Dark Space: Origin Read online

  “No, I’m saying that we cannot trust you or your people yet, but if you can help us now, and more in the future, then we will gradually overcome the prejudices of the past. Your people surrendered three warships to us—that was a step in the right direction. Helping us to re-capture the Valiant will be another.”

  “Then I agree to help you, humans—for my people’s sake—but take care that you do not reject us forever.”

  “Duly noted,” Heston said.

  “Release me,” Tova demanded.

  “One moment, Tova. Can you explain all of this to your mate and get him to cooperate, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “We will release you when he has also agreed to help. You are no good to us on your own.”

  “You release me now. Roan agrees to help.”

  Hoff raised his eyebrows. “That was fast. You have already spoken to him?”

  “I do not need to. Roan does what I ask. He trusts. Humans need learn from that.”

  “We trust, too, Tova.”

  “You, do not.”

  Hoff’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know that?”

  “You stink of fear, but hide it deep.”

  Hoff snorted and waved vaguely to one of the sentinels who’d escorted them into the brig. “Let her out.”

  Turning to Captain Adram beside him, Admiral Heston said, “Junior Captain, Adram, you will be serving under Captain Caldin as her XO aboard the Interloper. Caldin—you’ll take Tova and your crew with you, and I’ll take Roan aboard the Tauron.” Behind him, Hoff heard Tova’s cell slide open, and he had to resist the urge to turn around to keep an eye on her.

  Captain Adram’s eyebrows beetled. “Junior Captain, sir?”

  “In light of your questionable judgment of late, it won’t hurt for you to serve under a distinguished officer like Captain Caldin to give you an example of what a keen instinct for command looks like.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I hope to live up to that, sir,” Caldin said. She’d just been promoted up three pay grades, skipping both of the ranks in between to surpass even the admiral’s own XO, Master Commander Donali.

  “I’m sure you will, Captain. My understanding is that you were demoted over a misunderstanding to do with the Gors.” At that, Hoff saw Caldin’s eyes dart up to Tova, and he realized the alien likely didn’t know Caldin had killed one of her people. “There won’t be any such misunderstandings in my fleet, just so long as your personal feelings don’t get in the way of our objectives.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, sir. I assume this means that my crew and I are no longer under suspicion.”

  “You assume correctly.”

  “What about the trial and the prisoners?”

  “There’s an old saying, Captain—follow the running man. Brondi is our running man. The trial will be suspended until we can capture him and subject him to a probe. Your prisoners will be placed in stasis until then—no sense wasting valuable supplies pandering to their needs.” Hoff turned from her to Adram. “Speaking of supplies—I believe you have some which you need to transfer off the Interloper to make room for Caldin and her crew?”

  “Yes, sir. Where shall I put the supplies?”

  “Send them over to the Destine. Captain Cathrall can take them to the enclave while we’re away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now we had better finish making preparations for our trip or all the keen instincts in the galaxy won’t avail us.”

  “Avail, sir?” Caldin asked.

  Hoff frowned. “Help, Captain. It means help. I’m going to give you some homework for the journey—a lexicon. Study it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hoff caught Adram smirking at Caldin. “What are you smiling about, Adram?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Good, because you’re too busy to gloat. Make the supply transfer and then send for Captain Caldin and her crew. I also need you to oversee construction of a temporary docking station for the Interloper. The Tauron will have to carry her through SLS. We can’t afford to travel separately. Sythian SLS drives are too slow, and I don’t want any Gors or Sythians to follow us to Dark Space.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Of course, all of that trouble will be pointless if Dark Space has already been compromised. . . .” Hoff added, turning to glance up at Tova.

  “At least you won’t be responsible for it, sir,” Caldin said.

  “A small comfort,” Hoff replied, frowning deeply. “I suppose we’ll have to blame Overlord Dominic or his imposter for that.”

  “I’m going to enjoy watching that man die in a probe chair,” Caldin said.

  “One thing at a time,” Hoff replied.

  “Humansss,” Tova hissed. “It is no wonder you were defeated so easily. You never stop fighting each other. Children of the Gettiz know better—we do not fight our crèche mates.”

