Dark Space- The Complete Series

by Jasper T. Scott

  Hoff sat in the copilot’s chair of his personal corvette, the Last Chance, watching as it skimmed low over the icy surface of the world. The pilot flew them over dozens of fresh, steaming magma flows which glowed brightly from the bottoms of deep canyons in the ice. This was the Diaphanous River Valley, so named for the curtains of steam which rose up from the canyons whenever fresh magma flowed into them and melted the surrounding ice and snow. As Hoff watched, his pilot guided them toward a particular curtain of steam. The corvette sliced through that rising wall of vapor and came out over a wide river of glowing red magma. This was the Isharian Flow, fresh from Mt. Isharan, the nearest and crankiest of the volcanoes in the Diaphanous River Valley.

  The pilot, Hoff’s chief security officer, Sergeant Thriker, dove down into the canyon and flew out low over the glowing river of magma. The bridge of the corvette was immediately bathed in a bloody red glow, and Hoff leaned forward in his chair, straining against the seat restraints to peer up at the high walls of ice rising to either side. The walls leaned ponderously out over the river. Glittering rows of icicles hung from the walls, formed by the rising steam. Unlike a real river canyon which was narrower at the base and wider at the top, magma canyons were wider at the base, and formed partially-covered tunnels in the ice.

  Before they’d flown even a dozen kilometers, Hoff saw the end of the canyon appear through the swirling curtains of steam. The end was a field of black glass—obsidian which had piled up from thousands of separate magma flows. Eventually the entire canyon would be filled with obsidian and the magma would carve a new canyon somewhere else.

  For now, however, that mostly-flat field of glassy black rock was the landing field for Dominic’s Gor Academy. All of five minutes later they’d set down on the unmarked landing field and Hoff was standing inside the corvette’s airlock, dressed in a suit of light combat armor and waiting for the boarding ramp to extend. He hadn’t brought any guards along, because even a whole platoon of sentinels wouldn’t be enough to protect him from the Gors if they decided to turn on him, and right now secrecy took precedence over safety. After all, he didn’t want just anyone to know what he was doing at Dominic’s academy.

  There were two reasons Hoff had made Ritan his headquarters and the intra-fleet rendezvous between his Fifth Fleet Remnant and the ISSF forces in Dark Space. The first reason was because he could drop a few shatter bombs from orbit if the Gors so much as sneezed in the wrong direction, but the second reason was because Hoff wanted to study the Gors, and the academy gave him the perfect excuse.

  The airlock opened with a hiss, and steam swirled in. Hoff descended the boarding ramp quickly, walking easily in Ritan’s slightly below standard gravity. He left his pilot aboard the corvette to keep the engines warm, just in case, and headed for a crevice in the ice at the end of the landing field. When he reached it, Hoff walked into the crevice, and a faint blue light led the way. The icy walls picked up and magnified the light, sparkling like crystal. The light grew brighter and brighter until Hoff came to another dead end. There he stopped and waited, gazing up at a sheer, luminous wall of ice. A moment later, that wall shimmered and Hoff heard a groan and cracking of ice around frozen mechanisms as a hidden door opened. The shimmering continued until the wall of ice faded, replaced with an open corridor. The entrance was disguised with a holofield. Hoff walked inside, and almost immediately a young petty officer in a white thermal suit stepped out of an alcove to greet him.

  “Admiral!” the petty officer saluted. Based on the naked bronze chevrons of his insignia, he was ISSF. Hoff had changed all the insignias in his fleet, surrounding them with glowing white borders to make the rift between their forces more visible. Overlord Dominic and the ISSF were working with the enemy, so all of them fell under suspicion right along with the Gors.

  Hoff returned the petty officer’s salute. “Take me to the sim hall.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They spent the next ten minutes winding through broad, icy corridors that were only dimly lit by a string of glowing blue lamps hanging down from duranium bulkheads and reinforcing beams. Along the way they passed dozens of naked Gors, and only a handful of fleet officers. There were even fewer armed and armored sentinels walking around—Hoff spotted just two—making him feel more and more trapped the deeper he went into the facility.

