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The Wolf and the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 16

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

It had been a whirlwind of a full day for the crews of the Reckless Faith, the Percheron, and the Fox. They had accomplished a lot in the last 24 hours, not the least of which was learning how to communicate with the 250 surviving Thesprotians, and keeping them relatively calm while the prison could be cleaned up. Overcoming the language barrier had been easy once the version of Christie on the Percheron was reunited with her android body, and had access to her full computational powers. Explaining to the cold, wet, and grieving natives that they had to stay put for several hours was a little bit more of a challenge. Ultimately, they were able to supply the sudden refugees with a few basic survival items, such as food, water, and blankets, which mollified them for the time being.

It had taken a combined team from all three ships, ferried down by the Faith, seven hours to clear out the bodies of the slaughtered prisoners, guards, and staff. It had been decided to consolidate the corpses in the dining facility, not only because it was large enough to accommodate all of them, but also because the bulk of the victims were already there. Hardly a respectful way to inter the bodies, and certainly not a long-term solution, it would have otherwise taken several more hours to move them anywhere else. As for sustenance, the Faith had simply replicated hundreds of MREs and plastic water bottles, and the team staged them in the commissary.

Once that grim task was complete, the Thesprotians were allowed to occupy the prison. There were more than enough beds for all of them, and access to proper bathrooms, showers, and a medical bay. Christie, after speaking with the few natives that had something resembling a leadership role, had learned that Kheiron had been helping them for as long as anyone could remember, and while he wasn’t seen as a god in the strictest sense, they revered him as one. He had promised to free them someday, but made it clear that the surface of Tartarus would never be habitable again. Though so far they seemed amenable to being evacuated to another planet, Christie could tell they didn’t really understand what a spaceship was, or how far away they might have to go. The allies could only hope that they didn’t freak out when the time came.

The three marine survivors had been transferred to the Percheron. Master Sergeant Scrivener had been stabilized, and Doctor Sakura believed he would eventually make a full recovery. It was fortunate for him that the Percheron had adequate medical facilities, as it was unknown when, if at all, he and his men would be able to return to Alnair. The mystery ship, which had transported the Tenchiik to the planet, had disappeared soon after the cavern was flooded. If any of the Kau’Rii assassins had made it out alive, the allies would probably never know. That left the Faith with unimpeded access to the surface, but everyone was keenly aware that the Bidelman might return at any moment, likely with serious backup next time. When asked about the possibility of reconciliation, or even resettling the Thesprotians on Alnair, Secretary Tailor had expressed very little confidence that either of those things would ever happen. That left the allies with only one clear course of action. Though most of them were exhausted, one last order of business needed to be discussed that day.

The commanders of all three ships had gathered in the conference room on the Percheron. Sergeant Clerk had been invited to attend in lieu of Scrivener, and he sat somberly in the corner of the room, nursing a cup of tea. He, like everyone else, had showered and changed into more comfortable clothing.

“I’m sure we’d all rather be getting some shut-eye,” began John. “First, we need to figure out which of our allies in this region would be the most willing to accept two hundred and fifty refugees. My suggestion is Eniph, I feel like they owe us the greatest favor.”

“I agree,” said Cynthia.

“Isn’t there a problem with the distance?” asked Vecky, looking at her PDA. “It’s 921 light-years from here. Eniph’s fastest ship could get here in four months, tops.”

Christie’s voice could be heard over the intercom. “She’s right. The fastest any of Eniph’s ships can muster is 2500 c.”

John said, “Christie, weren’t you going to go offline for a while?”

“I’ve been reviewing the files we were able to salvage from the labs underneath Inferno. I’ve made a breakthrough there. Not to bury the lede here, but Kheiron was a filthy liar.”

“Kheiron,” muttered Clerk. “Whatever happened to that fucker?”

“Presumed dead,” replied John. “He was last seen struggling to climb up a rope ladder during the flood of the cavern. Adeler is confident that he drowned there.”

“Too bad.”

“Christie, what you said is super interesting, and we’ll circle back to it, but for now, let’s stick to the topic at hand. So, we’ve already discussed the possibility of the Faith ferrying the Thesprotians to the nearest willing planet, just as we did with the human abductees from the Swan. Assuming Eniph, and a maximum load of fifty refugees, that’s what?”

“Five trips, ten hours round-trip,” said Christie. “Not including dilation effects, and the time it will take to load up and drop off.”

“Five hours?” asked Clerk. “You must be joking.”

“The Faith’s top speed is 1.56 million c,” said John. “No joke. Christie, what about time dilation?”

Christie said, “Assuming you’re coming back here after your last trip to Eniph, ninety days would pass here in the Alnair system.”

“I take it dilations effects are more pronounced the faster you go?”

“Correct. At our top speed, the ratio is a little more than forty-three to one.”

“So the shuttle method saves us about a month,” began John. “I still don’t like it; that’s a lot of time for just the Percheron and the Fox to be standing guard against the whole Alnairian fleet.”

“If the Antares ever shows up, they can also accommodate fifty passengers. That would cut the total time back and forth to Eniph by forty percent,” said Cynthia.

“That’s true, the Antares is as fast as the Faith. Christie, reach out to them again. But even with their help, that’s fifty-four days with your asses hanging out in the breeze. Anything can happen while the Faith is gone. I think we should consider forcing Alnair to accept the refugees. We could hijack one or more of their communication satellites, and blast out the truth about Inferno to the whole planet. If the government can’t keep that secret anymore, they’ll have no choice but to accept and care for the Thesprotians. Sergeant Clerk, am I right?”

Clerk shrugged. “Maybe? I’m not sure. A conspiracy like this is unprecedented on our planet. The government is well-liked and trusted. If they choose to deny it, most citizens will very probably side with them. Then the same people that ordered Admiral Butcher to abandon us below will order the fleet to shoot down any of your vessels that attempt to land.”

“What if we were able to sneak them down?” asked Vecky. “One thing that I noticed after a few visits to your planet was that there are huge wilderness preserves on most continents. Some of them have geographical centers that are so far from the nearest settlement that two hundred and fifty people could easily disappear there. They’d have to eschew any form of technology that could be detected from the air, but subsistence living would be possible.”

“That might work for a short time. A few years, even. But we’d have to assume that they’d be detected eventually. Then what?”

“You tell us,” said Cynthia. “If the Gray Men have as much power as you presume, I’m sure they could arrange to have the entire settlement destroyed without the civil authority finding out.”

“That was kind of my point.”

“What percentage of the Alnairian fleet would have to be involved to pull off a coup?”

Clerk was shocked. “All of them! All the percentages! That’s insane. If even one of the battleships or a few of the heavy cruisers didn’t fall in line, you’d be looking at a catastrophic civil war. It might help if every fleet officer was convinced of the truth about Inferno, but even then, careful planning would be needed. It would take years.”

“I had to ask. So it looks like we’re back to Plan A. Let’s sleep on it and talk to our crews in eight hours. Now then, Christie, you mentioned that Kheiron was less than forthcoming with his version of events.”

“Oh my, yes,” Christie replied. “He told Malthus Brewer that the main purpose of the research facility under Inferno was to alter the planet’s orbit in order to aid in a slingshot method for their nascent FTL ships. As I’m sure most of you could have guessed, that reeks of utter bullshit. The truth is much more sinister, and even though I had to piece together dozens of badly fragmented files to find it, I’m completely sure I know what was really going on here.”

“You have our attention. Go on.”

“Kheiron had arrived on Alnair long before the surface of Tartarus had been touched by outside hands. I’m not sure how long ago, but it was at least sixty years. Though my records aren’t definitive, it’s possible that Kheiron was Alnair’s first contact with an extraterrestrial. It would be interesting to learn that he was in some part, if not directly, responsible for their FTL technology, but that’s irrelevant at the moment. At some point, Kheiron offered to help them access the plane of existence that so far has been limited to the Kira’To and the Chimeras. The facility on Tartarus was constructed toward that end.”

“Holy shit,” muttered Cynthia.

“Why?” asked John. “We know that individual Kira’To have strayed from the role that the rest of them would prefer they have in our universe, but this is something else.”

“I can’t answer that,” replied Christie. “We do know that they’ve mistreated their own kind, as we saw with the Stymphalian Raptors. Kheiron may have had a similar axe to grind. Anyway, the information I have gets awfully sketchy from there. I’m not sure exactly what the facility below was meant to do, but it definitely involved neutrinos and is also definitely what caused the cascading greenhouse effect that scorched the atmosphere.”

“So at least part of what he said was true,” said Vecky.

“A lie wrapped in a truth is easier to believe,” said John.

“Then I hope he did drown yesterday. And I hope it hurt the whole time he was dying.”

“Is there anything else you found that could be useful to us?”

“Not yet,” said Christie. “I’d love to be able to find out what abilities Kheiron claimed to be able to impart on the Alnairians, and how we might make use of it, but I strongly suspect that possibility died with him. I’ll keep at it, though.”

“Fair enough. Don’t try too hard. We’ve got enough to worry about as it is.”

Cynthia said, “It’s possible Kheiron had his own agenda. If he was a pariah, being punished for some reason like Aquila and Cygnus, he may have needed the resources of the Alnairians to exact his revenge.”

“Again, a fair point, but it doesn’t change our current problem.”

“I didn’t say it did, just that it’s a possible explanation. Christie, if there’s nothing else, I’d love to call it a day and spend several hours unconscious.”

“Colonel Dietrich is right. We’ve seen enough blood and suffering for one day. Let’s start it all over again tomorrow.”

__________

Alpha Lupi, also known to some as the South Gate, was the host of an arid desert world, a planet second in orbit from the star. Unusual in the fact that there was no intelligent life native to the planet, while still offering a breathable atmosphere and several fecund oases on the shores of its oceans, it was an attractive hideout for people like Wega Talyn.

Wega’s recent dealings in the sector hadn’t exactly made her a persona non grata elsewhere, but were risky enough to compel her to return to her preferred base of operations to bide her time until she thought it was safe to resume her normal way of life. Such a self-imposed exile might have been intolerable if not for the luxuries she had ensured were available at her ersatz redoubt. She and the crew of her ship both wanted for nothing at the camp she had situated within a grove of palm trees, an attractive site that overlooked an expansive river delta on the western shore of the planet’s northern continent.

In addition to being able to use her ship’s galley and sanitary facilities, the location also offered cabanas, hammocks, fresh water springs, edible fruits, and an endless supply of sea life for those willing to kill and prepare it. Anyone pursuing the goal of solitary retirement would find it an excellent choice as a permanent home, but Wega and her crew were far from that point in their careers. Since free communication among her people was always something she encouraged, there was no ignoring the fact that the deal that forced them to hide on Lupus was intensely unpopular. Despite her reassurances, their stay in that paradise was fated to end long earlier than she would have preferred.

The portend of that fate appeared as a brief message that arrived on her PDA in the afternoon, as she swayed lazily in a hammock under a canvas awning, her hands clasping a strong drink made from fermented cane sugar. She tried to dig her PDA out from a side pocket without spilling her glass or upending the hammock, which was more challenging than she would have guessed. Successful, she looked at the text message on the screen, and her jaw dropped.

“I’m free,” it read.

Though there was no name assigned to the SRC frequency that carried the message to her, the fact that it had four decimal points as opposed to the usual one indicated that it was an ultra-long range channel, used by only a handful of people that she knew. This time, it could only be one person.

“Chason,” she whispered to herself.

Wega’s intention was to carefully place her glass on the sandy ground, and gracefully flip her legs over the side of the woven hammock. Instead, her drink cast itself in a slow parabola on its way to the ground, and her body met the dirt face-first as the hammock rebounded toward the sky. Improbably, the glass hit her in the back of her head. Smelling equally of a dive bar and sunscreen lotion, she scrambled to her feet, futilely trying to brush the sticky liquid from the fur on her shoulders, and headed toward the near side of the delta where her ship, the Tigress, was parked. On her way down the idyllic hillside, she scanned the other cabanas to see if she could spot anyone else from her crew. They were all vacant.

The Tigress was a Matesian light cruiser, purchased for a song after the fleet had deemed it to be obsolescent. Four decks, and a hundred meters long, it rested over the west branch of the river like a monolithic cliff, blocking out any view of the opposite side. When Wega had first purchased it, the Tigress had been stripped of all weaponry, necessitating a spending spree at Vastus and a couple of other systems in order to outfit it properly for the purpose of self-defense. Even though the high-yield lasers and HVAP projectile cannons and turrets it sported were poorly-suited for offensive operations, such a thing was beyond the scope of what a single ship could accomplish anyway.

Equal parts Matesian fleet veterans, Secundian ne’er-do-wells, and Eaglite malcontents, altogether the crew of thirteen was just barely adequate to man a craft of that size, but under Wega’s command, they made it work. The sight of her ship always filled her with pride, and that afternoon, she almost forgot about the rum and sand that desperately needed to be washed from her body. Sleek and streamlined in appearance, with gray and blue livery, the Tigress managed to be both attractive and unassuming at the same time, traits that often worked in Wega’s favor. As the vessel loomed in her field of vision, she activated the radio app on her PDA.

“Captain Talyn to all hands,” she began, “if you’re not already on board, get there. Meet in the conference room in twenty; we’re touching off in thirty, out.”

Keyed into a passive signal from her PDA, the forward port-side ramp began to lower upon her arrival to the ship. Entering a small airlock, she turned toward a wall-mounted console, and checked the current manifest. Everyone else was already on board. With her status automatically marked to show the same, Wega was free to take a lift to the top deck to her quarters, where she took a quick shower. That done, she dried off with a hand-held air dryer, groomed her body with an electro-brush, and donned her duty vestments. The drab green flight suit wasn’t fancy, but it was all she needed on board.

She arrived at the conference room with one minute to spare. The rest of her crew was waiting for her, all seated around a large table. All of them were ready to go, except for Pictner, her Matesian chief engineer. He was still wearing a damp pair of swim trunks, and sported a rather obvious sunburn on the front of his body. Normally, Wega would have inquired upon his well-being with such an injury, but she was far too eager to share her news.

“The Fox came through for us,” she began. “Chason sent me a text message. He’s free from that accursed prison.”

Vesther, her Secundian first officer, leapt up from her chair and embraced her captain, an awkward pose considering Wega was still seated. She returned the hug, best she could from that angle, and smiled.

“What about our payment?” asked Harrey, her Eaglite head of security.

“Always the pragmatist,” replied Wega. “No word about the second part of Alnair’s blood money. I’ve already told all of you we shouldn’t expect them to come across with it.”

“I’m sure his freedom is payment enough,” said Vesther.

“Assuming Captain Talyn puts him to work for us,” said Harrey, shifting his massive frame in his seat.

Wega shook her head. “That’s up to him. No one can force him to join our crew. Anyway, we’ll figure it out soon enough. Our next move is to contact Captain Kitsune and confirm that the text is legitimate. Since I’m quite sure it is, we’ll be making our best speed to Zeta Centauri immediately. If the Fox wants to meet us halfway, that would be fine, too.”

“What about the Kira’To?”

“Who cares? The only thing that matters is that Alnair was stupid enough to buy into the recent galactic panic over the alleged threat, and paid us to help them get to him. Don’t overthink an easy paycheck.”

“Captain, a word?” asked Vesther.

“Of course. Everyone else, man your stations. We touch off in five minutes.”

The rest of the crew stood up and exited the conference room. Wega crossed to the pot of yutha on a small table in the corner, and evaluated its freshness.

“I’ve been waiting to ask you this question,” began Vesther. “Now that Chason is safe, I want to know how much you really care for him. Many of us have the same concern I do.”

She grabbed a mostly clean mug, and filled it with the cold, black liquid from the decanter. “That I would use my own brother as a pawn in a business dealing.”

“Yes.”

The yutha was barely palatable. “Of course I care for him, Vesther. My concern for his situation was real; there was never any doubt in my mind that he was innocent of the crime for which he was convicted, even if ultimately it had been several years since we were last together. It’s not in his nature to murder. Anyway, Alnair being suckered into believing that all Kira’To were an existential threat, based on nothing more than second-hand reports, and their subsequent bounty on Kheiron, was pure kismet. The Fox and their friends accomplished something that the Tigress never could, and were Chason’s best hope for freedom.”

Vesther leaned against the bulkhead. “It just seems like if all of that were true, you would have been at Tartarus, backing up the Fox, rather than all of us biding our time here soaking up sunlight and drunk half the time.”

“That’s fair, Commander, but you don’t know everything. One of the conditions for me hiring the Fox was Kitsune sharing a reasonable amount about the abilities of their allied ships. She told me the Fox was working with a ship that had Umberian invisibility shields, and they would be working on the actual extraction of Chason from Inferno.”

“The Reckless Faith? Why didn’t you just say so? That might have prevented some of Harrey and the other Eaglite’s griping all this time if they had known.”

