Dark Space: Origin (10 page)

The only Sythian anyone had ever seen was High Lord Kaon of the Sythian First Fleet, and as for their command control ships—the 30-kilometer-long behemoth-class cruisers—those had never even been glimpsed by human eyes. Images of them came straight from the Gors.

It was all too circular for Heston’s liking. Everything began and ended with the Gors, including Kaon. He had been captured and delivered to the overlord as a gesture of good will, a way to cement the alliance between humans and Gors, but Dominic had taken that bait far too easily. Heston had met Kaon on multiple occasions, and like the Gors, there was something suspicious about him. During the year that Kaon had been held captive at Obsidian Station, the alien had revealed precious little about anything—and not for want of torture or interrogation. Kaon could recite the Gors’ story well enough, but he shut right up when pressed on certain topics—like why the Sythians had invaded, or what they had against humanity.

Either Kaon was particularly strong-willed, or else he only knew what he had been
told
. The overlord’s interrogators had cut off Kaon’s cranial fins, severed his tail, broken his webbed hands and feet—all of that and not a peep. Oh, he’d made plenty of noise, but he’d refused to answer the really important questions. He’d just become violent and incoherent.

Heston had asked the overlord to subject Kaon to a mind probe, but Overlord Dominic insisted that the risk outweighed the gain. Early probes of the Gors had killed them almost immediately, and Dominic assumed the same would be true of a Sythian. Kaon’s DNA was very closely related to theirs, which was an argument in favor of that theory, but careful study of Kaon’s cells had revealed that his body, although it seemed weaker than that of a Gor, was far more evolved, and distinctly stronger. While the Gors could theoretically live for about 60 years, Kaon’s oldest cells were already more than five hundred years old, and there was every indication that he could live for another five hundred.

Attempts to increase the longevity of humans through bioengineering and nanotech had eventually hit a wall at around 150 years. Beyond that, medical science and transplants could extend a human’s life by another 20 to 30 years, but no human had ever broken the dicentennial barrier. The idea that there was a sentient species which could live more than five times that long both excited Hoff’s interest and raised his suspicions. If humans and Sythians were roughly equal on the technological battle field, all cloaking devices aside, then how could Sythians be so far ahead on the evolutionary battlefield?

Hoff was eager to discover the truth. He had argued that Kaon could take a mind probe if his body was that strong, while Dominic had counter-argued that despite slow progress, they
were
still gleaning information from Kaon, and until that stopped, there was no point using a probe on him.
No risk, no profit,
Hoff thought with a tired smirk, but he was done pressing the point with the overlord.

A small, bright ellipse grew steadily larger as it flew toward the hazy blue shields of the hangar bay where he waited. A few minutes later, Hoff could make out the mirror-clear hull and the tear-dropped shape of the
Interloper
. They were two days late returning from their mission. Captain Adram had sent a scout back to explain the delay before he’d detoured to rescue the
Defiant
, but Hoff would have preferred if they’d come back to Ritan first. Their mission was far too important for them to take unnecessary risks.

Hoff sighed. There was nothing to do about it now—it was garbage out the airlock. He’d have to reprimand Captain Adram for it later. His comm piece trilled, interrupting his thoughts—
Incoming call from Captain Cathrall of the
Destine.

He touched his ear to answer. “Yes?”

“Admiral, we have a situation.”

“What’s wrong?” Hoff’s muscles tensed as he anticipated the worst.

“The
Valiant
has powered down, sir. They’re drifting toward Ritan, and they’re not responding to our hails.”

Heston frowned. That wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting to hear. “You’re telling me that the overlord is about to crash into his own training facility?”

“His current trajectory would put his landing more than a thousand klicks from the Isharian Flow, but if they do crash into the surface it will be an extinction level event. The academy might survive since it’s underground, but radioactive fallout will destroy the ecosystem on the surface.”

“No sign of what caused this sudden power failure? They weren’t attacked?”

“No, sir, not unless the attack came from within.”

“Perhaps the Gors have already bitten the hands that feed them. Keep trying to get the
Valiant
on the comms. Meanwhile, send a shuttle to investigate with a squad of mechs and engineers. Make sure the engineers are wearing hazmats and that they go through decontamination when they get back. Also, double check for Gor stowaways. We don’t need an outbreak of either that virus or the Gors on our fleet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep me posted.”

