by Michael Kan
Resting her face into her palm, she sighed, and closed her eyes again. From what he could see, Nalia was too tired to complain.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing her back. “If this weapon works, then maybe we don’t have to evacuate. You can get a much-deserved break.”
Of course, Julian had no idea when the weapon might deployed, or if it would even happen soon. But even so, Julian wanted to believe.
“You’re right,” he said. “Maybe this war is coming to an end.”
Hearing this, Nalia nodded, and slowly lifted her gaze. Julian expected to find a smile, and that same enthusiasm from before.
But as he looked into her eyes, he only found a vacant stare.
“I guess I just wish this weapon came sooner,” she said.
Nalia then looked up at the ceiling, not sure how to begin. Unbeknownst to Julian, it wasn’t the work or the hectic schedule that was bothering her.
Nalia gritted her teeth.
“Yesterday, I learned that my mother died.”
She let the words fall out, wanting to filter out the grief.
“I already suspected as much,” Nalia added, with a shrug. “She was the captain of the Polaris. The ship was reported missing a day before the Endervar invasion.”
“I guess, they found the wreckage, or something, and it was finally confirmed. I happened to see the listing, and then I knew it was true.”
She rubbed her forehead, trying to think what else to say, before she forced herself to stop. Nalia just wasn’t in the mood to talk today.
“I’m so sorry,” Julian said. “Are you all right?”
Whatever anger or sadness she felt, Nalia didn’t reveal it. She steadied her breath, and tried to remain composed.
“I’m okay. My mother was tough. I know she died fighting. I’m proud of her.”
Julian reached for her hand, wanting to comfort her.
She shook her head, and just crossed her arms, instead.
“It’s okay. I just wish this weapon came sooner. That’s all.”
Neither of them knew what to say after that. Perhaps the war was ending, but the damage had been done. Almost everyone they had ever known was either dead or missing.
Nalia didn’t wish to be rude, but the more she sat there, the more she wanted to mourn.
“No,” she whispered, before raising her voice. “I actually have to get back to work.”
Taking her beverage of beer, Nalia drank it down, and nearly slammed the glass on the table. She wiped the foam from her mouth, ready to leave.
Julian, however, sat there, heavy. He didn’t want to go. Not yet.
“You okay?” she asked.
Reluctantly, he finished his own beer, and let the empty glass drop on the table.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve got recon duty. It’s straight from the Alliance.”
Julian explained the mission, and essentially told her it was no big deal.
“I’ll probably be gone for a few weeks, maybe longer. Nothing I can’t handle,” he said. “But as for you, make sure you get some sleep. Even commanders need rest.”
He played it off all with a smirk.
Nalia could see through it. She grabbed his hand, and squeezed it tight.
They still didn’t quite know what to say to each other, but Nalia finally managed to utter something.
“Just don’t die on me,” she said, hugging him. “This war ain’t over yet.”
***
It was called the Ouryan collapser.
The weapon was named as such, because it had been designed by the Ouryan Union, one of the central powers behind the Alliance.
How it worked was still classified, even from SpaceCore, and the rest of the galactic governments. But when fired at a star, the weapon could accelerate its demise and induce a supernova. From there, anything in the blast radius would be incinerated, including entire planets.
The weapon would be the latest attempt to rid the galaxy of the Endervar menace. In the last five years, the Alliance had been secretly preparing a massive operation to launch it on a galactic scale.
Deployment would be soon, command had said. Likely within the year.
If all went well, the Endervars would lose their hold over the galaxy. Entire swaths of enemy territory would be left to burn.
It would come at a steep price. The greatest yet. In essence, this was scorched earth — another extension of the Alliance’s policy to contain and eradicate. The people and the planets had long been a victim of this war. But soon, the stars themselves would be next.
Julian wondered about those implications as he piloted the Lightning. He was back in the cockpit, clothed in the synthetic fibers of his flight suit — the helmet and its holographic images surrounding his face.
Jumping out of hyperspace, his ship had arrived in the system, the star one of hundreds within the Vanin region. SpaceCore suspected that perhaps this was the target area of the enemy’s ongoing incursion, although he had so far found nothing. Using probes, and long-range scans, the Lightning had analyzed the surrounding cosmic resonance, only to report that all was normal. At least at this star.
As the ship prepared to leave the area and jump to another, Julian gazed out the window. Orbiting outside was what his computer said was Frenama III, a primitive planet shining in the starlight.
He could have easily mistaken it for his own homeworld. From this distance, it looked nearly identical to Haven, the blue oceans and the white clouds all the same.
If only, they could share the same fate, Julian thought. To somehow be free of this war, and all the conflict. But that prospect would never come. His former home, along with any world touched by the Endervar’s shield would soon be destroyed.
It was a desperate measure for a desperate time. With no other choice, the free galaxy would cut off its own limbs to try and save itself.
