by Richard Fox
“That’s…unusual,” Carson said. There had been a single recorded first contact with an artificial intelligence species in the Milky Way, a race called the Jinn that had vanished after that encounter. Pathfinders were trained in all manner of first contact, but with biological aliens, not artificial.
“Looks like the fighting was intense here,” Birch said, motioning to the bodies.
Greer’s voice came over the IR. “You’re right next to the containment field, Chief. My guess is a command center of some sort on the other side of that hatch.”
“Copy,” Carson said. “Nunez, plasma torch.”
“Roger that, Chief.”
Nunez racked his carbine on its magnetic clamps on his back and pulled the small cutting tool from a pouch on his tactical harness. West and Birch pulled the floating corpses out of the way and Nunez went to work. Sparks sprayed out from where the torch cut into the metal, floating out in all directions before blinking out of existence.
“Doesn’t look too advanced,” West said, inspecting the robot’s chassis. “Matter of fact, I’d say our robotic technology is above this.”
“You’d think a race of AI droids would be top of the line,” Birch said.
“Almost through,” Nunez said.
“Greer, are you picking up any signs of life on the other side?” Carson asked.
“None.”
Nunez finished cutting and put the torch away. After attaching a suction handle to the metal, he paused, looking to Carson for the go ahead.
“Standard entry maneuvers,” Carson said. “Popov left, Birch right. West, you and I have the middle. Ready? Go!”
Nunez pulled the cut section free from the rest of the door, stepping aside and letting it float down the hall. A blue shimmering light filled the open space. Popov stepped up, putting a hand against the wall of energy. It passed through, the edges of the field flaring blue-white, and without hesitation, she stepped through.
Birch followed, turning right as Popov turned left. West and Carson followed them through as Nunez secured their rear. Lights from the team’s suits cut tight beams through the space, flashing off metal rails, computer stations, and bulkheads. As they cleared the individual sectors of fire, several beams of light met in the center of the room, illuminating a circular arrangement of chairs, occupied by alien corpses. All had blast wounds to their torsos, their faces had frozen mid death scream.
“We’ve got atmosphere in here.” West tapped his foot against the deck and Carson heard the sound through her helmet. “Still no gravity.”
“Atmo’s thin,” Moretti said. “Twenty-four kPa, which is thinner than the top of Mount Everest.”
“Think that’s normal for these aliens?” Popov asked.
“No,” the medic said. “You’d see much larger ears and nasal passages. Plus any creature at that little atmosphere would encounter a lot more radiation and then—”
“You were good at ‘no’,” Popov said.
“Air’s a standard mix of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide,” the medic said. “But what’s optimal for them is hard to gauge. I think they lost a good deal of their air pressure before the emergency force fields kicked on.”
None of the alien crew were wearing void suits, their greyish flesh rimmed with ice crystals. Despite the wires and plugs connecting them to their chairs and some plating at the back of their necks, these aliens also bore a close resemblance to the Netherguard. Several of the aliens floated above their chairs, held in place by the cables.
Ultari, Carson thought. But that didn’t make any sense. Weren’t they on an SI ship?
Several humanoid-shaped droids floated around the space, charred, silver chassis punctured by some kind of beam weapon. Sparks shot out from one, causing its body to flinch.
“Cyborgs?” West asked, stepping up to the first chair.
“So much for being totally artificial,” Moretti said.
“Look at this one,” Popov said, aiming her light at one of the cyborgs. Its head was missing, cut clean from its neck. Exposed thin wires, veins, and tendons floated freely, like tiny streamers.
“Wonder who he pissed off,” Nunez said.
“Popov,” Carson said, “you and Danielle work on patching into the core.”
“Roger.”
West paused beside Carson, his carbine’s light angled up at the ceiling. “Heads up.”
Another alien corpse, this one dressed in the same armor as the one in the boarding craft, hung against the ceiling, a severed head grasped in its hand.
Another light joined West’s and Moretti said, “He’s been hit. See there on his side, looks like he tried to patch himself up.”
