by Richard Fox
Minder snapped his fingers and the glade transformed into the deck of the Breitenfeld. Torni was now in her armor, standing next to the frozen form of Hale and Yarrow.
“Sir?” Torni reached out to touch Hale, but her fingers passed through his body.
“We’re in your memories…but there have been some modifications.” Minder walked to the edge of the flight deck and peered into the abyss.
“What did you do?”
“Not us. Someone else. The same someone, I’m certain, who gave you the jump-drive technology. Here, look out there.” He motioned into the expanse with his chin. “See that?”
Torni saw a dark fleck against the gray, then Yarrow was on his feet beside her.
“You have a hole in your mind.” Minder came back to her. He rolled a fingertip and Yarrow spoke until a black line covered his lips and the memory froze. “Each time you tried to remember this event, more holes appeared.”
“Then how the hell am I supposed to help you? Assuming I even want to.”
“What has been done can be undone. The species that meddled with your mind is advanced, but not compared to the Xaros. I can repair the damage. Quickly, if you assist. I’ve managed one lead, a double connection to a concept that is both blocked and available. Tell me, what is an Ibarra?”
“Nothing.” Torni’s mouth went dry. She felt for the gauss rifle stock over her shoulder. Her hand gripped the weapon, then held nothing but air as it vanished like it had never been there.
“This is difficult for you, I understand.” Minder reached out to touch her arm, and she slapped him away. “I know what the Xaros have done to you and your planet. Your hostility is warranted and expected. Would it make you feel better to bash my skull to pulp? Give in to some atavistic desire? I would simply reload this avatar and continue on.”
Torni’s hands balled into fists.
“Humanity is at a crossroads with three possible outcomes. First, the drones follow their programming and send an overwhelming mass to annihilate what little resistance your fleet can offer. I’ve seen the battle for the Crucible from your eyes. I know how many ships you have left. Your planet has no chance to survive the next wave. But. I can stop the armada before it ever leaves for Earth, provided you cooperate.”
“If killing us was such a mistake, why don’t you cancel the attack right now?”
“Second. Humanity continues using the jump-drive technology and triggers a rupture that will annihilate every atom of matter from one end of the galaxy to the other. We will destroy Earth to keep the rest of the galaxy intact, hence the armada massing near Barnard’s Star. An acceptable trade, don’t you think?
“Third. You help me identify the species risking a cataclysm with the jump engines. Their identity is in your mind, Torni. Help me find it and I will spare Earth. We will lift your people up to the heights of technology and civilization, make you greater than you could ever imagine as penance for what we did to you.”
She shook her head.
“I’ve seen your drones at work. There was no mercy, no attempt to communicate. You expect me to believe what you promise when I’ve seen Xaros actions on three different planets?” she asked.
Minder folded his arms, then tilted his head to the side slightly.
“Why tell when I can show?” He clapped his hands together.
The Breitenfeld vanished and Torni found herself standing in a tower. The clear glass beneath her feet and surrounding her glowed with tiny circuits. She and Minder were thousands of miles above a planet. The tower stretched to the distant surface, cutting through clouds and reaching the very edge of space.
The planet around them had many more identical towers. The surface was nothing but a web of glowing connections and blinking lights from an urban sprawl that covered every mile but for a few lakes.
“This was my home,” Minder said. “Eight hundred billion Xaros lived here, a minor world, nothing compared to the grand archologies in the core systems.”
“Why are we here?”
“See that?” He pointed to the starry sky. A black mass grew in the distance, snuffing out stars one by one as it grew larger, like an approaching tidal wave. “That is the annihilation wave. We used wormhole engines, the same as the Breitenfeld has, to travel from planet to planet. The risk was theoretical…so when we weighed the benefits of a star-spanning civilization against the miniscule chance of disaster, we chose to gamble.”
The darkness grew and touched the very edge of the planet. The tower shifted beneath their feet as the planet’s crust cracked open.
