over her hull, two new cavities on her leading face, and thermal leaks everywhere on her IR band. He also tells me none of their stilt cannons are intact. They’re defenseless.”

“Looks like they had a run-in with a real United Systems fleet,” Jonathan said.

He tapped in his two captains. “Are you seeing this?”

“We are,” Captain Rodriguez replied over the comm. “Feels good to finally have some backup.”

“Though it took them long enough to get their act together,” Captain Rail complained.

“Relay the information to Admiral Yale,” Jonathan said. “In case he hasn’t figured out the enemy’s particle beams are offline.”

“Looks like they’re already closing with the vessel,” Rodriguez said.

Jonathan glanced at his lagged tactical display. Sure enough, Task Group 80.3 was approaching the defenseless vessel. He noted that the Ptolemy was no longer hanging back. With the enemy ship obviously badly damaged, Admiral Yale was suddenly an eager participant in the operation.

“Barrick, I want the Talon to order their surrender,” Jonathan told the telepath.

Ten minutes later Barrick had the answer: “Valor says they agree. But he urges caution nonetheless, and advises that we destroy the ship immediately.”

Jonathan pursed his lips. “It does seem a little too easy, given the nature of their mission, and that they’ve always preferred self-destruction to capture in the past.”

On the lagging tactical display, the Ptolemy and her escorts continued to approach the ship.

“Dragonfly 1,” Jonathan said. “Send a message to Admiral Yale: Admiral, I advise you to put some distance between yourself and that vessel. We have reason to suspect treachery.”

Admiral Yale’s response came some minutes later: “We’re already changing course.”

Jonathan watched as the Ptolemy and her escorts slowly swung wide. But apparently the pyramid ship had pretended to be more damaged than it actually was, because it suddenly altered course and accelerated to its top speed. It was set to overtake the United Systems destroyer in moments.

Again Jonathan felt that overwhelming sense of helplessness. “Their surrender was definitely a ruse. Dragonfly 1, tell the Admiral to get the hell out of there. Emergency speed!” He turned toward Barrick: “I want Valor to order the pyramid ship to change course immediately!”

“Valor has already done so,” Barrick said. “We have yet to receive a reply.” He paused. “It appears the Ptolemy is firing at them. We’re detecting a full mortar spread, and the thermal signature of a laser blast.”

He knew the Ptolemy’s laser array couldn’t have much power, as it was doubtful it would have been fully charged by then. Mortars and point-defense slugs would be the destroyer’s best hope.

On the display, Jonathan saw the blue dots of mortars appear from the Ptolemy a moment later. But they vanished almost instantly.

“Otter tells me the alien ship just fired a particle weapon,” Barrick said. “And destroyed every last mortar. The beam also struck the Cleopatra. She’s gone.”

Jonathan shook his head angrily. “I thought you said their particle weapons were inactive!”

“Otter admits that he was wrong,” Barrick replied.

“Damn it,” Jonathan said. “This whole thing is a ruse! We’ve been played. I’m willing to bet the other dart ship is going to emerge from that Slipstream any time now, with guns ablaze.”

“The pyramid ship is continuing toward the Ptolemy,” Barrick said. “It’s plowing right into the mortar debris. Like they don’t care about taking damage anymore.”

“What? Why?” If the dart vessel was coming, there would be no need for the pyramid to self-sacrifice.

Unless the dart ship wasn’t coming.

“The Ptolemy fired another mortar spread,” Barrick said. 

The attack didn’t even have time to register on Jonathan’s lagged display. Instead, the red dot representing the pyramid ship touched the blue dot of the Ptolemy, and both winked out, leaving the Pharos as the only member of Task Group 80.3 remaining on the tactical display.

“Dragonfly 1?” Jonathan said urgently. “Tell the admiral to update me on his status.” He turned toward the telepath. “Barrick, what do we know?”

Barrick’s lips were set in a grim line behind the faceplate. “It looks like the pyramid ship self-destructed half a second before impact. The resultant explosion and superheated debris carved out a huge chunk of the Ptolemy’s hull. Half of the destroyer has disintegrated.”

Jonathan partially collapsed and had to rest a gloved hand on the bulkhead to steady himself. While the admiral was incompetent, he didn’t deserve such an ignominious end. No one did.

A moment later Dragonfly 1 contacted him: “I have received an answer to the sitrep request you asked me to send to Admiral Yale. It is from Captain Fuller of the Pharos.”

“Let me hear it,” Jonathan said.

“This is Captain Fuller,” a new voice came over the line. “I’m sad to say we’ve lost the Ptolemy and Cleopatra. I’m launching a rescue operation to probe the remains of both ships and retrieve any survivors trapped in the sealed compartments. Unfortunately, the bridges of both vessels are completely gone. We’ve lost Admiral Yale and Captain Skye of the Ptolemy, and Captain Wesson of the Cleopatra.”

Jonathan collapsed completely.

thirty-three

The expected dart ship never came. Instead, an hour later, a twenty-ship United Systems task group entered the system via 2-Avalon.

So the pyramid’s actions hadn’t entirely been a ruse after all. They had sustained some damage. And rather than surrender, the pyramid had fought to the end.

Jonathan tapped in Rodriguez.

“Captain,” Jonathan said wearily. “Transmit my usual welcome package to the newcomers, please. I wouldn’t want our arrival to be misinterpreted in any way.”

“I’m sure the Pharos is explaining a few things to them right now,” Rodriguez said. “But I’ll get on it.”

“Valor says that you are to return to the berthing area, Captain,” Barrick told him.

“Now?”

“Yes,” Barrick replied. “And you are to stay there indefinitely.”

“May I ask why?”

Barrick smiled fleetingly. “Now that major combat operations are over, Valor believes it is best if I handle all communications between the United Systems and himself going forward. Basically, you’re not needed.”

“It’s good to be loved,” Jonathan said.

