Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series

by Hystad, Nathan

  “I need to speak with the captain,” Tarlen said, the words flowing extremely fast from his mouth.

  “And who are you…” The man glanced at his purple collar and waved him away.

  “Captain Baldwin! It’s Tarlen! I need to talk to you!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, and the green guard jumped away, apparently shocked at the noise.

  “Kid, cut that out,” the guard said, but Tarlen didn’t listen. He yelled once more, and seconds later, the white double doors slid open, revealing a frowning Baldwin.

  “Sorry, sir, the kid came out of nowhere,” the guard said.

  “It’s okay, Valg. Permission to enter the bridge, Tarlen.” Thomas Baldwin stepped aside, motioning him inside.

  It was amazing. The beeping computers, the pristine white floors, the matching uniformed officers. Tarlen felt like he was getting a glimpse into something magical, so different from anything he’d ever have been able to bear witness to landlocked on Greblok.

  “Captain, are they gone?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “Who are you referring to?” the captain asked.

  “The commander. Is she gone?”

  “Where did you even hear that?” Baldwin appeared flustered. “They’re still here, but not for long.”

  “I need to go with them. I have to find my sister,” he pleaded.

  The captain stared at him, his wide jaw unmoving for a moment. “Why would I let you do that?”

  “Because they came to my world and stole my people as slaves. I have to be there. I need to see if she’s alive,” Tarlen said.

  Just when Tarlen was positive the captain was going to dismiss him, have him removed from the bridge, maybe even the ship, his face softened and he nodded. “You have a lot of fire in your belly, Tarlen. I like that.” Thomas Baldwin walked to the center seat on the bridge, clearly his chair, and tapped the console at its arm. “Commander, hold departure. You’re bringing one more with you.”

  “Are you serious?” Tarlen realized what he’d been allowed. Up until this point, he’d been running on instinct, the desire to help find his sister and parents so strong that he’d forgotten that he knew absolutely nothing… about anything. Maybe that was why the captain had agreed so quickly. Maybe he thought Tarlen would realize his mistake and make an excuse to stay on the ship.

  “Captain, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Ven asked, standing in his helm position.

  “Executive Lieutenant Ven, I don’t suspect you’d understand, but I was once like this young man. I heard about Cezo being attacked, and I begged to find a ship to rescue my parents. My grandfather wouldn’t let me. He had that look, the one that told me there was no hope, that we were too late. I won’t prevent Tarlen from attempting to find his family. It’s his choice, and one I’m sure he’s considered the ramifications of,” Captain Baldwin said.

  Tarlen’s hand trembled as he followed Thomas to the side of the bridge. “Through the doors and up the lift. You’ll find Cleo there. Be careful. If you make it back, maybe we can discuss you keeping that uniform.”

  “Captain, perhaps…” the Zilph’i Ven started to say, but Tarlen hardly heard him. He could rescue his family and return to become a Concord Fleet member. His nerves were gone; the butterflies circling his stomach were replaced by excited dreams of a new future.

  “Order stands.” The captain closed the doors, leaving Tarlen alone in the elevator.

  “Cleo,” Tarlen said softly, and the computer repeated the word, the lights growing slightly dimmer as the lift rose upwards. The trip was quick, and he stepped off as the doors sprang wide, two more dark green-scaled guards stepping apart, making room for him.

  “Better hurry up, kid,” Reeve Daak said from underneath Cleo. The ship powered up, the thrumming engines drawing Tarlen forward. He’d already been on this ship once, when he’d been rescued from the surface. She reached a hand down and helped pull him up into the ship, rather than latch and drop the ramp.

  She secured the door behind him and stood frowning at him. “I have no idea why the captain was so quick to allow you to join us, but you better not be my undoing,” she said, arms crossed.

  “I… I won’t be in the way,” he stammered.

  The commander sat in the pilot’s seat as she glanced at him and rose from the top of Constantine. For the first time, Tarlen had a good look at their destination. The viewer covered the entire front of the ship, and the wormhole spun slowly, colors dancing like overflowing paint.

