The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  “No, sir,” Delta said, shaking his head fervently. He hated how he reacted to the threat like a whipped dog, but he was the first to admit that the chip had broken his will. Just thinking about the pain nearly caused him to curl into a fetal position. “I just worry for your safety. The coordinates you gave me are less than a light year from a supermassive black hole. The system is marked as hazardous.”

  “I’m quite aware of that,” the doctor said, waving a hand dismissively. “Get us there. Now.”

  Delta nodded, moving up the narrow hallway to the cockpit. He was aware of Reid sitting down next to Kathryn, who’d been increasingly silent since their run-in with Nolan. He wondered how much of the woman remained, and how she felt about betraying a man she’d obviously had feelings for. Delta didn’t have much feeling for her one way or the other, but at the very least they were both doing this against their will. That gave them a little common ground.

  “Do it, Epsilon,” Delta said to the man in the pilot’s chair. Well, man was a loose term. After the fiasco with Nolan on Coronas 6, Reid had given Delta a new crew, but these new cyber Marines didn’t even have names. They might as well have been robots, for all the initiative they showed.

  “Yes, sir,” Epsilon said mechanically. He had a Marine’s buzzcut and a UFC tattoo on his arm. Those were the only clues to the man he’d once been; the rest had been replaced by machinery. Even the man’s eyes had been replaced, and Delta knew better than anyone how dehumanizing that was.

  The ship rumbled briefly, then began rising through the star’s core. This part always bothered Delta. He hated knowing they were under so much pressure, and that if anything failed in the ship’s inductive field they’d be incinerated instantly. It made the next several minutes torturous, and he didn’t breathe easily again until they’d finally reached the sun’s corona.

  Massive towers of blue flame rose in pillars all around them, but they were far taller than those on other stars. They stretched hundreds of thousands of miles into the distance, toward a patch of black covering much of the sky. It was like an open wound, completely devoid of stars. The areas around it were rich with twinkling lights, underscoring the darkness.

  “This poor star is doomed,” Reid said, from right behind Delta. Delta was more than a little surprised he’d not heard the man approaching. “It wandered too close. The black hole’s gravity is pulling matter from the sun. We can’t see, but the matter is joining a giant accretion disk, the largest in the galaxy. It orbits the black hole, you see. Because the disk is comprised of dark matter, we didn’t even know it existed until we explored this system.”

  Delta nodded, as if that were the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. “Epsilon, make for the coordinates.”

  The ship’s perspective changed, and the viewport showed a different patch of space. It wasn’t empty, as there was some sort of planetary body there—a moon, perhaps. It wasn’t large enough to be a planet, unless it was further away than he thought. A trickle of ships passed to and from the moon, most of them human, though he saw a few Tigris vessels as well. Those ships had something in common, something that terrified him: they weren’t warships. They were cargo vessels and transports.

  What the hell were they dropping off?

  Delta watched silently, a sense of foreboding growing in the cockpit as they approached the planetoid. The closer they got, the shorter his breaths came. Delta knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his death lay within that planet. It took everything he had not to bolt from the bridge and hide in his bunk.

  Part of his mind recognized that the feeling was unnatural, though he had no idea what was causing it. Whatever it was didn’t seem to affect Reid, though Epsilon cringed away from the view screen, giving a low whine as he did.

  “The Eye,” Reid breathed, pushing past Delta and dropping into the Sparhawk’s co-pilot seat. He caressed the view screen where the planetoid was, crooning to it. “At long last, I meet the emissary. I can feel you, hear the whispers. I am home.”

  The word horror could not adequately describe the mix of revulsion and terror that washed through Delta. The object was large enough to make out now. The closer they got, the larger it loomed. It wasn’t a planet, though it was roughly spherical. Its surface was milky white, with red veiny sections criss-crossing the surface. An enormous, ropy tail, something like entrails, floated behind the thing. It tapered off into the darkness, writhing slightly as if in an unseen wind.

