Planet Killer (A Captain's Crucible Book 4) Page 6

  He reached the hangar bay. A friendly space deck officer greeted him, and told him to head on in. There was a knowing glint in the officer’s eyes.

  What Rade saw inside that hangar bay made all the long, difficult years since returning to the navy worth it.

  Before him towered six shiny mechs. His Implant told him the units belonged to the Knight class. Model 5D. Produced by Nova Dynamics. Four meters tall. Three meters wide. Roughly shaped like a man.

  Twin missile launchers, one on each shoulder, contained five Hellfire H-9B minis each. A wicked-looking Cobra CU-2 was mounted on each forearm. Each CU-2 had two swivel-capable turrets, so that the Knight could deliver a quadruple punch to four tangos at the same time.

  The Knight 5D also had the usual Lighter and Trench Coat countermeasures. It had jumpjets, too. There was no arm-mounted ballistic shield—the hull itself contained built-in laser- and projectile-rated armor trauma plates.

  Rade eagerly downloaded the operating characteristics to his Implant.

  He knew where he’d be spending his next several weeks aboard: in the combat simulator.

  eight

  Jonathan stood within the elongated spherical shape that formed the relatively cramped bridge of the Talon, the Raakarr vessel containing the crew of Zarafe defectors. There were some Elk members aboard, though these were confined to the alien equivalent of a brig. Jonathan had heard stories that Valor, the Zarafe leader, had donated some live Elk specimens to the United Systems for study. He had no reason to disbelieve those rumors: the Zarafe hated the Elk with a passion. According to Barrick, the only physical difference between the two factions were the bony plates that framed the upper parts of their eyes, plates that were missing from the Zarafe. The Elk also had slightly shorter necks. To infiltrate the Elk, those Zarafe who served aboard the Talon had incorporated the bony eye plates into their genome via gene-therapy; as for the neck size differences, Jonathan supposed they simply slouched.

  Jonathan wore a spacesuit, as the alien air proved utterly unsuitable to human beings. That suit also incorporated psi-shielding elements to protect him from any telepathic attacks Barrick or the aliens might attempt.

  Within the thick yellow mist of that atmosphere, at the center of the compartment, lay a pit, inside of which the six alien bridge officers sat with their backs against a tall floor-to-ceiling pillar. Their bifurcated mandibles and spiky upper appendages spilled onto the deck immediately surrounding the pit, with the nearest officer half a meter from Jonathan’s boots. Horned plates lined the segmented carapaces of their abdomens. They reminded Jonathan of praying mantis insects—very fat ones at that. These Raakarr were not wanting for food sources.

  Valor was there among them, though Jonathan had no idea who he was, as the aliens all looked mostly the same to him. It was like trying to pick out a particular fire ant from a colony. Also, there was never any outward sign when a Raakarr communicated telepathically, and the seating arrangements themselves weren’t obvious. Barrick himself didn’t know which of them was Valor.

  A Centurion stood immediately to Jonathan’s left, and beyond the combat robot resided Barrick. On the captain’s right was the Artificial named Bill Wethersfield, who didn’t wear a spacesuit of any kind. The Artificial was trained in interstellar relations and first contact protocols. Its first and last names were a bit too human for Jonathan’s comfort, though he supposed the names suited its rank and rating; and he shouldn’t discriminate—AIs were just as sentient as human beings. And vastly more intelligent. One would think, with all that intelligence, that the AIs would wise up and plot to take over humanity. But their programming prevented that, of course, and as long as they were given most of the same rights as human beings, AIs were happy to coexist with their makers.

  The Zarafe bridge guards were enveloped in a dark mist that was common to most of the alien crew. Generated by a device Barrick had named a tartaan, it functioned both as shield and environmental suit, though of course the aliens had no need of the latter functionality in the current environment. Two of the guards bookended Jonathan’s party, and another two resided near the entry hatch.

  “Valor asks if you are happy to be aboard the Talon once more,” Barrick said.

  “Tell him I’m thrilled,” Jonathan said flatly.

