The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  “What about the Primo? Have they reacted to the war?” Nolan asked. The Primo actively discouraged large-scale warfare, and it had been their intervention that had brought the Eight-Year War to an early close.

  “They haven’t. In fact, no one has seen a Primo vessel in months,” Bock said, shrugging. “Not that anyone can figure out why the Primo do anything. They’re probably worshipping some nebula somewhere, praying to God knows what.”

  “How has the war progressed?” Nolan asked, straightening in the chair. He could feel his shoulders tensing, like they were preparing for a blow.

  “Not well,” Bock said, his face softening into something like pity. “We’re outclassed. There’ve been a couple victories, but we’ve lost the bulk of several fleets. If something doesn’t change, the Tigris will reach Earth in a few more months.”

  “Damn it,” Nolan muttered, clenching a fist. It was as bad as he’d expected. Worse maybe. If humans and Tigris ground down their respective militaries, it would make it easier for the Void Wraith to sweep in and wipe out both races. It was brilliantly executed. “Bock, I need the Quantum Network. Right now.”

  If anyone knew the lay of the land, it would be Kathryn. He’d start there.

  8

  Arrange It

  Delta’s eyes snapped open, but he remained lying down. He watched as Kathryn dropped lightly to the deck from the bunk above his. The bunks were set into the ship’s bulkhead, and were just wide enough for an adult to sleep on the neurofoam pads. It was comfortable, especially for a frigate this size. Four people could comfortably live aboard the Sparhawk, with most of the creature comforts afforded by a capital ship.

  “Reid, wake up,” Kathryn demanded. She leaned across the aisle, shaking the skinny doctor awake. Delta noticed the sour cast to her features when she touched the man. It was reassuring to know he wasn’t the only one who found Reid repulsive.

  “Stop touching me, woman,” Reid snapped, recoiling to the corner of his bunk. “I’m awake. What do you want?”

  “Nolan contacted me,” Kathryn said, holding up her comm. Her eyes were still murky from sleep, but her voice was clear. “He’s requested a meeting. As soon as possible.”

  “Fine,” Reid snapped, swinging his legs from the bunk. “Now go pilot the ship or something. I need room to get up.”

  Kathryn merely nodded, walking up the narrow corridor to the Sparhawk’s mess. Delta didn’t exactly pretend to be asleep; he just laid there listening as Reid got up. The doctor was out of breath by the time he got to his feet, and he wove unsteadily into the mess. A thick sheen of sweat covered his brow, and there was something off about the color of that sweat. Instead of clear, it was a murky green.

  Delta watched him carefully, considering. Reid’s health had been bad when they’d first met, but it was getting worse, and the process seemed to be accelerating. That prompted some interesting questions. He didn’t know what had been done to Reid—or to Kathryn, for that matter—but whatever it was seemed to have long-term ill effects.

  “Delta, get in here,” Reid called, half turning from the bench to start a cup of coffee.

  Delta didn’t reply, just rose soundlessly and headed into the mess. He sat at the very corner of the table, as far from Reid as he could get. Kathryn was seated similarly, at the opposite corner of the bench on the same side as Delta.

  “Tell me,” Reid demanded, looking hard at Kathryn.

  “Nolan read the messages I’ve been leaving him,” Kathryn explained, sliding her comm across the table to Reid. “That’s the answer he sent. He’s back, and he’d like a face-to-face.”

  “Excellent,” Reid said, delivering a truly ghastly smile. “Arrange the meeting.”

  “Should we alert my father?” Kathryn asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nolan is no fool, and if reports from the final battle are accurate he’s in possession of a Void Wraith vessel.”

  “I said arrange the meeting,” Reid said, eyes narrowing. The smile vanished. “Delta is more than capable of dealing with the situation. Even if he were not, we have the toys he’s been provided. Their enhancements make them more than a match for any crew Nolan might have surrounded himself with.”

  “Okay, I’ll arrange it,” Kathryn said. Her tone made it clear how she felt about it, and Delta privately agreed with her. Nolan was resourceful, and underestimating him wasn’t smart.