Before Carson could stop him, Nunez raised a gauntlet and fired his grappler. The cable wrapped itself around the alien’s leg and Nunez pulled.
The alien jerked to life, arms and legs flailing, almost pulling Nunez off his feet. An ear-splitting scream filled the room. The Ultari scrambled for purchase on the ceiling, trying desperately to get away.
“Grab him!” Carson shouted, stepping forward to help Nunez pull.
Despite the alien’s constant flailing, they had it on the ground in a matter of seconds. Birch quickly went to work, securing its hands and feet with binder cables. The screaming continued as the alien rolled its body around, trying to break free of the Pathfinder’s restraints. In the commotion, it had lost its grip on the cybernetic head, which bounced off the bulkhead, then spun through the room.
The Ultari twisted and screamed. The force of the movement ripped the patch free and a bloody fog spewed from the opening.
“Its suit is breached,” Moretti said, rushing forward and pulling his tactical medical kit free from his belt.
Carson reached up absently and caught the spinning head, then stepped aside as the medic rummaged through his kit. “Can you patch it?”
“I can patch it,” Moretti said without looking up. He produced a roll of wide, black tape, pulled a length free, and pressed it against the opening. “Whether or not it holds or helps, that’s another story. Regardless, we need to get him back to the Valiant. I’ll need to treat him for exposure.”
“Whoa,” Nunez said. “You’re not thinking about taking that thing back with us, are you?”
“I’m not leaving him here to die,” Moretti said.
Birch used his mass to press the alien’s shoulders to the deck. The Ultari’s struggle weakened and Carson heard it speaking inside its helmet. It seemed weak, helpless.
Thoughts of the Belisarius flashed in Carson’s mind. A whirlwind of images spinning through her mind; corpses that screamed at her to leave this alien to die. Ghosts that told her not to put her ship or the lives of her people at risk. Ghosts that would never stop haunting her….
She straightened after a minute, feeling the eyes of her team members on her. This isn’t the Belisarius, she told herself. That’s not going to happen here.
“We came out here for useful intelligence. I’d say a survivor is the best intel we could ask for, wouldn’t you say?”
Across the bridge, Popov was kneeling behind one of the chairs in the main ring. “I think I’ve found a good access point. Greer let me know if you get the feed.”
A moment later, Valiant’s pilot said, “Got it, receiving uplink now…and we’ve got data transfer.”
“Just make sure you partition it off,” Popov said. “Best not to let alien programs play in our computer core. Of course, the chance of anything even being compatible is astronomical.”
“Techs are on it,” Greer said. “They’re high-fiving each other over an Ultari computer they built back on Negev. Nerds.”
West pressed his palm to the deck, then cocked an ear to the ceiling. “I think—”
The deck lurched under their feet. Carson dropped to a knee, grabbing the chair in front of her for support as its occupant was tossed free. The cyborg snapped back as its cables pulled tight, bring it back into the chair.
West struggled to keep hold
of his captive as Nunez was thrown from the deck. Nunez twisted in mid-air, bringing his feet up and landing on the far wall.
Sparks shot out from ceiling panels as they buckled. Metal groaned as the ship moved around them.
“Greer, what’s going on out there?” Carson asked.
“I’m not sure,” Valiant’s pilot answered. “It’s slipping deeper into the gravity-well; the increased pressure might be stressing the hull. I’d say you might want to think about leaving.”
“You don’t say.” Carson looked back across the alien bridge, feeling like she was forgetting something.
“Four hours,” Nunez snapped. “Never trust a pilot’s judgment.”
Another panel exploded above her, sending a spray of sparks shooting into the room. Beams of light from the team’s flashlights cut back and forth across the dark bridge.
“Pathfinders,” Carson called. “We are leaving! Popov, help West. Greer, we’re coming to you.”
“I’ve got the welcome mat rolled out for you, Chief.”
“Heads up, Chief!” Nunez said.
