Shadow of the Chimera (Reckless Faith VII), Chapter 3

Spoiler alert: This is a new entry for the 7th book in the Reckless Faith series. The prologue may be found here:

https://devonai.wordpress.com/2022/12/15/reckless-faith-vii-prologue/

Forty-five minutes later, the crew of the Faith, minus Dana and Milly, were gathered in the conference room on board the Percheron. Ari’s mission to the Valorous had been accomplished without any problems, as they had little trouble bypassing the airlock controls, and she found nothing during her brief journey to the bridge but aromatic corpses. After downloading what she could from the ship’s computer to her PDA, she returned and passed of the device to Christie. Once she had a chance to analyze the data, John had called a meeting to discuss what they’d found.

Present from the Percheron’s crew were Dietrich, Haverbrook, Brockway, and Zeta. Brockway had prepared the large-mounted wall monitor for Christie’s presentation. Once everyone was seated, Christie went to stand by the monitor, her PDA in her hand. The first image to appear was a diagram of Sadal Biham, with icons of every ship of the Rakhar fleet outlined in red.

“The aliens,” she began, “who we decided to call Stingrays for lack of a better term, appeared weeks after the Rakhar blockaded Sadal Biham, about thirteen days ago. Until that time, what little the planet had in the way of defenses was no match for the fleet, and a rather lopsided truce was signed, granting the locals a small measure of autonomy for governing their own affairs in exchange for peace. The exception was the colony on SB IIIC, which was more closely regulated by the Rakhar, which makes sense considering the logistical practicalities of maintaining an off-world settlement. Anyway, any plans of the Rakhar beyond that point are unknown to us, as higher-level communications to and from the Valorous were encrypted too well for me to crack for now. And so, what you can see are the positions of their forces at the time the Rays attacked.”

Christie pressed a key on her PDA, setting into motion an animation of ship movements on the diagram. “You’ll immediately notice that there’s no telemetry on the Stingray’s ships; indeed, there’s no sensor data on them at all. The captain of the Valorous was confounded by that, as you can imagine, but their response shows that they had visual contact with the old Mark I eyeball and did their damn best to engage the enemy. External cameras also reveal nothing, including weapons fire from their enemy. The Rakhar ships that were destroyed simply exploded, and so quickly that their crews had no time to communicate what might have happened.”

“What have you got us into, Scherer?” breathed Dietrich, her face pale.

“You’ve seen our mission logs,” replied John. “When have we ever caught a break?”

Christie continued. “So, we have to presume that the surviving ships were boarded like the Valorous. Here’s some of the CCTV footage of the interior.”

On the monitor, a compilation of scenes were displayed, showing a desperate fight by the crew of the Valorous as the aliens swept through the ship. As with the footage from space, only the Rakhar could be seen, with the exception of the electrical bolt weapon that killed them, which seemed to emanate from nowhere.

Ari said, “The wounds on the bodies were consistent with a high-voltage electric shock.”

“Shouldn’t it be high-amperage?” asked Ray, smirking.

Dietrich pointed at the screen. “Some of those guys look like they’re wearing pretty beefy combat armor, which didn’t save them. Do we know how our own armor compares to it?”

“Our EVA suits provide some protection from electric shock,” said Richter. “However, the combat armor we’ve encountered and replicated is probably no better than theirs.”

Zeta said, “If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to improvise a counter-measure.”

“Do we have any sensor data on that weapon?” asked Dietrich.

“Not yet,” replied Christie. “I can tell you for sure that I don’t have data on strikes that directly hit Rakhar. I might be able to find some data if a bolt hit a panel or a console or something that was registered as an overload on the system. I haven’t had time for that.”

“Look into it, please,” said John.

“We don’t know if the entire Rakhar fleet was destroyed or disabled, right?” asked Haverbrook. “Could some ships have escaped?”

