Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series

by Hystad, Nathan

  “I have a feeling they knew exactly what they were doing,” he told her. “They had a hand in everything. They were playing puppeteer with Prime Pha’n, and their fingers were all over Admiral Hudson, and probably Admiral Keen before him. You don’t pull off something like this on a whim. Damn it. Fayle has always known, and it took her this long to say anything.”

  “Fayle could be lying too. Setting us up again,” Rene suggested as they walked from his room, heading toward the elevators.

  “I don’t think so, but I’ve been struggling to read women lately, so I’m probably wrong.”

  They entered the elevator, and Rene turned to him. “Was that the good Doctor Aimie Gaad you were talking with?” she asked, mischief in her tone.

  “It was.”

  “How about we have dinner when this is over… talk about it? Like old times,” Rene said, grinning at him.

  Tom was caught off-guard but could only shrug. “If we’re alive after today, I’d be happy to.”

  The doors opened, and they entered the bridge. It was a flurry of activity, and Commander Kan Shu pointed to his own seat, offering it to Tom. Kan took the helm position, and Lieutenant Commander Asha Bertol sat along the edge of the bridge, manning the weapons systems.

  Hans remained in Engineering, where Tom would have ordered Reeve to maintain shields and thruster power control during battle. He watched over their processes, and within ten seconds was pleased with what he saw. Rene was a great captain, and her crew was a testament to that.

  Conner Douglas was seated beside Kan Shu, and he smiled nervously at Tom. Yin Shu’s AI walked from behind him, stopping at his chair when he arrived at it. “Hello, Admiral.”

  “Shu, good to see you,” Tom told her. “I trust we’re prepared for this?”

  “The fighters are manned, the shields are at full capacity, and weapons are charged. We are as ready as we can be,” the projection informed them.

  They were an hour out from Aruto, with a few surprises waiting for the incoming fleet, but it had been Tom’s idea to parley first. See if it was possible to divert the attack before it began.

  “Captain, we have visual,” Kan said, and the viewscreen zoomed on the mirror ship. It looked exactly like Shu and Constantine, and Tom was shocked the Ugna had the ability to create such a magnificent piece of machinery.

  “Reach out to them. Request communication,” Rene ordered.

  The response came quickly. The screen flashed, showing an image of a bridge far different than theirs. The seats were rough, the computers nothing like the advanced ones Tom saw around him on this bridge. They’d built the flagships to resemble the Concord’s on the outside, but had probably kept them hollow inside. It was a respectable trick.

  It did have a crew, but Tom was surprised to see they weren’t all Zilph’i or Ugna. A man stood, his size and thick dreads identifying him as a Tekol. Nothing about him seemed Ugna, but it was apparent once he spoke that he was with them.

  “We’ve been wondering when someone would stand against us,” the man said. “And from the looks of it, we have the pleasure of coming to blows with the very face of the Concord. The High Elder will be pleased.”

  Tom bristled, trying to keep him calm. “We don’t need to fight. Is there no other eventuality we can discuss?” he asked the man, who only smiled wider.

  “There will be no negotiating. I have been tasked with destroying Aruto, and I will do just that,” he said.

  Tom was happy they didn’t have any of the Ugna cruisers with them, because Hans in Engineering didn’t know their weaknesses like he did the Concord replica a few kilometers from their position.

  “Then we have nothing further to speak about.” Tom watched as Kan powered off their communication. “Be steadfast, be vigilant, be strong. The Vastness welcomes all.” He whispered the Code phrase as the alarms sounded.

  The battle was upon them.

  ____________

  “This is quite the facility. It has evidence of Ugna technology mixed with that of the Zilph’i,” Ven said as they walked through the manufacturing station’s programming center.

  “I don’t fully understand what you’re describing, but these methods came from the Invaders. Earth had space travel, but nothing like this yet. The Invaders brought with them promises of greatness and riches, and I’m told our divided world grasped at the chance to be included in something larger than humanity.” Cass led Reeve and Ven to the edge of the room, the lights flickering on at their arrival. “Instead, we lost ourselves and gave up everything to the newcomers.”

