Galactic - Ten Book Space Opera Sci-Fi Boxset

by Colin F. Barnes

  Six large figures clambered out of the back of the vehicles, dressed in black armor-plated suits and angular graphite helmets. Mach zoomed in on the side of the ship. The stocky aliens hunched over and carried long metallic energy weapons with glowing red dots on the sides. Standing straight he guessed they were at least seven feet tall, but they moved like upright primates.

  All twenty-four aliens surrounded the side entrance in a semicircle.

  “That’s a nice welcoming committee,” Sanchez said. “They don’t exactly look like a friendly bunch.”

  “I don’t think they want a battle,” Adira said. “Only suicidal maniacs would stand outside a ship with handheld lasers and start one.”

  A ten-meter-high droid, with a large window on the front of its square body, thumped across the landing zone on two mechanical legs and stopped behind the armored aliens.

  Mach focused the top camera on the window of the droid. A three-eyed alien sat inside. A purple shiny suit stretched around its bulky frame.

  A ping came from the comms console and the alien inside the droid moved its downturned mouth. “Welcome to Tartarus. Please excuse bad Salus talk.”

  The crew crowded around the screen and stared at the scene outside.

  Mach returned to his chair. “I’m Captain Mach. We are not here to fight. We only seek information.”

  “What information?”

  “Do you know about the previous ship that came through the wormhole above your asteroids and planets?”

  “Bad ship,” the alien said. “We do not approve of it.”

  Mach let out a deep breath and felt a release of tension. “That’s the only reason we’re here. We came through the wormhole from our area of the universe. The ship’s been attacking our orbital stations.”

  “We talk and can help each other. Come outside and I’ll take you to the boardroom.”

  “We only have three suits,” Mach said. “The rest of the crew will stay onboard.”

  “This isn’t our atmosphere. Our buildings may be conducive to your body.”

  “We’ll be out in five minutes,” Mach said.

  It didn’t surprised Mach that they weren’t native to this huge, cobbled-together ring of dwarf planets and asteroids. He tried to imagine the size of the machines that constructed Tartarus. Nothing existed in the Sphere that could carry out this kind of work in a remote part of space.

  Mach had already decided who would join him. This wasn’t a task that required any level of technical knowledge. He wanted the most capable members of the team alongside him in case the shit hit the fan.

  “Adira and Sanchez,” Mach said. “Suit up. You’re coming with me. The rest of you, be ready to move. If you don’t hear from me in an hour, get out of here.”

  ***

  Mach peered into the gloom outside the airlock window. The tartaruns continued to surround the entrance. None aimed their weapons, but their size and stooped posture gave them an air of menace. Mach held his adapted laser in his left hand and placed his glove against the pad to open the door.

  “You both ready to do this?” Mach said through the helmet’s comm system.

  “Go for it,” Sanchez said.

  Adira turned to face them. “We should assume that they can pick up our speech when we’re not using our external speakers. It’s not a stretch to imagine they have frequency scanners and decryption devices.”

  “Agreed,” Mach said. “All casual conversation ends here.”

  The door rose with an electric hum and the temperature reading on Mach’s HUD plummeted below freezing, stopping at minus five. He trudged down the short ramp, ready to thrust his laser forward at the first sign of trouble. The alien in the droid moved its muscular arms around a set of controls to its front. The droid’s body swiveled around and it pounded toward dull gray warehouse-sized buildings on the edge of the landing zone.

  Mach briefly paused to look at the different colored ring of dwarf planets and asteroids. It had the look of a giant misshapen bead necklace floating in space. The tartaruns who formed the semicircle around the entrance parted into two lines. They flanked Mach, Adira, and Sanchez as they followed the droid. The armored vehicles rumbled behind them.

  An electric grinding noise came from one of the buildings. A metal door, the size of a destroyer’s hangar entrance, rolled to one side. A shaft of artificial light radiated across the ground. The droid headed for the gap and entered.

