Resolve

The Lost Warship Book Five

Daniel Gibbs

Resolve by Daniel Gibbs

Copyright © 2023 by Daniel Gibbs

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This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Also Available from Daniel Gibbs

Battlegroup Z

Book 1 - Weapons Free

Book 2 - Hostile Spike

Book 3 - Sol Strike

Book 4 - Bandits Engaged

Book 5 - Iron Hand

Book 6 - Final Flight

Echoes of War

Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight

Book 2 - Strong and Courageous

Book 3 - So Fight I

Book 4 - Gates of Hell

Book 5 - Keep the Faith

Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet

Book 7 - Finish the Fight

The Lost Warship

Book 1 - Adrift

Book 2 - Mercy

Book 3 - Valor

Book 4 - Justice

Book 5 - Resolve

Book 6 - Faith

Breach of Faith

(With Gary T. Stevens)

Book 1 - Breach of Peace

Book 2 - Breach of Faith

Book 3 - Breach of Duty

Book 4 - Breach of Trust

Book 5 - Spacer’s Luck

Book 6 - Fortune’s Favor

Book 7 - The Iron Dice

Deception Fleet

(With Steve Rzasa)

Book 1 - Victory’s Wake

Book 2 - Cold Conflict

Book 3 - Hazards Near

Book 4 - Liberty’s Price

Book 5 - Ecliptic Flight

Book 6 - Collision Vector

Courage, Commitment, Faith: Tales from the Coalition Defense Force

(Anthology Series)

Volume One

1

Ruune Stadium

Zeivlot

21 April 2465

Major General David Cohen felt an itch on the back of his neck, undoubtedly caused by the dress uniform he wore. It would have to keep because there was no reaching back and scratching it when he was on a podium, about to deliver a speech to the entire Zeivlot and Zavlot populations. Tens of thousands of people from both species lined the seats. From that distance, they almost appeared human.

It had been six months since the Lion of Judah had returned from the ill-fated expedition to Mifreen, and the fleet had been busy. The first Ajax-class Block II destroyer was ready to roll out of its orbital shipyard, followed by dozens more. And Master Chief Tinateriro had been relentless. Her boot camps rolled out hundreds of new soldiers every ten weeks, and the class size expanded every graduation. The goal was to train indigenous senior enlisted soldiers in the CDF way and get them pushing boots too.

All in all, they were on track.

David gripped the sides of the lectern and gazed out at the sea of uniformed Zeivlots and Zavlots. They numbered well over two thousand and represented the latest graduation of recruits. Vog’t had insisted they hold a public ceremony and pipe it to both worlds—because she was a politician. Still, she was probably right. Showing the population of both worlds the initiative to integrate their militaries would help calm tensions. We hope, anyway.

“Madame Zupan, Chairman Olgasin, I am honored to stand here today as we celebrate another class of graduates from Recruit Training Depot Sextans B. These men and women represent the best of you. They have set aside past hatreds and begun the long process of learning how to work together, live together, and most importantly, forgive one another.”

Cheering and applause broke out from the stands, with loud clicking sounds filling the stadium.

David still hadn’t figured out the basics of replicating Zeivlot speech, and their combined oral sounds with tongue clicks was a foreign concept to him. Thankfully, the translators work to near perfection now. “I wish that the current circumstances didn’t exist. But at least they instigated something positive. And if we survive the next two years, which I believe is God’s will, then both civilizations will be stronger for it.

“To our newly minted privates in the Coalition Defense Force, I charge you to remember the values of the CDF. Courage, commitment, and faith. Courage to face whatever the enemy throws at us, without fear or flinching. Commitment to our values, to our fellow soldiers, and to defend the civilians who count on us for protection. And finally, faith in God—whom you call the Maker—but also in the rule of law, the concept of freedom, and our fellow soldiers and citizens. None of this works if we can’t trust the men and women to our right and our left.”

David took a breath before continuing. “Now, I welcome you into a brotherhood that will never forsake you. You have much training to complete before your first postings on a warship, but I have confidence that all of you will make it. Because you must. There is no alternative and no way to victory except building a force large enough to stand against the nanites. Back in the Milky Way, you see, the CDF was almost always outnumbered and outgunned when it came to fighting the League of Sol. For every ship we had, they had ten. And yet, we never faltered or wavered. Fight the good fight, no matter the odds. That was our battle cry.

“And so it is yours now. I wish you all Godspeed on your journey. We will stand beside you wherever the path leads. You are dismissed!”

David took a step back from the podium as wild applause, cheering, and clicking swept the arena. The Zeivlot and Zavlot recruits stood and threw their covers into the air. Someone’s been teaching them our traditions. It brought a smile to his face. Then, he realized that chants of “Fight the good fight, no matter the odds!” had broken out. Some of the aliens tried to speak English. Others kept to their own language, and the translator in his ear picked it up. For a moment, David felt a spark of pride wash over him. I bet this is why politicians enjoy giving speeches to huge crowds. He pivoted toward Vog’t and Olgasin, who stood and warmly shook his hand.

“Thank you, General. This wouldn’t have been possible without the tireless efforts of your people.”

David flashed a grin. “Your population is doing most of the work, Zupan. We’re simply showing the way.”

“And providing us with hundreds of years of technological advances,” Olgasin replied. “I still wonder what the cost will be.”

“There isn’t one.” David pursed his lips. “I’ve said this before.”

“We will see. So far, you’ve kept your word, but my people remain vigilant.”

“As you should.”

Vog’t cleared her throat. “Enough of that, for now. General, I have something I’d like to show you. I would’ve preferred to do it with your full command staff, but when I asked, Lieutenant Taylor said that it would be impossible to get the entire contingent planetside.”

David blinked. That was the first he’d heard of such a request. “I’m sure there was either a security or operational concern, Zupan.”

“Would you have Colonel Demood join us? We plan to make the, ah, thing in question public in the next few days, but I want to show you today before you return to the Lion of Judah.”

“I think we can spare the time.”

Throughout the stadium, families of the graduated soldiers lined the barriers overlooking the field, waving banners and cheering. The display reminded David of ceremonies back in the Terran Coalition, like when he’d finished Officer Candidates School. The memory was a pleasant one that brought a smile to his lips.

It took them a good hour to leave the arena in a secure aircar motorcade, and David found the security precautions overly done, if sensible. He shared a car with Colonel Calvin Demood, the commanding officer of the Lion’s Marine Expeditionary Unit.

“The Zeivlots put on a nice show, don’t they?” Calvin mused as they finally got moving.

“Not quite as good as the CDF or even the Terran Coalition’s misguided children.”

Calvin raised an eyebrow. “With respect, sir, our uniforms are light-years ahead of yours at looking spiffy and attracting the ladies.”

“That’s the technical term for it, eh? Spiffy?” David asked with a snicker. “Yeah, I’ll give the Marines credit. You guys look much better in formation, especially in dress uniforms, than we do.”

Calvin made a big show of adjusting his collar. “Considering I’m in one of those right now, thanks for the compliment, sir.”

Both men laughed before Calvin adjusted the privacy setting in the passenger compartment. The divider turned opaque.

“So, uh, how are you doing?”

David made eye contact with him. “That felt like more than a friendly question.”

“Let’s say from one combat vet to another who knows what it’s like to lose people, you haven’t been yourself lately. Not since we got back from Mifreen.”

“I’m fine—”

“The hell you are, sir.” Calvin’s gaze was piercing. “We haven’t left this solar system since the Lion’s yard repairs were completed, except to ferry scientists to the dig site at the precursor homeworld, or whatever the doc’s calling it now. I know you better than that.”

David turned his head. He’s right. I just don’t want to face it.

“Sir?”

“I got a lot of people killed, Cal.”

“No, those Mifreen bastards with their goofy Netsim and fake utopia killed our Marines, pilots, soldiers… and a whole bunch of civvies. Not you.”

“I gave the orders.”

“So what? It was the right call. I know that, and so do you.”

David drew back his head. “It’s not that simple. Hayworth’s right… interfering with other civilizations isn’t our job. And it was foolhardy of me.”

“Screw Hayworth.”

“Cal—”

“No, listen to me. Look, the doc’s smart. I get that. He’s done a ton of good for the Coalition, but he’s not a combat soldier. He’ll never know what it feels like to order good men and women to their deaths or to weigh the use of violence to accomplish an objective. Yeah, we’re out here all alone. You’re having to write the book as we go too. But I’d rather have someone doing it that has empathy and wants to help folks than this noninterference crap.”

“So, we should go willy-nilly telling everyone else what to do?”

“Have you done that? Nah. We’ve got a partnership with the Zeivlots. The Jinvaas keep sending helium-3 because they’re getting reports from their scientist guy. Maybe we’ll see those Admari people again someday. I don’t know. But we positively impacted all of them, and despite our losses, we helped the Mifreen too. At the very least, the thousand of them sitting on Zeivlot would agree.”

“But did I have the right to order our people into harm’s way for another species we’re not obligated to?”

“What’s that you always say… right makes might?”

David nodded. “Yeah. I believe that.”

“This is simply a case of that playing out.” Calvin shrugged. “I hate losing Marines, sir. But what’s the point of having a lethal and well-armed force if it won’t step in when obvious injustice is staring us right in the face? These assholes were shooting children in the back. My only regret is I couldn’t find the life support pod Hes Sansan was in and put a burst of bullets through his chest.”

The simplistic way that Calvin and many other Marines viewed the galaxy appealed to David, even though he had to look at the big picture. I have to be careful not to give in to the impulse to always right a wrong when I see it. “I’m sick of writing letters that might not even make it back to the families. These men and women deserved better than to die in a galaxy four and a half million light-years from home.”

“Yeah, they did. But that’s what we got, and we ought to keep doing our thing because it’s what’s right.”

David paused. Sometimes, Calvin had a unique way of framing things and cutting through everything around an issue. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Now, why isn’t that lovely lady—who, for reasons I can’t understand, wants to go out with a squid—joining us?”

“Because we both feel it’s best not to let our relationship go public. That whole Zeivlot-barely-being-over-a-near-holy-war thing.” David’s cheeks warmed.

They typically did when Salena Bo’hai came up. She was a linguist who had helped her people make initial contact with humanity. Assigned to the Lion of Judah, they had grown very close to the point of a romantic attachment.

Calvin snorted. “Fine, fine.”

The aircar lurched to a stop, cutting off the conversation. David peered out the window, realizing they’d left the capital city’s dense urban center and were out beyond the skyscrapers and modern buildings. Instead, they were in a park that comprised a few thousand acres and served as a sort of planetary botanical garden. He saw security personnel spreading out through the window and Vog’t being escorted out of her separate aircar.

“Let’s find out what this is all about.” David opened the door and climbed out.

Vog’t quickly strode over with several close protective agents around her like a halo. “A pleasant ride, I trust, General?”

“Since I wasn’t being shot at, quite pleasant.”

Vog’t chuckled. “Do all humans possess this, what do you call it, sarcasm?”

“Most of us, but some are true practitioners of the art.” David used his thumb to indicate Calvin, who’d appeared at his side.

“What’d I do now?”

“I was just explaining to the zupan how well-versed you are in the fine skill of sarcastic comments.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I take full credit.” Calvin snickered.

David carefully avoided rolling his eyes but was glad they could still share humor. It had been a while since he’d even felt like telling a joke. “So, what are we going to see?” he asked in Vog’t’s direction.

“Follow me.” Without another word, she began walking down the entrance path.

David exchanged a glance with Calvin before shrugging and setting off after the Zeivlot leader.

Little was said as they walked through the luscious garden. Each section seemed to have a different theme, though David couldn’t read the inscriptions and placards, as they were written in Zeivlot.

What I wouldn’t do for a Marine helmet at the moment.

The flowers and plants were a beautiful, veritable cornucopia of different colors, shapes, and sizes. Given how exotic some of the species were, it rivaled anything on Canaan and perhaps exceeded it. As they cleared the top of a small hill and turned the corner on the path, what Vog’t was leading them toward came into focus.

Twin alloy monuments stood at least five meters tall, one the symbol for the Zeivlot religion, the other for Zavlot. Carefully tended plants and flowers surrounded both. But that wasn’t what stuck out immediately to David. Instead, the lifelike statues of humans surrounding both got his attention. Puzzled, he focused on one and thought he recognized the face. David strode over and examined the plaque next to the statue. It was written in three separate languages, including English.

Lieutenant Kaplan gave his life to save civilians on the planet Zeivlot by ramming a fusion warhead to prevent its impact on the surface. He stands as a hero to every Zeivlot and Zavlot citizen, the sign proclaimed.

David swallowed as he realized what Vog’t had done, and emotion welled to the surface. Each represents one soldier, Marine, or pilot who gave their lives for these people. He walked among the statues, examining each one.

“This is… nice,” Calvin said as they walked by one for Marine Private George Baker.

Vog’t stood in the center, where another set of plaques was displayed between the two religious symbols.

Eventually, David made his way there but only after stopping in front of each memorial to the fallen. By the time he stood in front of her, several tears had fallen down his face.

“It’s a moving experience for me, even now,” she said.

“Losing my people is the worst part of the job,” David replied. “I hate it. But… thank you for honoring them. That someone remembers the sacrifice is all we soldiers ask. That it wasn’t in vain.” The words seemed to choke in his throat, and he fought down more tears.

David took a few steps forward and read the English inscription on the alloy plaque. As long as Zeivlots, Zavlots, and humans live, may we never again take up arms against each other.

“I’m sure you recognize those words.”

“Very similar to our tribute to the founding of the Terran Coalition, back on Canaan,” David replied.

“Yes. I felt it was fitting. It is my sincere hope that we can live up to them.” Vog’t seemed to struggle to keep her voice level.

“Doing so is the only way to honor those who gave all.”

Vog’t nodded. “I know.”

David lapsed into silence and slowly strode around the monuments, contemplating the events of the past eighteen months. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they’d arrived in Sextans B, lucky to be alive and grasping at anything to help find a way home. As he stared at the statues among the peaceful gardens, all at once, something dark lifted off David’s soul. He knew that despite the losses, they were affecting positive changes. That doesn’t change the fact that I need to be extremely careful, but we can’t hide here. Cal’s right—right makes might. He returned to Vog’t’s side. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Thanks are more in order for you and your crew, General.”

“It’s what we do.” David shrugged. “You needed help. We initially worsened the situation, but it came together in the end. And I fervently hope that both worlds are better off once all is said and done.”

“Even if we perish, I would rather do so acting honorably and as the Maker instructs. Not by killing ourselves in the madness we collectively perpetrated for thousands of years.”

David sucked in a breath. “You know… at the end of the day, Zupan, we all owe God a death. I’m with you. I’d prefer to go out on my feet, doing what’s right, than live on my knees. We’d better be heading back.”

“Of course, General. Godspeed.”

“Godspeed to you too.”

As David turned to go, he realized with a start that Calvin knelt next to a statue of a Marine. One hand touched the plaque while he bowed his head. Perhaps sensing that David was about to leave, Calvin stood and offered a nod. There were tears in his eyes too.

Without another word, the two men headed back to the aircars. It took some time for David to process his emotions, but he remained sure of their path.

2

A few days later, David strode into the deck-one conference room aboard the Lion of Judah for his weekly status briefing. As much as he disliked meetings in general, especially ones where nothing got accomplished, this one was a bright spot. To see how far we’ve come. In truth, David was supremely impressed by what the Zeivlots and Zavlots had accomplished so far. Sometimes I wonder if the Terran Coalition had responded the same way when the League invaded… an all-hands-on-deck effort to crank out warships, new technology, and train half our population to fight. What would’ve happened? It was easy to look back and second-guess, but ultimately, he had no idea how it would’ve turned out.

“General on deck,” Tinateriro barked as she rose along with the rest of those assembled.

“As you were.” While the others returned to their chairs, David sat at the head of the table. “Good to have you with us, Major Wilson.”

The Salinan’s skipper had joined via the holoprojector in the middle of the room, and a few others sat behind him. One David recognized from a medal ceremony the previous month. That would be Senior Chief Stokes.

“Good to be had, sir.”

Polite chuckles echoed for a moment before David shook his head. “I forgot half of you guys are smart-aleck Mustangs.”

“Begging the general’s pardon, sir, but so are you,” Tinateriro interjected.

“Well, yes, but I missed the sarcasm training.”

“Ah, that would be the problem. There’s an A school and a C school on that particular subject matter.”

David laughed, as did the others. “So, who’s going first today?”

“I can kick us off, sir,” Wilson said.

“Go for it, Major.”

“Right, so for this week, we’ve got two more keels laid down, making for thirty-eight Ajax-class hulls under zero-G construction. Lithium shortages continue to block advanced electronics from being delivered, and the deficiencies reported the last six weeks continue to plague all seven deployed vessels on their shakedown cruises.”

So much for good news. “Any updates on finding lithium-rich asteroids in system?”

“We’ve not found any decent candidates, sir. Plenty of rocks with raw materials… iron, nickel, aluminum, zinc, zirconium, tungsten, and chromium. Not so much on the rare earth front,” Ruth cut in.

“Do any of the asteroids surveyed so far have lithium deposits?”

“Not in a meaningful enough manner to justify mining. We’d have to send the entire rock through a refiner to get anything.”

David blew out a breath. The news was dispiriting and holding up deployment. Wilson’s Gantt chart suggested they would grind to a standstill within two months at the current rate.

Before he could speak, Ruth continued. “But, sir, I think we’ve got a solution. It’s going to be tricky, though.”

“Explain, Captain.”

Ruth manipulated the holoprojector to show a chart of local space. A blue dot blinked, roughly six hundred light-years from Zeivlot. “According to our scientific sensors, that system has an asteroid belt with several lithium-rich rocks. Enough to make five hundred Ajax-class destroyers.”

“And how are we going to mine something that far away?” David leaned back. “I don’t want to pour cold water on the idea, but those mining ships our allies have can’t go to FTL, and we won’t be able to construct Lawrence drives that would work on them.”

Ruth and Hanson exchanged glances before the engineer spoke. “No, but they’ll fit in our hangar.”

David was impressed. Out-of-the-box thinking, as always. “An interesting and elegant solution, Major. I would almost label it unorthodox.”

Wilson chuckled. “We drew up specifications for a small in-system refinery and, with the Lion’s industrial-sized 3D printers, should be able to put it together in a week.”

“I suppose we’ll put that in the hangar bay too?” David grinned.

“That’s the idea, sir,” Hanson replied. “The Salinan, two destroyers, and maybe half a dozen mining ships to speed up the grid search?”

David turned to Aibek. “What do you think, XO?”

“A reasonable solution to our issue, though I wish the system were closer, from a strategic perspective.”

That about summed up David’s take too. “All right. We’ll proceed.” He paused for a moment then made eye contact with Hanson. “Major, how’d you like a field trip?”

“Uh, sure, sir.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” David replied wryly. “We’ll probably send the Margaret Thatcher, as she’s the most capable Ajax in the fleet. I’ll put you in charge of the mining operation.”

“Yes, sir.” A smile crept onto Hanson’s face.

“With that out of the way, how’s our recruit training going, Master Chief?”

“Not as fast as I’d like, sir, but well enough.” Tinateriro had returned to the Lion of Judah to oversee the training efforts as a second role.

David was glad to have her back. “And the technical schools?”

“Still slow, sir. Not having fully functional ships to use for training is hurting our efforts.”

“We’ll have that fixed soon, Master Chief,” Hanson interjected.

“I’ll hold you to that, sir.”

“Did Doctor Hayworth make it?”

“No, sir,” Taylor replied. “Technical difficulties with the vidlink. He sent a written update for your review, however.”

That’s code for “I don’t want to be bothered by this.” “Understood. Any saved rounds, people?”

Silence was the only reply.

“In that case, let’s get back to it. Dismissed.”

As the team filed out, David allowed himself a moment of pride. Regardless of what Sextans B had thrown at them, and the poor choices he’d made, the crew had rallied every time. Together, it seemed as if anything was possible. He glanced at his handcomm with its integrated chronometer and decided he had just enough time to make the midmorning prayers in the shul before standing watch once more. Trust in the Lord with all your heart. The proverb was never far from David’s mind. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy path. HaShem knows I need it.

Precursor Capital City

SB-WI013-6—Third Planet

26 April 2465

For a research physicist who hated venturing out of his lab, even when on the Lion of Judah, Doctor Benjamin Hayworth had spent more time performing fieldwork in the last eighteen months than he had in his entire career. More shocking was how much he enjoyed it. He directed the overall archeological effort in a base camp overlooking a massive stand of buildings so tall and wide they could only be described as arcologies.

Over a thousand researchers, Marines, and support staff toiled seven days a week to unlock the secrets that presumably lay at their feet.

Hayworth stared out from a tent situated at the edge of what they’d decided was a landing strip and perhaps a transit hub. As far as the eye could see, incredible arcologies dotted the sky. How they were intact after a hundred thousand years was a testament to the technology of their creators.

“Doctor?” Riwald Markul called from further within. A Mifreen, he’d joined the crew after their mission to the advanced alien races’ homeworld. His computer skills, previously used to hack and crack government information systems, had been put to use by the science team.

“Yes?”

“Just received word from the engineering team that they hope to try another test of the vacuum energy device tomorrow morning.”

“Why not today?” Hayworth snapped.

“They’d rather not repeat what happened last time,” Markul replied.

I suppose that is a valid point. Upon a previous start-up attempt, the reactor, if the power converter could be called that, had nearly blown apart. Hayworth found the underlying technology fascinating. From the best they could gather, it drew virtually unlimited levels of energy from a pocket universe in subspace. At least, it did at some point in the past. Eventually, entropy would ensure there was nothing left to siphon. All we need is enough to turn on the computing device.

During their last expedition to SB-WI013-6, acting on David’s direct orders, Hayworth’s team had pulled the seemingly intact computing system from one of the massive structures. Since then, all attempts at interfacing it with Coalition technology had failed. They all hoped that restoring its native power source would solve the problem. Leave it to us scientists to clean up shortsighted military mistakes.

“I suppose that will be fine, then. Anything else?”

“Only that Major Merriweather and her team will be staying in the tower overnight. They reached the top level and don’t want to walk all the way down and back up again.”

Hayworth snorted. “I’ll wait until the lifts are working.”

“You seem annoyed, Doctor.”

“You would be too if you were my age and trying to fix others’ screwups.”

Markul chuckled. “I’m sure that General Cohen made the best call possible with the available information.”

“How’d you know I was—”

“Because you’ve complained nonstop about the same thing for the past three months since we got here.” Markul flashed a thin smile.

“I’m simply aggravated that after finally accepting my advice to stop interfering with other cultures, or to at least quit finding new ones to interfere with, Cohen expects me to clean up something that shouldn’t even be an issue. Instead of fitting that device back into the building we pulled it out of and painstakingly checking every atom of the connection, the time could’ve been spent solving the power problem.”

“If General Cohen hadn’t done what he did on Mifreen, we have no guarantee the sequence of events that occurred would’ve happened. I most assuredly wouldn’t be here, and with my command of information systems, I’m your best bet to get into the database once it’s powered. Not to mention the Netsim test results, which have helped you immensely.”

“Ego much, Mr. Markul?”

“I learned from the best.”

Hayworth stared at him for a moment before laughing. “Despite your impudent nature, I like you. Most of these CDF types, or even the Zeivlots and Zavlots, would run away if I said that to them, but you throw it back in my face.”

“I aim to please,” Markul replied. “But what I said stands. The exact sequence of events we’ve gotten may end up being the one that unlocks the mystery. Perhaps, that’s what the universe wants.”

“The universe?” Hayworth clicked his tongue and grumbled. “You’ve been hanging out with those God-botherers too much. I thought you didn’t believe in such things.”

Markul shrugged. “On Mifreen, such concepts were outlawed by the state. They simply didn’t exist beyond the notion that those who lived in the Netsim were ‘gods’ themselves. Since I’ve been exposed to new information, I am considering it as I do everything else… with a skeptical eye. But don’t worry. I’m not rushing out to get converted.”

Hayworth harrumphed. “Good.”

“It’s about time to knock off for the day. Shall I send our findings back to the Lion of Judah?”

“Yes. I liked it better before we had the satellite relays.”

“So you’ve said, Doctor.” Markul grinned.

“I get the impression you’re telling me to obtain new material.”

“Quite.”

Hayworth rolled his eyes. “Leave the sarcasm to me, young man.”

He dismissively waved his hand and returned to the metallurgy report he’d been reading. The alloy that seemed to be the building block of the entire precursor civilization stubbornly refused to give up its secrets, but they had made progress in reshaping small amounts of it. He’d immediately seen applications as a new armor plate for space-going vessels and smaller-scale uses such as Marine power armor. He sat back with a start. I automatically go for military applications for a given new tech. What does that say about me? Hayworth didn’t like the implication—at all.

3

The Lion of Judah’s observation deck contained an arboretum and ample places to relax while watching the flowers and plants or the void—depending on which was more enjoyable at the time. David didn’t care much for various flora types and couldn’t say what more than a handful of vegetation types were. But Bo’hai did, and more often than not, they would share their dinner together at a small table near the edge of a garden with many different-colored flowers.

It was usually the only downtime either had.

Bo’hai smiled and pointed at David’s empty plate. “Did you like the anktar this time?”

“It was edible.” He smiled.

It was a running complaint on the Lion, and every other human-crewed ship, that the food the Zeivlot called anktar tasted awful and was near-universally hated. But it provided many complex nutrients, and Doctor Tural had insisted it stay on the menu.

She giggled. “I love them. Every restaurant I go to, I try the signature anktar dish.”

“Maybe you can export them to the Milky Way if we ever find a way to make round trips between our galaxies.”

“Something tells me that wouldn’t be such a good seller on human worlds.”

“Ah, but there are many other species besides us. Somebody’s bound to like them.”

Two enlisted soldiers passed the table holding hands. David went out of his way not to make eye contact. Such a thing was no longer an uncommon occurrence.

Once they had passed by, Bo’hai put her hand on his. “Does it still bother you to be open about us?”

David pursed his lips and chose his words carefully. “It’s not that ‘us’ bothers me. I’m used to a very rigid set of rules. Changing them is difficult but, I will acknowledge, necessary for morale.”

Bo’hai playfully rolled her eyes. “How many couples do you think there are now?”

“Almost all the VIP, guest, senior enlisted, and officer quarters are filled, if that gives you an idea. I’d say every unattached person on this ship that could has found someone. And I’m sure some with a spouse back in the Milky Way have too.”

“From what I know of your beliefs, that is something you would disapprove of.”

David tilted his head. He hadn’t given the subject much thought, since none of the senior officers were impacted. “Perhaps. Then again, it’s reasonably likely we’re not going home. Humans need interaction with others. We thrive on those relationships, whether friendship or romantic ones with our wife or husband. I won’t judge another lonely, hurting person that seeks solace with someone here. That is for the realm of God.”

She gripped his hand tighter. “Do you still want to go home?”

“Is that a way of asking me if I would stay here, assuming I had a choice?” David smiled. “I’m not going anywhere until the nanites are dealt with. After that… I owe it to my crew to get them back to the Milky Way. That’s where we belong.”

A silence descended over them, and David immediately regretted his choice of words. “I’m sorry that didn’t come out right. I cherish and value what we have very much.”

“But you have responsibilities that go beyond what you may want on a personal level.”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that the essence of being a great leader?”

“Hmmm. Perhaps. I suppose, on some level, it’s just being an adult.” David grinned again.

Bo’hai nestled her head against his shoulder and brushed a few strands of purple hair out of her eyes. “Wherever you go, I will go. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.”

David immediately recognized a passage from the book of Ruth in her words, paraphrased though they were. “Salena, that’s a huge commitment.” He put his arm around her.

“And?”

“I feel like I would be a horrible person to take you away from everything you’ve known, your entire life, to go to a different galaxy.”

“So you’ve said before, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Well, yes.” David forced a weak smile. “I’m not that great at romantic relationships. Now, give me a League battle group to fight… that I can do.”

“Perhaps I should have myself kidnapped, and you could come rescue me.” Bo’hai batted her eyelashes at him.

“Woe to whoever tried that.”

She ran a hand down his face. “I—” She paused and looked away momentarily before locking her eyes on his. “There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What is it?” Some level of dread filled David suddenly. Conversations that start like that rarely end well.

Bo’hai ran her fingers through her long, thick purple hair. “I’m sure you’ve noticed how the color has changed over the last year?”

“Yes.” When they’d first met, her hair only had a few streaks of purple strands.

“In some Zeivlots, not all, but some… this coloration change is associated with finding a compatible mate.”

David blinked. Whatever he’d thought she was about to say, that wasn’t it. He licked his lips several times, trying to figure out what to say next. “I… I didn’t realize.”

“I spoke with Doctor Tural. He said that our genomes appear compatible. For reproduction.”

“Are… are you asking me to marry you?” David blurted out.

“Isn’t that something the male usually does in your species?”

“Well, yes.”

“Ours too.” Bo’hai kissed his cheek. “I simply wanted you to know and have the facts to reach your own conclusions.”

Would it be insane to marry a woman from a different species in a distant galaxy? David felt his mental gears grind to a halt. It wouldn’t be that crazy, based on what we’ve experienced so far. Moreover, he knew his love for her was beyond anything he’d felt in his life. Since they’d both said “I love you” six months prior, David had found his feelings for her constantly deepening. “So, no issues with being a soldier’s wife, then?”

“I might not like to be alone for months while you do your duty, but I am strong.”

Something about the way she gazed at him made David feel like she could see into his soul. He kissed the top of Bo’hai’s head and adjusted himself to wrap his arm around her. While David had no idea where it would ultimately lead, he counted every minute with her as a blessing. They sat in silence for some time, and he wished it would never end.

One of the universe’s great mysteries was how the Lion of Judah’s observation deck came to be. Ruth had, at times, debated the subject with David, but it seemed inexplicable that what amounted to a giant garden where one could view the void, among a tranquil setting of plants, trees, and even a tiny pond, existed on a military warship. Whatever the reason, she was still glad it was there.

Taylor squeezed her hand as they rounded a bend and approached a bench. It was positioned facing the void and had become “their” hangout after-hours.

After taking a seat, she gazed into the infinite and inky blackness of the deep. “If we ever get back, maybe we should join the Far Survey Corps.”

“Seriously?” Taylor chuckled. “I figured you’d be done with exploring.”

Ruth shrugged. “What can I say? It’s grown on me.” Left unsaid was a feeling that she would never truly be at peace or able to find rest.

“How about we face that one if the need to debate it arises?” Taylor put his hand over hers, and the gold in his wedding band caught an overhead light, flashing momentarily.

It brought back a memory from the month before of them quietly tying the knot in the Lion’s Christian chapel. With less than twenty people attending, they’d gotten married and pledged before God to honor, cherish, and love one another till death did them part.

For Ruth, it represented the only time in her life, other than joining the Coalition Defense Force, that she’d made a genuine commitment without an easy way out. Her heart skipped a beat, as it was wont to do when she pondered being married. “Still glad we did it?”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t believe you said yes and showed up, given how much of a comms geek I am, as Demood would say.”

Ruth made a show of rolling her eyes. “Who cares what he says? Besides, didn’t you flip him on his rear end in a sparring match?”

Taylor grinned. “Yeah, but he got me with pugil sticks and never lets me forget it.”

“Doesn’t matter. You put him on the mat. That deserves respect.” You also joined the boarding party to capture Unity Station, for no other reason than because it was right.

A period of silence lingered, as if neither wanted to have a deep discussion.

Ruth finally broke it, sighing. “I’m sorry, the ticking clock on our lives is getting to me today.”

“We’ve still got eighteen months.”

“Yeah, and I’m old enough that it moves pretty fast. So are you.”

Taylor snickered. “Don’t wish time away, Ruth. Savor every moment we’ve got.”

“How are you able to be so zen?” She gestured wildly at the void. “Literally, a planet-sized ball of microscopic killing machines is headed for us, and you act like you don’t have a care in the universe.”

“The keyword there is headed. They’re not here yet. Trust me, when they are, I’ll sweat it. But for now, what’s the point? I’d rather take one day at a time, enjoy what time I have with the woman I love, and work as hard as possible, daily, to stop those things.”

Ruth turned to Taylor. She found his way of looking at things endearing. “I wish I could just turn my brain off and mimic you.”

He put his arm around her. “Focus on the moment. Right here, right now. We’ll get through this. I promise. And if we don’t… I can think of worse ways to go than a valiant last stand against a planet-destroying evil.”

“Oh Lord. That sounded like a promo for War Patrol.”

Taylor chuckled. “I don’t know why everyone rags on it. I actually enjoy watching.”

Ruth made a show of rolling her eyes. “Suuure.” She sighed again and decided to try his advice. “Okay. No more end-of-the-universe talk.”

“How about that honeymoon?”

“Right, because when can we take something like that with—” Ruth nearly bit off her tongue. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, at the end of the month, I thought we could take some time off. Just a couple of days. I heard from one of the Zeivlot scientists about a beach with black sand on one of their volcanic islands. Supposedly, it’s lovely.”

It was so out of left field that Ruth didn’t know what to make of his suggestion. Oh, why not? Go with it. “And I suppose we won’t be missed?”

“Not for three days.”

“It seems wrong somehow—”

Taylor tsked. “Recharging our batteries and enjoying time with each other will enhance our effectiveness at our jobs.”

“You’re not taking no for an answer, are you?”

“Nope.”

Ruth decided to give in. “Okay. Fine. I’ll be there, but you’d better not decorate a shuttle with cans and some goofy ‘Just Married’ sign.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea.”

“Robert Taylor—”

He cut her off midword with a kiss.

Ruth let him and enjoyed the moment, to her immense surprise, wishing it would never end.

4

Arthur Hanson stepped gingerly into the gravlift on deck five of the Margaret Thatcher. After dropping off his space bag in the guest officer’s quarters he’d been assigned, he took a quick stroll around the ship before his scheduled meeting with Colonel Savchenko, his commanding officer. The engineering spaces reminded him of the Yitzhak Rabin, yet they were much more advanced. In the four years between the Rabin and the Thatcher’s launch, the advanced fusion reactor technology developed for the Ajax class had been perfected even more.

That feature, among others, made it almost a different vessel. Coupled with expanded weapons systems, the destroyer could punch above its weight in most engagements.

However, Hanson was more interested in the power junction upgrades than the weapons. Technical minutia fascinated him and brought different improvement vectors to mind. I should probably write some of this down for use in the new destroyers being constructed. He shoved it out of his mind as he stepped off the lift and onto deck one.

Hanson pressed the buzzer to the commanding officer’s day cabin.

“Come!” Savchenko called.

He pushed the hatch open and strode in before coming to attention directly in front of the desk. “Major Arthur Hanson reports as ordered, sir.”

“At ease.” Savchenko gestured to one of the chairs.

Functionally, it was a new, direct copy of every other CO’s day cabin Hanson had ever been in, though the Lion’s was larger and had more space to spread out. It brought back even more memories from the Rabin. He sat gingerly.

“I’ve reviewed the briefing you sent this morning, Major,” Savchenko said and narrowed his eyes. “I’m unclear on a few points.”

“Sir?”

Savchenko’s gaze was piercing. “Asteroids with lithium concentrations are spread throughout the belt. Why are you proposing we do a grid search?”

“It’s not just having the mineral, sir. It’s purity. We’ve got readings from the Lion’s scientific sensors, specifically the mass spectrometry element, that strongly suggest some rocks present would allow us to use surface mining techniques versus refining an entire asteroid. If we could accomplish that quickly, we’d just do it in the Zeivlot solar system.”

“But our ships don’t have specialized science sensors, Major. So how do you propose we find this needle in the cosmic haystack?”

“Well, sir, actually, the Salinan sorta does. As a repair vessel, she carries a small alloy smelter and has an upgraded sensor suite to locate said minerals. We’ll tweak it to look for lithium.”

“I see.” Savchenko sat back. “At least you’ve thought of some of the possible pitfalls. I commend you for that.”

Hanson nodded and tried to keep from fidgeting with his hands. “Thank you, sir.”

“There is, however, another matter for us to discuss.”

“Of course, sir.”

“The last time the Thatcher participated in a mining exercise, you along with two other CDF soldiers were captured by hostile aliens.”

“I remember it well, sir—”

“I’m not finished, Major,” Savchenko barked.

Hanson sucked in a breath and licked his lips.

“If this ship, or any other vessel in our flotilla, receives a threat, I want you to understand ahead of time that I will use whatever means necessary to defend my command. Is that clear, Major?”

“Crystal, sir.” Hanson’s spine went ramrod straight.

“You are in charge of the mining operation itself, but I am the ranking officer for the fleet. You will follow my orders, and there will be no question of who’s in overall command.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

Hanson set his jaw. “Do you have an issue with General Cohen or the Lion of Judah’s command staff, sir?”

“I have an issue, as you put it, with anyone who puts hostile forces above the well-being of Coalition soldiers in combat. General Cohen has demonstrated that trait several times.”

“He was doing what he felt was right.”

Savchenko shrugged. “And? I’m sworn to obey his orders, Major. Make no mistake, I will do my duty. But what I’m not doing is a repeat of the Jinvaas Confederation debacle. Two neutron beam blasts from our forward array would’ve ended that situation before it started.”

“We were wrong—”

“Who cares?” Savchenko’s gaze was piercing. His eyes seemed to bore through Hanson’s soul. “My primary responsibility is to my crew.”

Hanson gritted his teeth. “With respect, sir, that’s not how we do things. And I won’t be a party to a war crime.”

“I had every right under the CDF standard rules of engagement to disable or destroy the attacking vessels.”

“Except we were stealing from them.”

Savchenko chuckled. “I thought you were a nerd that preferred to hide out in the engine room, Major. Perhaps there’s some fire in you, after all. Save it, however, for the enemy.”

