by J. Boyett
Rogue Galaxy, Episode 3: The Golem Gambit
J. Boyett
Published by Saltimbanque Books, 2016.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Rogue Galaxy | Episode 3: The Golem Gambit
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Epilogue
MAILING LIST
EXCERPT FROM THE LITTLE MERMAID: A HORROR STORY
Rogue Galaxy
Episode 3: The Golem Gambit
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Cover by Brent Nichols of www.coolseriescovers.com
One
He looked through the grass and the underbrush with his many and distant eyes at the strangers. They had come down from the ship in a shining box, and now they strolled through a clearing, gathering leaves and flowers and waving smaller boxes and still other baubles over the plants, strange things that clicked and whirred and whistled like hypnotized birds.
Whoever the strangers were, they were endowed with certain enchantments; he could feel it emanating from certain among them. But their magic was different from his; it was ordered differently, controlled differently, distributed differently. It felt like they were no match for him (not that anyone ever had been); then again, they had come down from the sky in that shining box, and that was a sort of witchcraft he had no hint of how to master.
And there was something about that tall female with hair the color of burnt sun. Something resided in her, something he’d never sensed before. He trained all his eyes upon her, and sent one of his Helpers to stealthily creep closer through the vegetation, so that he might hear what they said.
He was curious about these newcomers, more curious than he’d been about anything for quite a while. But he could wait, to tear out their secrets. For now, he bided his time.
***
“They’re still skulking around in the bushes, Lieutenant Summers,” Captain Farraday was saying at that moment. He was on the bridge of the Galaxy, in orbit above Summers, Cosway, and Blount on the planet Lumley.
Summers smiled. “They’ll come out when they’re ready, Captain,” she said. Her communicator was shoulder-mounted, leaving her hands free to continue taking readings. She might have been less cavalier about their timid guests, except all sensor readings indicated that they were unarmed and, relatively speaking, physically small and weak. Not worth spoiling her rare trip groundside—she paused in her work to tilt her head back and let it bask in the rays of the sun as she breathed in deep. Suddenly the very sweetness of the moment provoked a pain in her chest—was this going to be the last time she ever got to be planetside with an easy mind? The only reason she didn’t have to worry at all was its lack of a moon; Lumley had no moon that might go full some night and release the werewolf within her. But such an Earth-like planet with no moon was pretty rare—in fact, its existence constituted a scientific mystery in its own right. This might be the last such planet she ever saw.
And here she had thought her mood was improving, after the depression she’d felt at being cloistered in the brig yesterday as they came out of hyperspace and confirmed their location and the lack of any nearby moons.
It didn’t do any good to dwell on such things, though, especially when there was such a bounty here on Lumley. The Weed of Wonder, from the planet Kimball, had indeed turned out to be a non-lethal anesthetic for her. She was grateful for that, for the fact that there was some way to treat her. But what she really wanted was to be cured, and every time the Galaxy stopped to go prospecting through a planet’s pharmaco-thaumaturgical trove, she couldn’t stop herself from hoping that, just maybe, one of these seeds, blossoms, or scrapes of algae might contain an antidote for werewolfism, altogether. But that was foolishness, of course. “Any treasures in the last bundle of flora we sent up?”
“Dr. Carlson and Witch Walsh are still sifting through them, I think. They may be distracted by yesterday’s news from Earth.”
“Right.” There were perfectly good reasons to be depressed: the recent overthrow of the very bad Provisional by the vastly worse New Christendom. Her voice stayed so calm that no one could have guessed the NC worried her in the least: “Do you think that’s going to have a direct effect on us, anytime soon?” She remembered to add, “Captain?”
“Well, their whole ideology dictates that they stay Earth-bound, doesn’t it? Anyway, I doubt they’ll have time to come worry about us—there must be resistance movements on and around Earth, even if we can’t see their data trace—all we seem to catch are fights with rival factions that are almost as bad. Frankly, having to send you guys on away missions like this is our current number-one risk, as far as I’m concerned.”
Summers started to reply, but stopped as the underbrush in front of her began to shake; one, then two small humanoids stepped out into the clearing. They were a little under four feet tall, dressed in simple tanned skins. Two rows of knobbed ridges ran up their foreheads, and huge soulful brown eyes gazed without fear at the three members of the away team and, especially, Summers. Their little six-fingered hands were folded peacefully before them, and, though their small mouths did not smile, they seemed welcoming enough.
“Why, hello there,” said Summers, holding eye contact with the one who’d stepped out first, and was flanked by her two companions standing a pace or two behind her.... Only now did she notice she was thinking of the aliens as female, which was a rather careless assumption, and the sort of thing she as an experienced officer should know better than. For some reason she just had a strong sense of them as female, was all.
Richard Cosway, the xenolinguist, was already coming over to stand beside Summers, when the lead native said, “Welcome to our lands.” That is, the humans heard those English words in their heads, even though the movement of the alien’s lips didn’t synch up with them at all.
Cosway’s shoulders slumped. “Rats,” he said in disgust. “They’ve got a translation spell.”
Summers smiled at him. “Sorry, Dick, looks like you’re out of a job this time.” To the native, she said, “Thank you. We come to you in peace.”
