Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera
Page 6
Once Michael had found his breath again he whooped with delight. Tilder grimaced but Michael didn’t care. The sheer power in this beast of a vessel thrummed through his bones. The thing was an offensive juggernaut. It didn’t gather speed so much as lurch like an angry bee. The sentinel growled through the hangar bay and immediately punched a course for the serene blue planet sitting beneath the warship.
“What’s the weather doing, navigator?” Tilder asked.
“Clear, sir,” the left nav said. “High pressure systems been squatting on the equator for days.”
“Hope they hold,” the Captain muttered darkly to Major Shaw.
Michael guessed that tropical storms were a threat on Cerulean. He watched in rapt attention as the navigators eased the sentinel into a safe, shallow orbital entry, scudding across the upper mesosphere a couple of times before dipping into the “soup”.
The vessel shook from the inertia of atmospheric transition. Michael rocked in his shock-absorbent chair but kept his eyes glued to the sublime piloting on display. The sentinel dived gracefully through several banks of clinging cloud, its growling propulsion easing off to let gravity do the hard work. Before long the ship was leveling out around a mile above a glittering aquamarine seascape.
Ginfordia, a white dwarf, was riding the shoulder of afternoon as the sentinel zeroed in on their destination.
At first the hulking desalination plant was just a speck on the horizon.
“Magnify,” Tilder said sharply, seeing something he didn’t like.
A light projection squirted from the dashboard. It showed the desal plant rising from the shimmering ocean like an industrial mirage. What concerned the Aegisi soldiers were the two hulking tower mechs to either side of the plant.
Silence filled the cockpit. Michael thought he might laugh out loud, such was the overwhelming impact of the Cavan show of strength.
Tower mechs were humanoid in shape and fashioned from case-hardened metals from the Cavan homeworld Lio. Rising to more than 250 yards in height, the violet mechs were deployed for battlefield shock and awe. Not only were they extremely difficult to bring down, they bristled with offensive weaponry. Missiles, lasers, ballistics, even a clutch of scorchers. Tower mechs were the pinnacle of Cavan ground assault units and often dealt severe damage to enemy morale before a shot had been fired.
Here on Cerulean, where salt water continually lapped at the leg joints of these huge metal units, the Cava05 were clearly intent on reminding the Aegisi how powerful they were.
“Ocean damage to those things must be significant,” Tilder murmured, perhaps trying to find a silver lining to all this.
“I think they can afford it,” Major Shaw said with a wry smile. Tilder’s expression hardened.
The sentinel looped into a lazy climb until it was cruising above the mechs’ heads.
“Good call,” Tilder said to his navigators. “Don’t let them make us feel like gnats.”
Michael nodded. Yes, that was precisely the aliens’ intention. The huge, helmeted visage of the closest mech was inscrutable. The forager could only imagine the weapons of destruction that lurked under it, just begging to be unleashed.
It was said that each tower mech required two pilots and a clutch of engineers, no more. Quite simply, the Cava05 were masters of mechanical innovation. As the sentinel waited for the aliens to hail, Michael ticked off everything he knew about them, which admittedly wasn’t much.
First off, there were several billion of the creatures, easily the most numerous of the ‘big four’ galactic species. Second, they appeared to value the collective far more than the individual. As part of his Instruction on alien species, Michael had seen a visual study by the eminent xenonaut Eddo Darbeni. Darbeni actually managed to gain access to the Cava05, Jaj and Nostroma. He compiled an index of species traits and ranked each species in each.
Michael couldn’t recall much, but he did remember being fascinated with the empathy index. Three of the four species ranked highly on this index, but the empathic trigger was key.
The Aegisi were more likely to feel empathy for someone who had lost a child. The Jaj were more likely to feel empathy for someone who had lost their parents. The Cava05 were more likely to feel empathy for someone who had lost their job, or societal function. Finally, the Nostroma only ever felt empathy if it agreed with their current subliminal motive. Michael had never understood what that meant and he hoped he would never need to find out. The Nostroma disgusted him.
