Apex (14 page)

“To give them a fighting chance,” Ella echoed his earlier words, now understanding.

“Where nature did not,” he finished.

Ella nodded. “So where do we fit in? Why did you alter us?”

Riax smiled, nodding his head fractionally. “Call it the ultimate gesture of friendship,” he said, actually understating the fact.

“How so?” Ella asked, curious to know more now that her faith in the Humans had been restored.

“We gave you some of our genetic code,” Riax said simply. “That's how I was able to heal you so fast.”

Ella actually stumbled for a moment, taking half a step back to maintain her balance. “You're saying I'm . . . part Human?!”

“As is the Junta,” Riax pointed out. “Each of our primary allies had some measure of our genetic code blended with theirs. In the case of the Cres, we actually borrowed some of yours for our use. In that you are unique.”

Ella shook her head back and forth. “I don't believe it,” she said in awe.

“Didn't you ever wonder why we look so much alike?” Riax half joked.

“Until we found your ship, we didn't know what Humans looked like.”

“Oh . . . sorry,” he apologized.

Ella smiled wryly. The thought of a Human apologizing to her was weird.

Then again, I'm part Human too.

The logic of the statement hit her like a hammer. “That's why we were targeted for eradication after you.”

“Possibly,” Riax admitted, “but you also fought alongside us during the war. That could have drawn their ire as well.”

“Who were they? Our records never said.”

Riax's amicable disposition hardened a bit. “They never identified themselves to us, nor were we able to identify their point of origin, though we suspect somewhere in the deep core. At least we did up until I was put in the pod. Who knows what we may have discovered after that point in time.”

“Do you know what they looked like?”

“Yes, and I got an up close look when one bit my arm off,” he said angrily, the recent memories easily coming to the surface. “Ugly bastards, sort of a mix between reptile and arachnid, a bit larger than your cargo walkers.”

“Oh . . .” Ella said, feeling her breath escape her and a creepy sensation run down her spine as Riax telepathically showed her one of his memories. The enemy she'd long heard stories about was even more terrifying than she'd imagined. “How did you survive?”

“I killed it.”

“How?” she asked. The thing was a monster.

“With my other arm,” he answered pithily.

For a moment she thought he was joking, but he wasn't. “Is it . . . I mean if you can heal so fast, and me and them,” she said, gesturing to the Dreklors, “is there any way you can heal your . . . wound?”

“I was placed in the pod for transport to a medical facility where they would have regrown my arm in a matter of hours. Given that that's no longer an option, I'll have to take the slow route and let it regrow on its own. Which is another reason why I'm eating up all your food stores.”

Ella nodded. “Same reason why I'm thinner now?” she half joked.

Riax smiled. “You didn't leave me much to work with, but yes, I needed to cannibalize biomass from your fat cells to regrow your tissue. I don't have enough in my body to quickly regrow my arm, so it's going to take a few weeks, minimum.”

“I'm glad,” Ella said genuinely. “How long for them?”

Riax glanced back at the two sleeping Dreklors/Kayna. “Regrowing his eyes is going to take the longest, muscle tissue is easy by comparison, but I'd guess they'll be back into nominal shape before I am.”

“And you're sure they're on our side now?” she asked, not totally convinced and still harboring considerable anger at them for having killed Ivara and Lornas.

“They're loyal to me,” he cautioned. “And I can understand your resentment, given the deaths of your companions, but consider that this is not their natural form. They've been deliberately altered into weapons, against their will, I believe. In that regard, they're as much victims as they are responsible for the others' deaths. It doesn't excuse what they did, but it means they're not truly the enemy here. Can you understand that distinction?”

“It would be easier if we had your abilities to defend ourselves with,” she argued. “It would seem you're underestimating the threat they pose due to your physical dominance.”

Riax smiled, she had some wit about her. “When one is fighting for survival, one's options for extending mercy are extremely limited. Dominance allows us to be more forgiving, plus I remember what the Kayna once were.”

“We won't cause trouble,” Ella assured him. “I just hope you're right about them.”