  That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The front of the planetoid had an enormous black iris, dilating like a continent-sized whirlpool. Around that iris was a blood-red sea, the thing’s cornea. Delta had believed he’d lost the capacity for either wonder or fear, but in that moment he realized how painfully mistaken he’d been. This thing terrified him in a primal way, the kind that aroused fears of the dark in toddlers.

  Delta had to look away, so he looked at the pilot’s console. It didn’t help. If anything, it made the situation worse. The readings were standard for an M-class world. Whatever that thing was, it had a habitable atmosphere.

  “Sir, another vessel,” Epsilon said, his voice cracking.

  Delta saw a flash of metallic blue rising from the monstrous surface. The Primo carrier was clearly headed for the sun, and would just as clearly pass a short distance away from them. “Doctor, how do you want us to proceed?”

  “Ignore it,” Reid said, waving dismissively. “They are merely feeding the Eye, as are the other vessels. Our mission is far more important.”

  Delta stared hard at the Eye, and he realized something. Until now, he’d given up. He’d worked blindly for Reid, because he feared the pain. But this…thing changed the situation. Whatever it was, Delta believed it could consume the entire human race. Maybe even the Tigris, too.

  He didn’t know how. He didn’t know when. But he was going to find a way to stop that thing.

  28

  What Now?

  Nolan shifted uncomfortably on his throne, listening to Dryker and Fizgig hash out details. His comm began to vibrate. He ignored it. It vibrated more urgently, so he fished it from his pocket and thumbed on the screen.

  “Captain,” Ship’s cheerful voice said. “I apologize for interrupting you, but Lena said you’d wish to know this immediately.”

  “Know what?” Nolan asked.

  “We’ve detected Void Wraith signatures lurking in the sun’s corona. It is unlikely the Primo would be able to detect them, and I suspect it is the prelude to an attack,” Ship explained.

  “Stand by,” Nolan told Ship. He looked up, pressing the amplifier icon on the throne’s right arm. “Everyone listen up.” His voice thundered through the room, reverberating off the walls like thunder.

  “My ship is picking up Void Wraith drive signatures,” Nolan continued, pushing the button to make the throne descend. “We’re about to be attacked.”

  “Our sensors have detected nothing,” Celendra said, cocking her head. “Are you certain?”

  The others were bringing their thrones back to the dais as well, though the Primo didn’t seem to share Nolan’s alarm. Nolan leapt from the throne a few feet before it reached the deck, landing in a crouch.

  “I’m positive. If you want to live, get your forces into a battle formation. I’m getting back to my ship,” Nolan said, turning toward the corridor they’d entered through.

  “Nolan, wait,” Dryker said, grabbing his arm. “You need a Primo library, right?”

  “Yeah,” Nolan said, nodding.

  Dryker pressed a data cube into his hand. “This has the location of all eight remaining libraries. I suspect they could be under attack as we speak, so you need to be quick. The one at Derinia is the most heavily defended. You might start there.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Nolan said, giving Dryker a tight nod.

  “Now get your ass moving. I need to get these Primo ready to fight,” Dryker said, turning from Nolan and moving toward Celendra.

  “Nolan,” Fizgig said. Her tail swish
ed dangerously behind her. “A word.”

  Nolan approached warily. “What is it, Fizgig? We don’t have much time.”

  “The time has come for us to part ways. I will be joining Khar on the Claw of Tigrana. Izzy will be accompanying us,” Fizgig said. She placed a paw on Nolan’s shoulder. “You have done well these past months. You are one of the rare few with both the talent and the will to act. Keep up your training, and give your life in defense of Lena. She is more important than any of us. Your mission is equally so. Goddess go with you.”

  “Thank you, Fizgig,” Nolan said, giving her a genuine smile. “For everything. I mean that. I’m grateful for your teaching—and you know what? I’m going to miss you.”

  “To my great surprise, I can say the same. Dryker taught me to respect your race. You have taught me that they can become family,” Fizgig said, giving him a respectful nod. From her, that was as good as a hug.