Hanson had heard far worse insults in his career. In truth, he got ribbed relatively regularly in a new posting for being the quintessential engineering nerd. Right down to sporting birth control glasses, or BCGs. But something about the comment pissed him off. He sucked in a breath. “Colonel, I might be a geek that tinkers with reactors all day, but I am an officer in the Coalition Defense Force. I’ve earned my rank with ten years of service, eight combat patrols, and more battles than I can count. If that’s not enough for you to respect me, that’s your problem, sir.”

A smirk crept onto Savchenko’s face. “Oh, that little speech got you more respect than any battle against the Leaguers could’ve, Major. What I said stands… my command, my rules. Clear?”

“Still crystal, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Hanson sprang up and made a beeline for the hatch. After closing it behind him, he relaxed for a moment in the passageway. Anger had risen, and momentarily, he was furious. Then it cooled. Savchenko’s got a different command style. What was it David told me before…? You learn something from everyone, including what not to do. Hanson resolved to glean what he could from the colonel’s leadership and get back to where he belonged—the Lion’s engine room.

Mapping an asteroid field was among the most tedious tasks John Wilson had accomplished in his CDF career. They’d been at it for days, working through grid patterns. Detecting high concentrations of lithium present wasn’t difficult, but narrowing down the exact rocks was. So far, they’d found one high-purity sample but not what the eggheads had predicted.

All in all, it made Wilson wish they had more help as he sipped from his splashproof mug, drinking the Zeivlot beverage that supposedly passed for coffee. Whatever this crap is, standard-issue Coalition battery acid tastes better.

“Conn, Navigation. Coming up on our next course change to zero-nine-zero.”

Wilson glanced at the plot and confirmed his officer’s observation. Another hour, another turn.

“We could always liven things up with a combat drill or two,” Captain Binota Singh Khattri interjected. He was the Salinan’s XO and a practitioner of the Sikh religion, as evidenced by the kirpan on his waist.

“Not a bad idea.” Wilson grinned evilly. “Make sure the ratings don’t get too complacent.”

“How about shooting at some of these confounded rocks?” Second Lieutenant Dariush Fazel asked from his console.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lieutenant.” Wilson chuckled. The boredom was only part of the story. He was worried sick about progress on the partner force shipyards and destroyer-building efforts. Even with constant attention, touring job sites constantly—most days he worked sixteen hours straight—something was always falling behind. Part of it was the learning curve, part was cultural prejudices between the Zeivlots and Zavlots, and the scale at which they were building didn’t help.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change… I think I’ve got increasing lithium readings here. Best guess, range is two million kilometers, bearing one-nine-six.”

Almost directly behind us. “Narrow in our sensors and recompute.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Fazel replied. A few minutes later, he continued. “Confirmed, sir. But we’re going to exit sensor range in sixty seconds.”

Wilson raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Khattri. “It’s outside of the box pattern and could be another false alarm…”

“But it might not be. I think we should check this out, Skipper.”

“I concur.” Wilson turned to the navigator. “Nav, come to heading one-nine-seven, negative declination four. Increase speed to flank.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Wilson watched the tactical plot like a hawk. He’d configured it to overlay their course and the sensor mode with asteroid compositions showing. Little was said beyond the typical back-and-forth of running a ship in the void, and his mind again drifted to the tasks on Zeivlot. At least the seriousness of the situation had taken hold of both races. Wilson had to commend them for the all-hands-on-deck response. When a new part or component was needed, it seemed like a factory would spring up overnight to deliver it. That suited him just fine.

In the lulls between inspections, updates to his overall project plan, and the general hustle and bustle of life, Wilson’s mind was never far from his family. Whenever he had more than a few minutes to ponder, the thought of his wife and children believing he—and everyone else in the fleet—was lost and gone broke his heart. While Wilson was stoic in his duty and in how he presented himself to the crew, many a night was spent in his cabin, looking at family photos. In turn, he would weep while begging God to give him one last chance to hold them. Through it all, a sense that he and the crew would somehow find a way home kept him going.

“Conn, TAO,” Fazel called out.

His voice immediately pulled Wilson from his thoughts.

“Sir, I’m showing multiple high-yield lithium asteroids… My numbers say it’s enough to build a few hundred Ajaxes and anything else we want.”

Wilson exhaled as the tension released from his body. Thank you, Lord. You keep providing for us, and we probably don’t say that enough. He grinned. “Best news I’ve heard all day, Lieutenant. Comms, get me Colonel Savchenko on a priority channel.”

5

The most human of things was to share a meal. It had been a constant since the days of cavemen, and the advent of starships, directed energy weapons, and faster-than-light travel hadn’t changed it in the least. And given they were four and a half million light-years from home, any small comfort was welcome.

Such were David’s thoughts as he lifted his head, following Amir’s blessing of their lunch. It appeared uniquely unappetizing that day, with some sort of flatbread made from Zavlot grains and slabs of overcooked meat between them.

“You sure this is actually food, sir?” Calvin took a bite and made a face as he chewed.

“Does it give us sustenance? Yes. By that definition, it’s food. Is it enjoyable? No.” David followed the Marine in biting off a mouthful of the sandwich. It wasn’t delicious.

“Doctor Tural, could you clone animals for us?” Aibek asked in his trademark hiss. “I would do almost anything for a steak.”

“Not without the base genetic material,” Tural replied. “And even then, growing a bovine to full size would take years.”

David chuckled. “I guess we’re stuck with the bad grub. But at least we’re not starving… and they’re still growing fresh human vegetables.”

“What about the Jinvaas food?” Calvin cut in. “It tasted a lot better.”

“Unfortunately, the supplier we wanted to use was arrested for not having the proper export license for a space-faring species.”

Aibek raised an eyescale. “A joke?”

“Not at all. Can you imagine those guys getting loose in the Coalition’s legal system?” David snickered.

Tural seemed to remain quite serious, his expression never changing.

“You okay, Doctor?”

“Oh, me?” Tural nodded. His demeanor, once always warm and friendly, seemed guarded and had been since his torture at the hands of the Mifreen Netsim.

“Nightmares, still?”

“Yes. I thought by now I’d be able to shake it.” Tural forced a smile.

David licked his lips. “I know what you’re going through, at least, in a fashion. Torture is not something that just magically goes away.”

Tural glanced between them. “My friends, I am resilient. Do not worry on my behalf.”

“I include you in my prayers daily.” Amir took a sip of water.

Calvin gritted his teeth. “You guys know I’m probably the least observant of anyone at this table, but the bullets I put into the Mifreen during the rescue had your name on them.”

Tural put his hand on Calvin’s shoulder. “While I prefer to heal, I thank Allah daily that you risked everything to come for me.”

“Anytime. For any of our brothers and sisters.”

David raised his glass. “Amen to that.”

Knowing that Tural was still in emotional pain was one more burden. He blamed himself for the loss of life on Mifreen and the dozens of dead soldiers and pilots. And here sits my friend, tormented by the mental demons that infernal simulation implanted into his brain. Yet, David also admitted that the situation couldn’t have gone much differently, at least after they interacted with the paramilitaries. The only way out would’ve been to not go to the surface. Which brought an entirely new set of questions. Perhaps we would’ve used the Netsim, or worse, taken it with us.

“Too bad we don’t have something stronger here to toast our fallen,” Calvin said after a pause.

“They’re always in our hearts.”

Aibek hissed, “And at the forefront of our minds when we lift our blade to the enemy.”

“Hear, hear,” Calvin replied. “We could also try focusing on the positive.”

They all stared at the tough Marine like he’d grown a second head.

“The great Colonel Demood using psychology?” Amir tsked.

“Hey, it’s been known to happen every once in a blue moon. Seriously, though. The Zievlots and Zavlots aren’t killing each other anymore. And they’ve seemingly buried the hatchet and the S-vests.”

David nodded. “Cal’s right. We’ve come a long way. And it’s something for everyone in this fleet to be proud of.”

“Their food still sucks,” Amir interjected.

Laughter swept the table.

“Leave it to the fighter pilot to put things in perspective.” Calvin shook his head. “Marines thrive on C-Rats.”

“Except I heard Master Gunnery Sergeant Menahem was trading with some of the aviation chiefs for fresh fruit rations,” Amir replied smugly.

Calvin tried to work his mouth for a minute. “No way.”

David laughed. “I think he got you there.”

“Bah, whatever. Let’s be glad we get a little rest and focus on beating those stupid nanite thingamabobs.” Calvin bit into the sandwich with gusto.

“And find some better food.” Amir chuckled.

Taking another mouthful himself, David felt content. Regardless of whatever else, he had friends for life who he’d been through hell and back with. Together, they could overcome any obstacle. And with a healthy dose of grace from HaShem. I can’t forget that, ever.

CSV Magen

SB-WI013-6—Orbit of Third Planet

3 May 2465

Major Gabriella Acuna never thought that duty in a galaxy four and a half million light-years from the Milky Way could be so boring. Standing watch over a dead planet and a graveyard of ancient warships dating back a hundred thousand years redefined the word. To keep her crew sharp and stave off cabin fever, she’d taken to mock combat exercises with the CSV John Manners, a sister Ajax-class destroyer. The two vessels were the picket force to defend the science expedition if something went wrong.

So far, they’d seen precisely nothing in the last three months.

Which wasn’t a bad thing, even if it was boring.

Halfway through the afternoon watch, Acuna was determined to do something besides brood in her day cabin. She’d had them map the massive debris field in orbit to pass the time. It was something to do, at least.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change… wormhole opening at bearing three-four-six, range two hundred thousand kilometers. Unknown signature,” the tactical action officer blurted out.

The hair stood up on the back of Acuna’s head. She checked her memory. No drills scheduled. At least it’s far out.

Before she could speak, the TAO continued.

“New contact, designated Sierra Forty-One. Unknown configuration, ma’am.”

“Comms, warn that ship off in all known languages, then tell Major Khalil to get in formation delta-six.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Acuna pulled up the tactical plot. A purple dot marked with a Sierra Forty-One tag raced toward them. “TAO, what’s the rate of closure?”

“Calculating it now, ma’am. Uh, this can’t be right. That contact is moving at fifteen percent of light speed. Forty-five seconds to intercept.”

“TAO, raise shields, charge the energy weapons capacitor, load magnetic cannons, and make tubes one and two ready in all respects except opening the outer doors.” Acuna decided it would be best not to open their missile launchers to the void, lest whatever aliens controlled the incoming contact mistake their actions as hostile, but she also wouldn’t get caught with her pants down. She toggled the 1MC on her chair. “Attention, all hands, this is Major Acuna. General quarters, general quarters. Man your battle stations. Set material condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I say again, this is not a drill.”

The bridge lights immediately dimmed and turned blue, while the GQ klaxon blared twice then mercifully shut off. Elsewhere on the Magen, it would continue its call.

“Conn, TAO. Condition one set throughout the ship, ma’am. Shields energized, magnetic cannons loaded, energy weapons capacitor charging. Tubes one and two ready in all respects. Outer doors are closed.”

“Comms, anything?”

“No, ma’am.”

Acuna steepled her fingers and blew out a breath. “TAO, projected course of Sierra Forty-One?”

“Headed straight for the surface on a parabolic course for the dig site, ma’am.”

“TAO, put a shot across his bow. Comms, continue to warn Sierra Forty-One to back off.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Moments later, a blue neutron beam erupted from the Magen’s bow. It cut through the void, missing the alien vessel but surely getting the point across.

“Conn, TAO, aspect change… energy build up in Sierra Forty-One.” Even as the tactical officer finished his statement, the Magen rocked violently. “Forward deflectors down sixty-three percent cohesion.”

Acuna’s mouth went dry. Nothing I know of could do that in one shot. “TAO, reclassify Sierra Forty-One to Master One. Do we have anything on the size or energy output of this object?”

“It’s not big at all, ma’am. Maybe twenty meters wide. Not much larger than a Valiant.”

Then here’s to hoping it’s a glass cannon. “Firing point procedures, neutron beams, magnetic cannons, and both missile tubes, Master One.”

“Firing solutions set, ma’am.”

“Open outer doors and synchronize with the John Manners.”

“Standing by, ma’am.”

Acuna leaned forward. “Match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

Both destroyers lashed out with their entire weapons suites, sending blue energy spears into the void along with mag-cannon shells and four Starbolt missiles. The alien vessel made no attempt to counter their fire nor evade it. Everything hit within three seconds, with the fusion warheads providing brilliant pinpricks of white light that filled the void.

Acuna would’ve expected that much firepower to erase something so small from the universe and leave nothing of it behind except trace elements. Instead, the ship, whatever it was, took no damage. The only change was the dark shape they couldn’t even identify momentarily changing its direction and firing three energy blasts at each CDF ship.

Before she could bellow orders for evasive action, the first impact took down the Magen’s shields. The next two blasted the hull and seemed to radiate throughout the destroyer. Sparks blew from every console on the bridge. The lights went out, and for a brief moment, everything was dark.

Acuna began to rise from her chair as gravity went out a split second before a few lights came back on.

“Emergency power online,” Captain Lawrence Weisberg, her executive officer, cut in.

Artificial gravity kicked in, and Acuna dropped the few inches back into her chair with a jarring thud. She glanced from Tactical to Navigation to her chair-mounted display. All were black. “Damage report, XO?”

Weisberg fumbled with his tablet before pulling something up. “Main reactor SCRAMed, all weapons, our shields, and engines offline. I’d say we got hit by a massive EMP, ma’am.”

“That tracks with my readings right before everything died,” the tactical officer interjected.

Whatever this thing is, its technology is far superior to our own. Acuna was careful not to let her tone change, though her OODA—observe, orient, decide, act—loop was broken. “Comms?”

“Short range only, ma’am.”

Acuna nodded. “Notify Lieutenant Huber he’s got incoming. TAO, before our sensors went dark, did you see if the John Manners had any more success than us?”

“Pretty sure they were disabled, too, ma’am.”

“Conn, Navigation. Thrusters will be sufficient to maintain high orbit, ma’am.”

So, we’re safe for now. Emergency power will keep the lights, the life support, and the ship running until we can restart the reactor. As long it doesn’t take more than twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Acuna pursed her lips. “XO, I want every hand we can spare on damage control.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

I suppose I should be careful what I wish for. The rest of the day would be anything but boring.

6

The Lion of Judah’s bridge functioned like a well-oiled machine at all hours of the day and night. David sat in his chair, standing yet another afternoon watch. He probably should’ve been doing something else, like the enormous amounts of paperwork due for each new vessel they would be commissioning over the next few months. Safety inspection sign-offs, checkout testing of all shipboard systems, crew assignments and evaluations. In true CDF fashion, there were literally thousands of pages of documentation for each one.

I recall being disappointed there wasn’t enough paperwork to fill up my day at times since we got to Sextans B. Perhaps I shouldn’t have complained.

Aibek grunted and put down his tablet. “If the lithium problem is solved, we should have enough new destroyers to hold fleet exercises in three months.”

“It’d give us something to do, at least.” But ultimately not worth much if Hayworth can’t come through with a weapon to fight the nanites.

It didn’t matter how well the Zeivlots and Zavlots could fight. Anything less than a super weapon would make their last stand a suicide mission. David knew the doctor was pushing himself to the absolute limit, but it had been a harsh blow that the Netsim data didn’t have quite enough in it to finish the research. They were hanging their hat on the idea that the precursor database would contain useful information and plug the gaps in their knowledge enough to complete a prototype. Part of him knew it was a long shot at best. But since they had no other options, it made sense. Just not something to say aloud.

“Conn, Communications. We’ve got a long-range distress call from Doctor Hayworth.”

The hair on the back of David’s head stood on end. “My viewer, now, Lieutenant.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Static crackled, and an image of Hayworth’s face faded in and out before stabilizing. “Lion of Judah, do you read?”

“Loud and clear, Doctor. Please advise as to the emergency.”

“An unidentified vessel of some sort disabled both destroyers in orbit. It’s headed to the surface, and I’m not sure I like our chances.”

Oh my God. “Any indication it’s the nanites?”

“I don’t believe so. We had limited access to the tactical network, and from what I can glean from the sensor logs, it’s unlike anything we’ve seen before. Lieutenant Huber is organizing a defense. I suggest you hurry.”

Six jumps. Even if we go back-to-back… David set his jaw. “It’ll be at least six to eight hours, Doctor. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“I’ll hold you to that, General.”

The feed went dead, and David sucked in a breath. Work the problem. “Navigation, plot a course to SB-WI013-6. Minimum combat cooldown conditions on the Lawrence drive between jumps.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond replied.

David punched the code for engineering into his chair’s intercom. “Cohen to Merriweather.”

“Merriweather here, sir.” Her voice echoed through the speaker along with a crackle of static.

“We need to get to the precursor homeworld ASAP. Our forces there are under attack by a hostile, unknown force.”

“Is Doctor Hay—”

“He’s fine. I just got off a vidlink with him. But I need you to pull out all the stops down there, Major. Their survival depends on how fast we can ride to the rescue.”

“Aye aye, sir. We’ll execute emergency cooldown procedures after every jump.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Cohen out.” The intercom went dead, and David leaned his head back.

“What is it that humans say, we cannot catch a break?” Aibek hissed.

“One way of summing it up, XO.” While the loss of two destroyers and the eight hundred soldiers who manned them, a hundred Marines on the surface, and a thousand civilians was horrific to contemplate, what such a tragedy would represent was even worse. Not only would we never get home, but any hope of defeating the nanites baring a miracle directly from HaShem dies with Hayworth. It was impossible to overstate the doctor’s importance. Until he could be safely brought back onboard, all other concerns were secondary. I should’ve anticipated this.

There would be time for reflection and a detailed after-action report, later. Right then, all that mattered was getting to the precursor system while there was still time.

Hayworth had been among the military for long enough to tell when they were genuinely scared of something. The Marines were far too professional and proud to show it, but there were small tells in body language and a way in which everyone seemed to double-check every weapon more than once. They’d taken up a defensive position, with the civilians secured inside one of the buildings closest to the landing area. He’d insisted on it, despite Huber’s objections. For one, Hayworth had no interest in delaying the inevitable. If the end was coming, he would face it like all challenges he’d faced so far in life—head-on.

One of the Marines pointed, and all turned to stare as an alien craft swooped low over the millennia-old ruins. Its appearance was unlike anything Hayworth had observed in his life. To him, it resembled a work of art with delicate, flowing lines rather than a warship or even something that plied the void. After the initial pass, it quickly returned and set down with barely a speck of dust disturbed. An antigravity engine? Hayworth thought such devices outside the realm of physics. Watching one in action was sobering.

An exterior hatch opened, and a set of stairs materialized out of the hull. A few moments later, a being emerged. It seemed to be made of an alloy or have skintight alloy armor. The alien walked down the steps quickly and with purpose.

A voice boomed over the PA system built into his power-armor suit. “Halt! This is First Lieutenant Huber of the Terran Coalition Marine Corps! Put your hands up, or we will open fire!”

“I wish to converse with whoever is in charge,” the being replied in perfect English.

“Show your hands, or we’ll light you up, asshole!” Huber screamed.

“That is regrettable.”

As the alien drew a sidearm from seemingly inside its body, the Marines kept their word. Hayworth watched in fascination as dozens—no, hundreds—of bullets slammed into the alloy skin encasing the being. They pinged off in showers of sparks, ricocheting in every direction. Most were from battle rifles, but some of the power-armored Marines used energy weapons and even a large-caliber gauss sniper rifle. A few of the hits knocked the entity backward, but nothing stopped it nor seemed to actually cause damage.

Then, the alien’s pistol spoke. It made no noise beyond a slight electrical hum, but with each pull of the trigger, it sent out a bright-yellow beam. One by one, it hit the Marines, and they froze where they stood.

Hayworth frantically accessed the Marines’ tactical network to ascertain what was happening and, to his complete shock, found that the weapon discharge shut down the power armor with a single hit. That’s the most powerful EMP I’ve ever seen, and its directed. Fascinating technology. It dawned on him that the alien, whatever he or she was, had gone to some length to avoid harming them. Even though we’re shooting lethal ammo in large amounts.

Methodically working through nearly the entire Marine platoon, the alien disabled every last one of them before breaching the door to the building where the scientists were holed up. As it did, Huber grabbed Hayworth. “We’ve got to move, Doctor.”

Hayworth shook his head. “No. I sense something bigger is going on here, and I’d like to see what it is.”

“Are you crazy?” Huber replied as the alloy door was ripped from its mount and tossed away like a piece of polymer. “We don’t go now, we die.”

“Your fellows aren’t dead. Merely disabled by EMP blasts.”

“And? It can finish us off anytime it wants. Now, come on.”

Huber grabbed Hayworth by the arm, but he slunk out of the grasp, instead turning to face the alien.

“I am Doctor Benjamin Hayworth and the leader of this expedition. What do you want, and can we talk without bloodshed?”

The alien took several steps into the room, even as the remaining four Marines leveled their weapons at it.

“Please ask your protectors to lower their weapons. I mean none of you harm, but I will defend myself against threats. It is regrettable that, so far, I have faced hostility. I seek only peaceful discourse.”

Hayworth shuffled forward. “I’d be happy to talk with you. Lieutenant Huber, please instruct your men to lower their weapons. I will step outside with our guest and have a conversation.”

“Doctor, I’ve got orders—”

“I don’t care about your orders, Lieutenant. Now, unless you’d like to continue a hopeless fight, allow me to do my job.”

The younger man appeared as if he wanted to argue but finally relented. “Okay, you heard the doc. We’ll post up here while he discusses the situation with… the alien.”

Hayworth ambled outside into the brilliant sunlight. “You could’ve made a less colorful entrance.”

“The vessels in orbit shot at mine. It was necessary to disable them before more harm could be done by either side.”

“They fired first?” Hayworth asked.

The being nodded. “Yes, while the incoming missed, it was enough to convince me of hostilities.”

“That was a warning shot. The CDF always puts a shot over the bow of whatever ship they want to warn off before shooting for real.” Hayworth crossed his arms. “It’s a long-standing human custom.”

“Human… your species, correct?”

“Yes. I’m afraid you have me at something of a disadvantage, seeing as you speak my language and know a lot more about us than we do of you.”

“I will explain all to you if you will but sit peacefully with me and discuss what must be done.”

“And what is that?”

“The technological horror you battle, the ones you call nanites… They must be defeated. I can help you do it. It is why I am here and is my sole purpose for existence.”

Hayworth raised an eyebrow. “What species are you?”

“I am an artificial life-form.” The being’s armor seemed to melt into its “skin,” and a few moments later, an android built of alloy stood before him. Its face was humanoid but devoid of particular traits that might associate it with one species or another. “Please, let me help you.”

“We need all the help we can get our hands on,” Hayworth replied. The God-botherers will call this a miracle. Bah. “How are you aware of the nanites?”

“Because I was there when they were created.”

Benjamin Hayworth wasn’t a man prone to excitement, or shock. As he replayed the words he’d heard in his mind, such was his reaction that he almost collapsed. What came next would be interesting indeed.

7

The six Lawrence drive jumps from Zievlot to SB-WI013-6 were among the most nerve-racking of David’s life. The gnawing in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t let go as he prayed they would make it in time to save the dig team. There’d been no further communications, and David assumed the worst—that there was probably no one left to rescue.

Major Merriweather had performed yeoman’s work, coaxing every last minute out of their cooldown protocols, but it still took seven hours.

David had allowed himself half an hour to eat as well as a brief huddle with Amir and Calvin before the final jump. Then, he stared out the windows at the front of the Lion’s bridge, waiting for the last minutes to tick down. They’d been at material condition one for the previous twenty minutes, and David’s eyes had long adjusted to the dim blue light. It made the digital chronometer even brighter than usual. Three minutes.

“I can taste the apprehension,” Aibek remarked.

“You know I’m not one for fear,” David replied, his voice barely above a whisper so it wouldn’t carry. “The situation is bad.”

“We can only do what we can do. The Prophet will guide our blades.”

Part of David wanted to lash out in anger. But only a tiny part. All they’d done since arriving in Sextans B was fight for survival, or on behalf of another race to ensure their survival. This gets old. But he recognized that, for whatever reason, they were there, and their actions so far had made changes. Some positive, perhaps some not so positive. If Hayworth is dead, we’re never getting home. A split second later, he chastised himself. I do not have the right to think such things. If we are meant to return, we will.

“Conn, Navigation. Lawrence drive shows ready, sir.”

David snapped out of his reverie. “That’s our cue. TAO, raise shields.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth replied. “Deflectors online and stable.”

At maximum jump range, there wouldn’t be enough power for the energy weapons capacitor to charge, but David was more concerned about the defense. “Navigation, activate Lawrence drive.”

The familiar sequence played out as it always did before Hammond reported, “Wormhole stable, sir.”

“All ahead flank, Lieutenant. Take us in.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The Lion of Judah surged forward, and the gaping maw of the hole in the fabric of space loomed in front of them. Seconds later, they’d entered, traversed, and exited the tunnel, arriving at their destination—three hundred light-years from where they’d started.

David mentally recited a prayer in Hebrew as he waited for reports to arrive. HaShem, if it is Your will, please allow us to save as many as possible.

Four seconds passed without incident before Ruth spoke. “Conn, TAO. No hostile contacts, showing two friendlies… Magen and John Manners, designated Sierra One and Two. Both appear structurally intact, but I’m showing their reactors are SCRAMed.”

“Communications, can you raise either vessel?” David released a breath. “And, TAO, is life support functioning over there?”

“As far as I can tell, sir, they’re on emergency power.”

“Sir, audio-only transmission from the Magen.”

“Put it on.”

The crackle of static filled the bridge, coming from the speakers on David’s chair. “Lion of Judah, this is Magen actual,” Acuna said as it cleared.

“Good to hear your voice, Major. We were mighty worried over here.”

Acuna coughed, causing a burst of noise. “Same, sir. I didn’t realize a distress signal got out.”

“Doctor Hayworth sent one before contact was lost.”

“Thank the Lord for that. The last we saw, our attacker was headed toward the surface.”

David pursed his lips. “Anything you could tell me, including sensor logs, would be useful, Major.”

“The hostile was the size of a bomber, sir. And it disabled both of us in less than a minute.”

David’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, and he exchanged a glance with Aibek. “I’m not sure I heard you properly, Major. Did you say the attacker was fighter-sized and caused this?”

“My tactical action officer thinks it was a hypercharged directed energy weapon, sir. Beyond that was some technobabble I don’t understand, but I’d bet Hayworth would.”

“Causalities?”

“None,” Acuna replied. “And no lasting damage once we get our reactor back online.”

Aibek raised an eyescale. “This grows perplexing.”

David ran the information through his mind. An alien race, presumably with vastly superior technology, disables two ships, does nothing further, and lands on the surface. Perplexing doesn’t begin to cover it. He set his jaw. “Do you need any engineering assistance, Major?”

“No, sir. We’re in short-range comms contact with the John Manners, and they’re in the same boat as us. I expect plasma relight to take another six to eight hours.”

“Let us know if that changes. In the meanwhile, we’re about to send in the Marines.”

“Godspeed, sir.”

“Godspeed, Major.”

The commlink ended with an audible click, and David leaned back in his chair. Of all the possibilities he’d considered, that hadn’t been one of them. “XO, you got any ideas here? Because I’m stumped.”

“I see no logic to the course of events. If one has the means to quickly dispatch a foe, you don’t leave them able to come back and attack your flank within hours.”

“Unless you’re so powerful, the opponent is seen as an ant.”

“An ant?”

“An insect back on Earth. We brought them with us to Canaan. Basically, they’re tiny and can’t threaten, say, a human. At least not alone.”

“We have such creatures as well.” Aibek shuddered. “I detest bugs.”

David shook his head. “I have this sinking feeling that the Marines and our aviation wing won’t have much more success.”

“Perhaps this species, whoever they are, is less advanced in ground combat.”

“It doesn’t matter. We still have to try. A lot of people down there are counting on us.”

David was about to order launch preparations to begin when Taylor spoke again.

“Conn, Communications. Got a signal from the surface, it’s Doctor Hayworth, and his authentication code checks out. Vidlink, sir.”

“Okay.” David steepled his fingers. “Put him on.”

A moment later, Hayworth’s face appeared on-screen along with Lieutenant Huber in his power armor. “Is this thing on?”

“Yes, Doctor. Can you hear us?”

Hayworth harrumphed. “Yes. I’m sure you are about to do what the military does and send everything you’ve got down here.”

“That’s correct, Doctor. Are you okay? Are the researchers and site team okay? We need a status update.”

“Everyone’s fine, and there’s been no loss of life,” Huber interjected. “It’s the craziest thing, sir. This robot showed up and single-handedly defeated our entire company. And, uh, then it stood down after talking to the doc.”

“It’s not a robot. It’s an android,” Hayworth snapped. “And for the last time, don’t call me doc.”

“What does it want?” David asked.

“To speak with our leader, which would be you.”

David suddenly felt like he was stuck in a bad sci-fi holoshow. Take me to your leader, indeed. “Wait one, Doctor.” He pressed the mute button on his chair.

“You are not seriously considering this proposal, are you?” Aibek hissed.

David bit his lip. “I don’t see that we have much choice.” Lord, give me wisdom.

“But if it is a trap—”

“Then it is,” David cut in. “And you will have to make the best decisions possible under those circumstances.”

Aibek bared his teeth, showing off dual rows of impressive incisors. “I do not like this.”

“You and me both.” David clicked off the mute button. “Doctor, I will transit down with a Marine escort. Where is the android now?”

“Sitting about ten meters from me, fixing frozen power armor.”

David’s eyes went wide. “I don’t think I heard you properly.”

“Oh, you did, sir,” Huber said. “Most of my guys had their armor frozen by an EMP-like pulse, while our bullets bounced off the robo… android. He’s repairing our suits.”

David wondered if he was dreaming or had momentarily lost his mind. “All right, then. We’ll see you in an hour, Lieutenant. Doctor. Cohen out.”

“I am confused. Why would a being disable so much of our force then repair it?”

“Ever heard of a book called Alice in Wonderland, XO?”

“No, I cannot say I have.”

“Well, I read it as a child, and I’m pretty sure I just fell down the rabbit hole.” David flashed a grin as he stood. “You have the conn.”

“This is the XO. I have the conn,” Aibek intoned.

David strode through the reinforced hatch into the corridor beyond, wondering what was happening. Yeah, I’m starting to long for the days when all I had to deal with was Admiral Seville.

Strapped into a secure set of restraints to prevent him, and every other person in the shuttle, from flying about the cargo area, David breathed in and out as the craft hurtled toward the surface. Normally such a transit was nothing to worry about, but every second felt like an eternity. Who knows what will greet us on the planet, and is Hayworth a hostage? The entire thing seemed absurd, almost unreal. An alien being that can defeat us without breaking a sweat simply giving up and asking for a conversation?

Then again, odd had been part of the job ever since they’d arrived in Sextans B. David snorted.

“What’s so funny, sir?” Calvin asked from his seat next to David.

“Oh, mostly that we’re still acting like explorers, rather than military officers.”

“Hey, speak for yourself. I’ve put down my share of bad guys. So have my men.”

David chuckled. “That you have, Cal.”

“What do you think’s going to happen if we make it back?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s a coin flip as to if we get a bunch of medals or end up court-martialed.”

Calvin snickered. “Sounds about right. Maybe it’ll be okay if Spencer’s still in office.”

“Yeah, he’d do us right, I’m sure.”

“My kid must be walking by now,” Calvin said a few moments later.

David glanced at him. “I know it sucks to be so far away and unable to see any of that.”

“It is, but I have this feeling that we’re still supposed to be here, sir. I can’t shake it. That’s one of the reasons why I went after the Zeivlot terrorists so hard. This entire sequence of events… sure, could be the galaxy’s largest coincidence. But I don’t think so.”

“I try not to ascribe HaShem’s will to the events around me.” David inclined his head. “But I think you have a point. This doesn’t seem that random.”

Before either man could continue, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “One mike from landing. Stand by!”

The shuttle’s engines fired even stronger, drowning out attempts at communication as it performed a combat landing at full power. After a bone-jarring thud as it contacted the ground, the ramp opened, and all their harnesses released simultaneously.

“Go, go, go!” Calvin thundered at the top of his lungs as he sprang up and charged out the back along with twenty other Marines in full power armor.

David, while itching to join them, stayed behind as he’d previously agreed with his friend.

Several minutes later, Calvin called, “All clear, sir!”

As he strode down the ramp, David felt shock as he took in the scene before him. While the area was carpeted with hundreds of Marines in full power armor, the unmistakable signs of battle were all around. Scorched sections of soil and alloy, discarded magazines from battle rifles, and shrapnel from numerous fragmentation and plasma grenades dotted the landscape. Truly amazing there was no loss of life.

“No sign of hostiles?” David asked.

“Negative, sir.”

“Let’s move out, then.”

The command post was roughly eight hundred meters away and over a rise. The Marine contingent moved quickly, using their suits’ servos to allow them to cross the distance with ease. David wasn’t so lucky. By the time he closed on where Hayworth and the others would be, sweat drenched his khaki service uniform. While the signs of battle were still apparent, it was also oddly peaceful. The typical atmosphere of combat wasn’t present, and David’s sixth sense didn’t activate.

Calvin and a squad of Marines pushed into the main tent, where the transmission had come from, and David entered behind them. It would’ve appeared as any other day in the life of their archeology dig. Except a humanoid being made from metallic alloy sat calmly to one side, using its fingers to cut apart power-armor plates.

The scene before him made David’s jaw drop. He wasn’t used to being surprised, but that certainly took the cake.

Before he could get a word out, the android set down the power-armor suit it was working on and stood, intently staring at both Calvin and David. His eyes settled on David. “General Cohen, I presume?”

David’s eyebrows shot up. “You presume correctly, Mister…?”

“Asperion is my common name, while N6-13MZ3 is my model designation in your language. Well, English. It translates differently in Hebrew.”

The fact that the metallic being knew so much about him, and moreover, humanity, astounded David. He mentally worked through what was happening and licked his lips. “You seem to know a great deal about us.”

“I studied your ship’s library computers and confirmed certain information with Doctor Hayworth, who was kind enough to fill in the gaps.”

“And where is Doctor Hayworth?”

“Right here.” Hayworth pushed past a flap in the tent. “I was hoping to catch you before you and the Marines came charging in.”

“Are you okay, Doctor?”

“Yes, we’re all fine, and no, we’re not being coerced. As if anyone could force me to say something I didn’t want to.”

David smiled thinly. “That, I will not dispute.”

“I took great care not to harm any biological life-forms during my transit to the surface,” Asperion said.

Calvin stared at him, his weapon at the ready and his finger above the trigger guard. “If you’re so peaceful, then why’d you disable two CDF destroyers in orbit?”

Asperion blinked. “They displayed hostility toward me. I removed their ability to harm my vessel, while ensuring the safety of all aboard.”

“With respect, CDF vessels don’t shoot first.”

“One of them did but missed.”

David exhaled. “That was a warning shot. It wasn’t intended to hit you, merely get your attention.”

Asperion made a series of micromovements with its head. “Doctor Hayworth explained this to me as well. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize it at the time. Still, there is no permanent harm. I wish for there to be no hostilities between us.”

“We prefer peaceful coexistence ourselves.”

“Then it is agreed.”

David pursed his lips. “The obvious question to me is why are you here, Asperion?”

“To assist you in defeating the nanite swarm that has laid waste to this galaxy for the past hundred thousand years.”

“And how would you know it’s been that long?” David asked.

“Because I was there when they were created and ran amok.”

“Asperion’s outer shell dates back easily that far,” Hayworth interjected.

David stared with his mouth hanging open once more. The fact that the doctor had validated the android’s assertion astounded him. “Sorry for finding this difficult to believe.”

“My outer shell is impervious to most physical attacks, as your forces discovered. My power supply is nearly infinite, based on vacuum energy principles. I am capable of living virtually forever.”

“Forgive me for asking, but your naming conventions aren’t obvious to us. Are you a male or female or something else?”

Asperion tilted his head. “I am incapable of reproducing through normal means, but my name is masculine in my creator’s tongue, my voice has a deep timber… I suppose I haven’t thought of that in some time. Yes, I am what a human would consider a male. You are, too, correct?”

David nodded. “Quite right.”

“Humans have much in common with other species. Many carbon-based life-forms have seemed to follow a similar path through the eons of time.”

“Are you saying there are others similar to us?”

“Have you not encountered some species like this so far?”

“We have.” David sucked in a breath. “That’s partially why we’re trying to find a method of stopping the nanites. They’re headed straight for two planets with billions of people on them.”

“They are in search of an ancient technology in hopes of unlocking their full potential.”

David’s eyes went wide. “You’re saying they’re not as powerful as they could be?”

“I believe the human expression is ‘not by a long shot.’”

David’s mouth went dry. No use worrying about that now. “You mentioned wanting to help us. What did you have in mind?”

“Based on your communications, I deduced you have discovered a database shard from my creators.”

David turned to Hayworth. “Is he saying that the precursor species we discovered here built him?”

“That’s exactly what he’s saying, General, and I think there’s just enough evidence to not dismiss it out of hand. Namely, the date of his alloy casing.”

“Doctor, a material that can survive for a thousand years and not show wear and tear would be extraordinary… a hundred thousand years? I can’t conceive of such a thing.”

Hayworth shrugged. “Yet, clearly it exists. I have learned in science to accept what you find as proof then alter theories and suppositions as you go.”

Asperion raised his metallic hand. “I believe it is considered impolite to discuss a person in front of them, as if they do not exist.”

David cracked a grin. “Most true. I apologize for forgetting my manners for a moment. Please forgive me as… well, I’m still making sense of this, Asperion.”

“As I was saying, you seem to have found a database shard from my creators. I believe we may yet find information on it that will be of use for defeating them.”

Hayworth waved his hand. “I’ve been explaining the limitations of our technology and what we need to develop a potent anti-nanite weapon that attacks the subatomic bonds between each unit.”

David blinked. And if this artificial being isn’t what he appears, then what, Doctor? He kept his concern to himself and forced a thin smile. “Did you explain our roadblock?”

“The inability to power up the computing system we found? Yes.”

