Authors: Jasper Scott
The fleet commander raised a placating hand. “Their culture has evolved separately from ours for untold generations. It's a mistake to expect the same courtesies from them as we are accustomed to.”
“Well, let's get aboard the
Refuge
and get this over with before I decide to educate them.” With that, the Imperator stormed down from the command podium and into the lift tube at the back of the bridge which led below decks. His angry face disappeared behind the lift tube doors with a pneumatic
swish.
* * *
Dreklaus impatiently eyed the control panel inside the airlock, watching the blinking lights gradually brighten from red to yellow. When the lights descended the spectrum to green, the doors would open, and he would have a chance to meet whatever welcoming party the Cephs had sent. Ordinarily, docking from ship to station wouldn't have required a lengthy wait inside an airlock, since the air on both sides would be of equal pressure, it would only need to be checked for contaminants. In this case, however, the Cephs had left their airlock open, and since they were underwater, not in vacuum, that meant they had to wait for the water to be pumped out of the station's airlock. Dreklaus spent the minutes of waiting eyeballing the members of his delegation. The fleet commander, his second-in-command (whose name Dreklaus couldn't be bothered to remember), a security team of eight sentinels in full battle armor, and of course, their liaison, Captain Praxis.
The Imperator was trying hard not to appear impatient. It wasn't working. The fleet commander was the first to notice.
“Remember, Imperator, let Captain Praxis and the sentinels go first. Once they've secured the immediate area, they'll give us the all-clear.”
“Don't lecture me, commander, as though I were a child. I'm aware of the protocol in these situations.”
Silence, but for the continual whir of pumps beyond the airlock doors descended like a heavy cloud. Then came a heavy
thunk,
and the blinking row of lights on the airlock's control panel turned from yellow to green.
Captain Praxis stepped forward and took hold of the airlock's doorhandle in both hands. He turned the handle and threw his body weight against it. The door popped open with a quiet hiss. Soundlessly, he gestured to the nearest sentinel, who slipped out of the airlock and into the station's airlock. Captain Praxis remained at the airlock door, but now pressed one hand to a comm piece in his ear.
Probably listening to the sentinel's report,
Dreklaus decided.
A few moments later, Captain Praxis gestured to the remainder of the sentinels, who slipped one by one past the partially-open airlock door. Finally, Captain Praxis himself disappeared, and Dreklaus was left waiting beside the fleet commander.
“So much for a security escort. They've abandoned me,” Dreklaus complained.
The commander grinned wryly. “You still have me. Besides,
our
side of the airlock is secure.” The commander of the Union's entire spacefaring navy arched an eyebrow at his direct superior, the Imperator himself. “You're not developing a case of paranoia, are you?”
The Imperator turned to glare up at him. “With all your insolence, it's a wonder I don't have you court-martialed.”
“You surely would, if you could find an adequate replacement. A pity for you that
—
” The fleet commander's expression clouded over suddenly. He pressed a hand to the comm piece in his ear and said, “Say again?”
There was an ominous pause, in which Dreklaus could only guess what had gone wrong. His own expression clouded. “What's happening?”
The fleet commander's brow was furrowed all the way up to his silver crewcut. Giving the Imperator no reply, he moved to the airlock door and peeked around the corner.
“Sereki
.
.
.
” the Imperator began, his tone suddenly icy. “You'd better answer me.”
The fleet commander turned from the open airlock, his face blank with confusion. “There's no one here.”
“What? What do you mean there's no one here? You mean they didn't even send a welcoming party?”
The fleet commander shook his head quickly. “I mean the sentinels just did a scan of the station. Apart from ourselves, there are no life forms aboard the
Refuge
.”
* * *
Dreklaus sighed. After more than an hour of walking through dimly lit, dusty corridors that looked like they hadn't seen use for untold millennia, he called a halt. Just ahead of him, the fleet commander stopped and turned beneath a dim halo of yellow light, which illuminated a fine mist of dust raining down from the ceiling. Dreklaus's nose wrinkled, even though all he could smell was a sharp metallic odor. The four sentinels they had with them stopped without turning, keeping to their point and rearguard positions.
“Has Captain Praxis's team found anything
.
.
.
or anyone?”
In reply the fleet commander pressed a hand to his comm piece, and heard him whisper into it. The commander's head bent as if listening, and then he met the Imperator's gaze and shook his head.
“We've only explored a small portion of the base. Let's keep looking.”
Dreklaus made low growl in the back of his throat. “How do we know that anyone was ever here? We only have the Captain's word for it. And frankly, there's something a little off about him.”
“There were other witnesses. A whole squad of sentinels, for instance.”
“Loyal to him?”
“Your pardon, Imperator, but we contacted the Cephs upon arrival. You were there, remember?”
“I was there, but all I recall is a few words exchanged with an unidentified voice. They didn't even transmit a visual. It could have been anyone, even someone aboard one of our own ships playing some kind of sick joke.”
“The comm officer would have seen that immediately from the vector data. After coming all this way, are you going to give up so easily?”
The Imperator frowned. “I suppose not, but let it go on record that I'm not amused. Who do these Cephs think they are to summon an audience with me
—
in person!
—
requesting emergency aid and a military alliance, and then having the audacity not to meet with me?” Dreklaus stomped down the corridor toward the fleet commander. “I'll hold you responsible should this prove to be a colossal waste of my time.”
