by Jamie Sawyer
“Huh,” Ving said, staring back at the holo. “Well, it isn’t secret any more.”
The Valkyrie’s scanner was soon populated with energy signatures consistent with human starships. The outer orbits of the system were choked with vessels. This was Battlegroup Perfect Storm, assembled and ready to move on Ithaca.
“The war’s started without us,” Feng said.
“Then we had better deploy our secret weapon,” Captain Heinrich said. He strolled towards the open view-ports, looking out at the alien fleet. “We have the Aeon.”
I nodded. “That’s the idea, sir.”
“Fly us into friendly skies,” Captain Heinrich ordered, “and make contact with the fleet.”
“Yes, sir,” said an officer. “Running identification pattern check.” She paused. “I’ve found the UAS Defiant, flagship of the fleet.”
“The Defiant?” Heinrich said. “Good choice. She’s a damned fine ship.”
The UAS Defiant was as big as a space station, a true symbol of Alliance supremacy among the stars. Her hull bore the identifiers of the Alliance Navy, the flag of the United Americas, and the badge of assignment to the 1st Battleship Division. She was screened by dozens of other Navy assets, surrounded by a cloud of Hornet space fighters and remote drone craft.
Feng pointed out another feature of the titanic warship, as we came in to dock. “We’re not the only visitors,” he said. “Secretary Lopez is riding with the fleet.”
The unmistakable outline of Secretary Rodrigo Lopez’s space yacht, the Destiny, came into view. The ship was attached to one of the Defiant’s docks. The yacht somehow reminded me of a parasite, attached to a much larger animal, draining blood from its unwitting host…
“That’s where General Draven and his command staff will be,” Captain Heinrich said, nodding brusquely. “It’s where we should be, too. Send a transmission declaring our arrival in the theatre, and request an audience with General Draven.”
“Aye, sir.”
I turned to P. “You’d better tell our new allies to hold fire until we’ve made contact with Command.”
On the system’s outer edge, the Carcosa Gate blinked out of existence, as though it had never even been there.
We went through the rituals that came with boarding any major military vessel and embarked onto the Defiant. The ship on a war-footing through and through. Her multiple hangars were loaded with gunships and shuttles, dozens of craft sitting ready for deployment. Soldiers in tight drill formation marched by. Army Sim Ops teams wearing full combat-gear received pep-talks in hangar bays. Pallets loaded with cryogenic capsules—filled with simulants—were shuttled from one end of the ship to the other.
A welcome party made up of a couple of very strung-out looking Military Police officers greeted us at the dock. I was expecting some awkward questions about P, but these guys must’ve been briefed, because they ignored the xeno altogether. It was just another trooper now.
“Jackals,” said the lead officer. “Please accompany me to the war-room. General Draven wishes to be updated immediately.”
“Good, good,” said Heinrich. “I’m eager to report as well.”
“No, sir, not you. I’ve arranged an escort for you, Captains. You can get checked out, and fed.”
Ving started to grumble, but the idea of food settled his complaint. Heinrich wasn’t so easily placated.
“I really do think that it should be me who reports,” he said. “I mean, General Draven is my direct superior. I shouldn’t be—”
The officer waved a hand. “The general specifically requested the attendance of Lieutenant Jenkins, her Jackals, and Dr Saito. I’m sure he will see you personally in due course.”
“Fine. Just let the general know that I survived.”
With that, the Mili-Pol officers marched us through the ship to General Draven’s war-room.
The chamber was filled with staff, with a dozen consoles processing data from the front. Officers of various rank, organisation and role were collected around a large tactical-display unit, which was currently set up to show the progress of the war. The lights were dimmed, and intensely detailed tri-D images filled the air.
No matter what limb of military service they had been drawn from, Draven’s officer cadre were uniformly exhausted. All wore body-armour and carried sidearms, as though they expected the war to come for them at any moment. Even General Draven wore an armoured jacket, his desk-jockey physique straining against the solid flak plating across his stomach. Draven had been in mid-address, but he broke off sharply as we entered. The officer cadre around the table looked up. They parted to admit us to the display.
General Draven looked me up and down. “When I got the message that the Valkyrie had arrived on our scanners…” He shook his head. “I couldn’t quite believe it. Great Gaia, it’s good to see you.”
“And you, sir,” I said.
We saluted the general. Dr Saito and P looked over the schematics on the display, evaluating the development of the war effort.
Director Mendelsohn, looking as grey and worn as he’d been the last time I’d seen him, stood at General Draven’s flank.
“What happened to the asset?” he said. “The pariah-form has changed…”
“For the better,” Feng said, patting P on the carapace-clad shoulder.
“Did you all hear that?” asked an older officer wearing Marine fatigues. “Did the fish just speak… in my head?”
“Where is the asset’s voice-transmission unit?” Director Mendelsohn queried, leaning across the display to get a better look.