  Tartaruns on either side of Mach made soft whining noises, like wind blowing through a gap in a derelict structure. The one immediately to his right pointed its weapon, a meter-long black rectangular block with a grip at the bottom, toward the open entrance and grunted.

  Mach glanced across to Sanchez and Adira. Both focused on the light ahead. Sanchez’s laser gently rocked in his grip. Mach had seen him do this several times before on other planets, usually when he expected a fight.

  They entered the building into a clean bright space around the size of half a football field. Twenty dark blue armored vehicles lined one side of the smooth silver walls.

  Across the scuff-marked scarlet floor, ten droids on folded legs had been parked in a neat row. The tartarun positioned his droid at the end and the body lowered with an electric groan. A side door punched out and slid to one side.

  The alien, now wearing a transparent mask around the bottom half of his dark gray face, jumped out and landed in a crouch on the ground. He looked at the group through his three eyes and strode toward them. A bone protruded from his back with every stride.

  “We move to next compartment and talk,” he said. “My name is Pank.”

  Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Pank turned and headed for a light blue transparent door at the far end of the area. The soldiers remained beside the vehicles as the group followed.

  Pank didn’t seem particularly threatening, but that didn’t mean much to Mach. His main concern was heading further away from the Intrepid. If the tartaruns turned out to have hostile intentions, this made an escape much harder.

  The door slid to one side, revealing another on the opposite side of a small square empty room. A tartarun version of an air lock no doubt, after Pank told them during their initial communication that this wasn’t his atmosphere.

  Mach, Adira, and Sanchez squeezed in behind the alien and waited. Pank reached into a hole in the wall and twisted his arm. The door behind them closed, and air hissed into the room from holes in the roof.

  The door in front jolted to the side and Pank led them into a darkened room. A long black screen filled with flowing green symbols ran along the right wall, providing weak light, highlighting the faces of twelve tartaruns that sat in front of it on white blocks.

  “Head ambassador is coming to see you,” Pang said. He took off his mask. “This is engineer room.”

  “Do you have any information about the Atlantis ship?” Sanchez said.

  Mach had decided to let the tartaruns lead the conversation, in case of accidentally offending them, but he saw no harm in Sanchez putting their cards on the table.

  Pank’s prominent brow, over his large central eye, creased. “What ship? You mean wormhole ship?”

  “That’s the one,” Adira said. “Has it attacked you?”

  “Yes. Head will negotiate with you. His Salus Common better than mine. I spoke to him on our journey to the engineer room.”

  “How do you know our language?” Mach asked.

  “Speak to Head. I’m at my limit. Thank you.”

  Peering around the twenty-meter room, Mach couldn’t gauge the level of their technology. The droids, armor and destroyers were reasonably standard for developed races, but he wondered where they came from and what resources they had access to. It seemed impossible that they’d be able to build up a fleet and advanced weaponry from a series of dwarf planets and asteroids.

  A door at the far end opened and bright light flooded into the room. Pank retreated to the tartaruns watching the monitors and crouched between two of the b
locks. A single neon strip blinked alive on the ceiling, brightening the area.

  A tartarun dressed in a yellow robe over his arched body walked into the room, using his arms to assist his stooped walk. He stopped in front of Mack and rose up on his legs, towering over all three of the group.

  “My name is Borkan and I lead the Empire of Tartarus. Welcome to our system.”

  Mach extended a hand, but quickly withdrew it after Borkan flinched back. “Sorry. It’s normal for us to shake hands when being introduced.”

  “Pank tells me you want information on the wormhole ship?”

  “That’s right,” Sanchez said. “The damned thing has been causing havoc in our Sphere. Has it attacked you?”

  “Eight times,” Borkan said. “We salvaged the ship many generations ago and tried to understand the technology. It was hijacked in the Zelus Quadrant by another species and they use it to attack us.”

  “It’s been attacking us for centuries,” Mach said

  “How do you know our language?” Adira asked.