He looked out at the stars in the night, and wondered how many would fall to the weapon. Maybe it was the only alternative, but if so, then the galaxy had abandoned any hope of saving those left behind.
Haven and its people were among them. The Endervars had conquered them, and thousands of other planets, if not more.
Now the destruction seemed complete. The galaxy had deemed them dead. Although Julian understood the logic behind it, to him, this was no victory. His homeworld would be made to ash.
Chapter 12
The emergency call had been picked up by the Lightning’s communications, the message already over a day’s old. “Endervar detected, requesting immediate assistance,” it had said.
The ship had pinpointed the signal’s origin to a neighboring system just some twenty light-years away. According to the registry, the star was known as Shin-Anu Alpha, and had yet to be fully explored.
Julian responded by sending the Lightning into hyperspace, all the while reminding himself to avoid any detection from the enemy. Hours later, he appeared on the fringes of the unknown system. Scans showed no obvious signs of battle, only the calm of a white sun orbited by a handful of planets. His communications beams, however, were met with no reply. Julian prepared for the worst, activating the ship’s shields and weapons.
A series of missile-like probes then launched from the Lightning, venturing out into the system. As he waited for the results, Julian analyzed the stellar maps. He had been out in space for almost three weeks now, and had only encountered faint warp signatures from possible enemy craft.
If the Endervar ships were indeed present at this system, then it would signal their furthest push into this sector.
The evidence for it seemed to be clear. The Lightning’s probes had homed in on the emergency signal, and reported a large amount of debris near an asteroid belt. He set course, and upon arriving at the site, Julian found the wreckage. The computer reported it was the remnants of several warships from the Arcenian Empire, a member of the Alliance.
From what he could tell, a group of eight vessels had been destroyed. All of it now absent
of life.
“Anomaly detected,” the computer reported. Sensors had isolated a new reading coming from deeper within the asteroid belt. The computer said it was simply an unknown object, too small to be an enemy craft, but comprised of something other than space rock. This was strange. Julian could only guess it was some additional wreckage from the downed ships.
The asteroid belt itself was mainly comprised of dust. From Julian’s cockpit window, it appeared as a field of sand suspended from one horizon to the next. He piloted his vessel over the belt, checking the scanners. After navigating pass it, he arrived at the anomaly point.
The object was dead ahead, behind a large asteroid, its size like a mountain against the backdrop. Igniting the maneuvering thrusters, Julian circled his spacecraft to see what was there.
It came into view, the saucer-like structure plainly evident. “Anomaly detected,” the computer continued to say, the scans failing to deduce much more.
Julian, however, knew what this was. In his sights was the object, filtered through holographic neon.
At this range, he might have no choice but to confront it.
“Endervar detected,” he said, inputting the alert into the logs. Julian then went to the weapons. “Moving to engage.”
***
Who, what and where they had come from were not entirely known. In all the time the Endervars had existed, not once had communication ever been established with the enemy.
No one knew why. In spite of every effort to understand them, the Endervars had remained a mystery, one that continued to haunt the galaxy.
What was clear was their desire to consume all intelligent life. Any world inhabited by civilization was their target. From developing cultures to the most advanced galactic empires, none had been spared. In every case, the enemy would swarm the planet and leave it transformed — an impenetrable shield the only remnant. For what purposes was just another unknown.
Even more mysterious was the enemy’s technology. Legions of their behemoth ships waged war via energies that did not accord to normal physical laws. Scans showed the vessels to be built out of an exotic matter not native to this galaxy. And yet, any attempts to capture an enemy ship for further study had all failed, the result always the same. Whenever an Endervar craft was severely damaged, it disintegrated or self-destructed, the city-sized ships evaporating into nothing.
As history had shown over and over again, there was never any corpse. No leftover shard to remind anyone of their presence.
So what was this?
The Lightning’s scans were fine-tuned to spot enemy vessels from a far and at a safe distance. An asteroid field should have made no difference.
But here he was, seeing it before his eyes. An enemy ship dodging the scans, and lying in wait.
Instinct told him to destroy it, to duck any hesitation. His hand was already on the weapons control. One pull of the trigger and he could rip energized lead against the target.
Fire, he thought. Send it to hell.
Julian might have done so, if not for the persistent alert.
It glowed over the scans, the innocuous words still the same. “Anomaly detected. Analyzing…”
According to the computer, the craft ahead posed no identifiable threat.
He loosened his grip on the weapons, and squinted. Was it an error?
Expecting an alarm to go off, Julian sat in his seat, hearing a simple beep — the sound of the sensors processing, and nothing more.
As the seconds passed, he realized that the object in his cross hairs had yet to fire back. Pulling his helmet off, he went to the sensors, and accessed them manually.
No gravimetric reading. No warped energy field. Whatever Endervar signatures the ship had, were either too faint to be read, or nonexistent.
