Dangerous Evolution (10 page)

“Why not?”

“Because that is the planet where the outbreak originated; it has
been under quarantine since the very beginning. No one goes there—the
assumption is that the planet is highly contaminated.”

“Why would they take her there?” I wondered aloud.

“I can think of only one reason,” Del offered. “As the source of
the virus, Seveq’s population fell first. They are
all
dead, Commander.
Your people could never go there, and mine no longer have a reason to. It is a
dead world; what better place to hide someone?”

“What a horrific place to be trapped,” I said. “The planet is a
massive crypt.”

“It is now.” it agreed. I saw something in Del’s demeanor change;
it was obviously struggling with intense emotion. It appeared sad, almost
broken. Breth was right, you really do learn to read them. I motioned to an
empty seat, but Del remained standing.
As you wish
, I thought.

“You two are dismissed,” I said to the guards. “Thank you.” They stood
there confused for a second, then saluted and left the bridge. 

Two hours later, my pad exploded in rapidly blinking colors, each
one denoting a different government or agency—each notifying me that a decision
had been reached. The verdict was unsurprisingly unanimous across the board.
No.
They wouldn’t risk war with the Sentients under any circumstances. They were perfectly
content to sit back and watch the race die out—rendered harmless without humans
firing a shot.

I understood completely, and would probably have made the same
call were I in their shoes—with their political considerations and strategic
mindset—but I regretted their choice nonetheless.

If it had been any other person in the galaxy besides Val Evans,
the decision would have been quick and easy. But her personal research and labs
continued to pump out discoveries and innovations benefitting all of mankind—even
long after her life extension regime had become commonplace. She provided these
benefits freely to the impoverished, and worked hard politically to make sure
that each Sector had equal access. Her loss would be incalculable to humanity,
but would it be worth billions of lives in a war with the Sentients?

They might be suffering from a serious viral outbreak, but it could
take months or even years for them to be wiped out completely; they would
certainly be around long enough to defeat humanity in a war.

Stinson reentered the bridge and I let him know what the
government’s consensus had been. He walked a tightrope of emotions between anger
and dismay. “So we are just going to forget about Miss Evans?”

“That was their decision, and I agree…it’s shit.”

Del chose this moment to interrupt. “I will go after her, if you
will permit me my ship. I am under no such constraints or considerations.”

“I won’t stop you,” I said, shaking my head. “As Sector personnel,
we just can’t get caught behind The Verge by your people. It could lead to war,
and now that I know about your stealth technology, I’m more convinced than ever
that we would come out on the losing side.”

“What if we were just some stupid humans?” Stinson asked.

“Come again?”

“As recently as three years ago, some idiot crossed The Verge and
got himself killed. There was no war from that incident.”

“True. And if we travelled in Del’s ship, it would be hard to
claim that it was a Sector Security operation landing on one of their planets. With
luck, we wouldn’t be detected at all.”

“I can add to your apparent need for rationalization if you like,”
said Del. “I believe my people are far too occupied with other important matters
to worry about two humans within our borders.”

“Three,” Mendoza said, interjecting herself into the conversation.
She’d been standing in the doorway listening.

“You’d be damn foolish to go on an op like this without a combat
engineer. Especially one rated in flight systems
and
ordinance.” She smiled,
belatedly adding, “Sirs.”

“We can order the
Babylon
back to Sector HQ with everyone
else onboard,” Stinson said helpfully, “and then notify Sector Security that we
are staying behind to wrap up the investigation.”

His extemporization complete, I added, “Well that much
is
true.”

Just then, my pad buzzed. A single red light came on and stayed
lit—Special Inquisitors channel.

I opened the message, unsure what I’d find:

Special Inquisitor Qus, Laron

Stygian Sector

Benjamin,

Apologies for taking so long; there was some dissent within our
ranks regarding the proper action to take, and Balis was indisposed—engaged in
a running gun battle which happily resolved in our favor. He does have a habit
of sticking his foot in it. Also, we waited to see what the governments decided
to do.

I’m afraid we agree with your assessment that the Sentient virus
has to be stopped. If Val Evans can do it, her retrieval is of the utmost
priority. We also understand that if you operate unilaterally in this matter, there
may be consequences—including the distinct possibility of five Regents agreeing
to remove you from the equation via your implant.

We will do what we can to slow any malicious cooperation among the
Regents, but whatever you’re going to to—do it fast. Just this tiny hint of
Sentient danger has placed every Sector fleet on alert.

As always, the stakes are high, but we trust your judgment.

Good Luck.

Qus. 

I turned off the pad, unable to hide a blossoming smile.
Works
for me.

“Okay,” I said, “Let’s do this. Mendoza, gather up some assault ordinance—and
don’t be shy. We have no idea what we’re up against; I’m thinking more snatch
and grab than frontal assault, but bring something for every eventuality.” She
saluted, then darted out the door to start shopping in the ship’s armory.

“Captain Stinson,” I continued, “Prepare your men for a circuitous
route back home. The Transit drive may even have…problems…extending their trip,
if you know what I mean.”

“I understand completely.”

“Del, we are all going together, please bring your ship around to
a docking port so we can get it loaded.”

Its eye’s went black for a moment, then Del announced, “The ship
is approaching.”

The pilot looked over at me and gave me a ‘thumbs up’ in
confirmation.

With my subversive operation planned out and underway, I gathered
up my personal effects for transfer to the Sentient ship. No human had ever
been inside one before and lived.