The Cava05 were making a point of delaying their hailing signal. Michael stared idly at the tower mechs clad in violet plate armor. Pale violet was the official color of the Cava05. Even the desal plant was purplish against the deep blue of the ocean.
“This is our land,” Michael found himself saying. “The Cava05 have no place here.”
Tilder shot a glance at the young forager but said nothing, perhaps agreeing with him. There were unsubstantiated rumors that the Yeneri, the species that combined with humans to create the Aegisi, had once made this planet their home. It made sense - Cerulean was one of the few known ocean planets in the galaxy.
What happened to the Yeneri was less clear. Some believed their civilization simply declined, others that they were victims of a brutal biological attack. Whatever the case, they were now extinct and nothing could bring them back. Unlike humans, the Yeneri struggled to survive in small pockets and communities.
This was probably their final resting place, here in the limitless briny ocean. Which is why Michael felt that the Cava05 were out of place, and that the Aegisi had more rights to the seascape. Of course, how he “felt” about the situation was neither here nor there. The Cava05 carried the legal deed to Cerulean and that was that.
Tilder grunted. “Now they’re showing off,” he said, looking at Shaw. “How the hell do they know the sentinel’s serial code?”
Shaw shrugged. “Tech scanner, most likely,” she said. “They’re the tech specialists, remember?”
Tilder frowned. Michael could tell he had no liking for the Cava05. The forager held his sister’s hand in a show of solidarity. Emilia seemed calm enough, but her grip was stronger than it normally was.
“Copy that,” one of the navigators said. “Commencing our approach.”
The sentinel descended gracefully, lowering itself gently to a smaller platform off the shoulder of a larger, central platform. There were no other ships docked at the facility at that moment.
The navigators killed the propulsion bulb but kept the dashboard active.
“Both of you stay here,” Tilder ordered them. He leaned in close to the corsairs. “Look sharp.”
Michael felt a surge of nerves as he followed the others into the drop shaft. The same flurry of movement dazzled him, then he was standing in bright sunlight, eyes throbbing with pain. It was a good half minute before he could open them again.
“High UV today,” Tilder commented. “Let’s not stay in the open long.”
Michael stayed close to his sister as a door hissed open and spilled several figures.
Eight violet-clad troops carrying long-barreled rifles. He wondered if it was a honor guard or an explicit threat. Probably a bit of both.
The Cavan05 soldiers wore strange, dome-shaped helmets. Pitch black, they seemed to consume surrounding light. Standing at full height, none of the alien soldiers rose above the level of Michael’s chest. They formed two parade lines to either side of the visiting party.
Three Cavan05 officials clad in soft violet leather emerged from the facility. The Cavan insignia, three violet, interlocking cogs on a black background, was proudly displayed on the left breast.
These Cava05 had their faces exposed. Michael held his breath as they approached - this was the first time he’d seen the aliens in the flesh. They tended not to mix with other species and were a very rar
e sight on Solitude.
The Cava05 had soft, expressive faces. There was a simian quality to their features. Indeed, they had evolved directly from the famous mountain primates of Dunosk IV, who were themselves extremely intelligent.
As such, the Cava05 were petite, agile and covered in short, soft fur except for their faces. These Cava05 had attractive brown eyes with long eyelashes. Their noses were broad and their lips were wide and thin. Their foreheads were quite shallow, with hairlines usually closing in to a half inch from the eyebrows. Michael had read that their hands and feet were equally dexterous, which allowed them to work fine tools with exquisite skill.
The foremost of the Cavan officials bowed respectfully. Michael instinctively responded, glad to see the others doing the same.
“Please,” said the Cavan in Foundation. “We have been expecting you.”
The Aegisi visitors followed the Cavan officials into the dim coolness of the desalination plant. The Cavan troopers followed in behind. Michael could hear diodes whirring on their enhanced armor. He hadn’t seen any evidence of power, but there was clearly miniature technology at play in those suits. He found himself yearning for a good, long conversation with the Cavan armorer at this facility.