Wega grimaced as she gulped down another brackish mouthful of ancient yutha. “Bleh. Because I don’t monitor the personal correspondence of my crew, you know that. This operation was sensitive enough that I couldn’t risk one of our Eaglite friends blabbing about the involvement of the Reckless Faith. It’s not that I don’t trust them, just that even an inadvertent slip could have spelled disaster.”

Vesther crossed her arms. “I don’t like finding out about things like this after-the-fact, Captain.”

“I know. I hope you’ll understand in time. For now, let’s get to the bridge. Despite all of this, I am quite eager to see my brother.”

Legacy of the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 15 Part 2

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

Author’s note: This was meant to be the beginning of chapter 16, but I decided it would fit better as the second half of chapter 15.

The Citadel was the headquarters for all of Alnair’s military might. The largest building on the planet, it had started out some seventy years earlier as the HQ for the forces of several allied countries, eventually hosting at least a small delegation from all of them, before Alnair had become united under one central planetary government. By outward appearances, little had changed over the decades. Consisting of four concentric rings, each thirty meters in height, it boasted a total footprint of over one hundred square kilometers, most of which was available for use as office space. A spire in the central courtyard, clad with white marble, stood over the building, itself ninety meters high.

Seated on a plateau overlooking high desert plain in the middle of Alnair’s eastern continent, the Citadel was well-defended. The original anti-aircraft batteries, long since obsolete, remained as display pieces around its perimeter. Less obvious to the casual eye, plasma cannons, close-in weapons systems, and supersonic missiles sat ready to obliterate any interlopers, near or far. Should someone or something sneak through, the three-meter-thick concrete walls were rated to survive any conventional explosive, and even a small nuclear device. Since learning of their existence, the roof was also hardened to withstand orbital strikes. It was an impressive, expensive building, and Commander Hadar despised it.

Though he had every intention of speaking with him, Admiral Butcher had ordered him to come to his office as soon as he was able. Much to his superior officer’s chagrin, the best Hadar could do was three hours after the Bidelman had returned to orbit. Though he could have easily delegated his mandatory post-mission tasks and briefings to his lieutenants, the curious nature of their sudden departure from Tartarus compelled him to personally ensure everything was in order. Never a consideration before, Hadar had quite recently begun to wonder if there weren’t spies on board the Bidelman.

His shuttle had been cleared to land, and came to rest on a small pad west of the Citadel. He left the small crew to tend to and wait with the vessel, and proceeded alone inside. It was noontime locally, and he immediately encountered dozens of military officers and supernumeraries busying themselves with getting lunch from one of the several restaurants and cafés that the facility hosted. As usual, the polished faux-hardwood floors gleamed from the overhead lights, the walls were free of any decoration, and the toughest senior NCO in the galaxy would be hard pressed to find a single spot of dust anywhere. Sterile, professional, and no-nonsense was the tone in the Citadel, a carry-over from past years where both the peace and survival of Alnair were at stake.

It was primarily this somber mood that led Hadar to so intensely dislike the Citadel. To him, not only did it embody the worst traits of the military, but it also lacked any natural light. Despite how jovial the workers there may have seemed, all of them doubtlessly shared Hadar’s opinion of it: that it was more akin to an emergency bunker, or at times, a tomb, than any place anyone would inhabit willingly. Anywhere else, he could be assured a view of the sky or infinite starfield. It was in no small part responsible for his decision to remain as fleet commander, instead of accepting the promotion to vice-admiral that his time in service suggested.

Though such a rank might have saved him from his current dilemma, his history as a combat soldier made him glad to be in the position he currently found himself; that being, fully responsible for the squad of marines stuck on the surface of Tartarus. No one would advocate for their recovery more than he.

A narrow-gauge rail line, with likewise comically small cars, traveled the circumference of each ring and level of the Citadel, making regular stops at eight stations along their routes. To get to Butcher’s office, Hadar could either take an elevator to the fourth floor, then board a train to the east side of the building, or vice versa. On that day, he chose to take the train first, then board a lift. Along his way, he listened intently to the officers and clerks who attempted to consume at least a part of their meal on their protracted return to their offices. Not one of them uttered a hint of the drama that was unfolding outside the atmosphere of Alnair, nor the fleet’s involvement in it. Whether that was a product of ignorance, or effective opsec training, he would never know.

Arriving at last at Butcher’s office, Hadar strode inside, barely acknowledging the young corporal manning her reception desk. A brief nod was all that was necessary to allow her to wave him inside. He noticed that she used a remote to lock the door to the circumference corridor, and put her telephone on silent. That was fine with the commander. Anything that was about to be said between he and Butcher could remain off the record. The admiral’s office was considerably more opulent than the bland and sanitary environs previous; not only did the senior officer display his many awards in frames along the wall, but he also had several desk and pedestal lamps to replace the cold fluorescents that fit flush into the ceiling.

The man himself seemed somehow fragile in comparison to the broadcast images Hadar was used to seeing. His face was gaunt in the soft light of the lamps, and he seemed to be exhausted. At the beginning of that day, Hadar would have trusted his commander with his life, and meeting him again in person instantly softened his planned approach. Or so it would have happened, if not for the man seated in a leather armchair in the corner. The third person in the room was wearing a semi-formal suit, of the type one might normally reserve for a funeral, or an open-mic poetry reading in a subterranean grotto. Hadar gave him plenty of side-eye before Butcher waved his hand toward a high-backed wooden chair across from his oaken desk. Hadar accepted the offer, the palm of his right hand almost subconsciously brushing the butt of his sidearm as he sat.

“I had hoped this would be a private conversation,” he said, crossing his legs.

“Though you have my full support,” began Butcher, “you will be speaking with Mister Eckes today. You will answer his questions with complete transparency; that’s a direct order.”

Hadar scoffed. “Mister Eckes? Seriously? Will Mister Void and Mister Null be by later to interrogate me, too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied Eckes. “Any further questioning, beyond what I have for you, would be accomplished far away from here. Of course, that eventuality depends entirely on the answers you give me now.”

“The only thing I care about right now is the safety of the marines you forced me to abandon under the surface of Tartarus. If answering your questions will facilitate their retrieval, then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Over the next ten minutes, Eckes grilled Hadar about everything that had happened over the last 24 hours. The commander was easily able to answer all of the questions that Eckes asked him, because his disclosures were either already on the record or could simply be answered with a truthful ‘I don’t know.’ Most of the latter strongly hinted at his involvement in some sort of conspiracy, which was both amusing and infuriating, especially considering who was asking the questions. Hadar kept his outrage to himself, for the most part, only slipping up a couple of times with a sharp retort. Eckes didn’t seem to care.

“Two more things, Commander. First, please tell me where I can find the regulation that allows you to place a satellite without approval from higher fleet?

Hadar looked him in the eye. “It’s a gray area.”

“Commander Hadar had no reason to believe that me or any other admiral here would have denied it,” said Butcher. “He followed the order that I gave him, and left behind a way to communicate with his marines. I would have done the same.”

Eckes said, “Second, you wouldn’t happen to know the location of Secretary Tailor, would you?”

“No fucking clue. So, are you satisfied? Will you permit me to evacuate my marines from Tartarus?”

Eckes stood up, and withdrew a cigarette case from his pocket. “Your men are dead, Commander. Overpowered and murdered by the inmates.”

“With that kind of firepower? Bullshit.”

“They were outnumbered four-to-one. Anyway, believe what you want. Tartarus is off-limits, permanently. The prisoners can starve to death or kill each other, I don’t care.”

“That’s a far worse punishment than most of them deserve,” said Butcher.

Eckes snapped the case shut, and lit a cigarette. “Maybe.”

“You can’t make a disaster like this just go away,” said Hadar. “Those men have families, comrades… Do you think all of them will just accept this outlandish explanation?”

Eckes headed for the door. “That’s the explanation I expect you and your PA people to release to the public. We’re done here.”

The door slammed shut, leaving the two officers in stunned silence.

Continue reading: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/03/11/the-wolf-and-the-centaur-rfviii-chapter-16/

The Wolf and the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 15 Part 2

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

Author’s note: This was meant to be the beginning of chapter 16, but I decided it would fit better as the second half of chapter 15.

The Citadel was the headquarters for all of Alnair’s military might. The largest building on the planet, it had started out some seventy years earlier as the HQ for the forces of several allied countries, eventually hosting at least a small delegation from all of them, before Alnair had become united under one central planetary government. By outward appearances, little had changed over the decades. Consisting of four concentric rings, each thirty meters in height, it boasted a total footprint of over one hundred square kilometers, most of which was available for use as office space. A spire in the central courtyard, clad with white marble, stood over the building, itself ninety meters high.

Seated on a plateau overlooking high desert plain in the middle of Alnair’s eastern continent, the Citadel was well-defended. The original anti-aircraft batteries, long since obsolete, remained as display pieces around its perimeter. Less obvious to the casual eye, plasma cannons, close-in weapons systems, and supersonic missiles sat ready to obliterate any interlopers, near or far. Should someone or something sneak through, the three-meter-thick concrete walls were rated to survive any conventional explosive, and even a small nuclear device. Since learning of their existence, the roof was also hardened to withstand orbital strikes. It was an impressive, expensive building, and Commander Hadar despised it.

Though he had every intention of speaking with him, Admiral Butcher had ordered him to come to his office as soon as he was able. Much to his superior officer’s chagrin, the best Hadar could do was three hours after the Bidelman had returned to orbit. Though he could have easily delegated his mandatory post-mission tasks and briefings to his lieutenants, the curious nature of their sudden departure from Tartarus compelled him to personally ensure everything was in order. Never a consideration before, Hadar had quite recently begun to wonder if there weren’t spies on board the Bidelman.

His shuttle had been cleared to land, and came to rest on a small pad west of the Citadel. He left the small crew to tend to and wait with the vessel, and proceeded alone inside. It was noontime locally, and he immediately encountered dozens of military officers and supernumeraries busying themselves with getting lunch from one of the several restaurants and cafés that the facility hosted. As usual, the polished faux-hardwood floors gleamed from the overhead lights, the walls were free of any decoration, and the toughest senior NCO in the galaxy would be hard pressed to find a single spot of dust anywhere. Sterile, professional, and no-nonsense was the tone in the Citadel, a carry-over from past years where both the peace and survival of Alnair were at stake.

It was primarily this somber mood that led Hadar to so intensely dislike the Citadel. To him, not only did it embody the worst traits of the military, but it also lacked any natural light. Despite how jovial the workers there may have seemed, all of them doubtlessly shared Hadar’s opinion of it: that it was more akin to an emergency bunker, or at times, a tomb, than any place anyone would inhabit willingly. Anywhere else, he could be assured a view of the sky or infinite starfield. It was in no small part responsible for his decision to remain as fleet commander, instead of accepting the promotion to vice-admiral that his time in service suggested.

Though such a rank might have saved him from his current dilemma, his history as a combat soldier made him glad to be in the position he currently found himself; that being, fully responsible for the squad of marines stuck on the surface of Tartarus. No one would advocate for their recovery more than he.

A narrow-gauge rail line, with likewise comically small cars, traveled the circumference of each ring and level of the Citadel, making regular stops at eight stations along their routes. To get to Butcher’s office, Hadar could either take an elevator to the fourth floor, then board a train to the east side of the building, or vice versa. On that day, he chose to take the train first, then board a lift. Along his way, he listened intently to the officers and clerks who attempted to consume at least a part of their meal on their protracted return to their offices. Not one of them uttered a hint of the drama that was unfolding outside the atmosphere of Alnair, nor the fleet’s involvement in it. Whether that was a product of ignorance, or effective opsec training, he would never know.

Arriving at last at Butcher’s office, Hadar strode inside, barely acknowledging the young corporal manning her reception desk. A brief nod was all that was necessary to allow her to wave him inside. He noticed that she used a remote to lock the door to the circumference corridor, and put her telephone on silent. That was fine with the commander. Anything that was about to be said between he and Butcher could remain off the record. The admiral’s office was considerably more opulent than the bland and sanitary environs previous; not only did the senior officer display his many awards in frames along the wall, but he also had several desk and pedestal lamps to replace the cold fluorescents that fit flush into the ceiling.

The man himself seemed somehow fragile in comparison to the broadcast images Hadar was used to seeing. His face was gaunt in the soft light of the lamps, and he seemed to be exhausted. At the beginning of that day, Hadar would have trusted his commander with his life, and meeting him again in person instantly softened his planned approach. Or so it would have happened, if not for the man seated in a leather armchair in the corner. The third person in the room was wearing a semi-formal suit, of the type one might normally reserve for a funeral, or an open-mic poetry reading in a subterranean grotto. Hadar gave him plenty of side-eye before Butcher waved his hand toward a high-backed wooden chair across from his oaken desk. Hadar accepted the offer, the palm of his right hand almost subconsciously brushing the butt of his sidearm as he sat.

“I had hoped this would be a private conversation,” he said, crossing his legs.

“Though you have my full support,” began Butcher, “you will be speaking with Mister Eckes today. You will answer his questions with complete transparency; that’s a direct order.”

Hadar scoffed. “Mister Eckes? Seriously? Will Mister Void and Mister Null be by later to interrogate me, too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied Eckes. “Any further questioning, beyond what I have for you, would be accomplished far away from here. Of course, that eventuality depends entirely on the answers you give me now.”

“The only thing I care about right now is the safety of the marines you forced me to abandon under the surface of Tartarus. If answering your questions will facilitate their retrieval, then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Over the next ten minutes, Eckes grilled Hadar about everything that had happened over the last 24 hours. The commander was easily able to answer all of the questions that Eckes asked him, because his disclosures were either already on the record or could simply be answered with a truthful ‘I don’t know.’ Most of the latter strongly hinted at his involvement in some sort of conspiracy, which was both amusing and infuriating, especially considering who was asking the questions. Hadar kept his outrage to himself, for the most part, only slipping up a couple of times with a sharp retort. Eckes didn’t seem to care.

“Two more things, Commander. First, please tell me where I can find the regulation that allows you to place a satellite without approval from higher fleet?

Hadar looked him in the eye. “It’s a gray area.”

“Commander Hadar had no reason to believe that me or any other admiral here would have denied it,” said Butcher. “He followed the order that I gave him, and left behind a way to communicate with his marines. I would have done the same.”

Eckes said, “Second, you wouldn’t happen to know the location of Secretary Tailor, would you?”

“No fucking clue. So, are you satisfied? Will you permit me to evacuate my marines from Tartarus?”

Eckes stood up, and withdrew a cigarette case from his pocket. “Your men are dead, Commander. Overpowered and murdered by the inmates.”

“With that kind of firepower? Bullshit.”

“They were outnumbered four-to-one. Anyway, believe what you want. Tartarus is off-limits, permanently. The prisoners can starve to death or kill each other, I don’t care.”

“That’s a far worse punishment than most of them deserve,” said Butcher.

Eckes snapped the case shut, and lit a cigarette. “Maybe.”

“You can’t make a disaster like this just go away,” said Hadar. “Those men have families, comrades… Do you think all of them will just accept this outlandish explanation?”

Eckes headed for the door. “That’s the explanation I expect you and your PA people to release to the public. We’re done here.”

The door slammed shut, leaving the two officers in stunned silence.

Legacy of the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 15 Part 1

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

The Sul Chateau was an opulent and historic resort, and a favorite of Malthus Brewer during his past life as a free man. He sat on a veranda overlooking a sparkling lake, flanked on three sides by terraced green mountains. To the west, where the body of water spilled itself over an ancient dam and cascaded into what would eventually become a mighty river, the sun was setting. The brick patio, cut off from the lake by a squat stone wall, was almost empty, despite stools, tables, and lounge chairs sufficient for dozens of people. Only one man accompanied him that afternoon, a Kau’Rii by the name of Chason Talyn, who Malthus considered a friend.

A plate of fried crustaceans rested on the table nearby, and in his hand, he held a tall glass of beer. His feet up on a plastic ottoman, he took a deep breath, taking in the heady aroma of both the food and his beverage. A sip of the latter confirmed that it was the best top-fermented variety he’d ever had, and he reveled in the moment. Still, despite all the perfection that surrounded him, Malthus knew that something wasn’t right. He turned to his companion, the feline seemingly enrapt by the sunset, his eyes reflecting the glittering whitecaps on the water that had been kicked up by a gentle breeze.

“This isn’t real,” Malthus said.

“It’s as real as you want it to be,” replied Chason, his gaze fixed ahead. “This instant can last forever, if you want it to. My kind has a rather fluid sense of what you corporeal beings call time.”

Malthus chugged the rest of his glass. Normally not an amount of alcohol that would have affected him, he instead felt it quickly go to his head. By the time he set the empty vessel on the table, another full one had replaced it, a small trickle of foam escaping from the rim. A sense of calm came over him, the sensation so palpable that he wondered if he hadn’t died. As if taunting him, recent memories clawed at the back of his mind. As much as he would have liked to stay here forever, that wasn’t why he was here. Indeed, he knew that the being that inhabited the form of Chason wasn’t his friend at all. Though it pained him to utter the truth, it was inevitable.

