Embers: The Galaxy On Fire Series, Book 1

by Craig Robertson

  “Then why not land somewhere and kill just everyone off? Why relocate them first?”

  “Who can speak for the mind of the Adamant? I’ve assume it’s because local disposal is messier. But they may have some unknowable reason.” More to himself, he said, “They’re unlike any species we’ve encountered.

  “How does that add up to us leaving and never returning?”

  “If you stay, you’ll become restless. A restless person is likely to do something that might betray our presence. If you return, well that’s a clear risk to us. You’ll leave a trail.”

  “I’m afraid I see your logic, friend. Can you at least set us up with a ship and some provisions?”

  “Of course, Jon. We’ve not become monsters, only extremely cautious. We’re glad to do whatever we can to see you’re off to a good start in this time. You have no idea how revered you are here. We hate to ask you to do this. It truly pains us.”

  “But—”

  “But, we must act in our best interest when the stakes are so high. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have to like it.”

  “No, you don’t. Frankly, I think it stinks, but there’s really no other option.”

  I sighed deeply. “What can you give me?”

  He spread all three arms over the table. “Anything and everything you want.”

  “Do you still have the vortexes?”

  “Yes. We haven’t used them since before the Adamant appeared on the scene, but yes. Wasn’t your cube, Wrath?”

  My imitation heart sank. If Wrath was still around I didn’t want to use him. He was too cantankerous, pompous, and full of himself. He was bloodthirsty too. I knew I was being dramatic. Sentient space craft that moved by folding time-space couldn’t have all that much personality, let alone a negative one. But, trust me, Wrath did.

  “Yes. Don’t tell me he’s still functional.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “No. The cubes are long-lived, but not immortal. No, he petered out a long while back. His materials were not recycled, however. His shell still exists to this day. Would you like to see it?”

  “No. No interest. I bet no one wanted to risk recycling the SOB because they worried the new cube would be just as nasty as he was.”

  “Yes. You knew him well, that much is clear.”

  “So, the current ones will be new to me?”

  “Yes. The design and functionality are nearly the same. The few improvements that could be made are subtle.”

  “And do they have the quantum decoupler weapons and membrane generators like before?”

  “Yes. I believe we are the last individuals with the membrane designs.”

  “The Adamant don’t have them, do they?”

  “No. How did you know that?”

  I told him the story of my capture and escape. He was impressed.

  “Jon, you have to believe me when I say what you did is miraculous. No one ever holds their own in battle with the dogs, let alone win a major victory.”

  “You think they look like dogs too?”

  “Huh? What in the Seven Hells are you talking about? That was just an idiom, a saying.”

  “Seriously, they look identical to the dogs that humans kept as pets, just larger.”

  “Jon, I must confirm what I’ve heard about you. You’re nuts.”

  “Thank you,” I said, tipping my nonexistent hat.

  “But your victory,” he nodded to Mirraya, “and her escape will mean they have a special kind of hate for you. You’re in extraordinary danger. I can’t even begin to imagine. They also must crush you openly and with incredible horror. They can ill-afford and would never allow the public to know they can be defeated.” He shook his head. “I’m so glad I’m not you.”

  “Me too. If you were, I wouldn’t be so darn special.”

  He harrumphed softly. “I admire your spirit, but you face a threat unlike anything you have in the past. These guys are vicious beyond natural limits. You will have no allies, no safe havens, and not a minute’s peace.”

  “SOS, my friend.”

  “What is SOS?”

  “Same old shit. I thrive on those odds, don’t you know?” I winked at Cragforel. I liked winking. Not enough people winked anymore.

  “One last warning. We are fairly certain they can detect and track the movements of the cubes. For propulsion, they use exotic matter to form wormholes. Our space folding is not the same, but it’s similarly based. We don’t know for a fact they can, but if they are able …”

  I finished his grim thought. “Then ours will be a short adventure, won’t it?”

