March shrugged. “It is not the fault of the prey if the hunter makes an error in observation.”
Tashnakha let out a hissing Ninevehk laugh. “Indeed not. Your arm was created by the Machinists. I recognize the design.”
“Yes,” said March.
“Yet you are not part of the Final Consciousness,” said Tashnakha. “They have endeavored to kill you several times.”
“Yes,” said March again.
“Why?” said Tashnakha. “Why are you not part of the Final Consciousness?”
“I left the Machinists,” said March. He tried to think of a way to phrase it that the Ninevehk would accept. “They showed themselves to be without honor, to be cruel and cowardly hunters, and I departed them.”
The Hunt Commander considered this. “I see.”
“But since I won our challenge,” said March, “I am free to go.”
“Perhaps I made an error in judgment,” said Tashnakha. “Perhaps there is no need to interrogate you. Perhaps we can hunt together against a mutual foe.”
“What do you mean?” said March.
“Let us speak together, you and I,” said Tashnakha. “Your safety is guaranteed, by my honor as a Hunt Commander of the Ninevehk Empire. It seems that we share some of the same prey.”
“Very well,” said March, looking around the concourse. He didn’t want to return to Tanner’s Tavern. It was possible Lorre was still there. Of course, Lorre had to know about March’s confrontation with the Ninevehk. Perhaps the entire point of Lorre’s conversation had been to delay March long enough to encounter Tashnakha and his party in hopes that the Ninevehk would eliminate him. He pointed at a restaurant on the upper level of the concourse. “Let’s go there. I just need to call my crew and let them know I’ll be late.”
“As you wish,” said Tashnakha.
###
The restaurant catered to carnivorous races like the Ninevehk, which meant March was possibly the only sapient in the establishment who did not have claws, fangs, bony armor, or poisoned stingers. The menu offered a staggering array of meats from a variety of different worlds. Since predators tended to be territorial, the tables were spaced well away from each other. Glass cages held a variety of alien animals, fish, and insects, and the more discerning patrons could choose the specific creature that would serve as their main course.
Subcommander Vastathak waited on the concourse with the rest of the Ninevehk soldiers, but March and Tashnakha seated themselves on opposite sides of a table. The table had been made of polished stainless steel. March supposed that made it easier to clean if a patron desired to eat his meal raw.
“You have survived a hunter’s challenge,” rasped Tashnakha, “so perhaps we should speak candidly to each other, as hunters do.”
“That would be best,” said March. “But I have secrets I cannot betray. I expect you have the same as well.”
Tashnakha bobbed his head in a good imitation of a human nod, though it looked rather like a serpent preparing to strike. “Then I will ask a blunt question. How did you come to become involved in the destruction of the Covenant?”
“Bad luck,” said March. “I am a Calaskaran privateer, and a job took me to the Tamlin system. I arrived just as the Machinists destroyed the Covenant. My ship was at the edge of the battle, and I managed to pick up one of the lifeboats. Before I could escape, my dark matter reactor was damaged, and I had no choice but to come to Monastery Station for repairs.”
“You speak the truth,” said Tashnakha, “but not the entire truth, I think. No matter. Either way, you have become entangled with the demon machine the Machinists have built.”
“Demon machine?” said March, his thoughts flashing to the device in the Tiger’s strong room.
“That was why we came to Tamlin’s World,” said Tashnakha. “We received word that the Machinists would destroy a Calaskaran cruiser that had acquired the demon machine, and we planned to destroy both the Machinists and their vile device…ah, I see. You were to deliver the machine to the cruiser, but the Machinists arrived before you could hand over the device.”
“Then you weren’t there for the Machinists, but for the machine,” said March. “I thought as much.”
“This machine,” said Tashnakha. “Do you know what it does?”
“No,” said March. “Do you?”
“I fear not,” said Tashnakha, “but it is a thing of the demons. It will work evil.”