  Reeve found she liked the girl. She was thoughtful and had a brilliant mind. She was a little surprised that these Invaders had abandoned a human woman alone here to do all the work by herself, but if they were anything like the Ugna she’d met, they probably couldn’t anticipate anyone going against their wishes. They were arrogant to a fault.

  “These Protectors, do you have their schematics?” Ven asked, and took a seat beside Reeve as she made herself familiar with the software. It was written in Standard, making it a breeze to navigate.

  Cass pointed to the files, guiding Reeve to the blueprints, and within minutes, she was working on their plan for revenge.

  “What we need to do is create a virus that’ll disengage the drives,” Reeve told them.

  “What if we go a step further?” Cass asked.

  Ven turned to face her, his eyes piercing. “What do you propose?”

  “They’ve forwarded the plans from Earth, asking me to prepare for the modifications. We could create a trigger within this jump drive that would change their trajectory, and destroy the Bentom afterwards,” she suggested.

  Reeve considered this. “Why not just obliterate the star drive when they activate it?” she asked the woman.

  “If they explode here, the Invaders will know that they’ve failed and were likely sabotaged. If the ships depart and make the jumps, the ones remaining behind will have no idea that the outgoing vessels were obliterated. At least, not for some time.” Cass paled as she said it, and Reeve understood why. She was talking about killing hundreds, maybe thousands of people, even if they were the Invaders.

  Reeve peered at Ven and waited for his advice. “I say we do what Cass suggests,” he replied after a tense moment.

  “Okay. Let’s get to work,” Reeve said.

  A few hours later, they had the processes laid out, the drones and robotic arms prepared for the incoming modifications. Reeve’s eyes felt like they were crossing by the time they were done, but she was confident they were one step closer to success.

  Bootsteps rang out behind them, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Treena arriving. “How’s it coming along?”

  Reeve stood, stretching her aching back. “We’re set. The only issue we have is Cass.” The woman had taken a quick break, with the promise of returning with some water. Ven had joined her, getting a tour of the main plant.

  “How do you mean?” Treena asked.

  Reeve kept her voice low. “If we take her, the Invaders will be suspicious.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “She has to stay. We’ll promise to bring her later,” Reeve said.

  “And the moon?” the captain asked.

  “I don’t know… we should really return home after this. Tell Baldwin what’s going on,” Reeve said.

  Treena stared at her, eyes unblinking for a few seconds. “What if we have it look like an accident happened? Cass was making a last-minute change on the space dock arms. Repairs in preparation for the incoming fleet. She was lost in an airlock malfunction.”

  Reeve grinned at the captain, appreciating the woman’s idea. “It could work. But what about your superior? We’d better add him in too, since they aren’t aware he died over a year ago.”

  Cass returned with Ven, and they discussed the plan. She obviously didn’t like the idea of staying behind as the alternative. An hour later, the work was done, the fake footage of Cass’s accident loaded into th
e system. Reeve did the overlay herself, and was sure no one would catch the flaws. The Invaders would arrive to find the plant ready for the modifications and Cass gone: dead from a mistake as she prepared for the Protectors’ arrival.

  They departed from the station, leaving untraceable video surveillance linked to Constantine so they could keep a watchful eye on the progression. Reeve was proud of their efforts today and could only hope their arrival at the moon would go as smoothly. Saturn hung in the viewscreen in the distance, a regal world with beautiful rings.

  She found Harry in the boiler room where she’d left him and checked how far they were from their next destination. If they pushed the drive, they could arrive in an hour. She had a feeling that time was of the essence.

  ____________

  The answer had come fast. The president had only kept them waiting for an hour before advising them that Earth would be assisting the mission as requested. The Protector was beautiful, and the president himself rode in Asteri, the lead vessel in the twenty-ship procession from Earth to some remote hidden station near a ring-world named Saturn.

