Galactic - Ten Book Space Opera Sci-Fi Boxset

by Colin F. Barnes

  The panel next to Sanchez bleeped, confirming pressurization. Mach opened the inner door. “Borkan, I heard you wanted to see me?”

  “Work is due to be completed in twenty minutes,” the alien said and hunched inside. “The wormhole is weakening, so it’s imperative that you transfer through while the walls remain stable.”

  One of the guards followed, slipped off his plastic mask, and took a wheezing gulp of the ship’s air. Its wide chest puffed out as the alien exhaled. Mach received an eye-watering waft of sulfur, making him squint.

  Sanchez took a step back and cupped his nose.

  “Ship is good,” the maskless tartarun said.

  Borkan and the other slipped off their masks. Thankfully the sulfur smell dissipated after the aliens took a few more breaths.

  “Who are your guests?” Mach said.

  “This is Daskell and Kaskas,” Borkan said, gesturing his chubby hand at both in turn. “They will provide tartarun representation in your part of the universe.”

  “You want them to come with us?” Sanchez said.

  “We would like the wormhole technology,” Borkan said. “They will report back directly to me.”

  Mach scrutinized the grizzled aliens. They would be excellent in a fight, but he still felt like he didn’t know enough about the tartaruns to even contemplate bringing on extra crew. “If we capture the Atlantis ship and manage to decode the technology, I’ll give you my own personal guarantee that we’ll provide the information.”

  Borkan stepped toward Mach and glared down at him. “We are friends, yes? This is what you might call our guarantee. They both have knowledge of the ion cannon, and if you want to bring down the wormhole ship, you can’t risk any faults.”

  “Babcock and Tulula are fine for our requirements,” Mach said. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “This is not an offer. This is part of the deal. We have suffered at the hands of many species and won’t risk being used. With respect, we don’t know if you’re lying.”

  Both tartaruns closed in behind Borkan. One whined something in his earhole and he replied in similar tones.

  “What do you think they’re saying?” Sanchez whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Kaskas said you are increasing your chances of success,” Borkan said, answering the question directed at Mach. “Any problems and the wormhole ship will consume you. They can operate the weapon effectively and speak with the head of the Salus Sphere on my behalf.”

  Mach thought for a moment. Their proposition didn’t seem unreasonable, and they could offload the pair as soon as they got to Fides Prime. He still wasn’t happy with the request and decided to test Borkan’s resolve. “If we refuse to take them?”

  “We are a proud race and don’t take kindly to insults,” Borkan said. “Turning down a request after we provided help would be seen as such. In order to maintain our dignity, I would have to order your extermination.”

  It seemed they had little choice and the request was more of an order. Borkan had a strong hand to play and he knew it. Although it did make sense to have some expertise onboard in case of any teething problems with the new installation, especially if they quickly hunted down their prey.

  “I’ll agree, but only as a temporary solution. If we haven’t found the Atlantis ship after our crew has gained a good level of competence on the electronics, both will still be dropped off at Fides Prime.”

  Borkan held a hushed conversation with Daskell and Kaskas and turned back to face Mach and Sanchez. “I will give you this concession. Hopefully you will complete your mission and our two species can be allies.”

  Mach doubted the senate would be interested in brokering a treaty with a race of aliens stuck in the ass-end of nowhere, on a ring of glorified rocks. But Borkan didn’t have to know that. He would find out when the others were safely back in the Salus Sphere.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” Mach said. “We may see each other again someday.”

  “Next time I will deal with your heads,” Borkan said. “Please let me leave.”

  The statement sounded strange, but Mach assumed Borkan equated the ranks and positions on Tartarus to the ones in the Sphere. He felt relief that the negotiation was over although the threat to force them to take two extra crew members sent a chill down his spine.

  ***

  Mach relaxed in the captain’s chair and glanced across the screens.

