by Isaac Hooke
After attaching the final component, the helmet, he donned a utility belt and a harness, then stuffed enough spare oxygen canisters into the latter item to last a few days. The spacesuits came with enough water and meal replacements to last a similar amount of time, if rationed properly.
He turned to go when he spotted a comm node lying next to the pile of human gear. The node was partially inside a backpack—the kind a dedicated communications officer would lug about during a mission.
"Let's go, Jason," Lin said. Fully-suited, she was waiting halfway across the compartment; she kept a plasma rifle aimed at the entry hatch.
"Wait."
"Time's ticking away," Lin said. "We can't stay here!"
Via the aReal built into his helmet, he pulled up the list of all remotely accessible devices in the area. The comm node showed up. He powered it on through the aReal.
"It still works," Wolf said. "Though it looks like it only has enough power for one last transmission."
"Hurry, then," Lin said.
"Callaway," he transmitted. "Or whoever is still out there, this is Lieutenant Commander Jason Wolf. I'm here with Lieutenant Lin Akido. We're on board one of the alien vessels. The crew of the Selene is here. There are twenty-eight survivors. A rescue would be grand, if you could manage it."
The comm node cut out before he could say any more.
"Did it work?" Lin asked.
"I don't know. I'm not sure the signal even got past the hull."
"Let's move." Lin approached the hatch.
Wolf joined her. "How do we open it?"
Lin aimed her plasma rifle and fired. The reinforced metal melted in the center, revealing another hatch a meter away—the two formed part of an airlock. A plume of yellow mist gushed inside as the atmosphere of the airlock rushed to fill the compartment.
She fired again, widening the hole, and blasting a gap into the airlock's second hatch. More yellow air rushed inside. Its expansion was fast, but not explosive, indicating that the pressure between the two compartments was relatively equal.
The partially-dissected bodies strapped to the tables began wheezing.
Lin looked at them, anguish suddenly on her face. "I've killed them."
"You did them a favor." Wolf took a third shot, enlarging the opening in the second hatch.
The compartment around him was now entirely hued yellow, thanks to the new atmosphere.
He was about to approach the remains of the hatch when he noticed a device resting on a metal shelf beside him.
Curious, he picked it up. It looked like a remote control of some kind, but without any buttons.
Without warning a black mist erupted from the device and enveloped his entire body. The mist seemed to pulse, and alternated between opaque and translucent, allowing him to peer past.
"Jason," Lin said. Her voice sounded distorted. Low-pitched. "Jaaaaasssoooon."
She turned her rifle toward him. The act was ridiculously drawn-out, as if she moved in slow motion.
He dropped the device and the opaque mist immediately dissipated.
Lin lowered the rifle and stared at him. "What happened? One second you were there, the next a dark mist had replaced you."
"You didn't see me at all?"
"No."
"I think I've found our ticket out of here." He nodded toward the device. "I'm starting to give credence to your theory that some of the aliens are helping us. Either that, or we're on an extremely lucky streak."
"Let's hope that streak doesn't run out."
"Agreed," he said. "Now come here."
Lin wrapped her arm assembly around his waist.
Wolf picked up the device and the darkness enveloped them both.
Rifles at the ready, they proceeded through the airlock and into the passageway beyond.
twenty-seven
Jonathan sat in his place at the Round Table on the bridge. The task group was in the process of using the gas giant Achilles to slingshot toward the outer reaches of the solar system. The forces exerted by the gravity well at the current distance were moderate, and the compartment shook slightly.
"Captain," the communications officer, Rald Lazur, said. "I'm receiving a transmission."
"From who?" Jonathan thought it was from another vessel in the task group, probably the Grimm or one of the other ships they had left behind.
"The signal is..." Lazur looked up urgently. "The signal is coming from the alien ships. You're not going to believe this, but it's Lieutenant Commander Jason Wolf."
Jonathan straightened. "Let's hear it."
