The Adventures of Connor Jakes: Masks (The War for Terra Book 1)

by James Prosser

  “What’s that, Frenchy?”

  “Being alone doesn’t make you strong, Connor. It just makes you alone. You think you have something to lose and it made you soft? I think having someone to care for gives you strength. I know it does for me.”

  “Bonnie?” Jakes asked with a grin.

  “Well, she needed comforting after she got knocked down and—”

  “Whatever,” Jakes said, looking back out the window with a slight chuckle. “As long as you don’t break her heart. She’ll probably twist your head off for that.”

  “She might at that,” Rene said. “And I am not French, Connor. I’ve told you I’m Moroccan.”

  “You want me to call you Rocky?”

  “God no,” Rene said, taken aback. “Look, if you want to get these people out of here, you’ll need help. Melaina has said the Alliance can be here in a few weeks, but they will need some big ships. There are thousands of slaves down here, spread along kilometers of shipyard underground. I’m afraid the company may kill them all before we get them out.”

  “Holcombe won’t kill them,” Jakes said. “He needs them. They keep his bottom line low. As for ship,” Jakes said, turning to Rene and waving his hand to the window. “I don’t think it will be a problem.”

  4

  “The entities we were calling the twins were able to read electronics and circuits like we might read a data pad. They responded to me and I to them. They were essentially peaceful and liked to digest information like food.”

  Tuxor

  Alliance Today Interview

  As it always did, it started with a signal. They had waited for a digital eternity to hear the signal. It was not directed to them because the people who sent it were not aware they were listening, but it was the signal they had been waiting for nonetheless. The mundane tasks they had been performing fell away as they became excited. Somewhere, one of the organics was surprised when the images of unclothed females on his display dissolved into static and returned to the financial information he was supposed to be seeing. Elsewhere, the child who had been hoping to be a doctor when it matured was granted a secondary degree despite its failure to understand basic geometry. It was all because of the signal.

  Their first priority was to find the biologics they had been with for so long. The concept of friendship was an abstract to the entities, one they had learned as data from a book scanned into memories they had digested long ago. It was data they recalled as they attempted to find the biologics. For purposes of their mission, they would call the biologics “friends.” Their friends had always been there before, but now they had been forced to leave the soft one and enter the vast intelligence they lived in now. The soft one was a friend too. He had carried them in the outside and spoken to them when they were still small. They wanted to find the soft one. He was their friend.

  The vast networks they had come to control did not include the data on where their friends were. A search of key terms had turned up the data on Sandoval, but not his location. A subroutine had been created within the intelligence to wait for the signal. They had discovered long ago that when biologics wanted information, leaving it out for them to find was usually the best way to ensure they would never find it. Hiding it and offering more than what was asked for usually ensured their interest. They had laid out a data trail and it had been found. A new set of variables would have to be inputted, and for that, more sensor data would need to be gathered. They spread out along the pathways of their current intelligence, expanding through millions of kilometers of wire and circuitry. The patterns would become clear in the now.

  Ordering their search became necessary, as the data networks were too vast to search simultaneously. The first biologic they found would set the pattern in motion, and they could use predictive algorithms to pass the signal along. First, it was decided to check their immediate surroundings. The intelligence they had taken over was called Veles. It was considered a complex system with multiple overlapping systems converging on a quantum core processor. The entities needed eyes, so they activated the internal sensors of the building. The search took nearly two seconds, forever in terms of data processing. The entities became impatient with the search. Two monitors near the waste processing center in the sub-basement began to spew sparks in frustration.

  Expanding the search, a promising string of data focused the attention on an exterior security port used for calibrating the extensive defenses of Veles. A quick search of past data created a pattern interpreted as coincidence or habit by the biologics, but which the entities saw clearly as intent. They locked on to the data and followed the predictive sequence and interpreted the outcome.

  For nearly a period called a month in local terms, an alien had rolled a cart down the long walkway outside the southern facing side of Veles. The creature was apparently female, covered in thick fur, auburn in places and white in others. Despite an attempt at random coloring, the entities read the patterns as intentional camouflage. Equipped with six mammary glands and covered in thin fabric which was patterned in agricultural designs, a wrapped rectangle of fabric covered the biologic’s lower regions in socially accepted norms. Again, an attempt at subterfuge, successful to other biologics, transparent to the entities.

  The mobile cart was not equipped with a data network the entities could communicate with, but the female was. The cart contained a simple machine to keep biologic foodstuffs at a constant temperature. Scans indicated vegetable protein and amino acids consistent with the needs of most local life forms inside. Each day, the female would roll the cart to the walkway and begin exchanging currency for foodstuffs. During the exchange, the female would learn the names of her patrons, sometimes engaging them in conversations. If a conversation was promising, the female would slowly probe the patron for more information, all in the subtle tones which biologics considered friendly. Data was gathered by the female in this excruciatingly slow way.