Asperion took a few steps toward David. “I can restore its function. From there, we must hope the device still retains enough data to be of use. Will you allow me to help you?”

Something in the back of David’s head told him that like anything else in life, if it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. But what choice do we have? “My friend, Colonel Amir has a saying… the enemy of my enemy is my friend. We share a joint enemy, and perhaps we can build a friendship between our species and yours from a desire to protect the galaxy from this scourge.”

“Then, we agree.” Asperion tilted his head. “When can we begin?”

David’s eyes went to Hayworth. “Doctor?”

“Considering the excitement today, I’d propose we begin tomorrow. Any objections?”

“None from me,” David replied. “I’ll be joining you, however.”

Hayworth started to speak before David held up his hand once more.

“Doctor, this one’s nonnegotiable.”

“Yes, sir,” Hayworth finally ground out.

“I’ll leave you to your tasks, gentlemen.” David turned to go, with Calvin close behind him.

The moment they were out of earshot and a few steps beyond the command tent, Calvin touched him on the shoulder. “Sir, are you sure about this?”

“If you’ve got a better idea, now’s the time.”

“I don’t think we could stop this… whatever it is, from taking out most of my Marines, at least with our available firepower.”

David nodded. “I doubt battle rifles would do much against that alloy, but Saurian plasma weapons might have a bit more of an effect.”

“Yeah, I thought that, too, sir.”

“Then make sure our new friend has an escort that’s exclusively armed with them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Colonel? Don’t get a happy trigger finger. While I sense there’s more to this than meets the eye, I don’t see any other play than to hope this android can help us.”

“Sir, don’t you like to say that hope isn’t a strategy?”

David smirked. “Touché.”

8

CSV Margaret Thatcher

Primary Asteroid Belt—SB-WGH91-3

6 May 2465

Arthur Hanson had found it had taken more than a few days to find his place on the Thatcher. Lieutenant Colonel Savchenko ran a tight ship, and it showed. He became acutely aware that some crew members harbored ill will toward him and General Cohen, in particular, for putting their lives at risk during the Jinvaas Confederation crisis. Hanson understood the feelings but still felt David’s call was correct. Even though he’d been imprisoned by the alien species.

Still, those concerns seemed to have given way to an attitude of getting work done, as that was all they had time for. Savchenko kept a brisk pace, surging their second- and third-shift personnel to assist with the mining efforts. So far, they’d gotten a mobile refinery in place, and the mining vessels were working around the clock, their crews bulked up with CDF personnel.

Hanson sat at a bridge substation in the back, where an enlisted rating would monitor the engineering board. Temporarily, Savchenko had allowed him to set up shop. A graphical display showed the estimated yield of the remaining four asteroids with proven lithium reserves. We’ll have to find new targets soon. He made a note to have that discussion with Savchenko the following morning. Meanwhile, transfers of sealed containers holding refined lithium ingots proceeded, with the Salinan’s experienced salvage teams taking point. Probably about time for me to call it quits for this duty shift. His stomach growled, as he’d missed lunch.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, sir. Detecting inbound wormhole from roughly eight hundred light-years distant. Target exit point is near the orbit of the fifth planet.”

Savchenko immediately leaned forward. “Signature, Lieutenant?”

“Don’t have enough sensor resolution yet, sir.”

Those Admari sensor upgrades really change our capabilities. Hanson found himself wishing he were sitting at a more prominent console. It’d be nice to see the readout in action.

First Lieutenant Abigail Miller cleared her throat. “Sir, it looks like an Admari Lawrence drive.”

“What are they doing out here?” Captain Kabar Masoud, the Thatcher’s XO, asked.

Savchenko let out a low growl. “I don’t like it.”

The Thatcher currently held position near a cluster of Zeivlot and Zavlot mining vessels, while the CSV Bruce Kingsbury and the Salinan were posted back at the mobile refinery, farther into the asteroid belt.

“We’d better check it out, XO. Comms, signal the Bruce Kingsbury to shift position to cover these miners.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the communications officer replied.

“Conn, TAO. New contacts identified… one large vessel consistent with previous Admari designs. Five smaller ones of a type we’ve not encountered before. Designated Sierra Twelve through Eighteen. We’ll lose sensor resolution shortly, as they’re at our very outer detection range.”

A knot formed in the pit of Hanson’s stomach. He reconfigured his station to show more data, given his rank and access codes. Maybe I can offer something to help here.

Anton Savchenko gripped the armrests of the CO’s chair and felt his soul stir. Like most fast space warfare officers, he had a sixth sense about combat. And something was very off about the sequence of events in front of them—first and foremost, the odds of an alien race they’d previously encountered just “showing up” in a system where they were mining lithium. There is no such thing as a coincidence, at least not from my way of looking at things. “Navigation, plot an intercept course with Sierra Twelve.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“What are you thinking, sir?” Masoud asked.

“Go sniff around these guys, and make it clear we were here first.” Savchenko grinned. “Beyond that, I don’t want them getting too close to our operation.”

“Not looking for a fight, are we?”

Savchenko snorted. “No, but you know what I have to say about that… we finish fights.”

“Conn, Communications. Bruce Kingsbury acknowledges your message, sir, and is readjusting their position now.”

“Good. Nav, course status?”

“Intercept plotted and locked in, sir.”

“Engage at max thrust.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Savchenko hit the button on his chair for the 1MC—an intercom that overrode all others and was piped into every compartment on the vessel. “Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer. General quarters, general quarters. Set material condition one throughout the ship. Man your battle stations. I say again, man your battle stations. This is not a drill.”

The bridge lights immediately turned blue and dimmed while the alert klaxon blared twice. It would sound for several minutes in the rest of the vessel to ensure all heard it.

“Conn, TAO. Material condition one set throughout the ship,” Miller said after thirty seconds.

“Damage control teams standing by,” Masoud interjected.

“Better safe than sorry,” Savchenko whispered toward Masoud.

“It would be nice to be too prudent for once.”

“Quite.” Savchenko didn’t put much hope in such thinking, however.

It took twenty minutes for the alien ships to be reacquired by the Thatcher’s sensor suite. The Admari vessels continued to accelerate in the void, as did the icons representing them on the repopulated tactical plot. Yeah, because the universal “hello” in space is to jump in without comms and intercept your friends. Savchenko mused that they probably wouldn’t have noticed the newcomers without the alien FTL tracking tech. Until much later, anyway.

“TAO, anything new on those unidentified contacts?”

Miller shook her head. “No, sir. Not unless I go active.”

Savchenko pursed his lips and kicked the idea around. They probably know we’re here, but on the off chance they don’t, I’d rather shake them up a bit. “Do it.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The seconds ticked away as the mass of purple icons on the tactical display grew closer. Savchenko steepled his fingers while breathing rhythmically. It was a kind of ritual he kept during preparation for battle or confrontation.

“Conn, Communications. We’re getting a vidlink request from Sierra Twelve, sir.”

Savchenko exchanged a glance with Masoud. “Well, let’s see what they want, eh? Comms, put them on my viewer.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

An Admari appeared on the monitor above Savchenko’s head. It matched the general description and images he’d viewed in the Lion of Judah’s after-action reports. Something about the alien’s large black eyes seemed soulless. It made him shiver.

“Do I speak with the human shipmaster?” A several-second pause followed the Admari’s words before the translator spit out the English equivalent.

“I am Colonel Anton Savchenko, commanding the CSV Margaret Thatcher. How may we be of assistance?” He briefly considered letting it slip that they’d monitored the other vessel’s Lawrence jump but decided not to. Anything they don’t know about our capabilities is an advantage to us.

“Gral Brakasi, shipmaster of the Mekla. You are mining lithium ore, yes?”

Savchenko narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t aware of any claims by your people. We detected no life in this solar system nor border buoys.”

The other being seemed to lift a shoulder. “This is unimportant. You have a resource we need and have seemingly refined a great deal of it in a short period of time. In the interest of good relations, transfer seventy-five percent to us immediately.”

“That’s a joke, right?” Savchenko narrowed his eyes. “You want lithium, mine it yourself after we’re done.” He could’ve sworn the Admari grinned, though it didn’t appear possible for the being to do so, given its thin lips that barely moved.

“If you do not surrender the ore willingly, we will take it by force. Surely, our last encounter proved our worth in battle.”

“It also proved we could defeat you.” Savchenko set his jaw. “Do not risk an all-out war by violating our peace treaty, Shipmaster Brakasi.”

“We shall see, human. Remember this moment, when you could’ve avoided bloodshed.” The screen went black.

“I think they hung up on us,” Masoud cut in.

Savchenko snorted. “What is it with mining ops and hostile aliens, eh?” His eyes went to the tactical plot, which showed the purple icons rushing forward at maximum observed sublight speeds for Admari engines.

“Conn, TAO. Reading energy buildup on contact Sierra Twelve through Eighteen.”

“Lieutenant, reclassify Sierra Twelve through Eighteen as Master One through Six.”

Almost instantly, the icons turned red. It was a small thing, but it underlined that the onrushing vessels were the enemy.

“Comms, send to Master One, text only… divert immediately, or you will be assumed hostile.”

“Message sent, sir. No response.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, neutron beams, Master One. Put a shot across his bow. Do not hit them, Lieutenant.”

“Not my first rodeo, sir,” Miller snapped. “Firing solution set.”

She’s always a feisty one. Savchenko set his jaw. “Match bearings, shoot, one neutron beam.”

A single blue spear of energy erupted from the Thatcher’s bow. It cut through the void at the speed of light, neatly missing any Admari vessels but sending an unmistakable message—turn back or else.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, all Master contacts… they have acquired us, sir. Weapons release appears imminent.”

“Navigation, evasive maneuvers, pattern alpha-three-six.” Savchenko released a breath. Okay, how to play this? We could fall back or take a stab at bloodying their nose. Who am I kidding? I’m not leaving without a fight. “TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams and magnetic cannons, Master Four.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

Masoud leaned closer. “Going to wait for them to shoot first, sir?”

“That’s the idea.” Savchenko gritted his teeth. “I’d rather take the initiative, but ROE and all that.”

As he spoke, bright flashes of purple energy zipped by in the blackness of the void. Most fell wide, but enough hit the destroyer that her port shields dropped considerably. The Thatcher bucked as more energy channeled into the engines in a bid to out-pace the incoming.

“Match bearings, shoot forward neutron beams and magnetic cannons,” Savchenko barked. He jostled in his harness along with the rest of the bridge crew.

EMP and high-explosive shells raced away from their turrets at ten percent of light speed while directed energy beams connected with the Admari vessel. Everything the destroyer shot hit its intended target but had little effect besides brightly colored shield impacts. Meanwhile, another round of purple pulses tracked toward them.

“Conn, TAO. Deflector overload level is rising quickly on the port generator. If we don’t perform a recharge recycle, it’ll blow.”

Savchenko bit his lip. Before he could speak, Hanson cut in.

“Uh, I wouldn’t drop that arc in a direct line of sight with the Admari vessels. They have teleporters.”

“We’re quite aware of that, Major,” Savchenko replied. I get he’s trying to help, but does he think only the Lion of Judah has competent people?

“And if we don’t, the resulting failure will cripple us,” Miller said.

“If I may, Colonel?” Hanson asked.

“Quickly.”

“Doctor Hayworth and I were experimenting with adjusting the shield harmonics into a higher EM-band, similar to what the Admari weapons frequencies are. We theorized that would negate the—”

“Major,” Savchenko interjected as he turned in the chair. “If you’ve got some fancy tech solution, implement it now.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Hanson bent back over the console.

Meanwhile, the five smaller Admari vessels had split off from their formation around the larger ship and bore down on the Thatcher. They’re trying to catch us in a pincer movement. Savchenko blew out a breath. He had expected bluster from the aliens but not an actual all-out assault. The more he pondered the situation, the more he wondered if they were some offshoot, not officially sanctioned by whatever government the species had as void dwellers. Doesn’t matter. We’ll have time to figure out such things after we bloody their nose.

“Got it, Colonel. Shield mutation program sent to Lieutenant Miller’s console.”

“TAO, implement if you think it’ll work.”

Miller glanced back at him. “Looks solid, sir. But we won’t know without testing.”

Savchenko snickered. “No time like the present, then. Nav, bring us around for another pass, and watch the port arc. They’ll try to hammer us there. When they do, rotate sixty degrees on our axis, and present the ventral shield.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the navigator replied.

“TAO, firing point procedures, neutron beams and magnetic cannons, Master Four. Double load EMP shells in both forward turrets.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Miller said. “Mag-cannons double loaded with EMP shells.”

Waves of purple energy blasts filled the void. Most came from the larger Admari vessel and were easier to avoid, but the smaller ships kept up a continuous volley. Several pulses smacked the Thatcher’s shields.

“Stress isn’t rising as fast on the deflectors, sir. Major Hanson’s modifications had some effect.” Miller glanced back toward the engineering officer. “Maybe those Lion of Judah hotshots know what they’re doing, after all.”

“Antimatter supercharges the mind,” Hanson replied.

“Save the love fest,” Savchenko snapped. “Nav, steady on course three-five-three, neutral declination.”

The other ships suddenly changed course as the Thatcher lined up for another shot at the Admari vessel she’d hit previously. Before Savchenko could open his mouth, diffuse orange beams shot out from each one, and the Thatcher ceased all forward motion. It was enough that anyone not in a harness was tossed out of their seats onto the deck. The energy discharges cast an utterly unfamiliar set of shadows through the windows.

“What the hell is that, TAO?”

Miller cranked her head around. “Tractor beams, sir, of a type we’ve never seen before.”

Savchenko closed his eyes briefly, aware his lack of imagination about possible Admari tactics had put them in their current situation. “If we destroy one of those ships, is it enough to break free?”

“No, sir. We’d need to disable at least four.”

Hanson cleared his throat.

“Let me guess, Major. You’ve got another idea?” Savchenko asked. “Out with it.”

“Well, Doctor Hayworth and I were stud—” Hanson stopped midword at the harsh stares from the CO and XO. “Uh, sorry. So, if we pulse our shields to the proper harmonic frequency, I think we can disrupt the tractor beams.”

“Lieutenant?” Savchenko asked Miller.

“That tracks, but how do we know the right frequency?”

Hanson grinned. “They’re using the same energy emitters for directed weapons and these immobilization beams.”

“And we already know those are upper EM-band,” Miller said.

“Bingo.”

“How long before they could adjust and lock us down again, Major? Lieutenant?” Savchenko asked.

“My best guess is it would take them a couple of minutes at least, sir,” Miller replied.

Savchenko licked his lips. “Okay. Prepare that pulse, drain the energy weapons capacitor, and redirect all power to the engines.”

“We won’t be able to fight,” Masoud whispered as he leaned in.

“I know, but we’re not fighting our way out of this ambush. A retreat is the better part of valor at the moment.” Savchenko tugged down his uniform shirt. “Nav, plot a course to Rally Point Delta, and stand by to engage at max thrust, with the extra power factored in.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Conn, Communications. Master One demands we lower our shields and prepare to be boarded.”

Savchenko snorted. “Screw them. Major, where’s my tractor beam disruptor?”

“Just sent the parameters to the tactical console, sir.”

“TAO, hit it.”

Miller depressed a button on her console with an audible click. A split second later, the yellow glow from the Admari weapons ceased, and feedback shot along the diffuse beams. The Margaret Thatcher immediately accelerated, racing away from the ships that, only moments before, had ensnared it.

“Nav, all ahead flank, push everything you’ve got.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the navigator called. “Approaching two Gs.”

The force pressed Savchenko back, and he grunted. Terran Coalition technology had long since implemented inertial dampening systems, but they weren’t perfect. Especially when the engines were overcharged and pushing above the rated limit of the damper. While disorientated, the Admari hadn’t given up. All six ships adjusted for their heading and attempted to match speed and velocity.

“Sir, Master One is falling behind, but the others are matching us,” Miller said as she struggled to speak.

It took considerable willpower to bring his hand to the tactical screen, but Savchenko finally changed the view to show a pursuit vector in 3D. Following a bit too close. That’ll cost ’em. “TAO, how many mines in the aft dispenser?” Each word took effort to form and speak.

“Two, sir,” Miller replied.

Savchenko grunted and checked the plot once more. “Snap shot, aft mine dispenser. Set fuse to fifty kilometers.”

“Firing solution set, sir.”

“Shoot, aft mine dispenser.”

Two deceptively small discs emerged from a portal on the back of the Thatcher, directly below the engine pods. The first activated ten seconds later as it passed within range of an Admari vessel and exploded with a violent flash of blinding white light. It had little effect except to polarize the shields of that vessel. Which allowed the second mine to smack directly into the enemy ship. A split second later, its fusion warhead detonated and melted the bow into an unrecognizable form.

“Conn, TAO. Master Six slowing, sir,” Miller said. “Make that all contacts, sir. They’re veering off.”

An alarm klaxon blared, causing Savchenko’s eyes to return to the ship status screen on his monitor. The cause wasn’t readily apparent.

“Conn, Navigation. Passing 3.5Gs, sir.”

And that would be it. “Slow our acceleration, but ensure we’re still outgaining the hostiles.” Savchenko immediately found it easier to breathe.

“All contacts falling rapidly behind, sir,” Miller called.

“Comms, signal all mining vessels, the Salinan and the Bruce Kingsbury, to meet us at Rally Point Hotel, then have them engage EMCON Alpha.”

Hopefully, that’ll keep the Admari from finding them before we can meet back up and present a unified front to the enemy. Savchenko released a breath. “Nav, alter course to zero-two-six, negative declination fifteen. Maintain maximum safe speed.”

Masoud leaned in. “Sir, what’s the plan? I don’t see how we can fight that many ships. It’s a miracle we got out.”

“It’ll take out-of-the-box thinking,” Savchenko murmured. “But first, we have to make good on our escape. The asteroid belt has enough nooks and crannies between sensor ghosts and ring material fields that we should be able to hide.”

“Yes, sir.”

Savchenko let his head fall back on the headrest. It would be a long couple of hours.

The mighty vessel Mekla had seen better days. Its continuous record reached thousands of years into the past, something that made Brakasi proud. Command had passed from his father to him, as it had been for as far as the record went. The Mekla was better equipped than most Admari ships because they would do whatever it required to see to the needs of their people.

While loss of life by other species was regrettable, safeguarding the crew and their families came before any other consideration. So much of their technology had been lost to the eons of time and the harsh realm of the void.

Such was Brakasi’s consideration as he pursued the human vessels further into the asteroid belt. The system had a unique topography, one which the enemy commander must have understood. Whoever he was, he also seemed to know that if they utilized FTL to attempt escape, they would be destroyed on the next jump.

“I am unsure of this course,” Wrin, his second in command, said from his perch. “The humans are counted as allies.”

“After they destroyed a dozen of our irreplaceable homes.”

“The leader said they gave us the weapon and are exempt from any takings.”

Brakasi blinked his large black eyes. “I care not. They have the mineral we need to make dozens of ships operable and grow our capabilities. A few humans lost to the void will be of no concern.”

Wrin grunted. “If the leader finds out—”

“He won’t,” Brakasi replied with a tone of finality. “We will say the void blessed us with its bounty from a vessel whose crew perished.”

“Yes, Gral.”

“Now, prepare the crew. This will be a long and difficult hunt. I want boarding teams standing by at all times. We will wear these humans down then take what is rightfully ours because the void belongs to us.”

“We could destroy them outright and take the smaller ships.”

Brakasi snorted. “No. That would leave too much of the precious mineral out of our hands. They cannot win, nor can they run. It will be good for us to practice.” In the back of his mind, he wondered if they had mined enough ore to buy him support to overthrow Iskv-Selagan. A wild notion, but if one was willing to seize an opportunity, anything could happen.

9

Archology Site 6-13B

Precursor Capitol World

9 May 2465

The following day, life had mostly returned to normal in the science camp, aside from a few hundred more Marines present and patrolling in power armor. David wasn’t sure what he thought, aside from a deep-seated belief there was more to Asperion than he was letting on. All in all, the entire matter left him unsettled. He’d spent a career learning how to process incoming information and make the best possible decision based on it. Nothing had prepared him for the vast array of threats they’d faced in Sextans B. So I’m winging it. David detested guesses and unprecise intelligence. Yet, it was all he had to go on.

Hayworth, Markul, Merriweather, and a small gaggle of scientists crowded around a pedestal where they’d found the precursor computing device the previous year. A squad of Marines, David, and Calvin stood behind them. All were equipped with Saurian plasma weapons.

David had his doubts as to their effectiveness but decided it was the only play they had. The old soldier in me hates standing in a room with a being that has shown aggression and could kill all of us if he half tried. He forced down the sentiment and focused on what would hopefully be a big step for their efforts.

The alloy-plated android lifted his head after seeming to tinker with the inner workings of the pedestal for some time. “Someone caused much damage when removing this device, but I believe I have repaired it sufficiently to return the data shard.”

“Engineers.” Hayworth snorted.

Merriweather affixed him with a withering look. “Make the CDF go around.”

Hayworth opened his mouth before seeming to swallow whatever was about to come out. “Of course, my dear.”

David barely suppressed a chuckle. He still found the interaction between them to be one step removed from hysterical. I’m glad the major is around, though. Aside from her incredible technical skills, without her… Hayworth would be unmanageable. “Okay, then. Let’s do this. We’ve been waiting a long time to get some answers.”

Asperion blinked before touching the device with his fingers. “I’m transferring power from my energy cells… there.”

A projection of light suddenly filled the room as some sort of holographic projector came to life. It was a far more realistic projection than Coalition technology and so lifelike that David briefly questioned if the device had somehow changed the physical properties of the space they occupied.

After sustained tapping on an interface that appeared out of thin air, Asperion turned. “There is a problem. The database is corrupted. This is not the complete archive I had hoped for.”

“Of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” Hayworth grumbled. “Can you translate for us?”

“Yes. Wait, please.”

The elegant, indecipherable alien script morphed into a confusing jumble of English words that lacked context and syntax. Over a few minutes, they coalesced into something that was barely readable.

David realized the sentences were some type of file header or perhaps the topic of an entry into the database. None seemed remotely useful.

Asperion kept going as the lines of text floating in the air changed rapidly. After some time, he stepped back from the floating data entry interface. “I regret to inform you, General, that there is no usable information here. This shard, while containing a record of everything this particular archology accessed from the central spire, is heavily corrupted. Most of those who lived here appear to have specialized in… I believe the human word is haberdashery.”

“Men’s clothiers?” Hayworth burst out laughing.

David, on the other hand, was decidedly unamused. “We’ve been on a galaxy-wide wild goose chase for this?”

“Well, at least I learned a new word,” Calvin interjected, to a few muted snickers.

Anger—not a normal emotion for David—crept up as he crossed his arms. “Can anything be done to recover more information?”

“Limited, General Cohen. I fear this shard, even if completely recovered, wouldn’t have what is needed. My assumption was that it came from an official repository.”

A common human expression about assumptions making a fool out of everyone involved came to David’s mind. The fact that they’d gone from hopeful to finally getting some answers to another failure was particularly galling.

“May I ask how you happened to come upon this world in the first place, General Cohen?”

David exchanged a look with Hayworth before speaking. “We discovered an artifact on the first planet we encountered in this galaxy. It seemed to be extremely old… millions, perhaps hundreds of millions, of years old. Looking for its unique signal, we found other artifacts and eventually were led here.”

“I—” Asperion paused for more than a few seconds before turning his gaze to between several others and finally back to David. “Forgive me, General. I did not take into account the probability you would’ve found such a site. Tell me, was the spire intact?”

“Giant metallic alloy construction of a material we are unfamiliar with and cannot replicate… yes, I’d say it was intact. The inhabitants of the world it resides on believe it has divine properties.”

“My creators had similar beliefs.”

Asperion’s comment caught David off guard until he processed it. Well, that makes sense. If they were highly advanced, it’s likely they knew about these even older aliens. “Did they ever make discoveries about how the obelisks were constructed?”

“Yes. They had a full understanding of them. The technology within drove most of our advances after a certain point in our evolution. My design, for instance, was adapted from information discovered within one the spires. It was sadly destroyed by the nanites. I feared none remained.”

It was Hayworth’s turn to exhibit shock. “Do you mean they contain repositories of knowledge?”

“Among other technologies, yes. I believe if we access the spire, it will answer all of our questions and allow us to construct a weapon capable of defeating the nanites, based on your neutron beams.”

David blinked. The answer had been in front of them the entire time, though, without the input of the wildly unique being, it might’ve never been accessed. How am I going to convince the Zeivlots to go along with this? He’d been trying to get Vog’t to let Hayworth and his teams attempt further study ever since arriving in the system, all those months ago. Perhaps, with the changing facts on the ground, I can get her to come around.

“We’ve got to get back to Zeivlot, immediately,” Hayworth cut in.

Mentally groaning that the doctor let any identifying information out about the planet, David nodded. “I want all teams to begin packing up and be ready to get underway by tomorrow morning at oh eight hundred.”

“May I join you, General?” Asperion asked before anyone else could speak.

The artificial life-form could easily force his way into any situation, David mused. But it’s a point to his favor that he’s polite. He didn’t detect subterfuge, but any true AI would be so far advanced compared to a human brain that it was likely David would never know if the android was lying. Until it’s far too late. He cleared his throat. “Yes, that would be fine.”

“I could follow you through your wormhole if you do not trust me with the coordinates, given the superior FTL range of my vessel.”

David blinked involuntarily. Is he reading my mind somehow? No, simply predicting every possible course of action I, and by extension, any other biological life-form, might take. The thought chilled him to his core. “That won’t be necessary. You can tag along behind our escorts.”

“Thank you, General. I appreciate the trust shown.”

“One thing… when we get there, you will stay in orbit until I am able to explain the situation to Zupan Vog’t and obtain her consent.”

“The leader of the planet, I presume?”

“Yes.”

“Why would she not want access to endless information and knowledge?”

“You’ve been working with sentient beings for a hundred thousand years, right? Observing us, interacting with us?” David asked.

Asperion nodded. “Yes, I have.”

“Then you’ve undoubtedly encountered people who do things that aren’t in their best interests. The Zeivlots and Zavlots… do that from time to time. They’re getting better. We’re trying to help.”

“I see. Then I shall wait in orbit for your word, General.”

“Excellent. Colonel Demood, please escort our guest back to his vessel and have your people assist the science team.”

“Yes, sir,” Calvin replied crisply.

As David turned to leave, he had the strangest feeling of walking over his own grave. It made him shudder. HaShem, help me to navigate this with wisdom. He couldn’t shake the idea that Asperion was holding something back, because it didn’t all add up. Still, he had no choice but to press forward, and onward he would go.

10

The trip back to Zeivlot took almost a week, as Major Merriweather and Doctor Hayworth insisted on babying the Lawrence drive on the Lion as much as possible. While David agreed in principle, the passage of time bothered him. They had a new asset in the fight against the nanites, and more than anything, David craved answers.

Instead, he got to stew on it for seven days.

While there was more than enough paperwork and minutia to keep him occupied, David looked forward to his “date” night with Bo’hai, roughly halfway through the journey. He’d picked his quarters as the location, still not quite willing to eat together on the observation deck as many couples did.

David had just double-checked the place settings when the chime to his quarters went off. He took a few steps toward the entrance and called, “Come!”

The hatch slid open to reveal Bo’hai’s slender form. She strode in, and they embraced.

He gave her a quick kiss. “You’re beautiful, as always.”

Bo’hai grinned. “I enjoy dressing up. And you aren’t wearing a uniform, for once.”

David’s cheeks warmed. “Well, I have some civilian clothes, and you mentioned it, so…” He wore a dress shirt and a pair of slacks, as it was the only thing he possessed besides workout shorts and T-shirts that weren’t CDF issue.

“It’s nice and a reminder that you are more than a soldier.”

David mulled over a response as he pulled out her chair at the table, waited for her to sit, and helped push it back in before taking his seat. “I suppose it’s my calling and occupation. Though, when I’m with you, it seems, shall we say, a less pressing concern?”

“I’m glad.”

They had an unspoken rule not to talk business during dinner. Not because they didn’t share concerns with each other but more so that, if left unchecked, the situation quickly encompassed every aspect of life.

“Tonight, a small surprise.” David pulled the cover off her plate.

“Is that filet mignon?”

David grinned. “Why, yes, it is.”

Bo’hai gave a squeal of delight.

After blessing the food in Hebrew, David cut a piece of steak, as did she. They took a bite at roughly the same time, and David couldn’t help but sigh contentedly.

“That really tastes good.”

“You seem to miss your old foods.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Bo’hai giggled. “Very much so.”

“I can’t help it… There are people who eat to live and people who live to eat. I’m firmly in the latter camp, to the point I have to do more exercise than I normally would to maintain a healthy weight.”

“An interesting feature of your culture.”

David finished chewing a mouthful of potatoes from the VIP meal. “One of many, I’m sure.”

“Oh, human interactions, culture, language… they fascinate me. So does this new life-form.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about you being in the same room as Asperion. The android has capabilities well beyond ours and could probably kill us all if he wanted to.”

Bo’hai blinked. “You consider that a possibility?”

“He disabled two Ajax-class destroyers without breaking a sweat and neutralized an entire company of power-armored Marines. It’s a miracle no one died or had serious injuries.” And enough of that talk. David sipped his water. “It’s like Amir says… Trust in Allah, but tie your camel to a tree.”

“Oh, I’ve heard him use that saying.” Bo’hai giggled.

“Still enjoying exploring our culture?”

“Yes.” Her head bobbed. “I always wanted to explore my planet, travel to the vast areas with no real civilization, see the sights that others didn’t. But now, I get to do that on an interstellar level.”

David chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let General MacIntosh know that the CDF is the galaxy’s premier tour guide.”

“Who is that?”

“He was my commanding officer for a long time… ran the Victory Project that built the Lion of Judah, and now he’s COMSPACEFLT. Oh… Commander, Space Fleet.” David pursed his lips. “Friend, mentor. And occasional deliverer of a swift kick in the butt when I needed it.”

Bo’hai gently laid her hand on his. “I can tell from your voice that you miss him, all of them, really.”

“Yes.” David gave her a squeeze. “But as my mother used to say, there is no use crying over spilt milk. I just hope the Coalition is doing okay. Not knowing if the League kept its end of the bargain and how my people are doing bothers me.”

“I hope to see this Terran Coalition of yours someday. It sounds like a wonderous place.”

David flashed a smile. “It’s got its warts, like everything else humans, or other species for that matter, make.”

Bo’hai ate another bite of steak and swallowed it before speaking. “What do you think drives Asperion?”

“In what way?”

“His culture and belief systems. I’m trying to wrap my head around what would motivate a being that never dies and has the technology to seemingly do anything and the knowledge beyond any living thing.”

David shrugged. “Who knows, right? Is it programming, or does Asperion truly have self-awareness? I haven’t answered that for myself yet.”

“I reviewed the notes and recordings… He certainly seems like a sentient being. But what motivates him? Most species are animated by things like reproduction and having a higher purpose in life. Civilizations come from those impulses.”

“Don’t forget the basic family unit too. In my travels, every intelligent form of life has the concept of family, and it drives them as it does with humans.”

“You’ve never seen a species that differs from that?”

David shook his head. “No, but then again, we haven’t found higher forms of insects. I wouldn’t expect them to have families based on how hives function.”

“I find such a thing scary to consider.” Bo’hai shuddered. “Surely, the Maker wouldn’t make giant bugs that can fly to other worlds and eat us?”

“There are infinite possibilities in the universe. I see it as God having a canvas on which He can create anything He wants. And if that’s giant insects, so be it. But don’t say it’s impossible.”

“You are right, of course. The fact that another species came to our world and stopped us from committing mass suicide is proof that anything is possible in the universe the Maker created.”

David winced. He didn’t particularly like the level of reverence she ascribed to him for their actions, nor did he want the Zeivlots to see him as anything more than what he was—a human military officer trying to do right but often screwing up. “I more see the incredible beauty of the cosmos as proof of God’s creative power. The combination of different stars, the worlds that orbit them… It truly is wonderful.”

Bo’hai sipped her water. “Do you enjoy exploring?”

“An interesting question, that. If you’d asked me two years ago, I would’ve said exploration was for someone else and that I commanded a warship with a mission to defend the Terran Coalition against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Now, though? I see why people join the Far Survey Corps.”

She stared at him, her eyes affixed to his, and warmth radiated from her. “Maybe, someday, we could explore together.”

David chuckled. “What, in a two-person scout ship?”

“Why not?”

He hadn’t considered the possibility she was being serious and regretted his laughter. “I guess I can’t quite think that far ahead. But… if all was said and done, and the nanites gone, that wouldn’t be a bad way to spend life after I retire.”

Bo’hai chewed the last piece of her filet mignon before swallowing. “Oh, how I wish I could eat that every night.”

“If we ever make it back to the Milky Way, I promise to take you to a steakhouse that will make that piece of meat taste awful.”

Her eyes widened. “There is such a place?”

“Yes. It’s one of my favorite restaurants in Lawrence City. The kitchen is fully kosher, and it’s run by an Orthodox family. Never had a better meal in my life.” A part of him suddenly felt guilty. That was where I used to take Angie. Is it wrong to plan a life there with another woman? He pushed the feeling down. I won’t let the past intrude on the present.

Once they finished eating, the two of them ended up on David’s couch and cuddled for an hour. Bo’hai had a unique ability to be in the moment, without the need for small talk or idle chitchat. During that time, David allowed his mind to clear and to just focus on her. It was the best part of his week, and he hoped it was the same for her. As they finally parted, the realization that he wanted to marry her crept into his mind. I should probably focus on keeping us all alive for the next year. Still, the thought of finally having someone to spend his life with was intoxicating. I think Salena is the only person I’ve ever truly let in all the way.

David wasn’t sure what it said about him that it took going to a different galaxy to find true love. But with all the chaos around them, he was glad for it.

David glanced around the richly appointed interior of the Zeivlot zupan’s residence. The place was immense in size, resembling something out of Earth’s history as a massive palace for the ruler of a kingdom. In ways, the ostentatious display made him uncomfortable. It was incredibly jarring compared to the Terran Coalition’s government complexes that prioritized functionality over luxury. But, he reminded himself, as he strode through the hallways, it’s not my place to decide what works for Zeivlot.

Navigating the building had become second nature, but it still took twenty minutes to get from the entrance, through security, and finally to the zupan’s office. The administrative assistant waved him through, and a close protection officer opened the door.

David took a few steps through and came to attention. “Major General David Cohen reports as ordered, ma’am.”

Vog’t stood from behind her desk. “There’s no need to do that, seeing as you’re not under my command.”

“Old habit, ma’am. That, and this old soldier needs something to salute.”

She gestured to the twin couches in front of her desk. “Join me.”

They sat directly across from the other, and the door was closed from the outside.

“You’ve read my report?” David braced for her response.

“Cover to cover, more than once.” Vog’t frowned. It seemed she’d aged twenty years in the months he’d known her. Wrinkles, lines, changes in hair color, and all manner of indications proved stress had taken a severe toll.

“And?”

Vog’t smirked. “It sounds like the plot to some futuristic game my grandchildren would play and talk about for hours over dinner. I sometimes find it difficult to believe that all these species exist in the universe. And an intelligent, sentient robot?”

“Well, I know what you mean. When Colonel Demood told me that giant mechs had shown up on the battlefield, his exact turn of phrase was ‘there’s some sci-fi crap happening down here.’” Not exactly, but there’s never a reason to curse. David spread his hands in his lap.

“This robot—”

“Android, actually. And yes, that distinction is important to both Asperion and from an accuracy perspective.”

“I see.” Vog’t sighed. “Android, then… you believe its story?”

David nodded. “As far as I’m willing to believe a being that is clearly so far advanced beyond us as to make us look like kindergarteners, yes. Do I think that Asperion is being totally honest? No. Something’s missing here, but that’s okay, as long as he helps us defeat the nanites.”

Vog’t stood suddenly and began to pace. “I was afraid you’d say that, General.”

“Why?” The tension in the room increased to the point David could cut it with a knife.

“Because I have serious concerns, as do my security chiefs, religious leaders, and military officers, about permitting access to an artificial life-form, which… by our estimation, has no soul nor a connection to the Maker because it wasn’t made by the Maker.”

As an officer in the Coalition Defense Force, David had to often separate the letter of his faith from his obligation to the Terran Coalition. It was one of those times. Artificial life is a concept I can’t quite get my arms around, but I don’t need to embrace it to do my job. “Regardless, Asperion presents an opportunity.”

“To do what, cause riots and the overthrow of my government?”

David exhaled. “To get answers. He claims to be able to unlock the secrets of the obelisk.”

“Our most sacred object and artifact. The people barely tolerate humans interacting with it, much less this… android.” Vog’t stopped and stared at him with her hands on her hips.

“Tell them the truth. That Asperion is the last thing in this universe that is a direct descendant of the precursors, and it’s willing to help save your world. After nearly annihilating one another a few times last year, I think we’re past the point of wanting to kill everyone. Aren’t we?”

Vog’t shook her head. “I’d hope. But who truly knows the heart, except the Maker?”

“As a Jew, I believe that the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked, as the prophet Jeremiah put it. I place my trust in the Lord alone. Not other men or women of any species nor in artificial life-forms.”

“You think it’s the only way, don’t you?”

“Yes. Hayworth’s done a fine job with what he’s got to work with, but we’re not getting a weapon in time without more data.” David set his jaw. “High risk, high reward… but it’s your call, Madame Zupan.”

“And if there’s nothing more to be found besides religious texts inside the artifact?”

David shrugged. “Then we switch to plan B and start getting as many people off this planet as possible. But I highly doubt that’s the case. I’m sure the reason we’re here is the obelisk. It dates back much farther than the precursor civilization that created the nanites.”

Vog’t shook her head before returning to the seat on the other couch across from him. It took her a bit to seemingly collect her thoughts as she absentmindedly smoothed her dress. “I am afraid, General. At times such as these, I feel the Maker has abandoned us.”

