A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  One after another the five Egleesius-class ships powered their hyperspace shunts and winked out of the Sol system. The battle for Sol was over.

  * * * * *

  Epilogue

  Merc Guild HQ, Ubatuba, Brazil, Earth

  Peepo looked up as her door opened, and the Grimm walked in. Almost six feet tall, the skeletal humanoid’s skull was more pointed than a human, with eyes that looked like glowing red coals. There was no chin or nose to speak of, and its neck was extremely long and thin. While Peepo had worked with enough of them to overcome her innate revulsion of them, an involuntary chill went down her spine. She didn’t know if it was because the creature’s arms almost reached the floor or because of the lines of glinting, razor sharp silver teeth she could see when it smiled—something about it set her teeth on edge.

  The Grimm walked over to the window then looked around the room before coming to stand next to her desk. It silently looked down to see what she was working on. Consummate spies, she knew they never missed an opportunity to gather intelligence. She also knew she was tired of their games.

  “Yes?” she finally asked. “You know I can see you, right?”

  The Grimm jumped as if she’d hit it with an electric prod, and she smiled. Maybe she needed to keep one handy for the next time one visited.

  “You can?” the Grimm rasped.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I have a psychic shield that keeps me from falling under the effects of your psionic ability.” In reality she had an electromagnetic scrambler installed in the office that affected the Grimm’s ability, but there was no reason for the creature to know that, or every Grimm that came to see her would try to find and disable it.

  “Now,” she continued, “do you have the information for me?”

  “Yes,” the Grimm replied. “I found the being who was contacting you. He was in possession of the information you’ve been looking for.”

  “He had the location of the Winged Hussars Prime Base? How exactly did he come by it?”

  The Grimm’s laugh was dry and sounded like sandpaper rubbing on coal. “Most people don’t know it, but every time you go through a stargate, your ship transmits its destination to the stargate, where it is logged. No one ever checks the data, as it would be too hard to correlate whether you actually arrived where and when you said you would, but that data exists…and it can be found and manipulated by someone with master-level hacking skills.”

  “Which he obviously had.”

  “She,” the Grimm replied.

  “What?”

  “The being may have passed itself off as a male, but it turned out to be a female Tortantula.”

  “So, she was an excellent hacker,” Peepo said.

  “Yes, she was,” the Grimm replied. “She is no more, as per the stipulations of our contract.”

  “Understood. And the data?”

  “As I said, there is data resident in the stargate system that tells where ships have gone.”

  “So, it was easy to determine where Prime Base was.”

  “No…” the Grimm hissed. “There is much more to it than that. For some reason, the data that was entered in the case of ships jumping for Prime Base always matched a star system, but they never showed up where they said they were going.”

  “How did they do that?”

  The Grimm twitched and shifted from foot to foot. Could it actually be uncomfortable?

  “I am…unsure,” it said after a pause. “It seems the data was changed. Either the data resident in the stargate system was modified or—and I find this more likely—in the microseconds between transmitting their jump coordinates and actually jumping, the crew changed the coordinates they were jumping to.”

  “Why don’t you think the data has been modified?”

  “Because it would have taken a better hacker than I am…and such a person doesn’t exist.”

  Peepo shrugged, not wanting to be drawn into an argument over who was the best hacker. In her experience, there was always someone better. “So, if the data was changed, how did the Tortantula come up with the ship’s destination?”

  “The Cartography Guild has much more knowledge and experience with the operation of the stargate system than they necessarily let on. Although they profess to just be operators of the system, there is a certain group inside the guild that is able to manipulate the data they collect…even though they say they aren’t.

  “For example, different stellar phenomena affect how far a ship can jump when transiting through hyperspace. If you know the effects, and you are able to pinpoint a number of places from which ships jumped to the same destination—in this case, Prime Base—you can triangulate where the system resides. It isn’t easy, but it can be done if you have the skills. As it turns out, the group within the Cartography Guild has people with those skills, and they also have a master list of all the stargates ever made, even the ones that are currently listed as destroyed or inoperative. With these two pieces of information, you can rule out very quickly the systems that it isn’t in, thereby coming up with the system it is. The Tortantula who was trying to sell you the location of the system really did know its location…and has known it for some time.”

  Peepo sat back, deep in thought. When the shadowy online entity had contacted her, she had initially dismissed it. Other beings had offered to sell her the location of Prime Base, but this offer was different from the rest. Where others had asked for millions, and sometimes billions of credits, this one had asked for 1.21 trillion credits. The audacity of the asking price would have made her delete the message…except that it went directly to her personal account, while leaving no trace of how it got there. Her best hackers were completely unable to trace it. One moment there was nothing, the next it was there.

