Dark Origins (The Messenger Book 14)

by J. N. Chaney

“Indeed. We are not a hive mind. We are independent entities, each capable of having our own opinions,” Custodian added. He managed to sound a little offended, but informative, like an old news anchor.

  Dash laughed. “Well, go figure. Okay, so how come you’re airing your dirty laundry right in front of me this time, instead of, you know, doing it in cyberspace or whatever?”

  “Because you will need to make an informed decision, Messenger, so you need to hear both sides of the case,” Custodian replied.

  Dash chuckled again, shaking his head. The AIs, particularly Custodian and Sentinel, the two he worked with most frequently, had always seemed to be in accord. He’d always just assumed they sort of agreed on everything which, now that he thought about it, was dumb. They really were independent beings, each with their own perspective. They’d actually not be very intelligent artificial intelligences if they always all had the same opinion about everything.

  It made Dash imagine, though, some virtual room where the AIs gathered to bicker. He wondered if they got angry, had virtual shouting matches, pounded a virtual table, maybe threw virtual plates at the virtual walls.

  He thought about adding fussy Tybalt, free-spirited Kristin, and stodgy Hathaway to the mix. Yikes.

  On the other hand, he’d pay credits to see it.

  He shook his head again. “Okay, so what it comes down to is this. Kai has found a place, called The Light-That-Cannot-Fade, that seems to be the location of multiple Arkubators that were probably stashed there for some reason. Sentinel, you think we should go check it out as a source for the raw materials we need. Custodian, you’re arguing that we don’t have enough data and it could just be a big waste of time. Do I have that right?”

  “You do. Our time would be better spent seeking more certain sources of materials. At most, we could send a reconnaissance probe to the location to determine if this is a course of action worth pursuing,” Custodian replied.

  Dash crossed his arms, an awkward move in his vac-armor. “Okay, well, I guess this is where I put my big boy Messenger pants on and make a decision.” Dash stared at the chart for a moment.

  “Eh, go big or go home,” he finally said. “We’ll send a task force to this Light-That-Cannot-Fade system. It’ll bring along our spare Radiant Point, plus some salvage ships and crews. That way, we’ll be prepared to deal with any Deepers, or any other hostiles, for that matter, that might be there. We’ll also be able to start salvage operations right away.”

  “The translation time will be almost a week, Messenger. That’s a significant amount of time to have a portion of the fleet essentially unavailable for other contingencies,” Custodian warned.

  “Oh, I hear you, Custodian. I’m not discounting what you’re saying at all. That’s why we’re only going to send the mechs—all five, plus a wing of Orions. The rest of the fleet will stay deployed as it is.”

  Dash waited for more debate, but Custodian’s answer was a simple one.

  “Understood.”

  “Custodian, you’re not—you know, put out or anything, are you?”

  “Put out?”

  “Yeah. Angry, or disappointed, that I chose to go with Sentinel’s plan.”

  “Why would I be? I provided you with my recommendation, Sentinel provided you with hers, and you made a decision. Is that not how it should work?”

  Dash laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly how it should work. But when it comes to people, I could only wish it did.”

  They ended up deploying the five big mechs, along with a flight of five Orions commanded by a young officer named Lori, who’d repeatedly impressed Dash over the last few months of operations. She now held the rank of Lieutenant Commander in the Realm fleet, but her job was overseeing the operations of the smaller Orion and Perseid mechs. The ten mechs escorted a single capital ship, the Stalwart, commanded by Wei-Ping and carrying the Radiant Point. The rest of the flotilla consisted of two salvage tenders and four tugs. It was a compact force, but an extremely potent one. Just the five big mechs alone made it one of the single most powerful groupings of vessels in the galaxy.

  The flight had been a long and uneventful one. Custodian reported two more small raids on the Kingsport, but both had been destroyed to a ship by Benzel’s forces. Dash still couldn’t figure out what the Deepers’ intent was. They seemed to be frittering ships away a few at a time, in desperate attacks that only ended up giving them more construction materials and Dark Metal. It was actually starting to worry him because it might hint at some greater, more intricate and subtle Deeper strategy that they just couldn’t see.

