“Captain,” Alpha chirped, “we have contacts!”
A dozen red dots lit up on the holomap. All were positioned on the other side of Garndon-Three.
“It’s not the Dreg again, is it?” Tag asked. “I’m getting sick of those little assholes popping out from the ashes of all these stations.”
“No,” Coren said, “their gravitational signals seem to be much larger than the Dreg craft. They are more likely to be of Mechanic origin.”
“Drone-Mech?” Tag asked.
Bracken patched into their communications. “I’m assuming you are seeing what we are.”
“Contacts opposite us. Mechanic signatures.”
“Correct,” Bracken said. “I’ll attempt contact now.”
She patched her communications in to the Argo.
“Unidentified Mechanic vessels, this is Commander Bracken of the MES Stalwart. Do you read?”
The first of the ships lifted beyond the shelter of Garndon-Three. It cut through space like a shark. A battlecruiser.
“This is new,” Sofia said. “Usually the bastards fire by now.”
“Captain, we have a weapons lock,” Alpha reported.
“Hmm, spoke too soon,” Sofia muttered.
“Ready the shields,” Tag said. “Prep PDCs and chaff. Sofia, keep impellers hot. If we need to, we’re diving into the shelter of the planet.”
Tag magnified the battlecruiser’s image on his holoscreen. It bristled with energy cannons, and several gaping torpedo bays revealed the warheads within. All around it, smaller fighters zipped in defensive formations.
“Got a lock on them?” Tag asked.
“Affirmative,” Coren said. “PDCs ready to go as soon as one of those fighters peels away.”
“Good,” Tag said. Electricity coursed under his skin. His heart began its ascent into his throat, and he tried to swallow hard, unable to quell the rising sensation of anticipation driving him now.
Again, Bracken attempted to hail them, but there was no response.
The rest of the Mechanic fleet slowly drifted from beyond the planet. More battlecruisers, corvettes, and even other craft that looked more suited for trade than war. Then another type of ship appeared: a dreadnought. The enormous ship drifted at the center of the fleet. The monstrosity of a ship dwarfed even the largest battlecruiser, and Tag remembered how easily a ship like that had turned most of the Montenegro’s fleet to shredded alloy, shattered ceramic, and escaping plasma.
“Holy shit,” Sofia said. “I’m just going to throw this out there, but I really don’t want to try boarding one of those again. Especially when it’s just us and the Stalwart against that goddamn fleet.”
Bracken’s voice chimed in over the comms once more. This time it was a private communication. “I’m somewhat optimistic that they haven’t given us the ‘where does your loyalty lie’ line, and they haven’t launched anything at us.”
“It is strange,” Tag said. “I want to be hopeful, too. But why haven’t they responded?”
Then it struck him. This was the first time they had seen a human ship. Outside of Coren and Bracken’s crew, no Mechanics knew about the existence of humans. And with their civilization destroyed, these people were right to be skeptical of encountering new races.
“Captain,” Alpha said. “I’m getting some incoming attempts to access our computer systems.”
“Is it similar to the Drone-Mech AI and comp system overrides?”
“No,” Alpha said. “It’s simply a data request. They’re trying to syphon off our databases.”
Tag would do the same thing if he could. When he couldn’t trust another being, what better way to find out if they were friend or foe than read their minds?
“Let them,” Tag said.
“Captain?”
“Let them read all the data they want. Whatever they need to prove we’re not Drone-masters or some species in league with the Drone-Mechs. If they try to do anything else, shut them out immediately.”
“Understood, Captain.”
Tag switched the comms back to Bracken. “I think they want to know who we are.”
“They haven’t yet responded over comms, but they are also trying to access our data logs,” Bracken said. “We’re allowing them read-only access and monitoring their activities.”