“I do promise to summon you if your presence is required,” Barrick told him. “And I will visit. From time to time. Wait... Valor requests a favor. He wants you to record one final message vouching for him. Explain your situation as an honored guest, and tell the fleet that you will remain in custody for the duration of the negotiations.”

Jonathan nodded. “I can do that. Dragonfly 1, who’s in charge of that task group?”

“Admiral Wilhelmina Ford of the USS Renegade,” the shuttle’s AI responded over the comm. “Battle Group 35.1.”

“Dragonfly 1, prepare to record message,” Jonathan instructed the shuttle’s AI. “Begin. Admiral Ford. This is Captain Jonathan Dallas, formerly of Task Group 72.5. I have left my fleet to bring tidings of the threat posed by a new race we’re calling the Raakarr. During the course of many battles with them, I’ve managed to befriend members of a rogue faction who wish to ally with humanity. I have come here in their ship, a vessel capable of traversing Slipstreams without need of Gates, so that we may negotiate the terms of such an alliance. They have offered to share technology with us, as well as key planets and systems of the opposing alien faction.

“For the duration of the negotiations I am to remain aboard their vessel as an honored guest: a euphemism for hostage. Despite this bizarre behavior on the part of the Raakarr captain, who seems to have overestimated my value, believing that holding me will magically prevent anything bad from happening to his ship, I do believe it would be wise to ally ourselves with him and his faction. He has proven himself an honorable ally, his little hostage-taking incident notwithstanding.

“I will remain in the background during the negotiations, and I leave you in the capable hands of my telepathic translator, Barrick Ayer. You will find damning evidence against Barrick in the holographic drives my crew will soon convey to you, and once that evidence is reviewed the navy will likely change its liberal stance regarding telepaths. But I believe Barrick was only acting in our interests in the end, and while his actions were misguided, they were good-intentioned. In the interim he has proven himself, and I am positive he will translate all dialog faithfully between you and the Raakarr. Good luck. End.” He cleared his throat. “Transmit message, Dragonfly 1.”

DRESSED IN HIS fatigues, Jonathan sat in his office aboard the Callaway. The artificial stars streamed past the portal set into the bulkhead in front of him.

It had been a long journey to get to where he was. A lifetime.

But it was all finally coming to an end.

Home. He was going home.

Except that there was nothing for him there. How could home hold any value for him? He had no wife. No children. He had never needed them. The navy was his family. But if the inquiry went poorly, which seemed likely, that family was going to be wrenched away from him.

Maybe I should have tried to have a life outside of the military. A real life. Random sexual liaisons on shore leave don’t count.

He thought of Bridgette, and remembered how flirtatious she had been those first few times he had bumped into her.

Maybe I should have accepted her advances.

He remembered Robert’s words. “She loves you, you know. She told me once on shore leave when she was drunk. Said she fell for you the moment she came aboard, but thought it was impossible to ever marry a man like you. Her words: we never attain that which we desire most.”

I definitely should have accepted her advances. What a fool I’ve been. Sacrificing myself for a navy that will, most likely, cast me out onto the street in the end.

After the survivors of his task group had journeyed into the Elder galaxy, he had been granted a temporary respite, a chance to lead his crew into battle a few more times.

But he had merely been delaying the inevitable. He couldn’t run forever. It was time to face the end.

He resolved to quit whining and suck it up. Come what may, he would manage it. If the navy dismissed him, he’d find a wife and start his own family. Maybe save enough to buy a ship someday and become a trader or something. Or join a private security firm.

Life goes on. It always does.

He deactivated the virtual reality portion of his aReal and found himself once more wearing a spacesuit in the poorly lit berthing area of the Talon.

Back to my prison.

While the combat robots with him were armed, he knew they couldn’t shoot their way out. After Jonathan had tipped his hand regarding the darkness generators, Valor absolutely would have ordered the penetration frequencies changed. The Centurion laser rifles were useless.

Jonathan wondered if maybe Valor wouldn’t give him up. What if he made Jonathan become a permanent part of the alien crew? How perversely hilarious would that be? Skipping out on the inquiry because some alien captain refused to release him. That fate was almost preferable to Jonathan. Almost.

He thought of the letters of condolences he had included with the data on the holographic drives. After reviewing them, the fleet would likely transmit those to the comm nodes once it passed through into the next system, but because of his internment the return address would be changed, and Jonathan wouldn’t receive any of the responses.

He wasn’t sure he was happy about that. On the one hand, it spared him the guilt. On the other, he wanted that guilt. It reminded him of the burden of command.

He smiled sardonically. Don’t need to be reminded of that anymore, do I?

Barrick visited him three days into his internment. He explained that the fleet was escorting the Talon to the third planet of Beta Ursae Majoris, the adjacent system, so that negotiations could take place with the system governor present.

“I’ve been pressing Valor to release you early,” Barrick said. “And I’m confident you will be let go shortly after we enter orbit above the planet.”

“And what about you?” Jonathan asked him. “Don’t you want to be released sometime? You should get the navy to send a telepath over so you can train your replacement.”

“We’ve already received two telepaths,” Barrick said. “The others who remain aboard the ships of Task Group 35.1 have been placed under observation. Apparently, the navy has developed a distrust of telepaths since our return.”

“Are you so surprised, after what you did aboard the Callaway?” Jonathan asked.

“Not particularly,” Barrick said. “Of course, I have foreseen this.”

“Really.” Jonathan’s voice oozed skepticism. “And what happened to you not knowing the future anymore? Not having seen this path?”

“Remember, there are waypoints between events...”

“Of course.” Jonathan wore his best fake smile. “But you never answered my original question. Don’t you want to be released?”

“I have no such desire to ever place myself in the custody of the United Systems,” Barrick said. “I have seen where that path leads: when I return to humanity, first I will be tried. Then I will be imprisoned, sedated, and studied. If I go back, I’ll never return to consciousness again.”

