But what could he do? He was a boy, hardly past his sixteenth star, with no way to fight them. He sat up, gazing around the room, and wondered why he, of all his people, had managed to gain entrance to a great Concord vessel. There had to be a reason for his stroke of luck.
He was meant to help them, to become something greater than he’d ever imagined. Or maybe it was sheer happenstance that he was alive, with his very own room aboard the Constantine.
Tarlen wondered what time it was on the surface of his planet. In all the excitement of the last two days, his internal clock was turned upside down, but he was tired. He still couldn’t sleep.
His quarters were almost half the size of his entire house back in Malin. There was a couch, a small kitchenette, and its own bathroom. He’d never had his own anything before. Tarlen threw the lush covers aside, the air cooling his skin. He saw a pile of clothing near the door, and reached for them, finding a Concord uniform in roughly his size. The black pants were slim, but a little loose around his thighs. He slipped into the shirt, a green color denoting rank, though he wasn’t familiar with the colored system.
Tarlen stared in the mirror, seeing the Concord crest on his chest. Yes, he wanted this. It felt so right. He didn’t know the meaning behind the ship over a moon, but he intended to find out. He felt the urge to learn everything about the great Concord his people were about to enter into a treaty with.
Tarlen attempted to fix his unruly hair, running a hand through the thick black tresses. Soon it was passable, though not in style with anyone he’d seen on board so far. Many of the crew were bald, being from various alien races he wasn’t familiar with. Many were hard to differentiate, and others were quite obvious, like the albino man he’d met with Captain Baldwin.
He walked to the door and stood there, wondering how it opened. He felt like a fool, unsure how to operate something so simple and mundane. Eventually he remembered seeing the officer touch something – or did she speak to it?
“Door, open,” he said, and he jumped away as the panel slid into the wall. He tried not to think about how much Belna would love being able to boss inanimate objects around.
The corridor was quiet. It appeared that people were either sleeping or on duty, and he turned his head from side to side, trying to decide in which direction to walk. He felt like he was doing something wrong as he started away from his room, even though he’d been told he had free access to the ship, as long as he stayed out of the way. The captain had winked at him when he’d given the order, and it made Tarlen like him even more.
Tarlen walked past the last of the crew quarters wing, and entered a foyer that ended with three elevators. He pressed a button like he’d seen the captain do, and waited until the door on one of the lifts opened. The elevator was empty, and Tarlen stepped into the bright box.
“What deck?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Uhm…” Tarlen stammered, wondering where it was he was going. Then he recalled the affable doctor, and pondered what was happening with the alien from the cryopod. “Where’s the doctor?”
“Deck Four,” the computer replied.
“Then take me to Deck Four, please,” Tarlen said politely.
The elevator moved, and stopped seconds later. “Thank you,” he told the computer, and a man with a blue collar eyed him suspiciously as he entered the elevator afterward, as if wondering who Tarlen had been speaking with.
He kept his head down and saw it was busier here at this time. The mess hall was to his right, and he went there, smelling food. A nice Callalay woman had brought him here hours ago, and his stomach was already grumbling again. There were a few officers in uniform inside, sitting at long tables, chatting amongst each other.
There was a tension in the air noticeable even to Tarlen’s naïve eyes. These people were worried about the Statu, and from what Tarlen had witnessed, they had every right to be.
Tarlen stuck his head in the door, and when he smelled roasting meat, his stomach led him the rest of the way. He listened as he found the line, grabbing a plate before piling food on it with tongs.
“We can’t go after them,” one man said at a table behind Tarlen. “We’ll be killed.”
A woman responded, “Have you seen this ship? Do you think their primitive technology is any match for Constantine?”
“Are you forgetting that our chief of security isn’t even on board any longer?” the man countered.
Tarlen knew they were speaking about Brax Daak, the man who had disappeared while attempting to help Penter fight the cylinder ship. What had they called it? A Tuber?
“What does that change? Then we go track them down, end what we thought Constantine Baldwin did fifty years ago, and return home heroes,” the woman said, and Tarlen saw the happiness in her eyes as he sneaked a peek.
“You going to gawk, or move along, JOT?” someone said behind Tarlen. He turned to see a Zilph’i man, twice his own height and thin as a reed. His bald head was oblong, like it was stretched and pulled.
“JOT?” Tarlen asked, feeling like he was being insulted.
“Who are you? JOT. You know, junior officer in training. Aren’t you a little young for that uniform?” the Zilph’i asked.
It finally clicked. “Oh, this…” He tugged on the green collar. “I’m Tarlen.”
The tall man nodded. “Vor.”
Tarlen finally moved along, placing more food on his plate.
“Care to breakfast with me?” The Zilph’i was adding foods Tarlen wasn’t accustomed to. It appeared the mess hall was a place where all crew members could find food from their home worlds. While there were no Greblok delicacies, he found the basic vegetable dishes easy on his stomach and eyes.
“That would be appreciated,” Tarlen said, following the lanky man from the buffet-style serving section to an empty table. There were only about twenty crew members in on this off hour, and Tarlen was glad for it. He could still hear the conversation at the other table.
