Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series

by Hystad, Nathan

  “I’ve sent the jump probes,” Brax advised them. “We should have details soon.”

  Within five minutes, the feed for the local drones had flashed into the system, and he accessed them, bringing the footage onto the viewscreen. He was shocked to see the complex structures near the planet’s many moons.

  “What is this?” the captain asked. “Mining operation?”

  “Captain, judging by the readouts from the probes, I’d say it’s a weapons manufacturing plant, as well as a mining operation.” Brax zoomed again, pausing the image on the surface of one of the moons. There were high structures, dozens of giant machines rolling along. He canceled the image, switching to another. This one depicted a floating station, and Ven saw the dozens of fleet ships under construction, many large and docked within metallic-framed bays.

  “I’d say you’re correct in your analysis,” Commander Teller said. His assistant was present, holding out a bottle of water for her boss, and Ven returned his attention to the images. Who was running the operation? He closed his eyes, extending his senses toward the manufacturing station. He felt only a single entity.

  “Captain, I think we should investigate. Sensors indicate one being inside the station,” Ven said.

  “Shouldn’t we leave it and continue on to Earth?” Teller asked.

  “No, I agree with Ven. We should make contact. Get some intel before rushing and showing our cards. Darl, can you communicate with them?” Treena asked.

  Lieutenant Darl attempted to broadcast a greeting, but their communication went unanswered. “Nothing, Captain.”

  The captain motioned to Brax, and then pointed at Ven. “I’d like you two to take Cleo. Make contact with whoever’s on that station. Be careful.”

  Ven exited his post, keeping calm about the entire scenario. They’d made the jump a few minutes ago, and they were already rushing off in the expedition ship. As he reached the edge of the bridge, Reeve was already running diagnostics on the drive, saying they were in the clear.

  “Looks like we have all the fun, hey, Ven?” Brax clapped him on the back as he jogged into the elevator. They rose a deck and darted up the rungs leading to their craft.

  “I do not think this is fun, Brax,” Ven admitted.

  “Then tell me what you consider a good time, Ven.” Brax entered the ship, powering it up from its perch on top of Constantine. Ven already felt a difference in the man. Not so long ago, he was fearful of space, scared to pilot a craft like this between points A and B, but Brax had changed a lot in the past year or so. He was more confident, a better officer. Ven hoped he’d grown as much.

  “I meditate for my enjoyment,” Ven told him.

  “I’ll never understand you.” Brax undocked Cleo and drifted toward their destination, the thrusters propelling them forward. Upon closer examination, the station was long; interconnected with outstretched metallic tubes. The vessels under construction were lined up beneath the structure, and that was where Brax guided them.

  Ven searched again, sending tendrils of energy from within. He pointed to the right. “The human is in there. In the main building, near that largest bay.”

  Brax pressed the comms to life, using the automated message. A second later, the dash comm beeped, and Ven tapped it, accepting the incoming communication. It had no video accompaniment, only verbal, but the message was clear, the female voice crisp.

  “I don’t know what the Concord is, but if you’re here in peace, come on in,” the woman said.

  Brax grinned. “They speak Standard. How very interesting.”

  Ven’s eyebrows lifted. The chances of them using Standard were very low, making it quite the coincidence… or not.

  “Thank you. Can we enter the main bay safely? I assume our door docks aren’t compatible,” Brax replied.

  “Use the bay. That’s fine.” The woman sounded excited, and Ven wasn’t sensing any ill will.

  Brax did just that, and Ven stared at the construction zone. The vessels were mostly skeletal frames at this point, but the general shape was recognizable. He tried to picture them with a hull but couldn’t place the familiarity.

  Cleo was tiny compared to the enormity of this operation, and Saturn sat in the distance, the perfect backdrop for the station. It was impressive, and Ven’s attention shifted to the station itself as they entered through the immense bay door’s energy barrier. The room was full of raw materials, different types of robotic arms, rovers, and shuttles. At one point, this had likely been a giant operation, but now, there was only a sole occupant on the entire station.