“Kheiron.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you’ve brought me here in order to answer questions. Because I’ve got a lot of them, as do my allies from Terra.”

“I could have answered them in the Tartarian’s temple, but you might not have believed me.”

“Maybe not.” Malthus took a bite of the food, which was better than anything he’d ever tasted in his life. “Oh my god. If you’re trying to convince me, stop; you’ve done enough. Any more of this would be torture by some standards. Assuming that you’re about to do an info-dump, go ahead. Whatever you have to say had better be awfully compelling if you expect me to go back to my body.”

“Sixty of your years ago, Tartarus was an unspoiled paradise…”

“I knew it.”

“The origins of life here are uncertain, but they almost certainly came from the same amino acid precursors that seeded most developed worlds, and as science would later prove, the same genetic stock that would become both Alnairians and Tartarians. While they developed at different rates, they are inextricably linked. With the advent of practical space travel within their own solar system, the Alnairians inevitably sought to exploit the natural resources of Tartarus. That included the construction of a research facility here.”

“Toward what end?”

“Before the discovery of true FTL technology, the Alnairians calculated that they could fling unmanned probes to nearly light speed, by using what you would call a slingshot method, with Tartarus being the sling. The only problem is that the original position of the planet wasn’t ideal for such a maneuver. The goal was to move it ten percent closer to their star, but first, they had to unlock secrets of subatomic particles that you and I would consider rather pedestrian by comparison.”

“What? Speak for yourself, I’m hardly a genius.”

“By stripping away neutrons from the heavier atoms that made up the mass of the planet, they hoped to lighten it and alter its orbit. Discovering anti-neutrons that could do so, and how to emit them, was the first purpose of this facility.”

“Wait a minute. If the initial goal was to understand and control subatomic particles, why not start with a similar facility on Alnair?”

“Because it was feared an accident would ruin Alnair’s atmosphere. Better to experiment elsewhere. Unfortunately, the natives on Tartarus didn’t have a say. Still, it was never the intention to make the entire planet uninhabitable; however, that’s exactly what happened. The Alnairians succeeded in altering the mass of the planet, and simultaneously caused an unstoppable chain reaction in the atmosphere. Over a matter of months, a critical percentage of nitrogen was converted to highly-ionized carbon. Instantly binding with oxygen to form carbon dioxide, the atmosphere was doomed to heat up far beyond what life could support. By the time they realized what was happening, they were powerless to stop it.”

“And the natives, they ended up down here?”

“A few hundred were allowed to flee below ground here. Several hundred more were evacuated to Alnair, though tragically, there weren’t enough ships to save them all. Almost four million native Tartarians perished over the next three years, through starvation, exposure, and ultimately, suffocation.”

“That’s horrific. I can assure you, the average Alnairian alive today has no idea any of this ever happened. In fact, we’re all taught that Tartarus has been the way it is now for billions of years. As for the prison, I was a child when I learned that a prison was being built here, not knowing, of course, that my indiscretions would send me there years later. If the government was trying to keep their criminal acts a secret, it seems awfully reckless for them to put a prison right on top of their super-secret research facility.”

“It would seem so. Even I don’t know their reasoning, beyond speculation.”

“That’s all a fascinating preamble, Kheiron, but you haven’t mentioned a word about how you know all this, or what your involvement was.”

“I was their chief scientist, of course. The Alnairians never would have discovered how to isolate, study, and generate anti-neutrinos without me. What they didn’t know then, though they probably know now, was that it was only by virtue of my Kira’To heritage that I could perform those tasks, drawing on the power of the True Nature to generate the energy necessary.”

“Let me guess. Despite your contributions, they imprisoned you here, to keep their secrets?”

Chason-Kheiron scoffed, showing the first real emotion since the beginning of the conversation. “Ha! No, they had no power to hold me. I stayed here by choice, splitting my time between the prison and helping the Tartarians in this cavern survive. My telepathy allowed me to make the warden, guards, and other inmates believe that I was a prisoner, as well as convince the Tartarians that I was on their side. I consider it the least I could do, since I was directly responsible for ruining their planet.”

“What about evacuating them, you never tried to make that happen?”

“Part of my reason for pretending to be an inmate was to explore how I might accomplish that. Unfortunately, it seemed impossible – even for me – to do without significant outside assistance.”

“You couldn’t ask your fellow Kira’To? Aren’t you all telepathically linked, or is that just a myth?”

The sun had set behind the dam, replacing the brilliant glow with incandescent clouds of pink and orange. Kheiron considered the questions for a few seconds. Malthus used the time to gratefully crunch down on what was on his plate. His companion then replied, scornfully.

“We are, but I am a pariah. It is frowned upon to assist corporeal beings as directly as I did. I also think I can anticipate your next question. I had nothing to do with the arrival of the Terrans, or their abortive attempt to rescue Chason Talyn, though I could sense someone was coming for him. Now that you’re here, however, and since you have a Sortarius among your ranks, I think you may be willing to evacuate the Tartarians as well.”

“A Sortarius? I don’t know what that is.”

“The one known as Evangeline Adeler. If she hasn’t told you about the Sortarii, then I will not be the one to do so.”

“How many Tartarians are down here?”

“Three hundred and twenty-three.”

“I don’t think any of their ships are large enough to accommodate that number. But I can ask.”

“Very well. I will return you to your body.”

Malthus stood up, a bit unsteadily. “Wait! One more question. Why is it, after all this time, did the Alnairians decide to wipe out the prison? Why send marines, only to abandon them and replace them with assassins?”

“That’s two questions. To the first, I can only guess. The Alnairians knew nothing of the Kira’To when I arrived here all those decades ago, but have since had frequent contact with the galactic community. Someone at the top must have realized the true threat I could pose, if I was so inclined, and my presence here – and by extension the entire prison – could no longer be tolerated. If they wanted to keep their act of near-genocide a secret, that is. To the second, since most of Alnair’s government is not composed of murderers, the soldiers they sent first were probably part of a genuine effort to capture me without harming anyone else. Unfortunately for them, another decision was soon made. One that doomed everyone, including their own troops.”

“Are you suggesting the arrival of the Terrans was a total coincidence?”

“There is no such thing. I simply don’t know what the connection could be. I have told you everything you need…”

The world went black. Malthus blinked his eyes, and found himself on the floor of the temple. Someone had propped his head up with their rucksack, and put a blanket over him. Ray stood over him, and Malthus realized that Ray had just pinched him, hard, on his left buttock.

“Hey, I wasn’t…”

“Can you walk?” asked Ray urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here, now.”

Taking stock of his surroundings, Malthus could see that all of the Tartarians that had accompanied them into the temple were gone. Evangeline was roughly shoving Kheiron toward the exit, and frantic shouts in an unknown language could be heard from outside.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Someone opened up the valves to the reservoir,” said Ray, all put pulling Malthus to his feet. “The cavern is filling up, fast.”

“Oh my god.”

Christie stood at the door, PDA in hand. “We’ve got to hurry. At this rate, the entire place is going to be flooded within minutes.”

Malthus grabbed his borrowed carbine. “We’ve fools for thinking there were no more Tenchiik.”

“We don’t know who did this,” said Eva.

The team, along with a reluctant Kheiron, emerged into the cavern. The sound of rushing water was almost overwhelming. Glancing below, Malthus noticed that the fog that had blanketed the lower levels had dissipated and, even at that distance, he could see the water rising. All around them, Tartarians were desperately climbing rope ladders, some with infants slung across their chests, or children clinging to their backs. As they moved to the nearest ladder, he could see that the water wasn’t just increasing in depth, but also moving in a swift current from west to east. The cries of a few natives caught up in the cascade could just barely be heard over the din of the torrent. Malthus watched in horror as people were swept away.

“Go, go, go,” shouted Ray.

Though there were a limited number of ladders, the Tartarians not immediately caught up in the flood showed remarkable strength and speed as they ascended. Fast on their heels, Malthus and his friends managed to find room for themselves, and keep pace. The only straggler was Kheiron, who seemed to require constant urging to stay with them. Eva was clearly growing frustrated with his lack of motivation.

“God damn it,” she spat. “Do you want to fucking die, Kira’To?”

Kheiron didn’t reply, instead pausing on the next outcropping. The water was so close at that point that his prison uniform began to get wet from the spray.

“Leave him if he doesn’t care to save himself,” said Chason.

Malthus was just fine with that idea. Over the next few minutes, the team, along with a couple hundred natives, made their way to the top of the cavern. It wasn’t until they were waiting to cross the rope bridge, that he noticed his arms were burning. A profound feeling of exhaustion hit his whole body, tempering the panic that he felt at the delay across the bridge. Fortunately for those still breathing air, the water stopped rising, though the cross-current remained strong. Disturbingly, the cries of those caught in the deluge had ceased. Chason managed to push through the crowd, and he accessed the control panel to the cavern.

“The circuits have been ripped out,” he told the others.

“I think the water level has stabilized,” said Christie. “There must be overflow outlets.”

“I’m sure that’s of little comfort to those that have drowned,” replied Ray. “Come on, we’ve got to try to get ahead of everyone. If there’s any of the enemy left, these people will be defenseless.”

At Ray’s urging, the team pushed past those in the stairwell, making no apologies for their brusqueness. The nearly crushing throng of bodies continued into Sub-Level Four, further delaying them, and it wasn’t until they ascended one more level that there was enough room for them to maneuver tactically. At that point, Christie was trying via radio to raise either John’s team or the Reckless Faith. So far, no one had replied. Since the others could hear her attempts, she didn’t have to explain what was happening.

“I don’t know if we’ve been cut off, or if they’re too busy to respond, or what,” she said.

“Let’s worry about clearing these areas again,” said Ray. “If there is at least one more Tenchiik, we’ve got to deal with it before we can move the survivors to the prison levels.”

“We didn’t clear the labs again,” said Eva. “Also, we’ve lost sight of Kheiron.”

“Damn it, you’re right. Shit. What do you want to do?”

“I’ll go back. The rest of you, focus on clearing this level and the ones above. Assuming that most of the Tartarians have survived, they’re going to need the space to spread out.”

“They’ll probably out-pace us, but we’ll do our best. Good luck.”

Eva disappeared back into the throngs of locals, shoulder-checking a few of them as she went. Fortunately for everyone, their blind panic from earlier had faded into confusion and bewilderment about their new surroundings. This allowed Malthus and his friends to clear Sub-Level 3 without too much difficulty. By the time they ascended to the next level, there were already dozens of Tartarians milling around. They continued in this manner until they arrived at the door to the laundry room. For the moment, they were alone. Malthus spoke.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let those people into the prison right now. As I mentioned, there are a whole lot of mangled corpses beyond this door.”

“Are you suggesting we forcibly keep them down here?” asked Christie.

“For now, yes. Obviously, the prison is a better place for them to wait, but we should get it cleaned up first. Though I know that seems like an impossible task for just the five of us.”

“Maybe the Faith can transport the bodies away,” said Ray.

“We’re way too far underground for that.”

“Right. Well, we’ll try to figure something out. The first thing we need to do is reestablish contact with the Faith. Next, since I’m really not confident there aren’t more bad guys down here with us, we should split up and post one of us at the entrance to the stairwell on each floor. That way, if we do have contact, we can call for backup and try to preserve as many Tartarian lives as possible. Hopefully we can get reinforcements from the Faith back ASAP, and try to keep everyone safe and calm in the meantime.”

“I agree, it’s the best we can do for now.”

“Chason? Malthus?”

“I don’t have a better idea,” said Chason.

“Sounds good to me,” added Malthus.

Ray nodded. “Okay. Also, can any of you understand the Tartarians? My translator isn’t even attempting to decipher their language.”

“Nope.”

“Not a clue,” said Chason.

“Same here,” began Christie, “but it’s not surprising. We’re cut off from the ship; translating an unusual or unique language isn’t something that can be accomplished by the resident software in your earpieces, nor by my OS. Given enough time I might be able to figure it out. I mean, we haven’t even attempted to talk to any of the natives, other than to shout warnings at them.”

“True,” replied Ray. “Alright, we’ll just have to try our best and keep them calm.”

“I think simply not shooting them or trying to drown them will probably go a long way,” said Malthus. “Plus, most of them saw us scrambling to escape the cavern, too. I doubt they think we’re responsible for flooding it.”

“Let’s hope not. Come on, let’s get this door secured and get on with the plan.”

Continue reading: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/03/05/the-wolf-and-the-centaur-rfviii-chapter-15-part-2/

The Wolf and the Centaur (RF VIII), Chapter 15 Part 1

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

The Sul Chateau was an opulent and historic resort, and a favorite of Malthus Brewer during his past life as a free man. He sat on a veranda overlooking a sparkling lake, flanked on three sides by terraced green mountains. To the west, where the body of water spilled itself over an ancient dam and cascaded into what would eventually become a mighty river, the sun was setting. The brick patio, cut off from the lake by a squat stone wall, was almost empty, despite stools, tables, and lounge chairs sufficient for dozens of people. Only one man accompanied him that afternoon, a Kau’Rii by the name of Chason Talyn, who Malthus considered a friend.

A plate of fried crustaceans rested on the table nearby, and in his hand, he held a tall glass of beer. His feet up on a plastic ottoman, he took a deep breath, taking in the heady aroma of both the food and his beverage. A sip of the latter confirmed that it was the best top-fermented variety he’d ever had, and he reveled in the moment. Still, despite all the perfection that surrounded him, Malthus knew that something wasn’t right. He turned to his companion, the feline seemingly enrapt by the sunset, his eyes reflecting the glittering whitecaps on the water that had been kicked up by a gentle breeze.

“This isn’t real,” Malthus said.

“It’s as real as you want it to be,” replied Chason, his gaze fixed ahead. “This instant can last forever, if you want it to. My kind has a rather fluid sense of what you corporeal beings call time.”

Malthus chugged the rest of his glass. Normally not an amount of alcohol that would have affected him, he instead felt it quickly go to his head. By the time he set the empty vessel on the table, another full one had replaced it, a small trickle of foam escaping from the rim. A sense of calm came over him, the sensation so palpable that he wondered if he hadn’t died. As if taunting him, recent memories clawed at the back of his mind. As much as he would have liked to stay here forever, that wasn’t why he was here. Indeed, he knew that the being that inhabited the form of Chason wasn’t his friend at all. Though it pained him to utter the truth, it was inevitable.

“Kheiron.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you’ve brought me here in order to answer questions. Because I’ve got a lot of them, as do my allies from Terra.”

“I could have answered them in the Tartarian’s temple, but you might not have believed me.”

“Maybe not.” Malthus took a bite of the food, which was better than anything he’d ever tasted in his life. “Oh my god. If you’re trying to convince me, stop; you’ve done enough. Any more of this would be torture by some standards. Assuming that you’re about to do an info-dump, go ahead. Whatever you have to say had better be awfully compelling if you expect me to go back to my body.”

“Sixty of your years ago, Tartarus was an unspoiled paradise…”

“I knew it.”

“The origins of life here are uncertain, but they almost certainly came from the same amino acid precursors that seeded most developed worlds, and as science would later prove, the same genetic stock that would become both Alnairians and Tartarians. While they developed at different rates, they are inextricably linked. With the advent of practical space travel within their own solar system, the Alnairians inevitably sought to exploit the natural resources of Tartarus. That included the construction of a research facility here.”

“Toward what end?”

“Before the discovery of true FTL technology, the Alnairians calculated that they could fling unmanned probes to nearly light speed, by using what you would call a slingshot method, with Tartarus being the sling. The only problem is that the original position of the planet wasn’t ideal for such a maneuver. The goal was to move it ten percent closer to their star, but first, they had to unlock secrets of subatomic particles that you and I would consider rather pedestrian by comparison.”

“What? Speak for yourself, I’m hardly a genius.”

“By stripping away neutrons from the heavier atoms that made up the mass of the planet, they hoped to lighten it and alter its orbit. Discovering anti-neutrons that could do so, and how to emit them, was the first purpose of this facility.”

“Wait a minute. If the initial goal was to understand and control subatomic particles, why not start with a similar facility on Alnair?”

“Because it was feared an accident would ruin Alnair’s atmosphere. Better to experiment elsewhere. Unfortunately, the natives on Tartarus didn’t have a say. Still, it was never the intention to make the entire planet uninhabitable; however, that’s exactly what happened. The Alnairians succeeded in altering the mass of the planet, and simultaneously caused an unstoppable chain reaction in the atmosphere. Over a matter of months, a critical percentage of nitrogen was converted to highly-ionized carbon. Instantly binding with oxygen to form carbon dioxide, the atmosphere was doomed to heat up far beyond what life could support. By the time they realized what was happening, they were powerless to stop it.”

“And the natives, they ended up down here?”

“A few hundred were allowed to flee below ground here. Several hundred more were evacuated to Alnair, though tragically, there weren’t enough ships to save them all. Almost four million native Tartarians perished over the next three years, through starvation, exposure, and ultimately, suffocation.”