“But I thought you could function on some level while your mind was in an ‘unconscious’ state,” Jonathan said.

“By borrowing the eyes and ears of those around me, you mean?” Barrick replied. “Yes, I can. It brings new meaning to the phrase, living vicariously. But it is not quite like what you would imagine... it is similar to viewing the world through an emotionless fog, without pain or feeling. Living my life like that, through the eyes of others, is not living at all. No. I’m not going back. I will stay here aboard this ship, serving as translator for the rest of my days.”

“You make it sound like you don’t believe that will be very long,” Jonathan said.

Barrick raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Do I?” He lowered his gaze. “I have perhaps good reason to feel this way.”

“Is it because of the Phant you claim has infiltrated our ranks?” Jonathan said. “The termite burrowing through the foundations of our carefully wrought wooden home?”

“I won’t say either way,” Barrick replied. “No specifics, remember? But I believe you know what is coming already anyway.”

Jonathan thought immediately of the images of death and destruction the three Elder embryos had projected into his mind. “We’re going to fail the Elder test.”

Barrick smiled sadly, but said nothing.

“We’re approaching one of those key waypoints you told me about earlier, aren’t we?” Jonathan said. “If it could save humanity, you have to reveal it, Barrick. What good could come from holding back?”

Barrick’s sad smile deepened. “Captain, the waypoint has already passed.”

With that he turned around and left.

While Barrick’s words disturbed him, he didn’t pay them much heed. Barrick seemed to think the future was set in stone, which went against everything Jonathan believed in. He knew in his heart that the future was changeable. It had to be.

Another week passed with Jonathan locked away in the berthing area. He wondered how the negotiations between humanity and the Zarafe faction were proceeding. In exchange for their tech, the Zarafe wanted planet killers to use against the other Raakarr. It was doubtful the navy would give it to them, at least in the form that the Zarafe sought. Best case, NAVCENT would assign a battle group to escort any planet killer loaned to the Zarafe, and that group would be in charge of its deployment. Worst case, Valor and the remaining Zarafe would be imprisoned, and their ship impounded for study, as Valor had feared. Jonathan didn’t think it would come to the latter. If negotiations failed, he suspected the alien vessel would be escorted to the edge of United Systems space and then sent on its way. That was his hope, anyway.

Finally, after another few days, he had a visitor. An entirely unexpected one.

Jonathan heard the characteristic rumbling of the bulkhead that signified the opening of the compartment’s outer airlock. That was followed by the groan of metal a few seconds later as the inner hatch moved aside. He had become accustomed to both sounds over the past few weeks, which heralded the arrival of the gruel the Raakarr provided, so when he donned his helmet and emerged from the psi-shielded tent, it was with some surprise that he found not gruel but a man standing there.

An Artificial, judging from the lack of spacesuit.

“Hello, Captain Dallas,” the man said.

Jonathan stared at the newcomer uncertainly. Was it the Phant? Had it come for him? “What do you want?”

The Artificial approached, unblinking, its gaze never leaving his face.

Jonathan backed away. “Centurions, defend!”

The combat robots took up defensive positions, aiming their laser rifles at the intruder. The Artificial froze in place, then slowly raised its hands, palms out, in surrender.

“My name is Bill Wethersfield,” the Artificial said. “I’m the new liaison officer to the Talon. I’ve come to relieve you.”

Jonathan stared into those emotionless eyes. “You’re an Artificial.”

Bill nodded. “I am.”

“Relieve me,” Jonathan said slowly. “I take it some sort of preliminary agreement has been signed between the Zarafe faction and humanity, then?”

“That would be a correct assumption.”

“So I’m finally going home,” Jonathan said, surprised at the relief in his voice.

“Not precisely,” Bill said. “You’re under arrest.”

“Why? I mean, sure, I was expecting an inquiry, but not jail time.”

Bill glanced at the Centurions, who yet kept their rifles aimed at him. “Specialists, both human and AI, have reviewed and analyzed the data dump your crew submitted into our custody. Some of your actions over the past six months have been deemed... questionable. I’m transmitting the authorization for your arrest to your Praetor unit as we speak.”

The designated combat robot turned toward the captain. “I’m sorry sir. He has full authority to issue your arrest.” The other Centurions lowered their rifles.

“Pack your things, Captain Dallas,” the Artificial said. “Two Centurions will escort you to the waiting Dragonfly. It will transport you to the USS Renegade, where you will await trial.”

“Trial? So I’m not getting an inquiry?”

“No,” Bill said. “Yours will be a full-blown general court-martial.”

thirty-four

Bridgette sat on the floor of the nursery, rocking Eugene in her arms. She was in the newborn area. Beyond it, in the main play area, various toys were scattered about the deck. There, children played alone or in groups, sometimes with each other, but mostly with robot playmates. They all wore aReals, and no doubt the realities they saw were augmented. A few were obviously immersed in complete virtual environments, for example the three children swaying and moving their arms in one corner.

Artificial supervisors observed the proceedings from the bulkheads of the nursery compartment. Their presence made her uneasy, mostly because of her encounter with a certain Artificial on the alien ship named Zhidao. There was only one other human present at the moment, the head supervisor.

It was hard to believe that three months had passed since her return to the Callaway. Three months since the fleet continued to be trapped in that faraway galaxy. Three slow, tedious months of healing.

Two months ago she had been released from intensive care. Her hair had grown back somewhat, so that she had a short mop of the stuff on her head. Her scalp still itched occasionally, though the discomfort was manageable.

The weavers had kept Eugene in postnatal care for another six weeks after her own release. In theory they could have let him go much sooner, but the doctors had wanted to keep the baby under observation. They still weren’t sure what the long term effects of the radiation poisoning, and his resultant treatment, would have.