  “We’re going through that?” Tarlen asked, resting his hands on the top of the pilot’s chair.

  “You bet,” Commander Treena Starling told him.

  “You guys do this kind of thing every day, right?” Tarlen asked, his nerves returning.

  “Not quite,” Reeve Daak told him. “You’d better sit and secure yourself. It may be a bumpy ride.”

  “What do you mean by not quite?” Tarlen asked, clipping the double straps across each shoulder and over his chest.

  No one answered him as they moved toward the wormhole.

  ____________

  The elevator clicked into place, and Brax instantly smelled fresh air. On second thought, it was moving air, not necessarily fresh. The smell of sulfur and something unfamiliar mixed in clung to his nostrils as the breeze passed through the corridor.

  “Now what?” Penter asked from beside Brax.

  “We find out what the hell they want with us,” Brax told his new friend.

  “And then?” Abbil asked from his other side.

  “Then we bide our time, get the lay of the land, find a weakness, and exploit it,” Brax said openly. There was no reason to hide his truth from these two. They’d proven loyal, and the coming days would be extremely tough on them all. Hope dangling in the front of their minds would only assist them through the torment that was heading their way.

  If these were truly Statu, there was no telling what they wanted with the Bacals. Brax doubted they had any familiarity with his Tekol heritage, and if they did, whether they even cared or not. One of them pushed him from behind, indicating for him to walk with the rest of the people being herded from the room.

  They were still on the ship, along one of the many arms jutting from the monstrosity of a space vessel. It had clearly broken atmosphere of its destination, and as they walked along the rough metal surface, Brax spotted hovering platforms arriving to pick up the throngs of newly-gathered slaves from the tops of the ship.

  It was bright outside, and Brax had to use a hand as a visor to keep the bright sun from his eyes. The air felt hot and humid, his shirt instantly clinging to his chest. Abbil watched it all with a fearful gaze, but Penter kept his emotions in check, not giving anything away by his expression. Brax could tell the man was clearly a professional.

  Some of the people were stopping short of stepping onto the floating platforms, and the guards didn’t wait for them. The first woman who refused to follow orders was shot in the back of the head. One of the armored guards arrived a second later, dragging the corpse by the arm. It left a smear of blood that the other Bacals rushed away from in disgust.

  The body was shoved from the edge of the ship’s arm, falling toward the ground far below. No one else refused after the terrible display of aggression. The Statu had set the tone.

  Brax had seen a lot in his lifetime, but rarely had he witnessed such cold-blooded viciousness. These beings had no qualms about killing and didn’t value life in any capacity. The Statu were enigmas, and very dark and dangerous ones.

  The hovering platform was crudely constructed, and the ledges were only two feet high, not doing much of a job containing the passengers. Everyone pressed toward the center of the lift, and when the Statu deemed this platform full, it left the ledge, leaving Brax and his two friends next in line.

  From here, he could see quite a way in the distance and didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary for a planet. It was obvious it was a Class Zero Nine world; otherwise, he wouldn’t be breathing with eas
e. Even at this altitude, the air was thin, but manageable for his Tekol lungs. Penter appeared to be struggling slightly more than Brax, and Abbil was drawing deep breaths and releasing them more slowly.

  “I don’t think this is their world,” Penter said quietly.

  “Why do you say that?” Brax had the same hunch but wanted to hear the guard’s reasoning.

  Penter pointed into the distance. “There are no structures in place. No other ships on the horizon.”

  “Good eye. We never uncovered their origin, and I suspect this is a temporary stop, or this is where they plan on keeping us as slaves,” Brax said.

  “Why here?” Abbil asked.

