PROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Somewhere in the fourth spiral arm of the PGC-2014206 galactic cluster…
(Ten years after the Pathfinder Project)
Consciousness returned slowly to the soldier, preceded by bouts of dizziness and repetitive, exploding bursts of pain from the deep bruises in his right shoulder and knee. He wasn’t totally yet ready to wake up; his reality had rapidly become a surreal portrait of darkness and evil like nothing that he had ever imagined. And yet, each time he tried to deny awareness and refused to return to the warmth and comfort and complete nothingness provided by the simple act of sleeping in order to rest his weary body, there were those annoying, blinding flashes of corridor lighting, triggered by an unreliable ship’s power source. And if the rank stench of death failed to arouse him, the snapping, intermittently failing lighting would eventually snap him back to full awareness. He was lying on his left side, right shoulder throbbing uncontrollably, and curled into a fetal position on cold, filthy metallic deck plating that stretched off beyond the flickering overhead lanterns into an intimidating darkness where virtually anyone – or anything – could be lurking.
There were other prisoners arranged in various positions on the metal deck surrounding him, several of whom appeared at first glance to be dead. Rusty brown, partially-dried blood crusted the ridges of the metal deck amidst the groans and sobbing of the mortally wounded. All of them wore the dark black, yellow-striped uniforms common to the crew of his former ship and also to the larger Clan Crasel. But then, this was the group the soldier had been assigned to infiltrate first… the Crasel. Their territory was small and withering quickly away with each passing day, repeatedly blasted and punished over the centuries by the other dozen or so clans surrounding it. Countless centuries ago, back when some semblance of a plausible tactical strategy was still necessary, their leaders failed to come up with anything reliable. Painted into a small, lonely section of the fourth spiral arm ever since, the few stars left to them continued to die off, one by one. Sometimes, during the darker times in this hideous war, as many as a dozen stars at a time had died in a single year, snuffed out by the deadliest weapon ever created by humanoid life.
And not all of the clans possessed it.
Initially it was rumored that everyone had owned ‘the weapon’, back when there were only a few worlds at war with one another. That time had long since passed into history over forty-six millennia ago, back before the survivors of the initial encounters had splintered into hundreds of disparate clans, each filled with panicked refugees and each hoarding what resources they could capture. Women and children were swiftly hidden away on cold, lifeless worlds or in battered, unarmed ships that could no longer fight. Those who were most vulnerable were carefully and meticulously protected, even as every other able bodied male was drafted into service, trained and then moved to the front lines so that they could fight the others.
The rules were simple: if you were not Clan, you were unworthy of survival… that was the message burned permanently into every young male’s brain. Occasionally, every few centuries or so, there had been leaders strong enough to try and end the fighting. Some of them made overtures, sparing other Clan ships or by transmitting simple messages to their enemy counterparts requesting a peaceful meeting. Eventually, those leaders were always targeted and killed, sometimes by their own enraged, unwilling followers. If you didn’t kill the enemy, you were the enemy, even in the eyes of your fellow Clan members.
Now there were less than two dozen combat capable clans along with a few dozen more, whose memberships had eroded steadily away over time simply through lack of food, water and proper shelter. Humanity in the Wasteland was hanging on the very brink of annihilation.
The soldier knew all of this because it was information easily accessible from the sophisticated electronic implant attached to his brain. In addition to a powerful, long range transceiver, the implant also contained a comprehensive historical database that allowed him to instantly speak and understand any of the Clan languages and dialects. Despite the huge advantage this offered him, he still considered himself just a small spark in an ocean of alien fire. These were their stars, after all. This was where they had lived and died for thousands of years now, where their non-stop fighting would eventually drive them to extinction if something wasn’t done to stop them.
That was why the soldier had stepped forward and volunteered, even when others more capable and combat trained were available. Because he knew, deep down, that to truly crack the tunnel vision that had become this peoples’ out of control fury and permanently resolve the situation would require much more than brute force. Around these stars, after all, there had always been no shortage of force and it had solved nothing. What was needed for this supposedly unsolvable puzzle would require the trained mind of a scientist, along with a thorough, close-up analysis of the Clan structures, traditions and culture. He also needed to know precisely how they constructed devices capable of destroying whole stars.
Only after accumulating more information would he and his allies have a chance to put a stop to this unending madness… to liberate millions and put a halt to further use of ‘the weapon’.
This was why he had volunteered, even knowing the dangers he would face, the trauma he must endure and the atrocities he would be witness to. He voluntarily left the comfort and safety of his adopted home world in order to reach out and try to deliver the same gift that had been offered to him by others after his home was destroyed – freedom from persecution and a life where he and his loved ones could feel safe. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, and yet the soldier had made it anyway. Never in his life had he thought for even a moment, in those first cautious days after his own world Earth was destroyed in a massive nuclear war, that he would soon encounter something even more evil… something darker and worse. Therefore he had prepared himself for the trials ahead and committed himself to discovering a successful solution to a war that, left unaltered, would inevitably end in the mass extinction of everyone still living in the fourth spiral arm of this galaxy.
Although the soldier had allies, people who were just as dedicated to helping him with his lonely quest, those people were located very far from here at the moment. The brain implant and other equipment in his possession offered him the edge he would need while working alone. It was something that he could rely upon to keep him safe and alive long enough to learn what he needed to know, even here in the midst of constant danger. Despite these advantages, along with his larger than normal knowledge of these people, their technology and history was extremely limited. Information regarding this humanoid race had historically been gleaned carefully, mostly by passive sensor observation and distant telescopes situated on far away worlds that simply couldn’t penetrate the residual dust and gas clouds from thousands upon thousands of nebulae… the leftovers from stars long since dead. Those aliens who first discovered this war had already hesitated to act for countless centuries, afraid to get involved and fearful of an intervention on their part causing the war to expand far beyond the fourth spiral arm… maybe even beyond this galaxy entirely and into others.
The man lying next to the soldier groaned in agony, and he noticed that a stray bullet or piece of shrapnel had somehow pierced the other man’s body armor, tearing into vulnerable flesh. Exhaling with disgust, the soldier rolled onto his knees and rose to his feet. He selected a med-kit from one of the emergency slots on the corridor wall, noticing as he did so that virtually all of the other openings were empty. Food, medicine and uncontaminated water – the most valuable resources in this war – were the ones that were usually the toughest to find. With his mind directly linked to the implant database, the language of the Crasel was as easy for the soldier to speak as his own. The critically injured man next to him was also trying to rise, but the soldier stopped him with a reassuring hand to his shoulder.
“Rest for now,” he suggested in the local dialect of his former vessel’s crew. “Rest, friend.”
He removed the snaps holding the med-kit closed and opened the lid, groaning at what he saw there. All of the disinfectant bottles were empty and the bandages were either contaminated with dust and other filth or stained with blood, having already been used at least once. Anonymity was a key component to the soldier’s eventual success, and yet he decided to risk exposing himself on this occasion. Swearing under his breath, he tossed aside the useless med-kit and slapped his inner left thigh with the palm of one hand. An invisibility field concealing his personal, portable emergency supplies flickered with blue electricity and then faded, exposing the valuable equipment. Choosing a metal instrument similar to a scissors, the soldier inserted the tip through the hole in his colleague’s armor and began searching for the metal hiding somewhere within the wound. Fresh blood gushed up from the opening and ran down the body armor, drizzling onto the already grimy deck plating.
“Mott’s Ghost but that hurts,” declared the injured man with a dark chuckle, the whites of his eyes standing out from the charcoal stains on his sweat-soaked, unshaven skin. “What must be done must be done, though, right?” The dark irises of his eyes focused on the soldier’s own. “I can’t be dying before my time, can I?”
“You might anyway,” quipped the soldier tersely, using one hand to retrieve a roll of clean white cloth from his personal first aid kit. He decided to minimize risk and lie about the clean condition of his medical supplies. “The shape these bandages are in, it will be difficult to keep infection out of your wound.” As he spoke the words, he held up a small cylinder concealed in the palm of his hand. It was filled with a complex antiseptic and painkiller. He risked a quick spray into the wound before picking up the scissors and resuming the search for the stubbornly embedded metal.
“When we allow ourselves to get captured, we must learn to do without.” The injured man’s lips were thin and pale as he tripped awkwardly through the words between sharp stabs of pain. “Also, I think that bleeding to death will take me to the hereafter much more quickly than infection,” he decided grimly. “I’ll take my chances with you and… aaaaaghhhh!!!!”
The rest of the sentence died in his throat behind a prolonged scream as the soldier finally located the metal. He used the medical scissors to grip it firmly and then yanked it out of the man’s left breast. For a moment, the injured man blacked out and the soldier gratefully nodded with renewed confidence. He thoroughly sprayed the open wound with more antiseptic, followed by a heavy covering of what appeared to be an expanding white gel that hardened quickly into a temporary bandage. After that, the soldier took a few moments to wrap the entire wound with white cloth and tie everything off before replacing the supplies in his medical kit. Once it was re-attached to his thigh, he slapped it lightly once more to restore its invisibility shield. The small bundle turned briefly transparent and then vanished, once again hidden from normal sight.
There was a long silence that followed, lasting until the severely wounded man recovered consciousness. Making good use of the time, the soldier rubbed the dirty grit from his hands and arms onto the bandages, gradually making their top sides resemble the useless counterparts from the ship’s med-kit. Then the soldier leaned back against the corridor wall and sat patiently waiting for almost fifteen minutes, until the eyes of the other finally flickered open once more. The wounded Crasel obviously felt better, because he promptly extended his hand and patted the soldier gratefully on the arm. “My name is Tran Wuu,” he offered gratefully, grimacing from residual pain. “I do not recognize you. Tell me, how are you known to others?”
“Me?” the soldier responded with a snide laugh, dropping the metal fragments onto the deck plating and replacing the ship’s useless med-kit in its wall slot. He had been told to speak normally, even when using proper names and places familiar to him. As long as he behaved normally, the implant’s language converter was supposedly able to handle anything. “My name is Adam,” he stated informatively. “Adam Roh.”
2: I: Long Distance AlliesPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
(Ten years after the Pathfinder Project)
Dusky orange rays from the morning sun were just beginning to crawl above the rolling green hills on the horizon when former Captain Dennis Kaufield arrived at the east wing of the capitol building. After more than a decade, virtually all of the refugees from war-torn Earth were still working hard to build new cities and gratefully accept the fresh start offered to them by the aliens living in the Proteus Galaxy. Many of the smaller towns and villages already had names – most of them copies or slightly altered versions of their counterparts left behind. The people living on Tranquility had proven to be quite resilient, determined to retain as many of the traditions from their past lives as possible. Kaufield had been pleasantly surprised to see national pride preserved as well, although many of America’s traditional allies were much more eager to work closely with the capital city than those who had once lived in countries where the United States was less popular.
A decade was not a long time, especially for those who were completely uprooted and left with no choice but to transplant their families onto a world never before charted. There was palpable friction between many leaders in the new societies that were forming and evolving with each passing day and yet Kaufield remained fiercely optimistic. The uneasy peace alliances were holding and might not last, but for now everyone was too busy building thousands of new communities that would provide enough food and water to sustain them. War and all of its horrors, for the moment, was much too recent and its consequences burned too deeply into memories for anyone to be worried about fighting. The planet Tranquility was truly a gift – a resource rich, habitable planet nearly forty percent larger than Earth.
The aliens from the Proteus galaxy offered more than just land, however. They were sharing everything acquired from their long-term study of the universe surrounding them, including at least some of their advanced technology. Perhaps in the future, more would be offered. And as expected, more than a few of the refugees evacuated from Earth had indeed turned out to be cloned members of the infamous Brotherhood of the Dragon or former sympathizers – the underground terrorist organization whose infiltration of Earth’s governments led directly to its eventual destruction.
At the moment, Kaufield didn’t really care who was still loyal to the Brotherhood and who was not. Everyone who fled the nuclear fires still burning on Earth was treated the same way – if you behaved and contributed to bettering the community around you, things would be fine. Those who violated that policy or tried to prey upon weaker individuals were turned over to Noah’s people and relocated to other worlds. There were millions of habitable worlds in the Proteus Galaxy, some considerably less hospitable than others and many containing populations that were equally intolerant. Thus the people who wanted to ‘stir the pot’ or settle old scores with adversaries were promptly identified and transferred to a planet where the simple act of survival was a bit more… challenging. There were several major bouts of violence on Tranquility during those first few years, but after news of the consequences for such actions leaked out to the general public, the majority of the planet’s troublemakers ceased making waves almost overnight.
For a moment Kaufield simply stood there, facing east and letting the warm light from the morning sun heat the skin on his face. The top hemisphere of the large, golden-orange orb was clearly visible, its rays piercing a lengthy row of thin clouds in the distance. His thoughts raced almost daily now with thoughts of the numerous responsibilities so suddenly placed on his shoulders, a burden that had only escalated with time. After starting out as the Captain of the Explorer Class vessel Pathfinder, he had safely led its passengers and crew to a new home in the Proteus Galaxy, one so far away from Earth’s solar system that the distance was nearly incalculable. During the journey, he had assumed leadership of the vessel’s governing Council and those duties had since expanded to include representation of all of the evacuated refugees.
The Council was still the top rung on the governing ladder, bridging the gap between the friendly alien Noah, his colleagues and local city councils and ruling bodies. Most of the larger governments were still in the process of forming, so there was certainly no shortage of tasks on the daily ‘to do’ list. For a while, Kaufield had nearly lost himself in all of the change and responsibility that had come with the mass evacuation of Earth’s survivors. For one thing, the planet Tranquility boasted a day length that totaled a whopping thirty-one hours. Splitting the extra time between work, rest and other personal endeavors had proven to be a challenge all by itself. Also there were the constant requests from smaller communities where people lacked immediate necessities: food, clean water, clothing or the other basic necessity in life – shelter.
During that toughest first year, health concerns had been the major, seemingly never ending priority since the vast majority of those relocated were injured in one form or another. Fortunately, Noah’s people were also experts in all things medical, including the swift treatment of radiation exposure. The longer day made it easier to pause and relax once in a while. Workaholics everywhere were learning new ways to cope on a continual basis, many of them as determined and committed to rebuilding what was so suddenly lost back on Earth as Kaufield himself.
He smiled wryly, finally turning and entering the east wing of the capitol. Its lobby was vast and spacious, constructed in a traditional style that stretched upward four floors to a peaked, sun-soaked skylight. The far wall contained a series of transport niches for those who were in a hurry or simply didn’t like stairs. Each niche allowed for one person at a time to enter, and was neatly labeled at the top in at least six languages. In the center of the lobby, a dozen potted trees surrounded a larger, circular transport niche capable of moving larger groups of people, cargo and furniture to other sites within the large building.
Kaufield headed directly for the transport alcove labeled “4-SCI”… a clear enough instruction letting him know that its destination site was the Science Center located on the 4th floor. There was a soft popping sound as he stepped into it and passed through the invisible, Person-to-Point transport field within. He felt no pain and noticed nothing other than the scenery around him, which instantly changed as his physical body emerged on the 4th floor. The Science Lab was circular in shape and very large, with other transport niches ringing more than half of the perimeter. The sign above the niche he emerged from read “1-ATR” since anyone who entered it from this end would swiftly receive a reverse trip back to the 1st floor atrium. The most amazing part of living on Tranquility, so far, had proven to be a closer look at some of the mind blowing technology available to the citizens living in the Proteus galaxy.
They weren’t sharing everything for reasons that were blatantly obvious, but Kaufield was truly impressed with what he had seen thus far.
As leader of his people’s ruling Council, Dennis was okay with Noah’s policy of slow assimilation. The battle scarred refugees from Earth had already suffered plenty of culture shock. In fact, many of those lost and lonely citizens from the Sol system would never be the same, even with the help of sophisticated medical treatments far beyond anything Earth medicine alone could achieve. He pondered the matter of all those people for a moment, honest citizens so suddenly displaced from a bombed out home. There was hope for everyone, thanks primarily to the safe haven that the Pathfinder had discovered on its risky journey out of the Milky Way. Looking back, it all seemed so easy now. Back then, however, the decisions facing them had been monstrous and fraught with potentially devastating consequences – especially during those first few days.
He studied the main work area, much of it the Pathfinder’s equipment, consisting mostly of computers and their newly projected, high resolution visual displays that floated above working spaces in thin air. Half a dozen massive, various-sized telescopes hung from the ceiling, pointed up toward the heavens above after having been moved directly from the starship’s observatory. The lab was pretty empty at this time of day, but the people Kaufield needed to see most were already busily at work.
“How are things going, Thomas?” he asked his long-term friend and colleague, Thomas Roh.
The young scientist whose work on the Pathfinder’s CAS drive had ended up saving countless lives glanced up at him with a warm smile of recognition. Now nearly forty-one years old, he still looked to Kaufield like a skinny kid. Oh, it was true that there were a few gray hairs here and there to be found in that mop of dark brown hair of his. He also had wrinkly “crow’s feet” at the corners of his eyes these days, especially when he laughed. Thomas Roh was every bit the ‘little brother’ that Adam still called him, currently leaning back in a reclining seat that was surrounded by a variety of medical and scanning technology. Devices of all sorts were blinking colored lights or humming, and a protective, retractable swing-arm with a work table was currently in place over the scientist’s abdomen.
“We have made considerable progress,” Thomas informed him, pointing toward a high-tech graphic display floating above his chest. On it, dozens of constantly changing statistics scrolled by on the right while a detailed schematic of the implant attached to his brain was clearly visible at left. “I can now fully communicate with Adam,” he continued, smiling almost triumphantly. “It took most of the night to complete all the fine tuning, but Noah’s people sure know what they’re doing.”
“That’s good to hear.” Dennis nodded gratefully at the two female scientists standing next to the chair. Each of them held a different device, and they were both clearly monitoring the functionality of the enhancements recently completed on Thomas Roh’s brain. “I’m glad that you will be able to keep track of his movements on a full time basis.”
“So can you,” grinned Thomas in response. He waved his hands, moving them apart in a quick motion across the front of the floating screen in front of him. Everything previously displayed for his perusal promptly vanished and was instantly replaced by the image of a filthy, dark corridor with bodies strewn everywhere. The face of the soldier closest to them was pale and devoid of life – it was obvious that he recently passed away as a result of the multiple injuries clearly visible on his torso.
“God that place looks nasty,” mused Kaufield. “Is that really what Adam is currently looking at?”
“Yes,” Thomas nodded affirmatively, his mood turning deadly serious. “I can literally see through his eyes, simply by mentally accessing the proper implant function. Since we’re basically working with an instantaneous Point-to-Point transmission, there is no delay. Both video and audio can also be displayed for you to watch on a real time basis. That’s the part that took some fine tuning. He is currently millions of light years from here, so it’s an understandably tricky process.”
“What happened to the Crasel vessel Adam signed on with?”
“While you were away, the ship was boarded and he and many others were captured by another Clan. Those who survived the attack were taken prisoner and thrown in that corridor to live out the trip back or die. Adam has been secretly treating as many injuries as possible, but this project is turning out to be just as dangerous as expected.” Thomas studied him intently. “Even with all of the advantages we’ve given him, there is still risk involved. We’ve sent him into a very brutal war zone.”
“I sent him,” asserted Kaufield sternly. “And I apologize for my absence, but I had to be fitted with my own implant. Now that we know they work, it made sense to get the procedure done sooner rather than later. As you and Adam learn more about the humanoids in that galaxy, my implant’s database will be updated. If the need arises, I can also take Adam’s place.” He shrugged his shoulders, feeling somewhat helpless. “He has to know that he’s gotten himself into a very tough situation. Mentally, I don’t know how long he can put up with all of this. It was a lot to ask of him and I’m still having second thoughts about the entire matter.”
“We need to know more about that weapon those clans use against each other in order to destroy stars,” stressed Thomas. “There is only so much Noah’s people can learn from a vantage point this far away by observation. I would prefer it had not been Adam who went, but he volunteered…”
Kaufield sighed heavily. “His wife doesn’t understand,” he pointed out. “I’ve tried to explain, but she refuses to talk to me. She doesn’t fully understand why Noah’s people couldn’t do this, or why – if it has to be us – should Adam have to be the one in harm’s way.” He threw up his hands helplessly. “Then she turns around and leaves me without even giving me the chance to answer.”
Thomas thought the matter over silently for a moment. “She’ll listen,” he decided finally. “I’m certain she will. In fact, since we’re still collecting the initial data for the implant upgrades, I really think you should go back and keep trying until she does hear you out. She needs to know why we’re doing this… what’s at stake.”
“Are you sure?” Kaufield studied the face of his youthful looking friend. “They have two kids…”
“…Kids who aren’t old enough yet to understand. Talk to her,” suggested Thomas Roh firmly.
This time it was Dennis who took a moment to carefully consider his colleague’s words. “Okay,” he concluded. “I’ll talk to her later this afternoon, even if she beats the crap out of me.” He smiled wanly.
“Noah’s team and our people have thoroughly tested this technology,” Thomas reminded him. “Everything works! Adam will be safe, even in a war zone. What he needs right now is support from all of us, even if he doesn’t get her blessing.”
Nodding in agreement, Kaufield pulled out an empty chair and sat down. “Show me what you can do with these latest upgrades,” he requested eagerly.
Thomas’ eyes blazed with confidence. “Respectfully, that’s a much better attitude, Captain.”
Somewhere in the fourth spiral arm of the PGC-2014206 galactic cluster…
When Adam Roh woke from his light slumber, he was still lying next to Tran Wuu in the darkened ship’s corridor. At some point, power to this section of the enemy vessel that he and his shipmates were imprisoned in had failed completely. There was now virtually no light in the corridor except what shone brightly from the lamps mounted on the helmets of fellow Crasel soldiers. Those who survived were using the helmet lights from their fallen comrades, saving their own power packs for future needs. A few bright beams stabbed through the darkness, lighting the immediate vicinity well enough to see, but the depths of the corridor from in front and behind were now totally drowned in darkness.
Adam’s thoughts drifted briefly back to the Clan ship he had originally boarded, noting as he rubbed his shoulder that the pain killer he had taken was working. The plan had been for him to discover as much as needed covertly, by serving on various clan vessels over the course of a few weeks. Actually placing him in combat situations was a secondary, avoidable objective that the elder Roh brother would have preferred considerably over his present circumstances. It had been frightening, once again, to watch an enemy vessel from this war zone pull alongside his ship and fire their magnetic grappling cables. Ten years ago, a similar attack had nearly led to a catastrophic end to the Pathfinder. Without the protective measures granted him by the technology he had brought with him, he sincerely doubted that he would now be among the small group of survivors. Had he fought on equal terms, his mission would have ended as promptly as it began.
Even so, with incoming bullets disintegrated and major blows from hands, rifles or other blunt objects instantly softened, his shoulder and knee were still injured during the fighting. Automatic firearms were used at first, once the invaders managed to cut through the outer hull and board the small Crasel troop transport. But eventually the fighters drew closer to each other, enemies mixed together with ship defenders, and hand-to-hand combat became inevitable. Adam was able to step in front of many of his colleagues, using his instantly activating, protective energy shield to absorb much of the incoming firepower. It seemed impossible to believe, but if he had not chosen to do so the survivors of the Crasel vessel would have numbered even fewer. The electromagnetic field worked well with high speed projectiles, detecting and disintegrating each of them so swiftly and efficiently that they simply vanished in a blaze of golden sparks. Unfortunately, it had proven to be less effective than expected when dealing with punches or clubbing impacts… intentionally designed so as to prevent the disintegration of those around him.
In other words, when I allow myself to get in a fight it will likely hurt a bit, Adam noted silently.
The implant recorded everything, its sensors auto-detecting the results of each soldier he defeated and feeding data into its memory so that his personal defenses could improve with each encounter. The bonus had been the electrical stimulation of his skeletal structure and nervous system to enhance strength – he had literally picked up one enemy combatant and tossed him across a room into a group of other boarders. By the time they recovered and moved to retrieve their weapons, Adam and the Crasel with him had managed to force them to retreat in a hail of gunfire. Then they had closed off the section leading to the ship’s bridge.
In the end, however, the invaders had proven to be far too numerous and efficient at killing crew members. When it became obvious that they were going to lose, Adam stepped in front of his fellow soldiers once again and raised his arms. He hadn’t known for certain whether or not they would take prisoners, but long-term observation data suggested that surrender would be honored. In the end, he and the other prisoners were herded onto the enemy ship and locked in the severely damaged corridor, which – from the looks of it – was barely able to contain a breathable atmosphere.
If they hadn’t honored the surrender, there would have been no other option but to intervene more forcefully, Adam remembered bitterly. And once he had revealed himself to be someone out of the ordinary, his ability to infiltrate and gather information would have dissolved away. It might have been better that way, he thought to himself a bit selfishly. Then they would have had to send in someone else. Leaning back uncomfortably against the corridor wall, he weighed his options as he and the Crasel soldiers waited patiently for their current ride to arrive at its intended destination. The scientist in him was incredibly curious as to what would happen to them – with entire stars dying off and entire solar systems snuffed out throughout the entirety of this war, valuable resources like food, water and ammo would be precious commodities. He found it difficult to imagine the existence of large scale prison camps. What, in the end, would their fate be?
He was still pondering the matter when an explosion of static buzzed inside his head. For an instant he believed that someone had clubbed him, but that conclusion proved to be erroneous. Almost immediately, the sensation subsided and a familiar presence touched his mind. [“How is it going out there brother?”] He heard Thomas Roh ask curiously, even though his brother’s physical body still rested comfortably in a chair some millions of light years distant. [“It appears from this end as though your crew took a beating.”]
Chuckling darkly, Adam focused his thoughts in order to direct a response back through the microscopic Point-to-Point window – just large enough for a data stream to get through – that hovered, unseen, above his head. [“It’s about time you guys got the thought transmission processor up and running,”] he replied using his thoughts alone. Both he and his brother were directly linked via their brain implants, capable of communicating at virtually any distance so long as power on one end remained strong enough to control the event. If the upgrades were on-line as he suspected, then Thomas was even seeing through his eyes now. That had been the plan, anyway, so he shifted his gaze in a wide arc around the corridor to give the team stationed back on Tranquility a better view. [“My trick football knee was bruised in the fighting and is acting up,”] he cautioned sternly. [“So if I seem a bit grumpy, it’s because I am a bit grumpy!”]
There was a pause as Thomas spoke with someone on his end of the transmission. [“We’re sending a full upload containing patches that will enhance your electronic armor,”] he promised. [“Low speed impacts such as kicks and punches should be softened more quickly and efficiently the next time you need the protection. In fact, you shouldn’t sustain any additional injuries at all.”]
[“The next time?”] Adam almost harrumphed out loud, but used the opportunity to remain silent and give nothing away. To the Crasel surrounding him, he appeared to be just another prisoner waiting patiently for his fate to be determined by their captors. [“The physical strength upgrades work just like we intended. A few bruises won’t stop me, but the next time… the next time I’m going to knock more heads together,”] he promised firmly. [“This getting captured business sucks to high heaven, big time!”]
He and his brother continued to communicate using their newly discovered mental link for a few minutes longer. When they were finished and said their temporary good byes, he leaned his head back against the hard, filthy corridor wall and closed his eyes to rest.
* * * * *
The loud clanking from a metallic lock snapped him back awake almost instantly. Glancing around, he noticed that his colleagues, including Tran Wuu, were already standing. Altogether they barely eclipsed a dozen… these few battle worn soldiers who had somehow survived the thorough, brutal attack on their vessel. Slowly and deliberately, they gathered together protectively against the coming unknowns and waited silently for their fate to be determined. Without warning, a huge searchlight switched on at the far end of the corridor, blinding the men and forcing them to cover their eyes. “Welcome aboard the warship Pyrrh,” someone stated very loudly. “It is time for you to swear your loyalty to our cause or die.”
“Who are you?” asked Adam curiously, squinting into the direct light.
No answer.
“Toss all weapons, including knives, in front of you and back away!” someone shouted in a commanding tone. “If we even suspect non-compliance of any kind, we’ll simply shut this hatch immediately and jettison all of you out into space.”
The language processor informed him that the words he was hearing were spoken in a Zaketh dialect.
Adam caught Tran Wuu glancing at him furtively, unsure of what to do. So he boldly removed the shoulder strap from around his neck and cautiously lowered his firearm to the metal deck. Nodding firmly at the soldiers around him, he also removed the large knife with its ribbed blade that had been strapped to his waist and set it next to the rifle. “Can we at least keep our water?” he asked hesitantly, one hand shielding his eyes from the bright light. A tall, broad-shouldered man had stepped partially in front of it, his silhouette flanked on both sides by four other men draped in shadow. All of them held their weapons lowered and ready.
“Sure, why not,” came the quick response, followed by a light chuckle. Whoever it was waited patiently as Adam and his fellow soldiers finished dropping their weapons to the floor and then slowly backed away from the pile as instructed. “Here is what is going to happen,” the deep, booming voice continued slowly. “You each have a choice to make. Those of you who are willing to join Clan Zaketh will move toward us and enter the adjacent corridor. Those of you who are unwilling, those of you who choose to die with Clan Crasel need only stand where you are. You have ninety seconds to decide.”
A hand gripped Adam’s shoulder firmly, but light enough not to trigger any of his defenses. “I guess it ends here brother,” decided Wuu glumly. “I would rather die right here and now than serve another Clan.”
“Would you?” Adam studied the shadowy face of his friend curiously. “Dying here right now will accomplish… what, exactly?”
“It will preserve our honor,” grunted the soldier standing directly behind Wuu. “Honor to the Crasel.”
“If we die here, today, then we concede that we can no longer help the Crasel,” countered Adam emphatically. “While we are alive, there will always be hope.”
Another huge Crasel soldier pointed at the bright source of the light in front of them. “If we join them, we must fight for them and kill for them… which means we become them. Our families would disown us and we would never see any of them again.”
“I tell you there is another way,” persisted Adam determinedly. “But you must trust me.” He studied Wuu’s expression with interest. “Do you have a family?”
“Yes. One wife. Nine children.”
Adam reached out and firmly grabbed Tran Wuu’s arm. “If you ever want to see them again, you must choose to trust me,” he insisted one last time. Then he began walking forward, pulling the other man along with him.
There were several calls of ‘traitor’ and the sound of spitting as Adam took the first few steps all by himself, but in the end it was a total of five of them walking toward the light. The man giving the orders, helmet covering most of his upper facial features, pointed toward the line of armed men standing behind him in the next corridor.
“Walk to the end,” he ordered brusquely, then turned back toward those who chose to stay.
Two men turned off the huge, portable light attached to the bulkhead and swiveled it back out of sight. The four man escort worked quickly to retrieve the pile of weapons and then followed their commander through the exit. There was another loud clanging sound as, working together, two more soldiers stepped forward to close the hatch tightly and firmly secured its locks. Studying them curiously, Adam noticed the orange, slightly overlapping circular designs on their black uniforms and how much they contrasted with the familiar yellow stripes of the Crasel.
Hesitating just long enough to glance back toward the other Crasel, Adam’s innate empathy surfaced. “Can’t you find at least some way to spare them?” he pleaded desperately, his voice nearly cracking. “Set them down on a planet… give them at least a fighting chance…”
All he could see through the helmet’s dark visor was the man’s tightly clenched lower jaw. White teeth smiled at him through the shadows in response. “Every opponent who dies makes us stronger,” the Zaketh snapped derisively. “Compassionate fighters are weak fighters. Mind yourself and be wary of making a bad first impression.” He raised a dark, blocky transceiver unit in his left hand and spoke bluntly. “Tott, open airlock A-6 now. And leave it open until we reach home base… it stinks in there.”
From the other side of the hatch, the screams of the dying were frighteningly brief.
* * * * *
Some of Clan Zaketh’s shock troops already lived in the troop quarters that Adam and his companions were eventually assigned to, approximately ten or so. For the most part, they returned to the racks assigned to them on the port side of the large chamber, then removed their armor and boots before taking the time to catch some sleep or talk softly amongst themselves. Tran Wuu studied the closest Zaketh warrior suspiciously. “Why haven’t we received our weapons back?” he inquired curiously. “Do you expect us to fight with our bare hands?” Many heads immediately swung around to size up the newcomers.
“You’re newbies, mate,” growled their former adversary. “When we go into battle, you fight in front of us in your uniforms until your worth to the Zaketh is proven. Our opponents will see another clan’s warriors fighting for us and think us all the stronger. Weapons will be issued when you need them.” He chuckled with mild amusement, noting Wuu’s heavily bandaged chest. “You lads are big enough, but judging from your condition, I don’t expect you to be around long.” He turned with a smug, condescending laugh and rolled onto the small, dirty mattress next to him. “Now please be quiet and allow me to catch a few winks, right?”
Tran Wuu whirled to face Adam Roh, his anger threatening to boil over. “This is not going to work, Adam Roh,” he predicted. “You… we have made a huge mistake.”
Smiling wryly, Adam stared him down. “How do you figure?” he asked curiously. “If we had played things your way, we’d be lifeless icy blocks of flesh, floating in space right now.”
One of the three men standing behind Wuu snickered and nodded. “He’s got you there, Tranny.” He raised his right hand and then pressed its palm against his forehead in a salute. “I’m Big Cren Hollis… pleased to meet you Adam Roh.”
“Likewise.”
The huge, muscle bound warrior nodded to his two colleagues. “My friend with the scarred face and thick mustache here is Arte Kasik, and this is Janney Stox. We usually stick together when things get tough and watch each other’s backs. We’ve survived quite a few battles together.” Adam noticed that all of the Crasel, including Tran Wuu, had dark bronze skin with the long black hair that was typical of their race. Everyone except Hollis wore theirs in a ponytail, but the huge man let his fall freely across his shoulders.
“It’s good to meet all of you,” admitted Adam gratefully, returning their salute.
Hollis reached across and gripped him firmly on the forearm. “Thanks for talking us out of the cold.”
“He only postponed our journey into the next world.” Wuu stood firmly in place and glared acidly at Adam. “We’re still just as dead, as soon as they send us into battle.”
“A postponed death is always preferable to an immediate one,” replied Adam bluntly. He smiled at the injured man, gesturing toward Tran Wuu’s bandages. “How is that shoulder feeling by the way?”
Unexpectedly, Wuu’s mood softened a bit. “It hurts when I move the arm, but feels surprisingly better.” He raised an eyebrow with puzzlement. “How the devil did you do that? I was hit by a partially deflected, armor piercing round! The wound was a fatal one, I would have wagered at the time.”
“Suffice it to say there are things going on that you don’t know about,” Adam responded. “I have access to friends with resources who can help us. If you want to live and have the chance to see your families again, follow my lead and do exactly as I say.”
Suspicion suddenly clouded the face of the man called Janney Stox. “What friends? What resources?” he demanded to know. “You’re just a bloke in the poke with the rest of us, for all your big talk.”
The doubtful expressions on the faces of the Crasel told Adam all he needed to know… they would not believe the types of claims he was making without some sort of proof. He sighed inwardly and held up both arms very slowly, pulling his elbows slowly inward and reaching out with the palms of both hands. Two fully invisible, directed energy discharge weapons were strapped, one to each of his inner forearms, and fully controlled using simple thought transmissions from his brain implant. Summoning up a very low level energy pulse with his thoughts, Adam fired just enough of a blast to knock his four friends back a meter or so. Eyes widened in shock at the unexpected force of the unseen blow. Heat from its blast wave blew across their faces.
Kasik’s face paled with obvious fear and he swiftly crossed himself using an unknown religious gesture. “Mott’s Ghost…” he gasped with dismay. “You are a sorcerer.”
“Not a sorcerer, but a warrior with specialized skills and equipment,” Adam replied, correcting him softly while risking a quick glance at the Zaketh still milling about on the other side of the large room. Fortunately, they were busily talking amongst themselves or lying flat on their beds in search of sleep. “You four must help me keep my secret; the fact that I come from a place where many live who want to help. We are going to lead you and all of your people out of the void and back into the light.”
Wuu cast a perplexed look in his direction. “Why?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he decided with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. “That’s it.” Seating himself on the flimsy, dirty mattress next to one of the lower racks, he smiled with determination. “Now then, Tran Wuu,” he continued without missing a beat. “Nine kids, you say?”
3: II: Rise of the YakiirPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
Dennis Kaufield followed the thin sidewalk up to the quaint, lightly blue-colored home on the corner of 29th street. Freshly painted white shutters flanked each window, and a small stream of wood smoke wafted from a brick chimney on the roof. Dozens of various types of brightly colored flowers sprouted from the dark, freshly watered flower beds on either side of a small wooden staircase leading up to the front entrance. The house number was 820 – a novelty that forced a small chuckle from Kaufield since the surrounding town didn’t even have a name yet. There were so many decisions to make, after all, when a large segment of a planetary population found itself so suddenly uprooted from its home world and firmly entrenched upon another.
He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell, in no hurry and waiting patiently. There was nothing to hear except for a faint chiming at first, but then the sound of thumping feet grew steadily louder. The door snapped open and a thin, freckly faced ten-year old with a mop of reddish-brown hair peeked curiously around its edge. “Oh hi Denny,” the young man grinned eagerly. “Are you here to see Mom?”
“I am,” admitted Kaufield with a warm smile. He put a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder and then mussed up his hair. “How are you doing Billy?”
“Fine thanks. We miss Dad but he’ll be back soon, right?”
“Yes he will,” Kaufield stated firmly. “I’d like to try and speak with your mother, if that’s okay.” My God, he thought silently to himself. This kid is barely older than Joseph was when we launched the Pathfinder. What the hell am I doing?
“Sure it is,” said William Roh with a wide, friendly smile. “Why wouldn’t she want to talk to you?”
He considered the psychological friction between himself and Noriana Roh for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s still not talking to me, but I wanted to try again. It’s important that she understand.”
The boy’s smile faded and he glanced down at his new, white sneakers. “She doesn’t like the assignment you sent Dad on, does she?” he asked curiously, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “She told me that.”
“No she most certainly does not,” he replied with a wan smile. “However, your Uncle Thomas and I are keeping careful watch on your father each and every moment that he’s away. I didn’t like sending him off on an assignment for a few weeks, but it was necessary.”
“Because you guys want other people to be free, too, like us?” the boy guessed quite accurately.
“Yes,” nodded Kaufield in affirmation. “There is a situation that is out of control and your father is helping us do something about it.” He glanced past the boy’s shoulder into a neatly furnished living room. “Where is your mother, by the way?”
“She and Cassie are out back by the garden,” noted young William eagerly. “I think they’re weeding this morning, and that usually takes a couple of hours because Mom likes to do it by hand.”
“All right, I’ll look for her there,” said Kaufield. “Keep out of trouble there kid.”
“I always do,” William stated in response. “Well, almost always.” He grinned like a kid his age should grin before closing the door and latching it.
Kaufield fought back yet another wave of internal guilt as he strode purposefully around the wide, grass-covered yard and headed toward the large garden that Nori kept so well-tended out back. He remembered all of the tough decisions that were required in the immediate aftermath of the sudden outbreak of nuclear war on Earth. At the time, each of them had seemed more monumental and important than the last. Now all of them were distant memories, a decade old, and seemed nowhere near as important as his most recent choices. Was this simply because the outcome of his current decisions had yet to be determined? he wondered curiously. Or was it because his recent actions really were the biggest, most important rulings that he had made as both Captain of the Pathfinder and President of the ruling Council?
Rounding the rear corner on the northern side of the medium-sized home, he spotted Nori and her three-year old daughter Cassidy working busily in the middle of the sprawling rows of tomato plants lining the large garden at the rear of the yard. Both of them wore old jeans, brightly colored shirts spotted with garden soil, and wide-brimmed yellow hats to keep the sun off both face and neck. Since the garden was on the eastern side of the home, it absorbed most of the morning and afternoon sun. Even the presence of a large, wooden fence that surrounded the yard on three sides was not enough to defend against the summer heat. Fortunately, although the days were longer, the bright rays from Tranquility’s sun were not nearly as strong as the Earth’s. Granted, the heat grew much more intense as the sun moved southward in the sky during its afternoon journey. And yet the temperature rarely seemed to rise above a temperate 85 degrees Fahrenheit. Long garden hoses and sprinklers were scattered across the yard nonetheless, ready at a moment’s notice to douse the plants with the large amounts of cooling fresh water that all gardens required in order to produce healthy yields.
Nori scowled as soon as she noticed him, lowering her head and immediately returning her attention to the weeds that she was pulling. There were large piles of them on the grass, lying next to a large plastic bag that was already partially filled with her earlier efforts. Kaufield wasn’t certain how to initially approach her without provoking her further, so he simply stood there and waited patiently. She was an adult, after all, and the former commander of the Pathfinder’s fighter squadron. Confrontations were inevitable in life, and putting them off repeatedly was an immature way to deal with them. So she worked for another five minutes or so until she had gathered herself mentally and then hugged her daughter tightly.
“Cassie, would you go in the house for a few minutes?” Nori asked her daughter politely. “Your mother needs to talk to Dennis privately for a few minutes. I’ll come in shortly and we’ll have a glass of lemonade before continuing.” She watched the little girl remove her wide-brimmed hat and smile back at her, with long, dark curls cascading down her shoulders. “Thanks for all of your help.”
“Okay Mommie.” Cassie waved at Kaufield. “Hi Denny. How are you today?”
“I’m doing just fine young lady,” he replied with a disbelieving shake of his head. “You’re growing up so fast, Cassidy Roh,” he told her as she promptly obeyed her mother and ran swiftly toward the home’s rear patio door in a burst of speed. Her dirty, bare little feet left temporary impressions in the long, soft grass as she moved. Kaufield just watched her go, smiling with appreciation at the miraculous gift of human life. Turning toward Nori, he pointed at the garden. “Tomatoes, cucumbers, and a bunch of stuff I don’t recognize,” he stated, trying to remember his long-ago agricultural training. “Flowers of some sort?”
“Most of it,” she said in response. “There are a patch of strawberries in there, but I’m trying to mix some Earth flowers in with other species native to Tranquility. Kind of a botany experiment… my new hobby.”
“It looks good,” decided Kaufield.
“What do you want, Mr. President?” Nori demanded, her tone instantly sharp and more befitting a military officer instead of a warm, caring mother.
He sighed, realizing that she was determined not to make things easier for him. “I want you to understand why the Wasteland initiative is so important to us. I want you to forgive me for making the tough call that sent your husband into a war zone, even if he is as fully protected as our scientists and Noah’s people can possibly make him.” He threw up his hands helplessly. “It’s a lot to ask, I agree. But I have to try.”
Her back was toward him, until she dropped the gardening tool in her right hand and turned to face him. Several curls of her graying hair dangled across her forehead from beneath the hat. “The former request is within the realm of possibility,” she told him bluntly. “The latter, however, hasn’t got a prayer.”
“At this point, I’ll take what I can get,” he replied.
“Who’s watching him right now?” she asked curiously. “Glen was by earlier and told me that he’s been in combat already… injured and nearly blown out an airlock by enemy attackers.”
“Thomas is currently on sentinel duty with an updated implant,” he informed her. “Glen finished off the last eight hours of the night shift. I’m next right after Thomas, and Dr. Simmons rotates in after me. We’re keeping track of him around the clock and will intervene if anything threatens his immediate safety.”
She studied him sternly, obviously unconvinced. “You didn’t intervene when he was almost blown out an airlock,” she snapped heatedly. “At what point, exactly, would you do so?”
“The electrical defensive field that surrounds his body would automatically have snapped fully in place once void was detected,” Kaufield replied pointedly, deciding to hold nothing back. “It emits enough of a breathable atmosphere to keep him alive for several minutes, even in open space. We would have a PTP portal opened in time to return him within sixty seconds of such an action. Even if the ship around him completely exploded, he would still be alive long enough for us to bring him back. When you consider how much of a technological advantage our crew on the Pathfinder already had over these people when we initially encountered them, what we have been able to equip Adam with this time around is truly incredible.”
“I don’t care if you’ve given him the powers of God himself,” declared Nori in response. “You sent my husband into a war zone, and since you’re here now and my interest has finally eclipsed my anger, I would be very grateful if you would simply tell me why.”
“Your husband volunteered to go,” corrected Kaufield, watching her flinch in anger. It was an unpleasant truth that continued to perplex her, mostly because she was stuck in the now. There was no way for her to hash out anything with her husband until he returned… if he returned. It was a burden for the mother of two that shouldn’t have to be borne, considering the large number of qualified people living on Tranquility. “Adam is a very compassionate man. Knowing that all those people are dying each day, knowing that everything has been escalating steadily in recent years… well, let’s just say he considered himself most qualified to go and leave it at that.” He shrugged with puzzlement. “I don’t know why some things happen the way they do – they just seem to emerge out of nowhere before we even realize what is happening.”
“Why would he want to be the one to go?” Adam Roh’s wife wondered out loud. “Why? If the advanced technology of Noah’s people is involved in all of this, why didn’t they risk someone?”
Kaufield studied her expression intently. “When we first landed here, Noah’s people were hesitant to intervene in the affairs of others.” He waved a hand toward the house and then back toward the garden. “You can plainly see by our extremely Earth-like lifestyle here on Tranquility that they are also reluctant to share their advanced knowledge and technology. That was the shape of things for the first four years we lived on this planet, until something major changed.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “There are two reasons why we are involved and why Noah changed his mind on matters we had previously considered to be settled.”
She folded her arms and waited. “I’m listening.”
“First, the war in the Wasteland is accelerating,” he stated purposefully. “Where once there were thousands of different clans, in recent years the number fell to several hundred. Over the last year, one clan called the Yakiir has gained power so rapidly that only a few odd dozen remain. This single clan has somehow managed to discover an advantage that allows it to lay waste to all of its rivals. And they are doing so in a manner that has historically been known to be genocide. Your husband is a very talented individual, and he did not want to stand idly by while the vast majority of an entire sentient species was annihilated.”
“This is not our business,” objected Nori emphatically, shaking her head with barely contained anger. “We live here after barely finding a way to solve our own problems. We’re still licking our wounds from our own war, one that killed billions. Why would we possibly intervene in somebody else’s war at a time like this?”
There was a long silence as Kaufield held back, unsure how she would react. “Because we caused the escalation,” he told her finally.
“What?” Nori harrumphed loudly and turned away from him. “The Pathfinder was only in the spiral arm of the galaxy where they live for a short time to study the dead stars there,” she reminded him. “We fought one brief battle against one of their ships, and it didn’t have the offensive capability to do much more than try and pull alongside us long enough to land a boarding party. How could any of that possibly be the cause of what you now describe as imminent genocide?”
“I don’t totally know for certain,” said Kaufield truthfully, shrugging his shoulders again. “The evidence, however, is quite damning. Less than a year after we entered that war zone, the Yakiir began their rampage – a violent expansion that is wiping out every clan but theirs. The bloody stalemate that existed in those stars for almost fifty thousand years is gone, and what remains is a single power gaining so much dominance that there isn’t much time left for those who remain.” He paused, remembering. “Noah and I have discussed the situation on many occasions over the past five years. We would have intervened sooner except that doing so would have meant risking too many lives. We wanted to be certain that the people we sent in were properly trained and prepared for the job, and that we could move them out of there if something terrible happened.”
“If I remember correctly, our intrusion was on an exploratory basis and the battle we fought a defensive one,” countered Nori pointedly. “So why the hell does a small band of Earth refugees fleeing their own holocaust bear any responsibility for triggering an escalation in that region of space? I don’t get it… if we are involved at all, it should be Noah’s people taking the risks in this matter while we provide assistance from a secure location.”
“I told you that there were two reasons why things have changed and Noah’s people are finally sharing the lowest level of their technology with us,” Kaufield reminded her. “The first reason is obviously because our arrival in Wasteland space somehow triggered the escalation of the war.”
He could tell that she was now fully vested in knowing everything. “And the second reason…?”
“Our involvement allows us to test this very same technology for use in furthering our own interests,” he replied with growing confidence. The military officer in Nori was returning fast as she finally allowed herself to hear what he was telling her. “You know full well that there is a growing movement of people who do not want to stay on this planet. There are many who came here only out of a necessity to escape from the tyranny, the bomb damage and the radiation – people who will never consider this planet in this galaxy their home…”
Her intuition supplied her with the remaining piece of the puzzle. “We volunteered to test this new implant technology because you’re field-testing it and then planning on using it to go after the Brotherhood of the Dragon,” she gasped, realizing what was at stake. “You want to retake the Earth.”
“Quite possibly,” admitted Kaufield cautiously. “We have several long term contingencies outlined, but nothing definitive is in the works for many years.” He turned toward the southwest and studied the sun as it climbed higher into the sparsely clouded blue sky. “Nevertheless, the fact remains that the longer we stay away, the longer we do nothing, the more time that the residual radiation will continue to cause irreparable damage to Earth’s environment. Part of the technology that Noah is willing to share with us is a method to eliminate the excess radiation there. However, we only brought a limited number of plants and animals with us on Pathfinder… many types and species back home are in danger of dying off, if they haven’t already.”
“We also have seeds and frozen embryos for thousands of species in storage,” she reminded him. “The Pathfinder was designed to carry most of Earth’s ecosystem with it, so that we could potentially clone those embryos and populate another world. We were to be the vanguard of space-based colonization.”
“I know,” he agreed tenuously. “The damage to Earth is extensive… some of those bombs that detonated in Western nations were deliberately designed to be dirty. The Brotherhood, if we persist, still has much to answer for. It’s not revenge we’re aiming toward… but the pursuit of justice toward those who killed indiscriminately and the simple act of reclaiming what was forcibly taken from us.”
“Good God,” Nori sighed, seating herself in the grass and crossing her legs. “You’re using the Wasteland as a test environment? That’s utterly astonishing.”
“I know,” he said, risking a brief smile. “Adam, Thomas, Glen and Dr. Simmons are working hard to determine specifically which pieces of the new technology work best. As you well know, the best way to find out if equipment of a military nature is effective or not…”
“…is to actually use it in a combat environment.”
“Affirmative.” He canted his head toward the left and regarded her thoughtfully. “Can you understand? Can you try to understand why we chose to do what we’re doing? If we succeed, we can drastically alter the course of the war in the Wasteland… maybe even put an end to it. That’s a pretty optimistic assessment at this point, but I’ve always been an optimistic kind of guy.”
“All right. You’ve convinced me on your first point,” she declared with clear reluctance. “I understand why we’re involved and why Adam chose to go on this mission.” There was silence for a moment as both of them reviewed their thoughts and tried to reassess the status of their decades-long friendship. “You do realize that we’re kind of playing God in the Wasteland by intervening,” she concluded.
“Yes,” Kaufield acknowledged. “But to simply stand back and do nothing accomplishes the exact same thing that will happen if we fail. Failing to make a decision is itself a decision. It is a decision to do nothing.” He sat down next to her and ran his fingers through the soft green grass. “But I am not God and never will be,” he continued. “Can you possibly forgive me, too?”
For the first time in a long time, Kaufield saw Noriana Roh actually smile at him. “Not quite yet. But since you dragged your enormous butt all the way over here, why don’t you come inside for a few minutes and I’ll make you a cold glass of fresh lemonade.”
Somewhere in the Wasteland…
Adam Roh spent more than an hour just getting to know his four new friends. Tran Wuu did indeed have nine children, as he initially claimed. Most of the soldiers in the Wasteland were proud fathers of multiple children… the constant warring between adversarial clans took its toll over time. Replacement warriors were badly needed, all young men were trained for combat and sent to the front lines as soon as they were able to handle themselves in a crunch. Big Cren Hollis was building a small army all on his own. The large, long-haired brute proudly told Adam that he was married to two women who had borne sixteen children in all. Arte Kasik clocked in with a trio of wives and eleven more children. Janney Stox was reluctant to give out much personal information about his background. He continued to be skeptical of Adam and his claim to be a friend after having pointed out that all tricks were magicians’ tricks, easily explained, once one discovered the truth.
“How do you keep all of your families safe?” wondered Adam incredulously. “That’s a lot of mouths to feed, not to mention the fresh water they must consume along with clothing and the need for shelter. There’s hardly a decent yellow star left in this corner of the galaxy, and no doubt a severe lack of habitable planets.”
“Why must you ask these questions?” wondered Stox irritably. “If you are not Crasel, then you are an enemy.” He studied Adam carefully. “How is it that you fight among us, but know nothing of our ways?”
Adam responded by raising his right arm and firing the invisible wrist gun strapped to his forearm. He cut loose just enough of a pulse to blow Janney Stox completely off of the mattress he was sitting on. Flopping awkwardly backwards, his feet flew upward and he landed with a startled grunt on the metal deck plating. “Can you read the writing on the wall yet?” Adam asked the astonished warrior curiously.
“Mott’s Ghost,” gasped Stox in wonder, sitting up and shaking himself violently to chase away his body’s stunned confusion. “If that isn’t magic, then what is?”
“Keep your lads quiet,” snapped one of the sleeping Zaketh angrily, opening one eye long enough to glare fiercely at the five newcomers from his lower bunk. “If you have ale among your rations, then by all means share it. Otherwise keep the drunken slobs under control or I will.”
“I need to know,” Adam persisted, turning his attention to the others. “How do you keep large families of the sort that you describe safe and well fed?”
Cren Hollis glanced toward his feet and thought carefully before answering. “Most of us have lived on ships of some sort our entire lives,” he replied crustily. “Mining or transport ships are used, mostly they form small colonies that hide well behind the front lines and the protection provided by our military vessels. We park them on dead moons or fragments of planets that survive the quashing of a star. Shock waves from ‘the weapon’ almost always destroy most of the inner planets and moons, but asteroid belts and satellites much farther out in orbit tend to survive. Many of them still have the raw materials needed to produce the things we need… bullets, rifles, refined metals. Asteroid belts, in particular, are the perfect places to hide.”
“Aye,” agreed Janney Stox. “If you keep all electronics off and maintain a status of emissions quiet, no one will ever know you’re there.” He winked at Adam. “Except for those of us who left them there, that is.”
“Do these colonists watch for signs of enemy activity? Do they have the equipment necessary to watch for intruders… other ships?”
“Of course,” nodded Arte Kasik with a wry grin. “One does not survive long in this war if he can’t detect ships that are not where they’re supposed to be. Once in a while an enemy slips in behind the front lines.” He rubbed his thick, graying beard thoughtfully. “If they feel they’re in danger, civvie Captains will promptly send out a request for help and one or more of our military vessels will transit right to them. We usually keep a PTP-capable transceiver at each major colony. They fire an emergency beacon through a transit portal right to us.”
“Interesting,” Adam mused, watching the craggy, age-lined face of the other man. The long scar that ran along the front of his face from just below the edge of his left eye to the top of his lip was obviously a permanent souvenir left over from a long ago knife wound. Kasik’s explanation supplied quite a few answers to questions that had plagued him for years as his memories from ten years ago abruptly resurfaced.
During its initial exploration of the Wasteland, someone located on an isolated moon had sent out a signal betraying the Pathfinder’s presence. And whoever had done so was so well concealed that even the starship’s complex detection systems failed to notice its presence. Speculation over the years tended to classify the moon as some sort of secret military base, but it now seemed to Adam that there could just as easily have been civilians hiding there. Panicked at seeing an unknown vessel close by, they would immediately have called for help, assistance that was provided very swiftly by a ship equipped with the PTP technology needed to transit directly into attack range. Only quick thinking, determination and lots of experience had saved the Pathfinder on that frightening day. Both passengers and crew were left terrified.
“I begin to understand something about what must motivate you to fight so hard for survival,” continued Adam softly.
On the other side of the large rectangular room, seven of the Zaketh soldiers appeared fast asleep while three others remained awake and were busy playing some sort of card game. The cards themselves were crude, broken pieces of wood with handwritten symbols scrawled on them. Occasionally one of the men would laugh uproariously and slap another on the shoulder. Except for the nearest man, the one who had shouted at them, the remainder snored loudly on, oblivious to the world around them and so exhausted from fighting that it would be tough to rouse them even with a good shake of their shoulders.
“I can understand how there would be metallic ores to mine along with other raw materials on leftover planets and moons. But what about food, water, clothing, medical supplies…? To manufacture those types of resources requires something significantly greater than a few ships and the residual presence of a dead moon or asteroid field.”
Tran Wuu chuckled softly in response. “What we cannot make, we steal from our enemies,” he declared, watching his new friend raise an eyebrow at the comment. “As one clan diminishes, ours grows stronger.” Then he glanced down at his boots and remembered their status. “At least, that is how it is supposed to work.”
“Where do your enemies get that food and fresh water?” prompted Adam curiously, scratching his sweaty-haired head with the fingers of his right hand. “This war defies everything in my world’s known history – it should not be possible for it to have continued for thousands of years in this manner virtually uninterrupted.”
Feeling recuperated enough to stand, Janney Stox glared defiantly at Adam and actually took a step toward him until the former Pathfinder crewman raised his right arm again in a crystal clear warning. “Clan Crasel is small but noble,” Stox told the human proudly. “We may not have access to the same types of resources that larger clans develop, but our people have survived nonetheless. We take what we need and do not apologize for it. To question our actions in any way would weaken us and guarantee the deaths of our loved ones. All of us would gladly die before we let that happen.” He turned heatedly toward Wuu. “At least I thought we would.”
Nodding with respect at the man’s statement, Adam remained puzzled. “Your explanation still doesn’t make any sense,” he insisted, shaking his head with unrestrained doubt. “This ‘weapon’ of yours destroys entire stars along with any habitable planetary bodies within each solar system. Your enemies should not have access to these resources either.” He gestured in the general direction of the sleeping Zaketh warriors. “Look at the rifles your people use to fight each other, at the body armor and helmets. That type of weaponry requires a very sophisticated manufacturing facility. It is comprised of irreplaceable parts that should have broken down years ago.” His eyes flashed between the faces of the other four men. “The PTP transit engines used by your ships require very complex electronics, as would this mysterious weapon that quashes entire suns.” He studied them closely. “Has your clan used it… have the Crasel destroyed stars?”
“Yes,” admitted Cren Hollis. “In my lifetime we have obtained three weapons and used each against other clans who were trying to gain a foothold in star systems along the perimeter of the Wasteland. As Janney Stox has told you, we are a small clan with limited resources. We must therefore choose our battles wisely and hunt primarily for food and water. That means fighting smaller clans that our forces can safely defeat. Occasionally in the past we were fortunate enough to acquire an unused weapon, but we do not deliberately seek them out. We have never had that option.” His eyes were haunted and dim from battle fatigue. “Obviously, we cannot allow other clans to gain an advantage over us. They respond in kind.”
“The perimeter of the Wasteland continues to expand as stars there are destroyed,” continued Tran Wuu thoughtfully, his own perspective shifting slightly due to the points Adam had made. “Other clans with more ships than we possess have the option to send some of them out there, risking everything in search of yellow stars with one or more planets in the habitable zone. As the size of the Wasteland increases, it has gotten easier to find them if you’re willing to venture all the way out onto the rim. Keeping a conquest safe is another matter entirely.”
“We tried only once to colonize, long ago, before any of us emerged into the light. My great grandfather once told my father that everything they labored hard to build on that planet was destroyed. Clan Crasel spent years and expended countless irreplaceable ships and equipment in a futile effort to gain a foothold on a new world. But if even a single wireless transmission leaks out or a ship is followed back to that sanctuary, our enemies swiftly mobilize. It took only five or six years for my grandfather’s generation to make a mistake. Someone eventually made the inevitable error and gave away our location. We were promptly attacked and the star destroyed.”
“Good God,” sighed Adam, his face paling at the mere thought of that kind of destruction leveling an inhabited world… leveling ANY habitable world, for that matter.
“No,” Janney Stox countered instantly. “Mott’s Ghost, it was. Those who are not strong and brave enough are delivered to his kingdom before their time.”
Except for the three men still cheerfully playing cards, silence temporarily reigned in the room. Adam took a moment to mentally review everything that his new friends had told him. Even if Thomas was not currently using his implant to communicate or listen in, everything that he was seeing and hearing was nonetheless instantly recorded and transmitted back to the Science Lab on Tranquility.
“We’re missing something,” he insisted forcefully. “The rifles, the body armor, ships, weapons, edible food and drinkable water… these kinds of things don’t simply appear out of the ether.”
“We’re as lost as you are, mate,” shrugged Arte Kasik with a crude laugh. “We just fight to live.”
“I understand,” Adam acknowledged with a light laugh in response, his mood lightening only slightly. He tapped the edge of the dirty mattress on which he sat. “I appreciate you fellows doing your best to answer my questions. However, there is one more thing that I would like to know before we lie down on these terrible mattresses on this enemy ship of theirs in order to get some rest.”
“And what would that be?” wondered Tran Wuu curiously.
Adam shot a cocky smile at the wounded Crasel soldier. “Tell me about the Yakiir,” he suggested.
“I’m afraid we cannot help you there,” Arte Kasik replied cursorily after a prolonged pause. “Crasel territory is such a small, narrow corridor of the Wasteland that no one currently alive has ever encountered the Yakiir. Other clans, fortunately, have acted as a buffer between us.”
“But there are rumors,” noted Cren Hollis softly. “It is said that they possess magic and many quashing weapons – everyone knows that they are not to be trifled with. If our warships ever encountered them, we would think twice before attacking. Resources are too scarce these days.”
Another voice unexpectedly interrupted their conversation. “Why would you ask about the Yakiir?” wondered one of the three Zaketh soldiers playing cards. He had obviously overheard at least some of their conversation and threw down the rotting, dog-eared pieces of wood in his hand before turning to face them. He made some sort of religious or warding gesture with one hand before continuing. “Why would wounded Crasel survivors seek information about the darkest clan in the Wasteland?”
Adam studied the Zaketh man with interest. “We are curious,” he suggested. “Times are tough.”
“It’s not us who want to know,” growled Janney Stox in response, pointing at Adam Roh sternly. “This is the man who foolishly ventures onto topics where other men dare not tread.”
“I have heard rumors that the Yakiir threaten all the clans,” shrugged Adam, eager for information regardless of its source. He watched the three card players carefully, but the other two were content merely to watch and listen. “Surely they must have gained a foothold on at least one perimeter world.”
“Of course they have,” admitted the Zaketh warily. “They have killed or captured many of our ships in recent months. You may soon regret choosing to avoid the airlock. Our current mission is to hunt down a known Yakiir warship that regularly patrols the border of our space and pillage her for weapons and equipment. Unfortunately the Yakiir travel only in packs, so it is difficult to catch a lone warship. Even then, several of our vessels that have managed to do so have thus far been unsuccessful in combat. The Yakiir are powerful and yearn for nothing – their warships are armed to the teeth and boast many external guns. They can shoot down an enemy vessel or its shuttles while they are still kilometers distant, giving its crew no time to land a boarding party. Most of the time they don’t even bother to do so, as they prefer to let the crew of an enemy vessel watch them move in for the kill. Then their soldiers board the target and scuttle the ship.”
“Perhaps you need new tactics,” interjected Adam cautiously.
“You would lecture us on how to fight Yakiir?” the card player snapped testily. “Your own ship was easily bested and most of your soldiers are dead.”
“That doesn’t mean those of us who remain do not have good ideas.”
The Zaketh warrior chuckled in response. “I think you should worry about staying alive the first time we board an enemy warship. That should be your first priority.”
“Believe me,” said Adam softly in response. “Little else is on my mind these days.”
There were three official Clans whose territory bordered both Crasel and Yakiir turf… Venemun, Zaketh and Ostur. He felt somewhat reassured by the fact that he was now riding aboard a ship that would bring him closer to the mysterious Yakiir. Everything he could learn about them at this point would only help his cause in the long run. They’re dominating the Wasteland for a reason, he rationalized silently. We need to discover why. In the background, he could still hear his Crasel comrades talking in low whispers, and an occasional glance allowed him to catch at least one of them motioning his way. They don’t know whether to trust me or shoot me, he reasoned purposefully. After everything they’ve been through, who can really blame them?
For a long while, he simply sat there, deep in thought, listening to the thrumming of the ship’s engines as their raw power resonated through the thick bulkheads.
4: III: Keeping It RightPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Zaketh vessel Pyrhh…
Eventually things calmed down even further, with Adam and the rest of the soldiers all slipping into their bunks to heal and rest. He didn’t fall asleep right away, his thoughts drifting to the violence and chaos that had ensued after the Crasel ship was initially boarded. Choosing whether or not to kill had been a difficult moment for him, a test that he knew well in advance he would be facing during this particular mission. Ten years ago, when the Wastelanders had tried to board the Pathfinder, it had been his friend and close colleague Glen Fredericks who was ordered to kill. At that time, Glen used the massive electrical output from the white hot singularity at the tip of the CAS wand to burn through the invading shuttle’s outer hull, thereby opening its contents to space and killing dozens of enemy soldiers. Granted, Fredericks had been acting on the orders of Dennis Kaufield, his commanding officer, but technically Adam Roh was currently doing the same thing.
The primary difference, this time around, was that Adam lived in a constantly changing world where his own judgment was frequently required. He was the one aboard the Crasel vessel when the enemy had first slammed into them, knocking everyone in a small mess hall to the floor. Hurriedly they all grabbed weapons and helmets and then rushed to the aid of their fellow soldiers. By the time they crossed over to confront the intruders, multiple entry points had already been opened in the vessel’s outer hull by expert welders. Enemy troops were pouring onto the small warship, with gunshots and flash-bang grenades making it difficult to see and maneuver.
Adam remembered that first moment very vividly, when he chose to shoulder his rifle and wait. As soon as an enemy group of eight soldiers passed through the nearest entry point, he used the wrist guns to send a massive energy pulse into the ceiling above them. Both ships bucked sharply in response, and enough of a gap formed to temporarily vent atmosphere, blowing several of the invaders out into space. The separation of outer hulls lasted only a few seconds, until magnetic grapplers tightened and both vessels crashed back together. The Crasel surrounding him instantly used their weapons to disable or kill the remaining soldiers.
The mayhem was everything he had been promised and more. Expanding his personal defensive shield as far as it would go, he had kept as many of the Crasel as possible safe and protected from the incoming bullets and shrapnel. At first he fired his own rifle only into the walls next to enemy warriors, comforted by the fact that enemy projectiles entering the shield at a fast enough velocity vaporized instantly. Outgoing return fire from his rifle and those of the Crasel was left alone. The entire affair was a complex situation evolving far too quickly for any normal man to react, which was why so many people around him perished in those first few moments.
Fortunately Adam was far better protected, but even so had already made the decision to defend his fellow shipmates. After all, the soldiers from the other ship had chosen to illegally board the Crasel warship in an all-out effort to try and take it with brute force. More enemy soldiers spilled out into the corridor to his left, whereupon Adam reset his rifle to fully automatic and opened fire right alongside his shipmates. He let up only after it became inevitable that control of the vessel would fall to the enemy, raising his hands and encouraging the very reluctant Crasel to do the same. Until the Zaketh had opened their airlock in the immediate aftermath, he had actually felt reasonably confident about the outcome.
So many more were now dead… the Wasteland was a never ending blood bath even after the fighting ended.
Once his mental review of the earlier battle was complete, he used his mental link to exchange a few pleasantries with his brother Thomas. Their conversation turned out to be fairly brief as Thomas’ work shift came to an end and Dennis Kaufield took over for him. Nevertheless, the voice of his brother in his head for even a brief time while trapped in an endless space war was always a good thing. Kaufield also checked in to insure that his implant upgrades had taken, but once functionality was confirmed Adam had chosen to sign off for the night. He was determined to get some rest before anything else happened because that was the only thing he was certain of at this point – something else would invariably happen. There was no escaping it.
[“Just remember,”] Kaufield reminded him. [“We have holographic capability on-line too… if this gets to be too much for you, just let us know and one of us can take your place. We can project an image of you over the top of our own and no one will be the wiser.”] The comment brought a faint smile to Adam’s lips. All things considered, this was already too much for him. Still, he had committed himself to the mission and was mentally dealing with things to his satisfaction. Having to participate in the killing was the worst part… he now knew full well what it was like to be a volunteer soldier fighting in someone else’s war.
Thoughts in his mind beginning to break apart, he fell asleep…
* * * * *
…and awoke at some unknown point later on, to the deafening sound of loud alert klaxons blaring out a ship-wide warning. The Zaketh were already on their feet checking their weapons while the Crasel around him stirred. Only Tran Wuu remained on his mattress, looking wan and every bit the wounded combat soldier that he was. Adam held out a firm hand and pulled the stolid warrior to his feet, patting him on the shoulder and handing him a helmet. The alarms continued blaring out their obnoxious metallic shriek for another thirty seconds or so and then stopped without warning. For just a moment, except for the sound of weapons being loaded, silence reigned in the small room. Watching the Zaketh soldiers curiously, Adam and the Crasel waited patiently to discover what was going on.
One of the three men who had earlier played cards re-entered the room with a pair of soldiers flanking him on each side. All of them held extra rifles and began to distribute the weapons, along with lengthy ammo belts, to the Crasel. “My name is Snee Vasten,” he snapped crisply at Adam. “Your men will fall under my command.” A dark smile flashed across his bronzed features and his deep blue eyes flashed. “Time to earn your pay.” He also handed each man a set of transceiver earwigs, so they could communicate and receive orders during battle.
“And just what kind of payment will we be earning?” asked Arte Kasik curiously, smiling through his scarred brute of a face, long ponytail waving behind his head in response to his constantly shifting gaze.
Snee Vasten chuckled heartily. “Whatever prizes await us on the unarmed supply ship we’re hunting,” he told them enthusiastically. “We’ve had quite the good fortune lately – first we pillaged your vessel and now we’ve found a potential treasure trove. Perhaps we’ll all be drinking fine ale tonight… if we fight hard enough against a soft crew with minimum firepower.”
Standing next to Adam, Big Cren Hollis rose to his full height that verged too closely on seven feet, muscles and veins tightening on his flexed biceps. “As long as we don’t have to fight other Crasel, you can count on me!” he thundered with a sensational bluster that caused a few of the other Zaketh to smile in response.
“Your ship was a lucky strike,” Vasten shot back. “We don’t get an opportunity to stomp on the little guys very often these days.” He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of his men. “And why not?”
“Because all the little guys have already been stomped!” the Zaketh squadron warriors thundered back at him in near perfect unison. Hollis found the humor in their statement and roared with laughter in response, but Janney Stox flinched noticeably at the not-so-subtle jab from the Zaketh soldiers. Nevertheless, Adam and his colleagues continued loading their weapons and readying themselves for combat. He mentally ran a quick diagnostic on his brain implant to insure that nothing was malfunctioning, breathing a huge sigh of relief when everything tied out with a perfect code green.
Snee Vasten snapped him back to attention, handing Adam a holstered sidearm and a pouch containing dozens of spare, black metal magazines. “Do you men have a cutter, by chance?” wondered Vasten.
The comment caught Adam somewhat by surprise, because he didn’t recognize the term ‘cutter’. Retracing his thoughts, he silently ‘listened’ to the question in his head one more time and discovered that the language database in his implant repeated the translation exactly the same. About to shrug his shoulders and feign ignorance, he was relieved to see Janney Stox step forward and raise a hand. “I’m a cutter,” the Crasel admitted brusquely. “The best there is. If you’ve got the equipment to match me, mate.”
“Oh we’ve got the equipment,” grinned Vasten, pointing at Adam. “You and your boys will be on access portal number one. Make sure your man takes it easy on the acetylene… it can be tough to come by and is difficult to manufacture. Hang a left once you’re aboard the supply ship and secure the engine room. Make certain the enemy doesn’t have an opportunity to implement a PTP transit while we’re in the process of boarding. That tends to be tough on troops.” He waved four of his men over. “These guys go with you.”
“Yes sir,” nodded Adam, feeling the first adrenaline rush of the day. He knew deep down that there would be many more before this latest affair ended. Walking behind the Zaketh, he and the four Crasel soldiers marched out into the adjacent corridor and headed toward a closed steel hatch at the far end. Altogether, there were more than two dozen of them marching in a lengthy phalanx towards the outer port hull as the blocky, gray-metal warship Pyrhh emerged from transit in a flash of bluish-white light less than three thousand yards from its target. Someone handed Adam a pair of goggles, a heavy bottle of acetylene and a portable welding unit. Nervously, he passed the equipment over to Janney Stox who expertly donned the goggles and welding unit, preparing to cut into the side of the enemy ship as soon as they arrived at their destination.
[“Be careful Adam,”] Dennis Kaufield’s voice whispered in Adam’s mind suddenly. [“Dr. Simmons is monitoring your vitals, and your anxiety levels are shooting sky high.”]
[“No kidding,”] the elder Roh brother thought back in silent reply. [“Tell Karen that I said hello. The emotions were the same during the earlier attack. I handled it just fine and will do so again.”]
[“That was an attack on your vessel. Don’t forget, this time you are the aggressor.” There is a difference, even if it’s subtle and mostly psychological.”] Kaufield’s ‘tone’ did not ‘sound’ to Adam like he was in any way being scolded, but the words frustrated him anyway.
[“I would sincerely appreciate it if you guys would do your job in your safe little Science Lab back there on Tranquility and let me do mine here,”] his mind snapped too sharply and swiftly in response. He took a deep breath as they approached a “T” intersection and struggled to clear his thoughts. Seconds later, he had calmed down considerably. [“Apologies sir, but I really need to get my head together here. I’m looking out a window and can see the other vessel getting closer. It’s time for me to go and DO this thing.”]
[“Be careful Adam.”]
Marching in unison, the soldiers broke into two teams as they reached the “T”, one turning left and the other to the right. Adam continued to struggle with his emotions silently, doing his best to reassure both Kaufield and himself. [“If I stick with this mission, we’re bound to eventually get the information we need. I’ve set my mind to this both before and after my arrival… all I’ve got to do is keep everything right up here in my head and I’ll be okay. Trust me sir, I won’t let you down. After all, I’ve got you folks looking out for me.”]
[“If it gets to be too much for you, request that we get you out of there. That’s an order,”] Kaufield emphasized with one brief, final instruction. In Adam’s mind, the linked presence of his CO faded away into nothingness.
Adam glanced down at his gloved hands, noticing that his fingers were shaking. This is all happening so goddamned fast! He moved aside as Janney Stox pushed past him and took up position at the end of the corridor adjoining the one they had just exited. There was a strange, dark alien symbol on top of a double airlock hatchway there that his mind read as the number “1”. Keep it right; just keep everything right, he whispered softly under his breath. Glancing to his right, he noticed other men holding welding equipment similar to Stox’s getting ready at three other hatchways.
Stox opened the inner hatch and entered the walkway to the outer doorway, risking a quick look over his shoulder. In his hands, the welder began burning with a bright blue flame while he frowned deeply in Adam’s direction. “Don’t you know how this works by now mate?” Stox asked Adam heatedly, causing the Pathfinder’s former hardware specialist to flinch. With his free left hand, he pointed at all of the rectangular steel handholds attached securely to the wall, each of them just above average head height. “Grab onto something… there’s no guarantee that the magnetic locks on our outer hull will grab on the first impact. Bounce around like a little toy you will, and break I guarantee.”
Noticing the other soldiers, including the Crasel, all holding tightly to similar safety bars Adam nodded with understanding. “Where I come from, we call them Jesus handles,” he replied nervously. When Stox returned the comment with a perplexed look, Adam shrugged with mild amusement. “If you need them,” he continued by way of an explanation, “it’s usually because you’re about to holler ‘Jesus’”.
“Mott’s Ghost,” snapped Stox in response.
“Naah,” Adam disagreed apprehensively. “That just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
Through the windows on the outer hatchway, the other ship was now so large he was looking at a row of viewports similar to their own. Enemy soldiers were visible there, too, waiting patiently for the two ships to meet with helmets and body armor in place, rifles held at the ready. And… WOW, Adam thought to himself as memories he had thought long since buried in the distant past suddenly shot to the surface of his thoughts. They had all watched together, ten years previously on the Pathfinder, as enemy ships had drawn near. Then too, helmeted, armed soldiers had been visible in the windows, terrifying everyone aboard the exploration vessel. If they get on board, he remembered thinking while watching the images on the screens in the vessel’s Command Dome, all of us will likely die. To be standing here now, even a decade later, as one of those same invaders, waiting to attack a ship that had done them no harm was truly an example of irony at its greatest. The mere thought of it forced him to snap instantly back to the stark reality of the situation… one impossible to deny.
“I didn’t see any distinctive markings on that ship,” observed Cren Hollis boldly. “Usually clans mark their supply ships very visibly, because they regularly take brief shortcuts across enemy lines and don’t want to get hit by friendly fire once they re-emerge into friendly space.”
That final observation was all there was time left for.
The Pyrhh crashed solidly against the side of the smaller, enemy supply vessel and rebounded slightly before the magnetic locks grabbed firm along its port flank, pulling it firmly back against the other ship’s steel hull. The impact was hell, but not nearly as jarring as Adam expected. He was holding firmly to the safety handle, watching the portal numbered one very carefully as Janney Stox slapped the green-lit access button beside the outer airlock hatch. It slid up three-quarters of the way and then stuck, retracting another couple of centimeters before permanently sticking in place. “Mott’s Ghost!” snapped Stox angrily as he began using his torch to burn deeply into the other ship’s metal skin. “It’s a bad sign when things start off awry… all you blokes prepare to watch your head.” Looking closer, Adam realized that what he now saw through the open hatchway was in fact the cold, steaming outer hull of the other vessel!
Stox continued working, oblivious to the creaking and groaning around them as both ships’ steel superstructures strained against each other. The sound of atmosphere venting hissed next, causing Adam to release one hand and grab Stox by his body armor where it ended near the small of his back. For a brief second or two, a tiny sliver of dark, starlit space appeared at the bottom of the hatchway as the two ships lightly bounced away from each other a second time. Then the magnetic grapplers, amplified to full power, pulled the vessels tightly against each other and locked them firmly together. “Watch it,” Adam sighed heavily. “We wouldn’t want our cutter taking a ride into the next world before his appointed time.” The larger man continued welding, but flashed him a brief, lopsided grin in response.
There was minimal lighting in the corridor, so the intermittent flashes from the torch fire cast all kinds of eerie, flickering shadows on the walls. The grim expressions on the faces of the soldiers remained fixed, also patterned by the brief bursts of alternating light and shadow while everyone waited patiently. Stox made remarkable progress with his welder, and Arte Kasik suddenly turned toward the Zaketh assigned to them. “We need flash bangs over here,” he howled without a hint of shyness. “We’re going through first over here, and we’d like to live.” Wordlessly, one of their Zaketh allies handed over a vest loaded with grenades.
Snarling furiously, Janney Stox reared back and kicked the hole he had been cutting with deliberate, precision-timed force. The oblong, semi-circular piece of metal with glowing orange, still-smoldering edges fell inward, trailing white wisps of smoke. Seconds later, the sound of other welders finishing their work reached Adam’s ears. Immediately after that, Kasik and others tossed flash bang grenades into the empty holes, some left, some right. The chaos, sudden explosions and flashes of lights increased exponentially, accompanied by the sounds of shouting men and intermittent bursts of gunfire. More grenades went off, this time real ones throwing metal fragments in all directions. With Stox dropping back for the few seconds required to toss the welder and goggles aside, Adam seized his opportunity and charged ahead of him, using his shield to temporarily block the entrance. Brief yellow and orange sparkles on the outer edge of his shield were sinister indicators of fragment impacts. Had he not acted, those behind him would either be wounded or dead.
“Move it or lose it!” Hollis shouted ferociously from behind him, anxious to contribute to the mayhem.
Adam was already gone, having turned left as ordered upon entering the enemy ship. Shouldering his rifle, he pulled back both wrists and opened fire with his camouflaged wrist weapons, sending repeated high-powered bursts of energy sizzling ahead of him. This corridor too was dimly lit, but he was surprised at the unexpectedly light resistance. Although his blasts dropped half a dozen or so enemy soldiers, all dressed completely in black with bright green trim, the vast majority of the weapons fire flashed down the corridor unobstructed, splashing eerily against a bulkhead at the far end of the walkway. Clouds of swirling gray and black smoke made it difficult to see, so he continued moving, hearing the clunking of the boots from those following close behind. He turned right at the far end of the corridor, reading the signs and descending a ladder well by holding on with both hands and sliding his boots along the rails to the next lower deck.
Snee Vasten’s voice crackled sharply in his earwig. “All hands are aboard. Secure the enemy vessel.”