“And the musculoskeletal enhancements…” Mendelsohn continued. “This is truly remarkable.”
General Draven picked up on what he was really interested in. “I was informed that you bring news from the Ghost Maker Nebula. From the unusual scanner readings, I take it that these are alien ships.”
“That’s correct,” I confirmed. “We have a lot to tell you, sir.”
Director Mendelsohn stirred from his position at the display. “I’m especially interested to know about your contact with the Aeon.” He indicated Dr Saito. “I want your debrief as soon as possible, Doctor.”
“Of course, Director.”
“We should commence negotiations with the Aeon,” Director Mendelsohn said, unable to stop his eyes from glancing down at the display. “Their assistance will be invaluable in breaking through the—”
There was a sudden commotion from the war-room entrance. Every officer in the compartment reached for sidearms, turning to face the noise.
“Why wasn’t I summoned immediately? I left strict instructions that I wanted to know as soon as we had a report!”
“Sir, the war-room is in session—”
“This is my fleet! I’ll go where I damned well please.”
Draven lifted an eyebrow at me, as Secretary Lopez and his security entourage bowled into the compartment. Tellingly, the aura of anxiety seemed to escalate, rather than relax, as the group made their appearance. The officer cadre saluted the Secretary smartly, but Lopez didn’t make eye contact with a single one of them. He didn’t even acknowledge General Draven. Instead, his dark, intense eyes were focused on the Jackals, and specifically me.
“Mr Secretary, sir,” I said.
“At ease, at ease,” he replied, waving a hand to stand down the meeting, his face scrunching in annoyance. “I’ve told you more than once that I’m not interested in protocol.”
“Sir, you shouldn’t be here,” said a Mili-Pol officer, stirring at the Secretary’s shoulder. “We have security in place at the Destiny’s docking berth—”
&nb
sp; “What do you have for me?” Secretary Lopez said, speaking over the other man. “I want to know everything.”
“The Jackals have made contact with the Aeon, sir,” General Draven answered. “Lieutenant Jenkins was just about to give me her report. She’ll need a formal debrief, under hypno, and then we can begin the process of making contact—”
“There isn’t time for that,” Secretary Lopez said. He spread his hands to the holo-display, which showed the imminent joining of battle. “Are these aliens going to help us or not?”
Secretary Lopez looked around the chamber in surprise at the sudden noise in his head. His reaction reminded me of when Riggs had first heard the mind-voice.
“What…?” he managed, inspecting P from across the table.
“The pariah-form’s communication abilities have been upgraded,” Dr Saito said, in the briefest explanation I’d ever heard a Sci-Div officer give.
“Right, right,” said Secretary Lopez. He turned his attention back to the tactical-display, a frown still wrinkling his brow. “Your report, Lieutenant Jenkins?”
“We made contact with the Aeon. They have sent six ships in support.”
“Excellent,” said Secretary Lopez. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. “Then we need to shift up our assault.”
“We have some other news,” I muttered. “Private Lopez has been captured by the Black Spiral.”
Lopez scanned the Jackals, as though—for the very first time—he was realising that there were fewer of us present. The reaction was a little delayed, but his face dropped.
“My Gabriella?” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir. We can explain.”
He shook his head, as though he was trying to shake away the news, displace it somehow.
“Our mission was sabotaged by a traitor,” I started. “The Valkyrie suffered significant damage. We were boarded by a group affiliated with the Black Spiral.”
“That… that is terrible news. Really, it is. I’ll give Gabriella’s recovery some thought.”
“Thought?” Novak grunted. “She must be rescued.”
Feng was just as disturbed by the Secretary’s response. “We can’t leave her with them…”
“It has to be our priority, sir,” I said.
The Secretary shivered out a sigh. “Of course,” he said, very noncommittally. Staring down at the display again now, his mind was obviously moving in a different direction. “My daughter means the universe to me. But right now, the universe is at stake. We have a war to win. There’s no time to waste.”
General Draven paused. “How do you know that, Pariah?”
General Draven gave a slow nod. “The Spiral were more or less waiting for us when we arrived in the Reef Stars,” said General Draven. There was obvious disdain in his voice. “They have an entire fleet of ships.”
Secretary Lopez breathed out through his nose. “And apparently there are more inbound from the Core Systems, if reports from Military Intelligence are accurate.”
“They’re using the Shard Gates to out-manoeuvre our forces,” said General Draven. “Wherever they appear, the Spiral spreads the Harbinger virus.”
“Has the anti-viral solution been effective?” I asked.
“It has,” Director Mendelsohn said, “but we aren’t yet in a position to implement a targeted application.”
“The Black Spiral have launched counter-offensives across the Reef Stars,” Draven said. “Although these planets are currently being supported by Krell war-fleets from the Silver Talon, the Blue Claw and the Nova Prima Collectives, losses have been extensive on all sides.”
