by Vann, Gregg
The ISCD had never actually cooperated on anything, except for bi-annual conferences and making empty military pledges. But the founding agreement stated that if the Sentients attacked any Sector, humanity would fight together as one. One hell of a pledge after the disaster of the Diaspora War, but there it was. The enemy of my enemy…
Most importantly, I sent a message to the other six Special Inquisitors. In it, I detailed my concerns about what might happen if the Sentients were gone, and asked them to confirm or dispute my reasoning about it blossoming into war.
Less rational Regents, and certainly each Sector’s military apparatus, would see a Sentient extinction as a great boon; mankind’s biggest threat eradicated, and open access to all of the resources that had been closed off to us. But the SI took a longer view of things, and would probably recognize that the loss of this deterrent would certainly lead to war. At least I hoped they saw it that way. But what if they didn’t? What would I do then?
Del walked onto the bridge, and stopped in front of me, standing stiff-backed and purposeful. The two security officers in tow took up positions behind it.
“What are you going to do now?” it asked.
“Now,” I said, “we wait.”
“For what exactly?” The Sentient had regained its former, emotionless aspect.
“For a recommendation from my superiors about whether or not to enter Sentient space,” I answered.
“Sentient space?” Its façade faltered for a moment, then snapped back.
“Val Evans is being held by Sentients, Del, we shouldn’t be that surprised considering Woz’s involvement.”
I leaned forward and steepled my fingers together. “It would be tremendously helpful if you could guarantee our safety once we get there.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot. You will be destroyed as soon as you cross over.”
“I thought so,” I said, another hope dashed. “You have no influence then?”
“My mission was very discreet, Commander—unsanctioned by my government. Few of my people even know about the virus. We devised quarantines to slow its spread—and fictitious reasons for their implementation—but the sickness went everywhere regardless. The truth will come out eventually. If it hasn’t already”
“It’s a pity really,” I said. “I have no problem with Miss Evans helping the Sentients. In fact, I have my own reasons for wanting your people cured. If we could find a way to free her, we would all get what we want.”
“There might be a way, Commander Malik. But you would have to trust me more than you seem willing to now.”
“I’m listening,” I said, curious.
“We could take my ship past The Verge. I can’t promise what will happen when we get to the planet, but I can get us there.”
That offer wasn’t very tempting. Turn our lives over to a historical enemy of humanity, a being I just hours earlier watched rip the head off one of its compatriots, and oh yes, according to the infirmary’s initial report—it can electrocute you with a touch of its hands.
“You will forgive me if I’m not in love with the idea,” I said.
“Commander, your options are limited, and as you said before; we both want the same thing. Trust me, or don’t trust me, the choice is yours, but the consequence of inaction would be the failure of both of our missions. ”
“Where is your ship?” I asked.
“It is following closely behind us,” Del said. “I detected it at Harrakan Station when I awakened in the infirmary. With Woz dead, it could no longer mask its signature.”
Del pointed to the stern of the ship. “I remotely set it to follow one kilometer behind this vessel.”
I called out to the pilot, “Lieutenant Lowell, can you confirm that there is another ship behind us?”
On the other side of the bridge, I could see him look down at his sensors, then back up again before answering. “Negative sir. We maintain a constant scan; if there was anything out there, we’d know.”
“Try now,” Del said.
Before I could even order the pilot to recheck, his voice rang out and a proximately alarm sounded.
“Sir! A ship just appeared from out of nowhere. It’s Sentient! What are you orders?
“Stand down,” I said. “It is…expected.”
I considered Del closely. “Cloaking technology?”
It nodded. “A recent technological development, Commander—very few of the ships exist.”
I shook my head in amazement. Stealth ships. Sentients could be cruising throughout Sector space right now and we wouldn’t even know they were there.
Del continued, “I can get us there, Commander. Where is she being held?”
I showed it the location on my pad.
“Seveq? That is not possible,” it said.
“Why not?”
“Because that is the planet where the outbreak originated; it has been under quarantine since the very beginning. No one goes there—the assumption is that the planet is highly contaminated.”
“Why would they take her there?” I wondered aloud.
“I can think of only one reason,” Del offered. “As the source of the virus, Seveq’s population fell first. They are all dead, Commander. Your people could never go there, and mine no longer have a reason to. It is a dead world; what better place to hide someone?”
“What a horrific place to be trapped,” I said. “The planet is a massive crypt.”
“It is now.” it agreed. I saw something in Del’s demeanor change; it was obviously struggling with intense emotion. It appeared sad, almost broken. Breth was right, you really do learn to read them. I motioned to an empty seat, but Del remained standing. As you wish, I thought.
“You two are dismissed,” I said to the guards. “Thank you.” They stood there confused for a second, then saluted and left the bridge.
Two hours later, my pad exploded in rapidly blinking colors, each one denoting a different government or agency—each notifying me that a decision had been reached. The verdict was unsurprisingly unanimous across the board. No. They wouldn’t risk war with the Sentients under any circumstances. They were perfectly content to sit back and watch the race die out—rendered harmless without humans firing a shot.
