Qktk didn’t have much use for planets. The Htt were a nomadic people, a tradition that stretched back to the days when young and ambitious Htt would swim between the thin sandbars that were their ancestral home in search of food and mates.
Volumes of poetry and prose were set down in the decades following the destruction of the Htt homeworld, lamenting the loss of the sandy beaches and clear warm water they loved. Generations of his people flocked to Earth after the Home Fleet had negotiated settlement rights with the humans, yearning to find their old home once more in its tropics.
Qktk had other opinions. As far as he was concerned, the coarse sand and filthy water of the few unspoiled planet-bound oceans remaining could stay right where they were. A clean bunk and a trim ship were his cozy sandbar, the stars his warm waters. Still, for all his disdain and distaste it was hard to see the ruined corpse of a once-vital planet, knowing what it had been.
He looked out the viewport. They had arrived at Zephyr mere minutes ago, but the mood on the bridge had plummeted at seeing the destruction wrought there. Angry orange cracks spiderwebbed the surface, venting foul gas and dust into the rarefied atmosphere. Vast basins stretched bare and scorched where oceans had once been, their water long ago lost to the hellscape surrounding them.
Anja and Jesri had been studying the planet with solemn looks for several minutes now. Anja had come back from the autodoc just before they arrived at Zephyr, and was now clad like Jesri in a charcoal and grey duty uniform, the sole difference being the gold major’s starburst on her shoulder boards. Their presence lent the bridge an odd air of gravitas, as if the ship was still part of a larger navy. It was easy to believe, watching them gaze out in their stoic grief, that a similarly-clad staff of officers waited just out of sight rather than seven decks down in the morgue.
He glanced at Rhuar, who noticed and gave him an encouraging toss of his head. Qktk acknowledged him with a wave of a forelimb. His artificer and pilot had taken to working with the two not-humans well, perhaps because of his shared Terran heritage. Or, perhaps it was simply the difference between Qktk’s sanguine personality and Rhuar’s casually outgoing tendencies.
Qktk wasn’t really sure what he was doing here, staring into the face of the apocalypse. He was a good freighter captain despite lacking any natural inclination for the job. He had secure income from his cargo hauling and locksmithing careers, a good ship and good prospects. He wasn’t sure when a simple passenger job had turned into a mission to save the universe against impossible odds. Often he felt like jumping back in the Leviathan and fleeing to the nearest station, never to return.
And yet, there was precious little opportunity to sink a solid foundation into the shifting sands left after the fall of humanity. Indeed, if what Anja said about the Gestalt’s plans was true there may be no opportunity. Why not, then? Why not Qktk the fighter, Qktk the warrior, Qktk the hero? Because of his stature, or his temperament? Simply because he was Qktk?
But who was this Qktk, to constrain him so? He sat pondering the blasted planet ahead of them. Perhaps tasks like theirs were how one created that definition.
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Jesri tore her eyes away from the viewport and looked over at her sister. Although fresh from the autodoc, lines already creased Anja’s face as she stared out at the devastation wrought on Zephyr. Anja met her gaze, then turned back to look out of the viewport.
«Nothing is left down there,» Anja’s voice said. Jesri experienced a brief moment of disorientation - it had been over a millennium since her communications implant had failed. The autodoc had restored it, giving her access to ship functions without cumbersome vocal commands - but also the very handy ability to share a voice link. True networked communication was forbidden for security reasons, but her creators had at least seen the utility of a silent means of more traditional conversation.
«This was more than a gamma-ray burst,» she replied, relishing the feedback from the link after so long. Anja broadcast back a wordless agreement, but did not speak further.
Rhuar, however, was not inclined to be silent. “No disrespect intended,” he mused, “but that planet looks a hell of a lot worse than I thought it would. I thought GRBs were mostly destructive to life and the atmosphere, not the planet itself.”
Anja looked back at him. “That is correct, Ensign,” she said neutrally. Rhuar shied back a bit at her tone, but Anja continued. “The tectonic disruption and increased volcanism are mostly consistent with a relativistic kinetic impact.”
Rhuar’s mouth dropped open a bit. “Wait, what? How kinetic are we talking?”
“Hard to say without knowing the size of the projectile,” Jesri sighed. “A rock a few hundred meters wide moving at an appreciable fraction of lightspeed would do it. Zephyr had early warning systems designed specifically to monitor for high-speed kinetics, as did any major world, but if they attacked after the GRB...” She shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid.
“But why?”, clicked Qktk. “The GRBs killed everyone, didn’t they? Why go through the extra effort to utterly destroy the surface?”