Christie nodded. “Possibly. I found a roster of which Rakhar ships were assigned to the blockade, but we don’t know how many are accounted for out there in that vast debris field. I might be able to piece together some ships, like a tediously massive jigsaw puzzle, but even if we could confirm that one or more ships escaped, what good would that do us?”

“I just meant that it would explain why more Rakhar ships haven’t shown up since the attack.”

“Maybe they have,” said John. “They could have rescued survivors, been destroyed themselves, or left without doing anything. Let’s focus on investigating SB IIIC for now.”

Twenty minutes later, having returned to their own ship, the crew of the Reckless Faith was again gathered on the bridge, save for Richter and Devonai, who stood ready manning their turrets. The transit to SB IIIC had taken mere seconds, and both the Faith and the Percheron had established a high orbit. The moon, a blue-green marble speckled with brown, stood in stark contrast to its parent, a gas giant of swirling red and white, which at that distance dwarfed its child, and loomed silently in the background.

Preliminary scans were conducted by both ships, revealing electromagnetic signals one would expect from an occupied planet, with the exception of any satellites in orbit, which transmitted nothing. Unsurprisingly, what signals they could detect from the surface were within bands typically used in the galaxy, and indicated a normal amount of traffic for a developed world. Without a satellite offering a typical welcome message, both ships were left without an obvious point of contact.

John sat at the secondary systems console, towards the left rear of the bridge. Friday sat in his lap, blissfully unaware of any strife as usual, and Tycho lay at the feet of Ray as he sat across from John, fidgeting and occasionally whining, though he didn’t waver from his spot. The dog continued to feign indifference towards Christie, who sat next to Ray at the primary systems console, much to her consternation. Dana was at the navigation and communication station, with Eva standing by her side. Milly was at the controls, though they were currently on autopilot to maintain orbit. Also present were Lieutenant Commander Brockway and Lieutenant Zeta. The rest of the crew of the Percheron listened in on an open channel.

Once she’d had a chance to take in the situation, Christie spoke. “All right, people. The moon is a perfect example of successful terraforming, and is indistinguishable from a standard terrestrial planet. Though the oceans are shallow and the forests young compared to Earth, they teem with life, presumably imported from Sadal Biham. Each continent boasts several large cities, but only two have proper spaceports. As we already know, there is no ship traffic entering or leaving orbit, though I do see plenty of atmosphere-only aircraft at various altitudes. The dormant satellites we detected earlier will, given enough time, lose their orbits and burn up in the atmosphere.”

“What were we able to learn about it on the ‘net?” asked John. “Which city should we visit first?”

“There is precious little info that I can find, apart from what we already know. The moon has a unified government, but if there is a capitol city, I couldn’t tell you which one it is.”

“Considering the lack of space traffic, I think the colonists are too afraid of breaking atmo right now. They could have shut down their satellites for safety, or the Stingrays disabled them. Either way they seem to be hunkering down and waiting for more info. Because of that, they might be hostile to any visitors, even if neutral, as any ship might catch the attention of the Stingrays and bring them back. So, I think we should take the Faith down in stealth mode, find some locals, and start asking questions. Hopefully they’ll be less threatened by a group on the ground.”

Eva said, “Since we can’t pass for locals, I say we tell them we’re traders who got trapped on the surface and are looking for an update.”

“Similar tactics have worked for us in the past. Dietrich, what do you think?”

Dietrich’s voice came in over the radio. “It’s as good idea as any. I assume you want the Percheron to stay in orbit and alert you to any problems.”

“Yes. Ground team, gear up. Christie and Dana, see if you can find us a city with a spaceport, and scan for any off-word ships that may be there. We’ll be better received if there are already some folks in the same situation we’re pretending to be in.”

“Sure,” replied Christie. “Milly, break geosynchronous orbit and give us one OPM.”

“No problem,” said Milly.

Eva, Ari, Brockway, and Zeta exited the bridge. They descended the port-side staircase, then went up to the armory. Richter and Devonai were there, donning their concealable body armor. Richter looked at their guests.

