The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  “Izzy, what of you? What is your lifedream?” Fizgig asked, watching the snowy cat as she considered. Izzy’s eyes were large and lent her a deceptive innocence, one particularly effective on the humans.

  “Khar has spoken it, Mighty Fizgig. I wish to find a home, to be a part of a pride. Your pride.” Izzy’s ears were fully erect, her eyes even wider than usual as she awaited Fizgig’s reply.

  Fizgig considered both answers for long moments, her tail swishing lazily behind her. This would be a bold move, one that no one would expect. Mow assumed her removed as a threat, but she was about to show him exactly how mistaken he’d been. It meant breaking tradition, but there was no law forbidding it. Just because it hadn’t been done in over a century didn’t mean she couldn’t do it.

  “Izzy, open a channel to the entire system,” Fizgig ordered, moving to sit on her chair. She straightened her cushions, forcing herself to affect a grace and poise she didn’t feel.

  “We are connected, Mighty Fizgig,” Izzy said, nodding demurely.

  “Mighty Tigris, hear me,” she boomed, her voice filling the bridge of the Claw. “All know who I am. Fizgig Mankiller, Fizgig the Scourge, Fizgig Swift-Death. I have lived my life among Leonis Pride, for they were the strongest. Today, Mow proved that is no longer the case, and for the first time I am ashamed to be Leonis.

  “So I have decided that I am Leonis no longer. I renounce my name. I am Fizgig Prideless.” Fizgig rose from her chair and stared directly into the screen. “Today I build a new pride: Pride Fizgig. Any Tigris who stands with me will have a home in this pride. All are welcome, no matter your lineage, or past glory. Stand with me, and we’ll show the Leonis what strength is.”

  Then Fizgig made a slashing motion, and Izzy terminated the feed.

  Fizgig took a deep breath, tail flicking behind her as she stalked back to her chair. Would they come? Was she right about the lifedream of nearly every prideless?

  Several moments passed. Khar eyed her silently, more introspective than he’d been when he’d served under her. It was a welcome change, a sign of his growing maturity. That would be important in the days ahead. He was the one most likely to succeed her, though Izzy was another possibility, even if she couldn’t yet see it in herself.

  “Sir, we’re being hailed. By several vessels,” Izzy said, glancing at Fizgig, then back at her console. “Over a dozen vessels have hailed us. Nineteen. Make that twenty-two.”

  “Open a channel to every vessel that hailed us,” Fizgig said, giving her pillow one last fluff before settling into her most regal pose. She waited until Izzy nodded before speaking. “Your boldness is rewarded. You are prideless no longer. Now, we go to war, to teach our enemies the meaning of fear. Not against the humans, but against Mow.”

  She turned to Izzy, making another slashing gesture. Fizgig didn’t speak until the view screen had returned to a star field. “Pick the four smallest vessels, and dispatch them to the other prides. They must be told what’s happening with our home world.”

  45

  Bad News

  Dryker imagined that most of the captains among the 14th were more than a little nervous. He would have been, in their place. Seven Primo carriers moving into their ranks was just a tad threatening, especially when a single carrier could handily wipe out the entire 14th. Dryker would probably have wet his pants when the drones started flowing out of the carriers. Normally those drones meant swift death. They swarmed the human vessels, but instead of attacking, each drone extended a mass of long, spindly arms.

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.” Sheng’s voice came over the comm. “We could all be space debris in seconds if the Primo get testy.”

  “Just sit tight and enjoy the free service,” Dryker replied, watching as drones began towing cannons to each vessel. Little specks of blue began appearing at the end of each drone’s arm—some sort of torch, Dryker imagined. The idea that attack drones could also effect repairs was mind-boggling. It made them far more versatile than he’d have guessed, and uncovered another layer of Primo technical superiority.

  Dryker’s comm buzzed. He fished it out, realizing it was Fizgig calling. Dryker looked around. Celendra and her guards were within earshot, but no one else. Dryker tapped the Accept button. “Glad to see you’re still kicking. What have you got to report?”

