Inferno Sphere (Obsidiar Fleet Book 2)

by Anthony James

  “Have a seat,” offered Edmonds.

  “I prefer to stand,” said Talley, crossing to look out of a window. Someone had parked a gravity-engined car outside – it was a boxy affair made up to look like a vintage model with wheels. “I don’t like to be kept waiting, Councillor. The situation is too serious for us to dance around it.”

  “Councillors Alexander and Lacy are on their way. We three can speak for the others.”

  The next five minutes would have been uncomfortable were Talley not such a seasoned officer. As it was, he kept his mind focused until the others arrived. Councillor Nicholas Alexander was in his fifties - broad, short and bald, with piercing blue eyes. Councillor Kyla Lacy was also in her fifties, slim and with greying hair. They both had the look of lifetime politicians. Not long after their arrival, one of the robot servants floated into the room to announce in its soothing tones that dinner was served.

  Talley made his way to a large dining room, as lavishly-appointed as the other rooms. There was seating for twelve, though only four places were set. Soon enough, he found himself in discussion with the members of the Robani Council. Talking was a distraction from the food – the meal was probably excellent, but Talley hardly noticed it.

  “Why have you been sent here?” asked Lacy. “In one of the Space Corps’ few battleships, no less.”

  Talley knew he had to tread carefully. “Do you need to ask?”

  She smiled. “No, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “The Confederation Council does not accept your secession. If their stance doesn’t change, they will send the fleet wherever they choose.”

  “They seem in no hurry,” said Alexander. “Is our Gallenium not important to them?”

  “News reaches us of other problems,” said Edmonds. “Perhaps we are now a low priority mission for you and one from which you will soon be recalled.”

  Talley put down his fork. “Have I been brought here for interrogation? I am a military man – you must surely be aware I have no influence.”

  “The Space Corps has a far greater sway over the Confederation Council than most people care to acknowledge,” said Lacy. “And with the ES Devastator in orbit, you personally have the ability to put great pressure upon us should you choose it.”

  “In this matter I will be led by others, Councillor. There is nothing personal involved.” Talley looked at her. “Why now?” he asked. “Your citizens are not exactly poor. Why the need to rush? The Confederation has always been about serving the common good.”

  “The common good no longer serves us, Admiral,” said Edmonds. “We are treated as little more than a mining outpost. Every day we receive new instructions telling us what we must do and how we must do it. We do not grow rich from our Gallenium reserves – our resources are taken from us in the name of this common good. Roban and Liventor are treated with contempt! It is ironic to think if we had no such resources we would be given much greater respect! We could not permit this to continue indefinitely! We do not even have representation on the Confederation Council, in spite of promises it would happen!”

  As he spoke, Edmonds’ voice rose in volume with his passion and Talley saw nothing that made him think it was an act. A politician he was, but Edmonds truly believed in his cause.

  “The Confederation Council will meet shortly, Councillor. There is much for them to deal with.”

  “There you have it!” said Lacy in angry triumph. “Roban and Liventor are so unimportant, we do not even merit an emergency convention! Instead, we have a battleship in orbit as a scarcely-veiled threat to show what will happen if we do not fall into line!”

  “We know about the Vraxar, in spite of the efforts to keep this tragedy under wraps,” said Alexander.

  Talley took a sip from a glass of fine local wine to give himself a chance to think. He’d expected to be subjected to such an onslaught and accepted it was something he had to endure. He’d told the Councillors he had no influence, which was only partially correct. There weren’t many Admirals in the Space Corps and each was there on merit. When they spoke, the Confederation Council listened – as far as military matters went. That didn’t mean the Corps could dictate policy, but it was best to have the military onside.

  It was already apparent the declaration of independence was badly thought out and Talley felt a momentary sympathy. This dinner was clearly being used as an opportunity to try and gain his support in the hope he’d have a word in the right ear once he returned to the Devastator.

  “What do you hope to achieve with all this?” he asked. “And what of the Ghasts? Their treaty is with the Confederation.”

  “They won’t return to war,” said Edmonds.

  “No, probably not. You realise the Council is unlikely to permit you selling Gallenium to the Ghasts?”

  There was silence for a moment – they’d evidently considered this already. There was no way the Confederation would allow such a rare commodity as Gallenium to fall out of their grasp. The use of force to prevent it was inevitable. It was unlikely the Ghasts would get involved, but even so, it was an unacceptable risk.

  “We want better terms with the Confederation,” said Councillor Lacy bluntly. “A partnership of equals, in which the fruits of our labour benefit the citizens of Roban and Liventor.”

  “You have this now,” said Talley. “You are part of a much larger whole. If you continue on your current path you will be alone with your stockpiles of Gallenium. There are other sources within Confederation Space.”

  “Exhaustible sources, Admiral.”

  “As are yours, Councillor.” Talley wondered if he should let them know about several new Gallenium discoveries elsewhere in Confederation Space, since they appeared to be ignorant of the fact. He made up his mind. “The Confederation will always find more. In fact, we already have.”

  The disclosure had less effect than Talley anticipated.