Gunfire from above and behind told him all he needed to know… the soldiers that followed were finishing off the men he had left stunned. Above him, sparks flashed at the top of the ladder well as stray bullets ricocheted loudly in the enclosed space he had vacated only seconds before. The sound of men screaming in agony ended suddenly, with the stink of death and rank odor of gunfire reaching down toward his nostrils. This isn’t right, Adam thought fiercely to himself as he continued moving, following a gradually curving corridor toward the supply ship’s engine room. Something about this doesn’t feel right. The tactical database from his implant, stored right alongside its linguistic equivalent, told him that this was so. Kaufield’s unseen presence was there as well, not speaking directly to him this time, but also reassuring him that his instincts were correct. There was indeed something amiss. The unseen PTP link between the two made certain that their minds were never separated, allowing them to share strategy.
Adam knew what was wrong the instant he first glimpsed the small engine room, virtually empty of enemy soldiers. After using the wrist guns to stun another pair of black-clad soldiers, he strode briskly over to one of the computer consoles and began reading its data, tapping commands into its systems and verifying his deductions before announcing them. Behind him, Crasel and Zaketh warriors alike poured through the open hatchway, breaking up into small groups that began searching the entire room, its rows of computer banks and assorted hiding places for additional enemy personnel.
Amazingly, there weren’t any.
One of the Zaketh noticed Adam working at the primary access controls and dropped back to flank him. “Shut down their PTP drive,” he snapped sharply. “Make certain the cockpit crew is unable to initiate transit.”
“There isn’t any PTP drive,” Adam snarled irritably.
The Zaketh stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “What?”
Big Cren Hollis walked right up to Adam and clapped him on the back with a clout that would have injured a smaller man. “That was the greatest charge into enemy territory I’ve ever seen!” he thundered loudly, clearly impressed. “Worth a toast or two tonight, that run will be!”
Ignoring them both, Adam removed his helmet and touched the earwig in his right ear. “Vasten, can you hear me?” he growled heatedly, his normal patience under duress failing. “This is Adam Roh of the Crasel.”
A burst of interference snapped loudly in his ear and promptly cleared. “This is Vasten,” came the slightly delayed reply. “The ship is ours. How soon can you have the engine room disabled?”
“This is some sort of damned trap,” continued Adam as he exhaled with clear frustration. “There are no Point-to-Point drive functions active on our consoles here,” he told his temporary CO. “This ship may not even have one, if the size of the equipment in this engine room is any indication. The normal software needed to run PTP isn’t loaded and available on-line. I already checked.”
This time the response was immediate. “Explain.”
“There is no PTP capability currently active aboard this ship,” he repeated. “Did you see the men in the corridors when we boarded? There were only enough of them to put one in each window. We saw what looked to be a fully manned enemy vessel, but what we’ve found is some sort of a decoy.”
Vasten’s voice, even electronically filtered, almost dripped with sarcasm. “Are you certain?”
“There were no markings on the exterior hull identifying a specific clan,” he pointed out, repeating Hollis’ earlier comment. “Don’t you find that to be a bit strange?” As he spoke, one of the monitors in front of him blinked a bright, red-lighted warning at him.
Someone else abruptly made a decision to interrupt Vasten’s channel. “Another enemy ship has just dropped out of transit behind us,” the unknown Zaketh informed them. “It appears, based on hull markings, to be a Yakiir warship. Three shuttles are breaking off of its outer hull and moving toward the Pyrhh at standard intercept speed. All troops return to home ASAP. Prepare for boarding countermeasures.”
“Control. Confirm that.”
“Confirmed, Vasten. Command code Zeta-Alpha-Three.”
“You have no prize here, Vasten,” hollered a clearly frustrated Adam Roh. “We’ll be lucky to get out of this mess with our lives and ship intact.” He waved his hand twice forcefully, pointing toward the hatch they had used to gain access. “Let’s get out of here and back aboard the Pyrhh,” he barked in his best command tone. “If we don’t, we’re likely dead men walking.” That was when he noticed that the Zaketh soldier who had been standing next to him was gone. He had turned his head away from the occasional sounds of fighting that still echoed in from the outer corridors for only a few brief seconds. “Where did our escort go?” he asked, turning to face Arte Kasik and Cren Hollis. “When did they leave?”
Both men shrugged in response. “A second or two ago. They just charged right back out of here,” chuckled Kasik. “Almost as fast as you ran in, as a matter of fact.”
“Shit! They put us on a separate Comm frequency,” he barked with frustration, abandoning the blinking, colored consoles on the engine control console. “We weren’t hearing everything that was going on. We have to go boys, or we’re going to get ourselves left behind.”
By the time they managed to backpedal all the way up the stairwell and reached the hatchway leading to the entry corridor, the sound of venting atmosphere was clearly audible. Escaping wind rushing in from behind them grabbed loose hair from Adam’s head and wrapped it around his face while he glared defiantly at the dead bodies already lifting into the air and floating toward the multiple hull breaches.
“What happened here?” wondered Cren Hollis as the four Crasel pulled up short behind him.
We missed our opportunity to leave,” Adam sighed, closing the hatch in front of him to protect against the increasing loss of atmosphere on the other side. He sealed it tightly to protect them from the multiple holes in the hull… openings that they themselves had helped create! “The Pyrhh has already pulled away from us so that they can confront the incoming warship.”
“Those Zaketh blokes just up and left us?” Janney Stox shouted angrily.
“Yes they did,” nodded Adam ruefully, mulling the matter over in his mind. “Don’t worry. We’ll probably live longer over here, anyway. The Pyrhh is about to get boarded by a swarm of Yakiir.” He began walking back the way they came, in the general direction of the engine room. “Why don’t you fellows come with me,” he suggested calmly. “They should have schematics of this entire ship available on their main computer. I want to know where the cockpit is.”
“Why?” asked Arte Kasik curiously.
“Because I want a closer look at these so-called ferocious Yakiir,” decided Adam emphatically, removing his helmet and wiping dirt, along with a great deal of perspiration, from his brow. “This is, after all, a perfect opportunity to learn more about them.”
Cren Hollis waved him on. “Lead the way,” he suggested with a dark grin.
Aboard the enemy supply vessel…
By the time they reached the surprisingly small cockpit area, the battle was nearly underway. Two blocky shuttles had pulled alongside the Pyrhh to port and to starboard, preparing to dock with the larger vessel and effectively turn the tables on the former aggressors. The significantly larger Yakiir mother vessel hung back, trailed by a third shuttle that looked to be in place solely to defend the larger warship. Adam and his four Crasel friends were able to see everything through the large, crystal clear cockpit windows in front of the helm and navigation controls. The glass was all planes and sloping angles, dominated primarily by the huge enemy battle cruiser. Without a word, Adam seated himself in the forward pilot’s seat and began tapping commands into the computer work stations, searching for any details that would be helpful.
“Somebody’s going to lose out there, most probably the Zaketh,” pointed out Tran Wuu. “Once that happens, they’ll either come back here for us or transit away and leave us to rot slowly in space.”
“The cargo bays we passed on the way up here were full of crates and barrels,” Adam countered, continuing to pick away at the computer consoles. “I checked the weight on several of them to verify that there is, in fact, cargo inside. They’re coming back for this ship, you can count on it. It’s a tempting decoy that they will want to keep.” He glanced curiously out the windows in front of them, studying the huge, bright green markings painted on the side of the Yakiir battle cruiser, including a large, iconic logo. It looked like a clutching, four-fingered hand with the fingers curving downward. More like a claw of some kind, he decided silently, noticing the sharp, talon-like fingertips. What kind of alien beast serves as their official mascot, he wondered curiously.
“What are we going to do?” asked Arte Kasik bluntly. “This ship has no weapons or Point-to-Point.”
“We’re running out of time,” replied Adam impatiently, watching the Zaketh vessel’s normally steady course flounder as guns from the two shuttles fired briefly into its engine section. Sustaining damage, it was unable to transit safely away. Relentlessly, the Yakiir continued to press their surprise attack, shuttles on either side closing relentlessly in on the smaller warship. Desperate for additional options, Adam tried – solely on a whim – accessing the tactical database in his implant. It took a few seconds to retrieve the data he needed before he smiled with confidence, grabbing the pilot seat’s heavy harness and strapping himself in. “I highly recommend that you Crasel warriors find yourselves a seat and buckle up,” he suggested with a dark chuckle. “There aren’t any ‘Jesus handles’ to grab up here.”
In his mind, Kaufield’s presence stirred suddenly. [“What are you planning, Adam,”] wondered the former Captain curiously. [“You’re not a soldier.”]
[“Oh yes I am,”] objected Adam in response. [“I have served the Crasel, and was recently conscripted into service as a Zaketh warrior.”] Staring at the massive lines of the Yakiir cruiser with new insight, Adam fired up the small supply vessel’s maneuvering thrusters and sent the small ship accelerating in pursuit.
“What in blazes are you doing?” asked Janney Stox, his face paling. “Why are we moving?”
“This is your last chance,” said Adam brusquely. “Strap yourselves in tight while you still can. We’re going to help the Zaketh flip this battle right back around and assist them in seizing control of a Yakiir warship.”
“What?” Janney Stox put a burly hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Those bloody scoundrels left us behind to die a slow death out here in the dark of space! Or we could just as easily end up tortured for sport by the Yakiir.”
“This is a perfect opportunity to earn their trust,” Adam disagreed. “And to demonstrate that smaller clans can, in fact, work together successfully.”
Cren Hollis pulled Stox firmly away from Adam. “We’d better do as the man says,” the huge man suggested in his deep, baritone voice. “Adam Roh has proven his worth in battle. I will follow him.”
“Each of you accepted my trust and challenge,” Adam reminded them, “when you chose to walk out of that airlock with me.” He was holding nothing back, and their small, rectangular block of a vessel – whose design angled only slightly inward at the nose – continued to rocket toward the enemy. Watching the other ships grow steadily larger was the last straw for Stox and the others… nervously they seated themselves in empty chairs and began fastening the tightly-woven safety harnesses in place. The implant unexpectedly began projecting a colorful, graphical Heads-up-Display on the inner surface of his right eyeball, using his optic nerve as an upload conduit. He simply looked at the closest shuttle and shifted his gaze toward the Yakiir mother vessel, watching the speed and distance statistics change as they adapted to each new target he focused on.
“The Yakiir are no one to be trifled with,” noted Stox with growing fear.
Adam frowned at his continued superstitions. “You told me that you fellows haven’t encountered them.”
“That doesn’t mean we haven’t heard things. Dark things… terrible things.”
Adam shrugged off the other man’s comment and refocused his attention on the matter at hand. “How many troops does one of those smaller transports hold?” Adam asked curiously, staring at the shuttle hovering protectively behind its mother ship. Projected green and blue circles on the inner surface of his eyeball drifted over to center on the shuttle, and statistics assessing its size and capacity appeared next to them. Blinking red dots identified areas where exterior gun turrets rested, weapons that would be capable of targeting them. Reading information from the eye HUD display while plunging the supply ship below the enemy’s plane of attack, Adam smiled. He estimated that at least forty soldiers would be waiting on that transport shuttle.
Waiting in case they’re needed.
“Three or four dozen, most likely,” Tran Wuu told him, all but confirming the HUD estimate. “They’re probably the officers and privileged soldiers,” he continued. “That’s the way the larger clans generally function. Those who have earned their position over time are elevated to a higher class and assume less risk. Dumb blokes like us and newbies… well, we get to go first.”
“That’s right,” agreed Kasik. “The officers hiding in back will show up once the enemy ship is secured so that they can gloat and walk around inspecting their prize.”
“That I did not know,” admitted Adam with a dry smile. Looping, overlapping blue and green course lines reached deeply into the distance on his internal eye HUD display, offering suggestions as to potential course changes. He loved having so many reliable alternatives instantly available, simply by reading the statistical data off the inside of his vision. He chose a new course and began tapping slight adjustments into the navigation console to his right. Then he grabbed the thruster handle confidently before pushing it ahead full.
Already traveling at a brisk pace, the small ship accelerated.
Adam’s Crasel friends barely had time enough to holler futilely at him before he nosed their new possession sharply upward. Everyone felt a massive, jarring impact immediately after the ship listed suddenly and sharply to starboard. The pointed edge at the front of their vessel’s port side rammed and then cut cleanly into the bottom of the smaller support shuttle. An instant later, the swiftly moving supply ship sliced the shuttle completely in two, roaring cleanly through a suddenly expanding debris field and continuing on its upward course. Noting only minimal damage to their own vessel on the damage control computer, Adam exhaled slowly and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Ye Gods!” hollered Arte Kasik with an unexpected, adrenalin-driven euphoria. “That was great! Took out most of their officers and cronies, we just did!” Beside him, Cren Hollis howled repeatedly with approval while Janney Stox and Tran Wuu both watched brief glimpses of smoldering debris flashing past the cockpit windows in silent, stunned disbelief.
“Hang on fellas, we’re not done yet,” cautioned Adam Roh as he continued reading statistical data from the colored indicators on the inside of his vision.
The massive, seemingly endless underside of the Yakiir mother ship appeared in the lower left corner of the cockpit windows. Seconds later it dominated their entire left side as Adam entered yet another course change, diving back down toward the plane of battle. Next came a sudden, sharp turn to port that left them almost totally perpendicular to the larger warship and surging ahead at full speed. Again there was a severe impact that rocked the cockpit and the entire ship surrounding them as they crashed into the center of the enemy’s hull amidships.
In a jarring collision that even rattled teeth, their fast moving, commandeered supply ship struck a larger, slower moving object. The small vessel tore deeply into the cruiser’s mid-section, propelled by its considerable momentum. Its superstructure groaned in protest, accompanied by the harsh shriek of metal-fatigue. Large cracks appeared in the cockpit windows as their forward progress ground to a slow halt, spider-webbing outward in all directions with ominous snikking sounds. In the end, thankfully, everything held together and atmospheric integrity was maintained.
“We could have been killed!” gasped Kasik, his short-lived adrenalin-infused confidence fading as the realization of what they had just done sunk in. He stared in utter shock at the sparking, smoking consoles surrounding Adam that suddenly went dark as nearly all of them lost power. Only emergency lights still winked green from the helm and navigation consoles, proving they remained active. Outside, through the cracks in the windows, they could see the upper half of a lower deck and the lower half of the one just above it. “How did you know this ship would hold up to the pounding?”
For the first time in a long while, Adam laughed heartily. “It’s one of the first rules of ship design, if its designers use common sense,” he informed the four Crasel. “You cannot fly a ship without a pilot, so the cockpit area is usually reinforced to withstand considerable damage.” He eased back on the throttle, shutting down the thundering engines that were still trying to push them forward.
The abrupt impact and subsequent loss of momentum caused all of them to simply sit there quietly for a few seconds contemplating what they had just done. Even Adam was temporarily at a loss for words, although he wondered idly what the sight must look like from outside. After all, the supply ship had just ripped one shuttle completely apart before firmly embedding itself at least twenty meters deep in the starboard side of the larger, mother ship.
“The Yakiir will be extremely angry and eager to seek vengeance against us,” predicted Janney Stox after a prolonged pause. “Mott’s Ghost, but we are in the thick of it this time. You’ve really done it mate,” he growled with a shake of his head, gaping with continued astonishment at Adam Roh.
Snapping loose the seat harness, Adam swiveled back toward them and shook his head. “We just took out most of their senior officers by destroying one of their shuttles, and – by my estimate – severely damaged the mother ship’s Point-to-Point capability. Do you really believe they’re going to care about us right now, when the Zaketh have suddenly gained an unexpected advantage over them?” He let his point sink in for a few seconds. “How eager do you think the Yakiir are going to be to continue boarding the Pyrhh?”
“Not very,” guffawed Big Cren Hollis in response. He slapped his knees and roared with laughter.
Tran Wuu smiled wryly. “So what are we going to do next, Adam Roh?” he asked inquisitively.
“I’m going to board this warship and try to disable its primary power supply… more than likely by accessing terminals in the engine room just like we did last time. Meanwhile, you boys are going to sit tight right here and wait for me,” stated Adam calmly in response. “The Yakiir will likely have a lot more soldiers in key defensive positions on a warship – more so than they did aboard this ship. Just hold your position here and I’ll come back for you once I’ve completed my reconnaissance.”
“With respect, there’s no way we’re just going to sit here and let you take all the risk,” objected Cren Hollis fiercely. “What do we look like, a bunch of soft-fingered weaklings?”
Adam tapped a command into the helm console, causing the explosive bolts on one of the cockpit’s emergency exit hatches to blow. The round metal disk leaped into the air and clattered to a halt inside the Yakiir warship. Somewhere inside the larger vessel outside, alarm klaxons were blaring loudly. He turned and smiled at his colleagues, a soft, electrical blue glow suddenly appearing out of nowhere and surrounding his entire body. The others watched with astonishment as he turned transparent and then vanished completely from view. An instant later, the blue glow still outlining his profile also faded away. “Unless you men have an invisibility screen like mine, you’ll only be slowing me down,” he cautioned sternly. Because they could no longer see him, the four of them heard him clambering up to the open hatchway, followed almost immediately by a scrabbling sound and then the thump of his feet landing on the metal deck plating outside.
“Mott’s Ghost but that one’s a sorcerer,” gasped Janney Stox in utter shock. “Perhaps he’s even old Mott himself, come back from the dead to save us.” He paused for a moment, the realization of it all sinking gradually in. “What do we do?” he continued finally, uncertain as to what their next move should be.
“I don’t usually get asked to sit and wait during a major confrontation,” responded Wuu coolly. “And my injured shoulder still hurts from all of this running around. So until there’s a reason for us to move, I say we honor Adam’s request and hold our position here.”
Three grunts of disagreement caused him to smile mischievously.
5: IV: Turning the TablesPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Yakiir warship…
Adam moved very swiftly through the corridors of the huge, intimidating alien ship, noticing immediately how clean and new everything looked. In stark contrast to the vessels he had boarded so far – even the supply shuttle – this one looked as though it only recently departed on its maiden voyage. Clean glass windows along with polished metal corridors stretched out ahead of him. Amazingly, the air smelled fresh and free of decay for the first time since he entered the Wasteland.
As predicted, there were armed guards watching every major corridor and intersection, dressed in crisp, black uniforms striped with bright green and the recognizable claw symbol that represented Clan Yakiir. It was a strange sight, given the fading, torn uniforms and heavily scratched body armor he was used to seeing his colleagues wearing. Even the Zaketh crew’s uniforms and equipment had been heavily used, and the Pyrhh’s corridors filled with unending grime, terrible smells and the rusty stains of dried blood.
[“How are you feeling, Adam,”] Kaufield’s voice asked unexpectedly, whispering in his mind for attention. [“That was quite a show you’ve put on up until now.”]
[“Wasn’t it though?”] he replied proudly, elated at how well he had performed under duress. [“The tactical database made everything surprisingly easy… it felt as though I had years and years of actual combat experience.”] A thought occurred to him as he silently eased past a guard standing next to a bulkhead and entered a new area of the warship. [“Whose idea was the HUD display on the inside of my eyeball?”]
[“Thomas suggested that one… we included it with your last set of upgrades,”] noted Kaufield with a soft laugh. [“Seriously, we have a ‘threat monitoring’ computer running here that constantly monitors your danger level. On a scale from 1 to 100, 100 being worst, it never rose above 60. Currently you’re holding steady at a mild 48, and when you were sleeping back aboard the Pyrhh you were at 18.”]
[“The stealth functions appear to be working pretty well too,”] Adam thought to himself, doing the best he could to hold a silent, long distance conversation in his head while still moving quietly. [“I just walked right past an armed guard and he didn’t even blink.”]
[“Is there anything else you need at his point?”] Kaufield asked inquisitively. [“We’re using your implant’s passive sensors from here, and I can tell you that the ship you’re on still has plenty of soldiers aboard.”]
He slowed his pace slightly, thinking the matter over carefully before responding. [“It would help if you could find a way for me to increase power to the portable ear transceiver that Snee Vasten gave me,”] he decided. [“Also, I’m trying to locate the engine room on this beast. So if you guys can lock on to the strongest power source near the stern of the ship, that should lead me right where I want to end up.”]
There was a long pause as his requests were analyzed by the experts on the other end of the conversation. [“Local jamming in your area is primarily designed to disrupt long-range communications,”] pointed out Kaufield after a bit. [“Wasteland attack vessels simply don’t want other clans calling for help while they’re being boarded. Your implant is capable of supplying energy wirelessly. Request access to additional energy and then route it to the earwig. Your implant should interpret, analyze and adapt. As for your other request, well, stand by for a minute… we’re working on it.”]
Deciding to use the time wisely, Adam found a reasonably empty corridor before locating an open hatch and ducking inside. He closed the hatch so that only a thin sliver of the corridor remained visible and then retreated into the back area of a large room that resembled some sort of meeting room or mess hall. There were tables and chairs lying overturned everywhere he looked, likely scattered by the recent collision. The HUD graphics on his inner vision remained, and a motion sensing overlay appeared in bright blue and green circles that represented the immediate area surrounding him.
Adam could see tiny red dots – the display’s representation of nearby Yakiir soldiers – moving every once in a while on the perimeter of the targeting circles but none of them were close to him. Rotating his head to the right, he noticed that the implant was even detecting soldiers in the adjacent corridor running parallel to the one he had just exited, on the other side of the room’s wall. As instructed, he tapped into the implant software and submitted a request to amplify power to his ear transceiver.
When he received a code green confirmation that the function was complete, he removed his helmet and set it on one of the few tables still standing. The helmet itself remained invisible, leaving Adam with all kinds of questions about how the stealth technology worked. Best not to ask too many of them at this point, he decided silently. I can always question Noah WHEN I get back. Reaching up to touch the earwig, he listened to the loud crackling in his ear and waited for it to clear. When it did he spoke immediately and in a very subdued tone of voice. “Vasten… are you still listening to this frequency?” he hissed sharply, eyes watching the moving red dots on the back of his vision.
There was a lengthy pause and then a voice he did not recognize. “Stand by,” someone told him.
Irritated, Adam ignored the advice. “Vasten, do you still have us tuned in?” he asked again. “This is Adam Roh, one of the Crasel soldiers that you recently recruited. I’m aboard the Yakiir warship.”
“Yes, your point of entry is… well known to us,” said the familiar voice of Snee Vasten after a few more seconds. “It appears that we underestimated you and your men… you have given us a chance for life.”
“Stow that talk for later. Right now you’ve got an even bigger opportunity… a chance to take this vessel.”
“What?” Vasten’s tone turned abruptly suspicious.
“I’m not kidding,” replied Adam hastily. “What is the situation out there? Have you been boarded?”
“No,” replied the Zaketh slowly. “How do you have enough power to pierce local interference?”
“Nevermind,” Adam admonished him sharply. “Where are the two shuttles?”
“Both are still flanking us to port and starboard. Neither has moved in the past several minutes. With the death of most of their officers on that shuttle you rammed, I would think that the remaining command crew is deciding whether or not we’re worth any more losses. Over here, we figure the odds of them leaving us behind altogether as even.”
“Up those odds,” suggested Adam firmly. “You have external gun turrets. Use them to force those shuttles away from the Pyrhh.”
“That’s never a good idea,” replied Vasten somewhat snidely. “We are still the probable losers in any engagement and do not have a lot of firepower. Firing on shuttles that may board us anyway has a tendency to irritate an already aggressive enemy. Doing so is a good way to discover just how LONG potential captors can prolong a tortured death.” He paused, clearly frustrated by the idea. “If we lose this engagement, I personally would prefer to die quickly. Your actions, unfortunately, have all but eliminated that possibility.”
Adam felt his anger rising and carefully struggled to control the emotion, refusing to let it affect his judgment. “I didn’t say to destroy them,” he emphasized calmly. “Just chase them away from the Pyrhh for now. Then, move your ship beneath this one and board it on the port side. Tell your Captain it’s probably his one and only chance to capture a Yakiir war cruiser intact. And he gets the supply shuttle’s contents too, since it has now become a part of this ship.”
“You’re insane.”
“Am I?” This time he did allow some of the ire he was feeling to seep into his voice. “I’m about to disable all power over here, and once I do so this ship’s external guns will no longer have auto-targeting sensors. If you blockheads over there really want to live, get ready to fight your way onto this ship. Our crash really messed up the starboard hull, so if you move below us and come alongside to port, those shuttles have no place to dock except the dorsal hull. Your shipmates will be able to continue to use gun turrets to keep them from doing that.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Explain it to your Captain. It’ll take me another few minutes to make my way to the engineering deck and disable the crew on duty there. In exchange for my help, anyone who surrenders gets to live, especially the men on those shuttles.”
The pause was much longer this time. “Acceptable. We may comply if you keep your end of the bargain.”
“If I keep my end of the bargain, I think my men and I have earned our Zaketh stripes today,” countered Adam, noticeable irritated. “We want a share of this ship and its technology. It’s the very least you can do after leaving us to rot and then forcing us to save your collective asses.”
“We will see.”
The signal abruptly went dead and the channel reverted back to a static flutter, causing Adam to shut it down. He reached out and picked up a helmet he could not see and settled it back over his head. The red dots blinking on the back of his vision were still far enough away from the center of the HUD display, allowing him to make his way silently back into the corridor.
[“Congratulations. Recruiting help from the Zaketh has dropped the danger meter to 55,”] chuckled Kaufield with amusement, his presence returning to Adam’s mind.
[“I need to know where the engine room is,”] he replied back. [“And pronto.”]
[“Fine. Here’s how you get there…”]
* * * * *
It took Adam slightly more than ten minutes to make his way to the rear of the Yakiir warship. During that time span, he used his wrist guns along the way to disable four soldiers guarding the entrance. The engine room was cavernous, spanning at least three decks, possibly four. It was impossible to tell due to the huge number of screens that formed the distant ‘ceiling above’. Quite probably they served as ‘flooring’ for an upper deck where additional fuel and hardware could be stored. Point-to-Point transit equipment tended to range from big to bigger to biggest… only the Pathfinder project had found a way to safely miniaturize it.
Even then, Kaufield and company had done so using state-of-the-art technology and an entirely new science. The loud, steady thrumming sound of the engines, placed on standby, allowed him to easily slip up to a wider-than-normal entrance to the huge chamber. The curve of each massive thruster assembly could be seen to port and starboard, forming the traditional liquid-fuel powered engines used when traveling at normal speeds. In the center of the chamber was a large assortment of PTP hardware, some of it more than two stories high. Encircling the equipment in a large semi-circle was row after row of sophisticated computer electronics.
Once again, the Yakiir appear to have everything that the other clans do not, he thought to himself.
A quick instruction sent to his implant allowed Adam to modify the HUD display on the inside of his eyeballs even further. Armed Yakiir inside the engine room now blinked in red on his tactical display, while all other humanoid life forms showed up as non-threatening, dark blue dots. When he moved, he did so very quickly and using the targeting options available to him so that there would be no misses. Half a dozen guards went down simultaneously as he stepped into the engine room and fired one wrist gun to the left, the other to the right. Other soldiers standing next to men working along the computer semi-circle were next, and some of the scientists also went down from the energy pulses emitted by his wrist weaponry. Finally, he targeted a pair of guards watching two stories above him on narrow catwalks, disabling both of them with pulses of high energy. Both of them collapsed against the safety railing and slumped to their knees, rifles falling toward the deck below. A bit apprehensively, Adam checked for more targets before moving farther.
After concluding that the room was clear, he moved toward the computer sem-icircle in search of the shipboard power functions. Red, blinking dots on the HUD alerted him instantly to the fact that four additional men were moving toward him, following the exact same corridor that had led him to his destination. Taking up a defensive position and waiting for the inevitable, Adam considered himself to be extremely fortunate so far. Everything, more or less, was proceeding according to his ‘make it up as you go along’ strategy. If Snee Vasten and his Captain followed through, the crew of the Pyrhh had an amazing opportunity to capture a great prize. The information this ship could tell us, he thought somewhat greedily. There are lots of secrets here, and we must ferret out each and every one of them.
Wrist guns raised and ready, he waited patiently for the newest arrivals, lowering them only when he recognized some very familiar voices arguing amongst themselves. Shaking his head in disbelief, he watched as Tran Wuu, Arte Kasik and Janney Stox trotted into the engine room, glancing casually around at everything as though they were taking a tour. Cren Hollis brought up the rear, his expression grim and determined as he kept his rifle shouldered and ready. “Yep, he’s already been here,” nodded Arte Kasik with a smirk as he studied all of the inert bodies lying around unconscious. “This Adam Roh of ours is a one man strike force. My opinion on the matter has changed – I say we keep him in the group.”
“I have to admit, our good fortune seems to have risen considerably since we met him,” nodded Stox.
In a bright burst of blue energy, Adam disabled his stealth shield, reappearing in front of the four men who all flinched noticeably at his unexpected appearance. “I’m still here,” he chided them irritably, shaking a finger at them. “I told you guys to wait in the supply ship… you’re going to get yourselves killed!”
Big Cren Hollis turned on him, eyes blazing. “That’ll be the day when we sit around chatting amongst ourselves while everyone else fights,” he growled heatedly in reply. “We’re not wetback youngsters and we’re not going to let you assume all of the risk.”
“Besides,” said Arte Kasic stoically. “We could hear atmosphere venting through gaps in all the damage the crash caused. Out here in the black I can tell you that is one scary sound. I think emergency bulkheads closed at some point, but we didn’t wait around to see if they would. So we followed you.”
Aware that Janney Stox was looking him up and down thoroughly, Adam turned toward him next. “What?”
“Nothing,” Stox said reassuringly with a wry smile. “I’m just trying to figure out how you do all those magic tricks, mate. You look like us and you’re dressed like us. What’s the difference?”
Adam sighed heavily, ignoring the comment. He returned to the nearest computer and began tapping a series of commands into its keyboard, watching and reading the alien language with ease as it flashed row after row of strange, normally unfamiliar text symbols at him. While he worked, he took a few seconds to point at the waiting Crasel. “Please gather up all of the rifles and – if you can – move everyone into a pile at the center of the room,” he suggested, jerking a thumb toward the catwalks above. “One or two of you need to go get those guys too… they’ll be conscious again in about thirty minutes.”
“I’ve seen a lot of engine rooms on a lot of ships in my day, so I can tell you with assurances that I’ve never seen technology this sophisticated,” Tran Wuu whistled softly, glancing up at Adam in admiration. “What are you going to do next?”
“Since you’re all here, I’m going to explore more of this ship. It would really help matters considerably if you four would hold this position and deter anyone from trying to come in here.” He pointed at the computers. “Destroy these only as a last resort – if you’re about to lose control of the engine room. Otherwise we’ll need them to restore power once we take the rest of this ship.”
“Take the rest of the ship…” Hollis trailed off with clear astonishment, and the big man was normally unflappable. “How are the five of us going to do that?”
“We are not,” declared Adam firmly. “You four will stay here, hold the engine room and watch over our prisoners. I’ve already contacted Snee Vasten and the Pyrhh is going to board this ship from the port side.” He smiled at the stunned expressions on their faces.
“Those buggers!” Stox instantly became irate. “Why involve them? They left us behind, for cat’s sake…”
“Suffice it to say that Vasten now sees the value of an alliance with us much more clearly than he did the last time we worked together,” Adam chuckled lightly before gesturing sharply toward the nearest of the unconscious men. “I’m not kidding – you guys need to pay attention here. Get to work and make certain these soldiers remain out of action. Once the Zaketh come aboard from the port side, you’re going to have to defend that entrance from retreating Yakiir.” Gesturing toward the other exit to starboard, the one he had used to enter, Adam smiled. “I’ll disable the soldiers’ weapons and anybody else still conscious on this side during my trip back out. You’ll still have to keep at least one man on guard here too, but the starboard corridors will be easier to watch with the front end of our supply ship sticking through it and an enemy attacking from the port side.”
Finished, he stabbed a couple of key buttons on one of the computers, causing a sudden power outage all over the ship. The lights went first, followed by the rest of the primary system functions. Even the loud, continual thrumming of the main engines slowed noticeably before fading away almost to nothing. At least a dozen sophisticated computers comprised the half circle around the PTP equipment, but only three of them visibly retained power. These were deliberately left functional by Adam so that he could restore key systems easily at a later time. Through the wide open port and starboard entrances to the engine room, he could see low level emergency lights snap on in the corridors outside.
“You guys be very careful,” he said with concern for the Crasel. “Don’t get shot, by the Zaketh or the Yakiir.”
“Nobody is coming in here without paying a heavy price,” promised Cren Hollis.
Tran Wuu picked up a couple of heavy-duty flashlights from several of the unconscious Yakiir soldiers. “Here,” he suggested, offering one of them to Adam. “You’ll need to see where you’re going.”
“No thanks,” Adam declined with a smile. His body flashed with a bright blue glow once more, turned transparent and then vanished from sight. “I’ve got what I need to get the job done.”
“You certainly do,” gasped Kasik in response.
“It’s Mott’s Ghost, I tell you,” replied Stox as he grabbed a pair of feet and effortlessly dragged an unconscious soldier toward the growing pile of inert bodies lying in the center of the chamber. “He’s come back from the dead to save us all.”
* * * * *
Despite the fact that the Crasel ended up making an appearance in engineering, Adam was primarily relieved. The tactical database in his implant kept telling him that the best option available was to leave the engine room computers functional if at all possible. Shutting down critical ship functions was fine, but being able to get them back on-line just as swiftly was also important, especially when other warships could transit to their location at any moment. He desperately wanted to explore as much of the ship as possible by himself, and the Crasel’s refusal to wait in the supply ship now gave him that option. He was somewhat surprised at himself for having ordered them to stay there. The tactical database had also suggested that he ‘make optimum use of his team’.
Perhaps I’m really starting to care about those irritable warriors, he thought with amusement. Sentimentality… also not a good idea in a combat situation.
Making his way back through the starboard corridor, the first thing he noticed was that many of the soldiers he had stunned earlier were showing clear signs of waking up. Taking a deep breath in preparation, he concentrated and raised his fists before pulling them back sharply, releasing a massive, crackling blue electrical pulse. The blast seared its way back toward the distant supply ship, once again incapacitating all of those who were in the first stages of recovering consciousness. It was a riskier than usual move, since those who were still out like a light would be the most susceptible to the shockwave.
Even so, Adam had the necessary tactical data displayed on his eye HUD, showing him precisely how intense each burst needed to be. He also submitted a request to augment the strength of his legs and feet, stepping on the center of each of the discarded rifles lying along the corridor so that each of them was sufficiently crushed so as to be non-functional. This too, is not tactically a good idea, the implant’s data cautioned him. Sparing lives in a war zone greatly increased the probability of unwanted interference – lethal interference.
Adam set his jaw and deliberately ignored this latest piece of advice. He had accepted the assignment and was in the process of pursuing its objectives, but that didn’t mean – in any way shape or form – that he agreed to become a killer. It just wasn’t in him unless it became absolutely necessary. But you have killed, the implant’s data, viewed on the eye display, irrefutably informed him. All those people on that shuttle you crashed through are dead, along with anyone else who was caught between the supply ship and the walls during the crash against the warship. The mental argument he was having with himself refused to go away. That doesn’t mean I have to get used to this, he tried to tell his subconscious. That doesn’t mean I have to kill just because I have the opportunity to do so. It was a good comeback, but even so seemed to fall a little flat.
Part of you enjoyed that… really enjoyed taking it to the Yakiir. Admit it.
[“Hey Denny, have you guys got any preferences as to where I explore next?”] he asked suddenly, using his mental link to reach out for the ‘sound’ of another human voice and also get his mind off of subjects that were far too uncomfortable to deal with at this time. [“I’m still a little rattled by this recent confrontation, more specifically with the lives I just took.”] They had instructed him to be honest with himself at all times… it was the best way to handle things.
[“I thought you might be checking in soon,”] came the swift response, although the presence this time was noticeably different from Kaufield’s. Karen Simmons. Somewhere between the instant he crashed the shuttle and left behind the engine room, the Doctor had taken over as his official on-duty Sentinel. [“Our readouts here indicate relatively normal anxiety and stress levels.”]
[“I don’t care,”] he thought back at her somewhat irritably. [“Cutting that shuttle in half changed me.”]
Her thoughts reflected her usual good humor and helped his mood improve by leaps and bounds. [“Adam Roh, you were a changed man the instant you fought for the Crasel and surrendered to the Zaketh.”] She paused just long enough to let his thoughts drift back to that awful instant, the one that started the proverbial snowball rolling downhill. [“You can’t go through something like this, something where some people live and others die, and not be changed forever. When you get back, I’ll run a full psychological workup and we’ll see where you are. Meanwhile, stay strong and use your instincts… we’ve learned an awful lot from your adventures much faster than we expected.”]
[“Easy for you to say,”] he challenged in response. [“You didn’t have to hear that airlock open.”]
[“Adam, stay positive,”] she told him firmly. [“Now as to your original request, there is an area that we want you to take a look at. Originally President Kaufield almost sent you there in the first place because he mistook it for the engine room.”]
[“How could he do that?”]
[“Suffice it to say, the location in question is emanating almost as much power as the entire engine room. Something very vibrant and full of energy is sitting in what we’ve determined must be an aft cargo bay. Here come the directions.”] He ‘felt’ new information becoming available to him via the implant, and a graphical diagram sprouted into being on the inner eye HUD so that he could read and interpret it more quickly. It helped him to look at an actual map, even if, at this point, it was only a partial one.
[“Okay, I’ll check it out right away,”] he promised with an approving nod.
* * * * *
On the way to his newest destination, Adam felt the entire warship shudder uncontrollably. Seconds later, additional, smaller impacts reverberated through the walls and caused the deck plating to vibrate noticeably under his feet. It’s about time, he thought triumphantly to himself. The impacts could mean only one thing; that Snee Vasten had finally convinced his Captain to pull alongside the warship’s port side. In other words, Vasten and his Zaketh colleagues were in the process of landing a boarding party.
With a pair of undocked shuttles still fully loaded with armed soldiers and sitting helplessly just out of the Pyrhh’s weapons range, the odds were not looking good for the Yakiir. The mere fact that the Zaketh were helping inspired Adam, reinvigorating his mood and allowing him to more quickly pace off the remaining distance between him and the new objective to which Dr. Simmons had transmitted directions. He stopped in the middle of a corridor and opened a firmly secured hatch, using the implant’s capabilities to bypass its locking mechanism.
What he found inside the cargo bay caused him to stop and simply stare at his discovery with awe.
The bay was completely empty except for two slim, streamlined gray missiles that stretched across the entire room, each slightly more than forty-two meters in total length, by Adam’s HUD estimate. There were bright green alien markings painted along their entire length, including the familiar four-fingered claw emblem. Some sort of independent power source built into each weapon thrummed sub-harmonically with unseen, carefully controlled intensity. The brief euphoria Adam had felt upon hearing and feeling the impact of the Pyrhh slamming against the side of the Yakiir warship evaporated almost instantly, replaced by ominous feelings of impending danger and evil so strong that the raw emotion of it all ground its way to the very bottom of his gut.
I’m looking at TWO quashing weapons, he realized with a hard swallow. Here there be dragons, or in this case, the star killers that we’ve been looking for!
[“Those look like they’re way too large to be ship-to-ship missiles,”] he heard Karen Simmons comment in his mind. Then she noticed something on her end of things that he himself was not privy to, and her tone changed drastically. [“Oh,”] she gasped in a subdued tone. [“I think you’ve found what we’ve all been looking for.”]
Despite the direness of the situation and the obvious danger the mere presence of the weapons offered, Adam felt a surge of elation course through his body. The series of gambles he had taken, first by surrendering with the Crasel, then by joining the Zaketh and lastly by crashing the supply vessel – all of them had led to this astonishing discovery. In terms of their original mission objectives, to field test the implant technology and gather information from inside the Wasteland itself, the presence of the missiles was an amazing opportunity. Eagerly he deactivated his invisibility screen and then – on a whim – also slapped the inside of his right thigh. Bright blue electricity crackled between his legs and his personal, precision tool kit appeared, strapped tightly to his leg. Moving silently but quickly, watching for blinking red dots on the eye HUD all the way, he walked the length of both missiles and searched for access panels.
He didn’t need to see his blood pressure reading to know that it escalated upon finding what he was looking for. Removing an adjustable, all-purpose wrench from his toolkit, he began unscrewing the multiple rows of odd-looking hexagonal bolts. It took longer than he expected, because once again his hands were shaking almost uncontrollably. Frustrated beyond words, he set the tool kit on top of the missile he was working on and wiped sweat from his brow using the back of his right hand. Taking a few minutes to gather his thoughts and calm himself helped, but by now it was obvious that a fierce gun battle was in process on the port side of the ship. Distant shouts along with the sporadic bursts of gunfire reached his ears. Resigning himself to the task at hand, Adam picked up the tool kit and resumed removing the bolts, placing each of them carefully in his right pants pocket so that his shaking fingers would not drop any of them. They can’t be put back if they’re lost!
[“Relax,”] Dr. Simmons said soothingly, trying to inject a calming presence in his mind. [“If it proves to be too much, wait until the battle is over. Then you’ll have all the time you need to examine those devices.”]
[“Only IF we win,”] he responded pessimistically, regretting the one-liner as soon as it touched his thoughts. [“Sorry… I just don’t think we’re going to have an opportunity like this one very often.”]
[“Keep using your eye HUD to watch for enemy soldiers,”] the Doctor suggested next. [“As long as you don’t see any, there’s nobody in the area and no cause for concern.”] Her next question originated from pure curiosity. [“What do the markings on those missiles mean?”]
Her presence was very reassuring and the query helped his mind to focus. Considerably calmer, Adam resumed removing bolts from the access panel, one by one. The electronic wrench auto-adjusted to clamp each bolt he reached for and whirred softly as it unscrewed them. [“They’re mostly warnings… authorized personnel only, watch for radiation leaks, that sort of stuff,”] he replied, meticulously keeping his attention focused on what he was doing. [“This is a secure location, so there is probably an access code but hopefully no booby traps.”]
[“Hopefully not,”] Karen sounded concerned, causing Adam to smile.
[“Why don’t you try relaxing,”] he told her, removing the last of the bolts and depositing it in his pants pocket. [“Let’s take a look at what we’ve got here.”] Removing the panel and setting it next to his boots, he inspected the internal electronic hardware curiously. There was a lot of it, along with a standard-sized computer screen and a full keyboard with strange, alien symbols printed on each of its buttons. Activating the missile’s screen functions, he was immediately prompted for an access code… just as he expected would be the case. This is where things really get interesting, Adam grinned silently, accessing his brain implant’s database and using its scanner to wirelessly read encrypted information from the missile’s hardware. A series of numeric codes popped into his brain and he wordlessly keyed each of them into the panel. There was a short series of electronic chirps before the console released its internal locking mechanism with a loud click and granted him full access.
[“That looked remarkably easy,”] commented Dr. Simmons.
[“If you want, I can give you the launch codes too,”] Adam thought back at her, the sarcasm undisguised. [“The problem with storing access codes – even encrypted ones – on an internal storage device is that some of us can wirelessly READ them.”] There was no immediate response, so he fixed his mind on the task at hand and began sorting through the missile system’s guidance software. Although instantly converted, reading through so much of the alien language at once triggered a mild headache that began to burn at the edges of his brain. He ignored it, studying the alien programming curiously, allowing his own implant the time necessary to decode and analyze the large missile’s primary functions. [“I see a detonation sequence here, triggered after the completion of a sophisticated guidance program,”] he pointed out after a time. Dr. Simmons chose not to respond, waiting patiently.
Distant explosions reached his ears, blasts that could only be from the detonation of hand grenades or some other type of explosive. A crowd of blinking red dots appeared briefly on the periphery of his eye HUD before all of them moved back out of range. The battle for the warship was in full swing, and he hoped fervently that the Crasel had not erred in leaving the temporary safety of the crashed supply ship. It was true that they held an advantage while maintaining full control of the engine room, and it also helped that most of the Yakiir soldiers were still out in space, waiting helplessly aboard stranded shuttles. Still, he was really growing to like them, soldiers he had found who were legitimately working to protect their families and four men who almost certainly would have perished in the void of space were it not for his intervention. Abruptly he stopped what he was doing and stared at the computer screen in front of him.
[“Whoa…”] he gasped mentally, too stunned to complete the thought.
[“What, what is it?”] wondered Karen Simmons almost immediately.
Adam rechecked the software functions programmed into the missile carefully to confirm his suspicions. [“There are FIVE separate functions here, when only two are needed.”]
[“Have you been able to determine how they destroy whole stars?”]
[“Honestly, I don’t really care about that at this point,”] he said to her in response. [“There’s definitely some sort of warhead in the nose cone of each missile, some kind of nasty perversion of science that will instantly accelerate the natural life cycle of a targeted sun. What bothers me is that only two major functions are needed: a guidance program that allows the user to target a specific star and a detonation sequence once it arrives. So why are there three additional functions programmed into this thing? One of them activates just prior to detonation, and the other two start running at some point AFTER the targeted star explodes.”]
[“What do you suggest?”] she asked inquisitively.
[“I’m going to wirelessly transfer a digital copy of this missile’s entire hardware layout, along with a complete copy of its software, to your Science Lab on Tranquility,”] he answered a moment later. As he thought-transmitted the words, an upload progress bar appeared on his eye HUD, showing him the data transfer speed along with an estimated four minute time to completion. [“Make sure the President and Thomas take a look at this stuff as soon as possible… we’re going to need to know what this thing does. Those mystery functions might answer a lot of our questions.”]
[“I will,”] promised Dr. Simmons firmly.
Two blinking red dots appeared on his eye HUD, moving slowly toward him from the warship’s port side. [“I’ve got a couple of people moving toward me, probably strays running from the fighting,”] he noted cautiously, watching the progress of the two newcomers. They were going straight through access hatches linking the adjoining corridors that ran parallel to the missile room’s length, on a direct course toward him. Thinking quickly, his gaze shifted to the metallic panel lying next to his feet. [“I’m going to replace the cover plating on this missile and restore my invisibility shield,”] he decided grimly. [“Anyone who comes in here will never see anything out of the ordinary unless they happen to notice that the bolts are missing].”
[“Be careful Adam,”] said the Doctor sternly. [“Don’t take any unnecessary chances. Your wife would never forgive us if something happens to you.”]
[“I’ll be okay,”] he replied reassuringly.
A soft electrical blue glow briefly encompassed his body in response to the reactivation of his stealth shield. Wordlessly, he continued to wait behind his cloak of invisibility as the blinking red spots painted on the inside of his eyeball continued to move steadily toward him.
Mott’s Ghost, he thought to himself, thinking of Janney Stox. The battle for this ship has only just begun.
6: V: Blood ThirstPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
President Dennis Kaufield, Thomas Roh and the enigmatic alien known only as ‘Noah’ were all present when Glen Fredericks walked into the large conference room that connected directly to the Science Lab. Fredericks was tall and broad-shouldered, but beginning to show his age. Nearly sixty, his hair was actually grayer than black now – in fact, once another ten years passed he would probably have a nice shock of curly silver on his head. Nevertheless, he smiled at the others upon entering the room and flashed a warm smile toward Thomas. Although he had primarily backed up Adam Roh on the Pathfinder, Fredericks was equally skilled with both hardware and software. Thomas had been known to joke from time to time that his specialty was software, Adam’s was hardware, and Glen was the ‘miracle glue’ that held the Roh brothers firmly bonded together.
There were large pots of hot coffee sitting on a lengthy, rectangular wooden conference table, along with baked goods of some sort. All of the men had thus far chosen to let the sweets set and gone straight for the coffee. Kaufield sipped from his mug, glancing appreciatively at Noah for stopping by on such short notice. The Proteus alien was himself a very important person in his peoples’ government and a loaded daily schedule to match. However, he had given his word to Kaufield when the Wasteland project began that he would fully support the former Pathfinder crew in their efforts. His presence was even more proof that he was trustworthy, reliable and fully committed to helping the Earth refugees solve their problems.
Even so, both he and his people were still a bit of a mystery, even a decade after their initial meeting. The refugees from Earth lived exclusively on Tranquility, working hard to build a new world. Besides Noah, visits from other people living in the Proteus galaxy were extremely rare. To date, they usually showed up only when President Kaufield needed to relocate one or more groups of ‘troublemakers’.
“How is Mary doing?” Kaufield wondered with a smile, walking over to shake Glen’s hand.
“She’s doing great… fully recovered from delivering our fourth kid,” Fredericks replied with a grin of his own. “Perhaps someday we’ll shoot for five, maybe even six.”
“That’s… a lot,” the President chuckled with amusement. “Especially when they’re all so young.”
“We’re managing,” Glen shrugged cheerfully. “Compared to what we went through after the Earth went to war, we think all is good.”
“Well, take a seat,” urged Kaufield with a gentle wave of one hand. “I suppose we should start our meeting.” He looked expectantly toward Noah. “Do you have any questions sir? After all, you are our honored guest today.”
“A few.”
“Then let’s hear them.”
“Okay. How many people have you planted in the Wasteland?” Noah asked Kaufield while watching Fredericks finally sit down. Though slighter in build and much thinner than Glen, Noah’s exact age remained difficult to judge. But his friendly features were covered with wrinkles and his thinning hair was almost completely gray. Those who knew him had little doubt that he was a respected elder amongst his people and therefore the perfect man to act as a permanent diplomat linking the Earth citizens to the Proteus aliens.
“So far just one,” said Kaufield with a dry smile. “The effectiveness of your technology and ours has proven to be… very fruitful, as far as information mining is concerned. We’ve learned a lot in a few days, much more swiftly than I thought it would take. Even my most optimistic estimates were wrong.”
“Long range observation can only reveal so much, especially in an area almost completely shrouded by the nebulae from dead stars. We’ve needed to learn more about what’s going on in that area for centuries… the sheer number of projects we have going is what caused us to delay further involvement.” Noah shrugged his shoulders. “What’s sad is that there is so much life in this universe and the suffering to match. We literally ‘put out fires’, as you say, on a daily basis.” A thin smile appeared on his friendly face and he leaned closer. “But then, you didn’t call me here to discuss my problems, did you?”
“No,” replied Kaufield, shifting his gaze to the eager expression on Thomas Roh’s face. “Thomas?”
Adam’s kid brother was all smiles, having only recently analyzed the most recent data upload that his brother had transmitted to them directly from the deck of a Yakiir warship. “None of you will believe what’s going on in that war zone,” the enthusiastic young scientist declared almost prophetically. “Believe it or not, there is a reason that entire stars are being destroyed there… and it’s not because one clan wishes to deny resources to all others as we initially believed. Something truly dark and sinister is happening there.”
Kaufield’s right eyebrow soared. “Have you been able to determine specifically what that might be?”
“Not conclusively,” admitted Thomas, his mood souring slightly. “However, the newest upload that Adam transmitted to us contained hardware schematics for a ‘quashing weapon’, along with the entire software database from one of the missiles used to deliver it. He had a number of questions that have now been answered.”
“What questions?” Noah wondered curiously.
To his credit, Thomas thought the matter though carefully before responding. “Most traditional guided missiles do two basic things,” he continued informatively. “They fly to their target and then they explode.”
“I take it this is not the case with the ‘quashing weapon’,” guessed Glen, selecting a cinnamon bun from the box on the table and chewing on a corner of it thoughtfully. He set it down on a paper napkin long enough to pour himself a steaming mug of hot coffee.
“Not in the slightest.” Thomas looked elated while consulting a set of handwritten notes lying in front of him on the table top. “The missile that Adam inspected was programmed to do five major things.”
“What in the world would a weapon like that do other than destroy a star?” asked Kaufield curiously.
Thomas studied his notes thoroughly. “I’ve run simulations and personally translated and sorted through all of the programming,” he stated firmly. “Noah’s people have several scientists working with us, and we all came to the same conclusion that Adam did.” He took a deep breath and then told them what he knew. “Function one is pure guidance, programming that directs the missile to its intended target site, at which point the nose cone containing the warhead separates from the rest of the weapon. Function two uses the missile body’s internal power system to put in place around it a protective shield that cannot easily be penetrated.” He glanced up at them briefly. “I can give you the specifics if you want, but I doubt even our best rail guns could pierce this shield once it’s in place.”
“Okay,” nodded Glen with growing interest. “Normally the body of a missile traditionally carries enough liquid or solid fuel needed to guide the weapon to its target site. At that point the warhead would detonate, and the entire missile would be destroyed in the process.” He appeared perplexed. “Why add all that technology simply to preserve the body?”
“Because there are three additional functions to be carried out, and the missile body has to survive through the entire process. Function three detonates the warhead once it is close enough to the target star to do its job. The destruction process takes anywhere from a few hours to a few days, depending on the size, age and fuel content of the star. During this time, collectors designed into the outside of the missile casing capture even more energy from the dying star, supplementing the internal power system and amplifying the protective shield even further. The target star completely burns itself out while a large piece of the weapon just sits there and monitors the entire process.”
“Do you know specifically how the warhead causes the star to chain react?” wondered Noah.
“Not yet,” Thomas answered immediately. “There are unknown substances of some kind in the warhead, the composition details of which – by accident or design – is not contained within the weapon’s software. We’re working on several theories and will eventually figure it out.”
“Big deal,” growled Kaufield somewhat angrily. “They destroy whole stars. If it’s not done specifically to deny those solar systems and their resources to others, then why do it? Why blow up an entire sun?”
“Because,” emphasized Thomas, “whoever created these weapons needs the energy output of a dying star.”
For a short time, silence reigned in the room. “To do what?” asked Glen much more loudly than he intended to. He had been in the midst of taking a bite from his cinnamon bun, then froze in place once he heard Thomas’ announcement. His mind was whirling from all of the possibilities this news presented.
“I wasn’t certain at first,” said Thomas in response. “Not until I examined the schematics that Adam provided in a little more detail and found the internal transit hardware.”
“Point-to-Point technology?” Noah’s face paled noticeably while listening to the discussion.
“Yeah,” the younger Roh confirmed with a nod. “Earth doesn’t… didn’t have Proteus-type technology in any way, shape or form. Nevertheless, when we decided that we wanted to jump across millions of light years in an instant, we made certain our research team found a reasonable way of doing so. Our Controlled Artificial Singularity – or CAS system – was developed and installed on the Pathfinder so that we would be able to generate far more power than traditional solid or liquid fuel – more than even uranium could ever hope to provide. Suffice it to say, whoever designed these so-called ‘quashing weapons’ wasn’t smart enough to invent CAS-type devices, so they’re using the output from a dying star to power their version of our long-range transit system. Because they can’t generate the singularity that we can, an exploding sun, in this case, substitutes as the key source of the energy needed for a long-range wormhole transit.”
“Someone in the Wasteland is exploring other galaxies?” Glen appeared puzzled by his own theory.
Thomas looked at him dourly. “I wish that’s all they were doing,” he said sincerely. “Function four channels the energy collected from the dying star into the PTP system on the device, opening a transit wormhole between a point near the missile body and a second point far away. Very far away,” he emphasized, actually appearing a bit fatigued around his eyes. “I did the final calculations by hand just prior to this meeting… we’re talking about a transit spanning quadrillions of light years, at minimum. Perhaps even quintillions… it would be difficult to tell which multiple of 10 is accurate without actually observing one of these devices go off while monitoring the process. I can tell you that even our CAS hardware would not be capable of reaching as far as this missile’s transit system does.”
“Why would they do that?” asked Kaufield curiously. “Even if we sent one of our Canary probes through and it came back successfully, that kind of mind-blowing trip would take someone so far from home that they might not ever get back. Who knows if the environment in the destination area holds stars capable of generating the power for a return journey? It sounds like a one-way journey to me. Why would anyone ever do this kind of thing, much less repeat the process over and over for centuries?”
Shaking his head, Thomas exhaled slowly. “You’re assuming that someone from the Wasteland is traveling elsewhere,” he pointed out. “What’s actually happening is the reverse scenario – function number five transmits a signal through the transit wormhole that acts like an informative beacon. It’s a signal that someone or something on the other side is obviously using to monitor the star’s death until the radiation from the explosion subsides sufficiently for them to come through… from their side.”
“Someone from the Wasteland is using the destruction of stars to open a wormhole that allows others to move ships into the Wasteland…?” Glen trailed off incredulously. “From where?”
“That is the question of the hour,” decided Noah. He had been content, through most of the discussion, to listen to Thomas’ conclusions. Now he scratched his head and frowned noticeably. “Even if the transit is in terms of quadrillions of light years and not quintillions, it likely places one end point outside of our known, physical universe. That’s why my people have never known anything about this… our tracking system looks for both termination points in order to detect the conduit that connects them.” He shook his head with disbelief. “It’s almost as though…” Trailing off, a thought occurred to him. “Do you remember the universe diagram that I transmitted to the Pathfinder?” he asked them. “Do you remember how it depicted the pattern of universe creation, expansion, compression and eventual rebirth?”
“Someone is moving between our universe bubble and another somewhere ‘nearby’,” nodded Thomas affirmatively. “In fact, someone is deliberately, meticulously destroying entire stars inside the Wasteland so that they can generate enough energy to move ships and resources from another universe into ours. Maybe they themselves are refugees or they’re explorers like us or perhaps their universe is simply much, much older than ours and in the process of dying. Whatever the reason…” He held up his hands and shook his head. “Frankly, that’s what scares me at this point. What if they’re doing this for reasons other than the obvious things that we can think of?”
“Destroying entire stars is a pretty crude way of getting the job done,” said Kaufield cynically. “It’s not science in any sense of the way we would traditionally define it.” He laughed darkly at the whole matter and shook his head with complete disgust. “Joseph liked to play with electric toy cars when he was younger, but we didn’t use spent nuclear fuel rods to provide the electricity. Talk about overkill… whoever does this has no ethics of any kind and absolutely no respect for life or the health of an environment.”
“Think of the life that has been lost in the Wasteland over forty-six thousand years,” gasped Noah. “The colossal waste goes so far beyond anything even I have seen in my admittedly lengthy lifetime…”
Watching the Proteus alien carefully, Kaufield breathed a sigh of relief. He had been hoping that Noah was not holding out on them, that he had also not known what was truly going on in the Wasteland. It was quite clear by his reaction that he was as flabbergasted by Thomas’ unexpected revelations as everyone else. The four of them simply sat there for a few minutes, each alone with his own thoughts, mentally reviewing their shared conversation. “With respect,” Glen said suddenly, breaking the long silence. “I could have read this with the other Council members when you released your next progress report. Is there a specific reason that you asked me to come to this meeting and hear everything firsthand?”
“Yes,” nodded Kaufield. “We’re taking you off Sentinel duty, starting right now. Someone else will cover your shift and link to Adam while he is in the Wasteland. I need you to get up to orbit right away.”
“Why?”
“Because we may have to go into the Wasteland in force before all is said and done,” the President told him. “Everything that we need here on Tranquility has already been moved out of the Pathfinder. The telescopes from the observatory, the farms, the hardware… it’s all down here on the planet’s surface. I asked you here because someone has to supervise a major refit. I want you to go into orbit and lead the team that removes all four wings from her. Since we no longer need civilians on deck three or four, the CAS wand hardware can be moved into a protected, shielded area inside the ship.” His eyes met Glen’s and his meaning was plainly obvious. “Then I want your team to mount a set of rail guns on the outer hull and prepare the Pathfinder for possible combat operations… just in case we need to fly her into combat.”
Aboard the Yakiir warship…
Adam went completely silent, locking his feet in place upon seeing the hatch on the opposite side of the cargo bay open. Two men dressed in dark black Yakiir uniforms entered the large chamber. One of them was an older, tall man with graying hair accompanied by a younger, skinny man with shortly trimmed dark hair. The older man quite simply had to be the warship’s Captain, his uniform decorations were so many and so prominently displayed that there was little room left for doubt. The thin man was likely an officer as well; his uniform was decorated around the shoulders with extra green stripes that had not been present on the soldiers and personnel in the engine room. Both men appeared to be completely frustrated, and the persistent sound of explosions and gunfire behind them was noticeably louder until the Captain finished entering the bay and closed the hatch tightly. Wordlessly he turned to face the younger man, someone apparently angered to the point of hysteria.
“You have totally screwed me over,” the younger officer shouted angrily at his Captain. “My service aboard this ship is a courtesy and an honor, one you should be proud to embrace.” He gestured fiercely at the two missiles occupying most of the cargo chamber. “These weapons are a trust that is not to be taken lightly, but you have gone and done exactly that!”
“I did not implement the trap to capture an enemy vessel without your approval, Bok,” the Captain objected. “Those who were serving on the supply shuttle will be executed for their failure to retain control of it long enough for us to board the Zaketh cruiser. They should have done so as we left them plenty of armed men.”
Bok stood where he was, next to the hatch, his arms crossed indignantly and his face red with anger. “The failure is yours,” he shot back heatedly in response. “You promised me that your men were capable of capturing the enemy ship. Instead they have likely handed one of our best war cruisers, along with its irreplaceable cargo, over to a clan that will use them recklessly.” Exhaling with visible frustration, he unfolded his arms and held up a clenched fist. “Irreplaceable, I tell you.”
Cloaked behind his shield of invisibility, Adam struggled to interpret what exactly he was bearing witness to. The man called Bok appeared to be a junior officer in the process of chewing out his Captain, something generally unprecedented in military matters. And the Captain was getting noticeably rattled, sweating visibly and repeatedly fidgeting with his overly tight collar. Frustrated and eager for answers, he accessed the implant’s tactical database and evaluated its conclusions. The junior officer is likely some kind of intelligence operative masquerading as a normal crew member, was the highest ranked possibility. This allows the Captain to appear powerful to his crew and in control of the ship while the intelligence operative secretly calls all the shots from behind the scenes.
Seconds later, the Captain recovered some of his waning confidence. “Quashing weapons have been lost before, on many occasions,” he pointed out to the other Yakiir officer. “After the Zaketh threat is suppressed, we can loop back and rendezvous with the fleet and pick up two more.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, the Zaketh are in the process of suppressing you,” retorted Bok, glaring daggers at the Captain. “This is not a normal situation any longer, and you are not a normal Captain. My people are on a tight schedule now, and any delay angers them considerably.” He stabbed an index finger at the other man. “The Caucus leadership will not be pleased by this, I assure you.”
“This is what we will do,” the Captain suggested emphatically, his paling features betraying his growing fear of the other man. “My personal escape pod is a few decks below this one and it has its own small PTP drive. Our first duty is to get off this vessel while we still can. After that, we can return to Yakiir space, at which point I will personally vouch for you. I will tell everyone that this debacle was my call and is my fault…”
“The Caucus will hold me responsible,” countered Bok with equal intensity. “My people are also my enemies as there are those who hate me in the political spectrum. We ascend amongst ourselves by outperforming each other, not by allying ourselves with those who fail. To be caught in this type of embarrassing situation will finish not only you, but me as well. I cannot allow that to happen.”
“Please,” the Captain pleaded desperately. “Don’t be angry just because we lose a single battle. Wars are not won that way…”
[“Are you folks back home, by any chance, watching any of this?”] wondered Adam curiously, testing his thought transfer even as he continued to witness the heated exchange.
[“We’re hanging on every word,”] Dr. Simmons replied firmly. [“The Captain and Thomas just finished up a meeting with Noah and Glen. They’re all here, observing the entire affair.”]
[“My tactical database has suggested that the younger, thin guy is a decoy, only pretending to be a junior officer,”] he informed them. [“In reality, he’s probably some sort of intelligence agent.”]
Adam continued to watch the two men argue further, with the Captain swiftly becoming more and more desperate and the junior officer, Bok, growing even more outraged. His breath suddenly caught in his throat as Bok unexpectedly reached out and grabbed his Captain by the throat and then lifted him off the ground.
He’s lifting a larger man with only one hand?
Adam’s mind raced with new possibilities, and his thoughts drifted briefly back to memories of the genetically modified Brotherhood clones back on Earth. The Captain gasped for breath and struggled with obvious futility to break free of the smaller man. Bok, for his part, glared hatefully at the Yakiir commander and tightened his grip. The Captain instantly began coughing uncontrollably and gasping for breath, his feet kicking helplessly against empty air. Clearly, he was now in grave danger of suffocating. Adam stood where he was, shocked, watching the entire scene…
…which is why he was taken completely by surprise when Bok began to CHANGE.
The differences were very subtle at first – the color of Bok’s skin faded to a dull gray while his nose, mouth and jaw began to lengthen. They continued to elongate outward until they formed a lengthy, wedge-shaped snout. The eyes curled upward, irises turning orange and then merging with the white areas. The hair on Bok’s head vanished, retracting slowly back into his scalp. His normal-looking bronze skin hardened, gradually becoming thicker and tougher. Three horns sprouted suddenly from the top of its head, the center one extending to a point much longer than the others, all of them curving backward. Still clothed in a Yakiir uniform, the sight was more than a little unsettling.
Less than sixty seconds later, an unidentifiable alien creature stood in the exact spot where only a moment before a humanoid male had been. Its head looked more wolfish than cat-like, and when it opened the lengthy snout comprising all of its lower face and snarled with rage, two sharp rows of teeth were clearly visible. Corded muscles lined its neck, forearms and legs, plainly visible through a thick, gray reptilian hide and revealing just where its immense strength originated from. The Captain shrieked in response to the transformation, his efforts to escape from Bok’s grasp increasing noticeably. Kicking, screaming and shouting at the top of his lungs, he quite literally struggled for his very life.
[“Good Lord,”] Adam gasped, his thoughts jumping from one possibility to the next. The tactical database was no help this time… it refused to speculate on a situation that was now completely unprecedented without additional data. [“If Noah is indeed still with you guys, would you please ask him what in the HELL that thing is?”]
There was no response for quite some time, the silence telling him that the people back home in the Science Lab on Tranquility were just as baffled as he was. The surprises kept coming, unfortunately, as the strange alien creature lowered the Captain just far enough to open its snout and bite him on the neck. Blood sprayed against the nearest bulkhead, so much of it that Adam’s stomach churned with sudden nausea. The smell of death touched his nostrils almost instantly, this time without the acrid odor of burnt gunpowder to offset it. As blood continued to spill from the critically wounded Yakiir, Adam’s queasiness increased to the point where he nearly vomited right then and there. The creature released its dying victim, allowing it to fall to the deck plating before happily dropping down on all fours.
Then it hungrily began to feast.
[“Adam, we have NO idea what that thing is,”] Noah’s voice was suddenly in his mind, even though precisely how he managed to join the link remained – for the moment – unknown. [“Do not move… you are in as much danger as that Yakiir officer if you are discovered.”]
There had been plenty of adrenalin rushes since he had entered the Wasteland, but the unexpected presence of this creature was the first time that Adam felt real fear… a chilling reality that churned uncontrollably in his suddenly nauseated gut and literally raised the hairs on the back of his neck. It had been easy to control terror while the comforting thoughts and presence of others continually touched his mind and the technology that they had provided him with made him the strongest player on the field. The suddenness of this unexpected event was truly disturbing, and it granted him no time to collect his thoughts. The loud, snapping sound of bones cracking reached his ears. Whatever the alien’s constitution might be, it didn’t seem to care too much about how or what it ate. Pausing briefly, it tore an entire bloody limb from the corpse – Adam was too shocked to see specifically which – and tossed it casually aside before resuming its impromptu dinner.
So he did exactly as he had been told – he simply stood there, frozen in a corner of the cargo bay, unable to do anything except watch the alien creature devour the Yakiir soldier in a constant spray of fresh blood. The carnage continued for several minutes, and during its entirety he remained completely still and barely breathed at all. The sounds of battle still audible from the port side of the warship seemed to be moving closer to their location. Several times during its meal the alien paused just long enough to raise its head and listen, blood drizzling from its snout. Eventually, after it became convinced that the fighting remained far enough away for it to continue, it dropped its snout back into the carcass in front of it and resumed eating.
It wasn’t until his tactical database presented him with a potential opportunity that Adam stirred. Still watching the obscene blood feast taking place across the room, his thoughts became active and refocused. [“Thomas once told me that the implant adapts and reacts so well because it ‘reads’ information directly from my brain just like a wireless-capable computer reads data from a remote storage device,”] he informed those waiting and watching back home. [“I’m going to try and use the implant to do the same thing with this alien creature… who knows what the memories stored in its mind might tell us?”]
There was no response at first. Probably because they’re absolutely flabbergasted by my suggestion, he thought wryly. Finally, Noah’s presence touched his thoughts once more. [“That’s a bad idea Adam,”] came the expected response. [“We have no idea what kind of alien mind that is, and the implant’s abilities are never predictable. That’s why we’ve worked so hard to field test it on humans prior to making it available for widespread use.”]
He ‘heard’ the reply very clearly in his mind and – on the surface – understood the message. And yet the overpowering rush of emotion he was feeling made him somewhat susceptible to the tactical database’s suggestion. This IS an unprecedented opportunity that may never come again, he realized, hoping to capitalize on sheer luck once more, as he had with all of his previous successes. Joining the Zaketh, crashing the supply shuttle, taking the Yakiir warship’s engine room, exploring the rest of the ship by stealth – it had all paid off with the very results they were seeking, had it not? Before he could stop himself, he accessed the implant programming mentally and submitted a request that it read as much information as possible from the mind of the only other life form in the cargo bay.
The results were instantaneous.
A sudden rush of information pouring into his head caught him by complete surprise – particularly the speed with which it was retrieved and delivered. Momentarily shocked by a sudden jolt of pain in his head, he became horrified. Even though the data extracted from the alien mind was supposed to be stored in the implant’s database, he was still seeing flashes of its life and images of where it had been and how it had lived. He was also seeing the things that it had done throughout its life – and learning instantaneously what a complete and utter predatory killer it was. There was too much information flowing too quickly into his brain and yet, even while panicking for the first time on this mission, he still ended up instinctively doing the right thing.
He attempted to terminate the mental link before it could do him any permanent harm.
There was no response from his implant, and the thoughts retrieved by wireless theft continued to flow. Dread and trepidation clung to Adam like a second skin, clawing at him like a living thing, driving his anxiety and urging him to turn and run for his life. The sight and smells that he bore witness to remained overwhelming and, coupled with what he was doing, they seemed at first glance to be even more nightmarish. Human at heart and a complete stranger to this kind of naked, unrestrained brutality he gagged uncontrollably, emitting a retching sound before instantly catching himself and inhaling slowly. He avoided throwing up even though that impulse too remained only a heartbeat away, but the short, brief sound proved to be enough of a mistake. It proved to be just enough for the other’s sensitive hearing to detect his presence.
The alien raised its bloody snout instantly, crimson-hued eyes searching the room for signs of an intruder. Adam fell silent immediately and simply waited and watched, hoping that it would chalk his mistake off as just another minute sound in the raging, non-stop chaos of battle. Except that this sound had occurred within the room, giving him completely away! After listening patiently for nearly three entire minutes, the beast lowered its head and once again resumed attacking the Captain’s dead corpse. It was no longer feeding this time, but instead held up a crimson-colored right hand clutching bloody, internal organs. The creature moved its left arm under its clenched hand, allowing the dead man’s blood to shower its entire forearm. So much blood spilled, in fact, that long rivulets of it began to dribble onto and then off of its left arm before finally splattering onto the metallic deck flooring.
Noticing the lengthy, razor-sharp talons on its four-fingered claw of a hand, Adam realized suddenly just what it was that had inspired the infamous Yakiir logo. The image of it burned deeply into his memory, along with stolen alien memories that continued to flow through his brain. [“What? What is it doing?”] Adam’s mind screamed at him, automatically accessing his mental link to include the friends waiting for him back home. [“WHY is it doing that?”]
It didn’t take long for those friends to throw him a lifeline. [“Adam, get out of there!”] Kaufield practically ‘screamed’ at him in response. [“Open the hatch to your right and, for God’s sake, get the HELL out of there while you still can!”]
An instant too late, the tactical database supplied him with the most likely answer. Rising to its feet, the creature reached up toward its right shoulder with its bloody left forearm and then swept it broadly to its left, throwing dozens of glittering trails of bright red blood droplets into the air. A sheet of blood sprayed across the room, some of it striking the watching Adam Roh. Caught completely by surprise, he realized in an instant that he would never know whether the alien actually saw the blood droplets ‘staining’ an invisible uniform or simply spotted precisely where in the room they vanished from its sight. As soon as it was confident that it had determined his location, the beast launched itself into the air without a second of hesitation and flashed toward him at breakneck speed. Adam fell backward in response, landing awkwardly against the metal wall and crying out sharply with surprise.
His reflexes took over from there, as did the automatic combat system protecting him. Bok was heavy, and it lowered its shoulder in an attempt to use its full weight against him. As Thomas had promised, the low speed impact absorption process was much improved since his first battle aboard the long since destroyed Crasel vessel. The alien collided with him in a burst of speed and strength that should have knocked him senseless, but it felt instead as though it had simply pressed its shoulder firmly against his abdomen. Bok stiffened in response, puzzled by the lack of weight behind its attack and straightened up in an attempt to visually locate its target. Claws tore at a body it could not see, and mild blue electrical discharges appeared seemingly out of nowhere as these newest attacks were also automatically repelled. The creature snorted angrily in response.
As it did so, Adam caught a brief sniff of fetid breath so terrible he was convinced it might have melted steel. Its jaws snapped at his throat – only the personal defensive shield recognizing a low-speed impact and popping instantly into place saved his life. Screaming with panic and anger, he placed both of his hands against the beast’s chest and shoved hard. Bok flew upward in response to Adam’s counterattack before somersaulting backwards through the air as the force of his blow carried it across the room. He watched the alien slam hard against the far wall and collapse to the floor. A burst of personal satisfaction rushed through him, and he was silently grateful that the strength upgrades were also responding to his impulses so reliably. But the alien was not done with him and it instantly launched itself into the air a second time, leaping effortlessly over the lengths of both quashing missiles in an attempt to renew its assault. Again, the speed at which it was able to move was so swift and intimidating that he reacted purely on instinct.
Adam raised his hands protectively, pulling sharply back on his fists and releasing massive, double-barreled pulses from his wrist guns – much more powerful blasts than the usual stun settings. The twin shots of energy punched twin holes the size of saucers in the alien’s torso and abdomen and the non-stop trail of memories and thoughts flowing from alien to humanoid brain terminated just as abruptly as the creature’s life.
The body landed heavily next to him this time, slamming into the wall right beside him. Adam kicked at it with disgust, sending it flopping onto its back, his arms still raised in front of him and ready to fire another blast. Fortunately, the impact of his first set of energy pulses appeared to have killed it instantly. Angry red eyes appeared to stare blankly at nothing, dimming slightly as the alien beast lay where it landed, a dark, pasty-green blood of its own leaking out onto the metallic deck plating. Utterly revolted, Adam backed away from it and leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to take deep breaths and failing due primarily to the overwhelming stink of death. It took him a few minutes to gather himself, during which time he could hear various thought transmissions from his friends entering his mind, asking – no demanding – to know if he was all right.
[“Yes,”] he responded only after he was certain he recovered his composure.
Opening the nearby hatch as Kaufield had initially suggested, he stepped into the outside corridor and breathed in the relatively fresh air available there very gratefully. He simply stood there for a while longer, silently exchanging private thoughts with his friends back home and doing his best to recover from what had been a truly terrifying experience.
[“I’m all right,”] he assured his friends back home. [“It’s dead, but not before I was able to extract at least some information from its mind. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather go over the specifics of all this a little later. I’ve got to get back to the engine room and protect the Crasel. There may be more of these… things… walking around on this ship.”]
[“Adam, you might need to take a few more minutes,”] suggested Dr. Simmons. [“Good God, you’ve just been through an experience that would turn most people’s hair white. We’re rattled back here after simply watching and hearing all of that on VIDEO.”]
[“I’m good and the battle still rages for control of this ship,”] he insisted, reading the latest tactical updates on his eye HUD and coming to a decision.
Before anyone could order him to do anything, he gulped in several more deep breaths of fresh air and then re-entered the cargo bay, retrieving his long hunting knife from the sheath at his waist. Unfortunately, the job he had in mind was grisly and took much longer to complete than anticipated. After that, he had to spend even more time – all while breathing in the terrible smells – searching for what he needed. Several small cargo crates were stacked in a corner, and after opening one he discovered exactly what he needed. Cloth sacks of grain were inside, and it took only minutes to empty one of them so that he could insert the bloody object held in his right hand. Surprisingly, his friends allowed him to complete the task, waiting until he stepped back out into the corridor before contacting him.
[“Adam. Adam, are you okay?”] asked Dr. Simmons with true concern for his well-being. He ignored her for just a moment, tying the cloth sack securely to his waist.
[“I’m fine,”] he told her bluntly, emotions firming up solidly now that the tough part was done. [“All this equipment you folks trusted me with is working… it’s keeping me informed and grounded in reality.”] He lowered his rifle into firing position and began moving once again past the still forms of the unconscious men lying randomly along the corridor’s length.
[“Where are you going?”] Karen Simmons inquired patiently.
[“Trust me, I know what has to be done,”] he began slowly, wondering if they would understand his line of reasoning. [“I’m going to help the Zaketh and the Crasel finish this… I’m going to help them take control of this vessel, and then I’m going to install myself as Captain so that we can retain control over both of the quashing weapons on board. If necessary, I’ll dismantle one of them myself.”]
[“Adam, you don’t have to do this,”] protested Noah’s presence almost immediately. [“We aren’t operating on any sort of specific timetable. My people have observed the Wasteland for centuries.”]
[“Well I AM on a timetable, one that will put a STOP to all of this nonsense as soon as possible so that I can go home!”] he fired right back in response. His thoughts crystalized and his confidence returned, fueled by the knowledge that his defenses had prevailed throughout even the most devastating of encounters. He focused his thoughts around a single word. [“Kuth,”] he thought to himself.
There was a frustrated pause prior to the expected response. [“‘Kuth’ what? What does that mean?”]
[“That thing I killed… it calls itself a Kuth,”] he informed everyone, grateful once again that he had followed his instincts and taken the risks that he had. His mind now contained precious, previously unknown information regarding this mysterious, frightening new chameleonic species, one that also seemed to be extremely involved with the events taking place within the Wasteland. Expression fixed solidly and reflecting his resolve, he continued his quick-paced run back toward the ship’s engine room.
I know so much more now, Adam thought uneasily to himself. And I know something else too. I know precisely WHY Janney Stox and other soldiers fighting within the Wasteland are so scared of the supernatural… because they or others have undoubtedly seen things like the scene I witnessed today, scenes that would scar a man emotionally for the rest of his life.
He should know after all, since he was now one of those people.
7: VI: The Study of a Ruthless MindPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Yakiir warship…
To Adam Roh’s relief, the Crasel were still in control of the engine room when he arrived. As he rounded the last curving sweep, he called out a challenge and heard Arte Kasik shout back at him with instant recognition. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to get shot at, he disabled the stealth shield, returning his body to a visible state. Kasik the happy warrior slapped him on the shoulder as he entered the still-dark chamber, eyes widening as he noticed the human’s appearance. “Well now, but don’t you look a sight,” the Crasel told him with obvious astonishment. “You look like you fought a war all by yourself and lost.”
Adam removed his helmet, noting that it was covered with splashes of blood – both red and green. His uniform was in the same shape except that the patches of blood were nearly dry. “How are things here guys?” he asked curiously, noting that the other three soldiers were encircled around the port hatchway. At some point after he initially left, they had closed the emergency fire door, blocking the way in.
“We had a few of those Yakiir blokes try and retreat to this area,” noted Janney Stox with a gruff laugh as he briefly thought back to the encounter. “They were quite persistent and we had to chase them off with grenades. Then we closed the emergency door and it’s been pretty quiet ever since.”
“It is pretty quiet, isn’t it,” Adam agreed, pausing briefly to listen. “I haven’t heard any explosions or gunfire for some time now, as a matter of fact.” He reached up and touched the Zaketh ear transceiver. “Snee Vasten, are you there?” he asked curiously. “Can you hear me?”
At first, only static burned back at him in response. “Yes, I’m still here,” came the reply after a time. “We’ve been very busy in combat, but thankfully everything appears to have gone well.”
“Good,” nodded Adam triumphantly. “Are things out there under control? It sounds like it is… everything is pretty darn quiet in your neck of the woods, as a matter of fact.”