“Those Space Force jumpsuits won’t do at all,” he said, pulling on his jacket. “You look like pre-war Hugo Boss rejects.”

Brockway shrugged. “Cute reference, but I’m not hearing any solutions.”

“First of all, put on that armor over there.” He gestured at spare sets hanging from a rack. “It’s standard level IIIA Kevlar with level IV plates front and back. Then, we can replicate any outerwear you’d care to have. You’ve seen what we like, choose one of those.”

“I’ll take an A-2 flight jacket like Ari’s.”

Zeta said, “What are you wearing, a black M-65?”

Richter nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll take one in olive drab, if you can.”

“No problem, Scherer used to have one of those. What about sidearms? You didn’t bring any of your own.”

“What are our choices?” asked Brockway.

“We can replicate whatever you want. Available immediately,” he gestured toward a shelf, “Are M9 pistols.”

“Nine-mil is an okay choice for this kind of work?”

“You never know. When in doubt, aim for the face. If nine-by-nineteen gives you pause, we can replicate you an M1911A1 like mine or an H&K USP forty-five like Devonai’s.”

“The M9 will be fine.”

“Cool. In that drawer you’ll find leather belts, thumb-break right-handed holsters, and double-mag pouches with two mags already inside. Christie, are you listening?”

“No,” said Christie’s voice.

“Can you replicate one A-2 and one olive drab M-65?”

“I’m a little busy right now, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t a Burger King. If our guests need jackets then go get them from someone else’s quarters.”

“Sure,” he said, then to the others, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Richter exited toward the galley while Brockway and Zeta donned the items he’d pointed out.

Zeta said, “How can you be sure weapons like this will be acceptable wherever we land?”

“Projectile weapons like this are rarely restricted,” replied Ari. “With the exception of magrail-enhanced pistols like the Legionnaire, they’re not seen as much of a threat. Still, as Richter said, a head shot is rather inconvenient for each of the species we’ve encountered so far.”

“Adeler, what are you packing?”

Eva said, “A Beretta PX4 in forty-cal. It’s what I happened to have on me when I ended up on the Eagle.”

The conversation lapsed as everyone made final adjustments to their gear. A minute later, Richter returned, carrying a green Gore-Tex jacket and a tan duck cotton Carhartt coat. He passed them off to Brockway and Zeta, who tried to figure out which one fit each other better.

Christie’s voice was heard again over the intercom. “Ground team, I’ve found a spaceport that seems suitable. We’ve entered the atmosphere, and I’m going to set her down half a klick outside of the port. You’ll need to head east from there.”

“Roger that, Tolliver,” said Richter. “We’ll be ready to dismount in two minutes.”

In addition to their vestments and sidearms, the team also grabbed two medkits packed in small rucksacks. They exited to the cargo bay, and waited by the ramp.

“Remember,” began Eva, “There will be a slight delay between the time we hear someone and the time our translator units come across with a message. Vice-versa for when we speak to others. Be sure to adapt your cadence of speech to that delay, or we’ll seem like morons. You’ll get used to it.”

Richter said, “ROE is don’t fire unless fire upon. The rally point will be the Faith until I designate another. Stay sharp, and try to look like you belong.”

The Faith vibrated slightly as it made its way through the atmosphere. Richter crossed over to the nearest wall-mounted console, and pulled up an external view of the bow.

“ETA thirty seconds,” said Dana’s voice.

“Why do I feel like we’re about to hit the beach at Normandy?” asked Zeta.

“This is routine stuff, relax,” replied Ari.

Brockway said, “Don’t forget, this is the first time Lieutenant Zeta and I have set foot on an alien world. I’m sure we’re both rather exited.”

There was a small bump, and Richter hit the switch for the ramp. As it lowered, a rush of warm, humid air was admitted into the cargo bay. After they dismounted, they found themselves on a landing pad in a large, open area. Around them, at various distances, were several other ships, the origin of which were recognizable to the crew of the Faith, save for a few. To the east was the spaceport, situated on the north side of a broad river delta, and to the west was a city. The city was relatively small in size, comprised of a few dozen skyscrapers and smaller buildings. The sun had just set behind the buildings, and imparted a golden glow to their highest stories. To the north and south, verdant forests lined the sides of the river.

