I think the ship is accelerating, Ghost thought, interrupting Tonya's morbid introspection.
You may be right. Tonya was thankful yet again for her companion. She propelled herself carefully to the hole to look outside. We are accelerating, she thought My suit sensors detect a definite blue shift in the stars ahead. Also, the ship is extending its drive spines. They've got an imbalance in their nodes, though. Do you feel that shake? I can't believe they're pushing the ship this hard.
Our taskforce must have taken out the Federation base in this system, thought Ghost. Maybe we won the battle.
Maybe. I doubt it, though. The taskforce probably just fulfilled its mission. I wonder where we're going.
Where is the next nearest Federation base?
I don't know, Tonya replied. Oh, here we go!
The ship lurched when it ripped through space-time into hyperspace. Violet light flickered through their refuge as the ship's negative energy nodes went to full power and the ship dropped rapidly through the adjacent layers of hyperspace, going deep for a fast run.
Great. Now we'll never get inside.
We'll be fine, Tonya thought with more force than actual conviction.
You will be. I'm not going to last a few weeks out here. Radiation is a factor, too, you know. The negative energy fields don't stop everything.
Stop it, Tonya replied. We're going to get through this. We've been in worse situations. We have no idea how long the trip will take. It may only be a day or two. If all else fails, I'll contact them and surrender.
You really think they'd open a hatch while in hyperspace?
Tonya didn't answer.
I didn't think so, Ghost thought grimly. Besides, they'd just space us anyway when they found out who we are.
Θ
Geoffrey Meeks was a few days ahead of schedule in leaving the tank, but the message from Drake had priority over everything else. He was learning not to be self-conscious about nudity, although it was extremely difficult. The technicians who pulled him out of the tank were both rather lovely young ladies, and it was only with the utmost concentration that he kept from blushing. In the place and time he was from, Midwestern America in the early twenty-first century, people had been prudish about nudity.
Not that Geoffrey had anything to be ashamed of. The weeks in the simulators under bio-feedback training had sculpted his body into an image of athletic perfection, and he'd never shared the obsession most men had about the size of their endowment. He was comfortable with himself, but he'd hung suspended in the tank of quasi-amniotic fluid for the last ten days, plugged into myriad life-support and bio-feedback machines. Although he was glad to be out and breathing real air again, he was covered in slime, and wrinkled from immersion, to boot. Plus, it was cold in the medical bay. He certainly didn't look his best.
He now knew far more than he had ever wanted to about how to kill. Geoffrey had to appreciate the irony: he had resisted Drake's constant pressure to learn more about warfare, only to end up in a place like this having it bottle-fed to him. Confronted with so much conflict, it would have been easy to become fatalistic and view all of human history as periods of brutality interspaced with moments of depravity. Fortunately, Geoffrey's unique perspective of two slightly different histories shielded him from such thoughts. He knew there was hope for humanity. In his world, many people hadn't thought humanity would survive as long as it had in this place. 2957 was a long way from 2017.
Of course, humanity might not survive the war that was tearing his home apart even now. Drake had snatched him from the jaws of nuclear fury and brought him to this place. Geoffrey still wasn't sure why. Drake was a difficult man to understand. Years before, he had taken on the role of a kindly uncle in Geoffrey's life. He'd even helped finance Geoffrey's way through college.
It was strange for Geoffrey to think that he was only alive because of an accidental encounter. If he hadn't met Drake and gotten caught up in the wild events and politics of Drake's home, he'd be dead. Dead from the nukes or from the biological terror that was sweeping the surface of his Earth.
He couldn't allow himself to think of that.
Geoffrey was worried about the message he carried. He had known Drake for years; the man wasn't prone to giving false warnings. Drake was worried, or he wouldn't have said anything.
That scared Geoffrey more than anything he had ever experienced. He had no idea what could worry a person like Drake, and he didn't want to know. He had a bad feeling that he was going to find out, though. His dealings with Drake always seemed to be like that. Drake mentioning the war only made things worse. Geoffrey didn't know much about it, but he knew there had been a war, a big one, in the not-so-distant past. Drake had served as a general, or maybe the general – Geoffrey wasn't clear on that part. If something like that war was coming here, Geoffrey wasn't entirely certain he didn't want to take his chances back home.
The techs finished removing the somewhat embarrassing plumbing attachments, and Geoffrey took a quick shower. At least they had real showers. He'd been worried, but apparently water was still the best way to get clean in the thirtieth century.
It troubled Geoffrey on some level that the Concord had fitted him with a set of implants when he had first arrived. Not that he could actually detect any difference in how he felt, but the datalink and neural computer were in his brain. He'd expected to have some sort of jack in his skull, but everything was done wirelessly.
Geoffrey grinned at the thought as he toweled dry and dressed in the light blue jumpsuit and the shoes that reminded him of lace-less running shoes. He was a very long way from home. Definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto, he thought to himself. He ran his fingers over the short blond stubble in his head and flexed his shoulder. He had a bruise where Drake had clutched it in the simulation. That shouldn't be possible, but that applied to many things where Drake was concerned. Geoffrey found a somewhat androgynous ensign waiting for him just outside the locker room.