“I heard we were ordered to return,” the man who’d been talking earlier said, hardly loud enough for Tarlen to hear.
“Nonsense. The captain wouldn’t belay orders from Nolix,” the woman said.
“You’re right. I can’t believe this is our first mission. I should have stayed on Nevilon,” the man said.
Vor glanced at the two officers having the conversation, and peered at Tarlen as he poked a long bean with his utensil. “Do not heed their concern. We’ll be fine. We’re aboard the greatest cruise ship ever constructed. There’s a reason we were sent here, I imagine.”
“How do you mean?” Tarlen asked.
“Do you know much of my people, the Zilph’i?” the man asked, picking up a wriggling worm-like morsel with his fingers.
Tarlen tried to keep the revulsion from his face. “No. I’m from Greblok. We don’t have much access to other worlds.”
“Greblok? That explains many things, young Tarlen. Then this is far more prudent of a conversation for you to hear. It is oft said, in my culture, that the Vastness has more intricate plans for our race, and specifically, the Concord. We are but tiny specks of dust in the ever-expanding expanse.” Vor spread his hands out, long fingers stretching over the neighboring chairs beside him.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Tarlen told him.
“It wasn’t intended to ease your mind. Rather, the prospect is meant to remind us that there are bigger things at play than our lives. The War was devastating. We lost billions around the Concord and over one hundred cruise ships, each with full crews. It was a time of death and destruction, but also of learning. We were resilient against the efforts of the Statu.
“Sometimes people feel as though the War happened so long ago, when in reality, it was but a moment in the grand scheme of our Vastness. It was a mere blink of the eye for Time, and they weren’t wiped out as we were told,” Vor said softly.
Tarlen found himself at ease with the odd man. “But there was only one ship.”
Vor ra
ised his hand, tilting it to the side so Tarlen could only see his smallest finger from the edge. “What appears as one is often more.” Vor began to wiggle the other five digits, and Tarlen had to count twice to see the man had five fingers and a thumb on each hand.
“You’re saying there will be more than the single ship that not only destroyed my people, took slaves, and stripped Greblok of its greatest mineral asset?” Talen asked.
“I am afraid to admit that I think so.”
“If there are more of those…” Tarlen tried to imagine a dozen of the immense ugly ships arriving at a planet, fifty ships just like Constantine defending the world below.
Vor nodded. “We are immersed in the War, it appears. It never ended, but only paused. Time goes on in the Vastness. Nothing ever starts or finishes, only continues.”
“Is that from your books?” Tarlen asked.
“Yes. It’s an ancient Zilph’i saying, taken by the Concord for their Code,” Vor said with a hint of distaste.
“What of the man I met? Ven?” he asked, curious of the pale-skinned man.
“Ven? You have met Ven?” This Zilphi’s eyes grew wide, his pupils dilated.
“Sure,” Tarlen said.
“Then you truly lack knowledge of our people.”
“That’s what I said.” Tarlen ate some of the meat, cutting it before testing the tender square. It was delicious.
“The Ugna is a rare genetic deformity among the Zilph’i,” Vor told him.
“He’s sick?”
“Nothing like that. He is elevated. The Ugna are born one in forty million on our world. They have abilities beyond our comprehension. They’re raised in a secreted-away school for three decades while they harness their abilities. I have never met one of the Ugna, but I should much like to.”
“What kind of abilities do they have?” Tarlen was curious. It sounded like something out of one of his books.
“They can move objects with their minds. The Ugna can read people and situations differently than most,” he said.
“How?” Tarlen asked, and he saw from the look in Vor’s eyes that the man didn’t have the answer.
“That is not for us to comprehend. Tell me of your people, young Tarlen,” Vor said.
Tarlen ate the rest of his meal as most of the remaining people in the mess hall left, some starting and others ending their shifts on the great starship. He told Vor about his people, then his family, and it felt good to remember what he was going to be fighting for.
____________
“Can we do that?” Reeve asked the captain.
Treena studied the man from his seated position at the end of the table.
“Yes, Lieutenant Reeve, we can,” he said with conviction.
“This is unprecedented, is it not?” Ven asked.
Of all their executive officers, Treena had expected the strange telekinetic man to object the loudest. To her and the others’ surprise, he seemed open to the idea of disobeying the Concord’s leading politician and eldest admiral.
“Actually, there have been three cases of direct insubordination on file,” Reeve said, making Treena stifle a laugh. There really was no end to the information in the woman’s memory banks. She countered the intelligence with a playful nature that drew people to her. Treena was starting to enjoy her company.
“Three cases,” Captain Baldwin said. “That’s… fewer than I imagined.” He rubbed his temples. “It’s already been decided. We go after them. I apologize for the delay, but with the recent development with the strangers on board, and the postponement in communicating with the Concord, we’re twelve hours behind the Statu vessel.”
“Good. It gives us time to plan instead of reacting,” Reeve said. She spun in her chair, making a full circle.
Ven watched the Tekol engineer. “Please inform us about these three cases of insubordination.”
Reeve stopped fidgeting and stared at the Ugna man. “The Nexi ignored orders to guide an envoy of Oslio across the Border, and the diplomats were boarded, killed, then robbed.”