They waited for several minutes in silence. The occasional creaks of shifting and expanding deck plates accompanied the thrum of the impellers and the electric buzz of the energy-shield generators. Each crew member remained fixed at their station, hovering above their terminals, ready to react at the slightest provocation. Tag’s breaths were shallow and infrequent. All his senses were tuned into the holomap before him, waiting for the first sign of a warhead leaving one of the Mechanic’s torpedo bays. He almost jumped from his seat when Alpha spoke.
“Captain, their data read stopped,” she said.
“They’ve ceased their data syphon on us, too,” Bracken said over the comms.
A single ship broke from the swarming fleet and shot across the void toward them.
“They’ve relinquished their weapons lock,” Alpha said.
“Weapons, stand down.” Tag tapped his fingers on the crash couch’s armrest as the holoscreen focused on the incoming ship. It was a small vessel, no more than a short-range shuttle. The holoscreen flickered, and a flat-faced Mechanic appeared.
“Commander Bracken, Commander Brewer. I would like to request a meeting.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Forty-five minutes later, Tag found himself aboard the Stalwart for the first time. The Stalwart’s conference room consisted of furnishings as black as the space around them. To Tag’s surprise, several lush green plants bloomed from planters built into the ship’s bulkhead. At first Tag had assumed they were merely for decoration. While they had waited for the Mechanic representative from the dreadnought fleet to arrive, he had decided there must be some functional purpose as well. A careful sniff of the air revealed a sweet fragrance in the local atmosphere—not too cloying but not subtle. Bracken had been happy to explain that the plants assisted with the air recycling and freshening efforts of the normal life support systems within the Stalwart.
Their amicable conversation ceased when a new Mechanic arrived. He came without an escort, but that didn’t stop Bull and Sumo from staring him down suspiciously as Bracken and Tag greeted the alien.
“Welcome to the Stalwart,” Bracken said. She held her hands out at hip height, opening her palms to the ceiling. The other Mechanic placed his palms in hers to complete the formal Mechanic greeting.
“It is a pleasure to work with you,” the other Mechanic said as if delivering a line from a script. “Let us strive to build our future together.”
According to Sofia’s brief explanations of Mechanic customs before Tag left the Argo, this was the proper way to respond to any formal welcome. It was all about work, function, and cohesiveness with the Mechanics. Tag opened his hands to offer his own version of the Mechanic greeting. His arms didn’t bend in quite the same way, and he couldn’t curl his fingers as far back as Bracken had.
The Mechanic held out a single hand. “Is it not human custom to greet another with a handshake? Did our data leech from your ship lead us wrong?”
“No, you got it.” Tag gripped the Mechanic’s hand, more at ease delivering a handshake than the uncomfortable bending maneuver made necessary to complete the Mechanic greeting. The alien squeezed hard until Tag feared he risked fracturing a bone. “That’s...that’s good. Pleasure to meet a Mechanic that isn’t trying to shoot us out of space.”
“We share this same pleasure,” he responded.
They sat around the table. Bull and Sumo settled against a bulkhead, still cradling their weapons. Sharick and another Mechanic soldier stood next to them, equally tense.
“I am Commander Forcant,” the Mechanic began, placing his hand over his chest. The black fur covering his skin seemed to twinkle with a gray-blue twinge, and patches of fur appe
ared less dense across his skinny arms. Tag wondered if this was what an older Mechanic looked like. “I’m here on behalf of Admiral Martix.”
“He sent you as a sacrificial offering in case we were Drone-Mechs?” Bracken asked.
The blue-gray fur atop Forcant’s brow wrinkled.
“Apologies,” Bracken said. “I’ve been spending too much time talking to humans, and their phraseology is rather infectious. Admiral Martix wasn’t certain of our allegiance, so he sent you, is that right?”
“Based off our data analysis, we felt confident you are not, as you call them, Drone-Mechs, and that the humans, much to our surprise, are actually helpful to our mission.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we surprised a Mechanic,” Tag said. “And what exactly is your mission?”
