by Chris Fox
“No, sir,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. Using as few words as possible until she knew more seemed like the most prudent course.
“When was the last time you spoke to Commander Nolan?” Mendez asked, his gaze searching.
“I don’t remember, exactly. At least a few weeks,” she said, resisting the urge to shrug. It was a useless, half-hearted gesture, one she’d used entirely too often as a self-conscious teen.
“Good.” Mendez opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a cigar. He rolled it between his fingers. “What happened with him was bad business, and I’m hoping we can put it behind us.”
“I’m hoping to, sir. I was told those records were sealed,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral. She suspected that “sealed” didn’t really mean anything, and this was confirmation. The whole situation was an open book to any admiral with the curiosity to look, and her father had entirely too much self-interest in the whole sordid affair. A fresh wave of guilt washed through her. If Nolan hadn’t shielded her, not even her father would have been able to save her. She’d been in command, after all.
“They are sealed,” Mendez said. He continued to roll the cigar between a thumb and forefinger, but made no move to light it. “Your own promotion was contingent upon your silence, and I understand that. Nevertheless, I expect you to be forthcoming in this matter. I have questions about Nolan’s character.”
“Of course, sir,” she said. What else could she say?
“Why was Nolan exiled to the 14th?” Mendez asked.
She knew that the admiral already knew the answer. He knew it better than anyone, since he’d orchestrated the event. So why was he asking? “He was demoted for conduct unbefitting an officer of the fleet.”
“In your opinion, was that judgement fair?” Mendez asked. Her father was watching her carefully, and she knew her career likely rode on her answer here. It killed her, but she took the safe route, just like she had when Nolan had been demoted.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “His judgement was questionable.”
“Questionable enough that he might spread unfounded rumors about a new alien race? Rumors designed to exaggerate his own importance?”
She was silent for as she mentally backpedaled, trying to find a way out of giving the answer she knew Mendez was after. There wasn’t one. There was no way to avoid throwing Nolan to the wolves without destroying her career.
“It’s possible sir,” Kathryn replied. Part of her died as she uttered the next words. “I didn’t know him well, but after losing his command in OFI he might do something crazy to get it back.”
“Would you be willing to testify to that fact?” her father said. It wasn’t really a question.
Kathryn suddenly realized why she was here. Her father wasn’t content with exiling Nolan. He was preparing to set him up to be a scapegoat for something, though she had no idea what or why.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice was small.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. That will be all.”
Kathryn turned smoothly on her heel and headed for the door. None of this made sense. What did her father hope to gain from all this? The Johnston was all the way on the edge of space, away from anything that mattered. It was time to do a little digging.
14
Suspicious
Nolan ducked into the Johnston’s brig, shocked at how tiny it was. There were two cells, both three feet wide and about six feet long. Each contained a toilet, and a long steel bench. Nothing more. The cells were cordoned off with the sort of thick steel bars he’d have expected in a 20th century prison. Crude, but effective.
Lena sat regally on the bench in her cell, back pressed against one wall. Her tail began flicking the moment she looked up and saw Nolan, and he wondered if she was irritated or eager. Tigris facial expressions were hard to read.
“Sir?” the Marine on duty asked. Nolan gave a start when he realized it was Edwards.
“At ease, Private,” Nolan said. He ignored the lack of a salute. “Captain Dryker ordered me to interrogate the prisoner.”
Edwards nodded, relaxing slightly. He still gripped his assault rifle with both hands, but no longer looked like he was going to shoot Lena if she twitched the wrong way. Nolan turned back to the cell, moving to stand within a foot of the bars. Lena didn’t move, though she was watching him warily. The silence stretched as Nolan struggled to begin.
“Do you have any idea what the Leonis Pride will do when they realize I’m being held as a prisoner?” Lena said in that clipped, British accent.
“We’ll get you back to your people,” Nolan promised. He dragged a chromed stool closer to the bars and sat. “I apologize for your detainment. The captain has authorized me to have you moved to proper quarters, provided you’re willing to cooperate.”
“Cooperate how?” Lena asked, her ears twitching.
“You were at Mar Kona for four days. Down on the surface you told us you’d come because of a signal, but that doesn’t wash,” Nolan said, crossing his arms. He studied her closely, but she didn’t react. “There’s no way you could have known the signal existed until you reached the planet. Even you admitted that it was weak enough that you didn’t pick it up until you reached the ruins.”
“You’re very astute for a human, Commander. Two of our colonies disappeared. Both were near Mar Kona, and both had Primo ruins,” Lena explained, extending a single claw to scratch at her neck. “Your colony had those same ruins, and we feared that it would be the next target. I was there because I was testing a theory.”
“It looks like you were right,” Nolan conceded. Something still didn’t sit right. “Why were you there alone? Your vessel—the Revelation, I think you called it?—should have had a large military escort.”
“Indeed,” Lena said, cocking her head to the side. “You seem to know a great deal about our military protocol. Science vessels like the Revelation are always escorted. In this instance, we were alone because our escort refused to enter the Mar Kona system.”
“Why would they refuse?” Nolan asked.
