by Mars Dorian
“Sir?” Naveesh said, waiting for the command.
“Tell the Verge we come in peace in every language Aidos is capable of expressing.”
The strange melody continued over the comm, although it changed speed and rhythm. “It sounds more urgent now, sir,” Dr. Eriksun said with worrying intonation.
Her fear proved right. A frantic pace crept into the alien language, and it froze Tavio’s cells. Was the life form growing impatient? The captain didn’t want to wait long enough to find out. “Naveesh, fusion drive status?”
“Ready, sir.”
“Prepare for—”
The captain halted when a group of red triangles appeared on the tactical screen. The unknown objects neared the Moonshot in rapid succession. “Don’t tell me it’s the welcome committee, Aidos.”
“The Verge ship is releasing a squadron of unknown vessels. Radar is picking up ten units nearing our ship with increasing speed.”
“Fighters?”
“I don’t have a comparable entry in my database. I’m sorry, sir.”
Tavio crossed his hands behind the neck where the socket awaited the stim injection. Whenever fate went easy on the captain, it flipped a U-turn. Tavio breathed heavily. The red triangles rushed toward his ship located in the middle of the tactical grid.
Bellrog chimed in. “The attack vector is obvious, sir. I suggest to shoot them down before we reach near light speed.” He hit his right armrest. “The baby has enough power to pulverize ‘em for good.”
And whenever Bellrog spoke, his spiritual mirror Dr. Eriksun reacted. “Sir, if we shoot them down, the Verge will see it as a hostile affront.”
Bellrog grunted. “Don’t tell me you’re defending them?”
“I’m being practical. Our Moonshot doesn’t have the firepower to win against a ship of their caliber.” She pointed at the view screen. “Observe the size of that structure, Sergeant. It rivals the size of an Earth scraper.”
The soldier shrugged. “Size doesn’t matter.”
Tavio focused on the radar scans. Each approaching object equaled the size of an orbital escape pod, which sparked another idea. “Aidos, can point-defense handle the targets?”
“Based on the units’ size, it is likely, sir.”
That’s what Tavio wanted to hear. In the realm of unknown variables, likely was as good as it got.
“Aidos, launch ADAM as soon as the hostiles enter close combat range.”
65
The AI released another terror warning. Tavio wished Aidos would shut up, but he couldn’t blame the AI for reporting the facts. “Targets are increasing speed, sir.”
The Verge spawns wanted to reach the Moonshot before its acceleration outpaced their carrier.
Tavio did the math and hated the result. “Launch ADAM.”
Area Defense Anti-Munitions.
Dozens of cannon mounts extended from the Moonshot’s exterior hull and targeted the incoming miniature ships. Invisible beams launched from the barrels and disintegrated the enemy’s systems. The hostile targets trailed into the void like debris never to appear again.
“Five targets shot down,” the AI said.
Tavio’s eyes obsessed about the tactical display where the red triangles vanished one by one. This is too easy, he thought.
“Twelve units shot down.”
Not good enough. A squadron of hostiles escaped the ADAM measures and neared the close, close range.
Naveesh’s voice reeked of nervousness. “I believe they’re trying to collide with us.”
Suicidal alien bombers? Tavio thought. Jeez. This sector of the galaxy spat out more crazy than the solar system. Tavio ordered the close combat countermeasure protocol and watched as the crafts changed tactics.
“Targets are reversing thrust, sir,” Aidos said.
Tavio stared at the tactical grid. Half of the Verge spacecraft had survived the ADAM initiative and steered toward the exterior hull of the Moonshot while matching their speed.
The Verge excelled at confusing his experienced military mind.
“Hull contact in five seconds,” Naveesh said.
Tavio expressed confused glances with Bellrog. “What are we dealing with here—autonomous mines?”
The soldier shrugged his massive body.
A dozen targets stuck to the Moonshot like cybernetic leeches. “Electro-magnetic harpooning,” Naveesh said with a hint of admiration.
