“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 to 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.
A bead of sweat tracked slowly down his forehead and dripped to the table.
Seazza, 6160, and the Three waited with bated breath.
Morgan closed his eyes and pressed his thumb against the treaty.
“Good,” 6160 said. “We’ll handle the
other business.”
The Three stood and took it in turns to shake Morgan’s hand. “We’re happy to join the CW,” they said. “We’ll announce it to our people in a few hours. We’ll recall our ships from Axis command. You did the right thing, Admiral.”
He wasn’t so sure… He trusted Mach implicitly, but if he couldn’t find the Atlantis ship now, the treaty would fail, and he’d have the blood of many on his hands.
Chapter 29
“We’re coming out of LD,” Mach said. He leaned forward in his chair, looking closer at the holoscreen in front of him, eager to see their prey.
Hunting the Atlantis ship reminded him of the days he would go hunting for perillion with Morgan. Mach was just a teenager back then, but those days and nights, stalking the great perillion lizards through the jungle, remained with him forever—the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush when he caught sight of his quarry.
The difference now, though, was that the Atlantis ship was infinitely more dangerous a target—and far more elusive.
Babcock and Squid entered the bridge and took a position to Mach’s right. Adira and Sanchez were stationed either side, in control of their weapons. Danick was resting after a long shift during the L-jump. Lassea had taken over navigational duties.
She yawned and looked up at the holoscreen. “… and we’re out of the L-jump,” she said. The ship groaned as its hull resettled after the high intensity of an FTL jump. “Engaging Gamma Drive,” Lassea said.
The ship rocked once, twice, and settled on course with a low hum, the fusion crystals now perfectly aligned. “Your new friend did a fine job,” Mach said to Babcock.
“She’s fascinating,” the old man said. “Really knows her way around a fusion array. I knew the vestans were advanced, but she really showed me things I never knew were possible with such a drive setup. We’re blessed to have someone like her onboard.”
Sanchez looked up at Babcock with a lecherous smile. “She’s not a bad looker either, right, Babs?”
“Trust you to go to that,” Mach said. “Leave ’em alone, and concentrate on your weapons. We should be coming in on the ship any minute.”
Sanchez saluted him and returned his focus to his control station.
“Any sign of its signature signal?” Adira said.
“Yes,” Squid replied, hovering close to her. She lifted a hand to swat it away, but it anticipated her movement and drifted away with surprising agility. “I’ll forward it to the holoscreen.”
“We tracked it all the way through the L-jump,” Babcock said. “The signal is interesting in that it changes frequency seemingly at random, but I’m sure there’s an algorithm there somewhere that dictates it.”
Mach enlarged the view on the screen. Their cameras rotated toward the signal’s direction. It was a very narrow beam, so they got an accurate lock on their target. “Enlarge two hundred percent,” Mach said.
The ship’s AI responded.
Within the vast expanse of utter blackness, Mach could see a pinprick of orange light. “There,” he said, pointing. “That’s the damn ship. Lassea, full power to the Gamma Drive. We’re just two AUs from it. We might be able to catch up before it… wait, it’s—”
“Preparing a wormhole,” Adira said, glancing up at the screen. “That orange light is not coming from its engines. It looks just like the wormholes it uses to travel. It’s jumping again already.”
The two aliens stepped onto the bridge and considered the view on the holoscreen. “We’re too late,” the elder of the two said. “We should try to intercept.”
“That’d be great in theory,” Mach snapped. “If we knew where the fucking thing was going. Do you two have ideas? What about the signal… Could you help figure that out?”
“We could try.”
They just stood there looking at Mach, their expressions impossible to determine.
“We don’t have time,” Babcock added. “We’ll have to jump through the wormhole again and see if we can gain some distance on it. Lassea, could you L-jump us through it from here?”
The JP ran some calculations and turned round to face Mach. “It’s theoretically possible, I suppose, but no one has L-jumped to a specific point this close. We could miss the wormhole altogether. I don’t like the chances of coming out of an L-jump that close to a gravitational anomaly. We could severely damage the ship.”
“I’m game for this if anyone else is,” Adira said with a bored tone to her voice. “All this chasing around and not shooting anything is getting real old.”
“Right on,” Sanchez said. “Let’s just do it. We can’t risk letting the Atlantis ship getting to a strategically dangerous area in the CW. We’re so close.”
Mach thought about it. They’d taken a lot of risks up until now, but each time it had paid off. He had spent long enough gambling to know that kind of luck would run out sooner than later, and if it did… well, that could be final, for all of them.
