Annals of the Keepers - Deception Page 16

  Kason walked up to the frontal viewing window. “Alon always told me that, if an anomaly, coincidence, or happenstance was too good to be true– it was.”

  “Good advice. That’s the conclusion we came to.”

  “I was initially briefed on my arrival, Commander.”

  Takkar took the last gulp of coffee. “Good. You see, these wormhole Ribbons appear in the same location as they did back when part of the First Fleet vanished. They form when energy spikes occur from super novas, star formations, black holes, or a slew of other nasty things out there.”

  Kason looked perplexed, “I’m assuming you didn’t bring my team and me out here for wormhole spectating?”

  “You’re brighter than Nevlen gives you credit for.” Takkar’s bright smile reassured Kason of his humorous comment. Takkar continued, “Here,” the commander walked over to a console, “Excuse me, Ensign.” The bridge crewmen moved aside. Takkar waved his hand over the console. A holo-display appeared to his front. He moved his finger over a recording and activated it, “This is what concerns us, not so much the green Ribbons.”

  A broken and static transmission played.

  “This is . . . in time . . . copy, over . . . coordin . . . we are broadcasting . . . worm . . . trying to communica . . . Tyr . . . Comman. . . also track . . . gash . . . must reply . . . this is . . .”

  [End recording.] The computer chimed.

  Kason looked at, Takkar. “I don’t understand?”

  “The message was encrypted with an Ordinance code. A code over sixty years old. This message came from the First Fleet’s flagship, Tyr.”

  “The Tyr?”

  “Yes, to my surprise as well. Our surveillance probes in this sector picked up the transmission when the tendrils reappeared several days ago.”

  “How can that be? Is it a reflection of an older transmission?” Kason asked.

  “It’s not an old transmission stuck in the fabric of space-time, if that’s what you’re asking. We ruled that out when the encryption was tagged with the year 268 P.E. and Captain Strathin’s personal code.”

  “Maybe the Kryth?”

  “Nay . . . those kronk bastards wouldn’t have known this information.”

  “Then what could it be?”

  “That’s the speed of light question, now isn’t it?” Takkar said.

  A female ensign at another console interrupted their conversation, “Captain, we have a spike in the Ribbon. It’s getting larger.”

  “Magnify,” Takkar ordered.

  The bridge window was also a projector panel. The image of the green Ribbon began to widen at the tip, forming a swirling oval opening, continuing through to the thin tail.

  “Interesting,” Takkar commented, “Looks like a wormhole opening. First one for me.”

  “Me too,” Kason added.

  The tendril now turned into a full-blown wormhole. It flashed with green light as the swirling energy rotated around the opening, like a giant eye of a great terrestrial storm.

  “I have another contact, sir,” the ensign announced.

  Takkar and Kason walked over to her monitor.

  “Looks like a Kryth ship, Commander,” the ensign reported.

  “Can you tell the designation?” Takkar asked.

  “No, sir. It looks to be on the outer fringe of the Montis Rift Nebula. It’s using the cloud as a cloak. My guess would be a frigate.”

  “Any others?”

  “No, sir. All sectors in range are clear.”

  Kason stepped up, “Someone watching us or watching the wormhole?”

  “Probably both. Either way, I wouldn’t assume for a second what those kronks might be doing.”

  “Looks like our arrival paid off, then.”

  Directing his eyes in the Reaver’s direction, Takkar stated, “Looks like someone needs to suit up.”

  Kason chuckled, “I’ll assemble my team and get them prepped for the pods. Let me know if the situation changes.”

  “I may do that,” Takkar mocked.

  Kason smiled and departed for the door.

  Takkar turned with one last comment for the Reaver, “Make it quick, too. I’m getting an itchy trigger finger for this Kryth.”

  Kason just raised his hand and exited the bridge.

  “Crazy kizard,” Takkar murmured to himself.

  “Excuse me, sir?” The ensign asked.