A small brief whine of electronic feedback, probably a result of local jamming efforts, accompanied the response. “Things are surprisingly fine. Neither shuttle has moved since we docked the Pyrhh against the mother ship. Everything on the port side of the warship belongs to us, and we have also managed to capture the vessel’s Command Center.” As Vasten spoke, Arte Kasik, Tran Wuu and Cren Hollis watched curiously from their defensive positions near the emergency door.
“Your Captain can go ahead and order additional men to storm the starboard side of the ship,” Adam suggested. “Expect some resistance, most of it light. I disabled everyone near the cargo bay, but there’s still a supply ship stuck amidships.” He hesitated for a moment, thinking. “We continue to hold control of the engine room, so nobody’s getting power to their primary systems back until we say so.”
“That’s good information to know,” snapped Vasten brusquely. “I’ll pass the word.”
“One more thing,” said Adam in a cautioning tone. “After being conscripted into your armed forces, the five of us were left behind to fend for ourselves when it looked as though the Pyrhh would fall. I figure your ship and crew ought to owe us something for that, since we then made it possible to capture this warship. I intend to keep her and pilot her further into the Wasteland in search of answers.”
“What kind of answers?”
“For now, suffice it to say that you and your Captain don’t know everything that’s going on. I’ll fill you in on the details once we link up. But take a good look around,” he urged sternly. “Have you ever seen a Wasteland warship in such pristine condition before? It looks like the whole thing just rolled off an assembly line, for crying out loud. Then there are the new uniforms our enemy is wearing, along with the new, freshly oiled firearms…”
“Don’t forget the crappers,” added Janney Stox from across the room. “There is actually a room with a crapper in here… and it even has running water!”
“I look forward to getting… answers.” Vasten’s tone was suddenly and noticeably more crude.
“I’m serious about taking command of this ship,” repeated Adam for clarity’s sake. “You and your men are going to have to choose whether or not to stay here and support me or return to the Pyrhh. Things will be even more difficult if your Captain has plans to claim this ship as his prize. It would really be nice if I could count on your support and at least a few additional hands to help.”
“My support will depend.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you can actually do what you say you’re going to do. We have a lot of armed men out here who are spitting mad, and if I remember correctly your number is five.”
“Understood,” Adam said, terminating the transmission and shaking his head wryly. “Vasten is a man who chooses to walk a tightrope until the very last moment, then decides which side to jump toward.” He pointed toward the area behind Janney Stox. “I say we close the emergency bulkhead on the starboard exit so that no one from that side of the ship finds their way in here. Then we can open the port exit and see what’s going on up front. The Zaketh are no doubt happy with their conquest, so it’s likely we won’t get shot at.”
“What about Vasten?” asked Tran Wuu inquisitively. “I hope you realize he’s not going to help you unless you can convince him, and I mean really convince him that you’re in charge.”
A bit nervously, Adam fingered the cloth sack still dangling from his waist and its repulsive contents. “Leave Vasten and their Captain to me,” he stated with more reassurance than he felt. “Suffice it to say, they have absolutely no idea what’s really going on here.” He exhaled, struggling to control his growing anxiety. “And I don’t think any of us will unless we do some good old fashioned detective work.”
* * * * *
Adam checked in with Snee Vasten one more time before they moved forward through the heavily smoke-filled corridors along the port side of the Yakiir battle cruiser. His transmission was just a quick safety call, to let the Zaketh know that the people coming from astern were friendlies. Getting shot at would be unnerving to say the least, but considering what had already taken place Adam wasn’t all too concerned. Even so, he waved the four Crasel soldiers to his rear, making certain that they were well shielded – if the need arose – by his defenses. There were bleeding, sightless corpses and several dozen wounded lying in the corridors they moved through, all of them currently unarmed. It was difficult to blame the Zaketh in this case – the chance to acquire brand new weaponry would be extremely rare in the Wasteland. Many of them must have instantly snatched up the Yakiir weapons wherever possible.
If the Zaketh stuck to their usual practices, they would be in the front of the ship after locking off all access to the rear of the ship. Adam’s theory proved true once they reached the forward third of the vessel and paused at a securely locked hatch. In a hurry to reunite with the others, he radioed Vasten one more time and then knocked on the hatch three times, followed by a pause and two more knocks. He repeated the signal until the hatch finally unlocked from the other side. A pair of Zaketh soldiers looked them over thoroughly, weapons held at the ready, before allowing them past the opening.
“You’re Vasten’s buddies?” one of them asked curiously. “The Crasel soldiers?”
“That’s right,” nodded Adam with a dry smile. “Where can I find him?”
“Most of our forces are gathering in the Mess Hall, up forward. I think the Captain is going to speak.”
Oh joy, Adam thought to himself with mild apprehension. I was hoping for a Captain, not a politician.
His plan was to approach Vasten and the Captain first and then pull them aside long enough to visit with them privately. As most impromptu plans go, however, this one turned out to be just as futile as most. Everyone he met stared at the Crasel – and Adam in particular – noting how beat up and dirty they looked. Adam drew the most attention simply because he was the one who was covered nearly head to toe with blood from two different species. Red and green – drying blood from Bok and the dead Yakiir Captain covered almost the entire front of his uniform, painting him with a ferocious appearance.
The Zaketh he encountered didn’t look much better, and it was immediately apparent that the battle to take the ship had come at a heavy price. Their uniforms were also soaked with blood, much of it their own. Tattered uniforms, powder burns and blood-soaked bandages were just a few of the things that he noticed at first glance. Many soldiers were simply sitting on the metal deck plating in the corridor; too weak after all of the fighting to even stand. “This isn’t even the worst of it,” one of the soldiers on guard duty promptly informed him. “The hard luck cases are down in the Infirmary, being treated by our Doctors. It was a fierce battle to be sure, but considering we almost got our asses kicked today, I think we should count ourselves lucky.”
“Why aren’t there more bodies up here?” Adam wondered inquisitively. There was a lot of blood on the walls and floor plating, but no sign of any corpses. “It looks terrible up here.”
“Most of the bodies have already been ejected out of airlocks,” the guard said with a nasty grin. “It doesn’t take long, in a closed environment like this one, before they start to smell.” Adam said nothing in response and turned away from the man thoroughly disgusted. Snee Vasten spotted him visiting with the soldier and joined both him and the Crasel at the Mess Hall’s port hatchway, flanked by a pair of heavily armed bodyguards. It was clear that the Zaketh officers were taking no chances, even with most of the ship secured.
“Captain Saou has no intentions of giving up this ship,” Vasten stated simply. “Even accounting for the damage from the supply ship on the starboard side, he believes that this vessel is far superior to the Pyrhh. Just a friendly warning,” he hissed under his breath. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish.” He glanced down briefly for a moment after noticing the green blood dripping from the bottom of the sack tied to Adam’s waist, but to his credit he didn’t say anything.
The Mess Hall itself was filled with Zaketh, dozens of them. Adam counted at least eighty men, all of whom were armed to the teeth. Most of them had minor wounds of one kind or another, but were tough enough to shrug off those injuries at least temporarily, just long enough to hear what their Captain had to say. There were a lot of men present, even though it was obvious that the Pyrhh crew had taken heavy casualties. Adam took one swift look at the layout of the room, noting that it could easily become another bloodbath if he didn’t work carefully to avoid creating one.
Accessing his tactical database, he requested information as to just where in the room gunfire would have to be minimized in order to avoid catching friendlies in the crossfire. The victorious Zaketh were cheering loudly, trying to maintain their positive mood after a heavy day of fighting. Some of them were seated while the rest stood in back, and it seemed obvious that their Captain was about to take advantage of their rowdy enthusiasm. Saou was a fairly large man, muscular like everyone else in the Wasteland, with graying hair and the beginning of wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He spotted Snee Vasten talking to Adam and slowly made his way through the crowd, moving hurriedly to join the pair. Glancing cautiously over his shoulder, Adam jerked his chin sharply toward the hatch, letting his Crasel friends know that – for now at least – they should wait in the adjoining corridor. I don’t want them anywhere near what’s about to happen, he thought silently.
“So you are the Crasel allies who managed to seize control of the engine room,” noted Captain Saou smoothly, looking Adam up and down carefully as he folded his arms somewhat defensively in front of him.
He deliberately left out most of his own glaring errors during the past few hours, so Adam made the decision right then and there to call him out in front of his own soldiers. “I had no choice, he declared loudly,” cutting off the conversation of a half dozen officers surrounding them. “Your foolishness and greed led the Pyrhh into a trap. When it became clear that the supply ship was irrelevant and your own ship might fall, you ordered your soldiers to return to the Pyrhh to protect you.” More people in the room began falling silent as elbows nudged other elbows and more and more soldiers began to listen in. “By doing so, you left behind my Crasel friends and I – people you had only hours earlier sworn to serve honorably with.”
Now, the room had quieted entirely and everyone was listening. They were also watching their Captain’s face redden in response to Adam’s words with growing anger.
“That is your version of things,” the Captain snapped sharply. “Usually we airlock all survivors, so leaving you behind was in no way unusual.”
“I see,” grunted Adam. “Your word to serve honorably therefore means nothing.”
“That is not true,” snarled the Captain. “You would be wise to watch your tongue, or I’ll have it cut out.”
“Where does Clan Yakiir get new ships and weapons, along with entire supply ships filled with food, ammunition and fresh water?” Adam asked curiously. “How are they overtaking the other clans in the Wasteland so easily? Have they established a foothold somewhere, in a solar system not yet destroyed? Or do they have even more resources than anyone suspects.”
“That is something hopefully this ship and crew can tell us,” interjected Snee Vasten, doing his best to play the role of diplomat. He was looking sharply in rebuke at Adam, stunned that he had initiated a confrontation that could lead so easily to his immediate execution.
“I do not fall for traps,” shouted Adam loudly, walking slowly away from Vasten and his Captain, slowly easing his tall frame toward the precise position that the tactical database indicated he should stand. “And I will not leave valuable soldiers unprotected, unfed or helpless. My job, now, will be to take control of this warship and serve with anyone honorable, anyone who wants to help me discover where the Yakiir have gained their foothold. Once we have done so, we will put an end to all of the nonsense, and move toward ending the wars in the Wasteland.”
Leaving a room filled with almost a hundred armed men completely silent was a difficult thing to do, but that is exactly what Adam achieved for almost thirty seconds. Finally, Captain Saou glared at Adam heatedly and sneered angrily at him. “You can’t do any of those things,” he snapped accusingly. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I owe you nothing. This ship is mine to do with as I please. I led the attack and my soldiers took this vessel with minimum casualties. Victory belongs to the Zaketh!”
There were several grunts and howls of approval. Adam waited until just before everyone else would have joined in the rousing cacophony of voices and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Your victory was achieved because the Crasel and I destroyed a shuttle filled with most of this ship’s officers and then crashed into the starboard hull, giving you an opportunity. Your victory was achieved because those very same Crasel warriors and I took over the engine room and shut down all power to the internal defensive systems. Had we not done this, your day would have ended in mass death and injury for all of your crew members. The Pyrhh would now be in Yakiir hands with most – if not all – of you dead.” He folded his arms sharply in front of him, mocking the Captain’s posture. “You may return to your ship along with those who still choose to serve you. I will stay here with my captured warship and look further into what the Yakiir are doing in their space.”
The Captain acted fast – very fast – yanking his sidearm from its holster and raising the pistol toward Adam’s helmetless head. “You have NO authority here!” Saou howled with uncontrolled rage. “Insubordination can only be rewarded with death!” Two shots rang out, followed almost immediately by golden colorful fireworks as both of the expended shells impacted against Adam’s personal defenses and disintegrated in a spray of fire. The action occurred so swiftly and unexpectedly that everyone in the room again fell completely silent, all attention riveted on the two men standing at the front of the Mess Hall near the entrance to the kitchen.
Adam moved his left arm outward, in what he hoped would look like a casual gesture to all who were watching. In reality, he triggered the release of a medium-sized energy pulse from the invisible wrist gun strapped to his forearm. The effect was astonishing to behold, appearing to those watching as though he simply waved his hand. In response, there was a loud, deafening CRACK that reverberated through the small Mess Hall. The Captain was blown backward, lifted completely off of his feet. He sailed across the room until his body thumped loudly against the far wall before slumping to the floor.
Immediately the Captain’s personal bodyguards turned their rifles on Adam and opened fire. More golden showers of energy exploded against Adam’s defenses as the bullets rained in on him and simply exploded into useless fragments that were quickly consumed by the heat. And once again he appeared to gracefully wave his hands in a gentle gesture that sent both men spinning across the room with a second, even more deafening CRACK. They landed against the same wall, dropping heavily next to their Captain, both of them knocked completely senseless by the force of the impact.
All of the Zaketh rose to their feet in response, howling at him and yelling and demanding to know what was going on. This was the point in his presentation that the tactical database had warned Adam to be careful about – the point where he tried to rally men to his cause from a man they already respected. In order for them to do so, the implant’s link cautioned, there needed to be a plausible reason for them to do so. No words alone, regardless of what they were, could accomplish what he needed to do. Not even a few unexpected stunts – like the wrist guns that appeared to be acts of pure magic – would be enough. That was why he had taken a few minutes earlier to claim a heinous souvenir, even though the nausea was overwhelming, by going back into the cargo bay where the quashing missiles were stored.
The cloth sack from his waist was already in his hands. Reaching in, he pulled out Bok’s severed head and held it up high above his own head, dark green blood still dripping from the veins inside its neck. The dog-like snout was curled back in a snarl that fully revealed the double row of sharp teeth, and its eyes still blazed a hellish orange and red. Holding the gruesome trophy aloft for all to see, his eyes drifted toward the far wall, where Captain Saou now looked up to stare at him with utter astonishment… and undeniable, white-faced fear.
“Didn’t any of you notice that my uniform is stained with the blood of two species?” demanded Adam, carefully injecting fury into his tone of voice. “Didn’t you know that this thing was walking around, disguised as one of the Yakiir officers, whispering orders into the Captain’s ear?” He continued to hold Bok’s head high above him, insuring that everyone, now completely speechless, got a good, long look at it. “Perhaps these same types of creatures walk amongst the Zaketh too, disguised as lesser men and whispering lies to your Captains.” He smiled menacingly, shifting his gaze to the stupefied Captain Saou.
“What in Mott’s name is that thing?” demanded someone from the crowd.
“It was the true Captain of this ship,” Adam replied coolly, whipping the severed head furiously back and forth, sending its blood droplets flying across the room. Everywhere he looked, grown men cowered or flinched noticeably wherever the strange green ichor touched or came near them. He made certain to take full advantage of their poorly concealed supernatural fears. “I witnessed it counseling the Yakiir Captain in the starboard cargo bay. When he wouldn’t agree to its wishes, this beast killed him and feasted on his heart. I saw this with my own two eyes.” He pointed to the open hatch behind him. “Snee Vasten has dispatched soldiers to the starboard side of this vessel to capture the remaining Yakiir. Anyone who doubts me need only walk over there and look in the cargo bay. The rest of this demon’s body is still there, lying right where it fell when I killed it and sent its soul back to the underworld.”
Bok’s head hung from the fingers of his left hand, so Adam raised his right and used its wrist gun to fire a high energy pulse into the wall above Saou’s head. Again the room was filled with the deafening CRACK of his primary weapon set to full intensity. The Pyrhh Captain was still seated on the floor, staring in shock at what he was seeing, along with all the others, still somewhat stunned from the blows he had received. He moved quickly however, upon watching the energy pulse blow an eighteen inch hole through the steel wall only inches above his head. Its edges were charred and small streams of white smoke wafted steadily upward as one of the bodyguards lifted himself to his feet and turned his head to look through it.
“Are you a magic user?” another man asked him, the whites of his terrified wide eyes plainly visible.
“I am an ALLY,” Adam countered forcefully, wishing to define his presence properly to these people right from the start and thereby minimize as much of their superstitious fear as possible. “I have access to resources that your clans do not, and many friends in powerful places far outside the Wasteland. I have come here because demons walk among you and aid the Yakiir. Someone must restore balance to this region of space and end the wars here. If we don’t do something, everyone but the Yakiir will be extinct within a decade.” He noticed the first nods of agreement with his statements as most of the soldiers conquered their initial fears. They were still visibly rattled, but the Yakiir’s sudden rise to power was no secret anywhere in the Wasteland. Everyone knew of them, knew what they were doing, and everyone had lost many they cared about to Yakiir attacks. Most of them, in fact, had thought they themselves would die only hours earlier.
“How do you know it is a demon?” asked the same man who had spoken earlier.
Adam lowered Bok’s head far enough so that the people in the front rows of the tables lining the Mess Hall could inspect it more closely. He was holding it by one of its horns, the skin of which had transformed into a flesh tone that closely matched the skin on Adam’s hand. “Can a normal man or beast do this?” he asked them in response. Moving closer to the open hatch, he held the Kuth head in front of the wall, less than an inch from its surface, hearing the cries of awe and astonishment as the head swiftly changed color in response, matching the color and texture of the gray steel. A line of rivets passing behind the forehead area was also replicated, giving the head a camouflaged appearance that so precisely matched the wall it would have been almost completely invisible if those watching had not already known it was there.
“I bear no ill will toward your Captain, despite how he has treated the very Crasel he allied himself with,” Adam continued confidently. “Captain Saou is welcome to return to the Pyrhh and go his separate way, taking with him as many soldiers as he needs to guide that vessel safely back to Zaketh territory.” He paused poking a sharp finger toward the deck flooring beneath his boots for added emphasis. “But this ship needs to stay here and continue to explore Yakiir territory. I am the one who has defeated this demon, and I am the one who can safely discover the remaining secrets of their clan. Those who would choose to join me on this quest are most welcome to do so.” Without another word, he tossed Bok’s head on the table next to him and turned, leaving behind a Mess Hall filled with angry, suddenly shouting soldiers.
Why don’t you give them one of your impressive speeches now, Saou? He pondered the matter silently with a distinct note of satisfaction, wondering if the Captain would risk trying to do just that.
* * * * *
Snee Vasten found Adam in the engine room less than an hour later, working with the computers and attempting to access critical functions. It bothered the hardware specialist that he couldn’t locate key information that he wanted additional details on – apparently the only work stations that would allow that kind of data retrieval were located in the ship’s Command Center. I’m not ready yet to restore full power to this ship, Adam sighed inwardly, resigning himself to the fact that additional answers would have to wait. He noticed Vasten enter the chamber, watched closely by Janney Stox and Arte Kasik. Shutting down the console he had been working with, Adam’s eyes met Vasten’s.
“Captain Saou would like to speak with you for a moment,” reported the Zaketh with a wide grin. “He claims to be ready to accede to your demands.” Adam harrumphed in response, causing Vasten to shrug helplessly. “Hey, how am I supposed to know what the man is thinking?” he asked. “He might be sincere…”
“Where are the Yakiir survivors?” queried Adam curiously.
“We locked them all in the starboard cargo bay just like you instructed,” Vasten told him. “The stink in that bay is one I will not soon forget, and part of it looks like a human butcher shop.”
“I’m counting on that,” Adam nodded with a smile. “I had to smell it so they should too. And I wanted them to get a really good look at the thing that their Captain has been taking orders from. After an hour or so in there, at least some of them will undoubtedly be willing to change their allegiances. Their officers have been keeping some nasty secrets from them.”
“What about the Yakiir still aboard the two shuttles? Essentially, we’ve left them stranded out there.”
Adam thought about that point intently for a moment. “Right before this ship and the Pyrhh initiate a Point-to-Point transit to a new location, we’ll send out a distress call from the Command Center. Eventually, someone will show up to claim them.”
“It might not be the Yakiir who do so,” observed Vasten. “You’ve got a bit of a mean streak.” His expression soured as he studied Adam curiously. “You’ve really raised some doubts among my men,” he stated bluntly. “They’re wondering whether or not more of those things are running around among our crew.”
“So far, I haven’t noticed any,” Adam replied crustily. He glanced toward Big Cren Hollis while walking slowly with Vasten toward the port exit. “No one comes in here for the time being and all power remains off,” he instructed firmly, tapping the transceiver in his ear for emphasis. “Just give me a ‘head’s up’ if someone tries anything… unwise.”
“Count on it,” grunted Hollis, flashing Snee Vasten a glowering smile.
The first thing Adam noticed soon after was that Captain Saou appeared to have gained control of his emotions since their last encounter. He immediately labeled the observation as cause for concern. Saou smiled warmly and even put an arm around Adam’s right shoulder as he and Vasten arrived back at the Mess Hall. “Walk with me Adam Roh,” the Captain oozed coolly. “We have much to talk about.”
“I’m going to need at least an entire armed company to supplement the thinned out Yakiir crew,” decided Adam pleasantly, watching Saou struggle mightily to contain his inner fury.
Carefully hidden perhaps, but the anger is still there.
“That… is quite a lot of men,” decided the Pyrhh’s commander. “I don’t know if I can spare so many.”
“It’s not nearly as many as you would have lost if I hadn’t fired up the engines on that supply shuttle,” retorted Adam more crassly than he probably should have. He matched the Captain’s malevolent smile with one of his own. “I’ll tell you what… we have plenty of armor and brand new rifles over here on the warship. I’ll just take a company of men and we’ll call everything even.”
Snee Vasten cringed noticeably at Adam’s behavior, his former attempt to play diplomat fully on hold this time around. He hadn’t said a word throughout the entire conversation. On his inner eyeball, Adam watched a warning appear on the HUD display, cautioning him that he was in extreme danger. Curious, he submitted a request to the tactical database and asked for a rating on a scale from 1 to 100. He was not at all surprised to see the red blinking number ‘95’ appear less than ten seconds later. Glancing around, he noticed that – other than the three of them – the surrounding corridor appeared to be completely empty. The Captain was about to move through an open hatchway, but paused long enough to smile wryly and wave Adam through first. Curious to find out just what was going on, Adam went ahead and complied.
“Leaving us the additional weapons and armor would ease our difficulties,” agreed Saou with a nod, watching Adam step through the hatch. Seconds later, both he and Snee Vasten swung the hatch suddenly closed, locking it securely from the other side as quickly as possible.
“Trap sprung,” nodded Adam firmly, turning to glance down the adjoining corridor he now stood in. It wasn’t very long, and at the far end he could see several dark black objects attached to the bulkhead. Glowing red lights on each of them betrayed what they were, and he smiled with mischievous appreciation as to just how treacherous and slimy the Zaketh Captain was. He wished that there was more time to play around with such a sinister mind, but the deadly truth was that his four Crasel friends, still holding control of the engine room, were in as much danger as he was. Fingers drifted up to his ear transceiver to warn them, and only then did he notice that its signal had gone dead. There will certainly be consequences this time, he concluded thoughtfully.
That was when the bombs detonated, opening the other end of the short corridor to outer space.
* * * * *
[“How does it look out there?”] asked the familiar presence of his brother, Thomas, a moment later. [“It’s even more beautiful without a ship, isn’t it? Noah claims that free floating through open space is one of his favorite past times.”]
[“Oh there’s still a ship,”] Adam remarked with mild amusement. [“More than one, as a matter of fact, and they’re all getting smaller with each passing minute.”] He paused, taking in the astonishing view of mostly obscured starlight sprinkled against the roiling nebulae clouds as his fully protected body tumbled end over end. [“Although I can completely appreciate this experience on an aesthetic level, I am seriously hoping that your promised remedies to this type of situation are just as reliable as everything else has been.”]
[“Rest easy, oh brother of mine,”] chuckled Thomas as he worked swiftly from the Tranquility Science Lab. [“You’re not even going to have to hold your breath.”]
[“How can you be so certain?”] wondered his brother inquisitively. [“I haven’t had need of this kind of rescue yet. What if your software parameters are off by a hair or two? Remember the inertial dampening program?”]
[“Just because this process hasn’t been tried yet on YOU doesn’t mean it hasn’t been thoroughly tested,”] Thomas said, firmly correcting him. [“I myself found the experience to be quite remarkable, and would eagerly go for a free fall ride in empty space again if an opportunity presents itself.”]
[“You’ve been out here in open space, with only an electromagnetic shield to protect you?”]
[“Absolutely,”] Thomas told him enthusiastically. [“Overall, I love the wrist guns the most… it’s so much easier to defend yourself against multiple targets when you can control the intensity setting of each discharge with a simple thought adjustment. I certainly wouldn’t have let you go into the Wasteland with technology that wasn’t one hundred percent Roh approved. You’re way too valuable to me, it would seem.”] He laughed lightly, continuing to work busily in the background while Adam floated, helpless. [“Do you have a specific destination in mind or would you like to stop back here and have a cup of coffee before returning to the Yakiir warship?”]
[“Much as I would love a hot mug of actual coffee, now is not an ideal time for me to take you up on that kind of offer,”] his mind thought back toward Thomas in response. [“Some friends of mine are in real danger. Please send me to the following destination…”] Patiently he waited, although his gut was filled with real concern for the four Crasel soldiers who had at some point become his friends as well as colleagues. [“You might want to check the audio settings when you have a moment. That explosion was pretty loud and Glen promised me that my hearing would be protected. I don’t like the faint ringing noise.”]
[“I’ll add it to the list.”]
[“Wait just a minute. You guys have a LIST of problems?”] Adam asked, slightly dismayed at the prospect.
Thomas laughed loudly in response to his attitude. [“Stand by,”] he chuckled. [“Here we go.”]
A sudden bright golden glow appeared from behind him, and as his body spun around to present him with a better view, Adam gratefully watched a sphere-shaped transit portal open in front of him. Smiling with evil delight, his body passed into it and vanished from sight. Seconds later, the portal closed behind him, leaving only ships, stranded shuttles and the all-encompassing vacuum of empty space in its wake.
* * * * *
“I am done serving with you,” growled Snee Vasten to his Captain, turning to regard his superior with utter contempt. “Once we return to Zaketh space, I am submitting a transfer order.”
He and Saou were standing in front of the closed emergency door in the corridor leading to the port side of the engine room. Adam had warned the Crasel to be cautious, so when they had lost radio contact with their ally the four of them immediately sealed off all access to the precious computers that could bring the warship’s critical systems back to life. The Captain studied him spitefully. “I could kill you for saying that.”
“Try it,” suggested Vasten with undisguised contempt. “You’re not the only one with friends in the upper bureaucracy. You seem to value your life… even to the point of sacrificing your own crew to save yourself. I saw you run for your lifeboat on the Pyrhh, and you would have used it if Adam Roh hadn’t saved us.”
“You cannot prove that.”
“I do not have to,” laughed Vasten darkly. “Others know… I told them and rumors fly on ships like the Pyrhh. Challenge me with an ethical quandary one more time Vaden Saou… I dare you.” He glanced down at his boots and fumed silently before resuming his watch on the men working fervently to attach explosive charges to the emergency door. Once it was gone, they could easily overpower the four Crasel. Then the engine room – along with the rest of the warship – would be theirs. “You get your Yakiir warship and I apply for a transfer. I think that should settle matters between us without the need for further violence.”
“Yes,” concluded the Captain with a dark smile, although his newfound loathing for Vasten was clearly visible based on his expression. “It should.” His mood darkened suddenly and he glared at the half dozen soldiers working on the door. “Hurry up,” he snapped disdainfully at them. “I want this ship back up and running fully before additional surprises drop out of transit. Sooner or later, someone from the Yakiir will come to check up on the supply ship and its escort.” Behind them, three dozen armed soldiers wearing full battle gear waited patiently for the door to be opened. Over on the starboard side of the large cruiser, Vasten had an additional squadron of Zaketh warriors stationed by the other exit just in case the Crasel tried to use it as an escape route.
I want those four men just as dead as their leader, Saou thought scornfully to himself.
His entire view of the process disintegrated in a sudden, unexpected explosion that collapsed the entire door and sent smoke and fire roiling back at him. Both he and Vasten fell backward, landing on the deck plating as debris rained down on them from above. The loud thunderclap of the explosion was temporarily deafening in such close quarters… the Captain reached up toward his ears and rubbed them, noticing a disturbingly unnerving ringing sound suddenly present. It faded somewhat as the seconds passed, but he was angrier than ever.
“What happened?” Snee Vasten asked with concern, glancing to the prone bodies that had been working to set explosives. “Did one of them set a charge off early?”
“No,” snapped an all-too familiar voice.
That was the point when Captain Saou first noticed that the explosion had originated from inside the engine room, blowing large fragments of the door toward them along with that damned hot spray of still-smoldering debris. Adam Roh stepped through the opening where the emergency door had been only seconds earlier, wearing a triumphant grin. Adam waved his hands again, using that all too familiar, very intimidating gesture, and Saou felt something huge, powerful and unseen pass between him and Snee Vasten. Behind him, the entire complement of troops still waiting with weapons raised was abruptly blown backward. All of them landed flat on their backs, collapsing as though an enormous wind of some sort simply lifted them off of their feet and tossed them aside like sticks in the woods.
“How…?” Snee Vasten’s face paled in shock at the sight of Adam Roh, alive and well and visibly upset.
“Captain, I’m afraid that there will now be penalties instead of privileges when you leave in the Pyrhh,” Adam stated brusquely while addressing Saou. “Your men will leave all of their weapons, armor and munitions behind,” he continued with an expression on his normally kind face that could have melted steel. “Snee Vasten will stay here and he gets to choose which of your personnel also remain with me.”
Glancing warily with clear and understandable apprehension at Adam, Vasten’s eyes were filled with puzzlement. “Why me?” he asked.
Shrugging his shoulders indifferently, Adam smiled wryly. “You know your men. I trust you to split your soldiers adequately between the Pyrhh and this vessel so that we can adequately defend both. Keep in mind that some of the Yakiir will no doubt choose to join us. The rest will remain confined as prisoners.”
“How do you know that I won’t betray you again?”
“Because I believe deep down that you’re a man of honor who was only following the orders of your commanding officer,” the elder Roh told him. “And I think you know by now that if you neglect to serve honorably and try to screw with me again, I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”
“You can’t just send my men back to the Pyrhh without adequate weapons,” protested Captain Saou, all pretenses at command charisma and dignity suddenly stripped away. “We are low on supplies – the attack on the supply ship was supposed to secure more of them for us.”
“You should really think about this experience very carefully before you pick another fight,” suggested Adam darkly. “Do not think that even a Captain can order men left behind without consequences.” He studied the expressions on the faces of the soldiers, many of whom were slowly and carefully clambering back to their feet. “The confiscation of weaponry is for your protection, by the way. Right now I think there are quite a few of your own soldiers who would shoot you without hesitation if they are not given adequate time to calm down. Regardless of what happens when you return to your ship, I predict that your days left in command of the Pyrhh are numbered.”
He thoroughly enjoyed the haunted, beaten look on Captain Saou’s face. Behind him, the four Crasel soldiers raised their weapons high above their heads and howled with glee.
8: VII: Voyage of the Ali RinaiPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
Dennis Kaufield watched patiently from his position seated next to the Science Lab’s row of sophisticated computer workstations. As usual, Thomas Roh was busily working, using a keyboard to manipulate dozens of massive data packets that were flowing to them directly from the Wasteland. “This is pretty unbelievable,” the former Pathfinder Captain commented with a relieved smile. “I didn’t think your brother had it in him, but he has really managed to deliver. We’ve learned more about the Wasteland in a couple of days from direct interaction than Noah’s people have learned over centuries.”
Thomas paused long enough to hold up a cautious left hand and wave it side to side. “You’re kind of comparing apples to oranges,” he pointed out. “Not many races, except for Noah’s, could have learned so much about clans, ship movements and the diversity of languages and dialects that are in use within the Wasteland. This is especially true given the fact that telescopes alone can’t possibly peer through all of that nebula dust. We should be proud of what we’ve done, yes, but the primary reason Adam is functioning so well is because the resources placed at his disposal were developed after a thorough analysis.” Satisfied that the latest batch of incoming data was successfully stored, he nodded cheerfully. [“Okay Adam,”] he transmitted through their shared link. [“You can go ahead and send the next set of data packets.”]
[“I’ve tried looking through some of this, but it’s mostly encrypted,”] replied Adam from his position countless light years distant. [“The implant can decode it of course, but the process is very slow and I’ve got other things that need doing here. So I’m hoping you folks can crunch the data and uncover some more of the Yakiir’s big secrets. There will likely be a few more of them hidden away in all of this.”]
[“That Kuth incident really scared the socks off of Dr. Simmons,”] noted Thomas with a light chuckle. [“She’s off-shift and sleeping now, but told me that it just isn’t the same living in a world where things like that exist.”] He exhaled softly. [“I have a gut feeling that there are more of them out there.”]
Kaufield was listening in on the link, content merely to observe. Even so, a thought suddenly occurred to him. [“How do you know there aren’t more Kuth on that vessel?”]
[“Right now? I don’t.”] Adam took a moment to think about the matter. [“I got a pretty good look at it while it was human and then again after it reverted back to its natural state. The electromagnetic aura around it didn’t change significantly, but it had a slightly stronger bio-presence than a normal human being. If any others are still here in disguise, I should be able to spot them with my enhanced vision. Believe me; I’ve been keeping my eyes open for that very possibility.”] Again he paused to mentally review his recent memories. [“Only the color of its head changed after its death, when I held it against things. Any ideas Thomas? Does the creature have to be alive to actually change shapes?”]
[“We can’t prove anything without a detailed analysis of one of those creatures, preferably alive,”] his brother speculated. [“Off the top of my head, I’m thinking that they’re naturally chameleonic and have probably enhanced that ability in some manner. Technology probably allows them to shape shift, although how to actually accomplish something that sophisticated is way over my head. Next time I see Noah, I’ll ask him.”]
[“When do you plan to get some sleep, my friend?”] Kaufield asked Adam curiously.
[“Hey, don’t worry about me Denny,”] Adam responded with a dark laugh. [“It took us almost two hours to restore power to this ship. I’m doing fine, and my attention span is… good.”] The slight pause prior to speaking the final word caused both Kaufield and Thomas Roh to exchange amused glances. [“The Yakiir have been moved out of the starboard cargo bay and into the emptier, significantly less smelly port bay. Snee Vasten has a team of folks welding the holes in our flank shut. Once we’re underway and have initiated two or three PTP transits, I’ll be feeling one hell of a lot safer. I’ll sleep then, but in the meantime I thought I’d come up to the Command Center and upload the Yakiir’s data files to you.”] He continued to sound eager and confident. [“With you working on the data, I can sleep easy knowing you’ll have a complete analysis much sooner than I could ever provide one.”]
[“Even so, I think you should assign at least two armed guards to protect that starboard cargo bay,”] decided Kaufield, his mood growing distrustful. [“Now that we’ve managed to acquire a couple of those so-called quashing weapons, it would be a shame to lose them.”]
[“Already done sir,”] Adam transmitted back to him. [“Arte Kasik and Cren Hollis are currently on watch, and the other two Crasel will spell them after nine hours. Once I know who among this odd mixture of Yakiir and Zaketh is trustworthy, we’ll increase that number and reduce the shift time. Hollis told me not to worry… they’re used to operating for several days at a time without sleep.”]
Kaufield found himself laughing at the hardware specialist’s tone of voice. [“I’m glad that you’re making use of that tactical database,”] he observed. [“You sound a lot like me, and that’s good.”]
[“It has certainly supplied me with lots of good suggestions to be sure. Only one bad one so far.”]
[“The suggestion to read the alien creature’s mind wasn’t bad… your decision to try it given the circumstances that you were facing was,”] Thomas chided softly.
[“Even so, be wary of trusting it too much,”] emphasized Kaufield. [“The options it gives you are just that… options. Your own instincts will always be your best guide.”] He shook his head, remembering the incident in the cargo bay before remembering that Adam couldn’t actually see him. [“Thomas is correct, the decision to try and read that Kuth creature’s thoughts using your implant was an unbelievably risky action. Not only did that mistake give away your position, but the mental strain slowed your responses. Be careful,”] he stated emphatically. [“High stress combat situations can leave you susceptible to impulsive behavior, which in turn can significantly impair your judgment…”]
[“…or get you blown out an airlock,”] Thomas piped in.
[“Hey, it was a SEALED corridor with explosive charges on one end and I KNEW something like that was coming,”] retorted Adam moodily. [“Don’t you two start ganging up on me.”] He paused for a moment during which time a fresh batch of data began uploading into the workstation where Thomas sat lounging in a cushioned swivel chair. [“Here comes the last of the warship’s encrypted database. Everything else is basic ship operations, maps and navigation software. If I notice anything odd, I’ll let you know.”]
[“One more thing,”] Kaufield decided swiftly. [“Are you sure you can trust that Vasten fellow?”]
[“Not yet, not completely,”] said Adam in response. [“I know he tried to kill me twice, but the Captain was the one who ordered the Crasel to be left behind in the first place. As for dumping me out into space, well, once again we must consider the source of the order. This Captain Saou is a real piece of work – he has a tendency to draw his sidearm and shoot people if he doesn’t like what they’re saying or doing. Vasten has to work with him every day and doesn’t have my defenses, so I’m willing to cut him some slack on this one. Next to the Crasel, he’s as honorable a man as you’re going to find in the Wasteland, unless we reach deeper into the smaller clans. And they don’t know anything useful. These guys do.”]
[“How soon will you be underway?”] asked Thomas, his usual inquisitive nature getting the best of him.
[“Less than thirty minutes, probably. We’ve got to get out of here rather quickly, now that you mention it.”]
[“Why?”]
[“Because Vasten recruited Captain Saou’s chef to serve with us. He wants us to be very far away when Saou notices he’s going to be eating what his crew eats, or we might find ourselves in another battle.”]
Laughing at Adam’s comment, Kaufield glanced briefly at the computer displays showing statistics on Adam’s brain activity and anxiety levels. Everything appeared to be normal. [“We’ll let you know if we find anything useful in the warship’s database,”] he promised.
But Adam wasn’t finished talking to them. [“Both of you served shifts today as my Sentinel,”] he reminded them. [“Isn’t Glen back up in orbit, working on the Pathfinder? When you go home to sleep, who takes over as my Sentinel on the night shift?”]
[“Glen is indeed back in space,”] confirmed Kaufield with a wry smile. [“We were planning for it to be a surprise in an hour or two.”]
[“Okay then, I’ll await the big surprise. Someone’s coming though. I’ll chat with you later.”]
Thomas continued to sit in the swivel chair with a wide smile on his face. “My brother, leader of the great Wasteland revolution,” he commented idly with an amused chuckle.
“If we keep having this much luck, that statement may turn out to be more truthful than you might otherwise expect, young man.”
Aboard the Yakiir warship…
In a brilliant green flash of energy, the stolen battle cruiser emerged from its third Point-to-Point transit and hung suspended in space. Safe space, Adam Roh thought to himself with satisfaction. It was almost an hour since his conversation with his brother and Dennis Kaufield concluded, and the Pyrhh was now very far away from them. Captain Saou was on his own now, and it pleased Adam considerably to know that he and the worst of his crew were no longer capable of interfering with his objectives. He leaned against the main computer console in the Command Center, smiling as he stared out the windows at a small group of sparkling stars. The remainder of his view was obscured almost completely by a misty, bluish-orange fog.
There were lots of dead stars in this area, suns previously destroyed by the quashing weapons. Adam had chosen this particular spot to settle in for a while specifically so that he could study the after effects of the explosions in greater detail. Everyone who lived in the Wasteland knew that the deeper you ventured into it the more intertwined nebulae tendrils one encountered. The pair of Zaketh officers who had assisted him in plotting the transit jumps turned abruptly and pressed a palm to their foreheads, saluting the arrival of Snee Vasten. Eager to speak with him, Adam turned to welcome the Pyrhh’s former squadron commander, raising an eyebrow of surprise.
At some point since their last conversation, Vasten had taken the time to shave off the hair on his head… all of it. He looked so completely transformed, in fact, that Adam initially failed to recognize him. “Well, it’s pretty obvious what you’ve been doing,” he finally said with mild amusement. “Do you have news?”
“Some,” grunted Vasten with a wry smirk, rubbing his bald head somewhat self-consciously. “I told your Crasel team mates to go and get some rest. My men will guard the quashing weapons for the next shift, and they will do so honorably. I personally guarantee it.” He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting briefly downward before continuing. “My men have no secrets. They are talking about Bok and his terrifying appearance, but also about all of the things that you said and did. These discussions about magic are making the Yakiir extremely nervous.”
“We’ll be fine,” Adam assured him. “We’ll keep your men on shift at all times with the Yakiir who claim to have changed sides. You and I will watch for and identify troublemakers. Anyone suspect can be locked up with the rest of our prisoners.” It looked as though Vasten wanted to say something more, but he was clearly hesitating. “What?” Adam prompted him firmly. “What is bothering you?”
“I wanted to apologize, first and foremost,” said Vasten sincerely in response. “The major reason I shaved my head was so that I can use it as a symbol, both for myself and my men. This is a new starting point for all of us. Captain Saou is a terrible man, and even though he was my commander, it was me who actually followed his orders… first to leave you behind on the supply shuttle and secondly to help guide you into the bomb trap.” His eyes were still cast downward as he spoke the words, before finally glancing up to meet Adam’s gaze. “I want you to know that I am very grateful that you have… gifts… that the rest of us do not have and that you survived. Your observations are entirely accurate – this ship does appear to be brand new, and that presents us with quite a puzzle out here in the Wasteland. Somehow, the Yakiir have gained a foothold and they are using it to overpower the other clans.”
His comments didn’t seem to end things. Snee Vasten continued to look very upset, fueling Adam’s determination to discover specifically why. “That can’t be all that’s bothering you,” he persisted. “I’m willing to trust you. That’s why I recruited you specifically for this assignment. So tell me what’s wrong?”
Vasten looked down toward his boots again, quite shamefully. “I may already have failed you,” he replied bluntly. “Something has happened with my men that I consider to be extremely dishonorable. Those who initiated the problem are already locked up with the Yakiir, but there are others just as guilty… people we’re going to need in order to run this ship effectively.” He shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t want to bother you with any of this while you were busy up here in Command. But now…” he trailed off hesitantly.
“What happened? Tell me. Trust me.”
“There was a female officer in the Yakiir crew, something that is completely out of the ordinary and unprecedented on Clan vessels. And, as I told you, Captain Saou was an extremely terrible role model.” The impact of what happened was clearly tearing Vasten apart. “I am a soldier, as are my men,” he stated emphatically, as though he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. “But they are still men, and many of them… many… of them… assaulted… her in a violent sexual manner.”
The meaning behind his words finally became clear. Adam nodded gently in response. “As you pointed out, Captain Saou is a terrible role model,” he reminded Vasten while accessing command recommendations from the tactical database. “You’re going to have to drop the emotional baggage of who you were on the Pyrhh, and soon. I need you here and now, functioning at peak efficiency.” Sighing deeply in response to the unexpected announcement, he silently evaluated the consequences. “Is this woman still alive?”
“Barely.” Vasten’s expression was one of barely contained fury. “No doubt she wishes she wasn’t.”
“Where is she?”
“For the time being, we moved her to the port side Mess Hall. I ordered my medic to begin treating her wounds as soon as I found out about this. Then I disciplined the perpetrators.”
“Are their other women serving with the Yakiir?”
“At least two.”
Adam exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Please take men you trust and find out how many there are. We had better isolate them in private quarters or they’ll be in just as much danger. If you take care of that task, I’ll go determine the fate of our victim.”
“Aye, sir.” He turned to go, but Adam’s voice stopped him.
“Vasten. We will find out what’s going on in the Wasteland. There will be tough times, and this is one of them. We need to choose our battles carefully and use this ship to trick the Yakiir into revealing their secrets to us. That becomes impossible if we allow the things we cannot change to bother us. I’m with you. You did not do this terrible thing.”
“Aye, sir.” This time he did leave.
Adam reached out and activated the ship’s all-call. “This is Adam Roh, your new Captain speaking,” he stated curtly. “There will be a general meeting for all new crew members in the starboard Mess Hall in four hours. Attendance is mandatory. For the time being, the Command Center, starboard cargo bay and the engine room are off limits. Anyone seen lurking around these areas of the ship will be arrested and detained with our other prisoners. Welcome aboard, good luck to us and to a new beginning as we work together in search of answers that may well end up changing the future of the entire Wasteland. That is all.”
Moments later, Adam left the pair of Zaketh in charge of the Command Center.
* * * * *
Another armed pair of Snee Vasten’s soldiers was watching the entrance to the Mess Hall. Everyone else had long since cleared out and they were no doubt still taking a good look at their brand new ship. Adam pressed a quick palm to his forehead in response to their proud salute and then made his way into the room where he had first confronted Captain Saou. He could see the body of a slim woman lying next to a row of long chow tables, the Zaketh medic was also present, kneeling next to her. There was a cold pack on her bandaged head, and Adam noticed that her uniform had been torn completely off of her. What she had been wearing underneath it was literally torn to shreds. Immediately he felt as though he was towering over her in what must certainly seem to be an intimidating presence to an assault victim. So he dropped down to a crouch and knelt next to the Doctor. The medic glanced back and sized him up curiously.
“I’m Adam Roh,” he said, introducing himself. Studying the bruised, bloody face of the attractive young woman, he reached down and wiped stray locks of dark brown hair from her sweaty forehead. She flinched in response to his touch, so he settled for picking up her hand and holding it lightly, warming her fingers with the body heat from his own.
“They call me Bru Marj,” the Doctor replied. “It’s an honor to meet you. I have heard good things.”
“How is our patient?”
“Well, quite obviously she has been sexually assaulted by numerous men. I was going to give her a sedative, but she refused… told me she wants to spend her last few minutes alive.”
“The men who did this will be punished,” snapped Adam brusquely. “Before we’re done with them they will wish they had never met this young lady. Injuries?”
“There are bruises, cracked ribs and both of her arms have been broken. She’s not bleeding extensively in any way, but I’m afraid that the assault… the numerous assaults that she has been subjected to have affected her mental stability as thoroughly as any of her physical injuries.”
“Prognosis?” Adam glanced expectantly at the burly figure of Bru Marj.
“There’s nothing more I can do,” he shrugged, expression wan. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Can we move her to private quarters, somewhere more comfortable?”
“They shouldn’t have moved her at all.”
“Understood. Then would you leave us alone please?”
The Doctor’s expression remained dour and filled with discouragement as he nodded and picked up the supplies on the deck and replaced them in his portable kit. Adam was already slapping at the side of his own medical kit, the one concealed along his lower leg, even before Bru Marj finished stepping through the exit hatch. Searching through the implant’s data files for medical information, he watched the container of medical supplies slowly appear as its protective invisibility field shut down. Choosing a heavy pain killer that would not knock her unconscious, he administered it wordlessly, admiring the deep brown color of her eyes. Dark trails of a mascara-like eye make-up had followed the sweat and tears rolling down both sides of her face.
“Who… are you?” she asked weakly, her eyes focusing on his face for the first time. “Another Doctor?”
“No,” he replied with a friendly smile. “My name is Adam Roh.”
She tried to laugh but failed, coughing uncontrollably instead. “The new Captain?”
“I helped the Zaketh take control of this vessel, and would like to sincerely apologize for the way you have been treated. I swear to you that I would have prevented this from happening, had I known an attack on you was taking place.” Grabbing hold of her hand again, he massaged it gently. “What is your name?”
She smiled back at him for a long time before responding. “Ali,” she told him finally. “Ali Rinai.”
“I wish there was more we could do for you Ali Rinai,” he said sincerely. “Unfortunately, time is short.”
“Talk to me Adam Roh. I would like to talk.”
“About what?” he asked curiously, surprised at her demeanor, all things considering.
She studied his expression, sizing him up. “You have… questions about me… about the Yakiir?”
“Let’s start with you,” he suggested. “What do you do on this ship?”
“I’m a Point-to-Point engineer… a specialist in transit technology.”
“Then we have a lot in common,” he replied, smiling warmly down at her. “I’m only a soldier for now, and only by need. I also work with PTP hardware, when I’m not getting shot at that is.” He noticed her head lying on the cold metal floor and cautiously propped it up on his knee, smoothing her hair back with one hand. “Your instincts are accurate. The only reason I’m in the Wasteland is to learn more about your Clan, the Yakiir. I was sent here to learn how they’ve managed to gain so much of a foothold over the other clans.” He studied her with gentle curiosity. “Will you tell me about your people, maybe just a little bit?”
“Like what?” She squinted at him through blackened eyes. “Clans fight each other… it is the way. Ours wins many battles because we are strong.”
“Why do you use quashing weapons? I have seen that this ship carries them.” He looked at her expectantly. “Destroying entire suns devastates the surrounding planets in the solar systems as well, denying precious resources to all sides. How is it your people have so much when the other clans have so little?”
“The Caucus orders us to. No one defies the Caucus without consequences.” She smiled weakly for the first time, remembering things from a life that he could not possibly imagine. For an instant, Adam was tempted to use the implant’s thought capturing ability again, just as he had with Bok. But he hesitated, primarily because he was uncertain as to whether or not her injuries would make her susceptible to harm from that kind of a wireless ‘extraction’. Normally, the recipient shouldn’t feel anything, but in this particular situation the last thing he wanted to do was cause her even more pain.
“What is the Caucus?” he asked instead.
“They are our ruling council.” She paused, watching the reactions on his face with interest. “You are not a soldier,” she told him suddenly, declaring it as though it were undeniably so. “Your eyes are so unbelievably kind and compassionate… I cannot imagine one such as you actually killing someone.”
Memories of the supply vessel’s crash through the shuttle flared angrily in response. “I have killed,” Adam admitted. “But you are correct. I am not a soldier by choice, and even while serving I do so reluctantly.” He continued to smooth her hair, noticing the Doctor had left a jug of water and a cup setting nearby. Picking them up, he filled the mug and held it out so that she could take small sips from it. “How is it that this ship and its equipment are so new?” he asked curiously. “Have the Yakiir truly gained a foothold somewhere?”
“Long ago,” she stated dully. “Clans that do not try to do so are stupid. The war could have been over centuries ago, maybe even sooner than that. The Caucus would not allow it. When I was a small child, my grandfather once told me that the Yakiir have many footholds, many planets and resources to choose from. He claimed to have seen them with his own eyes.”
“Did you believe him?” he wondered, curious to know more. Anything more would help.
She laughed at his ignorance, savoring his obvious naïveté. “I am a hardware specialist,” she emphasized, repeating her earlier claim. “I was taken from my family as a small child and trained to be a scientist who works on one of those worlds. I learned how to be what I am by working planet side, laboring long and tirelessly there for countless seasons. It was a beautiful planet and I had a husband and children. Somehow, we fell out of favor with the elites and that was all it took. My husband was imprisoned and I was ordered to serve in the fleet for at least a quorum if I ever wanted to see him again. And my children…?” She trailed off, expression turning wistful. “When I last saw them they were pre-teens. Now they are adults, and I have no idea where they are or who they might have become.”
He could see the spark of life fading in her eyes and watched her drift uncertainly between this life and the next. “How did you fall out of favor with the elites?” he prompted, doing his best to keep her focused on the land of the living for at least a while longer.
“I don’t know… never have.” She shook her head side to side, barely able to manage even that much movement. “The Caucus… those who make the decisions… they don’t have to tell you anything. It is the way. It is the way things have always worked.”
“Well don’t you worry,” he told her softly. “Your children and your husband will all hear from you again. And one day, everyone will know your name. This vessel and its crew will end the war, and I have decided to rename it to honor you… we’re going to call her the Ali Rinai.”
A small smile returned and she reached up and lightly touched his cheek. The temperature of her fingers was stone cold. “Thank you… thank you for freeing my soul, Adam Roh.”
His mood soured. “I have hardly freed you,” he replied helplessly.
“Yes, yes… you have,” she insisted. “You have truly set me free.”
And then she died right there, cradled as she was in his arms.
* * * * *
Adam’s next move was to locate the Captain’s quarters. He knew them on site – the lavishness of the interior was inescapable, especially when compared to the other officers’ cabins. There were very few personal items – nothing to indicate what kind of man had lived here. There were so few officers left on board, and his crash through the command shuttle was responsible for most of the problem. But it had thrown the entire, larger warship’s operations into complete disarray and given the Pyrhh crew the time they needed to capture it. Wordlessly he removed the body armor that supposedly protected his chest and torso, but in reality was simply window dressing to make him appear to be just another soldier.
He dropped into a seated position on the colorfully decorated bed for a moment and then laid down into a fully reclined position, pulling the red and blue sheets over his body. Considering all that he had been through recently, he expected to fall asleep almost immediately. Nevertheless, sleep eluded him and he frowned in response, disgusted that he was wasting the three or four hour opportunity to rest. Tossing and turning didn’t help – the bed was very comfortable but he was simply still too emotionally wired from all of the adrenalin rushes. His first battle aboard the small Crasel ship had been an intense one, and at the time it had seemed like the only action he would see for a while in the Wasteland.
How fast things can change in war.
A presence touched his mind using the implant link, announcing that someone was ‘clocking out’ as his Sentinel and another person rotating in. It was a formality built into the programming so that he wouldn’t be caught by surprise when someone wished to communicate with him. [“You can’t be Dr. Simmons,”] he decided, sending a transmission to the newcomer. [“She’s fast asleep by now. Thomas and Denny are done, at least until morning too. So who do I have the opportunity of working with tonight?”]
The response caught him completely by surprise. [“Your wife.”]
[“Nori?”] He smiled inwardly, feeling her presence more intensely now, instinctively knowing that it was her. [“I can’t believe you allowed yourself to be fitted with an implant. You must have accepted an olive branch from Kaufield. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until I got back.”]
[“Yes. Our esteemed President stopped by the other day and told me how well this form of communication was working. Since Glen is needed back up in orbit to work on the Pathfinder, and since our kids sleep very well during the nighttime, I decided to accept the fill-in offer for night shift. Thomas recommended me.”]
[“Please tell Thomas that I will get even with him upon my return.”]
Noriana Roh snorted with laughter. [“He’s not afraid of you at all. His wife, now that’s a different story.”]
This time it was Adam who chuckled with amusement. [“It’s hard to imagine little Kari Roh scaring anyone,”] he replied, fond memories of her surfacing. [“Although Thomas thinks she’s become almost as fierce a mother with her three boys as you are with our kids.”]
[“Flattery will get you nowhere husband, not when you’re that far away from me.”] They both paused for a moment as she laughed lightly in his mind. Then her mood softened noticeably. [“You did very well with that poor woman,”] she told him warmly. [“Denny and I watched the entire thing from here.”]
[“I wish I could have saved her.”]
[“Everyone does. Unfortunately, you’re trying to function in a war zone.”] Tears appeared at the corners of Adam’s eyes as he listened to his wife, remembering all their time together. But she wasn’t done. [“Just think of all you’ve accomplished since you first boarded that Crasel ship. Forty-eight hours ago the Wasteland was a complete mystery to us, and we had no idea where even to start. So Noah just threw a proverbial dart on a map and it happened to land in Crasel territory.”]
He smiled, tears running down his cheeks as fatigue and overwhelming positive emotions got the better of him. [“Have you seen my guys yet… my band of brothers? Tran Wuu, Cren Hollis, Arte…”]
[“Just videos of them,”] she interrupted bluntly. [“I’ve been playing catch up here after ignoring Denny for almost a month. Leave it to YOU to find four poker buddies in the middle of a war zone. God Almighty, if there was ever an indication that men are the same wherever in this universe they live…”]
Adam lost control of his emotions and laughed out loud, unable to continue suppressing feelings slowly accumulating during his adventures within the Wasteland. [“You can tell Thomas that I’m going to need to get a pet cat when I get back,”] he informed her. [“This time it’s ME who can’t sleep. Please tell him that I can finally relate.”]
Her sympathy for him was proving to be extremely limited. [“Well, that’s probably because you helped win one successful battle and suddenly got delusions of grandeur.”] He imagined her face in front of him as he listened to her words and laughed uncontrollably, still lying on the bed. [“Do you know how long it took Denny and me to become Captains? And then if we take into account the fact that YOUR position was acquired solely by mutiny, well there’s another dark spot that’s going to blemish the family name.”]
Recovering some of his dignity, his mood turned suddenly serious. [“I have to address the crew in a couple of hours,”] he informed her. [“If I don’t get some sleep before then, our entire plan could come crashing down. I’m seriously flipping out here, so wired by adrenalin that it’s impossible to relax. My thoughts are racing back and forth, completely out of control.”]
Her tone softened somewhat. [“Honey, we’re going to help you.”] On his eye HUD, a message informing him that an incoming file packet was being received flashed for attention. [“Thomas and Noah have adjusted the implant’s software so that you can sleep at will. It can adjust your mind’s neural activity subtly enough to put you to sleep or to wake you back up if we need to.”]
[“What if somebody on the ship calls me?”] he asked with concern. [“Worse, what if someone comes in?”]
[“Then you’ll wake normally. Trust me, honey.”]
At first there was nothing, but he slowly began to feel a growing blockage in his mind. Adam’s thoughts were still racing, his mind fully active, but he could feel those racing thoughts colliding with something unseen and vanishing completely. It seemed as though he was still thinking about quite a few things, but each and every thought trail would just cut off in mid-stream. He tried to remember his line of thought from only seconds ago, a plan he had been considering of some sort, but the details of it now escaped him. A new idea popped into his head, but it too seemed to vanish into some sort of mental abyss. This is awesome, he thought triumphantly to himself. I can literally feel my mind slowly beginning to relax, even though my conscious mind doesn’t want to let go.
Mere moments later, he was out like a light.
9: VIII: Stolen NightmaresPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
Adam’s dream about Bok began on his home world, during the alien’s ‘Right of Ascension’, also known as the Kuth initiation ritual. Since the memories transferred into his brain by the implant were imperfect, a great deal of the information was incomprehensible to him. His mind focused primarily on the sights, sounds and the smells that were most closely associated with long-term memory retention. For starters, the creature’s home world stank to high heaven – but then, that was because the current setting was in the outdoors. Memories of the planet’s cities were easily accessible, especially their tall, alien-looking spires that stretched upward for hundreds of stories and looked, from a distance, like the sharp teeth of their builders. The cities, what few of them were left, were the only protection from the outside world and its unending flow of blood thirsty predators. Bok’s presence outdoors was involuntary on his part… he was there because those in the Caucus had determined that his time had come.
It was night time, the most dangerous part of the day for sentient life to be outdoors and usually the time when the vast majority of those who failed the ‘Right of Ascension’ died horribly. The predators were hardly the only danger to worry about – over ninety percent of the planet’s plants and trees were either poisonous or otherwise lethal in some manner. Everything in the Kuth version of nature did not survive for long if it did not know how to disguise and defend itself – or better yet – attack other life forms first. The sharp, brightly colored trees and plants were as dangerous as any insect or beast, which is why Bok had not moved since the shuttle from the city had dropped him into the deepest section of a forest area only an hour before sunset. There was no time limit for this test, but in order to win he had to not only stay alive, but also make it back to the city walls alive. No one cared if he lived or died out here, his life was over unless he managed to somehow find his own way back safely.
Unceremoniously dumped from the shuttle by a team of his peers, Bok had landed hard, injuring his left ankle before falling in the dirt. Opening his crimson eyes, the sight of one of the planet’s most lethal life forms lay directly in front of him. A bed of orange and crimson flowers with bright yellow petals known as hthewii curled in a large semi-circle around the trunk of a tall tree. Everything was poisonous down to the bark on the tree, but the flowers were even more deadly. They were capable of sensing movement, specifically the vibrations in the ground from approaching paws or footsteps. Once agitated they immediately released a pollen so deadly that it could kill an animal or Kuth within seconds. His journey toward Ascension had nearly ended before it could begin. Freezing his body in place, his instinctive chameleonic abilities adapted within seconds, turning his body into a mirror of the flowers in front of him. The soft hiss of pollen being released into the air was unmistakable, but a strong wind blowing toward the east caught the deadly particles and drove them away.
His life temporarily preserved by a chance breath of wind, he hadn’t moved since.
Rather than risk his life against further random gusts of wind, Bok figured that he was safe in his current position, at least until morning. In reality, he was safe even after that, as most of the animal life that walked on all fours would instinctively shy away from the hideously lethal plants. Admittedly there was no time limit to his test, but failing to move and find food or water before his strength waned would accomplish nothing. The objective for this mission was to return to the city alive and relatively unharmed. There were night predators about, their wild challenging cries echoing through the forest. Periodically he also saw their glowing gold and green eyes, reflecting the dim light from the nearly starless sky above, blinking at him from well concealed locations in the nearby undergrowth. The sound of other, unfortunate prey crying out in their death throes was also audible. Anything passing near to him could smell the strong, perfumed fragrance indicating the presence of the hthewii, even in the black of night, and knew to stay well away from this most dangerous of plant species. Even if they were starving and picked up his scent too, meat eaters would still choose to keep their distance.
He was lying on his back, looking straight up at the sky above. Far to the north and east he could see the tiny, occasional sprinklings of the few remaining stars and galaxies that still burned brightly in the overhead sky. Given the relatively slow speed of light, even many of those are likely gone by now, he thought grimly. Other than that, the night sky was virtually empty except for the occasional rogue stars here and there. Brightly lit orange and purple nebulae took up the rest of the sky to the south and west, their huge dust clouds illuminated by the sparse, remaining clusters of stars that still burned somewhere deep within their centers. These were the areas in the local galactic rim where most of his ancestor’s experiments had taken place, where entire stars had once been sacrificed in order to discover entry points into other universes.
That is where the effort began to save our people from this dying universe, he remembered.
Historically there had been no choice, since entropy in this particular universe was gradually winding down. Theirs was an extremely old universe after all, nearly 92 billion years old by most estimates, and most of its galaxies had long since cooled to the point where they could no longer support biological life. Suitable stars capable of holding habitable planets in orbit were in short supply, and the danger only accelerated with each passing century. Everything out in space was mostly dark matter, dead stars and black holes by now, supermassive gravity wells inevitably gobbling up everything that remained. There simply weren’t enough hot stars remaining with the energy needed to produce new ones. And in order to save their people, the Kuth were forced to deliberately destroy even more of those few that remained.
Bok decided he had no choice but to move just prior to dawn. Still pondering how and when, he noticed a very large, six-legged beast with a body covered in sharp quills move past him, its long snout low to the ground and searching for signs of smaller animal life. Searching for its morning meal like everything else out here, he thought to himself, surprised that he had never heard of this particular species. Having chosen to enter the wilderness naked except for his thick, heavy-duty work boots, he prided himself on a decision that had already allowed his body’s natural, chameleonic abilities to save his life. That would all end soon if he didn’t move and move swiftly, so he impulsively kicked out with his right foot until his boot came in contact with the sharp, undoubtedly poisonous quills on the rear of its body. Some of the quills detached, but others did not and Bok’s body lurched suddenly into motion as the creature moved away, dragging him right along with it.
The mistake the others will make, he decided, will be in assuming that THEY are still the hunter out here. It was truly surprising how fast city life could dull one’s animal instincts.
He could hear the sinister hissing sound of additional pollen being released by the flowers, but there was no other choice and luck was with him on this occasion as he held his breath longer than ever before. After finally gasping for air and realizing that he had escaped the poison, he allowed himself to relax a little bit. Even so, carrying the full weight of a Kuth proved to be no easy task, even for the huge animal currently towing him. The beast paused momentarily, glancing briefly over its shoulder in curiosity at the unmoving burden attached to it. Again Bok remained completely still and the animal sniffed the air for a moment and then pawed at the ground. It took a few tentative steps forward, paused, then a few more cautious steps before pausing for a second time. Finally, the creature resolved itself to the fact that it was carrying more weight than usual and resumed its lumbering trot, otherwise completely unaware of his presence.
This stupid, dumb beast is saving my life! Bok thought elatedly. This thing, whatever it was, obviously moved primarily by scent and did not appear to be vulnerable to other predators. He had no definitive proof that the quills were in fact poisonous, but really… why else would everything else leave it so completely alone?
So Bok continued to relax, allowing the creature to haul him along through territory that it obviously knew very well, along the relatively safer trails that beasts of its kind used. He watched the thickness of the forest begin to recede, trees thinning and the bright oranges, greens and yellows eventually fading gradually away. He began to see less deadly, dully colored purple and blue foliage, indications that the terrain was growing a bit friendlier and relatively free of the ground-based predators. And then his fingers unexpectedly touched soft mud as his body continued to be dragged along, and he looked long and hard at the surface of one of the large sinkholes that could haul a life form down beneath the surface and into its depths in less than a treffing.
What an easy way to die, and he hadn’t even noticed that it was there until his fingers touched the soft mire! His current situation was ideal, more than he could have hoped for, and he was perfectly willing to allow this strange, six-legged creature to unwittingly haul him all the way back to the city, if it could.
Its quills pulled loose a moment later, leaving him once again lying motionless in the soft dirt. Exotic hoots and howls pierced the quiet of the morning and he could see the soft, orange glow of the rising sun to the east. Had the situation been under his control, Bok would have kept the creature as a pet and fed it plentifully for the rest of its natural life. The beast had dragged him safely along, almost entirely through the worst of the forest and into areas that were at least slightly more hospitable. He stood up, dusted himself off, and watched it trundle away, still snuffling along and following an unseen scent trail. Reaching out toward the wooden skeleton of a long-dead tree, he broke off one of its branches and then pulled out the quills still sticking in his boot. Removing the laces from his right work boot, he used them to tie the quills tightly to his makeshift lance with their deadly, poisonous points sticking out at various angles from its own sharp point.
Glancing up a moment later, he spotted the older strands of millimeter-thick webbing hanging from the tall trees and briefly considered retracting his earlier goodwill toward the six-legged beast. This was proving to be the territory of the miklied – a ten-legged creature nearly twice as large as the six-legged beast and just as dangerous as the hthewii flowers. That was the trade-off for being on turf with less of a forest and milder plant life – predators of the worst kind made their homes here because it was safer and everything with any intelligence would see the webbing and know to stay well away. A rustling of leaves spooked him and Bok backed up against the trunk of a large tree, feeling his body reacting to its presence. The color of his thick, durable skin transitioned into the dark brown of the trunk and he waited patiently for whatever was making the noise to pass by. Not yet able to shape shift, he nonetheless appeared to be a part of the tree.
Next on the list of surprises this day was an encounter with a creature so large that the ground trembled under his feet when it first noticed him and charged. Caught by surprise, he had no choice but to turn and run for his life, abandoning all other precautions in his sole pursuit of speed. At first he thought of using his makeshift lance, but he estimated the beast’s hide to be at least three to four times tougher than his own. In the end it was another trap that saved him, as he lost his balance while climbing a tree and fell directly into the folds of a large miklied web. Entangled and dangling helplessly above the ground, he watched the huge horned beast glare at him balefully for a few minutes with its five beady black eyes, snorting and howling balefully with frustration a few times before finally deciding to move along.
Bok’s next task was obvious, that of escaping from the web before its owner returned. Although his chameleonic capabilities would not serve him in this regard, he was able to take advantage of another seldom used Kuth trait. Carefully checking the web for signs of the slayer who had constructed it, he watched patiently until he was satisfied that the miklied was out and about, checking other traps it had set. Then he began to fight and squirm and kick and generally force his body to move as quickly and aggressively as possible. Additional, smaller strands of the web wrapped around his arms and legs, driven primarily by the wind and non-stop motion of his body. These were really nothing to worry about, since it was the larger, much stronger strands that he needed to find a way out of. He lost control of the lance during his struggles, and it fell several dozen meters before landing cleanly in another web.
Bok continued working his body hard, and as he did so he began to perspire. He smiled as he saw the first small wisps of white smoke begin rising from the webs touching his tough hide. Fortunately, Kuth sweat contained a mild acidic chemical compound, and its effectiveness against this kind of webbing was well known to his people. Only minutes after escaping the larger creature on the ground by falling into a second trap, he snapped the major strands of webbing still holding him with ease and dropped silently to the ground below. He landed on all fours, the claws from his fingertips digging into the soft dirt, teeth bared in a silent snarl. Resuming his journey toward the city, he stopped along the way to drink some water from a stream and took a few extra minutes to devour some of the smaller rodents living along its shores. The taste of blood and the crunch of bones invigorated him, and upon resuming the journey he found little in his path to threaten him this time. By late afternoon he could see the outer walls of his home.
* * * * *
The graduation ceremony was a crucial honor in the development of a Kuth, but the exact details of the actual Ascension process were seldom talked about. Those older members of his race who had actually undergone the process were especially secretive and always reluctant to discuss specific details. That left the younger Kuth frustrated and eager to undergo the Rite as soon as possible. This type of ambition played right into the hands of the Caucus and so they traditionally continued to encourage it. Bok remembered how visibly perturbed his peers had become as their day drew closer – they were eager to get the life changing ritual over with and begin their new adulthood. As usual, he kept his wits about him when others didn’t, and this type of self-discipline always served to grant him an advantage that the others did not have. He studied while they sat in small groups complaining about the Elders and the strange ways of the Caucus.
Proudly he stood atop one of the highest walls in the city along with five others who had managed to return safely, his gaze reaching out to scan the gray, dully lit sky and its sparse cloud cover. The sun was a faint orange blob in the east, whose rays just barely managed to pierce the thick, dull planetary atmosphere. Even though everyone knew full well that casualties were inevitable during any Ascension, Bok was still somewhat stunned by the results of this particular outing. There had been at least thirty, probably closer to forty of them on the shuttle when it left the city walls and began dropping them at various points within the surrounding forest and hills. Even so, with all of the strength and natural chameleonic abilities available for Bok and his peers to draw upon, only he and five others returned alive.
“Normally we have hand-to-hand combat encounters in order to determine the final winners,” stated one of the Caucus Elders as he paced back and forth in front of them. “We didn’t tell you at the beginning of this journey, but only FIVE may Ascend during any given contest. So we usually allow the survivors to fight it out amongst themselves, sometimes with weapons and other times with their bare hands.” He smiled wickedly at the six Kuth standing in front of him, the nine lengthy horns on his head curving backward slowly to emphasize the strength of his words. “On this occasion however, there are only six of you, so I believe that a test of self-control will be sufficient to reduce your number down to five.”
Continuing to pace in front of them, he drew a knife from his belt – an object with multiple sharp points along its blade that glinted in the faint sunlight. “Who shall it be?” he continued, moving in a gradual circular trot that brought him behind the six Kuth initiates. All of them stiffened their resolve and waited patiently, hoping beyond hope that they would be one of the men still standing when the sun ended its current cycle. Bok felt no fear, because to him this was the same kind of test as the journey through the forest. He would survive to live another day or he wouldn’t – worrying about matters he could not change would only add to his problems.
At least three of his companions obviously felt differently. Using his Kuth peripheral vision, he could see the fear in their faces as the Elder silently paced behind them, watching and waiting. It was an interesting experience, because Bok felt truly sorry for these three – their weaknesses were blatantly obvious and dumb luck had no doubt brought them safely through the forest. He had survived through careful study of the plants, animals and terrain of his home world along with a lucky chance here and there, while these three still lived primarily because they had managed to run the fastest while others were run to ground and feasted upon. He didn’t know which one of the five would pay the final price of the Ascension right here and now, but he suspected it was one of these three and reasonably confident that it would not be him.
His instincts proved to be extremely accurate. Everyone relaxed at least a little bit at the sound of the Elder sheathing his knife. And yet only seconds later he picked up the Kuth standing next to Bok and heaved him over the wall, toward the distant ground below. The man’s unexpected shriek of pure terror lasted only until he hit the ground, cut off instantly as his neck snapped and his spine fragmented. The other five relaxed as the Elder once again moved to stand in front of them, his smile this time considerably more cheerful. “Congratulations Kuth warriors, and fair luck to you on all of your future endeavors!” he exclaimed with a leering smile, waving them graciously back into the city. “If you continue to follow the orders and guidance of the Caucus without question, all will turn out well for you.”
As they moved to leave, the Elder caught Bok by the arm and held him back for just an instant. “Keep a close eye on the other two,” he hissed softly. “I think you know which ones I mean.”
Bok nodded briefly in response and responded with a simple “Yes, sir” while watching the Elder’s crimson eyes fix solely on him.
“Normal duties for you would be wasted,” the Elder told him firmly. “You are a giant amongst tiny nehrub, one who is destined for greatness. Work hard for us, labor long and you will eventually be assigned to a project of the utmost importance, one that strives to guarantee a long-term future for the Kuth!”
“Yes, sir.”
The message of the initiation rite was simple and undeniable… make yourself worth something to the Caucus or the Caucus would eventually decide that you were worthless. For all the remaining days of his life, right up until that final moment when Adam Roh caught him by surprise and killed him with wrist guns set to lethal intensity, Bok had done precisely as he was instructed to do by the Caucus leadership.
There were further visions that Adam bore witness too also, mostly of Bok’s years spent serving in the Wasteland after his eventual transit across ‘the Bridge’ between universes. Somewhere the Yakiir had indeed gained a foothold, more than likely in quite a few star systems. Adam watched subconsciously as visions of Bok’s trips to at least four populated worlds flashed by, one after another. He spotted large cities with buildings very similar to those on the home world from the other universe, but these looked newly constructed. Scores of humans dressed in the black and green uniforms of the Yakiir marched in large complements, many of them boarding ships bound for the war’s front lines. Others wore the clean, white uniforms of scientists serving in ultra-clean environments. It was at this point where even darker images began to surface, causing Adam to begin a furious struggle to wake himself up. To his dismay, he found that he could not and the images continued flashing through his mind, one horror after another.
Bok had done terrible things in his life, committed atrocities that made even the rape of Ali Rinai look tame by comparison. Sometimes he did it to his own people, taking out even Ascended Kuth that the Caucus deemed to be uncooperative or sometimes just the overly ambitious. But his truest, most terrifying cruelties and barbarism were reserved solely for the humans that fell out of favor or failed to carry out their assignments. Those who studied hard and learned the sciences that were needed to build cities and construct ships and weapons received a decent life on those planets in return for their services. Their loved ones, however, were a different story entirely and deemed by the Caucus to be completely expendable. Now and then, some of them mysteriously disappeared in tragic instances that the Elders blamed on regrettable accidents or a sudden rise in uncontrollable criminal activity by the humans against each other.
Adam’s fear and revulsion only deepened when he finally realized how the Kuth made their final decision… that they chose his universe for their exodus primarily because they enjoyed the taste of its raw meat.
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
Seated in the electronic lap of the Sentinel chair, Noriana Roh watched a floating visual image of her husband snap fully awake, kicking away sheets soaked with his sweat. His dreams were already fading, most of them just dull images and brief flashes of color, but for the moment if he focused and concentrated hard enough he was right back in them. Wanting to be rid of them completely, he rose to his feet and sat on the end of the bed for a few minutes. [“What the hell was that?”] he wondered curiously, allowing the thought to carry through the link to his wife. He waited almost desperately for a response. [“It felt like I was actually there, living Bok’s horribly violent life.”]
[“That, unfortunately, is what you did to yourself,”] Noriana replied after allowing him another few precious seconds to collect his thoughts. [“It’s why everyone here at Tranquility Base has officially given the ‘thumbs down’ to future use of your really ill-advised thought extraction idea, regardless of what that damned tactical database suggests. I’d recommend you be wary of that thing and only use it when absolutely necessary.”]
He was truly perplexed by her stance on the matter. [“Why?”] he asked her with interest. [“It assisted me every step of the way and helped us to capture this ship. Without it…”]
[“It helped you WIN,”] she countered, correcting him sternly. [“There’s a difference. The database provides you with options to improve the probability you will succeed in your endeavors, but the software doesn’t take into account your mortality and vulnerability to damage – emotionally and physically.”] Her lips pursed into a tight line of concern. [“It will help you win, even if you yourself get killed or severely disabled in the process. It doesn’t – can’t – care about you personally; it only seeks to meet your objectives.”]
What she was driving at finally hit home. [“Bok’s memories are a part of mine now, aren’t they?”] he asked her, already knowing the answer to the question deep down inside. [“They’re in my head.”]
[“That’s right.”] Her tone softened a bit, but not by much. [“You didn’t provide any specifications other than to try to read information from his mind. You attempted to do something that has not yet been tested, and it might well have read some or all of his memories – there was no way to predict what the software would do without detailed testing.”] She paused, allowing him to digest the information. [“Adam, do NOT try to do anything with your implant that hasn’t first been thoroughly tested on our end.”]
He was hesitant to admit that she was correct. [“It worked… the implant didn’t read all of his memories, just the strongest ones…”] he pointed out, knowing as he did so that he was completely wrong on the matter but defiantly refusing for the moment to admit it.
[“That’s right. And have you asked yourself yet whether those memories overwrite some of your existing memories, or did it use so-called ‘free space’ in that noggin of yours?”] Her mood soured noticeably again. [“Thomas is running tests right now to see if you will suffer any long-term consequences from that little stunt of yours. We know for certain there has been short term damage to your thought process, because all of us were sitting here, watching that twisted dream of yours. We activated the video feeds as soon as it became obvious from your anxiety levels that something was wrong.”]
[“Understood.”] He was tempted to try and lighten the mood with some sort of off the cuff joke, but he knew her well enough that he didn’t dare make the attempt. With his wife’s quick temper already in play, there was no way to predict how she would react. [“So far it has been just this one dream. I can’t really remember anything while I’m conscious, other than pieces and fragments of information here and there.”]
[“We think that’s because it was a data stream, but it was a data stream that passed through the implant after first passing through your brain. Obviously, something of what was there has burned itself into your memory. And if you continue to use that thing on other people, Dr. Simmons thinks you could develop all kinds of psychological disorders, up to and including forgetting who you really are.”]
Nori watched him wipe the sleep from his eyes, still sitting on the end of the bed. [“For the record, I officially offer an apology. I was wrong to attempt the thought extraction, and very glad that I didn’t have to face that creature without protective technology. It would have killed me easily, without a second thought.”] Mulling matters over for a moment, she allowed him the time he needed to think. [“Did you guys find anything useful in the data from this ship’s computers?”] he wondered after a prolonged pause. [“I would like to be able to offer the new crew of this vessel some sort of objective.”]
Standing behind Nori, Kaufield’s arms were folded while he waited patiently for them to finish their personal conversation. She turned and nodded, causing him to link himself into their long-distance conference. [“There is no information of any kind pointing to any of the home worlds,”] Kaufield began slowly, glancing down at a typed crib sheet. He did not want to make any mistakes with information so crucial. [“Undoubtedly that is deliberate and probably true for all Yakiir warships. When you get a chance, send us the data from the supply shuttle. We’ll have to verify to be sure, but I expect the same will hold true for that vessel as well.”]
[“Can do. It’s still sticking out of the starboard side of this ship,”] pointed out Adam somewhat dryly. [“Do you have anything that we can use? I’d like to find at least some link in the chain that will lead us to one or more of these home worlds. We can’t cause any more trouble unless we know where to look.”]
Chuckling, Kaufield shook his head. [“Now don’t go losing all of that steam you had going for you prior to your nap,”] he suggested, mildly amused. [“We didn’t find anything regarding home world locations, but there was quite a bit of information as to the pair of targets those quashing weapons were meant for.”]
Adam’s interest piqued noticeably. [“Oh?”] he queried in response.
[“Using the supply ship to bait other clan ships was a secondary objective, as your brief adversary Bok so violently pointed out to his Captain,”] continued Kaufield. [“The Captain actually made the right call, because normally a wild card like you would not have been on that supply ship. The warship should have taken out a Clan rival on its way to destroy a pair of stars out on the perimeter.”]
He appeared genuinely puzzled by the news. [“How does this help us?”]
Kaufield glanced over at Nori, waving his hands in a ‘why don’t you tell him’ gesture. Adam’s wife smiled at him gratefully. [“Adam,”] she began, [“we’ve discussed this quite a bit while you were sleeping, and we want you to proceed to your first target,”] she told him. [“Noah agrees with our assessment.”]
[“And then what? It might be a long wait before someone checks up on us.”]
[“Then we want you to proceed as scheduled and use one of the quashing weapons to destroy the first star,”] stated Kaufield curtly, completely stunning Adam.
His expression was one of shock and dismay. [“Are you serious?”]
[“Think about it more carefully,”] the Council President instructed coolly. [“If you destroy the star on schedule, the Yakiir leadership will think everything is still proceeding according to plan. This Caucus that rules the Kuth likes things to go well… they do not tolerate failure. If you do not destroy the star, other vessels will be dispatched to run you down. That won’t help us.”]