“We were warned,” Minder said, “and we didn’t listen.”
The darkness splashed over the planet, devouring everything it touched.
“Enough…enough!” Torni backed away and put a hand over her eyes as the inky mass came to the edge of the tower. He brought her hand down and she was back in the glade.
“A few of us escaped.” Minder frowned. “But only a few. Our home galaxy, our empire…all gone. I have to stop this from happening to your galaxy, Torni. Will you help me?”
“And Earth? Humanity?” she asked.
“Spared.”
“What do I have to do?”
****
Torni landed on the surface of the Crucible and activated her magnetic linings, which failed to latch onto the gold-flecked basalt of the structure.
“Damnit.” She twisted around and dug her hands into the surface, slowing her to a stop.
“Whoa!” Stacey Ibarra flailed her arms wildly and bounced off the alien metal. Torni found purchase with the gravity generators in her feels and stomped across the surface to interdict Stacey’s messy landing before she continued off into the void.
“Spoiled brat princess,” she murmured and caught Stacey, the ensign’s back to her. Torni flipped her over and found the suit full of total darkness.
“Freeze,” Minder said. He came up behind Torni, wearing his robe while Torni was in her combat armor for the Battle of the Crucible.
Torni held Stacey’s suit, her hands trembling as the darkness within Stacey’s suit coalesced into the rough outline of a person.
“Who is this?” Minder asked.
“Stacey Ibarra. She had…” The shape in the suit grew more distinct. “We had to get her to the control room. We got separated later on.”
Stacey became a young woman with neck-length dark hair, wild and loose inside the helmet.
“You know her from elsewhere?” Minder asked.
“Phoenix. The lieutenant had to get her to the tower…something about the other Ibarra, her grandfather,” Torni said.
Stacey’s face became clear, fear on her frozen face.
Minder looked around, surveying the Crucible. They stood on the outer edge of the wreath, much of the rest blocked from view.
“A complete jump gate in human possession. A gift beyond price that we would have gladly given.” Minder flicked his wrist and Stacey vanished. “You know what this is? It’s the evolution of jump-engine technology. Perfect point-to-point travel with no risk of a rupture. All the gates are tied to each other, allowing information to travel the entire breadth of our network without delay. A message from one edge of the galaxy to the other in the blink of an eye. Sending ships or people is a bit more complicated, but not a challenge.”
“Why didn’t you use them in your home galaxy?” Torni asked. “Might have saved you some trouble.”
“Pride. Expense. Independence. All petty concerns. Come, let’s see if we’ve made any progress.” He clapped his hands and they were on the Breitenfeld’s deck. The sled carrying Stacey to the ship grew closer.
Minder and Torni watched the slide set down, then a holo-globe rose from it. Torni hissed and squeezed her eyes shut.
Yarrow was next to the gurney, speaking to Torni.
“Progress, some progress.” Minder tapped a finger against his chin. “I need to discuss an idea with someone else. Where should I send you? Stockholm? San Diego?”
“Coron
ado Island, summertime?”
“Done.” Torni vanished, sent into a memory loop to rest and recuperate.
Minder shifted back into his black-hole appearance and beckoned to his master.
A mote of light rose from nothing and wobbled in front of him.
An ephemeral? Have I fallen so far that only the least of our constructs will speak with me?
The mote didn’t respond. It would take his report to the Keeper then self-destruct, protecting the master from Minder’s corruption.
I’ve gained the human’s trust. She believes her race will be spared with her cooperation, a fabrication on my part, but the species clings to a concept it refers to as “hope.” Neural association making limited progress. Her simulated consciousness isn’t fully synched with the scan the General obtained. I will try fusing external data with the scan. The process will be traumatic, but has a chance of success.
The ephemeral vanished. Minder watched as Torni re-experienced a day on the beach with a male named MacDougall. It reached back into its own memory archives to the time it was a flesh-and-blood creature. It found the files for its life mate and associated progeny.