“They're using a language unfamiliar to me, but I think we've come to an understanding.”

“If it's the commerce language, we can translate for you,” she offered.

“I'm not sure that it is. Then again, the mercenaries had to have some way of communicating with them.”

“What are you going to do with the mercs?”

“Actually,” Riax said, standing up. “I think it's time we dealt with that.”

“Do you want me to watch them?” Ella asked, pointing at the Kayna.

“No, I've put them in a permanent sleep state. They'll stay that way until I release them . . . or until something large hits them,” he added. “Leave them be and come with me. And bring your armor.”

 

Chapter 15

A
LTOG
ETHER
THERE
WERE
thirteen prisoners, two were Fret, four were Presca, and the remaining seven were Uria. They all sat on the floor of the main cargo bay in a cluster, arms and legs bound, stripped of their armor, weapons, and other equipment. Some of them were wounded, and had been given temporary medical treatment enough to stabilize them. They lay on the floor, more or less comatose.

Orrona and Ella stood on either side of the group in full armor, assault rifles held at the ready. Marren and Jalia were nowhere to be seen, busy on assigned tasks. Riax approached the group from a side door, his visage covered in a large black cloak that he'd appropriated from the mercenary ship. He stopped a meter in front of the prisoners, looking down on them.

He didn't say a word, but his glance slowly crept from one individual to the next as he telepathically linked with each of them, sensing their mood, current thoughts, and gleaning what information he could. Finally his gaze settled on one of the Uria.

The index finger of his left hand poked out of Riax's cloak's long sleeves and pointed at the face of the lumpy, but stout creature. Its eyes looked up at him in fear, then darted to the side as Ella approached. She lifted it up by the shoulder and dipped beneath its waist, hoisting it on her back and carrying it away.

Riax followed her out of the cargo bay and up into the accessway. He could sense the panic building in the merc, as it expected a horrific end to its life. Ella took it up into the smaller cargo bays and dumped it at the foot of the breaching point in bay 3. She unbound its feet first, then its hands.

“Move,” she ordered through her helmet's amplification speakers, pointing upward.

The Uria turned around slowly, glad to at least be free of the restraints, and climbed the ladder into the ceiling of the bay where their frigate had cut into their ship and installed a crude airlock. When it poked its head into the opening the gravity shifted and it stood up horizontal to the orientation of the
Resolute
. Ella followed a step behind, but given that she was on the ladder for a moment when it wasn't, the bony alien tried to take off down through the airlock while her weapon wasn't trained on it.

Riax concentrated and got a telekinetic grip on the merc, essentially freezing it in place. It took a great effort on his part to do so, but his hold was rock solid. Ella leapt up the last two rungs and pulled out her assault rifle from a back latch as she got her footing. Thoroughly confused and caught, the Uria meekly submitted to her weapon in its back and moved on without further resistance. Riax bent his knees, touching his fingers briefly to the ground, then jumped up to the airlock, completely bypassing the ladder, and followed Ella into the frigate.

They passed several bloody patches on the floor as they traveled through the ship, but no bodies were to be seen. The Cres had already cleared them from the corridors, but the smear marks bore witness to the recent battle for possession of the ship.

They ended up in the control room overlooking the engineering section, with several chairs scattered around haphazardly, but one was placed squarely dead center with its back to the windows.

“Sit,” Ella ordered.

The merc reluctantly complied and Riax circled around to stand behind it. He'd confirmed that it didn't speak Terran or any other language that he knew, so Ella was going to have to do all the talking.

“Your fuel supply is nearly depleted,” she began at Riax's telepathic prompting. “It's questionable whether or not this ship will have enough to complete deceleration. What's so important that you'd risk destroying your ship for?”

“We work for hire,” it said in low, gruff tones. “The price on your head is high enough to warrant the risk.”

“What's the point of capturing us if you're unable to return your prize?”

The asexual creature rippled its facial creases in a gesture of disdain. “If we had succeeded, your ship would have provided sufficient fuel.”