“That’s horrific. I can assure you, the average Alnairian alive today has no idea any of this ever happened. In fact, we’re all taught that Tartarus has been the way it is now for billions of years. As for the prison, I was a child when I learned that a prison was being built here, not knowing, of course, that my indiscretions would send me there years later. If the government was trying to keep their criminal acts a secret, it seems awfully reckless for them to put a prison right on top of their super-secret research facility.”

“It would seem so. Even I don’t know their reasoning, beyond speculation.”

“That’s all a fascinating preamble, Kheiron, but you haven’t mentioned a word about how you know all this, or what your involvement was.”

“I was their chief scientist, of course. The Alnairians never would have discovered how to isolate, study, and generate anti-neutrinos without me. What they didn’t know then, though they probably know now, was that it was only by virtue of my Kira’To heritage that I could perform those tasks, drawing on the power of the True Nature to generate the energy necessary.”

“Let me guess. Despite your contributions, they imprisoned you here, to keep their secrets?”

Chason-Kheiron scoffed, showing the first real emotion since the beginning of the conversation. “Ha! No, they had no power to hold me. I stayed here by choice, splitting my time between the prison and helping the Tartarians in this cavern survive. My telepathy allowed me to make the warden, guards, and other inmates believe that I was a prisoner, as well as convince the Tartarians that I was on their side. I consider it the least I could do, since I was directly responsible for ruining their planet.”

“What about evacuating them, you never tried to make that happen?”

“Part of my reason for pretending to be an inmate was to explore how I might accomplish that. Unfortunately, it seemed impossible – even for me – to do without significant outside assistance.”

“You couldn’t ask your fellow Kira’To? Aren’t you all telepathically linked, or is that just a myth?”

The sun had set behind the dam, replacing the brilliant glow with incandescent clouds of pink and orange. Kheiron considered the questions for a few seconds. Malthus used the time to gratefully crunch down on what was on his plate. His companion then replied, scornfully.

“We are, but I am a pariah. It is frowned upon to assist corporeal beings as directly as I did. I also think I can anticipate your next question. I had nothing to do with the arrival of the Terrans, or their abortive attempt to rescue Chason Talyn, though I could sense someone was coming for him. Now that you’re here, however, and since you have a Sortarius among your ranks, I think you may be willing to evacuate the Tartarians as well.”

“A Sortarius? I don’t know what that is.”

“The one known as Evangeline Adeler. If she hasn’t told you about the Sortarii, then I will not be the one to do so.”

“How many Tartarians are down here?”

“Three hundred and twenty-three.”

“I don’t think any of their ships are large enough to accommodate that number. But I can ask.”

“Very well. I will return you to your body.”

Malthus stood up, a bit unsteadily. “Wait! One more question. Why is it, after all this time, did the Alnairians decide to wipe out the prison? Why send marines, only to abandon them and replace them with assassins?”

“That’s two questions. To the first, I can only guess. The Alnairians knew nothing of the Kira’To when I arrived here all those decades ago, but have since had frequent contact with the galactic community. Someone at the top must have realized the true threat I could pose, if I was so inclined, and my presence here – and by extension the entire prison – could no longer be tolerated. If they wanted to keep their act of near-genocide a secret, that is. To the second, since most of Alnair’s government is not composed of murderers, the soldiers they sent first were probably part of a genuine effort to capture me without harming anyone else. Unfortunately for them, another decision was soon made. One that doomed everyone, including their own troops.”

“Are you suggesting the arrival of the Terrans was a total coincidence?”

“There is no such thing. I simply don’t know what the connection could be. I have told you everything you need…”

The world went black. Malthus blinked his eyes, and found himself on the floor of the temple. Someone had propped his head up with their rucksack, and put a blanket over him. Ray stood over him, and Malthus realized that Ray had just pinched him, hard, on his left buttock.

“Hey, I wasn’t…”

“Can you walk?” asked Ray urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here, now.”

Taking stock of his surroundings, Malthus could see that all of the Tartarians that had accompanied them into the temple were gone. Evangeline was roughly shoving Kheiron toward the exit, and frantic shouts in an unknown language could be heard from outside.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Someone opened up the valves to the reservoir,” said Ray, all put pulling Malthus to his feet. “The cavern is filling up, fast.”

“Oh my god.”

Christie stood at the door, PDA in hand. “We’ve got to hurry. At this rate, the entire place is going to be flooded within minutes.”

Malthus grabbed his borrowed carbine. “We’ve fools for thinking there were no more Tenchiik.”

“We don’t know who did this,” said Eva.

The team, along with a reluctant Kheiron, emerged into the cavern. The sound of rushing water was almost overwhelming. Glancing below, Malthus noticed that the fog that had blanketed the lower levels had dissipated and, even at that distance, he could see the water rising. All around them, Tartarians were desperately climbing rope ladders, some with infants slung across their chests, or children clinging to their backs. As they moved to the nearest ladder, he could see that the water wasn’t just increasing in depth, but also moving in a swift current from west to east. The cries of a few natives caught up in the cascade could just barely be heard over the din of the torrent. Malthus watched in horror as people were swept away.

“Go, go, go,” shouted Ray.

Though there were a limited number of ladders, the Tartarians not immediately caught up in the flood showed remarkable strength and speed as they ascended. Fast on their heels, Malthus and his friends managed to find room for themselves, and keep pace. The only straggler was Kheiron, who seemed to require constant urging to stay with them. Eva was clearly growing frustrated with his lack of motivation.

“God damn it,” she spat. “Do you want to fucking die, Kira’To?”

Kheiron didn’t reply, instead pausing on the next outcropping. The water was so close at that point that his prison uniform began to get wet from the spray.

“Leave him if he doesn’t care to save himself,” said Chason.

Malthus was just fine with that idea. Over the next few minutes, the team, along with a couple hundred natives, made their way to the top of the cavern. It wasn’t until they were waiting to cross the rope bridge, that he noticed his arms were burning. A profound feeling of exhaustion hit his whole body, tempering the panic that he felt at the delay across the bridge. Fortunately for those still breathing air, the water stopped rising, though the cross-current remained strong. Disturbingly, the cries of those caught in the deluge had ceased. Chason managed to push through the crowd, and he accessed the control panel to the cavern.

“The circuits have been ripped out,” he told the others.

“I think the water level has stabilized,” said Christie. “There must be overflow outlets.”

“I’m sure that’s of little comfort to those that have drowned,” replied Ray. “Come on, we’ve got to try to get ahead of everyone. If there’s any of the enemy left, these people will be defenseless.”

At Ray’s urging, the team pushed past those in the stairwell, making no apologies for their brusqueness. The nearly crushing throng of bodies continued into Sub-Level Four, further delaying them, and it wasn’t until they ascended one more level that there was enough room for them to maneuver tactically. At that point, Christie was trying via radio to raise either John’s team or the Reckless Faith. So far, no one had replied. Since the others could hear her attempts, she didn’t have to explain what was happening.

“I don’t know if we’ve been cut off, or if they’re too busy to respond, or what,” she said.

“Let’s worry about clearing these areas again,” said Ray. “If there is at least one more Tenchiik, we’ve got to deal with it before we can move the survivors to the prison levels.”

“We didn’t clear the labs again,” said Eva. “Also, we’ve lost sight of Kheiron.”

“Damn it, you’re right. Shit. What do you want to do?”

“I’ll go back. The rest of you, focus on clearing this level and the ones above. Assuming that most of the Tartarians have survived, they’re going to need the space to spread out.”

“They’ll probably out-pace us, but we’ll do our best. Good luck.”

Eva disappeared back into the throngs of locals, shoulder-checking a few of them as she went. Fortunately for everyone, their blind panic from earlier had faded into confusion and bewilderment about their new surroundings. This allowed Malthus and his friends to clear Sub-Level 3 without too much difficulty. By the time they ascended to the next level, there were already dozens of Tartarians milling around. They continued in this manner until they arrived at the door to the laundry room. For the moment, they were alone. Malthus spoke.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let those people into the prison right now. As I mentioned, there are a whole lot of mangled corpses beyond this door.”

“Are you suggesting we forcibly keep them down here?” asked Christie.

“For now, yes. Obviously, the prison is a better place for them to wait, but we should get it cleaned up first. Though I know that seems like an impossible task for just the five of us.”

“Maybe the Faith can transport the bodies away,” said Ray.

“We’re way too far underground for that.”

“Right. Well, we’ll try to figure something out. The first thing we need to do is reestablish contact with the Faith. Next, since I’m really not confident there aren’t more bad guys down here with us, we should split up and post one of us at the entrance to the stairwell on each floor. That way, if we do have contact, we can call for backup and try to preserve as many Tartarian lives as possible. Hopefully we can get reinforcements from the Faith back ASAP, and try to keep everyone safe and calm in the meantime.”

“I agree, it’s the best we can do for now.”

“Chason? Malthus?”

“I don’t have a better idea,” said Chason.

“Sounds good to me,” added Malthus.

Ray nodded. “Okay. Also, can any of you understand the Tartarians? My translator isn’t even attempting to decipher their language.”

“Nope.”

“Not a clue,” said Chason.

“Same here,” began Christie, “but it’s not surprising. We’re cut off from the ship; translating an unusual or unique language isn’t something that can be accomplished by the resident software in your earpieces, nor by my OS. Given enough time I might be able to figure it out. I mean, we haven’t even attempted to talk to any of the natives, other than to shout warnings at them.”

“True,” replied Ray. “Alright, we’ll just have to try our best and keep them calm.”

“I think simply not shooting them or trying to drown them will probably go a long way,” said Malthus. “Plus, most of them saw us scrambling to escape the cavern, too. I doubt they think we’re responsible for flooding it.”

“Let’s hope not. Come on, let’s get this door secured and get on with the plan.”

Continue reading: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/03/05/the-wolf-and-the-centaur-rfviii-chapter-15-part-2/

The Wolf and the Centaur (RF VIII), Chapter 15

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

The Sul Chateau was an opulent and historic resort, and a favorite of Malthus Brewer during his past life as a free man. He sat on a veranda overlooking a sparkling lake, flanked on three sides by terraced green mountains. To the west, where the body of water spilled itself over an ancient dam and cascaded into what would eventually become a mighty river, the sun was setting. The brick patio, cut off from the lake by a squat stone wall, was almost empty, despite stools, tables, and lounge chairs sufficient for dozens of people. Only one man accompanied him that afternoon, a Kau’Rii by the name of Chason Talyn, who Malthus considered a friend.

A plate of fried crustaceans rested on the table nearby, and in his hand, he held a tall glass of beer. His feet up on a plastic ottoman, he took a deep breath, taking in the heady aroma of both the food and his beverage. A sip of the latter confirmed that it was the best top-fermented variety he’d ever had, and he reveled in the moment. Still, despite all the perfection that surrounded him, Malthus knew that something wasn’t right. He turned to his companion, the feline seemingly enrapt by the sunset, his eyes reflecting the glittering whitecaps on the water that had been kicked up by a gentle breeze.

“This isn’t real,” Malthus said.

“It’s as real as you want it to be,” replied Chason, his gaze fixed ahead. “This instant can last forever, if you want it to. My kind has a rather fluid sense of what you corporeal beings call time.”

Malthus chugged the rest of his glass. Normally not an amount of alcohol that would have affected him, he instead felt it quickly go to his head. By the time he set the empty vessel on the table, another full one had replaced it, a small trickle of foam escaping from the rim. A sense of calm came over him, the sensation so palpable that he wondered if he hadn’t died. As if taunting him, recent memories clawed at the back of his mind. As much as he would have liked to stay here forever, that wasn’t why he was here. Indeed, he knew that the being that inhabited the form of Chason wasn’t his friend at all. Though it pained him to utter the truth, it was inevitable.

“Kheiron.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you’ve brought me here in order to answer questions. Because I’ve got a lot of them, as do my allies from Terra.”

“I could have answered them in the Tartarian’s temple, but you might not have believed me.”

“Maybe not.” Malthus took a bite of the food, which was better than anything he’d ever tasted in his life. “Oh my god. If you’re trying to convince me, stop; you’ve done enough. Any more of this would be torture by some standards. Assuming that you’re about to do an info-dump, go ahead. Whatever you have to say had better be awfully compelling if you expect me to go back to my body.”

“Sixty of your years ago, Tartarus was an unspoiled paradise…”

“I knew it.”

“The origins of life here are uncertain, but they almost certainly came from the same amino acid precursors that seeded most developed worlds, and as science would later prove, the same genetic stock that would become both Alnairians and Tartarians. While they developed at different rates, they are inextricably linked. With the advent of practical space travel within their own solar system, the Alnairians inevitably sought to exploit the natural resources of Tartarus. That included the construction of a research facility here.”

“Toward what end?”

“Before the discovery of true FTL technology, the Alnairians calculated that they could fling unmanned probes to nearly light speed, by using what you would call a slingshot method, with Tartarus being the sling. The only problem is that the original position of the planet wasn’t ideal for such a maneuver. The goal was to move it ten percent closer to their star, but first, they had to unlock secrets of subatomic particles that you and I would consider rather pedestrian by comparison.”

“What? Speak for yourself, I’m hardly a genius.”

“By stripping away neutrons from the heavier atoms that made up the mass of the planet, they hoped to lighten it and alter its orbit. Discovering anti-neutrons that could do so, and how to emit them, was the first purpose of this facility.”

“Wait a minute. If the initial goal was to understand and control subatomic particles, why not start with a similar facility on Alnair?”

“Because it was feared an accident would ruin Alnair’s atmosphere. Better to experiment elsewhere. Unfortunately, the natives on Tartarus didn’t have a say. Still, it was never the intention to make the entire planet uninhabitable; however, that’s exactly what happened. The Alnairians succeeded in altering the mass of the planet, and simultaneously caused an unstoppable chain reaction in the atmosphere. Over a matter of months, a critical percentage of nitrogen was converted to highly-ionized carbon. Instantly binding with oxygen to form carbon dioxide, the atmosphere was doomed to heat up far beyond what life could support. By the time they realized what was happening, they were powerless to stop it.”

“And the natives, they ended up down here?”

“A few hundred were allowed to flee below ground here. Several hundred more were evacuated to Alnair, though tragically, there weren’t enough ships to save them all. Almost four million native Tartarians perished over the next three years, through starvation, exposure, and ultimately, suffocation.”

“That’s horrific. I can assure you, the average Alnairian alive today has no idea any of this ever happened. In fact, we’re all taught that Tartarus has been the way it is now for billions of years. As for the prison, I was a child when I learned that a prison was being built here, not knowing, of course, that my indiscretions would send me there years later. If the government was trying to keep their criminal acts a secret, it seems awfully reckless for them to put a prison right on top of their super-secret research facility.”

“It would seem so. Even I don’t know their reasoning, beyond speculation.”

“That’s all a fascinating preamble, Kheiron, but you haven’t mentioned a word about how you know all this, or what your involvement was.”

“I was their chief scientist, of course. The Alnairians never would have discovered how to isolate, study, and generate anti-neutrinos without me. What they didn’t know then, though they probably know now, was that it was only by virtue of my Kira’To heritage that I could perform those tasks, drawing on the power of the True Nature to generate the energy necessary.”

“Let me guess. Despite your contributions, they imprisoned you here, to keep their secrets?”

Chason-Kheiron scoffed, showing the first real emotion since the beginning of the conversation. “Ha! No, they had no power to hold me. I stayed here by choice, splitting my time between the prison and helping the Tartarians in this cavern survive. My telepathy allowed me to make the warden, guards, and other inmates believe that I was a prisoner, as well as convince the Tartarians that I was on their side. I consider it the least I could do, since I was directly responsible for ruining their planet.”

“What about evacuating them, you never tried to make that happen?”

“Part of my reason for pretending to be an inmate was to explore how I might accomplish that. Unfortunately, it seemed impossible – even for me – to do without significant outside assistance.”

“You couldn’t ask your fellow Kira’To? Aren’t you all telepathically linked, or is that just a myth?”

The sun had set behind the dam, replacing the brilliant glow with incandescent clouds of pink and orange. Kheiron considered the questions for a few seconds. Malthus used the time to gratefully crunch down on what was on his plate. His companion then replied, scornfully.

“We are, but I am a pariah. It is frowned upon to assist corporeal beings as directly as I did. I also think I can anticipate your next question. I had nothing to do with the arrival of the Terrans, or their abortive attempt to rescue Chason Talyn, though I could sense someone was coming for him. Now that you’re here, however, and since you have a Sortarius among your ranks, I think you may be willing to evacuate the Tartarians as well.”

“A Sortarius? I don’t know what that is.”

“The one known as Evangeline Adeler. If she hasn’t told you about the Sortarii, then I will not be the one to do so.”

“How many Tartarians are down here?”

“Three hundred and twenty-three.”

“I don’t think any of their ships are large enough to accommodate that number. But I can ask.”