  9

  Annie

  There was an awkward silence as Hannan watched Annie, and Annie watched Hannan. The rest of the crowd had dispersed, and Nolan had disappeared into the office with Administrator Bock. Hannan studied the dirty miner, impressed by what she saw. Soot covered Annie’s crow’s feet, and Hannan was positive there were callouses under those thick leather gloves. Annie worked for a living, that much was clear.

  Annie withdrew a rusty tin from her pocket, unscrewing the top and offering it to Hannan. It smelled of pungent tobacco, something Hannan had never gotten into. A lot of soldiers enjoyed it, but it was expensive and messy.

  “No, thanks,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d kill for a beer, though, if you guys have anywhere that sells one. Maybe we can persuade the captain to stop for one after he’s done.”

  “Captain?” Annie asked, withdrawing a pinch of tobacco and tucking it under her lip. “Last I checked Nolan was a commander. He didn’t even have his own vessel, much less whatever the hell that beast you arrived in is.”

  “Yeah, a lot’s changed since Nolan came on board the Johnston,” Hannan said, glancing up the stairs at the office door. She considered guarding her tongue, but Nolan clearly trusted Annie, and she wasn’t spilling state secrets or anything.

  “You folks were on the Johnston?” Annie said. She got real interested, her eyes fixing Hannan. “Now there’s a story I want to hear. The Johnston started the war with the Tigris, and the press ain’t been too free with the particulars of how that happened. All we know is the 7th was wiped out, and took a fleet of cats with ’em.”

  Hannan blinked. She stayed silent a moment, considering. What the hell had been happening while they were gone? Had Mills made it? Dryker would have gotten him out, if it was possible.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened, and Nolan strode down the stairs. His face was grim, his shoulders squared. That was a man carrying a whole load of new trouble, and given what Annie had just said, Hannan had a feeling she knew exactly what that trouble was.

  “Sir?” she asked as Nolan approached.

  “Bad news and worse news,” Nolan said, sighing. “We’ll discuss it on the ship. I hate to be rude, but we need to run, Annie. We’re three months behind, and it sounds like we’ve got a hell of a lot to catch up on.”

  “Nolan, you’ve got to level with me,” Annie said, folding her arms. “What the hell happened in the Ghantan system?”

  “You saved my ass,” Nolan said, giving Annie a wistful smile, “but I don’t have time to get into specifics. The short version? The war between humanity and the Tigris is a con job. The people who made my current ship are trying to wipe us all out, and they figure the best way to do it is by having us do it to ourselves.”

  Annie blinked, then looked at the airlock door leading back to their vessel.

  “Sir, you admit you owe me, right?” Annie said. “I did save your bacon.”

  “Of course,” Nolan said, nodding. “I won’t ever forget that, and if I’m in a position to help, I’ll do whatever I can. I owe you.”

  “Well I’m calling in that marker, sir,” Annie said. She tightened the grip on her shotgun, cocking it loudly. “I’m a soldier, and we got us a war on. Take me with you. I’m certain and a half that you’re gonna be in the thick of it, and that whatever battle you’re fighting is going to help decide the war.”

  Nolan was silent for a long moment, weighing Annie with that calculating gaze.

  “Sir,” Hannan said, clearing her throat. She leaned in to Nolan and lowered her voice. “We need the manpower, and it looks like she can handle herself.”
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  Nolan met her gaze and nodded, then he turned to Annie. “All right, Annie, welcome aboard. We’ll leave the docking bay open, just dock and we’ll get the hell out of this system.”

  “Sure thing, sir,” Annie said, giving a tobacco-stained smile. “Just got to make a quick stop, and I’ll be right on over.”

  10

  Tibs

  Annie brushed empty cans and wrappers from the co-pilot’s chair, dropping her new acquisition into the seat. It wouldn’t do to show up empty-handed. Nolan had a new ship, and that meant she needed to bring a housewarming gift. She’d even paid for it, after a fashion.