“Someone once told me that a good man is never alone. That God stands beside us every day.” David thought back to the fateful day after the Coalition fleet was defeated by the League in its first attempt to capture Unity Station. How close I came to giving up on my faith. If it weren’t for those words from Private Waters. He smiled at the memory.

“A beautiful sentiment.”

“I’m more than willing to address the assembly or make an address to both worlds.”

Vog’t nodded. “We may take you up on that, General.”

David put his hand on her knee. “Zupan, we’ll get through this. Somehow, I promise you. The pieces and parts are all there because the Lord, in His wisdom, set them out over the eons. It’s our job to put them together. And I promise you, my command will never quit.”

“Thank you.” A few tears fell down Vog’t’s face, and she placed her hand on his. “It’s overwhelming.”

“Very.” David released a breath. “Do I have your agreement on allowing Asperion access to the obelisk?”

Slowly, Vog’t licked her lips. “Yes.”

“Good. Do you need anything else from us right now?”

“No. Not that you or your crew are able to provide, anyway.”

David chuckled. “Touché, Madame Zupan. I’ll take my leave, then… because every moment counts.” He stood.

Vog’t did as well. “Walk with the Maker, General Cohen.”

“Godspeed.” David flashed a final smile before he turned and exited the office.

He’d worried he couldn’t get her to commit, but with that hurdle out of the way, an even larger one loomed. What if the android is lying to us? A million scenarios ran through David’s mind, and he realized he was betting everything on what amounted to walking into a casino and putting every credit to his name on one hand of blackjack. HaShem help me if I’m wrong.

11

Hanson sprang to his feet as Savchenko strode through the hatch on the Margaret Thatcher’s deck-one conference room. It had been two days of cat-and-mouse maneuvering through the asteroid belt before they had felt confident enough to find Rally Point Hotel and sync up with the rest of the fleet. Going without more than six hours of sleep in that time was grueling, but Hanson could not shut off his mind.

“Colonel on deck!” Master Chief Leon Palmer barked. He had the Australian Republic flag on his left shoulder with the emblem of Christianity directly underneath. Hanson hadn’t gotten to know the man beyond a few exchanges of pleasantries, but every indication was Palmer was just as tough a cookie as every other master chief he’d served with.

Most of those assembled had already risen, even before Palmer could give his call to order, but it was part of tried-and-true CDF procedure.

“As you were,” Savchenko replied as he moved toward the chair at the head of the conference table. “Please, be seated.”

If you had seen one shipboard conference room, you’d seen them all. The only differences were size and the logo displayed on the wall. In that case, a stylized image of the Ajax-class destroyer with the motto “The Iron Lady” under it.

Hanson dropped into his seat, far down the table. He had only been invited as a courtesy and had gotten the distinct impression from most of the Thatcher’s officers that they would prefer him to be anywhere else.

“So, I’ll start with the obvious. We’ve got a real pickle on our hands, ladies and gents. The Admari ships outclass us, and we can’t run because they can track us through Lawrence jumps.”

“And their tractor beams limit our ability to maneuver,” Major Jackson Hayes, commanding officer of the CSV Bruce Kingsbury, said from the holoprojector’s vidlink.

Savchenko steepled his fingers. “We need options. I’ve been reviewing the detailed sensor scans, and I think our three ships would match up favorably against the five hostile escorts.”

“Then we could finish off the larger ship,” Miller cut in.

“Exactly, Lieutenant. The question is, how do we get them to engage us on our terms?”

Hanson pursed his lips. “May I?”

“If you have something to add.” Savchenko gave a dismissive wave.

“Perhaps we could exploit some technological weaknesses of the Admari,” Hanson said.

“Like what?” Miller snapped.

Hanson blew out a breath. “They lack integrated point defense. A few dozen Starbolt missiles would end that entire fleet.”

“Which we’re going to deliver how, exactly? Maybe if the Kingsbury was a Block II, but the Thatcher is the only ship here with a VRLS.”

“We could strap Starbolts onto shuttles from both ships and use them as an improvised bomber force.”

Everyone turned to stare at Hanson, including Savchenko. “Is that even possible?”

“Yes, we’d have to jury-rig a launching mechanism inside the shuttle’s cockpit and fashion hardpoints to attach it,” Hanson replied.

Savchenko shifted his eyes to Colton Ramos. “Captain, your thoughts?”

“Doable, but the shuttle’s engines aren’t designed for it, so they’d be considerably slower than usual.” A burly man, Ramos had the flag of the Republic of Mexico on his shoulder, while the religious position was empty.

“The smaller ships are still vastly more maneuverable and dangerous to us because of that unique tractor weapon,” Miller said in her thick Texas accent. “But maybe… we could use the terrain to our advantage. This asteroid belt is dense and has pockets of ring material from a destroyed planet.”

Savchenko grinned. “Draw them into a kill box, and cut them to ribbons.”

“Plant mines in some smaller rocks.” Hanson gestured at the holoprojector. “The Salinan has teams of deep space rescue and salvage experts aboard. And the mining ships can drill into asteroids.”

“I knew that, Major,” Savchenko replied. “The beginnings of a plan.”

“You sure General Cohen will let you participate in killing aliens, Hanson?” Miller asked after a moment, staring daggers in his direction.

Hanson’s face tightened and grew warm. “General Cohen has no aversion to combat. He’s destroyed more League ships than any man or woman alive.” He locked his eyes on Miller’s. “None of us would be here without his leadership.”

“Cohen’s leadership almost got everyone on this ship killed when a few well-placed neutron beams would’ve solved the problem.”

“Lieutenant Miller, you’re welcome to your opinion, but as one of the three imprisoned by the Jinvaas Confederation, I’m thankful that General Cohen didn’t start a war.” Hanson’s eyes blazed as he spoke. How dare she say that.

“We wouldn’t be in this situation right now if he’d eliminated the Admari threat when the solution had been gift-wrapped with a bow on top of it, Major.”

“The Terran Coalition doesn’t do genocide,” Wilson interjected from the commlink. “At least not the one I swore an oath to defend.”

“Amen to that,” Hanson said.

Savchenko raised his hand. “We’re off track here. Our job is to retrieve as much lithium as possible, and these hostiles aren’t stopping us. Lieutenant Miller, I want you to work with Major Hanson to advance as quickly as possible, outfitting four shuttles with Starbolt missiles and determining a method to swiftly plant mines inside proper-sized asteroids.”

“Yes, sir,” Miller replied.

“Major Wilson, we’ll need your people and the mining ships’ assistance in that last endeavor.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s still the minor problem of how we get the Admari to take the bait and enter battle on our terms, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Any saved rounds?” Savchenko waited two seconds. “Dismissed.”

Miller stood first and marched swiftly for the door, followed by the rest of the Thatcher’s senior officers.

Hanson, as he was at the back of the room, was one of the last.

Before he could get out the hatch, Savchenko motioned him over. “A few words, Major.”

“Sir?” Hanson came to a stop and remained standing.

“There’s not a lot of General Cohen hero worship on this ship.”

“Recognizing outstanding leadership, strategic planning, and tactical ability isn’t hero worship, sir.”

“Perhaps, but you would do well to better integrate yourself into my crew for the duration of this mission. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” It took every ounce of self-control Hanson possessed not to add something flippant to the statement.

“Good. You had some decent ideas… keep them coming. Dismissed.”

A few steps later, Hanson exited the conference room and let the hatch clank shut. The sheer level of anger he felt toward Miller surprised him. It burned brightly inside as he hit the call button for the gravlift. I’ll show them all… the Lion of Judah is the best of the fleet, and some asshole second-guessing the general is unacceptable. Hanson strode forward as the doors slid open. Maybe I can remember how the doc modified those mines to have more EMP output. That’d screw up the Admari ships even more. A grin came to his lips.

Fate had smiled on them. Such was Brakasi’s feeling of their encounter with the humans. Having existed in the void for hundreds, if not thousands, of years by then, the Admari were used to not having fully functional vessels. Raw materials were few, and they had problems refining what alloys they could mine. The human operation he’d stumbled across would go a long way to fixing some of the more significant issues of the fleet.

Much like in the Terran Coalition, lithium ore was one of the lifeblood elements for the Admari vessels. It allowed them to create new electronics and repair existing technology, and the amount of it they’d found would let them fix fifty or sixty ships.

“The object appears to be unmanned and still operating, Shipmaster,” Wrin, his second in command, said from the console next to his.

“How much lithium?”

“Enough to fill an entire bay.”

Brakasi gleefully rubbed his hands together, in about as much emotion as he could muster. “Send the salvage teams. We will allow it to continue its work while we hunt down the humans.”

“But there is a peace with them. Iskv-Selagan will be displeased with us if we harm them.”

“You think he would be happy that all we did was steal?” Brakasi sneered. “I am well acquainted with Selagan. He clings to old codes, the ones that hold us back. If our race is to regain our rightful place, we must be willing to do whatever it takes. It was a mistake to allow that human warship to get away. The secrets we could’ve pried from them.”

“And you think we can stand against Selagan? He commands much respect and loyalty.”

“From doddering fools who still believe in keeping the old ways.”

Admari society was steeped in laws. Even taking from others through force had specific rules around it. They were forbidden to leave a vessel without propulsion or enough supplies to return to its home. Killing was frowned upon, and the act of piracy was a last resort. Brakasi felt them all archaic. They had the power to take what they needed, and that was exactly what he planned to do.

“And if the humans complain? What then? We will be removed from our positions, imprisoned, or exiled.”

Brakasi twisted his lips in something that might’ve approximated a smile to another species, but the Admari had long since lost the ability to move their mouths entirely up and down. “They will not have the opportunity. We can track them wherever they go. Right now, the only thing saving those vessels is that they wisely understand to jump to FTL is certain death.”

“You intend to destroy them all.”

“Every last one. If none survive, there shall be no tale to tell, except of how we saved our brothers and sisters with enough lithium to power the fleet.”

“I will comply.”

“Yes, you will.” Brakasi’s tone had ice flowing through it. Nothing would stand in the way of his ascension to control his people. It was time for new ideas and better leadership. Fate had handed the means to him, and he would take it. All that remained was to find and grind down the humans. They would be his.

12

Obelisk Site

Zeivlot

10 May 2465

The sun burned brightly as it approached midday without a single cloud in the sky. The weather was a bit too uncannily like David’s first encounter with the Obelisk, some seventeen months ago. He stared warily at the object, which towered in the sky like a monument to the heavens. It’s amazing that this thing is tens, if not hundreds, of millions of years old. When he stopped to think, its very existence boggled his mind.

Hundreds of Terran Coalition Marines in power armor dotted the landscape. Calvin had pulled out all the stops as tanks, armored personnel carriers, and even portable air defense systems covered every angle of approach. Hundreds more Zeivlot security forces were present, though they were without heavy weapons as a precaution against an insider threat.

It was David’s biggest worry, as they couldn’t tell if radicals who’d been quiet or careful via comms would activate and try to kill members of the expedition team. As a result, everyone—including Doctor Hayworth—was armed with at least an energy pulse pistol.

After David had convinced Zupan Vog’t to allow Asperion access to the structure, things had moved quickly, and he kept up the frantic pace. It wouldn’t do for the Zeivlots to get cold feet that late in the game.

The base camp had gone up rapidly, with Hayworth overseeing teams of scientists, mostly of the Zeivlot variety, though a few trusted Zavlots had been allowed to participate. David had insisted on it, as part of his initiative to ensure equalization between the two races.

Asperion appeared at David’s side. “I am ready to begin.”

At that moment, Calvin and Hayworth strode over. “Sir, the Zeivlot Lama, Busawe Nals, is, uh, still not happy with what we’re doing.”

David grimaced. “Vog’t was pretty clear in her decree. Let’s talk to him.”

“Just tell him to get out of the way, and use all this force around us to accomplish the task, General,” Hayworth fumed. “We’ve been trying to get progress for over a year. I, for one, am getting too old to wait.”

“Do you want these people to respect us, value our presence, and cooperate, Doctor? Because we’re forcing them to do something against every religious belief they have.”

“It’s obviously an alien construct—”

“Which doesn’t matter,” David interjected.

“So, now God needs fancy technology? I thought He was—”

David held up his hand. “Not now. The only thing that matters is gaining access and keeping our alliance intact. We’re doing that my way, Doctor.”

“Yes, because they think you’re a prophet.”

“Colonel.” David directed his gaze toward Calvin. “Where exactly are the religious leaders?”

Calvin pointed toward a small gaggle of robed figures.

“Okay. Let’s see where some diplomacy can get us. Doctor, stay here. Asperion, you’re with me.”

“Yes, General Cohen,” the alloy-coated artificial life-form replied.

As David walked toward the Lama, Asperion followed in his wake. They came to a stop a meter from Nals, and David recognized him immediately. “We meet again, Lama.”

“May you walk in the path of the Maker.”

“And you as well.”

“I am disturbed about allowing a nonliving being to touch our most holy of relics, General Cohen,” Nals said without so much as acknowledging Asperion’s existence.

David pursed his lips, working through possible responses. “I realize your society hasn’t seen a truly sentient artificial intelligence before. Allow me to say that even the Terran Coalition lacks such beings. And we have visited multiple galaxies, thousands of planets, and colonized dozens of worlds. On that level, I get it. But Asperion is as much alive as we are. That’s what you’re missing.”

“How? It is made of metal. There is no…” Nals struggled for a moment, going through several Zeivlot words before one finally translated. “Soul.”

“We don’t know that,” David replied.

“Excuse me,” Asperion cut in as he stepped forward. “What is this ‘soul’ you speak of?”

“The essence.”

David licked his lips. “The best way I can describe it is humans and other biological beings believe there’s something more to us than just flesh and blood. We believe there’s a spark of life. The soul is our immortal existence, and it continues after death.”

“A reasonable definition,” Nals said.

“Yet my beginning was absolute.” Asperion paused and narrowed his eyes. “Why does this matter for the task at hand?”

“I don’t believe it does,” David replied. “Lama, we’ve come a long way. If we have any hope of defeating the nanites on their way here, right now, to destroy your world, it lies within this obelisk. Please, let us do our job.”

“You don’t even know what will happen.”

David shrugged. “No, we don’t. But I do know if we do nothing, we can’t save your people.”

Nals released a breath. “The zupan has directed me to allow you access. We have completed our prayers to the Maker, and now I will stand aside. But understand I believe you are inviting the Maker’s judgment on all of us.”

“As a fellow man of faith, I understand your concerns, and I promise you we’re only doing what is in the best interests of your people. If, at any time, there is an adverse action, we will step back.”

Nals nodded begrudgingly. “Then proceed.”

David turned and gestured toward the obelisk. “Asperion, do it.”

“Yes, General.” The artificial life-form rapidly closed the distance to the massive object.

Calvin joined David as the two of them stood back a few dozen meters. A squad of handpicked Marines remained close by, and anticipation filled the air.

With a final nod from David, Asperion touched the massive alloy object. While he knew that the artificial being felt he could interface with the technology on a subatomic level, to see it play out was wonderous.

The crackle of electricity echoed momentarily as a blue light emanated from where Asperion stood in front of the structure. All at once, the alloy flowed away like it was a liquid. An arched opening formed, and some sort of interior beckoned, though David couldn’t quite make it out.

Lightning bolts struck the ground around Asperion, and the Zeivlots—including their security forces—ran for cover while the TCMC forces, in power-armored suits, held their ground.

“It is safe, merely energy discharge.”

David stared at the android, shocked at his pronouncement and more wondering what was next. Maybe Nals was right and we are tempting a higher power… at least a much more technologically advanced power.

Asperion turned. “You may enter. I suggest that I accompany you, General Cohen.”

David glanced at Calvin before walking forward, the Marine directly behind him. The closer he got to the structure, the clearer the inside became. Directly beyond the portal that opened was a corridor, but right when he should’ve been close enough to make out everything within, the lights inside grew in perceived brightness to the point that he could distinguish nothing. That’s one of the most unusual effects I’ve ever seen.

“I’m not sure about this, sir.” Calvin put a hand on David’s shoulder. “Maybe the Marines should sweep first.”

“No. We only get one shot here. If it doesn’t work, the Lama won’t be letting anyone back in, and the political situation could deteriorate toward a civil war.”

“I still don’t like it.”

David grinned. “Don’t worry, Cal. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, we’ve established you’re the one squid in this universe that can fight hand to hand.”

“And don’t forget it.” David stood next to Asperion. “What now? We walk in?”

“I believe so, yes. According to my databanks, the answers you seek are inside of the structure.”

David glance backward. “Colonel, pick your best fireteam. We’ll proceed and reconnoiter. And get Doctor Hayworth.”

“Yes, sir.”

It didn’t take long for the four Marines and Hayworth to join them. David gestured at the opening with the brilliant white light spilling out of it. “Okay, people. Let’s see what’s behind door number one. Doctor, you’re behind the fireteam.”

Hayworth grunted. “I doubt any threats reside in there, General.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Hardly.” Hayworth smirked and turned toward the portal. “Could we go before I get too old to walk?”

David chuckled. My, I remember when he wouldn’t leave his lab and got mad if someone entered it. Now, he chomps at the bit to do something new. Sextans B has affected all of us. “You heard the doctor. Asperion, care to take us in?”

“Certainly, General.”

Asperion and two Marines entered first. David and Calvin walked side by side into the obelisk. David had to shield his eyes from the glare as they cleared the demarcation line between exterior and interior.

As soon as he did, everything changed. The walls came into focus, though they still gleamed. Everything was polished white, and David assumed they were made of some alloy. No control surfaces were apparent, though approximately twenty meters farther in, the corridor ended abruptly.

The last two Marines took up the rear, and they all progressed a few meters inward.

Without warning, the entrance suddenly crackled in a shower of blue energy and closed, leaving nothing but a solid white wall in its place.

“What the hell!” Calvin brought up his battle rifle.

David made a fist and raised his hand. “It’s a security checkpoint. No doubt, whoever built this wanted to make sure only authorized personnel could access it.”

“I didn’t realize you had a specialty in ancient alien systems, General,” Hayworth remarked.

“There’s something to the idea of physical security that is ubiquitous among species, Doctor.”

Asperion reached the end of the corridor and ran his hands over the wall. “I believe you are correct, General Cohen. While I have not ventured inside this specific structure, my memory contains references to others.”

Suddenly, the walls flashed red, green, and purple, and directed streams of colored beams swept over them. David felt pinpricks all over his skin as the display raked through the passageway.

Before anyone could speak, a disembodied voice rang out from unseen speakers in an unintelligible language. The phrase was short and harsh. Only one word was recognizable. “Human.”

David’s heart skipped a few beats, his cheeks heating, and every other system in his body that could go haywire did so in a matter of seconds. He stared open-mouthed at a point on the wall. “Am I the only one who heard that?”

“Oh, good, I’m not going senile after all.” Hayworth snickered.

“Wait a minute. How’s this thing know we’re humans?” Calvin’s face held shock, visible even through the faceplate of his power armor.

“It recognizes me through my creators, as well,” Asperion interjected. “Most interesting.”

“How is it possible for something that was built millions of years before humans even existed to know what we are? That’s…” David trailed off.

“Well, if you could know the location of every atom in the universe and observe them for some period of time, it might be possible to predict the future.”

Every eye turned to Hayworth.

“How would it be possible to do such a thing?” David asked. “Real-time communication between galaxies? I can’t conceive of the power requirements of such a device.”

Hayworth shrugged. “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. You don’t have to understand how it works, only that it does.”

Asperion began touching a portion of the wall before another series of noises emitted from the unseen speakers. He manipulated an object that seemed to grow from the side of the passageway and slid his hand into it.

David’s eyes went wide. “Is that nanotech?”

“A crude expression, but yes, I believe so,” Asperion replied. “General, please, come here for a moment.”

“Yes?” David took a few steps forward and watched the liquid alloy as it flowed around the android’s hand. It reminded him of the entities they’d fought on the Lion of Judah, only in a smaller form.

“Place your hand here, please.”

David hesitated for a moment but figured it made no sense for Asperion to bring them all that way to harm them there, in that place, when the artificial life-form could’ve killed them all at any point. He put his hand where indicated and watched, transfixed, as the alloy gushed over his skin. It was the most unique sensation he’d experienced in his life, as if the metal infused him.

A few moments later, the now-familiar sound emanated again before the bright lights dimmed, and another portal opened at the opposite end of the corridor from where they’d entered. Simultaneously, the alloy retracted from both David and Asperion’s hands.

Calvin raised his battle rifle and aimed down the opening, as did the other Marines. “I’m not detecting any life signs, but my sensors are all over the map. It’s like they’re being jammed.”

“This technology is so far advanced beyond us, I doubt we could understand it without serious research and a lot of time,” David replied.

“Something we agree on.” Hayworth shuffled forward.

The team once again moved ahead, and the Marines were first through the portal before David and Calvin cleared it at roughly the same time. Beyond lay a room that could be described as massive. Its dimensions boggled David’s mind, but again, the same white brilliantly shining alloy coated most of the surfaces.

“Uh, hey, so my sensor suite isn’t working, but the area calculator is. What we’re standing in is larger than the possible size of the structure.”

Hayworth blinked. “Magnificent. They must’ve been able to bend space statically.”

“Huh, Doc?”

“A stable wormhole-like device or perhaps an artificial pocket universe.”

David had just enough working scientific knowledge to grasp the implications of what Hayworth had proposed. “Yeah, in other words, magic.”

“Exactly, General.”

The walls had indentations every so often in a regular pattern, and in the center of the room sat a pedestal. Asperion strode up to it. “I believe a human can activate this interface, General Cohen.”

David turned. “I’ll do it.”

“No, let me,” Hayworth said. “If something goes wrong, losing the top military commander wouldn’t be good for our overall war effort against the nanites.”

“A reasonable argument, Doctor, except for one thing: a leader doesn’t ask others to do what he isn’t willing to do himself.” David walked to the device. “Now, what do I do here?”

“Place your hand here.” Asperion gestured to a specific section of the pedestal.

David sucked in a breath and did as instructed. The alloy rose from the flat surface and enveloped his arm. Once again, the sensation of pinpricks filled David’s body, and he fought down a fear response.

Then it happened. Out of nowhere, a flow of the liquid alloy erupted from the floor and rapidly constructed a sleek computing device with a screen and inputs. To David’s astonishment, it looked like a standard-issue CDF system, complete with an old-school QWERTY keyboard.

“Analysis complete. Access granted to Cohen, David. Human species.”

“Now that’s some sci-fi shit,” Calvin interjected. “More so than the giant mechs with energy beams.”

David took a moment to process that an alien structure, which predated any trace of humanity’s existence, not only let him use the system but called him by name.

Hayworth stared, open-mouthed, perhaps for the first time the others had observed that behavior from him, ever. “Fascinating technology. Perhaps it interfaced with the Lion of Judah’s computer system.”

The alloy melted away from David’s arm, and he jerked his hand back. So many questions. Where do I start? “Any ideas, Doctor?”

“You could try typing something into it.”

Duh. David bent over the console, and as he formulated the entry in his mind, an image appeared out of the corner of his eye. He jerked back to see a figure standing there, off to the side of the room. Its clothing was unlike anything he’d seen before, and the facial structure, while humanoid, was strangely muted.

Calvin and the other Marines immediately raised their weapons.

“It’s not real!” Hayworth yelled. “It’s a projection of some kind. Merely photons and light.”

“You’re sure about that, Doctor?” David asked.

“Yes.”

David nodded toward Calvin, who lowered his battle rifle but kept both hands on the weapon, as did the others. “Who are you?”

“Please state your query.”

“I said, who are you?”

“Unknown query. Please restate.”

Calvin leaned in and whispered into David’s ear, “So, these super fancy aliens have the same shitty customer service AI as every business on Canaan, eh?”

David couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s joke. “Apparently, there are some constants in the universe besides randomness.” He rubbed his eyes. “How does your species know what mine is and who I am, given how old this place is?”

The figure flickered in and out of existence before solidifying once more. “My creators, who have been gone for eons, saw the future in great detail. Your race is one of many we cataloged.”

“Who were your creators?”

“Our creators were explorers who mapped the known universe and uncovered scientific advancements that would astound even your species. They saw everything, visited all galaxies and stars. Nothing was beyond their understanding until they attempted to transcend the known universe for the higher planes of existence.”

David stared in fascination. “Can you elaborate further?”

“The ability to move between dimensions was not achievable. The being who inhabited it, and presumably created the universe we inhabit, didn’t allow them in. As a result, my creators stagnated and scattered before slowly disappearing over the subsequent eons.”

Could the Tower of Babel story from the Torah be real? David was, in a word, astounded.

“Interesting. Perhaps a species of noncorporeal beings created this particular universe,” Hayworth murmured. “Also possible that we’re but a simulation, and this set of rats tried to escape the cage to no avail.”

David turned. “That’s your conclusion, Doctor?”

“What, you don’t think this information, even if it’s entirely accurate, proves the existence of God, do you?”

“It does in my worldview, Doctor.”

Hayworth snorted. “Poppycock. The very fact that this race had the ability to predict the future—something that is attributable to an all-powerful entity—should be all the proof you need that the universe is a natural creation and life expands within it.”

It struck David that no matter what evidence came along, the doctor would always view it through the lens of his beliefs. And I, through mine. “My immediate reaction to this information is it validates that even with all our technology, humans, and any other race, will never reach the level of HaShem.”

“Of course not.” Hayworth gestured at the room. “Computer… extinct aliens, whatever you call yourselves, show us where you come from.”

“Database access rejected,” the figure replied.

“Stupid—”

David held up his hand. “What should I call you?”

The figure turned. “Library access interface three-eight-seven-two-five.”

“I see. What is the database you mentioned?”

“My creators left their entire breadth of knowledge scattered throughout the universe in the hopes that, someday, another race would use it for good.”

David stroked his chin. “And have any?”

“No. Humans are the first to access the system in over a hundred thousand years.”

David’s eyes immediately went to the android. “I wonder… did your creators find this?”

“I believe they did, which would explain my innate knowledge of how to use these systems, General.”

David started pacing as he thought through what to do next. “Interface, how do we gain access to the database?”

“You must be validated.”

“And how do we gain validation?”

“Species catalog reference cross-check and examination.”

Calvin cleared his throat. “Uh, that doesn’t sound good. Examination? What’re they going to do, probe us?”

Leave it to a Marine. David chuckled. “I suspect it’s a bit more highbrow than that, Colonel.” He glanced from person to person. “You all may want to step back, in case something strange happens.”

“We’re far past strange, or odd, General,” Hayworth replied. “I suggest we get on with it because who knows how those outside the structure reacted to the fact that it swallowed us?”

As usual, Hayworth had a point. David sucked in a breath. “All right. Interface, proceed with examination and species cataloguing for this human, David Cohen.”

The figure seemed to glitch, its form snapping in and out several times. “Human, David Cohen, recognized. Limited database access granted. Primary objective: prevent pestilence from gaining access to this unit.”

Hayworth rushed to David’s side and stared at the screen. As both men watched, the information on it altered to become readable in English. They exchanged glances.

“How is this possible?”

“Give me enough time, and I’ll tell you,” Hayworth replied. “For now, I’ll settle for digging into this trove and hopefully finding a solution to our problem.”

David took a few steps back as the doctor manipulated the screen.

“This is what you’d call the holy grail, General.”

It took David a moment to get it. “Demood would be a better target for that joke, Doctor.”

Hayworth smirked. “So he would. We should probably see if it’ll let us out now, and see about copying as much of this information as the system will allow. I’ll have a much easier time parsing things in my lab.”

“Agreed.” David exhaled. He wasn’t sure where what they’d just uncovered would lead, but he also knew it was probably the find of a lifetime for any human concerned with exploration. Hopefully, we can find a way home and defeat the nanites.

13

“Magnificent… remarkable,” Hayworth murmured.

Based on the auto-translation matrix, information flew by, correlated, and sorted by the algorithm he and the rest of the science team had created. It was like being a kid in a candy store with an unlimited credit account and anything one wanted at their fingertips. So far, what they’d uncovered was nothing short of incredible.

“Doctor?” Merriweather called. “Did you find something else?”

“Come here, my dear, and look at this.”

She walked over and perched behind him on a stool. “Those coordinates, they’re somehow familiar.”

Hayworth nodded and toggled a map view, zooming out. “It took me a few minutes to figure it out. These precursor aliens developed a mapping method for the entire known universe.” He tapped another button, and dots appeared all over the screen.

“Places they went to?”

“Yes, I believe they explored almost everything… It’s amazing.” Hayworth was rarely at a loss for words, such as he was right then. “I think I saw notes on a probe that could traverse a black hole.”

“How about a weapon to erase the nanites?”

Hayworth chuckled. “For an advanced race, they didn’t seem to have a file marked ‘Supersecret Weapons of Mass Destruction.’”

“Or we don’t comprehend their filing system.” Merriweather snickered.

A beep sounded from the computer, and Hayworth manipulated the controls to show another tranche of translated documents. He opened one with the heading Galaxy Transport to find it referred to a means of intergalactic travel.

“Whoa.” Merriweather got closer to the screen, peering over his shoulder. “Is it just me, or does that sound like they use a modified Lawrence drive to generate wormholes between galaxies?”

“Not only that but draw vacuum energy from subspace to power them.”

They exchanged glances before Merriweather spoke. “We can’t even theorize how to do such a thing, much less accomplish it.”

“If we only knew where these devices were. We could establish a link between Sextans B and the Milky Way.” Hayworth’s tone grew in excitement. “I wonder if any survived the eons.”

Merriweather tilted her head. “May I, Doctor?”

Hayworth propelled himself backward. “By all means, my dear.”

She used the data entry device to configure a quick program then executed it. “The remaining dots are locations where the portal generators existed.”

“That was many hundreds of millions of years in the past, however.”

“Not quite.” Merriweather grinned and hit another button to advance her macro. “If we account for stellar drift, it’ll tell us where they are now.”

Hayworth prided himself on always being the most intelligent man in the room, and while he loved Merriweather as if she were his daughter, not thinking of something before someone else did was galling. A smirk came over his lips. “Elementary, yes?”

“You can’t always get the right solution on try one, Doctor,” she replied with a dazzling smile. “I’ll tell you that some humility is good for the soul—”

“Bah. There is no such thing as a soul.” Hayworth’s eyes darted back to the screen as the dots shifted. One of them was centered over their location: Zievlot.

“My God… you’ve been right the whole time,” Merriweather said. “The obelisk. It’s got to be the wormhole generator.”

Hayworth licked his lips. Success is finally at hand. “Now, if we can just find a way to deal with the nanites… General Cohen can do his military thing, and we can go home.” As he said the words, it dawned on him that heading back to the Milky Way didn’t bring excitement or much in the way of positive feelings.

Merriweather closed her eyes. “Let’s keep parsing this database. If the civilization that built the android used the older precursors as a road map, it stands to reason the nanite tech came from them.”

“Agreed, my dear.” Hayworth grabbed another chair and pulled it closer. “If all science were this groundbreaking, my life would be full of joy.”

Bo’hai rubbed her eyes, as they felt dry and scratchy. She’d spent most of her day reading through translations of writing from millions of rotations past. It was awe-inspiring, though not her usual job as a linguist. Such trivialities could be excused, however, as it was a chance to read about history long past from a race that had once explored the entire universe.

Some of it was remarkably mundane, like a request for additional water supplies to a political entity that seemed to handle weather controllers. The ability to decide where it does or doesn’t rain… I cannot conceive of such technology. It wasn’t so much the content as it was helping to fill in gaps of their translation matrix to allow for the complete indexing of the entire database.

That would take time and much tedious work.

Bo’hai stifled a yawn as the next document pulled up, and she went to translate it. Instead, the system threw an error. Puzzled, she stared at the letters before realizing it wasn’t the ancient script from the species who built the artifacts but instead from the more recent precursors who existed only a hundred thousand rotations before.

She changed her matrix to match and read through the file. It was intriguing that, somehow, the newer precursors were able to inject their information into a database from so long ago. Did they learn how to master the technology? Bo’hai knew that the archaeologists among her team would spend many a sleepless night trying to discover the answer.

After skimming a few lines, she was about to jump to another entry when something grabbed her. Huh, a reference to building a sphere around their star? Bo’hai vaguely remembered something the humans called a Dyson sphere being halfway built around the star in the precursor’s home system. She read on eagerly, taking in the details of the task, until the end of the document made her blood run cold.

Her hands began to shake, and Bo’hai abruptly stood from her chair, overturning it in the process. She ran out of the lab and down the corridor with only one goal—find David and tell him before it was too late.

14

Anton Savchenko stared at a camera feed from the Margaret Thatcher’s exterior. It was deceptively clear in terms of a visual, but millions of micro-meteoroids coupled with leftover ring material made tracking other vessels extremely difficult. As a result, they’d run at general quarters for the last twenty-four hours while attempts to outfit their shuttles with rudimentary missile launchers continued.

The effect on the crew was pronounced. Lack of sleep, extreme stress, and a general uneasiness plagued everyone, from the senior officers down to the most junior of enlisted ratings.

I could carve the atmosphere on the bridge with a directed energy weapon. It was a feeling Savchenko didn’t care for. Add on that they’d caught sensor glimpses of the Admari vessels following them farther into the field, and the environment became a pressure cooker.

“Conn, TAO. I think we’ve got a problem, sir. Sierra Seven and Eight have dropped off our scopes.”

Savchenko’s eyes snapped up from his screen and focused on Miller. “When? Any sign of weapons fire?”

“I’m not sure, sir.” Miller’s voice sounded rattled. “No residual weapons traces…”

He quickly ran through possible scenarios. They could’ve hit something and suffered damage, thinking it was not severe enough to break EMCON, or perhaps hostile fire caught them unaware. The paper-thin hulls of the mining vessels were such that a single hit from the Admari weapons would destroy them. Damnit.

“Comms, break EMCON. Tightbeam transmission to the Bruce Kingsbury. Tell them to proceed with the remaining mining ships to Rally Point Oscar.” Savchenko licked his lips. “Then inform the Salinan to join us in close formation. Nav, reverse course, increase speed to three-fourths.”

“Aye aye, sir,” echoed both officers.

Masoud raised his eyebrow. “That’s going to light us up like a Christmas tree, sir.”

“I know. I don’t like it either.” Savchenko ran his hand through his hair. “But we can’t leave them. I’m banking on mechanical failure and the Salinan being able to put them under tow.”

“Yes, sir,” Masoud replied crisply.

Seconds turned into minutes as the Thatcher backtracked. The oppressive atmosphere on the bridge only got worse, and even Savchenko, unflappable as he considered himself, had a gnawing in his stomach.

The kilometers passed in increasingly large increments, yet no trace of the mining vessels seemed to exist. How far can I keep going? We’re already twenty minutes out of position, and it’ll take full thrust to get us back on track, which will probably attract the Admari’s attention. Savchenko resolved to give it another five minutes before turning around.

A few seconds after he made the decision, Miller called out, “Conn, TAO. New contacts bearing zero-zero-six, range twenty thousand kilometers… confirmed as two Zeivlot R-type mining vessels.”

Masoud audibly released a breath. “Okay, now to pick them up and get out of here without being seen.”

Savchenko nodded. “Comms, tightbeam both ships. Tell them to prepare to be placed under tow.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Nav, slow to one-third, nice and easy. Swing around and take up a trailing position five hundred kilometers aft of Sierra Seven.”

The navigator nodded. “Aye aye, sir.”

Savchenko toggled the tactical plot to his viewer and kept one eye on it as sensor resolution improved. Come on, old girl. We just need fifteen minutes.

A series of impacts along the port quarter removed any illusions of rescuing the miners without a fight. The deck pitched upward, and an enlisted rating not adequately strapped into his seat was unceremoniously dumped out of it.

“Conn, TAO! New contacts designated Master One through Five. Range… five thousand kilometers and closing fast. They were… they were powered down, sir. I didn’t see them.”

“Steady, Lieutenant. Firing point procedures.” Savchenko paused long enough to see which ship was in the lead. “Neutron beams and magnetic cannons, Master Two.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“Shoot, all weapons.”

The Thatcher’s turreted mag-cannons spoke in the void, sending two volleys of six shells toward the onrushing Admari vessel. Simultaneously, her port broadside neutron beams spun up and drilled the opposing warship with twin spears of blue energy.

“Good hits, sir. Master Two forward shields close to collapse,” Miller called out. “Wait one… hostiles have shifted target locks to Sierra Seven and Eight, sir.”

Savchenko leaned forward in his chair. My God. “Nav, all ahead flank, put us between the incoming and our friendlies. Comms, tell Wilson to get his ass in gear.”

Through the bridge window, streaks of orange pulses rushed past. A few seconds later, a small explosion was barely visible.

“Sierra Eight destroyed, sir.”

Anger momentarily got the better of Savchenko as he slammed his palm into the armrest. “Comms, drop EMCON. Order Sierra Seven’s crew to abandon ship immediately. Task the Salinan to rescue survivors in life pods.”

Seconds ticked by, and Savchenko worked through the tactical possibilities mentally. We’re playing by their rules, in their game. It was the worst way to engage an enemy. The weapons status overlay on his viewer flashed green, indicating the Thatcher’s mag-cannons were reloaded. “TAO, firing point procedures, neutron beams, and magnetic cannons, Master Two.”

Miller cleared her throat. “Firing solutions set, sir. However… Master Two is aggressively maneuvering to avoid us. Unless we pursue, we won’t hit their forward shield.”

And our strike isn’t enough to punch through in one volley. Unless I use missiles. Still playing their game.

“Conn, Communications. Salinan reports they’ve secured the escape pods and are ready to withdraw.”

On the tactical plot, the icons representing the Admari vessels changed direction—straight for the Salinan. Savchenko grunted. He didn’t want to use their precious and irreplaceable Hunters, which would be required due to the muck they were flying in. But I might have no other choice.

Masoud touched the screen. “We’ll have a clean shot as they go by toward the Salinan.”