  Trying not to dwell on it, Hoff thought about the message he’d received from his research team. They had made a breakthrough. Rather than explain, his XO, Master Commander Lenon Donali, had said he should come down from Fortress Station and see it for himself—just in case someone was eavesdropping on their comms. Hoff was still wondering what that cryptic message had been about when he reached the broad double doors of the academy’s simulator hall. The petty officer stepped up to the doors and typed in a security code. The doors swished open and Hoff stepped out into a wide, open concourse with high ceilings and multiple doors leading off in all directions. All of the doors were labeled in glowing blue letters and numbers. The doors along the sides of the lobby were labeled “O” followed by a dash and a number, indicating the observation rooms where the instructors watched and evaluated their classes. At the back of the lobby were a series of much larger doors labeled “S” followed by a dash and a number, and those doors led to the various sim rooms. Some of those simulator rooms focused on ground combat, while others focused on starship operation. This sim hall was the primary training arena for the Gors. After studying their theory with instructors in classrooms, they came here where they could practice with the interactive holofields.

  Hoff dismissed the petty officer, and then headed for room O-6, where his research team had been given exclusive access. Hoff’s program was designed to train mixed teams of human and Gor commandos for insertion into enemy-occupied worlds, but that was just the official line, and what he told to Overlord Dominic’s men. The truth was that he was studying the Gors’ telepathy and cloaking abilities. Like that, he hoped to eventually find a way to detect cloaked Gors and their ships.

  As the door to O-6 swished open before him, Hoff stepped into what looked like the bridge of a generic, medium-sized starship. A gangway led from the entrance of the room to a captain’s table, while a dozen different bridge control stations lay below and to either side of that. Those control stations had been configured to monitor sensor nodes in skintight skullcaps which certain Gors wore beneath their glossy black helmets. Mixed Gor and human commando teams were the perfect excuse for Hoff to modify the Gors’ equipment, adding those caps as so-called comm suites to help them communicate with their human cohorts. The sensors in those caps took readings from the Gors’ brains and their surroundings in order to detect anomalies and brain wave patterns which could be associated with the Gors’ telepathic and cloaking abilities.

  Hoff strode up to the captain’s table and gazed down on it with a pair of men in insulated white lab coats. One of them looked up and nodded to him. Hoff recognized the man in his peripheral vision. The man’s glowing red artificial eye gave him away. It was Hoff’s XO, Master Commander Lenon Donali.

  As Hoff watched, the commander touched the comm piece in his ear and said, “Good work, Corporal Vossa, now pass that message on to Gor Squad Two.”

  Hoff saw that the training environment was a rocky, sand-swept red landscape. There were groups of green and yellow friendly contacts on the grid, each separated by their color. The green was for human commandos and the yellow for Gors. They advanced slowly on a seething mass of red enemy contacts which were clustered at the base of a rugged red mountain. Abruptly, Hoff’s gaze was drawn away from the bird’s eye view by a holo display which flashed up in the air above the table. It showed more than a dozen colored bars, each of them labeled with letters. Some of the bars were grayed out, minimizing their importance, while others remained bright. All of their levels were constantly fluctuating. As Hoff watched, one of the bars spiked up out of nowhere and then began to diminish. It was a yellow bar, labeled with the letter “T.”


  Donali caught Hoff’s eye and nodded to the display. “You see that?” he whispered.

  Hoff nodded. “What does it mean?”

  The commander held up a hand as if to say, wait and see. “Same message, Vossa, but this time to Gor Squad Three.” A moment later the yellow bar spiked again, and this time a shaded red circle appeared on the map, overlaying one of the clumps of yellow icons.

  “That bar you see labeled with a T represents the level of tachyon radiation around Corporal Vossa,” Donali explained, pointing to the slowly dropping levels. “Every time he communicates with his crèche mates, we detect a micro burst of tachyons. It’s the same thing we see after a ship has jumped to superluminal space, but the radiation is obviously much weaker.” Donali smiled, and he leaned close over the holographic glow of the captain’s table, bringing his features into sharp relief. “We can detect when they are communicating with each other, Admiral. We can pinpoint the origin of the radiation to within a five klick radius, and we can even calculate a vector from the fan-like spread of the radiation.”

