The assembled high lords had scanned Lundola’s mind as he verified that all records of his experiments had been secured within the vault. That deep probe had damaged the geneticist’s brain, leaving him comatose. Not that it mattered. Lundola was thus able to sleep through his execution.
The scientist had deserved to be lauded as a hero of the new realm. But his discovery was far too dangerous to allow any Khyre to know of it. So Lundola had been sacrificed and his secret buried behind the three-foot-thick metal wall that Jack now faced.
Although nobody accompanied the overlord, Jack could feel the mental presence of the guards assigned to keep a watch on the place. Both guards were needed to simultaneously activate the controls that would open the portal, but either one could close it. Standard operating procedure required any visitor to be accompanied by a high-ranking officer. But Jack’s command left no doubt in either guard’s mind that he would be entering the vault alone.
“Open the door.”
Despite their consternation, the guards didn’t hesitate to execute their overlord’s command.
The tremendous door made no sound as it slid open. Jack stepped inside. The knowledge that either one of the guards could kill him by executing the “Close” command didn’t concern him. He would sense their thoughts and block them should they attempt something so foolish. Unless, of course, either one of them was a seeker. But his danger sense wasn’t offering an alert, so he dismissed the thought.
He stepped out of the other side into a room illuminated in a soft white light and issued another command. “I do not want to be disturbed. Relay that to your replacements at the end of your shift.”
The response from both guards was the same. “Yes, Overlord.”
The records vault had a single workstation positioned in the center, facing away from the door. Like many other examples of Altreian furniture, the viewer station arose from a single pedestal, resembling multicolored glass extruded from a glassblower’s pipe. The same was true of the lone chair in front of it.
Exotically shaped cabinets containing drawers of varying sizes lined the walls. But the vast majority of the drawers were no more than two inches in width and height. Of these, there were thousands. Khal Teth’s memories told him why. No AI-controlled computers were placed in the vault to answer mental questions. The High Council had not dared entrust its dread secrets to such technology. Here, all documents were stored on old-school molecular memory cards that had to be remotely loaded by a manual request from the viewer to access content. Thus the myriad of tiny drawers with their assigned memory slots.
There would have been no need for Jack to come down here if Khal Teth had bothered to learn more than just cursory information about Lundola’s work. Jack knew that Lundola had created the genetic modification that had enhanced the psionic abilities of the Dhaldric race. But he wanted to understand precisely how the geneticist had accomplished such a wonder. So that meant he was in for a bit of a grind.
Fortunately, all Dhaldric possessed eidetic memories and could play back anything they’d seen or experienced. But to understand something deeply, they still needed to apply themselves.
The workstation had two primary functions. In addition to displaying any data that had been recorded on a specified memory card, it also served as a 3-D scanner that allowed new data to be recorded on a card. Lundola’s work had been copied into this repository before the originals were fed into a bin on the far wall, which fed a molecular shredder. Anything sensitive enough to make its way into the Keva Vault never came out.
One positive aspect of the workstation was its cross-referenced index of what each memory card contained. You could find what you were looking for, provided you knew enough about the subject matter to identify its catalog entry. On the downside, the system allowed access to only one memory card at a time. This had been designed to prevent an individual from broadly scanning the data in a general search.
Jack settled into the chair that molded itself to his body. When the viewer activated, displaying the vault’s content catalog, he felt his mood sour. He was in for a hell of a long slog.
It took Jack seven hours to find what he was looking for and another three to scan through Lundola’s research papers and experimental records. Only once during that time had someone tried to interrupt him with a mental query as to whether he was okay. Jack had cut that off with a harsh reminder of his earlier order.
Now, having completed his task, he stood, an action that switched off the workstation. At the door, he gave the order that allowed him to pass and then made the long walk back through the bunker complex to take the elevator to the Parthian’s upper level. Stiff from sitting, he wanted a hard workout followed by a refreshing ionized shower and a good meal. Then he would go through all the data in his memory until he thoroughly understood it.
Khal Teth had never concerned himself with such details. But if Jack was going to find out whether what he was considering was even possible, he would need to put in that mental effort. Considering how his duties as overlord would consume a significant portion of his time, how many orbdays the effort would take him was yet to be determined.
The attack on the coastal city of Ashelan came on the third orbday after Jack’s visit to the Keva Vault. The Altreian combat starship, CS102, had been preparing to enter orbit in preparation for assignment of a replacement crew when it had suddenly veered away from the docking platform to open fire on Quol’s largest ground-based spaceport. A suicidal action. The ship had managed to fire only a single twelve-second burst from its gamma-ray laser before Quol’s automated orbital defense systems destroyed it. The resulting fireball, as CS102 plunged through the atmosphere, terminated southwest of the Parthian in the Altreian Ocean.