Now wasn’t the time to drool over alien technology. Tavio wiped the 3D model of the Moonshot and tried to make sense of the foreign bodies. “Aidos, can we shoot them?”
“Negative, sir. The targets are outside the ADAM’s shooting range. One needs to manually remove the units from the hull.”
“Terrible idea.”
Bellrog snapped his fingers. “I’ll get the hull repair gear and rip those suckers off with my laser cutter.”
It sounded like a suicide mission, but Tavio had run out of options. He rubbed his chin and was thinking about the soldier’s suggestion when he noticed the Moonshot aborting its current route. The coordinates changed as he glanced at them. “Aidos, why are we drifting off?”
The horror leveled up. Breath after breath. Heartbeat for heartbeat. Naveesh played with his console and checked the controls of the ship. “Sir, I believe the foreign attachments act like mobile jamming devices that override our navigation.”
A dull sound moaned throughout bridge. Like an ancient submarine dealing with enormous water pressure.
“Push through,” Bellrog said.
“If we do, our ship will break apart.”
“Stop accelerating,” the captain said.
“What?”
“Yes, sir.”
The chief calculated the new trajectory and shut down the manual propulsion of the Moonshot. “We’re steering toward the Verge ship.”
The crew watched the view screen as the mothership magnified. The distance decreased to a few thousand kilometers. In the tension between humming consoles and blinking cursors, Hōshi’s soothing voice flowed in. “The Verge wants to make personal contact with the human crew.”
“How lovely.”
Tavio carried zero interest in negotiating with a life form that had almost wiped out the Yuugen Collective.
“Weapon systems, Aidos?”
“Still online.”
Tavio thought about using the primary beam weapon. He had no idea how strong the hull plating of the Verge carrier was, but maybe a well-aimed beam could damage the super structure enough to break the hostile takeover. Risk and reward challenged each other.
“Awaiting orders,” Aidos said.
“Give me a sec.”
The jamming objects attached to the Moonshot auto-steered the ship toward a central, triangle-shaped opening on the massive Verge structure. It seemed to be the alien’s version of a dock corridor with massive geometrical patterns glowing on each side. A petawatt beam couldn’t cause sufficient damage. None of the Moonshot’s weapon systems would. Tavio hesitated and hated himself for that.
“Straight into the lion’s den,” Bellrog said.
“I wish this was the lion’s den,” Tavio said.
More like a cybernetic dragon throat the size of a star carrier port which seemed to be at least a handful of kilometers long. A sweaty silence drowned the Moonshot’s bridge as the ship floated through the giant triangle tunnel.
A few kilometers ahead, Tavio recognized a docking station. “What’s going to happen now, Hōshi?”
“The Verge is going to dock you to its inner bay.”
He almost feared the follow up question. “And then?”
Tavio wished he didn’t ask, but every stressed cell of his body cooked with curiosity. Every encounter from the ground invasion to the space maneuver spelled out confusion.
“Aidos, is our comm relay still working?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tavio collected the mutual recordings of his crew. Everything the optical sensors of their helmets had stored�
��from the jungle landing to the Chikara cluster tour. He ordered Aidos to sent the encoded data package to the nearest sat array of the Alliance sol system. Because once they were taken inside the Verge carrier, it was likely they would lose contact forever.
66
“The jamming devices are reversing thrust,” Naveesh said devoid of emotion. “It seems as if the Verge is preparing us for the docking maneuver.”
For better or worse, the chief remained right. Cybernetic clamps extracted from the tunnel’s walls and anchored the ship. A rail system transported the Moonshot into a docking station where the vessel came to a still stand.
“They’re trying to hail us again.”
“Put it on.”
The comm system revealed a new barrage of alien cacophonies. They sounded different from last time, but still unlike any human language. The Verge wanted something from the crew. “Do you understand it, Hōshi?”
