Alliance

by Bruce S Larson

  “Where?” Niko asked, and relaxed his grip on Myra.

  “Unknown.”

  “Is it their system?” Myra asked.

  “Perhaps. But as they have vanished, I believe this system has, too. If it ever existed, and was not some model created as a key. Or even toy.”

  “Toy.” Myra said flatly and sighed. She and Niko looked out at the black planet. They seemed to float high above it in orbit. Myra wondered of the imagery was a response to Buran’s transmitted questions.

  “If I can arrange these symbols as planets in stable orbits, and then create a model solar system, I believe to will communicate my desire to discuss gravitation and mass.”

  “Curves in spacetime, or the application and subtraction of mass?” Myra asked.

  Buran paused and answered. “Mass.”

  “You, ah, you sure your model will work?” Niko asked Buran almost as a wheeze.

  “Truthfully, I would prefer to simply input the expression of a scalaric rudiment with zero angular momentum, but,” Buran shrugged all his shoulders, “I don’t know how.”

  Niko looked at Buran and tried to nod his head, but it only quivered. He began a sigh that became a very slow inhaling of the ozone-scented air, and then spoke in a hushed voice. “Well, yeah, ah, who does?”

  The visual edges of the black, planetary sphere glowed intense, electric blue. The sphere decreased in size and became a flat disk. The glow became a cylinder. As the black disk rapidly shrank, it appeared to be accelerating away. It stopped when it was only visible as a black dot. Suddenly all three felt they were traveling at great velocity toward the black disk. Buran squinted as the blue light became more intense and the black disk drew closer at increasing speed. Myra and Niko instinctively braced each other. The universe was suddenly absolute black.

  “Evidently, I was successful.” Buran said. His arms relaxed and his keyboard platform disassociated before him.

  Niko and Myra blinked. Buran stared ahead of them. They all stood on a wide arch of the same electric blue. Near them, the arch terminated at a square, recessed bay. Within it were rows of hundreds of white-hued, rectangular prisms sitting on their small sides with rods projecting from their exposed tops.

  The structures were surprisingly proportional to their size, not built for beings larger than giants. A beam of blue from high above struck the closest prism’s rod. It glowed and began to pulsate. The beam vanished. Behind them came a breeze. They all turned to see the blue arch extend to a portal large enough to reveal the sides of the canyon cut by the Sword Wing. Between its high walls were the dim, distant stars in the skies of Tectus.

  “This is the end of the trek, for us.” Buran said through a deep breath as he looked over at the pulsating rod on the rectangular prism. “Now I must trust my planning and the technicians you called soldiers. They will remove the data storage unit.”

  “How? By threatening it with their guns?” Myra asked with a voice tinged with awe but also lit by an ember of her former anger.

  “Again, assumptions.” Buran rolled both sets of shoulders, but smiled. “They have no weapons, and are remade for this one specific act. Their uniforms emit personal shields. They posses enhanced endurance. The tools they hold sacred are specialized grapple and extraction units. Their succession of teams will put the data rod on my transport, also rebuilt for this task. From it I will integrate the rod’s power, its information, into my ship.”

  “And make it more powerful.” Niko breathed.

  “In a sense.” Buran rocked, slightly. “It will give me data. But we here must leave. Even the small amount you see is exposure we dare not endure for long.”

  “It’s radiation?” Niko asked.

  “Essentially, yes.” Buran nodded. “But not in the natural sense. These rods are blank slates, books without pages. The prisms are their covers. Shields. Now written on, this one pulsates. Mere lifeforms of our kind cannot survive continued exposure to it. The data is so complex and arcane that it is like star fire to us. But this is the information I need to enact my plan and destroy Hell's hegemony, once and for all.”

  “Impulses not electric or magnetic, but something radiant.” Myra offered. As she had led them over the hellish images, she began to walk from the field of prisms and to the portal. The others followed.

  “Yes.” Buran smiled. “A sort of phased coding, so intensely compressed it becomes more like plasma that data.”

  “And you can read and contain it?” Myra asked Buran with a questioning, narrowed glance.