“The same as yours, apparently,” Forcant said. “We seek to limit, if not eliminate entirely, the effects of the nanites and identify the Drone-masters.”
“And take back Meck’ara?” Bracken asked.
“Of course. From there, we hope to rebuild our forces and mount a counterattack on these Drone-masters.”
“Then include the Stalwart in your plans,” Bracken said. “We are happy to be of assistance.”
Forcant looked to Tag. “I thank you for reuniting the Stalwart with the rest of the free Mechanic navy, and I understand if you would like to return to your own people now.”
“Not going to happen,” Tag said. “We didn’t come all this way to shuttle the Stalwart here. We’re in this fight until the end. I need to know who in the three hells these Drone-masters are and why they perverted human technology to enslave your people.”
“Humans are remarkably stubborn,” Bracken said. “They cling to us like the Dreg.”
“Very well,” Forcant said. “I suppose it won’t hurt to have another ship in the free Mechanic fleet. Even if it is vastly inferior.”
Tag laughed. “You came from that dreadnought, right?”
“I did.”
“Our inferior ship and crew destroyed one of them.”
“I read the data feeds,” Forcant said. “I would be impressed, but it was run by a crew of Drone-Mechs.”
“Tough crowd,” Tag said.
The trio continued the meeting for another two hours. Forcant explained how Admiral Martix had managed to retake the dreadnought from Drone-Mech forces. Over the past few months, he had scraped together a fleet through a combination of finding other free Mechanics and guerilla-style boarding assaults on Drone-Mech strike groups. Something slowly filled Tag as they discussed the free Mechanic navy’s expansion and their efforts to retake what had been stolen from them by the nanites. The tightness in his shoulders and gut finally started to leave. Dread that they would never find another free Mechanic, that their entire mission would be scrapped, was now slowly being replaced with a new hope, a hope that began to fan the dying embers of what had been left into flames. Hope that said this might all be possible. They might actually stand a chance.
After all, they had a dreadnought on their side now.
When Forcant finished his stories, Bracken went on to explain their own journey, along with their encounters with the Dreg and the sapphire ship. Tag hoped to hear an explanation for the unexpected encounter with the ship. They had never seen another, and the mystery of their origin had nagged at him ever since.
“Sapphires?” Forcant asked. “We have not encountered this species before. We’ll document the encounter and see if anything comes up from our intelligence agencies.”
Tag summarized their findings on the air recycling particles, and Bracken described their plan to use the Lacklon Institute to transmit a grav-wave signal that would interfere with the Drone-Mech’s programming.
“We were also pleasantly surprised to see your scientific efforts,” Forcant said.
“Half my crew are scientists or engineers,” Tag said. “It’s what we do.”
Bracken gave a slightly human shrug. “What the human said is true. Likewise, we may not be a military ship, but we are glad to assist in eliminating the Drone-Mech menace.”
“All of this will drastically improve our current battle plan to retake Meck’ara,” Forcant said.
“Good,” Tag said. “I look forward to doing our part to retake it.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say that,” Forcant said.
“How soon do you anticipate engaging with the Drone-Mechs on Meck’ara?” Bracken asked.
The corners of Forcant’s mouth twitched. Tag had come to recognize the almost nonexistent expression as a Mechanic smile. “Admiral Martix has made it clear that with your help, we may be able to launch an assault to drastically shift the tide of this war.” Forcant’s twelve fingers steepled together. “And given that surprise and your scientific developments may be our only options, he has indicated that we should commence our hyperspace jump to Meck’ara immediately.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Once again the Argo entered hyperspace, but this time they were surrounded by dozens of ships. It gave Tag comfort to finally have more than just the Stalwart as an ally. And for the last time until they hit normal space around Meck’ara, his crew was gathered in the conference room, awaiting a final briefing from him.
There was just one person he hadn’t yet invited.
“Captain Brewer,” Lonestar said, standing from the crash couch within the brig.