  Of course, it really could just be desperation, a way of keeping pressure on the Realm. Or maybe, as Sentinel had speculated, their capture of the various gates and Radiant Points had broken apart the Deeper command structure and there simply wasn’t any coordination to their attacks. That would be nice, but Dash refused to let himself get complacent.

  Finally, though, they were about to drop out of unSpace, having nearly arrived at The-Light-That-Cannot-Fade.

  Dash sent a call out for a SITREP from all the flotilla’s mechs and ships. Not because he really expected to learn anything new or exciting, but to ensure that everyone was alert and ready. Long flights like this one, almost a week in duration, could lead to dulled senses and reaction times, which a wake-up call would prevent.

  “We are five minutes from the end of this translation hop and our arrival,” Sentinel said.

  “Got it, thanks,” Dash replied. He stretched and limbered himself up, flexing his, and therefore the Archetype’s, limbs. He was just as susceptible to the complacency of a long flight as anyone else.

  As he did, he found his thoughts drifting back to the debate between Sentinel and Custodian. Since they had a few minutes to kill, he decided to ask a question.

  “Sentinel, about this trip—in fact, this whole op. You and Custodian pretty clearly disagreed about it. Was that real, or did the two of you just put it on for my benefit?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I can’t help feeling that you guys were just laying out my options and your disagreement was a way of, I don’t know, packaging it.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I guess it just seemed strange for you and Custodian to be so obviously arguing different sides of it. Maybe it’s just because I don’t actually see or hear you AIs debating stuff.”

  “Custodian is very conservative. I believe it’s because he’s responsible for the operation of the Forge, which is a relatively static installation. That has colored his way of viewing problems. Likewise, I oversee the operation of the Archetype, which is much more dynamic. I believe that has made me more willing to assume risk that Custodian would not.”

  “Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  “There’s another reason, though.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “You.”

  Dash raised an eyebrow. “Me? But you both deal with me, so to put it the way you probably would, I’m a constant, not a variable, right?”

  “Dash, you are very much a variable. But you vary within predictable limits. When you interact with Custodian, it tends to be deliberate, thoughtful, and reasoned. When you interact with me, it can also be that—take this interaction, for example. On the other hand, I also interact with you in battle, when you are impulsive, passionate, and facing split-second decisions. I therefore see more of your behavioral range.”

  “You’re saying you know me better.”

  “I do. And that’s why I proposed this current operation. I knew this is what you would have wanted to do.”

  Dash chuckled. “So you’re saying I’m predictable after all.”

  “Only within those limits I mentioned. Sometimes you step outside of them. And that is why, while I operate the Archetype, you fly it.”

  Dash smiled. Before he could say anything else, though, the warning that the translation drive was about to cut out chimed. He put his focus on the tactical displ
ay, sparing a bit of his attention for the threat indicator, and waited.

  The stars reappeared as the mech returned to real space.

  Dash’s breath caught. He could see why this was called The-Light-That-Cannot-Fade. The space around him was filled with stars, bathing the Archetype with light from every direction.

  He only allowed himself a moment of wonder, though. The tactical display quickly filled with data, including signals highlighting the presence of an Arkubator.

  No. Wait. Not one Arkubator, but several.

  The signals resolved, and Dash whistled.

  Not just several Arkubators. There were fourteen of them.

  5

  The flotilla changed course, then made one more translation hop, a short one of just over a light-year. It brought them into what had to be the ugly duckling of the spectacular mini-cluster of stars that made up The-Light-That-Cannot-Fade. This one, located on the margin of the cluster, was all but dead.

  “It is a grey dwarf star, essentially a remnant stellar core, all that is left after a supernova explosion,” Sentinel said.

  “Doesn’t that make it pretty old?” Dash asked.