  “Yes. Honestly, just barely. But, yes. I see you understand the dangers.”

  “You can’t just,” Myra slowly shrugged and cupped her hands searching for a clearly understood phrase. “You can’t simply open the box.”

  “No.” Buran nodded. “Unchecked, the rod could be a force weapon, to us, like a bomb. Pure power unleashed. Used right, it will empower a new age of peace. Galactic peace.”

  “But your technicians—” Niko said, realizing the dangers they faced.

  “Yes. They will be sacrificed.” Buran inhaled, deeply. He looked at Myra and then back at Niko. “They know it. It is their sworn purpose to exist. As my mission is for every living person of my world. You see, I would never ask any of them to do what I am not willing to do, myself. I am also doomed. But the death of the galaxy will be averted.”

  Myra looked at Buran with a focused stare. “History. Hell drove us here. Hell saved us here. You came here for power. And you simply take it. Now tell us that you are dedicated to peace, not conquest. Yet, our introduction to you was—is, as a conqueror.”

  “And I have been, to achieve this goal, and elements of it. You saw my fleet as a threat. It was. You saw a hellship act as a savior, and it was. But look at its history. One hellship is an unchallengeable world of destruction. There were once several. If one comes, will it prove as kind, or merely ambivalent to your people? Before they orbit my planet, I intend to stop them. That will be a worthy conquest.

  “But, if I fail, you can now begin the work of saving Tectus, and perhaps other worlds. You all have intellect. As with this rod, this information, that is the source of true power. My ship, even the Physic, they are all nothing without knowledge and the minds to unlock it.

  “So, your presence here may be owed to happenstance. But here you are. Now, the future is nothing that you ever imagined. Choose well the path ahead. It may determine the fate of the galaxy.”

  “So, practically speaking, you will tell us how to access more rods?” Niko asked.

  “No.” All four of Buran’s eyes finally blinked in unison. “But you will likely learn how to do that on your own. You are free. You have a little knowledge and, now, more time. You will build, like the Physic, or succumb to that expanding avarice wrought by power, like Hell, and die?”

  Buran sped up his pace and left through the portal. Behind them, the rod handle seemed to hum and crackle but Myra and Niko were silent as Buran’s words crackled through their minds. Then, the silence was broken again.

  “Although I suggest, right now, that you follow me.” Buran said as he reentered. “It is a long climb out.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Incoming attack.” Proxis spoke his warning with no urgency.

  Anguhr’s forces had completed a reconnaissance of the system neighboring Kaekus when a target appeared within the gravity well between the local suns. The screens before the Ship Master’s command dais displayed a cylindrical mass composed of multiple sections of smaller, shaft-like spacecraft forming concentric rings. The ring section began breaking into circular waves of arrow-like ships. Their metal hulls glinted intense light and flared with ionizing radiation from the nearby suns. The arrows engaged their wider, aft main engines in each, successive release of ships. The waves of arrow ships began streaking into the solar system towards the hellship.

  “We should alert Lord Anguhr.” Solok said as he took interest in the projected images and data.

  “I have,” Proxis
replied. “And noted this does not require his power. Our Lord is still meeting with Cargo Master Zol in the main bay and addressing the technical issue.”

  “The same issue. The prize the Destroyer captured on the Iron Work.” Solok found himself sneering. “That strange power rod.”

  “Correct. It seems to be more radiant than usual.”

  “Radiant?” Solok’s thorny brows shot upward.

  “Yes.” Proxis suppressed a smile. “How does one describe information made into an energetic force?”

  “Dangerous!” Solok barked.

  “Indeed,” Proxis adjusted the image angle of the approaching fleet. “But it is our Lord's prize, and a weapon only he can use.”

  “A weapon,” Solok nodded to himself. “Then I will be more at ease with its presence. These attacking ships look to be gaining speed with little attention to maneuvering.”

  “Correct. And, as they scan as only armed with simplistic fusion warheads—”

  “Another self-destructive species.” Solok snorted. “Are they biologic?”

  “Partially. I read a cybernetic interface of pilot and warship.”