“I will, sir.”

“Good. Heston out.” The admiral stood staring in silence once more, now watching as the
Interloper
sailed into the hangar. The thin blue membrane of static shields at the opening of the hangar shimmered as the cruiser passed through. Hoff shook his head, his thoughts still on the overlord’s predicament. He and Dominic might not have seen eye to eye about the Gors, but they were still technically on the same side. Humanity couldn’t afford to lose a ship like the
Valiant.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” Hoff wondered. No sooner had he asked himself that question than his comm piece trilled once more—
Incoming call from Captain Adram of the
Interloper.

“Hello, Captain,” Hoff answered. “You’re back—
finally.
”

“Yes, we’ve just pulled into the hangar.”

“I know. I’m watching you come in. I assume your mission was a success?”

“It was, sir.”

“And the unscheduled rescue?” Hoff’s tone became testy.

“That’s why I’m calling you, sir. We have a political situation on board.”

“Political?” Heston’s grizzled eyebrows drooped toward his nose. “How so?”

“I have the overlord on board.”

“Last I checked the overlord was aboard the
Valiant,
Captain.”

“Yes, sir. He is.”

“Then?”

“The overlord
we
have on board is an imposter, sir—a holoskinner.”

Heston blinked, taken aback. “Well, well, that is interesting. . . . so the real overlord is still aboard the
Valiant
where he belongs?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. The crew we rescued has a very similar story to the one we heard from the
Valiant,
but in this version of events the
Valiant
didn’t escape; it was captured by the outlaws.”

“And we’re just going to take their word for that? Who’s the source of this information?”

“The commander of the ship, a Commander Loba Caldin.”

“Caldin . . . the name sounds familiar.”

“She commanded the overlord’s expedition to the Getties, sir. Back then she was Captain Caldin.”

“Ah . . . yes, now I remember. So she’s been demoted since then. What was the reason for her demotion?”

“From the files we downloaded from the
Defiant
, it seems that she was demoted for subjecting a Gor to a mind probe and killing him, sir.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

“Apart from that incident, she’s been a reliable officer. As for her story about the imposter—the rest of her crew supports it.”

“Very interesting. We’ll talk more about this when you come aboard, Captain.”

“Yes, sir—there’s one more thing, sir. We captured three more Sythian cruisers while conducting our rescue mission.”

Heston’s eyes widened. “All by yourselves? You were not authorized to take your ship into combat, Captain. . . .”

“They surrendered without a fight, sir.”

“Kind of them to do so. Did they realize they were surrendering to us rather than their ISSF allies?”

“As far as I can tell from talking to Tova, the Gor liason from the
Defiant
, the Gors are aware of the political upheaval. They’re concerned that the Imperium is now leaderless and their alliance is in jeopardy. The unconditional surrender seems to be some kind of peace offering. She’s hoping we’ll consider joining the alliance.”

“I see, and what did you tell this Tova?”

“I told her we can’t promise anything, but it will be taken into consideration.”

“How very vague of you.” Heston smiled. “Good. What have you done with the ships and their Gor crews?”

“We left the ships and their crews with the
Defiant.
The Gors bailed out as usual, but we didn’t have room for them and I didn’t think you’d want me to bring them aboard, so we stowed them aboard the
Defiant
before we rescued her crew.”

“I assume you checked your ship for stowaways.”

“Yes, we’re clear. I’ve also isolated the human survivors in our hangar bay.”

“Excellent. You were wise to be cautious. We don’t need to accidentally bring a band of outlaws aboard. I’ll tell Dominic’s forces here to go back for their ship and their allies. Rescuing Gors is an ISSF prerogative. Finish what you have to, Captain, and then come meet me in my office. Meanwhile, have our subject escorted to the probe rooms, and make sure no one sees him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you soon. Don’t keep me waiting. Heston out.”

The admiral stared out the viewports of the lounge a while longer, his gray eyes flicking over the smooth, mirror-clear hull of the
Interloper.

The overlord a holoskinner . . .
he thought wonderingly.
And what about the other overlord aboard the
Valiant?
Is he the real Altarian Dominic?
If not, then had the overlord always been a holoskinner? Was he one of
them?
In some ways it would make sense if he were. Heston had always suspected something about the old man. The curious part, however, was the holoskin. With some prior planning, there were more permanent ways of hiding.