  “Catastrophe,” Fizgig hissed. Dryker had never seen her so agitated, not even when she still believed he’d blown up one of their science vessels. “Your fleets have attacked Tigrana itself.”

  “That’s suicide. There’s no way we could breach your defenses,” Dryker said, utterly confused.

  “Normally that would be true,” Fizgig said. She paused. “What I tell you would be considered treason, but I trust that you will not take advantage of this fact. Mow has moved the orbital defense platforms. He has stripped the fleets. Our world is unprotected, save for a few privateers.”

  “Oh my God,” Dryker said, nearly dropping the comm. “Mow and Mendez must have worked together to arrange this. Do you have any idea what’s going on with the battle?”

  “Not yet,” Fizgig said, sighing. “I have gathered the few troops I can, and am going there now to try to stop Mow. I do not know what you can do to convince the humans to stand down, but whatever it is…do it. You do not understand the depth of hatred that attacking our world will cause.”

  Dryker disagreed silently. He knew exactly what effect attacking Tigrana would have—and that, if they didn’t stop it, the Void Wraith had all but won the war.

  46

  Interrogation

  Nolan took a deep breath before entering their makeshift brig. He wasn’t looking forward to this part, but he needed answers, and quickly. Lena and Atrea were hard at work sifting through the data they’d found, though Atrea was inconsolable about the loss of the master cube. Even if the Void Wraith left the library intact—and they wouldn’t—it meant that priceless knowledge had been lost forever. Nolan was no scholar, but even he felt the impact.

  Hannan and Annie were enjoying some well deserved rack time. Only Edwards was unoccupied, so Nolan had set him to watch the prisoners. Edwards was still missing an arm, but several tiny blue drones worked continuously on the other battle damage. They swarmed around him like flies on a rhino.

  Nolan stepped into the ‘brig,’ an area of the Void Wraith ship that had been used to harvest humans. It involved large, clear tanks, usually full of an amber liquid. The tanks were strong enough to withstand plasma fire from Edwards, which made them perfect to use as cells.

  Nolan strode down the row of tanks, stopping in front of the last two. Delta stood in one, metal arms crossed as he stared impassively at Nolan. The other tank held Kathryn, whose expression couldn’t have been more the opposite of Delta’s. She wore her emotions openly: pain and regret mingled with guilt. He’d seen them before, and suspected they were there to appeal to his softer side.

  Kathryn was canny enough to know that the only card she could play was Nolan’s feelings. Her OFI training would allow nothing else.

  Nolan couldn’t afford to be caught in that trap, so he hadn’t even spoken to her yet. He wouldn’t, not until he felt ready to deal with her.

  “Edwards, open Delta’s tank about six inches,” Nolan said, nodding to Edwards.

  The private raised his remaining arm, pressing it against the terminal. A moment later Delta’s tank cracked open with a hiss. A small gap appeared, not enough to slip through, but enough to speak.

  “Hello, Delta,” Nolan said, nodding. He rested his hand on his sidearm, careful to keep out of arm’s reach.

  “Hello, Nolan,” Delta said, returning the nod. “This is the first interrogation, I take it? Standard OFI? Get the baseline, to give you something to compare future interrogations against?”

  “That’s the general idea, yes,” Nolan said, smiling grimly. He knew Delta had been in the UFC, but beyond a brief dossier he didn’t know much about the man’s life before he’d been…changed. Once upon
a time, Delta had been Captain Edison, with a redacted file dating back at least a decade.

  “You’re deviating from protocol,” Delta said, scratching at the corner of his eye, where chrome and skin met. “Shouldn’t you have at least one other officer here to observe?”

  “Probably. I’m not a part of OFI, or even the UFC any more,” Nolan said, shifting his weight to his other foot. He should have brought down a chair. “We’re not here to talk about me, though. We’re here to talk about you. Why don’t we start with why you chose to betray your employers?”

  “You remember the first time we met, back on Coronas 6?” Delta asked, face as impassive as ever.

  “Yes.”