“It must be another alien language.”
“How many does it speak?”
“She does not know.”
This wasn’t making the mission any easier, but a life form capable of different languages likely carried a smidge of empathy. Maybe the Verge could be cooperative, similar to the Yuugen, even though the life form’s past actions proved otherwise.
Tavio listened to the clonks and clinks inside the Moonshot as the structure adapted to the hull.
“If the Verge is bent on destruction, it would have annihilated us in space,” Eriksun said. “Otherwise, why would the lifeform put so much effort into initializing contact with us?”
“Like you said, Doctor, we can’t judge the Verge by human standards. Its actions defy human logic.”
Naveesh swallowed hard. “We’re docked… if you can call it that.”
Silence flamed up on the bridge. Tavio’s thoughts whirled around his overworked mind.
What does it want?
The grander goal eluded him, but the doctor’s assumptions could be correct—the Verge wanted to initiate contact. It possessed enough intelligence to prefer communication over execution.
“We’re going inside,” Tavio said to break the silence.
“I knew it,” Srini said with a sigh.
“Sir, that’s insanity,” Bellrog said.
“Everything at this point is, Sergeant. But we’ve run out of options, and while we’re still alive, we can use our agency. After all, the Verge seems advanced enough to understand our differences. Maybe our goals can converge.”
Tavio prayed his last data package received the Alliance. Even if the crew would find their end in the heart of the Verge, the captain’s mission still reached a modicum of success. Knowledge.
“Whatever happens, I’m proud of how far we’ve come,” Tavio said to his crew. “We’ve reached the rim and connected with two advanced life forms. Our findings will aid the Alliance in dealing with this interstellar matter.”
He let the words echo out. “Since this might be our last moment, I’m not going to force you to do anything. But I’m going out and try to save what is left to salvage. Feel free to join me.”
The usual suspects stood up, and it warmed the captain’s heart. Dr. Eriksun pressed her lips. “It goes against military etiquette, but oh well.” She gave him a hug and pressed tight. “It was an honor serving you, sir.”
Tavio wanted to strip off his atmogear and feel her skin on his. He wanted to sense her heartbeat synchronize to his and disappear into oneness. It wasn’t going to happen, probably ever again, so he cherished the cold gear on gear touch.
Gloved fingers landed on his right shoulder plates. They belonged to the ground-pounder. “You’re the least unlikeable Terran I’ve ever met, sir.”
The closest thing to a compliment Tavio could snatch from the Martian, so he took it with a broad smile. “Let’s make this mission matter.”
“Srini, stay put, as always. With you at the helm, the ship is in good hands.”
The chief of engineering’s lips arched down. “Thank you, sir.”
“Wait for my command. If you don’t hear from us within the next sixty minutes, launch the ship and take Hōshi back to the sol system.”
It was unlikely the Verge carrier would let them go, but one had to prepare for the slightest of chances.
The trio nodded and marched onwards. They approached the Moonshot’s inner hatch, traversed the decompression chamber, and opened the final hatch separating them from the alien structure. A quotation from the Liquid Lancer surfaced in Tavio’s mind—If you live each day as it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right.
The captain realized he had reached the end of his life, so he stepped into the unknown with newfound conviction. Ten steps into the Verge corridor, Bellrog’s motion scanner sensed movement.
“Something’s sneaking up on us.”
67//Inside the Verge carrier
Bellrog resumed his security guard role and readied his scattergun with the digital scope flipped on. At that range, he’d take down half the corridor, but it seemed to be a suicide mission anyway so it was no holds barred.
“Wait,” Tavio said and stood still.
The unknown object floated meters above the trio and drew circles. It resembled a drone, albeit more organic and angular. The translucent surface revealed its inner mechanics—organic modules interwoven with a cybernetic net of arteries. Artificial tentacles flowed from its rear and waited for interaction. The surface shifted and revealed a protruding module pointed at their heads. Instead of attacking the trio, the object whistled meters in front of them.