He must have come to the position recently,
Hoff decided.

Chapter
7

I
thicus awoke with a gasp, and his back arched involuntarily against the hard surface where he lay. Everything was dark. His arms and legs were secured. Ice began crawling through his veins, and he collapsed, shivering in the dark. Through the fog in his brain he could hear the steady whoosh of air cyclers, and the droning hum of superluminal space. The ice crawling through his veins reached his heart and he groaned as his chest began to ache and burn. Then the pain subsided, and his eyes drifted shut.

He saw a flash of light and heard a fast-dying roar as explosive bolts blasted his canopy away and his flight chair ejected into space. Then came a painful silence as he sailed through the vacuum. Ithicus gazed down on the flowering explosion that had been his wingmate, Guardian Four, and then he saw his own nova fighter go rocketing toward the odd dozen Sythian missiles which were still tracking it. Those spinning purple stars quickly reached his needle-nosed Mark II and provoked another brilliant flash of light and accompanying cloud of fire. The flames quickly faded from an angry red to a pale, translucent gold, and then they died all together as their fuel abruptly dissipated and ran out.

Ithicus had his flight helmet on, and his suit was pressurized, so exposure to the vacuum wouldn’t kill him, but the air tanks strapped to the back of his ejection seat would only last for a few hours—that wasn’t even half the time it would take for the
Defiant
to send someone back for him, so he didn’t bother to activate his distress beacon and let the other Guardians know he was still alive. Why make them feel guilty? He and Guardian Four had given their lives to let the others escape. There was no sense making that sacrifice haunt them more than it already would.

“You shouldn’t have ejected, Ithy,” he whispered to himself. “Now you’re really frekked.” “Bought yourself a couple of hours for stargazing before the end.”

But that end had never come. He’d eventually fallen asleep as his air had trickled out, and then . . . then he’d woken up here.
If this is the
netherworld,
he thought,
it should at least be a little warmer.

He cracked his eyes open to see two glowing red orbs set in a shiny black helmet. There came a familiar hiss, followed by an alien warbling, and that was when Ithicus Adari understood that he wasn’t dead and this really was the netherworld.

He began to scream. “I’m not going to let you eat
me
, you motherfrekkers!”

Death would have been preferable. He’d been captured by Gors. Ithicus spat at the one he could see, aiming for the glowing red eyes of the alien’s helmet. He hit his mark, provoking another hiss, and then an armored elbow slammed into his forehead and he surrendered to the darkness.

*  *  *

“Tell me the truth, Kaon, and I’ll let you go. Who are the Gors?”

Kaon warbled, and Heston’s translator communicated the gist of what was said. “I tell you the truth already. The
Gorz
are our slaves.”

“Where did they come from?”

“The Gettizz,” Kaon hissed, revealing a double row of serrated white teeth.

“Really,” Heston quirked an eyebrow at that. “So both the Gors and the Sythians evolved in the same galaxy?”

Kaon hissed again. “Yess.”

“Who are the Sythians?”

“We are
Zithianz
.”

“I know that. Who are you?”

“We are masters of the
Gorz.
”

“How very circular.” Heston gave the alien an open-handed slap, which echoed loudly in the small room and sent Kaon’s head slamming back into his headrest. The alien hissed again. “Once more with feeling,” Heston said. “Who are the Sythians?”

“Who are the humanz?” Kaon countered.

Heston smiled thinly at the alien and stared intently at his translucent face. “Why did you attack us?”

“We attack you to kill you.”

“That’s self evident.
Why
did you want to kill us?”

“So that you would be gone.”

Heston’s eyes flashed. “Why did you leave the Getties?”

“We left the Gettiz to get here.”

“What are you doing here? What do you want?”

Kaon didn’t reply, so Hoff raised his hand again as if to slap the alien. Kaon hissed at him, but remained silent. “Are you at war with the Gors?”

“Some fight us now, yes.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Then you do not ask well.”

Heston growled and slapped Kaon again, sending his head reeling once more. “You’re wasting my time! You know I’m going to have you probed, right?” Heston loomed closer. “You know what that is? A small army of nanites will be injected into your bloodstream near your brain stem. From there they’ll go straight up and imbed themselves in your brain. Like that I’ll be able to see everything you’ve ever seen, and ask any questions with the assurance that you
can’t
lie. You won’t be able to hide anything from me.”