“Very well. I will return you to your body.”

Malthus stood up, a bit unsteadily. “Wait! One more question. Why is it, after all this time, did the Alnairians decide to wipe out the prison? Why send marines, only to abandon them and replace them with assassins?”

“That’s two questions. To the first, I can only guess. The Alnairians knew nothing of the Kira’To when I arrived here all those decades ago, but have since had frequent contact with the galactic community. Someone at the top must have realized the true threat I could pose, if I was so inclined, and my presence here – and by extension the entire prison – could no longer be tolerated. If they wanted to keep their act of near-genocide a secret, that is. To the second, since most of Alnair’s government is not composed of murderers, the soldiers they sent first were probably part of a genuine effort to capture me without harming anyone else. Unfortunately for them, another decision was soon made. One that doomed everyone, including their own troops.”

“Are you suggesting the arrival of the Terrans was a total coincidence?”

“There is no such thing. I simply don’t know what the connection could be. I have told you everything you need…”

The world went black. Malthus blinked his eyes, and found himself on the floor of the temple. Someone had propped his head up with their rucksack, and put a blanket over him. Ray stood over him, and Malthus realized that Ray had just pinched him, hard, on his left buttock.

“Hey, I wasn’t…”

“Can you walk?” asked Ray urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here, now.”

Taking stock of his surroundings, Malthus could see that all of the Tartarians that had accompanied them into the temple were gone. Evangeline was roughly shoving Kheiron toward the exit, and frantic shouts in an unknown language could be heard from outside.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Someone opened up the valves to the reservoir,” said Ray, all put pulling Malthus to his feet. “The cavern is filling up, fast.”

“Oh my god.”

Christie stood at the door, PDA in hand. “We’ve got to hurry. At this rate, the entire place is going to be flooded within minutes.”

Malthus grabbed his borrowed carbine. “We’ve fools for thinking there were no more Tenchiik.”

“We don’t know who did this,” said Eva.

The team, along with a reluctant Kheiron, emerged into the cavern. The sound of rushing water was almost overwhelming. Glancing below, Malthus noticed that the fog that had blanketed the lower levels had dissipated and, even at that distance, he could see the water rising. All around them, Tartarians were desperately climbing rope ladders, some with infants slung across their chests, or children clinging to their backs. As they moved to the nearest ladder, he could see that the water wasn’t just increasing in depth, but also moving in a swift current from west to east. The cries of a few natives caught up in the cascade could just barely be heard over the din of the torrent. Malthus watched in horror as people were swept away.

“Go, go, go,” shouted Ray.

Though there were a limited number of ladders, the Tartarians not immediately caught up in the flood showed remarkable strength and speed as they ascended. Fast on their heels, Malthus and his friends managed to find room for themselves, and keep pace. The only straggler was Kheiron, who seemed to require constant urging to stay with them. Eva was clearly growing frustrated with his lack of motivation.

“God damn it,” she spat. “Do you want to fucking die, Kira’To?”

Kheiron didn’t reply, instead pausing on the next outcropping. The water was so close at that point that his prison uniform began to get wet from the spray.

“Leave him if he doesn’t care to save himself,” said Chason.

Malthus was just fine with that idea. Over the next few minutes, the team, along with a couple hundred natives, made their way to the top of the cavern. It wasn’t until they were waiting to cross the rope bridge, that he noticed his arms were burning. A profound feeling of exhaustion hit his whole body, tempering the panic that he felt at the delay across the bridge. Fortunately for those still breathing air, the water stopped rising, though the cross-current remained strong. Disturbingly, the cries of those caught in the deluge had ceased. Chason managed to push through the crowd, and he accessed the control panel to the cavern.

“The circuits have been ripped out,” he told the others.

“I think the water level has stabilized,” said Christie. “There must be overflow outlets.”

“I’m sure that’s of little comfort to those that have drowned,” replied Ray. “Come on, we’ve got to try to get ahead of everyone. If there’s any of the enemy left, these people will be defenseless.”

At Ray’s urging, the team pushed past those in the stairwell, making no apologies for their brusqueness. The nearly crushing throng of bodies continued into Sub-Level Four, further delaying them, and it wasn’t until they ascended one more level that there was enough room for them to maneuver tactically. At that point, Christie was trying via radio to raise either John’s team or the Reckless Faith. So far, no one had replied. Since the others could hear her attempts, she didn’t have to explain what was happening.

“I don’t know if we’ve been cut off, or if they’re too busy to respond, or what,” she said.

“Let’s worry about clearing these areas again,” said Ray. “If there is at least one more Tenchiik, we’ve got to deal with it before we can move the survivors to the prison levels.”

“We didn’t clear the labs again,” said Eva. “Also, we’ve lost sight of Kheiron.”

“Damn it, you’re right. Shit. What do you want to do?”

“I’ll go back. The rest of you, focus on clearing this level and the ones above. Assuming that most of the Tartarians have survived, they’re going to need the space to spread out.”

“They’ll probably out-pace us, but we’ll do our best. Good luck.”

Eva disappeared back into the throngs of locals, shoulder-checking a few of them as she went. Fortunately for everyone, their blind panic from earlier had faded into confusion and bewilderment about their new surroundings. This allowed Malthus and his friends to clear Sub-Level 3 without too much difficulty. By the time they ascended to the next level, there were already dozens of Tartarians milling around. They continued in this manner until they arrived at the door to the laundry room. For the moment, they were alone. Malthus spoke.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let those people into the prison right now. As I mentioned, there are a whole lot of mangled corpses beyond this door.”

“Are you suggesting we forcibly keep them down here?” asked Christie.

“For now, yes. Obviously, the prison is a better place for them to wait, but we should get it cleaned up first. Though I know that seems like an impossible task for just the five of us.”

“Maybe the Faith can transport the bodies away,” said Ray.

“We’re way too far underground for that.”

“Right. Well, we’ll try to figure something out. The first thing we need to do is reestablish contact with the Faith. Next, since I’m really not confident there aren’t more bad guys down here with us, we should split up and post one of us at the entrance to the stairwell on each floor. That way, if we do have contact, we can call for backup and try to preserve as many Tartarian lives as possible. Hopefully we can get reinforcements from the Faith back ASAP, and try to keep everyone safe and calm in the meantime.”

“I agree, it’s the best we can do for now.”

“Chason? Malthus?”

“I don’t have a better idea,” said Chason.

“Sounds good to me,” added Malthus.

Ray nodded. “Okay. Also, can any of you understand the Tartarians? My translator isn’t even attempting to decipher their language.”

“Nope.”

“Not a clue,” said Chason.

“Same here,” began Christie, “but it’s not surprising. We’re cut off from the ship; translating an unusual or unique language isn’t something that can be accomplished by the resident software in your earpieces, nor by my OS. Given enough time I might be able to figure it out. I mean, we haven’t even attempted to talk to any of the natives, other than to shout warnings at them.”

“True,” replied Ray. “Alright, we’ll just have to try our best and keep them calm.”

“I think simply not shooting them or trying to drown them will probably go a long way,” said Malthus. “Plus, most of them saw us scrambling to escape the cavern, too. I doubt they think we’re responsible for flooding it.”

“Let’s hope not. Come on, let’s get this door secured and get on with the plan.”

Legacy of the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 14

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

“Let me handle this.”

Evangeline put her PDA in her pocket, and held her AK-74 out toward Ray, who happened to be the closest person to her. After a moment of hesitation, he accepted it, and quickly but carefully put it on the deck. Eva drew her bokken, gave it a flourish to test its balance, and took a step forward.

“All this firepower, and you want to fight them hand-to-hand?” asked John.

“You’ve seen what these Sortarii artifacts are capable of,” she replied. “Fuyue fried our enemies like a fusion reactor just by believing he could. I wish you could feel the confidence that I do, flowing through my veins.”

“We’ll let you go,” began Richter, “but first, you should let us soften them up a bit.”

“By all means.”

Richter readied the grenade launcher attached to his carbine. Upon seeing this, John and Ray retrieved the M67s they were carrying, and got on either side of the doorway.

“You initiate, I’ll follow up.”

John and Ray pulled both safety pins, and chucked the grenades into the corridor. At the count of two, Richter fired his M320. He, and everyone within the line of sight of the door, ducked to the side. A trio of teeth-rattling explosions rocked the level. Waiting only a second, Eva proceeded into the hallway. From both of the old cyclotron rooms, four figures emerged, moving through the dust cloud kicked up by the grenades. They looked exactly like the last ones she had faced, and clutched 18-inch stilettos, the blades glinting despite the dim light.

The black-clad Kau’Rii strode forward fearlessly, their faces twisted into a disturbing combination of hate and pleasure. Despite this, Eva felt even more confident than when she fought the thugs who tried to mug her in New Solace. She held her bokken with both hands and assumed a fighting stance.

Two bullets whistled past Eva’s head, followed a split-second later by the cracks of rifle shots. One of the felines was hit in the face, and the contents of its skull were splattered across the wall. The remaining three rushed forward. Two approached her from either side, while the third attempted to get behind her. She dodged left, coming within inches of the third one, and swung her weapon diagonally up and to the right. The Kau’Rii attempted to parry, but her weapon smashed through his defense and struck him under the chin. He was lifted off his feet and pushed back to the far wall.

The second man tried for a straight stab to her chest, while the first circled around to her right. She avoided the attack, and countered with a swing toward his abdomen, which connected. He doubled over in agony as every bone in his pelvis shattered. The first man ended up on her right flank, and grabbed her shoulder. Just as he was about to sink his stiletto deep into her back, a round of buckshot struck him in his elbow, shredding it. Eva spun around, stepped back, and thrust her bokken at his chest. Her weapon briefly glowed blue, and the Kau’Rii’s heart and lungs exploded out of his back, accompanied by large fragments of his spine.

Eva stepped off the line of fire from the control room, and scanned for additional threats. There was no one left to challenge her. The man with the broken pelvis tried to roll over onto his back, and succeeded, at least as far as the upper half of his body. He grinned, and pulled a small device from a pocket. Before she or any of her friends could do anything, a quick series of explosions shook the corridor, and a blast of superheated air and debris shot out of the doors to one of the cyclotron rooms. Eva was standing directly in front of one of them, and caught the full force of the eruption. She squeezed her eyes shut and ducked, though it was far too late to make a difference.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Richter standing above her. Rising to her feet, she was mildly surprised to find that she was uninjured.

“You okay?” asked Richter.

“I think so. My bokken must have protected me.”

“I’d say so. The overpressure of that blast blew out the observation windows to the particle collider and knocked half of us over.”

“What happened?”

“The Tenchiik must have rigged up the old explosives on the cyclotrons, or added to them. My guess is that they were hoping to collapse the whole level. Fortunately for us, this place is holding up well.”

“Is Scrivener okay?”

“No worse than before. We’ll have Sakura check him for a TBI, in addition to all his other injuries.”

As the dust settled, Eva could see several of her team advancing down the corridor, clearing every corner. There was no doubt as to the state of the four Tenchiik that had confronted them; it was clear no mortal being could have survived that much damage. John picked up one of the stilettos.

“This is the first time we’ve ever recovered one of these so-called vibro-blades,” he said. “Perhaps it will give us a clue as to the origin of these people.”

“I think our time would be better spent trying to replicate one of these Sortarii weapons,” said Eva.

“Assuming anyone other than the Kira’To’s darlings can use them,” said Christie. “Ari and I have devoted an inordinate amount of time trying to figure it out, as if we didn’t have enough to do.”

“Today’s performance should revitalize that effort. But I appreciate that matters pertaining to our ships take precedence.”

John said, “I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with them without Fuyue’s help. We’re still waiting for a response from the Antares, if I didn’t mention it before.”

“You did,” said Ray. “He refused to help us before, in favor of trying to recruit Eva, Miriam, or Reveki. I don’t think he’ll ever help us unless one of those three agree to become his acolyte, or whatever.”

Richter approached them. “Both cyclotron rooms are clear. Of course, the one on the left is a fresh mess, but there’s nowhere for anything larger than a rat to hide.”

“Then it seems we have a choice to make,” said John. “Proceed to Sub-Level 5 and look for Kheiron, evacuate ourselves and Scrivener to the Faith, or split up and do both.”

Malthus piped up from the entrance to the control room. “If Adeler goes with me, I’ll go below.”

Eva flipped her bokken around in her hand. “Oh, you liked that, huh?”

“Geez Louise, get over yourself,” muttered Richter.

“Normally I’d choose the safest path…” began John.

“That’s not even remotely fuckin’ true.”

John was flustered. “Well, you know, I mean usually. Don’t I? Anyway, if Adeler and Malthus are cool with it, I’d say we get one or two more volunteers and let them go. That leaves nine or ten to get Scrivener and his guys to the ship.”

“I’ll go,” said Christie.

“If you’re going, I’m going too,” said Ray.

John nodded. “That’s fine. Chason?”

“I don’t want to,” he replied. “But I owe Malthus. I’ll ask you for more weapons and a set of armor, if you can spare it.”

“We have both, thanks to Eva and Richter’s catatonic androids.”

Malthus rolled his eyes. “You don’t owe me shit. All I ever wanted was for you to get out of here. This is your chance; you should take it.”

“You both need to gear up,” began John. “You have until that’s done to decide where you’re going. The rest of us are going to prepare for evac.”

Without any further prompting, everyone headed back to the collider control room. Eva and Richter assisted Malthus and Chason with stripping the somnolent androids of their armor, and fitting it to the prisoners. A thought that had been poking at her subconscious came to her, and while tightening the straps on the rig of Kevlar fabric and ceramic plates around Chason’s torso, she spoke.

“You and Malthus have told us about stories of prisoners who have escaped into this facility over the years. Yet, the most we’ve found so far is evidence of one person who made an attempt to survive down here. I’m curious to know how reliable the information you’ve gathered is.”

Chason rolled his shoulders to check the snugness of his new set of armor. “It’s all just rumors. It’s not exactly quality intel we’ve had to work with. But, stories of such escapes are rampant among the population. That is to say, the former population. Malthus can confirm it.”

“Actually,” began Malthus, “the first I ever heard of it was a few weeks ago when you brought it up. I assumed you had been talking to other inmates; after all, you’ve been here longer than me.”

“What? That can’t be right.”

Malthus tapped his forehead. “Eidetic memory, remember? You told me that it was in a letter from your sister that it was mentioned; earlier than that, it wasn’t spoken of. After that, both of us talked to other inmates, and heard stories about it.”

John overheard this, and approached them. “Is it possible that you, Chason, sowed the seeds of the rumor in the first place?”

Chason shrugged. “I don’t know. Malthus would know more than me.”

“I’m telling you,” replied Malthus, “Your letter from Wega that you shared with me was the first time I heard of it. It was only when you gave me that map you found that I took any of it seriously.”

Eva said, “How much do we really know about Wega Talyn?”

“Only what the crew of the Fox has told us,” said John. “Chason, what was your sister into, last you knew?”

“That’s an awfully broad question,” Chason said, frowning. “She’s tried her hand at lots of business ventures over the years. She’s been most successful as a futures trader, at least according to her.”

“Do we know where she was based out of?” asked Ray.

John said, “Again, that’s a question for the crew of the Fox. All I know is that Wega contacted them via standard SRC channels. So she could be anywhere within the developed galaxy. Chason, what do you know?”

“Last I heard she was based out of the South Gate, also known as Alpha Lupi, not far from here.”

“That’s close enough for any planet in the Lupus constellation to have regular contact with Alnair,” said Christie.

Chason crossed his arms. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“What are you all talking about?” asked Richter. “I’m totally lost here.”

“That Wega knew more about Alnair and Inferno than she was letting on,” said John. “But now is not the time to start throwing out wild accusations. Until we can talk to Captain Kitsune, it’s all just speculation.”

Mike said, “Considering all that we’ve seen so far, a far-reaching conspiracy to conceal Inferno’s true purpose isn’t so implausible.”

“You’re not helping, Major. Come on, everybody, if we lose cohesion now, none of us are going to survive this.”

Chason seemed to be at the verge of crying. “Fuck. All right then, if it helps, I’ll go below with Malthus and his team.”

“His team, huh?” muttered Ray.

“You know what I meant.”

“Every moment that we hesitate is one moment closer to death for Scrivener,” said Mike.

John nodded. “You’re right. Everybody lock and load. We’re moving out.”

__________

It didn’t take much exploration of Sub-Level Five for Ray and his team to encounter something interesting. No sooner had they exited the stairwell did they emerge onto a railed platform, which overlooked an expansive and dizzying open area. Sprawling out before them, they found a cavern, the space extending about seven hundred meters ahead, and going down at least a thousand meters below. Anything beyond that was blanketed in fog. In the center were seven vertical columns, each approximately 25 meters in diameter. Immediately obvious along the length of the cavern, and on each floor as far as they could see, were both fixed lights and softly glowing sources slowly moving about. Momentarily stunned at the sight, Malthus, who was not wearing a helmet, was the first to speak.

