by J. J. Green
Generation
Shadows of the Void Book 1
J.J. Green
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For Lesley and Jack
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank the Taipei Writers Group for their friendship and support during all my writing endeavours. I’d also like to thank my subscribers, who contributed ideas for the animal characters in Generation and subsequent books in the Shadows of the Void series, and who constantly surprise and delight me with the warmth, kindness and wit of their correspondence.
Special thanks go to my editor, Lacey Lengel, for her painstaking attention to detail and inspired feedback.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
About the Book
About the Author
Chapter One
Jas Harrington snapped her visor in place and took a deep breath of the purified, cooled air that flowed into her combat suit. For the last fifteen minutes she’d been ignoring the prickles that ran down her spine as she prepared her team for the routine LIV—Locate, Investigate, Vacate. But she couldn’t ignore the feeling any longer.
“AX7,” she said as she entered the shuttle airlock with the fifteen burly, androgynous defense units under her command. The door to the passenger cabin slid closed behind them, and a hiss permeated the enclosed space as the planet’s atmosphere entered through newly opened valves, equalizing the air pressure differential.
“C.S.O. Harrington,” the unit replied.
“Station yourself at the rear.”
“Affirmative, C.S.O. Harrington.”
AX7 had been injured in a skirmish with a hostile species a few planets back, and though the unit had self-repaired as programmed, it wasn’t factory-perfect like the others were, and those prickles were telling her to expect an attack.
The part-organic, part-robotic Polestar Corp androids shuffled aside in the narrow airlock to allow AX7 through. Jas’ excessively long childhood on Mars had resulted in a height of just over two meters, but at two meters thirty the defense units dwarfed her. As usual at close quarters, she was acutely conscious of the difference. The units resembled linebackers padded up, except they had no padding. Thin armored material that was highly resistant to penetration and extreme temperatures coated their large forms.
If the defense units short-circuited and turned on her, well...Jas pushed memories of incidents involving prototypes to the back of her mind. These were the latest, state-of-the-art models, though she wasn’t naive enough to imagine Polestar supplied them to protect the crew. No, in the event of an emergency, she was sure the units’ first move would be to save precious resource samples.
AX7’s face expressed no emotion as it moved to the back of the group, though it had the intellectual capacity to understand why Jas had put it there. Despite her extensive experience working with the units, she hadn’t figured out if they genuinely had no feelings at all, or if they weren’t able to express them.
“What’s the weather like out there, Lingiari?” she asked the shuttle pilot through her radio.
“A little precipitation. Temperature just below zero.”
A spark of nostalgia flickered through Jas’ sense of foreboding. “Snow? It’s snowing?” She hadn’t seen snow since attending training college in Antarctica, the last place on Earth it had snowed in twenty years.
“Sure looks like it,” the pilot replied.
Jas’ brief moment of pleasure was swamped by the realization that snow meant reduced visibility. The prickles down her spine grew so strong she itched to rub her back, impossible though that was in her suit. “Still no bio readings?”
“Nothing bigger than a rat’s dick.”
Jas rolled her eyes and thumbed a switch on her weapon, changing the setting to flamethrower. Not many life forms could withstand fire. She didn’t instruct her defense units on their weaponry. They would compute the optimum response according to the situation, probably better and faster than her. The smartest command strategy was to leave them the hell alone to do their job, unless she knew something they didn’t, but as in most LIV assignments, she was the blind leading the blind.
A light flashed above the airlock’s outer door. Ten flashes and it would open. The shuttle computer was simultaneously relaying the countdown to the units electronically, but their eyes were also on the light. Defense unit behavior was disarmingly human at times.
The door opened, and the airlock flooded with light and swirling flakes of snow. Jas’ visor instantly dimmed, shadowing her view of the terrain outside. A flat, plain landscape stretched to the horizon, lightly powdered with snow and peppered with tough scrub. Except for the low, dull vegetation, the area seemed empty of life. A dark gray structure made up of overlapping hexagonal boxes two or three meters tall dominated the view, against a pale gray, cloudy sky. It wasn’t the most inviting planet Jas had visited.
She gave the order to disembark. Moving as one, the defense units set off down the ramp. She followed and took her place at their side. The one point two Earth gravity made moving a little more effort than usual, but it was manageable. Her boots broke through the thin layer of snow, and the familiar thrill of being the first human being to set foot on a new planet surged through her, despite her trepidation.
“No Class P life forms within one K,” came Lingiari’s voice through her radio. His close-range scanners were telling him the same as the starship’s less sensitive long-distance surveillance equipment had indicated before they set out—nothing to worry about, supposedly. Jas’s grip tightened on her weapon as she accompanied the units toward the matte gray structure.