“To destroy something the radiation wouldn’t kill,” Anja said darkly. “To make certain something on the surface would be lost forever.”
“Wait,” said Rhuar, “you’re not thinking the weapon was down there, are you?”
Jesri brushed her hair back, toying with the ends. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. The fact that there were multiple versions of the schedule means that there was misdirection in play. If it worked, the weapon wasn’t where the enemy thought it was.”
Anja nodded her agreement. “At this point it is clear we lack some vital information about the original plan. We cannot say definitively where the weapon was or should have been. The only thing left to do is to check the other planets.”
She turned towards Rhuar, straightening up noticeably. Despite himself, Rhuar stood at attention in response. “Ensign, set a course for Tengri and jump through. I do not want to stay here longer than we have to.”
“Aye, m-,” Rhuar cut off his voice box, glancing at Jesri, “uh, sir. Aye sir.”
Anja smiled and ruffled the fur on his head. “Good… ensign,” she purred.
Rhuar grumbled and stalked off towards the shipjack.
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After they were safely away Rhuar removed the shipjack and slumped against the console, panting. Jesri gave him a concerned look. “Hey, you okay?”, she asked, moving to stand beside him.
“Yeah,” he said, artificial voice steady despite his winded state. “I’ll be good through the end of the jump. Would like a break when we get to Tengri, though, I’m still not used to this link.” He shot a frustrated and longing look back at the dangling shipjack, ears twitching rapidly.
“Can’t promise the whole place won’t be on or under fire, but barring that - sure,” Jesri said, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling. “You’re doing great, most pilots took months or years to work their way up to cruiser links.”
Qktk crossed his arms. “Do you think it’s likely that the planets will all be destroyed?”, he asked.
“No, probably not,” replied Anja, shaking her head. “The Gestalt displayed a great ability to project power from installations in its home space when it attacked, but we never observed it operating physically outside its home sector in any significant way.” She hesitated, then added, “Until today, that is. Even so, I believe that is an exception. We were aware of a few dozen of its Emissaries, but not enough to coordinate this sort of action across many planets at once.”
“Given thousands of years, even a small force could address a dozen planets or so in that manner,” replied Qktk, shaking his head. “I suppose we will see.”
Jesri sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Only one way to find out,” she sighed.
Rhuar, somewhat recovered from the jump, sat up and cocked his head at Anja. “You said you had some intelligence on these Emissaries. What are they like?”
“They vary in form,” said Anja, steepling her fingers. “The consensus was that each was unique and built for a particular purpose. The first ones we encountered were big, half the size of the Grand Design and able to travel alone through space. Initially we thought they were some sort of intelligent drone ships, but after our first contact smaller bipedal versions started showing up to try and communicate.”
“Do you think it created the bipeds just to talk with you?”, asked Qktk. “It’s odd that it would care enough to make the effort, given its other actions.”
“There was a lot of discussion on that front,” agreed Jesri, “but we never really nailed down its motivations. It’s possible that it was just whimsy, if it has a thing like that.” She made a face. “We really don’t know enough about it to make guesses.”
Qktk rattled his mandibles unhappily. “And yet this weapon is supposed to be effective, when we know this little about the enemy? We’re relying on too many things we know nothing about.”
Anja nodded, grimacing. “I know,” she said sadly. “But no matter how we proceed, the next step has to be obtaining the weapon. Even if it does not answer all of our questions, it will at least provide a better foundation to pursue the missing answers.”
Qktk nodded, although he did not look mollified. Rhuar sighed. “If you don’t mind,” he said, leveraging himself to his feet, “I’m going to go catch an hour of sleep before we arrive.” He hopped up into a nearby chair and curled up on the seat, tucking his tail over his paws. “Wake me up before we crash into Tengri.”
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Tengri had been a sparsely populated world even before it was attacked, with a relatively thin atmosphere and little water. The predominant geography was wide, rolling hills and endless plains which were covered in the local grass analogue. A few aggressively saline inland seas and anemic rivers provided some respite from the arid climate, hosting chaparral and scraggly vinelike plants that crowded against the shore.
No longer. The already-lacking atmosphere had been further depleted, and what was left formed a hazy brown fog rich in nitrogen oxides. Although higher in oxygen than in centuries past, the atmosphere was still nowhere near breathable. Any water on the surface had frozen and sublimated away long ago. The landmass had lost its brownish-green covering of grasses to show the faded blue of the clay-rich soil below.
On the ground, grey-brown fog floated low across the hills and over frozen, mummified grass. A light, glaring and harsh in the gloom, shone through the fog to cast sharp-edged shadows from hummocks and rocks across the plain. Billowing clouds parted to reveal a descending shuttle, drive flaring brightly as it sank towards the clay. The landing skids of the shuttle touched down and the landscape was once again was plunged into darkness.