  “It’s a shame no one has managed to figure out how to obtain more Obsidiar,” said Edmonds, clearly hinting at something.

  “As close associates of the Confederation Council, you are aware it remains a high priority goal. If the Estral experienced shortages even with all of their destructive capabilities and technology, it is understandable we have experienced only limited success.”

  “How does a military man such as yourself feel about the removal of the Obsidiar cores from fleet warships? A vessel with an energy shield is a much more imposing proposition than one relying on armour alone, is it not? The Confederation is at war with the Vraxar and will need its warships to be at their most capable.”

  Talley looked at Councillor Lacy, feeling as if this was building to something. He shrugged as though it was of little importance. “The cores are being replaced.”

  “The Confederation’s stocks are insufficient to equip more than a handful of warships,” said Alexander.

  “Tell me, Admiral – how much Obsidiar does it take to create one of the processing cores on a fleet warship?”

  “I’m sure you know the answer, Councillor. A fragment and no more.”

  “One fragment for one core. Thousands of tonnes to equip a single spaceship for war. How much better would the Confederation’s chances be against the Vraxar if every ship in the fleet had backup Obsidiar power?”

  The answer was evident and Talley didn’t see the need to spell it out. Obsidiar was the single known substance which could generate more power than Gallenium. The difference between the two wasn’t marginal – there was a phenomenal increase. Decades ago, the Estral had come through a wormhole seeking it and their methods were blunt in the extreme, involving the destruction of entire planets. Obsidiar was only created when the core of a shattered world expanded, fusing an exceptionally rare mineral with Gallenium in its purest form. The Confederation had tried for decades to mimic the reaction in a lab and had failed, in spite of limitless financial backing for the project.

  Now, humanity was left with a little more than two million tonnes of Obsidiar, tak
en in the brief war against the Estral. These precious supplies didn’t come close to fulfilling the countless demands.

  “I am told the major stumbling block on the development of augmentation technology is lack of a suitable power source for the implants,” said Alexander.

  “The Confederation Council will never permit augmentations,” said Talley.

  “A time will come when the tide of public opinion shifts.”

  “Perhaps. Why the sudden interest, Councillor?”

  Councillor Edmonds reached into one of his pockets and drew out a plain metal box, a few centimetres along each side. He placed it onto the wooden surface of the table, the sound indicating the box was heavier than it looked. With a careless motion of his hand, Edmonds slid the box over.

  “Open it.”

  There was tiny clasp and a hinge. Talley slid the clasp aside with a fingernail and opened the box. A smooth cube of black stone rested within. He lowered his palm until it was over the cube, being careful not to touch it. Talley felt the cold radiating outwards. He closed the box and returned it to Edmonds.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “A place nearby.”

  Talley recognized he wasn’t going to be given specifics on the location of the find and didn’t press the matter. “How much is there?”

  “We don’t know,” said Councillor Lacy.

  “It’s a significant quantity,” added Edmonds. “Certainly far more than the Confederation’s existing stocks.”

  “We have thousands of people dedicated to finding or making this substance,” said Talley. “Not one of them believes it’s possible to create without monumental levels of heat, pressure and destruction.”

  “That may be true,” said Edmonds simply. “Nevertheless, we already have many thousands of tonnes stored in a safe place and we are extracting more every day.”

  “I’m not going to mince my words, Councillor. How do I know this single piece of Obsidiar wasn’t obtained elsewhere and brought here?”

  “I’m sure the Confederation’s reserves are exceptionally well audited. However, I understand your suspicion that we somehow managed to procure an illicit supply and had it shipped in. Such an accusation would achieve little.”

  “I’m sure,” Talley replied. “Why are you telling me about this, instead of the Council?”

  “Because you are here, Admiral. Because we have little time. The Vraxar have come and soon, inevitably, the Devastator will be asked to return. You are the man here and now.”

  “The Vraxar will find you,” said Talley softly. “This is not the time for humanity to divide.”

  “We have something the Confederation needs. Now is precisely the time for us to drive home our claim for independence,” said Alexander.

  Edmonds leaned forward. “We need you to understand what it at stake, Admiral. We would prefer a mutually beneficial relationship with the Confederation, with whom we might trade exclusively. If we don’t get what we want, we could simply withhold our supplies.”

  “Ensuring the destruction of both parties,” said Talley.

  “The biggest risks invariably grant the biggest rewards.”

  “If we can’t reach an agreement with the Confederation, I’m sure the Ghasts would make reliable trading partners. Our Obsidiar in return for their protection.”

  “The Council won’t permit that to happen.”

  “They will have no alternative, Admiral,” said Alexander. “The Obsidiar isn’t here – it is elsewhere and I must assure you there is no chance you will find where it is. The choice is clear – negotiate with us for exclusive access to our Obsidiar, or have it divided between the Confederation and the Ghasts.”