  Borkan moved to within inches of Adira’s face. The tartaruns clearly had no idea what personal space meant. “You sent out detailed signals. We extrapolated them to gain an understanding of your language. If we can harness the wormhole technology, we wanted to meet new allies.”

  Mach remembered the old programs that used to run from the comms center. When he was a junior officer, they sent long-winded messages into space in an attempt to contact new species. The CWDF offered resources and parts of unpopulated territory in exchange for defensive assistance. As far as everyone was aware, those signals fell on deaf ears.

  “Allies for what?” Mach said. The last thing they needed was to be dragged into another war, but allies against the Axis were welcome.

  “Allies to trade. Share information. We are a peaceful race, forced from our home world by oppressors. This is where we can make a deal.”

  “A deal?” Sanchez said and glanced at Mach.

  “What are you proposing?” Mach said.

  Borkan peered into Mach’s visor with his soulless central eye. “We can strengthen your ship. Your lasers are not powerful enough. You need cannon like the one we fitted to the wormhole ship.”

  “You fitted it? That thing’s been destroying our orbital stations.”

  “We wanted to arm it like our destroyers,” Borkan said. “The wormhole ship probes here but doesn’t wait, because we have the capability to destroy it. At the moment, we can’t risk chasing it and lowering the defensive capabilities of Tartarus.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Mach said. “If you’re prepared to arm us, how long will it take to install?”

  “The energy reading on the wormhole indicates that it will remain for six certas,” Borkan paused and his eye flicked from side to side. “I believe that’s fourteen more of your hours. We can concentrate on upgrading your ship.”

  “What do you want in return?” Adira said.

  “We want peace. That is all I ask, but you need to make a decision because of our time constraints.”

  The deal sounded too good to be true, but the more Mach thought about it, the more it made sense. If an alien craft arrived in the Salus Sphere and the CWDF discovered they shared a common enemy, getting the aliens to do their bidding by arming them with powerful tech was a perfect solution. It suited all parties.

  “You’ve got to understand,” Mach said. “We don’t even know you—”

  “Follow me,” Borkan said and headed for the entrance he appeared from.

  Mach turned to the others, shrugged his shoulders and followed. Borkan stood on a travelator and headed up toward a transparent glass dome. He hunched against a rail and looked around the ring of planetoids and asteroids. Mach moved to his side.

  “This isn’t our home,” Borkan said and swept his three fingers through the air. “We fled our home world after coming under attack. Everything you see here was constructed by an ancient race.”

  “Where are we?” Mach asked.

  “The coordinates are irrelevant. We are over two life cycles away from our home, many more from yours. Mine probably doesn’t exist anymore. Tartaruns believe the wormhole ship was created by the species who created this system.”

  “Didn’t you find any evidence when you arrived?” Adira asked.

  “Very little. We made basic sense of their technology, but it’s nothing like we’ve seen before. We fitted the wormhole ship with our weapons for defense, but it was hijacked soon after.”

  “Can you give us the info you have?” Mach asked.

  Borkan snorted. “I talk in generations. Your life may be long or short, but tartaruns have a long existence. We haven’t controlled the ship for twenty generations and the information is lost. We can work together and provide a better life for both species.”

  “You’re sure that’s all you want?” Sanchez asked.

  “My first priority is for my people to survive. As long as we stay on this configuration, our existence is limited. You can help us, and we can help you.”

  Mach gazed at the cobbled-together configuration in space. If this was the home for humans, they would quickly die out. He understood Borkan’s motivations, but couldn’t give any promises in terms of the Sphere.

  “How can we help you?” Mach asked.

  “Perhaps the wormhole technology information,” Borkan said. “This is the part where we shake hands?”