  Hoff’s eyebrows elevated only slightly, but his heart raced and his brain buzzed with the possibilities for such a technology. “What about when they’re cloaked? Or . . . are they already cloaked?”

  “Unfortunately not. Somehow their cloaking shields hide even T radiation from our scanners.”

  “Are we sure that the Gors actually can communicate with each other while they’re cloaked?”

  Donali nodded. “Carefully timed and coordinated missions have confirmed that, but we remain unable to detect communications between cloaked Gors.”

  Hoff felt his impatience rising. “If tachyon radiation is useless for detecting cloaked Gors, then what did you bring me down here for, Commander?”

  “Well, it’s not entirely useless. If an uncloaked Gor contacts a cloaked one, we can detect that, and based on the vector, we might be able to find the cloaked one, too.”

  Suddenly Hoff understood the significance of the discovery and his eyes lit up. “So when and if one of our Gors calls home, we can tell that he didn’t contact one of his crèche mates on Ritan, because the vector will point off planet, into the middle of empty space.”

  “Exactly. Unless Gors can fly, there’s no way that telepathic communications with a space-bound vector should correspond to inter-Gor communications in this system.”

  “Unless he’s contacting one of the Gors in orbit aboard Dominic’s ships.”

  “But we’ll see the vector cross through them, and we can dismiss it.”

  Hoff nodded. “So we have an early warning system.”

  “Assuming the Gor who calls for help isn’t cloaked when he does so, yes.”

  “But we have no way of controlling that.”

  “We just have to hope that we’re lucky, and that the Gors don’t understand the limitations of our sensors.”

  Hoff sighed. “That’s better than nothing, I suppose. What do I need to do to my ships so that they can detect these telepathic bursts?”

  “Your fleet is already equipped with tachyon scanners to detect and track ships through SLS. All you need to do is calibrate them to detect lower levels of T radiation.”

  “Good. I’ll have you oversee that.”

  “Yes, sir. Are we going to tell the overlord?”

  Hoff frowned, and his thoughts turned to Overlord Dominic, now orbiting on the far side of Ritan in his five-kilometer-long flagship, the Valiant. Dominic’s arrival had been unexpected to say the least. “They are the ones who stand to benefit the most from this discovery, aren’t they? But no . . . for now, we’d better keep this quiet, especially from the ISSF. If someone leaks this and the Gors realize we can detect their telepathy, they’ll clam right up. We need to catch them first. Once we have proof that they’re not on our side, then we’ll go to Dominic and warn him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve made great progress, Donali, but keep working on it. If the Gors can communicate with each other while cloaked and telelocate one another like that, then we should be able to do whatever it is they’re doing.”

  The commander hesitated. “We may need to vivisect one of them to discover that.”

  Hoff shrugged. “We’ll do what we have to do. Let me know if that’s what you need.”

  “Yes, sir . . . I’ll be sure to exhaust all the other available options first.” Donali glanced around nervously, as if a cloaked Gor might be in the room, listening to them, but the displacement sensors at the doors would have detected something coming in which couldn’t be found on the room’s holocorders. With the right preparation, cloaked Gors were easy enough to detect in confined spaces. It was wide open vacuum that Hoff was concerned about.

  “Don’t go to too many extremes, Commander. There’s only so much Dominic can do to protect his pets. If we need to kill a few to unravel their secrets, I’ll find a way to do it without him or any of the other Gors finding out.”

  Donali nodded and then Hoff’s comm piece trilled with an incoming call from his pilot. “Excuse me,” he said, and walked away from the captain’s table to get some privacy. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing to worry about, sir, but I’ve just received a commcast from Fortress Station. The Interloper is back in-system. They’re on approach.”

  Hoff’s eyes widened. Finally. “I’ll be there in a minute. Start warming your engines, Sergeant.”