  The president made Lark uncomfortable. He was human but clearly had powerful Ugna abilities, which brought so many questions to mind. Could someone be gifted the abilities? Were the Ugna able to reprogram one’s brain, to train a mind to control objects with no more than your thoughts?

  He had free rein and walked through the straightforward corridors to his destination. Prophet was sleeping, and she’d been less than forthcoming about being an Ugna after his discovery. He shouldn’t have been so shocked. The woman was an enigma, but the mere fact that she was Callalay meant he hadn’t even considered that she was one of them. Things were changing, and if the Ugna had infiltrated each of the Founders, that made it impossible to determine who was an Ugna and who wasn’t. Nothing about Prophet had given her away.

  The president had requested a meeting with Lark. Alone.

  Lark was nervous. He was having second thoughts about joining forces with these Invaders and Earthlings. The humans looked like him, but he knew next to nothing about their species. He felt like a fraud.

  When he’d been working under the Assembly, acting as the face of a movement, he’d truly seen himself as a revolutionary. He’d wanted to spark change within the Concord, to make a difference and topple the autocratic nightmare that was leading their partners. Lark was quite aware that each person was the protagonist of their own story, and the entire time he’d worked to build up the Assembly, he’d seen himself as exactly that: a hero. A champion for the people.

  But with the Concord’s recent changes and improvements, he realized that perhaps he wasn’t the man for the job after all. Maybe a peaceful method would have been best. Thomas Baldwin had worked his way up from the inside and managed to do more for the Concord than Lark had ever been able to. Leave it to his old buddy Tom to beat him at that too.

  Now he was being asked to work with the Ugna, pretending to be the highest-ranking admiral, and convincing this Ugna human president to return with him to the Concord to fend off the Founders and allow the High Elder to claim the top title. From the outside, Lark knew it was wrong. Did he have a choice any longer? He felt like he was in too deep, his body buried in the sand, and if he wasn’t careful, his head would be covered soon too.

  “There you are,” the president said, walking up behind Lark as he stared through the large open room’s viewer of space. The feed showed them passing a planet, this one distant but unmistakeably red.

  “I’m here,” Lark said, smirking. His mouth suddenly went dry, and he searched the room for something to drink. The space was comfortable, loungers and built-in cushioned seating lining the walls, with tablets and computers near the opposite end.

  “This is our library. Of course, it’s nothing like the old archaic ones of the past, with physical books. Have you ever seen one?” Gordon Basher asked him. The man was in the same uniform as before, but he was more casual in it this time. His shoulders didn’t seem so tense, his expression softer.

  “I’ve seen books. My father-in-law used to prefer them. He kept journals and hand-wrote notations in them,” Lark said, taking a seat on a dark blue couch. Basher sat across from him, a table separating them.

  From nowhere, a woman appeared, walking softly across the open floor with cloth shoes on. She was human, her hair cut short, styled to the side. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “Tuscan red. Two glasses,” Basher said.

  Lark had no idea what that was, but he was anticipating the refreshment.

  Basher continued. “Cursive is a lost art. No one needs to do that any longer, just as no one needs to paint or play music. To sculpt wonders with bare hands is unnecessary, because we have drones to do these things for us. We have computers to create the loveliest tunes, things the human mind could never have imagined. But you know what?” he asked as the woman returned, pouring the beverages and leaving the bottle after she’d handed them each a glass.

  “What?” Lark asked.

  “We still need to make art, to compose music, to sculpt with our hands, because if we don’t, we lose what it means to be human,” Basher said.

  “Are you human?” Lark asked, taking a sip. The beverage was much like Vina, but smoother, lighter.

  The older man laughed, his face growing friendlier with the expression. “I am very human. The Invaders, or Ugna as you call them, have been generous with us, Admiral Keen. We were a troubled people. Our vanity blinded any chance of success. We needed someone to come in and show us the error of our ways, because we were on the wrong track.”

