Star Viking (Extinction Wars Book 3) (22 page)

Ella glanced from Zoe to me. “You’re likely sealing your deaths doing that. I suspect you want to speak directly with the Starkiens in that star system.”

Ignoring Ella, I said, “N7, I want you to come with me. This will be just like old times when we went to see Naga Gobo aboard his flagship.”

The android dipped his head in acknowledgement. Good. He would come. I didn’t want to do this without him.

“This is a bad idea, Creed,” Ella said.

“Those kinds of ideas might be all we have left,” I said. “A Lokhar crusading fleet is likely going to hit us soon. We have to meet it or we’re all dead anyway. Doesn’t that mean taking risks?”

Ella said nothing.

“I think it does,” Zoe told me.

I grinned at her. “It’s settled then. N7, get your kit. We’re going to leave in an hour.”

It took three jumps to reach Epsilon Indi, which translated to eight days of travel. The longest parts—the light years between gates—took the least amount of time. Moving from one gate to the next in a star system took the most time, accelerating and decelerating.

In a straight line, Epsilon Indi was twelve light-years from Earth.

The system had an unusual feature. Epsilon Indi was a K Spectral Class star, about three-fourths the mass of the Sun with a slightly higher gravity. What made the system interesting were the companions. Binary brown dwarfs—objects with a mass of fifty Jupiters—orbited Epsilon Indi at 1,500 AUs. They were both T class brown dwarfs with a separation between them of 2.1 AU.

We stayed far from the star and the brown dwarfs. So did the Starkien fleet. Yes. They were in the Epsilon Indi system. That made this easier as we didn’t have to hunt them down.

An hour had passed since I’d spoken with Baba Gobo via screen. Almost gleefully, the chief baboon had given us permission to fly out to meet him on his flagship. Since assurances for our safety seemed superfluous, we went without them.

N7 and I wore vacc-suits with thruster-packs spewing hydrogen spray. We sailed toward a large shark-shaped vessel sliding closer toward our patrol boat.

The majority of the Starkien fleet waited in orbit around a nickel-iron planet. Bright lights showed shuttles lifting from the surface. They must have been mining boats, bringing the ore to one of their giant starships. N7 had told me before those were the factory vessels.

In time, N7 and I passed through a bay door into a Starkien ship the size of Manhattan Island. I felt like a flea landing on an elephant. With our packs vibrating, we came down onto a deck. Various star fighters were parked nearby, but no baboons were visible.

Behind us, the bay door slid shut, closing with a
clang
. It told me an atmosphere already hissed into place. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have heard the sound waves. A hum began, and I stumbled. The place had gravity again, the deck plates turning on.

Just like the last time I entered a Starkien vessel eight years ago, no one greeted us. N7 removed his helmet. I did the same with mine. The air stank like a monkey’s zoo cage. Some things never changed.

“Ah, we’re home,” I said.

N7 gave me a quizzical glance.

“A joke,” I said. “Let’s get started.” My gut roiled with unease. I was more than nervous.

We marched to a bank of hatches. The middle one dilated open. Despite my resolve, I took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have done that. The stink seemed to lodge down near my throat.

Coughing, with my head bent, I followed N7 along narrow corridors better suited to Rottweilers. The bulkheads seemed to close in around us and the corridors turned much too sharply at times. As before, there were fist-sized portholes along the bottom of the walls like giant mouse holes. I still didn’t know what they were for.

The blinking dots leading N7 brought us to a small hatch. It opened, and a greater stink wafted out. That increased my coughing.

N7 glanced at me. I forced myself to stop hacking, nodding for him to go. He led, I followed, both of us ducking in order to enter a far too low-ceilinged chamber filled with Starkien commanders.

This time I could tell. They grinned like predators, each of them gleeful. As before, they wore harnesses and tubular guns. Instead of a table, they sat on low daises, seven important-looking lords. Each had gray or a white-streaked mane. The biggest Starkien had a shiny white mane with horribly red-rimmed eyes.

I walked toward Baba Gobo. That started the baboons hooting and flailing their arms. Two reached for their tubular guns.

I halted beside N7, switching on my translating device.