  “Very old. It is likely all that remains of a first-generation star, one created in the aftermath of the Big Bang. I would estimate that the supernova that produced it occurred between eight and ten billion years ago. The white dwarf that formed as a result has continued to cool and dim throughout that time and will eventually become a black dwarf, a degenerate body of cold matter. It will likely remain in that state until the universe itself ends.”

  “Wow.”

  It was all Dash could think to say. The unremarkably dim, pale greyish sphere was twice the age of Old Earth itself—and before that, it had been part of a full-fledged star. Wow, indeed. Just when Dash thought he’d reached the point where nothing in space really excited him anymore, he’d encounter something like this and—

  And he was stunned. Again, by the sheer scale of time and space.

  But he couldn’t dwell on it because the threat board chose that moment to light up.

  “You know, just once I’d like to have one of these ops be as boring at the destination as they are on the flight to get there,” Dash grumbled, taking in the tactical display.

  There were eleven Deeper capital ships present, including a big battleship, and almost twice that many escort-class vessels. But there was something else. The threat board had identified surveillance scanner signals emanating from the grey dwarf’s solitary companion, an airless, frozen rock only a little larger than the Forge.

  “There’s something on that—uh, planet? Asteroid? Hunk of stone?”

  “Planetesimal would be the best term. Just as this grey dwarf was likely captured by the gravitational pull of the star cluster, it was presumably trapped by the grey dwarf’s gravitation.”

  “Sure. But just what the hell is down there?”

  “A scattering field is in effect, so scanner resolution is poor. Visually, there’s some sort of installation on the surface that also contains Dark Metal. But there’s no further data.”

  “Well, only one way to find out. Okay, Mech Flight One, we’ll head straight into battle. Mech Flight Two, you hold back here with the salvage ships to protect them and be our reserve. Wei-Ping, you likewise hold the Stalwart back but go ahead and launch fighter wings at your discretion.”

  Acknowledgments rattled in. Mech Flight One, the five big mechs, immediately split into a team of two, the Archetype and the Swift, while the Pulsar, Talon, and Polaris made a team of three. Both teams accelerated directly toward the Deeper fleet, which was burning hard to interpose itself between the Realm forces and the planetesimal.

  “There’s something down there they don’t want us to get at,” Leira said.

  “Yeah, which means that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Dash replied. He flew on for a few seconds. “Oh, and Wei-Ping, keep a close eye on that rock in case anything tries to launch and escape from it.”

  “Roger that.”

  The two mech teams veered away from each other and opened up into the jaws of a pincer that threatened to take the Deeper flotilla from either flank. It forced the Deepers to start pulling in their battleline. Dash smiled a thin, humorless smile. Perfect. The Deepers would be able to deliver more firepower all-round, but only by sacrificing fire they could have directed ahead of them, toward the vulnerable salvage ships.

  As soon as they were within range, Dash, and Amy in the Talon, both loosed a volley of missiles. Conover, in the Pulsar, immediately activated an electronic warfare program, the mech painting the sky with dozens more missile contacts. The Deepers powered up their tracking scanners, trying to burn through the Pulsar’s transmissions. But Conover’s mech, its systems upgraded with a hexacore and Dark Metal Two, proved more than a match for the Deepers’ efforts. It forced the aliens to start engaging multiple targets that didn’t exist, dissipating the effects of their fire.

  “Okay, Leira, let’s get stuck in,” Dash said, slamming the Blur drive to full power and flinging the Archetype forward. Leira stuck on his six, weaving back and forth, up and down, at the same time accommodating Dash’s own, abrupt jinks. It suddenly struck Dash that it was all unfolding with almost no chatter. The five mechs flew as an instinctive team, each pilot anticipating, then complementing the maneuvers of the others.

  Dash smiled with pride. From the outset, he and the other four mech pilots dominated the battle.