  All tartaruns had left the immediate vicinity of the ship. Tulula confirmed from the engineering deck that they were good to take off, and the two JPs ran through the launch sequence. Adira sat next to Sanchez and kept glancing over at Daskell and Kaskas. The introductions were frosty and both only spoke a few words of Salus Common. They stopped by the comms console and silently watched proceedings.

  “Just waiting for the ships to clear,” Danick said.

  Hundreds of tiny dots scattered away from their planetoid on the scanner array.

  Mach doubted he would ever see this place again. Researchers might visit out of curiosity if the CWDF harnessed wormhole technology, but he had no reason to come back. He also didn’t want to bargain with the tartaruns again. This time their request managed to suit both parties, Mach didn’t want to be around when somebody compromised their position.

  “All systems good for takeoff,” Tulula said through the comm speaker, her voice partially obscured by Babcock and Squid holding a busy conversation in the background. “Gamma and LD at full performance.”

  “Thanks,” Mach said. “Ask Babcock to scan for the Atlantis signal as soon as we reach the other side of the wormhole.”

  “He’s already preparing for it.”

  A smile stretched across Mach’s face. The two tartaruns were an inconvenience, but one he could live with. More importantly, they had added a powerful cannon to their arsenal and were getting out of Tartarus in one piece.

  Lassea turned in her chair. “Ready to go?”

  Mach nodded. “Keep a screen on the wormhole. I want to watch our approach.”

  The Intrepid’s engines roared and the ship vibrated. It lifted off the ground and dust clouded the cameras. Lassea increased thrust and they powered into the sky. Kaskas whined and hunched further down. They quickly broke through the atmosphere as their velocity increased and the Gamma Drive smoothly hummed to a higher pitch.

  On the central overhead screen, the wormhole appeared as an orange dot in the middle of a black expanse. It quickly grew in size as they approached. The tunnel was still intact although the walls appeared slightly fainter.

  “You know the drill,” Mach called down to Danick and Lassea. “Straight to the rotating part and let her drift.”

  Danick fired the retro thrusters as they entered the orange swirl and they headed toward the bright light at the end. The ship gently rocked as the walls, half a klick either side of them, spun.

  Blocks of static peppered the overhead screens.

  Lassea leaned back, taking her hands away from the holocontrols. The shimmering light at the end increased in brightness and a loud crack split the air when they hit the white sheen.

  Moments later, the screens returned to normal, Salus Sphere coordinates flashed up, and the previously damaged orbital appeared on the scanner array.

  Sanchez let out a long breath. “I thought we’d end up even further away.”

  Daskell and Kaskas gazed up at the screens and talked to each other in their soft undulating tones. Adira narrowed her eyes as she continued to observe them. Mach knew she didn’t trust the tartaruns, but paranoia was part of her makeup after spending years as a CW assassin in hostile territories. It was what made her so good at her job.

  “Mach,” Babcock said through the speaker, “I’ve picked up the signature signal straight away. Sending the coordinates to the main console.”

  “You’re a legend, Kingsley,” Mach said and watched the digits flash across the screen. “Keep tracking it.”

  “That’s a big jump,” Lassea said and loo
ked over her shoulder. “Do you want me to switch to LD?”

  Mach smiled. “Do you need to ask?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Three distinct voices spoke in hushed tones. They weren’t speaking Salus Common. Morgan couldn’t quite understand what they were saying but recognized the language as vestan.

  He opened his eyes, but the bag was still over his face, making everything black. A tight knot of muscle in the back of his neck sent a pulsing, throbbing ache all the way down his spine.

  He groaned and tried to move his arms and legs, but the synapses seemed to be slow as viscous cooling oil. When he shuffled his body around on the chair on which he sat, the voices became quiet.

  The bag was taken off his face. The cool air wicked away the sweat that had formed on his forehead and neck. He choked when he tried to speak. A figure in a dark robe brought a cup of water to his lips. He took a sip to wet his throat and said, “Where am I? What have you done with the woman?”