“We will accompany you to Du’Thokk,” said the native. “He wishes to see you.”
These Lumley natives certainly did get down to business. “We shall be honored to meet Du’Thokk,” said Summers. General Fleet policy stipulated adhering as closely as possible to good manners when making a first contact, and that included letting the host set the schedule and itinerary. Even if these creatures proved less friendly than they seemed, the three-person team had plenty of weapons, plus the very formidable Security officer, Lieutenant Ben Boulton—there should be nothing to worry about.
While the others assembled their gear, Summers once more addressed the Galaxy via her shoulder-mounted communicator: “Are you getting all this, Captain?”
The silence that followed was blaring. “Captain?” she said again, a little more urgently, her belly flopping. Had they lost contact with the Galaxy?
But then Farraday’s voice returned, distant, and concerned with something other than her: “Sorry, Lieutenant—just got some, uh, distracting news ... we’ll talk about it later.... Meanwhile, yes, by all means do go with the natives, as long as they seem safe. Follow all safety protocols and keep the channel open, and meanwhile we’ll be keeping an eye on things from up here.”
“Aye, sir. Of course, sir.” Summers tried to hide how miffed she felt. Sure, these creatures seemed anything but threaten
ing, and this looked to be a pretty standard pre-tech first contact, the kind of thing they’d done a dozen times before. Still, it was a first contact. What could distract the captain from that?
Then she had to laugh at herself. Here she had been, spending the last months worrying that the captain might be giving her special treatment. And the moment he placed his attention elsewhere, she went into a tizzy.
She glanced around to make sure her team had gathered up all their gear and samples, and that the door to the shuttle was closed—it wouldn’t do to have prying eyes give themselves a tour of the interior. Then, with a polite nod at their diminutive welcoming party, she signaled that they were free to lead the way.
Two
Farraday had intended to go visit the tech mages’ lab and see how Jan Horowitz was coming along with her little project. But some news had been received from the Earth-region subspace nets, and the AI had flagged it as having special interest and sent a notification to the screen on his command chair. That news took precedence, much as he wished he could forget it, or go back in time and avoid receiving it. He left Roy Miller with the conn, and ten minutes later he was in Conference Room Five, waiting for Ensign Dobbler.
The news he had to deliver would have been terrible no matter whom it was destined for, but somehow it especially pained him to burden Dobbler with it. The guy had come so far that it was hard to believe he’d been dealing drugs only weeks ago. Farraday suspected much of that was due to the influence of Tracy Fiquet—a couple days ago he’d spotted the two of them in the Sickbay lab, as Fiquet was showing Dobbler the prototype for the psy dampener Witch Walsh and Dr. Carlson had been developing. Something about the interaction of the two young people had made Farraday realize there was a budding romance there. Well, he entirely approved—he was convinced he wouldn’t be half the man he was if not for Jennifer Summers, and so it was easy to credit Fiquet for much of Dobbler’s recent turnaround. Now it seemed especially sad to bring a shadow over this new happiness the two were building.
Only after Dobbler entered the room, looking around with a nervous air, did Farraday realize he’d committed a faux pas. This was the same room he’d summoned the kid to when he’d still been consigned to the brig for his spate of drug dealing, before Farraday had pardoned him in return for his help bringing Jennifer’s werewolf manifestation to heel. The place must have nerve-wracking associations, and he might even think being called here meant he was in trouble again.
It seemed like a rather dirty trick, considering the kind of news Farraday had to deliver.
Dobbler was standing there at attention and staring at him, he realized. He cleared his throat and forced himself to snap out of his reverie. “Sit down, Ensign,” he said.
Dobbler obeyed. Then he waited while Farraday sat there brooding, unable to think how to begin.
Finally Dobbler said, “Is something wrong, Captain?”
Faraday ran his hand over his mouth. “I’ve got something I need to talk to you about, Dobbler, and it isn’t very pleasant.”
“Have I, um, have I done something wrong, sir?...”
“No, no, nothing like that, you’ve been....” Farraday trailed off. He had been about to say a model crewman, but that wasn’t exactly true, either.
Dobbler was squirming. Time to be a man and just tell him.
Yet again Farraday cleared his throat. “Ensign, have you been keeping up with the news from Earth, and Earth space?”
“Yes, sir.” Dobbler stared at him as if that were an idiotic question, which it was. The crew of the Galaxy followed the news from Earth and its territories religiously.
“So you’ve heard of the New Christendom, then.”
Dobbler grimaced. “Aye, sir. To tell the truth, I never thought anything would make me root for the Provisional, till those guys came along.”
“They certainly are a bloodthirsty gang of fanatics, son.”
Again Dobbler was fidgeting in his seat. But then he stopped. He looked intensely at Farraday, with a new stillness, as if he somehow intuited what the captain was going to say. Or, at least, how bad it was going to be.
Farraday fought of the urge to clear his throat again. “I suppose you know that according to the NC’s crackpot ‘theology,’ the whole Thaumaturgic Revolution is the work of Satan. Humankind never should have gone to the stars. All aliens are something called nephilim, and we impurify ourselves by mingling with them.”