  The being hadn’t mentioned anything about a group or being part of the Cartography Guild, just that he—now she—was in possession of the data on the Winged Hussars base, and that she would sell it to Peepo. She hadn’t originally taken the being up on the offer as she had the Grimm working to find the location of the base, and they never failed. When they ultimately did fail, though, they had owed her for not completing the task, and she had given them the task of finding the shadowy being and recovering all the data the being had. The Grimm race had been uplifted by the Kahraman and trained as spies; they really were masterful hackers, despite her earlier thoughts. If there was any group that could find the shadowy being, it was them. And this time, they’d been successful. But there were still several loose ends…and she hated loose ends.

  “Tell me more about this group the Tortantula belonged to,” Peepo said leaning forward in her chair. “You cannot tell me you didn’t try to find out more about them.”

  “I did try to learn more about them, but the trail went cold. The organization appears to have a number of cut-outs to prevent anyone from following them up-line. Rather than continue to search, I returned with the data to complete the contract.”

  Peepo smiled. She suspected the Grimm had been replaced with another, who was now actively searching for information on the organization. The Grimm were completely amoral, and they were bred to be intelligence gatherers. They hated not knowing something. But that was something for the future.

  “I want all of the data you recovered from the Tortantula,” Peepo said, holding out a hand. The Grimm reached into a small pocket on the black skinsuit it wore, retrieved a computer chip and placed it in her hand.

  “The data on the location is on that chip.”

  Peepo continued to hold her hand out. “I want all the information you recovered from the Tortantula. Our contract stated you would return with all the relevant data. I want all the information you stole from their data banks, including the lists of stargates that have been removed from the database as being destroyed or inoperative.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Peepo interrupted. “I know you have other copies of the data; you may do with them as you wish, but you will give me a copy.” Sh
e could feel the creature pressing on her mind, and its outline started blurring. She pulled the laser pistol from under her desk and fired several times at the alien’s leg. One of them hit, and her vision cleared as the Grimm dropped to the floor. It screamed with a high pitch wail, and her door opened as Drakayl and several of her troopers raced into the room with rifles at the ready.

  Peepo waved them back as she came around the desk. “Leave,” she ordered. “I have everything under control.”

  “Are you sure, ma’am?” Drakayl asked, looking down the barrel of her rifle at the Grimm. “How did this…thing get into the room?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Peepo said. “Leave us!”

  Drakayl nodded once, turned, and followed her soldiers from the room.

  Peepo walked back to her desk, pulled a medkit from a drawer, and tossed it to the Grimm, who had ceased wailing, but was in obvious pain. “Take that and fix yourself,” she said, “and don’t ever try that again. Next time, I will shoot to kill, not wound.”

  The Grimm was obviously familiar with the kit, as it quickly injected itself. It didn’t scream again as it did so, for which Peepo was grateful—the wail was like claws being dragged across a tile floor. After a few minutes, it climbed to its feet, although it still favored the leg. It limped to her desk while she kept her pistol trained on it. The Grimm pulled another chip from a different pocket.

  “That one has all the data on it,” the Grimm said. “Are we done?”

  “Yes,” Peepo replied. She motioned toward the door with her pistol. “The contract is complete. You may go.”

  The Grimm nodded once, then limped to the door and went out.

  Peepo walked back to her desk and fell back into the chair with a sigh. Although the meeting could have ended better, she now knew two things. First, the Cartography Guild had been lying to her. Even though they said they didn’t keep records of where starships went, they did. That was information they could use for profit—and probably did. Whether that was selling information to smugglers or legitimate corporations, the group within the guild was certainly using the data they were acquiring. When this was done, they would have to be dealt with.

  And second, she now had the location of the Winged Hussars’ secret base. With the Human attack repulsed, she now had a number of the Human leaders incarcerated, as well as their operational Raknar. She allowed herself a small smile. She would be able to deal with the Cartography Guild in the near future because this war would be over soon…very soon.

  She commed Drakayl. “Get me Admiral Galantrooka on MGS New Era.”

  * * *

  Under the Merc Guild HQ, Ubatuba, Brazil, Earth

  Jim looked at the restraints on his wrist. The pain was constant. They’d used some kind of nanites to attach it to him. He figured it was meant to be painful; that only made sense, but the restraints only hurt slightly more than the rest of his body. The Besquith mercs who’d taken him into custody had beaten the shit out of him as they hauled him into their transport. He had no doubt they would have ripped him limb from limb had they not been under explicit orders.

  During the trip to Ubatuba—a small city on the coast and the real headquarters of the alien presence on Earth—he’d only gotten a brief glimpse of the other Raknar drivers. It was enough to confirm they were alive, and that was something big to hang onto. It helped him deal with the pain. The devious little machine they’d attached to his pinplants locked them from his use and kept him from doing anything else about the pain, or even accessing the fucking things. Again, Peepo had thought of everything.

  He sat in the gloomy cell and tried to think of anything except the thoughts that kept coming to him. Sergeant Scott Mays and his partner, Aura, dead in their very first battle. His vaunted Raknar Corps defeated. The slaughter they’d wreaked on São Paulo. The borderline insane rage he’d felt at losing the Raknar. The lack of realization when Hargrave and his Cavaliers died in a senseless diversion. What a complete and utter disaster. How could it get any worse?