She regarded the baby in her arms. So small, so fragile. His eyes were closed, and she thought he had fallen asleep.

They cut you out of me. Forced you into this world early so that they could feed anti-rads directly through your umbilical. My poor, beautiful, baby boy.

For the short term his prognosis was good, for the most part, though his growth would be stunted. The doctors knew that for certain. While his brain was developing normally so far, his body would take some time to catch up: Eugene would have to remain on a liquid diet for longer than normal. His muscles were developing slower than usual. He would walk late. It probably didn’t help that he still had an anti-rad subdermal embedded underneath the skin of his lower back, and he would wear it for the foreseeable future. So many difficulties. Not the best way to start one’s life.

She shook her head.

It was all the fault of that telepath. Kidnapping her, and then deceiving her into departing the alien ship while it orbited so close to a star. Well, the alien ship had blown up shortly after she departed, so she supposed he had been trying to save her, in a sense. Still, he should have allowed her to leave earlier, when they were much farther from that star. And he shouldn’t have kidnapped her in the first place. He could have chosen any other of the two thousand civilians and crew aboard the Callaway to take as a hostage, and yet he had to pick her.

She was sure Barrick had tricked Jonathan into leaving the ship as well. Jonathan would have never abandoned his task group like that, not of his own free will. It just wasn’t something a flagship commander of his caliber would do. Oh sure, Robert had laid out all the reasons Jonathan gave, but Bridgette didn’t entirely buy them. The evil telepath had done something to him, somehow. She wondered if that wormhole even led back to their own galaxy.

Jonathan hadn’t even said goodbye. He could have at least left her a video message or something before he left. She only learned of his departure when Robert told her he was the new CO of the Callaway. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fact that Jonathan hadn’t said goodbye, or that he hadn’t visited her once while she was in the infirmary. She had known him since she first came aboard, and it was as if her friendship meant nothing to him. Robert tried to explain to her how guilty Jonathan felt about the whole thing, telling her the captain felt responsible for her and her baby because apparently he ‘convinced her’ to keep it. Bridgette didn’t see it that way, not at all.

I decided to keep the baby myself, not because of what Robert, Jonathan, or anyone else told me.

Still, it was probably for the best that Jonathan hadn’t come. She hadn’t wanted him to see her lying there helpless in the infirmary like that, a shell of her former self. She had gained several pounds since her release of course, and was close to her previous weight, but whenever she looked at the frightening pictures and videos of the skeleton she had been during hospitalization, she couldn’t help but feel glad that he had stayed away. Even so, a video message from Jonathan would have gone a long way...

She missed her newfound friends from the infirmary sometimes, though occasionally she still had lunch with Wolf and the other pilots who had risked their lives for her. She wished Lin were still aboard, however, and not transferred to the Salvador. That amazing woman was a strong female role model if ever there was one. Bridgette and all the other pilots owed her their lives. Bridgette had tried convincing Robert to let Lin stay, but the commander was adamant.

“You had to leave the navy so you could be with me,” Robert said. “If she really wants to be with Lieutenant Commander Wolf, Ensign Akido can do the same. How is that fair to you otherwise, and all the others who left the military to be with spouses?”

Bridgette didn’t really care if it was fair or not, she just wanted the woman who had saved her life to be happy. But when Robert set his foot down on something, he refused to budge, especially when that something went against his moral code.

Bridgette was about ready to stand, intending to return her baby to his cradle, when something unusual happened.

The other cribs began to float into the air around her. One of the babies in those cribs cried frantically, obviously terrified. The others remained completely silent.

In the nursery beyond, abandoned toys hovered into the air, too. The children and their robot companions seemed oblivious, and they continued playing as though nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring.

Those toys, cribs and other loose objects slowly floated through the air, coming together, forming a long cylindrical object that was vaguely reminiscent of one of those anomalies Robert had shown her in the video archives: the embryonic objects the Elder claimed were their offspring.

She glanced at Eugene in her arms. Her baby no longer slept, and calmly looked up at her with those huge, curious eyes of his. Somehow, she knew he was responsible. She also knew Eugene would mirror her emotions—the child was very, very empathic. If she panicked, Eugene would, too.

Remain calm.

She steadied her breathing and looked up once more. She blinked in disbelief: the cribs and toys had returned to their previous places, just as if they had never moved at all. The children continued to play as if nothing had happened.

The human supervisor entered the newborn area to tend to the baby who was still crying.

“Did you see that?” Bridgette asked her.

The woman looked at her and smiled obligingly. “See what?”

Bridgette forced a quick smile in return. “Never mind.”

She already knew that Eugene had psi abilities—when Barrick had attempted to abort her baby, she had somehow linked with the child, and used his strength to repel the telepath. At the time, Barrick had said that her latent abilities were strong: he was wrong, because she knew it was all Eugene. Her baby was the powerful one.

Still, she hadn’t expected his powers to manifest so early. That none of the other children had seen what she had told her that Eugene had planted those images only in her mind. Then again, the crying baby... perhaps he had broadcast the image to everyone present, but only that baby—and Bridgette—had the psi ability to receive it.

She gently returned Eugene to his cradle and he cooed in contentment. As she hummed him to sleep, she had a startling thought.

Perhaps her decision to keep the baby hadn’t entirely been her own. It was possible that Eugene had influenced her thoughts in some way while he was yet unborn. The very notion caused chills to run up and down her spine. The self-preservation instinct was strong in all forms of life, unborn or not. That Eugene might have developed to the point where he was aware not only of his self, but of the mortal danger he was in—while still in the uterus—frightened her.

Psi children can influence their fate from the womb...

If that was true, it meant other children who did not have those abilities were at a disadvantage. Abortions were common throughout the United Systems. Because of that, she could see psi powers rising in the population, thanks to natural selection.

We’re selecting against children who don’t have psi powers, and who can’t stop their own abortions.