Although the spaceport’s shielding had protected it as well as the surrounding combat facilities, the deflected graser energy had cut an extensive swath through the center of Ashelan. Jack, wearing his black uniform, his twin ivory blades, and a holstered pistol, walked through the still-smoldering rubble of the city center. Captain Moros and General Zolat accompanied him on the tour of the devastation. Although the tally of civilian losses was still under way, one thing was clear: more than four hundred thousand had died in this city of twenty-three million, most of them Khyre. Considering the nature of the attack, Jack was thankful that the losses hadn’t been greater.
“Now we destroy each other,” General Zolat said. “Overlord, I warned you that it might come to this.”
“Then why weren’t our defenses better prepared for such an attack?”
“Fleet Captain Valan was one of our most highly decorated officers. That he would sacrifice his ship and his crew was unimaginable.”
Jack halted and turned to face the general, who stood two inches shorter than Jack did. The Dhaldric’s red-and-black mottling was a shade lighter than that of Khal Teth’s body, and his black eyes were a bit more closely set. But they met Jack’s gaze with matching intensity.
“Perhaps,” said Jack, “you should expand your imagination.”
The general didn’t give a verbal response to this rebuke, but it didn’t matter. Jack read the thought in Zolat’s mind.
“From now on,” said Jack, “we will treat any of our starships whose captains are not yet Twice Bound as potential enemies. I want them recalled one at a time to the Altreian system, where they will be met by three combat ships and one transport ship with a designated replacement crew on board.
“The transport ship will return the suspect captain and his crew to an assessment camp here on Quol, and I will personally determine where the loyalties of each of them lie. Those whom I deem acceptable will become part of the Twice Bound and will be returned to their former duties within the fleet.”
“And those who do not pass your examination?” Zolat asked.
“I will make that determination on a case-by-case basis. Look around you. The blood of these people is on the rebels’ hands. I will not tolerate this rebellion nor those who sympathize w
ith it.”
For a moment, Zolat’s eyes shifted to the obliteration that surrounded them. When he turned his gaze back to Jack, he nodded. “As you command, Overlord.”
“You are dismissed.”
As the general turned on his heel and walked back toward one of the waiting aircars, Captain Moros stepped up beside Jack. “Somehow, my friend, chaos always seems to find you.”
“Or perhaps I reveal what is already there.”
The small gray man shook his head. “Either way, I am along for this ride.”
Jack resumed his walk through the smoking ruins, stepping over the bodies of a Khyre mother and child in the rubble. Would the Khyre people have been better off living out their former lives as mind slaves to the Dhaldric? Some would, but not most.
General Zolat climbed into the back seat of his aircar, while his two security guards sat in the front. Zolat’s mental command sent the aircar winging southwest, crossing a section of the Chasm Sea before passing across the Basrillan continent toward the distant Parthian. Having maintained a forced calm throughout his meeting with the overlord, the muscles in his jaws now cramped.
Despite having kept secret the fact that he was a seeker, it had taken all his ability to hide his inner thoughts from the overlord’s crushing mind probes. The overlord had something different about him, some ability that had almost penetrated the general’s mental defenses. Almost, but not quite.
Zolat had allowed the overlord to discover his deep sense of loyalty and duty. He had managed to hide how that loyalty applied to the High Council and not to the overlord. His duty was to protect the authority of the Dhaldric race, and that was a duty he would perform.
One of the key tactics that enabled him to maintain this deception was the way he challenged the overlord instead of agreeing with every command, adding a layer of believability when he did finally accept his overlord’s edicts.
Yes, Zolat thought to himself, the loyalty of sycophants is always suspect.
His eyes scanned the cold, windswept lands of Basrilla, the sight pulling a flutter from his gills. If this overlord who called himself The Ripper had his way, the Dhaldric would find themselves toiling away in these harsh lands instead of occupying all the comfortable positions of authority.
He sneered.
To the void with The Ripper and his Twice Bound followers.
Whatever Zolat was going to do to make that happen, he would have to be careful. Very, very careful. The way The Ripper had terminated the seeker assassin whom Zolat had sent to kill him had been very impressive indeed. This overlord was both mentally and physically dangerous.
Zolat leaned back, taking a calming breath. He would bide his time and wait until the proper array of forces and opportunity came into alignment. And when they did, the general would make sure that The Ripper did not live to see another orbday.
CHAPTER 17
MERIDIAN ASCENT
2 March
VJ inhaled deeply, savoring the smell that wafted from the open door of the food synthesizer. The ability to perfectly re-create any of the MREs, or the Scion fish, for that matter, was truly a luxury. Properly prepared, the fish weren’t as bad as Raul proclaimed, but macaroni and cheese, along with a brownie for dessert, was her favorite.
She couldn’t wait until she got to sample a broader assortment of Earth food. The neural net contained archives gleaned from Earth’s Internet that described foods like steak, lobster, and a seemingly endless assortment of different cultural cuisines. Unfortunately, the food synthesizer was unable to re-create a meal that it hadn’t analyzed.
Every second she spent in this marvelous new body was a wonder. She thought she knew what it was to feel when she had been only a stasis field–supported holographic projection, but she’d been dead wrong. Maybe her enhanced perception made her aware of the muscles rippling beneath her skin. The sensation was great.