  NINE

  So, there I was at the control panel of a cube again. One of the many things I’d hoped never to do again. But it wasn’t like my choices-buffet was full of options. Singularly hated by the deadliest race ever to curse the galaxy. I had no home or adequate place to hide. My people were probably extinct, and Mirraya’s likely were too. In the past, I’d have said something macho like no problema, but honestly, I wasn’t feeling it. The prospects of running, yet again, without the likelihood of rest as well as fighting with no chance of victory was just too much. The longer I survived was that much more time I would spend separated from everyone and everything I loved.

  But, I buoyed my spirits with the two absolutes left to me. One—the good one—was the need to protect Mirraya. As guardian angels go, I was the kind without wings, but I was nothing if not relentless. The other driving force—the bad one—was my desire to crush the life out of the Adamant, one by one and as with as much prejudice as possible. My relentlessness would serve me well in that regard. Nobody remembered it, but there was a colorful character in an ancient movie called Rocky III. While cruising the nothingness of space on my original voyage to find humankind a home, I watched it a few times. One character, Mr. T—a man after my own heart by the way—used to say, “I pity the fool” when referring to the person he was about to lower the boom on. That was how I felt about those amoral border collies.

  Cragforel said his goodbyes and also admonished me again to never return. It was a melancholy ending to my relationships with that grand old civilization, but I knew it was the most prudent course. He gave us generous food supplies, hand weapons, and expeditionary gear like tents and sleeping bags. Mirraya received a bountiful, if fashion-bereft, supply of clothes and shoes. The Deavoriath seemed destined to never develop a fashion sense. So, I sealed the cube, sat my traveling companion down, and attached to the control panel with my command prerogative fibers. Then it hit me hard. Where in the universe would we go? I felt a mild panic welling up inside myself. Where, indeed?

  Earth was long gone. My Deavoriath friends knew of no human colonies. They also could not tell me how extensive the Adamant’s hold on the galaxy was, or if it extended to other galaxies as well. Even if I went very far away, I might land in the middle of a shit storm. I began to focus on two options. One was Locinar. If I was ever going to locate other Deft who might adopt Mirraya, her home world was where I’d find them. Not that I was anxious to dump her off on anyone. I was growing over-attached to her. But, for her life to be its most complete, she’d be better off with her own kind.

  I also knew that sooner or later I had to go to Azsuram. I had to see what had become of the planet my wife Sapale and I had struggled so mightily to establish. It was the place she was buried. I needed closure as to whether her Kaljaxian species or the humans who’d later joined them there had survived. I knew it was an awful risk to go there, having no clue as to whether the Adamant were there, but I’d made my share of foolish decisions in the past and was prepared to make another. My need to know was too great.

  With that clarity, I made my choice. We were off to Locinar. If I was going to be an idiot and pop into the sky above Azsuram, I preferred to do so alone. If I had to take Mirraya with me, it would only be if there was no future with her people. So, I told Stingray to lay in a course that put us about a lightyear away from the star system. />
  A word about the vortex and its name. It wasn’t originally named Stingray. The Deavoriath named it Blessing by whatever strange process they used to name their craft. The issue was that the word Blessing in Xenox was pronounced crash. I wasn’t setting sail in a ship called Crash. Nope. Of the cubes available, it was the best choice. It was the newest, the largest, and it had all the bells and whistles I wanted. The problem was that there was some unwritten law that once given, a vortex’s name could not be changed. That was why I spent years piloting a ship with the off-putting name of Wrath. But Cragforel had been so determined to make up for forbidding my return that he allowed the change. It was, he reassured me, the very first time a name change had ever been performed. He made a big deal of it, asking the vortex manipulator multiple times if she didn’t mind the change. Yeah, this time I was in command of a female ship. Wrath had been male. Stingray was a girl. How, and more importantly why, the Deavoriath assigned sexes to their ships was completely unclear to me. It wasn’t like the ships got together and made baby cubes. In any case, Stingray assured me she was content switching her designation.