  Brax settled the expedition vessel in an open space in the center of the processing floor and grabbed his PL-30 from behind his seat. “Better bring yours too, Ven. We’re supposed to greet her, but we have to be cautious. It wouldn’t be the first time someone played friendly to trick a newcomer into relaxing.”

  Ven fully agreed and grabbed the weapon and holster, strapping it around his chest. He ran a scan from the exterior hull to ensure air quality. “It’s safe,” he told Brax before they opened the doors to their craft.

  Brax went first, climbing down the decline onto the space station, and Ven heard the sound of footsteps coming at them. The woman stopped about twenty meters from their position, her jumpsuit greasy, her long dark hair pulled into a ponytail. She removed her gloves and dropped them on the floor.

  “Sorry, sir. I didn’t recognize the ship. To what do I owe this honor?” she asked.

  “You wouldn’t…” Brax started, but Ven saw she was looking at him, staring in deference.

  Ven stepped in front of her. “Do you know who I am?” His voice was quiet.

  She shook her head. “No, sir. Only that you’re one of the Invaders. I hope I didn’t do anything to upset you. The funding has been cut, and I’m trying my best. I know you found ways to automate the processes, but we need more bodies to keep the machines running at optimum capabilities. I would be farther along in the…”

  “The Invaders? I do not follow,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. Is that offensive? I know that’s not what you’re really called. That’s the human-created name that stuck. I thought you were okay with it…” She stared at the floor, and Ven didn’t need to be clairvoyant to sense her nervousness.

  “I am not an Invader. I am Executive Lieutenant Ven Ittix of Constantine. This is Lieutenant Commander Brax Daak, and we hail from the Concord,” he said, and she met his gaze again.

  “You’re not from here?” she asked.

  “No. We’ve come to investigate Earth,” Brax said, and Ven saw her finally realize that Brax wasn’t human. He was a foot taller than her, twice as broad at the shoulders. While his face was similar, it was rounder, his eyes different.

  “You’re not a human…” She walked closer.

  “I’m Tekol. I come from Nolix, the Concord’s home planet.”

  Ven thought she might freak out, but she surprised him by smiling. “I knew it. Someone’s come to save us.”

  “Save you?” Ven asked.

  “You’re not one of the Invaders? You look just like them. The skin, the eyes.” She touched his cheek, her fingers warm.

  “I am Ugna, but more importantly, a member of the Concord fleet.”

  “Then you will help?” she asked.

  “Tell us what happened,” Brax said. “Better yet, come with us onto Constantine.”

  She glanced between them, but she nodded eventually.

  ____________

  Fayle released the two guards wearing their EVAs, leaving them to float in space with a distress signal on a loop. She told herself they’d be fine. They were only an hour from Aruto, and she needed to make better time. She was risking a lot by leaving like this, but considering the looming attack, Tom and the president couldn’t waste resources on searching for her.

  She found the waiting ship where she’d instructed it to be: on the far side of the seventh planet’s mid-sized moon. Fayle hated having to do this to Baldwin, but she’d gone too far t
o stop now. Years of working with Wylen, in preparation for the Ugna’s internal attack. She’d deceived so many people, including most of the Ugna she’d ever been in contact with. Wylen expected her to guide the other Elders through the coming months, but she had other ideas.

  As she flew the shuttle toward the moon, Fayle recalled the first meeting she’d ever had with High Elder Wylen. It had been fifty-seven years ago, when she’d been nothing more than an up-and-coming acolyte. She’d been stripped from her family, much as the others had, and four years later, the mysterious stranger had stopped in their village on Leria.

  Even at that time, while she was a mere slip of a girl, Fayle hadn’t been able to remember her parents. In the early years, she’d wake in the middle of the night, sheets drenched with sweat from nightmares of the faceless family she’d been stolen from. The Elders would see her pain and feed her a shot of En’or, and somehow that helped. She now understood why. The drug was terrible, a powerful enhancer, but also as addictive as anything sold in any dark alley in Ridele.