Kaon warbled a response. “You ask me questions, but do not believe the answers, so answer your own questions and see that I tell the truth.”

“I will, but the probe might kill you to get the information I’m looking for. . . .” Heston shrugged. “I’d rather you didn’t have to die.”

Kaon hissed. “You should kill me long ago.”

“Why? What do you think you are doing that’s hurting us? Giving us misinformation, perhaps?”

Again Kaon gave no response.

“Hoi!” Heston reached out and took the alien’s face in his hand, squeezing its rubbery cheeks together with bruising force and puckering his scarred lips. “I’m talking to you, little fish!”

Kaon just stared at him with big, lidless blue eyes. After a moment, a membrane nictated over his eyes and Heston let him go with a disgusted shove.

“Fine.” Heston nodded and turned to his XO sitting at a control station along one side of the room. “Are we ready to begin, Commander Donali?”

Donali turned from the control station, his red artificial eye glowing in the dim light of the probe room. “Yes, sir,” he said, rising from his chair. Hoff eyed the commander as he walked over to them with an implanter. In his role as the executive officer aboard Hoff’s aging flagship, the
Tauron
, Master Commander Donali was privy to things most people would never get to see—such as the fact that High Lord Kaon was now in Hoff’s possession.

Kaon remained calm as the commander stepped up behind him and pushed his head forward to look for a vein in his translucent skin. The alien’s arms and legs were already bolted into the chair manacles, so he didn’t bother to resist. Hoff studied Kaon as the needle went in, and Kaon studied him back, not reacting at all to the needle. Heston glanced at the alien’s mangled hands and feet and the ridge of scar tissue running along his bald head where his cranial fins had been cut off. By now Kaon had to be so used to pain that the prick of a needle was nothing to him.

“You’re very calm for someone who’s about to die.”

“I do not fear death.”

“That’s odd, considering you tell me that the Sythians are hiding on their cloaked ships, directing their
slave
soldiers into battle. If you were so fearless, wouldn’t you fight your own battles?”

Kaon warbled, “I said I do not fear death. That does not mean that
Zithianz
are stupid. Bravery and recklessness are not the same. Are you a coward?”

Heston’s eyes flashed. “Be careful not to insult me. I’m already short of patience.”

“Then why do you not fly a fighter into battle? You do not fear death, either, but you do not risk it more than necessary.”

Heston smiled. “I don’t fly fighters because I can kill you more efficiently from the bridge of a battleship than I can from the cockpit of a nova. You think you’re a clever little fish, don’t you? Let’s go meet your Sythian friends, shall we? Assuming they exist, of course. . . .” Kaon gave no reply. His big blue eyes just stared into Heston’s gray ones, and eventually the admiral grew tired of the game. “Start up the probe!” he said. Heston
knew
the alien was lying. Trusting Kaon to tell them the truth was like Overlord Dominic trusting the Gors to let him know when cloaked Sythian ships invaded Dark Space.

If the Sythians really existed, why after more than a decade of war, had they only ever met
one
Sythian and never even seen their elusive command ships? The Gors’ entire story was full of holes.
Time to fill them in,
Heston thought as he walked over to the probe control station. “Let’s see what our little fish is hiding,” he said as he reached for one of the helmets which hung on a rack above the control console. The gray helmets were covered with knobby nodes, and the glossy black visors were opaque. Heston sat down in the interrogator’s chair beside the probe console and slipped the helmet over his head. On the inside of the visor was a holoscreen. At the moment the screen was blank, but in the top-right hand corner was a timer. It read: 00:00. Without that, it would be easy to become so immersed in a subject’s memories that one lost all sense of time, and time was of the essence if they were going to get anything out of Kaon before the probe turned his brain to jelly.

“Are you ready, Admiral?”

“I am.”

“Probe commencing in five, four, three . . .”

Heston watched the countdown appear as a green number flashing up in the center of the display. When the countdown reached zero, suddenly the blank screen vanished and he was standing on a glossy black deck under a vast, transparent dome of stars. It looked like the bridge of a Gor ship. Alien control stations were scattered around the deck in concentric circles, just as he would have expected to see on any Gor vessel, but when Heston looked closer at those control stations, he gasped. They were too small for Gors, and sitting at each one of those stations was a—

It can’t be
, Heston thought. “Where are you, Kaon?” he asked aloud.