Wormholes. Bloody wormholes. Hama didn’t know half of it, but these bloody Volk had figured out wormhole technology. That was how they got so far from the nearest Volk or Mane outpost.
The reason that the Mane was able to travel so far was that they were able to create wormholes to send their ships through. It didn’t always work, but for the most part, it was a safe, expedient way for these two species to travel. The Volk shared a little of their technological advancement with the Mane, but the basic principle was to create a hole, a rip in space-time. That rip would make a short path between two very distant points. The ship would then ‘jump’ to the next location.
The size of the rip was depended on the wormhole generator. The larger the wormhole was, the more power was required to hold the wormhole open.
The biggest problem was the accuracy of the wormholes. The Mane was able to get within 2-3 AU of wherever they were going 99% of the time, but Hama had a few stories of ships that were lost forever. One AU being about the distance between Earth and its sun, you could imagine that it wasn’t very accurate. The Volk wasn’t that much closer in their accuracy which made me think that there was some universal constant at hand. Oh well, let’s stow that fact away and get back to it later. Levi would hopefully have something to say about it.
The secondary problem was that these wormhole-generating engines needed a power source. They had been using gasses refined from Gas giants to power their jump drives. Hama had no idea how to make one or even how to start, but we drank in his long layman’s explanation of the theory.
It seemed like they had to make multiple jumps with long recharges in between. Hama recalled having to do two three-day layovers on his trip out. He wasn’t sure of the range, but it was long-distance from home. That was part of the reason that the Volk sent resupply so infrequently.
Hama was interested in getting off-planet and as far away from the Volk as possible. Roh seemed to be a model in patience though.
“I’ve been here for thousands of cycles. I can wait out the Volk.” He said one night. “These Mane, however, have tied themselves to the Volk. It will be difficult to get them separated.”
“Roh,” Killmonger said as he leaned against the wall. “You don’t need to breathe oxygen. You can survive in a vacuum. You’re effectively immortal unless you’re destroyed. How is it that the Ucit have not taken over the galaxy by now?”
“While that sounds like something that the Volk would do,” Roh intoned. “Rest assured that I am not interested in that. I was a warrior once… a long time ago. I do not miss conquest and battle. I fought for the wrong reason. For the creators…” Roh drifted off.
He often mentioned the elder race that created the Ucit, but he seemed to have forgotten a lot of the specifics. He only said that the creators had left the Ucit behind. He didn’t know the reason. He also couldn’t tell me how long ago that was, but it seemed to be a very uncomfortably long time. He didn’t seem to be sad about being left behind, but he often didn’t show emotions.
“I’m an old Soldier, a warrior like you,” Killmonger said. “I’ve only been through one limited Campaign back home and I can understand that. I don’t miss that part, but I understood the importance at the time.”
“Did you fight another species for control?” Roh said. His eyebrows dropped a bit.
“We fought those that would impose their religion on others. They were human too.” Roh seemed to take this in stride.
Killmonger didn’t talk about his time in Mozambique much but I had heard a bit about how he fought against Al Shabab. We had a sort of cold war going on in Southeast Africa when he was there. He did some partner forces training and rarely came into contact, but he did sport his combat action badge when I met him at work. His US Army Combat Action Badge in the shape of a knife indicated not only that he had been in a firefight, but that someone somewhere did a small mountain of paperwork to process the badge. I had heard horror stories of badges being denied or never sent up. As a Marine, we earned the combat action ribbon for similar action. Most Marines thought that showing all those badges on their uniforms made Soldiers look a lot like boy scouts. I say, let them have their boy scout badges because they weren’t Marines.
An uneasy silence passed over the group. We heard the knocking sounds of Hama coming down the ladder. We waited until he got down the short distance. He was carrying something in a bundle. Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to say something first.
“Well… uh….” He said. “I thought we could take you guys outside. In a limited manner, in the dark.” He unfolded a four-pack of drab clothing. Olive green and brown, it seemed to blend into the wall. We wouldn’t stand out with this and going out in the dark would cover a lot that we couldn’t hide on our own.
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“Guys, we can do a night mission,” I said, turning to the team.
“Don’t get too excited. We’re only gathering information.” Kiernan said.
Hama would be our guide tonight. We waited until half an hour past dark before we set out. Hama took us around the camp to give us a good idea of everything. First, he took us around the larger-than-life hospital tent.
I made a note to ask Hama what Mane's medical care looked like. I was sure that they were beyond leeches and leaves, but I didn’t know if they had cured their version of cancer. If they even had cancer. It seemed the more that we learned, the more that we found out that we didn’t know. Was there no limit to human ignorance?