The message came over his aReal. Voice only. There was some digital warping because of the interference caused by the gas giant's radiation belts.
"Callaway, or whoever is still out there, this is Lieutenant Commander Jason Wolf. I'm here with Lieutenant Lin Akido. We're on board one of the alien vessels. The crew of the Selene is here. There are twenty-eight survivors. A rescue would be grand, if you could manage it."
Jonathan glanced at Lazur. "Is that all there is?"
"That's all."
"Which ship did it come from?"
"One of the dart escorts," the comm officer said. "I've highlighted it on the tactical display."
"Miko, tag that ship. I want you to keep track of it at all times."
"Tagged," Miko said.
"So they're alive after all," Robert said. "And imprisoned with the crew of the Selene. Time to formulate a rescue strategy?"
Jonathan opened his mouth. He didn't have an answer. He was still processing the news.
"You think it's a trap?" Robert asked.
"Possibly," Jonathan said. "But I can no longer justify holding back our elite teams. We can't leave the crew of the Selene to die."
"So I suppose we're no longer going to treat the tagged ship with extreme prejudice when we attack?" Robert said.
"Oh we are," Jonathan said. "But we're going to rescue our two pilots, and the crew of the Selene, first." He turned to his tactical officer. "Miko, you and Maxwell have had ample time to review the battle footage."
"We have, Captain," Miko agreed.
"And you've thought of some potential strategies?"
"A few. I shared most of them with you."
"Yes, I saw the message. Well, I have some bad news. You'll have to augment your strategies to include a rescue. I want you to coordinate with the Lieutenant Commander in charge of the MOTH teams. You have one day to come up with something." He turned to Robert. "Commander, schedule a conference with the captains and first officers of the combat task unit for tomorrow at oh nine hundred." He glanced at his tactical officer one more time. "Miko, you'll be presenting your findings there."
Miko swallowed, obviously nervous. "Yes, sir."
Some of the best officers had a slight fear of public speaking. Well, it would be good for him.
Jonathan felt a wave of sudden despair. Good for him? Yes, for a whole day.
No! a dissenting voice cried. I won't let my crew down.
Even so, Jonathan knew it might very well be the last speech the young officer ever made.
* * *
Jonathan leaned forward in his office chair. He folded his hands, steepled the index fingers, and tapped his lips. It was currently 0700. Two hours before the planned conference.
"Maxwell, tap in Miko," Jonathan said.
The holographic image of Miko appeared across from him, as if sitting in the chair.
"Tell me what you've come up with," Jonathan told Miko.
The lieutenant went over his findings, rehearsing the strategy he would reveal at the conference.
Jonathan interjected the occasional question to test parts of the plan that sounded weak, but Miko always gave a satisfactory answer.
"It's a good plan," Jonathan finally said. "Not too many moving parts. Well done, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, sir," Miko said. "But most of the credit for the rescue plan itself belongs to Lieutenant Commander Basette and Chief Galaal, the latter of whom wi
ll be carrying out the operation. And Maxwell gave a lot of input on the space battle side of things."
It sounded like he was hoping Jonathan would nominate Basette or Maxwell to give the presentation, but the captain wasn't going to let Miko off the hook so easily.
"Nonetheless, you orchestrated it all," Jonathan said. "So thank you. I'm looking forward to watching the presentation again at oh nine hundred. Dismissed."
When Miko's hologram clicked off, Jonathan gazed at the portal simulated by his aReal on the bulkhead beside him, and at the computer-generated stars slowly flitting past beyond it.
Space. So wide. So vast.
So deadly.
His door chime sounded.
"Come in, Commander," Jonathan said after checking who it was on his aReal.
Robert came inside and sat in the chair opposite the desk.
"So, did you talk to your wife yet?" Jonathan said.
"I did," Robert told him.
"And?"
"She's pissed that you told me about the baby. And she's still not sure whether she's going to abort it or not."