“And if you didn't succeed, you deserved to die?” Ella added, following Riax's cues and giving him telepathic translations.

The Uria growled, but didn't otherwise respond.

“Failure means death,” Ella continued, staring at it through her opaque faceplate. “Yet you are still alive, not because of your obvious lack of skill, but because we decided so.”

“And now you want information,” it guessed.

“Giving us a reason for your continued existence would be wise,” Ella quipped, continuing the charade.

“What do you want to know?” it spat.

“Who hired you?”

It snorted. “Does it matter? You've pissed off so many factions that there isn't a system within 50 wesks that will give you sanctuary. Run if you like, but Nevax will track you down. And if we don't get to you first, there's a long list of others that will. Who's paying us isn't important considering your situation.”

Ella stepped forward and punched the merc in the chest. Riax caught the back of the chair to keep it from tipping over.

“You didn't answer my question,” she reminded him. “That's rude, and I really hate rude ­people.”

The Uria's face rippled with agitation, but the blow had hardly damaged it, given the thick grey hide that covered its bony body. “We were given a retainer, but many factions have offered a much greater reward upon delivery of your Human relic. Obtaining it is the assigned task. Our leadership will decide who to collect from.”

“What assets do you have in the Mewlon System?”

“You'll find out when you get there.”

“Not many then, else you wouldn't have recklessly tried to take us midjump. You're worried that someone else was going to get to us first. Who is it waiting for us?”

The Uria leaned forward and smiled. “If for no other reason than to keep you alive long enough for us to recapture, I'll tell you. The Concordat has a base of operations in the system, and I'd bet my next kit batch that word has already reached them. They've got at least a battleship, which is why we usually only do contract work there.”

“Thank you,” Ella said sarcastically. “Since you've been so kind, we're going to give you your ship back. Of course you might not be able to make your deceleration jump with so much mass, so we're going to lighten your frigate for you first, then cut you loose. That will take a while, so I'll let you take a little nap in the meantime.”

The merc's head soon slumped over under Ella's telepathic pressure. Riax made sure he was unconscious then pulled off his own cloak and tossed it on top of the rhino-­like biped. “He wasn't lying about the Concordat. They're a more powerful rival mercenary faction.”

“We're aware of them,” Ella said, retracting her helmet. Her bright orange hair was pulled back and tied in a knot behind her blue head. “Decent tactics, above average equipment. More cautious than this group. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes,” Riax confirmed. “They've also got a second frigate en route to our destination. It should arrive just before we do.”

“Wonderful,” Ella commented dryly. “What's our next move?”

“Move the rest of the mercs in here. Marren and Jalia are almost finished stripping the ship.”

The Cres glanced down at the cloak-­covered merc. “You think they'll make it.”

“I already ran the calculations. They'll emerge close to the star, but they won't hit it. After that they'll pretty much be dead in the water, save for their plasma drives. They've got about a third left, enough for them to limp off to port.”

“More than fair,” she said, heading off to fetch the rest of the mercs.

Riax stayed behind and programmed the ship's navigational computer. When they detached four hours later, the mercenary frigate drifted laterally enough to clear the
Resolute
, then flipped end for end and briefly flared her plasma engines. The ship lost a sliver of speed and began to fall behind them. By the time the mercs were able to unlock the helm controls, they'd be too far away to cause them any further trouble. That, and they'd stripped all the weapons off their ship.

T
HREE
DAYS
LATER
Jalia found Riax in the center of cargo bay 3 with a mess of mechanical components strewn about the floor, surrounding him and the beginnings of something the Junta couldn't identify, but it already stood twice as tall as the Human.

“Snack?” she offered.

“Always,” Riax said with a grin. She tossed another Ikala bar his way, which redirected itself directly into his hand.

“I sense another question,” he said, speaking her native language. It was odd, being able to communicate with her and the Cres, but never at the same time. They both knew the commerce language that he didn't, and were able to communicate with each other, but the once former allies didn't know each other's languages. Another sign of how much had fallen apart in the Empire's absence.

