by James Palmer
“Huh,” said Hamilton. Artificial Intelligence was still in the experimental stages. Not even Warfist class battle cruisers had them.
“After you, Lieutenant,” said Leda, motioning forward with her arm.
Hamilton walked up the gangplank and into the ship’s interior. It was small and cramped, but Hamilton didn’t care about the lack of any dirtside creature comforts. He touched the hull plate, feeling the cool metal beneath his fingers. He felt as if he was standing in a museum replica.
“Don’t you two go getting all lovey-dovey,” said Niles, pushing past him. “Proxima, begin pre-flight sequence.”
“Yes, Lieutenant. Would you like some music while you wait?”
She looked at Hamilton before answering. He shook his head.
“No, thanks. We’re good.”
“Please state your name and rank for the log,” said the AI. It took Hamilton a second to realize it was talking to him.
“Uh, Hamilton, Edmund Noah. Lieutenant.”
“Thank you.”
Hamilton watched as Niles moved to the forward compartment and plopped into the pilot’s seat. She flicked some switches, and more of the ship began to hum to life. He felt the throb of the engines behind him and moved to sit next to her.
“I feel like you’re extracting me,” he said. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a grin. “You’re still my hero. Better buckle up. Takeoff is a little bumpy.”
“I heard that,” said the ship.
“It has a sense of humor?” said Hamilton.
“It thinks it does,” said Niles loudly. “It makes things a little less lonely. If you don’t mind getting smack-talk from a quantum calculator.”
“Pre-flight sequence initiated,” said Proxima, ignoring her jibe. “We are ready for takeoff.”
“Spaceport Control,” said Leda. “This is Vesper Equinox, requesting permission for immediate take off.”
“This is Spaceport Control. Stand by, Vesper Equinox.”
They waited. Niles drummed her fingers on the control panel, chewing her bottom lip.
“Something’s not right. This is taking too long.”
“Maybe they’re just busy,” said Hamilton.
“Lt. Niles,” said Proxima. “Two men are approaching this vessel from the northeast.”
“Show me,” said Leda.
A small screen next to Hamilton’s right shoulder flickered to life. It showed the merchant and one of his associates walking slowly and carefully toward the ship.
“We need to get out of here now,” said Leda, flicking switches. “Proxima, get us in the air.”
“Affirmative,” said the ship’s AI as the vessel lurched into motion. Hamilton hastily strapped himself in as they got under way, rising high into the night sky.
“Vesper Equinox, you do not have permission to take off,” said the controller.
“Shut it!” said Niles, thumbing the comm button.
The ship rocked as if slamming into something solid. A warning alarm went off; Niles ordered it silenced.
“We’ve struck their interdiction field,” said Proxima.
“What’s their problem with you?” asked Hamilton.
“I may have neglected to pay the docking bill.”
Hamilton scowled. “We don’t have time for this. Proxima, activate your defense field, and then give full power to the thrusters.”
There was a long pause where nothing happened. “Do it,” said Niles.
The ship shuddered, there was a loud pop and a whiff of ozone, and seconds later were high above the spaceport and climbing higher. Hamilton watched through the forward windows as cloudy night sky gave way to starry space, the planet curving away beneath them.
“I should still be upset at not completing my mission,” she said. “But now that it’s over I’m glad to be off that corrupt ball of rock.” She glanced at Hamilton. “Where to?”
“The nearest Q-gate, Lieutenant” he said, “and home.”
“Listen,” she said, smiling. “You can stow the Lieutenant stuff. We’re the same rank. Call me Leda.”
“Fine. Leda. I need to call Colonel Straker and let him know we’re on our way.”
“Help yourself. I’m going to change out of these clothes.” Leda unbuckled and swiveled her chair away from the control console. “Proxima, lay in a course for the nearest Q-gate. Best possible speed.”
“Of course, Lieutenant.”
Hamilton watched her go, then reached for the tightbeam relay controls before remembering that he had an AI at his beck and call.