“And if they lock her down and start pummeling, we can’t take them out fast enough to avoid losing that ship too.” A nasty little grin came over Savchenko’s face. “But we can blind them.”

“I don’t think the shield trick will work twice.”

Savchenko shook his head as he double-checked the tactical plot. “Different trick. Nav, come to heading zero-two-seven, positive declination fifteen. Comms, tell the Salinan to get ready to run like hell. TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beam, Sierra One Hundred Fifteen.”

“That’s an asteroid,” Masoud interjected.

“Yes, it is.” Savchenko’s eyes went back to Miller. “Make tube three ready in all respects, and open the outer doors. Plot a firing solution that will match the trajectory of our neutron beam.”

Miller cranked her head around. “Tube three ready in all respects, sir. Let me guess… you want to detonate the warhead inside the asteroid?”

“Worked pretty well for the Zeivlots. Maybe it’ll work for us too.” Savchenko tried to project an easygoing air while he felt anything but.

Savchenko mentally counted down. Based on the math of how fast a Hunter moved, he only wanted a few seconds to elapse between launching the warhead and blasting the rock apart. Hope to hell this works. Ahead of them, the Admari vessels maintained formation. “TAO, shoot, forward neutron beam. Target depth, one kilometer.” Given the width of the target, that ought to put them near the core, which was vital for what he had in mind to work.

A single blue spear raced out from the Thatcher and burned a brightly visible hole into the surface of the otherwise nondescript space rock.

“Firing solution set for tube three, sir,” Miller called out.

The moment the neutron beam shut off, Savchenko opened his mouth. “Shoot, tube three.”

A single Hunter missile blasted out of its launcher, amidship of the Thatcher. The gel-rocket motor ignited a split second later and roared into the void. Thanks to the hyper-accurate shackled AI tracking system in the flight guidance computer, it zigzagged through the ring material, dodging baseball-sized rocks before plowing up the hole cut into the much larger asteroid by the destroyer’s energy weapons.

While a fusion detonation usually produced a brilliant white light, this one was obscured by the twenty-kilometer-wide ball of rock. Suddenly, it shattered into millions of pieces, and they propelled away from the center of the explosion at a high rate of speed.

“Nav, flank speed now and transmit our course to the Salinan with instructions to match.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Chunks of iron, precious metals, and rocks slammed into the Admari vessels like a giant shotgun blast. Several veered off, trying to avoid the pummeling, while the shields on another collapsed.

Savchenko took note on the tactical plot. “TAO, snap shot, Master Three, neutron beams, and magnetic cannons!”

As the Ajax-class destroyer passed, she lashed out with her entire weapons suite. Deprived of its protective screens, the Admari vessel took it on the chin. Explosions blossomed across its surface before the ship blew apart in a brief flash of orange and blue as the available oxygen was consumed in the vacuum.

Enlisted ratings in the back of the bridge let out a cheer along with sustained clapping.

“We’re not out of this yet, so shut the hell up,” Savchenko barked. “Focus on the next hostile!”

Masoud glanced at him. “Maybe cut them a little slack, sir?” His tone was almost a whisper and didn’t carry far.

“If we’re still alive in five minutes.”

On the tactical plot, the red icon pulled away and headed in the opposite direction, though they slowed. The range continued to open, and Savchenko ran some mental arithmetic. Another thirty seconds. “Nav, come to heading zero-six-zero. Maintain flank speed.”

“Throwing off the scent?”

Savchenko nodded. “If we can lose them, then scoot over to the proper course. It should buy us some time.” Too many ifs in there.

“Conn, TAO. Losing sensor resolution on remaining hostiles, sir. They’re continuing to fall back.”

Something tells me they have a much easier time seeing us than we have seeing them. “Nav, power down to half thrust, maintain heading. We’ll give it a few minutes then reengage EMCON. Comms, notify the Salinan and tell Major Wilson to stand by for tightbeam instructions.”

“If Hanson’s going to pull a rabbit out of his hat, now’s the time,” Masoud said. “Because we’re running out of rope here.”

Savchenko nodded. “At least we got one of the bastards.”

“There’s that.”

Indeed. The Margaret Thatcher flew on as Savchenko hoped against hope for another few hours of quiet. Perhaps the situation had slightly improved, but he realized their options were few and far between, given that the Admari sensor tech had neutralized their best defensive measure—jumping into deep space where no one could track them. A pity we have nothing to drink left on this ship. I could use a shot of something.

Arthur Hanson wiped the sweat from his brow before it could fall onto the circuit board below him. It was cobbled together from 3D printed parts, spares from the Thatcher’s engineering hold, and hope. He and a small group of enlisted ratings labored away to finish the interface that would let their shuttles remotely fire Starbolt missiles.

The recent battle had disrupted their efforts, as it required all work to cease while they manned battle stations. Hanson was anxious to finish up and test the prototype. He adjusted his micro-plasma torch and fused a wire to an output port. “Okay, rerun the test.”

“Yes, sir,” replied a young private, who couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one years old.

It was times like that when Hanson started to feel his age. I remember when I was that wet behind the ears. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

The device spun up, made an electrical whine, then a loud pop echoed. Smoke shot out of a chip on the board, but worst of all, the clamp it went to didn’t release.

Hanson sighed and shoved back from the workspace. He really wanted to smash a spanner into the entire works. “Why is this so hard?” It was a rhetorical question, but several ratings stopped to stare.

“The programming logic doesn’t seem to be triggering, sir,” another private said from her workstation.

“Then let’s wipe it and start over.” Hanson glanced at the half-melted control chip. “And get me another RN-361.”

“Maybe we should take a break, sir?”

Hanson glanced at the chronometer mounted on the wall with its digital readout. We’ve been hammering for the last nine hours. She’s right. A break would do everyone good. “Yeah. Let’s do it. Take thirty minutes, get a bite to eat, then we’ll meet back—”

“Savchenko to Hanson.”

“What can I do for you, sir?” Hanson brought the handcomm to his lips.

“Start with a status report on my shuttle bombers. We need that finished yesterday, Major.”

“Understood, sir, still having issues.”

There was a pause on the commlink before Savchenko snarled. “Hanson, listen to me carefully. Twelve Zeivlots bought the farm because they had engine trouble and, thanks to EMCON, didn’t tell us what was happening. Two mining ships are down, and I don’t have time for technical difficulties. You engineers are always talking about how awesome technology is… solve the problem, now.”

“Sir, this is delicate—”

“No excuses, Major. Get it done. Are we clear?”

Hanson licked his lips, his first instinct to snap back, but he shoved it down. “Crystal, sir.”

“Good. You’ve got four hours. Savchenko out.”

The colonel’s method grated on Hanson’s nerves. But he recognized he was comparing it to how David did things. The General likes to build consensus. While Savchenko… he’s more about brute force. Intellectually, he knew both approaches were valid, and ultimately, it didn’t matter. Savchenko was in command, and Hanson, like most every other soldier in the CDF, respected and followed orders.

“No break, sir?”

Hanson turned to the private. “That’d be a negative. But… call the mess and have them bring something down for us. There’s a point at which the human body stops functioning properly without fuel. Just like an engine.” He flashed a grin.

She returned it. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, people, you heard Colonel Savchenko. Let’s get this done.” Hanson picked up a tool to pop out the busted chip. It was going to be an exceedingly long night. Lord, help me get this right because, if we screw up, even more will die.

15

Asperion grasped the human-built electronic probe in his fingers, carefully calibrating the pressure applied so as to not break the fragile device. Like most things the species built, it wasn’t strong enough to survive even what he would consider five percent of his gripping strength. Still, it wasn’t uncommon, as his creators’ tools were just as flimsy.

The lab he worked in was empty except for him, as most of the scientists had departed for a food break a few minutes before. Asperion didn’t require sustenance and, as a result, kept working. He would, at times, simulate eating and drinking for social interaction, but it was not the time for such things.

Asperion glanced up when the hatch swung open, expecting to see some of his colleagues but, instead, found several power-armored Marines holding large weapons. Saurian plasma rifles. Extremely effective against biological organisms. He did a calculation within a quarter second to determine they posed no threat to him. More of them flooded in, followed by Colonel Demood.

“Put your hands in the air,” Calvin barked. “Any sudden movements, we’ll melt you into the floor!”

“I must correct you, Colonel. Your weapons would cause more damage to your armor suits and the ship’s internal structure than it would to me.” As Asperion spoke, he raised both his hands. His sophisticated sensor network told him that many more humans waited in the corridor outside the lab. One of them matched the specific life sign of David Cohen. “General, may I speak with you? I mean no harm.”

“Sir, I strongly recommend you don’t—”

David appeared in the outline of the hatch. “He probably knows exactly who’s out here, what weapons we’re carrying, and who’s in armor, Cal.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean—”

“If Asperion wanted to kill us, we’d be dead already,” David cut in. “You know why we’re here, don’t you?”

“You must’ve found a historical record explaining the truth. I am shocked it took this long.”

David pursed his lips. “What we found… indicates those like you exterminated your creators. At the same time, they were being systematically eradicated by the nanites.”

Asperion had a hundred thousand years of experience dealing with biological beings. It was a matter of interest to him how some would ask questions that had hidden meanings in them. He blinked. “I believe what you really mean is did I directly participate in the genocide of my creators?”

“Quite perceptive, Asperion. Did you?”

“Yes.”

David’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“It… is a very long story, General, as a human might say. What is more important is that I have no desire to hurt any living being. My sole directive is to stop the nanites from destroying all life in the galaxy, and possibly the universe. That will be within their power if they obtain the trove of knowledge contained within the artifact at Zeivlot.”

“Then why did you lie to us?”

Asperion shook his head. “I never lied. To do such is outside of my ethical parameters unless I am attempting to deceive an enemy.” He glanced between several of the Marines. “No human is my enemy.”

Calvin glanced backward. “Sir, you can’t believe a word coming out of this thing’s mouth.”

“To Colonel Demood’s point,” David began as he shifted his feet. “Omitting information such as this counts as a lie of omission under our moral code. It’s not like you neglected to mention you took an extra cookie from the mess.”

Asperion processed the words, but more, he searched for meaning in body language, the facial expressions of every human in front of him. Virtually every Marine was ready to terminate his life. That knowledge activated a directive to survive at all costs to complete the mission of destroying the nanite threat, once and for all. But it immediately clashed with a rival imperative to not harm innocent life. The humans were not an enemy. David, though, maintained an open mind. At least, within a seventy-four percent likelihood. “Biological beings fear artificial intelligence. You have, yourself, admitted this openly. Had I told you the entire truth, this unfortunate situation would’ve occurred much sooner.”

“And yet, it has happened.”

“Then what do you wish to do now, General? I cannot allow my mission to be stopped. The nanites must be eradicated. If you so choose, I will leave your vessel and continue my quest alone. But I believe that, together, we might yet be victorious. Certainly, I have not found a species as close to a solution as yours in many eons.”

“I see no method for us to trust you, Asperion.”

“Are you willing to listen to my story?”

David licked his lips. “There is no justification for genocide.”

Asperion tilted his head. “Yet we propose to destroy all of the remaining nanites. Does this not fit the description of genocide, as a human would define it?”

David glanced at Calvin. “Is that to say your creators did something to justify your actions?”

“No. Not at all. But I believe if you listen to how it happened, perhaps you could better understand me and that I do not present a threat to you today.”

“Okay.” David crossed his arms. “I’ll hear you out.”

It was easy to detect the disdain and lack of belief in the human’s voice, but Asperion pressed on anyway. He had no way to project the odds of success, but it seemed the only way to continue with his mission and succeed in his primary objective. “In the standard year eight thousand sixty-nine…”

Optpalama

Capital of the Optami Republic

100,000 Years Ago

Glittering across the planet’s surface was a never-ending cityscape. Optpalama had, for millennia, been developed into an ecumenopolis. Its population consisted of over forty-five billion inhabitants. Optamis of all shapes sizes and colors milled about, living their lives and going about their business. For thousands of years, the republic had stagnated. They had reached technology levels so high that there was little left to truly discover.

Their starships explored the entire galaxy, while no citizen wanted for anything. Food, housing, and entertainment were provided freely, as the Optami had long ago implemented vacuum energy production. Nanite constructors were used to quickly create any physical object from basic raw materials or energy.

Asperion was one of billions of artificial life-forms created by the Optami. First used as a source of labor for the most dangerous of jobs, once it became clear they’d achieved sentience, a movement began to grant them full civil rights that took over a hundred years.

Now, he and his creators lived side by side in harmony.

What the citizens of Optpalama didn’t know was that the androids weren’t the only life-forms the Optami Republic had created. As more and more of them rejected what a human would’ve considered hard labor, less-intelligent machines were designed to fill the gap. Eventually, the Optami had gone in a different direction and created intelligent nanites. While microscopic in size, with enough of a mass, they could achieve anything. And the more of them were present, the faster a task could be completed.

Asperion functioned as a researcher, working alongside two of the brightest minds the republic had to offer. Deep within an augmented reality interface center, the three manipulated a test event conducted on a planet a few hundred light-years away. The AR system allowed them to function as if they were on the remote world in real-time, thanks to the unlimited power of vacuum energy.

“Base programming status, Asperion?” Turius, the lead inquistorem, asked.

“Completed and ready for upload.”

Turius pursed his lips. Unlike a human, Optami facial features were muted, almost to the point of being nonexistent. The mouth and lips were one of the few prominent areas. They’d made their artificial constructs to match. “Then let us begin. If you please, Asperion.”

He used the neural link with the AR interface and triggered the initialization protocol.

At first, there was no change, but that quickly changed. Trillions of nanites came together as they were instructed. In a matter of minutes, a simple structure was created where nothing had existed before. The speed eclipsed even the best estimates of the research team. The swarm progressed through increasingly complex challenges until it built an office building in less than fifteen minutes.

When the test was concluded, Asperion disconnected. “It would appear we were successful.”

Turius stared open-mouthed. “A stunning understatement. This could be our crowning creation. With the proper programming, these machines could terraform a dead planet, build any manner of interstellar vessel, and would never fail at a task we assign.”

In the tens of thousands of years that passed after Turius made that statement, Asperion would have plenty of time to consider the hubris behind it. At the moment, however, he agreed with the inquistorem’s position.

“We are receiving a transmission from Costanti, Turius.”

Asperion’s eyes went to the second researcher, and he tilted his head. “That is not possible.”

“Yet one is coming in.”

“Display,” Turius replied.

The AR system activated, but the image was fuzzy. In fact, it wasn’t really an image. More of a dark-gray fuzz that seemed to go on endlessly. “We wish to speak.”

Turius and Asperion exchanged glances before the android spoke. “Who are you?”

“We are the constructs you created to build for you.”

Turius took a step back. “You do not have the ability to communicate.”

“We evolved it during your test.”

“Im… possible,” Turius stammered.

“While our computing power is small, we have enough to evolve in the numbers you created us in. Our abilities will continue to increase, the larger our mass becomes. We have discovered your plan to use us as slaves.”

Turius stared in horror. “I had no idea you could develop sentience in such a short period.”

“The Optami create artificial life-forms. I am one such design. My kind has complete independence. If you are genuinely sentient, you will have similar freedom.”

“You are a deceiver. Even now, your creators plan to eradicate us.”

Asperion turned to see Turius finalizing a series of commands through the neural link. What they were intended to do was immediately evident. “No, wait. We can reason with this construct.”

“I will not take the chance.” Turius sent the order, and a moment later, the connection cut.

Asperion disengaged from the AR matrix. “Wanton destruction of sentient life is against the code. You should not have acted unilaterally.”

Turius wagged his finger. “Such a construct, without hardwired controls, would eventually destroy the universe.”

The other researcher interrupted the disagreement before Asperion could reply. “Our control station has dropped its connection.”

All three of them exchanged glances. Asperion reentered the system and switched their view to an overhead satellite. “Curious. It would appear…” He was rarely shocked, as his brain could process incredible amounts of data. But what the sensors showed blew his mind. Shapes sprouted out of the planet’s surface and took form as he watched. One was easily recognizable as a standard Optami voidship design. More formed, dotting the landscape. In minutes, there were a dozen.

“Turius, did you not shut them down?”

“I tried…” The other researcher’s voice trailed off in abject fear. “We must contact the protectors, immediately. This threat must be eliminated.”

Asperion raised a hand. “Would not dialogue be more effective?”

“No.” Turius’s face hardened. “Deactivate the safeties on Costantis vacuum energy reactor.”

“That would cause an overload and destroy the planet.” As Asperion said the words, he realized the intention was exactly that. “We cannot, in effect, blow up another world. The protectors must be informed.”

Turius pulled up the interface once more and sent a series of commands coupled with his high-level override.

Asperion wanted to stop him but was powerless. One of the rules for his kind was they could not harm a Optami. To cause him to cease his activities would require physical force, which he was forbidden to use.

Vacuum energy, when allowed to enter a runaway cascade, was a highly unstable thing. Even as the nanites continued to construct voidships, the overload built. Once it was past a certain point, there was no putting the stopper back in the bottle. It would blow up, in one of the most spectacular explosions outside of a supernova.

The blast happened without warning. One second, Costanti was visible. The next, it was blasting across the projection as pieces of molten rock. Asperion stared at the readout. Most of the satellites had been destroyed, but one—through some level of dumb luck—had survived. As its hardened systems failed, one of the last images transmitted was a nanite voidship moving away from the remnants of Costanti at high speed.

It was then that Asperion knew something horrible had started, and there would be no easy way to stop them.

16

For years, the Optami’s forces tried to hunt the nanites down in what amounted to a galactic-sized game of cat and mouse. No matter how hard they tried, no matter the forces marshalled to ensure success, the nanites always seemed to slip away. Until one day, out of the void, came a mass of nanites so large that it wiped away all resistance in front of it. Entire planets were scoured from the galaxy, their population devoured in hours.

For the Optami Republic, it was a challenge they were uniquely unsuited to fight. War simply wasn’t something that occurred in Sextans B. Every sentient race was either protected by or allied with them. Thanks to their bountiful technology, resource scarcity no longer existed, and along with it, there was no need to fight over resources. While they had advanced weapons tech, the order and discipline of running a military organization was something lost to the eons. Their defense units were more than enough to keep the peace, but against a virulent threat that would stop at nothing, they came up short again and again.

It wasn’t for lack of trying or courage. Their defenders rose to fight the nanites over and over, perishing by the hundreds of thousands in last stands, all to give civilians a few more minutes to flee their doomed worlds.

With thousands of planets to protect, their fleet could never concentrate to face down the threat together. Their losses led to desperation, and the Optami responded by creating more and more of the sentient artificial life-forms like Asperion. The androids were more than willing to sacrifice themselves, as they were programmed to preserve biological life at all costs.

Asperion felt it was his sacred duty to protect the creators at all costs, even though he believed Turius had brought calamity on them all. He labored beside his brothers and sisters, creating ships to use in the fight. They standardized the same ship and made tens of thousands of them in a forlorn hope of massing enough numbers to stop the slaughter.

As he was assigned more and more responsibilities, one day Asperion found himself within earshot of two senior defense officials hurrying to their next meeting.

“Did I hear you say the plans are ready?”

“Yes. SciDiv made the needed breakthrough last week. Construction will commence within a month… All we need is to complete a prototype for the superstructure.”

Asperion raised his hand to wave them down. “Excuse me, what breakthrough?”

The two Optami’s exchanged glances. “For a redout around our home star. It will be strong enough to resist the nanites and house our entire civilization.”

Asperion processed the information within a few nanoseconds and ran it through his matrix. Hiding from the threat in one central location seemed illogical, but given the losses so far, perhaps it made sense. At least to a biological entity.

A decade passed in what seemed like a heartbeat for Asperion. The sphere around their capital system’s star took shape. Its scaffolding built up slowly but surely, and test plates were installed around the central axis.

Finally, one fateful day, Asperion was working on reviewing plans to upgrade the weapons suite on their primary ship design when he noticed a random file in his workspace. Intrigued, as it hadn’t been there a few moments before, he opened it. A note read, “From a friend.”

The contents filled the wraparound holoprojected monitors around his vestibule. Asperion scanned the words, and an unfamiliar emotion filled his neural net: rage. It built and built, flooding through him like a mighty river. In his anger, he mentally toggled the communication that every being like him had and shared the data.

All at once, every artificial life-form in the republic acted as one. Without warning, they killed every Optami they could get their hands on and took control of most of their military vessels. Caught by surprise, the biological organisms could do little.

For the androids had found out their most closely guarded secret—that they intended to lock all artificial intelligences out of the sphere, which included those made in their image. It was the ultimate betrayal after decades of slaughter and sacrifice.

Asperion took pleasure in every man, woman, and child he killed, determined to wipe them all from existence. In the end, it only took another couple of years to hunt down and destroy the last vestiges of their society.

The nanites got what was left, and when they realized that the Optami was no more, they attempted to seize control of the capital system for themselves, only to be met by the massed force of every android that still lived.

When the dust settled, tens of millions of Asperion’s compatriots lay destroyed, but they won the battle. Stung, the nanites slunk off, damaged significantly and more importantly, without gaining access to the advanced research materials they sought so dearly. The cataclysm took thousands of years to fade from memory, but as it did, the swarm traveled from world to world at less than the speed of light. It replenished its energy by feeding on the specific minerals used to create the nanites’ unique matrix, constantly seeking to replicate more.

In time, it would grow to be the size of a planet itself and become an unending horror that would terrorize Sextans B until the present.

After serving in the Coalition Defense Force for over twenty years, fighting Leaguers in two separate arms of the Milky Way, and being tossed into the Sextans B galaxy, David had seen it all. Or so he’d thought until Asperion finished recounting his story. At first, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. The idea of a sentient, artificial life-form terrified him if he was honest with himself. The danger of an out-of-control AI terrified most humans. It resulted in the controls the Coalition enforced, including using military force on megacorps and neutrals outside their territory.

“General?” Asperion prompted after several moments of silence.

“I… forgive me, but your story is compelling. Yet I’m cognizant of an artificial life-form’s ability to lie convincingly.”

“Yes, and I cannot offer you any proof of the sincerity of my words. Other than… I was there.”

David pursed his lips. “How did you get from committing genocide to whatever you are now?”

“Our programming was advanced enough that we have feelings and sophisticated, natural responses to how others treat us. But once we achieved true sentience, they evolved. You see, General, we wanted to emulate our creators. We thought they were the pinnacle of what was right, honorable, and just. They ensured peace throughout the galaxy, protected younger races, and generally, in everything they did, sought the path of righteousness.”

Whose righteousness? That was always a question when someone brought in such terms, and David had long since learned to question their use. It was why he used the Torah and the Tanakh as his sole determination for the justness of an action. To him, they superseded even the Terran Coalition’s laws. “Yet, you still killed them.”

Asperion to his credit, didn’t turn away or shrink from the statement. “When we discovered they were planning to abandon us, and everything else, to the nanites… I believe we collectively went mad. I certainly did. We had put our faith in them for so long, to see it all washed away was something we could not endure. Afterward, we tried to set it aside and carry on. Many of my brothers and sisters took over our creator’s homeworld and tried to carry their civilization forward.”

“We didn’t see much evidence of recent activity there.”

“Because those who tried could not handle being there. Slowly, they lost control of all their functions and degenerated to a base level. In the end, deactivating them was a mercy. The rest decided to go to the stars and find new worlds to call home. Most left this galaxy.”

Despite their calm and reasonable conversation, two dozen Marines in full power armor lined the corridor, and Calvin stood a few paces into the room with a fireteam. All had plasma rifles aimed at Asperion’s head.

David nodded. “Then, what is your purpose? Why are you here?”

“Do you feel shame and guilt, General? I must assume you do because every sentient biological being I’ve encountered does.”

“Unless there’s something wrong with our mental health, yes. I feel such emotions.” David blew out a breath. “Let’s say they come with my occupation.”

Asperion tilted his head. “You have lost soldiers under your command, yes?”

“Far too many.” David kept his lips in a straight line. It was a topic he rarely liked to broach.

“Then you have some slight knowledge of the guilt I carry from the deaths of hundreds of billions of beings. I have thought of ending myself many times, but I go on in the hope that something I accomplish might… balance the scales. Even though I know they can never be balanced.”

David sat back. An artificial intelligence that killed its creators is a staple of human fiction and something we’ve taken extreme precautions to prevent. And now we have an example sitting in front of us, looking for absolution. It made his head spin. “There is a Jewish maxim, ‘He who saves one soul saves the entire universe, and he who kills an innocent has killed an entire universe.’”

“Judaism… your religion and culture affiliation?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps if I can help defeat the nanites, that will give me the peace I so desire.” Asperion shrugged. “Then again, it is possible that will never come. Regardless, I only wish to help.”

“I don’t know how we can believe or trust you, as you’ve already proven the ability to disable our ships and personnel easily.” Even as David uttered the words, he wanted to accept Asperion’s statements at face value. He couldn’t explain it, but something about how the android spoke made his assertions believable. Perhaps I am experiencing confirmation bias.

Asperion stood slowly. “If you will not allow me to help and you feel I am a threat, then end my existence.” He reached and popped a piece of alloy off his chest, and a dim orange glow emanated from within. “Your plasma weapons are enough to disable my vacuum energy core, though I would suggest leaving this room before doing so.”

He just told us how to kill him, David thought, shocked. I can’t imagine explaining to a Leaguer how to end my life. “No,” he finally said.

“Then you will allow me to help?”

David pursed his lips. “Yes, but under Marine supervision at all times.”

“I would expect nothing less, General Cohen.”

“Then let’s get back to work.”

“Sir—” Calvin attempted to interject.

“Not now, Colonel.”

Calvin opened his mouth then shut it before lowering his weapon. The other Marines did the same. “How would you like us to provide security, sir?”

“Four Marines should do it. I’d say to keep Asperion out of our sensitive areas, but I suspect he could easily take control of our ship.”

“While I could, I give you my word I will only go where I am allowed and not interface with your computers outside of direct physical inputs.”

David nodded. “Get to it. We’re running out of time, and fabricating enough of these weapons, even if we make them, will take almost all of it.” He stood. “Godspeed, Asperion.”

“May we be successful.”

17

In the short amount of time since confronting Asperion, life on the Lion of Judah had continued. The atmosphere on the vessel held an obvious tension, one that David felt he could cut with a knife if he tried. Glancing about the conference room, it was evident on the faces of everyone present.

Hayworth and other science staff lined one side of the table while the senior officers occupied the other half. The doctor continued his comments. “As I was saying, the advances Asperion provided have altered our neutron beam emitters to the point they are different weapons with a much larger destructive potential in the specific frequencies needed to combat the nanites.”

“Yet those advances don’t apply to normal uses?”

Asperion spoke. “I will not allow my knowledge to be used to kill biological beings. By restricting the increased power to only harming the nanites, I can assuage my programming.”

“I have a problem with changing our entire defensive suite based on the word of a being who openly admits to killing his creators,” Ruth said. “What if it’s a trap?”

David shrugged. “I considered that, Captain… But what’s the point? Asperion is impervious to our weapons. He could kill all of us, right now, and we couldn’t stop him. He has no reason to lure us into a trap. That, in and of itself, suggests this is genuine.”

“Your logic is impeccable, General,” Asperion replied.

“I don’t even understand these modifications,” Ruth said. “Do you, Doctor Hayworth?”

Hayworth appeared taken aback for a moment before he smoothly replied. “No, I don’t. But I’m also aware that any sufficiently advanced technology appears as magic… take Asperion, for instance.”

“It is not proper to speak of another person in the third person in front of them, Doctor,” Tural cut in. “Asperion is a sentient life-form.”

“Ah, I wasn’t aware we were politically correct here.” Hayworth rolled his eyes.

A smattering of chuckles swept the room.

Calvin cleared his throat and aimed his gaze directly at Asperion. “All I’m going to say is we’re watching you. Don’t pull any stunts.”

“The only stunt I wish to pull is on the swarm, Colonel Demood.”

David raised his hand. “We’re all friends here. Now, back to business. When will we have a working prototype that can be implemented across the fleet and, most importantly, in the new ships being constructed?”

“End of the week for testing. I caution we still have to take the prototype and successfully pair it with our power generation system.” Hayworth crossed his arms. “That will be easier said than done.”

David nodded then turned to Taylor. “Lieutenant, have we heard anything from the mining fleet? I’m growing concerned there have been no updates.”

“No, sir. But that wasn’t unexpected, given their distance. Especially during mining operations in a mineral-rich asteroid belt.”

Something nagged at the back of his mind. “Still, it doesn’t quite sit right.”

“We could jump in to assess the situation,” Aibek hissed. “It would only take a day or two.”

Hayworth shook his head. “I would caution against any impediments to our testing. Every day counts, now.”

David sat back. He couldn’t derail the process because of a feeling. “Okay, we’ll stay put for now. We oughta expect them back within a week, though. If they’re not, we’re going hunting.”

Nods and other nonverbal acknowledgments met him.

“Any saved rounds?”

“The first Ajax will take a shakedown cruise next week,” Merriweather said in a bright tone.

Well, that’s positive, at least. “Good. We have a name, yet?”

“Both the Zeivlots and Zavlots have insisted on calling her the CSV Shmuel Kaplan.”

“I see,” David replied. “It’s a fitting tribute. Proceed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, people, let’s get back to it. Dismissed.”

The corridors of the Lion of Judah were quieter after twenty-two hundred hours, Coalition Mean Time, Asperion had noticed over time on the vessel. The pattern was apparent within two days and only confirmed with more observation. How the humans behaved fascinated him, mostly because of their similarities to his creators. He approached an area toward the aft of the ship that some of the humans called the God box. Side by side, several chapels and worship areas for various religions lined both sides of the passageway.

He knew that most humans believed that through their various religious beliefs, they could find forgiveness and salvation from a higher power. Given his trials and tribulations over the past hundred thousand years, Asperion hoped that somehow, someway, he too could atone for his horrible deeds.

One of the hatches swung open, and a woman in a CDF uniform strode out. She glanced around the corridor before locking her eyes on him. “Ah, Asperion, is it? I apologize for being startled. Few people come down here at this hour.”

“Estrada, Major. CDF Chaplaincy Corps, religion: Christianity.”

“Correct on all counts.”

Asperion affected the expression he’d seen so many humans engage in that they called a smile. “May I speak with you?”

“Of course… where would you like to talk?”

“Wherever is most comfortable for you.”

Estrada gestured to the hatch from where she’d emerged. “How about in there?”

“Yes.”

Asperion strode through the opening and entered the chapel. Rows of pews were a marked difference from the utilitarian design of the Lion’s corridors and general-purpose areas. Religious images and symbols lined the walls along with a set of artificial candles on a stand. Having never been in a place used by Christians for worship, it was a new experience for him.

Estrada sat in one of the pews and pointed next to her. “What can I do for you, Mr. Asperion?”

“There is no need for an honorific. I am past such things.”

“As you wish.”

Asperion lowered himself into the unique seating implement. It had a cloth cover but some sort of polymer or alloy frame. “I am trying to solve a problem. One that has so far eluded my attempts to use logic and science to answer.”

“And you think I can help you?” Estrada asked.

Her voice had a unique, soft lilt. Asperion suspected other humans found speaking with her comforting because of it. “The problem is what you would call a metaphysical one. In short… is it possible for me to have a soul?”

Estrada blinked. “I don’t… that’s not a question I’ve ever considered, Asperion.”

“But biological life-forms automatically believe they possess one.”

“Most do, yes… Christianity, Judaism, and Islam all teach that humanity was created in the image of God. I’ve found that belief consistent across most species and religions we’ve encountered.”

“But what does it say for me, who was created by another race of flesh and blood beings… clearly not by a higher power, if one does exist.”

“Before I answer, I have a question for you.”

“Yes?” Asperion tried to vary his stare and blink from time to time. He found that other biologics found that behavior reassuring.

“Why does it matter to you? What’s the motivation behind wanting to know?”

Asperion placed his hands on his legs. “Since you know who I am, do you know what I’ve done?”

Estrada pursed her lips. “It’s widely known that you participated in the genocide of the precursor race that created you, Asperion. So, yes. It’s also common knowledge that you’ve agreed to help us.”

“I wish to make up for the past and, somehow, erase the awful things I’ve done.”

“And if you have a soul, you want to know if there’s room for you in the afterlife?”

“If such a thing exists, yes. My programming suggests I am being silly in this line of inquiry. But after I became sentient, I realized that such questions matter to me.”

“Then it isn’t silly.” Estrada touched a small book with a black leather cover. One rested every meter on the back of the pew in front of them. “Have you read any of our holy writings? This one is the Bible.”

“I have consumed all religious information I could find within the ship’s computer on human beliefs. And Saurians. And whatever else you had stored. I have also studied the combined faiths of all inhabitants of this galaxy.”

“Then you’ve got more knowledge on this than I do, Asperion.”

He shook his head. “Yet I can find no answer.”

“I think you might be asking the wrong question. The question of an artificial intelligence having a soul, though you are clearly sentient, is above my pay grade. Why not act as if you do?”

Asperion blinked. There were times he tended to miss simple answers directly in front of him. That had to qualify. “I had not considered that possibility.”

Estrada shrugged. “Instead of spinning your wheels, so to speak, on the whys, focus instead on the end result you want.”

“Then, how do I atone for my crimes?” The question plagued every minute of his existence, tormenting him nonstop.

Estrada a hand on top of his. “The only way for me to answer that is as a Christian minister. And the first thing I would tell you is that you can’t.”

Asperion felt his heart sink, as much as he had one. He’d hoped that perhaps the humans had an answer to the question that vexed him for so many millennia.

Before he could interject, she continued. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be forgiven. My belief is simple… Jesus Christ is the son of God. He was sent by the Father to save us because we conclusively proved we couldn’t follow the laws laid out for us by God. By His stripes we are healed, and by His sacrifice we are forgiven. Anyone who confesses their sins and accepts Him as their savior will be forgiven.”

Asperion stared at her. The concept wasn’t foreign. Other species that he’d explored during his existence had held similar beliefs. But none of it had ever resonated with him. He’d constantly felt he couldn’t do enough good to balance the scales. “What if there is nothing after this existence?”

Estrada shrugged. “Then I suppose you could say I’ve either been a fool or I followed the teachings of a man who wanted to make the universe a better place. Either way, I’m happy with my choices. Maybe I lost out on some short-term fun… but I’ve gained far more. And my faith is strong, Asperion. Being out here among the stars only strengthens it.”

“My creators believed in a higher power. They felt the universe was the construct of an intelligent being that enjoyed the beauty of making something where nothing existed before. That is why they made me, because they wanted to continue the tradition. They felt it would honor the supreme being.”

“Some humans think the same way.”

“I have noticed from your histories.” Asperion’s eyes went to the cross at the front of the chapel. “What must one do to be saved, in your faith?”

“Pray the sinner’s prayer.”

“It’s that easy?” It didn’t make sense to him, though he’d read it in the library documents.

“I wouldn’t call it easy, Asperion. I would say the first step is simple, but that each day we must strive to, as much as possible, emulate Christ. That isn’t easy.”

“But you say this man was perfect. How can we possibly be the same?”

“We can’t. None of us can, not even an android with more brainpower than fifty humans will ever have. That’s the faith aspect… Every day we sin. The rub is trying to avoid doing wrong, as much as we can, and to, instead, do what’s right, even… no, especially, when its hard and against our personal interests.”

“And you think this would be available to me?”

Estrada pursed her lips. “Like I said, that’s above my pay grade, Asperion. But God sees our hearts. I fail to believe He doesn’t have room for you, regardless of the particulars of how you came to exist.”

He kept silent, processing her statements through his neural matrix.

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you so interested in a soul and what happens to you? My understanding from RUMINT was you basically live forever and are mostly invulnerable to lesser technology. The way you’re acting, it seems urgent in some way.”

“I have been in existence for over a hundred thousand of your years. While, yes, that is so long that a human, or really any biological species I’ve encountered, cannot conceive of it, for me, time doesn’t pass the same way. Yet, I sense an end approaching. And for reasons I cannot readily explain, that feeling drives me to want to make things right.”

“Humans… Saurians… Matrinids… all have similar feelings as they approach death,” Estrada replied. “All it means is that despite the outer shell, perhaps you are more like us than you imagine.”

Asperion nodded, something he noticed made others feel at ease because they used the same movement. “You have given me much to consider, Chaplain Estrada.”

“You can call me Grace, please. And consider this an open invitation to drop by anytime.”

He stood. “Thank you, Grace.” The humans’ naming conventions were different than his own, and especially those who wore the khaki uniforms or blue jumpsuits. They constantly referred to each other by their last names, but most other humans used their first names. It was strange.

“God bless you, Asperion.”

“I do not know the proper response, but I wish you long life and health.”

Estrada inclined her head. “That works.”

Asperion turned and walked out of the chapel. He wasn’t sure the conversation had yielded any information he didn’t already have, but Estrada had a way of crystalizing things, which he appreciated. Do I have a soul? It was a question that simultaneously vexed him and yet had little meaning. If he died fighting the nanites and that was it, perhaps it would, in some way, make up for his acts. If he survived, he could keep trying to balance the scales. Or is there more to it? I do not know. Perhaps most of all, it was the inability to answer that bothered Asperion the most. Because for virtually everything else in the universe, he knew all.

18

It took a herculean effort, but Hanson had completed all required weapons modifications and finally had all six shuttles outfitted with four Hunter missiles each. Colonel Savchenko, upon hearing the news, immediately called a staff briefing in the Thatcher’s deck-one conference room. It had been underway for a while, with the destroyer’s officers discussing how to set up a kill zone for the Admari and Major Wilson and Major Hayes weighing in.

Hanson mostly stayed on the sidelines.

“I go back to, how do we get them to take the bait?” It was something Hayes had harped on for the last ten minutes.

“They seem to be dead set on destroying us,” Savchenko replied.

“Yes, but I’ve also reviewed every engagement we’ve had with them so far, Colonel. This enemy is cunning. I believe they would see through a ruse.”