With a slight bow of my head, I said, “It is good to see you again, Baba Gobo.”

The mighty, high lord baboon took his time answering. He was an alien, but I could tell he dearly loved the situation. I would have liked to know Starkien beliefs concerning torture. It didn’t help that I’d recently watched Ella torment Ras Claw. Was I going to get exactly what I’d given? I hoped not.

“Commander Creed,” Baba Gobo drawled. “This is a welcome surprise,” he said. “You do realize that you shall never leave this vessel?”

For once, I restrained myself from speaking too forcefully. I found that difficult.

“I know that you have a hard decision to make,” I said.

“Me? Hard?” The high lord baboon showed off his yellow canines, glancing at his elders.

They hooted with the best of them. A few jumped up and down on their daises. It was quite a sight. As they grew quieter, Baba Gobo turned back to me.

“I believe today’s decisions will prove easy and enjoyable,” he said. “It is not often that a Starkien’s enemy freely places himself in our hands. My only curiosity is why you’ve become so foolish?”

“Need,” I said. “Hope.”

“Yes,” he said, “to be needy is bad. To hope for the best often leads one into traps he cannot escape. All Starkiens know this. That is why we are the most cunning race in the Orion Arm.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here. Actually, your cunning has become a cul-de-sac for your species. It’s the reason you’re the gypsies of space.”

His brows thundered. “What are these gypsies?” he asked.

“Wanderers, nomads, people without a settled abode.”

“Oh.” He shook his head. “You are wrong, human, in thinking we are forced into this. It is a survival trait, our way. We Starkiens do not wish to hamper ourselves by settling into any one particular place.”

“No,
you’re
wrong,” I said. “That’s exactly what has happened. Others have forced you into this wandering existence. There’s no other reason for it.”

The good humor vanished from Baba Gobo. He leaned forward, stabbing a dirty finger at me. There was dirt impacted under the fingernail. “What does an animal only recently allowed into space know about the great Starkien people?”

I glanced at each elder in turn. “You’re kidding me, right?” I asked.

“Vain beast,” Baba Gobo said. “You are not safely aboard one of your warships. You stand with a mobile thinking machine before the elders of our fleet. Your hours of life are quickly dwindling. A single word from me will end your existence. Ponder that instead of spouting your vulgarities.”

“Holgotha,” I said.

Baba Gobo scowled worse than before. “What does that nonsense word mean? It does not translate into a Starkien meaning.”

“How interesting,” I said. “I’ve just told you the name of the Forerunner artifact in the solar system.”

It took him a second to understand my meaning. When he did, his red eyes squinted with suspicion. “You lie,” he said.

“No. I’m telling you the truth.”

“Are you that foolish? The evidence does not support the idea. Why would you give me the name, beast, knowing as you must that it is a marvelous treasure?”

“For some it’s a treasure,” I said.

“For
any
who possess the name,” he said.

“Tell me, Baba Gobo. What will you as a Starkien do with your newfound knowledge?”

He glanced at his silent fellows before regarding me again. “Do you truly not understand? I will go to your solar system and lay claim to…
Holgotha
.” He said the artifact’s name slowly, tasting it with joy and satisfaction.

“I would advise against such an action,” I said.

Baba Gobo hooted with Starkien laughter. “Why would I care what an animal advised me to do?”

“Let’s consider the question, as it’s an important one. Suppose I’m an animal, as you claim. Why would a Forerunner artifact tell me its name then?”

Several of the elders glanced at Baba Gobo. He pretended to ignore them, although he frowned at me.

“You’ve just received the name of a Forerunner object: Holgotha. But if you’re right, that I, an
animal,
gave it to you, won’t the other races laugh when you tell them how you came to learn the name?”

Baba Gobo closed his eyes and rested his snout on a fist. He sat like a statue for several seconds. Then his eyes snapped open. He looked upon me with wonder.

“You are not an animal,” he said.

“Correct.”

With the same dirty finger he’d pointed at me earlier, Baba Gobo stroked his lower lip. At last, he asked, “Why have you told me the sacred name?”

“Before I answer that, you should know that we used Holgotha to transfer to the Sanakaht star system. That’s deep in the Lokhar Empire.”