All forces were converging on Ithaca Star, the heart of the Maelstrom. This was where the war would be won. The system was surrounded by hostiles. The Krell forces that had dropped back to defend this sector were fighting Harbinger and the Black Spiral. Ithaca was cut off, under siege.
“This is civil war,” I said. “The Krell are turning on each other. The infected against the uninfected.”
I sensed the wave of emotion that sheeted off Pariah. Rage, anger, loss. Images flashed through my mind: by now familiar scenes of Krell homeworlds dying. Vast seabeds, once the swamp-like ancestral homes of the Krell, reduced to dry wastes. Biological cities, collapsing under the weight of Harbinger’s rot. Living starships, eating themselves from the inside out. And everywhere, everywhere, the spiralling shadow matter—coalescing, ephemeral, resonating the Shard’s call to arms through corrupted space.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Novak asked.
“I’m good,” I lied.
I might be the only one who had been affected by P’s visions, but the others had certainly felt something. Sombre faces met mine across the display.
“What are those?” Feng exclaimed, pointing to the display: at a sector marked with flashing threat icons.
General Draven’s face grew especially dark, his grey moustache the only colour on his ageing face.
“The Alliance isn’t the only faction to have a new ally in this war, son,” he said. “The Shard have arrived, and they’re just as dangerous as we feared.”
“We need to commence negotiations with the Aeon immediately,” said Secretary Lopez. “And we can only hope that our guns are bigger than the enemy’s.”
“What about the other special operations?” I asked. “The Valkyrie wasn’t the only ship to have covert orders. Have any of those missions returned results?”
“No,” said Director Mendelsohn. “Only the Jackals have returned.”
“So it’s all down to the Aeon…” whispered Zero.
Before the thought had even left my head, a security alarm chimed across the war-room. An anxious-looking officer called up scanner-returns on the display.
“Shuttle of unknown origin is requesting permission to dock, sir,” he said, focusing on General Draven.
“Then let’s meet our new allies,” said Secretary Lopez.
A security detail—headed by none other than Captain Ving—was hastily arranged to receive the Aeon’s shuttle, and within a very short period of time the aliens were aboard the Defiant.
Despite the war effort, every soldier and sailor on the ship wanted to witness the arrival of the aliens. Anxiety and anticipation crackled in the air like electricity. Troopers lined the corridors to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals, while surveillance drones and news-bots recorded the event for posterity. The images of the alien creatures moving through Defiant’s corridors, accompanied by a tide of Scuttlers, would be featured on Alliance newscasts for many years to come. This was the first contact with an intelligent alien race that the Alliance had yearned for.
The meeting took place in the Defiant’s war-room, and the Jackals were required to attend. The officer cadre stood replete in their finest dress uniforms, ready to receive the aliens.
“This is a truly historic moment,” said Secretary Lopez, pressing down his suit, his eyes flickering over the Jackals. “I’m glad that you’re here to see it, Lieutenant. That was some excellent work, in making contact with the Aeon.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Really, it was all P’s doing.”
P stood beside me, statue-still, but I could sense the alien’s mind was elsewhere. It was remotely communicating with the Aeon.
The war-room hatch parted, and the Aeon entered the chamber.
“Welcome aboard the UAS Defiant,” General Draven began, addressing the three alien visitors. P echoed the words via mind-link.
In the light of the war-room, the Aeon looked even stranger. Although they barely fitted in the corridors and compartments of the human-scaled ship, all three of the aliens were afflicted with an arthritic stoop that robbed them of their true height. The sense of age I’d felt when we first met was here in triplicate now that the aliens were out of their cryo-pools. All three wore bulky helmets, which occasionally emitted plumes of mist from valves built into the collar units. They were accompanied by an aura of pervasive cold, frost creeping across the deck as the aliens took up positions beside the tactical-display.
I saw Zero inspecting them with particular interest. She hadn’t seen the aliens on Carcosa’s surface, and the away team’s vid-feeds hadn’t been broadcasting. With child-like glee, she peered at the crystalline exo-suits the aliens wore. Those shimmered in the war-room’s low lights, throwing back reflections. The Scuttlers continued their tending process, always tinkering with some aspect of their masters’ suits. I got the impression that they were maintaining the exo-units, perhaps keeping them at optimum performance.
Captain Ving was at the rear of the entourage. He nodded at me as he entered the chamber, and I nodded back. Waving off the surveillance drones and news-cams, he sealed the compartment. I felt better knowing that he was here, for some reason.
One alien took the lead, while the other two held back. The leader’s mirrored helmet became transparent, exposing its face. That strange, almost arachnid visage appeared, and the sightless orbs of the alien’s eyes peered at me.
Director Mendelsohn started jotting something on his data-slate, nodding to himself. He could hardly contain his excitement.
