by John Ringo
“Again and again we met them but we could never defeat the Masters. In time, we lost Troool to them and some of us, a fragment of the Tchraow who had been masters there, fled back to our homelands.
“Tchraow was far from Troool and we thought we might be safe. We sent out more forces, aiding other lands, I did my time in that duty, but always the Masters were undefeatable. They spread, land to land, sometimes slowly, sometimes in jumps. They created vast weapons of war, air-beings that blotted out the sun, giant Nitch-like creatures that burned the land as they came, every footstep a disaster, spitting fire from their mouths. Water did not stop them for they could fly through the air. Nor did distance.
“Finally, they sent the N!T!Ch! to us. The N!T!Ch! had been slaves long before our world was conquered and they managed to communicate with us. The Dreen held hundreds, possibly thousands, of worlds. They spread by the gates but also by biological systems that drift from solar system to solar system, looking for fecund planets. One such had found our planet and it would be fully colonized unless we submitted to the Masters. The Masters would let some of us live if we submitted tribute to them. Metals, many that we had never heard of before, certain types of gems and…” He paused and did spit, “ ‘biological’ materials for their expansion.”
“Biological?” Bill asked. “Herd animals?”
“Those and the bodies of our people,” the general said with a snarling yowl. “We were defeated. We knew we were. There was no choice. So we made that devil’s bargain. We sent our best to slave in the Master’s mines. We sent our litters to the Masters to be ‘reprocessed.’ Our herds, our bodies, whatever it took to keep us alive. And when they called for us to trick you? You think we paused? Do you think we cared? After giving of our own bodies? My litters…” The general paused and his face worked in anguish. “My children…”
“General,” Miller said, after a pause. “We need one more service of you. You must ask your people to give us information. We need to know about the Dreen.”
“The Dreen,” the cat spat. “Better to call them that. We called them the T!Ch!R! because that was the name the N!T!Ch! used. We learned, soon, that it simply meant ‘the Masters.’ They had come to regard them, simply, as gods. I suppose we would in time as well. This,” he said, holding up his arm, “this I lost to the Dreen. My eye, my arm, bits of my flesh, my children. My honor.”
He hung his head again and rowled, a cry of anguish and anger that seemed to hang in the air even after he had finished, then set his features.
“I will give orders that my people will communicate with yours,” he said, looking directly at Miller. “We have little time. There is no food upon this planet we can eat. The food your scientists gives us still lacks something. In short, we, probably the last of our species, are dying and there is no escape. We will aid you, but I want something of you, as well. I think you know what it is.”
“I do,” Miller replied. “I understand. If it had not been for Dr. Weaver, here, and about a hundred years of technological advancement, I’d have been in your position. I hope that I could have survived it and done what I had to as well as you. For my world and for my children.”
“Tell Sraaan, he is my aide, that the code is ‘Mraaa.’ It was the last, the best, time of our people. He will know what to do.” The general hung his head and then looked up at Miller. “May I have my choice, now?”
“Yes,” Miller said, nodding. He drew the pistol and racked a round into the chamber. Then he dropped out the magazine and pocketed it. “I am glad that my first impression was not wrong. I wish that the universe was not so cruel. I would have liked to have stood side by side with you in battle. May we meet upon the shining fields, battle evil all day, feast all night and rise anew to do battle once more.”
“That is not your local faith,” the general said, interested.
“I am not a Christian,” Miller said, laying the pistol on the table. Then he stood up and saluted the general. “See you in Valhalla, General Thrathptttt.”
Weaver stood up as well and inclined his head, then the two of them went out the door. The guard on the door looked at them, quizzically then his eyes dropped to Miller’s empty holster and he started to reach for his radio.
Miller lifted one hand and looked him in the eye.
“I’m here on Presidential orders, son,” the SEAL said. “Don’t force me to make you eat that radio.” There was the sound of a pistol shot and he closed his eyes, his lips moving. All that Bill could catch was something about shining fields.
EPILOGUE
“Our Dreen boson has closed as well,” Tchar said, nodding to Bill as he stepped through the Adar gate.
“So I heard,” Bill said, looking around at the Adari facility. There were even more humans than had been there before the Kentucky battle. “Which doesn’t explain why I’m here. There are plenty of diplomats around.”
“The ardass wishes to speak with you,” Tchar said, waving him into one of the Adar scooters.
“About what?” Bill pressed, knowing it was probably useless.
“The ardass will explain,” Tchar said as he engaged the gears and screamed out of the gate area.
Bill held on for dear life as Tchar jetted out of the facility and towards a range of mountains across the vast salt plain. Like Groom Lake the Adar gate facility was placed as far away from civilization as possible, probably for the security of their world. Bill wished they could do the same on Earth. But the Chen Generator was still spitting out bosons. They’d started moving and linking them finally and he could see a time when there’d be a market for them. Instantaneous transportation was finally here. All they had to do was keep it from linking off-world. Sooner or later the Dreen would find a secondary route of attack.