Something stirred within Minder, a sensation long forbidden that would result in immediate termination if the master detected the change.
What is the word? What would Torni call this? “Nostalgia”…no, “happiness.” It considered shunting the feelings away, but it was doomed once this project was complete no matter if it violated the master’s laws.
Minder dug deeper, and found more emotions.
CHAPTER 7
The command dome on the Crucible was unusually full. At a long conference table sat Admirals Garrett and Makarov, and several of their senior staff officers, along with civilians from Phoenix. More staff and hangers-on sat huddled around the overly large workstations surrounding the purpose-built table.
Marc Ibarra’s hologram sat at the head of the table, boredom writ across his face.
“This time table is ridiculous,” said Colonel Mitchell, the commander of Titan Station. “There’s no way the Christophorus will be space-worthy by then.”
A civilian in Ibarra Corp coveralls tapped at a data slate and a holo of a starship still in its construction framework popped up over the table. Claire Kilcullen, a top-notch shipwright Ibarra poached from Boeing decades ago, tapped her slate against the table for attention.
“We reprioritized the omnium foundry to create the colony ship’s more intricate components, which includes a state-of-the-art fabrication suite. There’s no way to get the ship replacement parts where it’s going,” she said. “We’ll have it ready to leave at least two days ahead of schedule—so long as I get the builder drones reassigned from the Midway, like I’ve said the last three times we had this meeting.”
“Eighth Fleet is at barely fifty percent capacity,” Makarov said. “How long do you think we’re going to last if the Toth come back tomorrow?”
“They won’t,” Ibarra said. “Let’s have some faith in the Breitenfeld. So long as they manage to put a scare into Mentiq it’ll buy us plenty of time. The Toth aren’t expecting the first news of their attack on us for another…” Ibarra looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist “two days. They won’t move on us again without Mentiq’s say so, and even then it will take them weeks to get here. We’ve got time to spare.” Ibarra looked at Admiral Garrett.
“We’ll move the robots to the Christophorus, effective immediately,” Garrett said.
Makarov said something in Russian that made Ibarra wince.
“That leaves the torch party, the first colonists to settle Terra Nova before the next wave,” said Glezos, a swarthy man with dark curly hair. Since the untimely death of Administrator Lawrence at the hands of the Toth, he’d became Phoenix’s de facto mayor. “The skill requirements for anyone to even apply for the lottery are pretty high. You’re looking to take our best and brightest from the city and send them to the far end of the galaxy.”
“Again,” Ibarra said, “the Christophorus needs the best and it needs redundancy. They lose the one surgeon or environmental engineer we send with them and the entire mission is in jeopardy.”
“Then send a proccie tube.” Glezos tossed his hands in the air. “They can recreate—”
“No. A single tube’s energy and computer needs are more than we can cram into the ship as it is,” Ibarra said. “Terra Nova is far. The Crucible can barely open a single gateway before the gravity tides make it impossible, and only a ship that size,” he said, pointing to the holo, “can make it. There’s no room for error or any additional space.” Ibarra leaned back. And only true born will win the lottery, but none of them need to know that.
“Besides, I need every tube here on Earth and Mars building up our defenses for the Xaros return,” Ibarra said. “We can cram six thousand, nine hundred and twelve colonists into the Christophorus. That is exactly what we’re going to do before we launch the ship.
“Next order of business.” Ibarra tapped on a data slate, but his holographic finger sank through the device and the table. “Damn it. Someone bring up the second-phase expansion charts.”
Dozens of the solar system’s planets and named celestial bodies formed in the holo tank over the conference table. Data tables with population numbers, ship-building facilities and attendant infrastructure appeared next to the planets stretching from Mercury to distant Eris. Everything but Earth, Luna and Ceres had data tables full of glaring red indicators. Mars had a few blocks of flashing amber; construction drones had arrived on the planet a few days earlier.