  “Nothing. Just keep an eye on the Kryth and that wormhole. If either of them flinch, I want full targeting on both . . . hell, target them now. Prep all weapons and raise shields.” Takkar sat back down on the edge of his chair, continuing, “Set crew readiness at Condition Two and bring up comms to Ordinance Command.”

  “Aye-aye, sir.”

  Takkar rested back in his command seat, murmuring, “Never a dull moment around here.”

  Data Cell 29

  The nebula cloud of dust and gas swirled around the Kryth frigate, buffeting the hull with ferocious turbulence. The ship was dark, with no external lights and only low, infrared spectrums lighting the control consoles inside. Voskal Lat sat on the bridge, nervous and trying to resist the urge to engage thrusters to maintain a stable position. He was very mindful of his position within the nebula. He did not want to drift into the core, where the swirling, elemental storms were even stronger and much more dangerous.

  A static transmission crackled on the monitor, startling Voskal Lat, seated alone on the bridge in the eerie, red-tinged darkness. The computer struggled to accept the transmission through the maelstrom outside, until a broken image of Lintorth Sol appeared in flashes as the transmission signal was boosted.

  “Lintorth, I have an emergency communique I have been trying to send you.”

  “I am here now. What is your report?”

  Voskal was on edge. “I have sighted a Human warship monitoring a wormhole outside the Parlax Nebula.”

  “Wormhole? You did not mention anything about a wormhole in your last report, Voskal.” Lintorth drummed his fingers before him, agitated. “I have progressed in my search for the Humans and have all my assets engaged. I depend on those loyal to my task to provide me with vital intelligence, without hesitation,” he scolded.

  “I. . . I was trying to update you when the wormhole appeared from the Streamer the Humans were watching. I was trying to gather as much data as I could before contacting you,” he rationalized. “It appears to be of different construction and characteristic than the other Streamers we have seen.”

  “Have they noticed you?”

  “I do not believe so.”

  “What type of ship is it?”

  “We believe it to be a battleship or destroyer. Comparable to an Exendoth, but larger,” Voskal surmised.

  “Just one?”

  “Yes. There are no other ships in the area. What could they be doing?”

  Voskal’s question was not answered. Lintorth was contemplating the situation, a situation he was not pleased with. He knew the Humans were tracking down the Gashnee Ancients, for he was after them himself.

  Lintorth didn’t take long to form his own question. “Are the readings on the wormhole Gashnee?”

  Voskal was stunned, “How did you—”

  “It seems the Humans are intrigued by this race.”

  “Maybe they are interested in the energy source the wormholes create. We know that the Gashnee used the energy to power their technology.”

  “Maybe,” Lintorth considered, “Maybe, my friend. But, conjecture and guessing are not what you are in the business of, Voskal Lat. I want facts. Keep watch on the Humans and report everything as soon as you can.”

  “What if they are with the Gashnee?” Voskal questioned, shuddering at the idea.

  “Then we will finally know, won’t we.”

  Data Cell 30

  The nav-system beeped our arrival to the planet Enil-Lok. Mistuuk was asleep but I was wide awake. The waning alarm brought back uneasy memories of past missions to this jungle-covered rock.

  It was
twenty years ago that the largest Tesllin mineral and Grittinian ore deposits were found. Many races made a run on the planet. They had cleared large, circled swaths from the rainforest which covered the entire sphere in a solid canopy of green and color. From space, the forested planet was scarred by large rock patches, the clearing areas the machines chewed up to get to the precious deposits of ore and mineral. In doing so, ancient ruins of past races that had stood in the green entanglement for centuries were destroyed. An archeologist’s dream gone to profits.

  I was charged to keep an eye on Human smugglers who took part in the operation. Mydian corporations wanted to get in on the act and would send secret transports to do dealing for the rare commodity that Enil-Lok offered. I needed to keep Human existence out of contact with other races which mined the surface. It was here that I had lost my partner in a bad trade deal. I was left to die by these corporate greeders, but I made if off the planet with the help of an Utemtca Nal ore runner, so I knew this place well. How could one forget?

