The Imperial, Flagship of the Empire
In FTL Transit
[Syn] approached the young Emperor where he sat in his personal chambers to give him the report. She had dug deep into old, remote archives and hacked into illegal file caches to piece together the information that was missing from the official records. She handed the report across the table to Emperor [Vann]. “The species that [Charles] identified do represent irregularities in the pacification process,” she said.
“Of course they do,” [Vann] said, resigned to the fact. “He’s a drunk asshole, but he also seems to be the only one who knows what’s really going on.” He picked up a tablet and glanced at the contents. “What happened?”
[Syn] motioned at the holographic display, bringing up an image of a gray and spindly creature that barely looked like it was based on the Seed of Life.
“This is Species C23. Several hundred members of this species managed to escape pacification, launching into deep space with vessels not capable of FTL. Their course has them reaching the [Andromeda] Galaxy in 60 million years. They had advanced cryonics, so it’s suspected they froze themselves for the journey. If they make it is still to be determined.”
“Alright. The others?”
“The data I have is of questionable authenticity. Most of the official files are sealed, and have been since the incidents with the species.”
“You can’t get into them?” [Vann] asked dubiously.
“No, the security clearance needed for them goes above the clearance I have.”
[Vann] was for a moment silent, incredulous. “Above my security clearance?” [Syn], far above her station as the public relation head for his cabinet, had [Vann]’s own security codes – codes that should be the highest possible as the head of the Empire. It was technically illegal for him to give the woman his codes – but given as he was the Emperor, no one was really going to be able to convict him for the security lapse.
[Syn] slowly nodded. “Yes. The only descriptor I got for the clearance level was ‘SCG Priority’.”
“The Species Classification Group?” [Vann] paused. “They have classified files?”
“Not so much anymore, but way back before we had genetic screening protocols for the Species, they made the determinations of classification.”
[Vann] nodded and landed back in his chair. “So the SCG might be the only one who might have all the information on what happened to these species?” asked [Vann], pointing at the data pads and files on his desk.
“Yep.”
“And [Marcus] just happens to head the group.”
“Yep.”
[Vann] groaned and, getting up from his desk, walked across the cold floor of his office aboard the Imperial and looked out of the porthole at the Tachyon artifacts. He shook his head. “Alright, what else do you have?”
There was a click and the lights in the room dimmed. [Vann] turned around to face the holographic projection emanating from his desk.
“Species C113.”
[Vann] looked up at the image of the creature and spotted the deformity. They had the proper red skin, but it was intermixed with odd blue spots, and down the arms and legs of the specimen were thick bone protrusions that tapered to lethal points.
“When the pacification army landed, the Species at first fought. Most of their forces were decimated in just under a week. Afterwards they retreated into caves, and the planet was thought to be secure. Two hundred orbits later they emerged from underground complexes and destroyed several cities. They were defeated even more quickly, but they could still be hiding beneath the surface inside sealed bunkers.”
“The colonists on the planet are alright with this?” asked [Vann].
“They don’t know. All information regarding Species C113 has been suppressed. There have been proposals to utilize the weapons from Hygonix to ensure they are nullified, but the weapon is still not operating at levels that would make it safe for the population of the planet.”
[Vann] shook his head. “No, I’m never going to authorize that on any world if there are Empire citizens on it. I don’t care what the lab techs say.”
[Syn] smiled slightly and flipped to the next image, displaying another alien. They looked almost Human in appearance, save for the odd ears sticking up from their head like those of a predator.
“What else is there?” asked [Vann]. The ears couldn’t be the only deviation – that would have been an easy fix if they had been classified as class B.
“Species C950. They have overdeveloped senses of smell and hearing, but underdeveloped eye sight, and are capable of camouflaging themselves. The females of the species also emit a chemical which allows them to influence males. “
“So, very class C then. What did they do outside of the norm?”
[Syn] swallowed and glanced down at her notes, “I have to stress that all of this is very circumstantial. The information I’ve recovered is from a number of sources and might not be correct.”
“[Syn],” [Vann] said, his voice low.
