Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series

by Hystad, Nathan

  “Ven, we might be looking at the newest Concord colony.” Brax guided the shuttle lower as they crossed a long, narrow body of water that separated the desert from the warmer and more humid jungle beyond. Twenty minutes later, they flew a hundred yards above the stone structures they’d seen from the probe’s feed, and Ven felt a slight tremble in his hand as he spotted the city below. It was much more evident from this position, and Brax remained quiet as he found a clearing to land their shuttle within.

  “We need to be cautious,” Ven said as the doors opened. They were in uniform only, but Brax grabbed two armored vests from the storage compartment, tossing one at Ven. He clasped it over his torso while Brax did the same, and Ven clipped a PL-30 to it near his chest. Brax opted for the larger XR-14 and jumped onto the damp grass.

  “You don’t really think anyone’s living in there?” Brax asked, and Ven shook his head.

  “Not any longer. But someone used to, and what did we learn at the Academy about ancient races?” Ven asked his Tekol friend.

  “They liked to leave surprises behind for future visitors. And they were rarely pleasant ones.” Brax started forward, taking the lead as he headed toward the structures a half-kilometer away. The trees were tall: thick veiny green leaves clung in bunches to long, thin branches, reaching for the bright star. The sky was cloudless, adding to the heat of the midday, and Ven was already sweating.

  A swarm of minuscule insects roamed the jungle nearby and instinctively swooped at Brax. He spat a few out and waved his arms in defense. Ven lifted a hand and used his mind to disperse the cloud of bugs.

  “Thanks,” Brax said, continuing on.

  Ven had a strange feeling of trepidation at this adventure, and nearly stopped Brax twice before they’d gone three hundred meters into the dense forest. Vines draped over high branches, and something about it reminded him of the forest on Driun. He glanced to the treetops, expecting creatures to drop from above and attack, but none did.

  The ground was soft, everything humid and sticky. Bright flowers grew anywhere the sunlight broke from the canopy above, sending a sweet smell across the entire region. Brax sneezed three times and sniffled as they walked past the blooms. Ven stepped over a moss-covered log, almost slipping as his boot hit the wet vegetation beyond it. His hand touched the fallen tree and left an imprint in the soggy growth.

  There was something familiar about this region, and he realized it reminded him of his village on Leria. Nestled far within a jungle, with deadly animals and insects surrounding it, they hadn’t been permitted to leave the grounds very often—not unless they were accompanied by an Elder.

  Ven recalled the time Fayle had brought him alone into the jungle, leading him through an intricate path system toward a waterfall. A year later, when he was older and feeling more rebellious, he’d attempted to duplicate the steps they’d taken that day but had failed miserably. He couldn’t locate any of the landmarks Fayle had guided him past. After hours of wandering the jungle, scared and alone, Elder Fayle had found him.

  His skin had angry red welts from bug bites, torn from barbed branches, but Fayle hadn’t shouted or reprimanded him. She’d hugged him close and whispered something memorable in his ear.

  “If you ever are lost, I will find you, Ven Ittix. Lose your path, and I will guide you home.”

  Brax had stopped, turning to face him. “Ven, you okay?”

  “Yes. I was just…” Ven thought about his resentment toward Fayle recently, with her odd actions, and again pictured the Ugna as they’d destroyed the Vusuls in unison. Did he even know Elder Fayle at all? It seemed like she was trying to protect him from High Elder Wylen at times, but why?

  “We’re almost there,” Brax told him, pointing through the thick brush. He separated a cluster of vines with his sizable weapon’s barrel and let Ven through first. The city was beyond.

  To call it that was a little bit of an exaggeration. It was a village at most, with square stone structures, each covered in mossy drapes, some dripping with liquid.

  “It must have rained earlier.” Brax touched a damp stone and flicked water from his gloved finger.

  The ground changed, the wet grass giving way to a rocky path. Ven took the stone sidewalk, using it to carry him through the village. There were half-crumbled buildings on either side, and at the endpoint, a round structure centered the space. And it hit him.