  The planet that we approached looked no different than when I left it, take a few more trees and give a few more ore pits.

  I went to wake the Cuukzen up, “Up and at ‘em. Let’s go. We’re here.”

  I headed to brew some coffee. This was going to be a long day and I need every bit of accelerated-caffeine in my system.

  As I sipped my morning nectar, the Cuukzen lay snoring upside-down on my cot.

  “Lazy pudge.”

  I saw Blink resting on a crate next to him. “Hey, Blink. Wake your buddy up.”

  Lights flashed on her triangle top. She hovered up into the air above the floor.

  “Well? You going to wake him?” I asked.

  Blink shook her metal black body back and forth.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with a flying boomerang. My coffee was getting cold.

  Coffee finished, I walked past the cot and kicked the corner leg out. The cot fell over, sending the Cuukzen rolling onto the floor and into a pool of his own drool.

  “Blink, that wasn’t nice,” I murmured, walking back to the cockpit.

  “Rels. . . not fun,” came Mistuuk’s muffled morning voice.

  We were approaching the security checkpoint above the planet. We shouldn’t have a problem, as my mining pass, along with bribe credits if need be, would do the trick. I was more concerned to see if we would have a greeting party on the surface. Our luck would say so.

  I piloted the ship towards an open community mining pit. Most pits in the area were owned by an overseeing race. There were five major races that mined the planet. The Kryth and the Vrae didn’t have operations here, they would just take their share from subjugated scripts. How convenient. Add another item to the Kryth scumbag list.

  This open pit was for any freelancers to mine. Each pit was different in size, but most measured at least a couple kilometers across. In between each of the race-owned holes were towns and shanties that were constructed for the workers who lived there. They intertwined and connected to one another, making for one long, twisting community. Some of these towns were tougher than others, but they all had several things in common: women, fighting, drinking, gambling, and even more women. There was always some profit to be made in the games they held in the districts when night fell and the day’s work was complete.

  Between each ore pit, ran elevated rock haulers. The mag-lev system had ore containers moving along an above track to the processing facilities each race had set up for themselves. The Kryth and the Vrae constructed and maintained the hauling system from the pits to the processors, with a tax levied against the other users of the system. Always looking to squeeze every credit out of every situation. With only a few deaths per week, they considered it a well-run operation.

  The flight down to the surface was beautiful, coming in from the south during dusk. The lush foliage of tree canopies covered the layered slabs of rock they rooted themselves to below. Rivers of turquoise, clear water wove through the trees and rocks, pooling in large, natural quarries before dropping off into amazing waterfalls.

  We were coming over the last of the tree outcroppings when the Temple of Zinta-Dumm appeared in all its wrecked glory. One of the oldest temple sites on the planet, it was crumbling away due to the mining coming from the Mertiklask pit operations, only a few thousand meters away. It was a shame to see such rich and ancient cities being destroyed by a bunch of greed over some semi-valuable minerals. There was no oversight for these historic sites, as these ancient civilizations had had their chance. The survival of the richest, so goes the universe.

  As we came in close over the treetops, flocks of zans flew off their perches in the canopy. The large reptiles were beautiful, with over-sized wings and frills. Their colors glistened in the setting sun.

  “Hey, Rels, that’s Zinta-Dumm. Oh, and those are zans,” the Cuukzen admired as he strolled into the cockpit.

  “Well, good morning, mister bounty hunter of the obvious.”

  “Could we stop and look, Rels?”

  “Yes, we can. No. No, we can’t. Do you even remember why we’re in such a rush?”

  “I know, Rels. I’m just fascinated with ancient ruins.”

  “Let’s get on with the mission, shall we?”

  “I’m all set, Rels,” he said, showing me his Slammer pistol.

  Blink hovered down to look at the side arm on Mistuuk’s hip. The bot sounded some squeaks and whistles.

  “Let me guess,” I said, “Blink likes it, right?”