[Syn] continued. “Several thousand members of the species were able to commandeer shuttles and cruisers. Over the years since, there have been occasional incidents of Imperial transports being taken by unknown class C aliens. They never leave anyone alive, but the data recorders sent back enough information for me to say with a fair amount of confidence that they are still alive.”
[Vann] looked at [Syn] for a moment and swore. For once his façade broke; stalking forward angrily, the young Emperor grabbed the data tablets on his desk, threw them to the floor, and rounded on [Syn].
To her credit, [Syn] didn’t move an inch as he stormed towards her.
“Are you telling me we have not just one, but two class C species roaming the stars!?”
“Four, actually. Species C1335 and B56 are also in possession of FTL technology.”
[Vann] swore again and turned away from [Syn].
Not knowing what else to do, [Syn] continued her report. “Species C1335.” The image of the species flashed up on the projection, and quashing his anger [Vann] turned back to it. The alien’s skin was a deep and solid black, interspaced by paler striations running vertically up the body. What seemed to be plates were just beneath the skin around the arms and chest.
“They are one of the hardier species we have encountered; theoretically they would be able to survive and operate in vacuum for short amounts of time. They have extensive armoring growths and their strength is several times that of standard. All of their senses are dull, however.”
“And how did they get FTL?”
[Syn] waved her hand and brought up another image. “The species developed their own Tachyon based FTL systems. They are much less efficient then our own, but functional enough. We only discovered them when they attempted to contact a trading vessel. The Pacification of their system was simple, but several dozen small ships managed to escape.”
[Vann] nodded. “And B56?”
An image of what looked to be a normal class A citizen of the Empire flashed up onto the screen. Save for the hair on the top of their heads, [Vann] could see why they were mistakenly classified given the primitive procedures in place at the time.
“The Imperial ships thought this would be an easy acquisition, given the similarities between our species. They needed only perhaps three generations of genetic therapy to bring them up to class A status. They did not wish to join the Empire, however, and the pacification began. In the end they managed to steal two ships.”
“What type?”
“Second generation frigates.”
[Vann] paused for a moment recalling his history lessons, “They didn’t even have gravity right?” he asked.
“No,”
“You said that we know where they are. Why haven’t they been destroyed?”
[Syn] swiped, bringing up the last image, it was grainy and red shifted, and his eyes had issue picking up on what was focused on the very center of the display. Two small gray blobs against a pure black backdrop.
“They are orbiting R-78J, a black hole. They dove into it, and are only just managing to keep an orbit within the safe gravitational zone free of anomalies. They do not have enough power to escape, and any vessel sent in to destroy them will suffer the same time dilatation effects.”
“Good,” said [Vann] as he put his head in his hands and took a deep breath.
“I’m sure your Father would have told you about all of this.”
“You’re overstepping, [Syn],” [Vann] sighed, “but thank you. For the research and the words.”
Syn brought her hand up, saluting. “Of course.”
“Send your new assistant in, I need to talk to her.”
“Right away.”
[Syn] turned and exited the office.
The Emperor for the Empire slowly walked over the fragments of the data pads at his feet and sat down at his desk.
A week ago the largest issue he had was a formal dance approaching, some economic regulations to put in place, and trying to wrest control away from the old guard that [Marcus] had developed.
Now he knew for a fact that there were direct threats to his Empire. Species that were nothing more than vermin. Plagues that, given a chance, would destroy the Empire his ancestors had built and maintained. An Empire that had stood for centuries. He would not allow it to fall under his rule.
The only way to do that was to eliminate all of the threats.
A Memory
“Well?” asked Emily.
“It’s barbaric!” said [Charles], looking down at the display.
The Human on the operating table was unconscious, knocked out by a sedative that Emily had administered before she began the procedure.
“How is this barbaric? I’m giving him control of his limbs again,” Emily stated as she turned back to the other class C that she was mutilating and began to stich his skin back together.
“Even for a class C this is despicable. Have you no respect for your own form?” asked [Charles].
Inside the operating theater, Emily chuckled into her headset. “No, Humans fairly regularly self-mutilate. We punch holes in out flesh, inject ink under our skin, and add saline to particular areas of our bodies just because we can. We add cybernetics and other components so we don’t have to live like invalids.”
