Bloodlines

by Richard Fox

  Something clattered across the deck. Moretti looked down just in time to see something slide off the walkway, underneath one of the large condenser units. “What was that?”

  “Don’t know. I think I kicked something.”

  Moretti hopped off the railing, shaking his head. “If it was a snake, it would’ve bit you.”

  Nunez bent down, reaching underneath the machine, grunting as he stretched his arm out. “Almost got it… there!”

  He came back up with a small data pad in his hand. “Just looks like a personal pad. You think one of the engineers left it behind?”

  “Not likely,” Moretti said, holding out his hand. “Let me see it.”

  Moretti took the pad, inspected it, then powered it up. The loading image faded a second later, replaced with a view of Earth’s Crucible gate. He looked over several of the icons, frowning. “Xaros Elites?”

  “Really, one or two?” Nunez asked, snatching the pad back, flipping it around to read. “Two? Man, I’ve been wanting to play this one forever.”

  Moretti arched an eyebrow. “It’s a game?”

  “It’s not just a game,” Nunez said, shooting Moretti a glare. “It’s the number one RTS on the market right now. Well, back home on Earth anyway. I doubt these guys out here even have Xaros Elites 1.”

  “Okay, so what’s it doing here? I doubt any of those engineers play a stupid game.”

  “It’s not stupid.”

  A metallic clang came from the far end of the compartment, and on instinct, Moretti drew his pistol. “What the hell?”

  Nunez dropped the pad, drawing his own gun and backing up beside Moretti. “Who’s there?”

  “If there’s anyone back there, you need to come out now. I promise it will be better for you in the long term. You don’t want to get shot.”

  A high-pitched, almost whiny voice answered, “P-p-please, don’t shoot. We didn’t do it.”

  “Come out!” Moretti shouted. “Keep your hands in the air.”

  “Okay, okay, we’re coming out,” another voice said. “Ouch, careful.”

  Nunez and Moretti exchanged looks.

  A second later, Elias Hale emerged from behind one of the large coolant tanks near the back of the compartment. His brother, Jerry, followed him out.

  “I swear, it’s not my fault,” Elias said. “I was just looking at the specs. I didn’t do anything. I’m sorry!”

  “Aren’t they…” Moretti holstered his pistol.

  “They are.” Nunez shook his head.

  “It was his fault!” Jerry punched his brother in the shoulder.

  “Times like this,” Nunez said, “I’m glad I’m not the officer in charge.”

  ****

  The two Hale boys sat next to each other on benches bolted to the cargo bay bulkheads, looking like their world was about to end.

  And they probably aren’t too far off, Carson thought. She stood in the middle of the bay, trying to figure out what they were going to do next. Either way, she was going to have one hell of a time explaining this one to Hale, something she wasn’t looking forward to at all.

  “Can’t we just take them back?” Popov asked.

  “That’ll put us a week behind schedule, at least,” West said.

  “We’re already putting a pretty good strain on the FTL drives going as far as we are,” Greer said. “I’d hate to see what happens to the astranite if we just abruptly drop out of hyperspace and jump back in. Specs call for a 72-hour turnaround at a minimum, to let the drives reset. Otherwise, you run the risk of cracking the crystals and let’s assume that’s a very bad thing to do light years from any help.”

  Carson thought about that for a moment, shaking her head. “We have a mission. Governor Hale gave me a few conditions to return before the mission’s complete, and stowaways wasn’t one of them.”

  “We won’t be in the way, honest,” Elias said.

  Jerry shoved an elbow into his brother’s side. “Shut up!”

  “Ow! Stop that.”

  “Well, it’s your fault we’re here. If you hadn’t wanted to see those damn engines so bad, we wouldn’t be in this shit.”

  “Language,” Elias warned, rubbing his side.

  Jerry rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Chief Carson. I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Carson held up a hand. “Enough.” All the possible stowaways in the galaxy and I get stuck with Ken Hale’s kids? “So, what, we just confine them to quarters? I’m not sure how feasible that is, or if we even have the space to board them.”

  “We can make some space in the crew berths,” Petty Officer Roy Torgeson, Valiant’s crew chief, said. “Though there isn’t any way to secure the compartment.”

  “We won’t cause any trouble,” Elias said.

  “Chief Carson,” Jerry said. “I know this looks bad, but I promise we won’t cause any problems.”

  “Any more problems, you mean?” Carson said.

  Jerry looked away. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You know,” West said, giving Carson a sidelong look. “I was checking the head just before coming up here. It could use a really good cleaning. I was going to save it for Nunez, but it seems as though we have two better qualified individuals here that could do the job.”

  Carson suppressed a grin. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  The brothers groaned.

  Carson pointed a finger. “You’ll report to Petty Officer Torgeson. You’ll do what he says, no matter what. If you cause any issues whatsoever, I’ll have you locked in a closet for the remainder of the mission. Understood?”

  Both boys nodded and said in unison, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “They’re all yours, PO,” Carson said.

  “Right,” Torgeson said. “You boys come with me. I trust you know what a mop is. If you don’t, you’ll be experts by the time this voyage is over.”