  Hoff shot Tova a glance as they turned to leave her cell block. “Who are the children of the Getties, Tova?”

  She cocked her head. “We are.”

  “And the Sythians?”

  “Yesss . . . they are also children of the Gettiz.”

  “Yet you are fighting them. Doesn’t that make what you said incorrect?” Hoff wondered if Tova had accidentally spoken the truth. If the Sythians didn’t exist, then her claim that children of the Getties know better than to fight each other would be correct.

  Tova gave no reply, and Admiral Hoff allowed himself to count to ten before he ran out of patience and repeated his question. This time Tova did speak.

  “Not all children remember where they came from.”

  “Wise words.”

  They came to Roan’s side of the brig. Hoff turned to Caldin and said. “Captain, go back up to the Tauron and get your crew together. Take Tova with you and wait until Adram sends for you.”

  “Yes, sir.” She turned with a frown to the naked alien. “Come on, Tova.”

  Hoff watched them leave, and he nodded in appreciation of the woman’s bravery. She hadn’t asked for an escort, which meant she either trusted the Gor not to rip her throat out, which he doubted, or else she was just itching for an excuse to shoot the alien in the head.

  Once both of them were gone, Hoff turned to the pair of sentinels he’d brought with him. “Go get Roan. We’ll wait here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hoff waited until both sentinels were out of earshot before turning to Captain Adram. “I need you to keep an eye on Caldin for me.”

  “Sir?” he asked, his brows beetling. “Why would you want me to keep an eye on a superior officer?”

  “Your demotion is just for show—although I am concerned by your recent desire to second guess all of my decisions. Ever since you came back from the Getties you’ve been unusually recalcitrant and pro-Gor. Did you make friends with them while you were there, Captain?”

  “No, sir! I’m sorry that I’ve been questioning you a lot lately, sir. I’ll work on it.”

  “You had better, lest your demotion become real.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to keep an eye on Caldin, because until we start probing suspects, we have no idea how far or deep this conspiracy with Alec Brondi’s virus and the holoskinning overlord goes. I don’t really think Caldin and her crew are involved, but I’m giving them—and the Gors for that matter—just enough slack on the proverbial leash to hang themselves.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hoff sighed. “Tova is right about one thing.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  Hoff smiled sadly. “We never stop fighting each other.”

  Adram smiled back. “Humans are a self-destructive species, aren’t they?”

  The admiral sighed and shook his head. “One day we’re all going to realize that we’re the same, and then we’re going stop this pointless in-fighting.”

  Adram hesitated and his brows beetled as if that particular bit of wisdom had struck a chord with him.

  “Y
ou’re dismissed, Captain.”

  Adram snapped out of it and gave a quick salute. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready.” With that, he turned to head in the direction that Captain Caldin had gone.

  Hoff watched him go, wondering if Captain Adram was hiding any resentment over having his ship and his command temporarily taken from him. This mission would be a test for him as much as it would be for Caldin. They can keep an eye on each other, he thought.

  The door behind the admiral swished open and he turned to see Roan being escorted out. Roan dwarfed the pair of sentinels, even in their bulky armor, making them look like toy soldiers.

  “Hello, Roan,” Hoff said. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “My home isss Noctune,” Roan hissed.

  Hoff smiled thinly at the alien. “Not anymore.”

  * * *

  Ethan climbed awkwardly out of his docking station by suspending himself from the sides and swinging his legs down to the floor—which was actually the ceiling of the transport, since they’d crashed upside down.

  “Report!” Sergeant Dorian ordered. “Anyone injured?”

  “Negative, sir,” the man who’d been docked beside Ethan said for all of them. Dorian stopped in front of Ethan while the remainder of Aleph Squad swung down out of their docking stations. “Good—go see what’s out there, Laser Bait!”

