by James Palmer
They trudged back toward the ship in silence, taking a slightly different route that took them past a solar paneled weather detecting array and some low storage containers. That is where they found the fifth and final scientist. She had been shot in the back of the head and stuffed half in one of the storage units, her environmental suit in tatters.
“They got her first,” said Hamilton. “They sneaked up behind her. Then they got the rest.”
“What kind of person could do this?” Leda muttered.
“Someone heavily armed and highly trained,” said Hamilton as they continued walking. “Those were all precise kill shots. No ammo was wasted. Even the knife wounds were planted where they’d do the most damage. I know of only one class of individual capable of this.”
Hamilton and Leda stopped, glanced at each other. “Marines,” they said, almost in unison.
They both hefted their rifles a little higher as they moved toward the ship, breaking into a run by the time they reached the airlock.
“Proxima,” said Leda. “Deactivate anti-personnel protocols and let us in.”
“Gladly, Lieutenant,” the ship’s AI said happily.
Hamilton stood watch behind Leda as the airlock slowly cycled open, the setting sun casting strange shadows that held imagined threats.
Six: The Fence
Hamilton removed his helmet and opened a tightbeam relay while Leda climbed out of her environmental suit. The lag time was intense, making Hamilton think there was something about the planet itself that created interference. He would feel a lot safer when this dead ball of rock was a few thousand miles beneath his feet.
At last he got through. “Straker here,” said that familiar, gruff voice.
“Colonel, this is Hamilton and Niles. We’re on Hephaestus. The scientists are all dead. I repeat, the scientists are all—”
“I heard you the first time, Lieutenant. Any idea what happened?”
“They were murdered, sir. The artifacts they had been collecting are missing.”
“Well, damn!” said Straker.
“What are your orders, sir?”
“Niles! Where are you?”
Leda stepped toward the tightbeam relay. “Here, sir.”
“I want you to utilize some of your old contacts, figure out what the hell is going on.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hamilton, you’re with Niles until this mission is complete. Straker out.”
“But sir—” Hamilton began, but it was already too late. He sighed.
Leda elbowed him. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you home in time for supper.”
“Is field work always so unpredictable?”
Leda tapped her chin. “Well, let me see…yes.” She grinned up at him, and he frowned.
“I knew this outing was going to be an adventure. Never a dull day in the Navy.”
“You got that right, soldier. Now let’s stow our gear and get underway.”
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace you aren’t going to like.”
* * *
Prollux IV was a swampy, backwater world that just so happened to be in the habitable zone of G type star around which a dense asteroid field replete with precious metals also orbited, making it the perfect gathering place, trading post and watering hole for every grifter, thief and confidence man in the quadrant.
“Put your old civilian togs back on,” Leda instructed as the ship landed itself in a grassy field near a collection of aged freighters. “Keep your mouth shut and follow my lead, and we’ll both get off this rock alive.”
“Sounds wonderful,” said Hamilton. “I should start planning my next leave.”
Leda gave him a cold, serious look before unbuckling and moving toward the rear of the vessel. “I have a contact here, a local fence who may be able to help us. If he hasn’t been arrested or fed to a swamp manta. But he doesn’t trust people he doesn’t know.”
“I like him already.”
“This is serious,” said Leda. Prollux can be a dangerous place if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Hamilton nodded. “I’m with you.”
“Good. Let’s get going.”
It was a good quarter-mile walk from the field to anything resembling civilization. The air was warm and thick with humidity, buzzing with clouds of tiny insects. He swatted at them as they went, Leda leading the way. She wore a small pack on her back, and a needle gun on her side. Hamilton was similarly armed. It actually made them both blend in more easily in these less than savory environs.
They moved from the edge of a swampy pond and in between a set of plastic buildings, sidling up a narrow alley before coming out on a wide thoroughfare. Solar powered vehicles whispered past, along with people moving on foot, some carrying manta skin satchels or pushing rickety carts, others leading genetically engineered service animals, the poor beasts’ backs laden with gear.
“My fence’s place is up that way,” she said, pointing. Hamilton followed her, walking past open stalls where people sold food, tools, and equipment. One woman was busy placing long red centipede-like insects on skewers over an open fire. She smiled toothlessly before asking if he’d like one in heavily accented Standard. He smiled politely and moved on, revolted by the sight of her questionable larder.
They crossed the street and continued northward, up a slight hill. “Here it is,” she said at last, and they entered through a thick film of mesh curtains into a dimly lit interior. There, sitting behind a table piled with broken necklaces and other baubles, was an old Draconi.
“Reeg,” said Leda with a grin. “How’s business?”
“Jaspa,” said the fence. “It’s been a long time. And I see you brought a friend.” He stared up at Hamilton warily.
Hamilton nodded at him. His scales were a faded green. His useless wings were leathery and curled at the edges. He wore a crimson robe fringed in gold brocade. His tail was missing, no doubt cut off, a well-known punishment reserved for only the greatest transgressions against Draconi mores, for unlike Earth lizards a Draconi’s tail does not grow back. His left eye was also missing, replaced by a titanium-plated prosthetic. A jeweler’s loupe hung from his neck by a leather cord.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any more of those Denebian mood gems for you this time. Blasted things take months to crystalize. But I can—”
“We just need information, Reeg,” said Leda, glancing at Hamilton before placing her hands on the table and leaning over to stare at the Draconi.