  We popped into the void a light-year from Locinar. At that distance, the star itself was just a bright point in the sky, blending in with the background. I asked Stingray to do the best she could to help determine if the Adamant were present.

  “Form,” she said matter of factly, “I read no signs of artificial activity of any kind. At this range, however, that is not a reliable observation.”

  I winced at being called Form again. I had thought I’d never be addressed as a cube pilot again. “Okay, then take us to half a light-year’s distance and repeat your scans.”

  Within a few seconds she spoke. “Still no signs of—check that. I cannot tell exactly where, but a space-time disturbance has just been created near the central star.”

  “What kind of disturbance?” I asked quickly.

  “The kind that would account for the Adamant warship that just appeared off our port bow.”

  Man, she said that like it was no big deal at all.

  “Take us out of here now,” I yelled.

  “Where would you like me to go?” she asked blandly.

  “Stingray, don’t be dense. An enemy ship is threatening our lives. It doesn’t matter where. Just use your head and put some distance between us and them.”

  I felt the slight nausea I always did when the vortex folded space.

  “There,” she said, “we’re back to a light-year away.”

  “Don’t you think they can see us from where they are?” I yelled.

  “Yes, since they’re right alongside again. I think they’re about to open fire.”

  “Membrane up,” I snapped.

  A second later, the cube was enveloped in a blinding flash, but the shield held. It always had in the past, and it was wonderful to see it still did. Constants were good right about then.

  “What weapon did they use?” I asked.

  “Unknown energy burst. I think it was a mixture of plasma and high TeV laser accelerated near light speed with a gravity pulse.”

  That sounded rather lethal.

  “Did they just fire once?”

  “Yes, but I read another type of discharge is about to be launched.”

  I guessed it was as good a time as any to see what they had and how we handled it. My confidence was swelled by the fact that we were still in one piece.

  “Any idea what’s coming?”

  She didn’t need to answer. I felt the cube lurch forward. Mirraya yelped and covered her mouth.

  “Let me guess. A tractor beam?” I asked.

  “Of some type. Yes.”

  “Can you pull away with your impulse drive?” The vortex had almost unlimited power and so its conventional engines had a lot of get-up-and-go.

  I heard an audible whine of the drive.

  “Negative, Form. We’re being pulled in at an accelerating rate.”

  “Stingray, set a course for the Andromeda galaxy,” I tapped the control panel. “These coordinates. When we arrive, proceed to this destination.” I keyed in a globular cluster on the far side of the Milky Way Galaxy. “Hold there with membranes up.”

  I felt the nausea. “No can do, Form. We cannot break free of the tractor beam to fold space.”

  “What? That’s not remotely possible. Try again.”

  “Same result, Form. They have us. We’ll be alongside their ship in thirty seconds. A cargo bay door appears to be opening.”

  “Fire the quantum decoupler. Pulse the membrane open for a microsecond and target the bay opening.”

  I was about to see if they could withstand the quarks in the path of the QD being ripped apart. Stingray didn’t need to tell me the QD worked in spades. There was a flash and then the cube shook violently.

  “Try to escape again,” I shouted.

  After my brief nausea, I felt a second tiny bout.

  “Holding near designated globular cluster, Form. Awaiting further instructions.”

  I skipped across the deck and swept a stunned Mirraya out of her chair. I danced an impromptu jig while twirling her about. She had the oddest look of shock mixed with disgust on her face. What an odd combination. It was a look I’d never elicited from a girl yet.

  “We’re dancing, sweetheart. We’re happy because we aren’t dead.”

  “I’m happy,” she replied, “but I don’t call this dancing. You move like there’s a fire snake in your pants.”

  That brought me to an abrupt halt. “Why I’ve never,” I said. “A fire snake? I have no idea what that is or what it does to one’s nether regions, but I think I’m insulted.”

  She extended her arm in my direction and closed her eyes. I jumped back like King Kong shoved me when her forearm twisted and kneaded itself into a serpent-like creature. It had four heads emerging from a common neck and all manner of colors sparkled on its half-meter-long body. Each mouth had the wickedest fangs I’d ever seen on any creature. Nasty. It snapped at the air in my direction like it knew me and had a score to settle.