This adventure should be quite the learning experience…if we
survive it.

*****

Del’s ship was much smaller than the
Babylon Rising
, but with
only four of us aboard it didn’t feel cramped. The design was similar to most
human ships, making me wonder if there was some universal constant that drove
starship design.

The bridge was located at the front of the ship, connected to a
long corridor running the full length of the craft. There were doors on both
sides of the walkway, and it ended at a small launch bay at the back of the
ship equipped with a single atmospheric shuttle.

Except for the multitude of black control surfaces, the ship’s
interior was almost completely white. The simple scheme only occasionally interrupted
by splashes of color emanating from the instrumentation panels.

Mendoza was like a kid in a candy shop—studying the more advanced Sentient
technology, and quizzing Del almost non-stop. For its part, Del was
surprisingly tolerant, and very forthcoming with detailed information. I was
pretty sure we wouldn’t tell it anything if the roles were reversed, but then
again, other than what Val Evan’s could offer them, I doubted we had anything
they’d want to know about anyway. 

Stinson spent a good amount of his time organizing our field
supplies—building individualized combat kits for each of us. They were all heavy
on armaments, including micro-explosives, but he also provided non-lethal
options like flash and neural disruption grenades. For Mendoza’s load out, he added
a comprehensive tool kit with a mini-welder and laser cutter—just in case we
needed to cut our way in. He also included a standard combat deployment of
tactical munitions.

After some discussion, we decided to substitute the Snub Rifle’s beam
ammunition with impact slugs. I wasn’t sure what effect energy weapons would
have on the Sentients, and despite several attempts at questioning Del, it
wasn’t forthcoming with
that
information. What I did know from my own
experiences, was that kinetic slugs would put
anything
bipedal on its
ass, and keep it there for a few minutes. They could break bones and damage
internal organs, but slugs were normally non-lethal.

In hostage and kidnapping situations it was always prudent to
limit the use of deadly force. Hitting an innocent person, especially the one
you are trying to save, was a real possibility, and plasma weapons—while very effective—were
also notoriously inaccurate in anything but close quarter engagements.

With everyone else going about their duties, I took the
opportunity to review the information I’d collected so far—particularly regarding
Evan’s travels now that I had full access to her tracking records. I saw that she’d
made quite a few trips to Harrakan Station, all beginning soon after the
Sentients arrived on her moon.

Without question, those trips had something to do with curing the
viral infection, but when I asked Del about them, it swore it didn’t know what
she’d been up to. Del did reveal that the biological samples Woz and it brought
back to the dome were infected Sentient tissue for Evans to study.

It was possible that she was gathering research materials as well;
after all, anything can be bought and sold at Harrakan.
Anything.

But a bigger question remained; why had Woz arranged for her to be
kidnapped if she’d finally solved the problem? Was it trying to keep the cure
for itself? If so, for what reason….profit? Unlikely, the Sentients didn’t seem
to be motivated by wealth. In fact, from what Del had hinted, money didn’t even
exist in their culture. It’s conceivable that Woz intended to use the cure as a
tool—leverage to gain political or military power. Maybe its accomplices,
undoubtedly now holding Miss Evans, would be happy to explain, but somehow I doubted
it.

“Del,” I asked, pushing off the wall I’d been leaning against,
“Can you provide me with any specific information, visual or otherwise, about
Evan’s location? Something that might help us prepare?”

It was standing at the flight station—one of four control
pedestals placed in a semicircle on the bridge. Regrettably, there were no
chairs; the Sentients stood while on duty.

It spoke without turning around. “If you can provide me with the
unencrypted tracking signal, I may be able to provide real-time monitoring of
her location.”

“Really?”
I asked.

“It
might
be possible; our planets all enjoy total scanner surveillance.
I simply have to connect to the data-net and begin observation—if it is still
operational.”

Either privacy wasn’t a concept embraced by Sentients, or the
government liked to keep an eye on its citizens—maybe both. Either way, it
worked to our advantage.

“I’m relaying the tracking information now,” I said, my pad taking
a few moments to adapt to the ship’s data-stream.

“Received,” Del said, “Establishing a link to Seveq; it could take
a few hours to authenticate, target the site, and start getting a usable feed.”

“Let me know if it’s successful.”

“Obviously, Commander.”

Of course it would let me know. Why wouldn’t it?

I closed my eyes for a moment, using both fists to rub them deeply.
I was starting to feel the effects of the past two days…or was it three now?
When you no longer know how long it’s been—it’s time to rest.

I told Stinson and Mendoza to both get some sleep when time
permitted; we had no idea what we’d face on Seveq. Whatever it was, it was
certain to react hostilely when we tried to rescue Evans; we needed to be sharp
and at our best. I also decided that at least one of us should remain awake at
all times—it just seemed prudent under the current circumstances.

Del looked at me strangely when I asked where the beds were—there
were
none
on the ship, either the Sentients didn’t recline when sleeping
or they didn’t sleep at all. Undaunted, I grabbed a few uniform shirts out of
our pile of gear and bundled them together, fashioning a makeshift pillow. I
informed Del that I would be indisposed for a few hours and went to lie down in
a small nook off to one side of the bridge.

The space was smaller than I’d first thought, and I ended up sitting
on the floor, propping my head up against one of the partition walls, and
stuffing the ball of shirts in the crook of my neck. Taking one last look
around the bridge, I shut my eyes and the sleep came easily.