  Ethan didn’t bother to argue. He didn’t have any friends to stick up for him here. He poked his head out the hatch directly above their heads, in the floor of the transport, and looked around. Seeing nothing immediately dangerous, he climbed out and stood on the bottom of the shuttle. The hangar bay where they’d crash-landed was entirely empty except for them and a few damaged nova fighters. It was enormous, and Ethan felt like he was standing on the field of a massive grav ball stadium. It was designed to comfortably fit a 280-meter-long venture-class cruiser, meaning it had to be at least 300 meters deep.

  Ethan heard the comm system inside his helmet crackle with, “Laser Bait, report!” He ignored Dorian as he looked around. The hangar was cloaked in deep shadows with only a handful of working glow panels flickering intermittently overhead. A blue wash of light spilled from the shields at the entrance and cast everything in cold, monochromatic tones. Ethan turned in a slow circle, noting the ruined concourse wall they’d crashed into. That was familiar. Brondi still hadn’t repaired the damage his troops had made when they’d fought their way past the half a dozen sentinels Atton had left guarding the Valiant. Thick carbon-scoring was in evidence on the bulkheads, and in places they were dented and carved with deep furrows. It looked as though a bomb had gone off inside the hangar.

  Not a bomb—torpedoes. Ethan remembered now. When he and Gina had fought their way off the Valiant in Brondi’s corvette, they’d blown a hole in the side of the hangar rather than ask nicely for Brondi to lower the shields. Since then, the hole had obviously been repaired, but very little else had been fixed.

  “Will someone go shoot Laser Bait for me? He’s not responding to comms. I think he’s gone AWOL already.”

  Ethan smirked at the sergeant’s sarcasm. If the order had been serious, he wouldn’t have broadcast it so Ethan could hear. “All clear,” Ethan replied.

  “About time!” A moment later the sergeant jumped straight up through the open hatch and landed on the shuttle with a boom. “We’ve got to get out of here before they see us on the holocorders.” Another boom sounded as a third Aleph jumped up onto the shuttle.

  “I don’t think we need to worry about holocorders,” Ethan said.

  “Why not?” Dorian demanded as a fourth zephyr jumped up. He turned to them and gestured to the two main entrances of the hangar. “Tracker, Rull’s-eye, set up a perimeter.” They nodded and jumped down to the deck.

  Ethan watched them go stomping away. Another pair of zephyrs jumped up and Dorian told them to set up a command center. “That abandoned control tower looks like a good bet,” he said, pointing up to the roof of the hangar where a bank of broken viewports gazed down on them.

  The next thing anyone heard was the sound of another hatch hissing open. Ethan and the sergeant turned to see someone in a black flight suit climbing out the side of the cockpit. At that, a new voice joined them on the comms. It was Gina.

  “Hoi!” she said, waving an arm out the side of the transport. “I’ve got an injured pilot here!”

  Ethan felt cold dread slide into his gut like a wedge of ice. Alara.

  “Mender!” Sergeant Dorian called over the comms. “Get up to the cockpit.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A moment later, the last two zephyrs landed on top of the transport. One of them was apparently Mender because he jogged over to the opposite side of the cockpit and climbed down the ladder to the hatch opposite the one which Gina was blocking.

  Ethan stomped up to her. “Is Alara okay?” he asked.

  She glared up at him. “What’s it to you?”

  Before Ethan could answer, the sergeant came up behind him and said, “Private Ortane, leave the injured to Mender. Focus on the mission. Why don’t we have to worry about holocorders in here?”

  Ethan turned to Dorian with a frustrated hiss. “We don’t have to worry because when Gina and I shot out of here like a rictan on fire, we didn’t leave enough working pieces of a holocorder to spot a supernova, let alone a few insignificant zephyrs. This is probably the only part of the ship where they won’t be able to see us.”

  “Wait a second—” Gina said. “When we shot out of here? I was with Captain Reese. I don’t even know you—except that apparently you were caught impersonating the overlord.”

  “It’s a long story. What’s wrong with Alara?”

  “She’s got a headache—answer the damn question!”

  “Look, this is going to be hard for you to understand, but I was Adan Reese, and I was also the overlord.”

  Gina shook her head. “You can’t be in two places at once, krakhead. Try again.”