The rear ramp opened and two figures strode onto the stygian plain. Anja was clad in full Valkyrie armor, artificial muscles rippling as she strode out from the ship. She carried her rifle high and ready, the hilt of her sword protruding up at an angle from her back. The splayed ridges of the suit’s feet sank into the clay, snapping dead stalks of grass and cutting semicircles into the ground.
Jesri followed behind her, wielding a smaller rifle and wearing a heavy-framed respirator. Panels of light body armor layered over her shoulders, torso and legs, while a heated compression wrap formed a barrier against the thin and freezing gases outside. She came up behind Anja and keyed the ramp, which sealed in a hiss of hydraulics.
«Ready?», asked Anja, broadcasting through the suit.
Jesri gave a quick nod. «Go ahead. I’ll follow.»
The suit whined as its legs tromped forwards, sending ribbons of clay pattering over frozen grass. Jesri crept behind with her head on a swivel, making no sound as she moved. They advanced forward in the hazy twilight for half an hour before they saw the corroded remnants of a metal fence jutting up from the soil.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The sturdy supports and thick panels were pocked with holes and pits, supplemented every so often by the nearly-unrecognizable warning placards rusting against them. Anja pushed through it as if it were packed mud, the ruined metal crumbling at her touch.
«We’re getting close,» Jesri noted.
They pushed forward for a few more minutes before the first buildings came into view. Squat concrete structures emerged from the fog as lumps of indistinct shadow, resolving themselves into the rounded corners and narrow windows of a bunker.
This was the Tengri listening post, an off-the-books installation that was the only significant military presence on the planet. They had spent hours pinging the surface to narrow down its location, only succeeding when Rhuar performed some truly inspired work with the sensors to get a reading off what was left of its heavy metal support beams.
Anja advanced towards it, stopping short as she approached the door. It had been opened forcefully, cut away from its hinges and discarded beside the doorway. She shared a look with Jesri, then stepped in with her weapon ready. Nothing moved as they entered, but a swath cleared through the coating of dust betrayed the presence of others in the recent past.
Jesri advanced behind Anja, squinting through the cloud of dust raised by the suit’s passage. The facility had been stripped bare, with consoles hacked out of walls and equipment conspicuously absent from niches trailing wires and ports.
«Thieves,» Anja seethed, her fists clenching. «They took everything.»
«Let’s check around,» replied Jesri. «We need to confirm if the weapon was here.»
They passed through room after room of spare concrete and dust, Anja crouching low to pass under the stooped bunker door frames. Each was nearly identical save for the occasional debris, but in the fifth room they came upon the remnants of a massive security door. Like the front door, it had been severed from its mounting and thrown beside the door to lean haphazardly against the bunker wall.
«See how shiny it is on the edges?», said Jesri, indicating the sides of the door. «It hasn’t been out in the air long. Whoever raided this place was here recently.» She ducked her head around to check the backside of the door, then stepped back with a frown. «Anja, can you move the door away from the wall?», she asked.
Anja stepped over and lifted the heavy slab of metal, her suit’s muscles straining with the effort. She stood it upright, one hand resting on top. «Shit,» she said venomously. «It was here.»
Jesri moved around to see the backside of the door. The surface was covered with the same tarnish as everything in the bunker, but the remnants of a sign stood out on the front. The visible letters spelled out: “NTRA: NO”.
«MANTRA, no entry. Just like on the ship,» Jesri agreed. «Let’s search the rest, see if there’s anything interesting.» She split off to look over the inside of the vault while Anja stomped over to the next room down the hall.
A short while later they grouped back up at the entrance to the bunker. Anja was empty-handed, her frustration evident even over the comm link. Jesri had come up with a single broken cylinder etched with a symbol on the side, a few lines of geometric alien text spiraling across it.
«It’s not the weapon,» she said, «but it is a lead. Let’s take this back up to the ship and see if we can learn something from it.» Anja nodded stiffly, the suit’s helmet jerking as it mimicked her. Together they turned and left the bunker, picking their way through the eerie mists back towards the shuttle.
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“It looks like lines,” Rhuar said, tilting his head to get a better look at the object. “Are you sure that’s writing?”
Jesri nodded. “The ship can’t recognize it, but it’s definitely text. See how the glyphs are formed by the combination of intersecting angles?”
Rhuar scrunched up his face. “No,” he said, “but I’ll take your word for it. How does that help us if the ship can’t read it?”