[“Haven’t enough stars in this spiral arm already gone bye bye?”] His tone was just a little bit sarcastic.
[“I know you’re a compassionate man, and you don’t like to see death or destruction,”] Nori spoke up. [“Trust us honey, there is nothing of any significance in either of those systems. No life, no major planets, moons, asteroids… nothing. We’ve checked everything over pretty thoroughly and they’re just two more standard yellow stars in a huge spiral arm filled with them.”]
[“I can’t…”] his thoughts trailed off into a chaotic haze of confusion. [“I don’t think I can do that.”]
[“Sure you can,”] responded Kaufield confidently. [“Remember where your new home is. Noah’s people can rebuild and ignite stars out of the universe’s leftovers. Hell, they constructed an entire, custom made Proteus galaxy filled with standard yellow stars. On a long-term basis, the citizens of the Proteus galaxy can rebuild that entire area, if we can first successfully find a way to deal with this Caucus and put an end to the fighting out there.”]
Adam took a lot longer to respond than either of them expected, proving that he was in fact seriously thinking matters through. [“Okay, suppose we use this ship and destroy the star,”] he said finally. [“Then what? We change course and destroy target number two?”]
[“Then we use THIS Science lab to watch what happens by using your implant,”] Kaufield told him. [“If Thomas’ analysis is indeed correct…”]
[“It usually is.”]
[“Your dream has all but confirmed it. The Kuth have a Point-to-Point ‘bridge’ linking two universes together. They destroy stars and use the resulting outburst of energy to power the transit technology. At least one ship should come through from the other side. Your former Captain’s orders, if successful, are to escort whatever comes through directly to target number two. Once that star is destroyed, another ship – or convoy of some sort – will also arrive and link up with you. At least one of those ships will have coordinates to one or more of the home worlds, and that my friend is the information we need to obtain next.”]
[“How would a ship from another universe have coordinates to home worlds in this one?”] asked Adam.
[“The quashing weapon is also a communications device of some sort, and we’ll be able to eavesdrop on the exchange of electronic messaging. It’s an opportunity to learn things about what conditions are like on their side of this ‘transit bridge’. I am seriously considering having Thomas modify one of the Pathfinder’s canary probes… he can build an invisibility screen around it and we can deliver it to you for use once the star explodes. That will allow us to gather all the data we need covertly, all the while giving the appearance that your newly acquired warship is still under Yakiir control.”]
[“I like that idea,”] decided Adam, his mood perking up a little. [“What about inter-ship communications? Won’t we give ourselves away if I don’t check in with the home base once in a while?”]
[“Nori tells me you’re planning to speak to your new crew. Once you’re finished, return to the Command Center. We’ll upload a few data packets for you to save into the warship’s communications console. It’s an AI-type artificially intelligent software program that will read through the history logs and assist you with keeping up appearances. You should be able to simply let it handle the routine traffic, and will only have to worry about chance encounters with other ships that are still under Yakiir control.”]
[“Watch out for those Zaketh and Yakiir,”] cautioned Nori firmly. [“I wouldn’t trust any of them.”]
[“The Crasel are trustworthy, Vasten’s men not so much. At this point, I don’t know what to expect from the Yakiir, but Vasten tells me that my ‘performance’ has left them somewhat spooked.”] Adam frowned at the thought of another betrayal. [“I will keep an eye on them and we’ll manage.”]
[“Have you thought about what you’re going to tell your new crew?”] Kaufield wondered.
[“Yes,”] Adam replied instantly. [“This is what I’m going to say…”]
Starboard Mess Hall, aboard the Ali Rinai…
For the purposes of his speech, Adam stood behind a small podium next to the Mess Hall’s serving table. All but critical crew members were in attendance, but Snee Vasten and the four Crasel stood up front, at Adam’s side. The Crasel continued to invest more faith and confidence in Adam with each passing day. It did not escape their attention that he continued to wear the same worn, dingy, yellow-striped uniform that had been his attire when they first met him. It did not escape the attention of the other soldiers either, be they Yakiir or Zaketh. The new Captain of the newly christened Ali Rinai was wearing the uniform of one of the smallest clans in the Wasteland. The visual message was undeniable and very, very powerful.
Even so, he did not begin to speak until several of Vasten’s men brought in the body and head of Bok, the former undercover operative. His severed head and body were set on the serving table so that everyone could see what had been hiding in plain sight among the Yakiir crew, serving as its executive officer. Those sitting and standing or basically just waiting around were talking up a storm, and the room was filled with speculative conversation right up until the point when the Kuth’s body showed up. Everyone in the room fell silent almost simultaneously, unsure of how to react to the creature that most of them – until now – had only heard stories about. The creature’s bestial appearance was still frightening to behold, although somewhat less so now that it’s body was nearly completely drained of the pussy, dark green blood.
And yet Vasten’s men weren’t done. They disappeared out into the corridor for a moment and then returned with a plastic body bag. Heaving it on to the table next to Bok’s corpse, one of them unzipped the bag and pulled it back so that everyone could smell the former ship Captain’s dead body. Smell it, and see for themselves precisely what Bok had done to him. It was quite clear, even to those in the back that a major part of his torso was missing because it had been torn away in large bites and eaten. The bulging white eyes of the dead Captain and the fear and horror of his expression were frozen into place. It was extremely difficult for Adam to look upon these two bodies again, the experience triggered more flashes of color and jagged details from the part of Bok’s memory that was now solely his.
“These creatures have used all of us,” Adam began, pointing at Bok’s corpse. “They hide among you, waiting and watching and manipulating, keeping the clans fighting each other. Until now, no one but the Yakiir suspected their presence and lived to tell the tale. These Kuth are very careful – they have used the clans to gain footholds within the Wasteland while those Yakiir who serve them willingly are allowed a life free from war. But fall from grace, even a little bit, and you end up out here on the front lines in the middle of the clan wars. They have used you, detonating quashing weapons to destroy stars, planets and other precious resources while the power from those dying suns brings more and more of them here from someplace very far away. I know this to be true, I have verified this for myself and it is why I share the information with you. All of you have fought for your lives and those of your families. You have fought for your clan brothers and sacrificed much. But if you continue along that close-minded path, your fate is sealed.”
“The war draws to a close, which is why the Kuth are now solely backing the Yakiir. Other clans are no longer needed, so they are systematically being eliminated. All of you know this to be true. Your fathers and your grandfathers killed other clan warriors, but now factions are locating and destroying even civilian families. Their intent is obvious, to leave the Yakiir as the sole surviving clan, a puppet for them to continue to control now that they have moved the bulk of their own population into the Wasteland. Many of you have seen the body of the Kuth warrior I killed in combat, but I wanted all of you to see it, to know what they truly are beneath all of the color changes and shape shifting and covert operations.”
“Bloody hell mate,” gasped Arte Kasik, holding a hand to his nose. “Can’t we zip that bag back up? The smell of the dead in here is staggering beyond words…”
“No,” Adam replied, shaking his head negatively. “Look upon your future.” He pointed now at Kasik and the other Crasel. “These men belong to a small clan that is already beaten… they struggle only to survive so that they can feed and clothe their loved ones. And yet Yakiir ships would still attack them on sight; I have seen those very orders recorded within this vessel’s command computer.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What harm can they do you now, so beaten and small in numbers? Is genocide really necessary to achieve a military victory? Is there somehow not enough room for everybody in the Wasteland?” He shifted his pointing finger to the Zaketh, all grouped together on one side of the room. “Your clan is stronger, but also slowly dying by attrition. Even so, there might be Kuth hiding among you too, making certain that your Captains retain a barbaric attitude and do not become soft.” He knew instinctively that the memory of Captain Saou would be fresh in their minds.
Lastly, he pointed toward the other side of the room, where the Yakiir stood watching and listening. “When the other clans are gone, do you think these demons will disappear from your midst or their efforts to control you will somehow cease to exist overnight?” He paused, watching their faces closely. “I tell you they won’t. I wanted the Captain’s body here to show you just why they have chosen the Yakiir as the clan that will prevail.” Again he trailed off for extra emphasis before adding, “Because they like the taste of your meat, and plan to use you as slave labor… and as food.” Watching the men in the room react to his words, seeing all of their soft whispers and religious gesturing – it only confirmed to him yet again that supernatural fears had been deliberately cultivated and stoked among the warriors of the Wasteland.
“I have heard that many of you do not get along,” continued Adam with an expression of deep determination. “That is okay. Many of you mourn for friends, colleagues and family lost to other clans, and emotions such as those are not left behind overnight. But you must all make a conscious effort to focus on the true enemy.” Again he pointed at Bok’s motionless body. “We must work together and expose these creatures to all clans, so that the fighting ends and the true enemy is ultimately defeated. You might not like each other… in fact you may truly despise each other. But I ask you to follow my orders and work with my officers for one week. That is all the time it will take to bring true and lasting change to the Wasteland. You may not believe me, you may not think we can succeed, but after forty-six thousand years of fighting, aren’t my ideas worth a shot?” He watched their faces carefully, his gaze drifting from one to the other, expression grim.
“Trust me for one week and then make your final decision. If you haven’t seen enough to believe for yourself that things are truly changing, then this ship will be returned to the Yakiir and the Zaketh, Crasel and I will return to our respective homes. My colleague, Snee Vasten, is compartmentalizing operations to make things easier on you – so that most members of one clan do not have to work directly with another. Simply follow orders as you usually do while serving out here in the depths of space, and all will go well.” A small smile crossed his face. “I have been told that there have already been some fights between Zaketh and Yakiir. Be certain to hold your temper in the future, for those who cause trouble will lose their freedom and go into our detention areas, where there is no compartmentalization and even less supervision. Clans intermix freely with each other in this ship’s brig, and the rest of us do not have the time to break up fights there. If you want to fight, help us fight the Kuth. But if you want to continue fighting people from other clans, you are simply aiding the Kuth and that will not be tolerated on this ship.”
“What will we do? Where will we go?” one of the Yakiir standing behind the front row of tables asked.
“This ship will transit to the perimeter of the Wasteland, where strong suns still burn fiercely in space. There we will find the star that this ship was meant to find, and when we do we will quash it.”
The next question from the crowd was plainly obvious. “Why?”
Again Adam smiled at the dozens upon dozens of hard-worn faces comprising his new crew. “Because I believe it’s time that all of us get to see for ourselves what happens next.”
He knew that he wasn’t going to get a standing ovation just yet, but the sight and smell of the dead bodies guaranteed that everyone would be interested to see if he could deliver. And that was all Adam needed, a chance to prove that his claims were true. Satisfied that his message was delivered, he turned and left the room. Snee Vasten and the four Crasel followed soon after.
10: XIX: ParoxysmPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
Adam showed up in the Command Center shortly after his speech, knowing that Thomas was due to take over the Sentinel duties back at Tranquility Base. It was clear to him that the Ali Rinai was on a priority mission for the Caucus Intelligence leadership that controlled most of the Yakiir’s decision making. She was also a vessel that had been out of contact with her home base for far too long now, so he found himself anxious to get the new communications protocols up and running. He dismissed everyone else on duty in order to guarantee himself privacy as he installed the software upgrades that would slave the communications process to a functioning Artificial Intelligence. If it worked as well as the other gifts from his friends back home, the AI-program would practically guarantee that the warship’s abrupt change of ownership would remain undetected for quite some time.
It took him only minutes to install the upgrades and then he simply stood back and watched as the new software functions activated and immediately began searching through the vessel’s communications history. Adam’s eye HUD activated and he was suddenly looking at a new overlay on the back of his eyelids… a soft blue set of function options and statistics that allowed him to see patterns in the communications. Mere seconds later, a recommendation also appeared, scrolling across his right eyeball while blinking for attention. A ship out of contact for too long will draw suspicion… suggest sending immediate sitrep. Nodding in quick agreement, Adam mentally selected the option to proceed. The newly functional AI leaped directly to the next step, creating and issuing a long-range message:
[“Damage taken in battle with Zaketh vessel Pyrhh. Mission not compromised, and enemy vessel was destroyed. Proceeding as scheduled to priority targets one and two.”]
Without warning, the ship shuddered violently as though a large hand suddenly reached out and began shaking it. Vibrations that threatened to rattle teeth reverberated through the deck plating, the sound of the ship’s superstructure shrieking in response to an exterior force. [“Good grief brother of mine,”] Thomas stated unexpectedly through the mental link. [“What is going on? Are you under attack again?”]
Adam smiled as his brother’s presence linked in with his own thoughts. [“No, no attack to worry about,”] he replied reassuringly. [“After my meeting with the crew, Snee Vasten and I discussed the best way to go about removing that supply ship from the starboard hull. At first we were going to use Yakiir fighters with grappling cables to pull it out, but that would requiring us trusting too many new people. So we settled for placing a pilot back in its cockpit and firing up its reverse thrusters. We’ll have to seal off a few more compartments over there, but the damaged areas are nowhere near the cargo bay.”]
[“I read the text of your speech, by the way,”] noted Thomas informatively. [“Do you really think you changed everyone’s hearts and minds?”]
[“Maybe some, certainly not all. We’re working on establishing a ‘circle of trust’ but it’s difficult and will probably end up taking more time than we have.”] The grinding and groaning noises from the ship’s overstressed hull plating continued in the background. [“I like this communications AI a lot… it’s showing me all of the communications patterns and recommending how often to check in with other vessels. Apparently this Caucus gets kind of paranoid if it doesn’t hear from all of its member vessels on a regular basis.”]
[“I’m not so sure,”] his brother thought back at him with obvious trepidation. [“Why did it choose to lie about the status of the Pyrhh? If that Zaketh cruiser runs across the Yakiir again, they’ll know we lied.”]
[“That, oh innocent one, is what is commonly known as a calculated risk,”] admitted Adam. [“Part of the message I just sent to ‘Yakiir Central’ included copies of all communications that were ‘overheard’ during the battle. The Caucus would know we were being deceptive immediately if we named another vessel, because they apparently have code breaking specialists and the Pyrhh’s electronic fingerprints are all over their message history. Rest assured, we’ll survive long enough to get to the first star and detonate one of those warheads we’re carrying. I hope you folks are ready, on your end, to study the aftermath.”]
Removing one of the Command Center’s portable transceivers, he activated it and began loading data files from the main communications console into its memory. Snee Vasten’s bald head appeared suddenly in the port hatchway with a grim smile on his face, causing a temporary interruption of their private unheard conference. “It took some doing and we mangled a few more compartments, but the supply ship is finally free.” He removed a thick pair of work gloves and entered the Command Center. “The only remaining question is simple. What do you want us to do with it?”
“Are you kidding?” Adam raised an eyebrow at his new First Officer. “That ship is loaded with food, water, fuel and ammunition. We’re going to keep it, of course.”
Chuckling, Vasten shrugged with indifference. “Okay. Where do you want it?”
Thinking the matter over carefully for a moment, Adam decided to choose the easiest option. “Dock it on the dorsal hull for now, where one of those three shuttles used to sit. None of them are coming back, after all.” Vasten responded with a firm nod and turned to go, but Adam held him back. “Vasten,” he stated bluntly.
“Is there something else?” asked the Zaketh squadron commander curiously.
“Yes. Take this with you and keep it active,” suggested Adam as he tossed the portable transceiver to his colleague. “A lot of people, Zaketh and Yakiir alike, are wearing those local earwig communicators like the one you gave me. I’m certain that at least a few of the Yakiir will try to use them to give away our presence here if we manage to pull within range of another Yakiir vessel. The likelihood of this will only increase as we move farther into their territory.”
Unconvinced, Vasten looked the small device over carefully. “Why would you think that? They all looked pretty scared when they saw the body of that thing you killed. If it truly looked like one of us then they would not have known…”
“Some of the Yakiir do know about the Kuth secret and serve with them willingly,” pointed out Adam. “Ali Rinai told me, before she died, that she used to work on one of the home planets but fell out of favor with their ruling Caucus. She was demoted and sent to the front lines to fight in the war. That’s why there are women on this ship… they’re people whose families have lost influence with the elites.”
“I begin to see what you are driving at,” acknowledged Vasten with concern. “The fastest way for a Yakiir outcast to regain favor with the elites, even if all sins are not completely forgiven, would be to betray our presence on this ship.” He attached the device to his belt. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
“It’s even worse than that, I’m afraid. I believe that some of the Yakiir on this ship were actually working with Bok, serving as undercover intelligence officers and keeping an eye on their Captain. They may not have known what he truly was, but you can bet for damn sure they knew who and what the Caucus is… a government entity not to be trifled with.”
“I’ll be able to let you know if someone tries to transmit over unauthorized channels, but tracking them down is another matter entirely,” noted Vasten. “We’re on a huge ship crewed by several hundred people who can move around at will. By the time we detect the signal and contact Command to localize it, they’ll have sent their signal and be back among the ship’s general population.”
“That’s why I’ve made some changes to the command functions of this communications console,” chuckled Adam. “It will automatically detect an unauthorized transmission and immediately implement a jamming field. This console will send a signal to your transceiver with the location of the perpetrator, who will in turn hear only static in response to his message. The really determined traitors will continue to try for several minutes, expecting our response time to be slow.”
Vasten nodded with a satisfied smile. “Excellent,” he decided. “And those who are caught…”
“Disarm them, search them, and toss them in with the rest of the prisoners,” Adam told him. “We’ll sort them out when all of this is said and done.”
“How long until we arrive at our target destination?”
“It will take at least three or four additional transits.” Adam frowned slightly as he spoke. “I can retool this communications console fairly easily, but the crappy Point-to-Point hardware in use here within the Wasteland could really use some work. We’ll make it in two hours or so, all things willing.” He reached out and touched another console, bringing up a large, colored map of the immediate area. “We’re destined for a point deep within a huge nebula,” he continued, pointing to a dark blue spot on the map. “Historically the Caucus hasn’t cared where its quashing weapons were used, only that they were used. But the two we’re carrying would seem to be different somehow. They want both of them detonated in the center of heavy nebulae concentrations.”
“The Yakiir don’t want anyone to see what happens,” speculated Vasten.
“That’s my assessment,” Adam agreed. “I’m going down to the starboard cargo bay to examine their programming more thoroughly. But once we arrive at our intended destination, the best possible way we can learn more about what these things are truly used for would seem to be to detonate one, then stick around and watch what happens next.”
“Traditionally, when a quashing weapon was captured, our clan would use them against another clan that managed to gain a foothold in some random star system,” Vasten informed him. “But that happened only occasionally and the ship delivering the weapon rarely stuck around in the vicinity. You can watch a sun explode from pretty much any distance, and that was always our own objective.” His expression was dismayed. “Why would anyone ever think that there would be anything else to see after that?”
Adam pointed a stern finger at him. “Your people were lucky. I’m only theorizing, but it’s highly probable that ships of some sort come through from the other side of the transit wormhole that the detonation triggers,” he observed. “They’re most likely armed and would promptly destroy any unknown vessel hanging around in the immediate vicinity.”
* * * * *
Tran Wuu found Adam in the starboard cargo bay after flashing a quick nod to Arte Kasik and Cren Hollis, who both stood guard outside the main corridor entrance. He noticed that one of the quashing weapons was gone, and for a moment his heart leaped into his throat. “Has someone been in here without authorization?” he asked incredulously. “We were certain that couldn’t happen.”
Lying on the metal deck plating, Adam was studying the lone remaining missile from below. He stood up at the sound of Wuu’s voice, wiping his hands together and brushing off the front of his uniform. “Relax friend,” replied Adam reassuringly. “Snee Vasten’s men dismantled it into three pieces and are taking it toward the damaged area just up the corridor. They’re going to use EVA suits and drop the three segments into space, and then reassemble them outside. We’ve arrived at our destination, so it’s time to actually use one of these things and see what develops.” Glancing at the Crasel soldier curiously, he smiled warmly. “How’s that shoulder of yours doing?”
“It’s healing much faster than it should,” admitted Wuu with a grin of his own, firmly massaging the still-bandaged shoulder with his right hand. “Most of the time, people who are wounded as badly as I was would never see another fight. I can never thank you enough for that.” Glancing around inquisitively, he noticed that the smell of death that had been so pervasive in the large cargo bay was completely gone. There were still faint but recognizable red and green stains smeared on the walls and deck plating, but overall the chamber was considerably cleaner than it had been only hours earlier.
“Well, the ultimate goal is to get you four men back to your families,” pointed out Adam. “Remember that.”
“What are you doing?” Tran Wuu asked with growing interest. “Is something wrong?”
Adam sighed and smirked for a moment, returning his attention to the open access panel on the second missile. His fingertips danced across the full keyboard within, and he studied the resulting output on the computer screen recessed within. “It’s more like something is missing,” he pointed out. “My people analyzed the programming of the first missile, so we pretty much know what it’s supposed to do once it detonates. This one is different… the programming only covers guidance and the detonation sequence. The rest of the routines that should govern functionality haven’t been loaded yet.”
“Perhaps it’s a spare,” suggested Wuu. “In case the first weapon malfunctions.”
“No,” decided Adam with a quick shake of his head. “If that were the case, the same program would have been loaded in both missiles. And the Command Center’s computers have official recorded orders that this vessel’s former Captain received – orders that require a visit to two different healthy stars in this region.”
“You are speaking with a simple soldier,” Wuu reminded him. “I do not understand the mindset of those who would build and use such weapons. Forgive me if I cannot be of further help.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Adam told him with an amused chuckle. “I think that whatever happens here will determine whether or not the second missile receives the rest of its programming. This Caucus that governs the Yakiir is cautious and extremely secretive. If the first part of this mission failed, I don’t think they wanted whoever stopped it knowing what the second objective was.” He ruminated on the matter for a moment, but failed to come up with any other reasonable options. “How are you and the other Crasel doing?” he asked suddenly. “There are only four of you, after all, on a ship filled with dueling Zaketh and Yakiir.”
“Mostly they leave us alone,” said Tran Wuu grudgingly. “The Yakiir in particular. I think they are extremely arrogant and consider us to be irrelevant, but it is more than that. It is also because they are terrified of you and what you have done… in particular your standing up to those they only recently believed to be invincible. Most of Vasten’s men are much better – they have treated us with respect and courtesy thus far.”
“They know we saved their lives.”
“Yes. We four and the Zaketh have been rotating, taking turns guarding this location and also the engine room. Vasten assures us that you and he have control of the Command Center.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask another favor from the four of you before too much longer.”
“Anything. What do you need?”
There was a dramatic pause, mostly because Adam didn’t know how his colleague would react. “We five and all of the Zaketh are going to have to trade in our uniforms and put on the Yakiir equivalent,” he replied tentatively. “It is quite probable that enemy ships are going to come through the wormhole generated by the first quashing weapon, probably from somewhere very, very far away. They’re going to be expecting a Yakiir crew on this vessel and may even send over specialists to finish programming the second weapon. If they do, we have to be ready to put up a false front for as long as we need to.”
Wuu shrugged indifferently. “A uniform does not make the man or his Clan,” he stated confidently. “And it will be nice to have new armor and weapons, for a change.” Pulling a long chain from around his neck, he showed Adam a complex, circular medallion consisting of finely interwoven, crosshatched metallic strands, similar to mesh but made of carefully honed steel. Upon its surface two thin, crescent moons rested side by side, one slightly lower than the other. “My wife gave this to me when we married,” he said with glowing pride. “I wear it above my heart always. It is how I keep my head during the tough battles, by reminding myself that one day I might be able to go home again and serve only her. It is the only thing I need to wear and keep with me.”
Examining the piece carefully, Adam smiled. “This looks very, very old.”
“It is. It is a simple creation, one that has been in my wife’s family for at least nine generations. More than likely it was cast back when our clan held a brief foothold on some long forgotten world. To most it isn’t much beyond the common metal that comprises it, but to me it is a precious piece of Crasel history because of when it was made and who it comes from.”
Nodding with understanding, Adam watched him replace the chain around his neck. “How do you think the Zaketh will feel about wearing the uniform of a Yakiir? Will they object to it?”
“I think they will do whatever Snee Vasten tells them to,” decided Wuu. “He is a good commander and his men trust him. I sense that many of them would have preferred it if he had been the Captain of the Pyrhh.”
“That’s what I thought.” Adam slapped Wuu firmly on his good left shoulder. “Relax. We’re going to make it through this and get you back to your family.”
“Of that I have no doubt. I believe you can do anything you say you can, Adam Roh.”
* * * * *
In preparation for the missile detonation, Adam made certain that the largest of the Ali Rinai’s navigation telescopes was focused directly on the target star. It took him a few minutes, but in the end he managed to hook its output into the ship’s video system so that he, Snee Vasten and the four Crasel could watch from the Command Center. The video feed was also available on other shipboard monitors in the Mess Hall, engine room and other common areas. The quashing weapon’s first stage was surprisingly simple – its rocket engines fired and moved it to optimum range, then shut down again once a stable orbit around the hot yellow sun was established.
Waiting for the next step was exhilarating, since no one watching from Command had ever witnessed the use of this type of weapon. The six men all wore their crisp, brand new black Yakiir uniforms trimmed with green and stood patiently waiting and watching next to the biggest monitor they could find, wondering if they would be able to tell when the warhead in the nose cone detonated. After all, without more information regarding how it functioned there was no way to determine just how long a pause there would be between the weapon’s detonation and the star’s subsequent reaction. No one among them knew, after all, what specifically was supposed to happen once it went off.
“Do your people understand the warhead’s composition?” asked Snee Vasten curiously. “Have you determined specifically what kind of explosive force is generated upon detonation?”
“No,” Adam told him with tight-lipped anxiety. “I noticed during my analysis of the second missile that much of the material within the nose cone is composed of elements that likely do not exist within this universe. The Kuth undoubtedly brought it with them from theirs.” His fingers drifted to the pants pocket of his uniform. “I shaved off some of it so that my brother can analyze it, but that will take some time to complete even after he receives the sample.”
“This whole thing kind of makes me wonder what other surprises they have in store for us,” observed Arte Kasik. Together they stood and watched the image of the star, as transmitted from the ship’s telescopic observatory, patiently for another half hour or so. And then the crucial moment finally arrived.
“Detonation occurred five seconds ago,” Adam declared suddenly, watching rows of statistics fly by on the HUD display still projected on the inside surface of his right eyeball. “The weapon just generated some sort of massive, electromagnetic pulse with readings that are completely off the standard scale. Whoa…!”
He trailed off as the results of what they had just done became instantly clear. One moment the star was a bright golden orb sitting in the midst of a massive, pervasive nebula with roiling purplish dust clouds containing leftover matter from other stars long since demolished. The Ali Rinai held position at a safe distance after having fallen stationary in a remote area where the navigation telescope’s view was only partially obscured. Then, in the next moment, a devastating transformation began.
While they watched, the entire eastern hemisphere of the star abruptly collapsed inward, forming what looked to be a massive crater, as the leading edge of the electromagnetic pulse from the quashing weapon struck its target. Immediately a series of large, continuously expanding finger-like tendrils exploded outward from the star’s western hemisphere, colossal bundles of white-hot stellar material that expanded and then curled away from the point of impact. There were thousands upon thousands of fiery prominences of varying sizes – and it was truly an astonishing sight to behold. The weapon’s pulse lasted only a brief fraction of a section, allowing the eastern hemisphere to rebound back to its normal size soon after. And yet, in that single brief instant when the star was so savagely assaulted, the nuclear furnace burning bright and hot at its center was punched so severely in its gut that it completely lost its natural cohesion.
It was obvious to Adam that the quashing weapon had reached all the way to the star’s core, disrupting the vast majority of the fusion taking place there and pushing the hottest, most active portion of the sun toward its western corona. Immediately, the remaining material comprising the outer seventy percent of the star’s general mass collapsed inward, filling the sudden void at the center and triggering a blinding explosion that completely filled the small computer screen with a light so brilliant that it forced everyone in the Command Center to shield eyes and look away. Adam touched keys on the workstation’s keypad, zooming out by several magnification factors, yet still could see only a blinding field of white light that continued to expand in all directions. For just a moment, colored dots danced across his temporarily blinded vision.
“Mott’s Ghost!” gasped Janney Stox, gesturing almost frantically to ward off any perceived evil spirits that might be lurking about. He had moved over toward one side of the Command Center and was now looking out the windows. “Take a look at this, fellows!” he suggested, pointing toward a suddenly iridescent, golden shimmering easily visible far off in the distance. “I can see it without the telescope!”
Adam moved over to stand next to him, watching the tiny, distant explosion continue to swell steadily outward. “We shouldn’t even be able to see the star at this range,” he pointed out to the others. “There’s so much dust in this nebula, its rays normally can’t penetrate this far out and still be visible to a human eye. Not even as the traditional twinkle. The telescope, on the other hand, gathers considerably more light and is specifically constructed…” He trailed off in awe, watching the nebula’s dust clouds begin to light up in a variety of colors. Bright crimson and orange glows began to slowly transform the purple and azure clouds into brighter, more actively heated pockets of dust.
“What happens next?” asked Tran Wuu inquisitively, his gaze locked on the captivating phenomenon.
“The nose cone from the missile is gone,” Adam informed him. “It was destroyed in the initial detonation. But the main body of the missile is still out there, collecting energy from the stellar explosion and using it to strengthen a protective shield that keeps it safe from the radiation excesses. As soon as the weapon believes itself to be safe it will divert some of that energy toward creating a Point-to-Point wormhole. One end of the transit window will open in close proximity to the weapon, while the other end… well, let’s just say we have no way for certain of knowing where that will be. Only that the location in question is extremely far away from here.” His gaze shifted toward a stunned Vasten, who also watched the event with undisguised fascination. “Are we ready for the next step?”
“Yes,” the Zaketh replied with a confident nod, pointing toward the communication console. “If your changes to communications function as promised, we should be able to convince any approaching ship that this is still a Yakiir vessel under the command of Captain Barrek. The hole in our starboard side should actually assist with our deception – our having just fought a battle, sustained damage and suffered injuries will do well to explain away any minor discrepancies and missing crew members. Why… what do you expect will happen next?”
“I am hoping that at least one ship from the other side will come through and supply us with additional information,” Adam told him expectantly. “If we’re fortunate they will want to travel somewhere, hopefully to one of the home worlds. If we are ordered to escort them, that would suit me just fine as we would get to see a so-called ‘foothold system’ up close and map it. However, even if they order us to proceed to our next target we should still be able to gather the information we need.”
“How?” Vasten was genuinely curious, since Adam had been deliberately vague about their next move.
“Because the programming for missile number two is incomplete,” noted Adam with a wry smile. “That tells me at least part of our next objective is contingent upon the success or failure of this one. If the ship or ships that come through leave us here to continue on to target number two, they should at least tell us what to do in order to obtain the rest of the programming for our second warhead.” He shrugged. “If they don’t, that means we’ll be expected to rendezvous with another Yakiir vessel prior to moving on to our next target.”
“I don’t like this idea,” grumbled Cren Hollis under his breath. “Meeting up with other Yakiir vessels sounds like a good way for the Yakiir on board to have their loyalties tested.”
“Believe me, meeting up with one or more additional Yakiir warships isn’t my favorite option either,” Adam admitted reluctantly. “I’m hoping this Caucus is as methodical as its reputation and that they’ve got everything planned out for this mission. So far all indications are that they have done exactly that.”
On the screen, there was almost nothing left of the original star except for a lengthy, oblong cluster of shattered, stellar material consisting primarily of hydrogen and helium fuel that was currently in the process of igniting all at once. It looked like the remains of a huge, shattered egg, except now with millions of lengthy, exploding tendrils probing steadily outward from the western hemisphere, demonstrating to everyone watching the immense power of the quashing weapon’s electromagnetic pulse. A steady stream of telemetry continued to scroll by on the inside of Adam’s eyeball, allowing him to monitor the status of the star’s destruction while the Ali Rinai’s crew watched from afar. This was a staggering event to witness, one that he would never forget as long as he lived. It had been one thing to hear stories about the destruction of entire stars within the Wasteland and to view the various nebulae left behind in the aftermath. It was another matter entirely to actually observe massive destruction on that kind of a scale.
“There goes the Point-to-Point activation sequence,” he pointed out to the others. “The wormhole is forming, and the weapon is activating its homing beacon.” He turned away from the window to face them. “Whoever is on the other side will wait for the radiation in the area to subside to a safe level and then send whatever ships are waiting through to our side. It’s time to go to work, fellows.”
* * * * *
It took nearly forty-five hours for the initial surge of the dying star to fade to the point where the crimson red glow of the surrounding nebula clouds faded gradually to a dull orange. Throughout that timeframe, Adam ordered everyone to finalize last minute preparations for contact with the Yakiir and their Kuth allies. Once again, the starboard cargo bay was sealed in order to better protect the final remaining quashing missile. Armor and rifles were disbursed to soldiers in all three clans comprising the mixed crew of the Ali Rinai. On-duty crews rotated in quick, six hour shifts that allowed them time enough to eat and get plenty of rest. It was easy for the new Captain not to worry, since the Science Lab staff back on Tranquility Base continued to monitor data relayed to them through his implant via the Command Center computers. As soon as the signal emanating from the weapon in play changed, he was promptly notified by the current Sentinel on duty.
That proved to be Dr. Karen Simmons, her soft words entering his mind during a quick meal in the Mess Hall. Rising almost instantly, he tossed his nearly empty plate into a large bin and headed for the exit. Tapping the ear transceiver he wore for intra-ship communications, he requested that Snee Vasten and the four Crasel meet him once again in the Command Center. Moving swiftly, he was the first to arrive and immediately directed his attention toward one of the huge windows. There were still a few soft reds to be seen within the nebula clouds, but most of the ferocious glow had long since dimmed back to a dull orange. The star itself would continue to collapse for years, its former, multi-billion year lifespan snuffed out in the blink of a few days by the massive outburst of energy from the quashing weapon.
“What’s happening?” asked Cren Hollis as he and the others entered the large, spacious Command area and its circular row of computer workstations. “What is it?”
Adam’s smile was both nervous and excited. “The weapon just received a response signal from the other side of the wormhole,” he informed them. “Someone on the other side is preparing to cross over. Their ETA is less than five minutes.”
Snee Vasten poked his head in a moment later, nodding affirmatively toward Adam to signal him that all final preparations were complete. “We’re ready,” he stated confidently.
They waited patiently for almost a half hour before the Ali Rinai’s motion sensors detected other vessels in the area. “They’re tiny,” noted Tran Wuu, standing next to a pair of on-duty Zaketh, also watching over their shoulders. “One, two, three…” he trailed off as the small ships continued arriving, but in bunches this time.
“Fighter cover,” guessed Vasten with a smirk. “That’s what I would do if I were them… I’d first make certain that the area was secure before flying any valuable assets into it.”
To allow for proper study of the star’s destruction over the past few days, there were several different settings programmed into the telescope. Adam reached out impulsively and activated the camera feed that was locked onto the transit wormhole’s location. Tiny moving dots were clearly visible, and – his curiosity getting the better of him – he remotely adjusted the telescope, ordering it to zoom in closer on its target coordinates. “Would you look at that?” he gasped with astonishment.
The small ships did indeed appear to be fighters, but they were also unlike anything he had ever seen before. Each of them was shaped like a flying, four-fingered claw with its palm facing down. Everyone studied the sinister, gray-hulled fighter craft curiously along with the bright green alien markings painted on their outer hulls. Arte Kasik shot Janney Stox a dirty look, pointing a stabbing, accusatory finger at the talented but superstitious warrior. “Don’t say it,” he cautioned sternly.
“I can’t help it, mate,” countered Stox with a frightened, nervous laugh. “Mott’s Ghost, but that’s a sight.”
“There are at least three dozen fighters,” Vasten informed them a moment later. “More contacts. At least two larger vessels are coming through now. Three, four, now five…” He trailed off, watching the larger targets on the motion sensors trundle along after the speedier, smaller fighters. “Nine capital ships in total, similar in size to this one. That’s quite a convoy they’re running out there.”
“Why would they do this?” asked Hollis with sincere curiosity. “Why would they go to all this trouble to move so many ships and people over to our space? Wouldn’t it just be easier to steal our resources and return them to their home?”
“Their home is dying, almost gone by now,” responded Adam grimly. “Long, long ago traffic through these wormholes may have gone both ways, but probably not for tens of thousands of years now.” The image of Bok’s dream and a sky with only a small sprinkling of stars here and there returned. “They must have estimated that there was only a hundred thousand years or so left for them to act, and so they came up with a plan that would take about half of that time to complete. They came here intending to escape to a new home, one much younger than their own.”
“What do the larger ships look like?” wondered Arte Kasik, peering over Adam’s shoulder at the image transmitted to them from the telescope.
Adam shifted the zoom outward a little more, revealing more and more of the area now populated by moving ships. “They look like blocky, rectangular bricks of various sizes all stacked on top of one another… a lot like… this one,” he declared with a dark chuckle. “Are you guys starting to see where the resources for your never ending war have been coming from?” He noticed the look of concern on all of their faces – even Snee Vasten looked shocked. That was when he felt the first touch of Karen Simmons’ unseen presence in his mind. [“Thomas wants you to run a detailed scan on all of those ships, but the fighters in particular,”] she informed him. [“When they draw closer, look out a window and study them. Your enhanced eyesight will pick out more details than normal vision with the implant’s assistance.”]
[“What would draw that much of his curiosity?”] asked Adam silently. The others remained completely unaware of his sudden interaction with his friends back at Tranquility base. Currently they were too busy watching the area’s newest visitors move steadily closer to the Ali Rinai.
[“He’s wondering if their weaponry is standard bullets and rail pellets, or whether or not they’ve managed to weaponize a version of their pulse weapon over and above a missile warhead. If that pulse weapon can be fired from those ships, your vessel could be destroyed in the blink of an eye.”]
[That is an excellent question,”] Adam admitted with concern. [“I will try and get an answer for you.”]
[“Thomas also wants to set up a private, shipboard transit in your quarters at the next available opportunity,”] she told him. [“He is very interested in the unknown material you found in the warhead.”]
“That’s it,” Vasten spoke up suddenly. “Nine larger ships in total have moved through the wormhole, and another squadron of fighters has emerged to cover their rear.” He glanced up at Adam, completely confounded. “Nine ships and a couple of fighter squadrons… that’s it? What kind of people would destroy an entire star simply to move a total of nine large ships into our space? That’s totally insane.”
“Try looking at it from their point of view,” shrugged Adam in response. “These ships hold a couple of hundred people each, and there are nine of them. Let’s estimate 2,000 people per trip. My friends believe that they’ve been at this for more than 46,000 years, destroying approximately four to five stars per year, on average.” He shook his head with disgust. “If you do the math, theoretically they could already have moved more than four hundred million Kuth into the Wasteland. And that’s not counting the front end of this project, during which time they were destroying stars on their side of this ‘bridge’ of theirs to get here.”
“Your numbers are assuming a maximum of nine ships comes through during each explosion,” Tran Wuu pointed out. “How long can that wormhole stay open?”
“As long as they can drain enough power out of that exploded star,” concluded Adam, shifting his gaze toward the science workstation. “If this is indeed everything that’s coming through, then it will no doubt shut down very soon. You can bet they have defenses in place and waiting on the other side, just in case.”
Snee Vasten turned toward Adam, clearly puzzled. “I still don’t completely understand,” he admitted with his usual frankness. “The history of the clan wars in this spiral arm is pretty well documented from generation to generation. All of the clans used to fight each other with equal ferocity, and all of them used to quash stars in order to deny resources to other clans and prevent them from establishing footholds in suitable star systems. Why is it only recently in our history that the Kuth threw their support solely to the Yakiir when they could have done so way back in the very beginning?”
The point caused Adam to think carefully before answering. “I’m only speculating,” he said finally, “but for the majority of this project, the primary objective seems to have been to move ships and resources into your space. Thus backing one clan would actually slow the process. Providing resources, including quashing weapons, to all clans allowed them to speed up the transfer of personnel and resources from their side. Whenever any of you quashed a star, their end of the wormhole probably appeared in the same place, probably nearby their home world. If they had convoys like this one that were prepped and ready to go, then they simply moved through each time there was an opportunity. With Point-to-Point technology available, who cares where in the Wasteland they emerge? The Caucus has been monitoring and manipulating the entire war from the beginning, using the battles between your people to shrink the humanoid population here while theirs steadily increases.”
A loud bleeping noise suddenly sounded from the transceiver attached to Snee Vasten’s belt. He cussed and removed the device, studying its small screen and the flashing red lights curiously. “Someone is already trying to open unauthorized communications with the newcomers,” he told them, swearing loudly. “I think it’s only one person, but it could very well be more than one.”
Adam smiled reassuringly. “Take the men you need and go get them,” he ordered, watching the other man nod firmly. “The computer will identify their location in seconds and automatically relay the data to you.” Vasten continued cussing angrily as he vanished swiftly back out into the main corridor.
“How is this going to work?” asked Janney Stox curiously. “Blazes mates, if we are betrayed from within we have no chance. Sooner or later, someone from an enemy ship is going to want to board this one.”
“That’s not your problem soldier,” snapped Adam. “Allow us to do our jobs.”
Stox studied him respectfully. “Aye sir. I’m just a little rattled by all of this, if you know what I mean.”
“Believe me,” Adam told him. “I know what you mean.”
An alert sounded from the communications board, notifying him of an incoming transmission. Touching the workstation’s keyboard, he used the language translator from his implant to decode the message. You are ordered to pull alongside the lead ship in our convoy and dock with us for inspection, he read silently to himself. If your ship is up to the task, we will send you on to your next target as scheduled. Reply with all standard identification protocols and security codes within five minutes or you will be fired upon.
“What is it?” asked Hollis, noticing the tight lines of his face.
“They want me to answer with the proper security codes or they’re going to start shooting at us,” he said, doing his best to keep his friends informed. “That’s no problem, since I was able to decrypt the data they’re expecting right out of the Captain’s personal files. But it also sounds as though they want to send a boarding party aboard to make certain everything here is shipshape.” He shook his head with obvious concern. “I don’t like that idea, but I also don’t want to try and break away from them unnecessarily, because then they will know for certain that something has definitely gone wrong.”
“What do we do?” The blood had drained from Arte Kasik’s face at the prospect of actually encountering any of the Kuth face-to-face. It was obviously not a meeting he was looking forward to.
“For now, we stall,” chuckled Adam. “After that, there are plenty…” He trailed off as another series of electronic chirps and whistles sounded from the console relaying telescope footage to the command center. [“Adam,”] Karen Simmons’ voice sounded in his mind once again. [“Data relayed to us here is showing that something else is coming through the transit wormhole,”]
[“A minute ago that wormhole appeared to have been expanding away to nothing,”] he protested quietly, sending the proper codes as requested by the convoy. Then he moved swiftly over to the telescope workstation and began studying the new telemetry as relayed to the Command Center. Carefully watching the location of the latest transit carefully, he saw suddenly why the wormhole had grown so large.
“What? What is it?” asked Tran Wuu, noticing Adam’s astonished expression.
“Something else came through.”
“What? Another ship?”
He waved casually toward the windows, eyes still studying the information displayed on the workstation’s computer screen. “Take a look for yourselves,” he suggested.
The four Crasel did just that, moving over toward the windows so that they could look out upon the dusty, glowing orange clouds of gas and stellar dust still floating around the dying star, tightly encircled by the larger, cooler purple ones. Except that there was a new, easily spotted shape there now… a dark circle in full silhouette that appeared to be a small dot on top of all the glowing orange dust. Along its eastern hemisphere, a slender silver crescent betrayed the sunlight illuminating the surface area from the opposite side. At first the small group of soldiers refused to believe that they were indeed seeing what they were, in fact, seeing. Then they moved even closer to the windows in an effort to get the best angle. “It cannot be,” gasped Janney Stox. “Mott’s Ghost, tell me what I’m seeing is an illusion of some sort.”
“It’s no illusion,” concluded Adam while moving away from the console in order to join them near the windowed area. “Our convoy from the other side of the wormhole appears to have brought an entire planet along with them.”
Tran Wuu just looked at him and stared. “Maybe they’re not wasting as much of that dead star’s energy as we thought they were,” he commented, exhaling in disbelief.
11: X: Really, Really Bad DiplomacyPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
It took some time, but the crew manning the Command Center eventually managed to turn the Ali Rinai around in a large, curving arc that brought them side-by-side with the sizeable convoy of ships. In order to dock properly with the lead vessel, it made sense to present their undamaged port flank to minimize potential problems. Adam felt better about the matter anyway, because the sight of their badly torn up starboard hull was a discomforting sign that something undeniably bad had taken place prior to the ship’s trip to the nebula. Whoever was commanding the convoy also appeared eager to obtain answers, since they were already waiting once Adam’s helmsman completed the wide turn. As soon as the two vessels lined up alongside one another, a docking ring extended from the Ali Rinai, locking onto the other ship’s airlock.
Snee Vasten and four of his men were already waiting for Adam at the airlock. He handed Adam a small earwig transceiver, requesting that the Captain replace the one currently anchored in his right ear. “This is on a private, encrypted frequency,” he stated curtly. “I’ve already incarcerated three prisoners who tried to give away our position, so it makes sense that I be able to alert you if anything major happens while you talk with whoever is commanding this new fleet. Be advised, try not to lie outright unless you absolutely have to.”
Gratefully, Adam accepted the replacement and switched it out. “Do you think we’re safe letting an inspection team come aboard?”
A wry grin from Vasten was the immediate response. “The time for an immediate departure has long since passed. I don’t think we have any choice,” he replied with a small smile. “They don’t have to do much damage to knock out our Point-to-Point drive. Your Crasel friends are already down in the engine room, getting us ready for a quick run up to transit. They’ll need at least ten to fifteen minutes to prepare.”
“Then let’s hope that nothing major happens while the men from the other ship are here,” he concluded.
“I believe they will strongly suspect that something is wrong,” Vasten predicted. “Outwardly, the ship appears to be severely damaged, all three shuttles are gone, and we have a supply ship docked on the upper hull. At the very least, you’re going to get asked a lot of questions, so you’d better be ready to answer.”
Eyeing his colleague with a raised eyebrow, Adam grinned back at him. “And if we find ourselves in the worst case scenario…”
“Then you had better be prepared to work some more of your magic,” concluded Vasten. “If at all possible, we’ll need to contain the boarding parties for as long as possible and keep them from alerting the ships in their fleet. That’s the primary reason I want to be able to talk to you. Some sort of VIP will likely come aboard to supervise and condescend to you… they always do. No one will want to do anything until they hear from him. Every second we can delay a shooting match will help guarantee a safe escape.”
Through the airlock windows they could see men approaching from the other side. “Don’t let anyone search this ship unescorted,” Adam said, pointing sharply at his acting Executive Officer for emphasis. “Even if it’s informal, make certain that all visitors are watched. They are not to touch anything unless I approve it.”
Vasten nodded in acknowledgement, their time to confer privately at an abrupt end. He worked the wall controls, opening the inner airlock and stepping forward to repeat the procedure with the outer door. The windowed doors parted with a soft hiss, allowing eight fully armed soldiers dressed in Yakiir uniforms to enter. They spread out, four of them on either side of the inner door, and waited for the ninth man to arrive. He did so with a flourish, head held confidently high and eyes blazing with intensity. His face was swarthy and unshaven, hair dark black and pulled back in a tightly tied pony-tail. His build was enormous, and he appeared fully capable of fighting multiple men simultaneously. Adam, Vasten and the other waiting soldiers pressed a palm to their forehead, saluting the newcomers according to protocol. Using his enhanced vision to study their bio-presence, Adam surveyed them closely…
…and swiftly determined that all nine men were secretly Kuth aliens in disguise.
“Who do we have here,” boomed the leader of the newcomers proudly, glancing around at all of the strange faces. “I’m looking for a Captain… uhhm… forgive my bad memory… Captain…”
“Barrek,” stated Adam crisply, stepping forward and bowing slightly. “Captain Saj Barrek, at your service.”
“Ah, I’m pleased to meet you Captain Barrek,” replied the other, also bowing in a polite response. “For the purposes of our visit, you may call me Admiral Deek. Deek is my surname, and all I am allowed to share with you.” He smiled, flashing them the dark malevolent leer of someone not to be trifled with. “We tried to access your communications logs, but I’m afraid my officers are having some difficulty doing so. It appears you’ve fought a recent battle and taken casualties. We are naturally curious as to who was tragically lost during that… incident.” He studied Adam’s reaction to his news meticulously, carefully gauging his response. “Your Command crew are not responding to our transmissions, even when the proper codes are submitted.”
“As soon as we’re done here, I’ll send my Executive Officer up to our Command Center to take care of that problem for you,” replied Adam with a warm and welcoming smile. “Allow me to present my Executive Officer, Snee Vasten.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Snee Vasten,” grinned Deek, also taking a moment to bow toward the Ali Rinai’s XO. He scrutinized Vasten’s unreadable countenance closely, searching for anything out of the ordinary. “Field promotion?” he speculated. “Our records indicate that this ship’s Executive Officer was one Lih Bok. I hope nothing has happened to him.”
Adam glanced toward the Admiral, doing his best to appear crestfallen. “The battle against our enemy was a terrible one, I’m afraid, and cost us many lives, including officer Bok.”
“Oh?” Deek was genuinely intrigued by the news.
“He died admirably, with honor, while protecting the quashing weapons in our starboard cargo bay.”
The Admiral digested the news silently for a moment. “Captain, unfortunately we have protocols to follow whenever a crossing of this nature is completed. I do not wish to burden you further after your recent battle, but am obligated to ask that you submit to a standard inspection of all key areas on your vessel. Does this present any problems for you?”
Adam shook his head negatively. “None at all. Bring your teams aboard. We’ll allow them access anywhere they wish to look, and my chef will feed you all a decent meal before you return to your own ship.”
Deek loved that answer and laughed delightedly. “My search teams are already here,” he nodded in reply, repeatedly snapping his fingers toward the men on his left and then to his right. “They work in pairs, and will conduct their search while you and I visit some more.”
Vasten appeared surprised. “Don’t you want to bring any bodyguards with you?” he asked inquisitively.
“Oh, I doubt I will need any,” responded the Admiral cheerfully, but his tone was laced with a subtle malice that chilled Vasten’s soul. “We’re all friends, after all.”
Silently, Adam watched the exchange. No, actually you’re a Kuth alien capable of ripping most humans in half with your bare hands, he thought to himself. If the need arises, I’m sure that the nine of you are fully capable of seizing control of a vessel this size just long enough to board additional help. But then I digress…
Deek put a friendly arm around Adam’s right shoulder, guiding him away from the airlock and back out into the corridor. “Walk with me Captain,” he said amiably.
* * * * *
At Adam’s direction, the chef that Snee Vasten had recruited from the Pyrhh prepared an assortment of dishes for the Admiral, including a lightly braised meat that Deek specifically requested be extremely rare. A kitchen aide brought them directly to the Captain’s personal quarters, where the two men decided to meet in private and finish their conversation.
“I don’t eat real meat that often while out in space,” he said by way of explanation, “so when I do eat it, I like it very rare. Sometimes I have the urge to simply devour it raw!” He laughed loudly at his own inside joke while Adam sat by silently, sipping at a cup of hot broth and nibbling on a sandwich. “So tell me,” the Admiral decided finally, touching the tips of the fingers on both hands together lightly. “How did an unmarked Yakiir supply vessel manage to end up crashing into the starboard side of your warship?”
Stiffening in response to the question, Adam smiled dryly. “You don’t waste any time do you?”
“Doing so only inconveniences both of us,” snapped Deek with mild irritation. “What did you do?”
“I followed orders,” shrugged Adam indifferently, acting suddenly interested in his food. He allowed some of the nervousness he was feeling to show through but not all. “I have Captain’s discretion, when I deem it necessary, to take out enemy targets en route to a quashing. An opportunity to destroy an enemy cruiser presented itself and I did exactly that.”
“Your ship is heavily damaged, all three of its shuttles are missing and at least a third of your crew are dead,” the Admiral declared in a sharp rebuke. “Some might call that borderline incompetence.”
“I have recorded images of the warship we destroyed,” replied Adam nonchalantly, with more confidence than he felt. “The Zaketh have pressed our borders recently, but they will think twice before doing so again.”
“You risked losing the quashing weapons to them and got Lih Bok killed in the process. He was one of our most valuable assets out in the field and the Caucus – not to mention me – will miss him greatly.”
“It was his idea to attack the Zaketh and he also volunteered to stand guard in the starboard cargo bay.”
“Oh really Captain Barrek, must you tread down this simple path… that’s quite convenient of you to claim so, since we can’t exactly ask Bok to confirm your story, now can we?”
Again Adam shrugged his shoulders. “We can. I made him put those orders in writing. The official record of our change of orders is in the computer up in Command, logged under his authorization code.”
“Is that so?” The Admiral patted at his lips with a napkin after hungrily devouring his meal and then folded it in half, laying it gently next to his plate. “Are they stored in the very same communications computer that the technicians from my vessel are currently unable to access?” His annoyance and temper were both growing in leaps and bounds, no longer masked by the carefully feigned cheerfulness.
Considering his next words carefully, Adam unexpectedly received help. The presence of another mind touched his and Kaufield softly spoke to him. [“I really like how you’re handling this, my friend,”] his former commanding officer told him sincerely, [“but it’s not in any way going to end pleasantly no matter how well you deflect. That battle was an atrocious mess, and based on what the Admiral has told you, I don’t see how he can possibly leave you in charge.”]
[“I’m open to options,”] Adam thought back, allowing his conversation with Deek to lapse temporarily. His silence only served to infuriate the Admiral even more and it showed plainly on his face.
[“Modifications to the Pathfinder have been completed and we’re working on the crux of a larger plan back here based on what we’ve seen today,”] Kaufield informed him. [“The Kuth are arrogant and impulsive, far too sure of themselves. But they are easily panicked by the unknown, as proven by our chance encounter with the Wasteland ten years ago. They’re paranoid… frightened that their plan will be revealed before it can be completed. So we’re going to use this against them.”]
“If you like, we’ll walk up to Command and I’ll let you inspect Bok’s orders for yourself,” Adam told the Admiral sternly while silently digesting the new information from Kaufield. “I need to check on Vasten anyway, he should have complied with my orders by now.”
“Yes, definitely, let’s do that immediately,” responded Deek with barely concealed disgust, touching his own earwig as he received a transmission. “On the way, perhaps you will explain to me why there is green blood in your cargo bay. Bok would only have reverted to his true shape under emergency circumstances. Explain that.”
“I don’t know why Bok chose to do what he did,” said Adam truthfully, refusing to let the other intimidate him. He stared back at Deek with a glaring intensity and self-assured confidence that noticeably caught the Admiral off guard. “The men he chose to use the supply ship as bait were inept and allowed it to be captured and rammed into my warship. All he cared about was saving the quashing missiles while I remained in Command so that I could save my ship.”
[“Do NOT let him out of that room,”] Kaufield communicated silently. [“We want you to incapacitate and detain all of these creatures… every one of them. Hold them temporarily, long enough for your ship to move away from that convoy and PTP to a safe location. No one on the other ships, fighters included, will act without direct orders from the top, and that particular individual has delivered himself right into your lap. Since they’re all Kuth, he thinks they’re safe amongst the mere humans. Make him pay for that mistake Adam. We need the Caucus to be afraid of us because that will panic them into carelessness.”]
[“How do we get safely out of here? There are NINE capital ships out there, not to mention the fighter escort.”] His mind raced with sudden possibilities. What the devil is Kaufield up to?
[“You’ll find out. For now, take care of the matter at hand, Adam. That’s an order.”]
The Admiral rose to his feet and sneered at Adam. “If you’re lying about even one minor detail in this affair,” he declared with utter contempt, pointing angrily at the human for added emphasis. “I’ll skin you myself. Do you hear me? Did you hear what I said? If you’re lying…”
“Yes,” said Adam softly. “I hear you.” Then he raised his arms and fired his wrist guns at a moderate setting, blowing the Admiral backwards and into the far wall.
Deek’s body was already shifting, changing shape beneath his uniform much more quickly than Bok had reverted. And yet, Adam was ready for him as the Admiral sprang forward on all fours, like a rabid wolf, and leaped into the air in an attempt to clamp his sharp teeth around his opponent’s neck. Another blast from the wrist guns, intensity setting elevated, slammed Deek back against the wall much harder this time. There was an audible crunch from somewhere inside his body, and he landed in a snarl of activity, turning to bite angrily at an unseen injury on his back. “What in blazes is going on?” the Admiral shrieked in a voice that was no longer entirely human, the words barked in harsh, guttural syllables rather than voiced normally. “Who are you?”
“You seem to have miscalculated,” replied Adam vehemently, right before he blew Deek’s head off.
The headless corpse fell to its knees and then collapsed onto its right side, a large pool of blood already forming beneath the neck. What was left of Deek’s head was splattered in dark green against the far wall along with pieces of his skull and fragments of brain matter. [“Good Lord,”] said Kaufield, his voice once again speaking to Adam’s thoughts. [“We wanted him incapacitated Adam.”]
[“And just how ELSE would you suggest I go about doing that against NINE opponents?”] he asked, hot emotion still burning through his blood. [“There isn’t a precise series of intensity settings for the wrist weaponry, and I don’t exactly have the time to use him as a test subject to determine the percentage needed to knock him unconscious. Did you notice that he was ready to report in to his ship using his own earwig?”] He paused to let Kaufield think but his confidence never once wavered as he walked over to Deek’s body and stood looking down at it. [“Take a closer look at this guy – these Kuth look as though their strength could break through even steel shackles. I won’t have more men die because they’re trying to restrain prisoners who cannot be restrained. If it came to gun violence, I’m not even certain grenades would slow these guys down.”]
Touching his ear transceiver, Adam exhaled in a calming effort aimed at reducing his anxiety. Once again, his hands were shaking almost uncontrollably. “Vasten, can you hear me?”
“This is Vasten.”
“Are those men who boarded this ship done with their search?”
“Affirmative. I asked them to wait in the Mess Hall, where they’re currently eating everything that our chef sets in front of them. They want to speak with the Admiral as soon as possible.”
“Please escort all of them to the port cargo bay. Tell them that the Admiral and I plan to meet them inside in less than ten minutes. I want to show them something.”
Vasten noticeably hesitated, sensing something was amiss. “Aye. I will pass along your message, Captain.”
Adam sat down on the edge of his bed for a moment, steadying his frayed nerves and preparing himself for what was to come next. With Kaufield’s voice in his head urging him to be careful, he took one last look at Deek’s still bleeding body and then headed out into the corridor. [These guys hate our guts Mr. President… have you noticed? I feel it only fair to warn you that I’m starting to hate THEIR guts too.”]
* * * * *
Snee Vasten was already waiting for him when Adam arrived at the port cargo bay’s exterior hatch. There was still a great deal of debris and charred spots to be found in the main corridor, along with the usual bullet holes after the fierce battle so recently fought there. Ignoring the deteriorated condition of the ship, Adam’s eyes found Vasten’s. “Are they in there?” he asked, watching his XO nod in response. “Alone?”
“Yes, except for two of my men. They figured they may as well take a look in there, too, while waiting.”
Adam nodded and vanished inside the open hatch. Seconds later, Vasten raised an eyebrow as both of his men were escorted out by the newly christened ship’s Captain. Adam glanced at him for an instant with a look that would have melted stone. “Stay here, and lock this hatch behind me. Do not open it until you hear specifically from me.” He pulled the hatch closed behind him and heard it being fastened securely in place. Satisfied that things were under control, he turned and surveyed the cluttered cargo chamber.
Most of the boxes and barrels had been overturned. It was clearly obvious that weapons and grenades had recently been used in here too. Dried, rust-colored blood stains were visible across most of the deck plating, and Adam ruminated on those details briefly, noticing just how quickly this ship’s formerly squeaky-clean interior was fast becoming a mirror of the Pyrhh. Taking a few cautious steps farther inside the bay, he peered around a tall stack of broken crates, noticing that the contents were primarily grenades and ammunition belts. He was still standing there, examining the spilled cargo, when the first of the transformed Kuth attacked him. As expected, they suspected all along he was laying a trap and were simply waiting for him to show himself.
The Kuth easily leaped over the boxes, landing in front of him and squeezing his head between its hands, crimson eyes blazing spitefully into his own. Adam watched it curiously, especially the snapping jaws that barked defiantly at him as it tried to crush his skull. The corded muscles in its arms tensed noticeably as it applied as much pressure as it could, to no avail. Adam’s defenses absorbed the incoming pressure and easily disbursed it. Puzzled, its muscles tensed more tightly as it tried once again to squash his ears together.
“What’s the matter?” he asked curiously, studying the snarling, wolf-like head glaring defiantly at him. “Cat got your tongue?” His wrist guns fired with a high-pitched electronic whine, twin energy pulses flashing into the alien’s torso and blowing open a huge hole. The instantly eviscerated body flew straight backwards, following the path of its smoldering entrails, only to land heavily at the base of the tall stack of cargo containers.
“Die human nehrub!” yowled a second Kuth as it traversed the short distance between Adam and a large stack of barrels while running briskly on all fours. Its front claws created audible scratching noises as they raked across the metal flooring, and the beast’s booted back feet launched it into an attack that was meant to bowl its victim over and toss him helplessly on his back. Instead, the creature landed helplessly against Adam’s protected body, all of its forward momentum immediately absorbed and harmlessly abated just like before. Gritting his teeth angrily, Adam used his weapons to blow an even larger hole in this alien too and then effortlessly tossed it on top of its dead colleague.
“What’s the matter?” he shouted loudly, searching the room for additional targets. Keeping his back to the exterior corridor wall, he moved sideways along the cargo bay and away from the crates and barrels. “Do the Kuth truly fear one small, helpless little human?”
Two of them dropped down from somewhere high up above, landing on either side of him. They reached out and tried to grab Adam, but he twisted away from their claws, watching the sharp tips spark bright blue flashes of energy against his protective shielding. Uttering bestial howls that were actually closer to high-pitched shrieks, they reached out again, struggling to try and hold him still. Adam used his hands to grab each of them by the throat and squeezed until he heard audible cracking noises, their tongues lolled awkwardly and the red shine in their eyes faded to a glazed orange. Then he dropped them and simply left them lying on the deck.
Another Kuth used the distraction to ease behind him and Adam whirled and dropped to his knees as it charged. It tried to jump over him and land where there was more room to fight, but he instinctively sent a pulse from his wrist guns into its abdomen, catching it in mid-leap and sending it flying across the room, upside down, where it crashed against the metal wall and fell from view. Based upon the howl of rage and shrieking sounds that reached his ears while it landed awkwardly, he guessed that it was severely injured in no small degree. He found it somewhat hard to believe, but his confidence had grown so powerful since his initial entry into the Wasteland that he found himself deciding to take this injured Kuth alive.
Unfortunately for the rest of them, that meant he didn’t need them still breathing.
Wordlessly, Adam returned his attention to the shattered crates and picked up several lengths of strong chain. He swung them over his shoulder and began walking toward the rear of the cargo bay, moving brazenly out into the clear and leaving himself a sitting duck. The sound of the chain links clinking together was unmistakable and impossible to miss as he slowly walked around the main area stacked with cargo to emerge on the other side. He gave the Kuth credit for wising up in a hurry as three of them suddenly popped into sight from behind undamaged crates and opened fire on him with their rifles. Eager to make them feel the same fear and horror that they regularly used to petrify others, he walked directly toward them, golden sparks flying in all directions in a huge, dazzling fireworks show as the bullets from their weapons disintegrated upon contact with his electromagnetic defenses.
Utterly astonished, they stopped firing an instant later, but not before Adam grabbed one of the rifles by its barrel and yanked it from its owner’s hands. He raised it above his head and then brought it down with all necessary force, crushing the skull and instantly killing a fifth Kuth soldier. Pointing one hand at each of the other two, he snapped off quick, high-intensity bursts from the wrist guns and mercilessly executed the pair of freakish alien life forms. He took his time making his way over to the last one, the Kuth that his weaponry had tossed against the far wall. It was still lying where it had landed, unable to move and appearing to be unconscious. That proved to be merely a tactic once he reached it, as it kicked outward with its boots and tried to catch him by surprise. Slapping aside its feet and reaching down to grip the stunned Kuth by its throat, Adam squeezed – a bit more gently this time – until he was certain that this time it had indeed blacked out.
Then he used the chains to truss it up and hogtie it like a rodeo pig.
He stood there for a moment, fear and exhilaration coursing through his blood stream, breathing heavily only because he was trying to better control his mental faculties, not because he had heavily exerted himself. Although he consciously knew himself to be virtually invulnerable, it was still unnerving, to say the least, watching the creatures pop seemingly out of nowhere and try to kill him without a second thought. Visually, they were the stuff of nightmares and the speed at which they moved while on all fours was truly astonishing. The mere thought of it caused him to wonder just how in the world these things could ever be afraid of anything on their home world. [“And yet they are afraid on their world,”] a familiar voice piped up unexpectedly within his thoughts. [“Enough so to build huge walls around their cities in attempts to keep everything else out.”]
[“Thomas,”] sighed Adam with relief, grateful to sense his brother’s presence once again. [“I’m glad that you are here. I really need a brother right now.”]
[“Do you feel better?”] his brother asked with a dark chuckle.
[“Only a little,”] Adam replied crustily. [“But I don’t want to hang on to all of these new defenses and weapons for too long. The rumors that everyone talks about are true. A part of each of us LIKES to kill. Part of me enjoyed that way too much for my taste.”]
[“Adam…”]
[“And then I remember what they’ve been doing to the innocent humans living in this spiral arm and intellect triumphs over the animal.”] He shook his head with disbelief. [“How the hell can these things be afraid of the wild on their planet?”]
[“Isn’t it obvious?”] observed Thomas. [“They have no God. I’ve never seen a better textbook case of pure, Darwin-style evolution in my life. On their sick and twisted world, there is no top of the food chain, no beauty for beauty’s sake, no carefully balanced eco-system. The only things that look pretty are the flowers that need to look pretty in order to attract insects and lower life forms with little intellect. These Kuth have survived simply because they learned how to build huge walls around their version of civilization.”]
[“Fighting them is terrifying, but significantly less so than dreaming about their world.”]
[“I believe you,”] his brother said in response. [“There is no top of the food chain on that world… the only reason those smaller, non-poisonous animals exist is so that the larger predators – like the Kuth and that quilled thing – can eat them, thereby fattening themselves up for creatures like those ten-legged spider things to dine on. It’s only my personal opinion of course, but their world is what ours would look like without Divine Intervention.”] He seemed to sense his brother’s ongoing anxiety. [“The immediate danger is over. Why don’t you try relaxing a little bit?”]
[“I won’t relax until this ship is safely out of this convoy.”]
[“We can help with that,”] declared Thomas proudly. [“Do what you have to do to break away from the convoy and then contact me again. Trust me Adam, we will have help ready by then.”]
* * * * *
Adam was up in the Command Center, preparing to move the Ali Rinai away from the convoy, when Snee Vasten arrived. He studied Adam curiously, with obvious newfound interest, still somewhat astonished by the recent turn of events. “I don’t know who you really are, where you come from or how you can do the things you do,” he said slowly, expression grim. “But I’m really glad I met you. You make me feel like we’re actually accomplishing something significant here in the Wasteland.”
“We are accomplishing something significant,” countered Adam, glancing at his friend. “Has everyone on duty taken the time to look at what those things really are?”
“Yes,” Vasten replied. “All my life I thought I was fighting a war against other men who hated me as much as I hated them. The harsh reality you have shown us is far more troubling, to say the least.”
“Are they ready?”
“Except for the two that you strangled to death. We put them in the Mess Hall freezer next to Bok. The other seven have all been secured in the Captain’s escape pod, just like you ordered. Why do you want the other two… you’re not starting some sort of weird trophy collection, are you?”
“Now there’s a thought.” Adam smiled wryly at Vasten’s joke. “Did that pod really have PTP technology?”
“Yes,” Vasten confirmed. “My men removed the transit drive and drained the pod of fuel. It will go nowhere when dropped… all you have to do is release it from the navigation console over there.” He pointed toward the center of the computer row, at the main console holding all of the ship’s maps and detailed navigation databases. “Your idea is a good one. It is quite probable that we can adapt the PTP drive and install it on the supply shuttle. As soon as I can spare a few men, I will assign them to do just that.”
“Good.” Mentally, he had been discussing options with Kaufield and his brother for almost ten minutes while the surrounding crew prepared the ship for an escape run. He turned toward the officer currently on-duty at navigation. “Fire the thrusters and take us away from the convoy.”
The tall, mason-jawed Zaketh studied him, perplexed. “While we’re still docked?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Adam told him. “Make certain we pull out ahead of the vessel docked with us. It’s the lead ship in the convoy and will shield us from the larger trailing vessels.” He was looking out the windows, watching all of the tiny, moving dots flying through the orange and purple clouds. “Those fighters could prove troublesome if they decide to engage us,” he mused thoughtfully before discarding the thought and studying the other three men in Command. “Stand by for transit as planned in five minutes by my mark. We’ll escape to target ‘A’, then transit to targets ‘B’ and ‘C’ in quick succession as fast as ship’s systems allow. When we emerge, we’ll be at least a dozen light years from the nebula and they’ll be unable to track us.”
“Thrusters firing,” noted the square-jawed officer, watching the gray metal hull from the other ship on the left side of the windows vanish as the Ali Rinai executed a low speed turn to starboard. The hull rumbled for a brief few seconds and he smiled upon feeling the deck vibrate beneath his feet. “There goes the docking collar, gentlemen. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Unsurprisingly, the communications console instantly lit up like a Christmas tree. Flashing red and yellow lights blinked for attention, but there was only silence as the AI-programming automatically detected and suppressed the call, routing it directly to Adam’s implant. He accepted the message and used his thoughts to grant acceptance authorization. “Yakiir cruiser,” someone from the convoy shouted loudly, his voice crackling with mild electronic distortion as it echoed through Command from a console speaker. “Stop at once. You are ordered to hold position until our boarding party has returned safely to this ship.”
“Continue accelerating to full velocity,” Adam said confidently. “Hurry, before the larger ships decide to follow, Mr. … ahh… Mr. …”
“Gadin,” the officer told him steadfastly. “Dru Gadin, at your service.”
“Yes you are Mr. Gadin,” nodded Adam with a chuckle. “Continue increasing speed.” He moved over to the communications console and keyed in several commands. “Convoy commander, you should know that we have temporarily detained Admiral Deek and his boarding party. Everyone will be released once this ship reaches a safe position. Do not attempt to intervene.”
Snee Vasten was standing next to the Zaketh in charge of motion sensors. “Three of the larger ships are breaking formation to follow us,” he noted cautiously. “At least a dozen fighters are also closing on us while the rest remain in formation to protect the convoy.” His gaze shifted to meet Adam’s and he smiled. “Way to go with that deliberate lie about the Admiral, by the way. They’re going to be absolutely furious when they discover he’s dead.”
“I told them the truth,” replied Adam with a wide grin. “Well, most of it anyhow. We have detained their boarding party, and seven of them will be released in the Captain’s escape pod. I decided to leave out the part that only one of them remains alive.”
“He was a tough one, even shackled in chains,” said Vasten informatively. “We even strapped his jaw shut like you suggested, and it still took nine of us to force him into that pod.” He shook his head with frustration. “You couldn’t have just aced him too?”
“He gets to try to explain to the rest of them specifically what happened over here,” Adam said with a self-satisfied smile. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”
Vasten was understandably confused. “A what?”
Waving a hand, Adam shook his head. “It’s a language barrier thing.”
The communications console continued to play incoming messages. “Yakiir cruiser, you are ordered to cut your engines and return to fleet formation immediately. I repeat, cut your engines and return to the convoy or you will be fired upon.”
Adam continued watching the navigation console sternly, willing their ship to move faster as though his mind alone could make that happen. My thoughts can do quite a bit these days, he thought silently to himself. Unfortunately, moving this colossal hulk doesn’t happen to be one of them. He looked out the array of forward windows, watching a pair of the sinister, claw-shaped fighters zoom past them at high speed. Neither of them dared fire with the Ambassador still on board, and he was counting on that trend continuing for another precious few minutes. He transmitted additional mental commands to the artificial intelligence program still running communications, ordering it to respond to the non-stop incoming messages. As soon as the lead ship accepted the Ali Rinai’s transmission, Adam chose to say nothing. Instead, he ordered the AI to decrypt the convoy’s military communications. Seconds later, the AI retrieved the access codes to all fleet communications and began monitoring them too.
“They’re in shock now, primarily due to the fact that no one is supposed to be stupid enough to do what we’re doing,” pointed out Vasten. “The cruisers following us won’t get close enough to disable our engines prior to transit, but the fighters can do so at any time. And they will as soon as whoever’s in charge over there connects all the dots and concludes that the Ambassador is no longer with us in the land of the living.”
“Keep us out of the cruisers’ firing range,” he snapped in response. “I’ll handle the rest.”
“I can’t wait to see how,” noted Vasten, expression completely unreadable.
A small smile played across Adam’s features, but he was busy sorting through the AI-program’s intercepted communications, waiting for the transmission that he knew would eventually be sent. On the navigation console, the alien digits marking their countdown to transit ticked down to less than sixty Earth seconds. “They’re getting ready to transit,” one of the fighter pilots stated brusquely, reporting back to the convoy. Three more of the small fighters cruised past the port bank of windows. “It’s going to happen any moment now. Do we fire or hold? Repeat, do we fire or hold?”
“Blaze Leader, you are authorized to fire on that cruiser,” replied the familiar voice from the lead enemy vessel. “Use all necessary force to disable its engines and strand them here. Do not – I repeat – do NOT allow them to escape – the Admiral is still on board.”
“Acknowledged Home Base. Blaze Leader acknowledging.”
Adam held up an index finger and then pointed at Dru Gadin. “Now!” he commanded sharply, watching the officer move to comply. “Release the Captain’s escape pod.”
“Escape pod has been successfully dropped,” observed Vasten only seconds later. “Three fighters have dropped back to protect it, while the other nine continue to pursue us.”
“They have orders to fire on us,” acknowledged Adam, tight-lipped and anxious. “That’s about to change.”
As he spoke the words, the motion sensor console barked out electronic warnings, one after another. Vasten studied the active blips on the board and turned to stare at Adam with clear astonishment. “Two more vessels have emerged from transit,” he announced, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “They’re of a kind unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” He whistled under his breath, watching them on the monitors as they grew rapidly from the size of small dots while swiftly closing the remaining distance. “And remarkably fast.”
“I know.” Adam moved to stand next to the forward windows, smiling as he watched the easily recognized profiles of the Ranger and Corona pass by them, their powerful, rail gun turrets already firing protective bursts past the Ali Rinai.
The two durable, all-purpose shuttles were built for cargo but armed for combat as well, manned by the same trained pilots who had served so well on the Pathfinder’s original mission. They slowed to a crawl in front of the approaching alien fighter craft, protective bullies daring their enemies to approach. There was a brief exchange of gunfire as both shuttles opened fire on the enemy fighters. The Kuth responded by firing some kind of exploding projectiles, but everything that was shot at the two larger vessels simply disintegrated far short of their intended targets.
Frustrated, one of the pursuing fighter pilots tried to move his craft in closer and took the full brunt of a point blank, precision targeted rail gun shot, exploding in a fiery blast of burning fuel and fragmenting hull pieces. The three pursuing capital ships from the convoy tried their luck next, launching at least six missiles that instantly began searching for heat. They homed in on the Ali Rinai and columns of dark smoke trails rocketed through space toward the large warship. The Ranger and the Corona responded by flying past the Yakiir cruiser and dropping dozens of flares that distracted and confused the missiles’ targeting systems before detonating them prematurely. Then the shuttles turned their rail guns on the cruisers themselves, forcing all three to bank sharply away and withdraw with huge, newly-punched glowing holes in their outer hulls.
Snee Vasten had moved away from the motion sensor console to stand near the monitors, intently studying the streamlined shuttles as thick blotches of crimson and orange fire continued to blaze brightly from the long barrels of their dorsal gun turrets. “Who are they and how are they managing to defeat even smart missiles?” he inquired curiously. “Guided missiles are extremely rare here and, since they home in on active heat sources, almost always lethal.”
“Those are some of the friends that I’ve been talking about,” Adam told him, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “They’re support ships for a larger starship called the Pathfinder, the vessel I’m originally from. Almost ten years ago, it nearly perished right here in your Wasteland.” He couldn’t help feeling a profound sense of relief upon seeing the welcome, streamlined contours of the two ships.
“How can they stop entire ships and missiles at that distance?”
Adam continued to smile. “Those aren’t just projectile weapons they’re firing, but a much deadlier version called a rail gun.” He brought up an aft image on the console in front of him and studied the image displayed there with interest. “Rail guns are sophisticated firearms that are tough to build without a foothold, weapons with a much longer range than Wasteland guns. Fortunately, my people have a very solid foothold.”
Seconds later, the Ali Rinai vanished into transit in a bright flash of emerald light.
12: XI: A Brief Taste of HomePROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
Thomas Roh watched the golden glow of an active, spherical transit portal form in the center of the Science Lab, expanding rapidly until it was approximately two and a half meters in diameter. He was smiling, because the other end of the wormhole was fixed on a small, private cabin aboard the Ali Rinai. President Kaufield and Noriana Roh stood next to him, waiting with Dr. Karen Simmons as the energy barrier flashed briefly. Then, a dark silhouetted figure appeared, walking toward them and emerging with a grateful smile. Nori rushed forward immediately to embrace her husband, and he put his broad-shouldered arms around her in a giant bear hug. He lifted her off of her feet and swung her around with a relieved laugh. “Hi everybody!” Adam Roh said with an enthusiasm that was diametrically opposed to the mood where he came from.
“Is this really you?” his wife asked tentatively. “It feels like you and not some electronic protection grid.”
“It’s me,” he chuckled merrily. “I can deactivate it in pre-designated safe areas simply by thinking about it.”
“It’s time for a hot cup of coffee along with a serious discussion,” decided the Council President with a huge grin. “I think we’ve managed to pull a few answers together for you.”
“Coffee? How about a hot freaking meal for a change?” replied Adam somewhat crustily. “Is there a burger joint near here? How about hash browns… do you have any of those?”
Noah was standing nearby, next to a pair of lab technicians. “Welcome back Adam Roh,” the friendly alien told him cheerfully. “It’s good to see you in such good spirits after a rough ride.”
“I have to admit that the Wasteland is everything it was rumored to be,” Adam agreed by way of response. “I’ve met some mighty tough folks.”
“Why don’t you follow us to one of the conference rooms and we’ll see what the cooks in this building can rustle up for you?” suggested Kaufield. He shook his friend’s hand warmly, holding the grip long enough to convey his deep gratitude for the man’s incredibly selfless, ongoing sacrifice.
Despite the urgency of the situation, it nonetheless took them a few minutes to follow the President’s advice. Adam was clearly glad to be back in safe territory – if only temporarily – and all of his friends continued to surround him, slapping him playfully and throwing all kinds of questions at him. Thomas, of course, wanted to know if there were any additional patches needed to the implant and his personal defenses. Nori kept cutting him off in mid-sentence, eager to tell him cute stories about Billy and Cassie. Noah was curious if everything was proceeding as planned in regards to his personal comfort, wondering if there was any additional equipment or information that he needed while stationed in the Wasteland. Dr. Simmons was eager to ask him about his emotional state.
Kaufield, naturally, watched the mayhem with undisguised amusement and did his best to gradually guide all of them away from the Sentinel chair and the on-duty technicians. Eventually, the large group of people ended up in the large, adjoining conference room where they could speak privately and without interruption.
“Thank you for sending the shuttles,” Adam stated gratefully at the first opportunity, locating a chair and sitting down in it. “Ah… cushions!” he exclaimed with only slightly feigned admiration. “You people have no idea just how many creature comforts we take for granted in our world.”
“Yes we do,” Thomas countered, his expression clouding. “We’ve all watched you, each step of the way.”
“You can thank Glen for the shuttles,” pointed out Kaufield. “He’s up in orbit and got the Pathfinder’s CAS singularity burning in the cargo hold… it’s inside the ship now. Then he used the projector on the forward hull to open a large enough window for the Ranger and the Corona. A lot of pilots from Nori’s former squadron have been itching to do something, so I sent some boys that were ready to rattle a few teeth.”