  Reluctantly, Elias and Jerry stood and followed the crew chief to the front of the bay, up the stairs, and through the hatch to the main crew deck.

  Carson waited for the hatch to shut, then said, “Son of a bitch.”

  West crossed his arms. “This complicates things a little.”

  “A little? Sergeant, we’re royally screwed here. Hale already barely trusts me. The only reason he sent me on this mission is because I’m literally the only thing he has.” Carson paused, chewing on her lip. “And to be honest, I can’t blame him. Add this to the equation and I’m in a lose-lose spot any way you look at it.”

  “It’s not your fault, Chief. They chose to sneak on board.”

  “It might not be my fault, but it’s sure as hell my responsibility. If anything happens to those boys…”

  “Nothing will happen to them,” West told her.

  “I still can’t believe they were able to sneak aboard in the first place.”

  “What?” West asked. “That they outsmarted every security system we had in place and snuck aboard the most advanced ship in the fleet? Seems kind of par for the course for a descendant of Ken Hale.”

  Carson grunted. “Right.”

  Chapter 12

  Jared stood at the end of a long row of half-finished Netherguard assembly tubes, inspecting the cables and wires that connected the string of tubes to the central computer core. Several Ultari workers rushed past, carrying equipment for the tubes further down the line, keeping their eyes hidden from him.

  Word had spread quickly that Kyrios had returned and his power was unquestionable. Kailani had to go so far as to make a station wide broadcast informing all its occupants as much. She’d sent a wideband FTL blast recalling all their deployed forces, and if Jared was being honest with himself, he was glad she’d appeared; otherwise, Kyrios would have surely torn apart the entire station.

  He finished adjusting a metal coupling, then moved to the next. The Ultari Fortress, which Kyrios had renamed to its first designation, the Hand of God, for all its failings had provided them with six times as many 3D
printers as they’d had on their ship and on Negev. It had only taken a few days for Jared to configure them to produce additional tubes. In this line alone, they had more than a hundred construction stations. So far, they’d produced five lines of a tube, which, combined with the ones they’d brought on the Ultar’s Wrath, brought their total capacity to almost 60 tubes. Once they were all up and running, they’d be capable of producing upwards of 360 Netherguard an hour.

  A battalion of troops just like that, Jared thought. This can be ramped up even further. The emperor will have an army in no time.

  Jared felt someone step up behind him and turned to find the Arch Duke standing there, looking over the tubes. He bowed his head. “Arch Duke Cigyd.”

  Without looking at Jared, the Arch Duke said, “How is the construction proceeding?”

  “We are on schedule, master.”

  “As soon as this line is ready, I want you to move into full production.”

  “Of course, master,” Jared said, bowing his head again. “I must report, however, that we are having a slight issue with linking the existing Ultari technology with our own. I believe we will solve this problem quickly, but it is causing some system errors in the new generation of Netherguard; they become largely unstable when injured. If you’ll give me a few days—”

  Cigyd waved a dismissive hand through the air. “They are meat only. We can always grow more once we correct the issue. Full production, servant, do you understand?”

  “Yes, master.”

  The Arch Duke stood there, silent for a long moment. Finally, Jared said, “Is there something else I might assist you with?”

  “I have another project for you.”

  The Arch Duke led Jared back to their ship, to the bridge, now empty. The Emperor and Prince were busy assessing what resources the Fortress could provide. Cigyd moved to one side, and a panel slid aside, disappearing into the bulkhead, revealing a small room Jared hadn’t known existed.

  Inside were three large tanks, all painted matte black, all sealed shut but not running. Cables hung from the ceiling, running to each tank and banks of displays formed a semi-circle around each tank, near their heads.

  He frowned. “Master?”

  The Arch Duke ignored him and stepped up beside the far-left tank, wiping a metallic hand across the transparent domed lid. Jared moved closer, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was inside.

  An Ultari body with golden skin lay inside, eyes closed as if it was sleeping. The ridged protrusions on its forehead were less pronounced than the Ultari here on the station and its skin was supple, not pulled tight across its face. Its sunken eye sockets and long jaw were still the most identifiable feature, though on this unconscious alien, it didn’t look nearly as threatening.

  “You’re growing your own bodies?” He leaned forward, peering through the film of frost and condensation. “That’s not a Netherguard at all.”

  “These captains might be cowed for the time being, but if we are ever going to regain our command over our people, they will have to see us for who we really are. Our original bodies were destroyed when the Abomination locked us away and dismantled everything we’d built. Our once glorious empire is in decay, not even a shadow of what it once was.”

  Jared couldn’t take his eyes away from the alien body. What possibilities would be available to him if the Triumvirate was merely flesh and blood, and not the mechanically constructs they were now?

  “We have much work to do,” the Arch Duke continued. “The information Captain Kailani has provided is nothing short of disturbing. It seems that not only did the Abomination destroy our legacy, but the Faithful have abandoned our Ancestors and now fight amongst themselves for scraps from the Abomination’s table. It is a disgrace. What was once the greatest empire in the galaxy has been reduced to broken bands of pirates, traders, and thieves, all living under the heel of the Regulos?” He spat the last word.