“Your scanners are penetrating that rock construction, right?” she asked Lingiari.
“Yeah, as far as I can tell, but they aren’t picking up anything. Seems to be empty. But it isn’t rock. It’s a crystal-metal amalgam. And another material the scanners can’t identify.”
“Artificial?”
“I think you might be confusing me with a scientist. I’m forwarding the results to the ship.”
“Sorry. Thanks for the info,” Jas replied. Of course the pilot didn’t have the knowledge or authority to interpret the data. What was she thinking? She deliberately tensed and then relaxed her muscles. An officer aboard the Galathea would update her on anything they thought important. At that moment, no one was saying anything.
She’d reache
d a hole in the wall of the structure. The defense units were waiting in formation. The hole was hexagonal, mirroring the shape of the structure’s blocks. Inside, all was dark.
“C.S.O. Harrington, permission to enter and search,” AX5 said.
“Permission granted. AX12, you too.”
The two units stepped over a low wall at the base of the hole and dipped their heads as they went inside. Motionless, the other units waited, snowflakes settling on their wide shoulders. A few minutes later, AX5’s calm voice came through Jas’ radio. “All clear.”
She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Follow on,” she instructed the rest.
As Jas went in, her dimmed visor cleared, and a light beamed out from her helmet, slicing through the darkness. She was in an empty room just large enough to hold her and thirteen units comfortably. AX5 and 12 were investigating a neighboring chamber. The floor was the same crystal-metal amalgam as the walls and ceiling, and it sloped gradually downward toward several hexagonal holes at the far end. A few steps inside, and Jas could raise her head.
AX12 and 5 appeared at a hole—or doorway?—on the far side. The place was still and silent. The scanner reports seemed accurate. It looked empty, totally devoid of life or artifacts. She divided the units into groups and sent them to investigate deeper inside, accompanying one of the groups herself.
The next room looked the same as the first. No sign of life nor signs that anything had ever lived there. The only break in the monotonous walls was more holes, leading to identical rooms and heading downward, underground and deeper into the structure. From Jas’ position as she peered through a hole, the rooms seemed endless.
An hour passed, then two. Jas and the units penetrated deep into the labyrinthine construction. She had to activate her suit’s pathfinder function to avoid getting lost. By the time she surfaced, she’d found nothing different from the empty room at the entrance.
Jas had conducted LIVs on many planets. According to strict regulations, they had to vacate immediately at the first sign of intelligence. If there was no intelligent life, the planet’s resources were up for grabs to the first corporation that claimed them.
In Jas’ experience the evidence of high-level, sentient species was usually clear. Whatever the form of intelligence, evolution always seemed to favor certain expressions of it: the use of tools, modifying the natural environment, storage of resources, training of offspring, and the systemization of food gathering or production and distribution. On K.67092d, the evidence was not clear. The regular, straight lines of the structure indicated artificial construction, but there seemed to be no other evidence of intelligence. If sentient life forms had built the place, where were they? Why had they left, leaving nothing behind?
Leaving the structure, Jas scanned the surroundings again. It had stopped snowing. Nothing moved except the spiny, spindly, leafless branches of the low shrubs, bending slightly, creaking in the steady wind.
“Preliminary report, Harrington?” Akabe Loba’s voice came over her radio.
Jas stiffened. As always, the master of the Galathea was pushing her, his eye focused solely on his schedule and bonuses. “Initial LIV not complete, sir.”
“But no sign of intelligence?”
“It’s hard to tell, sir. The structure’s—”
“I can see it through your relay, Harrington. Looks geological to me. And there are no artifacts.”
Jas’ lips drew into a thin line. She knew what was coming. “Sir, it’s a little early to conclude—”
“I’m not asking you to conclude anything, C.S.O. Harrington. Is the area secure?”
When she didn’t answer immediately, Loba repeated his question, louder.
“No hostile life forms encountered, yet,” Jas replied through her teeth. Damn the misborn. But what could she say? Prickles down her spine didn’t count as a reason to delay resource assessment.
Chapter Two
Prospecting ships like Polestar Corp’s Galathea ran to a tight timetable. To provide an acceptable return on the company’s investment, the crew had to locate and claim at least ten resource-rich planets uninhabited by intelligent life per mission, on average. After that—or maybe before if they stumbled across a planet loaded with a highly valuable substance such as mythrin, base ingredient of blissful, stupor-inducing mythranil—the crew would start to stack up bonuses. Bonuses were the only thing that made it worth enduring the nearly endless boredom and starvation wages of space prospecting.
The ship’s master took the lion’s share, of course, and the rest of the crew’s dividends were portioned out according to rank. As chief security officer, Jas’ rank and dividends were in the middle range. She wouldn’t be relaxing in the perfumed seas of Balgamon, as First Mate Haggardy planned to do when that mission was over, but neither would she be handing over every penny she had for the most basic genetic upgrade to her as-yet unconceived child, as one of the maintenance crew had mentioned.