She cleared her mind. Whether or not psi powers were on the rise in the human population didn’t concern her. What did concern her was the babe resting in the cradle in front of her.

He wasn’t going to be an easy child to raise. Not at all.

Eugene would be able to do great things when he was older.

But if she didn’t raise him properly, he would grow into a very dangerous man.

thirty-five

Robert resided on the bridge, seated at his customary place beside the Round Table.

Via his aReal contact lenses, he casually regarded the video feed from one of the telemetry drones positioned two thousand kilometers off the nose of the Callaway. The partially-completed Gate floated there in the void, a beautiful sight if only because of the hope the ugly artifact welled within him. The construction was progressing well: the Builder had completed forty-eight percent of it, so that the finished portion vaguely resembled a crescent moon.

The three months since Jonathan departed had gone by surprisingly quickly. His wife was healed, his son on the mend, and crew morale hovered surprisingly high. He always believed the crew reflected the captain’s mood, so the former’s good spirits weren’t entirely unexpected.

Though his own good mood was partially a mask, he had to admit. Being a captain wasn’t just about sitting around in a chair and delegating tasks all day. A captain had to make decisions, and live with them.

I will live with mine.

Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel doubt or guilt from those decisions, nor stress at having to make those choices in the first place. The whole fleet was looking at him to get them home in one piece. That was a big burden. One that was pitted with frustrations.

He had lost half a platoon of combat robots and a Dragonfly because of a decision he had made to capture alien technology. And so far the chief weapons engineer, Lieutenant Harv Boroker, hadn’t been able to figure out how that technology worked. At least the insides of the microbots hadn’t turned into jelly when taken apart, unlike the enemy fighters. Still, Robert was frustrated. Why bother to capture alien tech if humanity couldn’t reverse engineer it, let alone use it? Especially given the cost of acquisition. It was hard to justify the losses, given that he had gained absolutely nothing in return.

But that’s not the point, is it? We have to try. And if we can’t figure the tech out, maybe when we get home the NAVCENT scientists will have better luck.

NAVCENT. He thought of Jonathan, and hoped the captain’s inquiry had gone well. Jonathan had probably been promoted to admiral and given medals galore by then; he was likely famous throughout the United Systems. The captain who had defeated thirty alien ships with only five of his own. That was probably the real reason Jonathan had wanted to return early—to make sure he alone took the credit. No, that wasn’t true, Robert knew. Jonathan wasn’t the type to seek medals and personal glory. Still, Robert supposed, Jonathan certainly deserved any awards and promotions the navy bestowed upon him.

As an admiral with actual experience fighting the aliens, Jonathan had probably been assigned the command of a new battle group. In fact, he was likely heading toward Vega 951 at that moment—if his new fleet wasn’t there already. He would be waiting for Robert and the others to return, likely building a Gate to Prius 3 so that when the Callaway finally came, they could all return together. Or perhaps Jonathan would absorb the Callaway into his new fleet, and they would continue deeper into alien space on a mission of peace with their new Zarafe allies.

Robert smiled sadly. Somehow he doubted it would be so idealistic as that. While he was a romantic idealist at heart, the realist inside him knew that any battle group sent to Vega 951 would definitely not be on a peaceful mission. Their purpose would likely be to probe the outer defenses of the Raakarr frontier territories, using the knowledge given to them by the Zarafe to perform reconnaissance of key planets and colonies, and perhaps engage in the occasional skirmish, paving the way for an invasion force.

And as for the warning given by the Elder? NAVCENT would likely ignore it. The Elder were a galaxy away after all, and their words so vague, so open to interpretation, that anything could be seen as unworthiness in their eyes, including inaction.

Robert dismissed the video feed and glanced at Miko beside him. He extended his noise canceler around the man and said: “Compose any interesting symphonies lately?”

“I haven’t had time,” his first officer responded. “My new role is eating up every spare moment.”

Robert chuckled. “It kind of does that.” He was surprised at how much free time he had since giving up the position of first officer. After assuming the role of commanding officer, he had expected his free time to drop to basically zero, but that wasn’t the case at all. He hadn’t realized how much work the captain offloaded to his crew, especially his first officer. Robert couldn’t say he really missed his old position.

“I thought you used to sell your compositions on that marketplace, what’s it called?” Robert accessed his holographic InterGalNet browser, hoping he might be able to find a cached copy of the virtual storefront in his search history, since he had visited the site often in the past, mostly to listen to the free samples. Robert enjoyed “discovering” new artists and liked to support their work by licensing copies, even though he never used the license for anything.

“Audiotastic,” Miko said.

“That’s it.” Robert closed the browser. “Made a lot of sales?”

Miko shrugged in a modest manner. “A few. One of the bigger VR studios has used a couple of my compositions in their experiences. One of those experiences was downloaded almost a billion times.”

Robert nodded, impressed. “Very nicely done. Must be quite the feeling, knowing that a billion people have listened to your work.”

“I suppose so, Commander,” Miko said. “Though I doubt most viewers really notice, since the music is only a small part of the overall experience.”

“Come on, everyone knows music can make or break a VR experience. Too much ruins immersion, too little and there’s no emotion.”

“You do realize that many people simply replace the tracks with their own music, right?” Miko countered.

“Well, either way, I’m sure the sales are a nice padding to your military stipend.”

Miko shrugged. “Some years.”

“Sir!” Ensign Lewis interrupted. “A heat signature just appeared from the Slipstream.”

Robert retracted the noise canceler. “Which Slipstream?” He sat straighter, pulling up the previously dismissed video feed and activating his tactical display.

“The one we’re building a Gate in front of,” Lewis responded.

He saw the ship on the video feed before she finished speaking. It floated almost in the exact middle of the partially completed Gate. It vaguely resembled a United Systems corvette with those long, misshapen wings protruding from the aft portion of an expansive hull. The cigar shape of the central segment was uneven, a metallic monstrosity of sharp angles and odd proportions, almost like it was made entirely out of parts salvaged from other ships.