  “This can’t be,” Ven said, spinning around. It was so obvious.

  “Ven, what is it?” Brax asked, grabbing him by the shoulders. He felt the fear from the Tekol officer, his own worries oozing out alongside Brax’s.

  “This is impossible.” Ven sank to the ground, his knees pulling tight to his chest as he rocked slowly. The building walls appeared to be closing in, as if seeking to squash him, trap him for eternity. How old were these ruins? At least a thousand years. It didn’t make sense.

  Brax hauled him from the ground, grabbing Ven by the collar. He shook him lightly, and Ven felt the impact as the big man slapped him across the cheek, bringing him out of the trance. Ven’s eyes widened, and he locked gazes with Brax.

  “If you don’t tell me what’s going on…”

  “I know who built this,” Ven said.

  “How? Who did it?” Brax asked, gazing over his shoulder at the stone remnants.

  “The Ugna. This is an Ugna village.”

  ____________

  Lark was glad to be exiting the space station. A Concord cruiser had come in the middle of the night, docking right next to Prophet’s ship. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, he was sure he’d gone to the Academy with one of the crew he spotted walking through the corridors of the station.

  He was in disguise, but if the device failed for a split second, he’d be found out. Prophet had assured him it was infallible, but from his experience, nothing ever was.

  They’d waited for two days here, and finally, her contact had arrived. “Late is better than never,” she told Lark for the second time, and again, he had no choice but to agree.

  “Thank the Vastness the blasted Concord vessel departed,” Lark said from the dark corner of the food court. A dozen vendors from around the Concord were located there, sending far too many different smells through the recycled air, making Lark sick to his stomach. He couldn’t wait to leave.

  The man arrived, and Prophet pointed at him from under the table. “That’s him.”

  He was Zilph’i, which wasn’t unusual at a Concord-approved station like this, but he went to the Eganian food vendor, ordering something very much alive, the worms slithering over his plate. This was the sign. It was their contact.

  Prophet stood, Lark joining her as they walked past the contact, making sure he noticed. He set his food onto a table and followed them. Prophet didn’t slow until they were well past the storefronts and storage containers, where she stopped and leaned against the wall. Lark saw that her fingers didn’t stray far from the gun at her hip, and he suddenly wished he were armed too.

  “Greetings,” the man said, coming to a halt twenty yards away.

  “Kell?” Prophet asked.

  “That’s me.” The man shifted from foot to foot, clearly nervous.

  “Where is it?”

  “Close. We’ll need to fly.”

  Lark had been hoping the damned thing was docked at the station but assumed that wasn’t a possibility. The sooner he made the trip, the sooner he returned to his family.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Prophet asked.

  “There’s a small matter of payment,” Kell said, his voice cracking slightly.

  “You’ll be paid when we have the shuttle.” She was a cool customer. Keen could have used someone like Prophet at his side during his tenure as the Assembly’s leader.

  “That wasn’t the deal.”

  “You want to leave? Go ahead. We have the credits and will pay you when we’re happy with the shuttle,” she told the man.

  “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to procure a Ne
k shuttle?” Kell asked too loudly, and someone from farther down the hallway started toward them.

  “We’re leaving. Lead us to your transport,” Prophet said. “And stay quiet.”

  He nodded, and Lark walked past the prying station guard, who carried a flashlight like a weapon. He let them pass without issue, and Lark breathed a sigh of relief. Ten minutes later, they were entering the airlock of a corporate freighter, meant to haul goods within the Concord, and once the doors shut, Prophet motioned for Lark to cut the device.

  He did so, and the Zilph’i man stepped away in shock. “You… it’s you. Keen. The entire Concord is searching for you.”

  “And you’re growing a conscience suddenly?” Prophet’s hand hovered beside her gun.

  “No. Nothing like that…”

  “This changes nothing. Bring us to the Nek shuttle, and do it expeditiously,” Prophet said.

  The man tapped a communicator along the bay’s wall and advised the pilot to depart. Keen looked around the ship, finding it devoid of any goods: no crates and no load of ice were attached to the freighter’s towing hasps at the rear of the craft.

