The expansion box set, p.35
The Expansion Box Set, page 35
part #1 of The Expansion Series
Torres said nothing and simply nodded once. Telling Sarvanto that four minutes was three and half too long would serve only to betray how nervous and helpless he felt, sitting in the big chair instead of running around going bang-bang with a gun. No matter how good he felt doing that, it was hardly a big picture role. No, he had to sit back and trust his people to do their jobs as well as he had always done his own.
Zero ordered the pilot to hover two hundred meters above the LZ and scan the surface. The immediate readings showed trace radiation from a singularity collapse roughly half the size of one of their ship’s warheads. In itself, that was a devastating enough explosion, but luckily the radiation wouldn’t affect the emergency relief team, as long as they stayed inside their suits.
“Any life signs?” he asked the co-pilot who was running the sensor sweep.
“I’m reading a dozen, maybe more, of the aliens about three klicks out,” she reported, “but nothing in the LZ.”
“Any sign of the enemy ship or the shuttle from the Venture?”
“Negative, sir.”
“I’m not a sir,” he told her. “I’m Zero, or a buddy or a dude. In some circumstances I’m a, ‘hey, asshole,’ but I’m never a sir.”
“Sure thing, dude,” she responded. She was unsure as she always was with men like Zero, the elusive and usually arrogant CP types with their cool little callsigns and their shield logo stamped on their armor. She had learned they did this so you never knew who they were, only what they were. This guy seemed different though, she thought. Less of an asshole at any rate. So far, at least.
Zero paused, looking at the radiation readings. He peered at them, judging whether it was worth the hassle. He would have to decontaminate himself and the entire shuttle just to walk around a crater where he knew nothing remained that he had any interest in.
“Take us to a safe distance north,” he instructed. “I need to trade some light beer and blue jeans…”
“What does that mean?” the pilot asked as he banked the ship to comply.
“It means I need to talk to the natives,” Zero said absently.“Jeez, read a data file…”
Zero had the shuttle put down in a small clearing about four clicks northeast.
It was way beyond the safe minimum distance from the radiation, and it was also the only place that the pilot could get the Tanto to fit with the hasty repairs she had undergone. She wasn’t in the best shape after being battered and disabled in space only hours before.
It wasn’t just the Tanto that was in need of repairs: Zero’s commander was beat up herself and her armor was toast.
Still, Zero reminded himself, could always be worse…
“Report a total loss to Captain Torres and dust off out of sight,” Zero said as he hit the rear ramp release. “I’ll holler when I need a ride.”
The ship hovered mere inches from the soft, spongy moist ground just long enough for Zero to step down and crouch to save the thrusters from heating him too much inside his tin can. He stood, watching as the small ship went up out of sight. He walked for a while, finding a raised tree root that was so black it seemed to shimmer purple.
He rested his rifle against the tree and sat down on the fat root, leaned back under the wide, rubbery leaves and waited.
Zero tested his own theory, waiting until he began to feel a tickle of emotion that didn’t originate with him. He was rewarded with a sensation that transported him back to his childhood when he played hide and seek with his older sister. She always lost, mostly because she couldn’t stop herself from giggling when she knew he was near and even at that young age, he was a stone-cold operator and never failed to capitalize on a mistake his enemy made.
“It’s okay,” he said into the comm device attached to his left forearm. He waited for it to translate into the croaks and clicks of Kuldari. “I need to talk to one of you,” he said, taking a gamble on his next words given the feelings they radiated. “To one of your adults.”
After a pause, a high-pitched series of rattling clicks sounded, coming back through his translation software.
“You come with us?”
It had to be a kid, he knew that somehow from the feelings he felt when they were near. There seemed to be more than one, he knew, as the bushes ahead of him in the low light moved. Two pairs of dark eyes blinked at him. Zero stood slowly, picking up his rifle carefully by the barrel and mag-locking it to his back.
“Let’s go,” he said, seeing their feet move excitedly as the translation reached them.
They set off through the dense foliage and boggy terrain, forcing Zero to keep up a fast pace which he knew he couldn’t have maintained without a powered armor suit. The journey was short but intense, and the path twisted and turned as chaotically as the minds of the children who devised the route. Arriving at the main underground complex of round chambers where the others had met with Asha, he was stopped. Standing before him were two large adults bearing short staffs and wearing curious armor that seemed decorative. It comprised only simple leg and forearm greaves and a small breastplate.
“Stop! You are not permitted to be here in this place,” his comm device translated for him robotically.
“I apologize,” Zero said, stepping back and bowing his head to touch the fingertips of his right gauntlet to the forehead of his helmet. His detailed research of the reports had been thorough in anticipation of such an opportunity. “I wish to speak with someone about the explosion.” He kept his head bowed but looked up at the two warriors through his visor. “With your permission?” He held his hands by his helmet. A clicking noise translated into text on his comm device as [GRUNT?].
He deactivated the helmet function on his HUD, ensuring that he programmed an oxygen release to allow him to show his face for a limited time. The pair of Kuldar blocking his path couldn’t hide their reactions; a flash of fear followed by curiosity and disbelief. Why he inspired fear in the tall, large-headed aliens Zero had no idea, but the feeling they projected, as fleeting as it had been, was unmistakable.