“They’re right beside us.” Robert buttoned up his collar. “Maxwell, sound General Quarters!”

“General quarters!” The AI’s voice came over the main circuit. “General quarters! All hands man your battle stations. Up and forward to starboard, down and aft to port. This is not a drill! General quarters, General quarters.” A klaxon sounded five times before the message repeated.

“Miko,” Robert said, muting the alert. “Have the fleet put some distance between ourselves and that ship. Prepare to fire a mortar and slug spread. Ensign, does the CDC have any data on its capabilities yet? Weapons? Maneuverability? Is it an Elder vessel?”

“There are no obvious weapon mounts,” Lewis said. “But I don’t think it’s an Elder ship.”

“Why?”

“The vessel appears to be constrained by Newtonian physics.”

“Well that’s good,” Robert said. “I think.”

“If we have to fight it,” Miko said. “It’s very good.”

“Ensign, could this ship have come from Vega 951?” Robert asked.

“No,” Lewis said. “It has to be native to this galaxy. Remember, only this side of the Slipstream points to Vega 951 at the moment. The Elder told us that the Vega 951 side points to Prius 3. So anyone entering from Vega 951—”

“Would emerge in Prius 3, yes yes,” Robert said. “But we’re assuming the Elder haven’t lied about that.”

Miko turned toward him. “But if they lied, the Talon would have returned by now.”

“Unless this ship was waiting for them,” Robert said.

Miko nodded slowly. “While that is certainly possible, I’ll have to side with the ensign on this one. These newcomers probably came from another nearby system in the current galaxy, which this Slipstream originally led to. They’ll be in for a surprise if they try to return, though...”

Yes. They’ll end up in Vega 951.

While the rest of the fleet was quickly moving away, Robert noticed that the alien vessel had remained near the Slipstream. At least it hadn’t fired.

The strange craft abruptly thrusted, maneuvering until it floated right alongside the partially completed Gate. Staying close, the ship began to follow the curve of the structure.

“What the hell is it doing?” Robert said.

“Maybe they’re just curious,” Lewis replied. “They’ve probably never seen anything like it before in this galaxy. Similar to the Raakarr and Elder, I’m guessing they don’t need Gates to traverse Slipstreams.”

“Why is it that humanity is the only species at a disadvantage when it comes to Slipstreams?” Robert complained. “We need to remedy that failing ASAP, before it causes us any more problems.” He stared at the odd ship on his display. “Comm, relay a welcome message in all known languages and communication protocols.”

Miko spoke up. “I must remind the commander that any EM emissions, even those meant for communication purposes, could be perceived as an aggressive act by the aliens. First contact procedures—”

“I’m well aware of first contact procedures,” Robert said. “I know the risks. Proceed, comm.”

Miko had never reminded Jonathan of those procedures, Robert noted. Then again, Miko had never been the first officer before, either.

“Relaying welcome message,” Lieutenant Lazur said from the comm station. A moment later: “No response.”

The craft abruptly pulled away from the Gate.

“The alien vessel is accelerating,” Ensign Lewis said.

Robert crossed his arms to fend off a sudden chill. “Don’t tell me that’s because of our contact attempt. Trajectory?”

“They’re heading toward the task group. They just matched our speed... and now they’re going beyond it.”

“Miko,” Robert said. “I want us moving away from that thing at maximum possible speed.”

“We’re already moving at the maximum,” Miko said. “At least, we’re moving as fast as our slowest members.”

“I have an update on their trajectory,” Lewis said. “They’re heading directly toward the Marley.”

“The Builder?” Robert said. “Damn it. Miko, maneuver the fleet in front of the Marley. We have to protect her.”

“Do you want to fire a mortar and slug spread, Commander?” Miko said.

“Not yet,” Robert replied. “Remember, this is a first contact situation. They’re probably mostly curious at the moment. Let’s not change their mood.”

The Callaway and the four other United Systems ships quickly closed with the Marley and placed themselves in a defensive grid behind her.

“Miko, any guesses on what they want with the Marley?” Robert said.

“Maybe the vessel detected the same minerals from the Gate in her cargo stores,” Miko responded. “Though I’m not sure why that would attract them.”

“Those minerals would be in their raw, unprocessed state, wouldn’t they?” Robert asked.

“That’s right,” Miko said.

Robert rubbed his earlobe. “Interesting.”

“Alien vessel has closed to one thousand kilometers,” Lewis said.

“Hold fire...” Robert said.

“Five hundred kilometers.”

“Three hundred.”

“One hundred.”

On the tactical display, Robert watched the alien vessel close to a kilometer from the Callaway, which stood directly between it and the Marley.

“Alien vessel has decelerated, and is holding its position,” Lewis said.

“Comm, try to hail them again,” Robert ordered.

“No response,” Lazur replied.

“They’re accelerating again,” Lewis said. “And applying dorsal thrust of some kind. They’re flying right underneath us.”

Robert watched the vessel squeeze past the Callaway and the Salvador toward the Builder.

“They’re matching the Marley’s speed,” the ensign said.

“How close are they to her?” Robert asked.

“Less than eight hundred meters below her lowest point,” Lewis said.

Robert glanced at his first officer. “Miko, what’s the charge on our heavy lasers?”

“Forty-five percent as of this moment,” Miko answered.

The commander pursed his lips. “At this range, if we concentrated our Vipers, how much damage could we cause?”

“Major,” Miko said. “We’d probably cut a hole right through them. Assuming their armor is similar to our own.”

“The alien vessel has ascended slightly,” Lewis said. “Their closest point is now five hundred meters below the Marley.”

“Do you want to fire, sir?” Miko asked.