  “I’m right here,” Seazza said from somewhere to his right. He turned his head, wincing at the pain. She was there, leaning her elbows on a huge granite slab tabletop. Next to her were three old vestans.

  They looked alike, their foreheads low and angular, their eyes set deep and glowing a bright yellow color, reminding Morgan of what the horans looked like, hiding in their birthing caves.

  The figure to his right pulled his robe down away from his face, revealing it was 6160. Morgan blinked, getting used to the light in the room. The walls were carved stone and the ceiling was domed and about five meters high. Hanging from the dome was a ring light, glowing pale blue, casting the room with a cool shade.

  “I’m sorry we had to do it this way,” 6160 said. “Here, take a stim for your neck. We never intended to hurt you, but we had to move quickly; the embassy is in turmoil. We don’t have much time and we have an agreement to settle.”

  The young vestan, his body rippling with muscles beneath the thin robe, leaned behind Morgan and applied the healing stim. Within seconds, Morgan’s muscles grew cold as the compound set to work with its nanoparticles eradicating the source of soreness. Morgan leaned back into his chair and let out a moan of relief. His back unlocked and he stretched his arms above his head, feeling the muscles stretch, and let go of the tension.

  “That’s much better,” he said. “Thanks. But what do you mean about the embassy?”

  It was then that Morgan realized who the three older vestans were staring at him from the other side of the great table. He leaned forward and squinted, making sure his recognition wasn’t being fooled by the dim light.

  “You’re… the Three.”

  They nodded together at the same time, then spoke as one. “6160 told us of your plight and your idea. Rumors of war circulated in the embassy, splitting the loyalties of our dignitaries. Some would prefer to stay and negotiate continuing peace, but others fear the repercussions from the horan leaders. The latter see this time as theirs and see an opportunity to weaken the CW for good.”

  “But you three don’t?” Seazza said. Her face was pinched with anxiety as she spoke. “We can’t go to war, not now, not while the—” She broke off at Morgan’s stare.

  “We know about the Atlantis ship,” 6160 said, now standing a few meters to Morgan’s right, outside of the ring light, shrouded in shadows. Seazza, sitting to the vestan’s left, looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

  “You do?” Morgan prompted. “We didn’t discuss it; we were only talking about the impending war. I thought the president and the CWDF had kept the mention of the Atlantis ship under wraps.”

  “I’m afraid, Admiral Morgan,” the Three said, “your president has been compromised and is under the influence of the Horan Hierarchy.”

  “You know this for sure?” Morgan said.

  “With complete faith,” they replied.

  “So, we must do what must be done, Atlantis ship or not. You must realize we can’t go to war again. Last time nearly destroyed us all.”

  “Our people have pledged to assist the Horan Empire,” 6160 said. “They don’t know the Three are here. Admiral Morgan, I did as you asked. I brought you here, but now you need to consider what exactly it is you want.”

  The Three spoke, talking for Morgan as though they saw into his mind. “You’re unhappy with your government. You feel ostracized and ignored. You feel old and useless. But you also see the bigger picture. As do we. We have a proposal for you, Admiral.”

  He could guess what it was. The vestans were the reason why the horans had the technological advantage these days. The vestans were the reason for the horans’ confidence in their movements, and their predictions of a complete and total victory. Although the horans also had the lacterns, they weren’t of the vestans’ class of skill. They weren’t prized for their technology.

  “I’m listening,” Morgan said, eyeing Seazza, who remained passive. It seemed she had already had a conversation with the Three before Morgan had awoke. What had she promised them, if anything?

  6160 placed a smart-screen onto the table and gestured across it. The holodisplay lit up, creating a 3D visual of the Salus Sphere. Red areas were those previously occupied by Orbitals Twenty-Two and Forty respectively. Around the Sphere, a blue line indicated the NCZ and beyond that, yellow triangles represented the horans’ forces, including those of the vestans.