“That’s exactly what they did,” grinned Adam. “Those rail guns are nasty in action, and they can shoot accurately at a distance that more than doubles our opponents’ range. You should have seen that convoy turn on its heel and flee when the larger ships started to take damage.” He turned and leaned his head against Nori’s shoulder, noticing that she had pulled her chair up right next to his so she could hold his hand. Hold it? She’s gripping it so tightly it hurts! he noticed wryly.
“I’m going along on one of those shuttles the next time we make use of them,” Noriana declared sternly, casting a dark, ‘I dare you to object’ glare at Kaufield. “Aunt Kari has already agreed to watch Billy and Cassie. They love to stay with her.”
One of the lab assistants appeared suddenly with a large tray filled with donuts, pitchers of ice water and hot coffee, along with an array of mugs and glasses. She vanished for a moment before returning with another tray filled with traditional food choices of all kinds. Adam glanced at her gratefully and smiled, then dug into an omelet eagerly with a long metal fork. Everyone else settled for the water, coffee and donuts. He ate in a room that grew temporarily silent for a few minutes as everyone let him reset his bearings and acclimate himself to the familiar surroundings. “Somebody please fill me in on what’s going on,” he requested finally, waving the fork for emphasis. “What the devil is up with transiting an entire planet? We only studied it for a few minutes, but it looked to us like a world with little or no atmosphere.”
Kaufield laughed at his attitude. “We think that planet is what your second missile is for,” he told Adam. “Your second targeted star is only a couple of transits distant, and in perfect position to move that planet first to its location and then on to somewhere else.”
Raising a curious eyebrow, Adam shrugged. “Where?”
“Probably to a system with a stable star,” speculated Thomas while devouring a chocolate frosted donut hungrily. Adam wondered how the kid stayed as skinny as he did considering the frequent content of his diet. “We know from your experiences that they’ve got at least one ‘foothold’, as your friends call it, and probably more.” He touched a keyboard in front of him and a large screen on the far end of the room lit up with an enhanced image of the planet as it had been viewed from the Ali Rinai’s primary navigation telescope. “There’s a partial atmosphere present, which would normally burn off into open space if it’s left at its current position for any significant length of time. Then the ice would go next – the presence of large, usable water deposits is no doubt one of the reasons it was selected for transit from their side of the ‘bridge’ between universes. But the primary content is unmistakably the plentiful bounty of unknown metallic elements that can be mined there… materials that they need in order to continue producing additional quashing weapons.”
Adam paused in mid-bite. “How the hell can you determine that from a simple telescope image?”
“I sent a Canary probe through a transit portal while your ship was waiting by the dying star,” Thomas explained in his boyish manner. “Glen needed to test the Pathfinder’s singularity along with the portal projector and I needed more information. First the probe went all the way across the transit ‘bridge’ and mapped the Kuth’s home star system. Then it returned and I instructed it to do a couple of quick, planetary flyovers so that we could analyze the object they felt was so important it had to come with them.” He watched Adam’s reaction playfully. “I told you I was planning on sending one, and that it was going to be invisible,” he explained casually. “It’s parked on the bottom of your ship, with fuel to spare in case we need to use it again.”
“I hope the atmosphere and ice burn off of that stinking world,” scowled Adam irritably, feeling awfully full but continuing to pick at the variety of food dishes with his fork. “Anything we can do to throw a wrench into Kuth plans is a good thing.” He watched both Kaufield and Noah smirk in response to his rather negative statement. “What? What are you not telling me?”
“We brought their planet here,” said Noah with a pleased smile playing across his elderly features.
Adam shifted his astonished gaze toward Kaufield. “It’s true,” the President told him. “Their precious planet, the one that they invested all this time and effort in bringing across this transit ‘bridge’ of theirs, is currently orbiting the same sun as Tranquility… our planet. If they want it back… well, too bad. It’s already gone from its entry point and sitting here, countless millions of light years distant.”
“Their Caucus is going to be even more pissed at us than they already are,” Adam predicted.
“Their Caucus is always pissed,” noted Thomas. “Your communications AI-program was monitoring the inter-ship transmissions during and after the battle. It also detected encrypted messages destined for the central Caucus leadership shortly after your first, shortest jump, while you were still only light minutes away from the destroyed star. Apparently this Admiral Deek fellow was a really, really big wheel of some sort and considered irreplaceable. The other Kuth in that convoy are furious.”
Adam found himself much more pleased than he really should have been at the news, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before shifting his gaze to Thomas. “By the way, I obtained a couple of relatively undamaged Kuth bodies for you so that you can examine them. Their throats are crushed, but other than that everything should be preserved. They’re in the Ali Rinai’s freezer.”
Dr. Simmons turned and stared at Thomas. “Why in the world would you want to examine those things?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “They’re the most disgusting form of life I’ve ever seen.”
“Let’s just call it scientific curiosity,” replied Thomas dryly. “I can understand how their skins could evolve with chameleonic properties, but that shape shifting deal is an entirely different matter. Is it biological too, or some form of technology? Can they turn themselves into other, smaller or larger life forms?” He was clearly very interested in the matter. “These are the things I think about in my spare time Doctor. These are the questions that I must have the answers to, Doctor.”
“Well, be certain to let me know if you find out anything interesting,” she told him, wrinkling her nose. “I’m not going anywhere near them. If you start up some kind of Dr. Frankenstein type project, you’re on your own.”
Everyone paused for a moment to quietly digest the significant items discussed so far. Thomas reached for another donut, causing Adam to harrumph at him and shake his head. Noriana grabbed her husband’s hand even more tightly, leaning her own head against his. Dr. Simmons leaned her chair back, arms folded while mentally trying to erase images of the monstrous Kuth. Kaufield and Noah exchanged wary glances, the former preparing himself for what was to come next while the latter waited patiently. Noah was primarily a listener, for the most part, dedicated to non-interference wherever and whenever possible. That was why the alien’s suggestion to bring the alien universe planet into the Proteus galaxy had caught Adam completely by surprise. Just when I think I have the man figured out, he thought silently.
Adam raised a hand to his mouth, managing to stifle a potential burp that would have just been plain embarrassing, considering the circumstances. Satisfied that he had eaten enough to survive another few days on limited Wasteland offerings, he pushed the tray toward the center of the table and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. “I need a destination,” he spoke up unexpectedly, sipping cautiously from a mug. “I believe our next step should be to locate one of these ‘foothold’ worlds. We’re going to need to know where the central leadership makes its home in order to have any hope of stopping the Kuth. They’ve been crossing that ‘bridge’ of theirs for almost fifty thousand years. Who knows how many ships and personnel have come through during that time period? Only nine ships took advantage of the opportunity that our quashing weapon provided, but the wormhole remained open long enough for thousands to come through.”
“Identifying and locating those worlds represents our most difficult task yet,” stated Kaufield bluntly. “Which is why, for a time, we were thinking of ending your mission now, allowing us more time for study.”
Adam stared him down. “Oh come on,” he countered warily. “We can’t just up and quit now…” He glanced from Kaufield to his wife, studying each of their faces. “More innocent people will continue to die!” He slapped his chest with both hands for emphasis. “I’m all suited up and ready to go. I have to go back! I want to go back!” Nori turned her head slightly to prevent him from seeing her smile at his unexpected insistence.
“The Caucus trusts only a few of its members with the location of its home worlds,” said Dr. Simmons. “I was on Sentinel duty when Thomas finished analyzing all of the data you sent back from the Ali Rinai’s main computer. There is nothing in navigation or the communications log to suggest where that warship originates from. We suspect that only Captain Barrek or officer Bok possessed any real knowledge of Yakiir territory, and unfortunately both of them are dead.”
Opening his mouth to protest further, Adam paused upon seeing Kaufield raise a cautioning hand. “Then we decoded those communications you intercepted from that convoy,” the President told him. “There is information there regarding a major military facility of some sort orbiting a dead world… a facility that may hold all the answers we’re searching for. We did get coordinates for that, and it’s on a direct line with the convoy’s transit trail… we’ve been tracking them ever since you abandoned the target one area.”
“Then that’s where I’m taking the Ali Rinai next,” Adam told them firmly. “We’re going to continue to raise hell until we drag these Kuth and their secret agenda out into the sunlight for all to see.” He scratched his head, mildly frustrated. “It would help if I had more support to rely upon than just the Pathfinder’s shuttles. When will the starship be ready to join me in the Wasteland?”
Kaufield shrugged casually. “Theoretically we could go now, but Glen wants to make sure she’s properly weaponized prior to departure. We’re putting rail guns all over her dorsal and ventral hulls.” He glanced toward Thomas, who was still eating donuts, with the mischievous eye of a cat. “Your brother has been adding more to the workload, too, I’m told.”
Refilling his coffee mug, Thomas smiled. “Trust me,” he replied confidently. “Now that we have the CAS singularity contained within the body of the ship, we can generate even more internal power. Everything I’ve submitted on the work chit will pay off in the long run. Glen’s team thinks the latest round of upgrades will take an extra eighteen hours to complete. For me, that’s an irresistible trade-off.”
Adam nodded in full agreement. “That would be just long enough for us to check out that Kuth military facility, anyway.” His mood was rapidly regaining traction. “Can the Pathfinder’s wormhole projector be used to bring the Ali Rinai here, just long enough to send us directly to the area around that facility?”
“Yes,” Thomas stated alertly, without the slightest bit of hesitation. “It’s essentially the same procedure used to send the Ranger and Corona to the Wasteland. The last round of hardware upgrades will not require the CAS generator or the primary projector to be off-line. I’ll submit another request to Glen at the conclusion of this meeting, and we’ll make certain we accommodate you.”
“A single, direct jump from here to the facility will allow us to beat that convoy to its destination,” chuckled Adam with a dark grin. “The beginnings of a plan are forming in my devious mind.” He studied the President thoughtfully. “You stated once that my defenses can be adapted to project holograms, meaning that I can at least seem to ‘change shapes’ if I want to.”
Kaufield managed to suppress a laugh. “Look at you,” he said with a shake of his head. “Our happy warrior, ready to save the entire universe, if need be.”
Placing a protective arm around her husband, Noriana looked sharply at the others. “He’s not going back before we spend at least some time together,” she told them all commandingly.
“Agreed,” Adam spoke up. “It would be nice if I could spend an hour or two with my wife.”
“If history is any indication, you’ll only need a minute or two,” she taunted him, causing his face to redden noticeably. “We’ll spend the rest of the time with Kari and the kids.”
“Geez honey, one of these days, you’re really going to have to put that fighter jock language firmly in your past,” he replied with a firm shake of his head. “You’re a mom now, after all…”
“Okay, it’s settled,” decided Kaufield. “Thomas and I will make certain Glen has the Pathfinder prepped and ready to relay your ship back here and then on to that military installation. They’ll finish with her upgrades while you investigate the Kuth computer systems there.”
Mere moments later, the meeting concluded in a flurry of moving bodies.
Kaufield lingered, holding Karen Simmons in reserve with a cautious wave of his hand. “How do you think he’s doing?” he asked her curiously, his stern expression betraying his concern for a friend.
Her mood solemn, she held up both hands. “His anxiety readings are normal, although he did sound a bit euphoric and that would be normal for someone who is normally hyper in a tense situation. For him it’s a tad unusual; but he does seem to be coping pretty well considering his normally laid back personality.” She wrinkled her mouth, deep in thought. “Sooner or later the full width and breadth of what he’s been through is going to land hard on his subconscious. I urge caution and recommend that you not leave him in combat situations any longer than you absolutely have to.”
“We could replace him now. I offered to take over for him once already.”
“Dennis, we’ve already put Adam knee deep in all of this. I think we have to allow him to see this through,” she continued. “If we don’t, the emotional consequences will be much tougher to live with. Right now he’s made up his mind to save his new friends, and we must help him keep that promise.”
“I’ve already discussed that subject with Noah. When we’re done poking around in the Wasteland, we’re going to bring the Ali Rinai and its crew here to stay,” he informed her. “More than likely the families of all those men and the others in their clans are barely scraping by. The sooner we can help them the better.”
“Remember, you chose him in the first place because you wanted the mind of a scientist watching everything that goes on. I’ll work with his Sentinel to induce sleep once he’s gone back,” Dr. Simmons decided. “He told the crew in his ship’s Command Center that he would be sleeping for seven hours or so. We’ll at least make sure he gets four or five.”
“Relax Doctor,” said Kaufield, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’ve seen a lot of men enter combat zones, including myself. If he was going to react terribly to the experience, noticeable symptoms certainly would have surfaced by now.” He went silent briefly, thinking. “Of course, he hasn’t faced some of the toughest challenges yet… his technological advantages have helped him avoid those. I can only pray that this continues.”
“You and me both,” replied the Doctor.
The President dimmed the lighting, and together they left the empty conference room.
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
Six hours later Adam was standing in the Command Center, carefully tapping a series of navigation commands into the main computer. Thomas’ thoughts were back in his head, feeding him a series of coordinates that would bring the large Yakiir warship into contact with the opposite end of a transit portal whose origin point would be in Tranquility orbit. Snee Vasten was present as were Adam’s four Crasel friends, along with three other Yakiir officers whose presence was specifically requested for this occasion. The Yakiir and the Zaketh continued to have difficulties getting along, and Adam knew full well that the ongoing problems with the Yakiir likely originated at the top of their command. All eight men were watching him closely, and he could feel the stare from the three Yakiir officers burning into his back without looking. Nevertheless, he silently resolved to win them over on this occasion.
“There are very few habitable planets left on which to live in the Wasteland,” he began slowly. “The quashing weapons have truly made survival within this region of space extremely difficult.”
“We already know this,” snapped Kra Wonin, Vasten’s Yakiir counterpart. “You tell us nothing new.”
“I didn’t bring you here to tell you anything,” replied Adam brusquely. “There is something you all need to see with your own eyes. Otherwise no amount of words from me will ever sink in.” He returned his attention to the navigation station and fired the warship’s thrusters, bringing it slowly around to align with the new coordinates that he had spent the last few minutes inputting into the main computer.
“You’re wasting your time,” decided Vasten with a nasty leer toward the others. “They knew the Kuth were among them and simply chose to ignore that fact so that they could continue to serve as officers.”
“And your men assault and murder our women,” replied Wonin hotly. “Is only barbarism of the worst kind to be found in Zaketh space? Judging by the conduct of your soldiers, it would appear so.” He stared intensely at Adam. “And then you name this ship after one of our own to mock us.”
Adam let them heatedly trade barbs for another few minutes, using the time to insure that the vessel was on course toward the target coordinates relayed to him by Thomas. “Why don’t you two try exchanging roles for a while?” he suggested after listening closely to their conversation. “Vasten, you strongly objected to your Captain’s behavior – even calling him inhuman at times due to his arrogance and treatment of others. Yet you served under him willingly as an officer because the alternative was to step down in disgrace and end up right at the front of the shock troop line.”
“I… I truly wish things had been different,” admitted Snee Vasten grudgingly. “Captain Saou was poison.”
“You made the best of a really bad situation, one beyond your ability to change,” pointed out Adam in response, shifting his focus toward Kra Wonin. “I want you to look deep inside yourself and the hearts of your men too,” he cautioned strongly, pointing at the tall, muscle bound warrior emphatically. “If conditions had been reversed and there had been women among the Zaketh, just how much self-control would your troops have demonstrated?” There was no immediate response to his question – Wonin simply glanced down toward the deck plating and said nothing.
The PTP flash of emerald light caught them all by surprise as he knew it would. Other than thrusters, the Ali Rinai’s engines were on standby, so no one had really been expecting a transit with the exception of Adam. One moment there were clouds of dimly lit nebula dust floating gently past the observation windows before changing in an instant into something truly wondrous to behold. “Mott’s Ghost!” gasped Janney Stox with wonder and awe, moving with the others to stand near the starboard bank of windows.
To starboard, the planet Tranquility hung beneath them in all its glory, continents and oceans on full display along with a complete array of varying cloud cover. Bright rays of sunshine poked out from behind the planet’s western horizon, lighting up the atmosphere with a reddish-gold aura. For Adam, a planetary view from space was something fairly ordinary. Both he and Thomas had seen pictures of outer space and studied the field since they were adolescents bordering on adulthood… it was a sight that was in no way unusual. For the members of the three clans, however, the view was an entirely different story. Few of them had ever seen a standard, stable star up close, much less a planet that was as habitable and beautiful as Tranquility. For long moments, they simply stared out the windows and admired the sight of it with silent wonder.
“It’s amazing,” commented Arte Kasik, captivated. “I have never seen its like.”
“That’s where I live,” Adam informed them softly. “The planet Tranquility is where I live when I’m not working in the Wasteland. My family lives on that planet, along with many of my people who were also once war torn refugees fleeing from tyranny.” He kept the ship on its current course, holding it stable for a while longer so that all eight of the men could drink in the sight of an undamaged, resource-laden planet. As the warship trundled slowly along, more of the nearby sun became visible. It simply sat there in open space, positioned just above the horizon like a fiery golden orb, its warming rays reaching out to touch the skin of men who had rarely, if ever, felt such radiance. All of them stood there, clearly stunned by what they saw.
“Where are we?” wondered one of the Yakiir officers, his face paling noticeably with sudden fear.
“Suffice it to say that we are very, very far from the Wasteland, but only for the moment,” Adam told them. “I wanted all of you to see this so that you would know for certain that I do not lie. There are many rumors spreading about me, about what I have done and what I am planning to do. You are the source of those rumors and I want the lies to stop. All your lives, the Yakiir have lived in fear of the Kuth, obeying their every command because you had no other option. That has changed, now, and I am giving both you and your people the chance to sever your ties with them.”
Kra Wonin eyed him suspiciously. “How can you alone accomplish this?”
“I am not working alone,” Adam countered firmly, gesturing toward the massive curve of the planet encompassing almost all of the view from the starboard side of the ship. “My friends are down there, working right now to free your people from the Kuth tyranny.” He touched the flight controls, banking the vessel sharply to port and guiding it away from the planet. Now they were angled outward, with the planet firmly behind them, and a wide swathe of bright, twinkling stars cut across the center of the forward window. It was a significantly much better view than Adam could have presented from Earth orbit, because the carefully organized, ring-shaped ribbon of stars stretched out across what seemed like an unending curve before thinning and finally vanishing into a distant point. Everything else in the window was filled with empty darkness.
“How do we know that this too is not a trick of some kind?”
“Use your eyes and take a good look,” suggested Adam emphatically. “Your people have traditionally destroyed stars and planets in a never ending war that has cost countless lives and destroyed precious resources.” He watched their faces carefully as they beheld the broad stripe of stars comprising the artificial, man-made Proteus galaxy with astonishment and wonder. “Here men who are much like you and I have managed to create whole planets and stars out of the very dust clouds that your people are forced to live in.”
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Tran Wuu, completely captivated by the sight. “Never before have I beheld such a view… it is truly a gift that you have given to us this day.”
“Why do you show us this?” asked Wonin curiously. “Do you seek to taunt us with your safe haven while my people remain under control of the Kuth? There is nothing that can break their hold over us. Long ago, many of us tried repeatedly… sacrificed ourselves. It was never enough and the lives lost were many.”
The ship continued banking hard to port, its helm controls responding to Adam’s steady hand. “I once believed as you did,” he told Kra Wonin sternly. “My people were once oppressed by a tyranny just as terrible as the Kuth… oppressors who considered us only tools to be used in their quest for total domination. But we found this place and rescued those who wanted to come.” He tapped several commands into the navigation station, activating the ship’s autopilot and turned to face the men with a confident smile. “Your people can come here to live just like mine have, people from all of the clans would be welcome. And this can happen sooner rather than later. If I can gain your cooperation for just a brief time, my friends and I will rid you, once and for all, of the Kuth threat.”
“They will never allow it,” the third Yakiir officer concluded bitterly. “We serve them as slaves, as meat or both. That is the way things have always been and it is how they will be long after I die.”
“Wrong,” replied Adam with grim determination. Ahead of them, through the port windows, the view of the planet reappeared along the port canopy along with a strange, dark outline temporarily hidden in shadow. The Ali Rinai continued moving forward, and as it grew steadily closer to the strange new shape the familiar, hammerhead shape of the Pathfinder’s primary hull pulled into view.
“Angels among us!” gasped Cren Hollis with profound amazement. “Would you look at the size of that?”
“It’s stunning, and could be a work of art crafted by the magical hands of the Creator himself,” observed Janney Stox, looking first to Hollis and then to Arte Kasik. “What kinds of creatures build ships that are so bold and look so magnificent?”
Adam smiled proudly. “All it takes are men who are just like you and me, Arte. See for yourselves.”
There were other support vessels hovering nearby, including the shuttle Ranger along with several full teams of men and women working in EVA suits. Adam noted silently that the Pathfinder, to his trained eye, actually appeared much smaller without the four large equipment and habitat wings springing forth from her stern. And yet she looked a whole lot meaner too, because he could plainly see the multiple rows of newly installed rail guns along her dorsal hull – weapons that would now give her the immense punch that she so sorely lacked during the escape flight from Earth and the Sol system. Additional guns would also be mounted on the ventral hull as well, but they were currently approaching at an angle that shielded the view.
There was something else, too, that caught his interest. Some sort of new, unfamiliar hardware was affixed to each of the starship’s many utility hatchways. These were the round, fully removable easy-access covers that were normally utilized when moving larger equipment and machinery into and out of the vessel. “What are you up to Thomas?” he wondered curiously to himself, knowing that Glen would only have installed that kind of device after receiving a written directive to do so from the Science Lab. As the Ali Rinai drew closer to the other starship, he noticed that the canister-shaped devices were also present on the side and bottom hatches as well. “What exactly have you got going on up here?”
His eyes still on the Pathfinder, Kra Wonin spoke up. “How can we possibly help you in all of this?” he wondered curiously. “It would seem that you hold every advantage, including long range transit capability.”
“I need you to do two things for me,” Adam told him. “First, tell your men to stop trying to give us away every time we pass vessels like the ones in that convoy. The Caucus already considers you traitors and is sufficiently riled now that their Admiral is dead – none of you can ever regain their trust. They have proven that by sending aboard a party of killers back at the rendezvous… those Kuth were meant to kill everyone on board and retake control of the vessel.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “We’re about to approach a major Kuth facility, and the secrets it holds will go very far in the plan to liberate your people from their clutches. But we will be unable to do so if your people try to transmit messages again and we are forced to initiate jamming. The Admiral was suspicious immediately, and so will be anyone who commands such a military installation.”
“Suppose I agree to this. What would be your second request?”
“We can bring your people here, to live on worlds like this one,” Adam continued, gesturing toward the shining planetary body filling most of the port window. “And it can happen sooner, not later. But first we’ll need to know where those people are. All of the clans keep much of their population hidden in safe zones… this I learned from the Crasel. On my planet we simply opened portals everywhere and let those who wanted to leave do so. In the Wasteland, we will need to know specifically where to open those energy gateways to lead your people back here.” He studied Janney Stox intently. “You want to know how to build a beautiful, streamlined starship instead of a clunky battle cruiser?” he prompted. “Try living on a world like this one for a while and spend most of your time building something instead of constantly waging war on others and destroying things.” A confident smile crossed his face. “I assure you the former is preferable to the latter.”
Kra Wonin was watching him. “How do we know that you can do what you say… that you will indeed keep your word?”
“You can’t know unless you trust me and we work together,” Adam retorted with clear frustration. “That’s why I asked you to give me one week.” He threw up his hands helplessly. “I suppose I could let your men shoot at me pointlessly one more time, or you can try blowing me out an airlock again, but we’ve kind of been through all that.” He pointed at the image of Tranquility shining through the window. “My friends can bring your people here, but not without your help. If you want to be free of the Kuth, you’re going to have to take a chance and abandon them completely. And after all the centuries of non-stop fighting within the Wasteland, I don’t think a request for a few days of truce is asking too much. We have to stop warring with each other long enough to team up and oppose the real enemy.”
“What have you got to lose?” asked Snee Vasten suddenly. “My men raped your woman because my Captain was as twisted and violent as the Kuth. He served as a terrible role model and influenced each of us with his cruel streak. I am better off without him and have gained better control of my men. Those who committed the crime against the woman have already been punished by your people. I did not have to throw them in with Yakiir soldiers, but I chose to as a message for the rest of them.”
“That was… unexpected. We are grateful for that.”
“Look at it this way,” Vasten continued. “Your people hate mine and vice versa, so the violence goes on with only the Kuth benefitting from it. Isn’t it time to accept the opportunity we have been given to free ourselves of their influence? Isn’t that worth at least some risk?”
“There is plenty of room in this galaxy,” added Adam reassuringly. “Each clan can have their own world, far enough away from the others to avoid trouble. You can live the lives you’ve fought for all these centuries. It would make the sacrifice of all your ancestors actually worth something.”
Wonin and his men stepped closer to the port window, taking a much closer look at a planet only imagined in their dreams. All three of them were lifers in space – none of them had ever walked on any world even faintly resembling the wondrous sight that now shone brightly in front of them. “So much water,” one of the three mumbled softly. “Without war, there would never again be a shortage of it.” The third man nodded in agreement and their eyes shifted back to the forward window and its view of the Pathfinder, which continued to grow steadily larger as the Ali Rinai closed in on it. She looked huge and menacing now, a massive vessel capable of inflicting quite a bit of damage. I see only one ship, Wonin thought silently, his gaze drifting to settle on Adam. But he too is only one man, and against all odds he has survived, even against the Kuth, long enough to bring us here.
“I will speak to my men,” Kra Wonin declared suddenly, prompting a small smile from Adam. “If you wish to do damage to the Kuth and their facility, we will not intervene. We will give you the time that you have repeatedly asked us for in order to prove your claims are true. I regret not doing so sooner, but until I saw this place there was simply no way to know whether or not your claims were true. Trust does not come easily within the boundaries of the Wasteland, as you well know.”
“Together we will build a new trust,” predicted Adam, right before the Ali Rinai passed through the Pathfinder’s transit portal. In a brilliant flash of green light, the warship returned to the Wasteland just as swiftly as it had left.
But now it was within striking distance of a very large, significant military installation.
13: XII: The Absence of MoralityPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
Snee Vasten arrived in the starboard cargo bay only moments after the warship arrived at its destination. Adam and his Crasel friends were waiting patiently for him, the former glancing immediately toward Vasten with obvious interest. “Are we in position?” he asked curiously.
“Yes,” nodded Vasten confidently. “All of the external logos on the outer hull have been repainted to match the images we saw on Admiral Deek’s vessel. We’re far enough away from the facility to prevent a close visual inspection, and our damaged, starboard side is facing away. Unless they send out shuttles or other escort craft, no one should notice a thing. That fake communications personality you have running up in Command has already successfully hailed them and received an encrypted acceptance in response. They’ll be expecting visitors, although they were admittedly curious as to why one ship in the convoy chose to leave the others behind.”
“That can easily be explained once we arrive. Or… not explained. Thanks Mr. Vasten.”
Snee held out several black and white photos printed from the ship’s navigation telescope. “Take a look… this installation of theirs appears to be a long, simple pole-shape with a circular habitat ring spinning around the center of it. The whole thing is hovering near a dark, crater-covered asteroid. Estimated crew complement, at least fourteen hundred officers and enlisted men.”
“That’s a lot of people to fight our way past,” grumbled Arte Kasik.
“Relax, our objective on this mission is to minimize confrontation,” Adam replied calmly, flipping through the photos one by one as he scrutinized them closely. “What are these?” he asked, pointing toward a series of white spots barely visible in the asteroid’s shadow.
“Missile racks,” said Vasten grimly. “There are at least three hundred quashing missiles, by our estimates, concealed behind the facility itself. Fortunately for us, only a couple of dozen appear to be armed with a warhead. That would explain why the convoy’s communications traffic went ballistic after you killed the Admiral. I think they badly needed the resources from that planet… a planet that, according to you, is no longer there. I suggest you not be over there when they find out about that.”
“How long do we have until those communications signals arrive here?”
Vasten did the math silently in his head. “I estimate at least ten hours, assuming no other ships are lurking close enough to receive the message sooner. If there are other vessels, they will proceed here immediately upon receiving the convoy’s transmissions. A quick series of PTP transits from a closer location will allow the Yakiir to catch us off guard. Also, as soon as the message reaches a planet or moon-based facility with a high-powered, Point-to-Point transceiver, every Yakiir vessel in the Wasteland will know. There is no way to predict when that will occur.”
“Does this kind of military base have a transceiver like that?”
“Of course. So you might want to keep in mind that, as soon as these people know who we are, the Caucus will know also.”
Buttoning the dress jacket of his Yakiir uniform, Adam frowned deeply. “As soon as you detect anything that seems out of the ordinary or threatens the Ali Rinai, move this ship out of weapons range and transit to a safe location. We’ll find our way back to you, once matters over there are settled.”
“How?” Vasten appeared to be genuinely confused by the statement.
“You’re about to see a demonstration of Person-to-Point transit,” replied Adam firmly, his eyes studying the lone quashing missile still resting in the cargo bay. Like its former companion, this one was also fitted with a functional warhead and all it lacked was the necessary guidance programming. He chuckled at the perplexed look on Vasten’s face. “It’s the same method of travel that allowed me to ‘walk’ back to the engine room after you and your Captain successfully blew me out into space.”
The Crasel were also wearing Yakiir military dress uniforms and fully armed with brand new rifles, something that Vasten took immediate notice of. “Don’t you usually work alone?” he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.
An electronic surge of blue electricity crawled across Adam’s body with sudden loud snapping and popping sounds, gradually shifting and altering his image. His height appeared to increase by nearly six inches, and his facial features transformed into a completely different but easily recognizable humanoid. Vasten felt a slight chill as the face of Admiral Deek turned unexpectedly toward him and smiled malevolently. “Adam Roh works alone,” the new image declared bluntly. “But the Admiral never goes anywhere without an escort. By the time they figure out what’s really going on over there, we should be back on board and long since gone.”
“Let us hope so,” agreed Vasten with an appreciative nod. “Are you certain you want us to just up and leave the vicinity if something goes wrong?” he asked reluctantly. “What if you require assistance?”
“Make certain Kra Wonin keeps his word this time,” responded Adam, choosing to ignore the remote possibility. “If any of the Yakiir whose loyalty he guaranteed should try to signal the facility, the communications AI will instantly activate a jamming network and relay locations to you, just as before. Unfortunately, that will also alert those on the facility and you’ll have no choice but to leave.” He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he couldn’t save everyone. “If the Yakiir betray us again, then I’ve already decided they do not come with us to Proteus when we leave the Wasteland,” he growled irritably. “They’ll have to make a new home for themselves in whatever conditions we leave behind, with or without Kuth.”
In front of him, a huge glowing sphere of golden energy appeared, expanding fast to a size that could accommodate several humanoids at once. “Follow me fellows,” Adam stated with assurance toward the Kuth. He waved a casual hand toward them for added emphasis. “Our destination is the central computer system on that station. We go in search of their remaining secrets.” The face that appeared to be Admiral Deek turned one last time toward Snee Vasten. “Stand by in Command to receive an upload,” he told his trusted colleague. “The AI will process it automatically and begin decrypting everything immediately.”
Nervously at first, and then more confidently, the Crasel followed him into the center of the transit barrier.
Kuth military base, central level…
Thomas opened the other end of the portal in an abandoned cargo bay on board the Kuth facility, since it was roomy, currently drawing no power, and had the best chance of therefore being empty. It was a huge chamber, and the glow from transit offered Adam a brief glimpse of the interior as he and his four friends emerged on the opposite side of the energy barrier. [“Thanks Thomas,”] he thought gratefully in response. [“No one is here and it’s totally dark… this should give us the tactical advantage right from the start.”]
[“Thank the AI-program, not me,”] his brother suggested. [“The artificial intelligence personality is responsible for obtaining specifications of this facility using stolen military access codes from that convoy.”]
The remains of a smoldering wooden crate that was cleanly dissolved by the portal’s appearance crunched beneath their boots.
The first thing they noticed was that the air smelled awful… it was filled with the scent of rotting things. Next the Crasel activated the search lights on the front of their brand new rifles and began angling the stabbing beams of bright light around, illuminating large, leaking barrels and wooden crates filled with supplies. If the men hadn’t known better, the bay could easily have passed for a similar storage area on the Ali Rinai or on board the supply shuttle with the single exception being that this one was so much larger. Together they moved cautiously and swiftly toward one of the exit hatchways, a large sealed door that opened out into a main corridor. Now that they were physically standing within the facility, Adam’s implant was able to conduct a brief scan of the surrounding area and put up a partial map on his eye HUD. Although Nori was currently handling Sentinel duties, Thomas remained a strong presence in Adam’s mind, softly but surely providing him with instructions.
[“When you leave that chamber,”] Adam’s brother cautioned, [“do not draw attention to the fact that the lights are out. Behave like an Admiral who is moving from an outer docking area toward the critical computer core. Your escorts should behave likewise. There may be personnel outside that door, but they shouldn’t notice anything unless you specifically draw attention to yourselves.”]
[“Most of this cargo bay is empty,”] Adam noted with a quick glance backward, studying the large areas of bare metal flooring as lights from the rifles swept back and forth across the room.
[“I was 90 percent certain,”] his brother replied grimly. [“Stealth will get you farther in a place like that than any number of fighting men will. Just go out there and remember to BE the Admiral you appear to be.”]
Cren Hollis and Tran Wuu emerged though the hatchway first, marching side by side into a corridor that could have easily accommodated four men walking alongside each other. Adam followed, dong his best to maintain an expression that properly reflected the arrogance and utter condescension of the Admiral. They hadn’t met all that long ago, so the image of the man was still fresh in his mind. Bringing up the rear were Arte Kasik and Janney Stox. Stox paused just long enough to push the hatch closed, but didn’t take the time to lock it. He charged down the empty corridor after his friends in a quick run, resuming his position in the group. It didn’t take them long to notice that the walk seemed to take forever – whatever else it might be, the installation they had chosen to visit could never be accurately described as small.
They passed several key checkpoints monitored by armed guards, men who simply waved them through. None of them dared say anything, and it was plainly obvious to both Adam and his friends that the extra green stripes, along with all of the medals and ribbons adorning the Admiral’s uniform, told them everything that they needed to know. So they continued walking, occasionally returning the brief ‘palm to the head’ salutes that they received from the Yakiir security forces. Adam watched the signs on the walls carefully, easily reading and translating the alien script, making certain that they were moving toward the facility’s computer core. Arrows pointed in other directions as well, including references to a ‘bio lab’, ‘detention area’ and ‘missile production’.
“Look at how clean this place is,” hissed Arte Kasik softly under his breath. “The people who work here on a full time basis have probably never even glimpsed the war taking place outside.”
“That cargo bay wasn’t clean,” Cren Hollis reminded him. “Mott’s Ghost, but that stench was bad.”
Tran Wuu glanced at him with a smile. “That’s probably where they keep the bodies.”
“I do not need to hear things like that, mate,” piped in Janney Stox. “Not even as a joke.”
“With all due respect gentlemen, please stow the small talk for now. It will seem very out of place to the locals.” Adam slowed for a moment, turning and glancing sharply at Kasik and Stox just as the Admiral would, causing the soldiers to grow quiet and return their full attention solely to escort duty. Only then did he resume his normal pace, moving forward at a fast trot that carried them down what seemed like yet another endless corridor. [“That’s it,”] Thomas’ thoughts declared excitedly in his mind. [“The main source of the facility’s energy production is directly ahead, along with the vast majority of their computer activity.”] Adam continued walking, digesting the information silently as they approached yet another checkpoint. Two guards were stationed on either side of a large desk, but it was the man sitting behind it that drew their attention. Without the slightest bit of hesitation he looked up sharply and unexpectedly chose to challenge the group.
“Welcome Admiral. I will need to see your official identification and authorization badge, please.”
Adam only partially feigned the anger of his response. “You need to see my authorization?” he growled.
“Aye, sir. It’s just a routine check. Someone was supposed to call me as soon as your shuttle docked, but has obviously dropped the ball. I’ll be sending a message to Administration as soon as we’re done here.”
Accessing the implant’s holographic programming, Adam began to slowly change his projection of the Admiral’s human image, using a carefully rehearsed, pre-recorded sequence. His face lengthened, gradually transforming into a large, wedge-shaped snout filled with double rows of razor sharp teeth. It was a perfect emulation of the very same change he had witnessed both Bok and Deek using and the mere sight of it visibly terrified the soldier behind the desk. Suddenly, only seconds after daring to demand identification from the Admiral, he was staring into the face of a Kuth solider. “Do you really need to see my authorization?” Adam repeated much more heatedly, his tone dripping malevolence this time around.
“No sir,” the man behind the desk replied instantly, visible drops of sweat forming on his brow. “Screw ups in Administration should not inconvenience your schedule in any way. I apologize for my mistake.”
“That’s better,” nodded Adam agreeably, reversing the transformation and reshaping the hologram back into a perfect copy of Deek. “Come along fellows,” he told his escorts with satisfaction. [“I told you the recording we made of Deek’s transformation would come in handy,”] Thomas whispered in his mind.
Together, the five of them turned right and headed off down the corridor.
* * * * *
The hardware for the computer core was stored in a large chamber next to an even larger one housing the access workstations, a setup that at first intrigued Adam. Then he used his eye HUD to pull up more detailed schematics for the entire installation, noting that the nuclear generators that powered its systems were located all the way to the rear, and that feature explained everything. Computer hardware generally needed to function in a cool environment, so keeping the hardware positioned well away from the facility’s centralized power system made sense. Row after row of computers lined the central command chamber, an impressive setup for anyone. Given the constant, unending wars taking place within the Wasteland, the presence of so much sophisticated technology seemed extremely out of place. And yet, as was usual where the Yakiir were concerned, such abnormalities continued to surface everywhere he looked.
There were at least fourteen technicians on duty, but Adam chose to ignore them and continued playing the role of the Admiral. He walked confidently into the communications center and assigned his four guards to watch the door with several casual gestures of one hand. Then he moved over to an empty workstation and simply began working with the utter nonchalance of someone who felt the entire facility and all of its resources belonged to him. It didn’t take him long at all to access the transceiver array, at which point he sent a signal to the Ali Rinai, allowing the AI-program to respond in kind. Once they were linked, he simply selected the ‘upload all’ option and allowed it to run in the background. He was prompted at several points for security passwords, so he simply used the implant technology to read and decrypt the necessary sequences using links to the databases that were tied to the very software awaiting the replies.
It was impossible to determine how much time remained before someone on the installation grew suspicious. Right now there was a reasonable window for him to do what needed to do only because most of the facility’s inhabitants still believed Admiral Deek to be on his nearby warship. No shuttle had docked. Only those who had actually seen him knew differently, but that would change now that the main transceiver array was in full use, busily uploading even the station’s most encrypted database packets to the Ali Rinai. Adam watched the progress of the transfer while sifting through other files on the workstation, taking a closer look at the station schematics and studying areas of interest. His hopes that the process would flow quickly and efficiently died upon noticing how much information the Kuth held in storage. The total amount of data on file was a massive warehouse of facts and figures.
“Admiral, did you know that your battle cruiser is broadcasting a false profile?” someone asked tentatively. “I’m detecting the identification beacon of a cruiser under the command of a Captain Berrek, and yet our tactical files indicate that you only recently crossed over the Bridge.”
The young man had courage; Adam had to grant him that. He studied the youthful, freckled face of the kid with interest, noticing that the man reminded him somewhat of Thomas. He was an intense, wiry technician who couldn’t possibly be more than twenty years old. A wave of dark, chestnut brown hair was brushed casually to the right, leaving behind a sweaty forehead and beady brown eyes that studied the Admiral curiously, but not yet suspiciously. “Yes, I am aware of the false profile,” Adam told him. “For now, the Caucus does not want anyone in the battle zone to know that I have crossed over to this side of the Bridge,” he continued. “So yes, my ship is currently mirroring the identification of another vessel. When the rest of the ships from my convoy catch up to us, you’ll see that they too are transmitting false profiles.”
“I figured as much,” the young man replied with a clearly satisfied nod. “But we get paid to be certain.”
Adam barely heard him. He had been carefully studying the layout of several large chambers in the central part of the station where the quashing missiles were constructed, hoping to learn more about them. Then he noticed the presence of another, equally large facility located very close by. In fact, it was just a few hundred yards past the check-in desk where the on-duty guard had challenged him. Additional details regarding this section of the station and its purpose were impossible to locate, other than its broad, generic name of ‘Bio Services’. What other bizarre things are you bastards up to? Adam wondered silently. I can assure you; now that I’m here I intend to find out.
[“Nori? Thomas? Are you seeing this?”] he asked curiously via his implant link.
Thomas responded instantly. [“Yes, they seem to have a pretty large section of this facility dedicated to whatever is under development there. Do you think you have the time to check it out?”]
[“I will make time,”] Adam replied way more intensely than he intended to, before glancing up at the faces of the other uniformed men and women around him. All of them were doing their best to appear busy and completely focused on their work while in the presence of a fleet Admiral. The task bar for his upload to the Ali Rinai was barely thirty percent completed, driving him to a surprisingly swift conclusion on the matter. [“Our cover will be blown as soon as someone questions why we’re uploading so much data to the warship. So whoever notices will likely call or come HERE first to ask questions. That would suggest we be elsewhere when it happens. The guys on duty here will delay things even more, since they won’t be able to answer questions.”]
[“There you go,”] Thomas told him with a soft chuckle. [“Use the Admiral’s authorization code to prioritize your upload. Unless someone of equal or higher rank is currently aboard the station, no one will be able to stop the process until it completes. In the interim, you can backtrack to that security desk and check out this ‘Bio Services’ division. Like you, I would very much like to know what’s going on in there.”]
Complying with his brother’s request, Adam stood up sharply, abandoning the workstation and turning to face the young man who had addressed him earlier. “If anyone asks for me, I will be in the Mess Hall,” he lied brusquely. “After that I have plans to return to my ship. Please request that no one disturb me for any reason.”
“Yes sir.” The young soldier actually cringed a bit as Adam brushed by him on his way back to the exit hatch. The four Crasel fell back into formation and escorted him out. He smiled to himself while walking down the adjoining corridor, knowing that all of the station’s darkest secrets were currently being uploaded to the Ali Rinai. Thomas was no doubt eavesdropping on the transmission via the implant, so he would have immediate access to the encrypted database files even before Adam returned to his ship.
They returned to the security checkpoint, at which point the officer sitting behind the desk now studied Adam and his colleagues with obvious suspicion. It also didn’t bode well for them that the two soldiers now held their rifles at the ready instead of in the ‘stand by’ shouldered position from the earlier visit. Deciding not to waste valuable time in a pointless debate, Adam simply raised his wrists and generated twin bursts of electromagnetic energy that sent all three men spinning. The two guards were blasted backwards into the left branch of the “T” corridor and landed flat on their backs. The control officer slumped awkwardly forward over the top of his desk, knocked senseless by the intensity of the blasts.
“We have to hurry now,” Adam noted, urging the Crasel to follow him down the left branch of the corridor, past the unconscious guards. He gestured toward the green print on an overhead sign. “In Yakiir that text reads ‘Bio Services’, and we would really like to know what that means.”
“What if we don’t want to know what it means?” asked Tran Wuu somewhat guardedly.
Adam laughed with mild amusement, but shook his head negatively at the comment. “Would you like to find out on the battlefield someday that they’ve developed a bio-weapon?” he asked curiously. “Or does it make sense to determine what the Kuth are up to now, while we still have an opportunity to do something about it?”
“Your way would seem to make more sense,” admitted Wuu reluctantly.
“I agree completely,” Cren Hollis nodded. “Nevertheless, this place remains far too creepy for my taste.” His eyes scanned the empty corridor warily. “There is death here even in the rooms that are clean.”
Matters grew even creepier mere moments later, as they proceeded at a fast trot down the corridor and the first, distant sound of screaming became audible. All of them slowed their pace immediately, growing extremely cautious, continuing to move steadily forward. They proceeded down the corridor tentatively, listening to the tortuous sound of a human male screaming at the top of his lungs. It was blatantly obvious that he was suffering from enormous pain of some sort, a pain so intense that the scream barely sounded human. All that remained would be to determine its cause. “Bio Services,” Adam practically spat as he listened to the unsettling screams, glancing quickly behind him for a moment to verify that there was no one currently pursuing them. His companions were equally rattled, their expressions paling at the high-pitched shrieks that never seemed to stop and continued to grow steadily louder.
They found an access hatch a moment later, and four of them paused long enough to allow Cren Hollis the time he needed to unseal it. He cracked it open cautiously, just far enough to determine that this was indeed the source of the screaming. Adam stepped forward and peeked inside for a moment, then dropped to his knees and inched through. He glanced back at the others just long enough to whisper the words “follow me” and then passed through the hatchway and into the massive chamber beyond. There wasn’t room to move much farther, because Adam’s forward progress was halted by the presence of a large, circular balcony railing. The vantage point was nearly perfect, allowing them to look down upon a huge, multi-storied domed chamber that was by far the largest one yet.
Massive, rectangular block-shaped hardware components dangled from the ceiling in front of them, anchored in place by rows of huge, fist-sized bolts. Even so, they hummed and throbbed from the sheer amount of energy flowing through them. Multiple lengths of power cables emerged from the far wall, at least a hundred yards distant, and ran along the length of the ceiling before connecting directly to the strange devices. Immediately below them, the floor was mostly bare except for the presence of several large desks and a lengthy row of brightly lit computer banks. But it was the ground level along the far wall, where the non-stop screaming emanated from, that drew their full attention.
“Mott’s Ghost,” gasped Janney Stox, executing his usual series of religious gestures designed to ward off evil spirits. “What is happening here?”
Two men were sitting in chairs, firmly secured with restraints, obviously prisoners who were being forced to watch everything. Four armed guards stood behind them, their presence completely unnecessary. To the right of the terrified prisoners, a Kuth soldier reclined almost casually on a small couch. In front of him, a third, unclothed human was secured firmly in another chair, suffering the brunt of the output from the overhead devices. Some kind of hot, reddish-orange colored electronic ‘wind’ appeared to be blowing down upon him from above, and whatever it was doing to him was obviously quite painful. Each time the devices emitted a new burst, his screams intensified to the point where the man’s voice was actually starting to crack and threatening to fail completely. Behind him, the Kuth alien seemed to simply relax and absorb the brunt of whatever was being reigned down upon them from above. It certainly wasn’t feeling pain similar to that of the human, anyway. The mere sight of it all caused Adam’s blood to run cold.
“What in blazes are they doing?” asked Arte Kasik curiously, his features noticeably paler than they had been a moment ago. “They’re not even asking him any questions.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe torture is the motive.” Adam’s eye HUD activated automatically, prompted by his implant’s software which was already fully engaged in a detailed analysis of what was taking place below them. “Those units are producing some kind of radioactive vapor,” he whispered softly, reading the final statistics directly off the inner surface of his eyeball. “It’s an unknown type of a sort I’ve never seen before, but it’s definitely radiation and damaging to human flesh. They’re exposing that human to repeated surges of some sort, and somehow I don’t think this is a medical treatment of the sort we would apply.”
“If you mean that they’re doing a good job of killing him, I would certainly agree with you,” growled Hollis irritably. “Shades, but I’m going to have nightmares about all of this.”
The victim of the radiation blasts was weak from his experiences and appeared to be extremely malnourished as well. He was skinny and wrinkled, his body visibly scarred from the repeated exposure to the unknown radiation. There was absolutely no fight left in him other than the hysterical screaming triggered by the pain from his injuries each time a new burst from the overhead devices struck him. Watching carefully with his enhanced vision, Adam could literally see biological matter being ‘blown’ off of the naked human by the powerful, radioactive wind. Everything caught up in the large gusts surged first against the wall behind the Kuth before rebounding outward and swirling around him in large, circular columns. Unlike the human, however, the alien’s body seemed to actually absorb the genetic material.
“Why won’t they stop?” Tran Wuu demanded to know. “What can this kind of thing possibly accomplish, other than maliciously torture a living being?” He turned away in disgust and crossed his arms firmly.
Not surprisingly, the man who was stationed millions of light years distant figured it out first. [“They’re seeding the Kuth soldier with DNA from the victim,”] Thomas told Adam, suddenly realizing what was happening. [“This procedure is apparently what allows them to enhance their chameleonic abilities beyond simple color and texture changes to take on humanoid form.”]
From his position on the balcony, Adam continued staring in horror at the grisly site below. [“What?”] he gasped in response. [“How can this possibly be a factor…”]
[It is!”] insisted Thomas persistently. [“THINK about it for a moment… don’t you see? Each of the Kuth who wants to shape shift obviously chooses a victim in advance… someone they want to look like when they’re walking around in human form. Then they use those large devices to expose the human subject to large amounts of radiation. I can only speculate, but since bio-matter is visibly leaving that man’s body and settling on the Kuth alien behind him, it does appear that this is how they prepare someone for the process of shape shifting. It is totally unethical by any definition of science as we understand it, but for them it must be a historical accomplishment. This is what allows them to look like humans, to work covertly among the human clans and actually walk around AS one of them. Their bodies end up capable of mimicking the DNA that is absorbed from a victim during this procedure.”]
[“Unethical doesn’t even BEGIN to describe this!”] Adam snapped sharply in response. The unfortunate victim who had been screaming went suddenly silent and lost consciousness, his head lolling back with glazed eyes that stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. His skin had shriveled even more noticeably during the brief time they watched, clinging tightly to his bones and leaving him only a shrunken shell of his former self. It was still unclear just how long it would take for the radiation exposure to kill him, but blatantly obvious to all who were watching that death was now quite probably inevitable. The two men who sat waiting for their ‘turn’ were pale ghosts of what normally passed for men, their terror clearly etched on their noticeably paled expressions.
Without the slightest bit of hesitation and more than a little bit of impulsiveness driving his decision, Adam chose to act. He rose to his full height and vaulted cleanly over the railing. He dropped a full six meters to the ground below and landed softly next to the desks and computer stations. The startled faces of the people sitting and working behind them brought a sly smile to his face. In his mind, he could hear the presence of his wife and brother both screaming for him to stop, but on this occasion his anger hardened his resolve and he chose to completely ignore them. Raising his hands, he sent twin blasts from his wrist guns into the four guards supervising the session. The impact drove all of them backward and slammed them hard into the wall, dropping them senseless to the cold metal floor below. Residual flashes of crackling blue electricity along the surface of their bodies and limbs were an indicator of just how hard his attack struck them.
Adam turned his weapons next on the Kuth receiving the ‘Bio Service’ treatments. The creature leaped to its feet but hesitated, an action that was easily understandable. From its perspective, the alien had been lounging quite casually while receiving its application of human DNA when suddenly an Admiral who appeared to be Deek appeared seemingly from nowhere and began to shoot up the place. It hissed at him suspiciously, long tongue lolling along the lower rows of its sharp teeth. Adam glanced at it disdainfully for just an instant, right before he blew a massive hole in its torso. The blast was so powerful that he could actually see the couch and floor through the smoldering chest cavity. Against his fully powered guns, the creature never stood a chance and flopped awkwardly back onto the makeshift, reclining couch. Dark green stains quickly appeared on its cushions.
And still he wasn’t finished.
Next, Adam spun around and used his wrist-bound weaponry to stun the unarmed scientists manning the desks, leaving them flat on their backs and completely senseless. Then he mentally willed the weapons to power up to as high a level as he could possibly set them and unleashed everything he had left on the overhead radiation projectors. Thunderous explosions rocked the huge chamber, and smoldering debris fell from above in large fragments, crashing to the floor with the deafening sound of metal against metal. Adam continued firing fully powered energy pulses upward until he was certain that he had destroyed everything. Only then did he lower his arms and approach the two humans sitting completely bewildered in their chairs. Wordlessly, he placed his fingers on the metal restraints binding them and ripped them off effortlessly, one by one, as though he were tearing paper. Then he gently helped each man to his feet. “We’re going to get you out of here,” he promised firmly. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe.” Both of them stared at him, completely bewildered.
He heard the gunfire at the same time as he noticed the blinking red dots indicating enemy movement on his eye HUD, all of them closing in on the chamber’s multiple hatchways. The explosions had been too loud and were drawing everyone stationed nearby directly to the bio-lab. Adam saw his friends maintain their position on the walkway above, firing down toward the targets entering from two locations. He released a couple of pulsing blasts from his wrist gun to assist, knocking down anyone who chose to enter the massive room. [“Thomas, is there room to generate a PTP portal in here?”] he queried mentally, helping the two men regain their footing. Next he checked the irradiated man in the chair for a pulse, but it that was a desperation move only and proved to be far too late. The unknown victim who had endured the bulk of the radiation blasts was mercifully dead and no longer suffering. His painful journey into the next life was over.
[“Yes!”] he heard his brother respond. [“Try moving in front of those desks and computers, there’s plenty of room there!”]
Now the Crasel were dropping down from above to join him, and Adam moved swiftly back across the room in response to his brother’s suggestion. Additional, sporadic bursts of gunfire broke the sudden silence, causing Adam’s colleagues to spin and fire back at the enemy soldiers trying to fight their way inside the large chamber. But there were at least four ground level entrances to watch over, and the enemy numbers were growing steadily larger as more and more of the station’s soldiers were alerted to the unexpected problem in their midst. Adam couldn’t fire in more than two directions at once, and the limitation was proving to be a dangerous one while standing in the center of such a large chamber. Under normal conditions, he would have been a sitting duck. With things happening so quickly, he noticed the soldier with the grenade launcher almost too late, and – swearing with all the fury of a soldier – he expanded his personal defensive shield around the six men surrounding him and prayed to God it would hold up under additional duress. Then he stepped in front of all of them and used his body to shield theirs.
The explosion of several grenades at point blank range was booming and deafening, but the majority of the blasts, fragmenting metal and resulting shockwaves were thankfully absorbed and instantly disbursed by his personal defenses. Even so, Adam heard a grunt of pain and something warm and wet sprayed against the side of his face. That was all there remained time for, as thankfully, a glowing golden sphere appeared around them and pulled them gently away from the center of the conflict.
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
All seven men reappeared in the starboard cargo bay next to the lone quashing weapon, but Tran Wuu slumped immediately to the ground with a serious neck wound. Adam cried out excitedly and shoved the two former prisoners away from him and dropped to his knees. He slapped almost fanatically at the med-kit attached to his left leg, deactivating its stealth shield and pulling it free. Unfortunately, a stray grenade fragment had completely missed Wuu’s body armor this time around and instead bit deeply into the right side of his neck. The Crasel soldier was bleeding profusely, and the initial spray of his blood was still dripping down the side of Adam’s face. “No!” Adam screamed loudly, grabbing a fist full of gauze from his medical kit and pressing it hard against Tran Wuu’s newly opened wound. The material proved to be not nearly enough, forcing Adam to tear off his Admiral’s jacket and then his shirt.
Behind him, Cren Hollis reached over toward his left bicep and yanked out another piece of metal. “If that doesn’t hurt, I don’t know what will!” the big man thundered angrily. He tore off a part of his left sleeve and pressed the dark black fabric hard against his wound.
[“Adam, you have to calm down!”] Nori screamed at him mentally. Her presence in his mind overpowered even the sound of those around him, all of whom were now busily discussing Tran Wuu’s swiftly deteriorating condition. [“We’ve got Doctor Simmons here, and she can guide you through the first aid process, but you have to slow down long enough to LISTEN!”] she chastened sharply. The word ‘Doctor’ registered firmly in his mind and snapped him back from the tunnel vision that had completely governed his actions since his initial leap from the balcony in the Kuth bio-lab.
As though he didn’t have enough problems, his earwig crackled suddenly to life. “I’m told you made it back all right,” said Snee Vasten suddenly, his voice vibrant in Adam’s right ear. “The guards outside of the cargo bay noted you have injuries… Dr. Marj is already on his way.”
Glancing desperately at Tran Wuu’s grim faced expression while listening to Dr. Simmons advice, Adam maintained pressure on the makeshift bandage he had formed using carefully torn strips from his undershirt. But the Crasel also heard Vasten talking to him, and Cren Hollis grabbed him by the arm and guided Adam away from their fallen comrade. “Vasten needs you… your SHIP needs you,” he emphasized sternly, shoving his friend gently toward the exit hatch. “We’ll watch over our brother for you. Go and do what must be done.” Already Janney Stox and Arte Kasik had replaced Adam and were working hard to stem the flow of blood.
Adam nodded dumbly, for the first time feeling the full weight of command actually burdening his broad shoulders. He reached up and touched the transceiver, activating it. “Are there any other vessels in this area?” he asked cautiously. “Has anyone discovered our presence here?”
“No,” replied Vasten smoothly from his position in Command. “You can bet on at least a few warships patrolling nearby, but the transmission you initiated over there is absolutely dominating their transceiver’s CPU capacity… they will be unable to transmit a coherent message until it ends.”
“How long will that take?”
“Another five minutes or so should allow it to finish up, but we’re running out of storage space. The amount of information in that facility’s database is ridiculously large and our maximum capacity by comparison…”
“Irrelevant,” Adam snapped, standing helplessly in the corridor just outside the cargo bay. “My friends are monitoring that transmission and will also have a copy of all information, even after our database is full.” His thoughts drifted to the immediate problem for a moment, and he gritted his teeth firmly. “Does that station have weapons of any kind?” he wondered curiously. The Zaketh physician appeared suddenly from behind him and elbowed his way past him into the cargo bay. Adam stared after him, still heartbroken over this newest injury to the very first real friend he had made after entering the war zone.
“I wouldn’t recommend that we get any closer and find out.” Vasten’s tone sounded remarkably snide, but he was deadly serious and his response spurred Adam to action. “We’ve been giving them every reason in the world to hate our guts on sight.”
“We have ship-to-ship missiles aboard this vessel, right?” he asked sternly, remembering a stray inventory report and the contents listed upon it.
“Yes. Although when ships like ours have them, we tend to use those very sparingly here in the Wasteland… usually in only the direst of circumstances. Like the quashing weapons, they are almost impossible to replace without a solid foothold world and manufacturing capability to rely upon.”
“Make an exception. Target everything we have at those racks of quashing missiles and fire,” ordered Adam without the slightest bit of hesitation. “We won’t get another chance to take them out. And once that transmission from the facility terminates, bring us up to half speed and transit this vessel to our safe location, using as many interim hops as you deem necessary.”
“Aye, sir. Consider it done.”
With business fully attended to, Adam made his way back into the cargo bay where Tran Wuu was lying flat on his back with a large pool of blood beneath his head. He was still breathing, but in so shallow a manner that Adam felt his heart lurch another notch downward. Calmly and gently he knelt next to his friend and picked up his weak hand and held it tightly. Wuu’s eyes opened briefly and he smiled upon seeing his friend. “I am so sorry,” Adam told him with a shameful glance to one side. “I promised that I would keep you safe.”
“You kept… your promise,” insisted Tran Wuu with a weak smile. “I should have perished days ago, and you gave me more time to live… to really live… and to see that there will be a future for my family.”
Adam stared at the deck plating, emotions he had thought to be fully under his control suddenly threatening to boil over from within his tightly wound, anxiety-ridden chest. “I promised to keep you safe,” he repeated futilely, unable to cope with the sudden approaching loss of a close friend. “My shield… I had it set to maximum… but with six extra people, it just wasn’t enough.”
“You have kept me safe, Adam Roh,” countered Wuu softly, smiling with parental authority as though admonishing a small child. He continued to grin despite his terrible wound and scrutinized the face of his friend. “Your actions and leadership have allowed me to remain a warrior until the very end, to die as a soldier protecting the best interests of my people. Without you I would have perished as a lonely prisoner only days ago in some filthy corridor. You… have shown me that the clans can work together, that we can overthrow those who have oppressed us throughout my entire lifetime. It will all finally end… with you!”
The more he smiled and objected to Adam’s shame, the worse Adam felt. Emotionally he was strung out farther than he had ever been, and Thomas’ voice in his head warned him that he was close to an emotional overload. [“RELAX and calm down Adam,”] Thomas stressed firmly. [“Breathe deeply. There are things in this universe that you cannot control, not even with all of the advantages we have given you. Your shield was never designed to protect more than one person for any given length of time… it’s a miracle that more were not fatally injured. We were all lucky… your implant was able to leech the extra energy it needed from the overhead power cables connected to those radiation emitters you destroyed. If it hadn’t, Tran Wuu would have a lot of company.”]
Tran Wuu reached up unexpectedly with his left hand and grabbed Adam’s free hand. He guided it over to the other hand and pressed something cold and metal against the Captain’s palm. Glancing down at the object, Adam noticed that Wuu had at some point removed the steel mesh necklace – the one with the paired crescent moons on its surface – and was attempting to give it to him. “No,” he objected immediately, at first pushing the hand away firmly. But Tran Wuu was insistent, and persisted with his weak efforts until Adam finally nodded and accepted the necklace. “This was given to you by your wife,” he reminded Wuu sternly. “It is generations old, an irreplaceable object and a symbolic part of your family.”
“Return… please return this to her,” said Tran Wuu with a satisfied smile. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth and rolled down his cheek. “When your people arrive to set my family free, give this to her and tell her that I did not let her down… that I didn’t let any of them down and that they will always have my love.”
Adam nodded firmly in response. “I will. I just don’t think they will agree that your sacrifice was worth it.”
“I believe… I know that this sacrifice… was worth it,” coughed Wuu, turning his head and spitting out a mouthful of blood. He turned back to face Adam with a determined expression. “If I had been one of those two men sitting in those chairs… waiting for my turn… waiting to be irradiated…” He trailed off for a moment, shifting his gaze to the two malnourished prisoners standing next to the Crasel. Both of them appeared to be elated, relieved and thoroughly confused at the same time. “If it had been me sitting in one of those chairs, I would have wanted us to intervene and save me from so terrible a fate. We can’t save everyone, but today we saved two who would have otherwise died. That is honor.”
“I don’t know how I can possibly go on without you,” Adam told him honestly.
“There are still… more innocent lives to save,” Tran Wuu reminded him with a wan smile. “Tell my wife that I love her deeply… tell her that I will wait for her… wait as long as necessary… in the afterlife.” And then his eyes glazed over and his head rolled awkwardly to one side. Shaking his head with despair, the Zaketh Doctor gently closed Wuu’s eyes and then stared helplessly at the deck plating for a long, precious moment.
“Bru Marj, isn’t it?” Adam asked the Doctor curiously, watching him nod in response. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Adam smiled weakly. “You did everything you could Doctor Marj, we know that.”
“The wound was too big, the loss of blood too fast…”
“I know Doctor,” said Adam softly, wishing fervently that he had chosen to act less impulsively now that consequences he could not avoid had finally caught up with him. He had forgotten that, even though he was virtually invulnerable, the others were not. And Tran Wuu had just paid for that mistake with his life. “I was there when the grenades went off. I know.”
Even with the words of his friends, both present and those who were very far away, to comfort him, he still found himself temporarily inconsolable. With tears streaming from his eyes, he abandoned the cargo bay and headed back out into the corridor so that the soldiers who served under him would not see their Captain cry. No matter how he sliced it, he just couldn’t imagine how he was supposed to succeed in the Wasteland when he couldn’t even accomplish something as simple as keeping Tran Wuu alive. He had never imagined having to complete his mission without the Crasel soldier by his side. The thought of doing so without him was unimaginable at present, and he tried to banish the very thought of it from his mind.
Denial, his subconscious mind stabbed back at him in a blunt accusation. It is the first stage of the grievance process… of dealing with death.
He considered heading up to Command, which was really where he should be, but he was physically drained and emotionally spent. Instead he touched the earwig transceiver lightly. “Roh to Vasten, are you there?”
“Affirmative. No worries. We took out most of the quashing missiles, and I targeted the ones with active warheads first. Our attacks continue to stymie the Caucus and will no doubt draw a heavy response. However, as we are currently moving through a series of transit hops it will be difficult for them to pin us down… at least for a while.”
“Do you need me up there?”
“No. Get some rest. You did great on the station, even if you lost a man. We really took it to them today.”
“Thanks. My quarters are still filled with Deek’s remains and haven’t been properly cleaned, so I’m going to find an empty cabin and crash there for a few hours. Call me if anything new surfaces.”
“I will.”
When he finally located an empty, isolated room with a small cot in it, he locked the door and lay down on the bed. Then he stared up at the ceiling and sobbed uncontrollably until his friends back home gave up trying to reassure him and simply activated the sleep-inducing properties of his implant. Mercifully he slipped temporarily away into the comforting land of slumber.
And then he discovered once more that dreams could pursue him even there as well.
14: XIII: AftermathPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
The pain from the DNA injection procedure was agonizing to say the least, causing Bok to scream repeatedly as he lay helplessly on the hospital bed. Seconds ago, a large device had lowered steadily from its resting position against the ceiling. Dozens of carefully pre-positioned needles touched the Kuth soldier’s skin and then, as the device continued moving downward, pierced his flesh. The needles were thick and hollow, carrying an electric current along their length as well as humanoid DNA within. At first the electrical stimulation was mild, but as soon as the Doctor was certain that Bok’s vitals were stable he increased the intensity by a factor of ten. That was generally the point where a patient lost control of himself before beginning to scream uncontrollably. It was enjoyable for the Doctor to watch, but Bok glared angrily in response while swearing repeated oaths to destroy both the physician and his family. It wasn’t the pain that bothered him as much as the humiliation, especially the loss of control over his bowels.
When the process finally terminated, after what seemed like an eternity but was more like two minutes, the overhead contraption retracted up into the ceiling, where technicians working on the floor above would be quick to refill the syringes attached to the needles. Then a moving belt would slowly rotate the needles into their new positions for the second application. Bok was already turning over onto his stomach, eager for the next stage of the process to begin. Supposedly this was to be the last of the treatments he would undergo, but this was the same thing he had been told at least three times previously. In total, Bok estimated that he had undergone this procedure at least ten times now, and he was not looking forward to any more of them. “It all hinges on you,” his contacts in the Caucus would tell him repeatedly. “Your concentration and focus, along with the natural instincts of your body, are all needed working together in order to initiate a transformation. If your mind and body cannot control a shape shifting consciously, we are left with little choice but to continue injecting additional DNA from the donor humanoid into your body until the process becomes natural for you.”
Again the ceiling contraption came down and Bok felt needles pierce his body again. The raw burn of the electricity actually felt hotter this time around and he screamed at the top of his lungs while lying in his own filth. The claws on the ends of his fingers dug into the thick, tough fabric comprising the medical bed and he focused on that action, tearing through the reptilian leather and leaving long gashes in their wake. The toes on his feet were curled, claws unfortunately facing up. He was not allowed to move his legs in the slightest, not even if tearing apart the couch with his feet would make the burden easier to bear. If the needles failed to deliver their DNA injection and electrical stimulus in the precise, proper manner, the procedure would be repeated over and over until the attending physician was thoroughly satisfied. The exact positioning of the needles changed with each subsequent procedure, based on a detailed analysis of his body and the results of testing from previous treatments. His voice failing, every muscle in Bok’s body stiffened in response to the ferocious stimulation.
And then it was over.
He watched the device retract and begin its upward journey, sorely tempted to leap on it and savagely tear its internal mechanism apart. But then, this was part of his Caucus initiation, the repeated application of extreme discomfort that tested his ability to bear pain and keep secrets. He turned over and sat up, resting for a moment and simply breathing deeply through his mouth, tongue lolling and drool running from both sides of his mouth. With a savage upward curl of its jaws, the Doctor tossed him a dark brown towel. “You know where the showers are,” he declared sternly. “Wait about eight hours for the latest injection of DNA to circulate through your system and then try once more to transform. It’s going to happen any time now, I assure you.”
“Your assurances mean nothing to me any longer,” growled Bok in response. “I do not believe you.” He raised a clawed hand threateningly and pointed a sharp finger at the physician. “If I end up going through all of this for nothing, then you WILL die by my hand.”
The Doctor snorted loudly, clearly unimpressed. “The Caucus would kill you instantly,” he replied defiantly. “I think you underestimate yourself. You are one of the best patients I have ever seen – your ability to endure pain is truly astonishing. I have written several reports to your training commander, letting him know this. Many have preceded you on my table, and you would laugh hysterically if you heard some of the things that they tell me, begging me to stop. You never do… you simply accept that you must undergo this process.”
Bok considered the Doctor’s appraisal carefully. “There has to be a better way to do this,” he concluded at last. “We have the most modern medical technology of any home world, so I find it difficult to believe that this procedure is the only way. There has to be a method that would be less painful for the patient.”
“Oh there is an easier way,” noted the Doctor, watching Bok’s surprised reaction. “But only those who have officially completed their Caucus membership are allowed to undergo it. The equipment and energy required are considerable, so those who are merely initiates are not allowed access to those resources.” He shrugged his broad, muscle-bound shoulders indifferently. “I suspect that the first transformation for initiates could be easier, but the Caucus considers this to be part of your training… feeling pain and learning how to control it.”
Now his interest was truly piqued. “How does this other process work?” Bok wondered curiously.
The Doctor studied him thoughtfully. “It involves Canivir radiation,” he stated matter of factly. “Instead of removing DNA from a dead, frozen donor, we irradiate a live subject with a Kuth soldier nearby. A special chamber focuses the bio-matter torn from the donor on the recipient. We deploy a radiation level sufficient to strip usable tissue from the subject but low enough to allow easy absorption by the Kuth. If you survive long enough to serve reliably in the Caucus, they will want you to be able to assume a variety of different humanoid forms. So this is more than likely only your FIRST transformational implant… the Caucus will probably choose at least two or three additional identities for you.” His lips curled upward in a hideous smile. “I assure you, the next time you are asked to assume someone else’s shape, the new round of treatments will be significantly less painful. Now get out of here, you smell of your own fecal matter.”
Hissing approvingly in response, Bok picked up the towel and complied.
The Doctor watched him leave while scribbling a series of notes on a chart attached to a clipboard he was holding. He answered the last question regarding the patient’s ability to tolerate pain with an ‘Outstanding’ rating. Then he added a final note at the bottom of the form, ending his comment with the phrase ‘Applicant is highly recommended for undercover, covert operations’.
* * * * *
Later, Bok took some time to lie in the hot, overhead sun and recover from his latest procedure. He had a small house on the edge of the city, near the outer, electrified wall that protected its inhabitants from outside predators but far enough away so that his yard caught most of the afternoon sun. He was renting the place from a friend, hopefully only long enough to complete his training and receive full employment within the Caucus membership. Once he proved his ability to shape shift successfully on demand, the remainder of his training could be completed within a standard month. Bok was fully planning to meet that deadline, confident in his abilities even though his resistance to the DNA injections had so far proven frustrating. His thoughts drifted to familiar faces – from people he knew he could count on to people he loathed. One of the first things that he learned as a Caucus candidate was to eliminate any friendship ties.
Trust no one but yourself. That was what kept you alive in the long run.
The colleagues he despised were prioritized with his top three picks scheduled for assassination. As part of his training, Bok was required to terminate at least ten of his Kuth brothers… the choices were his to make. No one provided him with any background information or consulted with him on the matter; it was completely his decision as to who specifically should die. Many of his competitors for Caucus membership were the first to fall – that was true of most of the participants. And yet eventually those who survived realized the importance of keeping even strong and intelligent comrades alive, those who might edge them out in the final challenges. It seemed foolish to do so at first, and yet they did so anyway, because it was the physically weaker candidates and those who lacked the strength to do what was necessary that were the true threat to the Caucus. And in the end, the long-term survival of the Caucus leadership was the most important priority… even more important than the ambitions of any single soldier, in fact.
Bok had come to the conclusion long ago that he might not make it through all of the challenges on his first try. He didn’t consider that probability to be a big deal… his endurance and ability to work at hard labor made him an automatic hire in the private sector employment industry. There were resources hidden safely away that he could draw upon in an emergency, opportunities he made certain were available to him if the worst came to pass. But he was certain that it would not, and that energy was what inspired him to strive for Caucus membership as soon as possible. Everyone in Kuth cities knew that the government was an elitist ‘members only’ club… things had been that way for most of history. Bok was determined to use his talent to get there, and across the Bridge to the other universe, as soon as possible. Ambition and the pursuit of power would lead him to a permanent position of authority in the so-called ‘members only’ club.
It was inevitable.
A soft burning in his gut snapped his attention back to the events of the day. Usually the residual pain from the treatments was brief – Kuth warriors tended to be quick healers. But today the pain persisted, and the non-stop discomfort was extremely annoying. Bok had very little time to himself these days, so he liked to treasure the time when he could simply lay in the sun and absorb the sweltering heat. He luxuriated in it, basked in it, and did everything he could to prolong each session for as long as possible. As he lay there, the pain spread through his body and out toward his extremities, seemingly as if it was following the blood flowing through his veins. The discomfort that bordered on pain escalated in his right arm, and he looked down at it with frustration, curling his claws together into a tight fist.
As he watched, both his arm and hand began to CHANGE, gradually transforming into a humanoid arm.
Bok was elated… he sat straight up in shock and looked at the new appendage, studying its weak, soft skin and taking cautious note of how lacking in strength it was. The burning continued, and even though only five hours had elapsed instead of the Doctor’s recommended eight, Bok focused all of his attention on the rest of his body. The Doctor was right, his body wanted to change, it wanted to mimic the foreign DNA floating around in its midst, and he watched the rest of his body swiftly transform into the shape of the human donor whose DNA had been repeatedly injected into him over a period of several weeks. It took only seconds to change, but change he did. Unfortunately, he would discover over time that the discomfort never really went away. Even so, it was a small price to pay for the opportunity its presence offered him.
He was now officially ready to complete his candidacy for acceptance into the Caucus order, and once he did so the opportunity to cross the Bridge and work among humans in the safer, newer universe would only be one small step away. The change didn’t come without trepidation, because he realized instantly that as long as he wore the humanoid body he WAS in essence, a human. The vulnerabilities of the donor would now be his to bear, and he would have to work much more carefully while literally wearing a thinner skin. Reaching up to touch his face, he verified that his head and features, too, were now fully human. His vision had noticeably changed – the limitations of the humanoid eye was suddenly, blatantly obvious. And yet he was curious as to what he now looked like. Rising to his feet, he retreated back into his small home and entered a washroom, stepping up to a mirror and glancing into it with extreme curiosity.
The face of Tran Wuu stared back at him.
* * * * *
Adam snapped suddenly awake and sat bolt upright on the cot. Never before in his life had he dreamed so intensely or actually felt the physical distress of its participant. There hadn’t been any actual physical pain, but there was extreme discomfort, and once again the anxiety and morbid nature of the dream left him with a severe headache and profuse bouts of sweating. Furthermore, residual images flitted back and forth within his brain, brief flashes that continually reminded him about the horrors he hoped were gone. Sitting on the edge of the small mattress for a few moments, he relaxed his body and breathed deeply, taking his time and forcing himself to wake completely.
[“This is yet another consequence of my decision to read Bok’s memories using the implant, isn’t it?”] he asked no one in particular with a simple thought.
[“Uh huh.”] His wife’s prompt response caused him to chuckle lightly.
[“It was also the intensity of today’s action, wasn’t it?”] he continued, determined to press forward. [“Seeing that human being subjected to radiation was emotionally painful to watch. The intensity of those events must have dug down deep within my psyche and triggered some kind of residual memory extracted from Bok. Am I doing okay here… am I succeeding as a part-time, self-analyzing psychologist?”]
[“Uh huh.”] Nori paused for a moment, but the ‘tone’ of her presence remained extremely stern. [“Dr. Simmons is already planning to write a paper on you. She has lots of tests planned once you get back.”]
[“Wonderful, something else to look forward to.”]
[“How are you feeling?”] she asked him, focusing her manner on a more serious note.
[“Drained,”] Adam told her in response. [“It’s as though the sleep didn’t do me any good. I feel like my energy levels keep going down, and no matter what I do nothing seems able to replenish my vitality.”]
[“Constant pressure and anxiety will do that, and the more intensely those negative traits are applied against a living being, the faster his faculties begin to break down.”]
[“Honey?”]
[“Yes…”]
[“I hope this isn’t your idea of a pep talk, because it sounds like more of a downer to me.”]
[“That’s because you don’t know about our surprise yet.”]
[“What surprise?”] Now he was intrigued by the conversation, because obviously something was up.
[“If you’re not on the starboard side of your ship, go there. Go there and look out a window.”]
Unfortunately, Adam was on the port side of the Ali Rinai, but that didn’t stop him from bolting out of the small cabin and moving horizontally across the deck. He ran at a brisk trot, repeatedly diving through access hatch after access hatch. Many of the uniformed Zaketh and Yakiir warriors moving back and forth along the corridors raised eyebrows in surprise or glanced at him as though he was out of his mind. But Adam sensed that something big was up; he could feel it in the thought patterns of his wife’s presence. There would be no brief appearances by the Ranger and Corona, followed by quick departures this time… he strongly suspected that the time had come for other ships to move into the Wasteland.
Or, more importantly, for ONE of them to.
When he reached the outer, starboard corridor leading to the cargo bay he moved immediately to the windows and looked outside, eyes searching for the familiar lines of the vessel he was waiting to see. And it was there, floating right alongside the Ali Rinai as though the lady he named his ship after had just picked up an escort. The Pathfinder was here, fully armed and ready, and Snee Vasten was suddenly speaking in his ear, letting him know that President Kaufield wanted Adam’s command team to come aboard for a major meeting. Elated, Adam nodded and requested that Vasten confirm the transmission. He had been privately hoping for additional help to arrive as soon as possible for some time now. Although he was more functional than expected in a war zone, the repeated clashes with the enemy were taking their toll on him.
Especially the loss of MY friend because of MY screw up.
Reaching up to touch his earwig, Adam smiled. “Adam Roh to Kra Wonin, please respond.”
The unit fought to subdue unwanted electronic feedback and temporarily triumphed. “Wonin here.”
“Assemble several of your officers and meet me by the starboard docking collar in five minutes.”
“Is something up?”
“You might say that. My friends are here. And they brought enough firepower with them to end this war.”
Aboard the U.S.S. Pathfinder…
The Pathfinder’s cargo bay was a huge, barren chamber at present. There were still a few stray forklifts and boxes still to be found, but overall almost all of the necessary, heavy equipment had long since been moved to the surface of Tranquility. The bay itself was positioned just below the starship’s main hangar bay, and it didn’t take long at all for Adam and his officers in the Command Center to maneuver the Ali Rinai alongside for docking. All of the Wasteland guests were awed by the sight of so large a ship as they walked across the floor of the cargo bay slowly, clearly impressed, their eyes shifting this way and that, studying the details of the alien ship’s contoured shapes and lines with astonished eyes.
They were given a brief tour of the hangar bay, with its small and large shuttles sitting alongside the sleek, arrow-nosed F-175 fighter craft. Fuel trucks and racks of ship-to-ship missiles still lined the port and starboard launch tubes, a clear indicator that the main ingredients for a sustained offensive were available to draw upon if needed. Once more standing on board the friendly vessel, Adam walked ahead of the members from the three clans that he had brought with him, cheerfully pointing out to them the various advantages of the ship’s layout and the deadly capabilities of its fighter squadron. No one was allowed to bring weapons onto the Pathfinder, and in addition to the restriction there were at least four armed marines watching over the small group. It was clear that President Kaufield was taking absolutely no chances.
Eventually a large cargo lift on the lower deck took them all the way to the top of the starship, depositing them in a lengthy corridor that led to one of the huge domes along the dorsal hull. Adam ushered his people inside with a bold confidence that reassured them. The three Crasel were already comfortable and at ease, even while aboard a strange, alien vessel. It was blatantly obvious that they trusted Adam like a blood brother. Snee Vasten and Kra Wonin, judging solely by their expressions, were also obviously impressed with the sleek design and sophistication of the Earth starship. And yet they too appeared to be in charge of their emotions and relatively unflappable. The same could not be said of the other half dozen Zaketh and Yakiir, many of whom had served most or all of their lives as front line shock troops. To them, the starship was an advanced design that appeared to be almost magical to them, and its presence tugged at the edges of their superstitious natures.
Kaufield stepped forward and hugged Adam warmly, wrapping his arms around the taller, more muscular man and pulling him close. “You and I are both in a tragic, shared club now,” the President told him wistfully. “We have both lost men under our command. It is something that you cannot possibly prevent if you are in combat for any length of time, and the emotional knife cuts even more deeply when it’s someone close to you. You have my deepest sympathies, and Dr. Simmons will make her services available if you need to talk about anything while you’re here.”