“Not yet,” Robert said. He set one elbow down on the armrest, and placed his chin in his palm. “What the hell do they want?”

“Sir!” Ensign Lewis said. “The alien vessel is initiating some sort of beam. It seems to be a concentrated gravitational wave of some kind... they’re carving a piece out of the Marley’s hull!”

On the video feed, Robert saw a long, perfectly cylindrical hull segment float away from the Builder toward the alien vessel.

“The Marley is reporting a hull breach on its lower deck,” Lewis said. “Near their engine room. If they take another hit in that area, the reactor could go critical.”

“And we lose our Builder ship,” Robert said. Along with our way home. “Miko, target them with our heavy beams. I want every ship involved, and aiming for the same area. Location is at your discretion. But I want only a ten percent burst, fleet-wide. I don’t want to destroy them.”

A moment later Miko said: “Vipers are locked on target and ready to discharge a ten percent burst.”

“Fire,” Robert said. An instant later: “Lewis, tell me what we did.”

“Vipers appear to have had no effect,” Lewis said.

So much for their armor being similar to our own.

Robert watched the cylindrical hull segment from the Marley reach the alien vessel. Some sort of hangar door spiraled open and swallowed the salvaged item.

“Miko, how much charge do we have left?” Robert asked.

“We were at fifty, and now we’re down to forty. Fleet-wide.”

“All right, prepare to fire again,” Robert said. “Target the same area. But this time have the fleet unleash the full forty percent charge.”

“Ready,” Miko said.

“Fire.”

On the video feed, the attacker abruptly swerved downward.

“That did it,” Miko said.

“The alien vessel is retreating toward the Slipstream,” Lewis said. “I’m detecting a thermal leak where our Vipers hit. We definitely caused a breach.”

“Once bitten, twice shy...” Robert said. “Hold speed. Keep putting distance between us.”

When the retreating vessel was halfway to the Slipstream, a second red dot appeared on the tactical display, sourced from the alien.

“Sir, it just fired a projectile of some kind,” Lewis said. “It’s headed toward our fleet. Fast.”

Robert shifted in his seat. “A projectile? Miko, launch mortars. I want that thing taken out.”

A few moments later, Lewis said: “The projectile is altering course to avoid the mortars.”

Robert clenched his jaw. “Where’s a smart missile when you need one? Miko, target it with Vipers fleet-wide.”

“Targeting,” Miko responded.

“Fire when lasers reach fifty percent charge,” Robert said.

Several moments later Miko announced: “Firing.”

“Did we get it?” Robert asked.

“The Viper beam drilled right through it,” Lewis responded.

“So we disabled it, or not?” Robert pressed.

“I don’t know. It’s still advancing.”

“Helm, alter course,” Robert told his helmsman. “Five degrees to starboard. Miko, transmit the order to the fleet.”

A moment later Ensign Lewis said: “Pursuing object is matching our course and continuing to overtake us.” She paused. “The main alien vessel just fled through the Slipstream.”

“And into Vega 951,” Robert said. “We haven’t seen the last of them, whoever the hell they were.” He glanced at the tactical display. The “projectile” continued to close. “Have the fleet alter course again. I want us moving thirty degrees into the Z plane, and twenty degrees to starboard this time.”

“Altering course,” Miko responded.

“Projectile is matching our trajectory once again,” Lewis said. “It will reach proximity fuse range in T-minus forty-five seconds.”

“Proximity fuse range,” Robert said. “You’re basing that range on one of our own nukes, of which we are sorely lacking at the moment?”

“I am,” Lewis agreed.

“Split up the task group,” Robert told Miko. “If one of us has to take a hit, I want the others as far away as possible when the time comes. Also, coordinate with Maxwell to fire more mortars fleet-wide, Miko. Include a follow-up slug spread. Let’s see if we can’t bring that thing down.”

“The fleet is moving apart,” Miko replied. “And I’m working out a firing solution with Maxwell.” A moment later: “Launching mortars and slugs.”

“The projectile is altering course to skirt the attack once again,” Lewis responded. “It looks like it detected the following slug spread, too, because their trajectory will take them up and over the second wave entirely.”

“Damn it,” Robert said.

“But we have bought ourselves another five seconds,” Lewis added.

Small consolation.

On the tactical display, Robert watched as the six ships continued to spread apart.

“The projectile is homing in on the Marley,” Lewis said.

“What?” Robert leaned forward. “No. Helm, bring us back in line with the Marley. We’re going to have to shield her. I want us a kilometer off her aft section.”

“We don’t know what that projectile is capable of,” Miko said. “We could be sacrificing the Callaway.”

“I know,” Robert said. “But do we have any other choice? Maxwell, begin evacuating the crew to the lifepods.”

“Affirmative,” the AI responded.

As Maxwell’s voice came over the main circuit to announce the evacuation procedures, the Callaway resumed its shield position behind the Marley. The helmsman brought the cruiser to within a kilometer of the Builder’s aft section, as Robert had requested.

The other four ships had moved to a distance of fifty kilometers away by then.

“Prepare to fire Vipers fleet-wide one last time,” Robert said. “Concentrate the beams as best you can.” With the fleet spread out like that, not all of the heavy lasers would be able to strike the same spot, Robert knew.

“Ready,” Miko responded. “But charge is only fifteen percent.”

“Fire,” Robert said.

“We hit it,” Lewis told him.

“Helm, alter course,” Robert said. “Fifteen degrees starboard. Miko, have the Marley mirror us.”

“Projectile is matching,” Lewis said.

Robert exhaled. We can’t win.

“Impact in five seconds,” Lewis said.

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Robert held his breath. He expected at least some sign of impact. A rumble. The distant groan of metal. But there was nothing.

He glanced at the ensign uncertainly. “Ops. Did it hit us?”

Lewis hesitated. Then: “Sir. The projectile altered course at the last moment and flew past us. The Marley...”