“Proxima,” he said. “I need to call Colonel Straker at Special Forces headquarters.”
There was a chime as the ship said, “Channel open, Lieutenant Hamilton.”
Hamilton waited for the series of bleeps associated with the signal being put through various encryption protocols. At last a familiar, gruff voice said, “Straker here.”
“Colonel, it’s Hamilton. “I’ve got Lt. Niles, and we are on our way.”
“Perfect, Lieutenant. I was just about to contact you. I have a new mission requiring both your skills.”
Hamilton cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“We’ve lost contact with an archaeological team on a planet called Hephaestus. I need you and Niles to check it out.”
“With all due respect, sir, do you really think we’re the best for the job? Wouldn’t a compliment of Marines be—”
“I want you and Niles to get out there and see what’s what. It’s probably nothing, a malfunctioning tightbeam transmitter.”
“And if it is something?”
“Then make a full report and we’ll go from there. Straker out.”
Four: Change of Plans
The tightbeam went dead before Hamilton could offer anything further. He sat in numb silence until Leda got back, wearing a crisp, clean, regulation Solar Navy uniform.
“What’s the matter?”
“We have a new mission,” said Hamilton. “Ever heard of Hephaestus?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. There have been some fairly significant archaeological finds there in recent years. “Proxima, pull up the file on Hephaestus, please.”
“Working,” said the ship.
“Why did you name the AI Proxima?” asked Hamilton.
“It’s where I’m from,” she said. “Proxima B or, as it is more popularly known, Valhalla.”
Hamilton nodded. Valhalla was one of the first habitable exoplanets ever discovered and settled by the then-brand-new League of Worlds. A few decades later the first Q-gate was discovered, and man’s interstellar expansion began in earnest.
“I have the file for you,” said Proxima. A hologram coalesced in the air between them, depicting a ruddy brown world covered in jagged canals and deep impact craters. Hamilton wrinkled his nose. “Doesn’t look that friendly.”
“Recent data indicate it was once capable of supporting life,” said Leda. One of the earliest Progenitor settlements yet known is said to have been discovered there, though the details are sketchy. The Special Ops obfuscation machine has been hard at work sowing misinformation and doubt surrounding the find.”
“So it’s true?” asked Hamilton, arching an eyebrow.
“Oh, yes. So, what’s our mission?”
“We’ve lost contact with the science team on Hephaestus.”
“That’s not good,” said Leda. “No one’s even supposed to know they’re there. Proxima, plot fastest course for Hephaestus and step on it.”
“As you wish, Lieutenant Niles,” said the ship helpfully.
Hamilton regarded his new shipmate. She was attractive. Jade green eyes set in a pixie face, long brown hair. She seemed very capable and sure of herself, maybe too much so. Colonel Straker certainly had a strange method for choosing his operatives.
Leda caught him looking at her. “What?”
Ha
milton shook his head. “Nothing.” He pulled at his togs. “I wish your associates hadn’t waylaid my ship. I could use a change of clothes.”
“Proxima as a full fabrication suite,” said Leda. “Nothing fancy, but I’m sure she can run off a Solar Navy uniform in your size.”
“Of course,” said Proxima.
Hamilton stood. “That’s not standard issue on Warsprites.”
“No,” said Leda. “I traded it to a Wanderer for some Draconi artifacts.”
Hamilton groaned. “That’s a criminal offense.”
Leda shrugged. “Hey, it was part of my cover. Besides, it’s not like I gave him any weapons or anything, and I took a possibly stolen fab unit away from him as part of the deal.” She gave Hamilton a playful wink. “Go and freshen up, get changed. We’re a few days out from Hephaestus.”
“I’m starting to think you enjoyed your role as a black-market gem trader just a little too much,” said Hamilton as he walked to the rear of the small, cramped vessel. He shoved a plastic door aside and found what passed for the ship’s sleeping quarters. A pre-war fabrication unit was bolted to the wall to his left. It was already warmed up and ready to go.