“Well, for starters, it lets us know that it’s not a species we made contact with pre-fall,” mused Jesri, turning the cylinder over in her hands. “Otherwise they’d be in the database.”
“Let me see that,” said Qktk, clattering over to peer at their find. Jesri handed it over, and Qktk turned it over to look at the text.
“This is Ysleli,” he said definitively, handing it back. “See that symbol up top? That’s the royal seal.”
Rhuar blinked. “Captain, you sure? I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Qktk rolled an eye at him. “Mr. Rhuar, I did have a career before I hired you on. It’s how I learned I should outsource my technical work, among other things.” He jabbed a foreleg at the text spiraling around the cylinder. “I used to run out of a station that imported most of their food from Ysl, and I recognize the seal and script from the bills of lading. If I’m not very much mistaken, the cylinder is the casing of a writing implement.”
Jesri rubbed the seal with her thumb. “Any idea what it says?”, she asked.
Qktk took the casing back and turned it over, studying the crosshatched lines. “I was never very good at reading Yslel,” he grumbled. “Let’s see. This glyphrow is the sequence for the current royal house, and the next is some sort of baronial commission…” He paced back and forth, rotating the cylinder several times. “Well, I have good news and bad news,” he said, looking up at the group.
Anja inclined her head impatiently, and he hurried to continue. “The good news is that the items from the site are probably all on Ysl,” he said. “The bad news is that this pen belonged to the Ysleli Royal Expeditionary Corps of Archaeologists.”
Jesri made a face. “They took the listening post’s contents for study? Like in a museum?” She took the pen back and sighed, shaking her head. “I’m getting a premonition about this being a pain in our ass.”
Anja smiled. “On the contrary. Now that we know where it is, we can go there and obtain it.”
“And if they don’t want to hand over their collection?”, Rhuar asked, scratching his ear. “They’ve obviously invested resources in this project. If they’re any kind of smart, they’ve got the important stuff at a lab locked up tight for their military.”
“We can ask… persuasively,” Anja grinned. She swept her arm wide, taking in the whole of the bridge. “I believe I can lend our argument a fair degree of rhetorical weight.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Jesri, hiding her face in her hands. “The last time I heard you talk like that was when we had to retrieve those stolen plans from Barbos.”
“We got those plans, as I recall,” Anja replied mildly.
Jesri looked up at her, exasperated. “You opened negotiations by blowing up their moon.”
“And concluded negotiations successfully the same day,” she responded primly, “all returned in exchange for some much-needed orbital debris cleanup. Don’t worry,” she continued, waving off Jesri’s objections, “I wasn’t thinking of blowing up their moon. Though...” She looked at Qktk. “Does Ysl have a moon?”, she asked thoughtfully.
“Thankfully, no,” mumbled Qktk.
“See?”, said Anja cheerfully. “No need to be such a grump, sister. I was planning on simply showing up in-system and asking nicely.”
“...in your kilometer-long battleship?”, inquired Rhuar.
“Cruiser,” nodded Anja, “but yes. I think that should be sufficient.”
Most of Qktk’s eyes winced. “Perhaps not,” he said. “From what I know of the Ysleli, that might be a bad decision. Their monarch rules by strength, keeping his barons in line by threat of military force. He would be opening himself up to opportunists if he capitulated to a threat of force, no matter how much we outmatch him.” Qktk pondered. “Which may not be a given, actually. They’re a belligerent sort of people, I imagine their standing navy is quite large.”
Anja waved dismissively. “Quantity against quality. I doubt they have anything that can pose an issue if we press our case.”
“Whatever happens we have got the Maxim gun, and they have not?”, Jesri snarked. “Is that really how you want to play this?”
“This is beyond matters of preference,” Anja snapped back, suddenly irritated. “Sister, are you saying you would allow some up-jumped warlord to rattle his saber and stall the mission?”
“No,” soothed Jesri. “I agree that we need to get the weapon from Ysl. I’m just saying that we should make a reasonable effort to plan further than ‘ask for the weapon and shoot everyone that says no.’”
“Yes, please,” said Qktk fervently. “The Ysleli are proud and arrogant. If you make this an issue of strength they will force you to kill thousands of them.”
“That’s on the table, given the stakes,” Anja noted grimly. “But I agree it would be best to avoid it. Any ideas as to how?”
They sat in silence for a while.
Qktk spoke first. “Perhaps we can use their combativeness against them,” he mused. “Their society places great importance on conflicts between the powerful. If we show up and present a compelling show of force, they will all be focused on us.”
Jesri considered, nodding her head. “Yeah, that could work.” She looked over at Anja, who was stroking her chin contemplatively.