Dobbler kept giving him that stare, that dark stare it was hard to meet. He said, “I heard that the first thing they do when they get control of a region on Earth is round up the resident extra-terrestrials and execute them in the street.”
“Yes. And then they go after the mages, witches, and shamans. The ones who don’t work for the NC, that is—those are a necessary evil, I guess.... And I guess you also know they think all human settlements anywhere except on Earth should be exterminated, too. Since there isn’t enough room Earthside to relocate them ‘home.’”
“Right. But that’s only in theory. Right? Because the NC is Earth-bound.”
“Apparently they got hold of a ship with a strong magic drive, along with a couple hundred old thermonuclear warheads. And then they went to Bone World. I’m sorry, son.”
Dobbler kept staring at Farraday like he was waiting on him to finish his sentence. Then he blinked and gave a little startle, and said, “Bone World? Did they do much damage?”
“Son, there is no longer anything alive on Bone World. I’m very sorry.”
Dobbler kept starting at Farraday, waiting, as if this couldn’t possibly be what Farraday had called him in to tell him. Then he said, “But I’m from Bone World.”
Then he shook his head and said, “No, of course, you already know I’m from Bone World, that’s why you....”
Dobbler stopped talking. Farraday could only watch as the kid soaked it in, absorbed it; he wished the interview would end, so that he could go away and not have to watch anymore, and he hated himself for that weakness.
Ensign Dobbler stood up. For an instant his knees started to buckle, and Farraday was about to spring from his chair to aid him; but the kid regained control and managed to stand there, albeit unsteadily.
“Captain,” he said, in a quiet, distinctive voice, “permission to ... to get out of here....”
“Of course, Ensign. You’re off-duty. Take off tomorrow, too. The day after that I’ll check in with you, see how you’re doing.”
“Okay ... I mean, aye-aye, sir....”
Dobbler turned away from the conference table and walked as if in a dream to the door. It slid open before him and slid closed behind.
Captain Farraday was alone in the room. For a few seconds he continued to hold himself immobile, as if he had a superstitious fear that some members of his crew might still be able to see him. Then he buried his face in his hands.
Just then the door chime rang, as if the ship were trying to keep him on his toes. He quickly dropped his hands and composed himself, then said, “Come in.”
The door slid open, and his XO entered, Commander Valerie Blaine. It was clear from her face that she already knew the news about Bone World. “I saw Dobbler leaving,” she said, sympathetically. “How’d he take it?”
Farraday shrugged. “As well as me. At least on the surface, and at least for now. Otherwise, time’ll tell.”
“What’s going to happen if these NC maniacs manage to cobble together a real fleet?”
“I doubt they’ll manage. But if they do, I guess that’s the sort of thing we’d have to risk going back to Earth space for. Fighting those guys might even be worth teaming up with the Provisional.”
He managed to say this with a straight face even though it made him shudder. Like he wanted to scrub away the residue of his interview with Dobbler, he rubbed his face vigorously, then dropped his hands and met Blaine’s eyes, ready for business, ready to change the subject. “Were you looking for me?”
“Yes, sir. Witch Walsh and Dr. Carlson would lik
e to talk to you about something, in Sickbay. I came to fetch you.”
“Oh. All right.” Farraday frowned. Why hadn’t they simply hailed him?
As if she’d read his mind, Blaine said, “I saw on the computer that you had scheduled Ensign Dobbler to meet you here. Considering what you were probably talking about, I thought it might be more appropriate if I came in person, so I could wait till after Dobbler left and not interrupt.”
“Ah.” Of course, she could have waited till the computer told her Dobbler had left; Farraday understood that she had come in person to show him support, as well.
He rose and he and Blaine left together, headed for Sickbay. Even with the Bone World catastrophe, he had hoped to be able to squeeze in a visit to Horowitz in the lab. But this, clearly, was not going to be a day for doing what he wanted.
Three
Jennifer Summers sat in the Long House at the place of honor, facing Du’Thokk. She sat on her knees, a thin cushion between her shins and the unvarnished wood floor. Du’Thokk sat cross-legged in front of her, on a wooden dais whose half-meter height managed to make him a hair taller than her, while sitting. Blount was on the other side of the structure with the Helpers, the females who had come to fetch them (Summers had been right, they were females); Cosway was by her side. Summers had gotten permission to let the xenolinguist accompany them to this privileged half of the long, open room, even though Du’Thokk seemed interested only in her.
Was that because she was in charge of the away team, she wondered? Du’Thokk did seem to be a powerful psychic, so it wouldn’t be so odd for him to know that. Or could there be some other reason he was interested in her?
Du’Thokk looked similar to his Helpers, and was even smaller than some of them. He was also the only male they’d seen. That wasn’t too bizarre, since they hadn’t ranged very widely, but it still was worthy of note.
Maybe Du’Thokk had just run all the other males off. The intensity of his personality was so strong that, even though he’d made nothing resembling a threat, Summers kept having to remind herself that her team had plenty of high-tech weapons and a well-armed starship orbiting above. Never would she have imagined how intimidating a four-foot person with huge brown eyes could be. Huge intense brown eyes, but still.