  Annie smiled as she began flicking switches on the console. Her shuttle’s engine begrudgingly rumbled to life, sputtering periodically as it fought to maintain a more or less consistent power output. Bock had asked a pretty penny for the quantum transmitter. In the end she’d agreed to waive all the back payments he owed her. He’d said that wasn’t enough, so she’d thrown in the fact that she wouldn’t fill his face with buckshot. That had done the trick.

  She waited a precise thirty seconds for the engine to reach equilibrium before tapping the docking release. It fired off a command to the station, which obligingly released her shuttle. It was the first time she’d actually left Coronas 6 in over two years. During that time, she’d lived on this shuttle, and the idea of changing that was more than a little scary. Didn’t much matter, though. Fear wasn’t something you could control, not really. You could only control how you reacted to it.

  “This is Annie on the shuttle Tibs,” Annie said into the comm. “Nolan, that beast of yours got a name?”

  Annie guided her ponderous shuttle around the station, gaping openly when she got a good look at Nolan’s vessel. It was massive, easily on par with the largest battleships ever produced by humanity. She thought it might even be larger than a Tigris vessel. The sleek wings tapered to sharp tips, and looked perfect for ramming enemy vessels. She didn’t see any obvious weaponry, and wondered what kind of armament that thing packed.

  “Shuttle Tibs, this is the Void Wraith harvester,” a strange voice responded. It wasn’t exactly female—or male, either. It was…alien. “As of this time this vessel has not received an official designation. I am currently referred to as Ship.”

  “Okay, Ship,” Annie replied, guiding the Tibs in a wide arc that brought it below the harvester. “Looks to me like you’ve got a docking bay right there beneath the main section where the wings meet. That where you want me to go?”

  “Affirmative,” Ship replied. “There will be an escort waiting to meet you.”

  Annie watched the harvester get larger and larger, and blinked as she passed under the gigantic vessel. She’d been wrong. It would dwarf a Tigris ship. It might be as large as a Primo carrier, and so far as she knew that was the largest ship out there. Annie’s tiny shuttle disappeared into a wide docking bay, which appeared to be all but empty. There were no other shuttles, just a stack of crates against one wall.

  Annie landed the Tibs, which lurched to a halt atop the deck. She started flipping switches, shutting down the reactor and most of the secondary systems. They hadn’t been used in a while, and every last one of them was due for maintenance. The Tibs was at least seventy-five percent duct tape, and that meant it wasn’t wise to operate her any longer than was necessary.

  Once the vessel was shut down Annie picked up the quantum transmitter, tucking it under her arm as she left the cockpit. She threaded between the walls of junk filling most of the Tibs’s cargo hold, using her free hand to tap the docking ramp. It slid slowly down, a hiss of pressure washing over her as the atmosphere normalized with the larger ship’s.

  With a curse, Annie darted back a step, yanking her spare shotgun from the wall holster. Damn her for not thinking like a soldier. Her weapon was in the cockpit. A soldier never left her weapon behind.

  She leaned forward, aiming at the Tigris standing at the base of the ramp. The cat had long, snowy fur, dotted with black spots, but the cuddly part ended in sharp claws and long fangs.

  “You’re going to want to take a big step back from my shuttle, cat,” Annie said, taking a step to the lip of the ramp. She had the cat in her crosshairs, and if that thing moved it was going to die.

  “Okay,” the Tigris said, taking a very large step back. It—she—blinked rapidly. “Is that far enough? I do not understand human customs.”

  “Annie,” Hannan called from the doorway to the docking bay. She strode briskly toward the Tibs. “Put that gun down. You don’t need it.”

  The Marine stopped next to the Tigris, wrapping an arm around her furry shoulder. “This is Izzy. Izzy’s a good kitty.”

  “You know I hate it when you say that,” Izzy said, elbowing Hannan in the ribs.

  “Y’all got Tigris on your crew?” Annie said, raising her eyebrows. “This is going to be an interesting deployment.”

  11

  Lena's Discovery

  Lena turned on the acetylene torch she’d clamped to her makeshift table, setting the flask full of water on it to heat. She had no tea, of course, but she still completed the ritual. Teatime calmed her, even when it was just a mug of hot water. It was a practice she’d embraced since she was a kit, even before she’d gone to the Royal Academy to study Anthropology.