  He snapped out dark-lance and nova-cannon shots as he approached, then zoomed right into the midst of the Deeper formation and opened up with the scattershot, pouring fire into every ship he swept past. At the same time, he pointed the rail gun mounted on the Archetype’s right wrist in one direction, the superluminal missile-launcher on its left in the other, and rapid-fired both at nearly point-blank range. Leira followed, still scissoring behind him, her own mech streaming scattershot and nova-cannon fire at each Deeper ship they passed. Incoming x-ray and burst-cannon fire slammed into them, loading up the shields of both mechs. Dash watched the shield monitor until it went yellow, then abruptly broke off and zoomed away from the Deeper flotilla, jinking as he went. Leira followed like she was stuck to the Archetype with a tow cable.

  Dash glanced back. Amy and Jexin had just finished their run and had likewise broken off. Conover hung back in the Pulsar in overwatch, punching out opportunistic shots with his own dark-lance and nova-cannon. Two swathes of debris and ships streaming gouts of flame and uncontained plasma marked the passage of the mech through the Deeper ranks. Dash nodded fiercely at the carnage, then spun around and dove back in for another pass.

  The next thirty minutes were much the same, the mechs slashing through the Deeper flotilla, leaving trails of destruction in their wakes. By the time the Deeper flotilla was even in a position to threaten the rest of the Realm force, it had been reduced to the battleship, a pair of heavy cruisers, and a handful of small ships, all damaged. Even the dreaded Deeper skimmer beams, three of which were mounted on the big ship, weren’t able to stop the carnage now that the Realm had been able to modify their shields to block them.

  “Okay, Lori, you and Wei-Ping can go ahead and take them from the front. Amy, Jex, you keep up the pressure from the rear. Leira, let’s you, Conover, and I go check out whatever’s on that rock.”

  After everyone agreed with a channel check, Dash accelerated toward the planetesimal. The Deeper ships tried to maneuver to stop them, but the mechs were simply too fast. They raced past the trailing ships, loosing a few dark-lance shots as they passed, then left Wei-Ping and the others to finish off the remaining Deepers ships.

  Behind Dash, the Deeper ships howled away in glowing arcs, cut to ribbons by the Realm forces. Dash flicked a glance backward and nodded in approval at the carnage.

  Good.

  Surveillance scanners continued to light them up as they approached the tiny, frozen world. They switched to tracking mode as soon as the mechs reached about a million klicks distan
t. A few seconds later, rapid-fire missile launchers on the surface began spewing projectiles at them, the streaking units accelerating to a blur.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Again, the scattershots answered, pouring out streams of energy bolts as fast as the Deeper launchers could spit out missiles. Dash decided he was in love with the new weapon. In autonomous mode, he could leave it to Sentinel to track targets, adjust fire, and engage them, freeing him up to focus on the bigger picture.

  “Leira, let’s take out these missile launchers so we can get a closer look at the rest of what’s there.”

  “Right behind you, as always.”

  Dash grinned, lined up a dark-lance firing solution, then triggered it and engaged one of the missile launchers. They were protected by tough shielding, though, probably powered by big generators buried somewhere beneath the planetesimal’s surface. Eventually, they were able to burn through them and start taking out the launchers, but it took a lot longer than Dash had expected. The Deepers also managed to land some solid missile hits, notwithstanding the defensive fire from the scattershots and point-defense systems. One, sporting a particularly powerful warhead, actually damaged the Pulsar badly enough that Conover had to pull back.

  “Last one?” Leira asked, lighting up a launcher on their shared scan.

  “Nope,” Dash said, firing a fusillade of weps at the remaining Deeper facility.

  “No? I mean—”

  The Archetype’s combined fire slammed home, and the launcher vanished in a white flash. “As I mentioned, there are none left,” Dash said.

  Leira cleared her throat, then laughed. “Of course. Zero is zero. Nice shooting.”

  “You too.”

  At that, Dash immediately checked fire, then accelerated toward the micro planet. He did it warily, though, just in case there were any more surprises. The Deepers had established this base here for some reason—maybe to watch over the Arkubators orbiting the grey dwarf, but perhaps for other purposes. It was, after all, a pretty damned out-of-the-way location.