  The door ground open.

  “Colonel Cartwright,” a high-pitched voice said in English, “we meet again, at last.”

  “Hello, Peepo,” he said without looking up.

  “General Peepo.” Jim snorted and looked up. She was standing in the door, looking exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her in person on Karma. She looked considerably more smug, though. “You’ve certainly been busy since we first met.”

  “As have you. Enslaved an entire people, impressive.” She smirked, her whiskers twitching. “Well, all except the Hussars.” He made a whooing sound. “Oh, they are not going to be happy you killed their leader.”

  “I’m unconcerned with them,” Peepo said and made a dismissive gesture. “We’ll finish what we started in New Warsaw soon enough.”

  Jim felt a cold shiver run down his spine, despite the too-warm cell. “What do you want from me, then?” he asked.

  “I want to know how you operated those Raknar,” she said.

  Jim grunted, then gasped a little at the pain in his ribs. The Besquith had done a real number on him. If he hadn’t gotten the nanite treatment years ago, he’d probably have a bunch of broken ribs, instead of bruised ones. “I’ll bet you do,” Jim said, then shrugged. “I guess you don’t know everything.”

  “There are ways of getting answers out of you, with or without your cooperation,” she said. “I’d much rather not have to kill any of your friends.”

  “No amount of threats or torture will give you what you want,” he said with far more conviction than he felt.

  “You’re talking about your little Fae friends,” she said. Jim gasped despite himself. “Yes, I know about them. Brilliant little sophonts; they’re the secret to your control of the Raknar.” Jim ground his jaw closed, and she laughed. “How they helped you figure it out is a mystery. We know they escaped before you were captured. We even have some security footage of one.”

  “But you didn’t capture them,” Jim said, just managing to not make it sound like a question.

  “No,” she admitted, then shrugged again, “but we will.” She turned to go. “I’d consider cooperating,” she said as the door ground closed, “for all your sakes.”

  He sat in the cell for an unknown time. The restraints gave him full movement of the cell, though using the toilet made him stretch to its limit and hurt like hell. He slept, and they brought food, he guessed, twice a day. Nobody else came to ask him anything. The server who brought the food was Human, a twenty-something man who never said a word. When Jim spoke to him, the man ignored him. By the end of the fifth day, Jim didn’t even look up as the server came in. At least, not until the server spoke.

  “Hello Jim.” His head came up in surprise at the familiar feminine voice. “It’s been a while,” Adayn said.

  * * *

  EMS Pegasus, Hyperspace, Proceeding to Prime Base

  Sansar prowled the empty passageways of the ship’s night cycle, if prowled could be used to describe pushing off from bulkhead to bulkhead to move about in the zero G. Her body was tired—achingly, crushingly so—and she longed to try to get some of the rest she needed, but she knew what would happen.

  The dream.

  As soon as she closed her eyes, she knew she would instantly be teleported into the dream where she and Nigel Shirazi had to defend Prime Base. She understood, now, why only two of the Horsemen were there for the defense. Jim Cartwright had been captured—at least she hoped he hadn’t been killed in the final minutes, anyway—and Alexis…oh, Alexis…

  She left a trail of droplets in her wake as the tears overflowed her eyes, ran down her cheeks with her sudden accelerations, and were left behind her. The fact that Alexis’ second-in-command had been the one to betray her…

  Maybe Nigel was right; maybe you couldn’t—no, maybe you shouldn’t—trust any of the alien races. They thought differently, and…

  She slammed into the bulkhead as a waking vision overtook her. Stunned, she rebounded
from the bulkhead, leaving a trail of red droplets from her nose to join the tears.

  Sansar had no idea how long she floated in the middle of the passageway, lost in the vision, but the next thing she knew someone was shaking her.

  “Ma’am?” a voice asked. “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

  She looked down to find a Jeha holding onto a handhold with two of its lower feet while some of its upper ones grabbed her and pulled her to the bulkhead. Suddenly, the touch of an alien was more than she could bear.

  “I’m fine,” she spat, ripping her shoulder from the alien’s claws. She pushed off as hard as she could, leaving the stunned creature behind.

  Suddenly, she knew where she needed to go, and she traversed the corridors without any further thought. Although she had stopped crying after running into the bulkhead, the tears began again as she neared her destination.

  Catching the handhold at the hatch, she knocked twice, then tried to wipe the majority of her tears away.

  “Get fucked!” a voice yelled from the interior.

  “Nigel, it’s me, Sansar,” she called back. “Can I come in?”

  “No,” Nigel replied. “I’m getting drunk. Go away!”

  “I need to tell you something…” Sansar said. “I…I had a vision…”

  The seal on the door was imperfect, and Sansar heard him mutter, “Fucking women,” but there were also sounds of movement. After a couple of seconds, the door opened, but only enough for Nigel to talk through. He looked like Sansar felt, with matching red-rimmed eyes and the remains of tears shining on his cheeks.