Treena remembered that story from her training. The captain of the Nexi had a personal relationship with the Oslio leader that ended bitterly, causing him to refuse the mission. He’d not only been relieved of his duty, but he was also charged in the destruction of the Oslio ship, and to her understanding, continued to live out his days as an old man in one of their prisons.
“Yes, I recall that,” Baldwin said. “What were the others?”
“I don’t think reliving prior insubordinates is going to help in any way, Captain,” Reeve said. “My brother is with those bastards, and we’re missing the fact that the Statu have returned after all this time. Perhaps we should be asking someone about them, someone who was there.”
Treena glanced at the Tekol engineer; her red eyes were darker than normal today. “We don’t have anyone on board that was around during the War.”
Thomas Baldwin smacked a palm on the table. “We do.” He came close to a smile, but Treena knew the situation was too dire for any sort of amusement. “Constantine!”
The AI appeared in the corner of the room. He looked so lifelike, and Treena felt a strange connection to the artificial man.
“Yes, Captain?” Constantine asked.
“Please, have a seat with us.” Baldwin motioned to an empty chair around the table opposite himself.
Constantine flickered and appeared in the seat. Treena hadn’t seen him sit before, but if she didn’t know better, he was just another human at the table with them.
“How much of my grandfather is in there?” the captain asked.
“As I told you before, all the strategic and…”
“So you remember fighting the Statu?” Reeve cut in.
“I do. Like it was yesterday, Chief Engineer Daak.” His voice was as smooth as his skin.
“They’re back. As you are aware,” Thomas told the AI, who didn’t react to the news. He was part of the ship, and would have heard this already. “We need to know everything you can tell us about them.”
Constantine Baldwin’s AI form sat straight-backed and began talking. “The Statu are an ancient race from a distant galaxy. We never did find their home system, not even after dismantling the countless vessels we salvaged during the War. There were no active starmaps indicating where they came from. It was as if they appeared out of thin air, attacked Cidas Twelve, and enslaved the race of Yu’ov.”
“That was the first reordered invasion, correct?” Treena asked.
“That’s correct. The Yu’ov weren’t part of the Concord, and no one was aware of the disruption for a decade, amazingly enough,” Constantine said.
“They used the slaves to build Tubers?” Baldwin asked.
Treena drummed her fingers on the table. They knew all this. It was ingrained in their minds from training at the Academy. With the Concord, history was important. A specific phrase from the Code stood out at that moment to her: Without the past, there is no determining the outcome of the future. This was one of those times. They needed to understand the Statu’s motivations in order to stop them.
“Constantine, you had more experience fighting them than any Concord captain. You defeated them in the epic battle at the Yollox Incursion. What were they after? Why did they wreak havoc on the Concord?” Treena asked, and the room went silent, everyone awaiting the AI’s reply.
“The Concord will say it wasn’t personal with the Statu, that they were doing it because their race demanded expansion,” he replied.
“And you? What would you say it was?” the captain asked.
“They were malicious. They didn’t bend, ever. They threw their people and ships against us with reckless abandon, as if they didn’t care if they survived,” Constantine said, making Treena think of the Tuber that had flown directly into the alien vessel they were harboring, destroying itself in the process.
“Why have we never seen them?” the captain asked.
Treena thought back to her studies on the War
. The Statu were always in gray armor, and any captured vessel was only inhabited by suits filled with unidentifiable liquid organic matter. It was sickening. The first time Treena had seen the pictures of the ooze pouring from an opened suit, she’d almost thrown up.
Constantine squinted and stared hard at the captain. “This may be overstepping protocol, sir, but…”
“Get on with it,” Captain Baldwin said impatiently.
“We’ve seen them, sir,” Constantine said.
“What do you mean?” Reeve leaned forward.
Ven hadn’t said anything in a long time, and Treena noticed his black eyes flick between the AI and the captain with interest.
“We’ve seen one of the bodies.”
Tom stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. “Constantine, can you stop being so dramatic and tell us what the hell you know?”
“Yes, sir. It was during the Yollox Incursion, near the end. I led an attack against the lead ship over Yollox, and we disarmed it after taking a barrage of fire. Our fighters were depleted, and so were their Tubers. We were evenly matched that day, but we won out, getting a lucky shot on their shield generator. Once we took that down, we fired our pulses, shutting their energy power source off,” Constantine said.
“And you boarded them? Why?” Treena asked.
Constantine’s AI stared back with pale blue eyes, his face slack. “I was ordered to destroy every last ship they sent against us, but my gut was telling me there was an answer on one of their warships. We filed aboard, sending our entire security team there with the intent of taking one of them alive. I joined them.”
“That hadn’t been done before, correct?” Reeve asked.
“That’s correct.”
“And you found one?” It was Thomas’ turn to ask.
The AI nodded. “We’d come to realize their suits were loaded with an injector. Should danger befall them, the suit would press the needle into their chest, essentially melting them, making their DNA unreadable. It was the strangest measure we’d ever seen. Drastic, to keep their identities hidden, and we never understood why.”
Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series Page 11