  “He is pleased that you think so,” Barrick replied. “He wants to invite you to his quarters later to share a meal. Human refreshments will be provided, of course. Along with a breathable atmosphere.”

  “So I’ll have to be herded inside some glass tank in his quarters?” Jonathan asked. “Like some prized specimen in a menagerie?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Tell him I’ll have to respectfully decline,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want to get any closer to our alien hosts than I have to. And I’d hate to have to watch him eat. Don’t tell him that last bit, of course.”

  “Oh, I think you wouldn’t be so disgusted,” Barrick said. “As I told you once before, they slather liquid sustenance over the corrugated grooves in their bellies, and then let it sit there overnight. That counts as their digestion.”

  “As I said, I’ll have to decline.”

  “What about you, Wethersfield?” Barrick asked. “Would you like to attend Valor?”

  “Certainly,” Wethersfield said. “I’d be happy to. I must take every opportunity to study our hosts.”

  “Too bad Valor didn’t invite you,” Barrick replied with a malicious smirk.

  “Is he always this cruel to you?” Jonathan asked the Artificial.

  Wethersfield shrugged. “He seems to enjoy baiting me. The telepath has an odd sense of humor. Like most humans.”

  After watching the Talon depart from Etalon Station, above the partially terraformed, Mars-like world Ares, third planet of Beta Ursae Majoris, Jonathan left the bridge. In the passageway outside, glowing blue filaments lined the bulkheads, their unique floral patterns lighting the way. The dim light didn’t penetrate far through the thick yellow atmosphere, but it was enough for Jonathan to make out the strange symbols etched into the metal between the glowing strands.

  “Wethersfield, do we know what these symbols mean, yet?” Jonathan transmitted via his aReal. The innate range of the device was fifty meters, but a United Systems comm node previously captured from the Selene had been stowed near the bridge, and acted as a repeater to boost the signal. The United Systems shuttle in the hangar bay also contained a comm node, as did the two telemetry drones docked there with it; the latter could be deployed to boost communications range with the fleet, as necessary.

  “I believe they are a reference to the Raakarr naval regulations,” Wethersfield said from the bridge. “The patterns mean nothing on their own, but when observed while walking, the image is like a flip book, constantly changing, and invokes patterns reminiscent of the three-dimensional point cloud of their mental language, as shown to me by Barrick.”

  “So you’re saying they’ve put up their navy regulations on the wall, to remind the crew of their duties?”

  “I believe so,” Wethersfield said. “Though I suspect that like human beings, they stop paying attention to that code after the first day or so, and the regulations become merely lights to them.”

  “So we’ve confirmed these aliens can actually see?” Jonathan said. “In the traditional sense of the word?”

  “In the traditional sense, I believe they can,” Wethersfield said. “From what I’ve been able to determine, they can only see two wavelengths of light, red and blue; the same reds and blues emitted by the bulkheads. During ordinary operating circumstances, in the Raakarr equivalents of material conditions YOKE and XRAY, the filaments are blue. In the Raakarr equivalent of condition ZEBRA, set under general quarters, those filaments glow red.

  “The resolution of the Raakarr eye also seems to be very coarse-grained. Imagine looking at a very low-res display, where you can see the individual square pixels, and many of those pixels are missing, creating gaps. Light entering the Raakar
r eye forms a three-dimensional point cloud of the surrounding environment in their minds. Bulkheads. Deck. Overhead. None of the objects truly appear solid. Though I have not experienced their vision firsthand of course—how can I?—I believe the symbology of their language is based on their vision, and therefore they must see in ‘point clouds,’ just as they relay telepathic images that way. Barrick has concluded the same.”

  “Interesting.” Jonathan continued striding down the passageway, his boots clanging on the metallic deck. The thought foremost in his mind, was: how can we use that to our advantage? If the Raakarr see in point clouds, and communicate in point clouds, then they must think and strategize in the same way.

  He bumped into one of the Centurions that escorted him, and the impact lifted him from his thoughts.