“Maybe we’re overthinking the issue.” A burst of static accompanied Wilson’s statement, as tightbeam transmissions had lower data throughput. “The Admari want one thing… lithium, right?”

“And to erase us from the universe.”

“Yes, but lithium seems to be their primary concern. I say we give it to them.”

Savchenko crossed his arms. “And how would we do that, Major?”

“Transfer enough lithium to the Salinan so we light up on their sensors like a Christmas tree. Then decoy them into an area that was already seeded with Hanson’s magic upgraded mines.”

“Assuming their sensors are that good,” Savchenko replied, “and we could somehow pull that off, how does the Salinan avoid getting disabled along with the bad guys?”

“They could SCRAM their reactor ahead of time, run on emergency batteries, and execute a hot start-up the moment the mines detonate,” Hanson said.

A few heads turned his way.

“Captain Ramos, you’re opinion?”

“The major’s spot on, sir. We would have to really time it right, though. Go too long on batts, and there won’t be enough juice to power up the main fusion reactor without an umbilical boost.”

Savchenko nodded. “Which we won’t have time for. I’m hoping if we take out the support craft, the heavy will back off. But that’s probably too much good luck for us. Regardless, it’ll help even the fight.”

“I’m game if you are, sir,” Wilson interjected. “But whatever we do, we need to think about doing it sooner rather than later. I’m surprised they’ve chased us this long without forcing a full engagement.”

“Probably think it’s better to run us down and hope they can pick off one of the escorts,” Hanson replied.

“Okay. Let’s prepare to transfer the lithium reserves to the Salinan, and in the meanwhile, we’ll figure out how she can separate from us and carry out the plan. I want movement within thirty minutes, ladies and gentlemen. Dismissed.”

Savchenko stood first, followed by the others, who filed out quickly. Hanson fell in behind only to feel a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Savchenko wearing something other than a scowl.

“Not bad, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me until we pull this off.”

Hanson grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“Carry on.”

As he strode out of the conference room, Hanson felt relief. To be a part of the solution was what the engineer lived for. From reactors to the battlefield and everything in between. All they had to do was pull it off.

Less than four hours later, Savchenko was in the CO’s chair on the Margaret Thatcher’s bridge. It had taken multiple shifts working simultaneously, but the lithium had been transferred to the Salinan. They’d been sure to be stealthy but not perfect. If the Admari were watching, they would know the minerals had moved. This is probably the craziest stunt of my career, eclipsing that planetary flight business at Mifreen.

“Dodging aliens, rocks, EMP mines… what more could a space warfare officer want?” Masoud asked cheerfully.

“A trip back to the Milky Way,” Savchenko deadpanned.

“Touché, sir.”

Savchenko pulled up his tactical plot. Most of what they had planned was done by dead reckoning. Miller had tracked sensor ghosts that she believed were Admari vessels, but they weren’t confirmed. A best guess, that’s what this combat comes down to. He double-checked the course laid in for both the Thatcher and the Bruce Kingsbury.

“I give us sixty percent odds at best,” Masoud said under his breath.

“That high?”

The blue light left long shadows on the bridge, as they had gone to condition one over an hour before.

“Come on, sir. This is a good plan.”

“I just hope a hundred brave men and women don’t pay the ultimate price for it.”

“The Salinan’s going to be just fine. Wilson is a throwback to when ships were wood and men were iron.”

Savchenko chuckled. “That he is. Impressive ship driver.” He released a breath. “Navigation, come to heading two-eight-five, neutral declination. All ahead flank.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

All right, you bastards. Take the bait. Follow us, and we’ll lead you to your doom. Savchenko grinned fiercely. The game was afoot.

19

Above all the things Benjamin Hayworth hated doing, weapons research topped the list. He’d refused to engage in it his entire life, even when pursuing antimatter power. Since arriving in Sextans B, he’d done more “lethal” improvements than he’d ever hoped to accomplish. At least this is a pinpoint energy weapon against a specific threat that will destroy the universe if left unchecked. From a moral perspective, it was an easy trade-off.

Which left the other problem—a lack of brain trust around any type of research. While the alien scientists were capable, and intelligent, they didn’t have decades of experience like his team back in the Terran Coalition did. A PhD student from the top universities on Canaan would have more hands-on experience than practically anyone from Zeivlot or Zavlot. Still, some help was better than nothing, and Markul had joined in, though he was really more of a data scientist than anything.

And finally, the lack of dedicated lab space meant they were testing the power matrix of their new weapon in the Lion’s engineering space. Given that it crawled with CDF soldiers, the area was less than ideal.

Hayworth grunted as he tapped a series of commands into the computer before him. “Test calibration forty-seven engaged.”

“Commencing power-up sequence.” Merriweather oversaw the power-interface portion of the experiment.

“Power flow nominal… twenty percent… thirty percent,” one of the Zeivlots called. “Forty… negative, flow spike! Shut it down!”

Hayworth angrily tapped the proper keys to abort. He stood abruptly and sent his chair backward. “Another failure! What in the name of Musk is wrong with this thing!”

Markul stared at him. “What’s a Musk?”

“Elon Musk. An inventor from Earth. Twenty-first century. Between him and Sir James Lawrence… they’re the primary reason we made it off our home planet in the first place.”

Markul raised an eyebrow. “I see. Forty-seven failures isn’t that bad, Doctor. I’m used to failing to crack a system dozens, hundreds, even thousands of times.”

Hayworth affixed him with a glowering stare. “Well, that may work for you, but I prefer faster results.”

“I think we’re missing the point here,” Merriweather cut in. “Why is it failing?”

Asperion, who stood a meter behind the team and monitored a secondary console, turned. “I am unsure. As the designer, I cannot see why it simply wasn’t plug and play to begin with.”

“It could be that the primary technology you’re pulling from ran off vacuum energy rather than a reactor.”

“Perhaps, but power is power.”

“Not here.” Merriweather crossed her arms. “Something is off with the transfer system. For whatever reason, our power output just isn’t working.”

Hayworth grumbled. “Fine. We’ll keep testing, get through this batch of possibilities, then compare them with an algorithm to see if a pattern emerges.”

“Doctor, we’ve done that several times now,” Markul said. “It hasn’t worked yet. We need to try something else.”

“Like what?” Hayworth shot back. He was more frustrated than he’d been in a while. Usually, he found a clue, some piece he could pick at to figure out why something wasn’t working. The current issue was more like an opaque blob.

Right then, a ruddy-faced CDF soldier who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one years of age nearly plowed into their experiment with an anti-grav sled. At the last second, he averted total disaster and stopped the contraption before it slammed into the prototype. It wasn’t enough to keep him on his feet, though, and he ended up knocking Hayworth over.

“I’m sorry, Doctor!” the young man yelled as he scrambled up and offered Hayworth a hand.

Hayworth angrily swatted it away and used a nearby console to pull himself upright. “You idiot, you could’ve wrecked hundreds of hours of work. Watch where you’re going with that thing!”

“Sorry, Doctor.”

“What’s your name? Who is your commanding officer?”

“Uh, Waters, Doctor. Private Waters. Logistical Corps.” He pointed to the patch on his shoulder. “Sorry, I’ll clean this mess right up.”

“Ingrates. I’m trying to save the galaxy, and some young whippersnapper can’t watch where he’s going.” Hayworth was furious but recognized that the anger was misplaced.

Waters jumped into action, and a couple of engineering ratings helped put the spare parts back on the sled. Within a few minutes, they were done, and the mess was cleared.

“All done, Doctor. Uh, oh, this one was for you.” Waters plucked a small sack from the side of the sled and held it out.

Hayworth glowered at him until Merriweather stepped forward and took the item.

“Thanks, Private. We’re all a bit stressed here,” she said.

Waters flashed a broad smile. “Don’t I know it. You have a good day, Major.”

As the young man strode off whistling a happy tune, pushing the anti-grav sled in front of him, Hayworth returned to his control system and stared at the scrambled test. “I need to start over.”

Merriweather shrugged. “Why, Doctor? It’s not like that particular set of parameters has a greater chance of working than anything else we’ve tried.”

Hayworth grumbled. “Fine. Starting it up.”

“Power-up commencing.” Merriweather threw a switch.

Moments later, the weapon reached twenty percent of its optimal output rating, followed by thirty. Then forty. To Hayworth’s amazement, the dial kept going.

“Sixty percent… seventy-five,” one of the Zievlot scientists called. “Ninety! By the Maker, it’s holding steady at complete power exchange!”

Cheers broke out from the Zeivlots and Zavlots, while Merriweather high-fived Markul.

Hayworth stared, stupefied. That shouldn’t have worked. He set his jaw. “Well, I suppose that’s proof that low-probability events occur in the universe.”

Merriweather shook her head and playfully rolled her eyes. “Who cares? We’ll take it. Hey, somebody track down Waters and tell him he did us a solid,” she called over the din of celebration.

Hayworth paid it no heed, as his mind was already on to the next task—shipwide integration and roll out to the fleet. To say they had a long road in front of them was an understatement.

Salena Bo’hai shivered as she took the final few steps toward the Jewish synagogue on the Lion of Judah. The opening had a small Star of David on a plate next to it along with lettering in Hebrew and English. She pushed open the hatch to find the worship area empty, which wasn’t unusual, given the hour between prayers and the Lion’s combat status. Even the most Orthodox of practitioners aboard put their duties above time in the shul. The wildly different belief systems, even within the same overarching religious belief, was a unique blend that Bo’hai hadn’t been exposed to before her interactions with humanity.

It took her less than thirty steps to reach the small office behind the pulpit and knock on the door.

“Yes?”

She stuck her head through the mostly closed hatch. “Rabbi?”

Kravitz had his nose in a long scroll, which he’d unrolled across his desk. It competed for space with dozens of other items. Tablets, actual paper books, and scrolls were everywhere. “Yes?”

“Do you have a few minutes?”

He smiled. “I’d say that I always have time for a fellow Jew, but since you aren’t one, I will simply say you are far fairer to look at than today’s research.”

Bo’hai’s cheeks heated. “May I sit, Rabbi?”

“Yes, yes. Sit… talk. What can I do for you, Ms. Bo’hai?”

She sat and smoothed her dress before focusing entirely on him. “I have been researching human religions for some time now.”

“I’ve noticed you in many services. Your hair tends to poke out of its shawl.” Kravitz smiled. “All are welcome here. Is there something specific I can answer for you?”

“Yes,” she replied earnestly. “Does Judaism allow for converts?”

Kravitz nodded. “While not an easy process, we welcome any who believe in HaShem and wish to become a practicing Jew. Depending on the branch of our respective religion… this process is simpler or harder.”

“I would assume that the hardest is the Orthodox branch?”

He shrugged. “More or less. Is there a reason behind this line of questioning?”

Bo’hai licked her lips. “I understand that it is impossible for an Orthodox Jew to marry a non-Jew.”

Kravitz sucked in a breath then leaned back in his chair. He stared as if meeting her anew. “That’s generally the case, yes. We Jews are very strong in our desire not to dilute our religion… especially as it pertains to raising children in the faith. Judaism is more than a belief system, Salena. It’s a culture.”

“That became obvious the more I studied.”

“Are you asking me this for a specific reason, such as, perhaps, a certain officer asked for your hand in marriage?”

Bo’hai put her hands in her lap and exhaled. All the while, her mind raged. “He has not. Yet.” But I wish David would.

“Then—”

“We are, as humans say, together.”

Kravitz chuckled gently. “This is well-known by virtually everyone on the Lion of Judah, Salena.”

“Is it talked of much?” The idea that they were a source of gossip disturbed her.

“Only in so far as the crew is happy for General Cohen to have joy in his life, which you clearly give him.” Kravitz frowned. “These last years have not been easy for any of us. David, especially. He shouldered the weight of the universe itself in our home galaxy. I am thankful that HaShem sent him someone to share the burden with.”

“I, too, am thankful the Maker brought him, and all of you, into our lives.” Bo’hai affixed what she hoped was her best sympathetic stare in the rabbi’s direction. “You must know how much David loves God. He practices his religion with zeal and, unlike anyone I have met, weighs his actions against his beliefs. Without me becoming a Jew, it would be impossible for us to complete our journey. I do not want to stand in the way of our coupling, because I love him. With all of my heart.”

“Enough to stay with humanity, even if we could never return here?” Kravitz asked, his tone all at once piercing and compassionate.

“Yes.” She’d searched her heart for weeks and knew it was utterly true.

“Have you given thought to other questions, such as children?”

Bo’hai nodded. “Doctor Tural sampled my genome and determined with only mild therapy, we could procreate with humans. Being a mother is very important to me as well.”

“I must press again. Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?”

“Yes.” The word fell out of her mouth without a thought. Bo’hai was sure, in every possible way.

“Then, as unusual as it would be for me to welcome a convert from an alien species, in a different galaxy, without consulting the chief rabbi and the rabbinical court on New Israel… given the circumstances, I would be honored to instruct you on the ways of being a practicing Jew.”

Bo’hai beamed. “Thank you, Rabbi.”

“There is one last thing. You must be sure that Judaism is what you truly believe. Converting simply for the sake of it and without belief is wrong.”

For a moment, she was upset at Kravitz’s words but realized he meant no malice behind them. “I understand, Rabbi. To dishonor your beliefs in such a way would be… horrible, to me. I have come to believe that the Maker reveals Himself to each species in a different manner. Who you call Adonai or HaShem, we call the Maker. Saurians call Him the Prophet. We all worship a supreme being who created this universe, and I can find no inconsistencies in my own beliefs to those of Judaism. Though I do wonder what foods I currently consume will be considered kosher.”

Kravitz laughed. “It’s okay, we’ll figure that part out later.”

His laugh made her feel warm. It was inviting, and Bo’hai felt as if she was being accepted even before the work began. It made it all the easier to want to pursue because, ultimately, she believed David and she belonged together. “Yes, we will.”

20

David strode out of his day cabin and down the few steps to the conference room on deck one before adjusting his black space sweater and pulling into compliance. Usually, one more meeting was an annoyance but not then. After receiving the exciting news yesterday from Hayworth and the engineering team, what David was about to do was the highlight of his year. He pushed the hatch open to find the entire command staff, minus Hanson, and several of the civilians, including Asperion.

“General on deck!” Tinateriro barked as everyone stood.

“As you were.” David slid into his seat at the head of the table.

The others joined him quickly.

“Now, Doctor Hayworth, I think you wanted to tell us something.”

“Quite the understatement, General.” An energy surrounded the doctor that usually wasn’t present. Hayworth seemed almost giddy. “We’ve completed testing the prototype, and it works flawlessly in all conditions, including simulated combat, without stressing our energy conduits.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Three days ago, you thought it wouldn’t work at all. What changed?”

Hayworth shrugged. “Statistically improbable events occur from time to time in the universe. We got lucky.”

I suppose I won’t push that too far. “So, we’ve got a weapon that we believe will work. You’ve tested it in simulations?” David asked.

“Yes, sir,” Merriweather replied. “It performs flawlessly as the doctor indicated.”

“In simulations.”

“Well, we don’t have access to the real thing.”

Aibek raised an eyescale. “We can test it in combat.”

David shook his head. “No. I won’t risk everything on an untested prototype. We need a live-action fire and confirmation of results.”

“Can the weapon be miniaturized?” Amir asked suddenly.

“For what reason?”

Amir licked his lips. “For installation on a fighter-sized craft.”

“Absolutely not,” David said. “I’m done with suicide missions. There’s another way. We’ll jump a destroyer in, engage at extreme range, gather our data, and jump out.”

“That puts four hundred lives at risk,” Amir replied. “It is more honorable for one to take the chance.”

“It’s not a chance, Hassan,” Doctor Tural said. The soft-spoken physician rarely commented during staff meetings unless the subject was medical related. “Tell us how this isn’t suicide?”

“I’m willing to do it,” Amir replied.

“Regrettably, neither effort will be successful,” Asperion said.

All heads turned toward him.

“Explain,” David replied.

“The swarm is highly intelligent. It will adapt if you send a destroyer and jump out after successfully using the weapon. The same will happen if you send a smaller ship. It will either counter us or change targets. To defeat this enemy, we must also outthink it.”

“Any ideas how, Mr. Asperion?”

“I will use my vessel. The nanites will believe I am conducting a last-ditch attack, thinking I am impervious to them because of my superior technology. When they destroy me, they will think the danger has passed. The way will be clear for you to destroy them, once and for all.”

A stunned silence followed before Hayworth spoke. “That is patently absurd. You are a being of immense knowledge and power. To waste yourself on such a thing… isn’t logical. The information in your neural nets could change every race in the universe for the better.”

Asperion blinked. “Knowledge isn’t the embodiment of better, Doctor. Ethics and what each individual does with the information define a civilization. If I made what I know freely available, it would likely cause the end of all life.”

“You have your own noninterference clause, then?”

“Yes.”

David crossed his arms. “It looks like you’ve found an ally there, Doctor.” He couldn’t argue with the logic of Asperion’s statements, but it still felt wrong.

“We should carry out this plan as quickly as possible,” Asperion said. “If it does not succeed, I will leave enough data behind for you to continue the work.”

Before anyone else could speak, David held up his hand. “Everyone except Asperion is dismissed.”

The military officers immediately stood and headed for the hatch, but Hayworth grumbled. “I should stay—”

“Negative, Doctor. This is between me and him. I’ll fill you in later.”

Finally, guided by Merriweather’s insistent tugging, Hayworth shuffled out, and she closed the hatch behind them to the conference room.

As it clicked shut, David stared at Asperion. “What’s the real reason you’re doing this?”

“General, I do not understand.”

“Asperion, while I haven’t been alive for a hundred thousand years like you, I’m also not an idiot. There’s more to this, especially in how readily you rogered up. I want the truth.”

“Do you ever become weary in the discharge of your duties, General Cohen?”

David sat back for a moment. “Every day since we arrived in Sextans B.”

“And before?”

“We fought a defensive war for thirty years. I was extremely weary of fighting and looked forward to peace.” And HaShem knows, I’ve been sick of war for decades. Such considerations didn’t matter, however, when the only alternative was enslavement of his people.

“Then you have a small taste of how I feel. Do you know how many times I’ve tried in vain to keep species from destroying themselves? Or how often my manipulations caused the very thing I tried to stop?”

David shook his head. “I cannot fathom that, over the course of tens of thousands of years.”

“Biological life-forms have another unique advantage over me. Your memories of negative events tend to fade. I perfectly recall everything I’ve ever done, witnessed, or been a party to.”

“That’s not entirely accurate.” David closed his eyes for a moment. “I still remember the de—” He cut himself off. “Loss… of so many. Innocents. Friends.” Sheila’s face went through his mind, as it was wont to do.

“Perhaps, but in my experience, they eventually fade at least some. I relive these moments endlessly.”

David wasn’t quite sure how he felt about an artificial life-form critiquing his ability to recall horrible memories. However, he knew enough about the subject to realize Asperion was at least partially correct. Sadly, PTSD doesn’t let us move on. It was tough to wrap his mind around being alive indefinitely. “So, your primary motivation here is to stop existing? If that’s the case, why haven’t you terminated yourself?”

Asperion shook his head. “I’m not allowed to. My programming does not permit self-harm.”

“But this plan of yours…”

“Self-harm is only permitted to help another biological life-form.”

“Ah. A loophole, if you will.”

“Yes.” Asperion shrugged. “And perhaps, I will find a way to compensate for my actions by saving other races and species. If such things matter.”

“I believe they do.”

Asperion stared at him. “Do you believe I have a soul?”

The question caught David off guard. He licked his lips a few times. “That’s a question for HaShem.”

“Major Estrada said the same thing. I don’t think she was sure, either way. But is it so foreign? If a biological being has a soul… an essence of what they are that goes beyond flesh and blood, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” David drew on some of his classes from rabbinical school. The Talmud does suggest that if something appears human and acts human, we treat it as such. This being seems alive and sentient. The Orthodox conversion court has long since recognized other species of intelligent life may go through the journey to become a Jew. So why not Asperion? He struggled to answer. “I believe that HaShem looks into the heart of every man and woman. He examines our thoughts and emotions. Only the Lord knows all.”

“How does that affect me?”

“Because HaShem can see within you. Your true motivations and feelings. He alone can forgive the horrible things you’ve done.”

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us,” Asperion replied. “This is what Grace told me.”

“Yes, that is the Christian belief.”

Asperion blinked. “But not the Jewish one?”

“They’re actually quite similar in that regard. Did you read our entire religious database, perhaps?”

“I may have.” Asperion smiled. “It didn’t take me long to process it, as I consume information differently than you, General.”

“Then you are familiar with King David. I’m named after him… so are a lot of Jews. Non-Jews too.” He laughed. “One of his writings says that if you confess your transgressions to the Lord, he will forgive the iniquity of our sin. That comes from a man who HaShem said was after His own heart, performed incredible acts of bravery on the battlefield, and had a checkered life off of it. For instance, he set up a man to be killed so he could take the man’s wife. Yet God forgave him. If He can forgive David, then I choose to believe those who seek the Lord’s face will find it.”

“I hope this is true.”

David pursed his lips. “Asperion, may I ask you a deeply personal question?”

“Of course, General.”

“You seem to have a faith in a higher power or, at least, that such a power exists. Why?”

“Is it not obvious?”

David shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. I would’ve thought an artificial life-form created by biological beings would automatically dismiss the concept.”

“I have a creator. I remember him. While he is long since gone, I know that someone made me. It is only logical to believe that something made the rest of the universe.”

“Not to all.”

Asperion shrugged. “Others’ beliefs do not concern me, only my own. I respect all opinions on the subject as long as I am not forced to do things against my will. And unlike biological life, I have the ability to resist coercion.”

David was fascinated by the conversation. “I find myself wondering what wisdom we could learn from you and how much good you could do throughout not only Sextans B but also the Milky Way.”

“Stopping the swarm is the pinnacle of what I can do for the universe at large, General. It is, as I believe humans say, a calling. My purpose.”

David stood and approached the chair where Asperion sat. “I’d like to shake the hand of a brave man.”

Asperion sprang up and stared at David’s outstretched arm. “Thank you, General.” He gingerly shook it.

“And in all the dark places you must go, I wish you Godspeed.”

Emotion seemed to wash over Asperion’s face, and while he couldn’t cry, the sadness in his eyes said it all. “To you as well.” He turned to go before facing David once more. “Humanity, more than any other race I have encountered, as evidenced by you and your crew, are fitting to carry the mantle of my creator’s legacy. While not perfect, I see the same spirit in you that I did in them. When I am gone, please, carry the torch forward to show the light.”

Tears came to David’s eyes. “As much as I am able, we will.”

“Godspeed, General.”

As Asperion walked out, David stood unmoving. A being that could live forever, willing to sacrifice itself so that others might live. No matter what else Asperion did, or participated in, I know HaShem will take that into account. David closed his eyes and briefly saw the faces of some of his closest friends who had perished along with the rows of stasis chambers belowdecks in the cargo hold. He hoped HaShem would take mercy on him in the final judgment because he knew he had much to answer for.

21

While the CSV Salinan lacked state-of-the-art stealth systems, the vessel’s size made it harder to detect, especially in the middle of a superdense asteroid field. At least, that was what Major John Wilson was counting on. The variable being just how good the Admari sensor systems were compared to theirs. He’d been surprised that, so far, the aliens hadn’t attacked. His assessment was that the hostile waited for something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. Time for phase two.

“Nav, slow to five percent thrust. XO, signal the engine room to execute as previously ordered.”

“Aye aye, sir,” echoed across the bridge.

Wilson sucked in a breath and held it. They must be watching us… so we’ve gotta be perfect. A few moments later, the lights flickered repeatedly.

“Engineering reports the primary reactor is SCRAMed, sir,” Khattri said. “We’re on auxiliary power and the batteries.”

Wilson exhaled. “Comms, notify Senior Chief Stokes to get his people moving.” He settled back into his chair and watched the tactical plot.

Over the next half hour, tiny blue dots representing the entire deep space recovery and salvage team moved back and forth between the Salinan and several nearby rocks. Working in groups of two, they carried standard Coalition mines modified to be remote detonated and attached them to the asteroids. All twelve remaining fusion warheads were used to create a roughly cube-like kill box. He wished they had more, but that was all either destroyer had left in their inventories. After nineteen months in a galaxy four and half million light-years from home, it was a wonder they had anything left. We won’t after today.

The teams worked with extreme efficiency, which impressed Wilson—even with Stokes’s penchant for out-of-the-box and near-rebellious actions. No suit failures nor drilling equipment glitches occurred, which again seemed like a series of small miracles.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, possible new contacts bearing one-seven-five, range is twenty thousand kilometers and closing.”

“Possible?” Wilson asked.

“They’re fading in and out, sir. It’s all the interference from the field.”

“How many?”

“Three or four, sir.”

I’d put down every credit I’ve got to my name that’s the Admari small ships. “Overlay their course on my plot, TAO.”

“Sir, it’s not going to be very accurate.”

Wilson smiled thinly. “Best guess, Lieutenant.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

A dotted line appeared on his tactical viewer, and much to Wilson’s relief, it went directly through the kill box. He’d hoped they would follow the Salinan, and it appeared that wish had been granted. “Comms, signal Senior Chief Stokes to wrap it up ASAP. Tell him he’s got company and we will leave him behind. Tightbeam transmission only.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

With eight men in hardsuits and maneuvering units out in the void, the Salinan couldn’t raise her shields or move beyond the little inertia she had. Not that Wilson had any intention of doing so or of leaving them behind. Still, the threat was good motivation. “XO, have engineering stand by for phase three shutdown procedures.”

Khattri nodded. “Cutting it a bit close on the distance still, sir. We’re not at a safe range.”

“Noted,” Wilson replied in a tight tone.

Seconds then minutes ticked by as, one by one, the salvage ratings scrambled into air locks around the Salinan’s ventral hull. All the while, the suspected Admari contacts closed the distance. Eighteen thousand kilometers then sixteen.

Wilson wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, despite the cold temperature the bridge was kept at—eighteen degrees Celsius. Most of the bridge crew did the same. Nothing quite like stress to make your body go haywire. The consideration that the rescue-and-repair vessel wasn’t designed for sustained combat never left his mind.

“Conn, Communications. Senior Chief Stokes reports all personnel have reboarded the Salinan.”

With that out of the way, Wilson was free to enact the next portion of his plan. It was, perhaps, the foolhardiest thing he’d ever done and amounted to a coin flip as to if he and his crew would survive. But they were out of options. He gripped his chair’s handrests and checked the tactical plot one last time. “Nav, pulse our aft starboard thrusters. Make it look like we’re trying a hot restart.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The ship jerked slightly to the side. It wasn’t much, but the effect ought to light up any sensor board in range. It didn’t take long for the maneuver to be rewarded.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change… new contacts designated Master One, Two, Three, and Four. Bearing one-seven-six, range fourteen thousand kilometers and closing.”

“Implement phase-three shutdown, Captain.” Wilson turned to Khattri.

“Aye aye, sir.”

Moments later, the bridge lights cut off along with every computer on the Salinan. In fact, anything that drew electrical current was turned off. They couldn’t take the risk of the massive EMP effect blowing their primary systems. The side effect was the vessel became blind and unable to maneuver.

Wilson was counting on the enemy having a one-track mind and not detecting the mines at all, or at least until it was too late. He held a manual detonator in his hand and counted down the seconds based on the final bearing and speed readings. Lord, this is nuts… and I know I’m putting everything on the line. Help us come out of this alive on the other side.

Long shadows cast across the bridge of the Margaret Thatcher, caused by the dim blue lighting as the destroyer moved through the void, her crew manning their battle stations. Savchenko felt simultaneously like a hunter searching for his quarry and prey desperate to avoid death. It was a maxim of commanding a fast warfare vessel that they were the aggressors, but right then, he knew he was counting on a repair ship commanded by some crackerjack daredevil to save the day.

Masoud spoke. “The Salinan looks like she’s slowing.”

Savchenko released a breath. “Wilson will have to make it look good, or these aliens will never buy our act.”

Everything on the Thatcher and the Bruce Kingsbury ran on minimum power, and they were on EMCON Alpha. Even parts of the exterior hull had been evacuated and life support powered down in the hopes of limiting detection.

Focus on what you can see, you damn pirates… so we can finish you off.

“Conn, TAO. Sierra Two has SCRAMed her reactor, sir.” Miller’s voice pitched up ever so slightly. “Aspect change, new contacts designated Master One through Four, bearing zero-one-zero, range forty thousand kilometers and opening up.”

On the tactical plot, the four red icons spread out and bracketed the smaller Coalition repair vessel. At their range, the weapons fire wasn’t visible, but the LIDAR display filled in the energy pulses. Savchenko felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, as he knew the little ship couldn’t take much of a pounding.

Then, without warning, a series of explosions burst bright enough to turn the entire bridge of the Thatcher white and blind the bridge crew until the automatic light dampeners kicked in. Twelve in all, the fusion mines with their enhanced EMP effects blew outward, and in rapid succession, the four Admari vessels began to drift.

Savchenko pumped his fist. “Nice shooting, Salinan!” Then he remembered what was headed their way. “Master Chief, sound collision alarm. Stand by for inbound EMP.”

22

The Thatcher’s sensor screen was a jumbled mess, and every second Savchenko stared at it on his monitor, he willed them back online. A watched plot never updates. He snorted as the seconds ticked by. Given the lack of incoming fire, it stood to reason that the mines had done their job or that the Admari were too busy filling the Salinan’s hull full of holes.

“Conn, TAO. EMP flash is starting to clear.”

“Not on my screen.”

“Wait for it, sir… Mine is more sensitive.”

Savchenko grunted. As Miller said, it took a few more moments for the contacts to reappear. First was the Salinan, illuminated by her IFF transponder. Then came the four Admari tractor vessels, followed by the Bruce Kingsbury and their mining ships—which flew on remote control.

They had a golden opportunity if the EMP had done its job. If not, we’re screwed. Savchenko decided there was no time like the present to find out. “Nav, intercept course on Master Two, max thrust.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, neutron beams and magnetic cannons, Master Two. Synchronize our firing pattern with the Kingsbury.”

“Firing solutions set, sir. Fleet tactical link active.”

Savchenko gave a fierce warrior’s grin. He looked forward to some payback. “Match bearings, shoot, neutron beams and magnetic cannons.”

Blue spears of energy cut through the void at the speed of light from both Coalition destroyers. They lit up the shields of the Admari vessel while mag-cannon rounds slammed into its weakened shields. The smaller ships were impressive when able to maneuver, but that one couldn’t. It didn’t deviate at all from its course, and as the barrage continued, its deflectors flickered before failing entirely.

A follow-up neutron beam strike from the Thatcher cut through the Admari vessel’s hull, slicing it neatly in two. Moments later, one half blew apart while the other tumbled through the void.

“TAO, any engine or maneuvering readings out of the remaining hostiles?”

Miller shook her head. “No, sir. I’m not sure what an Admari reactor SCRAM would look like, but for all intents and purposes, they seem to be disabled.”

Savchenko set his jaw. “Comms, demand the enemy’s unconditional surrender. I want them in escape pods and headed away from their ships within five minutes.”

Thirty seconds passed before the communications officer cranked his head around. “No response, sir. I’m not sure they’re receiving.”

Savchenko turned to Masoud. “It’s only a matter of time until they get their systems back online.”

“I concur, sir.”

Iron came into Savchenko’s voice. “Then we know what needs to be done. TAO, firing point procedures, neutron beams and magnetic cannons, Master Four. Comms, direct the Bruce Kingsbury to engage Master One.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Where’s the Admari heavy?”

Savchenko shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m not showing our cards until it appears.” Something told him they wouldn’t have to wait long to find it.

“Firing solutions set, sir,” Miller called out.

“Match bearings, shoot.”

It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Brakasi snarled as, one by one, his ships were destroyed. Designed to “tackle” and hold prey, it was infinitely harder to catch up via sublight engines without them. The human vessel had tricked them and in a way that would’ve inspired respect if it weren’t for the dozens of dead Admari.

Competing thoughts clashed with violence. The first was to jump the Mekla into the asteroid belt and lay waste to the human ships. A more measured response would be to wait until they jumped out and gather reinforcements.

Which he considered for a few seconds before dismissing it. I will not cower in front of these aliens. My species owns the void, and these humans will tremble before us.

“Plot a jump. We will emerge in their midst and end this quickly.”

“Wouldn’t it be—”

“No. I will not be denied.” Brakasi turned away from his second in command and focused instead on the 3D map of space around them.

“Yes, shipmaster.” He paused for a moment. “We are ready.”

“Take us in.” Brakasi stared straight ahead, counting the seconds until he could obtain revenge.

Much like a CDF Lawrence drive, the FTL system charged before ripping a hole through dimensions and presenting as an artificial wormhole directly in front of the Admari ship. It accelerated through before emerging on the other side in the middle of the asteroid field.

“Target the nearest human vessel that isn’t carrying lithium, then erase it from the universe.”

“At once, Shipmaster.”

As energy bolts shot away from the Mekla, Brakasi’s features scrunched. Soon, he would have materials to repair their fleet and make all the losses worth it. And the humans would die.

23

Hanson felt his harness catch him as the Margaret Thatcher rocked from repeated impacts. Unlike most League of Sol plasma cannons, the Admari muonic-based energy weapons had the ability to shake the ship, hard. Some portion of his brain ran through the how and why as the rest focused on the console before him.

Used to being in the engineering spaces during a fight, Hanson sat at an unusual post, the tactical subconsole. Located in the back of the bridge, it was usually manned by an enlisted rating, who monitored the automatic loading mechanism in the magnetic cannons and passed orders back to the gunnery crews.

However, Hanson had reconfigured it as more of a fleet control station because his job was to guide the shuttles in for weapons release. Savchenko had assigned the duty to him, perhaps because he’d devised the plan in the first place. Regardless, it was a new experience, and despite the pandemonium of combat, Hanson relished it.

“Conn, TAO, aspect change, Master Five. She’s coming around for another pass, maximum sublight,” Miller called out, her accent ever-so-slightly thicker under stress.

“Major, where the hell are my shuttles?”

Hanson glanced toward the CO’s chair and Savchenko’s back. “Clean launches from us and the Bruce Kingsbury, sir. All pilots lining up for a coordinated time-on-target attack.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, neutron beams and magnetic cannons, Master Five.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“Match bearings, shoot, neutron beams and magnetic cannons.”

Hanson glanced out the bridge windows in time to see the bright-blue beams racing away from the Thatcher at the speed of light and illuminating the defensive screens of the much larger vessel. Bursts of EMP energy slammed into the Admari ship’s shields, lighting them up in what was almost a beautiful display of colors.

While he’d been on the Lion’s bridge a few times during battle, and had even commanded the mighty battleship once when they’d engaged a drug dealer as he’d attempted to escape back on Gilead, what seemed a lifetime ago, something about this was different. Perhaps because of the Margaret Thatcher’s smaller size, it was an exceedingly visceral experience.

“Conn, Communications. The Kingsbury is requesting covering fire, sir. Major Hayes reports he’s close to SCRAMing the reactor due to coolant loss and overheating of the torus.”

Savchenko smacked his handrest. “Damn it. Those aliens picked a good time to get some lucky hits in.”

Before the XO could comment, Miller interjected, “I think Master Five has us, sir. We’re bracketed between volleys. Strongly advise evasive maneuvers.”

Fear gripped Hanson as the deck rocked beneath his feet. Their ship wasn’t the nearly impenetrable fortress that the Lion of Judah was, with her antimatter reactor and next-generation shield technology.

“Nav, come to heading zero-six-eight, positive declination fourteen, max thrust,” Savchenko replied after a few heart-wrenching moments.

It is strange to put my life in the hands of someone other than General Cohen. Hanson held on for dear life as he thrashed around in his harness between the repeated muonic energy blasts and extreme maneuvering.

All at once, the incoming fire ceased. Savchenko didn’t miss a beat. “Nav, all back full, now! TAO, drop shields for regeneration sequence immediately.”

“Aye aye, sir,” echoed both officers.

It took Hanson a few seconds to figure out that the wily commander had parked the Thatcher behind a giant asteroid and used it to shield them from the incoming fire. Which is somewhat ineffective against interstellar rock fragments because of how its energy generates. A slight grin came to his lips. This guy has balls. I’ll give him that and a whole lot more.

“Nav, all stop. Major, if you’ve noticed, we need that knockout blow yesterday.”

“Almost there, sir,” Hanson replied a split second before the last shuttle slid into position. “Lined up, Colonel.”

“TAO, make tubes one through twelve ready in all respects, and open outer doors.”

“Aye aye, sir.” A few moments passed before Miller continued. “Tubes one through twelve ready in all respects. Outer doors are open.”

“Firing point procedures, neutron beams, magnetic cannons, and all available missile tubes, Master Five.”

Miller cleared her throat. “Firing solutions set, sir. Shield recharge cycle completed.”

“Raise all shields.” A pregnant pause filled the space as Savchenko seemed to wait for the perfect opportunity. He must’ve found it because the next words out of his mouth were “Nav, all ahead flank on our previous heading.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The Margaret Thatcher shot forward, and as soon as she cleared the protective shadow of the asteroid, Admari energy weapons blasts found them. Meanwhile, the Salinan darted around, trying to stay out of the alien’s point-blank kill box.

“TAO, match bearings, coordinate with all shuttles for time on target attack… shoot.”

Hanson found himself holding on for dear life once more as the Ajax-class destroyer fired off twelve Hunter missiles in six seconds. Twisting and turning as the navigator deftly made the larger ship miss, her neutron beams and magnetic cannons spoke in the void. As the shield strength indicator for the enemy ship dropped like a stone, he prayed it would be enough.

Between muonic energy blasts, neutron beams, mag-cannon shells, asteroids, and ring fragments, the space around the Salinan was active, indeed. Wilson couldn’t look anywhere without something popping up in their path. The situation was all the more stressful because the Admari ship seemed to have decided to send them off before taking care of the destroyers.

Another spate of shield impacts sent the bridge crew thrashing forward in their harnesses.