March decided to take a risk. The Ninevehk were enemies of the Final Consciousness, and while the Ninevehk would never be friendly with humans, perhaps the enemy of his enemy need not also be an enemy. “I’m not sure, but I think it is a mind control device of some kind. From what the Machinist agents said, I think it is designed to convert an unwilling victim to their cause.”
“They can do that already with their cybernetics and hive implants,” said Tashnakha.
“But those are obvious,” said March. “I suspect this machine can make someone into a Machinist agent without leaving any obvious traces. You see what a deadly weapon this could make.”
“The unseen hunter,” said Tashnakha, “is more dangerous by far. The Final Consciousness is a blight. A disease. Like a pack of hunters infected by a disease of the mind, though the disease is cybernetic in origin. The Ninevehk usually do not care about the wars of humans, but the Final Consciousness has begun meddling with the tools of the demons. This cannot be allowed.”
“Demons,” said March. “What do you mean by demons?”
Tashnakha scoffed. “Do you think the Ninevehk superstitious primitives, Captain March? The Machinists do.”
“No,” said March. “I’m not Calaskaran by birth, but I joined their church. So I don’t scoff at religions I don’t understand. But the word ‘demon’ is a human word, with human meanings. I doubt that has the meaning of the Ninevehk word, and you are using the word ‘demon’ to describe something that has no equivalent in human language. You say the Machinists have been consorting with demons. Tell me what you mean.”
“It is not the way of the Ninevehk to discuss their sacred laws with aliens,” said Tashnakha.
“Perhaps we are two hunters who share the same prey,” said March.
Tashnakha hissed. “For a human, you are adept at grasping the ways of the Ninevehk.”
He was. March supposed he could thank the Machinists for that. They had made him into an Iron Hand, an assassin, a killer…a hunter of men.
“There are many different kinds of hunts,” said March.
“If you succeed,” said Tashnakha, “if you take the device back to your hunt commanders, what shall become of it?”
“Our scientists will study it,” said March, “and try to find a way to defend against the device. If it truly is an undetectable mind control device, we will try to find a way to detect its presence and defend our people from its power.”
“Then your leaders will not try to use that power for themselves?” said Tashnakha.
“I don’t believe so,” said March. “In Calaskar, there is a strong bias against unnecessary cybernetic enhancement or genetic manipulation, against playing God for one’s own personal power and pleasure.” He flexed his metal fingers. “I am a Calaskaran privateer and citizen, but as a former member of the Final Consciousness, I will never be completely accepted there. This mind-control device would be rejected out of hand.”
That was mostly true, but the complete truth was that the Silent Order would assassinate anyone who tried to use it. In his training with the Order, March had learned some of its history, and from time to time political movements had arisen on Calaskar that advocated creating a hive mind, or purging society of the genetically unfit, or mandating cybernetic enhancements for the lower classes of society.
The Silent Order had discredited those movements and had often assassinated their leaders. The methods were harsh, but March approved. He had seen where those roads ended, and they ended in the forced labor camps of Calixtus and the fanatical rage of someo
ne like Overseer Carnow.
“So be it,” said Tashnakha. “The device the Machinists seek to regain was built using the technology of demons.”
March thought of the alien components at the heart of the machine.
“Tell me about these demons,” said March.
“It is…uncouth to speak of them, for they are evil,” said Tashnakha. “Nevertheless. I shall tell you what our scriptures say of the demons. Long ago, long before humans came to this part of the galaxy, the demons ruled a vast empire and held many races as their slaves. The Ninevehk were among them. Our suffering was very great indeed, for the demons were cruel, and their power was so terrible that they could not be resisted. After millennia of suffering, other races rose to challenge the demons, races with great powers of their own. The heavens themselves burned as these races made war against the demons. In the end, the demons were destroyed, but the races who had opposed them were destroyed in their victory. With both the demons and our saviors destroyed, the Ninevehk were free to hunt the stars as we were made to do.”