  Izzy stood with Annie and Hannan near the mouth of the corridor leading back to the airlock. She and Nolan exchanged a fierce hug, then Izzy moved off to stand with Khar.

  The comm vibrated in Nolan’s pocket again. “Tigrana watch over you, Fizgig,” he said, and trotted down the corridor, Hannan falling smoothly into line behind him. They made great time back to the airlock doors, while Khar, Izzy, and Fizgig split off down another corridor.

  “I’m actually a little sad to be losing them,” Hannan said, glancing after Izzy. Nolan knew the pair had grown close.

  “You know what? Me too, and not just because we’ll miss them during the next firefight,” Nolan said, slamming the airlock control. He wondered if he’d ever see Fizgig again. He hoped so.

  29

  Running the Gauntlet

  “Nolan, do not respond to this transmission,” Dryker said, pivoting his throne to face the dome. “It’s likely our Void Wraith friends are monitoring this. Don’t reveal your location, just get out of here and see to your mission.”

  The dome showed a wonderful tapestry of the battle, and as Dryker watched, colors and objects began to appear. He realized suddenly that the dome wasn’t just decorative. It was functional. The Primo used it to run battles, and the thrones allowed them to move quickly to the area of the battle they wished to study. He was damned impressed.

  In this case, the yellow star dominated the view. Their battle group made their way toward the sun, shields at full strength. That was another Primo advantage. Human vessels had the inductive field necessary to survive the stresses of a star, but they required enormous energy to use. That made them impractical for combat. The Primo apparently had a less energy-intensive way of utilizing shields.

  “Celendra, how long until we reach the star’s corona?” Dryker asked, watching the sun grow larger.

  “Just under three minutes,” she answered, zooming her throne closer to his. “What do you intend to do?”

  “Claw of Tigrana, this is Dryker. What’s your status?” Dryker asked, ignoring Celendra’s question.

  “We are well, Dryker,” Fizgig’s voice answered, confidently. “The vessel is understrength, and we lack the warriors for a sustained battle. We will do what we can.”

  “Negative,” Dryker ordered. “You’re to do the same as Nolan, avoid engagement and escape into the star as soon as possible. We need you to reach your people.”

  “Acknowledged,” Fizgig rumbled. “Tigrana watch over you, Dryker.”

  Dryker didn’t reply, instead studying the disposition of the ships. They were in a simple starburst pattern, each close enough to respond if any of the others were attacked. The formation was getting closer to the sun, with no sign of the Void Wraith fleet. Dryker hated not knowing how many enemy vessels were out there, but he was grateful Nolan had provided them any warning at all.

  “Celendra, what’s the most expedient way to address all vessels at once?” Dryker asked, turning to the Primo. Her large, red eyes studied him.

  “You may use the blue button on the far side of the arm. I’ve just enabled it to our fleetwide broadcast,” Celendra said. She paused, then spoke again. “You’re aware that they’re listening to us.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Dryker didn’t bother replying. He didn’t have time to teach; he needed to do. “Primo fleet, this is Dryker. Odds are good the Void Wraith will attack us as we reach the corona. Slow your advance, and cover each other’s flanks.”

  Dryker toggled the button off, then turned to Celendra. “I want you to ready all offensive weaponry, and every drone this thing can launch. The second you see them de-cloak and attack the Claw of Tigrana, I want to destroy the closest Void Wraith vessel.”

  The distance between the Primo fleet and the Claw began to lengthen. Dryker’s heart sped as he wondered if he was making the right decision. If he was wrong about Primo reaction time, he might not be able to save the Claw. That would be a catastrophic loss, as Fizgig was their only real ally among the Tigris. But this was also their only prayer of drawing the Void Wraith out of hiding, rather than being ambushed by them.

  “We are prepared, Admiral Dryker,” Celendra finally said. “Seventy-six drones have powered up their reactors. Be aware that this will tax their power level, and they will not be able to fight as long before returning.”

