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  Curious as to his meaning, Masterson shifted his light to the lieutenant-commander’s visor only to find the man wearing the same unreadable look of stoicism that he usually wore. Has Briggs figured it out? “Of sorts,” Masterson finally said.

  “Yeah, well, this might’ve been a capitol at one time,” Langella said. “But now all I see is a tomb. This place is bad news. We should leave, and now.”

  “Calm yourself, Major.” Masterson returned his attention to the corridor’s far end. “We’ll leave when we’re finished. For now, however, we press on.”

  Soon after, the three men arrived at the tunnel’s mouth, which, as Masterson had guessed, let out into a second stone chamber much like that of the main cavern they’d just left. This one, however, appeared more operational than social in nature, given the myriad trashed consoles, battle stations, and age-worn panels that surrounded the central command deck.

  “This looks like some sort of operations deck or CIC,” Briggs said, stepping to one of the terminals and sliding a corpse aside to inspect the controls. Unlike the armored guard outside, though, this one wore a basic black cloth uniform, as did the nine others like him who were scattered around the chamber.

  Officers, Masterson guessed before addressing Briggs aloud. “Can you make sense of any of it?”

  Briggs shook his head. “The glyphs on these instruments are the same as those from the atrium walls outside. Ovies could maybe decipher them if he were here, but this is beyond me.”

  Masterson nodded, continuing to look around as the edges of his mouth creased into a proud smile that, try as he might, he could no longer hide. After all these years of waiting—after all the research, and the planning, and the endless late nights in the back-alley slums of Detron City—he’d finally found it. Now, if he could only find…

  “Commandant Masterson?” Briggs sounded alarmed at his station. “Sir, I’ve got activity on this panel.”

  Masterson snapped alert and hurried to Briggs’s side where a small trio of lights blinked in the terminal. “Was that station active when we entered the room?”

  Briggs shook his head. “I can’t be sure, sir, but I don’t think so.”

  Masterson’s pulse jumped as the rest of Briggs’s panel activated. The panel beside it followed, then another after that, and within seconds, all three men stepped back as the previously dormant chamber groaned to life.

  Unnerved, Langella jumped back. But Masterson and Briggs held their ground.

  “Sir!” Lieutenant Ovies’s voice erupted in Masterson’s earpiece. “Sir, we’ve got contact!”

  “Report! What kind of ship is it? Make, nationality, configuration…what is it?”

  “Sir, I…” Ovies hesitated. “Sir, I honestly have no idea. It must’ve been hiding in the nebula because it literally just appeared right in front of us!”

  “Have you gone to red alert?” Masterson asked quickly.

  “Yes, sir, per protocol.”

  “Stand down now!”

  “What?” Langella exploded beside the commandant. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Across the room, Briggs took a step toward his CO.

  “Sir, are you sure about that order?” Ovies asked.

  “Lieutenant, listen to me,” Masterson said. “If this is who I think it is, then that ship has the capability to blow the Kamuir away with barely a fraction of its ordnance. Now do it!”

  A moment later, Ovies returned. “It’s done, sir. We are defenseless.”

  Masterson chuckled. “Lieutenant, you were defenseless the minute that ship dropped out of hyperspace. All you’ve done is tell them we’re willing to talk. Now, I presume they’ve already scanned our hull?”

  “Yes, sir, as soon as they entered the system.”

  “Good,” Masterson said. “I want you to scan theirs and stream the data to my suit’s HUD.”

  Langella huffed in the background. “How do you know that won’t provoke them, whoever they are?”

  Masterson gave him a curt look and keyed the holo-emitter in his left glove using the controls on his gauntlet. After that, he flipped his palm up and waited while the emitter rendered a small-scale three-dimensional mockup of the Kamuir’s agressor.

  “Magnificent,” Masterson murmured, studying the tiny vessel suspended in green light above his palm. Long and lean with the sleek configuration of a cruiser—albeit a very large cruiser—the ship’s hull plating and firepower alone were beyond anything he’d ever seen.