“What?” Robert switched the video feed to the nose camera. The Builder ship had split apart. Its two jagged halves continued forward, moving with their previous momentum in front of the Callaway. “No.”

“I’m detecting a surge of thermal energy from the debris,” Ensign Lewis said.

The two separate pieces of the Marley glowed blue along their torn edges; that azure line moved outward along the hull, leaving behind empty space in its wake.

“No,” Robert said. “No. No.”

The deterioration continued rapidly until there was nothing left of the Builder. On the thermal band, the elevated readings vanished with the last of the debris.

The bridge crew stared open-mouthed through their aReals.

“I guess we pissed them off,” Maxwell intoned.

“Ensign, are we reading any debris?” Robert asked, ignoring the AI.

“Not in the usual sense, Commander,” Lewis responded. She sounded stunned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Lewis said. “Where the Builder resided, I am detecting elevated levels of hydrogen consistent with a ship of its size.”

“What are you saying? It broke down the ship into hydrogen?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Lewis responded. “It appears the constituent molecules of the Builder and its crew have been completely converted into elemental hydrogen. Single protons orbited by lone electrons. The building blocks of the universe. The thermal energy readings I detected earlier were likely the breaking of the molecular bonds.”

For several moments Robert stared at the empty space where the Marley had once resided. While he grieved the loss of the civilian crew that had manned the Builder, a greater sorrow weighed heavily on his heart in that moment.

How are we going to get home?

“Cancel the evacuation,” Robert told Maxwell. “Helm, turn us around. Let’s retrieve the lifepods that launched already.”

“Aye sir,” the helmsman responded.

And once that was done, how was he supposed to break the news to the crew? None of you are ever heading home. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy spending the rest of your days aboard a starship in a galaxy millions of lightyears away.

Robert switched to the aft feed and zoomed in on the half-finished Gate.

He rubbed his eyes wearily.

Well Jonathan, guess I won’t be seeing you in three months time after all.

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postscript

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about the author

USA Today bestselling author Isaac Hooke holds a degree in engineering physics, though his more unusual inventions remain fictive at this time. He is an avid hiker, cyclist, and photographer who sometimes resides in Edmonton, Alberta.

acknowledgments

THANK YOU to my knowledgeable beta readers and advanced reviewers who helped smooth out the rough edges of the prerelease manuscript: Nicole P., Jeremy G., Doug B., Jenny O., Amy B., Bryan O., Lezza, Noel, Anton, Spencer, Norman, Corey, Erol, Terje, David, Charles, Walter, Lisa, Ramon, Chris, Scott, Michael, Chris, Bob, Jim, Maureen, Zane, Chuck, Shayne, Anna, Dave, Roger, Nick, Gerry, Charles, Annie, Patrick, Mike, Jeff, Lisa, Jason, Bryant, Janna, Tom, Jerry, Chris, Jim, Brandon, Kathy, Norm, Jonathan, Derek, Shawn, Judi, Eric, Rick, Bryan, Barry, Sherman, Jim, Bob, Ralph, Darren, Michael, Chris, Michael, Julie, Glenn, Rickie, Rhonda, Neil, Claude, Ski, Joe, Paul, Larry, John, Norma, Jeff, David, Brennan, Phyllis, Robert, Darren, Daniel, Montzalee, Robert, Dave, Diane, Peter, Skip, Louise, Dave, Michael, David, Merry, David, Brent, Erin, Paul, Cesar, Jeremy, Hans, Dan, Garland, Trudi, Sharon, Dave, Pat, Nathan, Max, Martin, Greg, David, Myles, Nancy, Ed, David, Karen, Becky, Jacob, Ben, Don, Carl, Gene, Bob, Luke, Teri, Robine, Gerald, Lee, Rich, Ken, Daniel, Chris, Al, Andy, Tim, Robert, Fred, David, Mitch, Don, Tony, Dian, Tony, John, Sandy, James, David, Pat, Gary, Jean, Bryan, William, Roy, Dave, Vincent, Tim, Richard, Kevin, George, Andrew, John, Richard, Robin, Sue, Mark, Jerry, Rodger, Rob, Byron, Ty, Mike, Gerry, Steve, Benjamin, Anna, Keith, Jeff, Josh, Herb, Bev, Simon, John, David, Greg, Larry, Timothy, Tony, Ian, Niraj, Maureen, Jim, Len, Bryan, Todd, Maria, Angela, Gerhard, Renee, Pete, Hemantkumar, Tim, Joseph, Will, David, Suzanne, Steve, Derek, Valerie, Laurence, James, Andy, Mark, Tarzy, Christina, Rick, Mike, Paula, Tim, Jim, Gal, Anthony, Ron, Dietrich, Mindy, Ben, Steve, Allen, Paddy & Penny, Troy, Marti, Herb, Jim, David, Alan, Leslie, Chuck, Dan, Perry, Chris, Rich, Rod, Trevor, Rick, Michael, Tim, Mark, Alex, John, William, Doug, Tony, David, Sam, Derek, John, Jay, Tom, Bryant, Larry, Anjanette, Gary, Travis, Jennifer, Henry, Nicole, Drew, Michelle, Bob, Gregg, Billy, Jack, Lance, Sandra, Libby, Jonathan, Karl, Thomas, Todd, Dave, Dale, Michael, Frank, Josh, Thom, Melissa, Marilynn, Bob, Bruce, Clay, Gary, Sarge, Andrew, Deborah, Steve, and Curtis.

Without you all, this novel would have typos, continuity errors, and excessive lapses in realism. Thank you for helping me make Cradle of War the best military science fiction novel it could possibly be, and thank you for leaving the early reviews that help new readers find my books.

And of course I’d be remiss if I didn't thank my mother, father, and brothers, whose untiring wisdom and thought-provoking insights have always guided me through the untamed warrens of life.

— Isaac Hooke

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