Star Force 12 Demon Star (12 page)

“The Cubics?”

“That’s a good name. We’ll use it from now on.”

“We believe they’re a remnant of the Ancients’ machines, but they have begun to malfunction. Their visits have become more erratic, and lately they have acted unpredictably.”

“For example?”

“They’ve stolen various pieces of machinery from space near the far ring—the one you arrived through. Probes, observation satellites, even one crewed ship. We and the Elladans now give the ring as wide a berth as possible as do the Demons. The Cubics are simply too powerful to deal with, and we’ve never found a way to change their behavior.”

I smiled. Farswimmer seemed like a decent guy, so I didn’t mind sharing a technique with him. “We found a way,” I said. “At least, one rogue human did. He planted a fusion bomb in the Cubics’ control center which knocked them out for a while.”

“Humans are resourceful creatures!” the Whale said. “Perhaps you’re a superior breed—like the Elladans.”

I sat back, putting my hands behind my head. For some reason, Farswimmer’s agreeability and willingness to subordinate himself was beginning to make me suspicious, so I decided to needle him a bit just to see what the result would be.

“Doesn’t it bother you to think we’re somehow superior?” I asked.

“Every species is better than others in some areas. Elladans are better at war, at technology and at exploration. Ketans value other things, such as art, song and harmony. We are what we are, and you are what you are. We only wish to end this conflict and return to our peaceful ways.”

Ketans…that was a new term. I figured it was what the Whales called themselves.

“Right,” I said. “A sensible attitude.”

Well, if Farswimmer wasn’t lying to me, these guys wouldn’t make any trouble for us. I hoped they could fight, too, however. I had the feeling the Demons were resourceful and unlikely to cease their aggression.

“But when we defeat this latest attack,” I said, “the Demons will only build another fleet, and another. Do you guys have any plans to counterattack? To defeat them and win the war?”

“Given the distances involved, that’s very difficult. Attacking fleets have many disadvantages. They cannot resupply with personnel, fuel or ammunition, and they cannot withdraw. They must either remain at speed to conduct one attack, or they must expend fuel to slow down and fight to the death. The defense, on the other hand, can resupply from stores, use moonlets as weapons platforms, and can see the enemy fleet approaching. Also, given that we hold two worlds, even if the Demons devastate the defenses of one, the other can counterattack and relieve its ally. Thus have we coped with the Demons for the past decades, and we will do so today. We are confident.”

Damn
. I chewed my lip. The Whales seemed committed to a purely defensive stance, which was probably fine for now…

But the fact these Demons launched an attack fleet every year… Eventually, something had to break.

“Thanks, Farswimmer,” I said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I need to consult with my officers and call you back later, okay?”

“Of course, Captain. We’re at your service.”

I sat a while after the screen blanked, eyes unfocused, musing. There was so much to digest.

-10-

The sound of a throat being cleared broke my ruminations on all Farswimmer had told me, and I glanced over to see Hansen jerk his head at the ready room door. Nodding, I stood and went in. He followed me, leaving Bradley with the watch.

When the door had shut, Hansen turned to me. “Pardon me, Captain, but we’re getting off track.”

“How so?”

“It’s not our job to win this war for our new allies. You didn’t even ask about their rings—whether they worked, where they went? What if we can simply move on?”

“We can’t leave these people at the mercy of genocidal monsters.”

“Why not?”

Hansen had probably meant that to be rhetorical, but I pulled out a semi-bullshit answer anyway. “Because eventually they’ll come after us. It’s always better to stop a threat early.”

“But early is relative,” he argued. “Okay, I can see us helping with this battle coming up to gain their goodwill, but after that, it will be another year before the Demons attack. In that time, we can get home, then Star Force can get involved for real. Once they know about these new threats—the Lithos, the Demons, the Cubics—they’ll have to get off their asses and start exploring again. But none of that’s gonna happen if we don’t get home.”