  “Fifteen hundred myracrons,” Briggs said, having accessed the ship’s specs in his own HUD. “That’s roughly three times the density of conventional armor. It’d take the full force of at least a dozen of our ships to even get through it.” His expression turned grave. “And I shudder to think what her weapons would do to us in a fight.”

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Masterson said. Still, impressed as he was with the ship’s defenses, there was yet one more reading that he had to marvel at: the ship’s energy signature, shown in his HUD with a bright-red 100.

  Pure caldrasite. Finally.

  De-rezing the image back into his suit’s palm-emitter, Masterson re-keyed his comm. “Lieutenant Ovies, I want you to hail that ship.”

  Apparently done asking questions, Ovies was silent a moment, then said, “You’re on.”

  “Alien vessel, this is Alec Masterson, commandant of the Alystierian Imperial fleet and commanding officer of the flagship Kamuir before you. I request an audience with your commander.”

  No response.

  “Alien vessel,” Masterson went on. “We have no wish for conflict, as evidenced by my ship’s present green status. We only wish a dialog. Over.”

  A low baritone voice, blurred by a digital haze, shook the room via speakers on the walls. “This is the Kurgorian warbird, Vanxus. Why have you returned to Kurgorian space?”

  Kurgorians, Masterson acknowledged the species name. Then with a quick double-tap of his gauntlet, he cut the comm to the Kamuir to keep the conversation private. “As specified, we’ve come to seek an audience with your people.”

  “You double-crossing bastard,” Langella growled under his breath. Briggs, meanwhile, stood quietly at his terminal and listened.

  “You would dare call for an audience with us?” the voice said. “After the atrocity your people committed against us so long ago? We should destroy you where you stand.”

  If you meant to destroy me, you would’ve done so already, Masterson thought. “I’m sorry, but you have us confused with another people,” he said. “Those you speak of…the ones who destroyed your world…they are called the Aurans, and our people have been at war with them for more than two decades.”

  “We scanned your ship when it crossed our border,” the voice said. “While slightly different in configuration, the basic tech-signature still matches that of our enemies from a century ago. Prepare to die.”

  “Wait!” Masterson thrust out his hands. “The Aurans are our ancestors, yes, but the empire stands apart. Once the war with your people ended, we cast off their heritage to build a society of our own, free of their antiquated laws and closed-minded policies—policies, I might add, which deprived us of the chance of peace with your people. But that doesn’t have to be the case now.”

  Langella’s face turned to stone as the revelation of the voice’s true identity sank in. Briggs, however, stayed calm.

  “Providing that all you say is true,” the voice said, “what then do you propose?”

  Masterson straightened to his full height. “I propose an alliance. As mentioned, Alystier has been at war with Aura for some time now, the latter part of which has been spent in a deadlock due to power. At present, though, and as much as it pains me to say this, the Aurans are breaking that deadlock. An alliance with your people—with your technology—could change all of that.”

  “You have nothing we require.”

  Masterson’s face sharpened in expectant delight. “Oh, I would very much beg to differ. You see, I offer the one
thing you crave most…revenge.” Masterson paused for a moment to let his point resonate. “The Aurans are not to be underestimated. They’ve grown strong in recent years, developing weapons and tech that rivals even yours, though they lack your numbers. I can provide you with everything you need to know about them: strengths, weaknesses, troop deployments, tactical stats, resource intelligence…I have access to all of it.”

  “And in exchange?”

  “In exchange, you will provide me with the science I require to perfect pure-caldrasite technology, and the means to implement it throughout my fleet by year’s end.”

  A long pause followed.

  “Do you have the authority to make such a proposition on the part of your people?” the voice asked, and Langella flashed a silent snarl from the corner.

  “I do,” Masterson lied. “The question is, do you?”

  “You’ll have our answer within the hour. At that time, the Kurgorian Guard will either agree to your terms, or terminate your entire crew…Vanxus out.”

