Broken Halo (Wayfarers)

by Debenham, Kindal

  No dust rose at her steps, and Susan felt a flicker of surprise. The outside corridor had been so obviously abandoned and unused that the dust had been thick. Here there was nothing, save that which her feet brought in. She turned a questioning eye to Kowalski, and he shrugged. “The floor is some kind of mesh or grating, Admiral, and they’ve rigged the place to self-sterilize each time the door is closed. Lord only knows why they would do that …” He shrugged again and gestured for her to continue.

  Susan turned back, sweeping her light across the edges of the room. It was perfectly circular, and she caught the reflective flash of something beneath the floor. She frowned at it for a moment. “It looks almost like a briefing room. If it were, the main plot would be in the center here, with a projector unit to create the display.” Her light found nothing, only that same curious reflective surface beneath the grating. It seemed like a kind of compact arena, where spectators would watch some gladiatorial contest or boxing match.

  Amused at the idea, she brought her light up and over to look at the edges of the room again, only this time she focused on the upper corners, where her whimsy suggested windows would be. What she found made her stop. “Chief Kowalski?”

  “Sensors of some kind, Admiral.” Kowalski pointed out more sensor units along the upper edge of the rounded chamber, their boxy forms wedged at the junction of ceiling and wall. “Not sure what they hook up to, really, and we wouldn’t be able to trace their programming routines without powering the place back up. We do know that the connections lead straight to the main computing interfaces, so there is that clue.”

  “Of course, that could mean they link up to anything.” Susan shook her head, and her light waggled a bit with the motion. She caught sight of something imprinted against the ceiling over the doorway, and she focused her hand light on it. Words had been pressed into the space over the door frame, along with some symbol she didn’t recognize. “Operational Management Neural Interface. What could that mean?”

  “Again, I don’t know, Admiral.” Kowalski shook his head in dismay. “We’ve even run it through the various records we have available to us in the Directorate database, and nothing shows up. All I know is that the room is located in a hard shell meant to protect it, has data access to outside, and draws power along its own uninterrupted pathway from the nearest annihilation plant.” He brought his own light up to illuminate the words. “Whatever this thing was, they thought it was as important as anything else on the ship, probably more so, but there’s no record or description of it anywhere.”

  “Anywhere in our records, at least.” Susan tapped her foot idly against the grating. “Perhaps the Keeper’s records have greater knowledge than our own. It is technically his ship, after all.”

  “Perhaps, ma’am.” A flash of unhappiness crossed the engineer’s expression. The lingering dislike of the Keeper stayed with most of the Wayfarers, and with good reason. Schreiber had not been the best of friends to the religion before their exodus, and he continued to be as irascible now. It was unlikely that he would allow the Wayfarers access to his data, even in the interest of discovering more about their shared heritage.

  Susan considered the dilemma for a moment. Against the backdrop of her larger struggles, this minor mystery was a respite for her, a puzzle she could toy with. It had now become one that she was determined to solve. “Chief Kowalski, I want those defensive units dismantled and disconnected, along with whatever other traps and snares you’ve uncovered so far. Once that is taken care of, I want power restored to this area.”

  The orders straightened the engineer’s back. “Yes, Admiral. We should have it done soon.” Kowalski paused, uncertainty showing in his eyes. “But if we don’t know what this place is supposed to do, Admiral, it could be dangerous to the safety of the ship.”

  “Which is why you will also contact the Keeper and ask for any information he has regarding this area.” Susan held the engineer’s gaze even as he shifted on his feet. She continued, despite his obvious unease. “You will make it clear to Keeper Schreiber that your interest in this information is in relation to the defense of the fleet, and of his ship in particular. Emphasize to him that you are seeking this data at my request, and that I, personally, would appreciate his help with the matter.” With a raised eyebrow, she paused. “Am I understood, Chief Kowalski?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chief Kowalski looked around the room, and a spark of enthusiasm lit his expression. “You really think he could help us figure out this thing, Admiral?”