"The admiral is waiting for you, sir," the ensign said nervously in a light tenor. "I can take you to him whenever you are ready."
"I'm ready now," he replied. He was amused at being called sir. He had no rank or place in this society. He guessed that the young man was simply addressing him as sir out of habit.
Geoffrey eyed the young man curiously as they walked. He hadn't met many of the Thyrna-Shae yet. The young ensign – who couldn't have been more than seventeen – had the pointed features distinctive of that race. Geoffrey hadn't been able to find much information about them in the computers. He'd have to remember to ask someone when he got the chance. Add it to the list, he thought.
Two guards in intimidating black powered armor stood at attention outside the office of the admiral, armed with lethal looking rifles. One of the guards was a Rhyrhan. Geoffrey had heard that the union of the Rhyrhan Combine and the Sentient Concord was nearly finished. Rhyrhans now matched humans, population-wise, in the Concord. He didn't understand what all that meant, but Geoffrey had to admit to being in awe of the huge aliens. He'd never even seen an alien before coming to the Concord. Drake didn't count, of course. Not really.
Just keep telling yourself that, Geoffrey.
The ensign announced him to the guards.
"Step up to the scan plate, please," the Rhyrhan said. There was a definite feminine tone to the silky contralto voice. Geoffrey wondered if the guard was a female. He didn't know enough to know if such things even applied to Rhyrhans. If this one was a she, her voice was damn sexy.
There was a sharp prick at the base of his thumb as the scanner took a sample of blood and processed his DNA for identification. It seemed a little overkill to him. Who else could he be?
Θ
It screamed in wretched agony.
The sounds echoed through the deep tunnels under the sands of Kismet. The tunnels were tens of millennia old, from long before humans had come to this world. Those first humans had been shipwrecked, intending to land upon the nearby sister world of Ho
me. They were religious extremists, uninterested in science or exploration, wanting only a place to practice their religion in peace. Those humans hadn't explored much, or mined the planet. They cared only for their religion. That was good for the Jaernalith, because if the tunnels had been discovered, they would have been hunted down and slain as demons.
The ancient war that had driven the Jaernalith from the Earth had long since been forgotten by them, except in legend. They'd burrowed deep into their chosen world, hoping to avoid their Masters, but the Dark Ones had found them again anyway, and their Masters had not been pleased with the deception. The Jaernalith were thankful then for the settlers. The humans gave their Masters another target for their... appetites.
Not that it had helped the entity who writhed in agony now.
When it had come back from Serendipity, burned and wounded, it had been cast down by the Masters. They had little use for the weak. It mattered not that it was young, inexperienced. It was recently Fallen, but more powerful than most. It had accepted the rule of the Masters, but only until it could find a way to become powerful enough to overthrow them. The Masters knew this, of course. They expected nothing less of their minions.
That hadn't stopped them from punishing it.
The entity screamed again in rage and frustration, and the Jaernalith attendants assigned by the Masters scurried away, seeking a place of safety. The pain from its wounds was maddening, threatening to shatter the fragile hold it had upon itself, and that only fueled the hatred. The dark, shadowy figure promised itself that the pain it would visit upon the one who had dared to harm it would echo through the nightmares of the human species for all eternity.
The plan had been followed carefully, without deviation. It should have worked. The human should have turned. He should have gleefully given himself to the power he was offered. The techniques had worked before: intolerable pain followed by an offer of salvation, a way to make the pain end. He should have reached for Ascension, and Fallen instead. The others had.
Twice had he been offered this, and twice had he refused.
It was unheard of.
The Masters had found the Jaernalith on Kismet and called out across space to summon the others of their kind to them. The entity had heard and come. It hoped to find a way to slake its rage, its hunger, but the Masters had no wish to end its suffering. They had used it. The Masters were ruthless in their domination of other entities. They devoured those who had refused to bend to their will. The ones who survived the tests were sent out in various guises to manipulate and twist the fates of the billions of souls the Masters found themselves holding dominion over.
Those who failed were punished.
The entity didn't know how long its torment had lasted. It felt as if millennia had passed since it had failed to turn the one called Tebrey. And why did that name stick in its mind? Why could it always remember Tebrey? What made that one so special?
The entity's screams amused the Masters; they would allow it to live as long it continued to amuse them. But what else could it hope for?
Hope, it said to itself. What a strange thing to think.
Chapter Four
The door slid open, and Geoffrey was directed into the admiral's office. He'd only been in the presence of Admiral Shadovsky once before, when he had first arrived, and he hadn't exactly been in a good mental state at the time. Not only had he not understood the language yet, he'd been in shock from the loss of his world.
"Hello, Mr. Meeks," said the admiral, standing up from behind his desk. He was shorter than Geoffrey had expected, and the white hair was a shock. Everyone else he'd seen aboard the station looked so young.
"Thank you for seeing me, Admiral." Geoffrey wasn't sure if he was supposed to salute or not, but the man didn't seem to expect it.
"No trouble at all," Shadovsky said. "Gives me a break from sifting through intel."