  “Simple technology, indeed.” Solok snorted louder. “I would appreciate a more robust assault. I would think Hell has inspired more than suicidal warheads.”

  “They may see their attack as a noble sacrifice.” Proxis shrugged.

  “One wonders what their leaders see.” Solok mused. “Is it a need to sacrifice lives to destroy an enemy, or the use of fear to enslave minds?”

  “A study of psychology, Field Master?” Proxis glanced at Solok with a smile nearly curling his thorny, serpentine face.

  “Strategic consideration, Master Proxis. Enslaved minds are easy to defeat. The enslavers are the true enemy.”

  “Will we need to destroy both?”

  “Should they strike at us, again. I assume that would be our Lord’s order. This force is no threat.”

  “Correct,” Proxis rested his talon-like hands on the sides of his dais. “Nor can they pursue us beyond this system. Their jump capacity ended when they sundered their bond to separate and attack.”

  “They cannot reform as a single ship?” Solok asked.

  “As you noted, that is not their tactic. They seek to strike and detonate their warheads.”

  “I see their formation has split into two waves.” Solok said as he watched the arrow ships’ projection.

  “I’m certain the second wave is the true, focused attack after initial strikes probe our defenses and inflict whatever damage they can cause. The second wave will exploit any breaches. Of course, there will be no breaches.”

  “Then we should not alter course, but watch them annihilated themselves against our flames.” Solok nodded.

  “That’s one strategy,” Proxis said.

  “Another?” Solok raised his jagged eyebrows.

  “Their cybernetic systems are as simple as their fusion warheads. I already control them.”

  “So you can cause a mass detonation?” Solok looked at the screen and waited for explosions.

  “Or, I can disengage their drive units and cause their guidance motors to slow their velocity. In simple parlance, I can flip an off switch.”

  The fast arrow ships had already neared the hellship as it traveled an opposing course. Proxis sent his hacked command. In near unison, the coronas of the arrows’ main engines vanished. Retrorocket motors flared around their bow.

  “A battle won without fighting. Interesting.” Solok slowly rocked his head in consideration of the idea, but frowned.

  “I am certain such a victory will be unusual,” Proxis offered.

  “Our opponents are becoming,” Solok snorted, “more strange.”

  “True. Sentience does not offer a consistent mindset. Ships such as these pose no threat, but still attack. Ships like the Sword Wing may contest our strength, but instead escape battle. Perhaps there is an inverse reaction of technology and courage.”

  “Perhaps. And another reaction between power and treachery, as on Kaekus.” Solok paused. His beliefs had changed, yet past taboos endured in his mind, such as never defaming the mother of demons. Nevertheless, he pushed aside the inhibition, again. “Or Hell. It seems a will to deceive and destroy is not unique to the Dark Urge.”

  “I imagine it’s frustrating to these pilots.” Proxis observed. “I wonder what they will do now their long imagined doom, and perhaps suicidal glory, has been denied.”

  As if to answer Proxis, detonations ripped across the drifting cloud of arrow ships. The explosions destroyed surrounding ships. Others exploded their warheads and continued the display of useless fireballs in space.

  Solok sniffed. “It appears some seek death more than contemplation of their fate.”

  “Odd,” Proxis watched the blooms of thermonuclear reactions across the first wave of arrows as the hellship neared them. “We give them choice, freedom from death, yet they chose to destroy themselves and many of their kind.”

  “I wonder if they can think for themselves, or are they are true automatons?” Solok asked.

  “Automatons or fanatics.” Proxis stated flatly.

  “There is a difference?” Solok asked as he turned from the images of exploding warheads and focused on Proxis.

  “Possibly,” Proxis flexed his wingless back. “One type can imagine a fate beyond their programming. The other can only be switched off.”

  “Or destroyed.”

  “By us or by their own act.” Proxis cocked his head, slightly, as the hellship passed the first wave of arrows.

  “Do you suppose we were once as simple?” Solok asked.

  “When? In gestation?” Proxis asked.

  “The Dark Urge would have kept us loyal through lies. Now, we are unique among demons, even among our horde. We lead. It is our duty to think.”

  Proxis paused in thought before saying “we are the last horde.”

