Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  Kark raked Drizda’s chest with her claws, shredding her uniform. Drizda whipped her tail around into Kark’s feet, knocking her off balance before coming down on top of her, gouging Kark in the side before the captain regained her footing, throwing Drizda off of her. The two circled each other again, bleeding onto the platform and adding to the grisly tableau that marked its worn surface.

  Their small, vestigial wings flexed weakly as they engaged once more, this time going after each other with their teeth, their mouths wide open. It was an odd strategy, as it kept their eyes off of their opponent, but if even the smallest bite struck home it would do a lot of damage. Drizda head-butted Kark, knocking her to the side. Then she flung her tail up into the side of Kark’s head, sending her reeling.

  Grand Leader Kark gave a furious roar as she charged Drizda. Claws and tail went flying as she assaulted Drizda with everything she had, her emotions getting the better of her.

  This seemed to be just what Drizda wanted. She remained calm, clearly remembering whatever limited combat training she had had as a member of the scientist caste. It was enough. She countered Kark’s blows and, when she saw an opening, grabbed her and twisted her around. Grabbing her snout and snapping Kark’s head up and back, Drizda casually drew a talon across her throat, opening a deep wound that spilled a lot of blood onto the dais. She let Kark fall sputtering and gurgling to the platform to die.

  “I claim ascension by ritual combat,” Drizda proclaimed as the Draconi crew rushed to check on their fallen captain. ““All of Grand Leader Kark’s holdings, titles, and property shall transfer to me. Including command of this vessel. Does anyone wish to challenge my ascension?”

  She looked around, staring each of the Draconi captain’s former crew in the eye.

  “Hail Grand Leader Drizda!” shouted Zarn after a long moment. The others growled in agreement.

  Hamilton exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  “What are your orders, my Leader?” said Zarn.

  “Release the humans,” said Drizda. “They are prisoners no longer. See to their comforts. I appoint Commander Hamilton as my advisor.”

  Zarn bowed. “As you command.”

  Hamilton held out his hands as his manacles were released, along with the others.

  “I can’t believe what just happened,” muttered Lt. Cade. “That was amazing.”

  “The show’s not over yet,” said Hamilton.

  Drizda stepped off the platform even as a Draconi medic was dabbing at her wounds. “What next, Commander?”

  “We need to find out the status of the Armitage,” he said. “And we still have to do something about the Swarm.

  “Let’s return to the command level.”

  Hamilton placed his hand on her shoulder. “But you’re bleeding.”

  “Minor injuries. I will be fine. Now let’s go.”

  Hamilton stared after her appraisingly. He looked at Hudson, Cade and Brackett. “Well, you heard the lady. She’s in charge.”

  39 Leda and the Probe

  Leda knelt beside the faintly humming Swarm probe while the command deck erupted into chaos. She was still trying to process everything the probe had made her see and feel, flashes of it filling her mind’s eye as she tried to figure out just what was going on around her.

  “Sir,” said the Armitage’s female gunner. “The Onslaught is moving to intercept. They’re charging up their guns.”

  “What is that damned old fool doing?” said Straker. “Come about!”

  The Armitage shuddered, and Leda heard the familiar sound of a muffled explosion. She turned and looked at the ship’s main viewer, where the Onslaught grew closer and closer, its ion cannons spitting blue streams of death at the larger capital ship.

  The Armitage shuddered again, and another concussion thundered through the vessel. The Onslaught had struck something vital.

  “Raise the Onslaught,” said Straker.

  “They’re refusing our hails,” said the communications officer.

  “Damn him!” Straker roared. “Blow them to stardust.”

  Leda looked at the alien probe, her eyes scanning its ancient, pockmarked surface. Her hand ran over its skin. She could feel it pulsing with life and intelligence. It had spoken to her. It was still speaking to her. There was one overriding feeling, one dominant emotion as clear as her own urges.

  Hunger.