[Charles] shook his head at the ignorance of these Humans.
They were class C, inferior on a genetic level, but that didn’t seem to be enough for them. Instead they had to further mutilate themselves, even going so far as to implant cybernetics! In the early days of the Empire, the High scientists had experimented with such devices, but had come to the conclusion that it destroyed Dorvakian perfection. Which was true.
The Humans though, they acted as if sticking pieces of metal in themselves was natural and normal!
Disgusted, [Charles] turned away from the medical bay and faced another of the bland gray walls they favored. This place was one gray, featureless wall after another, every one with exposed wires and welds. In certain rooms, there were large displays that he had been told once showed the surface of the dead red world. They were off now, displaying a complete blackness that matched the mood of the Humans in the bunker.
It had been a month since he had been released from the hospital bed and given free reign of the base. The humans had glared at him, watched him, shouted what he assumed were insults at him, and for the most shunned him like a child in primary school.
But they had not touched him, nor made any overt threats.
The food had made him sick at several points but he doubted they were deliberately poisoning him. The command the General had over the people of the bunker was ironclad and absolute. None of the humans had even come close to stepping out of line.
[Charles] was not ignorant enough to try and test the limits of that control, so he stayed out of the way – which meant he stayed here in the medical wing. He had considered trying to make a break for the surface, but the layers of security were numerous, and he could barely utilize the computer systems. The interface was primitive, and the humans all had small implants that the doors recognized which would allow them through the larger bunker doors sealing off sections of the base. He had no such implant and was thus confined to the lower portions of the base where those defenses were permanently disabled.
The doors to the operating room opened and the doctor, Emily, walked out. She seemed supremely unconcerned with the slick blood on her gloves or the small amount of gore hanging from it. [Charles] shuddered again; he could hardly stand doctors of his own species, much less this one.
“Ready to get something to eat?”
She snapped her gloves off and threw them into a recycler.
“How can you think of food after that?”
Emily shrugged, “I was trained to be a battle medic. I was going for my full Doctoral but then I got stuck down here. I’ve had to stitch up guys who were hit with those fancy energy guns of yours.”
[Charles] looked over at the young woman but didn’t say anything. She shifted back and forth between lighthearted and deadly serious too often for him to even try and guess when she was in a good mood. Still, she was the only human besides the General who talked to him, and as much as he hated conversing with a class C he needed information.
“I could eat.”
“Good, its pizza today!” Emily exclaimed. She strode past him into the deeper part of the compound, and reluctantly the alien prisoner followed after her.
The Dining Hall for this section of the Bunker quieted as he entered, but [Charles] ignored it; he had grown used to the reaction from the Humans by now. After a moment, the conversations in the utilitarian dining hall – which reminded him of where he ate in basic training – would pick up again.
“Got your food!” Emily said as she sat down at the empty table in the corner of the room.
[Charles], avoiding the other class C, quickly went and sat next to her.
Emily began to shovel the food into her mouth. [Charles] took several bites, but for the most part ignored it. The Human food had a tendency to be too salty in his opinion.
“What happened to your hand?”
[Charles] blinked and looked at Emily quizzically. The woman shook her head and pointed downwards.
Turning slowly, [Charles] swallowed and looked down. The small child that had been the lure to the trap, the one that had gotten him caught and the investigative squad killed, was looking up at him. Barely tall enough to reach the seat, the girl was munching on something bright blue in her hand.
The noise in the room died off, and all the Humans sitting at the benched tables subtly turned to look at [Charles].
He glanced up at them and then down at the small girl.
“Your hand is the one that is wrong, child, not mine,” [Charles] raised his fist and displayed the three fingers that was proper. “Like the color of your skin, you are disfigured. It is no fault of your own; your planet was corrupted long ago, and you were robbed of your destiny.”
The little human girl frowned and looked down at her arm. “My skin’s wrong?” she repeated, confused.
“You’re fine, now go back to your mother. She’s freaking out,” said Emily pointing at a woman across the room, whose hand was on her side arm, very obviously ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.