  “We will see.” Susan glanced at the time and winced. Already, she was behind. “Now, keep me informed of any progress. Keep up the good work.”

  He nodded, and Susan headed for the exit. She paused at the doorway and shone her light over the words again. Then she headed for her office. Elder Miller had requested a meeting with her, and she could only hope that he would forgive her for being slightly late thanks to this distraction. Susan sighed. Gabriel was a worse influence on her than she had thought.

  The technician in charge of IntCent looked up with a familiar bored expression. She raised an eyebrow at Gabe, as if bemused by his persistence. “Captain Miller, I must say that I am a fan of your work. Your creativity and resourcefulness know no bounds.”

  Gabe didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he motioned to his father, who had come up behind him to join the conversation. “Glad to hear it. Allow me to introduce my father, the Speaker of the Way. I believe you’ve heard of him.”

  If the tech had found the son of Elder Clark Miller utterly unimpressive, the Speaker himself obviously produced a much different reaction. Her jaw dropped open, and she stared at Gabe’s father in shock.

  Elder Miller, for his part, merely smiled and held out a hand in greeting. “Hello. My name is Elder—”

  “Elder Clark Miller, yes. I know you. I mean, I never met you, but I …” The tech trailed off sheepishly, and then glared at Gabe for some reason he couldn’t guess. He held up his hands defensively, and she returned her gaze to his father. “My name is Elendra Michaels. It is a pleasure and an honor to make your acquaintance.”

  “And I yours, Ms. Michaels.” Elder Miller glanced toward Gabe and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “May I extend my gratitude for your patience in dealing with my son? He can be a trial at times.”

  Gabe grunted in resentment, but the noise didn’t distract the tech in the least.

  “Oh, he was no problem at all, Elder Miller. In fact, he was far more respectful than most.” She gave him a level look, as if daring him to challenge or disprove the assertion. When he didn’t make a sound, the tech continued. “Is there something that I can do to help you, Speaker?”

  This time Gabe answered, tired of being the sideshow to the exchange. “Actually, yes. My father was curious about some of the signal records from my … experiences. Would you be able to give us access to them?”

  The tech looked back and forth between the two men, as if uncertain whether to be annoyed or flattered by the request. Finally, she settled on a benign belligerence. “I would certainly be able to provide you with the records. After all, you are the Speaker.” Technician Michaels very pointedly did not refer to Gabe at all, or his lack of authority, and Gabe grunted again as he saw his father’s expression twitch with amusement. For reasons beyond his ken, Gabe had always thought his father took too much pleasure in seeing his son mocked by others. It wasn’t as if he deserved it, after all.

  They waited a few moments as the technician retrieved the records and readied her equipment on a small side console away from the main desk. Michaels carefully adjusted the settings so the audio wouldn’t echo around the room, and then shook Elder Miller’s hand before returning to her station. Gabe sighed at his father’s amused grin, and then he started the recording.

  Elder Miller listened to the entire thing without interruption or comment. He once made a motion as if he wanted to pause the recording, the first time the slender rig spoke, but then he subsided to wait through the re
st. His expression had gone blank at that point, though, and did not change as Gabe watched him. When the recording came to an end, Gabe reached over to turn it off. “Well? What do you think?”

  His father didn’t answer for a moment while Gabe stewed in his own anxiety. Then the Speaker looked up at Gabe, his eyes dancing with eagerness. “Did you hear that? It’s incredible. I have to take a copy back to my quarters.”

  The response threw Gabe completely. He sat back, eyes narrowing. “I … guess they could let you have a copy. I wouldn’t share it with anybody, though; Susan wouldn’t approve, and it would make people worry about—”

  “Yes, of course, the strategy. I understand. But listen!” His father keyed the recording again to one of the times where the slender rig had been speaking. Again those deep, distorted words rolled out, and Gabe shivered. Cuidse du Atanaas. Elder Miller didn’t seem fazed by it in the least. “Did you hear it?”