  “Sorry, Captain,” the combat robot said.

  Jonathan had been walking blindly, lost in thought, and he realized then that the group had reached a bend. He corrected his course and took the turn. The Centurion fell into place beside him, as did another. The second robot had stood watch outside the bridge hatch, joining Jonathan when he and the first robot had emerged.

  There were only ten such robots aboard, with most of them securing the shuttle that had carried Jonathan aboard: the United Systems didn’t want any of its tech captured and studied without permission. Jonathan would have preferred many more of the Centurions, of course. As far as he was concerned, the combat robots should have been distributed throughout the Talon to prevent the aliens from attempting any sort of betrayal. But he knew such numbers would have been basically impossible to negotiate—he wouldn’t have allowed very many alien robots aboard a vessel he commanded, either.

  Ahead, two darkness-clad Raakarr led the way. Jonathan’s aReal had mapped out the route to his berthing area, so he could have easily traveled there on his own, but Valor insisted on the escort. The aliens still didn’t trust Jonathan, of course. Just as he didn’t trust them.

  He reached the airlock to the berthing area and entered the outer hatch with the combat robots. The two aliens meanwhile assumed a guard position outside.

  “Barrick, would you mind asking Valor why he still insists on treating me like a prisoner?” Jonathan said as the outer hatch closed.

  “Valor says he’s posting the guards for your protection,” Barrick replied, his voice warping slightly.

  “My protection...” Jonathan said in disbelief.

  “Yes,” Barrick said. “In case one of the Raakarr from the Elk faction escape. Or one of what he calls... well, ‘nasty pets’ is the best translation.”

  Jonathan frowned. “Nasty pets...”

  “You can imagine I’m sure that these aliens have a whole range of nasty pets we humans have never encountered,” Barrick said. “Put dogs and cats to shame, I’m sure. At least in terms of aggression factor.”

  “Why haven’t we seen any of these so-called pets before?” Jonathan asked.

  “I’d guess they have strict regulations to keep them locked in their quarters,” Barrick replied. “And as you now know, they write their regulations on their bulkheads, so the crew are not likely to forget.”

  “Except that this ship is crewed by defectors,” Jonathan said. “Who can do what they wish.”

  “Valor tells me he is obeying Raakarr navy regulations nonetheless,” Barrick said.

  “Interesting species,” Jonathan commented.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Barrick replied.

  “Valor knows I’m in command, right?”

  “Oh he knows,” Barrick said.

  “Then he also knows I can order him to dismiss the guards.”

  “Do you really want to start testing the limits of your command already, Captain?” Barrick asked. “The guards are merely symbolic, anyway. The onboard AI has eyes throughout the ship.”

  Jonathan glanced at the bulkhead beside him, and spotted a tiny, dark disk set within the metal. Similar disks lined the passageway at regular intervals. Barrick had pointed those out to him as AI monitor points. “Maybe I’ll pluck out some of those eyes.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Barrick said. “Unless you want to cause an incident.”

  “Probably not a good idea this early in Human-Raakarr relations, is it?”

  When the yellow atmosphere of the airlock vented, the inner hatch slid aside. Jonathan passed a rack containing several oxygen tanks compatible with his suit, and paused at a table beside the opening; via the provided ladle, he scooped up a portion of the vitamin-laden gruel the Raakarr had left for him in a small pot on the table. He placed a large dollop of the stuff in a freshly 3D-printed plate.

  Damn, how I miss my captain’s mess, and the gourmet meals of my personal chef.

  Jonathan entered an expansive low-ceilinged compartment, probably originally intended as a cargo bay, with enough room to hold between fifty and a hundred human beings. It was the same compartment he had berthed in during his first tenure aboard. Currently, only he, Wethersfield and the Centurions berthed there. Barrick quartered in a completely different part of the ship. Jonathan had visited him there once, and his quarters reminded him of a sick bay with all the beds and medical instruments. None of them were his, of course, but rather the instruments the aliens had created with their equivalent of 3D printers to operate on humans. The prison ship where the captives of the Selene were held had a compartment almost exactly the same as that one. Jonathan suspected that the members of another lost ship, the Aegis, had been held aboard before being systematically put to death, but Valor never admitted to it.