Already halfway to the exit, Carson turned, then immediately ducked as Nunez flew by overhead. “Sorry!” He flipped over, kicked off the deck, and flew through the hole he’d cut in the bridge hatch only minutes earlier.
Carson followed him through, then stopped, turning back to check on her team. West was through a second later, bound alien survivor clutched tightly over his shoulder. Popov, Birch, and Moretti slipped through in turn just as the ship lurched again. Watching the bulkheads around her shake but the floating debris remain in place turned her stomach slightly.
An alien body, just outside the door, bumped off the bulkhead, colliding with another, pushing both of the corpses off in different directions. Carson pushed one aside, put a boot against the bulkhead, and flashed her boot’s grav-linings. She shot away from the bulkhead, flying after her team.
At the end of the corridor, Nunez touched down and quickly kicked off again, pushing himself down another corridor. West seemed to catch on and kicked off the deck as well, using the grav-linings in his boots to propel him forward.
“Nunez, you’re a genius,” Popov said, following suit.
As they neared their exit, the ship shuddered again. The bulkheads around them warped and began breaking apart. Dust and bits of metal rained into the corridor.
“Don’t stop!” Carson ordered, pushing herself faster.
The gravitational stresses had pulled the opening in the hull to twice its original size. Jagged chunks of metal and loose cables floated everywhere, spinning endlessly, colliding with each other. Valiant’s exterior lights lit the corridor like it was the middle of the day. Nunez and Popov shot through the growing tear in the ship’s hull, not bothering to grapple out.
Carson stopped at the hole, counting as her team left the dead ship. Birch and Danielle made up the rear. The drone wrangle had the engineer by the waist as he jumped through the gap in the hull and made for the Valiant.
The last out, Carson kicked out of the opening off, flying through the void and falling into Valiant’s cargo bay a second later. She passed through the force field, and the ship’s internal gravity immediately pulled her to the deck. She rolled with the impact, sliding several meters before coming to a stop.
“We’re in,” Carson said, propping herself up on her elbow, looking back at the alien ship as it continued to break apart.
Valiant’s engines flared, pushing them away from the dying vessel.
“Status check,” Carson said, turning away from the destruction, standing. “Everyone all right?”
“Hundred percent, Chief,” West said.
Popov stood. “I’m good, but if we could stay out of collapsing alien ships from now on, that’d be great.”
Nunez slapped her on the shoulder. “Oh, come on now, Cherry. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“My sense of adventure is just fine, but my sense of not wanting to die in a slow atmo burn is more important.”
Several of the scientists rushed forward, obviously eager to see what the team had brought back. They clustered around West and Moretti as they knelt over the Ultari, holding it fast against the deck.
“We need to get him secured for the flight back,” West said.
“He’s unconscious,” the medic said. “The edema on his face is—to hell with it.” He drew a gauss pistol from a thigh holster.
Before Carson could protest, Moretti flipped the pistol in his hand and hammered the grip into the Ultari’s face plate. It broke after the second strike and Moretti pried it open. The alien took in a deep breath, eyelids fluttering. It gasped for air, murmuring.
“I need to get him to sick bay,” Moretti said. “Try and stabilize him.”
“Think you can do it?” Carson asked.
“Discovery learning.” The medic shrugged. “Standing around and poking him with a stick won’t help.”
“West, help Moretti and keep our guest under guard,” Carson said.
West flashed her a thumbs-up and grabbed the alien by the ankles. He and Moretti carried the alien away, Birch following with his carbine in hand.
“Ma’am?” Danielle said from behind her.
Carson turned around and looked into the dead face of an SI head. Crystals woven into a band of hair running across the back of its otherwise bare skull chimed against each other.
“Holy shi—!” Carson flinched back.
“What?” the engineer asked. “These are data crystals.” She ran a finger through the dead alien’s weave, touching wire filaments that ran into the alien’s skin. “That Ultari pirate certainly thought it was worth leaving with this.”
Carson looked at the trophy with disgust.
Greer came out onto the landing connected to the bridge.