The door whooshed shut behind Geoffrey and locked. The security light blinked on over the door.
"Have a seat."
"Thank you, sir." Geoffrey sat, suddenly nervous. He ran his hand through his hair – or started to, and encountered only short stubble. They'd shaved his head while still in quarantine, and kept it short while he was in the tank. He knew next to nothing about the man in front of him. Drake had picked Geoffrey up and dropped him off without saying much to him, and even their brief conversation later had only been about their friend Jason.
Shadovsky sat back down with a sigh. "I've been wanting to talk with you for some time. How have you been adapting? I know things here must be quite different from the life you knew."
"I'm doing okay, sir. It feels strange to think I'm on a station orbiting an alien planet. We didn't have much of that sort of thing back home. Not outside the movies, anyway. I have a million questions, but it seems as if I have to learn a thousand things just to understand the answer to any one of them."
"That seems like a normal enough response. How do you like the simulator?"
"Well, honestly, I don't like it at all."
"Good," the admiral said with a laugh. "You're not supposed to. Drake asked me take care of you. He wanted me to make sure you learned the skills you'd need to survive. The simulator tank is the fastest way we have to teach you." Shadovsky looked at Geoffrey with narrowed eyes. "You're not happy here, are you?"
"No, sir." Geoffrey felt oddly as if he was back in high school and had been called in front of the principal. He had this nagging worry that he'd done something wrong in asking to see the admiral. "I didn't ask to see you so I could complain, sir."
"I didn't think you did. The medical VI said that you had a message from Drake. I'm curious as to how he contacted you."
"I'm curious about that, too, but I learned a long time ago not to ask questions of Drake that I wasn't sure I really wanted answered. At least you believed me when I said he did. I think the virtual intelligence is worried about my sanity."
"That is one of its functions."
Geoffrey let that soak in for a moment. "I'm not sure how he contacted me, sir. I was in the simulator when it all changed, and then he was talking with me. It was… disconcerting."
"I can imagine. He seems to have that effect on people. What was his message?"
"He wanted me to warn you and a man named Tebrey that things were moving here. He didn't say what. He said things were going to start getting bad here, and that he would be back as soon as he could. He also wanted me to deliver a private message to Tebrey. I'm sorry I can't discuss that part."
"I wouldn't ask you to," Shadovsky said. "What did he mean by start getting bad? I suppose he doesn't think what's happened so far is already bad."
"I don't know, sir. I don't know how he'd know what's been happening, either. I don't even know what's been happening – I haven't reached current events in my training yet."
"We're at war," Shadovsky said simply. "We aren't doing so well, either. We won at Dawn, but not before they bombed the hell out of the planet. Our fleet is stretched thin, trying to defend hundreds of worlds. The Rhyrhans and Slith have bolstered our forces, but they have their own worlds to protect."
"I didn't know," said Geoffrey, trying to conceive of a war on such a scale.
"We're taking the fight to the enemy, but it hasn't been going well. The Federation outnumbers us, both in planets and in population. We have a technological edge, but it's marginal at best. One of the things I've wanted to talk to you about," Shadovsky said, "is what we are going to do with you. We can't afford to support dead weight. We've spent a lot of resources in training you; we'd like to know we're going to get something out of it."
"I suppose I assumed you were training me to fight," Geoffrey said. "I can't say I wanted to join the military, but I understand that you need everyone you can get right now. I don't know what good I would be, though."
Shadovsky opened an air screen to the side of his desk. "Your aptitude scores were good – surprisingly good – well within the requirements for military serv
ice in the Concord Fleet. You have done well in the simulators, despite what you may think. Your medical scans showed that you have an unexpectedly high potential for psionics. I'm guessing you wouldn't have known that. And, of course, there is your relationship with Drake to consider."
"Purely platonic, I assure you," Geoffrey said quickly.
"I never thought otherwise." Shadovsky studied Geoffrey speculatively for a moment. "I profess to being a bit surprised at how well you've adapted. It must have been a shock for you."
"Yes, sir. But I've traveled with Drake before. I even visited his home once. After that, anything else seems normal, no matter how different it is from what I grew up with."
"What was it like?"
"Sir?"
"Drake's home. We don't know a lot about him, you know."
"I didn't know, actually. It was... strange. Wild. Everything changed constantly. I don't know if I can describe it." He wasn't sure he wanted to, either. "May I ask how you know him, sir?"
"He showed up in my office on Dawn looking for Tebrey. We had a... disagreement. I tried to kill him before I knew who he was."
"No offense, but I'm surprised you're still alive."
The admiral laughed. "So was I, at the time. He probably thought I would be more useful to him alive. I admit that I raised an eyebrow when he said you were a friend; I wouldn't have thought he had any."
"He can grate, certainly, but he really is a good guy. He has a lot of friends. I've seen him go to great lengths, often at great personal risk, to help them out. I didn't know he had a son, though." Geoffrey didn't think this was the time to mention that there might be others.
"Tebrey," said Shadovsky. "Commander Hrothgar Tebrey, Special Operations, formerly of the Earth Federation. He's shaping up to be a powerful ally in our war."
The Madness Engine Page 3
