The Plasma Shadow

By Brian Rushton

Two years have passed since the Battle of Venom. The survivors have spent the time in peace, and the Anacron Empire has enjoyed a season of unified prosperity. The recent conflict left many unanswered questions, but Mirana Kelar has not been idle. Even as she begins to uncover the origin of Dark Viper’s mysterious power, though, the remnant of an old enemy threatens to plunge the Empire back into war. And this time, even Nedward Simmons may not be able to stand against the forces that hunt him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Rushton
• Release date: Sep 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311926258

Brian Rushton

I'm a software engineer and a pretty dang good husband and dad. I graduated from the University of Washington and have lived pretty much my whole life in Washington state, except for two years in the Oriental Republic of Uruguay on a church mission. I still pronounce the "LL" in "tortilla" like an "SH".I love Mega Man and Metroid, and I have beaten Gradius and Contra without cheating. When pressed to compare Star Trek and Star Wars, I say that best of Star Trek is better than the best of Star Wars, although the average coolness:time ratio might be higher in Star Wars, at least for the original trilogy.I don't really think of myself as an author - I'm definitely keeping my day job. But with all those sci-fi ideas bouncing around in my head, eventually enough of them coalesced that I could form a story. I'm glad they did, because I actually have a hard time finding sci-fi books that I like. (If I can't share it with my kids, I probably won't like it either.) And I'm even more happy that a quadruple-digit number of other people have shared it. I guess nothing brings people together like saving the galaxy with cool powers and cool tech!http://BrianRushton.blogspot.com

Book preview

Prologue

Starlight filtered down through the branches, faintly illuminating the dirt path that meandered through the night forest. A faint breeze rustled the leaves, but besides the intermittent calls of nearby wildlife no other sound could be heard. A young man walked the path, his hands in his coat pockets, his eyes to the ground. The furrowed brow painted a solemn expression on his face; the peacefulness of his surroundings had apparently failed to penetrate the somber mood that had struck him. Shivering slightly at the touch of the wind, he walked on.

He had been walking for nearly an hour now, and still the same thoughts kept circulating through his troubled mind. The same questions, the same feelings. The same dilemma. Something was missing. Something important.

The path slopped upward slightly, and the man followed it around a slight curve to its end. The forest opened abruptly to a grassy field, roughly at the center of which stood a small hill. The night was brighter now that the trees were behind him, but still he kept his eyes to the ground. He tried to clear his mind, to put his concerns to rest for just a moment, but the matter refused to be dispelled, and he was forced to continue with it as his companion.

He reached the hill and climbed. The wind had died down, and the silence left him feeling exposed, almost unprotected. But he needed the silence, he knew. He needed to be here, alone, so that he could face his challenge without outward influences. He could not afford to delay it any longer.

Finally he reached the top and stopped. He took a deep breath, this time managing to clear his mind to some degree. Then he looked up.

Reaching across light years and eons, the radiant energy of the stellar host beamed down upon him, welcoming him with its glow. He looked at one star individually, noting its color and brightness, then turned to another. He could imagine how the star might look up-close, the turbulent plasma of its outer layers churning and erupting, exploding with the thermonuclear energy blasting its way outward from its core. There was so much power in a star – in just that one – that it defied all comprehension.

Then he looked again at the sky as a whole, and the beauty of the scene almost brought a tear to his eye. It was all so glorious, so mysterious, and so distant. If only I could be there, he thought. If only I could go back.

It had been fully two years since Nedward Simmons had lived among the stars, and they had seemed to grow more distant with each day.

He closed his eyes and thought back on that time. His family had been overjoyed to have him home, and he had longed so desperately to return to them, but Ned had known that the events between his departure and return had changed him forever, and it had not been easy to readjust. It had been a simple enough matter to hide his starfighter, and despite the tremendously conspicuous circumstances under which he had left, the relative chaos that had gripped the rest of the world had managed to dispel any attention that might otherwise have been attracted to Ned and his family. But that chaos had subsided, and by the time Ned had arrived home it had almost seemed as if nothing had changed.

Ned had decided to continue his plans for seeking a career in engineering, and shortly after returning home he had left for college. He had readapted well to scholastic life and had genuinely enjoyed his classes, and yet even then something had seemed incomplete. Part of it, Ned knew, was the knowledge that whatever Ned learned regarding engineering or science or history or anything else was vastly insignificant compared to the knowledge held by the distant Anacron Empire; quite frequently Ned had felt obsolete in the seemingly petty intellectual accomplishments he had made. But the real source of anxiety, the real reason why he had felt incomplete, was the Plasma.