Jonathan frowned. "You told her not to, of course?"
"Of course."
Jonathan shrugged. "It is the woman's decision in the end. She's the one who has to carry it for nine months."
"All the same, I'd rather she kept it."
Jonathan nodded. "As would I."
"I must apologize once again for ever accusing you of having any sort of relationship with my wife."
"Apology accepted," Jonathan said.
"She loves you, you know," Robert commented casually.
Jonathan felt one of his eyebrows rise. "What are you talking about?"
"She told me once on shore leave, when she was drunk. Shortly before we married. Said she fell for you when she first came aboard the ship. Said that it was impossible to ever marry such a man as you. What were her words? Yes: we can never attain that which we truly desire." He smiled sadly. "So she married me. Her second choice."
Jonathan didn't know what to say for several moments.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"Maybe you were her second choice," Jonathan said carefully. "But the fact of the matter is, she married you, Robert. You. Not me. You're the one who shares her bed every night."
"Yes. I have her body. But will I ever truly hold her heart?"
Jonathan shook his head. "That's something I can't help you with, Robert. I'm an unmarried starship captain. I have no relationship advice to give. Wish I did, but that simply isn't my vocation. I can arrange a session with the marriage counselor, if you wish."
"Probably a good idea," Robert said.
"Consider it done." Jonathan returned his attention to the augmented reality window and the faux stars beyond it. The decoration was a shared augmentation, so Robert would see those stars on his aReal contact lenses, too.
"Nervous?" Robert said.
"About the conference?" Jonathan pursed his lips. "Not at all. Not like the last time anyway, when I had to do something I thought I'd never have to. This conference will go well. And as for the coming battle, I'm resigned to my fate. We either win, or we lose. There's no in-between."
"But there is an in-between," Robert said. "And that's how many of our ships survive."
"No," Jonathan said. "Losing even one ship counts as a loss for me."
"Sometimes you're too hard on yourself," Robert said.
"Maybe." Jonathan returned his attention to the false stars. "Do you ever wonder if it was a mistake for humanity to expand across the galaxy? That our ancestors stepped far beyond their station when they journeyed into a universe they were entirely unprepared for?"
"We had to come to the stars," Robert said. "It was inevitable if humanity was to survive as a species. Eventually, we would have exhausted all the resources of our home planet. The population levels were simply unsustainable. And even farther out in time, our sun will eventually become a red giant, boiling away the surface of the homeworld. If we didn't colonize other planets and moons, or find a way to alter the orbit of the Earth, none of us would exist in five billion years time. Thankfully, humanity advanced at a much faster clip than that, and we left our home system long before then."
"Yes. But maybe it would have been better if we had waited a bit longer before leaving the Earth. A thousand years, maybe. Until our technology advanced to a more... competitive level."
Robert smiled wanly. "But given the infinite number of galaxies in the universe, there will always be a race somewhere out there more advanced than our own. The odds are simply too high to claim otherwise. Astronomical odds, really, if you don't mind the pun."
Jonathan rapped his fingers on the desk. He wondered if he should reveal to the commander what the scientists had told him the night before.
"Maxwell," Jonathan said. "Bring up port-side external camera. Focus on Achilles I."
The gas giant appeared before Jonathan, with the requested moon floating beside it. The captain gestured outward with his hand, a motion intended for his aReal—the video feed appeared to slide forward until it sat above the desk between himself and Robert.
"An Elder ruin resides on that moon," Jonathan said.
"Yes," Robert said. "Which only reinforces my previous point."
"Do you remember the odd readings the HS4s recorded while exploring those ruins? As if tiny wormholes had existed, warping the surrounding alloy?"
"I do," Robert said.