“I see,” said March, thinking hard.
“Do you believe me, human?” said Tashnakha. “Or will you scorn the sacred laws of the Ninevehk as the Machinists do?”
“No,” said March. “I believe you.”
He had spent a lot of time traveling from system to system, and even more time in the outer reaches of explored space, thousands of light-years from the core inhabited systems of Calaskar and the Final Consciousness and the other starfaring nations of both mankind and aliens.
There were always rumors about such things.
Legends that lingered in the lore of races with the power of interstellar travel.
Long before humans had come to this region of space, there had been mighty empires wielding technologies beyond the reach of human science or understanding. All those races had destroyed themselves or destroyed each other. Nor were these merely legends or fables. Sometimes relics of these lost empires turned up.
The Custodian itself, March supposed, was one such relic of that lost epoch.
“That is surprising,” said Tashnakha.
“I have traveled too far and seen too much to dismiss such claims,” said March. “When you say that the Machinists are consorting with these demons, do you mean that they are using relics the demons left behind?”
“You speak truly,” said Tashnakha.
So. These “demons” had to be one of the ancient races that had once ruled this part of the galaxy. Their “relics” were technology or weapons that those ancient races had left behind. The alien device embedded in the machine in the Tiger’s hold must be one of those relics. No wonder the Machinists were so desperate to get the thing back or to destroy the machine to keep the scientists of Calaskar from examining it. Perhaps they had only found a limited number of the alien devices and didn’t know how to produce more on their own. Or maybe the Final Consciousness knew how to assemble more of the devices, but the manufacturing process required rare materials.
Whatever the reason, that made it even more vital that March got the device into the hands of the Silent Order.
“I feared so,” said March.
“Perhaps we can be of use to each other,” said Tashnakha. “Undoubtedly you have a relic of the demons aboard your ship. No, do not bother to deny it. It is difficult to conceal truths from the eyes of a hunter. The Machinists would not care about a single small freighter otherwise. Undoubtedly the relic was aboard the heavy cruiser in the Tamlin system, and the lifeboat you intercepted carried both your countrymen and the device.”
His logic was almost exactly backward, but it had led him to the correct conclusion nonetheless.
“If you say we can be of use to each other,” said March, “then you do not plan on destroying my ship and killing my passengers?”
“The Ninevehk Empire does not wish war with the Kingdom of Calaskar at this time,” said Tashnakha. “Perhaps we shall hunt you one day, and perhaps we will not. Fate rules us all. But the diseased humans of the Final Consciousness have begun to use the relics of the demons. It is forbidden to use the relics of the demons lest we draw their attention and they rise again to destroy us all. Because of this, the Final Consciousness must be destroyed. And you must be allowed to escape to your hunt commanders with the Machinist device, lest the Final Consciousness turn the power of the demons against all races.”
“I am glad we agree,” said March. “Can you assist us?”
“We can take no action against the Machinists in the Eschaton system,” said Tashnakha. “The Custodian is ancient and powerful, and it does not permit space battles in the system.”
“The Machinists will almost certainly pursue us when we leave,” said March. He decided to take a gamble. “Are you familiar with the Stromboli Consortium?”
A hiss came from the fanged mouth. “They are greedy and grasping, but do not go back on their given word.”
“Prince Horgan of the Consortium has given me his word,” said March. “If need be, my vessel can take refuge aboard his supercontainer freighter, the Honest Profit. His freighter is leaving Monastery Station tomorrow, and my ship is going to follow him. If the Machinists follow us, they will almost certainly follow the Honest Profit.”
Tashnakha let out a hissing breath. “And if the Ninevehk follow the Honest Profit as well, that may lead us to our prey among the Machinists.”
“That is my thought as well,” said March. “Shall I have the details of our first jump sent to you?” Horgan’s people had sent him the flight plan already – he had seen it in the message queue on his phone.