  “First I was a holoskinner impersonating Adan Reese for Brondi. Then I found out my son was a holoskinner impersonating the overlord, and he and I switched places while we were aboard the Defiant.”

  Gina shook her head. “You were working for Brondi?”

  Ethan felt a cold sweat break out under his armor, and he hurried to add, “Hoi, I’m not on his side. He forced me to do it.”

  There came a soft click of a weapon’s safety sliding off. “Yea? Forced you to do what exactly, Laser Bait?” Ethan turned to see Sergeant Dorian aiming a plasma rifle at him.

  “He’s telling the truth,” a weak female voice said over the comm.

  Ethan recognized that voice immediately. “Alara!” he said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m . . . alive.”

  “You don’t sound too good. I’m coming to get you—get out of the way Gina.”

  “Hoi!” Sergeant Dorian bellowed as Ethan started down the ladder to the cockpit. “I didn’t say you could move!”

  “Let him go,” Gina said as she withdrew from the hatch. “He should say goodbye. Alara deserves that much.”

  Goodbye? Ethan’s feeling of dread intensified. He hurried the rest of the way down to the hatch and swung into the cockpit. He found Alara inside, splayed out on the roof of the shuttle. One of her eyes had swollen shut and she held a bloody wad of gauze to her forehead. The squad medic crouched beside her, tending to her injuries with a medkit. His zephyr stood open like a butterfly in the far corner of the cockpit.

  “Kiddie . . .” Ethan whispered.

  Alara lifted her head and smiled. Her open eye sparkled a warm shade of lavender. “Hoi, Ethan,” she said.

  He walked up to her and knelt awkwardly beside her in his bulky armor. “What happened?” he reached out as if to caress her face, but stopped himself, afraid to hurt her more.

  “Don’t worry. It’s just a bump on the head,” Alara said.

  “How?” he spotted her helmet lying beside the copilot’s station. There was a big dent in
the side of the helmet, and the faceplate was smashed. “Frek . . . we didn’t crash that hard, did we?”

  Gina appeared crouching beside them. “A spare tank of oxygen exploded,” she explained. “It must have been damaged in the crash. It blew the cover plate into her head.”

  The medic looked up and asked Gina. “Has she been conscious since the crash?”

  Gina shook her head. “She lost consciousness for a few minutes. I found her that way, but she came to before I could administer first aid, and threw up all over the copilot’s station,” Gina pointed to the mess.

  The medic grimaced and turned to Alara. “Are you experiencing any confusion or dizziness?” She shook her head. “Weakness in one side of your body? Raise your arms, please.” Alara lifted both arms from her sides, but one arm rose slower than the other, and the medic frowned. “You can lay your arms back down.” He turned to his medkit to withdraw a syringe and an ampoule of medication.

  Alara lowered her arms. She placed one small hand over Ethan’s armored gauntlet, and his zephyr’s tactile sensors relayed that touch as a light vibration through his armor. Tears trickled from her good eye.

  “Hoi, don’t cry, Kiddie,” he said. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

  “I remember everything, Ethan. I know who I am! Is it true you found your wife?”

  For just a second Ethan wanted to whoop for joy, but then he realized that it was a bad sign if her slave chip had somehow been interrupted. He nodded. “Yes, I found her, but that just made me realize what a fool I’ve been.”

  “Shhh . . .” Alara shook her head slowly. “It’s okay.”

  Ethan watched the medic take hold of the gauze she was holding to her head. “I need to see the injury now, ma’am.”

  When the medic lifted away the gauze, Ethan went cold. There was an angry purple bruise with a deep gash running through it. The whole area was badly swollen, and as soon as the gauze came away, the gash began bubbling with blood once more. The sentinel pressed the gauze back to her head and told her to hold it firmly.

  “How do I look?” Alara asked the medic, sounding like a little girl asking for her father’s opinion on a dress.

  The sentinel hesitated, and Ethan felt another spark of dread. A vanguard medic had to be inured to seeing all kinds of battle wounds, and he’d have the experience to know a mortal wound when he saw one, so when he looked up at Ethan and slowly shook his head, Ethan didn’t have to ask—he knew . . .