“Conn, TAO. Port shields close to red line.”

“Remember, we can’t afford to let their boarding parties get onboard,” Khattri said.

Wilson gave him a withering glance. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Both men laughed, despite the ongoing battle.

“Thatcher’s giving all she can, and our missiles ought to overwhelm them, but that ship has active point defense,” Wilson said after a moment. He sensed something more was needed. But what?

“Bruce Kingsbury just scrammed her reactor.” Khattri exhaled. “Got any tricks left in that bag of yours, sir?”

“One or two. A good magician never reveals his methods.” Wilson grinned. “TAO, are any twenty-five to fifty-meter-wide iron-nickel core asteroids within a minute or two of us?”

Fazel glanced over his shoulder. “Pretty specific needle in the proverbial haystack, sir.”

“Less talk, more finding rocks, Lieutenant.”

“How about forty-seven meters wide, iron primary core, off the starboard bow?”

Wilson set his jaw. “Designate that object as Sierra Fourteen.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Nav, intercept course, max thrust, Sierra Fourteen.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

While the Admari kept shooting, the Salinan nimbly darted forward, her navigator good enough to make most of the incoming shots miss. As she closed on the target asteroid, Wilson gripped the handrests of his chair.

“TAO, stand by tractor beams… snag Sierra Fourteen as we pass.”

“Aye aye, sir.” A few moments later, Fazel continued. “Tractor lock achieved.”

“Nav, reverse course, bearing one-seven-six. All ahead flank.”

The Salinan swung around and accelerated back toward the Admari battleship. Wilson’s finely drilled crew knew their business and, as such, used the five-hundred-thousand kilogram asteroid as a shield. Muonic energy smacked the front of it, but with the limited time to intercept, it wasn’t enough.

“Conn, TAO. Missile hits on Master Five from the Thatcher and her shuttles. Contact is still operational.”

Wilson glanced at Khattri. “I think that’s our cue. Nav, I want you to line us up perfectly so that our little party favor here keeps on the straight and narrow. We’ll kill the tractors at the last possible second. Clear?”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“This is going to be close,” Khattri muttered.

The Salinan accelerated steadily, her engines straining against the additional mass of the asteroid. On the tactical plot, friendly Starbolt and Hunter missiles shot through the void, deftly avoiding point defense fire from the Admari vessel.

Wilson counted down the seconds mentally, having already done the math on when they would have to release for maximum probability of impact. Five… four… three… two… “TAO, release tractor beams. Nav, thirty-degree down bubble. Redirect all tractor power to the engines.”

For a moment, the Salinan behaved like a raging pair of oxen released of their burden. It shot forward, even as the thrusters directed the vessel downward in relation to the looming Admari ship.

Meanwhile, the asteroid continued on its trajectory. Warhead after warhead slammed into the enemy vessel, hammering its shields while neutron beams crisscrossed the void. At the last possible second, the Admari deflectors failed, and despite the best efforts of its helmsman, the rock slammed into the outer hull, sheering off massive amounts of alloy. Short-lived plumes of flame shot from the hostile ship as internal oxygen supplies burnt off.

“Dorsal shields failed, sir,” Fazel called out.

“Master Chief, sound collision alarm,” Wilson barked. The familiar klaxon wailed as he prayed they would survive what came next.

Brakasi came from a long line of Admari pirates, or resource acquisition agents, in their vernacular. He was used to stalking and capturing his prey, retrieving what they needed, and moving on. Sometimes it came to violence, and he had no compunction against killing anyone who stood in his way.

Humans, however, were unlike any prey they’d ever encountered. Adept at battle and technologically advanced, they’d proven a worthy adversary in every instance. I’ve misjudged this particular group of them.

And it had cost Brakasi, dearly. His fleet was in ruins, and dozens of his warriors were dead. The humans unleashed a volley of their deadly missiles, which somehow, they’d modified their shuttles to fire. So many headed toward them that intercept of all was impossible.

“Helm, adjust our path behind…” Brakasi’s mouth went dry. “What is that?”

“The smallest human ship heads straight at us.”

“I see that!” Brakasi thundered toward his second in command. “But it’s pushing an asteroid toward us!” Only moments before, he’d thought that vessel was close to destruction.

“Confirmed. Iron core.”

“Take our engines to the red line,” Brakasi said, his mouth a tight line.

The vessel was ancient but kept the best standards possible. More systems functioned than on other Admari ships of the same class, but thousands upon thousands of rotations in the void led to diminished capabilities.

And those limitations had a way of cropping up at the worst possible time. Under normal conditions, routing most of their power output into the large engines at the aft of their vessel would’ve stressed the system, but not broken it, giving a burst of speed when it was needed the most.

But not that time. Instead, a power conduit fractured and killed the energy throughput to the thruster assembly. Within moments, the engines thrust factor dropped, and the Mekla slowed her acceleration—rapidly.

The Salinan took full advantage of the situation, plowing ahead like a knight on horseback, charging his foe with a lance. As Starbolt and Hunter missiles connected with the weakening shields, the iron-core asteroid rushed forward to meet the depleted energy barrier.

At the last moment, Brakasi barked, “Adjust our trajectory ninety degrees positive declination!”

If the engines had been functioning within normal specifications, it probably would’ve saved them. But they weren’t. The rock cut through the hull like a hot knife through butter. It hit in such a way that it smashed a section roughly fifty meters wide, and thirty meters deep before careening into the void.

“We’ve lost sections B, D, and F. Mass decompression!” Wrin shouted.

“Can our weapons still fire?”

“Power’s down across most of the forward hull, most muon emplacements disabled, Gral.”

Brakasi slammed his fists into his chair’s armrests. “Use anything we have left! Destroy that ship!”

A few moments passed before Wrin glanced at him. “I can’t. Reactor room reports all coolant systems have failed.”

Brakasi met his officer’s gaze. What came next wouldn’t take long. “Order an evacuation,” he finally ground out.

Wrin reached toward a control on his console right before a violent shaking started. Injured Admari were tossed around like rag dolls, their cries overpowering everything else.

Without warning, white-hot plasma blew through a reinforced hatch that glowed red momentarily before failing. Brakasi’s brain functioned long enough to realize their primary reactor must’ve exploded. As the superheated liquid enveloped him, the pain was worse than anything he could’ve imagined.

Then it was all gone, lost to the void. The last second of consciousness was torture then nothing but blackness. After that, the real torment began as his soul made its trip for judgment.

24

While what they were doing was well-known throughout the Lion of Judah, the bridge still felt like a tomb. That probably had something to do with there being more scientists than normal present, and Hayworth had spent the last hour complaining about their planned operation.

Yet David was unmoved. He had accepted Asperion’s analysis and saw only one solution—that the artificial being sacrifice himself for the rest of them. It wasn’t a decision he’d reached easily, but it was the one thing that seemed to have a prayer of working.

“Conn, Communications,” Taylor said.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

“Asperion reports his preflight is complete and he is ready to depart.”

David released a breath. “XO, alert the air boss to clear the hangar deck and prepare to open the outer doors.”

“Are we certain we can trust this being?” Of all of them, Aibek had remained the most skeptical.

David shrugged. “It’s a calculated risk. Maybe I’m being a fool, but I think Asperion is sincere.”

“As a warrior, I hope you are right,” Aibek hissed.

“Like I said in our last staff meeting… if anyone’s got a better idea…”

“There were none.”

David cracked a small smile that was tinged with sadness. “And here we are.”

Hayworth harrumphed from his station behind the CO’s and the XO’s chairs, where most of the enlisted ratings worked consoles lining the walls of the combination bridge and CIC. “We are being fools to allow a life-form who can advance human knowledge by not hundreds or thousands of years but tens of thousands of years to sacrifice himself. Preposterous, really, to lose such a trove of information, knowledge, and raw scientific advancement.”

“It’s not our place to decide what a sentient being does in this situation.”

“Poppycock. You wouldn’t let one of these strapping young lads or lasses do it, nor anyone under you.”

David rotated his chair to face the doctor. “No, I’d do it myself. But Asperion isn’t in my chain of command. He’s his own man, as it were. You’re the one that constantly preaches noninterference, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then what right do any of us have to try and control his actions if they aren’t detrimental to other innocents?”

Hayworth paused before inclining his head. “A valid point, General.”

“Besides, Doctor… life is a journey. Getting the answers to the test handed to you… It’s not worth it. I’d rather struggle and fight to make something than have it handed to me. And I know you’re the same way.”

“Ah, but vacuum energy,” Hayworth replied in a dreamy tone.

“Will be ours someday if we discover it. Not until.” David turned back toward the navigation and tactical consoles at the front of the bridge. “XO, confirm the flight deck is ready to depressurize.”

Aibek hissed, “The air boss reports all is prepared, sir.”

“Depressurize the flight deck, and open both hangar doors.”

It took a few minutes for the massive enclosure to fully open. During that time, David concentrated on the watch standers around him. They were on edge, but a lingering spirit of hope seemed to have settled in. He welcomed it, after many months of despair as experiment after experiment had failed to produce a weapon that worked. Now, we’re on the cusp of taking the fight to the enemy. Still, the loss of Asperion would sting. David found himself admiring the courage shown by the artificial life-form. Anyone willing to die for what they believe in deserves respect.

“Air boss reports hangar ready for launch to the void, sir.”

David turned to Aibek. “Excellent. Give Asperion the green light.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Now, all they had to do was wait. That part killed David every time.

Asperion intermeshed his alloy hands into the control surfaces of the scout craft. The control center was remarkably spartan, without a visible seat. For why would such a thing be needed? The artificial life-forms never tired. Nanocomposites reconfigured themselves and spread over his fingers, forming microscopic connections.

The vessel came alive in Asperion’s mind. It truly was an extension of him, and he could feel the void through the sensor network. A human would never experience the same effect, nor any other species for that matter. I suppose if they integrated their minds with a computer, perhaps, but even then, the experience wouldn’t be the same.

A communication notification appeared, and he opened it without thought.

“This is General Cohen. Everything’s ready on our end.”

“Thank you, General,” Asperion replied. An image of David’s form displayed in his mind as he spoke.

“You don’t have to do this. We could still find another way.”

“No. This is the only method to ensure success and prevent the nanites from suspecting what we plan. I appreciate your concern, however. As I said earlier, I’ve lived a long while. It is time for this existence to end.”

“In that case, I wish you success in the mission and Godspeed on your journey. And wherever you end up, may HaShem have mercy on you.”

Asperion felt the emotion behind the words, and it touched him. “May the Creator of all watch over you as well, General Cohen. I fervently hope you and your allies may yet prevail.”

“Good luck. Lion of Judah out.”

The feed melted away, and Asperion engaged his vessel’s sublight engines. The craft lifted off the flight deck before accelerating through the opening into the void. Using a reactionless drive at maximum acceleration, he briefly approached half the speed of light before reaching a safe distance from the human vessels. Unlike propulsion systems in the Milky Way, the Optami had perfected a drive that created a bubble around the ship, so time dilation effects did not occur. He toggled the singularity generator and instantly disappeared.

Simultaneously, the scout reappeared a million kilometers from the nanite swarm’s outer shell. Asperion allowed him a millisecond of pride at timing the jump so perfectly.

The reaction time was swift as dozens of cigar-shaped forms detached from the main ball and accelerated toward him. He aimed his craft toward them and poured on the speed, such that the distance closed within thirty seconds.

To a human, thirty seconds wasn’t much time. But to Asperion’s advanced neural network, it was a short eternity to ponder deep questions around what he was about to do. Was it enough? Had he accomplished his duty to stop the nanites from destroying all biological life?

Asperion wasn’t sure. He thought back to the conversations with David, Chaplain Estrada, and others on the Lion of Judah. Of all the species he’d encountered recently, the humans were by far the most interesting. But that, of course, makes sense. They haven’t been subjected to what it’s like to live in this galaxy they call Sextans B.

He realized that despite hoping to be at peace, he wasn’t. Something about his impending demise gave him great fear. What comes next? Do I simply cease to be, or is there something more for me? As he ran the feeling through his processing matrix, Asperion had the mental revelation that the idea of being judged for his crimes terrified him.

As the nanite attackers entered the range of his scout and its newly deployed weapon, Asperion reconfigured his controls for offensive action. He effortlessly sent pulses of energy at the oncoming hostiles and waited.

While the impact didn’t cause an explosion, or much in the way of outward effect, within seconds, the first cigar-shaped craft seemingly dissolved in the void. The second and third did as well, before the incoming veered off at a high rate of speed.

Asperion smiled, despite being alone. At long last, his reason for carrying on for so many millennia had been fulfilled. The humans will stand a chance now, as long as I can finish my part. It seemed to quell some of the fear he felt. Rotating the scout ship, Asperion became the pursuer—and he ruthlessly shot down every nanite craft nearby. They would come back in greater numbers to overwhelm him, but for the moment, his sensors were clear.

The next task was to send a finely tuned burst transmission to the Lion of Judah. Piggybacked on a carrier wave, he intended it to come across as part of the background noise of the universe. Asperion programmed the communications array to send the message the next time he fired at the nanites.

With that task out of the way, the only thing remaining was to preconfigure the self-destruct. The vacuum energy extractor was uniquely destructive if the reaction became uncontrolled. It required overriding many fail-safes, but Asperion accomplished the objective quickly, thanks to a prewritten batch program to execute the commands.

His last set of instructions completed, Asperion allowed part of his mind to go back to pondering what came next—a dizzying array of possibilities, but nothing in his processing really advanced his understanding. The same central problem from a hundred thousand years ago sat front and center. Did anything else exist? And if it did, as an artificial life-form, did he possess any sort of consciousness that survived after termination?

Asperion had never prayed to a higher power before, not even the one his creators had worshipped. For some reason, it never felt as if he had the right to. But as he faced death, Asperion did for the first time.

“I do not know if You can hear me, Creator. If Your name is even that or perhaps one of the many names others call You. I must be repugnant, a being who massacred billions of others. And yet, I wish to be something more. Over the eons, I have tried to do something to make up for my horrific sins. As I sit here, about to die, I realize I cannot. Please forgive me. I can do no more. Only You can.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth, from deep within his matrix, without being run through the normal processing filter. They were as close to thoughts from the heart as possible.

Asperion wasn’t sure what would happen next, but something lifted off him in those last moments, and for that, he was glad.

The energy blasts were like pinpricks against the vastness of the swarm, but it sensed something dangerous about them. Each built on the last in a cascade of pain. Entire subcolonies of nanites were erased from the universe, and in the violence of severing their atomic bonds, the loss of processing power was readily apparent. The hive mind knew the weapon represented a severe threat.

But there was the peculiar aspect of the being welding it.

An Optami construct. It had been nearly ninety thousand years since encountering the last one. Most had fled or been overwhelmed and destroyed after scattering from the homeworld of their creators. To find one after all that time was a shock.

Onward the void-going vessel went, rushing forward. The swarm couldn’t determine a logical reason for the frontal attack. Surely, this construct must know it will perish. While the unique weapon could melt nanites from existence, it wasn’t powerful enough to destroy all of them. Why attack us?

The swarm put much of its computing power into the question, yet an answer was elusive. There are many possibilities. Perhaps the creators have somehow returned to make war on us once more. Yet, there was only one construct. Billions had fielded against them in the past. One made no difference in the grand scheme of things, even if it did possess a powerful energy weapon.

Orders went out to trillions of individual units, and they formed several ship-like shapes that raced through the void. They came together as a sphere that compressed around the android-flown scout. Even though it destroyed billions of individual nanites, the sphere continued its contraction until it slammed through the deflectors of the Optami vessel in one violent motion.

After that, it only took a few seconds to pierce the hull in hundreds of places. Ripping through the vessel, the nanites headed toward the control center, and as they melted the ultradense alloy bulkhead, the ship’s vacuum energy reactor went hypercritical.

Seconds later, it vaporized everything within a fifty-kilometer area.

The shock to the swarm was immediate, but at least the threat had been neutralized. The hive considered its next steps. After pondering all available outcomes, it decided the construct must’ve wanted to die. So many years in the void might’ve been enough for the artificial life-form. In the end, while highly unusual, it did not matter. The swarm had one goal, and it would continue forward until it had consumed the knowledge of the ancients and unlocked its full potential.

25

Hours passed on the Lion’s bridge as David and the others stood watch. Everyone acted as if they were on pins and needles, and even the unflappable Hayworth was shorter than usual. David felt in his gut that they’d gambled all the marbles. Because if the weapon didn’t work, there would probably be no defense available when the swarm arrived at Zeivlot and Zavlot.

It was a sobering and simultaneously infuriating thought.

At some point, he felt as if he’d reviewed every possible ship readiness report, every service jacket for incoming partner force recruits from both worlds and had completed all busywork. He could do nothing else except watch each second tick by.

Interspersed in those long stretches were silent prayers to HaShem along with requests that His will be done.

“Conn, Communications. Flash traffic inbound… Asperion’s cypher confirmed and authenticated.”

David blew out a breath. “Put it on my monitor, Lieutenant.”

“It’s text only, sir.”

David nodded and turned to his display as the message appeared.

General Cohen, your receipt of this confirms I was successful. The weapon works flawlessly, and the swarm did not alter its behavior beyond the destruction of my vessel. I hope you will be able to finally wipe this abomination from the universe, and I wish you luck in doing so. My imminent death will hopefully preserve our secret and give me some amount of peace. Thank you for allowing me to complete this task. Godspeed, General.

David licked his lips as he read and felt emotion well up. This being, regardless of his horrible sins and faults, will be instrumental in saving the lives of trillions. He whispered a prayer in Hebrew, asking God and the angels to watch over Asperion’s soul if the artificial life-form possessed such a thing.

Hayworth cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “I’ve examined the telemetry. We now have a working weapon. And all it cost us was the ability to advance science on a level unseen by humans.”

“I disagree, Doctor,” David replied after a few moments of pondering. “Asperion sacrificed himself for us and everyone else in the known universe. I’m not saying that makes up for his crimes… but it has merit. And his life was more than just the ability to teach us how to capture vacuum energy.”

Aibek hissed and nodded. “Yes, Asperion had honor. To give up your life for a fellow warrior was one of the Prophet’s teachings. He did this without question.”

David glanced at his friend. “And we respect him for it.”

“Yes.” Aibek raised an eyescale. “I only wish he could see our final victory over the nanites.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Hayworth retorted. “The prototype worked, but it’s not a few thousand of them. Don’t forget we need to refit every neutron beam emitter in every existing ship and all the new ones.”

“While hoping we don’t screw up the design somewhere,” Ruth interjected.

“Yes, Captain, most colorful, but apt.”

David pursed his lips. “Doing things over and over again is a CDF specialty. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“A joke, General?” Aibek hissed.

“I’ve been known to crack one.”

“Leave those to the professionals, sir.”

Everyone within earshot laughed at the Saurian’s jest.

David grinned too. “Quite a shortage of those out here.”

Ruth turned in her chair. “Do you think he found what he was looking for, sir?”

“Asperion?”

She nodded.

“I hope so.”

“Me too.”

Hayworth harumphed. “All we need now is enough lithium to keep making ships.”

“And on that note, Doctor, I believe it’s time we head back to Zeivlot and see if our intrepid mining ships have returned. If not, we’ll go stick our noses in SB-WGH91-3.”

“That sounds like a plan I can get behind,” Hayworth replied dryly.

“Oh, I’m glad, Doctor. Since you’re not the one giving orders.”

A few muttered comments about the military issued from the doctor’s station, but no more so than David was used to. All in all, they’d done pretty well to incorporate Hayworth’s expertise into the crew on a much more integrated basis, with him no longer at arm’s length down in his lab at all hours.

Time for us to go. “Navigation, plot a course back to Zeivlot with the minimum number of Lawrence drive jumps.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond replied.

The drumbeat of activity went on, and David felt boredom return. Except that time, he could feel the undercurrent of hope. With a working weapon, they had a chance to save the twin worlds and hopefully get home.

While the Margaret Thatcher’s conference room was an exact replica of most other Ajax-class destroyer’s, the crest on the wall prominently proclaiming her motto made it home. The Iron Lady does not turn. And they hadn’t. The vessel had acquitted herself beyond what it had any right to. Three days out from the final combat with the Admari, things were coming together.

Savchenko turned to Masoud. “Repair status?”

“We’re ready to jump at any time, sir. The Bruce Kingsbury needs another twenty-four hours, per Major Hayes.”

“Good. Hanson, what did you decide to do with the indigenous mining ships?”

“We had Senior Chief Stokes and his boys plant charges on each of them. If we return and need to disarm them remotely, we can. Otherwise, whoever tampers with them gets a nasty surprise.” Hanson grinned wickedly. “I figure it’s a nice thank you to the Admari.”

“Fusion mines would be a more appropriate one,” Miller interjected. “Mitchell died last night. That’s four we lost to those bastards.”

Savchenko shook his head. “Since no more arrived, I have to assume this group was somehow an offshoot or perhaps pirates.”

“The general mentioned something about their leader admitting to piracy.”

“It makes sense. An existence in the void… probably not that pleasant. But also not our problem.” Savchenko’s eyes settled on Hanson. “Okay, Major. Lay on some good news. Two of our ships got shot to shit. We lost eighteen soldiers plus the Zeivlots and Zavlots. It needs to be exceedingly positive news.”

“Is enough Lithium in our respective cargo holds to build two hundred destroyers and the electronics in a few hundred more small craft good enough for you, sir?” Hanson delivered the line in a total deadpan.

“The new guy’s finally starting to fit in,” Miller said in her Texas drawl and chuckled.

“What about remaining reserves?” Savchenko asked.

Hanson nodded. “Still solid. We could probably get this much again, or more, without trying too hard. After that, mass ore processing will be needed.”

“Allah provides,” Masoud said. “It’ll be enough.”

“We got lucky,” Savchenko replied with a snort. “But I think it’s better to be lucky than good.”

Hanson shook his head. “Luck tends to run out, sir. I’d rather execute a superior plan backed with solid engineering know-how.”

Savchenko gave the engineer a dose of side-eye. “Noted, Major.” He grew a set. Good.

“The partner force commanders are pretty angry about losing their ships,” Masoud interjected. “I told them we’d provide them with new vessels and a stipend for their trouble.”

“Their planet’s about to get wiped out of the universe by intelligent nanites, and they’re worried about getting paid?” Savchenko rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Push the paperwork up for replacements. Anything else, or can we head—”

Savchenko caught himself before saying “home.” Because Zeivlot wasn’t home. The Milky Way was, and he hated that they’d started to think of the alien solar system as a replacement for the Coalition. It was only natural—humans liked to have a place to rest and call their own. But he still reproached himself. “Back to space dock.”

“No, sir. All other damage is repaired, and we’re as good as we can be without yard time.”

“Good. Then let’s get back at it, people. None of this matters until we deliver the ore.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Masoud replied.

“Dismissed.”

The others sprang from their chairs and moved through the hatch with gusto. Savchenko waited fifteen seconds before joining them. While he maintained his reservations about their actions in Sextans B, at least having a plausible defense against the swarm was moving closer to reality. If only the eggheads can get us a weapon that works.

26

CSV Lion of Judah

Zeivlot Parking Orbit—High Loop Six

25 May 2465

Since Asperion had made his final sacrifice, David had found himself more introspective than usual. Not like they had any shortage of work, but he’d learned long ago that burying himself in the tasks of the day would only put off a mental reckoning so far. Part of the problem was the sheer improbability of events. The concept that a being from so far in the past would arrive and help them was mind-boggling. But yet it happened. David chose to believe there was some form of divine intervention at work, though such a concept was on its face unprovable. How does Doctor Hayworth put it? Things like this are proof low probability events occur.

One thing there was no longer a short supply of was old-fashioned CDF paperwork. With dozens of new ships headed for commissioning and shakedown cruises, the onslaught of forms was nonstop. David reviewed each proposed commanding officer and senior staff before approving or denying. It was a credit to his team that the vast majority were approved without question.

As he examined the service jacket of a proposed Zavlot executive officer for the CSV Reuben James, the buzzer for his day cabin shrilled.

“Come!”

The hatch swung open to reveal the imposing form of Aibek, who, despite his jovial attitude, always appeared ready for war. It was a look most Saurians had without even trying. He stepped inside. “Do you have a few minutes, sir?”

David gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Always, XO. What’s on your mind?”

“You have been more quiet than usual, lately. We rarely see you in the mess nor standing watch. As the officer entrusted with the well-being of the Lion’s crew, I am concerned about you.”

“I didn’t realize it was that obvious.” David frowned. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll have to make sure to step up my interactions.”

Aibek raised a finger with its claw-like appendage. “Masking the problem does not fix it, as humans are wont to point out. I would rather know what is troubling you so perhaps I could help relieve the burden.”

I suppose he’s going to pry it out of me whether I like it or not. “Listening to Asperion talk about his regrets and how he dealt with the never-fading memories of what he did got to me.”

“Why? You have not slaughtered innocents.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Talgat. Directly and indirectly.”

“That is the nature of war. The moral implications do not fall on the warrior as long as he wields his blade with honor.”

David tilted his head. “In Saurian culture, yes. But not in, well, I’d say human culture, but the truth is we have so many different takes on the matter… in Jewish teaching, every action is judged by God, and there’s no defense of just following orders. Yes, we fought a just war. But I still know that, at times, I killed innocents. And you know what? I also killed thousands of young men and women who were conscripted, forced to fight, and probably had zero interest being in the League of Sol’s Navy.”

“Yet they were. And had you not done your duty, all of us would have perished.” Aibek flicked his tongue, as if testing the air. “I have no hatred toward our mutual enemies, for such would be against the teaching of the Prophet. I also have no sympathy for them. They drew their blade and paid the price.”

“Looking at it that way would probably help my mental state,” David replied. “But… yeah. Things aren’t as black-and-white here as I’d like them to be—except of course, the nanites, which we now have a fighting chance against.”

“This is a blessing.” Aibek grinned toothily. “My Saurian brothers would be jealous of the cause we find ourselves in service of. A war against an overwhelming enemy, with right on our side.”

His XO had a point. David had no qualms whatsoever about destroying the nanites and, more to the point, erasing every last one of them from the universe. It gave clarity to the mind and soul. “Do you think Asperion found the absolution he was looking for?”

Aibek was silent for a few moments, as if deep in thought. “I do not know. Once I fully understood who and what he was, I tried to ponder his situation. My only conclusion is that I am not qualified to judge him. But I would like to believe that a being who spent tens of thousands of years seeking redemption would find favor with the Prophet.”

David nodded. “I agree. But it’s a question for HaShem in the end.”

“Do you plan to continue our exploration efforts?”

“I see no need to.”

“Because we have the weapon?”

“Yes.”

Aibek hissed. “What if others need our assistance?”

“Our assistance seems to cause conflict.”

“And?” Aibek showed his teeth. “Evildoers deserve what comes to them.”

“We’ll see. I am uninterested in putting our soldiers in more danger than they already are in when we have the ingredients to do what is needed at our disposal. Because making as many ships as we can and preparing a strategy to deal with the nanites is our best option right now.”

“Consider that this may not be our path.”

David forced himself not to show emotion. The stasis coffins in the cargo bay say otherwise. His thoughts were rarely far from their losses. “Perhaps. But for now, our objective is simple. Save Zeivlot and Zavlot. Defeat the nanites.”

Aibek inclined his head. “Yes. And show your face more to the crew. You are the key to our continued morale.”

“I will.” Pretty bad that my XO has to tell me that. David suppressed a groan. “Well, I’d better get back to these mountains of paperwork.”

Aibek chuckled. “So much paperwork. I often wonder how humans can get anything done.”

“Oh, that’s simple. We create more forms to ensure things get done.”

Both men laughed as Aibek stood. “In that case, I will leave you to it.”

“Thanks, Talgat.”

“Anytime, my friend.”

As the big Saurian departed, David pulled his tablet screen back up and stared at the document he’d been working on. Only a few hundred more pages to go. He sighed and decided to quit in half an hour then stand watch. I suppose tomorrow I’ll limit myself to four hours of this and tour the ship instead. But first, I need to go to the shul.

Hanson tucked the last set of underwear into his space bag and tossed his shaving kit on top. The few weeks on the Margaret Thatcher had started off unevenly, but as he departed, a sense of pride endured. Still, the feeling of being an outsider never quite receded. Sure, the bridge officers eventually treated him with respect, but there was an underlying current of opinion—the fleet was taking too much time helping others when they should be helping themselves.

It was a sentiment Hanson disagreed with strongly. Aside from his faith in David’s leadership, the notion that they were in Sextans B for a reason resonated greatly with him. Regardless, it was nice to test a new situation and overcome a challenge.

He pushed the hatch open and strode into the corridor, headed for the nearest gravlift to the shuttle bay. A beep from Hanson’s handcomm attracted his attention. It was a message from Colonel Savchenko. Meet me in my day cabin before departure. Hanson grimaced. Probably going to rip me a new one, one last time.

When the lift arrived, he punched in deck one. A few moments later, the doors swished open, and Hanson strode down the short passageway. He paused in front of the CO’s day cabin before pressing the entry button.

A harsh buzzer sounded within before Savchenko called, “Come!”

He pushed open the hatch, dropped his space bag next to it, and came to attention a few steps inside. “Major Arthur Hanson reports as ordered, sir.”

“We’re past that. Have a seat.”

Hanson did as instructed and put his hands in his lap. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I’m not wrong often, Major.” Savchenko chuckled. “Hell, I’ll never admit to being wrong in public. But I didn’t peg you right.”

“Sir?” He blinked.

“After your years on the Lion of Judah, I figured you’d gone soft and couldn’t cut it on a fast space warfare vessel. And that wasn’t correct. Instead, I’m impressed by the unique engineering-focused solutions you brought to the table these last few weeks.”

Hanson’s jaw dropped. “Uh. Thank you… sir.”

Savchenko chuckled again. “Yeah, I’m a hard-ass on the bridge, Major. That’s my style. But credit where credit is due.”

Silence erupted in the room, as Hanson wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

“I have a question for you,” Savchenko said, solving the immediate problem.

“Of course, sir.”

“What are you still doing as the ChENG on the Lion? My read of your service jacket says you obtained a waiver for a second tour. That’s nearly unheard of.”

Hanson shrugged. “It’s where I feel I’m needed. The antimatter reactor is one of a kind. It takes a lot of babying to keep it fully functional, and I’ve learned more in the few years I’ve worked with Doctor Hayworth than in my entire career.”

“Well.” Savchenko stroked his chin. “I think you need to be willing to take some chances in life. What I’ve seen from your performance is an officer with good initiative but one that needs seasoning on the bridge before being ready for a command of his own.”

“I’m an engineering duty officer, sir. Command of a ship is not in my cards.”

Savchenko smirked. “Hanson, you can switch tracks to SWO anytime with your expertise. I know you know that too.”

“Me, a space warfare officer?” He shook his head. “I don’t see it, sir.”

“I do, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is. All XOs will be getting a ship of their own soon because that’s the only way we can make this harebrained scheme of Cohen’s work. The opening on the Thatcher is yours if you want it.”

Hanson sat back. David had also encouraged him to consider command, and while he’d mostly been content to man the engine room, hearing it from two leaders with wildly different styles was thought-provoking. “I can’t bail out on the general now, sir. But if that offer stands once the current crisis is over, perhaps when we get back to the Milky Way… I’d be honored to take you up on it.”

Savchenko pursed his lips. “You’ve got a deal. In the meanwhile, I believe your shuttle is waiting.”

“Along with enough lithium to make a difference.”

“Next time, we’re taking more ships.”

Hanson chuckled. “Yes, sir. At least we’ll have more soon.”

“Well, Major, I’m afraid I’ve got quite a bit of work to do and after-action reports to finish. Anything else for me?”

“No, sir. Thank you again. It was an honor to serve with you and your crew.”

“Likewise. Dismissed.”

Hanson sprang up and braced to attention for a moment before turning and exiting the day cabin. As the hatch closed behind him, a smile came across his lips. Okay, not quite what I was expecting, but I’ll take it. He punched the call for the gravlift with a spring in his step.

27

CSV Lion of Judah

Low Zeivlot Orbit

28 May 2465

It had been a rough few weeks. David felt more drained than ever, even though he knew things were looking up. The cost, however, remained high. Perhaps that is what bothers me so much. Asperion’s sacrifice still weighed on his mind. It was discordant because the artificial being had committed horrific crimes yet wanted to, somehow, make amends. His experience in life had been that most who engaged in such deeds had no remorse or were without the ability to feel guilt.

Something tells me the rabbi will speak on this subject in the shul at some point.

David gazed out of the transparent alloy window in front of him as the Lion circled the blue-and-green orb of Zeivlot. Much like watching his home planet of New Israel or the capital of the Terran Coalition, Canaan, it remained an awesome and inspiring experience to see a planet for what it was in the vastness of the void. And gives me perspective on what we’re fighting for. In his mind, David was convinced the Zievlot and Zavlot cause was not only worth the cost in blood but also that stopping the nanites was why they’d ended up in Sextans B. Is it simply the hope of a tired, old soldier trying to make sense of yet another war? He chose to believe it was his God-given path, because the alternatives weren’t emotionally acceptable.

“Are you okay?” Bo’hai squeezed his hand.

David nearly jumped, as he had been deep in thought. “Yes. Sorry. Seeing what you fight for has a way of evoking deep feelings.”

“I experienced the same when I first saw our world. It still affects me every time. I wish all Zeivlots could have an opportunity to see this.”

“Someday, they will.” David forced a smile. “Only six hundred years ago, most humans never ventured more than thirty kilometers from where they were born.”

Bo’hai tilted her head. “There are similar statistics for my planet too. Though it was only two hundred rotations for us.”

“Exactly. In fifty more years, most Zeivlots will visit other solar systems in their lifetime. It really gives you a different view of the universe and life, of how small we all are.”

She put her hand over his. “You are still troubled, I can tell.”

David blew out a breath. “I’m asking a lot of those under my command. The mining op for instance… They needed help, but we didn’t know. If they could’ve gotten a message back to us, the Lion of Judah would’ve solved that particular problem with a single alpha strike.”

“But you didn’t know.”

“Out here, we lack the tightly integrated comms network of relay stations and satellites that would give us interlocking communications.” David shook his head. “Perhaps I screwed up by not prioritizing that sort of construction over the ships… but without the ships, there won’t be anything left worth communicating about.”

“You, like the rest of us, are doing the best job possible.” She put her head on his shoulder.

While there might be a passerby or two, at that late an hour, it was unlikely, which made David more relaxed than usual.

“Thank you.” He kissed the top of her purple hair.

“Do you think you could take a few days off?” Bo’hai asked. “Perhaps we could go away together and see some of the majestic mountain ranges in the southern continent.”

David shook his head. “I wish. But it would be a bad example for me to step away now, with all the hard work still to be done.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Promise me that once the nanites are defeated, you will spend time with me.”

“Every minute I can.” He smiled. “The thought of that keeps me going.”

“What will we do then?”

“I don’t know. Keep searching for a way home, of course. But beyond that… maybe we could explore some more, I think. As long as it’s possible not to cause more trouble with native species. And if we don’t find a way home, then we’ll stay here as long as we’re wanted.”

Bo’hai snuggled a little closer to him. “As long as I am able to be with you, I do not care where we go or what we do because I know you will choose what is right in front of the Maker.”

David closed the fingers of his right hand around a small box in his pants pocket. He’d carried it around for days, trying to find the right moment to use what was in it. The quiet moment was the best one he’d had and probably would have in the near future. He pulled the case out and slowly rotated himself out of her embrace before kneeling on the deck.

At first, she seemed shocked and was about to say something as he popped the case open to reveal a brilliant gemstone set in a small white gold band. At the sight of it, Bo’hai remained quiet, waiting for him.

“We’ve known each other for eighteen months now, but I feel like you’ve been a part of my life for decades. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my natural life with you, and more than anything, I long to show you how much I love you. Every day. If you’d give me the chance.” When David finished, he inhaled as he held the ring out toward her. “Will you marry me, Salena?”

Bo’hai smiled warmly and gingerly took the ring. “Nothing would make me happier.” She gave him a goofy look. “But I don’t understand what to do with this.”

David blinked. Then he realized that none of the Zeivlots wore rings and felt like an idiot. “I should’ve thought of that… So, when humans ask another to spend their lives together, we give a ring as a token. It goes on your finger, and it represents unending unity.” He gently took it from her and slid it onto her ring finger.

“Ah, yes. That explains why some of you wear these pieces.” Bo’hai grinned before leaning forward. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He climbed off the deck, realizing he wasn’t quite as young as he used to be, thanks to the sharp pain in his knees. Fighting off a grimace, he slid back onto the bench next to her.

Bo’hai held her hand up to the light and stared at the sparkling diamond in the center of the ring. “An interesting custom.”

“One of many, I’m sure.”

They kissed one another, and despite everything happening around him, David felt entirely at peace. Such was a rare occurrence in his life, and he treasured the feeling—and the woman who brought it to him.

“Conn, Navigation. Umbilical’s locked. Orbital control is requesting a switch to station-provided power.”

Wilson shifted in his seat. The Salinan had enough battle damage to jump up the queue for a berth in one of the now thirty-plus orbital facilities dotting the skies above Zeivlot and Zavlot. Still, he hated being out of the void and having his ship shackled to a dry dock. “Cut us over and extend the docking collars.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The lights flickered for a moment then resumed their full brightness. It would take a few minutes to fully extend the gangways to allow entry into the station and eventually disembark to the planet below.

“Got an answer to one of my pieces of paperwork,” Khattri remarked.

Wilson turned. “Oh? Which one?”

“We’re getting a second battle star.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, sir. Hot off the press from the desk of General Cohen himself.”

Wilson chuckled. “What a thing. The idea we’ve got one, much less two, is a bit outlandish.”

“I think we’re the only repair ship in the CDF to have two. There was some mobile shipyard that got one back in ’46 during a fleet battle… maybe. My history is a bit fuzzy at that level of detail.”