  “Noted,” Dryker said, pivoting the throne to examine the Claw. Enough space had opened up that it would take several seconds to close to weapon’s range. The Claw was close enough to the sun that she would reach the safety of the corona in another sixty seconds.

  “Harvesters de-cloaking,” Celendra called, a note of panic in her voice. “They’re surrounding the Claw of Tigrana.”

  A trio of harvesters rippled into view, each powering up their main weapons. Behind them, three more de-cloaked, these moving to intercept the First Light. It seemed they knew who was giving the orders.

  “Now, Celendra. Launch everything we have,” Dryker said, already broadcasting again before she could respond. “Primo fleet, this is Admiral Dryker. Concentrate all fire on the vessels closest to the Claw of Tigrana.”

  Celendra bore an intense look of concentration, and waves of sleek blue drones began launching from the fighter bays. The tiny, unmanned fighters were each, basically, a plasma rifle bolted to a chassis, with just enough power and intelligence to fight for brief periods.

  The drones swarmed the closest harvester, streaks of green energy shooting out in uneven patterns. Because the harvester was firing at the Claw of Tigrana, it lacked the power to boost its shields. The first few plasma bursts were shunted harmlessly away, but the rest punched through the shield. Black furrows dug into the pristine blue metal, tearing apart vital systems.

  Most of the drones focused on the engines, and after several moments of intense fire, something flared there. The crackling ball of blue plasma the ship had been about to fire changed—fading, then disappearing entirely.

  “Witness the power of the Primo, Admiral,” Celendra said coldly.

  The Primo carrier began to vibrate, a low hum that washed through Dryker’s entire body. Then blue-white brilliance poured from the First Light. The torrent of energy tore into the already damaged engines, and a massive explosion tore through the back side of the harvester.

  The drones continued their assault, focusing on weakened areas. Fires bloomed all along the harvester’s hull as internal explosions rocked the ship. She wasn’t dead, but she was out of the fight.

  “Revenge is sweet,” Celendra said, giving a predatory smile.

  Dryker ignored her, focusing on the Claw of Tigrana. They’d stopped one of the three attacking ships. The other two were still firing.

  30

  Claw

  Fizgig settled into the captain’s chair for the first time in months, smiling as she ran her fingers along one of the pillows. Khar hadn’t replaced a single one, and there was very little of his fur or scent. Certainly not enough to seep into the fabric. It was as if he'd known she’d be returning, and had used the chair sparingly.

  The bridge was woeful
ly understaffed. Izzy was handling communications and piloting, while Khar was manning sensors and weaponry—not that they had much in the way of weaponry. One of the dart tubes had been destroyed, and they only had a handful of darts remaining. There weren’t enough crew to man even those few.

  Fizgig stared up at the view screen, a welcome change from the holomap on the Void Wraith harvester. The holomap might be tactically superior, but Fizgig had spent decades adapting to the view screen on vessels like the Claw. It just felt right.

  The screen showed the Primo fleet tightening into a cluster. They were using a simple starburst pattern, which would allow all vessels to react quickly, regardless of what direction they were attacked from. The massive vessels were falling further behind, and as the gap between them and the Claw widened, Fizgig gave a broad grin.

  “Clever, Dryker,” Fizgig murmured. They were being used as bait. “Izzy, order all stations to prepare for imminent attack.”

  Fizgig was unsurprised when the trio of harvesters shimmered into view around them. She dropped instantly into her old command role, the thrill of combat firing her blood.

  “Izzy!” Fizgig roared, rising from her cushioned chair. “Tilt the vessel forty-five degrees along the Z axis. Maximum acceleration.”

  Izzy responded instantly, and the Claw shuddered as it accelerated. If the maneuver worked, the star’s gravity would drastically increase their speed, and once they’d broken free of combat they could descend safely into the corona.

  If it worked.

  “Mighty Fizgig, they’re firing,” Izzy said, her tail bristling in a very undignified way.

  “Stand fast,” Khar growled. “We are Tigris. We do not flinch from death.”