Not that Jas planned on having kids anyway. Her own childhood hadn’t exactly endeared her to the concept, and she had an irrational fear that her child might turn out to be someone like Master Akabe Loba, into whose blood-threaded eyes she was currently staring.
“Enough arguing, Harrington. Twelve sites. Twelve LIVs, and you’ve found nothing but some kind of bushworm, gliding non-venomous spiders, and an ambulatory slime mold. Twelve LIVs that turned up no hostile life forms or territory, and you’re still not prepared to give the all-clear?”
Loba was leaning across a horizontal screen that projected a spinning hologram of K. 67092d. They were in the mission room, where Jas had been summoned to 'discuss’ her delay in clearing the planet for resource assessment with the master and other high-ranking officers. The master’s head was thrust into the moving holographic image, and the miniature topography played across his features, lending him an even more than usually crazed effect. His carefully coiffed, white-dyed curls seemed about to uncoil and stand on end.
Jas knew she was fighting a losing battle, but she was going to fight it anyway. She was head of security. The safety of the entire crew was her responsibility, and if she had a hunch something on a planet was dangerous, she was going to damn well act on it. She’d never been wrong before.
“I’ve already told you my reasons. It makes no sense that we’ve found no intelligent life. Those structures were built. They aren’t geological. The building material is artificial, manufactured. We’ve found nothing else on the planet like it. Something sentient made those buildings. That’s what Haggardy’s report says.” She turned to the first mate for back up. He was seated at the far end of the table and picking at his nails.
First Mate Haggardy held up his hands. “Now wait a minute, Harrington. I wouldn’t go that far. I only said we can’t conclude it’s natural or artificial. That’s all.” He glanced at the master, who was glaring at him.
Jas cursed under her breath. That wasn’t how his findings read, and he knew it. Was he planning on rewriting his conclusions? She suspected Haggardy was as interested in his bonus as Loba was, or he was even more of a wimp than she’d taken him for. He was a scientist. He should know better than to risk everyone’s lives on a lack of immediate evidence.
She swung back to Loba. “Just because we can’t find what built those structures, that doesn’t mean they weren’t built. The life forms responsible might be hiding. Maybe because they’re afraid, or maybe they’re waiting to attack. We can’t allow Resource Assess on the surface until we know more. We don’t have enough defense units to protect them from a full onslaught.”
“You seem to be getting confused, Harrington,” said Loba quietly, “with your talk of what we can and can’t do. I shouldn’t have to remind you that I’m master of this vessel.” His facial muscles were rigid. He stood straight and drew himself up to his full height, which was a head shorter than Jas’.
Her stature had always bothered him, she knew, like it seemed to bother many men. But she couldn’t
help that any more than she could help doing her kratting job.
“The presence of artificial structures does not prohibit a resource claim under deep space property law,” the master continued. “Several precedents have been set where such items were found to be relics of extinct species. Maybe the structures are buildings, but if that’s the case it’s most likely that whatever created them has long since died out—”
“But the fact—”
“THE FACT remains that if there’s no sign of intelligent or hostile life after twelve LIVs, the planet’s safe enough to assess for resources. Your refusal to give the all clear is a dereliction of duty, and—”
“Sir,” exclaimed Navigator Lee, jumping out of her seat like a jack-in-the-box, “if I could—”
“What?” barked Loba, not taking his eyes off Jas, who held his glare and made a special effort to look down at him.
Lee seemed to momentarily regret her decision to come to Jas’ aid, but she soldiered on. “C.S.O. Harrington’s service has been exemplary throughout the mission,” she said quickly, and didn’t stop when Loba opened his mouth to speak, but gathered speed. “She saved many lives when we were attacked on K. 87593g.” She ran the numbers together: eightsevenfiveninethree. “The defense units were all in the right place at the right time. If it hadn’t been for her command of the evacuation, some of us wouldn’t be here right now.” She looked pointedly at Haggardy, who gazed into space.
“Your point?” asked Loba.
“I just think, if she’s worried about the safety of the planet, we should listen.”
“Thank you for your input, navigator,” said Loba sarcastically, “but if Harrington’s prior performance is under scrutiny, your example hardly helps her, does it? After all, if she was any good at her job, the crew would never have been in any danger in the first place.”
Jas ground her jaw. She’d warned him. She’d gone to his cabin and warned Loba that there had been an overnight increase in animal tracks around the assessment site, and that she recommended withdrawing the team until she could investigate. It was a warning he’d conveniently forgotten. She wasn’t going to let him forget this one.