“Can I have your cookie if you don’t want it?” asked the girl, pointing at the plate in front of [Charles] and ignoring Emily.
[Charles] glanced first at Emily, then the mother, and finally the rest of the Humans in the room before very slowly picking up his tray and holding it out to the child. Smiling, the Human child took it and, shoving the treat into her mouth, bounced back across the room.
For a moment the room was silent, all eyes on the oblivious girl.
_Slowly conversation started back up again. _
“How many species are in your Empire?” asked Emily.
“What?”
“How many species? I doubt humanity are the first aliens you’ve come across. You’re a little too cavalier about everything.”
“Dozens of class A and several hundred class B species make up the Empire.”
“And as you like to say so often, Humanity is class C. So what’s wrong with us?” asked Emily.
“You are genetically inferior. Your primordial evolution was corrupted.”
“You know this how, exactly?”
[Charles] puffed up his chest slightly. “If you had evolved correctly, you would look like me.”
Emily looked at him for a moment, “What makes you so sure that you’re the one who evolved correctly? Maybe you’re supposed to look like me.”
[Charles] scoffed. “The Homeworld is the oldest source of life in the Galaxy. Our genetic lineage goes back almost [7 billion years]!”
Emily considered him for a moment, and slowly shook her head.
“What?” asked [Charles] annoyed.
“Nothing, nothing at all.”
[Charles] wasn’t sure, but she almost sounded sad.
FORT, Eridani System
9 Years 3 Months 12 Days After Eridani Landing
Ben watched the masses of wriggling limbs. Two separate masses of Squeak were floating around him, all of the separate bodies clutching desperately at one another. Ben had proposed bringing Alpha and Night up to the space station to acclimate them to the environments that humanity worked with in space. The Squeaks had managed the lack of gravity well enough in the cramped quarters of the shuttle, but inside the large airlock of Fort, they were floating aimlessly through the air.
“You alright?” he asked.
“I am fine,” hissed Alpha, plainly not fine as he slowly twisted in the air, all of his separate bodies clutching at one another forming a floating mass of Squeak.
“I think I am going to be sick,” said Night, the smaller and younger Squeak who had so far been nothing but hostile towards Ben.
Megan was looking down at her legs. This would be the first time she used them in zero-g. Coiling herself up, she explosively pushed herself off of the bulkhead and rocketed across the airlock, performing a pirouette in midair before hitting the opposite side of the airlock with a deafening clang.
Ben winced at the noise. “You do know those are anchored to your bones, super legs does not mean super spine!”
“I put shock absorbing algorithms into the control circuits, the legs dampen impacts by around 40%!” said Megan.
Ben was unable to respond, as at that moment there was a gurgling pop from the mass of alien creatures in front of him.
“I want gravity back,” muttered Night, sounding miserable. Several small globules of a greenish liquid were floating near him now. Ben didn’t even want to ask which end the material had exited the creature from, and instead simply reached up to the airlock wall, pulled one of the sick bags from the dispenser, and quickly collected the mess just as the inner airlock doors started to open.
As soon as the doors were open, Megan coiled up and launched herself out into the corridor of the Fort.
Alpha had managed to make it to a wall in the meantime. He collected himself and jumped after her, all of his bodies flying through the air in a practiced formation. Their ships might have had artificial gravity, but Alpha knew how to navigate without it once he had control.
“You better now?” Ben asked the younger Tanuin.
“Yes,” responded Night.
Reaching over, Ben held his arm out to the creature. Reluctantly reaching out with forelimbs and claws, Night grabbed onto the clothing of his arm and latched onto it. Ben remained as still as he could as Night’s many bodies crawled around to his back and grabbed on securely.
“Can I move?” asked Ben.
“You can move,” replied Night.
Ben carefully pushed off of the floor and into the hall where Megan and Alpha were waiting further down. A single Alpha was perched on Megan’s shoulder; the rest were latched onto the wall a ways behind her.
“I figure we show them the shipyards first, it’s the most interesting thing to tour,” said Megan.