“I am quite aware of the location of the Sanakaht system.”

I nodded. “We raided the planet of Sanakaht, dropping nuclear warheads onto the surface.”

Baba Gobo gave a start. Several elders murmured in wonder. “Why would you do this?” he asked, sounding amazed.

“For a simple reason,” I said. “The Purple Tamika Emperor was in the system. I wished to teach him a lesson.”

The baboon scowled. “
You
teach the great Lokhar Emperor a lesson? No, not even you are that rash. You are spouting lies to me.”

“Think well, Baba Gobo,” I said. “If you truly believe I lie about our Sanakaht attack, then Holgotha is not the artifact’s name.”

For several seconds, he stared at me in silence. I could see his mind spinning. Soon, he nodded. “You are cleverer than I realized.” It was a grudging admission. Then his eyes widened. “Ah, I believe I understand now. The artifact must have found you unworthy. That has angered you, yes? To gain revenge on the object, you have run to the Starkiens.”

“That’s not even close,” I said. “I came to you because Holgotha told me the ancient history. He explained how the Starkiens once possessed a Forerunner artifact of their own. They lost it, however, and the other races attacked your ancestors because of it.”

Their delayed reaction startled me. It seemed as if it took the words time to percolate into their skulls. Then, as one, the Starkiens lifted their snouts toward the low ceiling. They howled in despair. It was a mournful noise.

Soon, Baba Gobo lowered his snout, and said, “You must die. It is our custom to kill any who repeats the wretched story of old.”

“You want to kill me even as I offer you the chance to redeem your race?”

“What do you mean?” Baba Gobo asked hoarsely.

“It’s simple,” I said. “The Emperor of the Lokhars comes to Earth. He preaches a holy crusade against us and wishes to annihilate humanity in person.”

“Then you are as good as dead.”

“No, I’m not,” I said. “The Emperor is a heretic. Thus, his crusade is doomed to fail.”

“What folly do you spout?”

“It’s pure logic, Baba Gobo. Think about it. Holgotha brought us to the Sanakaht system. There, the assault troopers slaughtered Lokhars. There, the Emperor himself witnessed our daring. Now, you have to ask yourself the question: Why did the artifact take us to the place where we could fight the Emperor? The answer is simple. Felix Rex Logos called humans beasts. He would not admit us into the Jade League. Yet, the Forerunner object has told me its name. It has shown we belong. The Emperor has sullied himself with his heresy. Now, the ancient artifacts move against him.”

Slowly, Baba Gobo nodded. “That is an interesting argument. It might actually sway some.”

“Doctor Sant of Orange Tamika preaches against the Purple and thus the Emperor,” I said. “This is an opportunity for those with eyes to see.”

Baba Gobo glanced at the elders. One of them nodded. Regarding me, the chief baboon asked, “If we helped you, you will give us full control of the artifact?”

“Baba Gobo of the Starkiens,” I said in a ringing voice, “I am about to tell you the ancient history of the universe. It is the truth. This is what Holgotha told me about the Starkiens.”

I then repeated the story in all its details, particularly the part where the Forerunner artifacts decided that no Starkien would ever walk on them again. That caused the baboons to howl longer and with more misery than before.

“This is a lie,” Baba Gobo whispered.

“Your despair shows me you know better.”

His entire body sagged. Several of the elders crouched low, covering their heads.

“Go,” Baba Gobo said, hoarsely. “Leave our vessel and leave the Epsilon Indi system. Never return.”

“No. I came here for Starkien aid, and that aid I will get.”

“You are mad, Commander Creed. There is nothing you can offer to entice us to help a doomed species.”

“You should listen to me first. I can help you gain redemption in the eyes of the other races. They will think the Forerunner artifact approves of you. Then, the Starkiens will no longer have to wander the star lanes as gypsies.”

Baba Gobo studied me for the longest time. Finally, he raised a baboon hand, groping in the air as if he was a baby. I had struck upon the great Starkien desire: to have an artifact, to win their way back into the good graces of the others. Could he dare trust me? Would his hatred and despair be too great?

“How…” he said. “How can you do this for the Starkiens?”