I could hear the plaintive note in his voice, and it resonated. I wanted to see Mom and Dad again and friends I’d left behind, not to mention simply to walk a planet in peace. I longed to have Adrienne by my side—maybe on some beach somewhere…

But another part of me was afraid, I realized—not of anything physical, but of losing my command. What if Star Force decided I didn’t deserve to skipper a ship any longer? I knew I’d find it damn hard to work under someone else after being the top dog for so long, but I also knew that too often organizations followed the “rules” instead of common sense. Despite the evidence, they might think that I was too green to be the boss again.

Then again…maybe the flood of new intelligence would convince Dad to come out of retirement, and with his influence…

Feeling a bit ashamed, I pushed my own concerns away and forced my mind back to the here and now. Hansen stared patiently at me, waiting for an answer.

“You’re right, XO. I was getting caught up in finally having a lot of questions answered. Tell you what, talk to the officers and senior noncoms, and make a list of their most vital concerns relating to our current situation. Summarize it, and bring it to me. I’ll use it next time I talk to Farswimmer and Diogenos. That will help me stay on track, okay?”

Hansen nodded. “I’ll get right on that.”

I followed the XO out, leaving the bridge. We went in opposite directions in the central passage.

“Valiant, where’s Marvin?” I asked the ship aloud.

“Aboard
Greyhound
.”

“Put me through.” I continued down the passageway, walking toward the armory.

“Marvin here,” came a voice from the walls nearby.

“Captain Marvin, dock
Greyhound
with
Valiant
, will you?”

“I do not think that is a good idea, Captain Riggs,” he replied.

“Why not?”

“We could be attacked at any moment, and doing so would limit both ships’ freedom of action.”

“Good point. Bring her alongside then, and I’ll jet over.”

“Complying.”

He didn’t sound happy, but I didn’t care. I slipped into my battlesuit, but I didn’t bother taking a beam rifle.

“Greetings, Cody Riggs,” said the suit.

“Hello, suit. What’s cooking?”

“Question not understood.”

“Never mind. Systems check.”

“All systems nominal. Fusion cell warming up. Batteries at one hundred percent.”

“Good. Close and activate.”

The suit wrapped itself around me and the niche clamps released. The servos begin responding to the sensors touching my body, and within moments I felt as if the armor were a part of me again.

“Just like riding a bicycle,” I said aloud.

“Comment not understood.”

“I mean, this feels familiar.”

“Comment ignored.”

The tiny brainbox I was interacting with didn’t make it easy, but I kept making small talk with the suit. It was part of my ongoing tests. I had a theory that the brainboxes of our equipment became slowly smarter, and they also were more and more responsive to their individual users over time. After all, Marvin had said the brainbox which became
Greyhound’s
controlling AI, my old suit core, “liked me better” than him. It was only a small piece of evidence, but I figured that I might be onto something.

Normally, brainboxes were reset to standard parameters when they received updates and upgrades, but these days we were beyond contact with the Fleet. We’d been operating without those routine patches. I figured anything that made our AIs smarter and gave us an advantage was worth looking into.

To conserve air, I used the standard airlock rather than the assault version. It was just big enough for one battlesuit to stand inside comfortably. When the external hatch opened, I gazed out into the starlit void with the sense of wonder that always hit me. Looking at the universe with your own eyes, with nothing but a piece of smart glass between yourself and the vacuum, was completely different from even the most detailed holotank representation. It always took my breath away.

A ship slid noiselessly into view. From my vantage point, it seemed like a wall covered with a thousand bizarre fittings and bits of machinery, sensors, heat exchangers, emitters, repellers, thruster nozzles and a lot more I couldn’t identify.

Greyhound
had arrived. She braked with a jet of gas and floated directly across from me.

I could see the ship’s open airlock, so I stepped out into space. Long practice allowed me to ignore my inner ear, which was convinced I would fall into an abyss. As soon as I was free of the gravplates, I floated straight outward, adjusting my trajectory slightly until I was able to grasp the handle next to the entrance.

Once I’d stepped inside, the airlock cycled and opened inward revealing a narrow passageway barely wide enough for an unsuited human—or Marvin’s cylindrical central body—to pass. I’d mandated that
Greyhound
remain minimally usable by humans. However, no way the suit would make it through, so I cracked it and stepped out after making sure the atmosphere was breathable.