“Certainly. I’ll tell you what I can. For my usual price, of course.”
Leda grinned and pulled a small sack from her pocket. She placed it on the table in front of him. He clicked his teeth, sticking a talon into the small opening and pulling it open.
Hamilton saw something flickering in the light hanging above the table, but he couldn’t tell what it was.
Reeg stuck his finger and thumb into the bag and pulled out a sparkling mineral, held tightly between his talons. His prosthetic eye telescoped out and he held the gem close, examining it.
“Very nice. High quality. You never disappoint, Jaspa.” Placing the gem back in the pouch and cinching it up, he said, “Now what would you like to know?”
“A scientific outpost on Hephaestus was attacked,” said Leda. “The scientists were killed, and the artifacts they collected are missing. What do you know about it?”
The dragon stammered. “I don’t know anything about it. I didn’t even know there was an active dig on Heph.”
Leda grinned. “Reeg. We go back a long way. Don’t lie to me. The mighty Reeg knows everything no one else is supposed to know.”
The old trader clicked his teeth together, the Draconi version of expressing mirth. “What’s the phrase you humans use? Flattery will get you nowhere. Now I’ve told you all I know. So, if you’re not going to buy or sell, get out.”
Hamilton rushed forward then, pushing Leda aside, his weapo
n drawn and pointed right at Reeg’s snout.
The dragon reached under the table. “Don’t even think about it,” said Hamilton. “Hands on the table where we can see them.”
Reeg glared at him, mouth open, his tongue darting. His race did not scare easily. Hamilton met his gaze, never wavering. If he showed the least bit of fear it was all over. The reptile slowly placed his hands on the table and glanced at Jaspa. “How dare you bring this carwallll into my shop. You and I will never do business again.”
“Shut up,” said Hamilton. “Or we’ll see what you look like with two prosthetic eyes.”
Reeg growled low in his throat.
“See, there’s something you should know about me,” said Hamilton. Jaspa is nice. But I am not so nice. I had a contact on Heph who was going to sell me some of the artifacts, at a considerable profit, I might add. And now he’s dead, and my artifacts are gone. I want to know who took them from me and why.”
Reeg’s tongue darted from his mouth, tasting Hamilton’s resolve. “What sort of artifacts were taken?”
“We’re not sure,” said Leda. “But whatever they were, they were big, and important enough to kill for.”
Reeg seemed to start at that, then said, “Whoever did it had a large and powerful ship, capable of avoiding detection. Does that sound like any dig jumpers you know?”
Leda shook her head. A dig jumper was someone who co-opted someone else’s find, usually by stealing it out from under them in the dead of night. Murder wasn’t their style.
“How do you know this?” said Leda.
“Rumors,” said Reeg. “You hear things. Word is that there are some new players. They’re too well outfitted and stealthy to be Wanderers. No one who has seen them has lived. They’re ghosts.”
“Anything else?” asked Hamilton.
“Just a word of advice,” said Reeg, leaning forward. “Whoever these people are, they are highly trained, well-informed and extremely dangerous. I wouldn’t want to cross their path.”
“You’ll contact me if anyone tries to sell you any Early Period Progenitor artifacts,” said Leda. It wasn’t a question, and something about the cold glint in her eye made the Draconi nod his scaly head.
“Pleasure doing business with you Reeg,” said Leda, patting Hamilton on the shoulder. “We’re done here.”
Reeg hurled an unintelligible Draconian epithet at them as Leda exited the shop. Hamilton kept his weapon trained on the dragon until he too was outside in the heat once again.
“Your fence didn’t tell us much,” he said as he holstered his weapon and started off down the street alongside her.
“He told us enough,” said Leda. “Plus, he gave me an idea of someplace else to look.”
Seven: The Raid
When Hamilton climbed aboard the tiny Warsprite, Leda Niles was already barking orders to the ship’s AI.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Getting Proxima to scan for communications anomalies at scientific outposts,” she said. “If our thieves hit one location, they’ll hit another.”
Hamilton sat on a molded plastic seat set into one wall, his stomach growling. “Got anything to eat on this rust bucket?”
“Hey!” she said. “Do I go around making fun of your ship? Yeah, just give me a second. I’ll have Proxima punch up some chow.”
Ten minutes later they were slurping up warm, protein-rich noodle synthesis. “Any hits yet?” Hamilton asked, swallowing.
“Not yet. Proxima will let us know.”
“You keep some interesting company.”
“Who?” Leda said, “Reeg? For a dragon, he’s totally harmless.”
“How long have you been in deep cover?”
“Too long. A standard year? Maybe a little over. I was starting to lose myself. I’m actually glad you came along when you did.”
“Because I saved your life?”