I understood completely, and would probably have made the same call were I in their shoes—with their political considerations and strategic mindset—but I regretted their choice nonetheless.
If it had been any other person in the galaxy besides Val Evans, the decision would have been quick and easy. But her personal research and labs continued to pump out discoveries and innovations benefitting all of mankind—even long after her life extension regime had become commonplace. She provided these benefits freely to the impoverished, and worked hard politically to make sure that each Sector had equal access. Her loss would be incalculable to humanity, but would it be worth billions of lives in a war with the Sentients?
They might be suffering from a serious viral outbreak, but it could take months or even years for them to be wiped out completely; they would certainly be around long enough to defeat humanity in a war.
Stinson reentered the bridge and I let him know what the government’s consensus had been. He walked a tightrope of emotions between anger and dismay. “So we are just going to forget about Miss Evans?”
“That was their decision, and I agree…it’s shit.”
Del chose this moment to interrupt. “I will go after her, if you will permit me my ship. I am under no such constraints or considerations.”
“I won’t stop you,” I said, shaking my head. “As Sector personnel, we just can’t get caught behind The Verge by your people. It could lead to war, and now that I know about your stealth technology, I’m more convinced than ever that we would come out on the losing side.”
“What if we were just some stupid humans?” Stinson asked.
“Come again?”
“As recently as three years ago, some idiot crossed The Verge and got himself killed. There w
as no war from that incident.”
“True. And if we travelled in Del’s ship, it would be hard to claim that it was a Sector Security operation landing on one of their planets. With luck, we wouldn’t be detected at all.”
“I can add to your apparent need for rationalization if you like,” said Del. “I believe my people are far too occupied with other important matters to worry about two humans within our borders.”
“Three,” Mendoza said, interjecting herself into the conversation. She’d been standing in the doorway listening.
“You’d be damn foolish to go on an op like this without a combat engineer. Especially one rated in flight systems and ordinance.” She smiled, belatedly adding, “Sirs.”
“We can order the Babylon back to Sector HQ with everyone else onboard,” Stinson said helpfully, “and then notify Sector Security that we are staying behind to wrap up the investigation.”
His extemporization complete, I added, “Well that much is true.”
Just then, my pad buzzed. A single red light came on and stayed lit—Special Inquisitors channel.
I opened the message, unsure what I’d find:
Special Inquisitor Qus, Laron
Stygian Sector
Benjamin,
Apologies for taking so long; there was some dissent within our ranks regarding the proper action to take, and Balis was indisposed—engaged in a running gun battle which happily resolved in our favor. He does have a habit of sticking his foot in it. Also, we waited to see what the governments decided to do.
I’m afraid we agree with your assessment that the Sentient virus has to be stopped. If Val Evans can do it, her retrieval is of the utmost priority. We also understand that if you operate unilaterally in this matter, there may be consequences—including the distinct possibility of five Regents agreeing to remove you from the equation via your implant.
We will do what we can to slow any malicious cooperation among the Regents, but whatever you’re going to to—do it fast. Just this tiny hint of Sentient danger has placed every Sector fleet on alert.
As always, the stakes are high, but we trust your judgment.
Good Luck.
Qus.
I turned off the pad, unable to hide a blossoming smile. Works for me.
“Okay,” I said, “Let’s do this. Mendoza, gather up some assault ordinance—and don’t be shy. We have no idea what we’re up against; I’m thinking more snatch and grab than frontal assault, but bring something for every eventuality.” She saluted, then darted out the door to start shopping in the ship’s armory.
“Captain Stinson,” I continued, “Prepare your men for a circuitous route back home. The Transit drive may even have…problems…extending their trip, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand completely.”
“Del, we are all going together, please bring your ship around to a docking port so we can get it loaded.”
Its eye’s went black for a moment, then Del announced, “The ship is approaching.”
The pilot looked over at me and gave me a ‘thumbs up’ in confirmation.
With my subversive operation planned out and underway, I gathered up my personal effects for transfer to the Sentient ship. No human had ever been inside one before and lived.
This adventure should be quite the learning experience…if we survive it.
*****
Del’s ship was much smaller than the Babylon Rising, but with only four of us aboard it didn’t feel cramped. The design was similar to most human ships, making me wonder if there was some universal constant that drove starship design.
The bridge was located at the front of the ship, connected to a long corridor running the full length of the craft. There were doors on both sides of the walkway, and it ended at a small launch bay at the back of the ship equipped with a single atmospheric shuttle.
Except for the multitude of black control surfaces, the ship’s interior was almost completely white. The simple scheme only occasionally interrupted by splashes of color emanating from the instrumentation panels.
Mendoza was like a kid in a candy shop—studying the more advanced Sentient technology, and quizzing Del almost non-stop. For its part, Del was surprisingly tolerant, and very forthcoming with detailed information. I was pretty sure we wouldn’t tell it anything if the roles were reversed, but then again, other than what Val Evan’s could offer them, I doubted we had anything they’d want to know about anyway.