“Marvin?”

“I’m in the forward compartment.”

When I reached what used to be the control cockpit, I found Marvin had opened up the space around it to make a workroom. The cockpit itself was intact, though surrounded by equipment.

Half-identifiable gear lay here and there. I thought I recognized scanners, analyzers and microscopes as well as a 3D fabricator and a cryo-chamber. His tiny factory held a place of prominence high up on one wall. Marvin had cameras pointed at and tentacles manipulating something that looked like a steampunk ant farm, though I could see no creatures inside. One of his “eyes” pointed my way as I entered.

“What ya working on, Marvin?” I asked brightly, hoping to jolly him into letting something slip. He was usually cagey about his many experiments.

“I am examining the cellular structure of the body I recovered from the Demon corvette,” he replied.

“Found anything out?”

“Of course.”

“What’s the best way to kill them, then?”

Another camera joined the first, giving him a binocular view of me. “Lasers and nuclear weapons seem effective.”

“That’s not very helpful. Tell me something of significance that I don’t know.”

“These creatures don’t need an atmosphere to survive.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting. So, no life support?”

“They use hydrocarbons and water to sustain life, but they ingest those rather than breathe. Their adaptations have advantages and drawbacks.”

“Such as?” Letting him lecture me was a way of making Marvin happy and storing up goodwill for later.

“They can operate in a vacuum, protected by their exoskeleton and supplied by internal stores. They can even consume more materials to resupply themselves, with no requirement for air of any kind. Thus, they need no suit, no oxygen tanks, and unless the temperatures are extreme, no heating and cooling or extra protection from radiation. They are also nearly impervious to chemical or biological weapons.”

“So they’re damn tough critters.”

“Yes. Not as tough as machines, but for biotics, they’re impressively designed.”

“I wonder what designed them…”

A third camera shifted to me, but then I lost it again. I must not be all that interesting. “I have theories,” he said.

Then I remembered that Marvin still had a live tap on
Valiant’s
coms. He didn’t know that I knew about his spying. That was the way I wanted it for now.

“Tell me about that slime inside their ship. What have you learned about that?”

Four cameras aimed my way briefly, then it went back to two again after a brief moment’s study.

“It serves multiple purposes. There are cilia inside the hull of their ships. These move the material around. Waste and sustenance are moved to the aliens.”

I almost shuddered. A digestive system inside each ship? It was disgusting—but then, so was the interior of any human’s gut.

“You said multiple purposes. What are the others?”

“Waste removal.”

“And?”

He hesitated.

“There appears to be an anti-bacterial effect.”

“Ah, interesting. So the slime is like our own internal organs—except the bugs have it on the outside. Disgusting, but intriguing.”

“Why should these biological functions repel you?” Marvin asked, awarding me with a record-breaking bouquet of five cameras.

“That’s part of human instinct. We’re repelled by things that are strange and possibly dangerous.”

“Interesting.”

“Okay…” I said. “You’re sure now that they’re insectoid, right?”

“Technically no, but functionally, yes.”

I rolled my eyes. “What I’m getting at is maybe they have different kinds of bugs? Workers, warriors, queens, technicians—like the Worms? This specimen would be a warrior, not a worker.”

“That seems reasonable,” Marvin said cautiously.

“So we need some bug spray…metaphorically speaking. Something better than brute force.”

“Biochemistry is not my strongest field of expertise. I suggest we include Professor Hoon in this enterprise. Hoon also has an exoskeletal body similar to the Demons, and we may be able to gain particular insights with his help.”

I cocked my head at Marvin, who cocked his cameras right back. “Are you saying Hoon knows more about biology than you do?”

“By no means.”

“Good, because I seem to remember you doing pretty well with the Microbes. Isn’t that biochemistry?”

“Let me clarify my proposal,” Marvin said, uncoiling himself and sliding closer to me. Cameras dipped low and swooped high, getting different angles on my face, so he could read my responses. “The best case scenario doesn’t have to involve Doctor Hoon directly. Perhaps he has an abundance of offspring to contend with. If he would be willing to spare a dozen or so, I could easily fabricate a lab to address this issue.”