  Another hovering platform lowered from an arm above. Hot blasts from the blue thrusters pushed down, the air crackling and steaming with ferocity. Brax moved away instinctively, but felt the barrel of a gun pressed into his spine by the guard standing beside him. He watched as the fearful slaves lowered, and Brax attempted to gauge how many people the Statu had swiped from Greblok. He leaned over the edge now that the platform had moved on, and saw at least ten more of the huge daises lowered toward the ground. There had to be over ten thousand people in total. Maybe more, since he was only looking at one side of the ship.

  Brax realized he’d left Abbil’s question hanging in the air. “What did you ask?”

  “Why here?”

  “Because it’s isolated, hidden from prying eyes. Honestly, I don’t know how they expect to stay out of sight. We were only traveling for a few days. We couldn’t have made it that far, not with the Statu technology the Concord has studied,” Brax said.

  “A lot can change in fifty standard star rotations,” Penter said.

  Brax nodded as the next empty platform arrived. The three of them stepped onto it and moved for the far edge. From here, Brax had a view of the Statu warship. A few of the Tubers flew around their mothership, likely keeping the peace. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no other warships nearby. This could be the last of their fleet, the sole remnants of the Statu, with one desperate act against the Concord in retribution for the end of the War.

  Most of the familiar faces from their captivity on the ship had already gone with the last load, and so many new people materialized, moving slowly. They appeared far worse off than Brax’s group had, and he suspected things hadn’t been handled as smoothly. Many were visibly injured, either at the hands of the enemy or by each other.

  The platform lowered abruptly, sending one of the slaves over the edge. His scream carried through the air, until the loud thrusters drowned out the death cry. Brax said a silent prayer to the Vastness to keep the rest of them safe until he could decipher this puzzle.

  The trip to the surface only took a few minutes, and the air was denser here, almost heavy. His steps were a little lighter as they moved onto the ground, telling him the gravity was different from the standard Concord ship settings. It was damp here, the grass thick and green. Tall trees lined the field they were set into, and Brax scanned the copse for signs of Statu guards.

  With their bulky suits, it might be easy to lose them inside the maze of a forest; only Brax had nothing with him to aid his survival. Making a run for it would only ensure his untimely demise.

  Penter was looking to the trees as well, and Brax shook his head when the guard glanced over. “Not yet.” He mouthed the words, and the big man gave him a tight-lipped smile.

  There were at least a dozen Tubers in the air, loudly moving around the area. Brax was among one of the last groups of slaves trudging over the grass toward an eventual destination. He saw it now, following the trail of people who looked like ants storming a hill from this distance. The structure was huge, square and bulky, looking to be made of the same material as their warship.

  “Welcome to your new home,” Brax mumbled to himself as he began moving forward, each step slow and deliberate as he followed the line with thousands of fearful slaves in front of him.

  ____________

  Treena had almost laughed when the young boy from Greblok had emerged from the bridge. She knew Thomas from before, and even though they hadn’t been in touch for years, he was always an advocate for someone showing their worth. How this kid had managed to convince the captain to join the two-person crew was beyond her.

  The wormhole was daunting, a massive disturbance in space and time, and she hoped they weren’t heading to their deaths. It had only been a few days since they’d all arrived on Constantine, and already they were risking their lives to do something not on record within the Concord. “You don’t become a hero by hiding in the shadows,” Treena said. Felix used to say that to her, usually with a brush of her hair from her face. Treena pressed her eyes closed, not wanting to forget him, but saving the memory for later.

  “ETA is three minutes,” she said, as much for the bridge’s sake as her own. The wormhole looked so much more diminutive from the viewer on Constantine. Out here, it was daunting. Their compact vessel Cleo was a speck against the gaping maw of the wormhole. She almost expected it to pull on the ship like a whirlpool, but it didn’t do anything to affect Cleo as she flew toward the center of the opening.

  What was on the other side? Treena was fully confident that the Statu had passed through. There was nowhere else for them to go. At least if it was a trick, Constantine wouldn’t be harmed. The crew could live on to fight another day, and eventually learn the truth.