Ben nodded in agreement. “Lead the way. I don’t think Night is quite acclimated to zero-g.”
“I’m fine,” insisted the creature, sounding pitiful even through the machine translation being piped into their ears.
Alpha made an odd raspberry-like but high pitched noise that did not translate. The meaning, however, was clear as he mockingly bounced back and forth across the hallway in front of Night and Ben, then launched far ahead down the hall with Megan.
Megan turned her head back and smiled while Ben and Night caught up. Pushing off of the walls, she began to lazily go around the outer ring of the Fort. False windows – actually video screens – dotted the walls every few meters, showing the outside system of Big Blue, and Bellona far below them. The crew of the base, going about their daily tasks, covered up any surprise they might have felt when two of the more skilled and revered engineers on Bellona drifted by with alien bugs alternately flying beside them and clutching at them.
Having helped design the station, Megan and Ben were very familiar with the layout. Going around the outer ring of the station, the group quickly made it to one of the larger modules attached on the opposite side of the Fort from where they had docked. The dry-dock modules were separate from the rest of the station so they could be maintained and upgraded independent from the rest.
Opening the hatch to dry-dock 2, Megan slipped into the antechamber of the large room beyond. Above them was the framework of a ship almost identical to the Canada. It was the second ship of the line, and nearly complete.
The two aliens looked up at the ship above them. Night carefully released his multiple grips on Ben’s clothes and drifted up to the artificial crystal that separated the antechamber from the rest of the dry-dock. The clear material was one of the few instances where Humans used actual windows in space.
“The ships, you build them to fight the Empire?” asked Alpha, looking up.
“They are built to survive an encounter. We’re not going to be able to make an offensive for another few decades,” said Megan.
“She’s called the Russia, and she’s the second of her class. We had to modify all of our construction and armoring techniques to compensate for the Empire’s weapons. In our solar system we utilized kinetic weapons, but the Empire favors energy based weapons. The hull of the ship can absorb the blasts and radiate them away as heat. Sustained fire will still cook her, but it should mitigate the Empire’s ability to cleave through our ships.”
Alpha drifted over to the specifications that Megan was holding up.
“You are still using kinetic weapons? Even when we first encountered the Dorvakians, their shielding technology was advanced. Kinetic weapons are hardly effective against them.”
Ben chuckled. “We’re counting on that.”
Alpha turned to look at him, his eyes twisting around quizzically, “Yet you have not changed your weapons?”
“We have an ace in the hole, Alpha.”
The Canada
Orbiting HD 40307g (aka Jikse)
“Captain, we are receiving a hail from the regulatory vessel in orbit.” Arik’s voice cut through the general noise of the bridge.
“Diana is still on the surface, how’s that translation program?” Captain Stagg asked as she pushed herself up from her chair, her feet still hooked into the floor so she appeared to be standing on the bridge, not that they would be establishing visual communications.
“So long as you do not start communicating in limerick, I believe it will be passable.”
“Very well, put them on.”
The communication line crackled and cleared; everyone on the bridge held their breath.
“Unidentified vessel, are you in distress? We are reading elevated power output from your reactor – are you in danger of a breach?”
Hitting the mute command on her chair and opening another line, Stagg shouted into the com.
“Derick! Why the hell are aliens reading our reactor output?”
“What?”
“We have an alien patrol vessel asking us if we are in distress – dampen the reactor!”
“Shit, yes Ma’am!”
“Captain, our reactor output is only slightly above that of vessels within range,” Arik stated, “I believe they have detected the large amount of strange matter present within our hull. It is valuable in the Empire, but we do not have a method of masking it from detection. We can produce it with enough ease that it was never more contested than iron or copper mineral deposits.”
Stagg looked at the image in front of her that Arik displayed showing where the large concentrations of strange matter were in the Canada. When charged and properly oriented, the strange matter would prevent the crew of the vessel from being flattened against the nearest bulkhead whenever a maneuver was performed.
“These are the focal points of the patrol’s sensor scans,” said Arik, adding small circles localized over the largest stores of the material.
“Derick, reactor to full – forget about trying to look like any of the other ships. Arik, I want to own their computer systems! Recall all ground teams!”