  The aReal interface on his faceplate informed him that the atmosphere was breathable, but he didn’t remove his helmet. Not yet.

  The glow from the bulkhead filaments seemed weaker in that place, but he knew it was only because of the broad nature of that compartment: the patterned illumination couldn’t reach the far sides. There were also no filaments in the deck or overhead, contributing to the murk that swallowed the distant bulkheads. Sometimes he worried that the aliens had placed some creature in the dark to get him. One of those “nasty pets” Barrick had mentioned.

  Which is why when he berthed here previously he always turned on his helmet headlamp and made a quick sweep of the area with the Centurions. He did the same now.

  He passed the latrine area, which the aliens hadn’t cleaned up since he first boarded those many months ago. His helmet protected him from the smell, thankfully. He finished his sweep of the compartment and, as usual, turned up nothing.

  Jonathan approached the small psi-shielded tent Lieutenant Connie Myers had developed for him. His former chief scientist had been assigned to the Stalwart with Captain Chopra. He hoped she served Chopra well.

  Jonathan entered the tent and sealed the fabric behind him, and only then did he remove his psi-shielded helmet to breathe the oxygen environment provided by the Zarafe. The air smelled just as stale as that of his suit, though perhaps mustier. He caught a whiff of fetor, even though he’d pitched the tent as far away from the open latrine as possible. Well, at least he didn’t have to listen to his own breathing anymore, which was amplified and reflected back to him whenever he wore the helmet, the built-in noise cancelers never doing a very good job of masking the sound.

  He wondered vaguely how Robert was doing. Jonathan had been so eager to return so that he could warn the United Systems of the alien threat, and it turned out that perhaps his warning might not have been necessary. The Raakarr basically alerted the United Systems themselves by dispatching that incursion force, in what Jonathan guessed was an attempt by the aliens to probe their newfound enemies, testing the strengths and weaknesses of the United Systems fringe territories.

  Still, coming back early did have at least one positive: he had allowed the United Systems to reach an alliance with a faction of the aliens, who had given them a map of key planets utilized by the opposing group, providing them with the location of that fuel-generating colony world whose destruction would cripple their sp
ace navy. Plus he had dumped some key technology their way: a humanoid suit used by the Elder away team, a Raakarr body and its accessories, and one of the very same tartaan generators the aliens used to cloak themselves in darkness. That tech was on its way now to the scientific center of Aberdeen, where it would no doubt be broken apart and reverse engineered in a few months.

  Jonathan retrieved the aReal glasses from his utility belt and donned them. The system automatically logged him in, transferring over his settings from the helmet aReal and connecting him, via the local comm nodes aboard, back to the shared network of comm nodes and aReals spread across the fleet.

  That done, he took a long inhale, pinched his nose between two fingers, and then began to eat the thick gruel from the plate.

  nine

  It took ten days for the fleet to reach the Gate to Delta Avalon. Before going to sleep each night, Jonathan practiced with the psi training app, hoping to build up his mental defenses. His progress proved terrible, but he persisted anyway. There probably wasn’t much point to it, given that the tent fabric already shielded him, but being aboard the same ship with Barrick gave him the willies, and he figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, it was something else to help while away the time. And there was never anything wrong with self-development, after all, even if that development belonged to the realm of pseudo-science.

  Because of the United Systems comm nodes aboard the Talon, and the close proximity of the vessel to the rest of the fleet, he was able to share data with the human vessels, and as such readily pulled up the system map, along with its latest updates. Delta Avalon was an eight planet system, five inner terrestrials, three outer gas giants, with a classical cepheid star that changed in size and intensity over time, following a thirty-five day pulsation cycle. The preliminary battle group, 35.1, had already moved the hidden Gates back into place, and deployed comm nodes in front of each wormhole so that information could pass back and forth between the InterGalNet that linked the systems.