“I smell food cooking,” he said. “It also smells wet in here.”

Christie peered at her PDA. “I’m reading dozens of life signs within range of the scanner. It’s also much warmer in here than in previous levels; twenty-two Celsius. The only energy signatures are coming from those columns in the middle.”

Malthus said, “This area is marked on the map as ‘cooling towers’.”

The team investigated further. A rickety bridge, made of heavy rope and planks, ran from one side of the platform to a ledge on the cavern wall. Chason found a control panel with dials and levers, and summarized the markings for the others.

“These controls are meant to regulate the water level in the cavern,” he said.

Ray pointed at the nearest column. “If you look closely, you’ll see a dark, blotchy line running across that column at just below the level of this platform. My guess is that was where the water level was kept while this facility was still in operation.”

Chason gestured at the panel. “There’s a dial here, and if I’m reading it right, it indicates that the water level is currently at ten percent of the maximum.”

“It would take billions of liters to fill this space,” said Malthus. “There must be a fresh water supply quite close to here.”

“It seems obvious that these columns were used as heat exchangers for whatever machinery they were using.”

“It’s a good thing we didn’t try to start anything up,” said Christie.

“Anything else you can tell us about those life signs?” Ray asked her.

“Indeterminate. I don’t suppose anybody brought a pair of binoculars?”

“Not me, sorry.”

“You don’t have a zoom function on your visors?” asked Malthus.

“Yes, but it’s only up to three-x. I can’t see anything useful beyond that, even with IR illumination. Since I don’t think we can cross that bridge without making a big old racket, I say we make ourselves known. If we’re attacked, this will be our last chance to get out of here in a hurry.”

Christie nodded. “It’s the only prudence choice.”

“Alright. Just be ready to exfil any second.”

Ray retrieved a small flashlight from his gear, but before he could activate it, Chason noticed something.

“Hey, some of those greenish lights are moving toward the bridge.”

“It would appear that a welcome party is heading this way,” said Christie. “Let’s try not to look too threatening.”

As they watched, the soft lights seemed to move up the side of the cavern, and soon a group of about a dozen gathered on the top level. It wasn’t until the first humanoid figures arrived at the far end of the rope bridge that the team was able to make them out individually. At first glance, they resembled Alnairians, but were much paler in complexion and none of them had any hair. Their clothing appeared to be little more than one-piece robes. The figure at the front of the group motioned for their guests to cross the bridge.

At that distance, Ray only had to raise his voice slightly for it to carry. “We mean you no harm.”

Again, the figure simply gestured at them. Eva shrugged, and removed her helmet. Before anyone could object, she stepped onto the first plank, testing it. Satisfied, she slowly made her way across the bridge, trying not to look down.

“It seems sturdy enough,” she said.

“Just the same, let’s go one at a time.”

Over the next few minutes, the other four allies made their way across. They found themselves among the humanoids, who still hadn’t said a word to them. Other than a few rough-made satchels and the disposable chemlights they were carrying, they had nothing on them, though any one of them could have had a small weapon concealed beneath their clothes. Their faces were expressionless, but calm. In the group, there were seven men and five women.

“Hi,” began Ray. “I’m Ray, this is Evangeline, Christie, Malthus, and Chason. We’re looking for a friend of ours, he goes by the name of Kheiron. He wouldn’t happen to be a friend of yours too, would he?”

The man who had beckoned them before cocked his head toward a small path along the cavern wall, and began walking. Five of his people followed him, with the other six waiting behind the team.

“Are you going to take us to him?” asked Eva.

There was no reply. Resigned, she and her friends followed. The way ahead was narrow, and with no railings, making for a harrowing path, but the strange group seemed completely unbothered by the inherent danger. As they proceeded, they began to pass by grottos carved into the sandstone walls. Glancing into the openings revealed larger areas beyond, and in a few cases, beds and rudimentary furniture. About halfway down, they arrived at a rope ladder, which their hosts used to climb down to the next level.

Everyone continued in this manner until they had descended five more levels, at last arriving at a larger room. This chamber contained several tables, benches, electric lanterns, and dozens of boxes and crates stacked against either side. Markings on the containers made it clear that they had come from the prison at some point, and included shelf-stable rations, blankets, and other sundries. The far end of the room had been set up as either a shrine or an altar, with a mural painted on the wall in muted colors. The painting depicted a verdant landscape, as well as figures that resembled the people that were leading the team. Seated in a chair that had been constructed from old crates was a Kira’To.

“Well, shit,” began Malthus, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

With that, Malthus keeled over. Ray caught him and guided him to the stone floor.

“I sense that he’s fine,” said Eva. “He and Kheiron are just having a chat.”

Continue reading: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/02/29/the-wolf-and-the-centaur-rf-viii-chapter-15/

The Wolf and the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 14

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

“Let me handle this.”

Evangeline put her PDA in her pocket, and held her AK-74 out toward Ray, who happened to be the closest person to her. After a moment of hesitation, he accepted it, and quickly but carefully put it on the deck. Eva drew her bokken, gave it a flourish to test its balance, and took a step forward.

“All this firepower, and you want to fight them hand-to-hand?” asked John.

“You’ve seen what these Sortarii artifacts are capable of,” she replied. “Fuyue fried our enemies like a fusion reactor just by believing he could. I wish you could feel the confidence that I do, flowing through my veins.”

“We’ll let you go,” began Richter, “but first, you should let us soften them up a bit.”

“By all means.”

Richter readied the grenade launcher attached to his carbine. Upon seeing this, John and Ray retrieved the M67s they were carrying, and got on either side of the doorway.

“You initiate, I’ll follow up.”

John and Ray pulled both safety pins, and chucked the grenades into the corridor. At the count of two, Richter fired his M320. He, and everyone within the line of sight of the door, ducked to the side. A trio of teeth-rattling explosions rocked the level. Waiting only a second, Eva proceeded into the hallway. From both of the old cyclotron rooms, four figures emerged, moving through the dust cloud kicked up by the grenades. They looked exactly like the last ones she had faced, and clutched 18-inch stilettos, the blades glinting despite the dim light.

The black-clad Kau’Rii strode forward fearlessly, their faces twisted into a disturbing combination of hate and pleasure. Despite this, Eva felt even more confident than when she fought the thugs who tried to mug her in New Solace. She held her bokken with both hands and assumed a fighting stance.

Two bullets whistled past Eva’s head, followed a split-second later by the cracks of rifle shots. One of the felines was hit in the face, and the contents of its skull were splattered across the wall. The remaining three rushed forward. Two approached her from either side, while the third attempted to get behind her. She dodged left, coming within inches of the third one, and swung her weapon diagonally up and to the right. The Kau’Rii attempted to parry, but her weapon smashed through his defense and struck him under the chin. He was lifted off his feet and pushed back to the far wall.

The second man tried for a straight stab to her chest, while the first circled around to her right. She avoided the attack, and countered with a swing toward his abdomen, which connected. He doubled over in agony as every bone in his pelvis shattered. The first man ended up on her right flank, and grabbed her shoulder. Just as he was about to sink his stiletto deep into her back, a round of buckshot struck him in his elbow, shredding it. Eva spun around, stepped back, and thrust her bokken at his chest. Her weapon briefly glowed blue, and the Kau’Rii’s heart and lungs exploded out of his back, accompanied by large fragments of his spine.

Eva stepped off the line of fire from the control room, and scanned for additional threats. There was no one left to challenge her. The man with the broken pelvis tried to roll over onto his back, and succeeded, at least as far as the upper half of his body. He grinned, and pulled a small device from a pocket. Before she or any of her friends could do anything, a quick series of explosions shook the corridor, and a blast of superheated air and debris shot out of the doors to one of the cyclotron rooms. Eva was standing directly in front of one of them, and caught the full force of the eruption. She squeezed her eyes shut and ducked, though it was far too late to make a difference.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Richter standing above her. Rising to her feet, she was mildly surprised to find that she was uninjured.

“You okay?” asked Richter.

“I think so. My bokken must have protected me.”

“I’d say so. The overpressure of that blast blew out the observation windows to the particle collider and knocked half of us over.”

“What happened?”

“The Tenchiik must have rigged up the old explosives on the cyclotrons, or added to them. My guess is that they were hoping to collapse the whole level. Fortunately for us, this place is holding up well.”

“Is Scrivener okay?”

“No worse than before. We’ll have Sakura check him for a TBI, in addition to all his other injuries.”

As the dust settled, Eva could see several of her team advancing down the corridor, clearing every corner. There was no doubt as to the state of the four Tenchiik that had confronted them; it was clear no mortal being could have survived that much damage. John picked up one of the stilettos.

“This is the first time we’ve ever recovered one of these so-called vibro-blades,” he said. “Perhaps it will give us a clue as to the origin of these people.”

“I think our time would be better spent trying to replicate one of these Sortarii weapons,” said Eva.

“Assuming anyone other than the Kira’To’s darlings can use them,” said Christie. “Ari and I have devoted an inordinate amount of time trying to figure it out, as if we didn’t have enough to do.”

“Today’s performance should revitalize that effort. But I appreciate that matters pertaining to our ships take precedence.”

John said, “I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with them without Fuyue’s help. We’re still waiting for a response from the Antares, if I didn’t mention it before.”

“You did,” said Ray. “He refused to help us before, in favor of trying to recruit Eva, Miriam, or Reveki. I don’t think he’ll ever help us unless one of those three agree to become his acolyte, or whatever.”

Richter approached them. “Both cyclotron rooms are clear. Of course, the one on the left is a fresh mess, but there’s nowhere for anything larger than a rat to hide.”

“Then it seems we have a choice to make,” said John. “Proceed to Sub-Level 5 and look for Kheiron, evacuate ourselves and Scrivener to the Faith, or split up and do both.”

Malthus piped up from the entrance to the control room. “If Adeler goes with me, I’ll go below.”

Eva flipped her bokken around in her hand. “Oh, you liked that, huh?”

“Geez Louise, get over yourself,” muttered Richter.

“Normally I’d choose the safest path…” began John.

“That’s not even remotely fuckin’ true.”

John was flustered. “Well, you know, I mean usually. Don’t I? Anyway, if Adeler and Malthus are cool with it, I’d say we get one or two more volunteers and let them go. That leaves nine or ten to get Scrivener and his guys to the ship.”

“I’ll go,” said Christie.

“If you’re going, I’m going too,” said Ray.

John nodded. “That’s fine. Chason?”

“I don’t want to,” he replied. “But I owe Malthus. I’ll ask you for more weapons and a set of armor, if you can spare it.”

“We have both, thanks to Eva and Richter’s catatonic androids.”

Malthus rolled his eyes. “You don’t owe me shit. All I ever wanted was for you to get out of here. This is your chance; you should take it.”

“You both need to gear up,” began John. “You have until that’s done to decide where you’re going. The rest of us are going to prepare for evac.”

Without any further prompting, everyone headed back to the collider control room. Eva and Richter assisted Malthus and Chason with stripping the somnolent androids of their armor, and fitting it to the prisoners. A thought that had been poking at her subconscious came to her, and while tightening the straps on the rig of Kevlar fabric and ceramic plates around Chason’s torso, she spoke.

“You and Malthus have told us about stories of prisoners who have escaped into this facility over the years. Yet, the most we’ve found so far is evidence of one person who made an attempt to survive down here. I’m curious to know how reliable the information you’ve gathered is.”

Chason rolled his shoulders to check the snugness of his new set of armor. “It’s all just rumors. It’s not exactly quality intel we’ve had to work with. But, stories of such escapes are rampant among the population. That is to say, the former population. Malthus can confirm it.”

“Actually,” began Malthus, “the first I ever heard of it was a few weeks ago when you brought it up. I assumed you had been talking to other inmates; after all, you’ve been here longer than me.”

“What? That can’t be right.”

Malthus tapped his forehead. “Eidetic memory, remember? You told me that it was in a letter from your sister that it was mentioned; earlier than that, it wasn’t spoken of. After that, both of us talked to other inmates, and heard stories about it.”

John overheard this, and approached them. “Is it possible that you, Chason, sowed the seeds of the rumor in the first place?”

Chason shrugged. “I don’t know. Malthus would know more than me.”

“I’m telling you,” replied Malthus, “Your letter from Wega that you shared with me was the first time I heard of it. It was only when you gave me that map you found that I took any of it seriously.”

Eva said, “How much do we really know about Wega Talyn?”

“Only what the crew of the Fox has told us,” said John. “Chason, what was your sister into, last you knew?”

“That’s an awfully broad question,” Chason said, frowning. “She’s tried her hand at lots of business ventures over the years. She’s been most successful as a futures trader, at least according to her.”

“Do we know where she was based out of?” asked Ray.

John said, “Again, that’s a question for the crew of the Fox. All I know is that Wega contacted them via standard SRC channels. So she could be anywhere within the developed galaxy. Chason, what do you know?”

“Last I heard she was based out of the South Gate, also known as Alpha Lupi, not far from here.”

“That’s close enough for any planet in the Lupus constellation to have regular contact with Alnair,” said Christie.

Chason crossed his arms. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“What are you all talking about?” asked Richter. “I’m totally lost here.”

“That Wega knew more about Alnair and Inferno than she was letting on,” said John. “But now is not the time to start throwing out wild accusations. Until we can talk to Captain Kitsune, it’s all just speculation.”

Mike said, “Considering all that we’ve seen so far, a far-reaching conspiracy to conceal Inferno’s true purpose isn’t so implausible.”

“You’re not helping, Major. Come on, everybody, if we lose cohesion now, none of us are going to survive this.”

Chason seemed to be at the verge of crying. “Fuck. All right then, if it helps, I’ll go below with Malthus and his team.”

“His team, huh?” muttered Ray.

“You know what I meant.”

“Every moment that we hesitate is one moment closer to death for Scrivener,” said Mike.

John nodded. “You’re right. Everybody lock and load. We’re moving out.”

__________

It didn’t take much exploration of Sub-Level Five for Ray and his team to encounter something interesting. No sooner had they exited the stairwell did they emerge onto a railed platform, which overlooked an expansive and dizzying open area. Sprawling out before them, they found a cavern, the space extending about seven hundred meters ahead, and going down at least a thousand meters below. Anything beyond that was blanketed in fog. In the center were seven vertical columns, each approximately 25 meters in diameter. Immediately obvious along the length of the cavern, and on each floor as far as they could see, were both fixed lights and softly glowing sources slowly moving about. Momentarily stunned at the sight, Malthus, who was not wearing a helmet, was the first to speak.

“I smell food cooking,” he said. “It also smells wet in here.”

Christie peered at her PDA. “I’m reading dozens of life signs within range of the scanner. It’s also much warmer in here than in previous levels; twenty-two Celsius. The only energy signatures are coming from those columns in the middle.”

Malthus said, “This area is marked on the map as ‘cooling towers’.”

The team investigated further. A rickety bridge, made of heavy rope and planks, ran from one side of the platform to a ledge on the cavern wall. Chason found a control panel with dials and levers, and summarized the markings for the others.

“These controls are meant to regulate the water level in the cavern,” he said.

Ray pointed at the nearest column. “If you look closely, you’ll see a dark, blotchy line running across that column at just below the level of this platform. My guess is that was where the water level was kept while this facility was still in operation.”

Chason gestured at the panel. “There’s a dial here, and if I’m reading it right, it indicates that the water level is currently at ten percent of the maximum.”

“It would take billions of liters to fill this space,” said Malthus. “There must be a fresh water supply quite close to here.”

“It seems obvious that these columns were used as heat exchangers for whatever machinery they were using.”

“It’s a good thing we didn’t try to start anything up,” said Christie.

“Anything else you can tell us about those life signs?” Ray asked her.

“Indeterminate. I don’t suppose anybody brought a pair of binoculars?”

“Not me, sorry.”

“You don’t have a zoom function on your visors?” asked Malthus.

“Yes, but it’s only up to three-x. I can’t see anything useful beyond that, even with IR illumination. Since I don’t think we can cross that bridge without making a big old racket, I say we make ourselves known. If we’re attacked, this will be our last chance to get out of here in a hurry.”

Christie nodded. “It’s the only prudence choice.”

“Alright. Just be ready to exfil any second.”

Ray retrieved a small flashlight from his gear, but before he could activate it, Chason noticed something.

“Hey, some of those greenish lights are moving toward the bridge.”

“It would appear that a welcome party is heading this way,” said Christie. “Let’s try not to look too threatening.”

As they watched, the soft lights seemed to move up the side of the cavern, and soon a group of about a dozen gathered on the top level. It wasn’t until the first humanoid figures arrived at the far end of the rope bridge that the team was able to make them out individually. At first glance, they resembled Alnairians, but were much paler in complexion and none of them had any hair. Their clothing appeared to be little more than one-piece robes. The figure at the front of the group motioned for their guests to cross the bridge.

At that distance, Ray only had to raise his voice slightly for it to carry. “We mean you no harm.”