“Thanks,” nodded Adam in response, glancing toward the far side of a lengthy conference table that was lined with his friends. Colonel Murray Neeland headed the list, still in command of the Pathfinder’s marine squadron even after the passage of ten years. Although his men periodically ran drills over the past decade, the vast majority of them were lifelong soldiers with their training ingrained deep within them and they were thus always ready for action.
Thomas Roh sat smiling next to the Colonel, along with Noriana, who surprisingly maintained her professional demeanor even though she quite obviously wanted to run across the room and also embrace her husband. Karen Simmons was present, along with Glen Fredericks, his wife Mary, and the infamous Dr. Julie Markham. All of them were once again reunited aboard the Pathfinder and ready for action. What astonished Adam the most was how prepared they all were, since each and every one of them had notes of one kind or another setting in front of them along with laptops and other portable devices capable of storing critical details. Also, each of his friends wore a tag with their full name printed three times, one for each of the three clan languages involved in the meeting. It was obvious, judging by the sheer amount of food on the table, that they had jumped through plenty of hoops to make their guests feel welcome.
“These are my friends from tiny Clan Crasel,” Adam began, waving a casual hand to introduce Janney Stox, Arte Kasik and Cren Hollis. “I’ve known them almost the entire time I’ve been in the Wasteland.” He carefully pronounced their names for the official record before ushering each of them to an empty chair. He shook his head at the sheer quantity of food and drink set out on the table before encouraging his friends to have a decent meal while the opportunity presented itself. Shortly thereafter, Big Cren Hollis informed him that he had never before tasted food so wonderful, and he only half-jokingly inquired as to how specifically to go about being assigned to the Pathfinder for a full tour of duty.
“It’s good to meet all of you,” nodded Kaufield with a wide smile, seizing the opportunity to demonstrate how to shake hands with each of them. “Welcome aboard the Pathfinder.”
“This is Snee Vasten from Clan Zaketh,” noted Adam, gesturing toward the large man with the squinty blue eyes and shaved head. “He’s a former troop squadron commander and my current XO, someone who has proven to be a reliable ally and trusted go between when I need help from his troops.” He shifted his gaze to the other tall, muscle bound officer. “Kra Wonin here is a more recent acquaintance from Clan Yakiir, who I’m certain must still harbor a few doubts about us. Unfortunately, we began this entire affair by attacking his ship and commandeering it. So I won’t call him a friend just yet, at least not until he is able to return the favor.”
“I have significantly less doubts about you now than in recent days, Adam Roh,” Wonin replied sincerely, boldly studying all of the strange new faces in the luxuriously designed conference room. “Your own, personal abilities were impressive, true. But until the recent flyby of this vessel we had no concrete evidence that you actually did have the kind of powerful friends that you regularly spoke about. Quite obviously they are indeed real and willing to help us.” The Yakiir soldier glanced toward Adam thoughtfully. “The question that remains, how best do we go about effecting real change in the Wasteland? I can tell you from personal experience that my people would like the war to end as much as anyone. And yet our families are constantly threatened and at the mercy of the Kuth who work to manipulate us. You have approached us in a benign manner, but we would not want to simply trade the Caucus for new tyrants. We want to be certain you are truthful.”
“I assure you, sir, we have already begun the process of severing your ties with them,” nodded Noah in response. He was sitting at the far end of the table, and for all intents and purposes appeared to be just another civilian member of Kaufield’s group. Apparently, the Proteus alien wanted to keep his true identity a secret for now, so Adam simply accepted that fact and kept the rest to himself.
He made certain that everyone found a seat, also urging Snee Vasten, Kra Wonin and their escorts to help themselves to anything they wanted to eat. They were warriors to the core, used to eating when and where the opportunity to do so presented itself. All of them dug into the food and drink without the slightest bit of shyness or hesitation, working busily to ingest as many calories as they could. “Have you discovered anything new from that military installation’s database?” Adam inquired curiously. The hope in his heart died a little as he watched his younger brother shake his head negatively.
“All of the data is specific to station operations,” Thomas told him, his own apparent frustration and disappointment plainly obvious. “We can tell you anything you want to know about the fighters and other support vessels stationed there, quashing missile production and the bio-services lab that assists Kuth warriors in gaining the ability to shape shift into humans.” He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “There’s even a fuel refinery attached to one end of that place. We dug through every last digital shred of data, but there wasn’t anything to be found in the way of navigation charts or listings of foothold planets or other bases. The governing Kuth Caucus obviously considers the concealment of that information to be critical. Undoubtedly it is passed along to people outside of those locations only on a need-to-know basis.”
Kra Wonin nodded in agreement. “Even those of us who have lived on their home worlds, at one time or another, have no knowledge of their actual location,” he pointed out. “We can look up into the sky at night, and try to use the stars to determine where we are,” he continued, frowning noticeably. “However, the vast destruction of viable stars in the Wasteland and the resulting nebulae clouds are pretty much all that is left to be seen. There is never anything concrete that we can focus on and use to determine a specific coordinate set.”
“So you have lived on one of these worlds?” asked Julie Markham curiously. “What was it like?”
“I was only allowed brief visits,” Wonin acknowledged pensively. “Occasionally, if we fight honorably enough and win battles against other clans, we are permitted to visit our families for short periods of time.” He folded his arms together and his expression soured noticeably. “They’re beautiful worlds with many human communities well segregated away from most of the Kuth cities. At least that used to be the case. In recent years, almost all of the humans I know of who have traditionally lived on the home worlds have been forced to emigrate. All of our people, many of whom used to enjoy a favored status with the Kuth as long as they remained hard workers and productive, are now living on dead worlds and lifeless moons. Some of them are even hidden away on asteroids in large belts where it is difficult for an enemy – sometimes even for those of us who know they are there – to find them. We know they plan to destroy us too, once they’re done using our people to kill off the other clans, but there is very little we can do about it.” He held up his hands helplessly.
The short, petite Mary Fredericks studied him sympathetically. “You obey or become the evening meal.”
Kra Wonin bowed in response. “Essentially, yes. Although, as we have seen only recently aboard the military installation, there are other… unpleasant things that the Kuth can and do visit upon us.”
“Ali Rinai told me that she used to live on one of those home worlds too,” noted Adam regretfully. “She said that she ‘fell out of favor’ somehow, and that is how she ended up on this vessel. With her sophisticated technical skills and years of direct experience working with PTP flight technology it seems highly unlikely that the Kuth would let someone like her go unless they absolutely had no choice.”
“She may simply have been told that she fell out of favor,” shrugged Wonin indifferently. “The Kuth tell us many things, many of which prove to be untrue. But we obey because disobedience is promptly punished.”
“Or they no longer needed her skills,” suggested Nori Roh speculatively. “The simple fact that the Kuth have been pushing the Yakiir to eliminate other clans, rather than just war with them on a continual basis, is a clear indicator that their plans have changed significantly. I think they’re preparing for the next stage of their migration into this universe, for whatever will happen next.”
“That’s what should concern you the most,” Karen Simmons declared sternly to Kra Wonin. “Traditionally the Kuth needed you for three things: your skilled people work on their projects, others fight their wars for them, and everyone else…”
“…is just meat to them,” growled Snee Vasten, turning toward Wonin with a deliberate stare, “or medical specimens for those experiments of theirs.”
“That is the major factor influencing my current trust in you,” said Wonin curtly. “It is why I have become unafraid to call Adam Roh a new friend. My people and I have watched the video feed that he recorded while over on the Kuth military station. We saw for ourselves what they were doing to those humans in their genetic laboratory, and it has caused us to reexamine everything that we previously believed to be true. In the past, many of my family and friends on a home world would be safe and sound during the brief times we were allowed to visit. Others would simply be gone, and we were told that they perished in some sort of accident or due to an unexpected medical condition.” He glanced toward a Yakiir Lieutenant seated next to him. “Now those types of explanations would seem to have been just more lies.”
“On my most recent visit to a home world, I had an experience that rattled my very soul,” the Lieutenant spoke up suddenly. An emptied plate sat in front of him along with a half empty cup of coffee, but his eyes were downcast as though he was hesitant to look the others in the eye. “A woman who I had developed a relationship with and hoped would someday be my wife approached me and completely spurned me,” he continued, face paling and fear noticeably clouding his expression. “She treated me like I was some kind of toy, as though my emotions no longer meant anything to her. The woman that I knew and fell in love with was never like that, she could never, would not do that kind of thing. She seemed like a completely different person when she so easily tossed me aside as though I no longer mattered to her. And now we have discovered that she might… that she might actually have been a completely different person.”
“No doubt a Kuth soldier was testing his newfound abilities on an unsuspecting human,” agreed Snee Vasten. “That would make sense. They obviously have no conscience, and if they feel emotions they take no care in trying to control them. To them, humanoids are just food and cannon fodder.”
“We need to know where their foothold worlds are,” stressed Kaufield adamantly. “And in order to accomplish that, the next step would seem to lead us toward the capture and interrogation of one or more of these Kuth aliens. Unless we catch someone from their Caucus and somehow manage to obtain the information from them, they’ll never allow us to determine the location of their safe bases.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “And unfortunately my people are not the type to just up and torture someone. I don’t expect that just asking them for the information will accomplish a whole lot.”
“If necessary, I believe we can extract what we need directly from their brains without causing them any pain,” Thomas replied softly. “I’ve been studying the incident where Adam tried to read Bok’s thoughts, and I think we can use one of the implants, on its own and without a human brain, to obtain what we need.” He exchanged a confident glance with his old friend, Glen Fredericks. “However, the Kuth are extremely dangerous and I think that interrogating them should be our last option. As we have seen, their physical strength is astonishing.”
Noah appeared intrigued by the prospect. “What then, would you suggest as the immediate alternative to capture?” he inquired curiously, his eyes shifting back and forth between Thomas and Glen.
“We’ve been conducting a detailed study of the evolution of the Wasteland, and discovered some pretty amazing things,” noted Glen. “Thomas and Dr. Markham did most of the work, because I was busy prepping the Pathfinder for its journey into the Wasteland. But what we have discovered simply by observation may offer the answer we seek… or at least a very decent starting point.”
“What do you mean?” wondered Kaufield. “Stars have been randomly destroyed in this particular spiral arm for more than forty-six thousand years. Right?” He placed significant emphasis on the final word and Julie chuckled at his manner.
“At first,” she told him. “That’s one of the reasons why, just like ten years ago, I asked for a series of shorter PTP transits prior to our final arrival here. I used one of the navigation telescopes to take a series of pictures on our way in.” She opened her laptop and activated its projection screen. An overhead image appeared in the area immediately above the laptop, showing a small oblong shape of darkness in the center of the galaxy’s fourth spiral arm. “Everything started out random in the beginning, but as we have seen there is also plenty of evidence indicating that the Kuth have consistently, meticulously worked to manipulate everything that is taking place within the Wasteland.”
She waved a hand above her laptop and a sequence of images began to flash by, one by one, in a poor imitation of animation. And yet her point became perfectly clear as image after image betrayed exactly what was happening over time, what was immediately, undeniably obvious if only one had the ability to look back in time – as she had – using photographs and then study the progression of star collapses. Fortunately, the Pathfinder and its capacity to transit over both long- and short- ranges offered her just that opportunity… a unique glimpse into the history of the Wasteland.
“Do you see it?” asked Thomas curiously. “Can you see what Dr. Markham is getting at?”
“I’ll run the sequence of images again, this time on a repeating loop.” Julie Markham tapped a few commands into the laptop using its keyboard and then they watched the area of dead stars again, first as a brief, oblong clump. Long tendrils of dead stars appeared next, poking outward like fingers before they too expanded in all directions. As the images taken from regular, pre-planned points many light years distant continued to evolve, it became blatantly clear just what was taking place within the Wasteland.
“It’s an almost perfect sphere,” gasped Kra Wonin suddenly, watching the cycle repeat once more. “It didn’t start out that way, and at many points through the centuries the shape has varied out on the perimeter. But in every case, the various fronts in our war always suddenly seem to change direction and push directly toward the star systems needed to keep the overall shape of the Wasteland spherical.”
“Ten years ago, we were looking at your galaxy from above,” Julie told him. “Our Observatory computer was designed to look for and photograph abnormalities, especially those with a possible man-made pattern. We saw a spot of dead stars in the fourth spiral arm of your galaxy where none should be and investigated. This time, we came in at a horizontal angle to the galactic core and the spherical structure of the destruction was much more easily discernible.”
Thomas smiled wryly, pleased that the results of their latest project had yielded such unexpected results. He was always happiest when his work produced something useful, and this had proven to be yet another of those occasions. “This is why I don’t think we need to be rounding up Kuth soldiers and interrogating them just yet,” he informed everyone boldly. “Perhaps we don’t know where all of the Kuth footholds are at this particular moment in time, but I can lay you odds as to where we will find at least one of them… and probably their most important one.”
“They’re obviously hiding something valuable at the center of the Wasteland,” guessed Arte Kasik suddenly. “That’s why they keep forcing all of us to fight for territory and foothold worlds out on the perimeter. We’re just useful tools, workers who are continually expanding the safe zone around them.”
“That’s right,” agreed Thomas with a firm nod. “The Kuth have deliberately and unconscionably used the clan wars for almost fifty thousand years now so that they can eliminate stable stars with the potential for habitable worlds in the immediate area surrounding the location of their secret base. The quashing of each star produces the energy necessary for them to bring ships, crew and resources across their ‘Bridge’ between universes. The residual nebulae left behind in the aftershock of the explosions from so many stars are an intermixed series of constantly shifting dust clouds, some illuminated and some not, but all of them helping to conceal their secret from everyone serving in the clan wars on the frontier. Only the Pathfinder and its ability to transit across large distances in a single hop have allowed us to analyze their historical pattern and determine how carefully they have shaped things.” He chuckled lightly. “You have to admire the beauty of their plan… who would look for one or more stable stars in the darkest area of the Wasteland… in an area devoid of stars for centuries?”
“If the goal is to topple the Kuth and their ability to manipulate the humanoid clans, I would agree that this new target is the perfect place to begin,” said Kaufield approvingly.
“Most certainly,” agreed Kra Wonin. “And yet, though you have convinced me and the others aboard the Ali Rinai, I do not yet understand how we can win over the rest of my people. Their fear and loathing of the Kuth is a powerful yoke to break – I fear that we are looking at another war that could take quite some time to win. All of our ships are no doubt under orders to locate and destroy us, and they will do just that.”
“When I first entered the Wasteland,” Adam told him suddenly, “my primary objective was to learn as much as I could about each clan by living in the war zone for a while and then report that information back to my home base. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that we would be at the point where we find ourselves today. There is an old saying among my people. When you do not know where you are going, try running as far as you can. From your new position, you can see farther.”
“The center of that sphere is the best place to start,” concluded Snee Vasten. “We must discover all of their secrets in order to win.”
“Especially given the fact that the Ali Rinai is now the primary target of the Caucus,” observed Kaufield, nodding in acknowledgement of Kra Wonin’s statement. “We’ve also been monitoring ship-to-ship communications ever since we entered the area, and the Kuth are absolutely furious regarding what you did to Admiral Deek and his convoy. The subsequent attack on their military facility has left them absolutely rabid… every ship in the area does indeed have orders to search the nebulae along this part of the perimeter until you’re discovered and destroyed.”
“That won’t take them long,” Adam realized suddenly. “All someone has to do is stumble across us, and then they can close a sphere of ships around us. They will know our maximum transit range and respond accordingly.”
“Which is why we showed up when we did,” said Glen firmly. “It’s time we used the Pathfinder’s CAS drive once again to move you out of here. They’ll never expect us to be able to transit thousands of light years at a time. We have an opportunity to catch the enemy of the Wasteland completely by surprise. They’ll never see us coming if we are decisive and act quickly enough.”
“I think it’s time that we do exactly that,” Kaufield agreed intently, looking first to Snee Vasten and then to Kra Wonin. “How trustworthy are the men you have aboard the Ali Rinai?”
“My men will follow orders, regardless of what else happens,” predicted Snee Vasten.
“Mine should too, although there are a few of them who will need to be watched,” Kra Wonin added. “Bok recruited some of them into his private little shipboard ‘network’. Most of those I put with the rest of the prisoners, but it is always hard to identify all undercover operatives unless they give themselves away.”
“Then let’s draw up a battle plan and get to work,” suggested Kaufield. “Let’s take this war directly to the center of the Wasteland, the place where everything seems to have begun.”
Everyone surrounding him nodded in full agreement.
15: XIV: Hope and GloryPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
Shortly after the regular crew finished eating a hearty meal delivered straight from the Pathfinder’s kitchens, Adam found his way into the Mess Hall and paged his three Crasel friends along with Kra Wonin. They arrived to find a feast already laid out for them, including rare, prime rib roast beef with all kinds of vegetables. Carrots, pearl onions, along with double-stuffed baked potatoes were also among the sides available for dinner. The juicy slices of meat were soaking in au jus, and dark beef gravy was available for anyone who wanted it along with steaming, freshly baked biscuits to dip them in. For men used to eating whatever scraps were available, the aromas alone almost drove them mad with temptation. Adam smiled appreciatively, waving the four men into the room and ushering them over to a table laden with food.
“Feel free to try anything that looks tasty,” he suggested cheerfully, busily loading up a plate of his own. “And tonight we’re drinking an Earth beverage called beer, but not too much of it. Beer is wonderful, especially when served cold, but a drink that is best guided by the concept of moderation.”
“What is all this?” Cren Hollis demanded to know. “I’ve never seen so much food in one place before!”
“You men have fought hard for me, and trusted me with your lives,” Adam responded, pouring each of them a tall glass of beer. “Back where I come from, this is a tradition of sorts… at least a part of it is.”
“What kind of tradition?” Janney Stox asked curiously, snorting with laughter as he watched Hollis begin stuffing beef in his mouth even before grabbing a plate. He smacked the large soldier firmly on his right arm. “Show some manners, won’t you?” he demanded crustily. “I know you’ll eat anything and everything, but have some class, my friend.”
“Where is Snee Vasten?” wondered Kra Wonin, glancing swiftly around the mostly emptied room. “I was looking forward to discussing a few minor shipboard matters with him.”
“You can do that later,” insisted Adam, handing him a plate. “My friends on Pathfinder made certain to upgrade this vessel’s food stores, so meals will be a bit more palatable from now on. Enjoy.”
Arte Kasik and Cren Hollis were already seated, eagerly tearing hungrily at the meat and downing the vegetables in large bites. Hollis drained his beer glass in one long series of gulps and eagerly held it out. Adam shook his head with amusement before grabbing a large pitcher and refilling his friend’s cup. Behind him, the door to the kitchen opened, admitting the chef and several of his assistants. Each of them carried additional plates loaded with food. They moved in expertly, setting down the new platters and stacking together the emptied ones before moving swiftly back behind the tall, swinging doors.
“We’re going to need more pitchers of this beer as well,” Hollis called out eagerly.
“What about Vasten?” asked Wonin a second time.
“He is up in the Command Center, keeping watch with several of his officers,” noted Adam in response, holding up a cautious hand. “Don’t worry… I had food sent up to them. Everyone is eating well tonight although they’ll have to enjoy their beer later. Since both this ship and the Pathfinder have deployed shuttles and fighters to search the surrounding territory, we have some time to take a little break from the everyday grind and refresh ourselves. I’m simply guessing on the matter, but figured that the local cuisine could do with some improvement. It’s probably been awhile since you men have eaten well.”
“You figured correctly,” grunted Hollis, still chewing on a mouthful of beef. He poured gravy over the vegetables on his plate and smiled gratefully. “This is without a doubt the best meal I’ve ever eaten… even better than the one on your ship.”
“Agreed,” grinned Arte Kasik through pieces of biscuit caught in his thick black mustache.
“If you’ve launched fighters and shuttles from your support vessel, then we must already be in the center of the Wasteland,” observed Kra Wonin with interest. “That would require a PTP leap of incredible distance, or a swift series of smaller ones.”
“It was all handled with a single, massive transit into the center of the Wasteland,” acknowledged Adam with a confident smile. “The Pathfinder projects a portal in front of it, which this ship used to make the leap to our current position. Then, once they’ve confirmed that we’re safely on the other side, my friends bring their own vessel through.” His eyes moved to meet Wonin’s. “Our attack on the military installation may have given away our ability to transit across longer distances than most of the traditional clan ships, but we kept it reasonable. This much farther distance should also come as a complete surprise to them. They’ll still be looking for us in the area where we used to be, at least until someone in this region discovers our presence here. We’re nearly a hundred thousand light years from our previous position.”
“If there is something worth protecting here, you can bet that there will be lots of military traffic,” Wonin cautioned, shuffling some vegetables around on his plate with a rounded metal eating utensil. “In addition, there are many traps that will have been set…”
“Oh, trust me,” chuckled Adam merrily. “I’ve known about your traps for over ten years now. The Pathfinder unexpectedly fell into one of them on its initial journey outward from our home world. Our entire crew almost paid the ultimate price for carelessness, by allowing our caution to be trumped by sheer curiosity. This time around, all shuttles and fighters have been ordered to avoid dead worlds, moons and asteroid belts. If someone discovers them, it will be because of blind chance. And even that is extremely unlikely, since there is so much nebula dust in here that, lacking the normal array of suitably hot stars, most of the area is shrouded in almost total darkness.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “That will make our search tougher, but we’ve got some time now. In the end, I believe we’ll discover what we’re looking for.”
Janney Stox pushed his emptied plate in and poured himself another glass of beer. “I haven’t eaten so well in my entire life,” he admitted gratefully, waving a hand in mock disgust. “But enough talk about business. You mentioned earlier that this was a tradition of yours. What kind of tradition?” Absolutely gorged from the huge meal, he sipped lightly at the dark beer, savoring its taste.
Pausing for a moment, Adam remembered his earliest days as a hardware specialist before ending up serving on Earth’s moon base. “It was something my colleagues and I used to do whenever we finished a huge project,” he told them with a nostalgic smile. “We didn’t have much time for partying or eating large meals during the crunch of meeting deadlines, but once we had the toughest parts of our assignments licked we made certain to take the time to celebrate. I wanted to do so here as well, but this time before whatever is going to happen next. It dawned on me, after the loss of Tran Wuu…” He trailed off, raw emotion tearing at his gut. He fought back, successfully maintaining his composure. “It dawned on me that I should thank you people for helping me learn what I needed to know, so that we have real hope for a new future in the Wasteland, an honest future without the Kuth leadership manipulating everyone.”
Raising his glass, he took a moment to teach them how to toast along with a brief explanation of its meaning. “To hope,” they all spoke in unison, glasses clinking lightly together.
“This plentiful, wide variety of food, that other vessel out there, it’s all almost impossible to believe,” noted Janney Stox with a stern shake of his head. “How do your people accomplish all of this?”
“We are free to define our own path,” Adam told him in response. “When that freedom is threatened, we fight to regain it with as much passion and aggression as you do. The main problem that your people have always faced is that the Kuth have placed themselves in a position where they can remain dominate on an indefinite basis. My job, and that of my friends, is to hit them hard enough so that their control of the clans collapses completely. We are committed to accomplishing this.”
“And with freedom, we can also learn to build ships like yours?” Arte Kasik appeared truly skeptical.
“Look more closely at your own clan, the Crasel,” suggested Adam. “Your spoken language is as complex as that of any clan, but your written language is much, much simpler, primarily comprised of pictures and graphical icons.” He shifted his gaze to Kra Wonin. “Some of the Yakiir receive a much more detailed education, but only those who cooperate with the Caucus. Anyone who opposes the status quo ends up on the frontier, fighting the wars against other humanoid clans.”
“That is true,” admitted Kra Wonin ruefully. “My own education is mid-range, at best.”
“Imagine what it will be like if the Kuth are gone,” continued Adam optimistically. “Just think what things would be like if everyone received an education, if everyone was given an opportunity to contribute the best of his or her talents and pass on what they learn to their descendants? That’s what my world is like… my people have a permanent foothold, generally free from large scale wars. You would be surprised at what can be built with a knowledge base that spans generations, as each new crop of young people learns from their parents and grandparents. Imagine worlds where people are free to produce as much as they can, to build creations that others will make use of and then improve upon. That is what my world was like, until war tore us apart in a manner that was much more abrupt than yours. Fortunately, we found allies who chose to help us. Together, all of us are working together now and have chosen to help you end your war.”
“How can we be anything but grateful to you?” asked Cren Hollis. “Were it not for you, we would long since be dead with the war raging on.”
“And my people eventually emerging victorious,” Kra Wonin predicted. “At which point the Kuth will have no more use for us.”
“They’ll use you for food,” guessed Janney Stox, slamming his glass down sharply for emphasis. “Or they’ll keep some of you well educated and doing their toughest work for them. It’s slavery or the dinner table that your people are facing. I must say my clan dying off completely would almost be preferable.”
“It would be preferable,” growled Arte Kasik with a deep scowl, turning over an empty pitcher and allowing several residual drops to fall onto the table’s surface. “We’re out of beer.”
“Yes we are,” said Adam with a headstrong nod. “And that’s the way things will remain until all of the fighting is over.” He waved a scolding finger at his friend. “Remember my suggestion regarding moderation… each of us needs to keep our sound judgment and mental faculties ready for anything.”
“I was hoping that it was just a suggestion,” Kasik told him with a disappointed frown.
* * * * *
An hour or so later Adam found himself walking through an outer corridor along the Ali Rinai’s damaged, starboard hull. Pausing at a window port here or there, he gazed out at the massive, swirling clouds of gently illuminated nebulae, admiring the soft reds, pinks and oranges to be found amidst a significantly larger quantity of dark blues and purples. Everything else, for the most part, was pretty much inky black darkness. It was difficult to see in the midst of so much drifting matter, among the gaseous vapors and dust pockets that were all that remained of thousands of suns. There was no trace of the vast, sweeping array of twinkling stars that would normally be found this deep within a galaxy’s spiral arm. Tragically, they simply did not exist any longer, so only the larger, cooler red giants remained to provide the occasional trace amounts of sunlight that hinted of the radiance that had once been.
But no longer.
Silently, deep in thought, Adam continued to stare out the window, partially mesmerized by the scope of the destruction. He idly wondered just how long it would take for the searching shuttles and fighters to detect anything relevant when forced to probe randomly within so vast an expanse. The region had been dubbed the Wasteland for a reason – out here there was virtually nothing but empty space and the perforated remains of a spiral, galactic arm that had once shown just as brightly as any other. Now the area was simply an empty desert, filled only with the limitless, drifting clouds of residual dust and gas that shrouded the few remaining stars in almost total darkness.
If the reconnaissance took longer than a few days, he briefly considered allowing the crew access to additional luxuries before promptly rejecting the idea. Right now they were battle tested and razor sharp, so he didn’t see any need to change any of that. What the Pathfinder’s crew had provided up to this point was a pleasant respite, so there was no need to tempt hardened soldiers with too much of a good thing. There was every indication that the Kuth would be coming for them, in large numbers and with murderous fury. When that occurred, everyone would have to be alert and ready for whatever challenges awaited them. Too much food and beer would dull their edge and that could lead to more death and the preventable loss of additional lives. Adam weighed this new responsibility of leadership with interest – there were so many ways to err.
The sound of someone moving just around a bend in the corridor caught his attention, along with the soft hiss of heavy breathing. “Hello?” he called out curiously, noticing as he did so that the presence of Kaufield in his mind suddenly vanished completely. The abrupt, unexpected loss of his implant connection caught him completely by surprise and a wave of fear swept through him since the event was unprecedented. More than a little concerned, he tested the implant’s functions and activated his eye HUD, insuring that his personal defenses were still active and available if needed. “Is someone there?” he asked again, moving now toward the left turn in the corridor. He rounded it just in time to halt in his tracks.
“Relax Adam Roh,” a voice he had never heard before suggested somewhat scornfully. “Communications with your Sentinel will be restored soon. I simply wanted to have a private conversation with you first.”
Adam studied the wizened, elderly man edging slowly toward him with intense interest. A soft white aura surrounded his body, pulsing softly in response to the receptors in Adam’s enhanced vision. Dark age spots lined the man’s arms and the sides of his face along with deep wrinkles that creased his face, forehead and the corners of his eyes. He was wearing silvery robes with dark black trim and his pale blue eyes studied the human with an inquisitiveness that matched Adam’s own. The newcomer walked unhurriedly and with the aid of a cane, coming to an abrupt halt less than three meters away, his eyes sparkling with confidence. By all appearances, he was at least a hundred years old and yet he stood there with a bold, charismatic smile that easily caught and held Adam’s attention.
“Who are you?” asked Adam, one hand reaching up to the transceiver in his ear. It too had gone dead. Wordlessly, he routed power to his personal shield and readied himself in case his weapons were needed.
“Are you going to shoot me?” the old man asked with a throaty cackle, somehow sensing what he was preparing to do despite any visual evidence. “Has this place rattled you so much that you would fire on an old man?”
“Living in this place for even a few days has made me a little bit nervous,” Adam admitted, somewhat impressed by the enigmatic charms of the other. The soft aura surrounding him continued to pulse steadily. “My enemy possesses the ability to transform themselves into humanoid shape, and I’ve never seen you before. So far, you refuse to identify yourself and you’re not a member of this crew. That doesn’t exactly leave me with the feeling that your intentions are honorable.”
“Let me ask you something,” the elderly gentleman suggested with a small smile. “Do you believe in an Intelligent Designer?” The inquiry caught Adam somewhat off guard, and he raised an eyebrow in response. “It’s not a tough question,” the stranger told him, scolding him mildly.
“You could tell me your name first,” said Adam softly. “That would be polite.”
“Answer my question first, young man.”
“Well, my brother has always been the true believer in our family,” Adam replied after pausing long enough to study the man more thoroughly. “My wife is too, although she would never admit it to anyone but me. She’s been in combat several times in her life, so hanging on to the hope of a higher power has been of comfort to her during times when her faith is tested.”
“I didn’t ask you about other people. What do you believe in?”
Internally, Adam’s emotions were stirring to life as he wondered just why he would give this man an audience under these conditions. Perhaps because he has managed to shut off my contacts to everyone else, his mind suggested. Or is it something more? Just who was this man and what was he doing aboard the Ali Rinai? He waited for a response to his comments, but the old man just stood there watching. “Me, I’ve always tried to maintain an open mind regarding that subject,” he concluded finally, “even if I don’t always make it to Church at least once a week.”
“Why would you have any doubts?” prodded the stranger curiously, his smile growing. “Your people on the Pathfinder have truly seen the wonders of creation like no other humans before you. So why would you possibly have any lingering doubts?”
The man’s questions stirred a series of long dormant emotions in Adam’s mind that grew steadily stronger as their conversation continued. “Well I’m primarily a scientist at heart, and there is clear evidence of at least some evolution, for one thing,” he answered with sincerity, waving a hand casually. “However, the fossil record never seemed able to fill in the key missing pieces… and it should have.”
“Please continue. What about history?”
“Well, everything there seems to conflict too. Consider the sheer complexity of the ancient writings back on Earth, the obvious exaggerations and mistakes by authors with a clearly religious agenda, the symbolism along with the manner in which one writing always seems to contradict one or more others…” He trailed off at that point, eyes studying the stranger fervently. “Your name would be…” he persisted defiantly.
“David. You may call me David if you really need to know my name,” said the old man with a frustrated wave.
“I do,” Adam told him. “It’s always nice to know who I’m speaking with.”
The other ignored his comment and waved the hand with the cane. “Have you taken into account that those ancient writings, as you call them, were simply recorded by people living in time periods much earlier than yours? That would tend to explain away most of the irregularities.”
“Yes,” acknowledged Adam slowly. “Yet many modern religious doctrines continue to rely on the strict, literal interpretation of them. I don’t believe in blindly following writers who lived long ago, saw what they wanted to see and were as flawed as I am… that’s not how I’ve traditionally learned how things work. Most biased writers will record their bias without even being aware of the fact that they’re viewing things through a different lens than the others around them.”
“Correct,” snapped David sharply, his expression stern. “The universe is full of life forms on a varying scale that make poor decisions for all kinds of different reasons, but mainly because we tend to be creatures governed primarily by emotional reactions. You’ve got a brain. Use it. That is the gift each of us receives. Is it more important to try and determine how many wives you should have, how many oxen you should own, how much of your estate should be taxed? Or is it better to live by much simpler, more common sense directives? Thou shalt not kill, for example, would seem to be obvious enough.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” wondered Adam suddenly. “If you have a specific point, please make it. Otherwise we’re simply wasting time…”
“I think you should try harder to avoid becoming a killer.” David’s expression was stern, almost patronizing.
The comment drew an immediate response from Adam. “Why don’t you tell that to the Kuth,” he growled heatedly in response. “Or perhaps the Brotherhood of the Dragon might benefit from one of your lectures. Who are you and how did you get aboard this ship?” he demanded to know. A sudden, inexplicable thought struck him and would not go away no matter how much his mind wanted it to. “Are you claiming to be the Intelligent Designer?” he gasped, eyes widening in shock. “Is that who you’re subtly implying you are?”
Nothing else made logical sense to him, primarily because Adam had traditionally been a ‘right or wrong’, ‘yes or no’ type of adult. Gray areas tended to bother him with their complexity, which was one of the reasons he ended up choosing computer science and mathematics as a career. David’s strange, luminescent aura continued to interest him – it was definitely not a Kuth bio-presence that he was seeing... at least not a normal one. Warily, he watched the elderly man tuck his cane under one arm long enough to grab the folds of his robes and pull them tightly together. “I am someone who doesn’t come out very often these days,” the stranger replied with a light chuckle of amusement. “I don’t get out much at all, in fact. However, I don’t consider it just another ordinary day when I wake up and discover one of your starships flitting about randomly through the heavens as though distance itself no longer matters.”
“I asked you a question,” countered Adam firmly. “Are you the Intelligent Designer? Perhaps a higher life form of some sort, like our friend Noah? Is that why all my communications have mysteriously gone dead?”
David laughed heartily and moved the rest of the way closer before bowing politely at the waist and reaching out a friendly hand to clap Adam lightly on his left shoulder. “I might be,” he admitted with yet another amused chuckle. “However, if you are familiar with the content stored within many of those historical texts, then you should already realize that you don’t get to know the answer to that question… not yet anyway.”
“Why not answer me?” inquired Adam curiously. “What could it hurt?”
“If I am who you seem to think I am then I have the right to answer your question however I choose to,” David countered smoothly, smiling wryly. The wrinkles along both sides of his face crinkled in response to his deepening expression. “And if I am not the Intelligent Designer…” he shrugged indifferently. “Perhaps the skeptics are correct and there is no such being. Have you considered that possibility?”
Adam strangely found himself nodding, eager to continue the discussion. “I have thought about this on many occasions throughout my lifetime and remain convinced that there is indeed an Intelligent Designer. Everything started out so simply, just space and matter. Then matter became different kinds of matter along with energy and everything else somehow formed under conditions just perfect enough to permit and support biological life.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the vast darkness surrounding them outside of the ship’s hull. “I sincerely believe that someone originally created the universe and everything in it. But I also believe that evolution has played a large part in shaping life on Earth. There is room for both in my mind. I personally choose to reject the literal interpretation of the ancient writings. I think there is so much more to the story.”
“Exactly right,” David agreed with a firm, satisfied nod of his aged head.
“Whether whoever or whatever started it all still exists or not… that question has remained unanswered since the beginning of… well, since the beginning of everything. Perhaps you can help me resolve the matter since you broached the subject. I cannot fathom why else you would be here, asking me these types of uncomfortable questions.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Of course, an open mind must leave open the strong possibility that there is no Creator… that everything did evolve over time.”
In his left hand David continued to hold firmly onto his walking stick. With his right he thoughtfully stroked his silver-bearded chin. “I suppose you could be right Adam Roh,” he mused thoughtfully. “Perhaps the abundant, almost limitless biological life scattered throughout this universe developed in the same manner as your technology and starship – by random chance. A bit of lightning here, an unplanned fire there, and slowly over time things began to take shape. Elements of metal no doubt combined during those naturally caused fires to form alloys and – over a period of thousands of years – even perfectly functional electronic circuits could have formed out of sheer random coincidence. Perhaps biological life evolved similarly, beginning with small, single-celled creatures at first that reproduced and grew steadily grew more complex in the same manner… prodded by that same randomness. The process involved would be very similar to the development of the computers you regularly use and the vessels your people fly through space.”
Adam shook his head negatively, knowing that he was being preached to but insistently seeking to present his own point of view anyway. “That seems highly unlikely, since our starships and the electronic devices they carry were very carefully designed and built,” he replied, correcting David’s statement impulsively. Now that he was talking, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He very much wanted the other man to understand his point of view. “All space vessels require complex planning and meticulous attention to detail in order to build functionality into them and make them capable of supporting biological life while they travel through and explore space. The creation of miniaturized electronics is a very painstaking and delicate process…”
“Exactly!” shouted David triumphantly, pointing the end of his cane at Adam. “The ancient texts from those many cultures that you mentioned earlier may not always be entirely accurate from a historical standpoint, but that is simply because they were recorded by men and women who lived in those early civilizations… prior to the development and understanding of modern science. The people who wrote down their observations in those long ago days did so from a primitive point of view. And yet almost unanimously each and every one of them declares that biological life was created. On your Earth many of those documents state specifically that God created man in his own image.” He paused for a moment, long enough to place a hand alongside Adam’s cheek and feel his soft skin. “If God did indeed create man in his own image…”
“…then man should also be able to create life in his own image,” Adam concluded, his expression somewhat amazed by the sudden, illuminating thought. He glanced toward the wizened, elderly gentleman standing in front of him. “Is there in fact an Intelligent Designer?” He asked again, more emphatically this time. “Are you the entity who created this universe, in all of its magnificent detail? Or are we now fulfilling that role?”
“Adam, have you ever really closely studied a giraffe… or a zebra for that matter?” wondered David in response. “Have you ever really taken a solid look at the lions and tigers and bears on Earth? In nature a Bengal tiger admittedly needs unusual markings for camouflage purposes, but only an Intelligent Designer would take it to the next level and also shape those markings so aesthetically and elegantly, like a beautiful painting. Only an Intelligent Designer would give a Cheetah his maximum speed, far more than he needs, so that he would take pride in outrunning all other animals. Only he would choose to create such a vast assortment of differing life forms, some of them ugly, some beautiful. Only he would make some of them dangerous with others completely benign and then combine those traits… sprinkling them among all life forms. Only an Intelligent Designer would bring so much diversity into an incomprehensibly massive, otherwise empty universe.”
“Biological life has properties that metal and wood do not… its various microscopic organisms can interact with each other, especially over long periods of time. This would not even involve your lightning and fire analogy. That which evolves may simply appear to be designed.”
“Every entrée is composed of ingredients. Someone has to supply them. You know: stars, planets, earth, water, fire… those kinds of things. How did the first single-celled life forms come into being without a Designer?”
“Why build up entire species of dinosaurs on Earth, only to simply kill them all off with a massive asteroid strike on the planet? That seems wasteful, or something that simply happens by random chance.”
“Some might call it practice.”
Adam grew suddenly impatient. “What are you trying to tell me?” he demanded suddenly.
“I am asking you to really think about this very important matter and keep an open mind. Have you ever conducted a really thorough examination of the complex, precise DNA patterns that are needed in order to generate the proper shape, appearance, and content of those animals? What about a human being and the sentient mind that shapes each individual into a unique person?” He chuckled gleefully as he watched Adam’s expression constantly shift with his conflicting emotions.
“Talk about your amazing coincidences!” David continued readily. “If your most sophisticated computers and starships cannot achieve sentience naturally, then what in the blazes could make anyone believe that something as complicated as biological life could? The principles of both are exactly the same, even if the composition and ingredients differ. Neural impulses are very similar to the electricity that runs your devices and your brain is essentially a biological version of temporary and permanent memory storage. Are you telling me that – throughout your history – non-believers have continually wasted time advocating theories of random chance and evolution simply because life is biological in nature and not technological?”
“What you say does make sense,” agreed Adam hesitantly. “Skeptics continue to doubt because the mystery of life’s origins have remained unproven. It doesn’t hurt to keep an open mind.” He smiled and waved his hands. “And yet this debate has raged throughout all of human history. There remains no concrete proof either way.”
“Be it technology or biological life, I think that those who advocate the development of such intricate, profound complexity using only theories of evolution and random chance are in fact taking a miraculous leap that borders on the ridiculous. The non-believers would claim that those of faith are setting themselves up for inevitable disappointment. I, however, submit to you that the reverse is true. It is in fact the non-believers who – in the end – are unrealistic and somewhat lacking in clarity of thought.” David's eyes flashed with intensity for a moment before his mood calmed somewhat. “But none of us get to know all of the answers we seek... at least not in this life. And that is how things should be, young man.”
“Suppose there is an Intelligent Designer. Why would he choose not to reveal himself?”
“Perhaps he is no longer around. Perhaps his lifespan, like that of most biological life forms, is a limited one. Maybe he is simply really, really busy moving around between all of those other universe bubbles that your starship helped you discover, constantly adding to his work. Or perhaps… perhaps he simply does not wish to make his presence known once a sentient culture reaches a maturity level and begins to guide itself,” answered David insistently, his expression stern. “It could be that evolution is a large part of the driving force behind the life in this universe, but not what initially created it! Perhaps the Intelligent Designer actually wanted evolution thrown into the mix. Perhaps he wants people to learn from the mistakes they make in life – historically that has always proven to be the very best teacher. And maybe, just maybe, he wants people to look up into the sky and wonder ‘what if’…? Wouldn’t that actually be the best motivator to prod sentient beings into bettering themselves and continuing the expansion of their knowledge base?”
There was a brief pause as Adam’s mind tried to grasp the vast mental picture that David was attempting to create. “We do not discuss this subject enough any longer, back on Earth then or now on Tranquility,” he admitted reluctantly. “There are a variety of different faiths – and many non-believers as well. We individuals usually keep our own beliefs private to respect others around us. To do otherwise all too often risks offending those who are easily provoked by views that differ greatly from their own. The concept of an Intelligent Designer has always been a controversial one. Some remain open minded about such a prospect while others are less so. Many are, and always have been, absolutely militant about such beliefs. They, in large part, are responsible for what happened on Earth.”
“That is indeed too bad,” decided David. “What a gift life is Adam Roh… what a truly remarkable achievement each and every birth has been and continues to be in your world. Especially the newer creations unique to your own race,” the old man chuckled, studying Adam’s square-jawed expression intently. “Take that AI software running in this vessel’s communications computer, for example. To create it, your own brother Thomas worked very long and hard at his task with persistent, loving care. So what in blazes makes you think that the being responsible for the creation of humanoids and other life forms in this universe would feel or act any differently when building a mind of out of the ether?”
“The creation of artificial intelligence does make my brother a kind of God in a small way,” admitted Adam reluctantly. “I would never tell him that, because he’s got a large enough ego already…”
David pulled a small metal object hanging on the end of a long chain out of his pocket and tossed it to Adam. “As long as I’m here, why don’t you have a look at this, too?”
Adam studied the item with interest. It was a silver pocket watch complete with an old-style numbered clock-face, ticking away the seconds in his hand even as the attached chain drooped over the edge of his right hand, hanging loosely. Regardless of where it came from, it was obvious that he was looking at a very old, very valuable antique. “It’s beautiful,” he told David with admiration.
“Do you think that it was constructed by lightning and fire and the passage of time?”
“No. I do not.”
“Then perhaps Adam Roh,” David told him with an obvious, satisfied smile, “you and I may be finally getting somewhere worthwhile.”
“If he does indeed exist, how do we know for certain that there is only one Intelligent Designer? As I have pointed out, beliefs tend to differ considerably among my people on this matter. Nor, I would emphasize yet again, has there ever been the discovery of any tangible proof.” Adam watched with astonishment as David continued to chuckle with obvious amusement while he responded to the old man’s speculations. Nevertheless, he persisted with his train of thought. “Many Earth cultures believe that there is one true God. That is why I had hoped that you might in fact be Him. Such a discovery would allow all of humanity to finally resolve many of its largest, historically unanswered questions.”
“If you’re going to call me anything when you tell the others about me,” David suggested politely, “please call me the Watchmaker. That name will suffice for the purposes of your mission.”
Adam felt the last of his patience drain away and decided to issue a direct challenge. “Why are you here, visiting with me? Do you have a point to make, or do you wish to continue to debate that which cannot be proven.”
“I am here,” David stated very slowly and deliberately in response, “because I want to make certain that you understand what you are about to do. I want you to consciously realize that a significant number of lives are at stake in this matter, human and otherwise. You need to clear your head for the decisions that lie ahead so that you can make good ones. Addling your brain with pitchers of beer and openly hating the Kuth for what they have done is the wrong way to go about it. You are a role model for those around you.”
“Why would you have any doubts about me in that regard?”
David harrumphed loudly in response, waving the end of his cane at Adam. “How many humans have you killed since you arrived here in the Wasteland?”
“Some. I’ve done my best to carefully limit my use of violent force to actions in defense of my own life.” Truthfully, Adam could not be entirely certain. Throughout most of his journey, he had deliberately chosen to use his wrist weapons only to stun. Admittedly, there were times when the electromagnetic blasts required had been much more powerful. Then there was the incident with the stolen supply ship, which he had deliberately rammed into the starboard side of this vessel. There was no way to tell precisely how many soldiers inadvertently perished during that incident. He sighed heavily and waved his hands helplessly in response. “Some,” he repeated, speaking the words more forcefully this time for added emphasis.
“How many Kuth?”
Repressed fear and terror erupted within Adam’s gut, boiling out of him in a hot unexpected rage. “Those creatures are trained killers,” he snapped suddenly and unexpectedly at David, amazed by his lack of tact and by the abrupt intensity of this strange conversation with a man who – for all intents and purposes – continued to be a complete stranger to him. “Not only do they kill, but they enjoy doing it.”
David responded by pointing a stern finger at him. “Are you talking about the same type of joy that you felt while killing those Kuth in your cargo bay?” he snapped briskly. “Admit it. You took pleasure in using your superior technology to humiliate and then execute them. In that moment, you were little better than they.”
“That’s not true,” insisted Adam. “And who are you to pass judgment on me?”
“Believe it or not, I am your friend,” said David insistently, catching him completely by surprise. “The answer to my question is ten, if we include the military installation. You have met eleven Kuth in total, and TEN of them have died at your hand. The eleventh would have been a cripple all of his life, but has since been put to death by his own people for allowing himself to be so soundly beaten by one human. That is the destruction that you have wrought with your weapons, with your technology, and with your choices. That is why I am here.”
“You seem to already know who these Kuth are and what their purpose is within the Wasteland,” pointed out Adam, a rush of uncontrolled humiliation passing through him. He could feel his cheeks flush red at the truth of David’s revelation – a small part of him had indeed enjoyed inflicting terror and injury on the Kuth… there had been almost a feeling of revenge driving his actions, revenge in the name of a people that were admittedly not his. “You seem to know how manipulative those creatures are and how many lives they have destroyed. So I will ask you sir. What would you suggest I do differently?”
“I want you to take the time to think things through more thoroughly,” David told him, voice steady and strong. “Even if things are happening fast, I want you to remember that the use of force should always be a deterrent, and the use of lethal force an absolute last resort.”
Adam’s mind filled with dozens of possibilities. “Why?” he inquired curiously.
“You are about to make choices that will literally impact billions of lives,” interrupted David somberly. “The next time you have a chance, why don’t you ask your brother how long it took him to write that artificially sentient computer program. Ask him how much effort is required to make certain that it can transmit and receive messages from other ships, interpret them, contrast them with historical activity and insure that this ship’s transmissions behave in a manner that is non-threatening to other Yakiir ships. If you listen carefully to his answer, I believe you will discover that creating life is considerably more challenging than ending it.”
“The Kuth are cold-blooded killers,” echoed Adam, his words suddenly sounding more than a little hollow. “They will not leave these people alone unless someone makes them do so. Even the concept of alien sentient life is meaningless to them. They act without the guidance of morals or conscience and care only about the continuity of their own race. The concept of coexisting with the humans already living here seems to have always been completely beyond their comprehension.”
David folded his robed arms and studied Adam’s blazing eyes. “A moment ago you accused me of passing judgment on you,” he observed critically. “Exactly who is passing judgment now?”
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Adam pleaded honestly. “I don’t know what your point is.”
“All I am asking, Adam Roh, is that you think smarter from this point forward. Make a conscious effort to discover alternatives other than simply using your superior technology to kill off the problem. You are better than that… humanity is better than that. Other options exist, I promise you that, even if you don’t always recognize them immediately. Use the mind you have been given and think of something else.” He paused abruptly before continuing. “The Kuth are a race from a dying universe, a race that simply developed later in its universe’s lifespan than you did in yours. They want to survive as much as you do and have made a tremendous effort to do so, even though their intelligence and temperament do not match yours. They made use of what was available to them to try and preserve their species, and I think that you should weigh every possibility before you continue killing them off with your superior firepower. In the long run your conscience will thank you for it, especially when you return to that wonderful family of yours.”
“Why do the Kuth deserve mercy when they have offered the humans living in the Wasteland none?”
“Offer them mercy because your intelligence and morals are supposedly honed to a sharper degree than theirs, because you live your life according to a higher standard. So what if their alien nature doesn’t allow them to relate to you in the same manner? Does that mean the Kuth race has nothing to offer this universe? How can you know that for certain?”
“You’re talking to someone who has seen their brutal nature at its worst,” Adam pointed out. “Please forgive me if I therefore feel a little bit apprehensive about the prospect of interacting with them diplomatically.”
“Of course you feel uncomfortable around them,” snorted David somewhat disapprovingly. “Suppose you follow through with what your primitive side is telling you to do… let’s say you destroy their hold over the people of the Wasteland and wipe them completely out of this galaxy. What if then, your brother, the true believer, turns around and tells you that your Doctors have discovered that the Kuth mimetic abilities – possibly something in their blood – can cure some of Earth’s worst diseases? What if their biology can help ease even the worst of the radiation damage that many of your Earth refugees continue to suffer from? Your shortsightedness will have trumped compassion, costing your own people in the long run.”
“After watching Bok devour his Captain right in front of me, I’m sorely tempted to take that risk.”
“Then you might as well be the Intelligent Designer you were asking about, because you’re in effect choosing to play the role of God on a truly massive scale, deciding who lives and who dies completely at your whim. Am I correct in that regard? If another ten years pass, will you still feel this way? The Kuth will be just as dead.”
Turning his head sharply to one side, Adam found his cheeks reddening again and chose to say nothing.
“Maybe your people never will be able to live alongside the Kuth in peace,” continued David, ignoring Adam’s awkward silence. “That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a home and their own chance to thrive.” He waved his arms up and down in the general direction of the window portals. “Just think of how truly massive this universe is, and there are others just like it out there!” He smiled warmly at Adam and stepped forward to hug him briefly. “Use your compassion and your good judgment to make better decisions than you have so far,” he suggested. “That is what I have come here to tell you.”
And then David turned suddenly transparent, and his robed, rail thin body vanished into thin air.
Adam simply stood there for a few minutes, trying to digest the vast amount of information that his exhausted brain was trying to process. Emotions that were stronger than anything he had ever felt continued to rise and fall within him, driving his thought process in unpredictable ways. He didn’t like that part of him, that portion of his personality that was becoming unpredictable. But he was an imperfect, emotional creature in the midst of a chaotic, constantly changing environment unlike anything most humans would encounter in their lifetime. Thinking back to his first, youthful conversations with his parents, he consciously made the decision to forgive himself in advance for occasionally getting caught up in the raw emotion generated by these kinds of life-altering experiences. Sometimes you act before you think, his father had told him. You can try not to, but it will occasionally happen. That’s the price of being able to feel emotions… they influence your behavior.
[“Are you there?”] his mind instinctively asked, accessing his implant and using it to send a message over to the Pathfinder. [“Denny, can you hear me?”]
[“Yes, yes I can hear you,”] replied the Council President cheerfully. [“What’s up?”]
[“For starters, I think I’m done drinking beer until this is all over,”] Adam decided, shaking his head with dismay. [“Along with my elevated anxiety, I’m beginning to hallucinate. Maybe it’s the residue of that pathogen from ten years ago acting up again, the one that we picked up on our initial journey outward from Earth…”]
That was when he looked down and noticed the antique, silver watch still tightly clutched in his right hand.
16: XV: The Foothold in the WastelandPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the long-range shuttle Ranger…
Thomas Roh snapped out of his light nap and glanced around, suddenly aware that he was chilly. The rear, cargo compartments aboard the Ranger were essentially large, empty chambers and not nearly as well ventilated as the rest of the ship. But on a longer than normal trip such as this one, they provided a relatively quiet place to rest. The young scientist idly made a mental note to remember to bring a blanket the next time around, rising out of the passenger chair he had belted himself into and moving back toward the shuttle’s forward cabin. Before returning to the cockpit, he poured the remaining contents of a coffee pot into a large, plastic lidded cup and sipped from it. The hot, harsh taste of the coffee stirred his mental faculties, and he smiled while glancing out a nearby window at the surrounding dust clouds.
These nebulae seem to go on forever and never end, he thought idly to himself. But everything is finite and definable, in the end. Ever since learning scientific notation, he had always believed it to be so. At least until we discovered the existence of other universes surrounding us, universes that might in fact be just as numerous and limitless as we once thought galaxies were.
He found his sister-in-law, Noriana Roh, working the helm in the pilot’s seat. Several other officers were also busily with other tasks, so Thomas simply picked out an empty chair near his portable laptop and sat down next to them. The program running on his computer was busily monitoring the shuttle’s detections systems, searching for local communications traffic and signs of other ships. “You must be doing pretty well searching through all of this dust,” he noted, still sipping coffee. “My search functions are picking up additional signs of inter-ship communications. We’re getting closer.”
“Are we now?” Nori glanced back at him, her lips curling into an odd smile. In front of her, clouds of pulsing, purplish dust roiled slowly back and forth in a steady procession past the forward cockpit windows. It was one hell of a view, but something in her expression piqued his interest.
“What?” asked Thomas, instantly suspicious. “What did I miss?”
“Perhaps you should take a closer look at your computer,” Nori told him simply in response.
Thomas did exactly that, cycling his way through the half a dozen screens that currently displayed endless lines of statistics. He found what he was looking for on the motion sensor emulator, where three bright red dots blinked at him, immediately attracting his attention. “When did we find other ships?” he exclaimed excitedly. “Four days of nothing and all of a sudden we just hit gold? When?”
“Maybe next time you should take a shorter nap,” suggested Adam’s wife, still wearing a triumphant smile. “I mean, I usually fly fighters, but even with a shuttle there are still a few tricks to be tried.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched her cheerful nature. “Did you vary our course from the computer’s suggested flight pattern?” he asked her suddenly. “You did, didn’t you?”
She returned her attention to the flight controls, but he could tell even by simply looking at the back of her head that she was still extremely pleased with herself. “Your flight plan was boring getting us nowhere Thomas. So I improvised a little bit while you were napping.”
Growing somewhat frustrated, Thomas shook his head negatively. “You shouldn’t have done that Nori. These programs are very carefully designed to search the local area for patterns left by fuel residue and inter-ship communications. Since most of the local traffic would occur around the star system – or systems – that we believe are hidden in this vicinity, eventually the computer would have pinpointed the precise location.” He studied the suddenly useless statistics with more than a little frustration. “Now I have to start completely over. Why did you do this?”
She spoke without hesitation or regard for his hurt feelings. “Your system was taking too long.”
“So you took it upon yourself to just try something else… without even letting me know?”
“I didn’t want to wake you Thomas. You looked like you were resting peacefully, and I sincerely doubted that you would approve of the WAG method.”
He tried to resist, holding out for as long as his mild anger would allow. “WAG method?”
“Wild Ass Guess.” She let out a mild snort while laughing playfully at him. “We know that whatever is hidden here will not be at the exact center, so I used the PTP system to hop around a bit. When that didn’t work, I picked a nice spot that was mostly free of nebula dust – extremely hard to find by the way. Then I simply shut down our engines and waited. It only took a couple of hours before another ship passed by, so I implemented a pursuit course and started following it. The shield you obtained from Noah is keeping us invisible to their motion sensors, so there’s no danger of their detecting us…”
“Noah’s shield is keeping the entire ship completely invisible,” Thomas corrected her. “They couldn’t see us even if they were running alongside of us, two meters distant.” He rolled his eyes. “How did you know this ship moving along through empty space was going anywhere significant?”
Nori chuckled and waved her arms. “I didn’t,” she told him firmly, “until two other ships showed up.” Reaching over toward one of the other officers, she handed him a printed sheet of paper. “Your laptop successfully decrypted their communications, so it was of some help.” He ignored the not so subtle jab and read the words on the page curiously. “They’ve been ordered to return to Alpha Prime,” she said triumphantly. “So wherever that is, hopefully it’s what we’ve been looking for.”
Working to satisfy his own curiosity, Thomas pulled up surveillance images of the three vessels that his sister-in-law was following, studying their configurations with interest. “Those aren’t warships,” he noted with renewed interest. “They look like cargo carriers of some sort.”
“That’s why I think we’re on to something,” agreed Nori. “They’re not part of the war, but they do appear to be hurriedly moving supplies back and forth for someone.”
Taking a few minutes to shut down his search and surveillance programs, Thomas closed the laptop’s lid and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I hope you’re right,” he sighed with obvious reservations. “If we’re following these guys and they end up going nowhere, well… I’ll have to start over nearly from scratch now. You’ll have completely invalidated over four days of work!”
“That’s one way to look at it. The other way is to admit that we’ve been trying things your way for more than four days now. You’re not an expert at everything, you know. I have done a lot of deep space scouting in my day, before I married your brother and started a family.”
“You could’ve at least told me,” he growled at her, still mildly irritated.
“I didn’t want to wake you up,” she replied with a smile. “This mini-convoy has potential, but it could still turn out to be nothing.”
Thomas’ eyes drifted back to the printed orders listed on the paper. “Not if they’ve been ordered relocate to a primary target,” he countered thoughtfully. “This has a real possibility of working.” Still a bit miffed by his sister-in-law’s penchant for impulsiveness, he cast a wary glance at the pair of officers, both of whom were doing their best to look busy. “So, Gil, Ted,” he asked mischievously. “What were you two doing all the while my sister was transiting back and forth across the center of the Wasteland?”
The tall, elderly officer with thinning gray hair looked up hesitantly. “Doing whatever she told us to.”
Nori grinned. “That’s why they don’t have any bruises, Thomas.”
* * * * *
Less than three hours later they found what they were looking for. Thomas was awake this time, sitting in his side chair admiring the view when the endless clouds of floating nebula dust began to gradually change color to a dull, reddish-orange. He flipped open his laptop eagerly and reactivated a series of programs, once again wirelessly linking them to Nori’s helm and navigation stations. She was already looking at him with a huge smile, grinning once again like the proverbial Chesire Cat. “There is a gravity well nearby,” she informed him, despite the fact that he was obviously well aware of the situation. “Looks like my search pattern ended up working out pretty well, doesn’t it?”
Somewhat defensive, Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly while studying the newest lines of data scrolling vertically across his laptop screen. “We haven’t found anything of significance yet,” he reminded her, although he suddenly felt imaginary butterflies doing wild, unabated aerobatics in his stomach. There was something directly ahead of them and it was reading exactly like a stable star. They had passed their fair share of red giants and dismal, long since dead suns during the past few days’ journey, but this was proving to be the most promising lead of them all. Even as he continued to watch the cockpit windows, the brightly illuminated nebula dust surrounding the shuttle continued gradually transitioning from red to orange. As they continued to pursue the convoy, even the auburn began to fade until the dust clouds radiated bright gold.
“Slow us down Nori, hurry!” Thomas snapped suddenly, realizing abruptly that they were practically on top of a nearby solar system. Based on the amount of star shine he was seeing in the nebulae, they were very close to a standard, stable star. The radiation statistics on his laptop agreed with the assessment, as did the results from his latest gravitational survey.
“I thought we were invisible,” she retorted somewhat irritably, nonetheless following his command and easing back on the shuttle’s thrusters. “We’re going to lose the convoy.”
“That’s okay. And we are invisible, but the shuttle is leaving a detectable fuel trail and we’re right in the center of a radiant nebula,” he offered, eyes watching the forward cockpit with a renewed enthusiasm that had been missing for several days. “If this is indeed a foothold system, then we’re going to encounter additional ships… probably a significant number of them. The last thing we need right now is for someone to see us leaving a dust trail as we rocket through Caucus central.”
Gil Gibson glanced up from his co-pilot’s seat. “Are you sure there’s a yellow star in there?” He asked cautiously, his own eyes also locked on the forward windows. “This is the thickest I’ve seen the nebulae.”
“That’s because we’re right on top of a large gravity well,” nodded Thomas with a beaming smile. “I’ve seen enough of Julie Markham’s astronomy photos to recognize the distinct signature of a yellow star when I see one. With the content of these dust clouds and the colors they’re producing… there’s not a lot of doubt remaining in my mind.” Furiously, he began enlarging a three dimensional map of the immediate vicinity, using the touch screen to mark transit points with bright blue in preparation for a detailed scouting mission.
“How long will it take to conduct a comprehensive search of this area?” asked Nori inquisitively. “We may have found a yellow star out here all by itself in this long deserted territory, but that doesn’t necessarily mean there is anything significant to be found. And if we waste a lot of time trying to search an entire solar system, then we’re wasting resources that might better be used…”
“It’s not going to take long at all,” Thomas promised her confidently. “I’m going to use my implant to contact President Kaufield. Once he hears from us, he’ll use the Pathfinder to send Glen and the Corona right to us. With two shuttles and a host of Canary probes to work with, we’ll have this entire star system mapped and ready for analysis in only a few hours.” He continued to watch the gaseous haze of brightly colored dust filtering gently past the cockpit windows, their presence feeling to him like the arrival of an old friend. “I think we just found our foothold, Noriana.”
Aboard the Pathfinder…
Adam sat quietly in a chair, his face held firmly in both hands, doing his best to rub the fatigue out of his eyes. President Kaufield stood directly across from him, next to Noah, trying to grasp the basic concepts of what his friend was trying to tell him. He was more than a little perplexed regarding the latest news. “You’re telling us that you saw someone who should not have been aboard your ship, someone who avoided security, an old man who – for all intents and purposes – left absolutely no trace of his presence there? Is that what you’re trying to tell us?” He glanced toward Noah apprehensively. “Someone else must have seen him.”
Raising his head and staring blankly ahead, Adam shrugged indifferently. “That’s why I came over here as soon as he vanished. I was hoping that you guys had monitored the entire conversation via my brain implant. Unfortunately, the disconnection that I felt on my end of the link appears to have prevented that.”
“We didn’t see any sign of even a minor problem,” noted Kaufield, thoughtfully rubbing his chin before placing his hands firmly on his hips. “From our vantage point, it appeared as though you simply went to sleep for the duration of this conversation.” His gaze drifted to Noah with obvious interest and he raised a cautious eyebrow. “Your people aren’t responsible for this visit, I take it?”
For the first time since Kaufield had known him, Noah replied with a simple, “I don’t know.” He waved both hands helplessly, feeling as lost as the other two. “It’s kind of an odd feeling, actually, being on this side of things. Usually we are the ones who approach travelers and leave them with an unresolved mystery or two.”
“I know,” replied Kaufield steadily. “Ten years ago, you sent us the mystery transmission that turned out to be a map of our universe bubble and the surrounding ones. It helped us to more quickly identify the Poseidon gravity river and track the flow right back to the Proteus galaxy.” He took a moment to think about the matter carefully, refilling a large mug with hot coffee as he did so. “The fact that another third party may be involved in this – someone even your people can’t track – is more than a little bit disconcerting.”
“Did he tell you who he was, where he was from?” inquired Noah softly.
“He didn’t even want to tell me his name,” Adam growled in response. “When I pressed him, he told me to refer to him as David. Then, after he gave me this,” he continued, removing the antique silver watch from a pocket in his tunic and handing it to Kaufield. “That’s how I know for certain that I didn’t hallucinate this entire affair – because he left me proof so that I would know that he was really there and not joking in regards to our interfering in the politics of the Wasteland. He joked almost casually that, if anyone asked, I should tell them that I was visited by the Watchmaker.”
“So he essentially told you that he believes in Intelligent Design, suggested that everyone should, and also cautioned you about being too eager to kill Kuth soldiers.”
“In a way,” Adam confirmed with a sharp nod. “He has this very odd way of conveying a simple point… it takes about twenty minutes actually. If I understood him correctly, this David believes that something very big is coming our way very soon, something on the near horizon that will require decisions from us that will impact… well, the term he used was billions of lives. He urged me to avoid killing wherever and whenever possible and verbally chastened me for killing virtually all of the Kuth that I’ve met so far. He failed to tell me what the alternative to those actions would be – think of how many people those alien creatures would have killed had I not stopped them when I did.”
Scratching the top of his head, Kaufield studied Adam closely. “Why do you think he chose you?”
“Most probably because I seem to be at the center of everything,” the elder Roh told him in response. “If you need someone to make a tough call in a crunch, it’s probably going to be the person who has been living in the Wasteland for several weeks now – the person who knows the most about what’s going on here.”
“I would agree with that analysis,” nodded Kaufield firmly, turning toward Noah thoughtfully. “How many races have your people encountered who could pull this type of thing off?” he asked pensively. “Who has the know-how to do an end around even the communications link from your implant technology?”
There was a prolonged pause, during which time Noah cleared his throat several times. “I honestly don’t know of any species fitting that description,” he replied after a time. “If there are other aliens out there who possess abilities far beyond ours, something that is certainly possible but we have no proof of, then they have chosen to remain anonymous. Prior to this incident, no one has ever revealed themselves to us.” He chuckled lightly, appreciating the irony of the situation. “I’m beginning to get a good idea what you must have felt like ten years ago when I so suddenly appeared to you when the Pathfinder first approached the Wasteland. To my knowledge, this is the first time that our own tactics have been successfully used against us.”
“They weren’t used against us,” countered Adam warily. “David was very clear that he was simply warning us not to give in to the urge to kill. He told me to ask Thomas about his artificially intelligent software program if I had additional questions – pointing out that it is much more difficult to create life than to end it.”
“But he left the ultimate decision up to you… up to us?”
Adam sincerely took a moment to think about that. “I believe so,” he admitted finally. “There was nothing in his manner that seemed as though he was talking down to me or issuing orders of any sort. I think he was worried that my continued presence here in the war zone would impact me emotionally over the long run… especially if the killing continues. He also seemed to be worried about humanity in general, because most of us have traditionally prided ourselves on finding alternatives to war and historically worked to use force as a deterrent… as a last resort.” He threw up his hands before reaching for his own coffee mug. “I swear… through most of the conversation I was totally convinced that I was hallucinating – this is exactly the kind of thing that used to happen when that virus we stumbled on to ten years ago begins to kick in. Can it possibly linger in our systems and then reappear when it’s triggered by stress or something similar? That’s what I believed to be happening to me until my mental link to you was restored and I was standing there, in the corridor, holding a pocket watch.”
“Dr. Simmons doesn’t believe that the virus is still in your system… or that it could do that even if it was.”
Noah was studying the watch closely, opening its cover and even testing the winding mechanism. “It’s actually a pretty good watch,” he stated with just a hint of mischief in his tone. Then his expression changed as he noticed additional details. “There is a map of some kind on the inside of the cover,” he pointed out, holding the object out so that both the President and Adam could get a better look at it. “I don’t recognize the configuration off the top of my head, but I’ll have our astronomers look into it. We’ve got a lot more of the universe charted than your people do. Perhaps they can identify it.”
“Are there big decisions coming?” asked Adam thoughtfully. “David was right about that, wasn’t he?”
“Quite possibly,” Kaufield confirmed with a wry smile. “Thomas and your wife are on the Ranger, and they believe they located a stable, yellow star here at the center of the Wasteland… a star that’s not supposed to be here. Supposedly they were all destroyed by the quashing weapons long ago.” He exhaled slowly. “I sent Glen and the Corona to their location so that they can assist with mapping the solar system. Depending on what we find there, we could certainly be facing some rather big decisions.”
“If the Kuth or the Yakiir wanted a secret sanctuary, they would certainly spread the rumor that all of the territory here at the center of the Wasteland is worthless,” decided Noah. “When the war initially began, all of the newly destroyed stars that spread residual debris everywhere, along with their ability to manipulate the various clans, would have made it easy for them to protect a central star system. The war was a lot more chaotic in the beginning, obviously, but after a few centuries they very definitely began pushing the clan wars outward, constantly expanding the Wasteland’s perimeter.”
“Which is also serving to provide them with a very large ‘safe zone’ around this particular star system,” Adam observed. “We’re the only ones with invisible shuttles. Everyone else who tries to explore at this depth would run into Yakiir patrols, detection satellites concealed within the dust clouds, mine fields and who knows what else. It’s pretty obvious why we’re the only ones who have come here in quite some time to see what might be lurking here. For one thing, it’s not such a long journey for us.” He sighed and glanced up toward Kaufield, still reflecting on recent events. “What about David?”
“I’m not concerned at this point,” the Council President decided firmly. “It’s the same type of situation that took place ten years ago, when Noah chose to initially warn us as we drew closer to the Wasteland. Even with that warning, we still almost lost our ship because we were curious about the destruction of so many stars. We would be wise, on this occasion, not to completely emulate our behavior during the previous experience. We should be very cautious this time, but I don’t see why your encounter should keep us from moving forward.”
“What if David shows up again?”
“If he does, please tell him that Noah and I would like to speak with him too,” suggested Kaufield. “Of course, we will know considerably more when our shuttles get back. Let’s adjourn until then.”
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
As though Adam’s day wasn’t already unfolding strangely enough, he soon discovered that things would get even odder once he returned to the captured Yakiir warship. He had not yet felt it necessary to assign someone the disgusting task of cleaning up the traditional Captain’s cabin, so he continued to spend the bulk of his private time in the small cabin on the ship’s port side. The move was more strategic than anything on his part, since he was still uncertain as to whether there remained one or more traitors among the mixed crew. The only way to tell was to be patient, and if anyone tried to betray them once again to the Kuth after everything that had taken place, well… it was quite possible that this particular individual would be assigned the task of cleaning Admiral Deek’s remains off of the cabin wall. Should someone prove to be so dense as to continue to doubt the veracity of Adam’s claims regarding the Kuth, he felt obligated to offer that special person a much closer, personal look at the alien creatures and their strange biology.
He had barely returned to the small cabin that temporarily served as his new home when Thomas decided to check in using the shared implant link. And that was the official beginning of the strangest meeting he would ever participate in – a meeting that allowed everyone linked together to listen in and offer suggestions from wherever they currently happened to be. Some were on the shuttles searching the new star system while others remained back on the Pathfinder. Adam currently resided on the Ali Rinai whereas Julie Markham and Karen Simmons were back on Tranquility, an even more distant vantage point spanning millions of light years. Even so, the implant technology allowed all of them to connect with each other long enough to evaluate Thomas’ latest findings. Even the unexpected encounter with David couldn’t possibly match this, in Adam’s mind. Not without first learning more about the strange, elderly man, his mission, and his overall peculiar manner.
[“This star system is truly unbelievable, a real foothold for the Kuth unlike anything we ever expected to find!”] Thomas exclaimed mentally just as Adam sat down in an empty chair so that he could relax and listen. It was fun to listen to his brother, even while mentally linked, when he got this excited – new discoveries almost always inspired him in this manner.
[“I take it that you’ve found a planet in the habitable zone,”] replied President Kaufield almost immediately, referring to the short span of distance from a star where orbiting planets could sustain liquid water and thus support biological life as well. [“How many enemy ships are there?”]
[“Captain… Mr. President… I believe that everyone who is not currently fighting for the Yakiir is HERE,”] Thomas continued, his elation obvious. [“And it isn’t just a SINGLE planet in the habitable zone that we’re talking about.”] He paused for dramatic effect, a character trait that Adam had tried unsuccessfully for years to break him of. [“Try four hundred twenty-five planets, to be exact.”]
The news was staggering, and stellar scientist that she was, Dr. Julie Markham spoke up immediately. [“You’ve got to be kidding,”] she replied somewhat doubtfully. [“How have they managed to do that?”]
[“Obviously they haven’t simply been quashing stars completely at random throughout the centuries,”] Glen piped up next. [“It looks like they’ve stolen the most habitable worlds from a lot of the stars that have gone dark and parked them right here. Whether this is a permanent destination for them or a temporary one remains to be seen. I would imagine some of these planets are also from their own universe, brought over just like the one that Noah and his people confiscated after Adam’s quashing test.”]
[“But how do they balance everything out gravitationally?”] persisted Dr. Markham inquisitively. [“Does the system configuration look like that ‘Atomic Nightmare’ we found ten years ago…?”]
[“Hardly,”] said Noriana Roh with a slight mental chuckle. [“You should see the map… you CAN see the map if you adjust your implant visual receptors to match my authorization code. I’m looking at it right now. All of the planets are on a single plane, orbiting at slightly varying speeds that appear to be based on each planet’s total size and factoring in the length of its daily rotation. They’ve been carefully counterbalanced with each other, each of them prepositioned at various distances from each other in orbits ringing the sun. We’re uploading all of the raw data now, so it will be available at the conclusion of this meeting from the normal storage units back on Tranquility.”]
[“It looks exactly like someone has created a miniaturized version of the Proteus galaxy,”] added Thomas.
Eager to join in the conversation, Adam shook his head. [“It all makes sense now,”] he told the others triumphantly. [“The Kuth have been sitting safely in that system for the duration of the war, using their enormous foothold to bring ships, soldiers and supplies across the ‘bridge’ from their universe. They send the Yakiir out to attack other clans in force, and in the battles that follow at least some of those resources are captured and confiscated by others. They’ve had clans using quashing weapons against each other too, with convoys in the other universe just sitting there waiting for a portal to open on their side.”]
[“I wonder if the Kuth are planning to remain in that system on a full time basis,”] speculated Noah with obvious interest. [“The existence of the quashing weapon makes their own star VERY vulnerable… I don’t think they would put all of their eggs in one basket unless they had no other choice.”]
[“Whatever we may think of their aggressive nature, the Kuth are certainly persistent,”] pointed out Dr. Simmons. [“Just look at how long this war has been taking place… more than forty-six THOUSAND years. That’s a long time to spend hauling troops and ships across a vast void between universes and a demonstration of almost uncanny patience. We have seen no obvious signs that their manipulation of the human clans has in any way been limited. With total control of the war, they can afford to take their time.”]
[“Everything makes sense now,”] Adam blurted out suddenly, the final pieces of the mysterious puzzle all falling into place. [“The Caucus has always been nothing if not overconfident. That’s why the discovery of an alien ship – the Pathfinder – must have really rattled them when they first encountered us ten years ago. We severely damaged their attack shuttles and the larger warship, but some of the visual records along with witnesses talking about our capabilities must have survived. The possibility of an outside threat has panicked the Kuth leadership, which is why they immediately accelerated their clan war and are systematically removing everyone but the Yakiir. Who knows, once the Yakiir are the only humans left they might also be eliminated. But the Caucus obviously is scared of us and what we might do.”]
[“That star system would have been a perfect home base for them on a long term basis if we hadn’t shown up,”] agreed Kaufield. [“The non-stop warring on the part of the humans has created a huge, interacting series of nebulae that completely shrouds them from outside prying eyes. Further, with adequate detection systems on dead worlds and moons, along with regular ship patrols, they can see an enemy coming long before there would be a chance to strike at their new home worlds.”]
[“We’ve certainly caught them with a hand in the proverbial cookie jar,”] Thomas noted triumphantly. [“That means that we must choose to act now and attack while all of their foothold resources are still primarily in a single star system. If they aren’t already moving planets out of here to other solar systems, I guarantee you that particular item has been moved to the very top of their ‘to do’ list!”]
[“No Thomas, we CAN’T simply attack on the spur of the moment,”] Adam protested immediately. [“This is exactly the kind of thing David warned me about… why he told me to weigh carefully what we do before we sacrifice billions of living beings. There has to be a better way to deal with this than just attacking. For instance, if we do choose to attack, who do we go after? The Kuth or the Yakiir?”]
[“Well, I’d start with the Kuth,”] proposed Thomas boldly. [“They’re the main problem.”]
[“They’re trying to SAVE their people,”] Adam bluntly reminded him. [“Their technology is significantly more primitive when compared to ours, so they’ve done the best they can with what they have. I understand that this is primarily a perspective thing… yes, the way they’re going about this is completely atrocious, but in their eyes they are acting to save their entire species… perhaps thousands of species if they’re bringing whole planets over from their side.”]
[“They’re also stealing other planets from this galaxy and killing off fully usable stars,”] Thomas pointed out. [“Saving their species is a very diplomatic way of describing what they have done.”]
In the end, it was his wife who kept her head the clearest of them all. [“Adam,”] she asked him suddenly. [“WHO is David?”]
[“It’s a very long story,”] he told her with a heavy sigh. [“Suffice it to say that someone even Noah’s people can’t track has made contact with us and strongly suggested that we have at least SOME compassion for the Kuth, even after everything they’re responsible for here in the Wasteland.”]
[“I will upload a copy of Adam’s first contact report to the Science Lab back on Tranquility,”] promised Kaufield instantly. [“When we’re done here, everyone can access it and provide feedback.”] He paused for an instant, and for the first time since the extremely long distance discussion began no one jumped into the mix. [“We’ll figure out something,”] he told them all confidently. [“Adam has obtained more information on what’s happening here in the small span of two weeks than we ever could have hoped for. We will figure out a way to stop the warring in this spiral arm and give the humans who live here a chance to live in peace. Let’s all take a long look at Thomas’ new data regarding the foothold system and then we’ll all put our heads together and come up with a plan.”]
One by one, his friends dropped out of the link, all except for Karen Simmons. It was, after all, her turn to be his Sentinel for another few hours.
* * * * *
An hour later, Adam invited Kra Wonin to stop by for a brief chat. The Yakiir squadron commander paused at the entrance to the small cabin, smiling at its simple nature and lack of ornate furnishings. “Are you making yourself comfortable out here amongst the rank and file, Captain?” he asked with a light chuckle. Folding his arms, the massive, broad-chested Wasteland soldier simply stood there, towering over him as he sat on the edge of the cot. “Sooner or later, someone still loyal to the Kuth Caucus might try and take a shot at you.”
“That is one of the reasons I have chosen to stay here for now,” admitted Adam somewhat reluctantly. “I like to leave the temptation to do so open, just in case there are still hidden operatives among us.”
Kra Wonin, like his counterpart Snee Vasten, was a trained warrior and easily able to single out the motives of others. If you weren’t able to think tactically in a war zone, life was usually short. “What can I do for you Captain?” he asked politely.
“I was on my way up to see Snee Vasten, but I think you can help me too,” he responded, studying Wonin’s square-jawed expression carefully. “We’ve located a major foothold star system, probably THE central home base of the Caucus. The solar system has been artificially constructed over the passage of hundreds of centuries, with at least four hundred habitable planets orbiting the central star.” Wonin reacted instantly, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected revelation, something Adam picked up on immediately. “You know about this?”
“I… suspected.” Wonin glanced down at the metal floor plating to gather his thoughts before continuing. “Many of us who have spent time on a home world have wondered over the years. Whenever I looked into the sky at night, there were often far too many objects nearby to simply be moons. Those of us who have spent time traveling out among the stars are fully aware that only the largest gas giants usually have so many satellites. What you say makes complete sense to me… I know people who have spent time on a variety of other Yakiir home worlds. Who is to say that those worlds are orbiting different stars?” He looked up sharply. “Is that why you asked me here… what you wanted to know?”
Adam nodded. “Primarily, but I also need your help with something.”
“What?” Kra Wonin asked curiously. “Ask me. I will assist you with anything.”
Rising to his feet, Adam took a deep breath before continuing. “When we’re ready, we are about to use the Pathfinder’s long range PTP system to transit both of our vessels closer to this foothold system so that we can get a better look at it with all of our resources. We’re even considering launching an attack on the Caucus.”
“That will be difficult with only two capital ships.”