  “You stupid son of a bitch!” Langella erupted. “What the hell have you done?”

  Masterson turned to face his XO, his expression firm and resolute. “I just won the war, Major Langella.”

  “You don’t know that,” Langella snapped back. “For all you know, they’ll come back in an hour and slaughter every one of us which, from the sound of it, won’t be that difficult!”

  Masterson pursed his lips and began moving casually toward his XO. “Please, Major, try to contain your overwhelming need for drama. If the Kurgorians meant to kill us, they’d have done so before they ever heard the sound of my voice. They were curious.”

  “Kurgorians,” Langella spat out. “Why don’t you call them what they are! They’re the slaring Beyonders! And you just put us right back on their radar!”

  “No.” Masterson came nose to nose with Langella’s visor. “I just put the Aurans right back on their radar, and in the process, fast-tracked the empire to total dominance of the quadrant.”

  Langella’s expression twisted. “Chancellor Zier will never stand for this. The fact that you deliberately circumvented his authority to come on this mission is a dischargeable offense as it is, but…” He laughed, clearly beside himself. “I mean, was there ever even a caldrasite reservoir here to find?”

  “But of course there was,” Masterson said in a frosty tone. “Just beneath where you’re standing right now…about a hundred and three years ago. As for the chancellor’s learning of what has transpired here…Well, I’m afraid it’ll be some time before that happens.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” Langella spat. “As soon as the Kamuir exits the expanse, I fully plan on—”

  A loud, plastic thwack echoed through the chamber when the stalagmite in Masterson’s hand plunged itself into the XO’s visor. A wet, syrupy gurgling noise ensued as Langella’s corpse fell, twitching, to the ground.

  Masterson sneered down at the body and allowed himself a celebratory moment. Then, satisfied, he returned his attention to the lone witness to the slaying.

  “So, Commander.” Masterson reached down and used Langella’s pant leg to wipe the blood from his gloves. “What say you to all of this?”

  Briggs seemed to consider the question. “I think it’s all a horrible tragedy, sir.”

  Masterson frowned. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir.” Briggs fished a shaped charge from his enviro-suit, and pointed to a large stalactite cluster under a nearby archway. “The way I see it, if the XO hadn’t been standing in that corner over there when the truss gave way, none of this would’ve happened. I guess some of these tunnels weren’t as structurally sound as we thought.”

  Masterson smiled at the commander’s meaning. “You always were a sharp one, Briggs.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 12: Departure

  A sandy-haired petty officer greeted Danny on the deck of the Larrin with an information tablet and a quick salute before jogging off.

  “So how was the car?” Madisyn asked, strolling through the hangar’s rear entrance.

  Danny blew out a longing sigh.

  “Missing her already, are we?”

  “You have no idea.” Danny tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder and fell into step with her. “Listen, I get that technologically speaking, Aura trumps Earth in pretty much every way. But trust me when I say, Madisyn, that when it comes to transportation, you guys just don’t make a ride like my baby.”

  Madisyn rolled her eyes. “You and that car.”

  “Hey, cut me a little slack, will ya? I mean, she’s only the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  That one won him a smile. “Nice save.”

  Danny leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I do what I can. So, how’d things go with Katie? She make the trip up okay?”

  “Her response was as expected,” Madisyn said, “though a bit more tempered than yours was that first time. She is, after all, a talented scientist in her own right.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, speaking of which, we’re having dinner with her in the Officers’ Club tonight.”

  Danny winced. “You realize Katie Summerston pretty much hates me, right?”

  “Relax, Danny. We had a chat on our way up.”

  “Great,” Danny muttered. “That’s all I need.”

  “It’ll be fine. Let’s just say that I think her perspective on things has changed a bit now that she knows what you guys have really been up to these last few years.”

  “Fine, whatever. Just be prepared for some awkwardness in the early going. That’s all I’ll say.” Danny gestured Madisyn through a junction ahead of him then rubbed his hands in anticipation. “So, you all set for our trip to Finley Springs next week?”