  “That,” she said proudly, “is a fire snake.” It quickly vanished into her arm again. “What it does inside your pants I will leave to your imagination, Uncle Jon.”

  “What a smart mouth you’ve got there, my dear. What are you, all of nine?”

  “I’m thirteen. Why?”

  Another bloody teenager? I was saddled with another overly-independent, disrespectful, risk-avid teen? Mine from the past were more than enough, thank you very much. My existence was getting incrementally worse with each new revelation.

  “You’re thirteen? Thirteen standard years?”

  She got a very peevish look on her face. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “No, no. Not a problem, you know, just an … an issue. Yes. It’s something to keep in mind.”

  “Something to keep in mind since I’m thirteen that wasn’t an issue if I have been nine?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I just did. What is the issue?”

  “No … nothing.”

  “No, Uncle Jon. It was not a problem because it was an issue.”

  Hey, look at those hands, perched on either hip.

  “I’m sure it’s different with the Deft, so I shouldn’t have said anything.” I twirled my finger at the floor. “Can we get back to celebrating not being killed?”

  She stomped a foot on the deck. Wow, like I hadn’t seen that a thousand times before and liked it none of them. “What is different among the Deft?” Little darling. She raised her arm back up, and it turned into a fire snake. A fire snake pointing four frightening heads at yours truly.

  “Hey, that shapeshifting is quite a trick. Maybe you can teach m—”

  I lunged to one side as the damn snake-arm charged at me. I wasn’t sure, but I think she was aiming wide the whole time. The little imp.

  “On Earth, with humans, the teen years can be,” I raised an index finger, “can be, mind you, not are, associated with unr
uly behavior some adults find disturbing.”

  “Some adults?”

  I nodded faintly.

  “What about the one I’m trapped inside a metal cube with?”

  “Me?” I tried to sound surprised. I tented my fingers on my chest. “Me? No, silly. Hey, lots of people accuse me of still acting like a teenager. I … I love the snake-age years.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her menacing forearm.

  Her arm returned to normal as she crossed them both. “Well we’ll see, won’t we?”

  “Hey, speaking of seeing,” I said gesturing toward the control panel, “I’d better see if our friends have tracked us down.” In the back of my mind I was weighing whether I hoped we were in mortal danger again or not. If the Adamant were outside, at least it’d break the tense mood. A teenage shapeshifter. Sounded like a cheap horror film title, but it was my new life.

  “Stingray, any sightings to report?” I asked as I approached.

  “None, Form. We appear to have evaded them for now.”

  “For now? Oh ye, of little faith.” I patted my chest. “We’re talking about Jon Ryan here. We were never in any real danger. I was toying with them, probing them.”

  “I am a vortex manipulator, Form. I have no faith. I believe in facts and I know information.”

  “You’ll come around.”

  “Did Wrath? Did Wrath develop faith in the unknowable simply because he served you, Form?”

  Annoying manipulator, wasn’t she? “It depends on how you define faith.”

  “How I define it or how one defines it? There is considerable difference between the two positions.”

  “One. It depends on how one defines faith.”

  “How might anyone define faith in a manner that Wrath, of all vortices, managed to develop faith?”

  “You know,” for no good reason I pointed over my shoulder, “I’d like to answer that, but I’m going to check on Mirraya.”

  “Very well, From. She is in the bathroom presently. Shall I alert her you’re on your way to see her?”

  “No!” I blurted out. That’s just what I didn’t need to do, further provoke the teenager girl I’d just had a quarrel with. Yeah, threaten to barge into the bathroom. That’d do it. Stingray was going to require a lot of work to get her up to speed on interpersonal relationships. Suddenly it hit me, and I stopped walking. I was midway between two females, both of whom seemed to be trying to yank me by the short hairs. The future was going to be a long one. I could just feel it.