  “When you captured me, I told you a bit about the chip they were using to control me.” Delta winced, raising a hand to his temple. After a long pause, he continued. “That chip is still in my head. It’s a behavioral modification chip. I do what it wants, and I get rewarded with pleasure. I don’t do what it wants, and it makes me crave death. Just talking about it gives me the worst—”

  Delta’s hand shot out, and Nolan took an instinctive step back. His weapon was out of its holster, aimed at Delta. Delta wasn’t paying attention, though; he’d braced himself against the wall of the tank. His teeth were gritted, and a sheen of sweat dotted his forehead now.

  Nolan had seen pain before, and this was some of the worst. He waited until Delta’s breathing had slowed a little before speaking. “So you’ve been coerced into helping Reid, you saw an opportunity to get free, and you took it?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

  It sounded a little too convenient, but if Delta had wanted to harm Nolan, all he’d have had to do was let Kathryn take him. If this was a deception, Nolan had no idea what the motive was.

  “That’s the gist of it, yeah,” Delta said. He’d gone a shade paler, but was composing himself. “I’m hoping you can use all this Void Wraith tech to get the chip out. In exchange, I can offer two things.”

  “What would those be?” Nolan asked, glancing at Kathryn’s cell. She stared at Nolan, head cocked as if trying to puzzle out the conversation even though she couldn’t hear it.

  “First, if you can deactivate my chip, you can deactivate it in others. At least a quarter of the senior officers in the UFC are now chipped,” Delta explained. “More and more captains are brought into the fold every day, all answering to Mendez. He’s training them like dogs, breaking them so they’ll do what they’re told. You want to stop Mendez and get humanity fighting the right enemy? It starts with deactivating my chip.”

  “Okay,” Nolan said, nodding. He definitely agreed with Delta’s assessment about the chip being the top priority. “What’s the second thing?”

  “I can tell you about the thing they put in her,” Delta said, nodding toward Kathryn. “I can also tell you who, or rather what, she works for. Be ready, though. This shit is going to give you nightmares.”

  47

  Real Creepy Shit

  Nolan walked over to the brig’s wall, set his back to it, and slid to a sitting position. He stared at Delta, struggling to comprehend the story he’d just been told. It was outlandish, more than a little terrifying…and absolutely plausible, given everything they knew.

  “Tell it to me one more time,” Nolan said, resting his hands in his lap. “I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

  “Yeah,” Edwards said, his heavy metal frame scraping across the floor as he crept a little closer to Delta’s vat-cell. “Tell us about the Eye. That’s some real creepy shit, right there.”

  “All right,” Delta said, calmly. He folded his arms, and they clinked when he did so. “I know this is a lot to take in. I’ll hit the highlights again. There’s a giant floating eye in the Jakaren system, near something Reid called a supermassive black hole. This thing is alive. It gets in your head; I could feel it slithering through mine. All sorts of ships were there to feed the Eye, and I’m positive I don’t want to know what it does with the people being dropped off on the surface.”

  Delta shook his head, paling. He cleared his throat, then continued.

  “Anyway, this Eye creates these larvae, like a bunch of little tadpoles—or maybe leeches. It turned out that was why we’d gone there, to pick up a load. They use these things to subvert people, and Reid left with an entire canister. Hundreds of these things.”

  “And one of them is inside Kathryn?” Nolan asked, shifting his attention to Kathryn’s vat. At some point she’d also gotten tired of standing, and now sat cross-legged in the center of her cell. Her face had gone impassive; all attempts to appeal to his emotions were gone.

  “I’m afraid so,” Delta said, also looking at Kathryn. “If you’ve got a way to get it out of her, I’d do it quick. You remember when I was first running with Reid, before you and your girlfriend caught me? He’s deteriorated a lot since then. I’m betting whatever that parasite is, it kills the host eventually.”

  “Lovely,” Nolan said, rising restlessly. “Ship, have you been monitoring this conversation?”

  “I have,” Ship responded.

  “Is there a way to scan Kathryn? To identify this parasite somehow?” Nolan asked, looking up. Ship wasn’t anywhere, so looking up didn’t make a lot of sense, but he couldn’t help but imagine she was above him somewhere. There. He’d called Ship she. When had that happened?