“Very well,” said Tashnakha. March produced his phone and sent a message to Vigil, authorizing her to send the details of their first jump to the Ninevehk starships waiting outside of Monastery Station. Vigil would use the tight-beam targeting laser to send the information, making it impossible for the Machinists to intercept the information. “I shall inform my ships of the situation.”
“Thank you,” said March, putting his phone away.
“Perhaps we shall hunt alongside each other,” said Tashnakha. “But I must warn you. The Ninevehk will not allow the Machinists to recover the relic of the demons. If we believe that your ship is about to be captured, or if your vessel is boarded, then we will destroy your ship.”
March nodded. “Fair enough.”
Tashnakha rose and headed back to rejoin his soldiers. March watched them depart down the concourse.
So. Whatever the thing was in the Tiger’s hold, it was dangerous. It was so dangerous that the Machinists were willing to blow up the Tiger to keep the Kingdom of Calaskar from learning about it, and the Ninevehk were just as willing to blow up the Tiger to keep the Machinists from getting it back. And if Sophia Logos was to be believed, the entire situation had drawn the attention of the Custodian.
Just what had March discovered? The situation on Rustbelt Station had seemed dangerous but straightforward – a simple ransom exchange. Instead, he had stumbled onto something far larger and more dangerous than the fate of two young Calaskaran nobles.
The relics of demons…
March shook his head and got to his feet. Sitting here would accomplish nothing, and the sooner he got to the Tiger, the better.
He sent a message to Caird that he was on his way, and headed back to the concourse in search of a cargo drone.
Chapter 7: Logos
For once, luck was on his side, and March found a cargo drone without much trouble. He climbed onto its bed, told it to take him to Bay 997, and the machine whirred along the round corridors of the station, its motors humming. March watched his distorted reflection in the polished metal walls, keeping an eye out for any attackers.
But this time, neither the Machinists nor the Ninevehk intercepted him.
Perhaps Logos’s threats had kept Overseer Carnow and her soldiers from approaching March again. Lorre had spoken his piece, and that was that, though March still wasn’t sure what the Machinist agent had hop
ed to accomplish with that conversation. As for the Ninevehk, March thought that he and Tashnakha were mostly on the same side. Granted, the Ninevehk might wind up blasting the Tiger out of the sky, but if they did, at least March understood why they were doing it.
In their position, he might have done the same thing.
As for Logos and the Custodian…whatever the ancient AI’s interest in the matter, it didn’t extend to interrupting March this time. The drone reached Bay 997 without incident, and March stepped off it and strode through the doors.
They hissed open, and he almost walked into a pair of men pulling a flatbed cart.
“Sorry, sir,” said one of the men as March stepped to the side. Both men were middle-aged, and had the look of technicians, with grease-spotted coveralls and tool belts around their waists.
March nodded, examining their cart. It held a variety of tools, including the gray cylinder of a portable supercomputing unit designed to test reactor stresses. “You’re with Colder?”
“Yeah,” said the second man. “This your ship?”
“It is,” said March.
“Better talk to Colder,” said the man, pointing to the base of the Tiger’s cargo ramp. Perry and his guards stood there, along with Vasquez, Caird, Elizabeth, and another man in a coverall that March did not recognize. “He’s got an offer for you.”
“Thanks,” said March, and he crossed the bay to the base of the Tiger’s cargo ramp. The Marines shifted, no doubt alerted to his presence by the sensors in their suits. Caird and Vasquez turned, and March got a good look at the man in the coverall. He was short and wiry, with receding gray hair, a lined face, and a perpetual squint.
“Ah,” said the man. “You’re the owner of this vessel?”
“Owner and captain,” said March. “I’m Jack March. You must be Colder?”
“I am,” said Colder, and they shook hands. “The new reaction chamber is installed. Your pseudointelligence is doing the final calculations for calibration, but you should be ready to initiate a hyperspace jump in another nine hours or so.”
Silent Order: Wraith Hand Page 12