  This time it was his girlfriend who winced. “Yeah, about our trip…”

  Danny stopped cold. “Whoa, you’re not bailing, are you? C’mon, Madisyn, we’ve been planning this for months! And besides, it’s the first real leave I’ve had in more than a year!”

  “Take it easy, Danny, I’m not cancelling. It’s just that…Well, Jon called me.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Danny grumbled. “What’d he want?”

  Madisyn’s shoulders sagged. “Remember the biomed conference next week on Kellen 3? The one where we’re rolling out the new Mimic-Medical protocol for spinal research?”

  “You mean the one Reiser graciously agreed to cover so we could go on this trip? Yeah, it rings a bell.”

  “In fairness,” Madisyn said, “he’s not entirely backing out. He’s still covering the Tuesday and Wednesday sessions.”

  “Which leaves Monday.” Danny continued toward his quarters. “You know, that day two days after we’re supposed to be leaving?”

  Madisyn tossed her hands in the air. “I’m sorry, Danny. Really, I am. But outside of Jon, nobody knows Mimic tech like I do, and they’re expecting a huge turnout at this thing. That means tons of questions, so one of us has to be there.”

  Danny knit his eyebrows. He’d been climbing the walls for weeks in anticipation of this trip, partly because he needed the break, though mostly because he’d been dying for some quality time alone with his always-in-demand, genetics-rockstar girlfriend. And yet here came Jon Reiser, swooping in like always with a last-minute request for her time. Give her a break, already, Jon. Then Danny remembered: the Bombshell. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. Reiser needs you, and given the time you’ve invested in this project and all the people it could help, you should totally go.”

  Madisyn froze, her face a mask of suspicion. “How very considerate of you. And yet why do I sense there’s a catch?”

  “No catch whatsoever,” Danny said. “As a matter of fact, the Larrin is bound for that region on Sunday, but I’ll bet I can talk Captain Weldon into keeping my name on the passenger manifest so we can hitch a ride. That’ll save us a good twelve hours. Plus, I’ll even make a call to your dad’s office to set up your security detail.”

&nb
sp; “Wow, you’ve clearly thought of everything,” Madisyn said.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Danny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Out with it.”

  Danny grimaced. “Well, I was just thinking…Since we’re gonna be on Aura anyway Saturday night, I might pick up a…”

  Madisyn’s look turned quizzical then anvil-flat as his implication set in. “You didn’t!”

  “No, technically Reeg did.”

  “You have got to be kidding me, Danny!”

  “What? It’ll be fine.”

  Madisyn glared at him. “Okay, let’s just skip right past the fact that you told me you’d retired. Because, silly me, I thought I could trust that. But now you go off and agree to this, the weekend of our trip?”

  “I don’t recall ever retiring,” Danny said. “Taking a hiatus from competition maybe, but not retiring. What’s the big deal, anyway? I mean, the Larrin doesn’t break orbit until Sunday, and we both know you’ll need the extra time to prep for your talk, right? So it’s not like I’m cutting our trip any shorter than we already have for your conference.”

  “Oh, don’t you even turn this back on me, you ass. Have you somehow forgotten how your last fight ended?”

  Danny raised his palms. “So I got a little dinged up…that’s the exception in these matches not the rule.”

  “Call it whatever you want,” Madisyn fired back. “Personally, I call it six weeks in rehab with busted ribs and a shattered left fibula. Noll is still livid about that, by the way.”

  “Hey, in my defense, we got bad intel on that guy before I fought him. Reegan was told he was a level-five combatant, no higher, and he turned out to be an eleven. That said, I still would’ve handed that kid his lunch had I not tweaked a shoulder the week before on a drop.”

  “Ah, the humility of defeat. Listen, Danny, I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but there’s gonna come a day when you’re gonna have to accept that Kachuro fighting—good as you are at it—is a young man’s sport. And you?” She gestured to the gray in his chin stubble. “Not as young as you used to be.”