Tag pressed a command on the nearby terminal, and the polyglass door slid open. He sauntered in and sat opposite Lonestar on the sole chair within her chamber.
“We’re entering Meck’ara space soon. Admiral Martix wants us to retake the Institute with Bracken’s crew. They’ll be providing orbital support, but I imagine anything they can provide us is going to be pretty limited.” He searched his mind again, wondering if this was the right move. If this was all a mistake. If his instincts were right. Had he really considered what he was about to do? “As it stands, we won’t have much in the way of ground forces. And the truth of the matter is I need every rifle I can get when we get to the Institute.”
“You want me on this mission?”
“Want” wasn’t the word Tag would have used. He had felt certain her intentions were truly in the best interest of the SRE. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t completely sure that there wasn’t still some lingering doubt in Lonestar’s mind about Tag and Coren’s involvement with the Drone-Mechs.
“I need you out there,” Tag said, evading her question. “I need another marine. Gorenado won’t be in any shape to leave the regen chamber, much less leave the ship. And Alpha and Coren will both need to keep their focus on implementing the grav-wave algorithms with Bracken’s team once we break into the Institute.”
“That doesn’t leave a whole lot of people to watch your backs.”
“It doesn’t,” Tag said. “So you can appreciate my dilemma.” Tag let her shift uncomfortably on the crash couch. The eagerness in her eyes was evident. She appeared almost like a dog looking to its master for approval. He hated it. “I don’t want you to come. Your stunt almost got us killed. Almost got the Stalwart killed. There’s no coming back from that. I still think that you thought you were doing the right thing. What you did was immensely stupid, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to forgive you for it. I want to, but I don’t know if I can.”
“You don’t let a wild mongrel mess with your sheep more than once,” Lonestar said. “I understand, Captain.”
He jabbed a finger toward her. “If I let you out of here, if I bring you on the mission, I pray to the gods you don’t prove me wrong.”
“I won’t,” Lonestar said. “I won’t. I know my word might not be much good to you, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect you and the Mechanics.”
“I hope so,” Tag said, standing. He punched a button on his wrist terminal, and the polyglass door slid open again. As he moved to the exit with Lonestar, she paused.
“Captain?” she asked.
“Yes?�
�
“There’s still something I don’t get about you. All that grim talk over coffee,” she began, “what was that really about?”
Tag rubbed the back of his neck. “It was a discussion I was having with Alpha.” He didn’t want to delve too deep into the most disturbing of Alpha’s comments. It wouldn’t be helpful to compromise her trust in him or to reveal the moral challenges Alpha’s relatively young mind was grappling with. “She was trying to understand what it was like to be a soldier. What it meant to hold someone’s life in your hands. And, I suppose, how that makes us human.”
“Yeah. That’d be a tough thing to explain.” She paused. “You know, I remember the first time my dad had me help him slaughter a cow on the ranch. I didn’t like it. I still don’t. Don’t think he likes it either. When people eat meat, it’s something that has to be done. And that’s kind of how I think of all of this. All this fighting, this war stuff. I like saving people. I like knowing I’m protecting other humans, colonies. Other sentient species.
“But the killing isn’t something I like. It’s just something we have to do. And I don’t ever want to mix those feelings up. I like the saving and defending part, but I don’t like the killing. You can tell Alpha that.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a chance to talk to her yourself,” Tag said.
“Thing is,” Lonestar went on as if Tag hadn’t said anything, “some people can’t separate those feelings. Some people like the killing. And they scare me. I was glad to find out you weren’t like that. It was the tipping point in realizing what I’d done. Because people who do like the killing, who do like the fighting, I sometimes think they’re broken. That they can’t be fixed.”
Tag couldn’t help the slight shudder, hoping Alpha wasn’t broken. That her revelation after helping Gorenado had been enough to guide her moral trajectory as her synth-bio brain continued to develop.
Edge of War (The Eternal Frontier Book 2) Page 23
