Apex

by Aer-ki Jyr

Since all the races present spoke the commerce language, save for him, Riax had Ella translate for the Junta and Kayna as he spoke in Terran.

  “While you’ve been on the station I finished construction of the transmitter,” he said, pausing and pointing to the monstrosity behind him while Ella repeated his words.

  “Luckily the hub within this system is still functional and I was able to access what’s left of our interstellar communications grid,” he said, pausing again for translation. Speaking in single sentences was annoying, but until he learned the commerce language he was going to have to put up with the inconvenience.

  “I also received a response signal from a second Human installation within the system . . . It is a small subsurface outpost located on an uninhabited moon . . . I do not know how intact it is, but at the very least the comm system is operational, and therefore salvageable.”

  “Hold on a second,” Jalia interrupted, speaking Esset so Riax would understand. “You’re saying there are not one, but two Human facilities in the system? They couldn’t have gone unnoticed all this time, unless you camouflaged them or something?”

  “Or something,” he repeated sarcastically in Esset, then switched back to Terran. “Both facilities are clandestine, they’re not meant to be found, so it’s probable that a good deal of technology remains.”

  “What of the comm hub?” Ella asked as she translated. “Cannot that be salvaged as well?”

  Riax cringed. “Possibly, but it’s the only one left in the system. If I dismantle it then we lose access to the grid here and eliminate a link in a very short chain. That, and it’s located in the photosphere of the star.”

  All three of the Cres were taken aback by that factoid and Ella hesitated a moment before translating.

  “In the star?” Jalia echoed. “You’re kidding.”

  Riax shook his head ‘no.’

  One of the Kayna whose name was impossible to pronounce but that Riax had nicknamed ‘Wes,’ uttered a three-­syllable, high pitched bark that passed for a laugh in their race. Then it went on to rumble through a pithy statement having to do with the Humans’ mastery of technology.

  Riax nodded his thanks to the Kayna for the compliment and paraphrased for Jalia. “Wes says you should expect more from Humans.”

  The Junta raised an eye ridge and glanced at the much larger creature standing on the far side of Riax and the opposite side of their little semi-­circle, with the Cres in the middle. Had it been another race she might have offered a pithy comeback, but she wasn’t going to do that with this one.

  “How many of these hubs were originally in the system?” Marren asked.

  “Thirteen. They need line of sight transmission, and the orbits of the planets and presence of the star can occasionally block transmissions, so it is essential to always keep at least one in position to receive external signals, which it can then relay to the others directly or on delay.”

  The male Cres nodded. “Then this system is only partially on your grid?”

  “True.”

  “Bottom line,” Jalia commented after Ella finished translating, “you want to stay and find this outpost and scrounge whatever we can get from it?”

  “Exactly,” Riax answered.

  Jalia shrugged. “We haven’t seen any trouble since the frigate. If you want to press our luck and stay around for a while, I’m game.”

  The three Cres nodded their agreement, then Riax looked to the two Kayna, adding a telepathic warning of the risks to Ella’s translation.

  Wes and ‘Steve’ both responded in a series of bark/growls punctuated by sharp whines. Riax got the telepathic gist of their statements, indicating that they were ready and eager to fight.

  The Human’s lips twisted into a wry grin and he turned back to the transmitter, activating the holographic display. A map of the system appeared, which he then scaled down to the gas giant and its six moons, highlighting the one with the Human outpost.

  “Alright then, here’s our destination. It was once called Deronisisti, now it’s simply labeled as Davaris 4 . . . It was uninhabited back in the day, and is supposed to be devoid of any population or infrastructure now . . . The outpost is hidden underground, but has three surface entrances as of 16,000 years ago . . . I’m not sure how easy it will be to access. There may be some digging involved.”

  “That will take time,” Jalia pointed out. “The mercs aren’t going to leave us alone forever.”

  “I know,” he agreed, “but the more I’m able to upgrade your ship, the better our chances of making it to Cres territory.”