The spaceport was comprised of five equal parts, each reminiscent of classic flying saucers from Earth’s sci-fi canon. One was mounted on massive stanchions above the others, with each ground-level building radiating out from it like a four-leaf clover. Landing platforms ringed each saucer, though most were unoccupied. Overhead, a few atmosphere-only aircraft could be seen at different altitudes. The air was thick and unpleasant, and Zeta immediately regretted grabbing the lined Carhartt jacket that had been offered to her. She unzipped it and checked to ensure her pistol was still concealed.

“I have chosen poorly,” she said.

There was no other foot traffic that they could see, so Ari gestured toward the spaceport.

“Come on, let’s go start asking questions.”

“This is worse than Djibouti,” muttered Devonai.

The group headed east, arriving at one of the main entrances to the spaceport after about five hundred meters. A sign in an unknown language hung on the outside of its gray steel walls. Ari snapped a photo and sent it back to the Faith.

“Christie, a translation please.”

Christie’s voice echoed in her ear. “It just says, ‘Payment Office, Concourse C’, which is this one.”

“I suppose we’ll have to find out how much we owe them for the privilege of parking here,” said Brockway.

“We won’t be here long enough for it to matter,” replied Eva.

Entering the building, the team was relieved to find the cool climate of the interior much more agreeable. Comprising two stories, the building boasted ceiling-to-floor windows, curving gracefully from top to bottom. To their left and right, a concourse presumably ringed the entire structure, with shops, restaurants, and administrative offices located further toward the center. The floor was covered in a garishly colorful carpet badly in need of cleaning. In front of them was an interactive directory. Ari didn’t bother taking a picture of it, instead turning toward the others.

“All right, people,” she began. “Let’s see if we can find a pub or a bar where alcohol has loosened lips. Then, we’ll go ahead with our cover story and see what we can find out.”

She started down the concourse clockwise, so the others followed her. It became evident that walking at a normal pace would bring them in a complete circle in about fifteen minutes. Soon, they spotted an alien none of them had ever seen before, most likely a native of Sadal Biham. The man was about seven feet tall, with ashy green skin, and was built like a linebacker. He walked by with barely a glance at the group. As they continued to walk, they spotted more of that species, along with several that they were familiar with, including Matesian, Eniphites, Vastuvians, and Kau’Rii.

Five minutes later, they came across an establishment that emanated loud music and boisterous conversation. When they entered, they were met with a sickly-sweet haze, generated from a few hookah-like contraptions in back booths. Despite the noise, it wasn’t particularly crowded, and the team was able to find a booth that could accommodate all six of them. The music was coming from a brightly-lit jukebox, and a minute after they sat down it lapsed into silence. Nobody seemed to want to choose another song, and people softened their voices as they no longer had to talk over the music. The bartender, another local, nodded his head at them.

“There’s no table service,” he said. “Come up here if you want to order something.”

“Thanks,” Eva said, waving at him, then spoke to the others. “I’ll take point on finding someone to talk to. Richter, Ari, will you come with me?”

“Sure,” they said.

The trio stood up and approached the bar. The man behind it gave the strangers a once-over, but didn’t ask any questions.

“Got any local beer?” asked Ari.

“Local beer is all we’ve got left,” he replied.

“We’ll take six, if you’ll accept element 79 as payment.”

He nodded, so Eva pulled out a small gold ingot and put it on the bar. The man scanned it with a small device.

“This is way too much.”

Eva said, “Would you consider the overpayment in exchange for information?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Any word on when we might be able to leave?”

“No. The government is still enforcing a travel ban, though there are rumors that they’ll allow one or two ships to leave and see what happens. I think you people have been awfully patient in complying with the order so far; after all, most of the ships trapped here can easily escape the atmosphere without being stopped.”