“Is there someone who will speak to me?” he asked again, standing to his full height as they gestured him inside.
“Tanto to Zero, receiving you five-five. We have your transponder and will be with you in… three mikes.”
“Acknowledged,” Zero said, his jaw set tightly underneath the helmet.
He waited in a different clearing large enough to accommodate their small ship. Hearing the accounts of how the ship had exploded when they had tried to open it, of how the engineering team had been blown out, then sucked back in and crushed into nothing, had angered him. At the engineers’ stupidity but also at the wasteful loss of life. What had angered him more, what made his need to get back to orbit in a hurry, was the rest of the story that their new friends hadn’t told them before.
And that vital piece of intelligence made every second they stayed in that system potentially fatal.
42
Proxima Centauri b Orbit
“No, sir,” Torres said stiffly to the admiral. They again spoke via secure comm link from their respective private quarters. “What I’m saying is that the Kuldar appear not to have been entirely truthful about the Va’alen presence in this system.”
“And this intel came directly from other Kuldar on the surface, correct? Who authorized another contact mission, anyway?”
“Indirectly, Admiral, you did,” Torres answered carefully. He hastily continued before the famous Dassiova stare had a chance to take hold of his soul and crush it like a canary held too tightly. “You requested a response team investigate the sensor spike at the LZ.”
“I requested first responders, Captain. I did not specify that your mavericks invite themselves over for alien supper.”
“Understood, sir, and full responsibility lies with me,” Torres lied smoothly. “I briefed my team leader to find out what happened, and in the process of finding that out he spoke with the Kuldar on the surface. They, without solicitation, informed him of the updated Va’alen threat.”
Dassiova narrowed his eyes momentarily, knowing that he was being bullshitted. He couldn’t help but appreciate the deft way that it was being handled. He let out a growl, which he quickly controlled into a throat-clearing cough as he shifted position in his seat.
“And how reliable is this new intel?” Dassiova asked.
“I’d argue it’s as reliable as the intel we have from the ones already onboard, sir. It’s from an untested source, can’t be corroborated or refuted at this time and isn’t verified by any of our assets.”
“Yes, yes, Captain,” Dassiova said with obvious annoyance. “Quote any more protocol at me and I’m likely to remember that you’re not even supposed to be in charge of that ship… ah, shit…” The admiral stood up and began pacing. “I clearly can’t ignore what your man has reported, so I guess we need another talk with our new friends. That is, unless you feel like jumping to where this place is supposed to be and corroborating the intel yourself?”
“Sir, I have no doubts as to the capabilities and bravery of my crew, but if the enemy are there and we are detected, we would be bringing down a metric shit-ton of enemy—in force and with superior firepower—onto a damaged fleet.”
Dassiova said nothing, musing over the dilemma he faced. He could return home and report that they’d had their asses handed to them by what was effectively a race of eight-foot-tall cockroaches. Add to that defeat a cargohold full of other aliens who originally possessed the technology that gave his fleet the ability to reach the new system, and he could forget staying an admiral. That new system was where they had thought the technology had originated, when in fact, the Centauri system had been a kind of no-man’s-land where none of the indigenous life had evolved sufficiently to travel into space.
Proxima b provided a unique set of circumstances that allowed life to emerge, and one where the Kuldar could easily survive.
What the Kuldar hadn’t told them, and what they hadn’t progressed far enough into the system to discover for themselves, was that a planet existed in almost the same cosmic conditions as Earth, providing what could potentially be a mirror planet of their own overcrowded home world.
The ramifications of that discovery, if it proved to be true, were unfathomable. It would mean no more covering under domes on the surface of a cold, barren rock or, worse still, living in brutal conditions on Mars. Humans could be done living under the same domes on a planet that constantly shook and threatened to kill them every day.
No, he told himself, this could be the real thing. A second Earth. Earth mkII. That would be one hell of a piece of news to bring home, and if I had proof of its existence, then the whole of humanity would combine and forget their petty squabbles to build a fleet unparalleled in human history.
Hundreds of ships, from all the four territories of Earth, all with the advanced weaponry that my fleet managed to secure, and all for the price of rehoming a few hundred aliens and giving them a ship with a Fold Drive.
“I understand, Captain,” he said, “and I do not suggest a suicide mission under any guise. Let me formulate an approach and I’ll let you know. Keep this between us for now. Dassiova out.”
The screen went black, leaving Torres alone in the near darkness inside his quarters. He decided that he wouldn’t wait for the facts to be relayed to Earth, only for the politicians and the shareholders and the spooks and their lawyers to pore over it with their personal agendas firmly in mind. Instead, he went to seek the truth from their guests.
He walked out, striding along the corridor and almost colliding with Brandt coming up a ladder.
“Going somewhere, Captain?” she asked, restored to her former self.
“Clearly,” he responded witheringly. This prompted a stunned look of surprise on her face. He stopped, let out a sigh and hung his head with his back still to her.