The plant interior was cool but not exactly pretty. From what Michael could see, the Cava05 had been true to their word - there were no civilians in sight. All the tech rooms, laboratories and maintenance corridors he passed were deathly silent. He thought it bode well for negotiations. It appeared the Cava05 were at least willing to follow through on their promises.
The Aegisi were marched along a steel gantry that hugged the west wall of a huge processing room. Far below them a large, disc-shaped machine was suspended in the air via some kind of energy field. It emitted a base hum that resounded throughout the entire building. Further below that Michael could see the foamy wash of salt water and realized he was looking at the surface of the ocean.
“Remote salt extractor?” Michael asked no one in particular, and received no reply. He made eye contact with Emilia, who looked pensive.
The gantry passed into a second processing floor with an identical disc humming away over the surface of distant water. Two more processing chambers were negotiated before the Cavan officials climbed several sets of gantry stairs. By the time they reached the top Michael was almost out of breath. He looked at Emilia with shrewd eyes.
“Negotiating technique?” he whispered. “I’m sure they have drop shafts. They want to wear us down physically before we begin.”
“Anything is possible,” Emilia admitted, looking a little puffed herself. “I’m glad you’re here, Mikey.”
“Where else would I be?” Michael asked, touched by his sister’s vulnerability. He pledged to keep her in his line of sight at all times. He hoped that Tilder and Shaw were up to the challenge if negotiations turned nasty.
The Cavan officials stopped outside a set of steel doors. Michael was already yearning to leave the greasy, bleakly industrial marine facility.
“Yashom15 will see you now,” said the official who had greeted them. “The soldiers must wait outside.”
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Tilder nodded, apparently expecting as much. He and Major Shaw took up positions on either side of the doors.
Michael hesitated, unsure if he could enter with Emilia. He was damn well going to try. In truth he was somewhat surprised at the lack of security within the facility. The honor guard had all but disappeared, and those tower mechs outside were purely for show.
Logic suggested there were three possible reasons for this. One, the Cava05 had a number of unseen security measures. Two, they simply didn’t believe the Aegisi could lay a scratch on them. Three, and the scenario Michael found most likely, was that the Cava05 valued functions, not people. If he was inclined to knife the negotiator in the back the Cava05 would subdue and probably kill him, but wouldn’t see Yashom15’s death as any significant loss.
The more he thought about it, the more Michael realized the Cava05 were incredibly far from the Aegisi on the cultural spectrum. So far it was a wonder they were able to communicate at all.
The Danner siblings made their way into a plush office space, well appointed with what must be Cavan artworks. Solid, well-ordered lines and patterns dominated the Cavan outlook, but every now and again a chaotic flourish, like a flower or a crashing wave, would break the organized symmetry.
The office overlooked the main platform and was currently bathed in muted sunlight. UV filters had thankfully been applied to the ceiling-high windows.
A plain desk stood in the middle of the room. An offline lightsphere sat in the middle but the workspace was otherwise empty.
Michael’s gaze roamed for a moment before he spotted Yashom15. The Cavan negotiator was standing in a thick, hazy shaft of light, his back turned to the foragers. He was clad in a snug utility suit fashioned from the same soft violet leather the other officials had worn. Small, soft-looking hands were clasped behind his back.
Throwing Michael a confused glance, Emilia edged around the desk and approached the windows hesitantly.
“Yashom15?” she ventured.
The negotiator didn’t move for a moment before turning in a smooth motion.
“Tell me, Emilia Danner,” he said in a voice like arello smoke, “what would your people do with all this?”
An arm gestured at the winking expanse of ocean that ran to the horizon on all sides. Yashom15’s voice was cultured, urbane. His tone was genial enough, as if he were genuinely interested in the answer.
Emilia stood next to Yashom15 and looked out over the ocean. Michael couldn’t begin to guess what was going through her head. For the moment he didn’t seem to exist at all. The Cavan negotiator hadn’t even looked in his direction.