“It won't be. Let's keep looking. The Cephs probably have some means of concealing their presence from scanners. After all, how else could they have hidden from the Sykels for so long?” The fleet commander turned and started walking again.
Dreklaus hesitated, his eyes narrowing on the commander's back. “Perhaps by not existing in the first place,” he muttered. Noticing the fine rain of gray dust that was settling on the shoulders of his black and gold uniform, Dreklaus scowled and brushed the dust away. It clung to his hands and began itching immediately. Feeling his hands growing suddenly numb, he shook them vigorously, and feeling returned.
Suddenly alarmed, the Imperator called ahead to the fleet commander. “Are we certain that there are no contaminants aboard this station?”
No reply. Then, Dreklaus noticed that the fleet commander had stopped walking, and his head was bent as if listening to his comm piece. That wasn't a good enough excuse the Imperator thought as he marched down the corridor toward his soon-to-be-civilian fleet commander.
Before Dreklaus even reached the senior sentinel, the older man whirled around, his face ashen, and his blue eyes wide. The Imperator's mouth opened to ask what was wrong.
“We have to get out of here,” the commander said.
“I thought you said we should continue looking.”
Mathos Sereki shook his head quickly. Abruptly he pressed a hand to his comm piece. “Say again, Admiral.”
Dreklaus watched the commander's face grow still more ashen. The Imperator swallowed noisily and cast a quick glance behind him.
There was nothing but the two rear guards, and the old, scarred and stained alloy walls of the corridor, illuminated weakly in the dusty yellow light.
The Imperator heard an exclamation from the commander of the Union Sentinels: “Well, fire back for Deus' sake!”
Dreklaus's gaze whipped around and narrowed in alarm upon the commander's stricken face.
“Use the ripper cannons then!” The commander began violently tapping his comm piece. “Admiral Tesalin!” The commander tapped his comm piece once more, and spoke in a tremulous voice, “This is Fleet Commander Mathos Sereki, to any officer who can respond, please acknowledge and report.”
The Imperator endured an anxious silence, then asked, “What's happening, Sereki?”
The older man's hand fell slowly from his ear. “We lost them.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
“What?! Explain yourself, commander.”
The commander's lifeless eyes slid away, and he peered over Dreklaus's shoulder in sudden consternation. “Captain Praxis? Where is the rest of your team?”
Dreklaus turned and saw the captain approaching. Even from a distance he could see the Captain's broad grin. The Imperator's brow furrowed.
“Captain?” The commander persisted.
Sensing that something was wrong, the two sentinels in rearguard raised their plasma rifles. Dreklaus heard the rising whine of the weapons' capacitors charging. “Stay where you are, captain,” one of the sentinels intoned.
Still grinning, the captain raised his hands to show that they were empty. He hadn't even slowed in response to the sentinel's warning.
“I said stay where you are!” The captain's footsteps continued uninterrupted, rising in volume as he approached. “Permission to fire, commander,” the sentinel asked, sighting along his weapon's barrel.
The captain was almost upon the rearguard.
“Nonlethal force only,” the commander said.
Dreklaus blinked. He couldn't believe how things were escalating. Why wouldn't the captain stop? The sentinels' aim shifted to the captain's legs and they fired. A sharp crackling sound sounded in tandem from the sentinels' rifles and a blue-white flash of energy briefly illuminated corridor. The sentinels had switched to neural disruptors.
Both shots hit the captain in the right thigh.
He continued walking as though they hadn't.
“What the
.
.
.
” one of the sentinels exclaimed. “Permission to use deadly
—
”
Both of the rear guards went simultaneously limp and collapsed to the deck with a noisy clatter of armor and weapons. The captain walked calmly between the motionless soldiers.
The Imperator whirled around in alarm, intending to give the forward guard orders to fire. He saw that they had likewise crumpled to the deck. The fleet commander drew his side arm and fired. A red flash of superheated plasma shot past Dreklaus's shoulder. The Imperator spun around to watch it tear through unprotected flesh.
He was in time to see a smoking hole appear in the captain's uniform, just below his sternum. Incredibly, the captain kept walking calmly toward them. Dreklaus blinked stupidly at the impossible scene. Then he realized that the officer must be wearing tetrillium armor beneath his uniform.
A triple burst of red hot plasma flashed by Dreklaus, and two of the shots impacted in the same spot as the first.
The captain kept walking. Even more impossibly, the smoking hole in his uniform disappeared, replaced by unblemished dark blue fabric.
“That's impossible!” the commander said, echoing Dreklaus's thoughts. “What are you?”
The captain stopped in front of Dreklaus and disrupted his perpetual grin long enough to say: “Your worst nightmare.”
Chapter 2
K
ieran Hawker's green eyes gleamed as he studied the results of his sensor sweep. Could it be? At just 23 standard years of age, he'd already discovered the prospector's dream: an unassuming chunk of rock, mottled brown and black, pocked and pitted, tumbling through the blackness of space, a rock like most any other, but within
.
.
.
an almost unbelievable concentration of tetrillium ore.
Kieran watched the heavily-cratered mountain of rock slowly twisting and turning beyond the transpiranium canopy of his TL-15 Flitter
—
the standard issue from Frontier Mining Guild for a junior prospector. It wasn't really
his
ship, but after all he'd paid into the lease, it ought to have been. He'd christened it the
Fat Chance
—
a token of his fatalistic realism, which most people mistook for pessimism.