The Atlantis Ship: A Carson Mach Space Opera

by A. C. Hadfield

  “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 27

  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.

  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 looked over her shoulder. “Do you want me to switch to LD?”

  Mach smiled. “Do you need to ask?”

  Chapter 28

  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.