They drove up to the mountains and as they approached, doing at least two hundred on the flats, Bill saw that there was a large building set into the ridgeline. It was low and apparently made of concrete. More like a bunker than a home but he suspected that was exactly what it was.
Tchar slowed as they approached and then hit the long drive up the ridge still doing around a hundred. Bill managed to hang on through the bump and lift as they entered the drive and then Tchar hit the brakes, throwing him forward.
“Next time, I drive,” Bill said.
“The controls are ill-suited for humans,” Tchar replied, gesturing for him to enter a doorway in the side of the bunker.
They descended three levels to a heavy security door guarded by two of the Adar soldiers. Then through a series of corridors to a small room that Bill was pretty sure was on the back side of the facility.
“Please sit,” Tchar said, gesturing to a human desk chair at the Adar-sized table. “Would you care for refreshment? We have water and your human Coca-Cola. It seems that your caffeine is similar in chemical composition to our gadam and has the same effect. Indeed, caffeine seems stronger. Further, your Coca-Cola is processable by we Adar. It has become something of a hit on our world.”
“Leave it to Coke,” Bill muttered. “Just wait until McDonalds figures out your food. But, no, I’ll just wait.”
“It should not be long,” Tchar said, stepping out of the room and irising the door closed.
Bill pulled out his PDA and brought up a set of news articles he’d downloaded before coming to France. Unsurprisingly, the incidence of terrorism, in Israel and internationally, had dropped to nearly zero. Most of the mujaheddin types that were serious about the “cause” had been turned into Dreen fodder over the last few months. Now, there was a real dearth of mujaheddin willing to fight the Dreen these days, no matter how much money got thrown at them. Heck, there appeared to be a real dearth of mujaheddin left, period.
Saudi had been the first country to ask the U.S. to help and, as Miller predicted, they ended up using nukes. Iran was still trying to convince themselves they could handle the infestation but there was no effective control left in Lebanon. The “refugees,” multigenerational residents in any sane world, tha
t lived in the area of the Dreen infestation had become real refugees as the Bekaa Valley slowly got covered in the Dreen fungus. The so-called government of Lebanon, which had been controlled entirely by the Syrians, had more or less packed up and left. The country was a total mess. Nobody knew who was in charge and the civil war had broken out again in earnest, but this time with people fighting to get away from the Dreen. The spread was heading in the general direction of Israel and Weaver was pretty sure when it got to be a threat to that country they’d nuke it and let bygones be bygones.
The big question in everyone’s mind was if the Dreen could come at the Earth from space. And that had led to a new space race, but an international one. It wasn’t going very well in Bill’s opinion; NASA was still in charge in the U.S. and NASA couldn’t get its butt out of gear to save the Earth. But enough money was getting thrown around sooner or later some of it would stick to good ideas. But they were still playing with chemical-powered rockets and that wasn’t going to do it if the Dreen were interstellar capable.
There were a bunch of theories about FTL out there, some of which might work. Bill had pretty much planned to use his influence and knowledge of boson physics to form a start-up. There had to be a way to use the bosons to power a ship, maybe even an FTL ship. Something better than chemical rockets.
He flipped over to another screen and was doodling equations when the door opened and Tchar and the ardass entered.
Bill stood up and half bowed to the ardass, who he now realized was something like the World President. The ardass apparently didn’t notice, simply taking a seat on one side of the table as Tchar settled at the end.
“We have a device,” Tchar said, whistling tonelessly for a moment. Bill suspected it was a throat clearing. “We found it on an abandoned world. It appears to be of an ancient technology. We have, thus far, performed a few experiments with it and been unable to determine its purpose. We know it releases energy, in excess of input, but we are unsure why. Simple energy release does not appear… rational.”
“Energy in excess of input sounds great,” Bill said, frowning. “I can think of any number of reasons you’d want that.”
“Not the way this releases energy,” Tchar said, pulling papers out of a pouch. “These are our experimental findings. We have had them translated into English. It has been recommended that you, personally, be given the device to continue the experiments.”
“Well… thanks,” Bill said, glancing at the ardass and then away. “But if you guys…”
“You have touched the face of God,” the ardass said, quietly. “You are worthy. May your travels be honorable and increasing in knowledge.” He nodded at Bill, then stood up and walked out.
“I would suggest you read the briefing papers carefully,” Tchar said, standing up also.
“How big is this thing?” Bill asked. “Can we get it through the gate? What’s it look like?”
“All of that is covered in the papers,” Tchar said, waving at them. “But you can get it through the gate, easily. You have an expression in your engineering, a ‘little black box,’ yes?”
“Yeah,” Bill said, puzzled.
Tchar reached into another pouch and removed… well it looked like a black deck of cards. Or a card-sized “monolith” from 2001. He set it carefully on the table and then slid it across to Bill.
“Do not let it be in contact with significant voltage,” Tchar said, whistling again. “That would be… bad.”
Bill picked up the black box and looked at it. As an anomaly it was classic.
“This is it?” he asked, incredulously.
“May your journey of knowledge be more fruitful than mine,” Tchar said, gesturing at the door. “A guard will conduct you back to the gate.”