  She glanced at her trembling hand, knowing it wasn’t fear that caused it. She hadn’t used En’or in a few hours. Wylen and his predecessors had been fully aware of what they were doing. He’d created an army of dependant soldiers. They would do what he wanted, even if she fought against him, but Fayle did think they could win the upcoming internal struggle.

  She landed the shuttle, the vessel latching to the rocky surface, and she waited for the cruiser’s hatch-field to seal around her exit before she opened the doors.

  It was Concord-owned, the First Ship painted along the side, and Fayle thought about the history behind the symbol. The Ugna were older than the Concord, which was a difficult concept to imagine. Wylen claimed there might be millions more of them, including the ones at Sol.

  Fayle should have come clean sooner, but she hadn’t decided which side of the fight she would stand on. After witnessing the passion Thomas Baldwin held for his position and for the partner planets’ safety and well-being, she’d changed her mind. If that man could give away his ship and move to Nolix for what he thought was the good of their people, then she could do the same for the Ugna.

  “Are you well?” First Officer Hanli asked as Fayle entered the cruiser. The woman was wearing a plain brown jumpsuit, her hair long and loose. She looked like a stranger.

  “Yes.” Fayle ran a hand over her pants, nervously fighting a crease. “Thank you for coming. Is she here?”

  Hanli was one of the few she felt she could trust. They’d discussed this eventuality years ago, when the woman was a mere child—recruited from a young age, just as Fayle had been. It was surprising how cyclical deception was.

  “She’s here and waiting for you in your cabin,” Hanli said. “Have they heard from Constantine?”

  Fayle had expected that would be the woman’s first query. “No, but I’m sure your friend Ven Ittix is fine. Show me to the cabin.” Her steps were shaky, and she fought the urge to reach in her pocket for the shot of En’or.

  Ven was no longer taking it, and it scared her. An Ugna without En’or was rare… and he was already powerful. As she walked the long corridor behind Hanli, Fayle thought about the Temple of Sol and Father Hamesly. He’d told Ven the truth, that Ugna didn’t need the drug. And that name. What did Hamesly know of Sol and the Ugna? Maybe it was time to discuss it with the man.

  Hanli stopped at the door, turning toward Fayle. She took the Elder’s hands, and Fayle found the girl’s were cool to the touch. Her eyes were wide, but her words were strong. “We are doing the right thing, Elder. Our people deserve a choice.”

  “Thank you, child. I will meet with you later. Please proceed.”

  Hanli departed, leaving Fayle alone in the corridor, near the door. It opened with the press of a latch, and she smiled at the face greeting her from a comfortable seated position on a couch. The woman set her tablet on the tabletop.

  “Hello, Admiral,” Fayle said.

  Jalin Benitor smiled in return. “Elder Fayle. It’s time to get to work.”

  Fifteen

  Almost all of the people Lark encountered were Ugna, and this disturbed him greatly. The gangly pale folks wandered the halls with grace, rarely saying a word. They’d been sent to quarters for the first night, with the promise of speaking to the Earth president the morning after. It was now midday, and Lark was growing tired of waiting.

  “I expected them to be a little more enthusiastic about meeting a representative from millions of light years away,” he muttered to Prophet. She sat quietly at the two-person table in the elaborate courtyard. The ceilings were glass, but all they did was showcase the miserable rainy day outside. The dark clouds matched his mood, as if he was being personified by the inclement weather.

  “It’s a tactic,” she replied, setting her fork to her plate. “The food is good, though.”

  Another tactic. Lark knew them like the back of his hand. He considered himself an expert negotiator, but sometimes there was no mutually beneficial outcome. It was how he’d ended up at Wavor Manor. “Whatever it is, I’m…”

  The Ugna woman from yesterday appeared, striding toward them. Her dark red pantsuit accented the color of her eyes, and she motioned for them to follow. “President Basher will see you.”

  “About time,” Lark mumbled, but spoke louder, in his diplomatic tone: “That’s wonderful. I look forward to it.”