  Jalia smiled. “I do like the sound of that, but we might draw some unwanted attention from the locals if we start poking around a dead moon with no apparent cause.”

  Riax shrugged. “They’re leaving us alone for the moment, let’s milk it while we’ve got it.”

  Ella frowned and telepathically asked for a meaning of the cliché ‘milk it.’ Riax explained it as ‘taking full advantage of an opportunity’ and the Cres went on to translate to the others.

  Jalia turned to the Cres. “Looks like me and my ship are really going to earn those credits after all.”

  “Quite true,” Orrona answered her. “But I believe the risk is worth the gain if it facilitates the remainder of our journey.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Jalia said, backstepping away from the semi-­circle. “We best get moving now if we’re going to maximize our chances. I have a feeling this system is going to fill up with mercs if we linger too long.”

  Riax was left out of the loop for a moment and made a point to memorize the language text files as soon as possible and quit getting deflected by other projects. Jalia gave him a nod and left for the bridge, apparently eager to get underway.

  “Will you want us to accompany you to the moon or remain here?” Marren asked.

  “If we have to dig, I’ll want you in the walkers . . . which I should probably make some adjustments to before we arrive,” he said, adding yet another item to his to-­do list. “According to the Mewlon information net, the moon is covered in jungle so we might have to ward off some predators. I’ll want one of you to assist the Kayna with that.”

  Ella translated for the Kayna and they growled approvingly.

  “How long do you think we’ll be planetside?” Marren asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

  “Probably too long,” Riax answered, echoing his worry. “There’s no way to know until we get down there.”

  Chapter 19

  THEIR TRANSIT FROM Agas to Davaris had been uneventful and quick, given the size of the gas giant’s gravity well to brake against. Once entering orbit around the massive green planet, Jalia latched onto the moon’s gravity and slowly reeled themselves in. It settled into a polar orbit, given that the moon’s rotation was nearly on its side, 82% perpendicular to the plane of its orbit around the gas giant, and the target coordinates were near the southern pole.

  98% of the moon was covered in vegetation pole to pole, with the remaining 2% spread out in a shotgun dispersion of tiny lakes. There was virtually no topography of any kind, with the elevation differential of the entire moon spanning no more than 150 meters. The atmosphere was also excessively thick and comprised mostly of carbon dioxide and nitrogen in the upper levels, with the oppressive vegetation creating an oxygen rich layer at the surface.

  With the excessive pressure and more than nominal CO2 levels, breathing equipment would be required for colonization, which probably explained why the verdant moon had yet to attract any real interest. Most races in the galaxy were carbon-­based, meaning they more than likely utilized a CO2/O2 respiration system that required low levels of CO2 in the atmosphere to allow for diffusion of the waste material into the surrounding air. Concentration levels differed from race to race, but most couldn’t survive in concentrations above 10%.

  Davaris 4 had a CO2 concentration
level of 76% at 150km–100km, 65% at 100km–80km, 43% at 80km–50km, 34% at 50km–20km, 26% at 20km–10km, and 18% at 10km–4km. Below 4km the concentration level shrank abruptly, with it pegging out at less than 1% at the surface where the atmosphere was held somewhat contained by the jungle canopy. Because of this, the planet had very little avian wildlife that flew higher than the treetops, but it made up for this lack by sporting some of the largest surface wildlife known to this region of the galaxy thanks to the almost 70% oxygen concentration level on the jungle floor.

  That was, until a breach in the canopy formed and the upper winds dove down, bringing gusts of higher concentration CO2 air with them. Between the unpredictability of the atmospheric quality and the larger than reasonable wildlife, the moon had spurned any reputable colonial investment, though several small and ‘unofficial’ sites could be found scattered across the planet.

  The Resolute’s sensors confirmed six bandit sites within 5000km of the target location, including one nearly right on top of it, barely 10km away.

  Riax frowned as he looked at the sensor readings.

  “Coincidence?” Jalia commented.