If this was an enemy craft, then the scans weren’t reading it. Skeptical, Julian looked out at the vessel — this time with his own naked eyes — and began to understand.
The saucer-like configuration was undeniable. But the ship itself was small. Too small. The spacecraft in his midst was just over 100 meters in length. Larger than the Lightning, but not at all like the mile-sized vessels Julian had grown to fear.
Furthermore, the vessel looked drained; the body was a glassy husk, and bereft of any blinding light.
He checked the computer, and wondered if a similar ship had ever been catalogued before.
“Negative,” the database replied. “No matches found.”
With no other answer given, Julian did the only thing left, and went to the visual images. “Magnify,” he ordered, the view of the ship zooming in.
Looking down at the console screen, he saw what seemed to be damage, the pockmarks etched on the craft. A large impact had cratered the hull, flattening an entire edge of the ship.
It still held together, the broken vessel seemingly intact, but clearly disabled.
Julian could only guess that the destroyed Arcenian ships, had somehow, been responsible. A battle had obviously ensued, the destruction leaving both sides in tatters.
He sat in his seat, realizing he could determine little else. Scratching his face, Julian thought it over.
If it was dead, wounded, or just sleeping, either way, Julian could not leave it be.
There was only one obvious conclusion. Whatever this was, SpaceCore needed to know.
A research ship would need a week or more to reach the star system. By then, who could say what might become of it.
So, instead Julian decided to take the risk, and begin the salvage.
Inputting the sequence, he re-routed power into the Lightning’s auxiliary deflectors, and made the modifications. In a blast, the ship fired off the energy, the makeshift tractor beam tightening.
Julian pointed it toward what was left of the enemy ship, the magnetic-like effect creating a link. Slowly, the Endervar craft gravitated toward the Lightning, the scans showing it to be dormant, and still not a threat.
The process had taken close to an hour, but eventually he had extracted the ship from the asteroid field.
The enemy craft now trailed behind him, pulled along by the still active tractor beam. Extending energy shields around it, Julian just hoped it would survive a trip through hyperspace.
“Primary mission overridden,” he reported. “Returning to base.”
Not long after his departure, a fleet of Endervar ships arrived. It was what Julian had originally been looking for, the vessels leading the enemy’s latest expansion.
They had traveled far, using faster-than-light energies, to lay claim to it — a so-called “aberration” felt within the fold.
Together, the ships scoured the area, trying to find the anomaly, and resolve the enigma behind it. Their own nature had heard the call. A cry in the night, followed by a pulsating silence.
Eventually, however, they found nothing. The traces, and the echo, disappearing.
Where it had gone was not immediately clear. But the enemy would not relent. The aberration had been deemed a danger. The Overlord had decreed it, and demanded it subdued.
Slipping back into the abyss, the Endervar ships would continue on with the search.
Chapter 13
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
He remembered those words. A simple gesture spoken in that final exchange.
It had been at the station bar, almost a month ago. The moment Nalia had left his sights, a grin still on her face.
Julian didn’t need to think too much of it, he thought. The words were just a courtesy. Nothing more.
Scratching his beard, he sat there in his uniform, half-distracted and half-fatigued. It had been a long mission. Over three weeks long, his time away from Bydandia spent entirely space-bound and surrounded in ship.
Looking down at his open hands, he was no longer clothed in his cybernetic flight suit. Nor was he secluded in insulated silence, or confined to just one mechanized cockpit.
Julian was free of those things. The mission was done.
As expected, his arrival had set off a flurry of activity. The entire station was on alert, trying to understand what he had found.
“Glad to have you back,” Drayden said. “And I see you brought a friend.”
The admiral stood across from him inside the debriefing room. In his hand, was the summary log Julian had prepared — the data on the “anomaly” and the associated scans lit across the display.
“I asked you to track the Endervars, and instead you go out and get me this,” Drayden remarked. He nodded to the adjacent window, the view into the hanger bay containing both the Lightning, and the supposed Endervar craft.
The admiral was ecstatic. He studied the data tablet in his hands, and sat down on top of the briefing table, his face flushed with excitement.
“Goddamn Endervars are finally in our grasps,” the admiral went on. “The Alliance will want to know about this.”
But as Drayden went over the logs, Julian sat forward, still unsettled.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Tapping his knee, Julian then rose to his feet, cautious to make any conclusion.
“Why now?” he asked, stepping toward the window. “Why this ship? Why is it so different from the others?”
He stared out at the salvaged vessel, and saw it under the station lights. The blast damage was even more evident now, the scars gnarling across the mineral-like structure, and etching into the hardened hull.
This shouldn’t exist, Julian thought. It should have expired like all the others.
“You’re right,” the admiral replied. “It is unusual. Very unusual.”
He left the table behind him, and joined Julian at the window.