Stinson spent a good amount of his time organizing our field supplies—building individualized combat kits for each of us. They were all heavy on armaments, including micro-explosives, but he also provided non-lethal options like flash and neural disruption grenades. For Mendoza’s load out, he added a comprehensive tool kit with a mini-welder and laser cutter—just in case we needed to cut our way in. He also included a standard combat deployment of tactical munitions.
After some discussion, we decided to substitute the Snub Rifle’s beam ammunition with impact slugs. I wasn’t sure what effect energy weapons would have on the Sentients, and despite several attempts at questioning Del, it wasn’t forthcoming with that information. What I did know from my own experiences, was that kinetic slugs would put anything bipedal on its ass, and keep it there for a few minutes. They could break bones and damage internal organs, but slugs were normally non-lethal.
In hostage and kidnapping situations it was always prudent to limit the use of deadly force. Hitting an innocent person, especially the one you are trying to save, was a real possibility, and plasma weapons—while very effective—were also notoriously inaccurate in anything but close quarter engagements.
With everyone else going about their duties, I took the opportunity to review the information I’d collected so far—particularly regarding Evan’s travels now that I had full access to her tracking records. I saw that she’d made quite a few trips to Harrakan Station, all beginning soon after the Sentients arrived on her moon.
Without question, those trips had something to do with curing the viral infection, but when I asked Del about them, it swore it didn’t know what she’d been up to. Del did reveal that the biological samples Woz and it brought back to the dome were infected Sentient tissue for Evans to study.
It was possible that she was gathering research materials as well; after all, anything can be bought and sold at Harrakan. Anything.
But a bigger question remained; why had Woz arranged for her to be kidnapped if she’d finally solved the problem? Was it trying to keep the cure for itself? If so, for what reason….profit? Unlikely, the Sentients didn’t seem to be motivated by wealth. In fact, from what Del had hinted, money didn’t even exist in their culture. It’s conceivable that Woz intended to use the cure as a tool—leverage to gain political or military power. Maybe its accomplices, undoubtedly now holding Miss Evans, would be happy to explain, but somehow I doubted it.
“Del,” I asked, pushing off the wall I’d been leaning against, “Can you provide me with any specific information, visual or otherwise, about Evan’s location? Something that might help us prepare?”
It was standing at the flight station—one of four control pedestals placed in a semicircle on the bridge. Regrettably, there were no chairs; the Sentients stood while on duty.
It spoke without turning around. “If you can provide me with the unencrypted tracking signal, I may be able to provide real-time monitoring of her location.”
“Really?” I asked.
“It might be possible; our planets all enjoy total scanner surveillance. I simply have to connect to the data-net and begin observation—if it is still operational.”
Either privacy wasn’t a concept embraced by Sentients, or the government liked to keep an eye on its citizens—maybe both. Either way, it worked to our advantage.
“I’m relaying the tracking information now,” I said, my pad taking a few moments to adapt to the ship’s data-stream.
“Received,” Del said, “Establishing a link to Seveq; it c
ould take a few hours to authenticate, target the site, and start getting a usable feed.”
“Let me know if it’s successful.”
“Obviously, Commander.”
Of course it would let me know. Why wouldn’t it?
I closed my eyes for a moment, using both fists to rub them deeply. I was starting to feel the effects of the past two days…or was it three now? When you no longer know how long it’s been—it’s time to rest.
I told Stinson and Mendoza to both get some sleep when time permitted; we had no idea what we’d face on Seveq. Whatever it was, it was certain to react hostilely when we tried to rescue Evans; we needed to be sharp and at our best. I also decided that at least one of us should remain awake at all times—it just seemed prudent under the current circumstances.
Del looked at me strangely when I asked where the beds were—there were none on the ship, either the Sentients didn’t recline when sleeping or they didn’t sleep at all. Undaunted, I grabbed a few uniform shirts out of our pile of gear and bundled them together, fashioning a makeshift pillow. I informed Del that I would be indisposed for a few hours and went to lie down in a small nook off to one side of the bridge.
The space was smaller than I’d first thought, and I ended up sitting on the floor, propping my head up against one of the partition walls, and stuffing the ball of shirts in the crook of my neck. Taking one last look around the bridge, I shut my eyes and the sleep came easily.
Thankfully, mercifully—this time, the dreams didn’t come.
“Commander Malik,” I heard.
It was Del. Gah. Couldn’t it let me get some rest? I pushed my eyes open through sheer force of will to find the Sentient eyeing me curiously.
“It’s like you are dead,” it said.
“What?” I struggled to stand, my legs aching from the unnatural position; my neck was killing me.
“When you sleep, it looks like death,” it said. “I have seen it before; Val Evans often took what she called ‘cat naps’ on her computer console when working. She assured me it was normal.”
“And necessary,” I replied. “How long was I out?”