  “I don’t know,” he said, reaching past her and pulling a more detailed sensor scan of the infrastructure.

  She bristled a bit, but didn’t complain about him once again overstepping her command of her ship as the image of a medium-­sized landing platform surrounded by half a dozen other structures located in a niche carved out of the jungle appeared on the holoprojector. Several small ships were present on the pad.

  “Don’t suppose you have any idea what that setup is for?” Riax asked her.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it was a merc base. Doesn’t look right for a mining complex, and with that landing pad they’re expecting at least semi-­regular traffic. I don’t see any defense turrets, though with that thick a canopy I suppose they could be hidden.”

  “Pull up the target coordinates,” Riax asked her.

  Jalia smirked as she adjusted the sensors. Apparently he’d sensed her offense at having been bypassed.

  When the hologram reset, endless tracks of unbroken jungle filled the display of the coordinates that were supposed to be the location of the Human outpost.

  “Nothing there that we can see,” she commented.

  “I didn’t expect there to be,” he said, thinking out loud. “No openings for us to land in either. How’s your ship’s hovering rate?”

  She shook her head. “Not good enough to camp out unless you want to burn through half our fuel reserves. I can bring her down for a few hours, see if we can locate the entrance with a tighter scan, but if we have to dig I’ll drop you off and wait in orbit, if that’s alright?”

  Riax nodded. “No need to waste fuel, and I have a feeling we’ll be here for a while.”

  “Wonderful,” she said sarcastically.

  “Keep your eye on the system. Let me know the moment if any more guests arrive.”

  “Will do,” she said, glad not to be part of the surface team. “I’m going to approach from an angle so it doesn’t look like we’re heading directly for that base, but I doubt they’ll like us getting so close. They may try and intercept us.”

  “Take it slow,” Riax advised. “If they’re watching, show them that we’re not in any hurry. Take us down farther away, then creep just over the canopy until we arrive onsite.”

  “Might want to warm up the plasma cannon, just in case.”

  “Can’t,” Riax said regretfully. “It runs off the engines. Besides, we don’t want to look aggressive.”

  “What about the lachars?”

  “I can probably get enough power for one from the auxiliary feeds if we need it.”

  “Better than nothing,” Jalia said as the ship sunk down into the upper atmosphere and the dark green planet grew to fill the display screens.

  “I thought you were used to nothing?” he half joked.

  “True, but I tended to avoid trouble whenever possible rather than walking straight into it like we’re probably doing now.”

  “No risk, no gain.”

  “I still have a bad feeling about this,” she cautioned. “An uninhabited jungle is one thing, but with a merc base next door . . .”

  “If it’s a merc base,” Riax reminded her. “Could be several other things, though I get the feeling that whoever it is, they want to be left alone more than anything.”

  “That’s my point,” Jalia reiterated as the Resolute’s shields flared a bit with reentry heat.

  “Meaning,” Riax said slowly, “that if we don’t bother them there’s a good chance they won’t bother us.”

  “Wanna place a bet on that?” she joked.

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “What would you like to bet?”

  “Ah . . .” she stammered, not expecting him to say that. “I don’t know,” was all she managed as a number of ideas ran through her head . . . including one that she didn’t dare say aloud. At least not yet.

  “Deal,” he said, reading her mind. “But if I’m right, you get to help me learn the commerce language.”

  Jalia would have blanched if her skin wasn’t already deep red. “You know, there is a little thing called privacy of thought. Telepaths have been hunted down and exterminated on some worlds for doing that sort of thing.” She paused for a moment then added, “Deal.”

  Riax smiled. “Alright, but no drawing unnecessary attention to win. Take us in nice and easy.”

  Jalia laughed and slowed their descent speed drastically. “Don’t worry, I don’t like it when ­people shoot at my ship.”