  Leda lowered her left hand that still held the dangling manacle to the floor, near one of the probe’s manipulators. It suddenly leaped into action, scissoring the manacles from her wrist cleanly and devouring them.

  The ship rocked again, knocking Leda to the deck. The probe rocked where it stood. Leda raised up and unplugged the power coupling.

  “He’s going to ram us!” said one of the officers.

  “Destroy that ship,” Straker said.

  Leda watched as the probe began to eat through the decking around it, and it immediately began to change. Its pitted skin grew smooth, its damaged pincers and manipulators started to miraculously grow back.

  Straker and his crew were oblivious to what the probe was doing. They were too preoccupied with the bulk of the Onslaught rushing toward them at great speed.

  “Turn about,” said Straker. “Get us out of here.”

  “Helm is slow to respond, sir.”

  “Just do it! They’re going to ram us.”

  Leda wrapped her arms around the vibrating probe, squeezing her eyes shut. She hoped the probe could feel her thoughts as she could the probe’s. She thought one word at it. Help.

  A metal tentacle snaked up to wrap gently around her hand. She reeled at the contact, fearing it would consume her, but the touch wasn’t hostile.

  The Armitage rocked sharply to the left, and something at the opposite end of the command deck exploded in a shower of sparks. Warning klaxons blared.

  “I thought you said you could handle that old fool Kuttner,” Weber muttered.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Straker, ignoring him “All hands, abandon ship!”

  Straker ran for the exit hatch, followed closely by Weber, Tucker and Moreland. Another control panel exploded. Leda checked the viewer. The Onslaught was falling apart, but what was left of it was going to collide with the Armitage in moments. If she was going to survive the next few minutes she needed to do something fast.

  The marine wobbled toward her, stun stick in hand, but the rocking of the deck made his footing unsure. Leda kicked out, connecting solidly with his right knee. She heard a loud crack as he screamed, dropping to the deck, his stun stick rolling away.

  Leda pounced on him, punching him hard in the face until he no longer moved. She yanked his needle gun out of its holster and spun, crouching on one knee.

  All of this happened in the space of a few seconds; Straker and the others were still trying to leave the command deck, and fighting over which of them should be allowed to go through the portal first. Leda aimed and fired, hitting Moreland in the left shoulder blade. He spun, spat red mist, and fell.

  She aimed at Straker, but he pushed Weber away from him, into the line of fire. The cloud of flechettes caught him in the neck, eviscerating soft tissue. He fell in a heap next to Moreland.

  Leda aimed again but Straker was gone. The command deck officers had fled too in search of the nearest lifepod. Leda knew she wouldn’t have that option.

  She dropped the now empty weapon and hugged against the Swarm probe, which was now raising itself up on manipulators beneath it. “Whatever you’re going to do, you’d better do it now,” she said.

  The alien probe began to vibrate, its pincers and manipulators moving faster than she could see. The deck beneath them disappeared, and was replaced by…something else. The space darkened as the probe encased them both within a metallic sphere. She reached up and touched it, feeling its texture. Fullerene?

  The probe finished its work just as there was a final, violent shudder, the sphere jostling them inside it as it bounced aro
und wildly. There was a final concussion and suddenly Leda and the probe were floating weightless inside the dark sphere.

  “Well, we’re free of the ship,” she murmured. “Now what?”

  40 Straker

  The small, retrofitted warsprite made it clear of the Armitage just as it fell apart, Colonel Straker sitting confidently before the controls. “Proxima,” he said.

  The ship’s dutiful AI hummed to life. “Yes, Colonel Straker?”

  “Tightbeam the Swarm. Send them the transformation sequence we developed.”

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  Straker grinned. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. He would still get his way. The Draconi homeworld would still be exterminated. And he had just the weapon that would do it.

  He had already set course for the last known location of the Swarm, and the fast vessel was almost there. He watched on the viewer as he neared them. They had finished disassembling the Heinlein; now they clustered together, awaiting further instructions. Such loyal little creatures.