Leda chuckled. “Yes. That, and the fact that I’ve been in need of a break. It’s exhausting playing a role constantly. Pretending to be something you’re not.”
“You seemed pretty comfortable back there.”
“True. But it’s not as easy as I made it look. I do love xenoarchaeology though, and studying the Progenitors. But enough about me, hero. What’s your story?”
Hamilton opened his mouth but no words came out.
“Let me guess,” Leda said. “Top of your class in the Academy. Recruited into Special Ops personally by Colonel Straker.”
“That’s not exactly how it happened,” said Hamilton. “But you’re pretty close. I was in Strategic Planning training when the war with the dragons ended. The Navy suddenly decided they didn’t need any more strategic planners. Special Ops had an opening, so I took it.”
They finished their meal in silence. Hamilton kept trying to think of something else to say but it all sounded dumb in his head. He was still trying to size up his companion. He still didn’t know what to make of her. She certainly liked to bend the rules and go her own way, and she was possibly a borderline criminal. He could see her running off to join the Wanderers in a second. But in spite of all that Hamilton liked her.
There was a chime as Proxima finished her data gathering. “I have scanned the entire Quantum net and the Navy black nets going back several standard weeks,” she said. “I have three possible targets and one past target.”
“Past target?” said Hamilton.
“Start with that one first,” said Leda.
“The planet EB2096B was attacked seven standard weeks ago,” said the ship’s AI. “Four scientists and three service crew were murdered. All artifacts they had collected, along with all their research, was also taken.”
“Proxima,” said Hamilton. “Any idea what types of artifacts were taken?”
“Early estimates date the discovery back to the Progenitors’ early period.”
Hamilton looked at Leda. “Just like on Heph,” he said. “That’s the connection. These aren’t just Progenitor artifacts they’re interested in. They want material from the early period.”
“That dates back to the earliest incarnations of their epics,” said Leda. “When our kind were painting mammoths on cave walls, these guys had colonized half the galaxy.”
Hamilton nodded. “But what possible value could it have? Other than historically?”
“Not enough to kill for, and certainly not enough to outfit a crew full of armed combatants.” Leda drummed her fingers on the tabletop.
“I wonder why we never heard about that one.”
“It made the news rounds,” said Proxima. “And it was investigated by the Navy Science Division.”
“Proxima, what about the possible future targets?”
“I’m sending them to your slate now,” said the ship’s AI. “Also, I have an incoming distress call being sent out over tightbeam black net right now.”
“Play it,” said Hamilton.
The ship’s speakers crackled, and a faraway voice said, “—strator Falk of Archive Sixty. We are under attack. I repeat. We are under attack. Please send—.”
The transmission ended abruptly.
“A Progenitor Archive under attack?” said Hamilton. “That’s just not possible.”
“They aren’t heavily defended,” said Leda. “Of course it’s possible.”
“Archive Sixty. Where is that?”
“The Daedalus System,” Proxima answered helpfully.
“That isn’t that far,” said Hamilton.
Leda nodded. “We won’t get there in time to stop it, but maybe we can figure out what the hell is going on.”
“Proxima,” said Hamilton. “Are there any ships in that area that could provide assistance?”
“Unknown,” said the AI.
“Get us underway,” said Leda. “Right now.”
* * *
Three standard days and one Q-gate jump later, they arrived at the Archive. It was a vast pyramidal structure orbi
ting an unremarkable main sequence star. From the outside, it appeared undamaged, but it didn’t answer any of their hails as they approached.
“How are going to get inside there if no one’s manning it?” said Leda.
“Leave that to me,” said Hamilton. “I used to know a back-door code, if it hasn’t been changed.”
“Back door code?”
“Yeah. The Progenitors communicated through a series of musical tones, and designed their machinery to respond to such tones.”
“Like the Q-gates.”
“Exactly,” said Hamilton. “Their Archives work the same way. I just hope that most of their subsystems are still automated and functioning.” He punched something up on the communications relay.
“Proxima,” he said, “Broadcast these tones to the Archive.”
“Working.”
There was an answering chime, and Leda watched in surprise through the viewing port as an enormous opening began to form near the Archive’s base. “Nice work.”
Hamilton nodded. “I’m glad the Archive’s administrator didn’t change them, or we’d still be sitting out here twiddling our thumbs.”
“Take us in, Proxima,” Leda ordered.
Slowly the little warsprite moved toward the growing opening, like a tiny fish entering the maw of a huge shark. Hamilton tightened the grip on his flechette pistol, still on his hip, as they entered the Archive.
“The Archive’s power and life support are still operational,” said Proxima. “Synching with landing protocols now.”
Leda and Hamilton waited nervously for the warsprite to land inside the vast space between two other even smaller vessels. Lights switched on in the bay as they touched down.
“Proxima,” said Leda, “any life signs?”
“None. Life support and artificial gravity are fully functional and set to Earth normal.”
Hamilton looked at her. “Let’s go armed just in case.”
Leda nodded and they geared up, Leda even donning some light, form-fitting armor from one of her storage lockers.
“You’re really well outfitted,” said Hamilton.