  “I take it you’re new to the business?” Lark asked the man.

  Kell nodded. “Why do you say that?”

  Lark pointed at the empty shelving, the bare floor. “What in the Vastness is an ice hauler doing out here with no payload, and nothing inside the holding bay? If you were flagged and boarded, what would you tell them?”

  “Uh… I would have said I needed passage…”

  “Who? You? Some nobody Zilph’i with enough money to hire a hauler? Why would you come this far? This station is a dump. Next time… because there will be a next time… you buy some goods to move around. Sell them, even. Find a contact at the world you’re traveling to, make a deal to bring supplies, and earn some side credits while appearing legitimate.”

  Keen saw something spark in the man’s eyes. “That makes a lot of sense,” Kell said. “I’m only doing this…”

  Keen raised a hand, stopping the man from going on. “Quiet. I don’t want your story. How long until we’re at the shuttle?”

  The man’s expression grew sheepish. “We’re already there.”

  “What do you mean?” Prophet walked up to him, pressing a finger into his chest.

  “I mean that the shuttle is here. In the next bay.” Kell motioned to the doorway ten steps from their position.

  “You brought it with you? That wasn’t part of the deal. What if we were followed, or if you were caught before you arrived?” the tough Callalay woman asked, clearly angry. Keen was beginning to like her more and more.

  “But we weren’t…”

  “Show us.” Keen walked to the doorway, and the Zilph’i man came seconds later, using a retinal scanner to gain access to the freighter’s secondary bay. Usually, it was the one that was climate-controlled, for the transport of frozen goods or animals used to a certain environment. When the doors opened, Lark smiled at the sight of the Nek shuttle. It was brand new, the First Ship logo on the doors. The Nek drive took up a quarter of the rear section of the hold, and he strode to it, silently admiring the construction.

  “How did you acquire it?” Prophet asked, but the man shook his head.

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Fine.” Prophet glanced at the exit. “Does it work?”

  Their contact entered the shuttle first, and Lark saw something in Prophet change. He didn’t like the vibe she was giving off. The engines powered on, the drive humming loudly before cooling and calming.

  “Are there any tricks to it?” Prophet asked.

  “Nothing that isn’t in the system’s…” The woman punched Kell hard in the gut, and he keeled over, gasping for breath.

  “What are you doing?” Keen asked.

  She didn’t reply, only dragged the tall, skinny man from the shuttle, tossing him to the ground. Her gun was in her hand. “How many are on this ship?”

  “Just the two of us,” the man said through grinding teeth.

  She fired, the weapon’s blast striking him in the chest. His eyes were still open when he hit the floor.

  “Prophet… you…”

  She threw the gun to Lark. “You deal with the pilot. I’ll figure out how to operate this thing,” she said.

  Lark held the gun, staring at Prophet while she casually entered the shuttle. What had he agreed to? He’d done a lot of things in his life, but he always kept his end of a bargain when buying supplies and gear. She’d killed this man without a second thought.

  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he stared at the dead body, wondering if there was another path he could take. Anything, other than doing as their benefactor said, led him back to Wavor Manor, where he would rot, never being reunited with his Seda and Luci.

  He took the gun and strode through the freighter’s corridor, heading for the bridge.

  Ten

  The space around Aruto was as peaceful and quiet as Leria. Earon, the human home world, and Nolix, the Tekol planet, were such opposites of the Callalay and Zilph’i’s. The Founders had different ideas of how to live. Tom appreciated the simpler places like this, happier for no traffic and smaller, more spread out cities.

  The density of Ridele wasn’t something he’d expected to grow used to. Imagining his new home made him think about Aimie. He’d basically offered to move in with her. As much as he cared for the woman, was that in his best interest, or even more importantly, her best interest? She’d been about to retire, and with Tom an admiral, they could have traveled together, him bringing her along on diplomatic missions—at least, the ones that didn’t involve war-starting chaos, like this trip.