"The scientists tell me similar gravimetric impressions are patterning the container of the alien in our custody. They've determined that the creature emits gravity distortions in waves, with the alien suddenly exhibiting a weight eight to ten times its previous amount. The chief scientist, Connie Myers, says they'll have to apply new layers of glass and ThermoPlastic Urethane every few days to make up for those unexpected distortions, or else the container's structural integrity will weaken over time until the alien escapes."
"So wait," Robert said. "What are you saying? The aliens were exploring the Elder ruins, too, before we arrived? And left behind the evidence of their presence via the gravimetric distortions?"
Jonathan smiled patiently. "The scientists have a different theory. You see, the distortion patterns left behind in the Elder ruins imply a much smaller form factor than the alien prisoner. And a much longer gestation time, as if the aliens remained in the same place for at least several months, if not years. It seems likely, Commander, that the Selene stumbled on an alien nest down there."
Robert paused as if digesting the news. "And momma bear wasn't very happy."
"No. No she was not."
Robert rubbed his right ear lobe. "You know, these aliens might be the descendants of the Elder."
"Interesting speculation," Jonathan said. "Though we have no way to prove it. But if that were true, technologically they would be countless millennia ahead of our own species by now, wouldn't they? Reactionless drives, gravimetric weapons, impromptu Slipstream creation, the works. Instead, they're only very slightly ahead of us, and in some ways behind, given their apparent lack of long range weapons other than the laser array we destroyed."
"Maybe most of their knowledge was lost after their population was decimated?"
"Why are their ships so small then, compared to the ancient Elder vessels we've found?" Jonathan pressed. "Why don't they all rove the galaxy in flying Möbius strips?"
"Again, lost knowledge. And ship design is bound to change over a million years."
"Though in this case it seems they've regressed," Jonathan said. "Rather than progressed."
"It's possible they've evolved so much since the time of their ancestors so as to become unrecognizable. Or devolved, rather, and are now mere slivers of their former selves. Like the dinosaurs of Earth. After the K-T extinction event, only the smallest survived: those animals that didn't require the immense resources of their larger kin. You've seen what evolution did in that scenario. The closest living relative to the once powerful Tyran
nosaurus Rex is the lowly chicken. From the top of the food chain to the bottom."
Jonathan chuckled. "So you think what we're facing right now is the Elder equivalent of the chicken?"
Robert laughed. "Sort of. But think about it. Humanity has experienced similar decimation events because of wars and disease, though on a lesser scale—and while we didn't change genetically all that much, we did lose centuries of knowledge. Look at the Black Plague. Or the Resettlement Wars. We're on the brink of such a decimation event right now, even. If we start using the planet killers, who can say how terribly human knowledge will suffer? Entire cultures and technologies will vanish."
Jonathan tapped a finger on the desk. "I suppose you're right, then. There is a chance these aliens are the descendants of the Elder."
"You seem disappointed, Captain."
Jonathan shrugged. "I guess I hoped the Elder had moved on from our section of the galaxy. That they'd attained some higher level of consciousness or enlightenment."
"A benevolent race that would welcome us with open arms and share the secrets of the universe with us?" Robert asked.
"Yes. But the Elders aren't some mystical beams of white light ready to shine enlightenment and knowledge into our eyes, but rather dark, amorphous, warlike beings who desire only our blood."
"You have to give them credit," the commander said. "They were only trying to protect their young."
"Maybe," Jonathan said. "But what about the second attack? That was unprovoked."
"Perhaps they believed we were going to use the planet killer against them eventually. Or maybe they wanted to capture it for themselves. You saw those grappling hooks in the replay."
"I guess we'll never know," Jonathan said. "They refuse all attempts at communication. Worse, they're guarding our only way out of here."
"They're afraid we'll call in reinforcements," Robert said.
"The same fear we have," Jonathan told him. "Damn it. Even if we win this, we'll be watching our backs for the next six months while the Marley builds a return Gate."
"You don't think the nukes we placed at the Slipstream entrance will stop them?"
"It will stop the first few reinforcements," Jonathan said. "After that..."