“To be honest, I can’t see a future on Cerulean,” Emilia said.
Yashom15 nodded, his simian face furrowed with mild interest. “And why would you say a thing like that?”
“Because you have no intention of handing it over,” Emilia said in a matter-of-fact tone. Michael blinked, certain that the heat had gone to his head and he was delirious.
Yashom15 studied Emilia for several long seconds.
“How exactly do you serve your people?” he eventually asked.
“I search for wild food sources,” Emilia said, meeting the negotiator’s gaze. Michael noticed a speck had appeared on the horizon, growing larger by the second. He wondered if it was a Cavan patrol ship.
“May I observe, Miss Danner, that you have not been allocated the correct function,” Yashom15 said.
Emilia turned her gaze to the ocean. She too had noticed the incoming ship.
“And what might that be, negotiator? So I know what to tell my children.”
Yashom15 laughed at that. It was a peculiarly high-pitched, feminine sound. The speck had now resolved itself into a small ship. It was emerald green and didn’t appear to boast offensive weaponry. Inexplicably, the sight of the craft filled Michael with a creeping dread. He silently implored Yashom15 to conclude his audience with Emilia.
“On my homeworld, there are billions of machine minds,” the negotiator began. “Normal Cavans, just like me. Individually, they are less than ordinary. Banal even. Together, they form the greatest strategic mind this galaxy has yet seen. Their job is to untangle the complex web of the coming war. But for every million machine minds, there is one who does nothing but sing. Inspire. Arouse. Our name for this function is ataffe. It translates loosely as the place where science and religion make love. The Aegisi has nothing like this?”
Emilia’s brow furrowed in thought. “We have artists,” she said. “But we don’t expect them to inspire us all the time.”
“Ah, the individual’s notion of art,” Yashom15 breathed. “Fatally indulgent, I’m afraid.”
The Cavan negotiator seemed content to sit on his observation for a moment. Michael felt his anxiety rise as the emerald vessel, no larger than a scout, landed like a spider on the
central platform. One of the windows slid to one side, letting in a warm marine zephyr.
“You’re no forager, Emilia Danner,” Yashom15 repeated as two figures emerged from the scout. “The Aegisi shackle their people with freedom.”
The negotiator gestured to the opening.
“It was a pleasure,” he said regretfully.
“What is this?” Michael asked nervously as he watched the new arrivals saunter across the platform. Something about them rang every alarm bell in his mind. He resisted the strong urge to turn and run. Yashom15 regarded him for the first time.
“Please,” the Cavan said with a broad smile. “Our business is concluded.”
Emilia looked back at Michael with genuine fear flowering in her eyes. He instinctively stepped forward to shield Emilia from the newcomers, who stopped several yards short of entering the office.
“Let’s go back the way we came,” Michael urged his sister.
“No,” she said, watching the men outside with a strange look of fascination. “The doors will be locked.”
Michael agreed, but they had to do something. None of this seemed appropriate or routine in any way. He sighed as Emilia made the first move, calmly heading out into the sunshine. Michael had no choice but to follow, his nerves screaming at him to turn back.
The waiting men were not of the same height. The shorter one stood slightly ahead of the other and seemed in charge. He wore a grubby utility suit the color of bile. A familiar insignia adorned the man’s lapel - a yellow rose-like flower on an emerald green background. Michael took a half-step in front of his sister. These scum were Nostroma - a species reviled throughout the galaxy.
The shorter man was luminous with awe as he looked Emilia up and down. He was rather horrific to look at. His skin was blotchy and pallid, his jet black hair matted and lank. His eyes were shadowed by the telltale blue halo of frisson sickness. Several scorch marks had ruined his cheeks.
The Nostroma were feared by the Aegisi. An ancient species, they were rumored to have lived among humans once upon a time. Their numbers swelled after the war that saw humans relegated to lower subjugate status. The Nostroma had the ability to extract neural activity from other sentient beings. Like parasites they were able to dig beneath the mental defenses of others, using the intimate knowledge they discovered for vile purposes.