“Difficult is not impossible, especially when we have a leading edge with our technology,” replied Adam confidently. “You have no idea just how far above the Kuth some of my allies are in terms of evolution and technology. We can bring a fight to their doorstep if the need arises, but what I would like to do is make a serious effort to minimize bloodshed… particularly where your people are concerned. It is my opinion that they’ve already sacrificed far too much fighting the Kuth’s wars over the centuries.”
“Quite obviously I would agree with you in that regard, Captain.”
“So here is what I’m asking,” continued Adam tenaciously. “When we arrive in the vicinity of that solar system, I am told that there are literally thousands of ships there… warships, cargo carriers, supply vessels, fighters, shuttles… you name it… it’s there!” He handed Kra Wonin a small handheld computer with several computer files on it. “My brother has tapped into their communications network, and this is a list of all of the vessels – both Yakiir and Kuth. Please review this list thoroughly.”
“And then?”
“And then I’m hoping that you know some of the officers on those other ships, people that are trustworthy. If we contact them covertly, we can make a serious effort to determine just how many Yakiir people are still living on those home worlds. I need to know that in order to adjust our battle plan so that casualties are minimized. Sooner or later there is going to be a shooting war and I would rather not fire on Yakiir vessels or home worlds where there are major concentrations of humans. Ali Rinai told me, right before she died, that she was once a permanent resident on her planet. She thinks that she fell out of favor and that’s why she ended up aboard this ship serving on the frontier. I am suspicious in that regard, because the Kuth have been steadily escalating the war in recent years in an effort to finish off the other clans completely. I think they may be deliberately moving people off of your home worlds just to get rid of them. If that is the case, it would be nice to know how many humans are still on those planets, and there is only one way I can think of for us to quickly make that determination. We need to contact people you know for more information.”
“They may be suspicious of me. The Caucus may also be monitoring them. I would be surprised if they weren’t doing so.”
“We’ll tap into their shipboard communications and find a frequency that the Kuth know nothing about,” Adam promised him. “I’d like to try and speak with people on one or more of those planets too, but if we send any signals through that system they will surely be detected. Local, ship-to-ship communications will be much easier to conceal, especially if we use our invisible Canary probes as relays.” He sized up Kra Wonin cautiously. “Will you help me?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Adam smiled proudly. “Then we’re one step closer to driving the Kuth out of the Wasteland permanently.”
They had to use his implant to induce sleep once again so that he could get a few hours of rest. Like his brother, he was simply too excited to relax enough to fall asleep on his own with so much new information available and events happening at so swift a pace. I just hope we don’t let David down, he thought silently to himself. He’s absolutely right about the notion of killing on such a massive scale. The Kuth can commit those kinds of atrocities and live with what they’ve done, but WE can’t.
That was the last thought he remembered right before drifting off.
17: XVI: The Calm Before the StormPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
Despite his discomfort throughout the many events comprising Caucus initiation, the toughest experience in Bok’s life by far proved to be the bridge crossing. He had studied the concept during his years of service to the Caucus and, on occasion, actually been in space and witnessed a convoy of ships making its way through one of the wormholes. The departure from one universe into an entirely new one was an intriguing concept, especially since the boundaries of their own time and space never seemed to end. The Kuth possessed enough rudimentary skills to build telescopes, of course, but nothing on the scale of anything that the humans created. The few who were curious enough to look could see very far out into the void with their crude inventions, but never to the outer edge.
Granted, their universe was significantly older and therefore larger, but they still lacked the motivation to make the effort to see farther. Their astronomy was limited primarily to what they experienced while traveling out in space, to objects that they could reach in ships and physically examine with their own eyes. The Kuth didn’t waste time refining the things that they built or on attempts to hone them in any way, shape or function. Tools and technology were blunt objects to them, things that could be used to make life easier but not something worthy of wasting a lot of time on. Science was simply another way to get things done, proving more often than not to be the career choice of those who did not yearn to be more.
When the ship he was on passed through a faintly flickering wormhole bridge, the first thing Bok noticed was that the trip on this particular occasion was not instantaneous. The standard, ‘bright flash of light and you’re there’ model did not apply, and the lack of even the sense of time passing was itself extremely disturbing. Truthfully, he did not know exactly how long it actually took for his vessel to reach the other side and emerge, unharmed, in the new universe. All he remembered was an interminably long, discomforting blackness that never seemed to end, along with the sound of his mind screaming in angry response to a nothingness that seemed impossible to fill. His body physically passed through the void between universes, he finally realized a few months later. Whatever it was that existed beyond the outer boundaries of his realm remained forever unknown to him… all that he could recall in the later days was a strong memory of an experience that proved to be extremely unpleasant and nearly unbearable.
Once he was on the other side, Bok spent the next several decades faithfully serving the Caucus and attending to its needs. That meant going where he was assigned, doing what he was told to and generally asking as few questions as possible. Most of the time, his skills were used for stealth and assassination, sometimes he was asked to kill humans while on other occasions a very powerful Caucus member would recruit him to eliminate one or more Kuth. Usually when he killed members of his own race, the targets were one or more other operatives in service who grew too powerful and thus overly ambitious as a consequence. This proved to be a learning experience for Bok as well as a life lesson – the Kuth running the central government respected patience, obedience and seniority. Only those who served the longest and most reliably would ever ascend to the upper ranks of leadership. These were strange concepts that the younger, more ambitious recruits found very difficult to accept. Business was business, and the greater good would be served through obedience.
Bok never killed anyone for personal pleasure, although he did relish the taste of human blood whenever he availed himself of the opportunity to allow it to run freely down his throat. On one occasion, during the night shift aboard a warship, he reverted to his normal appearance and terrorized several crewmen walking down a corridor. They fled in the other direction but ended up trapped by a dead end, standing helplessly waiting to die. When he rounded the corner to greet them, Bok once again wore his human disguise and simply looked at the soldiers as though they had lost their minds. But that kind of terror on the part of the Kuth, deliberately sprinkled randomly here and there, kept the Yakiir humans totally subservient. The stories that those who caught an occasional glimpse of their true appearance ended up telling others about ‘demons hiding among us’ served well to stir the pot of total obedience.
His assignment to leave the foothold system and serve on the frontier began after a strange encounter with an alien ship. Most of the covert operatives like himself had been allowed to view the recordings of the strange vessel that briefly visited the Wasteland. It was a huge starship, carefully designed and constructed by loving hands and aesthetically designed in a manner that was utterly alien to the Kuth. They did take careful note, however, of the weaponry deployed against their own ships during the brief engagement – fighters and shuttles with huge rail guns that completely obliterated the approaching Yakiir attack force. There were also missiles fired that automatically adjusted course to follow and destroy even the most talented fighter pilots, those who were best trained in the tactics of evasion. And yet these types of smart weapons alone were not what frightened the Caucus leaders most. It was the strange new power source that dangled from the bottom of the alien vessel, burning brightly in space as it generated unimaginable power. This proved to be the deciding factor in the leadership’s sudden change in tactics.
For countless centuries the Kuth had destroyed stars in order to generate the vast quantity of energy needed to power their bridge technology, and yet suddenly there was this new vessel moving around in the Wasteland… a ship filled with aliens who had somehow managed to create their OWN artificial star. Initially, even the most paranoid Kuth scientists wouldn’t have given the Controlled Artificial Singularity a second look. And yet someone on the enemy starship had maneuvered the flexible wand and used that hot, burning spark of fire to retaliate against a shuttle filled to the brim with Yakiir soldiers. Somehow the enemy simply dragged the burning tip of their tiny star across the bottom of that shuttle and nearly sliced it in half.
Lengthwise.
Even the most conservative estimates placed the electrical output of the CAS singularity almost beyond comprehension. It would have to be extremely powerful in order to cut so easily through forged metal and the prospect of someone other than the Kuth developing something like that was extremely disquieting to say the least. Perhaps this wasn’t a power source, reasoned a few scientists, doing their best to be objective. But if that were true, then something even MORE powerful inside the alien starship was generating it! All of the best analysts agreed that the strange ship from another star was probably an exploration vessel, given the fact that its military forces had remained dormant until attacked.
And yet already this strange new power source had proven to give the aliens a clear military advantage. The prospect of someone actually weaponizing such a power source was a vision so devastating that many in the Caucus leadership began having nightmarish visions about what would happen to their Grand Plan. For over forty-six millennia they had labored tirelessly to bring everything valuable that they could across the bridge between universes. Now some unknown alien race had discovered what they were doing and traveled to this fourth spiral arm to investigate matters further.
And clearly that someone possessed a strange new power source that could potentially be used as a devastating, game changing weapon.
Terror reigned temporarily within the Caucus for a while and key components of the Grand Plan were literally changed overnight. Operatives like Bok were promptly dispatched to the frontier, serving on much larger, heavily armed battle cruisers designed to bring a much quicker end to the war. The other clans were no longer necessary and even the Yakiir would soon be more of a burden than an asset. What the Kuth needed to do now was to finish consolidating all of their resources around one sun so that they could begin implementing their next great Grand Plan. Once they had a strong, defensible foothold at the center of the Wasteland they would begin migrating some of their resources outward, to the hot, stable stars along the huge perimeter so carefully and meticulously shaped. Key planets, ships and resources would be shifted into position via the use of additional quashing weapons to protect the central foothold. New stars would receive habitable, healthy planets to orbit them, along with ships and colonists to protect these interests. All of the new star systems would be used to defend the key, central foothold against its enemies.
They would be used to protect and elevate the Caucus above everyone else.
As things turned out, the only prolonged, true terror that Bok himself ever felt occurred only seconds before his death. His decision to kill Captain Saj Barrek in the cargo bay was made based on uncontrolled emotions born out of frustration more than anything else. The ships he served on always WON the battles they fought against other vessels, and his mind was still whirling from the fact that they were getting soundly beaten by the Zaketh warriors from the Pyrhh. How a few surviving, lowbrow degenerates on the supply vessel had somehow managed to pilot the small ship, much less crash it into the sacred starboard side of the warship was something he intended to look into, AFTER he finished devouring his former Captain’s heart.
The soft cough that his extra sensitive hearing detected immediately alerted him to the fact that someone else was in the bay with them, and he dropped Barrek’s corpse long enough to zone in on its precise location. How had he missed the scent? Obviously, the Captain had distracted him far too much! Once he was certain there was an intruder, Bok simply covered his left arm with blood and flung it across the room. This proved to instantly pinpoint his unseen target’s position and he attacked, expecting that his enhanced strength and speed would prove to be the deciding factor. Colliding unexpectedly with something concealed – something totally invisible in fact – drove the initial surge of fear in his gut. The strange, bluish electrical crackling that followed did nothing to quell his fear, and it smelled oddly of ozone while sending a supernatural chill rippling up and down his spine. That was all he had time for, as the impact from his attack was somehow disbursed and he was flung backwards across the cargo bay. He watched his precious quashing weapons helplessly from above as he tumbled end over end, finally crashing into the wall and dropping to the hard metal floor.
Instantly he launched himself at his attacker again, this time with his claws outstretched and fully ready to tear into anything. In his mind, his memory brought up the faint image of a face that he had seen briefly during that strange surge of electrical blue discharges during his initial brief contact with the unseen opponent. The quick glimpse of it was right where he had snapped hardest with his jaws – at normal human head level, where he expected a neck and its vulnerable tendons to be. The visage was undeniably a HUMAN face that he had seen lurking behind that cloak of invisibility. Instantly his mind supplied him with the full truth of this unusual matter… a truth that was undeniable and fully embraced by his intellect even as he flew across the room toward his target.
The strange aliens in their technologically advanced ship were back.
Like the Wastelanders, they too were humanoid.
They could make themselves invisible.
He was about to die.
That was the last thought he had time for, right before Adam Roh blew two huge holes in his torso.
Adam woke from the dream with a confident smile on his face, convinced that he knew now how to beat them.
Aboard the Pathfinder…
“So, you’re back aboard with us already,” Noah chuckled amiably as he entered the conference room where Adam Roh and President Kaufield waited patiently. It wasn’t immediately clear whether he was talking to Adam or his wife. Noriana Roh had also returned from her shuttle mission and was seated next to her husband, holding his arm and – all in all – happy to simply just spend some time with him.
“Yes, we’re back,” she told Noah. “And Adam has news.”
“Good news I hope.” Noah eagerly poured himself a mug of hot coffee – an Earth beverage that the friendly alien was fast learning to love – before seating himself across from his friends.
“I’ve already got Thomas working on the software changes that we’ll need,” Adam was telling Kaufield excitedly. “The hardware enhancements will be minimal, since we’ve already got working models of everything needed.” He turned towards Noah with a confident smile. “I think I know how to end this war in one fell swoop,” he declared boldly, watching their otherworldly ally raise an eyebrow of surprise. “We can eliminate Caucus control of the Wasteland, and we can do it with a minimum of casualties.”
Noah laughed with amusement. “Have you been reading that tactical database hooked to your implant again?” he asked curiously, shaking his head. “I never should have shown that to Thomas, or let him enhance it with your own historical archives.”
“He’s not kidding,” Kaufield spoke up, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “I like his ideas.”
“So do I,” added Nori with a sly smile.
“But you need my help.”
“Yes,” nodded Adam decisively. “In order for this plan to succeed, I need THREE things from you. If your people can supply all of them to me without restriction, we can eliminate the Kuth as a threat to the Wasteland without mass killings or additional wars. Your society as a whole can continue to be non-interventionist and an objective third party, which I’m sure they’ll approve of. But I need assistance from your scientists first in order for this plan to work.”
Noah paused, carefully considering the matter before continuing. He sipped tentatively at the hot coffee before setting the mug down to let the liquid cool. “Name them,” he replied, realizing as he did so that he was becoming more and more impressed with Adam Roh as his time in the Wasteland continued.
“First, I need you to identify this star system,” Adam told him, sliding the antique, silver watch across the table with its cover open. The star system etched on the inner side of the metallic shell was clearly visible. I believe it’s important, or David would never have left it behind.”
“The… Intelligent Designer?” Noah’s tone of voice was blatantly and purposefully mischievous, but he permitted himself the small window of opportunity to toss a little humor into the center of the discussion. After all, it was his help that Adam was seeking. “With all that has been happening, I confess that I forgot to follow up on this. I’ll prioritize it immediately and have someone look into it.”
“I honestly don’t know who that fellow was,” said Adam regretfully. “At times it seemed to me that he wanted to declare himself God outright, but he never quite got there. During other parts of our conversation he was extremely enigmatic… it was the most frustrating conversation I’ve ever been a part of. He asked me a series of questions that have baffled mankind for centuries, all of which might be true but most of which cannot be conclusively proven or disproven. Whoever he is, he likes to joust verbally and it takes him at least a half hour to make convey a simple message.”
“There aren’t many life forms roaming this universe that can outmaneuver my detection systems,” pointed out Noah with a wry smile. “This person did so easily.”
“Does that make you nervous?” asked Nori curiously. “Does it make you uncomfortable knowing that someone might have a technological – or even divine – edge on you?”
“No,” Noah chuckled with amusement. “My people enjoy encountering other life forms. I wish I could speak with him also.” He flashed Adam a dry smile. “Even if it takes a half hour.”
“For the purposes of this discussion, let’s simply list his identity as David and let the rest of the mystery rest for the moment,” suggested Kaufield. “We need to know which star system is defined on the watch cover. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Noah nodded slowly, sipping more aggressively from the coffee mug. “Second?”
“We’re going to have refugees,” continued Adam with a deep frown. “No matter how we do this, no matter how long it takes, there is no way to avoid the refugee problem. What we’re asking will be very similar to what you already helped us do on Earth – we will need you to secure a planet for Wasteland residents and assist us in evacuating as many of them as possible from the Kuth home worlds.” His mouth wrinkled with uncertainty regarding the matter. “We’re facing almost the same situation… some might only stay on a temporary basis, but more than likely this would be a permanent new home for most of them.”
“I’ve expected that contingency from day one and it won’t be a problem,” Noah agreed instantly, his response surprisingly swift and unexpected. “Habitable worlds can be found everywhere in the Proteus galaxy, so we’ll even make certain that clans are separated, at least by continents, if not by entire worlds. They’ll need the borders, at least for the immediate future, since the emotions from such violent, lengthy feuds will be difficult to move beyond.” He took a deep breath and really thought cautiously about the prospect. “What’s going to be toughest for them is the separation from homes they’ve known all their lives… the people in space will want to stay, but those who have lived on planets will want to go back to their home, just as many of your own refugees on Tranquility are hoping that someday they might be able to return to Earth.”
Kaufield shrugged his striped, uniformed shoulders. Upon resuming command of the Pathfinder it hadn’t taken long for him to ditch his President’s robes in favor of the uniform. “If we move to eliminate the larger, more immediate Kuth problem, then the long-term fallout and subsequent smaller issues can be handled much more efficiently,” he predicted. “You’ve always known that if we intervene in any way that there would be problems to deal with down the road. There’s no way to just wave a magic wand and fix all this, although I think we’ve come pretty darn close by any reasonable measure.” He cast an appreciate glance in Adam’s direction.
“My concern is for the refugees who are still living in that Kuth foothold system,” countered Noah. “We can set our Person-to-Point transit portals to screen out Kuth life signs, but we have to know which planets to open them on and – more specifically – geographically where to open them. Those kinds of details tend to get really messy, and the process will be slow until we resolve them.”
“I can help you with that,” replied Adam curtly, surprising Noah this time with his own alert response. “I possess many of Bok’s memories, remember? The vast majority of families on those worlds have long since been forced out into space, and they’re living on dead moons, asteroids or in ships the same way the loved ones of other clans live. The people still working in the Kuth cities or at military facilities are the true believers… traitors who will never change their position no matter what we do. Our targets will be the slave colonies on approximately three dozen worlds, which are generally well segregated and all located away from any town or city populated by more than a few Kuth. Those are the places where we’ll need to open transit portals, and we’ll do so once the military ships in space are properly distracted. I can give you those locations in advance.” He hesitated, thinking about Noah’s previous statement. “You’re certain you can filter out any Kuth who try to spoil a mass exodus?”
“Yes. If a human passes through a transit wormhole, they’ll end up relocated on a planet in the Proteus galaxy. If any of the Kuth try to follow them, their bio-signs will be recognized and they’ll simply pass harmlessly through the PTP barrier and emerge on the other side, still on their own planet. We’ll have to act quickly, because these creatures anger easily and will not hesitate to take that frustration out on civilians. On Earth we sent armed guards through and dared members of the Brotherhood to try and oppose us. A few did, but most respected our superior firepower and did not. I’m certain we can do something similar here.”
“Understood.” Adam turned to exchange a brief glance with Kaufield. “That just leaves item number three.”
“Which is?”
“It involves the things your people have already done in your galaxy… Thomas likes to write all kinds of papers about Proteus. He thinks that it is really cool what you’ve done – by basically embedding a man-made galaxy of hot, younger stars in the center of the Poseidon gravity river so that you can monitor the gravitational effects on time and space while observing the rest of the universe.”
“Yes,” mused Noah thoughtfully. “Poseidon also serves as a guidepost of sorts. Once your people discovered the heavier amounts of dark matter near the Wasteland, it didn’t take your astronomers long at all to determine that there was a huge gravity well somewhere in our direction. That’s one of the major reasons you headed out our way, and why we chose to settle where we did. Those who make their way out into the larger universe eventually detect Poseidon and find their way to us. As I stated earlier, we love the chance to meet new life forms and learn about their civilizations.”
“Thomas says that you have huge spheres of energy, kind of like force fields, that are scattered around the outer perimeter of Proteus. He told me that you use them to contain and store enormous quantities of gases and excess nebula dust, essentially the types of materials that are usually needed in order to refuel a dying star or build a new world to live on.” He interlinked the fingers of both hands together and rested his mouth on top for a moment, pausing. “Are these barriers impenetrable? That is, can they withstand any amount of pressure and contain anything we wrap one around?”
“That will depend on a few things young man. I would need to see statistics on just what you specifically intend to ‘wrap one around’.”
Adam pulled a pre-printed piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it across the table, allowing Noah a chance to open and examine it. “This is kind of what I had in mind,” he stated slowly, watching their Proteus ally examine the numbers carefully.
“How long would you need us to maintain this force field’s integrity?”
“Unknown.” Adam’s expression soured slightly. “But I would also need the ability to open and close small holes in this sphere, more than likely three or four dozen at a time. These holes would be carefully controlled by a piece of hardware that transits back and forth along the outer perimeter. Thomas and I have run some initial numbers, and we don’t believe that the entire process should take longer than a single Earth day.”
“That is definitely doable,” decided Noah, holding up the sheet of paper for emphasis. “Can I keep this?”
“Certainly.”
“The creation of a large, force shield bubble isn’t a problem for us. The barrier can actually be as large or as small as you want it to be. But I will need you to define some sort of a perimeter for us… for example, we’ll need to know specifically where you want the center point, the size of the sphere’s radius, that kind of thing…”
“That won’t be a problem, Noah. If you and your people can supply us with these three things, then I’m confident that President Kaufield and I can control the permanent cessation of this war using only additional resources from the Ali Rinai and the Pathfinder. If you agree to handle the refugees, all who want to come, in the same manner as you helped the people of Earth, then we’re prepared to end the Wasteland war.”
“I’ll speak with the representatives of my government,” nodded Noah in response. “However, I don’t see anything odd in your requests that would prevent us from assisting further. Let’s get this done.”
Adam’s expression tightened noticeably as Noah rose to his feet and left. Seated next to him, President Kaufield took careful note of it and smacked his friend on the shoulder. “Relax,” he stated bluntly. “Things are going to get pretty tense for a while, but we’re not there yet.”
“Easy for you to say,” said Adam intensely. “You’ve been through the military routine on many occasions. It’s probably second nature to you by now.” Seated next to him, his wife laughed in response.
“Yeah right,” scoffed Kaufield. “Besides, what are you worried about? You’re the person that took on a cargo bay filled with Kuth warriors. So how tough can a couple of planets filled with them be?”
“Try four hundred, twenty-five planets,” Adam reminded him. He winked at his wife. “Do you think my personal defenses can hold up against that?”
* * * * *
Thomas was seated in the Command Dome when Adam found him, busily tapping lines of code into a portable laptop. He glanced up with a sudden smile at the appearance of his brother, but continued to work steadily as Adam stopped right next to him and patted his brother affectionately on the shoulder. “I take it your plan was approved,” the younger Roh mumbled softly without looking up.
“It was.” Adam stood and watched him work, always a fascinating sight. Thomas literally typed as fast as he could think, and – barring the occasional misspelling here or there – he rarely needed to go back and correct things. It was an honor to work with someone so gifted, someone with a near perfect memory, and an even greater honor to call that someone a blood brother. “You don’t need to worry Thomas,” he said reassuringly. “I was extremely worried my first few days in the Wasteland, so much so that I thought I was going to develop ulcers. But you’d be surprised at how much confidence you can build when the technology that people give you works exactly as promised. We’re not only going to do this, we’re going to do it well.”
“You should have been there, in the shuttle,” said Thomas, glancing up sharply and studying his brother’s face. “There were at least four or five thousand capital warships on patrol in that star system. Hundreds of them are committed to protecting the central star alone – they are arrayed in a tight formation surrounding it in a carefully planned, geometric pattern. They can intercept and shoot down any attacker well before he can hope to pull into firing range.” He shook his head with disgust. “The sight of it really pissed me off! They’ll let people quash away, taking it out on any star in the Wasteland except theirs.” He continued watching Adam for a reaction. “Are you seriously planning on taking just two ships in there?”
“You’re familiar with the plan,” said Adam with a wry smile. “We only need one. And unless your software code fails to work, we’ll be successful. Don’t worry about it Thomas… Noah has agreed to help us.”
“Our motion sensors detected more than fifty thousand Kuth fighters flying patrols,” continued Thomas as he returned his attention to the laptop and its keyboard. He began typing again. “Those are just the ships we had time to count from our observation points, the total number that were in flight during the time we were there. The exact size and composition of their entire fleet remains unknown, since the majority of their ships are no doubt grounded on many of those planets.”
Adam pointed toward the hatchway he had just used only minutes previously. “I just listened to President Kaufield,” he told his brother sternly. “He gave me an order to relax, and that’s what I’m suggesting that you do too. That is, unless you want me to call him up here…”
“I am relaxed,” insisted Thomas forcefully. “I’m as calm as anyone can be, given the circumstances.” He looked back toward his brother again, this time with a bit of puzzlement. “It’s hard to imagine what you’ve gone through out there,” he continued, watching his brother curiously. “You’ve changed Adam. You sound a lot more like Kaufield now than my brother. Is the grouchy, civilian Hardware Specialist in you gone for good? Are you just some sort of military jarhead now?”
“No,” Adam chuckled dryly. “I have every confidence that, once there is time for me to wind down a bit, I will one day return to my old, cynical civilian self. And when I do so, I will once again visit upon you, my younger brother, countless jibes and witticisms created by a fascinatingly intelligent mind. I will once again take cheap shots at you, criticize your skinny nature and make fun of your comic book collection.”
“Hey!” Thomas interrupted suddenly, holding up a stern finger for emphasis. “Let’s leave the comic books completely out of this discussion, okay?” Then he smiled and found himself calming down. “I knew you were in there somewhere.”
“We’ve just got to clear one last hurdle in this race of ours,” Adam reminded him. “It’s a big one, but it’s going to help countless people and preserve billions of lives.”
“Then it’s worth the effort,” concluded Thomas. “Regardless of what happens to us.”
“Nothing is going to happen to us,” promised Adam. “I’ve seen the schematics on the enhancements to the Pathfinder. You and Glen have converted this ship into a real beast. It’s a dragon just waiting to pounce.”
“That’s right. She’s a fire breather now, in every sense of the word.”
Aboard the Ali Rinai…
After returning to his own ship, Adam located Snee Vasten in the Mess Hall. The Zaketh leader appeared genuinely pleased to see him, pushing aside his empty plate and turning his chair so that he was facing his Captain. “You should have brought that fancy ship of yours into the Wasteland days ago,” he told Adam with a sly smile. “The food on this ship has improved by leaps and bounds.”
“We’re about to start another war,” Adam told him, deciding to be honest and blunt. He held up the tips of his forefinger and thumb less than an inch apart. “A really small one.”
Vasten nodded in acknowledgement. “I expected as much. How soon?”
“As soon as my people can relocate the majority of this ship’s crew complement back to the Proteus galaxy,” stated Adam informatively. “Even the prisoners are going to get a new home, albeit their new lifestyle will be slightly tougher than they’re used to. We need to drop this ship’s crew complement down to a bare minimum as soon as possible so that we can move them over to the Pathfinder. I figure we’ll keep the three Crasel along with that Dru Gadin fellow who does so well up in Command. Kra Wonin will want to retain a couple of his own trusted officers, and we’ll also accept anyone else you deem necessary.”
“With respect Captain, that isn’t a lot of people even if they’re only acting as advisors…”
“Your caution is noted. However, all we’re going to do is basically ride the Pathfinder straight into the heart of hell and hold her on course until it’s time to leave,” Adam told his friend emphatically. “I’ve already notified Wonin about the personnel changes, and he’s very pleased that many of his best people are about to be relocated. They’re going to their new home, with many more soon to follow. Things are about to change for the better with the other clans too, including yours.”
Studying his expression closely, Vasten nodded with resolve and determination. “Okay. But if we rocket toward this foothold star system that the Kuth value so greatly…” His eyes met Adam’s to seek confirmation that this was indeed what they were going to do. Adam acknowledged the gaze with a firm nod. “The Caucus is going to send everything they have available out to stop us.” His eyes ran up and down Adam’s tall frame, appraising him. “I know from experience that you can survive virtually anything, even a walk in deep space. The rest of us, unfortunately, are not nearly as durable.”
“The Pathfinder is strong enough now to hold them off long enough for us to make a difference,” Adam continued with a confident grin. “We need to create a distraction that lasts just long enough to complete our primary objective, nothing more. Don’t underestimate the Pathfinder. She’s sporting some brand new weaponry with punches even more powerful than our shuttles.” His smile widened. “She’s just like me now, equipped with advanced weapons tech and ready for action. Except that she’s the ship-sized version.”
“Even that may not be enough,” grumbled Vasten warily. “Your brother sent over details regarding the images and motion sensor readings they captured during their scouting mission to the foothold system. There is basically a huge armada in there, ready to fight and piloted by Kuth who are very angry with us.”
“We’re going to use that to our advantage.”
“May I ask how?”
Adam smiled in response. “Do you remember that small PTP system you took out of Captain Barrek’s escape pod before we used it to return the dead Kuth to that convoy?” he inquired curiously. “Have you installed it on the supply ship yet, as you were planning to?”
“No.” Vasten almost looked taken aback by the question. “There has been so much going on… I’m sorry Captain. If that’s a priority in all of this, I’ll get someone on it immediately.”
Adam held up a hand and waved it casually. “No… not necessary. Don’t sweat it Mr. Vasten. I don’t think a small transit device like that is large enough for the supply ship, anyway.”
“It’s really not,” Vasten agreed instantly. “The pod, once ejected, is meant to take a series of short hops in quick succession, placing it far enough away from a battle zone to allow its occupants the time they need to wait out a lost battle. Once the fighting concludes and the area is safely vacated, a distress signal can be transmitted by the officers aboard. After that, they simply wait for a rescue and subsequent reassignment.” He smiled dryly. “Obviously, the Yakiir make certain that their highest ranking officers and Kuth operatives have an escape hatch. After all, we know from experience that they do occasionally lose a fight.”
“That’s what I was hoping for,” noted Adam, clearly pleased by the analysis. “I need a device that will be able to transit across smaller distances at a faster than normal pace.” He stood up and waved to his friend. “Will you assist me?” he asked. “I want to attach it to a piece of Yakiir hardware.”
“Of course,” Vasten said. “Do we need anyone else?”
“No,” replied Adam. “We’re going to have to load some new software, but Thomas is going to send us an upload as soon as he’s finished writing the new routine.”
Together the two of them left the Mess Hall and headed out into the adjoining corridor.
18: XVII: Kicking Over AnthillsPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Pathfinder…
Wearing his old Captain’s uniform – which somehow, inexplicably felt just a little bit more tight around his waist after ten years – President Dennis Kaufield stepped into the Command Dome on board the very same starship that had saved most of Earth’s surviving population. This time the stakes were just as high but their efforts were aimed at an entirely different group of people. Well, I guess humans are humans wherever they might live, Kaufield thought calmly to himself. Then he remembered Adam’s strange conversation with the surreptitious David. Others would argue that sentient beings are sentient beings, wherever they might live. He walked down toward the central ring of computers and seated himself at his normal station. Mary Hastings was right next to him, and he noticed that she had arrived early, in time to set up and activate his Point-to-Point touchscreen laptop, the tool used by Kaufield whenever the Pathfinder needed to move very swiftly through multiple transit hops.
Mary didn’t look a day older than the last time they had sat together at these very same stations, during that long ago time when they first landed on the planet Tranquility. Is she dying her hair to keep the gray out? Kaufield wondered curiously, running a cautious hand through his own graying locks. Maybe I should do that, except that it’s traditionally a female thing and Presidents are supposed to look older and wiser than everyone else around them. He smiled at her attractive features before shifting his gaze to her husband Glen Fredericks, the broad shouldered, square jawed man sitting across from him. “I take it that Adam won’t be joining us on this occasion?” he asked inquisitively, watching Glen shake his head negatively.
“He’s busy helping his brother finish setting up the enhanced communications center,” replied Glen with a wry smile. “Apparently, there aren’t enough computer tie-ins on the console up here, which is perfectly fine with me. Thomas and I are finished adding things to the outer hull, our Lab Wing is gone, and we’re looking to pitch in and help too.” He smiled his friendly smile. “The CAS system is totally contained in the old cargo bay, so there’s no need to monitor it remotely… our power source is even less exposed and safer than it’s ever been. Unless you have any objections, I’ll be filling in for Adam over here and keeping an eye on things.”
“Good to know,” nodded Kaufield, studying the standard computer screen next to the laptop. He brought up a series of coordinates and star maps, looking specifically for the detailed images of the newly discovered, foothold star system that contained the central Kuth Caucus. “Things are going to get dicey again for a while, Mrs. Fredericks.”
Mary smiled in response. “Understandable. There are a lot of lives at stake,” she replied in her soft, professional manner. “However, you gentlemen will have to speak up when issuing orders, as I seem to be the only one without an implant to rely upon.”
“Trust me, you’re not missing much,” Glen told her. “Somehow my wife having access to all of my thoughts and memories doesn’t sound like the greatest idea in the world…”
“Adam and Noriana seem to have made it work.”
Glen chose to ignore his wife’s comment, sparking a light laugh from Kaufield. The President took one last look around the Command Dome, at all of the new specialists that had come aboard in response to the Pathfinder’s weapons upgrades. The starship boasted several new departments as a result, along with several large teams of rail gunners working on the upper and lower decks of the ship. “I was hoping that Nori, at least, would be here,” he stated with mild disappointment. “We don’t need her to fly a fighter this time, but her tactical experience is certainly useful at times like this.”
“She’ll call if we make any mistakes,” Mary said reassuringly. “Now that Adam is back aboard, she wants to spend as much time with him as possible. The Roh brothers are working hard to make certain that they successfully transfer the AI program back from the Ali Rinai. It has literally learned how to behave like a Yakiir warship and so they need it functioning at one hundred percent accuracy once this mission begins.”
“What about weapons?”
“Unless we choose to turn control over to the AI, we can run weapons from up here. Thomas and Adam will execute the rest of the project from below.”
“Forgive me if I appear a bit nervous. We’re about to become the focal point of an all-out attack,” pointed out Kaufield. “We worked hard to learn things and it ended up pissing off the Caucus something fierce. They’re going to be looking to take a very large bite out of us.” He opened a comm-channel to Adam Roh. “Are you folks ready down there?” he asked casually, knowing full well that they were literally crawling around amidst all of the technology located one deck below, in a large chamber directly beneath his feet. The ship’s mainframe was down there, linking all key shipboard functions together.
“We’re ready when you are, Captain,” Adam replied enthusiastically, his voice simultaneously echoing in Kaufield’s mind. “Thomas has identified the first set of planets, and we’re planning to transit directly in close proximity. Since they’re obvious, key targets there are large numbers of enemy ships protecting them. At that point we’ll be counting on the Pathfinder’s defenses to keep us safe just long enough to complete our mission. It won’t take long. Once we’ve identified the local area, we can populate a map of the rest of the solar system using the data gathered on Thomas’ and Noris shuttle mission. The only wild cards will be the ships comprising the enemy fleet since many of them will have shifted positions since the initial survey.”
“I’m looking at Thomas’ data now,” acknowledged Kaufield. “We’ll do our best to program evasive patterns that will shield us from most of the human vessels, since our primary beef appears to be with the Kuth Caucus. But make no mistake; this is going to be yet another bloody day in the long history of bloody battles. There is no way to avoid it, they’re going to do everything in their power to try and stop us.”
“Kra Wonin plans to do all that he can to talk the commanders of the human vessels out of joining in,” said Adam in response. “However, he is uncertain as to how many Yakiir will believe him, given the fact that communications are easily faked. He’s got several private codes that he hopes will verify his identification and therefore assist us, but there’s no way to tell for certain. If the Yakiir ships get in the way, you’re going to have to shoot back.”
“Let us worry about that,” Kaufield declared, glancing toward Mary. “Lt. Fredericks will give you specific parameters on our CAS drive. We’re shrinking the singularity even farther than normal, so it will eat more fuel and produce more power than ever before. As soon as you signal ready, Mary will give the AI-program complete control of the CAS system. That will allow it to auto-adjust the fuel supply as our weapons systems temporarily draw more power than we’ve ever needed. This is the first time that output will exceed what our batteries can handle, so whenever weapons fire terminates we’re going to need an almost instantaneous reduction in the fuel’s flow rate.”
“Acknowledged.”
Noah appeared suddenly, stepping through the open hatchway leading into the Command Dome, moving immediately toward Kaufield. “The transceiver array aboard my shuttle is ready,” he informed the President. “It has connected to your mobile device and is ready to transfer control of the force shield that Adam requested I create. All he has to do is define a perimeter for us, and we’ll proceed. The bubble will last until he requests that we shut it down.”
Absorbing the new information silently, Kaufield studied the two computer screens in front of him before tapping the open comm-link. “We’re ready Adam… stand by for transit in thirty seconds.”
For a brief few seconds, an awkward silence reigned.
Finally… “This is going to be tough to pull off, even with every technological edge on our side,” Glen declared anxiously. “Are you sure Adam knows what he’s doing?”
“I’m reasonably certain, which is why we’re doing this now,” growled Kaufield in response. “Before I have time to change my mind.” He gritted his teeth and studied the countdown clock, watching additional precious seconds tick away. “I hope you Roh boys are ready,” he stated bluntly. “Ten seconds.”
“We’re ready too Captain,” replied Adam confidently.
The countdown hit zero and immediately the overhead monitors surrounding the central computer ring lit up with a bright emerald flash nearly as explosive as the similar, brief bursts of light in the Command Dome’s circular ring of windows. Alarm klaxons blared instantly as the Pathfinder arrived at her destination and the starship’s comprehensive motion sensor grid promptly detected multiple targets surrounding them. Glancing over at the side panel, Kaufield took careful note of the graphical, three dimensional image of the space surrounding them, specifically the hundreds of moving red dots that indicated enemy vessels. I’ve never seen so many targets in one place in my life, he thought wildly. And these are just the ships currently in flight… in one small area of a much larger star system!
“Mary, transfer CAS control to the AI now.” For all the danger they suddenly found themselves in, Adam’s voice remained calm and steady. “Primary weapons systems are on-line and at your disposal.”
“Enemy ships are launching missiles at us,” noted Glen. “Multiple warheads detected on motion sensors, coming at us from all directions.” He shook his head with dismay. “Several fighter wings are forming up to follow them. We’ve got enemy targets coming at us from all over the place.”
The hull began trembling around them as Kaufield transmitted the necessary authorization codes that the rail gun crews were waiting for, prompting them to open fire. Rapid fire projectiles rocketed outward from the new gun ports aligned in multiple rows on the dorsal and aft hulls, easily cutting down the incoming missiles. The fighters were another matter, however, with pilots who kept their hot engines at full throttle so that they easily evaded the majority of the Pathfinder’s return fire. The vast majority of the enemy fighters, at least fifty strong, flew in close and opened fire on them. Abruptly, their weapons fire inexplicably disappeared and, mere seconds later, the fighters themselves exploded in a shower of colorful fire bursts as they unexpectedly collided with a powerful, invisible electromagnetic shield.
“Navigation instruments have confirmed planetary orbits in the habitable zone on this side of the sun,” Mary reported calmly, watching the statistics update as rapidly as she read them. “A new map is compiling, along with current data on enemy ship positions.”
“At least we have confirmation that our new shield emitters work,” noted Kaufield, breathing a huge sigh of relief. He watched the motion sensors carefully, noticing a second wave of fighters change course and beat a hasty retreat to a safe distance. Instead, three of the larger, blocky warships turned sharply and moved toward the human starship. There was no attempt to pull close enough to board them this time – instead the larger ships launched another wave of missiles and opened fire with their biggest guns. It was quite clear that their intentions were to destroy the Pathfinder outright – capture was no longer an option. And yet, once again the enemy weapons fire impacted harmlessly against an unseen shield, repelled in a manner that was disquietingly similar to the disintegration of bullets when fired at Adam’s personal defensives. Seated safely behind those defenses, Kaufield smiled with grim satisfaction.
The warships continued their bold charge forward, joined almost immediately by a new wave of fighters, expecting the rail gunners to resume firing on them. But Kaufield was familiar with their tactics, with the strategic moves that he had first observed more than ten years ago. It was quite clear to him that the three vessels, approaching from different directions, intended to absorb the return fire from the Pathfinder’s guns and ram them outright. Surprisingly, the Captain chose to hold the starship steady and motionless, watching the enemy targets come in with his fingers dancing swiftly over the weapons console. He dropped the electromagnetic shield first, a powerful defense yes, but not nearly enough to repel a collision with even one massive warship. Then he activated a second weapons array, one that – up until now – had never been used before. The commanders of the enemy battle cruisers must have felt elation as they closed in rapidly on the enemy vessel, its rail guns still inexplicably silent…
…right up until the moment their ships began to come APART.
It happened to the closest cruiser first. Kaufield’s latest surprise began with a small triangular-shaped corner here and there drifting away from the larger vessel, as though cleanly sliced free by a massive, unseen blade. Then the escort fighters began to fly apart too, many of them and all at once. It was as though an invisible army of swordsmen had suddenly appeared in the midst of the fleet and begun to expertly carve up the ships. As the trio of larger warships continued to shrink their perimeter around the Pathfinder, the destruction increased exponentially. Kaufield nodded with satisfaction as he watched the overhead monitors, where it was blatantly clear that the starship’s new laser array was busily carving up the enemy fleet. The Kuth were of course expecting conventional, projectile-based firepower. Instead they found themselves completely horrified upon realizing that the humans had, at some point, fully harnessed the massive output from the starship’s burning singularity and used it to augment her weaponry.
The CAS drive was cranking out electrical juice like never before, powering dozens of tight-beam lasers that were so thin and so powerful that they literally sliced some of the larger, more persistent warships in half. Bodies and unsecured, internal objects sprayed out into the void of space from suddenly open, stacked decks on warships that were literally cleaved into smaller pieces. Those that weren’t hardest hit took additional damage from follow up hits as Kaufield made certain to target their engine systems and cripple the enemy vessels’ ability to maneuver. Without weapons capability and major loss of power to most of the Kuth ship’s systems, the enemy attack on the Pathfinder faltered once again. Additional warships previously moving into position to join the attack promptly altered course and dropped out of the fight. Other ships from the enemy fleet, however, continued creating a perimeter around the human starship, more and more of them appearing on the motion sensors with each passing second.
“Good God, it’s like shooting ducks in a barrel,” gasped Glen as he watched the clouds of smoldering debris from the fighters and warships on the overhead monitors. “They never had a chance.”
“Which is why we’ve got to get out of here and take fighting out of our narrative,” grunted Kaufield regretfully. “Even so clearly demonstrated, our superior firepower won’t even intimidate most of them… especially the leaders hiding on the ships at the back of the line. They’re protecting their new home this time, a home they spent thousands of years building. I predict they will come at us until they win or lose, regardless of the cost.” He risked a brief glance in Mary’s direction. “How is that map coming, Lieutenant?”
“Thirty seconds,” she replied crisply.
Kaufield tied his personal comm-channel into the AI-program’s communications interface. “Enemy vessels,” he stated brusquely and with grim determination. “You have just seen an example of our offensive and defensive capabilities. None of you will be harmed unless you try to engage us. I strongly recommend that you return to your home planetary or orbital docking facility. Failure to do comply with all demands will be dealt with in the same manner as our recent engagement.”
“Do you think that will work?” Glen wondered out loud.
Kaufield shook his head in response. “No,” he said. “Not yet anyway.”
“Mapping is completed,” said Mary with a relieved smile. “Feel free to begin short-range transit hops.”
Swiveling in his seat, Kaufield immediately began tapping empty spots on his laptop screen, unexpectedly bouncing the Pathfinder back and forth around the battle field in a flurry of quick PTP transit bursts. “We’ve demonstrated what will happen if they fight us… now we have to work to minimize loss of life long enough for Thomas and Adam to complete their work.” In response to his touches, the starship vanished from its current location, only to reappear an instant later somewhere else on the battlefield. Each press of his forefinger to the screen launched the Pathfinder to a brand new destination – the CAS system’s response to the repeated transit requests was mind numbingly swift.
Next on the Captain’s agenda was a lengthy, winding curve that began very low in the plane of the habitable zone and gradually bent upward through the throngs of ships comprising the enemy fleet. Following the course changes set by Kaufield, the Pathfinder executed a rapid-fire series of three dozen transit hops. Missiles in flight that were actively tracking them instantly hesitated upon facing a large starship that appeared and then disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived at each new destination. With no target to follow longer than a brief second or two, the heat seeking missiles foundered, completely ineffective. Some of them acquired new targets and curved back toward friendly vessels, embarrassing the Kuth even more as fighter pilots were left with no choice but to shoot them down.
Out in space, the Caucus leadership and all of the military might at its command hesitated, uncertain as to what to do next.
* * * * *
Adam and Thomas Roh were both sitting on rolling chairs in the communications center near the three major workstations that allowed direct access to the Pathfinder’s central mainframe. The two brothers were also surrounded by and holding active laptops, studying the data flowing across each screen briefly before shifting their gaze to anything else that beeped or chimed for attention. Behind them, next to the large metal casing of the mainframe, Kra Wonin was calmly speaking firmly but declaratively into a transceiver, warning all Yakiir warships in the system to stay well away from the Pathfinder.
“Let the Kuth do the dirty work for once,” Wonin stated bluntly, using every authorization code that he could possibly remember. “As you have seen, you will die if you try to intervene.” Next to him, Snee Vasten recorded everything that his colleague was saying so that he could replay it on Kuth military channels too. Wherever the Yakiir humans served, the goal was to let them know that they were no longer alone. Noriana Roh was seated next to them, patiently observing the process as she waited for her turn to work.
“Some of the enemy ships must be trying to penetrate the rail gun umbrella,” noted Thomas coolly, reacting to the sudden trembling in the surrounding metal hull. “Testing them is never a good idea. When you get hit by a rail gun, you know you’ve been hit!”
“The AI program has control of our remote unit,” Adam responded with a small smile. “Rail gun perimeter is holding, but if ships continue to try and breach it the gunners will eventually need to reload.”
“Not before we complete our task, I hope.” Thomas watched their course coordinates change repeatedly as the Pathfinder began a rapid series of transit hops, spurred by repeated taps on Kaufield’s touch-screen control. Using his implant link, he signaled Kaufield to pause with the evasive maneuvers for a precious few seconds. “I’m releasing the docking clamps on the supply shuttle and cutting her loose. Her remote control functionality is fully active and I’m firing her thrusters now.”
Outside, the badly damaged supply vessel that had once rammed a Yakiir warship detached cleanly from the starship and leaped forward, her engines accelerating the small craft to full velocity in seconds. The AI program, watching on motion sensors, instantly detected the presence of a new green ‘friendly’ target and immediately issued a directive to several of the forward, ventral rail gunners, ordering a hold even if Kaufield requested that they resume fire. Free and clear, the smaller vessel roared safely out in front of the larger Pathfinder, guided by its remote control systems.
“The supply ship has left our outer defensive perimeter,” Thomas reported to his brother confidently. “Several fighters are shooting at her and she’s taking damage. The automated distress call has been issued.” He studied the latest images from the ship’s navigational telescopes and shook his head. “The number and pattern of ships holding position around the star’s corona has not changed – they have six hundred ships in place, specifically designated to protect it. Everyone else on this side of the sun appears ready to attack.”
“Those commanders stationed around the star’s outer perimeter have no choice,” piped up Kra Wonin. “Their job is to protect it from quashing at any cost.”
“I hadn’t expected there to be so many other ships in addition to those protecting the sun,” Adam countered, studying the action on his own motion sensor readout. “Thomas, we’re ready to launch the Canary probes. I’m going to let you handle the invisible one while the Kuth waste time trying to chase the other five. Don’t release control of the probe to the AI program until we have confirmation from Noah.”
“Affirmative.” Thomas complied with the order, activating a preset sequence designed to launch six of the starship’s valuable Canary probes.
They watched half a dozen additional green targets separate from the center of the motion sensor screen. One of them was also circled in green, a designation that he had chosen to identify the invisible, remote device that would carry out the majority of their attack plan. Shadows and mirrors, distraction and reaction, the hub of their entire strategy centered entirely on confusing the Kuth with the Pathfinder’s presence just long enough to deal them an unexpected defeat. In the background, the mainframe hummed with powerful electronic activity as the artificial intelligence dwelling inside analyzed billions of constantly changing contingencies in seconds. Noriana Roh remained seated there with her own laptop, watching and assisting with on-the-fly analysis.
Adam smiled grimly. “Here’s hoping that your new software, along with my adjustment to the Kuth hardware, works just as well as it did when we tested it last night.”
Kra Wonin had completed transmitting a second round of messages to his Yakiir colleagues, hoping that they would follow his recommendation and remain completely out of the fighting. The Kuth were stunned and surprised by this sudden, unexpected visit to their prized, supposedly secret foothold system. But Wonin knew their Caucus leaders well enough to realize that their instinctive response would be swift and deadly. “What are you going to do?” he asked with understandable interest. “How can you hope to stop them?”
“We’re going to move this solar system,” Adam told him, pausing just briefly to flash Wonin a wry, lopsided smile. “Well, we’re going to move most of it anyway.”
The normally unflappable Wonin snorted loudly. “You’re going to do what?” He looked sharply over Thomas’ shoulder and watched the moving green blips on the motion sensors, two of which flickered unexpectedly and vanished as they succumbed to enemy fire. “You’ll never succeed… they’ve got this system protected with entire fleets of ships. We are one vessel, and they will place even more assets onto the battlefield if needed.”
“Their ships might normally be effective against conventional attacks,” pointed out Thomas with just a trace of sarcasm. “But we are acting in an extremely unconventional manner. In effect, we’re using strategic tactical programming and superior technology to outmaneuver an overabundance of flying blunt objects.”
“It’ll work,” Snee Vasten predicted. “Everything else that these people have done certainly has.”
“Ships that have received the distress signal from the supply ship are now infected with the AI’s program virus,” reported Thomas crisply. “Their communications systems are activating and automatically relaying a copy of that transmission to other ships in the vicinity. Estimated time to entire fleet infection is three minutes, twelve seconds. Vessels guarding the sun are being prioritized to the top of the stack as ordered. Estimated time until each of them is infected is forty-nine seconds.”
The two brothers waited patiently as the seconds continued to tick by, watching the red blips depicting the enemy ships around them circle helplessly at safe distances. The Pathfinder’s location continued to fluctuate, hopping back and forth through a series of multiple transit hops that continued to make the large starship a nearly impossible target. “Kaufield’s got them scared of our new weapons and our ability to transit rapidly across shorter than usual distances,” Adam stated warily, remembering the canister-like devices he had observed mounted atop all of the exterior access hatches. “For cat’s sake Thomas, exactly when did you and Glen have time to perfect lasers?”
Thomas flashed him a wary smile. “The technology has been around for decades. Until the CAS system was perfected, we’ve simply never had a dedicated energy source powerful enough to supply them with the juice they need.” An alert bleeped on the laptop he was holding, signaling him that new telemetry was available. “All ships assigned to protect the sun are now infected with the supply ship’s virus,” he grinned proudly. “They’re broadcasting a beacon on Beta Twelve Niner, an emergency channel that is different and isolated from the other vessels. That should do for your purposes.”
Adam nodded grimly in response, his fingers touching the comm-channel. “We have just defined you a perimeter for the force field Noah,” he said, doing his best to contain his excitement. “The center of the energy sphere should be the core of the star. Its outer perimeter should stop exactly ninety kilometers from the inside edge of the transmission source from all those ships surrounding the star… you can track each of them using the Beta Twelve Nine channel.” He waited and watched nervously, the void in his belly telling him that something would go wrong. But nothing did and he heard back from Noah much more quickly than expected.
“Force shield is in place, Adam. You may proceed.”
“Confirmed. I’m transferring control of our remote device to the AI program.” Thomas leaned back in his chair and simply sat there for a moment, stunned. “Nothing can stop us now,” he predicted with awe.
* * * * *
“Evacuations are in progress on all worlds with human populations,” announced Noah suddenly, although it was completely unclear as to where he was obtaining his information from. “There have been some confrontations, but the Kuth slave owners are backing off as they realize that they’re quickly losing every fight. Some of them are volunteering information as to where other humans are imprisoned.”
“One of these days I’m going to have to find out more about you,” Kaufield told his alien friend with a shake of his head. “Aside from the technology you’ve shared with us, your people are still a complete mystery.”
“And isn’t it better that way, Captain?” asked Noah with a wink.
“Sometimes I’m not so certain about that.” Kaufield’s attention shifted to Mary. “How is that map coming?” he asked her curiously.
“It’s done,” she told him almost casually. “The virus spread by the supply ship is already beginning to shut down the weapons functions on all ships in this system. Those very same ships inadvertently relayed the virus to various planet based defenses. All enemy weapons systems are powering down.”
“Be wary,” Glen advised them. “Some of those ships look pretty primitive. If given an opportunity, they’ll try to pull alongside and take a few shots at us with guns or missiles that aren’t linked to computer systems. And then there is that ramming thing they like to do…”
“We’re currently sitting about fifteen light seconds from the star. I’m setting navigation and PTP to automatic hops based on proximity,” decided the Captain sternly. “If any enemy ship tries to approach us again, we’ll automatically transit to what the computer decides is the best new safe location.”
“We’ll need to eventually, anyway,” said Glen. “We’ve only got a partial map of the solar system on this side of the sun.” He paused, studying the overhead monitors with a puzzled expression. “By the way, has the star’s output dimmed in some odd way?”
“No,” Noah promptly told him. “The electromagnetic force field bubble that Adam asked for is simply containing the vast majority of all solar activity. Most of the radiant energy is confined within it, and if the shield remains active for any length of time, all planets in the habitable zone will begin to cool noticeably.” He chuckled lightly. “Adam’s idea to use the Kuth ships already in place around the star to define the perimeter I needed is a brilliant one. Since they’re on the outside looking in. the crews aboard each vessel will survive to live another day… due primarily to his foresight.”
“Was it his idea?” asked Glen with a polite smirk. “Or was it that infamous tactical database?”
“A little of both maybe?” replied Kaufield confidently. “Don’t worry. This isn’t going to take long at all. I’m hoping for twenty hours or less.”
In seconds he was proven at least partially correct. “The AI program controlling the Canary probe has opened a hole in the force shield encircling the sun,” Noah informed them. “The attached quashing weapon is scheduled to fire in exactly five, four, three, two, one…”
The subsequent action and reaction this time around was extremely similar to the previous quashing, as coordinated by Adam while still aboard the Ali Rinai. The sun elongated and distorted away from the point of impact, punished by the sudden punch of the warhead’s mighty electromagnetic pulse. The only difference on this occasion was the invisible barrier that instantly halted the advancing tendrils emerging from the savaged mass of solar matter. Like a colossal egg in a glass bowl, the sun stretched away from the point of the weapon’s impact until it crashed against the inside edge of Noah’s massive force shield. The remote unit in the Canary probe promptly received additional instructions from the Pathfinder’s AI program to close the opening it had fired through in order to destabilize the star. For several long minutes, the overwhelmed sun continued to bubble and burn uncontrollably, gradually losing its spherical shape and lighting up the surrounding force field barrier with a truly hellish glow that was astonishing to witness.
The Captains of the vessels assigned to protect the sun were obviously terrified by the star’s explosion so near to them, watching huge bursts of suddenly released energy expand toward them before suddenly halting as the solar energy smashed against the invisible barrier. A few dozen ships abandoned their positions at first, and less than a minute later the rest of them did as well. Protecting the star was useless – after having first been surrounded by an impenetrable barrier, the sun itself was astonishingly, somehow quashed.
“How long can the barrier contain all of that energy?” asked Kaufield, clearly interested in the unusual phenomenon captured fully on the ship’s monitors.
“Indefinitely,” Noah told him in reply with a cheerful smile. “However, the star itself would normally burn out much faster than normal without periodic venting. Adam was wise to request the capability to create openings in the barrier that will allow the ignited solar fuel to flow through. Essentially, he has created a huge battery with almost limitless energy to draw upon.”
“He verified his concerns with Dr. Julie Markham several nights ago,” Mary pointed out. “He wanted to know specifically how to more efficiently harness and then use the energy from a quashing.” She shook her head at the sheer magnitude of what she was witnessing. “The Kuth use only a small fraction of each sun’s potential and he needed to move at least four hundred and twenty-five planets.”
“Well he certainly has succeeded in that regard,” commented a clearly impressed Kaufield. He continued to watch the massive ‘fire in a bottle’ burn hot in space.
* * * * *
Noriana Roh had remained, for the most part, completely silent until now. Her own laptop’s telemetry feed was linked to the quashing weapon’s computer core. Now that the star was dying, the second stage of its programming was kicking in – specifically the new code that Thomas had labored hard to create. “Another hole is opening in the force shield,” she acknowledged, watching the fresh statistics with a raised eyebrow. “Lots of them… there are at least fifteen dozen vents forming, actually.”
Adam was watching the enemy fleet carefully, making certain that the vast majority of them were indeed ‘weapons cold’ and otherwise harmless. Several of the larger ships occasionally attempted to accelerate unexpectedly and ram the Pathfinder, but Kaufield was also paying close attention up in the Command Dome. His proximity detector instantly activated and transited the starship to a safe location. “We need those extra vents in order to bleed off excess energy,” he explained eagerly to his spouse. “They also serve to conceal the lone conduit that’s powering up our quashing weapon. If there was only one outlet, that’s where the weapon would be and the enemy fleet could converge on it and attempt to break its shield and damage or disable it.”
“Efficiency was our priority,” said Thomas with a pleased grin. “The weapon has received our prioritized list of planets. It will siphon the energy it needs from the star through one of the conduits, then transit to a location in close proximity to its target. After each planet in the habitable zone is moved, the cycle will repeat.”
“I still can’t believe this. How can you move an entire solar system?” asked a clearly puzzled Kra Wonin. Seated next to him, Snee Vasten chuckled in response to his manner.
“Just the planets in the habitable zone are being relocated,” Noriana stressed firmly. “The worlds where your people are serving as slaves will go last, giving us the time we need to get those people out of there. Our allies have teams evacuating them even as we speak.”
Kaufield’s voice crackled suddenly and unexpectedly out of a nearby, open Comm-Channel. “The Kuth have run things here in the Wasteland for quite some time now,” he began again, choosing his words more slowly and deliberately this time while using an outgoing channel. “That era has now passed into history. Your foothold planets are being moved to the habitable zone of another star system, one where you can live by yourselves.” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. “Since you don’t respect other life forms, even sentient ones, coexistence with the humans here in the Wasteland has proven to be impossible. Those of you in ships will want to make haste and pick a planet to orbit or land upon. If you do not, your home worlds will soon be gone and you will be left here without the Caucus leadership to continually resupply you. There are many human warriors and clans that continue to survive, however, despite your best efforts at wiping them out. I’m certain these clans have soldiers who would love to meet you in battle, this time on EQUAL terms.”
“Planet number one on our list has just transited away,” reported Thomas gleefully. “The Canary – and weapon attached to it – has hopped to a new location on the other side of the star, and new vents are opening in the force shield. It will be out of contact…” he trailed off as the Pathfinder suddenly transited.
“Part of Kaufield’s auto-transit program is set to keep us on the same side of the star – and constantly in contact – with your probe,” Nori told him.
“This is… this is nothing short of absolutely amazing,” gasped Kra Wonin. “You transited an entire planet?”
“Just like they did with the Ali Rinai’s first quashing missile. We needed a way to more efficiently use a quashing weapon for this to work,” Adam explained almost casually to Wonin. “So our allies created an impenetrable force shield around the star, a barrier to contain all of the exploded matter and concentrate the resulting burn rate. Normally, a quashing weapon uses only a fraction of an exploded star’s potential… it literally wastes the vast majority of the burning plasma. We’re changing all that, first by containing the ignited solar material and then by draining it off, a little at a time. We’re harnessing only enough energy each time those vents form to transit one planet from an orbit around this star to its new location.”
“The traditional process would have required us to wait for as many as two or three days, until the radiation levels decreased to a point where the weapon can lower its shield and still function.” Thomas smiled at the thought. “During that time, the largest portion of usable energy normally burns away. It’s quite amazing to me how – other than minute adjustments here and there – the Kuth have utterly failed to significantly improve upon this process over the passage of thousands of years.” He threw up his hands hopelessly. “Why worry about changing a technology that’s working as long as there are endless stars to work with? That is the unfortunate tunnel vision chosen by the Kuth, one unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Which is why President Kaufield decided to slap the Caucus around a little bit,” added Noriana. “They’ve been running things with an intransigent mindset and complete disregard for other sentient life. If they don’t change their ways… well, now at least they will have no choice but to prey upon each other instead of on your people.”
“What about all of those ships out there?” queried Snee Vasten curiously. “Many of the Kuth and Yakiir are extremely intelligent. If they manage to successfully clear the viruses from their ships’ systems, they can resume their attack on the Pathfinder.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Thomas shrugged indifferently. “That AI program knows their communications protocols pretty well by now, and it is clogging up all of their traditional channels pretty thoroughly. I estimate it will take them several days just to get their long range inter-ship transceivers working again. Then they’ll have to clear and test the weapons systems on each vessel, including the fighters. If weapons are not properly tested prior to use after something like this, malfunctions prematurely detonate ordnance. That kind of thing could cause as much devastation as any attack on our part.”
“Meanwhile they simply sit there and watch as their planets vanish, one by one,” Nori grinned heatedly. “Or they choose a planet to land on and wait to be moved to a new, unknown home. Not an easy choice for cold-blooded killers who are used to giving all the orders.”
“What about other foothold systems?” asked Kra Wonin, scratching his head. “This may not be the only star system populated by Kuth.”
“This is where the vast majority of their resources are,” Adam promised him. “And their ‘Bridge’ between universes is reliant upon the coordinates that they have established in this galactic spiral arm. Clan forces within the Wasteland can now safely reorganize and plan for future incursions. They will now be ready for the Kuth if they attempt to repopulate this area, and why should the Caucus even bother after discovering from our weapons demonstration here today that you have new, more powerful allies? I expect that their leadership will simply resume operations – if they manage to find a way to contact those who remain on the other side – in their new solar system. A solar system, I might add, that is very, very far away from here.”
“Take a look, I’ve tapped into the video feed from the Canary Probe,” reported Thomas eagerly. The laptop screen he was holding shifted its image to an exterior view of a large planet with many continents connected by several large oceans and curling white wisps of overhead cloud cover. They could see one end of the cigar-shaped quashing missile in the foreground of the picture, and statistics along the right side of the screen scrolled by, offering up data on power drained from the dying star along with transit coordinates. When all major precursor functions were successfully completed, the weapon’s shield lowered and it fired a wormhole generator at a point just ahead of the planet’s current orbital curve. The huge spherical planetary body vanished seconds later in a huge, emerald flash that lit up the entire room. Next, the missile transited toward the next target on its list, and they noticed the surface image of a new, completely different planet appear on screen.
“Anyone who wants to remain part of Kuth Central had better get their act together fast,” chuckled Adam with a satisfied smile. “That’s why we left the enemy ships maneuverable, because we predict that most of them will choose to leave with their foothold worlds. If they don’t, then they’re a severely weakened bully living in this area of space and completely at the mercy of your soldiers.” He paused, watching Wonin’s pleased reaction. “They also don’t know how many of us there are or how many ships we have at our disposal.”
“If this works, my people won’t know how to thank you,” said Kra Wonin humbly. “I am glad that I made the decision to trust you.”
“Your people will have choices now, Kra,” stated Nori. “They can live on one of the worlds in our galaxy or stay here and build something for themselves by conquering habitable new worlds that orbit stars along the perimeter. Without a constant supply of quashing weapons, your new homes can no longer be taken from you as they have been in the past. It’s a fresh start and a new beginning for all of the people in the Wasteland. It is time for this war to end.”
“I agree,” nodded Kra Wonin gratefully.
Together, all smiles, the five of them continued to watch planets continue to vanish, one after another.
19: XVIII: MeridianPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Pathfinder…
The crew of the Pathfinder slept in shifts for the next twenty-two hours and change, taking turns at getting some rest to prevent fatigue. Considering the sheer magnitude of what they were attempting, nerves tended to fray even among the trained combatants already long since battle tested and hardened. Adam, Nori and Thomas took turns taking brief catnaps on several cots they had prearranged in one corner of the communications room. None of them felt comfortable venturing too far away from the computer equipment and its valuable telemetry, since it was the heart of their operation and required constant attention and periodic fine tuning. During this time, Snee Vasten and Kra Wonin never seemed to sleep. Instead, the two of them spent a considerable amount of energy discussing the future of the Wasteland and its human occupants.
Focusing on the tasks at hand, Adam heard brief snippets here and there of their conversation, even pausing once in a while to ask a question or add his own point of view. In the end, he got the sense that the two men were greatly concerned about the sheer complexity of the clan feuds that quite literally spanned thousands of years. Each man had lost friends and relatives in battle, and Vasten had quite a few stories to tell about Yakiir and other clan raids on ships carrying the civilian members of his people. Hiding them on dead moons and worlds blasted into rubble was difficult, even with so many star systems to choose from. Civilian ships had engines even worse than the over-used warships and their ability to transit between stars without a constant supply of fuel, food and fresh water traditionally proved to be extremely difficult.
“Many of our people are being relocated to the Proteus galaxy,” Vasten pointed out, shortly after Adam raised himself from a faint glimpse of slumber long enough to check a few statistics and verify that matters remained under control. A brief glance at the motion sensors demonstrated that the Pathfinder was still busy hopping back and forth around the system, continually pursued by stubborn battle cruisers, fighters and missiles. Fervently, he hoped that Kaufield was keeping sharp and alert up in the Command Dome. One slip was all that it would take to hand the starship over to its furiously determined enemies. Even so, he had to admit that their situation was considerably improved from even a few hours ago. Noticeably fewer enemy targets dotted his screens, indicating that many of the Kuth vessels were heeding Captain Kaufield’s advice and seeking refuge on a world that would soon be transited.
“Perhaps it would be best for all clans if we simply abandoned the Wasteland for at least a few generations,” Kra Wonin concluded reluctantly. “I don’t see the average individual in any clan being able to simply put aside a lifetime of violence and brutality. It’s not a matter of who initiated the conflict any longer, but simply a large population of people who are all guilty in some way, shape or form. Manipulated or not, we have all been choosing to kill each other for centuries.” He shook his head negatively. “I cannot see survivors simply putting aside those kinds of differences. Everyone has suffered, and everyone carries the emotional turmoil of anger that cannot be reasonably controlled around members of other clans.”
“I agree with you,” nodded Vasten glumly. “Adam Roh has weapons and defenses greater than anything I have ever seen, gifts that elevated his ability above everyone aboard the Ali Rinai. And still it took repeated, intense emotional clashes and violent actions on his part simply to get our men to ignore each other, to break into segregated groups and complete assigned tasks.”
“Fully two thirds of the Ali Rinai’s crew ended up imprisoned in her ‘brig’ because they still weren’t convinced,” pointed out Adam with a sarcastic curl of his lip. “Then there were the attempts to give us away every time we came within shouting distance of another Yakiir warship.” His attention drifted back to the computer screens scattered around him just as planet number 387 of 425 vanished in a bright flash of expended energy. Seconds later, the Canary Probe and its attached quashing weapon transited away to the next planet on the assigned list.
Thomas was awake too, keeping himself busy while Noriana slumbered. He noticed the look on Adam’s face and recognized the expression instantly. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he inquired sternly, sliding his chair down toward his brother so that he could study the same screens and the statistics displayed on each.
“Nothing… yet,” emphasized Adam with a deep frown. “Telemetry from the missile body’s internal computer indicates that the hardware is beginning to malfunction. For one thing, the internal temperature has been in the red zone for the last hour. We’re also out of the safe zone in terms of hardware stress tolerances.”
“How many planets are left?” Adam turned at the sound of his wife’s voice, unaware that she was awake. She was sitting straight up on a cot with her legs swung to the side, ready to return to her station.
“As of now, thirty-eight,” he informed her, still scowling at the data he was reading.
“I told you that we needed more insulation inside the casing,” said Thomas with a smirk. “That stuff we pack around the CAS drive wouldn’t burn if you stuck it in the center of an active star.”
“The protective energy shield surrounding the missile casing doesn’t appear to be strong enough.” Adam sighed and leaned back in his dark green office chair, musing thoughtfully. “The weapon is drawing plenty of power from the vented radiation, but it doesn’t appear to be recharging fast enough between transits.”
“Either way it’s a hardware problem,” Thomas teased playfully. “That’s your department.”
“You two are making me nervous with that kind of talk,” admitted Kra Wonin. “Is there trouble?”
“Sort of,” growled Adam irritably, his mood souring as it always did when there were unexpected problems with designs that he felt were more than adequate. “All of the planets with large Kuth cities and populations are long since gone, as are the evacuated worlds. What remain are basically the rocks that they kept primarily because they hold large quantities of usable resources.”
“Essentially we’re being overly nice to a species that doesn’t, in my opinion, deserve our consideration,” continued Thomas in a tone that sounded somewhat snide. “They’ve already been handed a lot more than they need in their new star system. However, we augmented the quashing missile with some of our own CAS drive parts so that it could – should – successfully transport all 425 planets.”
“It’s what we call, on our world, an olive branch,” spoke up Nori as she stood up and walked over to join them. She seated herself in her office chair and swiveled to face the two Wastelanders. “If there is ever to be a chance for peace with this species, we’re going to have to give them at least a few signs that an intelligent, sentient mind will clearly recognize as something we didn’t have to do. We could have done a lot more damage to their fleet than we have, for example. If they were in our position the Kuth would have. I’ve been watching pretty closely, and after the initial conflict Captain Kaufield has spent most of his time using the proximity detector to PTP away from attacking ships. Occasionally, when they get too aggressive or a little too close, he cuts a few corners off of a few of them with the laser systems… just enough to force them to back off. As Thomas stated, we’re being a lot nicer than we would have to, given the circumstances.”
“We can’t change anything that’s already over and done with,” noted Adam regretfully. “The dead will stay dead and the stars that are gone will never shine again. But we can try to let them keep everything they worked so hard to accumulate.”
“You will pardon me if I do not completely agree with that decision,” stated Snee Vasten dourly. “Their treasure trove of planets has been acquired at a considerable loss of life.”
“I don’t believe that I am entirely comfortable with it either,” Kra Wonin echoed.
“The computer and other hardware contained within the missile would seem to agree with you,” pointed out Adam, his interest clearly piqued. “The shield did not fully deploy prior to the latest round of solar venting through the force shield. It would appear that the weapon’s systems are breaking down. If this continues…” Expression grim, he swiveled the laptop screen 180 degrees so that the rest of them could see planet number 388. As they watched, only one third of it transited away. The rest of the huge, gray-clouded world hung fragmented in space, a wedge-shaped portion of it cleanly sliced away as though a huge, unseen axe had risen and descended twice.
“Damn!” Thomas snapped reflexively, his disappointment showing very clearly behind his tired eyes. He looked toward his brother and chuckled. “Oh well… realistically we expected it to fail somewhere around planet 350, so we’re technically ahead of the curve.”
“Why did it fail?” wondered Vasten curiously.
“The weapon was originally designed for a few uses, to bring a convoy or two across their bridge and, as we learned from our own experiences, the occasional planet that they wanted to keep.” Adam shrugged his shoulders and chuckled at his brother’s strong reaction to the hardware failure. “To tell you the truth, I’m actually surprised that piece of junk remained functional this long.” His fingers began tapping commands into a keyboard. “I’m shutting down the AI program’s control over our Canary Probe. The unit’s systems are burning up and will no longer work reliably. That particular quashing missile is done moving planets for us.”
The Comm-channel bleeped for attention, even as Kaufield’s thoughts touched the minds of those with implants. “What’s going on down there, gentlemen?” he asked curiously. “That last transit didn’t exactly work the way we intended.”
* * * * *
After listening to the Roh brothers explain the remote unit’s system failure, Kaufield found himself coming to a quick decision. The tactical strategy for this mission was very complex, so of course they had multiple contingencies worked out well in advance. Studying the image of the partially transited planet on an overhead monitor, he shook his head with mild frustration. Why? His mind prodded him silently. Because, another part of him insisted firmly in response. Even though we knew the modified remote unit would burn out at some point, a part of me was hoping that it would last until the final planet moved to its new home. Sitting there in the Command Dome, he realized abruptly that the irritation he was feeling originated in decisions that he must now make and the very real consequences they would involve. There was no way to avoid it any longer.
Extreme risk.
“I strongly recommend we abort the remainder of the project,” stated Thomas bluntly.
Kaufield weighed the young scientist’s advice carefully before responding. “No,” he decided firmly, studying the motion sensor monitors carefully. “There are still too many Kuth vessels in this system. Our primary objective was to move the planets in the habitable zone and as much of the alien military force as possible. There are still almost a thousand ships in flight. I’d like to force them to choose a planet or risk being trapped here forever.” He paused, already knowing the full truth of the matter and the decision that needed to be made. “What do you think Adam?”
“I think we can do it. Let’s use the Pathfinder’s CAS drive to move the remaining planets. If the Kuth attempt to intervene, well… we’ve planned for that too.”
He watched Mary’s freckled features while listening. “Noriana… any thoughts?”
Like Thomas, she was equally frank. “I don’t like that idea very much,” she informed him. “I hate it, as a matter of fact. Even within a solar system, there is a lot of empty space to hide in, especially with the instant transit capability our CAS drive allows. We have succeeded so far primarily because – at any given point in time – the enemy commanders cannot predict where we will be. If we try to use the Pathfinder to move whole planets… well, there are only thirty-seven planets left. That large residual fleet out there can attack us at any one of them as soon as we emerge from Point-to-Point.”
“Don’t forget about the incident ten years ago,” continued Thomas with obvious concern. “We lost stability on the singularity primarily due to the larger than normal amount of dark matter in the Wasteland. Without transit capability, we were nearly boarded and destroyed. Moving entire planets with this ship could, and probably will, threaten that stability again.”
“We’ve planned for the worst, so let’s lay a trap and see if that works first. I don’t like the idea of leaving this job partially done,” concluded Kaufield. “Stand by for transit to planet number 388. We’ll use the output of the Pathfinder’s CAS drive as long as the singularity remains stable.”
“Captain…” Nori’s tone of voice sounded more troubled than ever.
“Follow your orders,” he instructed coolly, knowing full well that there would be hell to pay later. She hadn’t agreed with him about sending her husband into the Wasteland to begin with and she didn’t agree with him on this matter. But he was determined to help Adam keep his promises to the humans living in this galaxy’s fourth spiral arm and there was only one way to do that. “I’m planning a transit hop to target 388. Once we arrive, Adam will control the CAS output. He knows what to do.”
“Acknowledged.”
Adam’s voice.
Calm and steady as usual. But then, he should be, because he was the one with the tactical database. Kaufield knew this because his own eye HUD was displaying the exact same data that the elder Roh was reviewing. We’re both thinking the same thing... seeing the same opportunity. A chance to take the Kuth by surprise again by seeming to grant them the opportunity they want so badly.
Tapping the ship wide all-call, he listened to his own voice echoing throughout the Command Dome. “All hands, prepare for emergency battle maneuvers. If things get hot, remember the emergency plan. Stick to the plan.” Taking a huge breath, he felt the full onslaught of anxiety’s return… it was time to take larger risks. “Transit in five, four, three, two, one…”
Bright flash.
“Target in sight,” Adam told him, and one quick glance at the overhead monitors confirmed his statement.
Two thirds of a glum, lifeless world rotated slowly on screen, with swirling gray clouds of gas that would be instant poison to breathe. But something was down there; something truly valuable was on that rock that the Kuth badly wanted. If his conclusion was wrong then there was no way they would have risked so much and worked so hard to bring it into their prized, foothold solar system. And now a part of it was gone, and the ship responsible for its present condition was sitting idle, only seconds from a standard thruster orbit. “Stand by,” Kaufield’s voice said reassuringly, still using the all-call.
“CAS parameters set. We’re ready to create a widened window at your command, Captain.” Thomas sounded extremely nervous, even though all their thoughts were shared. He knew what was going to happen and he was still afraid.
Just like I am, Kaufield thought to himself. It’s so easy to throw that singularity out of whack. And if that occurs then our standard PTP engines may not be enough to get us far enough away from here.
And then, just like that, his suspicions were instantly confirmed. The remaining Kuth fleet, nearly one thousand ships strong, suddenly vanished into transit only to appear almost instantaneously in close proximity to planet number 388. Hundreds of fighters appeared on all sides of the Pathfinder, including above and below. Large, capital warships also flashed into existence, missiles firing instantly at the hated human starship. “We’ve got incoming,” Glen informed him, even as the rail gunners opened fire once more. “The tactical computer predicts thirty seconds to first impact.”
Waiting patiently for his chance, Kaufield flashed Mary and her cute freckles a confident smile. “Predictable,” he told her with a strong shake of his head. “It’s all revenge to them now. The ships that managed to clear their PTP drives of our virus hung around in the hopes that they would get a shot at us. Now they have.” In his mind he sent a mental message to Adam and Thomas, consisting of two simple words.
[“Do it.”]
Seconds later, the Pathfinder’s portal projector emitted a high energy pulse designed to transit an entire planet.
Except that it wasn’t aimed at the planet.
It fired through all of the new laser emitters in a spherical flash outward…
…a flash that was aimed at the enemy fleet.
Kaufield watched both Glen and Mary squint in response to the bright flash of green energy on the overhead monitors and in the Command Dome’s windows. It only took a few precious seconds for Mary to confirm their new position. “We’re in the target solar system sir. Planets 222 and 223 are orbiting close by.”
The Captain reacted instantly too as the Pathfinder emerged from transit within the far distant, target system. The Roh brothers did their part, quickly shutting down the laser emitters, effectively stranding everyone in the new star system. Then they activated the ship’s primary portal generator, opening a much smaller window in front of the starship. Firing up the maneuvering thrusters, Kaufield sent the starship plunging through the tiny transit barrier and instantly returning them back to the Wasteland. The portal closed behind them, cutting off all hope of return for the transited enemy ships, fighters and missiles. I can almost hear their Captains wailing and gnashing their teeth, he thought triumphantly. Immediately his eyes shifted to the motion sensors, searching for enemy targets. He almost laughed out loud as he realized that there were none.
We got them ALL, his mind screamed in triumph. We MOVED them all!
Kaufield’s elation was short lived as the Pathfinder lurched sharply to port from an unexpected collision. Seconds later, another, much more massive impact sent the ship spinning sharply to starboard. Glen’s chair flew over backwards and, a moment later, he picked himself up with a dark expression that reflected primarily embarrassment. His attention shifted immediately to the console in front of him and he shook his head. “We’ve just been hit by something,” he reported grimly. “I don’t know yet by what. Nothing is registering on motion sensors.”
[“Stealth ships,”] Adam reported using the implant, tapping into their eye HUDs and displaying a recently snapped image of a block-like, dark shape silhouetted against nebula dust. [“At least two of them, one of which is very large. They’re painted black and coated with some kind of material that absorbs electromagnetic radiation. No signal bounced back to us, hence they’re technically invisible. I think they were using the small moon behind us to hide their approach.”]
“What a bunch of cowards,” growled Kaufield irritably, feeling a little bit defensive as his starship unexpectedly came under assault. “They sacrificed their entire fleet, sent them in first, just to see what would happen.”
It didn’t take long for the rail gunners to contact the Command Dome. “Team leaders from dorsal and ventral hulls are reporting the presence of at least three ships attaching themselves to our port and starboard hulls Captain,” Mary informed him. “We’re being boarded.”
“And just when I thought our enemy was out of tricks,” mused Kaufield wryly, tapping the shipwide all-call once again. “All hands, report to the hangar bay for immediate evacuation,” he announced sternly. “Avoid the outer corridors and stick to the interior of the ship when moving to the lower deck. Enemy troops will be boarding on both sides of us. Avoid confrontations if at all possible and stay away from the lifts. I’m shutting those down to prevent the Kuth from using them. All hands should utilize ladder wells only. And don’t be late, because I can’t guarantee we’ll have time to wait for strays. That is all.”
He rose to his feet, a move mirrored almost instantly by Glen, Mary and the other officers manning the Command stations. “Captain,” said Mary, her empathy and compassion showing plainly on her expression. “You should come too.”
“Not quite yet,” he told her. “I’ll be there, mind you, but not until I help Adam hold off the enemy long enough for everyone else to evacuate.” Still she hesitated, even when Glen grabbed her firmly by one arm. “Go,” he insisted. “We both already know how well this part works, don’t we Mary?”
He watched her go before picking up the wrist gun units lying next to the PTP laptop. Wordlessly he began strapping them on one at a time while verifying that each unit was receiving signals properly from his implant. [“We’ve reached the end, Adam Roh,”] he informed his friend. [“So which side of the ship would you like to defend, port or starboard?”]