“On me, Commander,” he said in a tired, apologetic tone.
Brandt fell in just behind his right shoulder to match his pace if not his intensity.
“You armed?” he asked.
“Always,” she answered, smirking.
“Good, because in a minute I might need you to put a gun to an alien’s head and get us the truth. You down with that?”
Brandt hesitated a heartbeat, which for her was half a heartbeat too long.
“Whatever you need.”
The mostly empty cargo bay, converted in a hurry to accommodate the few Kuldar already onboard and in anticipation of almost four hundred more, was bathed in a warm red light from the hastily recommissioned UV lamps.
Torres and Brandt entered, passing the two armored sentries guarding the door, and looked around for Asha.
Torres pursed his lips, as he did when he was about to say something he shouldn’t. He caught Brandt’s eye in the gloomy interior of the big area. Brandt stifled her own facial contortion and looked away in case a simple twitch of his mouth prompted her to laugh. Torres whispered it anyway: a weak joke that was beneath his station.
“They all look the same…”
Brandt coughed loudly to cover her response to the jest that nobody should’ve found funny. It served the purpose. One of the aliens stepped forward with an entourage of two and greeted them with the touch of his forehead that was becoming familiar to them.
‘Comm-an-durr Brrandt,” Asha said in his loud whisper. “And Cap-tenn Tore-ezz.” As he finished, he bowed his head and touched the fingers to his forehead again.
Both Brandt and Torres experienced a hint of sinful pride coming from him as he demonstrated his grasp of English. Their comm devices automatically subtitled his words, even if they were understandable to them.
“King Asha,” Torres said, as he returned the bow and the gesture. “I was wondering if you would like to take a short tour of the ship with us?”
Excitement washed over them from the alien, giving them his answer before he had even spoken in response. He turned to the two other Kuldar with him before Torres interjected carefully. “King Asha, some of the areas we will visit are only authorized for the highest-ranking members of the crew…”
Asha understood, a tiny jolt of electricity passing through their minds that felt like smugness or even a little arrogance. He spoke to his entourage, the words translating into text which both Torres and Brandt read without letting their faces show how easy it had been to manipulate the alien.
“You stay here,” he told them. “Not important enough to see human ship.”
“This way, please,” Brandt said.
She gestured towards the door with a smile as fake as a lump of Martian rock sold in the Lunar markets. Asha donned a pair of dark goggles, which would filter out most of the higher spectrum light and protect his sensitive eyes. They weaved through the decks, all the while Torres giving facts about the ship which were so confidently delivered that Brandt couldn’t be sure if he was bullshitting or not. Reaching a forward compartment where the Fold Drive emitter and shield array power source was housed, he gave Brandt the slightest of looks. She took that as the sign to begin.
“Asha, answer me something…” Torres said casually.
“Of course, Captain.”
“Why are the Va’alen really here in this system?”
A coldness filled the room as the alien stood tall and resolved. The question, so innocently asked, had turned the mood sour.
“I make no apologies for what my ancestors did,” he said strongly
Torres noted he had avoided answering the question.
“So your people did start the war then?” Torres said. There was still no answer after the words were translated. “Does that also mean that the Va’alen aren’t the violent… people… you made them out to be?”
A feeling resembling resolved anger filled the room. “My ancestors attacked an alien race who came to our home world and wanted war. We responded in kind.”
“That doesn’t answer his question, Asha,” Brandt said menacingly from just behind his right shoulder. From that angle he could sense her but couldn’t see her.
“We did not attack the Va’alen,” he said angrily, the rapid clicking of his native words rattling so fast that they had to wait for the translation software to catch up. “The species we destroyed are not the Va’alen; they came afterwards and devastated our world. Forced us to flee through the gateway. Followed us and left us with only one hope that failed, and here they stayed to take the resources of this system.”
“Who were the others?” Torres asked, confused.
“They were… different.”
“Different how?” Brandt asked.
“They were…” Asha hesitated. “They were like you, only not like you.”
Neither of the humans sealed inside the section needed an empathic projection to know that the other felt shock at his words.
“Like us?” Torres asked icily.
“I cannot say for certain,” Asha said carefully, worry emanating from him. “All the records of this were scrubbed from our archives by the queens who came after we were stranded here.”
“So why did the Va’alen attack you?” the captain asked.
“This, we do not know… some believe it was retribution for our attack on the others. Some believe it was coincidence.”
“What do you believe?” he asked the alien. He stepped close and looked directly into his goggled eyes.
“I believe,” Asha said sadly, his emotions clear as day to them, “that the species we attacked were a subjugate of the Va’alen and came as their messengers or scouts. We travelled from our system through the gateway to here. They followed, and we have been hiding ever since.”
“So the… the portal technology is Kuldar?” Torres challenged him.
“It was, but I do not know what it has become now. The technology was very secret, only the highest-ranking members of our race knew anything of it. We left with only one ship that used part of that technology. When that left we were stranded here with only a single ship to use. We survived with what we had, and whether you think that this is our own fault or not I beg of you not to abandon us.”