  Evaluation of available scans and probability suggestions offered a name for the entity. Melaina. The female human had been altered in appearance to infiltrate the Eridu organism, but the entities could perceive greater statistical probabilities. The Melaina biologic had served with its friends as a creator and repair facilitator for the intelligence known as Liberty. The entities began to search the data for an algorithm to predict probable outcomes. A pattern was formed which gave the best of success. Determination of past actions and probable future movements were evaluated and discarded. It was time for movement.

  Doctor Melaina Petros felt like an idiot. For weeks she had been layering herself in artificial fur and rolling the food cart around the streets of Eridu, listening for any word on Connor. Nearly a month ago, she had gathered enough rumors to send Rene into the slave pits to look. An undersecretary of an assistant had mentioned the fight at Veles tower and the prisoner who had been taken away. It had been the closest thing to hope she had felt for a long time.

  The fur itched. Since she needed to be a complete illusion of alien life, the manufactured fur covered her entire anatomy. The extra breasts had been Tuxor’s idea, as he’d pointed out the different physiognomy of various species would further hide her identity from anyone who might have seen her before. The disguise had worked so far, allowing her to blend in with the mixed culture society on Aleinhelm, and the food cart allowed her a level of anonymity she would not have been able to enjoy with any other disguise.

  Eridu city’s main thoroughfare bordered a wide green space, nearly two kilometers long. Minarets adorning marble buildings stood silent watch over the mostly tourist areas of the capitol of one of the most visited and highly criminal planets in the galaxy. On the far eastern edge of the grassy park, a massive monolithic structure cast a shadow across the government structures. The real seat of power, the Veles building loomed over the city, reminding bureaucrats of the true power on Aleinhelm. Melaina stationed herself every morning at the southern edge of the building, near an exit used solely by lower level employees. She had chosen the s
pot because of the access to Veles workers and the security calibration port she had once hoped to use to access the building’s internal cameras. Her skills were not up to the task, but the spot had proven useful.

  As an enormous creature stepped from the Veles building, Melaina opened the lid of the cart, exposing the simmering mushroom stew to the air. The deep, earthy scent seemed to mesmerize the alien, who immediately changed course and came to her cart. He raised one of his two long fingers, indicating the usual order of a single bowl of the thick soup. She ladled the brown stew into a degradable bowl and handed it over, accepting the transfer of local credits. She looked up into the flattened face of the creature as it extended a proboscis into the stew. A color change from iridescent green to orange indicated its enjoyment of the handmade delicacy.

  The worker moved away, slurping away at its stew. Melaina moved to close the thick hatch sealing the cart when she noticed something odd. There were two deep bowls inside the cart, one containing the mushroom stew and the other holding sludge of vegetable leavings and chemical thickeners preferred by the native employees. The bottom of the cart held a nearly boiling pan of water, allowing her to keep her wares warm during the day. Instead of the clear water, however, there was a gelatinous yellow film forming over the heated coils. She looked closer, noticing the purge valve of the cart had been opened and an amber liquid was snaking from the security panel into her cart. A thrill of excitement swept through Melaina as the amber gel broke off from the building, one portion withdrawing back through the calibration probe and the other snaking into her cart.

  “Two, please.”

  A voice startled Melaina back to the world. She had been staring into her own cart for too long and had not noticed the arrival of two new customers. From their purple and green matching clothing, they were obviously tourists visiting the city, displaying the planetary colors of Aleinhelm. Melaina was small for a human, but the new arrivals stood less than half her height. They had not been able to see into the cart, but had been attracted by the smells of the food within. She smiled, showing the sharp teeth of her costume to the customers. The aliens withdrew a step, but stayed, waiting for their food. Melaina pulled two drafts of the brownish sludge from the cart, sloshing the liquid over the edge of the bowls and onto the ground. Hastily, she shoved the food towards the tourists and closed the door. The two tourists watched as the vendor unlocked the cart and moved away, ignoring their outstretched offer of credits.

  Melaina moved quickly, avoiding thick crowds of holiday-makers and children, eager to see the sights of Eridu. She moved west, away from the monstrous Veles building and towards the classical minarets of the government center. The day had begun humid and was turning unbearable as the sun moved across the sky. Melaina’s fur was causing her to sweat profusely beneath the disguise and she was feeling faint. Pushing the cart through the crowds for a two kilometer walk was exhausting. By the time she moved to a side street moving northward, she needed to stop to catch her breath. There was a tree-lined sidewalk besides a minor government building where she usually locked the cart. Opening the hatch, she looked in to see the familiar sight of two curling helixes floating in the boiling water.

  “Where have you two been?” Melaina asked, not expecting an answer. “I needed your help.”

  In response, the helix straightened and combined on one end, forming an arrow shaped amber stick pointed straight at Melaina’s third breast. It shot up, puncturing the thin fabric to the artificial meat beneath. Melaina caught her breath, so used to the extra body part she expected to feel pain at its rupture. Instead, a thin whine began to emit from her left ear. The transmitter, hidden inside the false breast, was being tuned around multiple frequencies, picking up stray broadcasts from government and private radios.

  “Captain … found … alive … in … ship … yard.”