  Once the water was tended to, Lena smoothed her flowing white pants, and sat primly atop the stool Edwards had made for her. She appreciated the human’s desire to help, especially given his transformation. He was unfailingly respectful to her, always using the honorific ma’am. She didn’t know what it meant, but could tell from the respectful tone that it denoted an elder of some kind.

  “Ship, bring up the data file you flagged,” Lena ordered, warming her paws over the fire. The ship wasn’t precisely cold, but it was a few degrees cooler than she was used to. Tigris vessels ran hotter, and she liked it that way.

  A holographic file appeared, text hovering on one side and graphics on the other. This bit showed a strand of DNA, the double helix that humans, Primo, and Tigris all shared. This particular bit belonged to not just any Primo, but to the earliest Primo found in the ship’s data core. Lena scanned the text, eyes widening at the age. It was nearly forty thousand years old, older than the original empire she and Nolan had discovered back on Purito. Older by far.

  “Ship, the article doesn’t contrast this strand with a modern version. Can you sequence both sets of DNA, and give me a summary of the major differences?” Lena asked. She turned off the torch, blowing lightly across the flask as she waited for the water to cool.

  “Processing,” Ship said. The holographic representation disappeared, and Lena wrapped a paw experimentally around the flask. It was hot, but not too hot to pick up. She settled both paws around it, and raised it to her mouth for a tiny sip.

  A moment later, a new hologram sprang into view. This one had two DNA strands, each very similar. Below them was a bulleted list of differences, and Lena could only blink as she read the summary. The implications of this discovery could not be overstated.

  “Honored one?” came a quiet voice from the doorway. Lena looked up to see Izzy peering around the corner of the door. “It is time for the evening meal. Nolan sent me to fetch everyone.”

  “I’ll be there shortly,” Lena replied, waving absently at Izzy as she focused on the data.

  12

  Biscuits

  Nolan pulled out one of the uncomfortable metal chairs, sitting next to Hannan. Fizgig and Izzy sat across from them, while Edwards had squeezed his metallic body into the corner of their makeshift mess. Everything from the chairs to the table had been fabricated recently, as the ship hadn’t been built to support human occupants. Thank God there was a machine shop.

  “That smells amazing,” he said, eyeing the pot of stew in the center of the table. High-rimmed metal plates sat in front of everyone, along with chromed glasses full of water.

  “Wait until you taste these,” Annie boomed, grinning as she approached t
he table. She wore a pair of oven mitts, and carried a tray of fist-sized biscuits. They smelled even better than the stew. “You don’t have much in the way of cooking equipment, but we can use the Tibs until we get something rigged.”

  Annie set the tray of biscuits near the center of the table. Izzy stretched out a paw to snatch one, but Fizgig batted her paw away and gave her the kind of condescending look only Fizgig could manage.

  “Where’s Lena?” Nolan asked, not seeing her anywhere in the mess.

  “She said she’d be here shortly, Mighty Nolan,” Izzy said, though her gaze never left the biscuits. “She seemed very excited. I believe she found something important in the Primo data core.”

  “Will she be offended if we start without her?” Nolan asked, looking to Fizgig.

  “She will not,” Fizgig said, giving a half smile. “She might not show up at all. That one is a true scientist, one of our best. It consumes her.”

  “Let’s dig in, then. Thank you for this, Annie. We’ve been surviving on protein paste for the past three months,” Nolan said, ladling a generous portion of stew onto his plate. He passed the ladle to Hannan, who served up her own portion, then passed the ladle to Izzy.

  “My pleasure. I love cooking,” Annie said, cramming a biscuit into her mouth. She spoke around mouthfuls. “I ain’t too civilized, but I can turn an old sock and some grease into a decent meal.”

  “Is that what they feed you infantry types? Old socks?” Edwards’s voice came from the far side of the room, startling all of them. The tone was playful, but his sheer size was still intimidating.