* * *
After reading the briefing papers, carefully, they had chosen to conduct their first test on a deserted world connected to one of the gates. Bill still couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked across the ten-mile-wide crater.
“Yep,” Warrant Officer Miller said, leaning sideways on his four wheeler to spit. “Putting a charge on it sure causes one hell of a bang.”
“A double A,” Bill said, shaking his head. “A friggin’ double A. I hope like hell nobody every really figures out this technology or kids will be making hundred-megaton nukes for sixth-grade science class.”
They rode down the side of the newly formed, and quite warm, crater with Bill keeping a careful eye on the mounted Geiger counter. But there was, effectively, no radiation over background. The explosion had blasted material into space, but with no evidence of a nuclear explosion. The ground wasn’t even glassed.
They finally reached a spot near the center of the crater and started hunting around. It took them nearly an hour but, sure enough, there was the little black box, sitting in the dirt as if it had fallen there, entirely unharmed.
“This is just bizarre,” Bill said, shaking his head and picking up the box. “It’s not even warm.”
“I am,” Miller said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We’re going to need to find another world to blow up,” Bill replied, starting his four-wheeler.
* * *
“Damn,” Miller said as they cleared the gate. They’d waited a few hours for the area to cool off but there was still a tornadic wind blowing dust around. “What did you do this time, Doc?”
“Look at the sky,” Bill said, wonderingly. Clouds were running in every direction as if the entire atmosphere of the planet had been disturbed. As it should have been given the incredible mass of dirt in view. The explosion had apparently dug an even bigger crater and the side of it looked like a small mountain range. “I hope like hell we didn’t dig to the mantle!”
“We’re going to need more people to help hunt for it this time,” Miller said. “Next time, we’re not going to use as much juice.”
“It was a car battery!” Bill snapped. “How was I supposed to believe twelve friggin’ volts would cause this sort of explosion? There is no rational explanation for this!”
* * *
“Holy Toledo,” Miller said, wonderingly. He hit the gas jets on his EVA pack and turned around. Sure enough, the gate was floating in space. “Didn’t we just put this thing down on a planet yesterday?”
“That’s not the scary part,” Bill said, spinning around. “Didn’t there used to be a sun?”
“Uh…” Miller said, spinning himself. Sure enough, the nearest star was far, far away. “Did it move?”
“No, I think it went away,” Bill said, turning and looking out towards what he thought was the plain of elliptic. There might have been a faint line of light out in every direction. “The term we’re looking for here is nova. Maybe supernova.”
“That explains the explosion through the gate,” Miller said. “Good thing we fed it through two planets, first. If it had blown back in Arkansas things would have been bad. By the way, how are we going to find a black box in the middle of interstellar space?”
“We know the direction of the box,” Bill said, sighing. “If it runs to form, it’s going to be floating right where we left it, relative to the gate.”
They jetted outward and found the device in less than fifteen minutes. It appeared to have remained stationary when everything else… went away.
“Right,” Bill said, grasping the enigmatic device and pocketing it. “Three phase current is definitely out.”
* * *
“Okay, I think I know what it’s doing and why,” Bill said, addressing the Troika with the addition of the national science advisor. “It’s forming a micro black hole.”
“Now, those I know something about,” the President said. “Wouldn’t stuff be sucked into them?”
“With a stable black hole, yes, Mr. President,” Bill replied. “But a micro black hole is unstable. Theoretically, they were only formed during the big bang. And they don’t hold their matter inside, but let it out. What happens, I think, is that the device grabs all the matter in a certa
in area, based upon input, and uses it to form a black hole. But part of that matter is its power input system. When that goes away, the hole destabilizes and releases all the trapped matter as energy.”
“Causing a very big bang,” the national security advisor said.
“A very big bang,” Bill said, nodding.
“So it’s a bomb,” the secretary of defense said. “A reuseable nuclear hand grenade?”
“Maybe,” Bill said. “Maybe not. I’ve got another idea.”
“Well, don’t leave us guessing, Dr. Weaver,” the national science advisor said, acerbically.
“Well, I got to thinking, sir,” Bill said, musingly. “There was this Star Trek episode where the Romulans were trying to use micro black holes for an improved warp drive…”
“You think it’s a drive system?” the national security advisor said. “Really?”
“Really,” Bill said, grinning. “And I think I can figure out how to apply power to form the black hole off to the side. Using that we can generate a warp field. Theoretically. It makes more sense than a reuseable bomb.”
“Now that’s a very big thought,” the President said, sitting back. “We can go looking for the Dreen. But…”
“There’s a billion ‘buts,’ Mr. President,” Bill said, nodding. “But the major truth is that, yes, we can try to find the Dreen before they find us. And we’ve got a technology we might be able to bootstrap for more ships. I don’t think we can replicate that device but we can start working on something similar.”
“I’m thinking of the international implications,” the President said, frowning. “Everyone is going to want in on this. And, frankly, I don’t know what I want everyone in on it.”
“And a real space ship is not going to be easy,” the secretary of defense said. “I took a look at some of the space stuff for space defense. And I remember there are lot of problems with space ships.”