  THE RESOLUTE LOWERED down through sparse clouds until it was afloat over a sea of green treetops as flat as flat could be. Jalia equated it to flying over a calm ocean, and had never seen such similarity of forest before. It was disconcerting, both from an altitude perspective and a navigational one. Visually it was unclear just how high up they were without reference points, and the same went for navigation. If it hadn’t been for the ship’s coordinate overlay, Jalia wouldn’t have had a clue where they were or how to find the Human outpost . . . or for that matter the merc base, which was conspicuously absent from view.

  Jalia considered whether or not it had been camouflaged, but that wouldn’t have explained it being visible from orbit. It wasn’t until she spotted a tiny deadfall and gap in the canopy did she register just how tall the forest was. The merc base was nearby, but buried beneath the surrounding jungle that must have rose up high above the landing pad.

  Gently easing the ship north, they gradually approached the coordinates as Jalia looked and hoped for some break in the canopy for the descender to get through. She didn’t like the idea of having to forcibly punch their way down, nor did she want to make the noise of using the belly lachar turret to burn a hole in it for their use.

  She was hovering directly over the coordinates and scanning the sea of green with the ship’s sensors when a small blip appeared on the screen.

  “We’ve got something metallic down there, but I can’t make out what it is,” she announced.

  “Size?” Riax asked, hovering behind her.

  “Ah . . . maybe five meters at best.”

  “Keep scanning,” he told her as he began to pace around the otherwise empty bridge.

  “Alright,” she said noncommittally. If there had been any structures down there they would have shown up immediately, even if they were buried.

  “It’s a hidden outpost,” he reminded her. “It’ll be camouflaged against sensor scans this primitive.”

  “Hey . . . quit insulting my ship,” she bit back. “What am I looking for then?”

  “Deviations of any kind.”

  “Well, looks like basic jungle as far as the eye can see,” Jalia commented as she adjusted the scan angle and parameters once, twice, then to a third setting before she noticed one of t
hose ‘deviations.’

  “What?” Riax asked, sensing she’d found something.

  “Tiny rise, no more than two meters high, but everything else is dead flat, so . . .”

  “That’s it,” Riax declared. “Find or make a gap to set us down in,” he said, leaving the bridge.

  “If you say so,” she said after he’d left.

  There weren’t any gaps in the canopy to use or widen, so Jalia scanned the vegetation and picked a spot between three massive tree trunks and hovered the ship over the dense canopy, aligning the descender with that precise location.

  RIAX, THE CRES, and the Kayna stood in the primary cargo bay next to the ventral boarding ramp as an atmospheric containment field ring activated with a blue glow around the patch on the ground that was both the ramp and the descender. In Riax’s earpiece Jalia gave them the go ahead and waited for their signal to remotely activate the moveable platform.

  The six member squad walked out onto the large ramp panel and stood clumped in the center, the Cres wearing full body armor, which doubled as envirosuits for the thick atmosphere, the Kayna wearing modified breath masks to acclimate their lungs to the ten times higher atmospheric pressure before eventually discarding them, and Riax standing small and unarmored next to the bulky Kayna and the gold-­clad Cres. He wore a slim black bodysuit and no respirator of any kind, bracing himself for the adjustment to come.

  “Ready, Jalia,” he said, blowing out a shallow breath.

  The ramp detached from its hinge and dropped down from the ship on four extending rods, lowering the squad through the atmospheric shield.

  Riax immediately felt the pressure hit him, crunching his body in and putting pressure on his mouth to inhale . . . which he did, very slowly. His lungs filled with air, breathable but inefficient given the levels of CO2, making his breathing even harder. The Human remained patient and his body quickly adapted to both the pressure and the bad air before the descender hit the upper foliage and began breaking off small branches as it pushed down through the treetops.

  A blast of cool, oxygen rich air hit him the moment they broke through and he inhaled it deeply. His lungs hurt a bit, but that was to be expected. He got an oxygen rush and steadied himself as his body had to adjust once again, then continually so as they dropped into progressively darker levels of the forest as the canopy blocked and ate up the abundant sunlight.