“Including ours. What’s your take on the main reasons people are complying?”

He retrieved six glasses and began to fill them from a tap. “You don’t know that already?”

“We’ve preferred to keep to ourselves so far, but we’re running out of patience.”

“It’s threefold. One, nobody wants to be destroyed by the Chimeras. Two, some actually care about the well-being of Lycia. Three, many ships stuck here would like to continue trading with Lycia at some point and don’t want to sour the relationship.”

Richter said, “Those are all good reasons. This situation is going on two weeks already, though. Eventually somebody is going to make a break for it. If the Chimeras choose to retaliate, then that seems inevitable. Lycia is at their mercy.”

“What makes everybody think the Chimeras are coming back?” asked Ari.

The man placed the glasses back on the bar. “Wow, you really have been isolating yourselves, haven’t you? You haven’t heard of the warning?”

“The warning from who, the Chimeras?” asked Eva.

“The president of Lycia claims to have received a telepathic message from them shortly after the Rakhar fleet was destroyed, and Sadal Biham cut off. I don’t remember exactly what the message was, but the gist of it was that Sadal Biham was under their protection and off-limits, forever. Ships attempting to establish orbit or land on the planet would be destroyed.”

“Holy crap. So do they consider Lycia to be under the same restrictions?”

“The message didn’t specifically mention Lycia. One good sign is that Sadal Biham appears to have some sort of satellite screen protecting it; our ground-based telescopes were able to spot it. Lycia does not. That would imply that they don’t care about Lycia. So far, nobody has been willing to test that theory with their lives.”

“How long could Lycia sustain itself without outside trade?”

“Indefinitely. Well, there would be problems with petroleum products and anything that uses them, those are entirely imported. As far as survival, we’d be fine. Same for Sadal Biham; we did just fine for millennia before becoming part of the galactic community.”

“What do you know about the Chimeras?”

The man shrugged. “Very little. What we do know was shared with us by a Rakhar survivor who just barely made it to Lycia in a small shuttle. We got a bare-bones story out of him before he succumbed to his wounds.”

“Why the name Chimera?”

“I dunno. Some kind of mythical beast, I guess. It’s not an alien race I’ve ever heard of.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Eva, Ari, and Richter each grabbed two glasses and went back to their companions. Eva shared with them everything they’d just learned.

Devonai sipped from his glass, and was pleased. “If we want to do this planet a favor, we could drop the invisibility shield and see what happens. If the Stingrays, or Chimeras, or whatever, don’t attack us, then those trapped here could travel in confidence.”

Brockway nodded. “Anywhere other than Sadal Biham, anyway. I’m not sure Dietrich or Scherer are ready to take that chance yet. Though, it does seem like we’re never going to learn anything about the aliens if we don’t try to make contact with them.”

“There may be another way,” said Eva. “There’s a chance these things are the Kira’To, or another race that shares the same plane of existence. The telepathic message sent to the leader of Lycia only supports that theory. If you remember from our mission logs, Captain Kitsune of the Fox was able to communicate with a Kira’To through intentional meditation. It might be possible to find out more about this situation, and the Chimeras, by one of those of us who’ve had direct contact with a Kira’To by attempting such a meditation.”

Zeta asked, “That’s you, Kitsune, and Colchester, right?”

“Andrews also had a Kira’To dream,” began Ari, “long before we had any inkling of what they were.”

“Cygnus is likely dead,” said Eva. “That leaves Aquila who may choose to communicate with one of us. Kitsune is favored in its eyes; our best bet is to link up with the Fox and ask her to do it. Though Miriam, Dana, or me could certainly try, too.”

“That seems like the safest choice right now,” began Brockway, “Assuming the Fox is within a reasonable distance. Did you want to talk to any of the other aliens in here before we report back? That table of Kau’Rii over there looks like they’re a few sheets to the wind.”

“We might as well,” said Richter. “Based on what this beer is doing to me, we should be in good company in short order.”