  “I believe so,” Ship responded. “I can have a scan prepared. It will take time to calibrate the scan, otherwise the burst of radiation would kill the prisoner.”

  “Make doubly sure the test is safe before you administer it,” Nolan said, then corrected himself. “In fact, contact me when the test is ready. I want to be here when you administer it.”

  “Acknowledged, Captain,” Ship said, cheerfully.

  Nolan turned back to Delta. “Now let’s deal with the problem we can attack. Ship, can you use this scan, or a related sensor, to trigger some sort of EMP inside the vat?”

  “I believe so. If we modulate the burst correctly, it will deliver a concentrated EMP, without much of the accompanying radiation. However, it is still possible that the subject may experience inadvisably high levels,” Ship cautioned.

  “Do it,” Delta said, mouth firming into a line.

  “All right,” Nolan said, rising to his feet. He approached the vat. “Edwards, close the cell.”

  Edwards scraped his way back to the console, and the opening in the vat closed. Nolan met Delta’s gaze, raising a questioning eyebrow. Delta nodded.

  “Administer the pulse, Ship,” Nolan commanded. He braced himself, but nothing visible happened. No sudden flash of light, or explosion of sound. Nothing.

  “The pulse has been administered,” Ship said.

  “Open the cell six inches again, Edwards,” Nolan ordered.

  The cell slid open. Delta stood, panting, one hand planted against the glass. He stared off into space with those chromed eyes.

  “I can’t see,” he said, his eyes roaming as he looked around.

  “The EMP probably shorted your eyes,” Nolan suggested. “We’ll have the ship take a look in the Judicator assembly area. Do you feel any different?”

  “I’ll find out,” Delta said, sinking to his knees. He braced himself against the glass, as if he expected to fall. “My name is…Carl Edison.”

  Then Delta began to sob. His body was wracked with them, and he huddled down into a fetal position. Nolan approached the glass, heartfelt pity for the man overpowering everything else. They’d been enemies, but not by choice.

  “We’ll pay them back for this, I promise you,” Nolan offered.

  The words had a profound effect. Delta stopped sobbing. He uncoiled, rising slowly back to his feet, and facing the gap in the glass with those unseeing eyes. “We’ll get them back all right. I’m going to kill Reid, and then I’m going to end Mendez. They’ll never do this to anyone, not ever again.”

  48

  The Forge

  Lena chewed the end of her stylus, awar
e that the poor thing was scored with teeth marks. It was a guilty habit she’d picked up at the Academy on Tigrana, and she did it unconsciously when reading. Fortunately, she stocked a lot of extra styluses for just that reason. She fished a fresh one from her satchel, turning back to her sketch.

  “Which story are you reading, little sister?” Atrea asked, peering over at the drawing. “What an odd image. What are you doodling?”

  “This is my interpretation of the Forge,” Lena said, eyeing her work critically. The artful curves made the vessel look similar to modern Primo vessels, but she’d made it larger, and given it a number of weapons.

  “The Forge,” Atrea said, leaning forward in her chair. “That’s an old story. One of the oldest. You think you’ve found something significant there?”

  “Possibly,” Lena said, uncertainly. She found the older Primo scholar intimidating, and felt like a prideless next to a Leonis matriarch. “I have a theory, anyway.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Atrea said, waving a hand over her tablet. The screen went dark. “I’m sure whatever you’re about to say is more interesting than Miffar’s interpretation of the Void Wraith ‘myth.’”

  “Well,” Lena began, curling her tail in her lap. She took it in both hands, speaking slowly. “The myth says that the Elder Gods did battle with the Void Wraith. I can’t find many references to these Elder Gods, but those stories that do reference them claim that they gave birth to the Primo. That certainly sounds like an earlier group. It’s possible that these Elder Gods are the first Primo empire, and that this tells the tale of the first war with the Void Wraith. If that’s the case, it sounds like the Void Wraith were defeated by the Forge.”

  “That’s a logical interpretation,” Atrea said, giving a tiny smile. “If you are correct, that might mean that the Forge was a real vessel, and if so it might be one we could still locate.”