  Straker watched, fascinated, as the signal he’d sent goaded them into action once more. This time, instead of moving on in search of another ship to devour, the alien probes linked together, extruding flat sheets of some dull gray metal. They ran off kilometers of the stuff, until you couldn’t see the individual probes at all. They had combined, becoming something much bigger than each of them could be alone.

  “Beautiful,” said Straker. “Now destroy the Draconi for me. Kill them all.”

  “A Draconi vessel is heading this way,” said Proxima. “Designation the Razor.”

  “Kark’s ship,” said Straker. He considered his options. Their working relationship had never been friendly, and she had probably been clued in to his subterfuge.

  “Set a course for the Q-gate,” said Straker. “Max speed. It’s time to bug out.”

  As the little warsprite turned and headed for the Artra system’s sun, Straker wondered if his plans would finally come to fruition. He wished he could stick around to see it through, but for now it was safer for him if he got out of the way. At least the Wave was coming. Nothing could stop that.

  Nothing.

  41 Communication

  “What the hell is that?” asked Hamilton as the Razor sped toward what was left of the Armitage.

  “It appears to be some sort of alien vessel,” said the Razor’s navigator. “I’ve never seen its like.”

  The ship was immense and strangely beautiful. Curves of dull gray metal spiraling up to a sharp point. There were no visible weapons, but Hamilton knew they were there.

  “It’s the Swarm probes,” said Drizda. “They’ve reconfigured into something else. Some kind of weapon.”

  “Straker,” said Hamilton, glancing at her. “Looks like he was successful in reprogramming them.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said Drizda. “Lt. Brackett, if you will kindly assist me.”

  Brackett stepped forward from where she’d been leaning against the bulkhead and joined Drizda at the communications console.

  “The ship has powerful ion engines,” said the navigator. “It’s leaving the system at an accelerated rate.”

  “Where is it going?” said Zarn.

  “The Q-gate.”

  Hamilton stepped forward, started to say something, then looked at Drizda. “It might be a good idea to put ourselves in between the Swarm ship and the Q-gate.”

  “Drizda nodded. “Navigator, do as he says.” She silently lamented the fact that she didn’t know his name, but there would be plenty of time for formal introductions later.

  “Yes, my Leader!”

  “Grand Leader Drizda,” said the communications officer. “We’re receiving a signal from the vicinity of the wreck of the Armitage. It’s weak, but—”

  “Open a channel,” Drizda said.

  “-to anyone within signal range, this is Lt. Leda Niles. I’m aboard a—I’m with one of the Swarm probes. We’re in a small fullerene sphere. Please help.

  “Can she hear us?” asked Hamilton.

  “It’s worth a try,” said Drizda. “Go ahead.”

  “Lt. Niles,” said Hamilton. “Leda. Can you hear me?”

  “N-Noah?”

  “Yeah. It’s me. We’ll come find you. Somehow. Just hang tight.”

  “I’m going to run out of air soon,” she said.

  “I know. Just hang on. Keep your comm open.”

  “Lt. Niles, this is Drizda of the Draconi Science Council and now captain of the Draconi vessel the Razor. I have been analyzing the Swarm’s song. You say you are with one of the probes now?”

  “Y-yes,” said Leda. “It was a damaged one we found a while ago. I helped it repair itself and it—”

  “Can you get it to sing for us?” said Drizda.

  “What?”

  “We believe the Swarm lost its original programming. The probe you’re with might contain their original instructions. I need it to make contact with the others.”

  “Understood. I’ll try.”

  They heard a series of strange, ethereal tones over the tightbeam, a soulful, discordant threnody as beautiful as it was alien.

  “Tones received,” said Lt. Brackett as she huddled next to the Razor’s communications officer. “Analyzing.”

  “What is that cacophonous noise?” growled Zarn.