“That’s an excellent question, and I went there in hopes of learning the answer,” Lena said, giving an irritated growl. “Our people are bold. We are aggressive. The idea that we won’t investigate the disappearance of our own colonies is unfathomable. I can think of no reason why we’d avoid such a thing. The Tigris should be livid, and every fleet vessel should have been mobilized. Yet that didn’t happen. Not only did they not investigate, they forbade me to investigate.”
“That explains why you were there, but not what you were hoping to learn. Who do you think is after Primo ruins, and why?” Nolan asked.
“I tire of your questions.” Lena’s expression darkened. “I lost a lot of friends, a lot of brilliant minds, when the Revelation was destroyed. We didn’t find out who was attacking, or why. I have no idea what they want with the ruins.”
“What about the colonists? Were they missing from the Tigris worlds as well?” Nolan asked.
“We couldn’t locate even a single survivor on either colony. Everyone was gone, and there were few signs of battle,” Lena said. She leaned a bit closer to the bars. “We’re a warrior race, as you know. There should have been more blast marks, more blood. Whoever did this surprised our people—no easy feat.”
“Given the cloaking technology we encountered, that seems likely,” Nolan said. He stifled the urge to scoot his stool further from the bars. “How large were the colonies you lost?”
“The first had over seventy-five thousand people, the second nearly a hundred and twenty-five thousand,” Lena said, watching him intently.
“Mar Kona had a little under five thousand people. The numbers at your colonies would have required a lot of manpower to subdue, which means there have to be a lot more of those ships out there,” Nolan said, thinking aloud. Edwards shifted behind him, but said nothing.
“The question, Commander, is what will the OFI do about it? Will your vessel investigate?�
� Lena asked.
Nolan didn’t answer immediately, but decided that there was no harm in theorizing about fleet response, especially since it seemed like they had a common enemy. “Why do you ask?” he finally said.
“Because of my own government’s anemic response,” Lena said. Her eyes flashed. “If they’d sent warships, my friends might still be alive. We might have had enough time to find out why the ruins are so important.”
Her anger seemed genuine, and Nolan couldn’t blame her. Why would the Tigris turn a blind eye to an aggressive new foe?
“I imagine OFI will be very interested in this. We’re seeing a new race with advanced technology. My government can’t ignore that,” Nolan said. He reached for his communicator. “I’ll speak to Captain Dryker, but after he hears my report I’m sure he’ll relay it to OFI. We’ll probably be sent to investigate further.”
“If that’s the case, then you’re going to need to know which world to investigate,” Lena said, straightening. “I can tell you which worlds they’re likely to hit, if you stop treating me like a prisoner. I need a place to bathe, and some proper food.”
“I’ll forward your request to the captain,” Nolan said. He turned for the doorway, but paused. “I have one more question. How do you know so much about the Primo ruins?”
“I’m an archeologist, Commander. My life’s work is studying the empires that rose and fell before recorded history. How much do you know about the Primo?” she asked, rising to stand near the bars.
“As much as any human, I guess. Primo is short for Primo Genitus, the first race,” he said, wondering where she was taking this.
“That name is a misnomer. The Primo are not the first species to inhabit this sector of space, at least not in their current incarnation. Something came before them, and I’ve made it my life’s work to find out what,” Lena said.
15
Change Course
Nolan raised his hand to rap on the captain’s door, and was surprised when it opened before he had a chance to touch it. Dryker’s head poked out, his beard even more unkempt, and his hair mussed from sleep.
“Come in, Commander,” he said, pushing open the hatch. Nolan ducked through, taking a moment to inspect the captain’s quarters. They were spartan: just a narrow bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a tiny couch. It wasn’t much bigger than Nolan’s own room. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
Nolan sat on the couch, and the captain took the desk chair. He scrubbed his fingers through his beard, then looked expectantly at Nolan.
“I’ve met with the prisoner, sir,” Nolan began. He was still learning about Dryker, and wasn’t sure how best to give reports. Short and honest seemed best. “I’m not sure she should even be a prisoner. She’s demanding her release, and threatening retaliation from the Tigris government.”
“She was in OFI controlled space without permission. That gives us the right to hold her,” Dryker countered. He reached for a packet of powdered coffee and dumped it into a plastic cup of water. It began to steam and hiss as the chemical reaction turned the recycled water into something that might pass for coffee.
“True, but we have more in common than I’d have thought. Lena’s ship was there investigating whoever our new hostiles are,” Nolan offered, relaxing into the couch. It was small, but surprisingly comfortable. “She claims that two Tigris colonies have been wiped out. They showed up at Mar Kona because they thought it was about to be hit.”
“Interesting. I’m guessing these other worlds had Primo ruins?” the captain asked.
“How did you know?” Nolan didn’t bother to hide his surprise.
“I had a conversation with the admiralty. Let’s just say they were a little too interested in those ruins, which suggests that there is a common thread here,” Dryker said. He scowled. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t like not knowing. OFI knows more than they’re telling.”
“That corresponds to something odd Lena said,” Nolan offered. He smoothed his uniform, then met Dryker’s gaze. “She claims the Tigris were unwilling to investigate these attacks, and she wants to know what Fleet plans to do about them.”