“This is garbage, people,” Ibarra said. “Before you all start whining about the Toth attack and how that threw a monkey wrench in our works, let me remind you that excuses aren’t going to beat the Xaros. We need to establish a defense in depth, bleed the Xaros from the far edge of the solar system to Earth. We need the production facilities up and running at full speed within the next few months or the math gets very bad for us.”
“Show the Day Zero projections,” Admiral Garrett said. Data tables went green as the computer ran projections to the day the Xaros were expected to arrive roughly fourteen years in the future. Fleets of starships dotted the solar system.
Glezos looked at the population numbers and rubbed his eyes. “That can’t be right. Twelve billion people in the solar system?”
“There’s nothing more powerful in the universe than compound interest,” Ibarra said. “Procedural human tubes are in full production and we’re building as many as we can along with warships, fighters and power armor. The vast majority of the new units coming online are military personnel.”
“There won’t be enough true born around to matter,” someone said from the wings.
“There’s no survival without the proccies,” Ibarra said, “and I don’t think they need to prove which side of the fight they’re on, not after so many died in Eighth Fleet against the Toth to save Phoenix. This is how we win the next round. The ember that survived the Xaros invasion will grow into a bonfire, but even that can’t beat back the tide. We beat the Xaros maniple. The next wave will be exponentially larger.”
“This will turn into an arms race,” Makarov said. “Whoever brings more to the fight will win.”
“And the Xaros have most of the galaxy to draw from,” Garrett said. “We’ve got our solar system.”
“The rest of the Alliance will help, but they can’t get here until we finish this jump gate,” Ibarra said. “I’ve got my top people working on that issue. Now, let’s discuss why the Martian construction efforts are eighteen hours behind—”
A rumble shook the room. Lights flickered and the holo tank cut out. Low moans came through the walls as the station’s giant thorns shifted against each other.
“Jerry?” Ibarra called out to the Alliance probe within the Crucible.
+Something is trying to activate the gate.+
Ibarra pulled up a holo screen in front of his face and brought up the station’s emergenc
y overrides that were partitioned off from the probe’s control. The Qa’Resh had given Stacey the keys to subvert the probe’s systems to allow some of humanity to escape the Toth attack. Ibarra hadn’t let the probe lock the back-door access that Ibarra kept for emergencies just like this.
“Is it the Breitenfeld?” Ibarra asked. He ignored the shouts and confusion from the rest of the conference room as Makarov and Garrett fought to keep everyone under control as the Crucible rearranged itself.
+No. I can’t detect where the signal is coming from. I find this most aggravating.+
“Do I need to shut you down?”
+I am constantly readjusting the thorns to upset the quantum field state within the wreath. Would you like to make those calculations and move the thorns?+
The rumbles stopped. Ibarra pulled up a camera feed of the center of the wreath and saw nothing but empty space.
“You did it?”
+Difficult to say. Whoever coopted the Crucible had complete control for a third of a second before I was able to intervene. They could have opened a jump gate.+
“From where?”
+Unknown. Curious, had they opened the gate, there would have been a .002 percent chance of a quantum rupture. Perhaps they didn’t want to take the risk. I will forward the data to Bastion once Stacey returns.+
“I thought the Crucibles were perfect technology, no quantum ruptures.”
+They are, but our Crucible is ninety-one percent complete. I lack the ability and knowledge to complete the structure, which just proved fortuitous. I’d kept the Crucible in its default setting, which may have made it easier for whoever just knocked on our door. I will reset the quantum field for the Breitenfeld’s return, then keep things in flux to dissuade future attempts.+
Ibarra closed the emergency shut-down protocols and pulled up a stellar map with Earth and Barnard’s Star, the closest known Xaros-occupied territory.
“They know. They know Earth survived and they’re coming for us right now.”
+We’ve observed coordination between distant Xaros forces before. The speed of light has proved to be the only reliable planning factor. There is no way a distress signal from their defeat here has reached any other Xaros.+