“Do you mind?” she asked. “You look kind of busy.”

“I can multitask,” he said, eyes on his work. “So shoot.”

“You said I have some of your genetic code like the Cres and others. Who are the others?”

“The Cres were the first,” Riax said, telekinetically grabbing another component off the floor and inserting it just above his head, “then the Illar, Provarat, Nevar, Junta, and Dallek.”

“I've never heard of any of them.”

“They may still be alive,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “Our Empire stretched across the entire galaxy, and you spread out using our infrastructure. There might even be more surviving Junta out there.”

Jalia blinked. “I hadn't thought about that.”

“If our enemy was as thorough as the Cres have indicated, then I doubt any of our communication infrastructure remains. If not, then the only way to find out who's left out there is to reexplore the galaxy. Needless to say that's not going to happen overnight.”

“Interstellar communications?” Jalia echoed.

“Yes.”

“How exactly?”

Riax tapped on his construction. “With this.”

Jalia frowned and took a closer look at it. “How does it work?”

“Well, this is only a crude transmitter, but it'll allow us to tap into the grid if any system's nexus is still active. We'll send out a handshake pulse when we arrive in Mewlon and see if we get a response.”

“And if we don't?”

Riax shrugged. “We keep checking each system we pass through.”

“And this grid? How does it work?”

“Each system has a nexus, which has a transmission range of twelve parsecs. They link to conduits, which transmit data farther distances.”

“Yeah, but how do they transmit? The fastest thing I know of is Lionox energy, and that only travels a little over 5 times lightspeed, so . . .”

“You're thinking of instantaneous acceleration,” Riax corrected her. “The speed at which energy or a particle can be launched from a fixed source. We have access to faster sources, but the key is to enhance that speed after release.”

“You speed up the signal?” Jalia translated. “How? Some sort of space bridge?”

“Space bridge?” Riax asked, not sure what she was referring to.

“Some have theorized that Humans were able to jump from one point to another by folding space so that the two points had zero distance between them . . . or something like that.”

Riax laughed, continuing to work on the transmitter. “That's a myth. You can't ‘fold' space . . . it's emptiness. You can't fold nothing.”

“Then how do you do it?”

“There are a few methods. The one the Cres currently use accelerates the signal multiple times within the transmitter before release. The dynamics of our information grid operate on a greater understanding of physics, but to put it simply, we give the signal the ability to accelerate itself.”

“Interesting,” she mewed, turning over the concept in her mind without success. “How fast are you talking about?”

“Not enough for real-­time communication, but from one end of the galaxy to the other it'd take about two days for the data to transmit.”

Jalia's jaw dropped.

“This piece of junk, however,” Riax said, stepping back from his construction, “is little more than a short range beacon, but I have to configure it to transmit our type of signal so that the nexus will recognize it and respond.”

“Is it finished?”

“Not yet, and I have to get to work on your engines and shield generators. That merc ship overloaded a few of your dorsal arrays when it punched through with the boarding collar. I'm going to fix those and upgrade the others, then add at least three turrets, maybe four if the scrap is agreeable, plus one plasma cannon if I can scrape up enough components. We might need to do a little shopping once we arrive.”

Jalia knew he'd been tinkering with the ship and had intended to add some of the weapons they'd taken off the merc frigate, but she hadn't realized how ambitious a project it really was. “All by yourself? Or are you planning on putting in at a shipyard at some point?” she asked sarcastically.

“You're talking to a Beta. This tech level is kids' play.”

“Slight offense taken there,” she joked. “You said Beta before. I thought that was just part of your name?”

“Yes and no, it's my kadash. Similar to your clan name of Kella. Following that is our rank, classes and levels, and age. ‘Riax' is my familiar name, ‘Beta' is my kadash, ‘Colonel' is my rank, C8, L3, and X3 are my naval warfare, hand to hand, and technician skill levels, and 12 is my age.”

Jalia frowned. “You're only twelve cycles old?”

“Thousand,” Riax clarified. “And it's years, not cycles. The conversion would be about 15,000 cycles.”