  “But according to the captains, the Abomination…these Regulos haven’t made any further moves to attack Ultari worlds since you were deposed. Like it just stopped after imprisoning the three of you.”

  “The Abomination is flawed,” Cigyd said. “Even so many hundreds of years ago, we understood this. It doesn’t wish for domination over all; it strives for order and consistency. A constant state of perfection. Only when that objective is threatened does the Abomination that controls the Regulos act. There is no one now that has the strength or will to challenge its power, no matter how stagnant it’s become. We are too close to fulfillment to allow anything to hinder our progress. Now that our Netherguard facilities are coming on-line, your task will be to oversee this project.”

  “Growing these bodies?”

  “This body…failed. Unfortunately. This program will be the key to our success in reestablishing the Ultari Empire. They must be nothing short of perfect. You, and your loved ones, will be held personally responsible should these constructs fail.”

  “Master,” Jared said. “I’m not a geneticist. I know the assembly tech enough to control the dough boys and Netherguard, but I’m no doctor.”

  “You are more capable than you let others believe, Jared Hale. You fool no one with your ignorant veneer,” Cigyd said. “I, for one, was against involving you in this project, but the Emperor insisted, despite my misgivings. I will, however, be the one to dispense punishment should the project fail. Now that I’ve been able to collect genetic data from Ultari, we can use your human procedural technology to create proper vessels for the Triumvirate’s spirits.”

  If the Arch Duke’s face would have been able to render a smile, Jared imagined he would be at this very moment. Instead, the black metal face stared at him, as if waiting for an answer.

  Jared nodded. “Yes, master. I understand.”

  “Good.” Cigyd moved out of the hidden alcove. “We are expecting the remaining fleet captains to arrive any day now. When they do, they will be met by the herald. After we have the opportunity to integrate them into our new battle fleet, we will begin planning our attack.”

  Jared looked up. “Attack?”

  “We must strike the Regulos and their Abomination masters hard and fast. A decisive victory will not only show that we aren’t a trivial force, it will call the other clans to our banner.”

  “What if the captains don’t want to fight for you?” Jared asked.

  “They will either submit, or they will be destroyed."

  Chapter 13

  “How long has he been like that?” Shannon asked, looking at the Ultari through the two-way glass window separating them and the alien’s cell.

  The Ultari prisoner sat, secured to a stainless-steel chair on one side of a matching square table, both of which were bolted to the floor. After what had happened in the clinic, Hale had decided they weren’t going to take any chances. He wore a simple hospital gown and kept the cell purposely cool.

  The walls of the cell were dull grey, the room lit by a single photocell on the ceiling. A metal slab extended out from the back wall, topped with a thin mattress and a single blanket.

  “Ever since Dr. Chu released him,” Hale said.

  “And he hasn’t said anything?”

  “Nothing at all. Not even when the guards moved him from the bed to the chair. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Knight floated closer to the window in his counter-grav chair. “All interviews are the same: gain their confidence, keep them on their toes, then break them.”

  “Interrogation, you mean,” Marie said.

  “Interrogation sounds too harsh,” Knight said, looking back over his shoulder. “We’re the kinder, gentler military. I was counter-intelligence way back when, even before the Ember War. Got picked up for some special programs, most of which I’m sure are still classified. Suffice it to say, I never walked out of an interview without the information I needed.”

  “With humans maybe.”

  “Potato, potahto,” Knight said. “I’ve got a few techniques in
my back pocket. He can’t be immune to them all. We just have to find out which buttons he’s got and push them.”

  “What kind of techniques?” Hale asked.

  “Oh, you know, cold exposure, sleep deprivation, hunger, sound amplification, waterboarding; you know, the basics.”

  “That’s torture,” Marie said, crossing her arms.

  “I prefer the term ‘enhanced interrogation’.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you call it,” Marie said. “It’s torture.”

  Knight toddled around, pain on his face as he had to keep weight on his injured leg so he could face Marie. “Let me get this straight. This asshole in there captured, enslaved, and killed thousands of our people, and you’re defending his civil rights?”

  “This individual didn’t kill thousands.”

  “How do you know that?” Knight asked. “If I understand it correctly, this guy was found with a severed alien head in his hand. I don’t know about you, but I’d say that’s a pretty clear indication he’s not one of the good guys.”

  “You don’t even know if he’ll answer questions at all, regardless of whether or not you torture him,” Marie said, putting an emphasis on the last words.

  Knight held up his hands. “Hey, I’m all for a calm, relaxing, civil conversation. Wouldn’t be as fun, but if he’s up for it, I’m okay with it. But I’ve met my fair share of interviewees, and I can say with almost 100 percent certainty that this guy isn’t going to just open up and share his life story with me.”

  Marie turned to Hale. “I want to be in there with him.”

  “Absolutely not,” Hale said. “There’s no way I’m putting you in a room with that thing.”

  “He’s secured to a chair,” Marie said. “He’s not going anywhere. Besides, there’s a team of armed guards waiting on the other side of the door just in case.”

  “Marie,” Hale started.

  She looked at him sternly. “I’m going in there.”

  Hale held her gaze for a time, then looked away, sighing. It was useless to argue with the woman and he knew it.