“I was just doing my job,” she called after him. “If you think I actually enjoyed tangling with Wanderers and dealing with deceitful thugs like Tibault and Frix, you can stuff it.”
Hamilton scowled as he fidgeted with the fab unit’s controls. “Nothing personal, Lieutenant.”
“Leda,” she corrected.
“Fine. How do you work this stupid thing?”
“Ask Proxima to help you.”
With the AI’s help, Hamilton finally got the fab unit going. He sat and stared at it while it churned. He hated this assignment, hated the unpredictability of it. He thrived on rigid structure, and wasn’t used to cavorting with criminals on some backwater planet, or running off to check on some scientists who haven’t checked in. What was Straker thinking by pairing him with this woman? She was informal, flew by the seat of her pants, and was completely without discipline. As the fab unit finished running off his uniform, Hamilton came to the realization that this was going to be a long trip.
Five: Hephaestus
Hephaestus was a cratered, reddish-brown sphere, indifferent to life if not openly hostile, orbiting too close to a dingy brown dwarf in a remote section of a particularly boring stretch of the cosmos. A thin haze of barely breathable atmosphere clung to the little world like the fuzz of a peach, threatening at any moment to out-gas at the slightest fluctuation in gravity or air pressure, leaving behind an otherwise lifeless husk the planet already resembled.
“Seems an unlikely place for an archeological dig site,” said Lt. Commander Noah Hamilton as he crouched in the Solar Navy corvette’s small control cluster.
“Like I said earlier, this planet used to be a lot more hospitable,” said Lt. Leda Niles as she guided the ship expertly into the planet’s atmosphere. “The scientists we’re looking for have found evidence of an early, prosperous Progenitor settlement here.”
“Be that as it may, I’m beginning to see why we might have lost contact. The conditions here are pretty harsh. Maybe their tightbeam relay got damaged in a sandstorm or something.”
Leda nodded, her eyes never leaving the ship’s view screen. “Proxima, find us a shady spot and commence landing procedures.” To Hamilton she said, “Hang on.”
Hamilton hurriedly strapped in as they slid into the planet’s thin atmosphere. Soon they were flying over ruddy brown hills, mountains and canyons. Hamilton could see long, slender canals that marked ancient riverbeds, and huge basins where liquid water once flowed in abundance. It was like the old holos he’d seen of the planet Mars before terraforming procedures began, long before he was born.
“The scientific installation is five hundred kilometers due north,” said Proxima.
“Good,” said Leda. “Take us there.”
Hamilton stared off to the west, where a dust storm was spinning through a dry river basin, some electrostatic quality of the particles throwing off flashes of electricity. “I’ll bet one of those could knock out a tightbeam relay,” he murmured.
“We’re almost there,” said Leda.
They flew over a square cliff overlooking a low valley. In the dead center was a series of low, dome-shaped buildings.
“That’s it,” said Leda. “Set us down, Proxima.”
“Working,” said the ship as it extruded landing gear.
Less than five minutes later they were on the ground a few hundred yards east of the scientific outpost.
“Proxima, get me an atmospheric sample.”
As the ship’s AI began reading off the contents of Hephaestus’s atmosphere, Leda went to the rear of the ship and opened a storage cabinet, pulling out an environmental suit. “We’re going to need these,” she said, pointing to a second cabinet. “Hamilton opened it and yanked out an identical suit.
It took them several minutes to suit up, helping each other as they went along. Leda seemed much more adept at getting into one of them than Hamilton was; he needed more help than she did.
Hamilton fitted his rebreather mask over his face and flicked it on. “Ready,” he said, the dense plastic of the mask distorting his voice.
Leda gave him a thumb’s up and moved to another set of cabinets, opening them to reveal a cache of weapons. Hamilton whistled. “That’s quite a collection,” he said.