  Lark had so many questions. “What happened? Why did people stay behind?”

  “You say this Concord has humans, correct?” the president asked, and Lark nodded, taking another drink. It was making his head warm and fuzzy, and he set it down. “We went through a dark time, from what the records show. There isn’t much on record. Strife and nuclear war. I imagine some fled, while others didn’t have the resources to. Humans are resilient, Admiral, as I’m sure you’re aware. We’ll adapt to any reality, and survive, just as we did when the Invaders touched down.”

  Lark was beginning to understand the picture a little better now. “The Invaders offered you unity and technology. That gave you an excuse to control the people, didn’t it?”

  Basher frowned at him. “Are you suggesting that we did nothing? The Invaders would have stolen our world. They sought a home, and we had one they were compatible with. If we’d denied them, we’d have died.”

  Lark could see the man’s point, but within a few minutes of being on Earth, he’d glimpsed the fear in the people’s eyes and the cocksure attitude of the Invaders. This was no mutually beneficial relationship. “And now? So many years later, does this remain the case?”

  Basher smiled, taking a drink. “I think you misjudge your relationship with me, Admiral. I’m not here to be judged by you or your Concord. We’ve been summoned to assist you and have accepted this role. Are you asking me to negate the terms?”

  Lark stared at the man. This was his chance to tell the man they’d been wrong to come. He might not be allowed to leave, but so be it. He could find a way to keep Prophet quiet about the Concord’s location, and the High Elder could go to the Vastness. But when he closed his eyes, he saw Seda’s beautiful face, his daughter Luci’s bright smile, and he lost all sense of himself.

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m hoping that we can work together, President Basher, and create a strong bond. The Concord will be delighted to have you in her ranks, and the Ugna are glad to have a powerful ally coming to their aid in a time of need. This is an important time in human history, and that of numerous other advanced races. I’m thrilled that you’ve agreed to join us. The Vastness welcomes all.”

  Lark grabbed the glass, trying to make sure his hand didn’t shake as he took another swallow of the red drink.

  “Good. Now, tell me about the Concord, and what is this Vastness you speak of?
” Basher leaned forward, and Lark began to recite the carefully practiced speech provided to him by this mission’s benefactor, High Elder Wylen.

  Seventeen

  Stepping onto the moon was a surreal moment in Brandon’s life. It had been over twelve years since he’d last visited, making a supply delivery to the surface. He’d managed to speak with his brother then, if only for a few minutes. So many years ago, Clark had been too thin, his eyes sallow, his skin gray. That was the moment when Brandon had risked everything. Clark had listened to his plan to head to Mars without emotion, and by the end, his older brother thought he was kidding. He kept shaking his head, his expression reminding Brandon of the disappointment in their father’s eyes when they were kids.

  Brandon had left the moon shortly after, his brother saying he was done with the president and was happy to be far away, working on the frontier. That was what they were calling the newest outpost on the moon, and it was as apt a name as any. Except the same rules and laws imposed by the Invaders on Earth were here as well, meaning Clark was no freer here than at home.

  “This is strange,” Carl said, his voice muffled by the layered mask. His friend took the lead, exiting the designated shuttle pad, passing through a security checkpoint.

  Brandon’s heart raced as he spotted one of the Invaders: her long legs, her bald head, those piercing pink eyes. There was no one else in line, and Brandon fought to keep his composure. They weren’t doing anything wrong. Their IDs labeled them as new workers for the crater project, and Brandon stepped to the lectern the woman stood behind.

  “Welcome to Luna Seven.” She didn’t even glance up as she used a handheld device to scan their tags. “Enjoy your stay.”

  She said it with a sneer, knowing they were there to be worked like dogs in the fields, digging ditches and creating more space for agriculture. Carl paused as if he was going to comment, and Brandon lightly shoved him forward, whispering when they were past the security desk. “Not worth it.”