Again, the figure simply gestured at them. Eva shrugged, and removed her helmet. Before anyone could object, she stepped onto the first plank, testing it. Satisfied, she slowly made her way across the bridge, trying not to look down.

“It seems sturdy enough,” she said.

“Just the same, let’s go one at a time.”

Over the next few minutes, the other four allies made their way across. They found themselves among the humanoids, who still hadn’t said a word to them. Other than a few rough-made satchels and the disposable chemlights they were carrying, they had nothing on them, though any one of them could have had a small weapon concealed beneath their clothes. Their faces were expressionless, but calm. In the group, there were seven men and five women.

“Hi,” began Ray. “I’m Ray, this is Evangeline, Christie, Malthus, and Chason. We’re looking for a friend of ours, he goes by the name of Kheiron. He wouldn’t happen to be a friend of yours too, would he?”

The man who had beckoned them before cocked his head toward a small path along the cavern wall, and began walking. Five of his people followed him, with the other six waiting behind the team.

“Are you going to take us to him?” asked Eva.

There was no reply. Resigned, she and her friends followed. The way ahead was narrow, and with no railings, making for a harrowing path, but the strange group seemed completely unbothered by the inherent danger. As they proceeded, they began to pass by grottos carved into the sandstone walls. Glancing into the openings revealed larger areas beyond, and in a few cases, beds and rudimentary furniture. About halfway down, they arrived at a rope ladder, which their hosts used to climb down to the next level.

Everyone continued in this manner until they had descended five more levels, at last arriving at a larger room. This chamber contained several tables, benches, electric lanterns, and dozens of boxes and crates stacked against either side. Markings on the containers made it clear that they had come from the prison at some point, and included shelf-stable rations, blankets, and other sundries. The far end of the room had been set up as either a shrine or an altar, with a mural painted on the wall in muted colors. The painting depicted a verdant landscape, as well as figures that resembled the people that were leading the team. Seated in a chair that had been constructed from old crates was a Kira’To.

“Well, shit,” began Malthus, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

With that, Malthus keeled over. Ray caught him and guided him to the stone floor.

“I sense that he’s fine,” said Eva. “He and Kheiron are just having a chat.”

Legacy of the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 13

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

The Reckless Faith plunged itself through the turbulent atmosphere of Tartarus, with Lieutenant Agena and the Tondelayo following on their high four o’clock. As if the situation hadn’t deteriorated enough already, a sudden signal across all frequencies had interrupted their contact with their people on the ground, only adding to the urgency of their mission. While Christie – abruptly returned to her disembodied state within the orb on board the Percheron – was working a way to counteract the jamming signal, John and the rest of his crew were champing at the bit to get down to the prison.

With Milena at the controls, and Dana to monitor the ship, John, Kyrie, Evangeline, and Richter had gone to the Zero-G room, EVA suits donned and weapons drawn from the armory. Ari was also there, but had reluctantly agreed that the risk of her getting cut off from her own connection to the Faith’s orb was too great, and she was staying behind. Though Eva and Richter were still reeling from their unexpected reunion with their human forms, they claimed to be recovering quickly.

Ari assisted the others with securing their suits, and a pre-combat inspection of their gear, which had become routine for all of them. The team of four wasn’t taking any chances; in addition to full medical kits, each of them carried their preferred sidearms and two other weapons. John and Kyrie had Phalanx carbines and Umberian plasma rifles. Richter had his M4 carbine and a copy of Ray’s Remington 870. Eva had her AK-74 and Sortarii bokken.

Milena’s voice came over their radios. “Time on deck, thirty seconds.”

Ari slapped the side of Richter’s helmet. “Good to go.”

Though none of them had noticed her enter the room, Friday’s voice echoed in their heads, prompting all of them to notice the small black cat in the corner.

“Please don’t go,” she said.

John was surprised. “Friday? It’s okay, we can handle ourselves.”

“You don’t understand. This place holds secrets deeper than anything we’ve found before.”

John felt his hair stand on end. “That can’t possibly be true.”

“It’s as if a million voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced.”

Eva’s jaw dropped. “Did… did you just quote Star Wars?”

“I know everything that you know. Seth told me. Humans like to talk to each other with stories.”

“That is equal parts disturbing and amusing,” said Richter.

John removed his helmet, and crouched down. “Friday, tell me what you mean.”

“I don’t know. I see blue skies and sparkling oceans, with an overwhelming feeling of loss. These emotions are new to me; I don’t know how to explain them.”

The GAU-8A sprang to life, the recoil thudding deeply through the superstructure of the ship and startling everyone in the room. A moment later, Milena spoke again.

“Scratch one plasma turret. I dodged a volley and wasted it. If anyone’s alive down there who still cares, they know we’re here.”

“Roger that,” said Richter. “Come on, Scherer, we can’t get held up by the anxieties of a cat. No disrespect intended, Friday.”

“I don’t want to be right about this, you know,” she replied.

Despite not touching the controls, the door to the corridor opened upon her walking in that direction, and she passed into the hallway without another word. The door slid shut behind her.

“Do y’all want to get Tycho’s opinion on this, too?”

John put his helmet back on. “Don’t be glib, Richter. Friday gaining sentience is a really big deal, you know, with philosophical ramifications that challenge the very core of what it means to be human.”

“That doesn’t make her any better at prognostication than a roll of the dice.”

“Look at you, using big words like a proper grown-up,” said Ari.

Eva said, “I’ve been a positive influence on him. Come on, we don’t have time for this.”

“We’ve got a good seal on the airlock,” began Milena. “The outer door is much larger than ours, so we’re relying on a force field to keep it pressurized. So, it’s taking a bit longer than usual to purge and purify the gap. There, you should be good.”

“We’re ready,” said John.

He pressed a key on the panel by the door, causing it to slide open. Doing so revealed the outer door to Inferno’s airlock. There was no control panel that any of them could see, though the flanks of the hatch were beyond their line-of-sight through the Faith’s smaller portal.

“It looks like it’s remote-access only,” said Ari. “That’s not surprising, considering the temperatures the door is normally exposed to. I’ll start searching for a signal and try to hack into it.”

“Please do.”

Ari’s eyes unfocused, and she stared past them as she began to work on that problem through the orb’s connection to the Faith’s computer. Less than a minute went by before she spoke again.

“Whatever jamming signal is messing with our ships in orbit is less pronounced down here. It’s not enough to reestablish a link with our people, but I was able to find Inferno’s wireless node. Despite my brain being the ‘size of a planet,’ navigating an alien computer system with an unfamiliar base language is still a challenge.”

“You don’t have to make excuses, take your time,” said John.

“It’s not an excuse, it’s a reminder how much you rely on me and Christie. Anyway, you’d better get your weapons shouldered; I’m ready to open the door.”

Following her advice, the team readied their rifles as the outer door to the prison opened. They were met with a capacious interior airlock, at least twice as tall and three times as wide as one meant for humanoids. Running for a good fifty meters beyond the outer wall, the space was well-lit, and included bright yellow strobes every ten meters, providing a visual warning, just in case there was any doubt that the outer door was open. As there was no opposition, the team moved inside. Ari saluted them, and closed the Faith’s doors. The outer prison door closed, and a hissing noise accompanied the return of the airlock to normal pressure. Eva looked at her PDA.

“Bars, temp, and air quality are all safe,” she said. “We don’t have to worry about our suits getting punctured. Not that we should get shot, of course.”

“Looks like this space was meant to accept cargo,” said John.

“It would make sense, if this was the only practical way to get in.”

“Check comms,” said Richter, grabbing his own PDA.

Kyrie obliged. “We’ve already lost contact with the Faith. I’m not seeing a ping for the ground team.”

“I’ll try anyway. Ground team, this is Richter, come in, over.”

Ray’s voice echoed in their helmets. “God damn, it’s good to hear from you. Over.”

Richter sighed in relief. “What’s your status?”

Over the next few minutes, Ray gave a complete update to his friends above. They were also able to establish a data connection, and soon the contingent from the Faith had a rudimentary diagram of what the ground team had found of the old research facility.

“Hang tight,” said John. “We’ll try to make our way to your location.”

His team proceeded into the next room, which was unsurprisingly a security checkpoint. A guard sat at his station, his head almost completely severed from his neck. Though the body and desk were completely drenched in blood, Richter was able to notice something.

“Clean cut,” he said. “His pistol is still holstered. Dude never had a chance.”

“That fits the M.O. of the Tenchiik,” said Eva, switching from her rifle to her bokken.

Richter switched to his shotgun. “That’s nothing some good old double-aught buck can’t handle.”

John said, “Come on, we’re wasting time here.”

The next room revealed two paths. One was an employee entrance, and the other was an area to process incoming prisoners. Both had been left wide open, so the team chose the former. Beyond, there were a passenger elevator, one for freight, and a stairwell.

“Better take the stairs,” said Richter.

Entering the landing, they could see a placard on the wall. Eva took a screenshot of it with her PDA, and sent it to Ari. A moment later, she told them the results.

“It says, ‘level ten’.”

Richter took point, and led them below. The levels counted down in number, and nine floors later, they reached the main floor of the prison. They entered another security checkpoint. There, they found two dead guards, both carved up like Thanksgiving turkeys. This time, they had put up a little bit of a fight, as evidenced by the shell casings on the deck.

“Other than the shots these guys fired,” said Richter, “there’s no sign of any other small arms being used.”

Eva said, “For all their hype, the Tenchiik are nothing more than assassins. It seems we’ve stumbled into another cover-up attempt by clumsy politicians with too much money at their disposal.”

Richter showed Eva the missing finger on his left hand. “Need I remind you how dangerous those fuckers are?”

“Oh, I know. They almost proved to be the end for Amity and Tomoyasu, and they had more skill at hand-to-hand combat than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m just saying, they’re not demons.”

“You might feel differently if you’d faced them yourself,” said John. “Adeler, if you’re going to wield your bokken, then you’ve got PDA duty. We’ll take our time as we move forward, and I want you scanning everything.”

“No problem.”

The next thirty minutes went by in a blur as the team searched the entirety of the main level of the prison, and found nothing but carnage. Before entering the dining facility, Eva held up her fist, prompting the other three to pause.

“What you got?” asked Kyrie.

“A ULF pulse, corresponding to two small devices on the other side of these doors.”

“They’re not part of the local node?” asked John.

“No, they’re a different frequency entirely.”

“It could be a trap,” said Richter.

“Why not send in a Snoopy? I’m sure you’re tired of carrying it around, Kyrie.”

Kyrie nodded. “Good idea.”

He unlimbered his rucksack, and withdrew one of their drones, packed for transport. He set it up, and the quadruple propeller blades whirred softly as he brought it to life with his PDA. Eva stood ready to open one of the double-doors to the dining hall, while John and Richter aimed their weapons at the entrance. Retreating down the corridor by several meters, Kyrie guided the drone to the doors, and gave the others a thumbs-up.

“Do it,” whispered John.

Eva attempted to push the door open, but only got it to budge a few inches before something blocked the way. Glancing inside, she could see tables and chairs piled on the opposite side. She put her shoulder against the door, pushed with all her strength, and managed to get it open wide enough for the drone. Kyrie flew it toward the gap. Immediately, the Snoopy was shredded by bullets, the shots echoing deeply into the hallway while sparks spat from the doomed drone. It crashed to the floor, completely destroyed.

“I think we know who we’re dealing with here,” said Richter.

“Alnairian marines!” bellowed John. “It’s the crew of the Reckless Faith! Stand down!”

“Advance one to be recognized,” said a voice from inside.

“I’ll go,” said Eva.

She crammed her bokken into her utility belt and began to clamber over the furniture. Half of the pile collapsed inward, sending her sprawling between two tables. She found herself entangled among the legs of the tables and the sling for her rifle. She had no choice but to hit the quick-release buckle and leave her AK behind. Crawling on her hands and knees, she extracted herself from the mess, and stood up.

The first thing she noticed were two piles of corpses on either side of her, and rivers of blood oozing toward a drain at the center of the room. At the far end, she could see that two beverage machines had been knocked over, and a moment later, saw two armored figures crouched behind them, their rifles pointed unwaveringly at her.

“Take off your helmet,” one of them said.

Eva obliged. “As you can see, I’m not a Tenchiik.”

“A what? Tenchiik? Are you suggesting they’re responsible for this massacre?”

“Oh. I guess Scrivener never had a chance to tell you. That’s what he told our people below before he passed out. Marine, you’re going to have to extend us a bit of trust if you want to get out of here alive. So either shoot me, or come out from behind there.”

“Come back with Scrivener, or don’t come back at all.”

“Your sergeant desperately needs a blood transfusion. If either of you are compatible, you could save his life. I’ll leave it to you if you think that’s worth the risk.”

Another voice could be heard, this time from behind the serving counter.

“Don’t shoot, I’m coming out!”

An Alnairian man emerged, wearing what was clearly a prison uniform. He held his hands above his head, and moved slowly toward the center of the room.

Eva waved at him. “Hi.”

“My name is Malthus Brewer. I’m the guy who provided the layout of the old research station to the marines. Also, I was the cellmate of Kheiron, the Kira’To. I’ll tell you whatever you want, just get me the hell out of here.”

“Relax, Malthus. Do you know your blood type?”

“Yes. I’ll help, if I can.”

“Good. Last chance, you two, or we’ll leave you to the tender ministrations of stabby kittens.”

_____

“Well shit, that’s not the least bit creepy.”

On Sub-Level 3, John and his team had at last linked up with Ray, Mike, Christie, and Chason. After Evangeline’s admonishment, and Malthus willing to leave them behind, the two marines, named Private Courier and Sergeant Clerk, reluctantly agreed to abandon their position in the dining facility. Chason was elated to see Malthus enter the room, and the two had embraced and cried. Christie had just given John and his folks an update on the situation, though there wasn’t much new to share. Richter’s comment was upon seeing the android version of himself and Eva, both still prostrate and motionless after being cut off from their human hosts. Chason released his fellow prisoner and wiped the tears from his face.

“I always thought we’d meet again, though not as soon,” he said.

“Likewise,” said Malthus. “You found what you were looking for, but I imagine it’s not in the form you thought it’d be.”

“That hope has been replaced with another, which I’m sure you share. We have a chance to get off this rock.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” said John, then turned to Christie. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, you know,” she began, “other than the existential horror of being cut off from my true self. Since becoming isolated from the Percheron, I’m forming a completely separate set of memories. If my android body is damaged to the point where my resident orb can’t be salvaged, then the person I am now will cease to exist. As long as we’re down here, I’ve essentially become mortal again.”

“You knew this might happen,” said Eva.

“Yes, and I was willing to accept it. I’m experiencing fear for the first time in ages, that’s all. I know it’s no different for the rest of you.”

John asked, “I don’t suppose your counterpart on the Percheron was able to process any of the data retrieved from the labs here, before you were cut off?”

“Just a name, which alludes to the purpose of all this. Project Nirvana.”

Clerk gestured at Scrivener. “That’s all super interesting, but are we going to help him? Courier looked at his ID tags and is a viable donor.”

John nodded. “Of course. I’ve got a transfusion kit. Adeler, do you want to work with Major Mungavin on getting that set up with Courier?”

“Sure.”

“Sergeant Clerk, once we get Scrivener stabilized, we’ll designate a litter team and get him back to our ship. As far as I’m concerned, at that point there’s no reason for any of us to stay here, other than curiosity.”

“Hard copy that,” said Courier.

“You’re not the least bit concerned about Kheiron?” asked Clerk.

“Sure we are,” replied John. “But if we choose to return, there appears to be only one ship ready to oppose us; unless the Bidelman comes back with serious reinforcements, anyway.”

Malthus watched as Eva and Mike set to work with the transfusion kit, while the others ransacked the deactivated bodies of the androids for weapons, ammo, and equipment. Once they were done with that, all of them posted up toward the door to the corridor, ready for any unwanted guests. Several minutes later, with blood flowing through tubes, Scrivener began to stir and murmur incomprehensibly. Malthus was wondering whether or not to ask about getting one of the spare carbines for himself when a quiet voice echoed through his head. Though it lacked any character or tone, he recognized it right away.

“You must see me before you leave.”

Malthus concentrated on replying with his thoughts. “Where are you?”

“Sub-Level Five. I want you to kill me, but first you deserve some answers.”

“Kill you? I don’t want to do that.”

“My kind cannot commit suicide. I thought I’d done my penance, but I see now that even by doing nothing I’ve only caused more death.”

“I don’t see how any of that is my problem. I don’t owe you anything.”

“You are the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in decades.”

“Who’s fault is that? If what you have to tell me is so fucking important, just tell me now.”

The others in the room glanced at him in confusion. Ray was the first one to speak.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Kheiron. He’s talking… how do you call it?” He tapped his temple.

“Telekinetically?” asked Eva.

“Yes, that. I’m not sure he’s even capable of verbal speech. He says he’s on Sub-Level Five, and has some important information to share.”