“Carson, you all ready to—what the hell is that? Sweet Jesus, Carson, we send you guys out for like five minutes and you come back looking like a bunch of head-hunting savages. What are you going to do next, roast the prisoner for dinner?”
“The situation was fluid,” Carson snapped at the pilot.
One of the other scientists extended two gloved hands to Danielle. His German accent was thick and he smiled as he stepped forward. “Let’s get it in quarantine, shall we?”
“I thought Pathfinders knew better than to rub their faces into any alien thing they came across,” Greer said.
Carson raised an index finger to the pilot. “We’re doing just fine. Thank you very much. You still have that ship marked with the intact propulsion systems.”
The pilot nodded.
Carson turned the finger to Danielle.
“Prep your engineers,” she said. “Now we’re on a salvage mission.”
“Finally.” Danielle looked down at her fingers and tried to shake away Ultari fluids staining her gloves, “I’ve been looking for an opportunity to rip open some authentic Ultari tech for years. Hopefully, the engines won’t be as…icky.”
“Work fast and work safe,” Carson said.
“Where’s my blow torch?” Danielle wandered away, still shaking out her hands.
****
Governor Hale finished his walk around one of the salvaged Ultari drives, then stopped and crossed his arms, looking at the engines that were a little bigger than a small bus, shaking his head. They were elongated tear drops of metal with cut pipes jutting out from the surface seemingly at random.
“Faster than light travel,” he said almost absently.
Elias, Hale’s teenage son, rubbed his hands together, his smile reaching from ear to ear. “Can you believe it, Dad?”
“I really can’t,” Hale said. “But we’ve seen them work with our own eyes.”
The twin drive systems the Valiant and her crew had liberated from the alien ship sat on the deck of Enduring Spirit’s largest shuttle bay. They’d cleared out all non-essential personnel and moved all the remaining craft to other bays, giving the technicians complete control of the area. The Valiant rested
twenty yards away, a group of techs crawling over her hull, already trying to figure out where they were going to cut, while Greer followed them around like a child concerned about their toy in the hands of their sibling.
“Well,” Hale said, turning to the assembled engineers. “Do you think you can do it?”
Danielle rubbed her chin, considering the alien spacecraft. After a moment, she blew out a long breath and said, “It’s definitely the same Ultari technology the Triumvirate had us build for their ship. Essentially the same, in fact.”
“Weren’t the Triumvirate imprisoned for hundreds of years on Negev?” Hale asked. “The tech you found today is identical? No design improvements?”
“I found it odd too,” Danielle said. “Five hundred years ago, humans were using wind to sail their ships and bleeding each other with leeches to cure disease. My team and I think that either the Ultari and the SI lost the tech to build new engines, which doesn’t hold with the carbon dating and metal fatigue we see on these artifacts, or they decided the tech was solved and refused to improve any further.”
Another engineer stepped up to portside nacelle and ran a hand down its smooth casing. “We lucked out with one thing.” He pressed a hand against the surface and a panel opened up with a low hiss. Inside was a ring of pale yellow crystals resting in nests made from golden filaments.
“What is that?” Hale asked.
“We called it astranite,” Danielle said. “The Triumvirate had us digging through mines on Terra Nova and Negev for months to find any. Lost a lot of lives in the process…and in the end, we recovered enough that was barely a tenth of that. The crystals are what make FTL possible, a play on an Alcubierre drive but needed only a fraction of the power our drives use. That we found some on both Negev and Terra Nova led some of our planetologists to believe the crystals are remnants from a very old supernova, like any heavy metal. When the Ultari figured out they could be used for FTL…” She shrugged.
“And this crystal doesn’t exist back in the Milky Way,” Hale said. “Earth gets FTL tech and it would be a game changer.”
“Same as the Ultari getting the Crucible tech from us,” Elias said. “A Crucible can open up a wormhole to a spot hundreds or thousands of light years away, depending on gravity tides. The SI and Ultari can go from star to star at FTL speeds, but it takes time.”