  She didn’t respond. The walk was somewhat quick, five minutes through a maze of halls and doors. Lark noticed more humans, but they were all head-down, set to their tasks. They walked as if they had the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders. He almost noted how most of them were in matching blue uniforms, whereas the Ugna were expressing free will.

  Prophet strolled beside him, matching his stride easily, and their guide stopped at a set of ten-foot-tall double doors made of a rich wood. The flooring was pure white, so clean Lark imagined you could eat off it. Whoever this Basher was, he ran a tight ship.

  Two men opened the doors from the inside, and Lark entered the large oval room. The flooring was covered with a dark purple carpet; tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of what could only be human history. His gaze settled on one in particular. Enormous ships descended from the skies as thousands of people stared toward the incoming vessels.

  “I have always appreciated that one too,” a voice said, and Lark noticed the man moving from a desk near the far end of the room. This had to be Basher. He was middle-aged, maybe a little older than Lark, six feet tall, and fit. His clothing was similar to a style used within the Concord, but it was different enough to feel alien. The man stopped when they were ten feet apart and grinned at them. “When I was told someone from this mysterious Concord had arrived, I didn’t believe my people. Then I was told one of them was human, and I knew for sure someone was pulling my leg. But her…” Basher stared at Prophet. “She’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen.”

  “Her name is Prophet,” Lark said, not liking the way this president was assessing his escort.

  “Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.” Basher smiled again. Lark didn’t like the man’s choice of words. He didn’t quite follow them, but there was a veiled threat interlaced with the man’s constant grin. He hoped his benefactor knew what he was getting into.

  “I think you know my race, President Basher.” Prophet lifted an arm, and an empty vase lifted from an end table, floating in the air toward her.

  “You’re one of them?” Basher asked, and Lark’s heart skipped a beat. This whole time he’d been flying with an Ugna, and she’d never told him. She’d been able to read his emotions, and only the Vastness knew what else. Betrayal burned deeply within him, but he tried to act like he’d been aware all along.

  “I am one of the Ugna,” she said.

  “But you look…”

  “You are as well, aren’t you, President Basher?” she asked, the vase falling from the air and shattering o
n the floor. A human guard opened the door, asking if everything was okay, and the president dismissed him.

  Lark shook his head, confident this man wasn’t one of the Ugna, but he shocked Lark by smiling in response. A second later, the broken bits of the vase rose from the ground, returning to their shape. He closed his eyes, humming something, and the pieces glowed hotly. A moment later, the vase hovered to the table and lowered. It had been repaired.

  “Impressive,” Prophet said.

  “What is it you want?” the president asked.

  Lark thought it was time for him. “I’m Admiral Lark Keen of the Concord, and we need…”

  Prophet raised a finger, silencing him. “Now that we’ve confirmed he’s Ugna, we don’t need that any longer.” She turned her attention to Basher. “The Ugna have joined a multi-world conglomerate and own a home world within the Concord. There are riches unlike anything you’ve ever seen. My boss, High Elder Wylen, has sent me to come for you, to promise you a seat at the head of this Concord if you bring your people and help him secure victory.”

  “Surely you have enough strength to do this on your own,” Basher offered.

  Lark watched the conversation with a detached sense of foreboding. The Ugna were really making their move. One race trying to take over the entire Concord. He thought about the humans in the halls, heads low, their expressions sad and depressed. Was that what he was playing with? Was he going to assist the Ugna in enslaving the entire Concord?

  “We can, but our foothold is tenuous. We need allies. We want your fleet,” Prophet said.

  The president ran a hand through his medium-length brown hair and peered at Lark. “How do we progress?”

  Prophet grinned. Slipping a tablet from her pocket, she passed it to him. “This. We have the means to modify star drives, and enough Nek to fuel jumps to Concord space. The job will take a few weeks, if you have a facility and the workers. It’s all there.”

  The president peered at the clear tablet, rotating it in his hands. “How many worlds are we talking about?”