[“I’ll take the larger ship to port,”] came the prompt reply. [“After all, you’re new at this.”]
Shaking his head with mild amusement, Kaufield leaped through the exit hatch and hit the ground running.
* * * * *
The usually silent, content to sit and listen Noah was actually one of the first to exit the Command Dome. Some might mistake his hasty departure as cowardice and an attempt at self-preservation, but Captain Kaufield knew him better. The two of them had discussed the three things that MUST happen during the operation here in the foothold system well in advance. Move the planets in the habitable zone, neutralize the Kuth military threat, and lastly, lastly their intention was to at least begin cleaning up the local environment. To complete the latter objective, the CAS singularity would be needed. Noah’s shuttle was docked near the Pathfinder’s stern, on Deck One. If something happened to it as a result of military action taking place in or around the larger starship, its destruction would undoubtedly snuff out the Pathfinder’s CAS drive. They could not allow that to happen, no matter what.
Although the Captain clearly warned all evacuees to steer clear of the outer corridors, Noah had no choice in the matter if he was to successfully reach his shuttle. He moved through one of those dangerous outer corridors now, noting that the moving sidewalks running in both directions were ominously silent on this particular trip. Usually they were operating at peak efficiency, allowing both crew and passengers to move swiftly from one end of the ship to the other. Kaufield’s warning to Noah was taken with a grain of salt – he knew that invaders would choose to board on Deck One or Two, since their primary goal would be to reach the Command Dome and seize control of the starship. Then they would worry about other critical areas.
Thus he was not surprised when he rounded a corner and saw three Kuth soldiers standing in the hallway ahead of him. Their rough, leathery torsos were covered by heavy metal body armor that looked to be impenetrable to both bullets and grenade fragments. The metal itself was scratched and dented from dozens of previous battles, with faint, faded green symbols etched along the surfaces. Each of the animal-like creatures also wore a heavy duty helmet and carried some sort of rifle. The three of them were busy studying the contoured walls, idled moving sidewalks along with the curving safety railings paralleling each. Clearly the starship’s colors and detailed design was unlike anything they had ever seen. But their instincts detected his presence immediately and they whirled to face him, red eyes glaring balefully at the Proteus alien.
One of the Kuth immediately raised his rifle and fired it at Noah, its dog-like snout pressed against the bottom of the weapon’s long barrel. He stepped quickly aside, watching some sort of scarlet flash whisk past him with a loud, angry electronic snap of an energy release. Hisses from behind him caused Noah to turn, revealing another pair of Kuth soldiers moving into position behind him. Realizing that he was trapped between the five of them, Noah smiled and still said nothing. He continued to smirk as he resolutely stared down his opponents and began walking directly toward the three Kuth still standing in front of him.
Sensing that their prey was helpless and trapped, the five Kuth closed in on him and then attacked.
* * * * *
As he moved down toward deck Two, Dennis Kaufield used his implant to keep track of the telemetry still flowing rapidly into his eye HUD from the Command Dome. The computers were set to self-destruct in less than ten minutes regardless of what happened from this point forward. He knew from experience that the two smaller ships had chosen deck Two for a reason. The soldiers boarding Pathfinder from each ship would try and reach the vital areas at the bottom of the ship, with their primary objective being the engine room and their second target the hangar deck with all of its shuttles and fighters. The other vessel, the one that Adam was moving toward, would have slammed into Deck One on the port side. He was willing to bet his eye teeth that their objective was the Command Dome, granting them total control of the starship.
[“Firing at forty percent of maximum will stun and disable the Kuth,”] Adam’s helpful thoughts popped unexpectedly into his mind. He continued moving swiftly, accessing the Command computer’s tactical data so that he knew specifically where the enemy’s entry points would be. [“Anything above forty percent will likely injure or kill, especially when using narrower, focused pulses.”]
[“Acknowledged.”] He was heading directly toward the ship that had struck the center of the starboard hull, knowing that its combatants would be heading toward the hangar bay. The second ship, now firmly docked along the stern would deploy troops to capture the engine room. They can have it, Kaufield thought crudely and somewhat regrettably. Losing his ship to enemy troops was never a part of the plan, but now that possibility was a reality and there was nothing he could do but salvage the remainder of the mission. The Kuth considered the engine room to be a prize, but in truth it was a meaningless target. All they would find there would be a traditional, fuel-powered Point-to-Point engine. If the Caucus leadership possessed any reliable intelligence data, their operatives would have known to go after the cargo bay and the prized CAS drive located there.
Scarlet energy pulses suddenly flashed past him as he entered a “T” intersection, snapping large black weals in the metal wall behind him. Turning right, he saw the same thing Noah had encountered – Kuth soldiers wearing worn, painted metal body armor and helmets. They were firing some sort of focused, energy discharge rifles at him. Several of the pulses struck him and exploded against the crackling blue electricity that comprised his personal shield. Grinning, he watched the power indicators on his eye HUD as the power available to him actually increased slightly. Noah’s people knew their stuff, and his personal defenses were designed specifically to drain energy from the surrounding environment, using it to supplement his own.
His body was blocking the only point in this outer corridor leading to the ladder wells descending down toward the hangar deck. As long as he prevented them from getting past him, they would never reach their objective in time to prevent the launch of the Ranger and Corona. Raising his arms in front of him, Kaufield retaliated with a forty percent powered energy pulse that threw half a dozen Kuth over the safety railings and onto the inactive sidewalks. They easily shrugged off the attack, leaping instantly to their feet and pounding toward him at full speed. Behind them, another eight or ten soldiers appeared in the corridor. Resigning himself to that which was undesirable but sometimes necessary, Kaufield held out his fists, mentally powering up the wrist guns.
Then he sent a blistering electromagnetic pulse from hell itself rocketing down the corridor.
When the azure flare of the energy died away, most of the Kuth soldiers were dead, their armored bodies lying flat on the ground, corpses still smoldering from the heat of the blast. Many of them were missing limbs, and a few had been disintegrated completely. The corridor walls themselves appeared to have melted – or at least warped – slightly. Dark ash and black stains along the walls and floor plating illustrated precisely where fragmenting pieces of biological matter had burned to the point where they were no longer recognizable. Several of the Kuth partially shielded by fellow soldiers were still moving, sitting up or rising to their knees in an attempt to stand. Gritting his teeth, Kaufield released a sixty percent pulse and finished them off.
Moving forward, he was able to locate the still smoking breach in the outer hull where a hastily arranged docking collar connected one of the smaller enemy ships directly to the Pathfinder. Glancing through the plastic-like tunnel of fabric, he made a quick appraisal of the interior of the Kuth vessel and found it to be little more than a glorified shuttle. The stealth vessels obviously had been created on-the-fly and with little additional thought to anything other than shrouding them from traditional detection equipment. But you assholes never did tell the Yakiir about your directed energy pulse rifles, he thought heatedly to himself. Did you? Instead, you sent them into battle for CENTURIES using only standard, projectile-based weaponry.
Grabbing one of the warped, melted walkway handholds securely with his left hand, Kaufield pointed his right fist toward the docking collar and fired a high-powered energy burst through it and directly into the enemy vessel. A hole instantaneously appeared in the opposite hull of the small shuttle, and then it vanished into deep space as the sudden depressurization of the corridor shoved it violently away from the Pathfinder. Kaufield held on tightly, working hand over hand as his enhanced strength allowed him to inevitably pull his body back to the “T” intersection.
He turned left, toward the ladder wells leading down to the hangar bay, pausing only long enough to manually remove the six metal safety rods holding the emergency bulkhead in place. As soon as he pulled last of them, the bulkhead snapped close, instantly sealing off his corridor from the depressurized section. With gravity and full environmental conditions restored, he trotted briskly back the way he had come. I sincerely hope you bastards on that other ship don’t need to breathe, he thought rather cynically and with considerably more mischievous pleasure than he should have. And if you make it to the engine room, congratulations! You will have captured NOTHING.
His task completed, he headed for the hangar bay to join the rest of his crew. He almost paused long enough to check in on Adam, sensing through the implant that something unusual was taking place. But he detected no fear or complex anxiety from his friend, nothing that would indicate his colleague required assistance. So he swiftly moved down one ladder well after another in search of the distant shuttle bay.
* * * * *
Adam Roh eased cautiously down the portside corridor on Deck One, moving directly toward the entry point used by the aliens from the third Kuth vessel. He was intentionally headed toward the bow of the ship, moving forward from the rear third of the large starship. The approach was a deliberate one, recognizing that the soldiers – by now – would be aboard the Pathfinder and on their way toward the Command Dome and other key targets. His choice to confront them later rather than earlier was a tactical decision, since the Kuth would in fact be seizing control of computer systems that were in the process of self-destructing. The mission objective, after all, was to prevent any of those soldiers from cutting off access to the interior ladder wells, the ones that the crew would be using to descend all the way down to the distant hangar bay.
The acrid scent of exploded ordnance was the first sign that he was closing in on his target. Wisps of gray and dark black smoke still hung in the air, swirling in curling patterns that were driven by the active, environmental systems working to clean the atmosphere of contaminants. Continuing to move slowly but confidently, Adam rounded a corner and came to a sudden halt. In front of him he could see twin holes in the outer hull, entry points no doubt used by the Kuth to board the Pathfinder directly from their own ship. What truly surprised him, however, was that at least three of them were still there. The one in the middle turned at his approach, its tongue lolling eagerly as the creature hissed at him in welcome.
“I was hoping it would be you,” the alien managed to croak out in some semblance of an odd Yakiir dialect. The automatic voice translator in Adam’s implant rendered the words properly, but it was clear that the process of humanoid speech was uncomfortable for the creature. At least in its true form, anyway.
Wary of anything out of the ordinary at this point, Adam came to a halt and sized up the enemy. All three of them wore heavy, reinforced metal body armor painted with the familiar Kuth symbols. The two flanking the speaker held large, menacing rifles at the ready, obviously bodyguards of some sort. All three of them stared at him heatedly with their fierce, bloody red eyes, hissing and cackling with anticipation of what was to come next. The Kuth in the center of the pair of guards held some sort of weapon too, a long cylindrical gray tube with a dark metal cap on the end pointed in his direction. One clawed hand held the weapon leveled at him, while the other clutched some sort of firing mechanism on the end closest to its torso.
“Really? And just who might you be?” ventured Adam curiously, knowing full well that this delay was only serving to help his cause. While the unexpected confrontation took place, rail gun crews from the top of the ship were steadily, relentlessly making their way down toward the escape shuttles. He knew this via his link with Kaufield, who had completed his own mission and was assisting them in their rapid descent.
“I am Bok’s mother,” the Kuth howled at him, her tongue licking the long snout as she watched him. Adam knew instinctively that if he moved in the slightest, all three of them would be on him in an instant. The only thing prolonging this very temporary stalemate was his decision to remain motionless. “Admiral Deek was a lifetime friend of mine, as were many of the others you killed from that convoy.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Adam in response. “Don’t you like having to fight your own war?”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the Kuth continued, ignoring his not so subtle jab. “My full name is Nal Raf le Dor and I am one of the most powerful members of the Caucus. Those who know me long enough and serve honorably are granted the courtesy to call me Dor. You will never join that elite, small group of people. You will instead become just another casualty in the long history of casualties within the Wasteland.” A long hiss emanated from her jaws, dying out in a rasp that was almost a faint shriek. “As soon as I heard about Bok I gave the order for the construction of these stealth ships to begin. It was obvious you would eventually locate our foothold, so I made certain that I personally was ready to greet you when you arrived.”
For a few seconds, the four of them simply stood there, sizing each other up. “I see,” Adam mused thoughtfully. “This seems to have all become rather personal for you.”
“Indeed it has,” the creature sneered at him, waving the weapon she carried menacingly. “Over the past few weeks, I have heard nothing but rumors and speculation… flawed intelligence telling me about a Wasteland soldier who cannot be killed.” Dor paused, laughing in a manner that seemed half hyena, half hysterical. “‘This mighty warrior even names a warship after one of the Yakiir females as a symbol of rebellion, a rebellion that will bring an end to the Caucus’, the reports that filter in tell me. ‘The warrior lays waste to anything in his path, even slaying a fleet Admiral after deploying one of our quashing weapons.’” In a manner that would normally be incredibly intimidating, Dor moved several steps closer to Adam. His eye HUD, by contrast, detected no immediate danger and he responded by remaining completely motionless.
“So you stayed behind, abandoning the Caucus to others, so that you could verify if this was true?”
“Indeed I did.” Dor used her left claw to briefly gesture at the bodyguards. “We know from our own experience that technology is power. Those who have it may appear invulnerable, but that is never true. Any power curve can be pushed to its limit, and that is what I intend to do with you.” Dor gestured at him with the unknown weapon it carried. “This is a miniaturized version of the quashing weapon,” it told him defiantly. “The pulse it generates brings down entire stars, so I have no doubts that this weapon will kill you. Do you like it? It was developed at the very same military installation your ship briefly visited.”
Adam’s tactical database had already analyzed the maximum output of the device, identified its energy source along with the smaller but easily recognizable warhead attached to the tip of the weapon’s barrel. Threat to his personal defenses: PROBABLY NEGLIGIBLE. Damn those mysterious, unknown metallic ores of theirs!
“Why don’t you simply shoot me then?” he asked inquisitively, taking a few of his own bold steps forward while raising his fists. Dor’s quick back peddling, along with similar behavior from her guards, proved conclusively to him that the Caucus had already viewed surveillance videos of his wrist guns in use. His refusal to back down in their presence and ongoing confidence was clearly having a noticeable, psychological effect on them. “If you can kill me, what’s stopping you from doing so? Why don’t you take your shot at doing what no one else has been able to and get this whole situation over with? Go ahead,” he taunted heatedly. “Shoot me.”
“I’m going to!” Dor nearly spat at him. “But first I wanted you to know who I was, and that I plan to take command of your ship and use it to torture as many humanoids as I possibly can before we are finally defeated. You have wrecked my society’s future and I intend to punish you and the humans for your short-sighted, disobedient actions. The humans in this space will…”
Behind Dor and her guards was an intersection that turned right and headed deeper toward the center of Deck One. Additional soldiers suddenly appeared in that intersection, with only a brief instant that allowed Adam to catch a glimpse of bodies rolling across the safety rails lining the walkway. Then a cacophony of rifle shots resonated in a brief burst of deafening gunfire. Dor never saw the three shots that killed her, all of which passed cleanly through her upper torso. Dark green blood sprayed outward from the sudden holes that appeared in her body armor. He wouldn’t have thought at first glance that simple bullets would penetrate it, but they did.
One of the projectiles vanished in a brief burst of golden fire as it struck Adam’s chest, since he was also in line with the shots. The other two passed by his left ear with an angry buzzing sound and pierced the corridor wall behind him. Dor’s pair of bodyguards whirled instantly to greet this new threat, but additional shots boomed loudly in the compact, confined space of the corridor and they were dead before they hit the ground. Beneath them, their green blood leaked out onto the metallic floor plating in rapidly enlarging pools.
“THAT was for Tran Wuu,” the man with the largest rifle Adam had ever seen stated bluntly.
He studied the trio of newcomers closely and shook his head slowly, dismayed. “What am I supposed to do with you idiots?” he demanded to know, watching each of his three grinning Crasel friends warily to see how they would respond to his not so subtle jab.
“Idiots?” Big Cren Hollis shouldered the huge assault rifle he was carrying, its barrel still smoking. He laughed uproariously at Adam’s assessment of them. “That’s exactly what we were going to call you for wasting so much time listening to that cretin boast. Honestly, she would have talked your ear off and still delayed shooting you. Talk about savoring a moment that was never going to arrive…”
“Why didn’t you just shoot her and get it over with?” asked Arte Kasik, his scarred face wrinkling with puzzlement. “You weren’t actually afraid of that piece of junk she was holding, were you?”
“No,” growled Adam more than a little defensively. “I was buying time for you and your dunderhead friends to evacuate to the shuttles,” he told them somewhat angrily. “Why aren’t you down there? They’re leaving very soon, and if you’re not there you’re likely going down with this ship.” He pointed at Hollis. “For that matter, what are any of you doing with our heavy duty assault rifles? Those things are as close to portable rail guns as we could get, and their armor piercing rounds absolutely, positively should not be fired aboard a starship. That is, unless you like hitting unintended targets for half a mile or opening corridors holding perfectly good atmosphere to open space!”
“We knew where your armory was and I always get the biggest gun in the squad,” replied Hollis with a wry chuckle. “Based on recent events, we figured you would be all right, but when we heard you were confronting Kuth over on the port side of the ship we wanted to see for ourselves.”
“Time,” Janney Stox said suddenly, reaching out and putting a hand on Hollis’ shoulder. “He was buying time for us to evacuate…”
“That’s right,” nodded Adam forcefully. “And we’re rapidly running out of it. So let’s get moving soldiers, we’ve got a ride to catch. It is very important that we get the hell off of this ship.”
Moving as swiftly as they possibly could, the four of them beat a hasty retreat toward the interior of the ship in the general direction of the ladder wells.
20: XIX: A Lantern in the DarknessPROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Aboard the Pathfinder…
It took Adam and his three Crasel friends less than four minutes to reach the Pathfinder’s hangar bay. Apparent right from the start was the fact that Arte Kasik, Cren Hollis and Janney Stox were all quite familiar with ladder wells. In fact, they were better at Adam when using them for descent. Each of the huge men simply wrapped their bulging biceps against the sides of each ladder and squeezed. Then they kicked out their legs and slid down to the next deck, in a style that reminded him of the poles used by firemen. Adam stuck to his less efficient, awkward method of part sliding, part falling as he brought up the rear, following as quickly as his inexperience would allow. He thought about trying the same stunt as his friends but knew instinctively that it was a good way to break an ankle if he landed wrong.
Or not break an ankle, once his defenses kicked in.
Either way, it would be embarrassing if he fell, so he made a mental note to practice the maneuver at some point in the future. Each time their feet hit the deck, the four men moved farther into the ship before descending again until they reached one of the central access ports with a ladder well leading the rest of the way down toward the massive hangar below. For obvious reasons, the shuttle bay was high-ceilinged and somewhat cavernous in nature. Thus it was a pleasing surprise, upon reaching the last access hatch, to open it wide and see the easily recognizable roof of the Ranger holding position directly beneath them. “That’s the shuttle,” said Adam with a relieved smile, pointing to a spot on its dorsal hull approximately four meters beneath them. “We’ll have to drop the rest of the way.”
[“Glad you could make it,”] Kaufield transmitted mentally. [“The Corona has already left and we just finished loading the last of the rail gunners from the upper hull. Time is short, my friend.”]
[“We’re coming,”] replied Adam, sensing the urgency. “You guys can leave your weapons here,” he suggested calmly while studying their faces eagerly.
Surprisingly, Hollis shook his head negatively. “I’ve been on the front lines since I was strong enough to carry a weapon,” the big man told him grimly, clinging defensively to the huge rifle and its dangling ammo belt that he carried effortlessly in his large hands. “And during all that time, I’ve never felt helpless. Not until we were sitting on this ship, unarmed, only to find out from a member of your crew that the Kuth were boarding it.”
“I agree,” piped in Janney Stox. “I say that we keep our weapons from this point on, wherever we go.”
There was no time to argue, so Adam motioned sharply toward Arte Kasik. “Go!” he snapped intently, moving to the back of the line. He could see a hatch open on the top of the shuttle waiting below, and as soon as Kasik landed the familiar profile of Kaufield popped out of the opening and he waved the large Crasel over. “You’re next Hollis,” Adam told him firmly. “Try not to dent the hull down there, okay?”
“Nice. Someone always has to be the wise guy.” Hollis stepped over the open hatchway in a swift move that allowed him to drop through the wider than normal opening. He landed below with a dull thud, followed only seconds later by Janney Stox. Adam stood patiently; content to watch until he saw Stox making his way through the shuttle’s rooftop hatch. Then he too dropped the remaining sixteen feet and change necessary to complete an escape.
The Ranger’s thrusters, already rumbling with power as the large shuttle waited, throttled up to a deafening roar even as Adam climbed through the opening and pulled the hatch closed after him. [“We’re aboard,”] he thought fervently, glancing around at all of the other Pathfinder crew members sitting in the upper level of the shuttle’s two-level cargo compartment. An equal number of men and women would be seated below. [“Unless there’s somebody else to wait for, we can…”]
A surge of motion interrupted Adam and caused him to grab reflexively onto a safety handhold as the shuttle rocketed forward, headed out of the large hangar and into open space. “I see Captain Kaufield has already returned to the cockpit,” he said needlessly to the Crasel as the four of them held on tightly to anything they could grab for a precious few seconds, finally making their way to the few remaining seats and belting themselves securely into place with the reinforced safety harnesses. “I guess we were the last ones to load.”
The available seating was a series of temporary, retractable metal chairs, each modestly cushioned and equipped with a full safety harness. They were normally deployed only during these types of rare occasions when the vessel was used to haul passengers instead of cargo. During other times, each row folded up neatly against the starboard hull.
Stox put a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about the loss of your ship,” he offered with sincerity. “It’s too bad a beauty like that had to fall into the hands of the Kuth.”
Smiling ruefully, Adam turned to face his friend. “The Caucus hasn’t captured anything,” he replied sternly. “All they did was complicate matters for a few minutes. It was never in our plans for the Pathfinder to leave this star system.” His expression was stern, mouth tight-lipped as the realization of the final stage of their mission finally struck home. “It was never in our plans at all.”
Seated across from him, Cren Hollis appeared genuinely puzzled. “Why not?”
“Because there is still something else we need to do in this star system,” replied Adam enigmatically.
A bright emerald PTP flash lit up the surrounding windows. When it faded, the view they offered returned to the familiar, endless swirling clouds of purplish gray and blue nebulae dust. [“How far did we transit?”] Adam wondered idly, allowing the thought to flit all the way though their shared link to Kaufield.
[“About sixteen light minutes, to the prearranged rendezvous point.”]
[“Is that far enough?”]
[“Thomas seems to think so.”]
Slightly delayed telemetry from the Pathfinder’s security systems was still accessible through Adam’s implant. Having set up a temporary feed prior to leaving the communications area, he was able to eavesdrop on the Kuth soldiers pouring into the engine room only to find it abandoned, its systems shutting down. Only seconds later Dor’s larger strike team entered the Command Dome, expecting to seize control of the large starship. Instead, they found only an empty chamber filled with computer systems that were currently on standby, running the final programs that would wipe both temporary and permanent memories clean in minutes.
Still, that’s not the biggest surprise that we left for you bastards, he thought to himself furiously. You came to the only spot in the solar system where there is no escape…
Aboard the Ranger…
There were a lot of mixed emotions for Captain Dennis Kaufield as he sat in the cockpit and watched the bright flash from the Pathfinder’s explosion through one of the thick windows. The massive detonation momentarily illuminated the surrounding nebula dust before fading away to a soft, pulsating glow that caused him to smile in silent triumph. The blast that he saw was sixteen minutes delayed, but that didn’t really change matters much. The starship that had guided a tiny slice of Earth’s population out into the void between galaxies was gone now, a prototype design that – given their current circumstances – might never again be duplicated. At least not in my lifetime, he thought with a mild surge of discouragement. The journey that led his small group to the Proteus galaxy had proven to be a lifesaver for several billion of Earth’s inhabitants, refugees from a lost world torn apart by terrorism and a sporadic, unexpected nuclear war.
He watched the distant, residual pulsing splash of light still visible through the thick nebulae tendrils with something very close to awe. Thomas Roh, proving himself to be right once again, he realized abruptly. The young scientist was somewhere out there, riding in the Corona, and would no doubt be extremely pleased with the results of their experiment. The shuttle’s two pilots were watching too, as they had brought the large utility vessel to a slow crawl and turned it back to face the now distant solar system. Even though the Pathfinder itself was gone, its controlled, artificial singularity was now burning brightly in its place.
A completely self-sustaining singularity, Kaufield recognized with a sharp surge of pride. A miniature star in the process of forming as it feeds off of the over-abundance of surrounding nebula dust.
More than likely a star, Thomas had told him earlier. Adam, on the other hand, was betting that the phenomenon would eventually become a black hole. Our hardware specialist against the math and science expert… which one is right?
It really didn’t matter, in the end.
What was most important for Kaufield and the other members of the team who had helped him lead the charge to liberate the Wasteland was to quickly and efficiently restore some semblance of a post-war atmosphere to the region. And that couldn’t happen if people couldn’t look forward to the day when they would once again look up into the sky and see stars. Admittedly, he had asked an awful lot from Adam Roh by recruiting him to serve – even temporarily – as an undercover operative in an environment torn apart by endless war. Some people, like his wife, would say that he had asked for far too much. And yet, Kaufield himself had sacrificed quite a bit, he concluded. The Pathfinder might have been an inanimate object, but it was important to him, not just as a starship to use for exploration but also as a symbol… the culmination of all the work required to first build it and then fly it out into the larger universe represented what Earth had been and might one day be again.
And the members of its crew represented what humanity had once been and might one day be again.
“Regrets Captain?” asked the co-pilot curiously. “It’s a tragic loss, to be sure.”
“No regrets Mitch,” replied an emotional Kaufield, still wearing a small smile. “It doesn’t hurt to give up something you love if you know that the action will help others. And this action will help many people.”
“Not right away.”
“Nope. Not right away.” He sat there for another minute or two, watching the spot of flickering light from the singularity that was only partially visible through the thick, roiling clouds of stellar gas and dust. It’s throbbing like the beat of a heart, a heart that is racing very fast.
“The Corona is holding position three hundred meters off our port bow,” reported Commander Judy Stark, the shuttle’s regular pilot. Her long dark hair was tied back in a neat bun that kept it out of her way and off of her uniform. “So far there’s still no sign of Noah or his shuttle.” She turned slightly in her seat, long enough to regard him thoughtfully. “Isn’t that shuttle supposedly our long-distance transit ride back home to the Proteus galaxy now that the Pathfinder is gone?”
Noah!
Everything they endured had happened so fast, Kaufield noted wistfully as the memory of his friend surfaced instantly. Once the ship had been boarded and with the death of the Pathfinder inevitable, his friend remained committed to boarding his shuttle and removing it from the blast radius. To not do so would present significant problems for their plans moving forward, as its contents would react poorly to so massive an explosion. And yet, here we are, after all is said and done, and there’s still no sign of him!
“Is there anything on motion sensors?” he asked curiously.
“Nothing,” Mitch Patterson told him firmly. “No enemy targets, no friendlies.”
“But then, his ship wouldn’t show up on our scans…” Stark commented idly. “Would it?”
“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” mused Kaufield thoughtfully with mild amusement. [“Noah, are you out there?”] he prodded inquisitively, using his mental link to search for the familiar presence of his friend. [“There are a lot of us sitting out here with no way home, and we haven’t heard a peep out of you since you vanished from the Command Dome.”]
The pause before he received a reply was a bit unsettling. [“I am here,”] the familiar touch of Noah’s thoughts told him finally. [“After the explosion, I returned to the blast sight just long enough to make a close up inspection of the singularity. Since your shuttles are extremely susceptible to its radiation, I took it upon myself to move in closer and study the results of our experiment in case some fine-tuning was in order. Fortunately, I can report that everything seems to have worked out as we expected. Over time, much of the surrounding nebula dust will be drawn toward this new gravity well and eventually consumed by it.”]
[“Please let us know when you have finished,”] Kaufield requested. [“Some of us are quite fatigued by all of this and anxious to return home.”]
[“Understood.”]
A sudden thought struck the Captain. [“Did you run into any Kuth on your way to that shuttle of yours?”]
Again, Noah took his time in issuing a response. [“Unfortunately, I did.”]
[“Do you want to share with us any details as to what happened?”]
[“It would probably be better if I didn’t.”]
Kaufield shook his head at the perplexing response, deciding not to pursue the matter further. [“Don’t keep us waiting too long,”] he requested instead. [“Adam, in particular, misses his home.”]
[“I am finishing up now, Captain,”] the enigmatic alien promised.
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
(Three Weeks Later)
When Adam Roh arrived in the conference room adjoining the Science Lab, he discovered that Kaufield was already present. So were Noah, Snee Vasten, Kra Wonin and the three Crasel soldiers who had at some point become family to him – or at least treasured, lifelong friends. Kaufield, proudly wearing his silver and black trimmed President’s robes once again instead of the military counterpart, pointed to several hot pots of coffee and a plate of fresh pastries sitting near one end of the table. Smiling agreeably, Adam helped himself to several treats and poured a hot mug of coffee, sliding it next to an empty chair. He was already chewing on the pastry, choosing to allow the coffee the time it needed to cool. “How are things going?” he asked curiously, seating himself comfortably.
“Can’t you tell?” grinned Kaufield, watching him with a mischievous smile.
“No,” replied Adam, taking another bite from the pastry and chewing thoughtfully for a moment before responding further. There was some kind of red fruit puree on top of it, but as to whether it was strawberry or raspberry, he really couldn’t tell. “The implant link has been down for ‘maintenance’ for over a week now. Thomas told me that he’s busy adding improvements to it, whatever the hell that means. I’m afraid to ask him.”
“Considering this is Thomas we’re talking about, you’re probably right. Additional upgrades could in fact be a frightening prospect.” Kaufield chuckled good-naturedly and leaned back in his own chair. “Noah brings us nothing but good news these days,” he began.
Adam found his curiosity growing. “Oh?” He turned and regarded their alien ally thoughtfully.
“We have already evacuated the vast majority of humanoid refugees from the Wasteland,” reported Noah, pleased at the prospect of having delivered such positive results in so little time. He shifted his gaze to meet Adam’s own. “One of the groups left to move is a Crasel hiding spot, the one you requested we leave for you since your friends are involved.”
“Thank you,” nodded Adam gratefully while scanning the faces of his three friends.
“Kra Wonin has news,” interjected Kaufield, delivering the floor to the Yakiir squadron commander.
Again Adam was intrigued. “Oh?” he repeated.
“I have spoken with many of the Yakiir leaders, and we would like to keep a large, permanent presence within the Wasteland,” Wonin announced, studying the faces of the others expectantly for any sign of a negative reaction. “Like it or not, we were complicit in creating the colossal mess to be found there and a large portion of our military would like to remain in order to finish developing some of the worlds in Kuth foothold systems along the perimeter.” He paused to clear his throat. “It has come to my attention that some of our top leaders – who have now been removed from their positions – knew about these foothold worlds. At some point, the habitable planets in these locations would almost certainly have been moved to join the rest of the Kuth’s treasure trove in their central solar system.”
“After a lifetime of war, taming those worlds will be tougher than you might think,” Kaufield cautioned him. “It takes an awful lot to get started, and you folks don’t have a lot of resources at your disposal.”
“Volunteers from the other clans, specifically the people who are able to set aside past differences given the circumstances, might be willing to assist you,” Snee Vasten told him with sincerity. “I know I would.”
“We will also help you bring life back into the Wasteland,” Noah offered graciously. “Don’t be hasty and volunteer too much of your time. There is no need for all of your soldiers to serve on a continuous basis. If you will speak further with your leaders, I’m certain we can set up a rotation of sorts in order to ensure that all of you get to spend at least some time on developed worlds here in the Proteus galaxy.” He steepled the fingers of both hands together and smiled. “You deserve at least some time with your families as well.”
“We would be grateful for any assistance that you can provide,” acknowledged Wonin humbly to both of them. “Many of my people collaborated willingly and have much to answer for.”
Adam shrugged. “That kind of thing is an internal problem that your people should handle themselves.”
“Kra, you should know that you were more effective with your messaging than you thought you might be,” pointed out Kaufield. “Telemetry from the Pathfinder indicates that the Yakiir warships in that solar system started transiting out of there almost immediately after your first message. Apparently, word leaked through the grapevine somehow and the ships in that solar system were expecting the Kuth to face some sort of major… challenge. When it became blatantly obvious they couldn’t even handle one enemy ship, everyone bolted.”
“I am relieved that they decided not to fight,” agreed Wonin with a relieved sigh. “The Wasteland has run red with the blood of the dead for far too long already. It is a great gift that you have bestowed upon us… a chance to make things right in our lifetime. We could not have received a better blessing.”
“There are still Kuth ships and undercover operatives lurking in the Wasteland,” Kaufield noted bluntly. “None of them have been able to escape to the Proteus galaxy, because Noah’s people have followed through with their promise to screen them out. So I suggest everyone, even the soldiers and ships, come here for a while and spend some time getting to know a quieter life on one of this galaxy’s many habitable planets.” His smile hardened and then disappeared. “Since the central solar system, along with the ‘bridge’ that connected our universe with theirs, was the source of most of the resources, I don’t expect them to last very long. They will eventually scatter and leave the area in search of a new home. If they can even manage to survive in an area that offers them nothing useful right now… they’re used to having supplies readily available.”
“If they try to colonize the perimeter, we will eventually find them,” Snee Vasten promised.
Kaufield shook his head in response. “I don’t believe they will stick around for long. There’s nothing left for them in that spiral arm now except enemies… they’ll have to move quickly before their food and fuel run out. The terrible living conditions that they presented you with over the centuries have now become their problem. They will have to flee and try to find sanctuary somewhere you won’t look… not an easy task.”
“What about the singularity?” asked Kra Wonin.
“Eventually, it will consume that entire solar system,” Adam informed him. “The remaining planets, moons – even the remnants of the collapsed star will eventually vanish into its event horizon. As it grows more powerful, more and more of the residual dust and gas obscuring much of the Wasteland will be drawn toward its increasing gravitational pull. It’s a natural, efficient way to slowly but steadily rid your space of most of the nebulae. It will eventually present a significant navigational hazard, but you’ll have no problems as long as your ships steer clear of it.”
“What about us?” asked Janney Stox. “What planet will we end up on?”
Adam pointed a stern figure at the Crasel trio. “That is what we are going to figure out next,” he concluded. “Together. I’ve got an outing planned for tomorrow, so go eat something and get some rest tonight.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” grinned Cren Hollis, rising to his feet. Arte Kasik mirrored his movements, and both men smiled at Adam. “This isn’t goodbye,” the big man declared firmly. “We’re blood brothers now, having served together in battle. Blood brothers never say goodbye.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it, my friend,” nodded Adam respectfully. “Don’t worry. Wherever you three end up settling, I will be able to find you and visit on a regular basis.”
“Just remember to call on us if you ever get yourself into another fight!” growled Arte Kasik, grinning through his facial scar. “If you’re in danger, then we’re in danger. Where you fight, we fight.”
“I’ll remember that,” said Adam with a warm smile. “For now, feel free to try life without weapons for a while. You might learn to like it.”
“Doubtful,” growled Hollis, slapping Janney Stox on the back with a loud laugh.
Together, the three huge men moved out into the corridor and were suddenly gone.
I miss you already, my friends, Adam thought silently to himself.
* * * * *
Part of Thomas’ planned upgrades to the implant technology involved new pieces of hardware. Thus Adam remained behind in the conference room after the meeting concluded so that he could have some private time to himself. Taking out a portable reader, he pulled up the three dimensional specifications for quite a few new components that Thomas and Glen had designed in his absence and left stored on the device for him to have a look at. Some of the technology had come from Noah’s people, a science Adam understood very little about. So he found himself cussing under his breath on several occasions, trying to dissect the schematics and determine whether or not each new device would function safely and reliably once it became part of the real world. After a half hour or so of frustrated reading that got him basically nowhere, he strongly considered following his own advice to eat and rest.
Rubbing his fatigued eyes, he set the electronic reader on the table surface and reached for the pot of coffee. For a moment, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, resting his vision. When he finally opened them long enough to take a sip from the warm mug, he was startled to see the mysterious old man, David, seated across from him. The normally unreadable stranger wore a huge, satisfied smile on his face.
“How are you doing son?” the elderly man asked him curiously. “Since your little network of mental links is down, I thought I’d drop by so we could have one last private conversation.”
Adam groaned audibly, shaking his head. “What could you possibly want?” he stated very bluntly, his mood transformed and carrying a sarcastic edge. “Unless, of course, you happen be an expert on the development of electronic components for intergalactic transceiver technology. I could really use the help.”
Chuckling with obvious amusement, David pointed the end of his cane at Adam. “You still have your sense of humor, even after everything you’ve been through. It’s a bit too cynical for my taste, but infinitely preferable to not having one at all.” He leaned forward, the wrinkles on his face tightening as he continued to beam proudly. “I think you did a wonderful job with the Kuth situation. You were the expert on the ground with the firsthand experience needed to make the tough calls, and when the time came you made them without hesitation. Granted, you had the assistance of all those electronic gadgets you regularly work with, but the end result was a positive one and I have to say that I continue to be pleased to know you.”
“Is that why you stopped by?”
The mysterious, pulsing soft white aura Adam had noticed during his previous visit still surrounded David, even as the old man waved his age-spotted hands in puzzlement. “What? Is it a crime on this planet to show up and say ‘thank you’ or something?”
Adam took the silver pocket watch out of his pocket and snapped it open. “I appreciate the kind words, actually,” he replied, his tone turning serious for the first time during the short conversation. “And I do have some questions of my own for you, actually. For instance, why did you suggest, via the solar system inscribed on the inside of this watch casing, that we keep the Kuth planets in the same galaxy as the Wasteland?” he wondered inquisitively. “We may have moved the Caucus’ planets from a solar system in the fourth spiral arm to another, basically at your behest, but I’m still wondering why.”
“You don’t approve of that decision? Why not, Adam Roh?”
“To be quite frank, I wanted to banish them to some far corner of this universe, guaranteeing that no one else would ever have to deal with them again.” He shook his head with obvious annoyance. “Basically I don’t want my descendants to have to go through what I went through to stop them if they reorganize and find a way to make trouble again at some point.” He threw up his hands. “We’ve proven it’s possible to come a very long way in search of something if you’re properly motivated. The Kuth are probably angrier than hell at us right now.”
David studied Adam’s expression carefully, still mildly amused. “That is precisely why they should stay close by – somewhere that allows your friends in the Proteus galaxy to keep an eye on them. Doesn’t that make sense, young man?” He rested his hands gently on the table. “If you simply tossed them very far away, you’re not really guaranteeing that no one else has to deal with them again. You’ll have to trust me on that. If you did so, then they become someone else’s problem and there is no way to check in on them from time to time. You should recognize by now that there is other life in this universe, much of it vulnerable to aggressive species like the Kuth. So your initial instinct might have saved humans in the Wasteland only to inadvertently harm other living things by relocating the Caucus and its members to a distant, unexplored star.”
Adam gestured toward the coffee pot and the half empty pastry tray. “Please, feel free to help yourself to anything on the table.”
“Your manners are much appreciated, considering that I dropped in on you unexpectedly,” noted David with a wry smile. “However, I don’t drink coffee in the afternoons any longer… the caffeine keeps me up nights.”
“So you do drink,” pointed out Adam with interest, eyes narrowing slightly. “And you sleep too.”
Laughing uproariously for a long moment, David gradually settled down a bit and recovered his traditional composure. “Pump me for all the information you want, boy,” he challenged. “You knew little after our last encounter, and you won’t know much more after this one.” Again he poked the end of his cane in Adam’s general direction. “One more thing… that speed hopping through Point-to-Point that your starship does is truly amazing,” he commented idly. “I’ve had a lot of fun watching your Captain Kaufield do that. But I feel obligated to point out that this very same capability would have allowed you to avoid damaging and destroying most of those ships in your initial encounter with the Caucus during your final battle. Why did your Captain delay using it?”
“Shouldn’t you already know?” After everything he had been through, Adam was growing frustrated with the enigmatic David, finding it tougher and tougher to offer polite responses to questions he seemed already to know the answers to. “Why don’t you tell me why we chose to do what we did?”
“Okay,” countered David agreeably. “I believe your Captain wanted to scare the tar out of the commanders of those Kuth and Yakiir warships… to force them to really think before they tried to engage you. In combination with Kra Wonin’s coded messages, this allowed you to encourage them to hang back or – in most cases – transit completely away from the battlefield. You snuffed out a lot of Kuth lives in order to save human lives. Considering all that the Caucus has done and tried to do right up until your final battle with Dor, I don’t think you felt that you owed them any considerations.”
“That would be as accurate an assessment as any,” nodded Adam in agreement. “Thomas’ maps of the fleet positions were old, based on his initial reconnaissance mission. So, upon the Pathfinder’s arrival, we also needed time to repopulate our maps with enemy ship positions. Hopping all over the place right after we emerged from the initial transit would have slowed that process considerably.”
“Still, your actions were a bit brutal.”
“Right now the Kuth respect strength. The only real surprise was the appearance of those stealth ships. We had no idea that the Caucus, or more specifically one of its leaders, would care that much about vengeance. And with all due respect, sir, I did not for one second feel that I owed Nal Raf le Dor any considerations either. That’s why we blew her entire crew of trained operatives to kingdom come. After all, their stated, sole purpose in remaining behind while everyone else of importance left was to destroy even more innocent lives.”
“Have you grown used to killing? Do you like the experience?”
“No,” Adam snapped instantly. “And I hope I never have to kill again.” He frowned deeply and studied the other thoroughly. “That’s kind of a dumb question and I don’t understand why you would even ask it.” He sat there, fuming internally, until a thought occurred suddenly to him. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Yes, I used to be quite the aggressor in my younger days,” admitted David with a suddenly distant expression that silently reflected a great deal of emotional pain. “But I haven’t taken a life lately, not for a very long, long time. One might say that killing life forms taught me how not to kill.” He paused for a few seconds, weighing his words carefully. “Does it bother you to know that I am not perfect? Do you regret having to listen to my counsel on this matter?”
“No,” Adam told him gently. “I think I would have distrusted you more if you were perfect.” He studied the wrinkled face across from him with interest. “You must still run into all kinds of aggressive species if you travel as far as I think you must. How do you handle them these days?”
David laughed delightedly. “Let’s just say I found someone who is much more diplomatic than I am, someone who I can send as my ambassador when the need arises. That has proven to work much better for me.”
“In a way, I functioned as your ambassador on this particular mission.”
“Yes you did. That is why I tried hard to steer you in the correct direction.” David rose suddenly to his feet. “But I digress, and really should be on my way.”
Adam pushed the watch across the table. “You should have this back,” he replied firmly. “It’s yours.”
“Keep it,” David decided with a compassionate, gentle smile. “It brings good luck.”
“I wouldn’t feel right about that…” Adam hesitated, unsure as to specifically why he was so reluctant.
“Keep it!” the old man rumbled, much more insistently this time. “You gave those people a positive symbol to look up to when you left that singularity burning brightly in their space… it’s a lantern in their darkness. I believe that you should have something too, to remind you of how much of yourself that you gave to these people. Years from now, when you feel badly about how things in your tiny little life are going, look at it. Just take out the watch and hold it for a bit and remember that you voluntarily sacrificed time out of your life along with a large part of your emotional self so that others could be free.” He harrumphed loudly. “And I wasn’t kidding son, it really is time for me to move on.”
“Where will you go?”
“Somewhere interesting,” the elderly man cackled eagerly, pointing toward the sky. “Whenever your mind grapples with the tunnel vision of your everyday problems or you start to believe too much in your species’ own greatness, just remember, for a moment, everything that you have definitely proven to be out there,” he suggested with a grin. “The universe map that your Proteus friends gave you is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg, my boy. The omniverse that surrounds us, that surrounds all of us is truly boundless… it literally has no end. Your species will one day be long gone and there will still be territory out there that may never be explored.”
“That doesn’t stop us from trying,” said Adam in response. “That’s why I believe we’re better than most.”
“You did well, Adam Roh. You and your friends did really well. When you’re ready to take the next step in your evolution, I will return.”
And then, just like that, the old man was gone.
21: XX: The Hardest Part...PROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
On a dead moon somewhere in the fourth spiral arm of the PGC-2014206 galactic cluster…
Adam Roh made his way cautiously through the low gravity environment, stepping through smaller craters to avoid the much larger ones. Since his defensive shielding only provided several minutes worth of oxygen, he was wearing a standard Pathfinder space suit obtained from one of the storage lockers in the Science Lab at Tranquility base. Since they had never expected the starship to emerge from the Wasteland intact, its contents had been stripped down in advance of her final mission and everything of value removed. The fact that he was walking across the surface of a moon seemed more than a little ironic to him… this was exactly what President Kaufield was doing, ten years ago, when the war on Earth began.
Adam badly wanted to bring his Crasel friends along with him, but there seemed to be no easy way to do that. The Wasteland soldiers were quite simply too large and muscular to fit into a standard size space suit. Even he was wearing the largest size available, and every time he took another step forward the tightening in his crotch made its newest argument that the suit didn’t quite fit him either. Certainly there were larger versions on the Ali Rinai that would fit them, but the stolen Yakiir war cruiser was parked in orbit of Tranquility and there were so many other things happening all at once that he simply hadn’t wanted to waste the time that would be needed to send someone into orbit long enough to claim them.
Locate the people you’ve set out to find, Thomas insisted firmly. Once you’re there, we’ll use your implant as a beacon and set up a Person-to-Point transit portal. Your friends can come right to you.
This side of the moon still looked like a typical satellite orbiting a normal planet. Except that the planet was no longer out there – it had burned up completely during the star’s quashing a long time ago. Fortunately its death had shielded the moon from the brunt of the dying star’s output, even though the moon itself was pushed much farther out into orbit around the now collapsed star. The opposite hemisphere had been burned almost beyond recognition in the process. While this side still maintained the general appearance of an average moon, the other looked like terrain straight out of hell itself.
Glancing up, he could see a dull orange spot in the heavens above, holding position in the center of a series of never ending purplish dust clouds. Centuries ago, that spot had been a young, stable star in the prime of its life. Now, the little remaining energy emanating from its collapsed photosphere lit up parts of the surrounding nebula. The star’s remains and this moon were primarily all that was left of what Dr. Markham claimed had once been a rather crowded solar system. There was also a thin asteroid belt, a few stray tiny moons here and there, along with varying sized fragments of what had once been large planets. Nothing was left of the gas giants except the never ending clouds of constantly drifting dust.
Abruptly Adam turned his head sharply to the left and then right, continuing his search for any signs of what he was told could almost certainly still be found here. The eye HUD was active on the inner surface of his right eye, where a green circle with crosshairs running through it jumped from object to object, while he watched, working to identify anything that appeared out of the ordinary. He was still looking to the right when the green circle darted to the left edge of his vision and settled on a small bump at the base of a large hill. Watching the indicator begin to flash, Adam prompted his implant to ‘zoom in’ on the targeted shape. Once the area of interest expanded ten times larger, a relieved smile flashed across his face. Poking out of one side of the dirt that comprised the ‘bump’ was a sharp, rectangular corner… a manufactured, metallic shape that could only be man-made.
They ARE still here, he realized instantly, his mind jubilant at his successful discovery.
The directions that Cren Hollis had given him were proving to be accurate, as were the landmarks that were significantly easier to identify using his enhanced vision. Moving more quickly now, Adam began a series of larger leaps that carried him several dozen yards with each hop. His body would drift smoothly through the lunar night for a while, before the soft gravity that was only twenty-two percent of Earth normal gradually pulled him down again. What you’re looking for will be very difficult to find, but not impossible, Hollis had explained calmly. And those who live there will be wary of strangers, so be certain to keep your defenses fully powered and in place.
He was nearing the unusual structure in question when the green targeting circle tugged his enhanced vision downward. He noticed immediately that he was leaving semi-permanent boot tracks in the soft dust, raising clouds of it with his feet in fact… dust that would take some time to settle given the low gravity. And yet his eye HUD once again enlarged the area directly in front of the toes on his right boot, zooming directly in on the dirt so that he could plainly see that it appeared to have been neatly, well… swept. Of course, Adam realized suddenly, studying patterns that were almost invisible to the naked eye without a deliberate search. They would need to clean up after themselves in order to prevent the telescopes of passing ships from identifying man-made imprints.
According to Hollis, a supply ship would normally land on the top of the huge hill rising high above him, connecting to a docking collar that could be raised upward through the dusty soil on the peak. But he was on foot and at ground level near the base of the large hill, so he approached the exposed corner of what could only be a cargo container slowly, making certain to knock loudly. Cautiously he mimicked the pattern Hollis recommended he use to alert those inside that visitors were nearby. He waited nearly ten minutes, repeating the knocking routine periodically by hammering on the exposed metal with a large wrench that spent most of its time attached to the belt around his waist. The display on his eye HUD surveyed the structure thoroughly, identifying a nearby airlock that was partially buried beneath the smaller hill.
Long ago, the Crasel landed a bunch of cargo carriers on the surface of this moon, his mind kept telling him in sheer disbelief, and then they buried them with explosives. They did this because to not do so would mean a death sentence for everyone living inside of them.
An entire colony of civilians was housed beneath this small mountain, totally self-sufficient in the short run so long as its inhabitants received periodic deliveries of supplies for the long haul. Briefly, he tried to imagine what a lifetime in so confining a space must be like. In the end he gave up trying to wrap his mind around the concept and instead settled for opening a path to the airlock entrance. Raising his hands, he used his wrist guns to begin blasting away large chunks of the lunar surface, working steadily to expose as much of the cargo container’s corner as possible. The weapons were now strapped to the outside of his spacesuit, allowing him to use them even while fully protected by the spacesuit from the lack of atmosphere.
The colossal mess he made was discouraging to say the least, but Adam prided himself on the fact that the people living in this colony would soon be somewhere else. [“All right folks,”] he transmitted through the implant link. [“I’m going in.”]
[“You had better be prepared for anything,”] his wife replied, her presence reassuring to him while standing in the dark and lonely lunar night. [“The Kuth tortured people on a regular basis, so those people are probably used to receiving visitors who know the secret knock. Don’t take any unexpected chances honey. If anything happened to you now…”]
[“Don’t worry,”] Adam told her, although his own anxiety was understandably elevated by the prospect of first contact with these people. Resolved to do this, he repeated his earlier words. [“I’m going in.”]
Reaching out with one hand, he tried to turn the manual handle that would release the outer airlock door and failed. Swallowing hard, he accessed the implant’s offensive capability and increased his body strength by a factor of three. Slowly but surely, with steady, consistent pressure the handle began to gradually move toward the unlocked position. It was a tough job that required patience, but Adam forced himself to proceed slowly. If he damaged his gloves, his suit would lose atmosphere. If he resorted to forcing the door using too much of his enhanced strength, it might not close properly and then he would be faced with the prospect of opening the inner airlock door while the outer one remained unsealed. Firmly and steadily, he maintained constant pressure on the lever, feeling it finally give.
A sharp tug on the door opened it a crack. A second, sharper tug opened it far enough so that he could slip his body through the small opening and into the airlock. Turning around, Adam pulled the outer door closed and then locked it tightly from the inside. The beacon from his helmet pierced the darkness with a stab of illumination that allowed him to see most of the interior. Clouds of dust from his boots swirled around him in the light gravity, moving in front of his helmet visor in patterns similar to the nebula dust found almost everywhere in the Wasteland.
[“I don’t think this airlock has been used in some time,”] he commented, even though everyone back in the Tranquility Science Lab could see everything that he was seeing. [“These doors are very slow to respond.”] He did his best to quell his anxiety while locating a wall panel long enough to tap in the sequence needed to pressurize the airlock. Ventilation fans long dormant creaked slowly back to life and began filling the interior of the small airlock with a breathable atmosphere.
[“You’re lucky,”] his wife told him. [“If there wasn’t an available airlock, you’d have been climbing that huge hill outside. Then you would have had to locate the concealed docking collar. Even in low gravity, that would have given you quite the workout.”]
[“I disagree,”] Adam thought back at her in response. [“It’s not luck at all. A smart person leaves more than one exit available in case they need to execute a swift exit. My guess is that there will be at least several escape vessels parked nearby too, camouflaged just as thoroughly as this compound is.”]
Carefully he operated the manual controls that controlled the inner door. A loud shriek of protesting metal pierced the deathly silence before the door finally yielded to his steady pull. It popped open and then seemed to operate normally. Adam moved quickly into the next chamber, which appeared to be a converted “T” intersection corridor. Pausing long enough to look left first and then to the right, he noticed that both of those directions had long ago been closed off and permanently sealed using the emergency bulkheads.
The only direction readily available in the small corridor was straight forward, and he did so at a quicker pace, now in normal gravity and eager to reach his destination. When he reached a closed hatch after traveling thirty or forty yards, he pulled forth the wrench from his belt and repeated his earlier effort, tapping on the solid metal using Hollis’ predetermined code. Again there was no immediate response to his signal so he opened the hatch and stepped through it.
He entered a large, dimly lit chamber that was about twenty meters wide and took two quick steps. Then he heard the gunshots ring out and sparks exploded next to his right arm as the slugs hit the wall next to the hatch. “Hold it right there or you’re a dead man,” someone snapped angrily from across the room.
“Hold your fire!” Adam hollered irritably, his frayed nerves driving his already elevated anger higher. The last thing he needed, after everything he had already been through, was to become the cause of a civilian bloodbath resulting from ricocheting slugs. He held up his arms, allowing them to see the lengthy tubes strapped to his forearms, holding both hands steady until he was certain there would be no more gunfire. “I’m going to take my helmet off… slowly.”
He was in the process of doing just that when he heard someone shouting at him. “Identify yourself!”
“My name is Adam Roh,” he told them bluntly but honestly. “I’m here to help.”
“Sure you are.” The comment was dripping with undisguised suspicion, although he heard someone inhale softly as they caught a glimpse of the collar on the Crasel uniform he wore beneath the spacesuit. The familiar pattern of yellow stripes was easily recognizable, even from a distance.
Adam dropped his helmet on the floor and looked at the two men standing in the hatchway across from him. Both were older and dressed in ragged, rotting clothing. The one with the rifle was at least sixty years old, his face and arms covered with wrinkles, age spots and long-healed scars, but his thin frame was noticeably emaciated by too many days without adequate nourishment. The other man was about forty and Adam noticed that he was missing one hand along with the lower half of his right leg beneath the knee.
These are the people who stay behind and protect the civilians, he realized abruptly. That job falls to the elderly or those who are too injured to survive in the war on the frontier.
“I tell you I’m a friend!” he insisted fiercely. “Back away into the next room and I’ll prove it.”
“Like hell you are!” snapped the older man. “You may know the code we’re hoping to hear, but you don’t know our procedures. It takes forever to smooth away tracks in the lunar dust out there, a task that must now be completely redone due to your stupidity and clumsiness.”
“You’re supposed to park your ship up top, using the docking collar,” the younger man added sharply. “There’s virtually nothing to erase after you leave. Who taught you how to come to this place?”
Adam took a deep breath before lowering his hands just far enough to release a low-level, wrist gun pulse. It was more of a heat blast at five percent, but it was enough to knock the rifle out of the old man’s hands and shove both men back through the opposite hatch entrance. The two of them backpedaled with surprised outcries, utterly confused by the action for the few precious seconds Adam needed to cross the chamber and give them a quick, physical shove. They landed on their backs in a much larger, fully lit cargo bay, one that was completely filled with men, women and a mind boggling number of young children.
The men were out front, some of them with rifles and handguns, expressions menacing as they stood protectively in front of the women and children. Studying them more closely, Adam noted that most of them were much older than normal Wasteland soldiers and more than a few were also permanently burdened with serious physical injuries. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you dead right now,” one of them sneered derisively. He waved a pistol menacingly and pointed it directly at Adam’s head. The comment came as even more of a shock upon realizing that it was spoken by a young boy who was probably not even sixteen. Still a minor and already drafted into service to his people as a soldier!
“I’m asking all of you to trust me… because of this,” replied Adam simply, stepping into the cargo bay and pointing back into the other chamber. A soft golden glow was forming in its center, widening rapidly into a large sphere that pulsated softly and hummed powerfully. For about thirty seconds it just sat there in the center of the room, glowing brilliantly with enough light to cause most of the people in the cargo bay to gasp at the mere sight of it. The appearance of the energy sphere was so far beyond anything they had ever seen that it captivated everyone, and for a brief moment in time, no one said anything.
Then Big Cren Hollis emerged from the center of the golden portal, followed almost immediately by Arte Kasik. Janney Stox came last, but he was grinning from ear to ear and genuinely looking forward to saying hello to a bunch of his lifelong friends. There were additional gasps of awe and recognition from the crowd at the unexpected appearance of the familiar faces, causing Adam to remember just how much supernatural fear there was among the Wastelanders. For a brief instant, he felt fear in his gut, a terrible fear that the civilians would think that this was some sort of sorcery or magician’s trick and open fire on them all.
Then Big Cren Hollis tossed aside the fully automatic rifle he was carrying and opened his arms. “Where are my wives and children?” he thundered at the top of his lungs. “By golly, it’s been far too long since I’ve held you all in my arms… where the devil are you?”
The line of men holding protective positions in front of everyone else remained solid only until several women and a large cluster of children, young kids of varying ages, suddenly ran forward with loud cries of recognition. Adam stood there and watched as he heard relieved crying from the two ladies and shouts of “Daddy Daddy Daddy!” from the kids. In seconds, a small mob had formed around Cren Hollis, and he stood like a tall, rock solid pillar in the center of it all, laughing and roaring and wrapping his big strong arms around everyone he could reach.
The sixty year old man, still lying flat on his back, looked up at Adam with clear puzzlement. “What’s going on here?” he asked while rolling into a seated position so that he could get a better look at the shining golden light still beaming into the room from the chamber connected to the airlock corridor.
“The war is over and this man ended it!” yelled Arte Kasik, cackling with glee and pointing directly at Adam as he moved past Hollis and farther out into the light. Another mob of women and children pushed through the stupefied line of men on guard duty, moving toward the battered Wasteland warrior as they recognized his face and voice. The children started climbing all over him too, and he finally gave up completely and sat down on the metal floor so that everyone could hug and kiss him all at once.
Janney Stox came last, lingering next to Adam while watching the rousing, exuberant reunion with a warm smile on his face. “Don’t you have family too?” Adam asked him, but the tall man shook his head negatively in response.
“I am not so lucky,” he replied in a bittersweet tone. “I have nightmares and emotional waking seizures that make it difficult for anyone to love me,” he explained somewhat reluctantly. “They’re probably due to a few hard hits I took on my head during my younger days, so I’ve always tried to contribute to our cause by fighting the good fight.” He shrugged his shoulders. “My time here is usually spent with the older soldiers, since I’m one of the few still around who served with them. We play a lot of card games.”
“You sound like you’re deliberately isolating yourself from others.”
Stox simply waved a hand casually in response. “It is the way things have always worked best for me.”
“Perhaps all that can now change,” Adam replied softly, smiling as he watched the two groups of howling children celebrate with their exuberant, undisguised youthful emotions. “We have Doctors who can help you with your medical condition, and they will. Everyone here is being relocated to Tranquility… all of the members of the Crasel are going to get to live with us… with my people.”
“Why are we so special?” wondered Janney Stox with a bittersweet smile, shouldering his rifle just long enough to pick up a stray kid. He danced awkwardly in his thick-soled combat boots, swinging the giggling child in circles and singing an odd song that Adam had never heard before. With the entire bay still completely illuminated by the effervescent golden light from the other chamber, it was truly a heartwarming sight.
The war in the Wasteland was finally over, and its end had taken less than two weeks!
“I guess because we need someone to act as a reliable contact linking my people and yours, and you folks stuck with me the entire way,” replied Adam firmly. “We would not have been able to do what we did without you.” He was about to say more, but his voice trailed off as he spotted a group of women lurking just behind the protection of the armed row of men. They had obviously been waiting for more men to emerge from the portal and were significantly disappointed that none had. The truth of the matter suddenly dawned on him as he saw all of the young children standing next to them.
The elation he felt drained completely out of him in an instant.
There was large block of guilt in Adam’s gut that felt almost unbearable as he suddenly remembered his first day with the Crasel, along with all of the men blown out of an airlock by the Zaketh forces who captured them. Most of the women were sniffling and crying with the sudden realization that their loved ones were never coming home. His gaze drifted from woman to woman until it settled on a younger lady whose face he immediately recognized, a pretty young woman with long, unkempt dark hair. She was patiently standing at the edge of the main group of people, watching with a downcast expression that was clouded by concern.
The emotional blow upon seeing her was overwhelming, and Adam took a few minutes to gather his conflicting emotions together before moving slowly away from Janney Stox. Expression suddenly grim, he approached her with a much more solemn attitude, still uncertain as to what specifically he should say to her. He stopped walking when she was right in front of him and for a moment the two of them just studied each other.
Finally, after his wavering confidence stabilized, he smiled weakly. “Are you De Wuu?”
“Yes,” she responded with an expression filled with shock, denial and a thousand other emotions.
“My name is Adam Roh, and I am so sincerely sorry to meet you under these conditions.”
“He’s not coming back is he?” she stated simply. “That’s why he’s not here now, with his friends.”
“I’m afraid so.”
She looked at him with sudden interest. “And who were you to him, Adam Roh?” she asked.
“We were friends. And in a way, I am responsible for your husband’s death. He was helping me on a mission and I screwed up. If there had been more time…” He trailed off, unable to continue, and then reached for her, pulling her close to him in a tight embrace. She lost control of herself then, sobbing uncontrollably in his arms for what seemed like an hour. In reality, she expended the worst of her negative emotions in the space of a few minutes. The hard part was over… Adam simply waited patiently until she expended the anguish that she needed to get rid of. Finally, she managed to calm herself once more.
After finishing his hug with De Wuu, Adam pulled back from her and reached into his pocket. Studying her youthful, simple beauty even more closely he handed her the steel-mesh necklace with the two crescent moons on it. It was the same one that Tran Wuu had carried into battle on numerous occasions and left in his care, the one with her picture inside. “Your husband wanted me to return this to you,” he informed her, only tentatively meeting her gaze. It was very difficult for him to look her in the eye. “I… I am not a full time soldier. I was new to combat and promised to keep him safe. During our travels, I occasionally acted impetuously, due mostly to my inexperience. The actions leading up to your husband’s death were triggered by one of those impulsive reactions. I am so sorry Mrs. Wuu, I would give anything if I could take it all back and do things over again, this time the proper way…”
She listened to him quietly, one of her younger children embracing her leg tightly while the other kids looked up at him curiously and studied the unfamiliar contours of his face. “Arte Kasik just said that you ended the war,” De Wuu told him in response. “Is that true? Is the fighting somehow miraculously over?”
Again Adam looked at his feet, uncertain as to how much he should tell her about the outside world at this point. “My friends and I have managed to achieve this, yes,” he stated slowly. “After years of fighting, a lot has been accomplished in a short amount of time. And although I led the fight to save the Wasteland, it was the help and support of my own people that allowed me to survive.”
De Wuu reached out with one hand and ran it along the side of Adam’s face, and at first he flinched in response to her tender touch. She just stood there, looking at him with her deep, chestnut brown eyes. “If the war is truly over and our children will be safe, my husband would consider that an even trade,” she said, tight lipped. “And much as it saddens me to agree with him, so would I.”
“I will never forget him,” Adam continued, fighting back tears. “He was the first friend I made upon entering the Wasteland, and his loss almost destroyed my resolve to help end the war.”
Unexpectedly, Janney Stox stepped forward and put a reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder. Adam hadn’t even seen him approach or begin to listen to their private conversation, but it felt good to have a friend nearby. “We were on a combat mission,” Stox began steadfastly. “This man acted to save people who were being tortured to death. His actions weren’t nearly as impulsive as he might have you believe. He saw people suffering and he acted in defense of them, doing what was necessary to save their lives. Your husband and the rest of us supported him on that mission and we ended up succeeding beyond our wildest dreams. It was a clean operation with minimal casualties. Your husband approved of that mission and volunteered with the rest of us to go… I myself heard him say so. He is with Mott’s Ghost now, resting until you arrive to reunite with him someday.”
De Wuu smiled at Adam. “Then there is nothing to worry about,” she replied calmly. She stepped forward and voluntarily pulled Adam to her in a gentle hug, holding him close while sobbing in soft bursts of emotion, pressing her face tightly against his shoulder. “I do have one thing to ask for,” she said suddenly, pulling back long enough to wipe fresh tears from her eyes with her right arm. “This underground compound is low on supplies, particularly fresh water. We haven’t seen a supply ship stop by in quite some time now. Can you possibly get us the water we need… and perhaps some food too?”
“I can do a whole lot more than that,” Adam promised her, feeling some of his self-confidence slowly returning. “Tell your people to gather up their personal belongings… everything they want to keep.” He pointed toward the room he had come from and the brilliant golden light still emanating from it. “All of you are going someplace safe, to a new home where you will have food, clean clothing and water. You will have as much as you need. None of you will ever be hungry again.”
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
Adam Roh walked along the thin sidewalk up to the medium-sized, light blue home numbered 820 on the corner of 29th street. He glanced briefly toward the louvered white shutters flanking each window, the ones he had finished painting just prior to beginning preliminary work on the Wasteland project in the Science Lab. A small stream of wood smoke wafted from a brick chimney on the roof, letting him know that his wife was already home. Dozens of various types of brightly colored flowers sprouted from the dark, freshly watered flower beds on either side of a small wooden staircase leading up to the front entrance. He paused on the sidewalk just long enough to glance around at the fresh green lawn, breathe the fresh air, and overall just admire and appreciate what his wife had done with the place during his brief absence.
God, but this kind of family friendly atmosphere almost seems out of place to me now, he found himself thinking. There’s no metal walls, no flickering overhead lighting, no rusty blood stains beneath my feet. He hadn’t realized, until now, just how fast a person could get used to living in hell.
He hesitated once more, knocking on the door instead of going straight in, simply because he loved to hear the sound of running kids’ feet. On this occasion, however, he heard the a dog barking instead. A dog? Seconds later he did hear speedily running feet, right before the door snapped open a couple of inches. Looking down toward the small pair of blue eyes studying him, he smiled at the mop-headed boy watching him. “Hi kiddo,” he said with a wide grin. “How are you doing, Billy?”
“Daddy!” screamed young William with a huge smile. He threw open the door and launched himself into his father’s arms, hugging him tightly and angling his chin so that he could press the side of his face against the base of Adam’s neck. Again there was the sound of a dog barking in the background.
“Just when exactly did we get a dog?” Adam asked imperiously, putting on his best ‘man of the house’ tone of voice. He stepped inside the door and entered the small living room, where a small brown and white cocker spaniel sat looking up at him with puppy dog eyes and big floppy ears. Again the small dog barked sharply at him, causing the little three-year old girl standing next to the wily beast to begin giggling almost uncontrollably as she hopped up and down.
“His name is Tycho, Daddy,” said young Cassidy, dropping to her knees and hugging the small animal tightly. “We just finished feeding him, so you’re just in time to take him for his evening walk.”
“Cassidy honey, I swear, you get more freckles with each passing day.” Adam slowly removed his light jacket and laid it on a small couch. “But seriously, you guys, c’mon? When did we get a dog?” he asked again, more emphatically this time, studying the small creature with genuine interest.
“I got him for you,” said a very familiar voice.
“Did you?” Adam turned to regard his brother Thomas thoughtfully as the younger Roh emerged from the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Where exactly did you find a dog on this infernally large planet?”
“It’s simply my effort to reciprocate,” Thomas told him in response. “George is very old now, but you got me a cat at a time in my life when things were really, really tough. For a while there I didn’t even think that I was going to make it. George helped me learn to appreciate the good things in life and to take the bad things less seriously. Since you’ve been facing some dark and dirty things in life yourself these days, I figured that having a creature around to adore you would help settle you back into a normal life.”
Leaning over long enough to scoop up the small spaniel, Adam looked into the dog’s deep brown eyes thoughtfully. The animal sniffed his hand and then his face carefully, finally deciding that he approved of this new human. He struggled in Adam’s arms until he found a comfortable spot and then began contentedly licking the side of his face. Both Billy and young Cassie continued to laugh. “Look, he likes Daddy!” said young Cassidy with a beaming, little girl smile. “He likes Daddy a lot!”
Holding the small dog comfortably in his arms, Adam smiled appreciatively at the young innocence of his kids before glancing up toward his brother. “Thanks Thomas,” he said with sincere gratitude. “Thanks a lot. This little guy will add a lot to the family!”
“No problem,” his brother replied, jerking a thumb back toward the kitchen. “Nori is getting dinner ready. She’s hoping that you’re done at the Science Lab for a while. I think she wants you back home for the foreseeable future.” Lowering his voice, he whispered softly. “And I think you’re going to find it very hard to say no to her this time.”
Still petting the small brown and white dog’s head gently, Adam smiled. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied with a relieved sigh. “All of the hardware has been removed from my body except for the implant. I’m keeping that in place, just like the rest of you have decided to, in case we need to use them again at some point in the future.”
“The extraction procedure sure didn’t take long,” commented Thomas idly. “Wasn’t it scheduled for this afternoon? I expected you to be in surgery for quite a while.”
Adam nodded. “Dr. Simmons is a meticulous note taker and she has lots of experience now. She told me that the process of installing implants on so many of us has given her plenty of practice. The parts that are located well away from the brain are much easier for her to work with – she had me on and off of her surgical table in less than two hours.”
Thomas pointed an index finger sharply in Tycho’s direction. The dog continued to sniff the clothing of its newly arrived owner, eagerly selecting and analyzing each of the various smells embedded there. “Karen gave me the puppy,” he chuckled with genuine amusement. “She’s pulling double duty as a part time veterinarian these days, so she has lots of sources where animals are concerned.”
Leaning down, Adam handed the contented animal to young William. “Why don’t you and Cassie take Tycho for a walk before dinner?” he suggested firmly. “I’ll have plenty of opportunities to watch him, it would seem. So you two walk him tonight and I’ll take him out tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Billy said excitedly. “I like walking him… all the neighbors come out to pet him!”
“I’ll bet they do,” nodded Adam with a cheerful grin. “He’s irresistible.”
The two Roh brothers watched the young children grab a leash and excitedly push past Adam as they moved eagerly toward the door. “Don’t stay out too long!” he cautioned them, sniffing the aromatic scents wafting in from the kitchen. “Your mother will have dinner ready soon.”
“We won’t!” he heard both Billy and Cassidy shout back at him.
Adam took a minute to stretch his arms and then seated himself on the small couch. He leaned back, doing his best to relax, and just sat there staring straight ahead for a few minutes. His thoughts were snapped instantly back to reality when he felt Thomas sit down next to him.
“Are you going to be all right?” his brother asked him curiously.
The elder Roh was silent for a moment before answering. “I think so,” he responded finally, turning slowly to face his brother. “In addition to removing hardware components, Dr. Simmons conducted a brief initial ‘interview’ to determine how my mental faculties are doing.”
“And…?” Thomas was looking at him expectantly.
“So far I have mostly survivors’ guilt,” he told his brother. “And the bad dreams continue. The worst thing is the mistake I made that cost someone their life. It literally hurts inside to know that I’m going back home where everything is normal while Tran Wuu’s wife and her kids try to deal with the enormity of their loss. I know there are a lot of other widows of this war out there too, especially among the Crasel. But if I could change just one single thing about this whole affair…”
“You can’t.” His wife stood in the hallway entrance leading to the kitchen with her arms folded, wearing a cloth, stain-covered apron. “That’s what you’re going to have to make yourself comfortable with, dear. You went into a tough situation and you did your best and not everything turned out perfectly. That doesn’t mean you failed in any way, shape or form. It just means that a flawed, emotional man confronted some of life’s toughest challenges and prevailed. A human being can’t go through something like that without picking up a few psychological scars... it’s not possible.” She stopped suddenly and looked at the two of them suspiciously. “Did you tell the kids to take coats with them before they left?”
The brothers exchanged wary glances. “Yes,” said Thomas at the same instant Adam said “No.”
“That’s what I like about the Roh brothers,” Nori growled with a mildly disgusted shake of her head. “I always get the truth out of you two, whether you want to tell me or not.” She exhaled softly, watching her husband with a kindness and compassion that was usually hard to detect in her expression. “It’s tough now honey, but things will get better. I promise.”
“I would agree,” nodded Thomas with sincerity. “It’s going to be rough for a while Adam, but I went through a rough patch after Earth’s destruction and I know that you can too. Suddenly one day you look up and – wow, it’s ten years later and everything is good.”
“Dr. Simmons wants me to see a psychiatrist!” Adam growled irritably. “Why?”
“You’ll know in a few weeks’ time,” replied Noriana softly. “Right now, there is a lot of emotional baggage floating around in that noggin of yours, honey. You’re going to have to find a way to leave it all behind and move forward with us… your family. You’ve also got a lot of residual memories that are not your own.”
He saw instantly what she was driving at. “Bok’s memories?” He turned toward her and studied her expression before shifting his gaze back to Thomas. “I was hoping that they would fade with time. The information from his mind is easily accessible to me, but not the memories… probably because I never personally experienced them. But they do occasionally flare up. Do you think I will continue to have dreams about him?”
“Possibly.” Nori walked across the sand-colored shag carpeting and gently kissed him on the forehead. “Over time, the specifics of each dream should fade. More than likely you’ll have flashbacks to some of the more intense moments from the past two weeks – the gunfire, the sights and sounds and smells of battle. Dr. Simmons has done a lot of research on this kind of thing and I made certain she found a good psychiatrist who can help you through it. Remember, it was your choice to try and read thoughts out of that creature’s mind.”
“Seeing a psychiatrist is a lot easier than you might think,” Thomas told him. “I still speak with one occasionally and take medication to help with my insomnia. The problem with confronting the larger, unthinkable problems in this life is that many of them change you forever. I could have declined to treat my medical conditions, true, but had I gone down that road I never would have been able to sustain a long-term relationship with Kari, much less have kids with her.”
“Seeing a Doctor doesn’t mean you’ve changed in a bad way,” his wife commented reassuringly. “It means you went through a really traumatic experience and need help training yourself to live with tough memories.”
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to get back into the smooth flow of civilian life,” Adam declared firmly. “I’m told that part of that will involve periodic visits to check in on the Crasel. They’re going to live in a small suburb on the outskirts of this city where we can interact with them regularly and help them avoid too much culture shock.” He glanced down at the floor and said nothing for a moment. “I can’t see how they can avoid it entirely, though. There is just too much changing in their lives… and it all happened so quickly.”
“Fortunately, most of those changes are for the better,” Nori emphasized. “The civilians will be okay, Adam, but it’s the soldiers – like that man you mentioned earlier at the Science Lab…”
“Janney Stox.”
“Yes.” She watched his reaction carefully as he spoke the name. “People like him are big and tough, used to shrugging off all of their injuries and emotional problems so that they can pick up a gun and fight for their survival and the future of their loved ones. Many of those people, in all of the clans, will have serious anger issues to deal with. They were all basically born and bred to hate each other. You can help them with the healing process. Since they look up to you as the leader who liberated them from the Kuth, many of them will follow the path that you set for them. So even if you don’t totally need to use the medical system to the same degree as they do, your example will encourage them… help them accept the help that many of them are used to denying they really need.”
Adam nodded, realizing instinctively that what she said was true. “I think Janney Stox will be okay. He’s kind of taken to Tran Wuu’s kids and I believe he will work to fill the void left by the loss of their father. Even if he and De Wuu simply remain friends over time, I think they will all function nicely together.”
“Oh good God!” Nori realized suddenly. “You’re going to have those Crasel ruffians over here once in a while, aren’t you? They’ll be like bulls in a china shop and our furniture will suffer the consequences!”
Smiling, Adam studied his wife’s stunned expression. “We’ll call it poker night with the Crasel!”
“Sure you will.” Nori unfolded her arms and leaned down to kiss him again. “Why don’t you and Thomas go out into the neighborhood and find your children,” she suggested. “Supper will be ready in about a half hour. You can help them walk Tycho back to the house.”
“I’d like that,” he said, smiling at his brother. “Thanks again for giving him to us, by the way. I’ve always been a dog person.” Both he and Thomas stood up and paused while Adam put his jacket back on. “But hey…” he noted casually. “Based on what you’ve said in the past, I kind of thought that you would want to spend a lot more time with me now that I’m finally home. To be honest, I was hoping for the same thing. And yet now you’re just sending me out into the neighborhood after the kids, never knowing whether or not I’ll ever come walking back through that door again…”
His wife’s expression was precious. “Oh you’ll come back,” she told him. “You and Thomas and the kids will all get a nice family dinner. Then Thomas will go home, the kids will go to bed, and you and I will have… dessert.”
Something to look forward to, Adam thought silently as he and Thomas headed back outdoors. It was the most important motivator in the world, sometimes.
22: Epilogue: Looking Toward the FuturePROJECT WASTELAND
Pathfinder Series: Book Two
Planet Tranquility in the Proteus Galaxy…
President Dennis Kaufield was sitting on a rolling, grassy hill staring at the setting orange sun when Adam Roh found him. “What’s new Adam?” he asked curiously. His eighteen year old son, Joseph, was seated next to him and they were both busily engaged in watching the sun go down.
Adam chuckled lightly in response. “Not much,” he replied, pausing behind them. “How are you doing Joseph? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Fine,” the rail thin, dusty-brown haired teen replied firmly. “I’m mostly busy with school work these days.” He smiled, and the expression looked great on his youthful, handsome face.
Studying the surrounding landscape, Adam nodded in response to the comment. “Do you two always come up here?” he wondered idly.
“Yes we do,” chuckled Kaufield. “Joe and I have a tradition of watching the sun go down. After everything we went through to get here, that sun and the free air we breathe have both become very important symbols to us.”
“Our time together helps me remember Mom,” agreed Joseph. “It’s how I honor her memory.”
“I haven’t been up here since a few days after we landed on this planet,” admitted Adam grudgingly. “Ten years ago there was so much to see and so many things to do.”
Kaufield laughed at him. “Then not much has changed.”
Sighing deeply, Adam sat down next to Joseph and began running his fingers through the thick green prairie grass. “Do you think we’ll ever decide to return to Earth?” he asked curiously.
The President of Tranquility’s ruling Council was silent for a moment before answering. “Truthfully, I don’t know,” he concluded finally. “I don’t believe anyone can predict what will happen at this point. After all, we gave up the Pathfinder to save the Wasteland, so we’re totally reliant on Noah’s people and the Proteus galaxy for the moment. They assisted us with the Kuth situation, but will be hesitant to intervene directly in our affairs.” He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “That’s traditionally the role they play.”
“Bullshit,” growled Adam irritably. “For God’s sake, they open those Person-to-Point portals of theirs everywhere they’re needed, send armed guards through to protect and rescue unarmed civilians. They did it on Earth and then again in the Wasteland. In my book, that kind of action is the very definition of intervening directly in the affairs of others. Accepting and protecting refugees puts them over that line they claim to hold on to so adamantly.”
“I don’t want to go back to Earth,” Joseph said suddenly. It’s still devastated and saturated with radiation, and the Brotherhood of the Dragon will still be running things.”
Kaufield cocked his head idly and glanced at his son’s profile. “We have the technology and the know how to fight them now,” he pointed out.
“I don’t care,” Joseph said. “They created that cinder they live on… let them lie in the bed they made.”
Adam couldn’t help laughing at the young boy’s comment. “And they say I’m the cynical one?”
“I’m just being a realist,” countered Joseph firmly. “And that doesn’t mean I’m cynical, either. If I study hard in school and learn how to build things, I don’t want to leave a perfectly good home to try and get back the damaged old one. Where we live is not that important. Perhaps someday we might be able to visit, if we were able to negotiate diplomatically with the Brotherhood.” He glanced sharply at Adam. “But I don’t think they’re the types who will ever be able to control their egos or blind ambition. They deserve the home they made.”
For a moment, the three of them sat there, enjoying the bird song and the chill evening breeze.
“The last time I was here, you asked me if I believed in Intelligent Design,” Adam pointed out. “Do you remember that conversation, Mr. President?” He smiled mischievously. “I do.”
“Vaguely,” Kaufield admitted. “Considering everything that’s happened since, I’m afraid the details of your answer have escaped me.”
Adam grinned briefly at the response before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the antique silver watch that David had given to him as a gift. “What I said then doesn’t much matter any longer,” he decided, showing the object to Joseph. “For the record, I do believe in Intelligent Design these days.” He watched the young man study the watch closely, examining it curiously. “I went into the Wasteland to find out, you see,” he continued, noticing Kaufield also glance toward David’s watch. “And this time, I brought back proof.”
Together the three of them breathed in the flower-scented fresh evening air and continued to watch the sun set.
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