She hit the mute button again and turned back to the main bridge display.
“We are fine, just experimenting with reactor modifications,” Stagg told the aliens on the other end of the com channel, continuing the charade on the off chance it might work.
“Affirmative. We’ll be passing by on the next orbit if you need any assistance.”
The line was cut and Stagg sighed, “How long Arik?”
“45 minutes.”
“Well let’s hope the ground team makes it back in that time then.”
“If they don’t?”
“We can’t let the Empire know we’re here. That’s liable to make any further attempts to gather data difficult. We leave the ground team, and swing back around at some point. Send them back up times and coordinates a week, month, and three months out.”
“Roger.”
Surface
HD 40307g (aka Jikse)
“All ground teams, return to the shuttle. The Canada will be breaking orbit in 40 minutes.” Arik’s voice came through the general com line that all of the Canada ground teams were sharing.
Diana glanced over at Minerva and then down at the small assembly she was looking over.
“Sorry, it’s a little steep.” Carefully, not completely sure the radiation shielding on the device was adequate, Diana set the device down and turned away from the merchant.
Bruno was already shouldering his way through the crowd towards the entrance of the building where they had been looking over the second hand components. The amalgamation of different technologies was making it difficult to judge if something was worthless to them or not with only a quick glance. One component might be more advanced and the rest of a device thirty years behind. It was maddening searching through everything.
“What’s going on?” asked Diana.
“An Imperial patrol ship, one of the three around the planet, has decided we need to be investigated. Their scans have focused on the strange matter within the hull of the Canada. It is not masked, and according to the current market estimates it is worth more than most of the ships currently in orbit – and we have no defensive escort,” Arik responded.
“Fun.”
“They’re going to attack?” asked Bruno.
“At the least they’re going to try and strong-arm us out of some strange matter,” said Minerva.
“Get back to the Shuttle, worry about the reasons later,” growled Young over the communication channel.
“Roger!” Diana, Bruno, and Minerva broke into a sprint through the streets of the decrepit alien city, making a beeline for the outskirts where the shuttle was parked. It was going to take them at least fifteen minutes to get there and another twenty to get to orbit, leaving them five minutes to rendezvous.
It was going to be close.
They reached the outskirts of the ruined city quickly. Diana spotted Young and the other ground teams running towards the shuttle, which was already being powered up by the pilot that had stayed with it.
“Let’s go!” said Diana, turning back to Bruno and Minerva who were panting heavily behind her. They were in shape, but she had an unfair advantage with the genetic modifications her mother had given her as a child.
“Hurry up!” shouted Young.
Diana poured on the speed and sprinted the last hundred meters to the shuttle. Boarding it, she turned to see that she had left Bruno and Minerva behind slightly. They were only a second or two behind her, but it was a gap.
“Go!” shouted Young as the two stepped onto the ramp of the shuttle.
The pilot punched the accelerator even as the shuttle door began to close. “Everyone strap in, this is going to tax the dampers!”
Even as the pilot shouted at them, Diana felt the telltale shudder of the vessel breaking the sound barrier as it rocketed upwards, firing backup old style chemical propellant to give it an extra punch.
The small shuttle quickly made it to space. “Five minutes to rendezvous. This is going to be a tactical dock, so everyone suit up!” the pilot warned.
A tactical dock was the same procedure as in combat; air was evacuated from the shuttle so that in the event of a breach during docking there wouldn’t be explosive decompression that might further disrupt the pilot’s ability to dock. Given that the small shuttle actually slotted into the side of the Canada, he had to be precise when they docked.
Reaching up, Diana grabbed her helmet and slotted it over her head. It merged with the airtight component to the standard suit that she had underneath the common clothes she had gotten on the surface. Everyone else did the same, and within moments Diana felt the deadening of the air around her as sound became something tactile.
“Evasive maneuvers!” shouted Arik through the com.
There was no sound, but Diana felt the impact, and suddenly half of the wall in front of her was gone.
Staring out into the darkness of space, Diana blinked. Straight in front of her was a small Imperial vessel bearing down on them.