  Reeve sat beside her, her fingers racing over the console with practiced efficiency. “The readouts are the same. Probes show nothing different.”

  “I thought you said the wormhole was destabilizing,” Treena said.

  “What can I say? Maybe it is stable but sending off fluctuations. We’ve never seen one this size, and it must take a lot of energy to power,” Reeve told her, and Treena could only hope that she was right, that their passage would be smooth.

  Tarlen was still behind them, strapped to the bench, staying oddly quiet. Treena peered over her shoulder to see him staring at the wormhole, eyes wide. “You know what I find helps when I’m afraid?” Treena asked the boy.

  “No, what?”

  “I play a game,” she answered.

  “A game?”

  “You know, a game. It’s something my father taught me when I was young,” Treena told him.

  “I don’t know any games,” he said.

  “None?”

  “Only things you play with other kids outside,” Tarlen said.

  “Bridge to Cleo. What are you seeing out there?” It was the captain, and Treena could picture his serious expression glowering at the viewer.

  “We’re here, probes are static, and we’re ready to enter at your command,” Reeve answered first.

  Treena’s hands hovered over the controls, and it hit her. She wasn’t really in any danger. Her body was safely aboard Constantine in bed. Would they replace this artificial body if she was destroyed in the wormhole? Panic threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of waking up in her withered form in her bedroom, unable to speak or move.

  “Constantine will be joining you and relaying what he’s able to,” Thomas said, and the AI flickered to life behind her. He stood, not needing to strap in.

  Reeve smiled at the AI. “Welcome aboard, Con.”

  “Glad to be here for this momentous occasion,” Constantine said. “Of course, I have nothing to fear.”

  Tarlen let out a gasp, and Treena frowned at the AI. “Maybe you should can the glowing pep talk, Constantine.”

  “Commander Starling, begin entry into the wormhole,” the captain said from the bridge, his voice wavering slightly through the speaker.

  “Beginning entry.” Treena moved their ship forward. The slowly swirling colorful opening was immense, and soon they could see nothing but the blackness of space.

  “Good luck, we’re counting…” Thomas’ voice disappeared, and the lights inside Cleo flickered on and off, dimming before returning to normal.

  “What’s happening?” Tarlen ask
ed, and Reeve was quick to reply.

  “Just an energy flux as we passed through the barrier. Everything checks out, no system interruptions to report, Commander,” she said.

  “Constantine, are you still activated?” Treena asked, scared to take her eyes off the screen. She spotted a tiny dot of light in the distance, and she used that as a marker, flying the expedition ship slowly forward on impulse thrusters.

  “I am here,” the AI said.

  “Can you reach the bridge?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately, I am unable to relay any messages at this time,” he said.

  “Keep trying,” she ordered him. The ship began to shake, and Treena sent an ultrasonic scan around their area, trying to find out what was causing the disturbance.

  “Why are we shaking?” Tarlen asked, his voice a wobbly whisper.

  Cleo stopped jerking around at the invisible turbulence for a moment, before it pulled hard one way, then the other. Her belt cut into her shoulder, and Treena felt the controls slip from her fingers. The tiny speck of light remained, but the blackness was gone, replaced by a bright tunnel. They’d entered the wormhole.

  They raced forward, the speed reading on the screen impossible yet happening. They sped through the corridor, jerking as it turned directions every few seconds.

  Treena lifted her hands, knowing that she wouldn’t want to stop the ship even if she could. Reeve did the same, and the Tekol woman watched through the viewer with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Treena would have cried as well, but she had no tear ducts. She did the only thing she could think of as they tore through space in the expedition ship. “Tarlen, you get ten stones, five black, and five white.”

  Fifteen

  The ship vanished from all readouts seconds after it penetrated the wormhole entrance. Thomas slammed a palm onto his chair arm and gripped the leather tightly. He should never have agreed to this risky endeavor. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this role. Already he was making bad decisions, letting the crew around him make suggestions and rolling with them.