  Gabe nodded. “Yeah, I did. No idea what it’s saying, of course, but I heard it.” He watched his father tapping away at the controls, sorting the audio clips of the recording into a folder of their own. “Dad, what are you so excited about, anyway?”

  The question made Elder Miller pause. “It’s an entirely new language, Gabriel. Most of those were stomped out years ago. Decades, really, once the Grand Council decided to restrict communication to the standard language. Some fragments of them still remain in sayings on this planet or that one, or in texts like those in universities. The library on the Compass might even have a few remnants, but nothing like this!” He laid an almost reverent hand on the console. “There hasn’t been a living example of a foreign language for anyone to study for generations—until now!”

  With a slight feeling of trepidation, Gabe looked back at the slender rig. “How exactly is that supposed to help us? If we can’t communicate with them, that means we won’t be able to make any kind of agreement, or even find out what they want with us.”

  Elder Miller stared at him for a moment, blinking. Then he laughed. “Well, you’re right, Gabriel. I did lose track of my purpose there.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to forgive me. My focus of study was in communication, with an emphasis on interplanetary interactions. During my education and then in my career, I would always catch traces of those old, forgotten tongues and wonder what it would be like to find one to translate on my own.”

  The Speaker looked down at the console again, and his expression grew wistful. “The fleet, in many ways, has moved beyond my ability to direct it. We are involved in a military situation, one where I sometimes feel out of place. It is not comforting to have led these people out into the unknown and find myself watching their struggles on the sidelines. I thought to provide some advice and guidance when we next cascade, but perhaps by working to decipher this language, I might contribute something to your efforts to defend us as well.”

  Gabe laid a hand on his father’s, feeling emotion well up in him. “You do enough simply by being here, Father.” He glanced at the cane at his father’s side and forced a grin. “In fact, you’ve done more than you ought to already.”

  Elder Miller heaved a sigh. “Nonsense.” He patted his son’s hand before starting to his feet. “I believe the Lord asks more of His servants than to be mere observers, and at a time like this, one is no exception to that rule. Let me track down that technician, and we’ll have a copy made of this for me. Then you can take me to Admiral Delacourt, and perhaps we can hammer out some kind of strategy.”

  Without waiting for a response, his father strode out toward the central desk, his cane clicking on the deck. Gabe watched him go, and then looked back toward the console. His attention rested on the rig once more, and this time he could pick out characters running up one of the sides. Obviously it was writing of some kind, and he highlighted it to go along with his father’s sound files. He didn’t know if it would help at all, but it would be better than nothing.

  One thing Gabe did know, though. If his father ever did manage to crack the alien’s code, he wanted to be the first to speak with those creatures. He smiled. Until then, it couldn’t hurt to listen once more. Gabe hit the button to start the recording again and listened to that reverberating voice with new ears, straining for understanding.

  Chapter Ten

  Susan looked up as the alert pulsed through her cabin. She hadn’t been caught sleeping this time—she’d been occupied with some of the resource reports from the Penance, and had been reviewing which supplies the fleet could afford to produce now that so many raw materials had been harvested—and she rose from her console to head for the bridge. En route, she saw personnel already running for their stations, pausing only to brace to attention before they continued on their way.

  She made it to the bridge in record time, and Commander Mesic was at her side before she took a second step toward her console. “Resonance cascade detected, Admiral. Not close to us, but still a strong signal. It matches the energy level from the cascade in the last system.”

  Susan glanced at him; Mesic’s expression was grave. “Any other contact? Has the Penance reported in?”

  “Yes, sir.” He motioned to the main display, where the fleet was hovering in a tidy formation. Far out from that main concentration of ships, the three blips that represented the Penance and the two mercenary cruisers were gliding through the void. “Colonel Mccalister had reported that they were harvesting another asteroid. They’re farther out-system than we are, and actually farther away from the enemy entry point, but he said that they should still be able to act as a lure for the enemy.” Mesic shook his head. “We still haven’t seen any sign of the enemy directly, however, and we do not know what course they might take.”