We kept quiet as Hama showed us a few points of interest. We all agreed that speaking English here would probably get us some looks. Even though we looked like Mane now, we could turn some heads. The last thing we needed was to draw attention.
Hama turned to whisper to the three of us.
“There’s the hospital tent. They don’t have anyone in there right now it seems.” I nodded. It seemed to be three meters tall. Even though it was a tent it had the feeling that it was more of a semi-permanent structure. One of the walls was made of what appeared to be wood or had been painted over in a light yellow. It connected at a corner and the connecting wall had some Mane artwork on it, and what appeared to be Mane script.
We walked a bit farther. The meal tent stood alone in the center of dozens of personal tents. On three sides the tent walls flapped in the breeze over strong metallic poles. In the rear of the meal tent, another wide tent rested. It was clear that this tent housed the kitchen and pantry on size alone.
“We’re down to rations for one meal a day. We’ve tried growing crops, but it never seems to be enough.” Hama took us around the pantry tent. “Still,” He whispered, continuing, “What other hope do we have for the future? If we return home, the Volk will surely shame us in front of our own.”
I wanted to ask Hama how many days of supply the mane had. Both the food and the medicines we used in the Marine Corps were measured in days of supply. It may seem like we were running out of food, but oh wouldn’t you look at that pallet of MREs? I had seen many Lance Corporal or Private First-class gag at what the USMC wanted to feed us in the field. They were almost worse than the ones that WANTED to eat MREs, and there was always one Marine.
I figured, however, that the Volk had killed enough Mane in retribution and that it would be highly unlikely that they would feel the need to torture the rest of the remaining lot. Slow starving torture made even worse by knowing that the only way off was through the very ones starving you. Hama had told us that the Volk and Mane had very similar diets. He had also said that the Blademother would keep most of the food for herself. The way that he described her, as a two-meter tall, larger-than-life figure… it made sense. I hadn’t gotten a good look at her yet, but Levi told us he was working hard on tiny flying drones so we could have much better intel.
Hama wrapped up our tour with a quick lap around half of the perimeter. His tent was very close to the edge of the camp, which was how we got there in the first place. However, with only four hundred Mane in the camp, three new faces would stand out. We kept in the shadows as Hama kept us far from the Volk.
He brought us back to his tent which I was pleased to see was next to rows and rows of plants growing. Some of the planets were giving off a light blue glow, which made me think that perhaps the plants had developed bioluminescence. For what purpose, I had no idea. Maybe to advertise that they wanted to get eaten, and thereafter spread their plant genes. Another thing to put in the questions box.
Hama looked around then ushered us in the back of his work tent, looking for any prying eyes. He had given us so much good information. But in the back of my mind, I was thinking about what he would want from us. What could we even begin to achieve?
The next day, we gathered as a crew to discuss progress. Roh sat to watch, pretending not to hear, but each time we gathered as a crew, he sat a little closer. I wasn’t trying to keep anything from him, but he knew that we had slightly different goals.
“Well just straight out, we need to drop the stab and stab idea,” Kiernan said. “The mane has no weapons period, much less anything they would term as modern. We’d be fighting guys with guns with sticks.”
Killmonger sighed, pushing his crest back and down in an all too familiar human expression.
“I’ve made a little bit of progress understanding what they are capable of, but really with this new wormhole thing, that has to be the objective,” I said. “Everyone on Earth is counting on us, and if we do this we will have bragging rights for decades.”
“I doubt that Malcolm could make better progress than stealing hundreds of years of research and development,” Kiernan said. “With what I’ve learned about the wormholes, we’re years away from creating this on our own.”
“Good artists create, great artists, steal,” Killmonger said.
“So, assassination is out,” I said. “We need to figure out a way to steal this technology or the ship itself through stealth or convincing the Volk that they could part with one of their long haul vessels.”
“So I still need to keep working on a way to jerry-rig a damn alien vessel,” Killmonger said.
“Well at least I can help with that a little,” Kiernan replied. “We can compare notes. You turn the wrench, I’ll tell you where it needs to be turned.”
Roh cleared his throat. The whole group turned to watch as he joined us.
“It sounds to me like you’re about to get yourselves into a bit of danger,” Roh said.
“That is true,” I replied.
“Well if you’re speaking the truth about not killing any Volk, well I should tell you about my brief stint when I tried to turn some of the Mane against them,” Roh said. “This wasn’t part of the cataclysm, and no one got hurt. The best I could call it would be… civil disobedience?”
That night, the crew grew by one more member.