  “As you can see,” the Three said, indicating with their long, bony fingers to the astromap, “the Axis numbers multiply every day, mostly from vestan-built ships. Our planet alone has provided over fifty-three percent of the Axis’ ship quota. It’s of no surprise to you, I’m sure, that this time around the vestans hold the fate of the Sphere in our hands.”

  Morgan decided to get straight to the point. “So what do you want from me in return for your people to leave the Axis and join the CW?”

  “Two things,” the vestans said. “First, the Atlantis ship.”

  Morgan spluttered. “What? We’re not even sure the attacks are from the Atlantis ship. It could be some other enemy…”

  “It’s the Atlantis ship,” they replied. “Our people have inspected the area with the horans and confirmed it with our data. You see, Admiral, the vestan people have been searching for this ship before the CW was even formed. To you it’s a myth, to us, it’s our birthright.”

  Seazza regarded Morgan with an expression that implored his cooperation. Originally, he had thought he would just give some information to the vestans in return for their withdrawal from the NCZ, but this… was so much more.

  “I can’t do that,” Morgan said. “You know the Axis already have the technological advantage over us. If I give up the Atlantis ship, if I even have it, that is, then I’ll be giving the Axis the biggest weapon in the known universe. That would be both career and physical suicide.”

  6160 ran a hand through his black hair. “Not necessarily, Admiral.” The young vestan looked to his elders. “I think it’s time to lay our terms on the table. Time is running out.”

  The Three leaned forward together. The room seemed to shrink and the temperature drop as they said, “Give us the Atlantis ship, and we won’t just withdraw from the NCZ, but we’ll withdraw from the Axis entirely… on one condition.”

  “Go on,” Morgan said.

  “You ensure Vesta is included in the Salus Sphere and protect us from the horan and lactern backlash.”

  “I would love to promise that, but I don’t have that kind of authority.”

  Seazza grinned and stood from her chair. She walked over to Morgan and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Admiral, your role, although not active in the chain of command, is still valid in the Fides Prime list of hierarchy. Even as a ceremonial position, you outrank everyone in the senate. Everyone apart from two people.”

  “This is madness,” Morgan said, an incredulous smile stretching on his lips. “My position has always been ceremonial. I hold no such rank.”

  Seazza’s smile didn’t fade. She lifted her forearm t
o him so he saw the page of text on her smart-screen. “This,” she said, “is the original treaty papers of the Commonwealth. Let’s just say you’re not the only one with friends in high places.”

  Morgan focused on the text and began to read the small print. The temperature of the room suddenly got much hotter. He stared up at her, then stood, planting a kiss on her lips as he grabbed her shoulders. When he broke away, he said, “You’re a genius. I never thought to look.”

  Seazza blushed but held his gaze. “The old fools never read it either. It’s right there in the CW treaty. You outrank everyone in political terms apart from the president and vice president.”

  “So,” the Three said. “This means you have the authority to give us what we want, and for the CW to remove the technological advantage from the Axis. In return for increasing the Salus Sphere’s border to include Vesta, not only will you have our tech at your disposal, but you’ll also have our top scientists, who will share their discoveries of this Atlantis ship with you and the rest of the CW. This will ensure peace for a millennium.”

  “But what about the president and the vice president?” he asked.

  6160 pulled the robe’s hood over his face.

  “In every agreement, there has to be a compromise… and a sacrifice.”

  The Three gestured over their smart-screen, replacing the map with a new treaty. An empty space lay at the bottom, waiting for Morgan’s thumbprint.

  So this was it, then. It had come to this: a coup. And it was all on his shoulders. Though he felt no strong loyalty to the president and vice president, he was essentially signing their death warrant—but it meant saving millions, perhaps billions, of lives if they could avoid war.

  The other problem was that he didn’t have the Atlantis ship like they thought.

  Not only would Morgan be sanctioning two assassinations, but he would be doing so on the chance that Mach would come through for him. The entire fate of the Salus Sphere would rest on Carson Mach and his band of criminal mercenaries.