“A girl’s gotta be prepared,” she said and selected a long-barreled Gauzer 280, slapping a magazine into a slot in front of the trigger. The Gauzer could shoot six- inch titanium spikes at two thousand feet per second.
Hamilton glanced over the lethal-looking selection and grabbed a Baranak M20A and primed it, the sleek slug-thrower light in his gloved hands. They took the appropriate ammo and placed it in belts designed for that purpose, which they strapped on over their suits.
“Ready?” said Leda.
Hamilton gave her a thumbs-up and she cycled open the ship’s airlock. They stepped inside and waited as the atmospheric pressure between the planet’s surface and the ship’s interior normalized. Hamilton was shocked to see how low it got before the outer airlock door cycled open and let them out.
The brown dwarf—and the small yellow star the planet also orbited—were both obscured by thick, dirty clouds, the ruddy light casting strange shadows. It not only made it impossible to judge the hour, but it filled Hamilton with an eerie sense of foreboding. He tightened his grip on his weapon as they stepped out of the airlock.
“Proxima, seal the airlock and put the anti-tampering protocols back in place.”
Hamilton heard a ringing in his right ear and moved to jam his finger into it, hitting against the suit’s helmet instead.
“That was Proxima,” said Leda. “She just synched up our cochlear implants. In case we get separated.”
Hamilton nodded, looked around. “I don’t see anyone out and about.”
“Let’s take a closer look,” said Leda.
Hamilton said, “After you.”
The two approached the cluster of domed structures cautiously, their weapons raised. They reached a smaller, outlying structure first, inspecting it. It was a small storage unit containing a dredger and some other excavation equipment. “Let’s go check out that domed habitat,” said Leda.
The dome was the largest structure on the site, sitting in the exact middle of the encampment. Hamilton inspected its airlock. “It still has power,” he said, cycling it open. They went inside, Hamilton having to duck under the building’s low arch.
They waited for the pressure to normalize and entered the dome proper. It was a large central space clearly cordoned off into specific areas by retractable walls. There was an area for sleeping, eating, showering, and two or three work stations. All of it was in disarray. Cots were overturned, slates were smashed, cups and dishes lay spread across the building’s gray plastic floor. But that wasn’t the most dist
ressing thing.
“Look,” said Hamilton, pointing at a spot of curved wall partially obscured by one of the retractable walls. They moved toward it, Leda sliding the wall aside. It was a dark stain of dried blood.
They looked at each other, and Hamilton noticed something else over Leda’s shoulder. He slid a work table aside. Behind it was a dead body. A female, Nipponese by her features, wearing a blue jumpsuit. Her throat had been slashed.
Leda flinched away. “What the hell happened here?”
“I don’t know,” said Hamilton. “But we need to call it in.”
“Wait,” said Leda. “There were six scientists stationed here. “That’s one. Where are the other five?”
They searched the rest of the structure, then went back outside. They found the second body one hundred feet from the rear of the dome, a bullet through his head. The third was lying face down near a dig site—shallow pits had been carved out of the ruddy regolith and dotted with holographic markers. Her neck had been snapped. The fourth was lying half out of a treaded sand crawler vehicle, shot in the temple at close range with a needle gun.
“No sign of the last one,” said Hamilton. “He might be our killer.”
Leda considered this. “I suppose it’s possible. Remote missions can sometimes make people snap. Except…” She moved to a hermetically sealed storage bin near the dig site. Its seal was broken, the bin empty.
“The research is gone,” she said.
Hamilton stepped up behind her and peered into the bin. “So you think someone killed them and stole the artifacts.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“But why would someone kill for this stuff? Do you think it’s that valuable?”
Leda shrugged. “I don’t know. Without being able to examine it, I couldn’t say for sure. But it could be. Learning anything new about the Progenitors would be a major discovery.”
Leda placed her hands on her hips and looked around. Hamilton watched as the tiny yellow sun began to dip toward the canyon wall on the opposite rim of the valley.
“This place gives me the creeps,” he said. “Let’s get back to your ship and call this in.”