  “That is language,” said Drizda. “Spoken throughout this sector of the galaxy when our ancestors were still hunting moka from the skies of our homeworld.”

  They listened for a few more seconds, then Drizda ordered the audio muted. The Razor’s computer was still analyzing the Probe’s signal, recording and analyzing it for structure and meaning. Drizda’s slate was resting on the communications panel, tied in with the ship’s systems.

  “I need coordinates on that tightbeam signal,” said Hamilton.

  Drizda nodded to the helmsman. “Do as he says.”

  The new Swarm ship was accelerating rapidly, and the Razor had to tax its engines just to keep up.

  “Leda is back there somewhere,” said Hamilton. “I can’t just leave her.”

  “I’m sorry, Commander,” said Drizda. “But we have to stop the Swarm. It is threatening our homeworld.”

  Hamilton sighed. He knew she was right. He was a soldier, and so was Leda. They both knew the sacrifice they might have to make for the greater good. But it still felt like a bad decision. Why did even one person have to die so others could live? He thought about Kuttner, about Admiral Sheldon, and all the others they had lost. How many more would die before this was over?

  “We’ve got it,” said Brackett. She was still unsure what to call Drizda now that she was in command of the Draconi vessel. “These appear to be earlier tones than the ones we were using. But there’s enough here to form a basic primer for communicating with them.”

  “Excellent,” said Drizda. “Let’s see if we can talk them out of their current course.”

  “Computer is extrapolating,” said Brackett. “Sending tones now.”

  At first nothing happened as the Razor slowly started to overtake the still accelerating Swarm ship. Hamilton looked at the viewer as the strange vessel drew closer.

  “Grand Leader Drizda,” said the navigator. “The Swarm vessel is slowing, decelerating.”

  Hamilton watched as pale blue braking jets along its length fired. “They’re listening. It’s working.”

  “Good,” said Drizda.

  “I’m letting the computer take over,” said Brackett. “They’re talking to each other now.”

  “Leader,” said Zarn. “The Swarm ship is coming about. Shall we take evasive action?”

  “No,” said Drizda. “I do not believe their intention is a hostile one.”

  Hamilton watched through the viewer as the ship began to fragment and break apart, each piece reconfiguring into the individual probes they were familiar with.

  “What did we say to it?” asked Hamilton.

  “I think the ship’s computer
just reprogrammed them,” said Brackett. She listened through her cochlear implant as the ship received the Swarm tones and translated them. “They’re sending the tones for sorrow, regret, guilt. They’re apologizing for everything they’ve done.”

  Drizda sighed. It came out as a snake-like hiss. “Tell them we accept their apology.”

  “I’ll try,” said Brackett. The Razor’s communications officer helped her make sense of the Draconi controls as they sent what they hoped were the proper tones.

  “They’re answering back,” said Brackett. “They’re looking for something called Leader. They hear Leader but cannot find him. Where is Leader?”

  “The other probe aboard the Armitage,” said Hamilton. “Leda said it was connected to the ship’s power. That’s what Straker used to reprogram them.”

  “We had assumed they were some sort of distributed intelligence,” said Drizda. “But what if they’re more like an insect colony? With a queen.”

  Hamilton nodded. “The damage to Leader spread through the programming of the others. They lost their original purpose of exploration, and instead started aimlessly eating everything and multiplying.”

  Hamilton jumped up from where he sat near the navigation console. “Lieutenant, give them the coordinates for Leda’s comm. Tell them Leader is in danger.”

  “I’ll try,” said Brackett. “Sending now.”

  “Put on main viewer,” ordered Drizda.

  The cluster of probes undulated like a school of radiant fish, then moved away, sweeping back toward the cluster of debris that had been the Onslaught and the Armitage.

  “Follow them,” Drizda ordered, and the Razor moved in pursuit.

  “Please still be alive,” Hamilton muttered.

  42 Rescue