  Solok now paused. “And much of the universe seems determined to kill us.”

  “The future,” Proxis said. “It may be a battle to reach it.”

  “Then, I am glad we are demons.”

  Proxis did not reply. The hellship stayed its course and passed the second wave of arrow ships that were now also adrift and confused. Behind the hellship’s star-like maindrive, fewer warheads detonated.

  Buran’s mind drifted as his body sped inside the Sword Wing. He found victory held an odd scent. It was the aroma of sealants and bonded molecules. He inhaled those smells inside a speeding transit car. The network of ballistic trolleys moved technicians and engineers across the vast ship in rare times when problems required a hands-on presence. This car smelled free of any previous passengers. Obviously, Roelar had chosen an unused one for their trip. Buran wondered what smelled better: a new car still emitting fumes, or one well used and imbued with the scents of several riders. Perhaps Roelar knew the answer. However, it did not seem like a command level question, and Buran remained silent as the car sped through the dark transit shaft.

  The car hardly seemed to slow before it stopped with a muffled bang. The hatch slid open in the same instant. Roelar flexed his arm to release his grip, but halted his egress. He differed to Buran to exit first and lead the way. Buran reached out with all four arms to leave the car. There was no field to mimic gravity in this section. Once they left the car, they moved more like mantis than humanoids to enter the shaft above them to the aft, outlook post.

  The shaft sides were slightly rough. Inside it, they moved as fast as birds propelled by their second set of arms and kept their legs straight and their top set of arms folded. The thick, adhering pads of the secondary, climbing arms made handholds unnecessary. As with geckos on ancient Earth, almost any surface the Nemorosan's could touch, they could climb. This was true over the transparent, narrow rectangle placed to overlook the shuttle bay.

  The aft shuttle bay was actually a socket for a large component. Until now, the shuttle served as a ferry, but its prime function was to land,
take the power rod, and then connect it to the Sword Wing. Inside its bulkheads was a small area for crew, and a large machine built to integrate Physic information technology with Nemorosan systems. If it worked, the warship’s power increased well beyond its countless guns.

  Buran and Roelar watched the delta-shaped shuttle descend to the external recess with the same outline. Beyond it, the raised, dorsal wing-section near the bay reflected the white light of the merging shuttle’s engines at its front, and the radiance of the main drive at the Sword Wing’s stern.

  Automation now piloted the shuttle. As Buran anticipated, the specialized crewmembers who installed the rod died from exposure to its intense energy. The shuttle was now their tomb. Buran and Roelar were aware of the installation crew’s fate, but gaining the rod was a long-awaited triumph that the death of the unit did not lessen. Although it would feel alien to many, both commander and deputy felt relief and accomplishment despite the lives lost.

  “Sever all binary links to the graviton projectors.” Buran ordered. “We cannot risk the power of the rod overwhelming the ship's main network.”

  “Your order is already executed, Admiral.” Roelar answered. “Should we deploy the projectors and run a test?”

  “No. Keep them hidden. As you now realize, the greatest power the rod will unleash will not require us to fire a shot.”

  “But it also gives our ship greater power. A graviton-like wave.” Roelar furthered with pride of his new knowledge.

  “I admit I am eager to confirm my calculations when the field interacts with particles in our main drive's exhaust and alters them on quantum and etheric states.” Buran said. “But for now, we need only deploy one secret weapon. When needed, we will change gravity from an effect to a force.”

  “A military one, that we control.” Roelar said. “I live to serve!”

  “As do we all. Now we set course. The penultimate battle for the galaxy is near.”

  To survive, the Great Widow would bend and adapt to powers beyond her full control. The Dark Urge was such a power. The long-enduring spider had an adaptation no other living creatures possessed. She could weave charmed silk that linked the black sovereign to her weapons of rage across spacetime. This gave the Dark Urge a power even her arcane machines and manipulations of ethereal physics could not. There were other reasons almighty evil desired the presence of a giant spider. Even malevolent insanity needed a willing listener it knew was not a phantom of delusion, even if the listener had eight eyes and legs, fangs, and no ears.