But it was also a gamble to let the Atlantis ship get too far from them.
If they didn’t follow it, then they could lose another orbital, or worse.
The crew was waiting for his decision.
“Do it,” he said to Lassea. “We’re L-jumping through the wormhole.”
She just swallowed and returned to her console to enter the commands. Babcock and the two aliens looked at the holoscreen with a tense gaze. Sanchez and Adira gave him a curt nod each, telling him he had made the right decision. He just hoped their confidence in him wasn’t misplaced.
Lassea counted them down. “Engaging the LD in three… two… one…”
The ship shuddered as the engines kicked in. The light around them twisted before the holoscreen faded to black. Lassea ran her hands across the holocontrols. “We’re heading for the wormhole, course is fine and…. Wait, it’s changed, the coordinates are different.” Lassea’s voice rose an octave with panic. Babcock dashed across the bridge to her. He bent his head to read the screen. “She’s right; the ship has changed course.”
“What?” Mach said, standing out of his chair. “How? Where the hell is it going?”
Babcock ran a hand over his face and locked eyes with Mach. “It’s set a course for… Larunda.”
“No way,” Mach said. “How? Only a handful of people know the coordinates to there.”
“It’s a close jump,” Lassea added. “What’s Larunda?”
Adira answered for Mach. “It’s the heart of the CW intelligence. Fides Prime is the public capital, but Larunda is the real seat of power, and the place that the entire Salus Sphere’s safety hinges on. If that orbital is destroyed…” Adira turned to look at the aliens. Mach had noticed their interest and their silence too.
“Change course, now,” Mach said.
Both Lassea and Babcock tried, but the ship wouldn’t respond. “We’ve got no control; we’ve been locked out,” Lassea said. Mach tried to connect to the ship’s AI with his smart-screen, but his access was refused.
NO ACCESS flashed on his screen.
Lassea was correct; he and the rest of his crew were no longer in charge of the Intrepid. But neither was the AI. That had gone offline. There was something else, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who the likely culprit was.
He turned to the two aliens, who had remained conspicuous by their silence.
“It’s you two, isn’t it?”
They just blinked at him, feigning ignorance, but they tensed and shifted, now looking far more menacing than they had before. They whispered something to each other in their own language.
Mach felt disgusted that he’d let these creatures onto his ship, how they had so easily duped him. Danick and Tulula came rushing onto the bridge, blocking the main corridor. The two aliens spoke to each other with their weird, breathy language of theirs. The one on the right, named Kaskas, opened its third eye and glared at Danick, then Mach.
Its friend, Daskell, launched toward Sanchez, reaching out with its huge, muscular arms. Sanchez, still sitti
ng at his console, yelled with surprise as he received the full momentum of the alien. The two of them rolled over the console and wrestled on the floor to the far left of the bridge. They had fallen down to the perimeter walkway, the barrier obscuring Mach’s vision.
Kaskas made a deep hissing noise to Mach’s right.
Mach stood up and drew a laser pistol from his hip holster, but he wasn’t quite quick enough, Kaskas’ attack far quicker than he had anticipated.
Danick didn’t know what to do. He barely had time to react when the tartarun grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him over its great rounded back. The force knocked Tulula against the bulkhead. Danick slammed to the floor in the middle of the bridge with a hard thud and a snapping sound. His back arched up, his mouth stretched in a breathless rictus of pain.
Mach aimed for the alien and fired. The laser bolt flew wide of Kaskas, the beast spinning and ducking out of the way. A flash of blue light came from the hull, but the laser wasn’t powerful enough to punch a hole. If it did, while they were in an L-jump, they’d all be liquidized in a moment.
With a leap, Mach jumped from his elevated central position to the main floor of the bridge. He brought his gun up and aimed for the creature’s back. He fired. The laser struck an armored section near its shoulder blade.
The shot had little effect; it leapt forward toward Danick’s prone, writhing form. Adira, to the right of it, spun out of her chair, drawing her knife, but the tartarun’s right arm flew out, striking her in the ribs.
Adira collapsed against her chair with a scream.
Before Mach could off another shot, Kaskas slammed its great bony fists down onto Danick’s head, crushing the poor kid’s skull with a terrible squelching sound.
Lassea screamed a terrible wail as she watched on. She fell to her knees, her arms out to Kaskas as though begging for it to take back what it had just done, but the alien just looked up at her and spoke in its gusting voice. Standing tall, it swatted Squid from the air and lurched toward Babcock, who had backed away.
The Atlantis Ship: A Carson Mach Space Opera Page 21