“This crap just keeps getting deeper,” Dryker said, sipping his coffee. He grimaced. “Ugh, that’s terrible. So the Tigris won’t look into entire colonies going dark, and—surprise, surprise—OFI isn’t interested either. We’ve been ordered to report to Primo space. I’m to turn myself over.”
“Primo space?” Nolan said, floored by the news. “The Primo haven’t intervened directly since the end of the Tigris-Human war. Why now?”
“I don’t know, and the admiralty wasn’t saying. What I do know is that OFI needs a scapegoat. Two Tigris vessels were destroyed in human space, and forensics will prove that we destroyed at least one of them. What’s easier to believe: that we destroyed both, or that some mysterious new alien race showed up?” Dryker asked.
“We have proof,” Nolan protested. “Footage of the alien vessels. Eyewitness testimony.”
“That isn’t proof,” Dryker said, shaking his head. “That’s footage, which could have been doctored. We don’t have proof, and if we want to get to the bottom of this we need to find it.”
“What do you have in mind, sir?” Nolan asked, relaxing back into the couch again.
“We’re not going to Primo space. I’m going to get to the bottom of these attacks, and we’re going to find proof that OFI can’t ignore.”
“How are you planning to do that, sir?” Nolan asked.
“That’s a great question. Lena was able to identify Mar Kona as the next likely target. What does she have to say about other likely targets?”
“I’ll speak to her about drawing up a list, but she’s been clear that she’ll only cooperate if we stop treating her like a prisoner,” Nolan said, rising to his feet.
“That’s fair,” Dryker said, nodding. “Get her some quarters. The guards stay, but they’ll give her some space. Tell her I want the three closest targets these hostiles are likely to hit. We need to get to a set of these ruins before they do, so we can find out what makes them so important.”
“Yes, sir,” Nolan said, starting for the door.
“One more thing, Nolan,” Dryker said. He stood, facing Nolan. “If we do this, we’re disobeying OFI orders. I can claim it was my idea, but they’ll likely come after you too. They’ll say you should have relieved me of command.”
“I’m prepared for that sir,” Nolan said. “OFI ruined my career, and tarnished my reputation. What we’re doing out here is the right thing, and it could save lives. I’m with you on this, regardless of the price.”
16
In System
“We’re entering the Helios Gate now, sir,” Emo’s southern drawl brought Nolan back to the present. It was the first time he’d commanded the Johnston while traversing a Helios Gate. Dryker had been giving him more and more bridge shifts.
They slid from the star’s ultra-dense core into an area of complete blackness. There was no extra matter, no light or heat from the sun. The only illumination came from the Gate itself. The immense structure appeared to be one solid piece of gold, constructed in a wide triangle. Each corner of the triangle was set with a sapphire-colored gem larger than the Johnston. The gems glowed with their own inner light, a clean brilliance similar to Primo weaponry. The center of the Gate was a circular gap; flows of the bright energy shot into the center, forming a shimmering globe of crackling power.
“Broadcasting destination,” Emo said, tapping in several commands. The sphere brightened as more energy was fed by the Gate, then it flared as brilliantly as the star they’d passed through. Emo turned back to Nolan. “Wormhole established.”
“Take us in, Ensign Gaden,” Nolan ordered, shifting in the captain’s chair. He needed the experience, but he wondered why Dryker was ceding so much command time. He’d barely emerged from his quarters over the past twenty-four hours.
The Johnston drifted closer to the sphere and, as they closed, it be
came clear just how large the Helios Gate was. Bright light flickered off its golden surface, and it seemed to take forever to reach the Gate itself. Nolan gripped both arms of the chair as their vessel entered the Gate. There was a brief moment of vertigo, then they were passing out the other side of the sphere.
There was nothing to distinguish their destination from the origin Gate. It was a perfect mirror, identical in every respect. Only their Helios charts let them know they were somewhere else. Those charts would guide them through the sun, helping them orient in the correct direction. Otherwise they might emerge at the wrong point and have to circle the star until they could reach their destination, which could add hours or even days to transit times.
“Limiter engaged,” Juliard said. “Wormhole closing.”
The gate’s limiter shunted energy back into the surrounding star, rather than letting it feed the wormhole. If the limiter weren’t engaged, the wormhole would exist until the stars creating it burned out. They were one of the few vulnerable parts of a Helios Gate, and there was a reason why galactic law forbade damaging them.
“We’ve begun our acceleration toward Purito,” Emo said. “We’ll emerge from the sun’s corona in four minutes.”
The inductive shield flared around the ship, painting everything on the view screen white. It used the energy of the star to power itself, protecting them from the heat and pressure in the heart of the star. The Johnston vibrated as it picked up speed, inching its way closer to the surface. Nolan hated this part. They were blind, their sensors utterly useless. Anything could exist outside the star, but until they cleared the corona they’d have no idea it was there.
He shifted uncomfortably until the Johnston finally cleared the photosphere. The view screen changed, showing a towering inferno of red and orange flares. They shot into space around them, burning both hotter and brighter than the yellow star they’d emerged from at Mar Kona.