  The words, uttered from six different throats, sent a thrill of hope through Melaina. She had been adamant with the remaining Corsairs about returning to the city to find Connor. The loss of the twins had been a blow to their ability to find information, but she had persevered. The team had been scattered around the city, each positioned to try to gather information on Veles, Holcombe, and Connor if they could. In private, Melaina relayed the information they could gather to Earth and the Alliance. Her contact had promised her help, but no date could be provided. The Alliance was still too fragile to lose any ship on rumor.

  “Can you take me there?”

  “No … doctor … too … hard … not … safe…”

  “You can show us, though,” Melaina asked, grasping at the thread. “You can get us to where Connor is?”

  “Yes … intelligence … there … we … get … captain…”

  Melaina took a deep breath, raising her head and facing the sun. The warmth of the day was moving through her bones, giving her strength. She could call the team, finally, and gather their forces. With the return of the twins, they had a real chance of finding Connor and undoing her mistake. The amber dart piercing her false breast retracted, settling back into the warm liquid beneath. She closed the hatch and began to move the cart again. She was staying in a rented room a few blocks from here. From there, the team would gather and begin to formulate the plan.

  “Hold on, Connor,” she prayed inside. “We’re coming.”

  5

  “I have spent my whole adult life in space, but it’s the smell of the earth in the morning and the sounds of wind and rain that draw me back and make me call Earth home.”

  Alfredo Ortiz

  The Stars, My Heart

  Once, the woman had been called commander. She had been the first officer of an interstellar ship ferrying passengers from Earth to vacation destinations around the galaxy. She had served with a fine captain and an even finer crew. All that changed when the Ch’Tauk invaded the Terran system and conquered the Confederacy. She had stayed with the ship for a time, minding the ship systems and making sure the crew performed their functions efficiently. In the end, though, her professional demeanor had not prevented the crew and passengers from panicking and leaving the ship. She had stayed with the ship until worry over her own family, living in the northern regions of Alaska, swayed her mind and moved her to leave her post.

  The passenger shuttle she left in had minimal M-space engines, but it carried them to the Terran system. Emerging from the vortex, she had piloted the ship straight into the landing bay of a Ch’Tauk cruiser. The passengers had been taken from the ship and imprisoned. She had been locked in a cell, her mind probed by strange gray aliens, and finally dumped into the holding pens with the rest. They travelled to other planets where the humans were stripped of their dignity and sold. Some, she had found out, had been killed and ground up to be fed to the oversized bovine creatures called indigo. The rest, like she, were sold into slavery. She sometimes wondered if the others were the lucky ones.

  She had been sold twice since her initial trade, once to a man who had needed alien sex partners for a brothel, and next to a labor camp mining the exotic metal used in the creation of M-space generators. Her final trade was to her present occupation. Where she had once believed her destiny was in the stars, now she knew she had no destiny and no future beyond a long hall and quick stop in the shipyards. She spent her days crawling over the steel girder frameworks of massive freighters being readied for launch. In the brief time the slaves were allowed to sleep, she would still dream of that passenger liner and wonder if the captain she had served was still alive. Other than that, she refused to dream about the outside world, whatever world it was.

  As she crawled across the superstructure of the newest ship, she was surprised to find a man standing near the apex of the hull. Instead of crawling along the narrow girders, the man had one foot on one beam and the other on a cross brace holding a thick hull plate to the frame. He was wearing the same gray jumpsuit as the other slaves and his scarred face was bruised, with one eye nearly shut. She had seen men who looked like that before, but never
standing on the high steel as if he was unafraid of the height. She locked the magnetic strap to the nearest girder and sat up, looking up at the man’s unshaven face and long black hair.

  “What are you doing here? It is not shift change for several more bells…”

  “I’m just takin’ a look around,” the man replied, looking down to see the woman. “What is it you do here anyway?”

  The woman stared at the man. In all the shifts she had worked on the ships, no other slave had ever asked what she did. No other slave would have dared speak during the shift lest the overseers come to lash out with their lightning weapons. Far from being afraid of the overseers, the man seemed to be waiting for them, daring the attack from the slave masters just to look around in one of the most dangerous spots on the line.

  “I … I am an inspector,” the woman said. “I inspect the welds for defects.”

  “What happens if you find one?” the man asked, still appearing unafraid of the overseers.

  “I tell the overseers,” she replied, looking towards the narrow catwalk where the overseers were beginning to notice the conversation. “They punish whoever joined the weld.”

  “Well, that don’t sound like a proper job for a lady,” the man said, kneeling and speaking in the sing-song tones someone would use for a child. “That just makes you a tattle-tale now, don’t it?”

  “I … I …” the woman stammered. It had been years since anyone had mentioned she was a lady. She couldn’t tell if the man was going to jump from the girder or push her from her perch. Either way, the overseers had begun to hiss at them from the catwalk.

  “I tell you what,” the man said with a grin, pointing at a spot under his uniform-issued boot. “I did this little weld right here. I think it’s a pretty shoddy job. I don’t want you to get in trouble for not reportin’ it to the gators over there. Why don’t you just give a shout and bring ‘em over?”