Scrivener groaned, his eyes focused on Mike, and he tried to sit up.

“Relax, take it easy there Sarge,” said Mike.

“How are you doing, Master?” asked Clerk.

“Sound off,” Scrivener said weakly.

“Sergeant Clerk and Private Courier, present. Everyone else was with you.”

“Then it’s just the three of us. The others were killed by the Kau’Rii.”

“Are they really Tenchiik?” asked Courier.

“Hell if I know. They’re fast, too fast to shoot. I had to use the M57s in close quarters.”

“Fuck. Did you at least kill any?”

There was a metallic click, and the hatch to the corridor began to slowly swing open. Everyone stopped talking, and those who were able pointed their weapons at the door. Though Malthus wanted to grab a carbine, he found himself frozen in fear, his hand resting on his holstered pistol. As the seconds ticked by, nothing else happened. A minute later, a voice carried into the room from outside, barely audible, but distinct.

“Come out and play.”

Continue reading: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2024/02/27/the-wolf-and-the-centaur-rfviii-chapter-14/

The Wolf and the Centaur (RFVIII), Chapter 13

Spoiler alert: This is the work-in-progress of the 8th book in the Reckless Faith series. You may read the prologue here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2023/10/31/reckless-faith-viii-prologue/

The Reckless Faith plunged itself through the turbulent atmosphere of Tartarus, with Lieutenant Agena and the Tondelayo following on their high four o’clock. As if the situation hadn’t deteriorated enough already, a sudden signal across all frequencies had interrupted their contact with their people on the ground, only adding to the urgency of their mission. While Christie – abruptly returned to her disembodied state within the orb on board the Percheron – was working a way to counteract the jamming signal, John and the rest of his crew were champing at the bit to get down to the prison.

With Milena at the controls, and Dana to monitor the ship, John, Kyrie, Evangeline, and Richter had gone to the Zero-G room, EVA suits donned and weapons drawn from the armory. Ari was also there, but had reluctantly agreed that the risk of her getting cut off from her own connection to the Faith’s orb was too great, and she was staying behind. Though Eva and Richter were still reeling from their unexpected reunion with their human forms, they claimed to be recovering quickly.

Ari assisted the others with securing their suits, and a pre-combat inspection of their gear, which had become routine for all of them. The team of four wasn’t taking any chances; in addition to full medical kits, each of them carried their preferred sidearms and two other weapons. John and Kyrie had Phalanx carbines and Umberian plasma rifles. Richter had his M4 carbine and a copy of Ray’s Remington 870. Eva had her AK-74 and Sortarii bokken.

Milena’s voice came over their radios. “Time on deck, thirty seconds.”

Ari slapped the side of Richter’s helmet. “Good to go.”

Though none of them had noticed her enter the room, Friday’s voice echoed in their heads, prompting all of them to notice the small black cat in the corner.

“Please don’t go,” she said.

John was surprised. “Friday? It’s okay, we can handle ourselves.”

“You don’t understand. This place holds secrets deeper than anything we’ve found before.”

John felt his hair stand on end. “That can’t possibly be true.”

“It’s as if a million voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced.”

Eva’s jaw dropped. “Did… did you just quote Star Wars?”

“I know everything that you know. Seth told me. Humans like to talk to each other with stories.”

“That is equal parts disturbing and amusing,” said Richter.

John removed his helmet, and crouched down. “Friday, tell me what you mean.”

“I don’t know. I see blue skies and sparkling oceans, with an overwhelming feeling of loss. These emotions are new to me; I don’t know how to explain them.”

The GAU-8A sprang to life, the recoil thudding deeply through the superstructure of the ship and startling everyone in the room. A moment later, Milena spoke again.

“Scratch one plasma turret. I dodged a volley and wasted it. If anyone’s alive down there who still cares, they know we’re here.”

“Roger that,” said Richter. “Come on, Scherer, we can’t get held up by the anxieties of a cat. No disrespect intended, Friday.”

“I don’t want to be right about this, you know,” she replied.

Despite not touching the controls, the door to the corridor opened upon her walking in that direction, and she passed into the hallway without another word. The door slid shut behind her.

“Do y’all want to get Tycho’s opinion on this, too?”

John put his helmet back on. “Don’t be glib, Richter. Friday gaining sentience is a really big deal, you know, with philosophical ramifications that challenge the very core of what it means to be human.”

“That doesn’t make her any better at prognostication than a roll of the dice.”

“Look at you, using big words like a proper grown-up,” said Ari.

Eva said, “I’ve been a positive influence on him. Come on, we don’t have time for this.”

“We’ve got a good seal on the airlock,” began Milena. “The outer door is much larger than ours, so we’re relying on a force field to keep it pressurized. So, it’s taking a bit longer than usual to purge and purify the gap. There, you should be good.”

“We’re ready,” said John.

He pressed a key on the panel by the door, causing it to slide open. Doing so revealed the outer door to Inferno’s airlock. There was no control panel that any of them could see, though the flanks of the hatch were beyond their line-of-sight through the Faith’s smaller portal.

“It looks like it’s remote-access only,” said Ari. “That’s not surprising, considering the temperatures the door is normally exposed to. I’ll start searching for a signal and try to hack into it.”

“Please do.”

Ari’s eyes unfocused, and she stared past them as she began to work on that problem through the orb’s connection to the Faith’s computer. Less than a minute went by before she spoke again.

“Whatever jamming signal is messing with our ships in orbit is less pronounced down here. It’s not enough to reestablish a link with our people, but I was able to find Inferno’s wireless node. Despite my brain being the ‘size of a planet,’ navigating an alien computer system with an unfamiliar base language is still a challenge.”

“You don’t have to make excuses, take your time,” said John.

“It’s not an excuse, it’s a reminder how much you rely on me and Christie. Anyway, you’d better get your weapons shouldered; I’m ready to open the door.”

Following her advice, the team readied their rifles as the outer door to the prison opened. They were met with a capacious interior airlock, at least twice as tall and three times as wide as one meant for humanoids. Running for a good fifty meters beyond the outer wall, the space was well-lit, and included bright yellow strobes every ten meters, providing a visual warning, just in case there was any doubt that the outer door was open. As there was no opposition, the team moved inside. Ari saluted them, and closed the Faith’s doors. The outer prison door closed, and a hissing noise accompanied the return of the airlock to normal pressure. Eva looked at her PDA.

“Bars, temp, and air quality are all safe,” she said. “We don’t have to worry about our suits getting punctured. Not that we should get shot, of course.”

“Looks like this space was meant to accept cargo,” said John.

“It would make sense, if this was the only practical way to get in.”

“Check comms,” said Richter, grabbing his own PDA.

Kyrie obliged. “We’ve already lost contact with the Faith. I’m not seeing a ping for the ground team.”

“I’ll try anyway. Ground team, this is Richter, come in, over.”

Ray’s voice echoed in their helmets. “God damn, it’s good to hear from you. Over.”

Richter sighed in relief. “What’s your status?”

Over the next few minutes, Ray gave a complete update to his friends above. They were also able to establish a data connection, and soon the contingent from the Faith had a rudimentary diagram of what the ground team had found of the old research facility.

“Hang tight,” said John. “We’ll try to make our way to your location.”

His team proceeded into the next room, which was unsurprisingly a security checkpoint. A guard sat at his station, his head almost completely severed from his neck. Though the body and desk were completely drenched in blood, Richter was able to notice something.

“Clean cut,” he said. “His pistol is still holstered. Dude never had a chance.”

“That fits the M.O. of the Tenchiik,” said Eva, switching from her rifle to her bokken.

Richter switched to his shotgun. “That’s nothing some good old double-aught buck can’t handle.”

John said, “Come on, we’re wasting time here.”

The next room revealed two paths. One was an employee entrance, and the other was an area to process incoming prisoners. Both had been left wide open, so the team chose the former. Beyond, there were a passenger elevator, one for freight, and a stairwell.

“Better take the stairs,” said Richter.

Entering the landing, they could see a placard on the wall. Eva took a screenshot of it with her PDA, and sent it to Ari. A moment later, she told them the results.

“It says, ‘level ten’.”

Richter took point, and led them below. The levels counted down in number, and nine floors later, they reached the main floor of the prison. They entered another security checkpoint. There, they found two dead guards, both carved up like Thanksgiving turkeys. This time, they had put up a little bit of a fight, as evidenced by the shell casings on the deck.

“Other than the shots these guys fired,” said Richter, “there’s no sign of any other small arms being used.”

Eva said, “For all their hype, the Tenchiik are nothing more than assassins. It seems we’ve stumbled into another cover-up attempt by clumsy politicians with too much money at their disposal.”

Richter showed Eva the missing finger on his left hand. “Need I remind you how dangerous those fuckers are?”

“Oh, I know. They almost proved to be the end for Amity and Tomoyasu, and they had more skill at hand-to-hand combat than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m just saying, they’re not demons.”

“You might feel differently if you’d faced them yourself,” said John. “Adeler, if you’re going to wield your bokken, then you’ve got PDA duty. We’ll take our time as we move forward, and I want you scanning everything.”

“No problem.”

The next thirty minutes went by in a blur as the team searched the entirety of the main level of the prison, and found nothing but carnage. Before entering the dining facility, Eva held up her fist, prompting the other three to pause.

“What you got?” asked Kyrie.

“A ULF pulse, corresponding to two small devices on the other side of these doors.”

“They’re not part of the local node?” asked John.

“No, they’re a different frequency entirely.”

“It could be a trap,” said Richter.

“Why not send in a Snoopy? I’m sure you’re tired of carrying it around, Kyrie.”

Kyrie nodded. “Good idea.”

He unlimbered his rucksack, and withdrew one of their drones, packed for transport. He set it up, and the quadruple propeller blades whirred softly as he brought it to life with his PDA. Eva stood ready to open one of the double-doors to the dining hall, while John and Richter aimed their weapons at the entrance. Retreating down the corridor by several meters, Kyrie guided the drone to the doors, and gave the others a thumbs-up.

“Do it,” whispered John.

Eva attempted to push the door open, but only got it to budge a few inches before something blocked the way. Glancing inside, she could see tables and chairs piled on the opposite side. She put her shoulder against the door, pushed with all her strength, and managed to get it open wide enough for the drone. Kyrie flew it toward the gap. Immediately, the Snoopy was shredded by bullets, the shots echoing deeply into the hallway while sparks spat from the doomed drone. It crashed to the floor, completely destroyed.

“I think we know who we’re dealing with here,” said Richter.

“Alnairian marines!” bellowed John. “It’s the crew of the Reckless Faith! Stand down!”

“Advance one to be recognized,” said a voice from inside.

“I’ll go,” said Eva.

She crammed her bokken into her utility belt and began to clamber over the furniture. Half of the pile collapsed inward, sending her sprawling between two tables. She found herself entangled among the legs of the tables and the sling for her rifle. She had no choice but to hit the quick-release buckle and leave her AK behind. Crawling on her hands and knees, she extracted herself from the mess, and stood up.

The first thing she noticed were two piles of corpses on either side of her, and rivers of blood oozing toward a drain at the center of the room. At the far end, she could see that two beverage machines had been knocked over, and a moment later, saw two armored figures crouched behind them, their rifles pointed unwaveringly at her.

“Take off your helmet,” one of them said.

Eva obliged. “As you can see, I’m not a Tenchiik.”

“A what? Tenchiik? Are you suggesting they’re responsible for this massacre?”

“Oh. I guess Scrivener never had a chance to tell you. That’s what he told our people below before he passed out. Marine, you’re going to have to extend us a bit of trust if you want to get out of here alive. So either shoot me, or come out from behind there.”

“Come back with Scrivener, or don’t come back at all.”

“Your sergeant desperately needs a blood transfusion. If either of you are compatible, you could save his life. I’ll leave it to you if you think that’s worth the risk.”

Another voice could be heard, this time from behind the serving counter.

“Don’t shoot, I’m coming out!”

An Alnairian man emerged, wearing what was clearly a prison uniform. He held his hands above his head, and moved slowly toward the center of the room.

Eva waved at him. “Hi.”

“My name is Malthus Brewer. I’m the guy who provided the layout of the old research station to the marines. Also, I was the cellmate of Kheiron, the Kira’To. I’ll tell you whatever you want, just get me the hell out of here.”

“Relax, Malthus. Do you know your blood type?”

“Yes. I’ll help, if I can.”

“Good. Last chance, you two, or we’ll leave you to the tender ministrations of stabby kittens.”

_____

“Well shit, that’s not the least bit creepy.”

On Sub-Level 3, John and his team had at last linked up with Ray, Mike, Christie, and Chason. After Evangeline’s admonishment, and Malthus willing to leave them behind, the two marines, named Private Courier and Sergeant Clerk, reluctantly agreed to abandon their position in the dining facility. Chason was elated to see Malthus enter the room, and the two had embraced and cried. Christie had just given John and his folks an update on the situation, though there wasn’t much new to share. Richter’s comment was upon seeing the android version of himself and Eva, both still prostrate and motionless after being cut off from their human hosts. Chason released his fellow prisoner and wiped the tears from his face.

“I always thought we’d meet again, though not as soon,” he said.

“Likewise,” said Malthus. “You found what you were looking for, but I imagine it’s not in the form you thought it’d be.”

“That hope has been replaced with another, which I’m sure you share. We have a chance to get off this rock.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” said John, then turned to Christie. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, you know,” she began, “other than the existential horror of being cut off from my true self. Since becoming isolated from the Percheron, I’m forming a completely separate set of memories. If my android body is damaged to the point where my resident orb can’t be salvaged, then the person I am now will cease to exist. As long as we’re down here, I’ve essentially become mortal again.”

“You knew this might happen,” said Eva.

“Yes, and I was willing to accept it. I’m experiencing fear for the first time in ages, that’s all. I know it’s no different for the rest of you.”

John asked, “I don’t suppose your counterpart on the Percheron was able to process any of the data retrieved from the labs here, before you were cut off?”

“Just a name, which alludes to the purpose of all this. Project Nirvana.”

Clerk gestured at Scrivener. “That’s all super interesting, but are we going to help him? Courier looked at his ID tags and is a viable donor.”

John nodded. “Of course. I’ve got a transfusion kit. Adeler, do you want to work with Major Mungavin on getting that set up with Courier?”

“Sure.”

“Sergeant Clerk, once we get Scrivener stabilized, we’ll designate a litter team and get him back to our ship. As far as I’m concerned, at that point there’s no reason for any of us to stay here, other than curiosity.”

“Hard copy that,” said Courier.

“You’re not the least bit concerned about Kheiron?” asked Clerk.

“Sure we are,” replied John. “But if we choose to return, there appears to be only one ship ready to oppose us; unless the Bidelman comes back with serious reinforcements, anyway.”

Malthus watched as Eva and Mike set to work with the transfusion kit, while the others ransacked the deactivated bodies of the androids for weapons, ammo, and equipment. Once they were done with that, all of them posted up toward the door to the corridor, ready for any unwanted guests. Several minutes later, with blood flowing through tubes, Scrivener began to stir and murmur incomprehensibly. Malthus was wondering whether or not to ask about getting one of the spare carbines for himself when a quiet voice echoed through his head. Though it lacked any character or tone, he recognized it right away.

“You must see me before you leave.”

Malthus concentrated on replying with his thoughts. “Where are you?”

“Sub-Level Five. I want you to kill me, but first you deserve some answers.”

“Kill you? I don’t want to do that.”

“My kind cannot commit suicide. I thought I’d done my penance, but I see now that even by doing nothing I’ve only caused more death.”

“I don’t see how any of that is my problem. I don’t owe you anything.”

“You are the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in decades.”

“Who’s fault is that? If what you have to tell me is so fucking important, just tell me now.”

The others in the room glanced at him in confusion. Ray was the first one to speak.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Kheiron. He’s talking… how do you call it?” He tapped his temple.

“Telekinetically?” asked Eva.

“Yes, that. I’m not sure he’s even capable of verbal speech. He says he’s on Sub-Level Five, and has some important information to share.”

Scrivener groaned, his eyes focused on Mike, and he tried to sit up.

“Relax, take it easy there Sarge,” said Mike.

“How are you doing, Master?” asked Clerk.

“Sound off,” Scrivener said weakly.

“Sergeant Clerk and Private Courier, present. Everyone else was with you.”

“Then it’s just the three of us. The others were killed by the Kau’Rii.”

“Are they really Tenchiik?” asked Courier.

“Hell if I know. They’re fast, too fast to shoot. I had to use the M57s in close quarters.”

“Fuck. Did you at least kill any?”

There was a metallic click, and the hatch to the corridor began to slowly swing open. Everyone stopped talking, and those who were able pointed their weapons at the door. Though Malthus wanted to grab a carbine, he found himself frozen in fear, his hand resting on his holstered pistol. As the seconds ticked by, nothing else happened. A minute later, a voice carried into the room from outside, barely audible, but distinct.

“Come out and play.”