Anja met her eyes and shrugged. “We can always fall back to plan B. I assume you’re thinking both of us should be on the ground team?”
“Wait, what?”, Qktk interjected. “If you’re both going to ground, who will command the ship? Who will communicate with their navy?”
“Don’t look at me,” objected Rhuar. “It’ll take everything I’ve got just to pilot this barge in a straight line without melting my brain out my ears. Besides, if the ship can’t translate I can’t talk to them anyway - I’ve never even heard of Ysl before today.”
Everyone looked at Qktk.
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Lytrlas watched the green-grey plains of Ysl spin by below him, fluffy white clouds sporadically streaking across the mottled terrain. Being posted on picket duty was boring, but the view and solitude suited him well. Many considered the posting drudge work, offering no opportunity for earning distinction against foes - a clerkship, not a real military posting.
He couldn’t disagree, but it didn’t bother him. After several years of this, he could transfer to the Royal Naval Academy and lead his unit as an officer. The rewards were delayed compared to seeking his honor more directly, but it was much less risky to take the field as a lieutenant than as a grunt in the baronial carabiniers. His colleagues were focused on next year, but he was already considering the quality of his retirement. It was important to look ahead.
A flashing light on the console jolted him from his reverie and he pushed himself to float towards it, claws hooking into the retention straps to keep from drifting aimlessly in the microgravity. He sighed. Another incoming vessel. Dialing up his sensors, he noted that it was not broadcasting the required IFF beacon - why could these idiot freighter captains never remember the proper approach sequence?
“Unidentified vessel,” he broadcast in a bored monotone, keeping his words clipped and professional, “you are entering the domain of His Royal Majesty Sitrl, long life and glory to the King. Activate your transponder and approach this station for inspection and customs.”
He took great pride in the emotionless affect that was the de facto standard for all traffic controllers, his voice never wavering in the face of irate captains or bellicose minor lords spewing threats. Such things never ended well for the party that allowed emotion to cloud their judgment, and he knew he had the backing of His Majesty’s Navy as long as he stuck to protocol.
He did allow a slight crease around his eyes as the ship failed to respond, however. Perhaps they were having system trouble? “Unidentified vessel, activate your transponder and slow to two hundred ri immediately,” he droned. “Failure to comply will result in interdiction.”
He punched up the sensor feed details, scanning through. It appeared to be a custom ship, extensively modified, as the superstructure was not a match for anything in the database. It was slim, if a bit boxy, and was drifting in without engine power. His face creased further as he studied the readout - the reactor signature was dim, but didn’t match anything he had scanned previously. Whatever this ship was, it was foreign. A Ysleli ship would never dare run the picket line, but barbarians had no honor. Today might be exciting after all, he allowed.
“Unidentified vessel, this is your final warning,” he broadcast, his voice as level as still water. “Activate your transponder and heave to or you… will…” He trailed off, his eyes bulging as a giant slice of space behind the approaching ship rippled and deformed, the stars gliding outwards to form a twisted ring of light. A void grew at the center of the ring until the fabric of space parted violently to show the deep darkness of hyperspace beyond. Out of this gargantuan portal the prow of an impossibly large ship emerged, lines of white fire curling and snapping around it as it transitioned back to real space.
Lytrlas stood transfixed as the ship slid inexorably into being in front of him, hundreds of lesa in length and still coming. It outmassed any ship he had ever seen, if not any task force. Strange markings decorated the aft section, just afore of the blazing engines casting their actinic light into the cloud of rapidly dissipating plasma wreathing the portal.
As the ship emerged fully and the portal shrank to nothingness behind them, an image crackled to life on the hailer. He shrank back as he beheld the monstrous insectile face filling his screen, its clustering of eyes glinting like dark glass and mandibles clattering threateningly. It shook itself and spoke, the staccato clicks of its voice echoing through the customs post.
“Attention Ysl tiny ship!”, it said in broken Yslel. “Ship ours honorable talk! Shipmaster Qktk! Ship yours honorable talk!” It paused for a moment, seeming to consider its words. “Talk now,” it amended ominously.
His mouth working soundlessly, Lytrlas had the presence of mind to reach over and key the emergency beacon on his console. A signal raced out to the naval customs task force on patrol in this sector, although he didn’t know what they could do against this behemoth captained by a thousand-eyed nightmare beast. He flicked the hailer controls with a trembling claw, trying desperately to find the proper words to respond.
“Unidentified vessel,” he broadcast back, wincing as his voice cracked. “Please hold.”
Behind him, forgotten, the smaller craft he had been tracking sailed towards the planet below.