The same went for taste, smell, hearing, and sight. She stopped to savor the scents that floated in the ship’s air. The aromas here on the command deck, while containing some of the machine smells from the engineering bay, were dominated by the earthy scents of the ship’s crew. She had experienced imagery and sound before, but that couldn’t compare to what she felt as a biosynthetic human. And when Raul touched her in passing, the gesture brought a shiver up her arms and neck, all the way into her scalp. The sensation storm produced a thrill that she couldn’t quite identify, a longing for more prolonged touching that seemed related to her desire for Raul to find her physically attractive. The only problem was that this physical stimulation was making it difficult for VJ to concentrate on her assigned tasks.
Since this was the last short break she would be getting for some time to come, she settled into the science officer’s stasis field chair with her tray across her lap and prepared to savor the cheesy goodness.
“Seriously?” Jennifer asked, glancing over at VJ from her first officer’s chair. “Mac and cheese again?”
“Beats eel,” said Raul.
Dgarra merely shook his head and continued eating the fish that Raul detested, which wasn’t really surprising considering that it was one of the species that the Koranthians used in their combat rations.
Conversation died out as everyone returned to their meals. Since this was to be the last lunch before they put the Meridian back into serious danger, every crew member wanted to savor the moment.
VJ’s thoughts turned to what they were about to try. Back when this ship had rested in a monstrous cradle inside the Los Alamos National Laboratory’s Rho Division, Raul had proved that it was possible to create a small wormhole gateway within the command bay. And if the ship’s neural net had access to the synchronization codes for another wormhole gateway, the ship could connect to that external one. There were, however, significant restrictions on this mode of operation. Most important, both gateways had to be within the range that the weakest gateway could make such a connection.
They couldn’t engage the Meridian’s primary wormhole engines, since that would create an unanchored wormhole gateway and shove the starship through it. Thus the maximum range at which the ship could connect an internal gateway with a remote one was the same as the maximum range from which it could create a worm-fiber viewer, roughly thirty million miles.
That limitation alone would mean that they would need to take the Meridian somewhere between Earth and Mars to create the connection they wanted. Unfortunately, the targeted remote gateway’s maximum range was just beyond the orbit of Earth’s moon, so that was where the Meridian had to go. The crew had to assume that the Kasari had already brought one or more attack ships through their stargate.
Raul, Jennifer, Dgarra, and VJ had all agreed that the safest place to make their subspace reentry was within a crater on the side of the moon that faced away from Earth. That would mask the characteristic signature produced when something transitioned in or out of subspace. Immediately upon landing on the moon, Raul would activate the Meridian’s cloaking field. Of course, none of that would be sufficient if the Kasari happened to have one of their fast-attack spaceships within sensor range of the far side of the moon.
VJ finished her meal and stood, using the stasis field to clean her eating utensils and deposit the waste into the forward MDS for conversion to energy. As she returned to her seat, the others followed suit. Raul glanced around, making sure the others were all back in their stasis chairs, and then nodded at VJ.
“Okay,” said Raul, “let’s do it.”
Jennifer watched VJ as she performed the long-range passive sensor scan of Earth’s moon. The optical sensor wasn’t capable of providing highly detailed imagery from this range, but it allowed VJ to select a large crater and calculate the momentum vector necessary to set them down gently. The biosynth maneuvered the Meridian onto a matching velocity vector then shifted the ship into subspace and accelerated to fifty times the speed of light.
Changing her attention from VJ to the data streaming through the ship’s neural net, J
ennifer performed her own calculation. At this speed the subspace trip would take just over five minutes. The Meridian could travel many orders of magnitude faster than this, but VJ had chosen the slower speed to provide a better margin for error on their transition out of subspace. Even at this relatively slow faster-than-light velocity, a one-second error would cause the ship to miss its target by more than nine million miles.
Jennifer approved of this cautious approach. Maybe VJ was maturing, or maybe she was more acutely aware of her new mortality. That was the downside of having a real body. VJ might be very hard to kill, but without her mind distributed to the ship’s neural net, she could die.
As the minutes ticked off in her mind, Jennifer found herself having difficulty controlling her pulse and breathing, not at the thought of the danger the crew was traveling toward but about how close she would be to Mark and Heather. It had been one thing to see and talk to them using the virtual reality provided by the Altreian headsets, but she wanted to experience her brother and sister-in-law in the flesh.
The additional years had made the couple only more handsome and beautiful. The white streak in Heather’s dark hair gave her an exotic look. Mark had grown several inches and added a proportional amount of bulk.
“Twenty seconds until subspace transition,” VJ said.
Jennifer felt a stasis shield drape her body and knew that every other crew member had also received the same precautionary shielding.
When the Meridian shifted back into normal-space on the surface of the moon, the transition happened so flawlessly that she barely felt it.
“Shield and cloak activated,” said Dgarra. “Sensors show no sign of Kasari activity.”
The Meridian Ascent (Rho Agenda Assimilation Book 3) Page 11