  “I never let them cool, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll see you soon. Hoff out.” Turning back to his XO, he called out, “Commander Donali, you’re coming with me. I’ve been called back to orbit, and I need you to start calibrating sensors up there. Bring whoever you need from this team to help you, and don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. I want to limit the number of people who know about this technology.”

  “Yes, sir.” Donali turned and snapped his fingers at a pair of his men. All of a minute later the four of them were hurrying back through the winding tunnels of the academy on their way to Hoff’s waiting corvette. As before, they passed countless Gors—hulking monsters with sunken, skull-like faces, bald blue-gray skin, and thick, rippling muscles. When armored, each of them looked as intimidating as a navy sentinel in a zephyr light assault mech. Unarmored, they were even more frightening. Soon . . . Hoff thought, eyeing a group of aliens as they passed one another other in a narrow stretch of corridor. Soon I’ll be dancing on your graves.

  Chapter 6

  Alara and those who’d travelled with her aboard the Rescue had been confined to their ship after Delayn’s outburst on the bridge. Captain Adram said they were lucky he wasn’t making them spend the trip in the brig. As for the survivors from the Defiant, there wasn’t much space for them aboard the 100-meter-long Interloper, so they were forced to bunk on cots in the hangar where the Rescue had landed. They’d left the Defiant behind, but that was just as well, since it was now teeming with emancipated Gors. Adram assured them that a salvage team would be sent back for the cruiser and her alien refugees as soon as possible.

  Now, nine hours after they’d left the Defiant, Alara, Gina Giord, and Commander Caldin stood side by side at the forward viewport of the Rescue, gazing down on the men and women below. Dim orange lanterns broke up the perpetual darkness inside the Interloper’s hangar, and Alara saw that some of the officers were huddled together on the glassy black deck, playing card games or talking. Others lay alone on their cots or paced endlessly around the hangar. The crew had spent the whole day cooped up inside that hangar, and it was barely large enough to fit the Rescue, let alone 55 men and women and their personal effects. Captain Adram seemed equally suspicious of the Defiant’s crew as he was of the Gors. They hadn’t been allowed out of the auxiliary hangar bay since they’d arrived. Perhaps it had something to do with the high profile prisoners they’d brought aboard. Adram had whisked them away to whatever passed for the alien cruiser’s brig and they hadn’t seen or heard from him or the prisoners since. Alara hoped that Ethan was all right. With that though
t came an opposing flash of bitter anger. Ethan was married. Let his wife worry about him—wherever she is.

  Delayn interrupted her thoughts. “Kavaar . . . Commander, you need to see this.”

  “What is it?” Caldin asked, turning from the viewport to walk down to the gravidar station where Delayn was seated in Tova’s oversized chair. As for the black-armored alien, she stood all alone in one corner of the bridge, leaning against the wall and watching them from the shadows. The glowing red eyes of her helmet seemed to look everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

  Alara shuddered and tried to ignore the alien as she watched Commander Caldin lean over Delayn’s shoulder. “There—” Delayn pointed to something on the gravidar that Alara couldn’t see.

  Caldin leaned closer to the display and the star map cast her features in a blue glow. Alara watched the worry lines on Caldin’s brow grow suddenly more pronounced. “What is that?” she asked.

  “It looks like the Valiant, ma’am.”

  “What are they doing here?” Caldin asked.

  Alara couldn’t stand the suspense. She hurried down to the gravidar station, and Gina followed her.

  “You think the admiral knows that Brondi stole the Valiant from us?” Delayn asked.

  Caldin straightened from leaning over the console and shook her head. “I’m not sure, but if not, it’s time he found out.” She touched the comm piece in her ear and said, “Call Captain Adram.”

  A moment later the captain answered, and Caldin hurried to explain the situation. The captain already knew most of their story from the explanation Gina Giord had given when the Rescue had been found, but Caldin now re-emphasized the part about the Valiant being stolen by Alec Brondi.

  Alara studied the gravidar intently, eyeing the cigar-shaped green icon of the gladiator-class carrier.