  Now that she’d decided to continue working, which was completely her right, their situation had changed slightly. Not to mention, Tom wasn’t positive he was cut out for this role. The Prime’s reaction to everything had been a bit of a revelation, though. He’d asked Tom for advice, sought important decision-making from the newest admiral, which meant their leader had faith in him. So did Tom, but this was where he belonged: out in the Concord, trying to make things better. Perhaps doing so as an admiral while using someone else’s ship, like Shu, wasn’t the worst idea either. He could avoid the long shifts on the bridge but stay part of the adventure.

  “Bringing us in, Captain,” Douglas said from the helm position, and Tom snapped out of his daydreaming.

  Lieutenant Commander Asha Bertol was practically bouncing in her seat. She’d mentioned that she hadn’t been home for three years, and she’d just finished her duty as executive officer aboard Xinape. This after spending the previous five years since the Academy in a junior rank on a Border cruiser.

  “Captain, we’re being denied clearance to the station’s docking bays,” Conner said.

  Rene rose from her seat and strode toward Douglas. “What are you saying? Did you tell them who we were?”

  “Sure did. They just replied saying our access was denied,” he said.

  “Find someone on the communicator. I want answers!” Rene barked, and a minute later a Callalay man’s dark ridged head surfaced on the viewscreen.

  “Greetings, and welcome to Aruto. We hate to inform you, Aruto is not taking visitors at this time…”

  “And why not?” Rene asked.

  He even managed to smile. “That information is out of my jurisdiction. I apologize for the…”

  “They were expecting us. I am Captain Rene Bouchard of the flagship Shu, and this is Admiral Thomas Baldwin from Ridele, here at the bequest of Prime Xune. You may have heard of him… leader of the Concord.” Rene was fuming, but the man’s expression didn’t shift.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “We know, ‘Aruto is not taking visitors at this time’,” Rene finished for him. She reached over Conner and killed the feed. “What’s happening? We’re being railroaded, and Aruto is involved. They have to be.”

  Tom moved beside her. “Lieutenant Commander Asha Bertol, why did you
r mother close access?”

  She stared at him with big brown eyes, her cheeks reddening. “I don’t know, Admiral.”

  “You’re the daughter of the most important person on this Founder’s world. We just learned that our top Callalay leader, Admiral Jalin Benitor, is missing, taken from her home in Ridele. Someone is trying to start a war within the Concord, using ships that are exact replicas of our fleet, and now your mother is telling us we’re not welcome on Aruto? This isn’t adding up, not unless she’s involved,” Tom said, and the girl relented.

  “She’s scared,” Bertol said.

  Tom saw the fear in the crew’s eyes: Kan Shu, Douglas, and the few non-executive members. “Bertol, in the captain’s office, now.” He turned, walking toward the room off the rear of the bridge, and he heard Bouchard, then the young Callalay officer, follow.

  When the door closed, Tom stepped closer to Asha. “What has she done?”

  “Who?”

  “Your mother, Lieutenant Commander.” Tom’s hands found his hips, and he was feeling particularly annoyed at this delay.

  “She hasn’t done anything. She’s terrified. The Callalay have had a long-running relationship within the Concord. We were an integral part of the Concord’s beginning. Things have been changing, and with Prime Pha’n being removed from power, it’s started something of a revolution within our ranks,” Asha said.

  “What does this have to do with anything?” Rene asked her officer.

  “Everything. Mother has seen the shift when no one else has. She refuses to let you bring the Ugna to Aruto.”

  And there it was. Tom moved away, leaning against the desk. “Why? I thought the Ugna and the Callalay had a bond.”

  Asha shook her head. “This is not true. Yes, there was a time they helped save our planet. Without their assistance eighty years ago, our race might have been somewhere other than Aruto, but the price was high.”

  Tom was starting to understand. “What did they want in exchange for their help?”

  “According to my mother, whose father’s father was our leader at the time, they demanded a favor. That’s it. But now that we understand the cost, Mother says we shouldn’t have made the barter. We should have sought help from our Founder friends, not the Ugna,” Asha told them with a trembling lip.