  Mistuuk’s face shown with excitement, “How did you know, Rels? Do you understand her now?”

  I sat back in my chair and tried to roll my eyes all the way back into my skull. The bot-and-midget duo will be my doom.

  I flew the ship down along the edge of the one hundred meter deep pit. The neutral township came up near the northern rim.

  “I’m going to set her down on the last pad leading into the village. Do you know the way to the Vrae contact?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Mistuuk replied, “I know a secret path that will take us. No one will see, Rels.”

  “Good. We get in and we get out.”

  The console sounded and a holo-image scrolled up with data.

  “What’s that, Rels?”

  “I ran a data scan of the ships docked here. Two look to be unknown, but those are on the other side of town. The others are normal mining and personal transports. Nothing out of the ordinary. That worries me.”

  I set the landing cycle on automatic and got up to prep the ramp, “Let’s go. And leave the bot.”

  A quick stop atop the ramp, I put my mask and hat on.

  The ship rotated around, landing on the pad just as the ramp lowered. I was off, with Mistuuk behind me.

  “Lead the way,” I told him.

  We headed down the stairs to the pad and onto a path in the rocks. Mistuuk led us towards a drainage ditch that ran along the pad from the town and out to the mining pit.

  The smell, I had forgot . . . barely. It was a cesspool of unknown, foul aromas. You had a better chance with the locals than you did with this muck, if you ever got it on you.

  We were down twenty meters below the rim, following a narrow crevasse leading into the town. The black layers of rock above darted in and out, overlapping, giving way to the darkening sky above. It gave good cover from those above who may look down.

  We had come to an intersection that backed up against the south section of the village.

  “Which building is the old woman at?” I whispered to my pudgy guide.

  He pointed to a multiplex structure to our right, about four buildings down.

  Mistuuk indicated a sewer entrance ahead, showing one finger as the first option for entry. He curved his hand forward to the left with two fingers, showing the direction of the front entrance. The final option was the backdoor down to our right. Just before I motioned for him to proceed, a figure walked passed the street that ran down the front row of b
uildings.

  I grabbed the Cuukzen, moving back against the crevasse wall behind us.

  The figure on the road stopped at the intersection of the major walkway leading into town. The unknown being was hooded and large. I couldn’t place the race. The being looked down each way of the street and then turned back around, slowly retreating the way it had come.

  I motioned Mistuuk to wait.

  A few minutes later, the figure reappeared in the street again. This time, it turned our way, walking on the path leading to our position behind the buildings. He was making security rounds. Our assailants were already here. Were we too late? I didn’t think so. They must be interrogating our contact inside the multiplex. They weren’t done getting the info on the Ancients, as the guard patrolling outside attested to.

  We had to move, now.

  The broad shoulders of the guard became wider the closer it got. I pulled out my combat knife. This had to be silent if we didn’t want to draw attention. But, that was bound to happen anyway, given the size of the guard. The bigger they are, the noisier they fall. I hated physics, at this moment.

  The guard stopped in front of us, fifteen meters too far for a quick take down. I would wait until he walked down the back alley of the buildings. He then did exactly that.

  I tried to get a clear look at the type of being I was about to assault. I needed to know what I was up against. The moons of the planet would have supplied plenty of reflected light to see the face before me, but the night was darkened by clouds passing above.

  Just as the being turned, I caught a glimpse of its face under the hood. A Comondon?!

  Those were Kryth lackeys. I really didn’t have to guess who was behind the assassination of our contact, the Kryth Mahrs Domain’s reach is long. At least now, I knew what I was up against.

  I signaled Mistuuk to stay in place. I stepped up on the road above our position and approached the Comondon.

  I would take him down, then roll the body over into the ditch below. I was about two meters behind him. He was an easy approach, since the bull had heavy footfalls as it walked.

  Stopping where I was, I thought about the other guards. There are definitely more of them around and, with this one gone for any length of time, they would be alerted that something was wrong.