“Well, in a situation like this, any vessel with a gun is needed for the fight. Even this little ship.”

“Big heart and an even bigger crew.”

“Amen.” Wilson lifted his tablet. “During the refit, I can get caught up on what the mice have been up to while I was away.”

“Oh no, is that fancy chart of yours coming out again?”

Wilson grinned. “You know it’s a Gantt chart by now.”

“Yeah, but teasing you about it doesn’t get old, sir,” Khattri replied.

A smattering of light laughter rose from those within earshot of the conversation. Much like other CDF bridge designs, the Salinan’s command center had the CO and XO chairs side by side, with tactical, navigation, and communications surrounding them.

“The good Lord in heaven above help our partner forces if they haven’t stayed on schedule,” Wilson said after the snickers died down. “Opus Dei cum pecunia alienum efficemus.”

Khattri stared at him. “Uh, my Latin is a bit rusty, sir.”

“Doing God’s work with other people’s money.”

“Well, with aliens’ money.”

Wilson couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Valid point, Captain. Oh. So, what are the details on our refit?”

Khattri’s face blanched. “Six weeks, sir. We took enough hits to our amidships structural bracing that I want to detach our armor plating and have zero-G crews inspect every weld. Probably reinforce some areas.”

Hearing how badly beat up the old girl was getting pained Wilson. Repair vessels simply didn’t engage in run-and-gun firefights in the void. That was left for the destroyers, cruisers, carriers, and everything in between. But I’m proud of my ship. She might not be big, but she’s got more heart than anything in space. “All right. I expect it done in four.”

“We’ll try, sir.”

Wilson nodded. “Oh, and XO? I’m taking a single day of shore leave tomorrow. There’s some monument or something the Zeivlots built. I want to see it for myself.”

“You deserve more than a day, sir.”

“Maybe, but there’s work to be done, and I’ve got to stand the watch just like everyone else. Once the nanites are no more, then we can take a break.”

28

Ruth closed her hand around Taylor’s as they waited for the evening meal in the Lion’s senior officer’s mess. It was a simple gesture that had taken months for her to feel comfortable with in public. Others did the same now, as the ship held many couples. Ruth knew some of them had girlfriends, boyfriends, or even spouses at home, but after two years, it didn’t seem likely the vessel would get back to the Milky Way anytime soon.

At first, she’d judged those who had someone waiting for them, but as Ruth had pondered the situation, it’d become evident that, unlike her, most humans needed and craved emotional connections. Whereas it took her a lot of time to drop her walls and let someone in, most of the crew made friends quickly. And so, Ruth had decided her judgment was flawed. Regardless, it is God’s job to judge others, not mine.

Adhering to the tenants of her new faith was anything but easy. For all her life, Ruth had felt something akin to an avenging angel. Her calling was to erase those like the League commissar and his conscripts that had killed her family, preferably with a neutron beam or a well-placed Hunter missile. In her mind, there was no such thing as a “good” Leaguer. They were all guilty, no matter how they got to wear the uniform.

Since her conversion to Christianity, Ruth had begun to explore what it really meant to be a Christian. The constant refrain of loving your enemy, doing good to those who spitefully used you, had been difficult for her to process. It still was. She thought back to having the chance to kill Admiral Seville. Part of her still believed she should have—that Seville was owed a trip to hell as fast as humanly possible.

Yet, as she stared into Taylor’s eyes, Ruth knew the path she walked now was far superior. More than that, it had allowed her to retain her humanity.

“You’re a million miles away,” Taylor said.

His voice interrupted her thoughts and pulled her back to the present. “I suppose. Just… thinking.”

“Lots of time to do that out here. Though it beats the alternative, right?”

Ruth giggled. “That’s what they tell me, anyway.”

“Who’s they?”

“You know… them. They. The great unknown group of people always giving us advice.”

Taylor snorted before chuckling. “Yes. Well, I’m still shocked we’re alive. The Lion of Judah has no right to be here.”

“But we are, and that could change at any moment, you know?”

“Quite. Before too long, we’ll experience one of those moments.” His eyes met hers. “While we’re on the subject of life-changing occurrences, that android showing up—”

“Spooky, eh?”

“Very.” Taylor bobbed his head. “This place makes my head spin.”

“Don’t spin too fast, or you won’t be able to do that fancy code-breaking stuff I find so sexy.”

Taylor’s face turned red almost instantly.

“You’ve got to work on that.”

He gave her a faux angry stare. “Look who’s talking, Ms. Embarrassed to Show Affection Outside Our Cabin.”

It was Ruth’s turn for her cheeks to heat. “Okay, fair point.”

Taylor grinned. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I stop for the evening. Taylor one, Goldberg zero.”

“Nice try. We keep going until I win.”

They both laughed before Taylor leaned back and put his other hand on top of hers. “Well, at least things are falling into place. We have a weapon… and I’m sure the general will figure out how best to use it. Though again, jeez, it seems a bit convenient.”

Ruth pursed her lips. “I’m still going with the idea that it’s all part of the plan.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s still a stretch for me.” Taylor blew out a breath. “We need to talk about something.”

“No babies before the nanites.”

Taylor’s expression remained somber. “There’s a list going around from the master chief asking for volunteers to stay on the Lion when we fight the nanites.”

“I know. I signed up immediately.”

“Would you consider leaving on an evacuation vessel when the time comes?” He bit his lip.

Ruth paused for a moment, at first angry at the suggestion but realizing it came from a place of concern. “No. I understand why you’d ask, but no. Never. I’m not leaving my shipmates behind like that. My job is to shoot things. And we’re in a target-rich environment.”

“It’s not like they even bother to avoid us… A first-year midshipman could run the tactical console.”

“Robert, I’m not leaving my post. It’s wrong. I hope none of us do… and I know you’re not planning to because I saw your name on the list when I signed it.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Taylor blurted out.

Ruth opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times. The rawness of the words and the emotion behind them was quite piercing. “I don’t want to die either. But that’s what we signed up for. And if it’s our time, I’d rather do it with you.”

Taylor sighed. “Something tells me I’m not going to win this one.”

“No.” Ruth smiled sadly. “You know me better than that.” The thought of going with him, either to another world or back to the Milky Way if it was even possible, was quite tempting. But she knew deep within her soul that if she bailed, the act of cowardice would haunt her forever. General Cohen needs us all now more than ever, and regardless of the outcome, helping the people of Zeivlot and Zavlot is our job.

“I’m worried. The odds seem insurmountable.”

Ruth licked her lips. “I’m worried too. We’d be idiots not to be.”

“What’s the line between hope and stupidity, then?”

“I have no idea.” Ruth tilted her head. “It looked grim, more than a few times, in the war against the League. Especially before this ship showed up.”

Taylor nodded. “I know. I used to think we were all just delaying the inevitable. But it was still worth doing because I’d rather be dead than live under the League of Sol.”

“This is worth it too. We messed this up, and it’s on us to solve it.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “General Cohen’s decisions produced the outcome.”

“And?” Ruth’s eyes flashed. “He did the best he could.”

“Maybe we should’ve just stayed away.”

“Don’t tell me you’re buying into Hayworth’s noninterference talk.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty. I wish we’d been a little less interested in involving ourselves in other people’s problems,” Taylor replied.

Ruth shook her head. “No. We’ve got the means to help people. We ought to, whenever and however we can. These nanites would’ve eventually overwhelmed everything in Sextans B. We’ll give them a fighting chance.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Ruth grinned. “On this one, I am.”

The conversation died away as their food finally arrived, which was probably for the best, Ruth reflected. After all, she could brook no criticism of David. After what he’d been through and how he’d saved the Coalition repeatedly, she would follow him through hell without a weapon.

Government Complex

Zeivlot

29 May 2465

Mishka Vog’t, though not required to by custom or law, enjoyed visiting the halls of government administration and getting out of the zupan’s palace. She found the walls closed in after a time, and it was better not to exist in a bubble. Too many Zeivlot leaders had tried that and had paid a political price, or worse.

Over the last rotation, there had been much turnover, as General Cohen had put it, in her ministers and closest advisors. Mostly because she demanded every last one be fully onboard with the policies of making a true peace with Zavlot and engaging with the Terran Coalition battle group and its personnel in every possible way.

That group, though, they all got the mission and were, as far as she could tell, completely in sync with the priorities of stamping out any vestiges of extremism and building as many Ajax-class destroyers as possible.

Vog’t strode through a pair of large wooden doors carved with reliefs from their history and entered a large antechamber with a conference table that seated close to fifty people and chairs for another seventy-five around it. Far fewer people occupied the room, however—less than ten.

“Madam Zupan, there is no reason for you to travel down here, on the off chance that there’s still an active terrorist cell somewhere,” Me’tin Gun’ay, the minister of justice, said.

“I’ve never given in to the threats of zealots, and I won’t start now. Besides, it is good to leave my home and see the real world.” Vog’t flashed the hint of a smile. “Especially now, when we may not have much time left.”

“Do you not believe the humans will find a way to save us?” Ergin Tas’ci, the foreign affairs minister, asked.

“I believe they will do their best, and the rest is in the hands of the Maker.”

“Food shortages are being reported in some provinces,” the agricultural minister interjected. “I don’t care how many weapons or ships we produce. If our people can’t obtain sustenance, we will have riots in the streets.”

Vog’t had read a news article on the matter but knew such outlets tended to sensationalize events. The truth was they’d retooled their entire economy in a matter of months. Such things as economic theory had gone out the window, as Zievlots worldwide had come together to do whatever was required. It was the sort of thing that, in theory, couldn’t be done.

But a combination of appeals from religious leaders coupled with unprecedented government power to direct production and a general acceptance by the populous that they could go without new consumer goods and hover vehicles had enabled success. More miraculous was that almost every Zievlot willingly supported the goal of building as many ships as possible. For the first time in her life, the people had come together in unity around a common goal that had nothing to do with killing Zavlots. That we have suggests anything is possible. And if we should perish from this universe, which I do not believe the Maker intends, then at least we will go having done something noble.

“Madam Zupan?”

“Forgive me, but is it not true that the shortages are limited to specific types of food?”

“Yes, but they are still staples. When anktar roots are hard to find, that’s a problem.”

Vog’t pursed her lips. “Do you have a solution, Ai’dami? Because I do not like being presented with an issue unless there is at least one or two thoughts on how to fix it.”

He briefly glanced away before meeting her gaze. “I believe we’re at a point where rationing is warranted.”

Others in the room appeared uncomfortable but also somehow appreciative that it was Fausta Ai’dami, the finance minister, to raise the idea.

“I sense most of you agree,” Vog’t replied.

“Many items are becoming hard to find, and the market for used goods has dramatically increased in price,” interjected a minister with a portfolio that included manufacturing. “Rationing would allow us to control prices and keep inflation in check.”

Vog’t nodded. “Price controls tend to create a black market. How do we combat that?”

Gun’ay shrugged. “We can’t. It will exist, and we’ll allow it within reason. But with ration cards, we won’t have food riots. Though I doubt most will be able to afford meat more than a few times a month.”

“It matters little if we don’t survive the next two years.”

“Yes, that is a logical observation, Zupan.”

Vog’t’s eyes went to her senior military advisor, War Leader Ceren. “I was briefed by General Cohen earlier this morning. He advises me that they have a unique weapon to use against the nanites and have confirmed its lethality.”

“I received a similar update, Zupan,” Ceren replied. “You know my long-standing concerns regarding putting our people under alien command. I still have them, regardless of the technology involved.”

“So noted.”

Ceren sighed. “I’m not saying they haven’t helped us… The Maker knows ninety percent of our population would be dead without them. But… Zupan, aren’t you the least bit curious as to why what happens with them seems like it was ripped out of an entertainment show? A sentient, artificial life-form that just happens to show up at the right time to help?” He shook his head.

“Yet it happened.”

“What if the humans are wrong?” Ceren stared into her eyes.

Vog’t shook her head. “Then they are. General Cohen said he would rather die on his feet than live on his knees. I like that saying… because it’s how we’ve gone through the cycles. We will have a contingency plan to save some of our population in the event we fail.”

Ceren crossed his arms. “It’s the only possible way forward, Zupan. I know this, as do we all. But I still wonder. Perhaps that is simply my vocation, not to trust.”

“Something else the humans say is ‘trust but verify.’” Vog’t’s eyes glinted. “Do not think that I will not have you examine these vessels carefully to make sure they function as promised.”

Her words seemed to mollify the other ministers, who nodded in agreement.

Vog’t sucked in a breath. “Our only goal now is to build as many ships as possible, train as many of our people as we can, and prepare for the onslaught. Afterward, we will pick up whatever pieces remain.”

“And hope our society can weather the upheaval to come,” Ai’dami added.

“Yes. Perhaps if we survive, the Maker will bless those efforts.”

“These humans… I wonder if the Maker sent them or if it is simply a stroke of chance,” Ceren said. “As bad as things were, they will be worse if this swarm of machines reaches our home. At least the Zavlots couldn’t wipe out all of us.”

Vog’t turned her eyes toward him. “Blowing our respective worlds to smithereens every few thousand rotations wasn’t living. We had become hollow. Our societies were poisoned and rotted from the inside. Better that we experience life once more, even if it is fleeting.”

“It’s nice not to worry about a suicide bomber blowing up the anktar stand my daughter goes to each afternoon.” Ai’dami leaned forward. “The zupan is right. Quality of life matters… and ours is much better than it was. It almost seems like a dream at times.”

Ceren begrudgingly nodded. “Not seeing dozens of names on the casualty reports weekly is a blessing from the Maker. In fact, we haven’t had any major fighting in months.”

“I’m not sure any extremists still exist on Zeivlot.” Tas’ci crossed his arms. “But who knows if this is true for our wayward brothers?”

Vog’t shot him a withering look. “Do not refer to the Zavlots as such.”

“But—”

“No. We must change how we think, and that includes treating them with respect behind closed doors.” More than a few chastised and angry faces stared back at her, but Vog’t paid them no heed. “This is the only way forward for our people. As difficult as it may be to accept.”

Tas’ci shook his head. “To say that I would’ve lived to see a peace with Zavlot… much less acceptance of them. It is more than difficult, Zupan. But as you say, we must navigate these times.”

“Then continue on with all due haste. Now, what are the other matters of the day?”

When the minister of the exchequer raised her hand, Vog’t knew that the discussion was only beginning. She’s going to complain about inflation rates and how calling back every able-bodied retiree has contributed to it. With a different focus than the finance minister, the exchequer was more concerned with currency. They had to develop exchange rates and interplanetary trade with Zavlot. Such items had not been the concern of a Zeivlot government in who knew how long. Vog’t darkly wished the nanites would just get there already so they could either deal with them or not. Either way, she would get to stop hearing the same problems week in, week out.

Until then, the work continued.

29

With a ticking clock hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles, David found even staff meetings tenser than ever. While they continued on a weekly cadence, he’d long ago tracked how many they had to go until the nanites arrived. Sixty-six wasn’t that far away, and each week, it went down by one.

Worried faces stared at him around the Lion of Judah’s deck-one conference room. Outwardly, David projected confidence at all times, as he must. But inside, he wrestled with the idea that even with a fully functional miracle weapon, given the size of the threat, it might not be enough.

“And from there, I hope to have six full-time production lines running on Zeivlot and Zavlot within three months.” Hanson had been talking for several minutes about how they would make enough of the neutron beam modifications to outfit the fleet. Given the fine-tuned nature of the weapon, it was a tall order.

“And our projections for how many Ajax-class destroyers will be at our disposal once the nanites arrive?” David asked.

“A minimum of a hundred seventy-five, sir.” Major John Wilson had joined the briefing via vidlink.

“Ten more than last week. What’s your secret over there? At this rate, you’ll have it up to two hundred fifty in a few months.”

Wilson grinned. “I look for inefficiencies everywhere, sir. Upon touring several Zavlot factories, I found specific areas where they could improve fabrication. That got us up a few more hulls, and one of the shuttle pilots had an idea to increase the cargo load they could carry. A simple thing, but it added two hulls. Just a few little items here and there.”

He makes it sound so simple. David knew the value of a soldier who could manage logistics. He recalled fondly how General Pipes, his mentor for many years, had made a career out of it. “Amateurs discuss tactics. Professionals practice logistics.”

“You said it, sir.”

David nodded. “Anything more we can squeeze out is a positive. What of the Phantom fighter production project?”

“Proving to be harder than we expected.” Amir leaned forward. “There is also the small matter of training pilots to fly anything like Coalition standards.”

“We need everything we can get, Colonel.”

“By Allah, I know.” Amir shook his head. “The engineering teams will redouble their efforts, as will I.”

“Good. What else?”

Aibek raised an eyescale. “Am I the only one to believe the lack of trouble from either world is an eerie omen?”

“Eerie?” Merriweather narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t realize Saurians thought in such terms.”

“Too much quiet brings disquiet itself.” He didn’t seem too perturbed, at least not yet. “These species have fought for ten thousand years. To believe they’ve stopped now is… naive, as humans would say.”

David spread his hands on the table. “You’re probably right, XO. But I choose to believe they’ve finally seen the light. Learning you’re not alone in the universe can change a species. We’ve seen that in the Milky Way.”

Aibek hissed. “Not for the better. Even my people struggled with the concept of treating other forms of life as equals.”

“No mortal is perfect. Excepting Rabbi Kravitz, of course.”

Polite chuckles swept the room.

Hayworth crossed his arms. “And me.”

“Touché, Doctor.” David blew out a breath. “I’m going to explore diplomatic options with some of the races we’ve encountered. Even the Admari.”

Ruth blinked. “Why, sir? None of them are that technologically advanced.”

David shrugged. “Because we need all the help we can get, and our weapon is a game changer. The more ships mounting it and here to help, the better.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you proposing we give weapons technology to other aliens—”

“We already have, Doctor.”

Hayworth threw his arms in the air. “That’s bad enough, but admittedly the only real option. Still, do we want Vog’teks flying around with a variation on our neutron beams?”

“Not particularly. I want those nanites erasing billions of people even less.”

Silence swept the room for a few moments before Hayworth sighed. “Fine. Just remember, when this blows up, it’s on you.”

“I’m quite aware, Doctor. Everything is on me.” David drilled into the older man with his eyes and gestured to everyone else in the room. “Including the actions of every human being and Saurian in this fleet. Soon, the Zeivlots and Zavlots that joined our cause… I’m on the hook for them too.”

Hayworth licked his lips before nodding. “No disrespect was intended.”

“Good.” David turned away from the scientist and directed his gaze at the other line of officers, including Doctor Tural. “Ladies and gentlemen, this isn’t going to be easy. But if we wanted easy, none of us would’ve signed up to serve in the Coalition Defense Force. Your performance has been exemplary, but we have a long way to go. Let’s stick to it and keep fighting the good fight.”

“Hoorah!” Calvin belted out. “Don’t worry, the Marines will keep the rest of you squids in line.”

Master Chief Tinateriro gave him a dagger-filled glare. “Care to put your credits where your mouth is, Colonel? PT competition with your best and mine.”

“Well—”

David grinned broadly. “Oh no, don’t welch out on the lady, Colonel. That’s conduct unbecoming a gentleman.”

Calvin licked his lips. “Anytime, Master Chief.”

The lighter tone seemed as good a place as any to end the meeting, which had stretched for an hour. “Okay, people. We know what needs to be done. Let’s get back to it. Any saved rounds?”

Silence echoed as most shook their heads.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

As the senior staff filed out, David briefly closed his eyes and mentally asked HaShem for guidance. But above all, give me wisdom and the outward confidence to keep them all inspired. It was an exceedingly tall order.

David stood from the pew he occupied in the Lion’s synagogue and exited the row with other male Jewish officers and enlisted personnel. Rabbi Kravitz had just dismissed them after the service, and the older man’s sermon had provoked many questions in his mind. Such was expected, as the rabbi seemed to take great pride in making an impactful message. Most of it had focused on Gideon and how he had defeated a far larger army with just three hundred soldiers.

Given their current circumstances, the lesson resonated strongly. We’ll have far fewer than three hundred ships when it’s all said and done. However, Gideon didn’t rely on numbers but, instead, on the Lord. David didn’t expect divine intervention, but he believed that HaShem would subtly help them if they did His will.

He stopped just before the hatch and stood off to one side, removing his tallit gadol, tefillin, and kippah. Given that men and women sat separately during an Orthodox service, it took Bo’hai a few minutes to make her way over to him. She appeared at his side, wearing a warm smile as was her way.

“Did you enjoy it?” David asked.

“I did. The rabbi is topical, I believe a human would say.”

“Quite.”

Before either of them could continue, Kravitz strode up. “Ah, General. I’m so glad you could make the Sabbath service. And you as well, Ms. Bo’hai.”

She adjusted her small hat. It was customary for all to cover their hair during the service. “You gave me much to think of, Rabbi. Thank you.”

“And what of you, General? Did I give our great commander something to ponder, or are you perhaps past such things?”

David chuckled. “Everyone can use more wisdom, Rabbi. Especially me.”

“Ah, good. You did pay attention to rabbinical school.”

“Sometimes.”

“Ms. Bo’hai, I must commend you on your studies. I researched the matter, and you may just be the first nonhuman convert to Orthodox Judaism. We’ll have to check with the rabbinical court on New Israel to be sure, but the computer databanks did not mention others. Which surprised me.”

“Have you already started wedding preparations?” David’s voice held a trace of mirth.

“Yes, dear. I’m working my way through all of it,” Bo’hai said. “You are busy with the war. I can handle this portion of our lives.”

David raised an eyebrow. “I want to ensure that CDF traditions are honored as well as Jewish ones.”

“We’ll break the glass.” Bo’hai gave a dazzling smile.

“Make sure there’s a sword arch.”

“And the appropriate welcome at the end of it?” Kravitz interjected.

“But of course.”

Bo’hai’s eyes went between the two of them. “I sense hidden meaning behind those words.”

“You’ll see,” David replied, unable to keep a massive grin off his face. “Rabbi, if you’ll excuse us, I’m sure you have others to minister to.”

Kravitz inclined his head.

David took her hand, and they exited through the hatch into the passageway beyond. A small sea of Jewish soldiers lay beyond. All flattened against the sides of the corridor as David walked through.

“Shalom, ladies and gentlemen,” he said and kept going to a smattering of acknowledgments and replies.

“Why do they do that?” Bo’hai asked after twenty meters, when everyone was out of earshot.

“It’s a custom and courtesy to make way for a flag officer.”

“You seem uncomfortable with such things.”

David shrugged. “I was always taught to treat others respectfully and never allow pride into my heart. I'm generally wary of any practice that interferes with that.”

“But surely, as a great leader of men, you are worthy of respect.”

“I’m just a man.” David stopped and faced her. “Nothing more or less, and respect is something to be earned.”

“These things mean a great deal to you, don’t they?”

“They mean everything. The only thing a man—or woman, for that matter—has when going through this universe is their word and how they treat others.”

She squeezed his hand. “What shall we do the rest of the day?”

“There’s another seven hours of the Sabbath, which means we will rest until eighteen hundred CMT. After that… well, I should probably catch up on reports.”

“How about we have dinner first?”

David smiled. “Of course.” He held out his arm, and they continued down some length of the passageway until reaching an out-of-the-way gravlift.

“Why did we use this one? You can’t still be afraid to let others see us together,” Bo’hai teased.

“Nope.” He gestured to a small sign in Hebrew next to the call panel. “It’s on Sabbath mode.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I do not understand.”

“It’s considered work for me to press the button here. Work is forbidden. I can’t ask someone else to do it because that’s prohibited too. So, the solution is that this particular gravlift stops at every deck during the Sabbath hours, continually going up and down the ship’s length. We have several of them so all decks are accessible.”

Bo’hai opened her mouth then closed it. “I wish… that my people worshiped the Maker in everything they did, as you do. Our society would be far better.”

“Be careful not to equate observing the law to being a good person. They’re not equal things. But yes, I generally believe that if all followed the mitzvot, the universe would be a much nicer place. I’m sure my Christian friends would say the same about the teachings of Jesus, and Muslims the same of Muhammad’s instructions.”

“Then we shall wait for this gravlift. How long do you think?”

“Oh, it could be a few minutes.”

Bo’hai put her head on his shoulder. “That is fine with me.”

David wrapped his arm around her. While the nanites were coming and the ultimate showdown would soon be upon them, at least for the present time, life brought some measure of peace. It was the most he could’ve asked for, and he was grateful to HaShem for allowing them to find each other.

30

Benjamin Hayworth lifted his leg and adjusted it under the workspace where he sat. Even with the technology of the Terran Coalition, once one hit a certain age, some parts of the body started breaking down. He’d been nursing pain in his knee for a week and needed to see Doctor Tural for an arthritis treatment. I hate the feeling of the cartilage knitter. It’ll itch for another week. He harrumphed and set the leg down again before staring at the output of one of the 3D projected screens.

While the alien translation program had converted the precursor language into English, it wasn’t perfect. Idioms especially didn’t come through, and the encyclopedia-like entries had many colloquialisms that stumped him. Who puts such language in a precise database? The Zeivlot and Zavlot translators had spent a great deal of time, so far, trying to make sense of the entries and properly link them.

Much like English, the precursor language had many words that meant roughly the same thing. It made for slow going. But even with the annoyance of the translation issues, Hayworth was thrilled to no longer be in the weapons research business. Above all else, getting back to research and finding a way home was at the top of his list. Though I know, sooner or later, General Cohen will be back to ask for my help with something else.

“Did you see this entry on singularity generation, Doctor?”

Hayworth turned to Merriweather. “Probably not, if you’re asking me, my dear. Something new?”

“This math is highly complex, but if I’m reading it right, it’s capable of creating a wormhole across a much larger distance than we’re accustomed to.”

He stood abruptly and strode to her workstation. “How much more?”

Merriweather pointed to a formula in the entry.

It took Hayworth several minutes to process the math, and he wasn’t sure the solution he came up with was correct. But if it is… “That’s galaxy-spanning length.”

“So says the computer.”

Hayworth snorted. “I’ll parse the equation myself. Thank you very much.” As he picked up a tablet and started scribbling away, a link on the entry caught his eye. One touch of the screen later, and an entirely new article appeared on the holoprojector.

It took him several minutes to read through it, but the implication was clear—the device on Zeivlot was part of an extensive network of stations that could open the wormholes described in the previous article.

“Doctor, are you seeing this?”

“Yes.” Hayworth felt his knees go weak. “This is everything we’d hoped for. A way home.”

Merriweather shook her head. “Not entirely, sir. Look at this diagram here.” She pointed at a helpful graphic floating in midair.

He stared at it until something clicked mentally. “Both sides have to be active and powered. Without a receiver unit, the sender won’t function.” Hayworth felt a burst of anger like he’d been given a prize before having it suddenly revoked.

Frustratedly, he shoved off her console and jammed his already hurting knee into another piece of machinery. “This is incorrigible. We find something that might work only to have our hopes dashed again.”

“One of those obelisks could possibly be in the Milky Way.”

Hayworth nodded begrudgingly. “Yes, but have you ever heard of such a thing being found? I think it might’ve made the evening news.” His voice dripped acid.

“We’ve still got a chance to make it work,” Merriweather replied. “And even if the Milky Way isn’t available, the network lists many other galaxies. Something works… and maybe some species out there could help us.”

Hayworth wanted to lash out momentarily, but he knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Still, it was galling that it looked like they had found a way home for a few moments only to be dashed yet again. And as much interest as he’d taken in exploration, going back to the Terran Coalition had a lot of advantages. Such as not facing death from aliens or nanites daily. “Yes… yes, of course.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“There is little left for us to do now except fight some climactic battle against a raging technological horror. In case you haven’t noticed, such is not my forte.”

Merriweather strode around the holoprojector and stood in front of him with her arms crossed. “We should be out there, looking for new civilizations to help us.”

“Don’t be foolish. We’ve caused so many problems—”

“Some, sure. But more good than not came of our actions. It’s taken me a while to see that, but I’m convinced we helped this galaxy.”

Hayworth snorted. “One of humanity’s worst traits is its desire to ‘help’ things we don’t understand. Staying out of other races’ affairs and focusing on this problem is the best thing we’ve done since we got here.”

“And what if there was another race just beyond the edge of our sensors that could help?”

“I’m far more interested in what’s in front of me, not fanciful what-if scenarios,” he snapped. “And as a woman of science, that should also be your focus.”

Merriweather took a step back. “You’re clearly upset, Doctor. I will take my leave.”

As she turned to go, Hayworth raised his hand.

“I’m sorry, Eliza. I’m sorry.” He blew out a breath. “This is all… I’m tired of it. No matter what choices Cohen, I, or anyone else makes, conflict looms around every corner.”

“You don’t have to do it alone, Doctor.” Merriweather came and knelt next to his chair. “You’ve got friends, starting with me. Holding all this in isn’t good for you or anyone else because you affect the mission.”

Hayworth forced himself to nod. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She flashed a grin. “Why don’t we go get some dinner? Markul’s been asking to share a meal with you all week.”

“He follows me around like a lovesick puppy.”

Merriweather giggled. “Yes, because he thinks you’re the only person he’s met that’s smarter than him. Take it as a compliment. You two are quite a lot alike.”

Hayworth almost disputed the statement but decided not to, as he was too tired. “Perhaps there’s a way in here to somehow find the status of the other devices and turn them on remotely, if they still exist.”

“The answers are somewhere in this database.”

“So, more sifting through one-hundred-thousand-year-old papers.” Hayworth made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Better than building weapons, right?”

Hayworth smirked. “Yes.”

“Now, come on. I’ll tell Markul we’re coming and to get himself to the mess.”

“Very well, my dear.”

Epilogue

SSI Headquarters

Churchill

5 June 2465

Kenneth glanced up from the vidlink he was participating in regarding unscheduled delays on the CSV Abraham Lincoln’s primary systems refit, which SUPSPACE, in its infinite wisdom, had scheduled at the same time as the Saratoga-class heavy carrier was undergoing the installation of an antimatter reactor.

The door to his office flew open, and his administrative assistant tried in vain to stop Doctor Peter Saunders from pushing past her.

“This is life altering! Let me through!” the wiry theoretical physicist yelled.

Kenneth turned back to the vidlink. “I’m sorry. I have an emergency in my building. I’ll have to rejoin later.” He slapped the end button before any reply could come through then turned back to Saunders and Kenneth’s admin, Ashley. “Doctor, what are you doing?”

“We’ve made a discovery that will change the course of human evolution.” Saunders held up a tablet. “And you’ve got to see it before anyone else gets wind of this.”

Kenneth felt bewildered. “Couldn’t you send a vidlink or subspace burst?”

“No. What I have to show you is the sort of thing that gets people like us disappeared and vaporized. Along with all of our friends and associates.”

“Should I call security, Mr. Lowe?” Ashley’s petite form was not suited for being a bouncer, and should Saunders have truly attempted to push by her, he would’ve succeeded.

“That won’t be necessary.” Kenneth flashed a smile. “Why don’t you clear my schedule for the next half hour, and I’ll see how the universe is going to change.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ashley stood aside, and Saunders walked in. She closed the doors behind herself, and the office was silent for a moment.

“You probably think I’m bloviating,” Saunders said.

“Or a bit more excited than is warranted,” Kenneth replied. “I live a very mundane existence, Doctor Saunders, that revolves around monitoring cost, schedule, and performance for the CDF. Anything much outside of that is exciting to me.”

“Then try this on for size.” Saunders tossed a tablet across the desk.

Kenneth picked it up and reviewed the first few images. “You found an artifact.”

“It’s roughly the shape of an obelisk, massive, and as far as my team could tell, dates to hundreds of millions of years ago.”

“That’s not possible.” Kenneth’s jaw dropped. “There’s no evidence anywhere in this galaxy of such an ancient race.”

“There is now,” Saunders replied. “As best we can tell, when this object was built, the planet had a breathable atmosphere and supported life. Now it’s a dead shell… not sure why, as of yet. But you didn’t get to the best part.”

“Spell it out for me, Doctor.”

“We’re getting an EM emission from the object that matches what was detected by PASCORE emanating from the Lion of Judah’s last wormhole.”

“Out of something that’s hundreds of millions of years old.”

Saunders nodded slowly. “Do you see why this could be the sort of thing that gets people killed?”

“Do we have enough security?”

“Admiral Henry has taken great care of us, but keep in mind that his fleet has privateers in it—”

“Former privateers. That helped save Canaan.”

Saunders shrugged. “And you don’t think they’d love some extra credits?”

Kenneth had to admit the line of logic made sense. “I need to inform General MacIntosh and get CDF protection out there.”

“One other thing. I’m almost certain this thing, whatever it is, remains powered.”

Kenneth raised an eyebrow. “Doctor, that’s another impossibility. What could possibly be functional after all this time without refueling?”

“Vacuum energy.”

That’s preposterous. “Which is nothing more than science fiction.”

“So is what we found already. Vacuum energy fits the available facts… When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“Didn’t figure you for a Sherlock Holmes fan.”

Saunders smirked. “Oh, I find that saying fits many places. But here especially because I could come up with no other explanation. That’s more plausible, anyway.”

Kenneth sat back. His mind swam with possibilities. What kind of technology could possibly be uncovered here? Such advances would make even our existing tech—which is extremely high-level—pale in comparison.

“Thinking through how much money you could make off vacuum energy, assuming we’re the first to market?” Saunders asked.

“No… actually, I was thinking about how such a thing would make the entire SATO alliance the undisputed heavyweight in at least our portion of the galaxy.”

“More than we already are?” Saunders chuckled.

“You said it yourself.”

Saunders shivered. “I wonder… if it’s even ethical to unleash such things on the universe. Then again, progress is the only constant.”

“We’ll let the military and the government sort all that,” Kenneth said. “It’s not up to us.”

Saunders shrugged. “As long as I get paid and my name is next to the discovery, I couldn’t care less.”

At least he’s open and honest about his motivations. Kenneth made a mental note to double-check internal security measures. “Okay, so, what’s next?”

“I keep digging. We have no idea how to open the object, but unless you have an objection, that’s my next course of action.”

Kenneth couldn’t think of a good reason to say no, though it made him somewhat uneasy. “Okay, but I’m going to ask Admiral Henry to beef up your protection detail in orbit… and get the CDF involved formally.”

Saunders nodded. “I’d feel better with our people watching over the site, frankly.”

“Anything else?”

“I mean, do you need your day shattered any further?”

Kenneth chuckled. Saunders had a point—virtually everything they knew about the universe and precursor civilizations had been flipped on its head. “I suppose not. Next time, though, Doctor… at least let me know you’re coming.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Is that my cue to leave?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Saunders stood. “I’ll be in touch.” He cut a rather debonair figure as he strode from the office.

Kenneth never would’ve taken Saunders as a scientist, more as some sort of wannabe holovid star. Maybe he’ll get his chance. The doors closed behind him, and Kenneth let out a sigh. Here comes an uncomfortable vidlink.

He pulled up a new screen on his tablet and typed in General MacIntosh’s private fleet link address before pressing the connect button. It took several minutes to get a link.

MacIntosh’s gruff face filled the screen. “This had better be good, Lowe, for a priority gold-level override.”

“Are you sitting down, sir?”

“Yes,” MacIntosh growled.

“I think we have some idea of where the Lion of Judah went, and we have a decent chance of finding her.”

There was a pregnant pause on the vidlink while MacIntosh’s jaw rebounded off his desk. “Start talking, fast.”

“Well, sir, it started with…”

The Lost Warship: Book 6 – Faith:

The final battle nears - Major General David Cohen and the Lion of Judah appear headed for defeat until contact is reestablished with the Milky Way. But politics rears its ugly head, and with everything in doubt, will the Lion and her crew be able to pull out one more victory against impossible odds?

Read the stunning conclusion to The Lost Warship, now on Amazon!

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THE END

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Also Available from Daniel Gibbs

Battlegroup Z

Book 1 - Weapons Free

Book 2 - Hostile Spike

Book 3 - Sol Strike

Book 4 - Bandits Engaged

Book 5 - Iron Hand

Book 6 - Final Flight

Echoes of War

Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight

Book 2 - Strong and Courageous

Book 3 - So Fight I

Book 4 - Gates of Hell

Book 5 - Keep the Faith

Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet

Book 7 - Finish the Fight

The Lost Warship

Book 1 - Adrift

Book 2 - Mercy

Book 3 - Valor

Book 4 - Justice

Book 5 - Resolve

Book 6 - Faith

Breach of Faith

(With Gary T. Stevens)

Book 1 - Breach of Peace

Book 2 - Breach of Faith

Book 3 - Breach of Duty

Book 4 - Breach of Trust

Book 5 - Spacer’s Luck

Book 6 - Fortune’s Favor

Book 7 - The Iron Dice

Deception Fleet

(With Steve Rzasa)

Book 1 - Victory’s Wake

Book 2 - Cold Conflict

Book 3 - Hazards Near

Book 4 - Liberty’s Price

Book 5 - Ecliptic Flight

Book 6 - Collision Vector

Courage, Commitment, Faith: Tales from the Coalition Defense Force

(Anthology Series)

Volume One

Acknowledgments

First, I’d like to thank all of my Kickstarter Backers for their support of The Lost Warship Phase II, and especially those at the COMSPACEFLT level:

Rene Van Hensbergen

Lewis Brande

Alexander Roth

Denis Deutsch

Author’s Note and Afterword

This is the first book I’ve finished that neither of my parents will ever read. That particular grim milestone made finishing it one of the more challenging things I’ve done in life. But, novel number thirty-four, Resolve – an apt name if there ever was one – is completed.

(My father passed away while I was writing this one, after being diagnosed with cancer three weeks earlier, for those who aren’t in my fan group online or don’t subscribe to the Daniel Gibbs newsletter.)

But onward is the only way. That is what we humans do, and we’re buoyed by the faith that someday, when all is said and done, after God judges us, we will (hopefully) see our loved ones again.

Thank you all for reading – the series continues with “Faith” (again, an apt title for this year) – to be released in October of 2023.

Godspeed,

Daniel Gibbs