  Mach breathed a sigh of relief, glad Borkan didn’t ask for a planet, and extended his hand. The alien clasped his stocky fingers around it and squeezed a little too tightly, causing Mach to wince and pull away. The pain was a small price to pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mach rolled over on his bunk, stretched his arms and yawned. Clanking from the roof of the ship had kept him awake for the last few hours. The plan had been to try to catch a bit of sleep while the work was being carried out.

  That was wishful thinking.

  A quick check of the smart-screen confirmed they’d been on Tartarus for seven hours. The work was due to be completed at any time. Mach groaned, rolling out of the bunk, and headed along the corridor.

  Lassea and Tulula sat at the holocontrols. The vestan manipulated them and gave the young JP a lesson in handling. Mach thought she already did well enough, but more knowledge was welcome, especially as he had decided to offer her a full-time position on his crew.

  Sanchez slumped over the laser controls. Saliva pooled on the console below his mouth. Mach smiled and gently kicked his leg. “How’s the cannon coming along?”

  “Good morning, evening, or whatever the hell it is to you too,” Sanchez said and glanced at his smart-screen. “They’re supposed to be finished in twenty minutes. Borkan messaged us earlier. He wants to speak with you. Lassea told him you were resting.”

  “Fair enough. What do you make of him?”

  “Impossible to tell. If he were a lactern, I’d say he was shifty. If he were a horan, I’d call him polite. They’re fitting us with a powerful cannon and sending us on our way. I’d say we got lucky.”

  Mach slowly nodded in agreement. “Where’s the rest of us?”

  “Danick’s sleeping,” Sanchez said. “Four tartarun engineers came and asked to look around. Babcock and Squid are giving them the grand tour. Adira went along just in case…”

  “Where’s the new controls for the cannon?”

  “Here,” Sanchez said and gestured to the laser console. “Tulula configured it a couple of hours ago.”

  Mach watched the initial part of the construction work. Tartarun ships swarmed from the other planetoids and asteroids like flies, and were soon crawling all over the top of the Intrepid’s hull. Two huge mechanical arms on tracks carried the ion cannon over from inside one of the buildings.

  The mix of man and machinery fixed it in place.

  As soon as the ship’s integrity passed diagnostics and the configuration work started, Mach retired, confident that all was in hand. He turned to Lassea. “School’s
out for the moment. Reply to Borkan and tell him I’m available for a chat.”

  This was the point where Mach expected to learn about a catch. In his eyes, when something was too good to be true, it generally was.

  Lassea shifted across the comms console. “This is the Intrepid. Captain Mach is available to meet with Borkan. Over.”

  Mach suppressed a smile. Aliens outside the Sphere didn’t respect Salus Common voice procedure. Lassea would soon learn that a large chunk of her training counted for very little outside the fleet.

  “Borkan’s on his way,” a soft voice replied.

  Shortly after, a droid walked out of the building that Mach had previously entered. It bobbed up and down as it strode toward the ship through the gloom. As it closed in, he noticed three tartaruns sitting in the brightly lit cockpit.

  “Looks like he’s bringing company,” Mach said.

  “I’m going back to the engineering deck,” Tulula said. “Will you be okay without me?”

  Sanchez gave her one of his attempted seductive smiles. “I think we’ll live. I’ll call you if we have any problems.”

  Tulula stared at Sanchez with a blank expression. Lassea ushered her away, probably to save her the embarrassment of being on the receiving end of clumsy pickup lines.

  “You’re too old and ugly, Sanchez,” Mach said.

  “That makes two of us.”

  The droid’s legs lowered and the three tartaruns, two with large packs on their backs, exited through the side and jumped to the ground.

  “Follow me,” Mach said. “I’m not celebrating until we’re at the other side of the wormhole.”

  Sanchez rose from his chair and cricked his back. They walked to the inside door of the air lock. Borkan stood outside the outer door with two taller guards behind him.

  Mach palmed the black glass identification plate to open the outer door. All three moved inside. The eyes on the side of Borkan’s head flicked around, looking at the smooth white walls, but his front one remained focused inside.