  “Of course.” Susan slipped into her chair and typed in her authorization code. The console came alive, and a smaller version of the main display appeared. “Have the fleet begin to assemble for a cascade. Has our drive recovered enough yet?”

  It was hard to expect the answer to change since the last time she had checked, but Mesic responded just the same. “We need twelve more hours at least, more likely close to sixteen.” Before she could ask, he supplied the answer to her next question just as easily. “Transit time between the entry point and our formation would be close to eight hours.”

  Susan nodded. It was better than she had expected, but it was still going to be close if Mccalister didn’t distract the Directorate fleet for long enough. She settled her gaze on the plot and watched as the mercenary ships moved in. “We’ll see how this turns out, then. It’s in their hands now.” Then she looked over at her flag captain and smiled thinly. “But in case it doesn’t stay that way, get the rigs ready. We could be in for a fight.”

  Captain Wong watched the task force form up around the Imperious and nodded with satisfaction. His crew was moving with the attitude and posture of men about to embark on a very satisfying hunt, and the maneuvers of the rest of the force implied a similar anticipation. These were men ready for blood, ready to close for the kill.

  As well they should be ready. Wong had been careful not to leave the last system too quickly. The Imperious’ drive had recharged quite rapidly; the Directorate had recently installed a highly effective version that only required a handful of days rather than the week or so most other ships needed. When it came to the long run, he knew there would be no chance that the Wayfarers would escape forever, and he wanted to be sure that he didn’t miss anything they had left behind.

  His patience had been rewarded by the second cascade a few days later. Wong was sure that second resonance burst had been the Wayfarer’s mass driver craft, concealed by some sort of modified shielding. If he had left too quickly, it might have avoided detection completely. As it was, he was sure that both cascades had led to this system. It was here where he would destroy the enemy once and for all.

  He gave his orders in a calm, disciplined manner. “Launch patrol WGCs. Begin to scout the area. I want them found. Contact the rest of the fleet and have them
take up formation around the Imperious in formation Beta-Three-Simple.” With equal calm, he addressed the helm watchstander. “Bring the Imperious up and around on a course deeper into the system. We’ll begin our search in this area, here.”

  Acknowledgements rolled back to him, and Wong nodded as the task force formed up. He turned to touch a control at his console. A moment later, Admiral Nevlin responded. “Yes?”

  “Admiral, we’ve arrived in the target system. We’ve started to deploy rigs to scout for the enemy and are advancing into the system.” Wong waited for further orders from his commanding officer, but Nevlin simply nodded.

  “Good. Continue your operations, and notify me the instant they are found.” The admiral’s eyes narrowed slightly. “This time we cannot allow ourselves to be hampered by caution, Captain. We’ve been away from the Known Worlds far too long already. It’s time that this business was done.”

  The rebuke stung slightly, but more worrying was the Admiral’s apparent disdain for the challenges of destroying such a difficult target. Wong kept a frown from his face and bowed. “Of course, Admiral Nevlin. We will attack as soon as the Wayfarers are located.” He straightened. “Do you have other orders for the task force?”

  Nevlin grimaced. “No, Captain. Organize the task force as you see best. Only let me know when you have completed the task I’ve given you. Admiral Nevlin out.”

  Without further delay, Nevlin deactivated the transmission. Wong remained at the console for another long minute. He could sense the attention of the other members of the bridge crew on him as the rest of the officers wondered what to make their commanding officer’s odd behavior. He wished he had an answer to their questions, but Nevlin was quickly becoming a serious concern. The admiral was not acting the way Wong had expected. Nevlin had always been described as a dashing hero, someone who led from in front. Everything Nevlin was doing ran opposite to that take-charge image.