  With their pre-planned message delivered, the three Councillors changed tack and the remainder of the meal was spent engaged in small talk, during which Talley learned about the local food and wines and a smattering of detail on Robani politics. It might have been captivating, except he was unable to take his mind away from the cube of Obsidiar he’d been shown earlier. If Roban or Liventor had indeed located a source of the material, it would strengthen their hand immeasurably. It would also make things considerably more complicated than they otherwise might be.

  The meal finished. Admiral Henry Talley thanked his hosts and rose to leave. There was no attempt to kidnap him, nor otherwise obstruct his departure. One of the robot butlers led him from the house, where he met with Lieutenant Richards and the rest of his escort. Richards was too much a professional to fish for details and the five of them returned to the waiting shuttle. The blue of the sky was so deep as to be almost black and the gardens were subtly lit. Glowing insects hovered in the air and the perfume of the flowers was accentuated by the darkness

  Minutes later they were in flight, heading towards the ES Devastator. Talley sat in the cockpit, his eyes open but his brain registering nothing of what was in front of him. The difficulties he’d foreseen were soon to become infinitely more involved.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FLEET ADMIRAL DUGGAN stared impassively at the dead body. It wasn’t a pretty sight – the remains of the Vraxar had been subjected to an extensive and highly intrusive examination. There were signs of blood and sticky, clear fluid, accompanying the stench of decomposing flesh and the equally harsh odour of preservatives.

  A medical terminal floated next to the oversized bed, with numerous wires and sensors strung across to the Vraxar’s arms and torso. There was another machine nearby – this one was a brute force processing cluster. A cable extended from this second machine and through the now empty left eye socket of the alien.

  Dr Faith Clarke waited nearby with the impatience of a person who could see her duties building up while she had her hands tied. In fact, there was nothing more important than what could be gleaned from the corpse in this white-walled room in the New Earth Command Station medical lab.

  “Tell me,” said Duggan.

  “It is beyond belief,” she said. “Everything about it is an affront to life.”

  “What is it? Why does it exist?”

  “I can’t answer your second question, Admiral. As to the first? It’s part metal and part flesh as you can see. The metal is crudely interfaced with the flesh and a mesh of nanofibres carries the signals to and from a processing unit implanted in the brain stem.”

  “You said the external metal isn’t needed?”

  “An early conclusion,” Clarke admitted. “And one we’re still running with.” She threw her hands up in a display of pent-up frustration. “There’s no need for these alloys to be part of its body. There’s no need for it to possess a processing unit. Its body is riddled with a dozen different cancers, each of them suppressed by a hundred different drugs. It should have died long ago.”

  “One of my warship captains spoke to a different Vraxar. It told him they were old.”

  “I was getting to that part. This particular specimen is biologically near-identical to a Ghast, but it was two-hundred and sixty years old at the time of its death. The Ghasts don’t live any longer than humans, yet this one…”

  The magnitude of the Estral-Vraxar conflict made Duggan shiver and he wondered if this soldier had died in the early stages of the war or if the conflict had raged for a thousand years before. He experienced a strange feeling – an emotion close to sympathy for the Estral to have perished to such a sickening foe as the Vraxar.

  “This one was an Estral – the parent race of the Ghasts. Do you have any idea what killed it originally, before the Vraxar got hold of its body?”

  “I don’t even know if it ever was killed before these three gauss injuries finished it off on the Tillos base.” Clarke was flustered – she was the sort of person who hated being asked a professional question to which she lacked an answer.

  “It’s probably not important. We know they do conversions on living subjects. My curiosity wants to know how they choose who to convert and who to kill.”

  “We might not find the answer to that without speaking direct
ly to a living Vraxar.”

  “They’re in short supply at the moment. What have you learned from this processing box?” He waved a hand towards the second machine in the vicinity of the body.

  “It’s still plugged in, but it’s been idle for hours, sir. The Vraxar’s built-in processor is a fairly primitive unit. We pulled the code from it, but it’s going to take the coding team a while to interpret the data, since the Vraxar use an entirely different numbering system to ours.”

  “I put our best language experts on it,” said Duggan.

  “This is getting outside my field, sir,” said Clarke. “The way I understand it is that there’s a lot to do.”

  “I know.”

  As it happened, Duggan had already spoken to the coding and alien language teams. Both departments were reluctant to serve up guesses, though Duggan’s insistence was enough to overcome the reticence. In summary, there were surely major advantages to be gained from studying the Vraxar coding, except it would take time. In addition, there was as yet no way to cobble together an understanding of their spoken tongue.

  “Will there be anything else, Admiral?” asked Clarke.

  “No, thank you,” said Duggan.

  He left the room. A small team of his staff was waiting and they followed as he made his way from the medical lab. Duggan didn’t speak. His brain retained the image of the dead Vraxar, the edges and details as sharp as they were in the lab. He wasn’t sure why it was so important for him to see one with his own eyes instead of through an image feed. There was a need within him that required a first-hand view of the enemy. Since his duties made him effectively office-bound he knew this may well be his last opportunity to do so.

  With a heavy heart Duggan returned to his office and prepared to deal with the onslaught of business.

  “LIEUTENANT MERCER - GET me Fleet Admiral Duggan,” said Admiral Talley.