“I think it wants us to follow it,” the doctor said.
“Like a guidance drone?”
Tavio hesitated but realized the smart choice was to follow it. As long as the Verge ceased fire, it continued the contact approach. Some part of Tavio believed this mysterious lifeform was possible to sway.
Foolish Tav, Quintan would have said.
“Let’s see where it takes us.”
The trio followed the flying object through the maze of corridors. The architecture combined the intestines of a body and the minimalist cybernetic style of the Yuugen. The organic and artificial merged in a way evolution couldn’t provide. Tavio had no doubt the pathways were built for bipeds to walk through. During the flight, the drone projected a hologram in front of the crew. Tavio recognized a biped shape as vaguely reminiscent of the Yuugen.
Flash.
A shape of an armored object with limbs materialized. The creature seemed reptilian, apart from the crafted hull plating. Yet another lifeform?
Flash.
An inorganic mesh of wires and components fragmented. It could have belonged to the insides of this Verge carrier.
Flash.
The holographic objects changed in rapid succession.
Tavio kept on shadowing the drone but couldn’t understand its goal. “What is it doing?”
Fear vanished from Dr. Eriksun’s voice and made way for sheer wonder. The scientist had emerged again. “I think it’s trying to find a model in its database that resembles us.”
But none did.
The strange drone creature projected one 3D image after another. The visuals resembled a manic edit of a thousand thoughts meshed together. Tavio shook his head although he doubted the flying creature would comprehend his human gesture. “I’m afraid we don’t understand you.”
“I’m afraid we don’t understand you,” the drone said back.
“It’s mimicking us,” the doctor said.
“It’s mimicking us,” the drone repeated.
Unlike the Yuugen, the Verge seemed to know little about humanity but was as hungry to devour information.
“Maybe we should speak more, sir. Maybe the Verge can decipher our language and understand our concern.”
The drone repeated her statement word for word, with pitch-perfect intonation.
Tavio hesitated. If they talked to the lifeform, it would master their way of communication. But it would also le
arn more about humanity itself. A well-informed hostile lifeform would pose a threat to the Alliance. The captain’s experience told him the Verge followed a less amiable goal than their Yuugen counterpart.
Tavio didn’t have enough time to dissect his worries. The final gate opened up like a heart valve. The drone creature ushered the trio straight into the core of the Verge carrier. Tavio’s eyes threatened to bulge out his sockets. He had mentally prepared himself for any surprise, negative or positive, but the aliens kept on blowing his mind.
68
The oval-shaped core looked like a carved-out heart. Hundreds, if not thousands, of tubes protruded from the biotech walls like artificial thorns. Crawlers moved around the massive framework and investigated the tubes while the core pulsated with artificial life.
“Sir, look,” Eriksun said and pointed toward the fourth line of tubes. A cybernetic crane extended from one of the many rows and folded out its frame. It reminded Tavio of an enormous mantis connected to a rail system spinning around every single tube. The crane moved toward the trio and buzzed a few meters in front of the captain. A strange sound escaped its mechanical vocals. “Shizshahsd.”
The crane shifted around the crew as if to scan each human up close. Tavio realized the sentient construct could crush them at the blink of an eye. Bellrog kept his rifle ready with his right finger nudging the trigger.
“Can you understand us?” Tavio said through his comlink.
“Can you understand us?” the cybernetic being repeated, stressing every word. The lifeform continued learning from the humans but still produced verbal abominations. “Speakkkss…speakkz.”
The crane creature formed its first speaking attempt but failed miserably at conducting a conversation. The drone creature from before whirled around the semi-organic crane structure and seemed to communicate via telepathy or signals Tavio was unable to receive.
“I think it’s the core unit controlling this carrier,” Dr. Eriksun whispered. “Or at least this hall.”
“Looks more like a construction or maintenance unit.”