He had not used it since he had gotten back. Not even once. Ned couldn’t count the times when he had wanted to use it – to cut the lawn, to incinerate the trash, or just to stay warm in the cold. But the price just seemed too high. Aside from the obvious apprehensions his family would have about it, any use of the power would undoubtedly attract the attention of the government. And once they found out, there would be no keeping it safe, and certainly no chance at living a normal life. After all, keeping the power out of the political and military affairs of Earth had been one of Ned’s reasons for leaving in the first place. And so, while Ned had succeeded in blending in with the workings of his homeworld, he had also succeeded in suppressing what had been the driving force during the most influential part of his life. Little wonder, then, that he felt so empty.

It had always been difficult to suppress the urge to use the Plasma, but never so difficult as during the last few months. It was almost as if the Plasma itself had been calling out to him, accusing him of betraying the power that had preserved his life and brought peace to an empire. Couldn’t a power like that benefit Earth as well? Wasn’t there something more productive Ned could do than study? How much good might it do the world to have the technology that was contained in that one starfighter? Indeed, it seemed a crime to let such a valuable treasure lie hidden. The Plasma Master had saved the lives of strangers; what was he doing for his friends?

Ned did not have an easy answer, but he had felt so certain that now was not the time to unleash the power and knowledge of an alien civilization on the world. The ancient Anacronians had left Earth rather than divulge their knowledge. Smardwurst Varlon had refused to leave behind anything that might lead to a technological revolution. The world was in a state of disunity and corruption, and Ned had come to the conclusion that such a world was not ready for what he had.

But how could he be sure?

Ned sighed and opened his eyes. Looking again at the starry sky he smiled wryly. He was avoiding the real question, he knew. In the end, he really was confident in his decision to keep outside technology from the world. The real question was not so much what he should do with what he had, but what he should be. Deep down, Ned felt that his role as keeper of the Anacron Shield Crystal and its awesome power was more fundamental to his identity than the course he was now pursuing, and it was quickly becoming clear that he was going to have to choose between the two. Bury his talents and adapt to a world where he no longer fit, or unleash unprecedented knowledge and power on a world that was not ready for it so he could feel useful and complete. Those were the two options. Either that, or . . .

His neck was beginning to cramp from looking upward, so he decided to sit down for a moment to massage his sore muscles. He could feel it – the Plasma – even now. It was coursing through the space around him, hidden away in an ethereal state but yearning to break free, to act. Ned remembered how it had felt to first gain control of the Plasma and make it his own. It had seemed so harmless, so benign.

There was a third option, of course. There was a way to make use of his power without threatening the delicate balance of order on Earth, to whatever extent order now prevailed. But that option might have an even higher price than the other two. It might require the greatest sacrifice of all. And Ned was not sure he was ready to make that sacrifice.

What should I do?

In his mind, Ned pictured the faces of his family members and close friends. He loved them deeply. He had fought for them, even risked his life for them, although they would never really understand that. It would be so hard to leave them. Then he pictured other faces. Smardwurst. Marnax. X. Jenara. Koral. Mirana. This time the tears would not be restrained. They had sacrificed for him, as well, he knew. They had placed their hope and trust in him and helped him to become what he was.

Ned stood up and brushed himself off. He had hoped to come to a conclusion here, tonight, but he felt no closer to a decision than he had before. It was all so complicated. With so many ideas vying for his approval it was hard to say what he really thought. But he knew what he felt. He felt emptiness and confusion. He felt lost.

Ned clenched his teeth and grunted out loud at his frustration. Abandoning for the moment the process of reasoning he had been putting himself through, he thrust his hand skyward, his fingers spread, his muscles tight. He felt the Plasmic energy charging in his body, struggling to break free. Deliberately he let it surge out along his arm, writhing and humming in tendrils of blue light. When it reached his hand it rushed around his fingers for an instant and then exploded upward in a column of azure energy.

Still Ned let the power come, enveloping him in its mighty aura, penetrating him from head to foot. He brought down his hand and clenched his fists at his sides, drawing the Plasma into him. It came from the ground beneath and from the air above, and Ned could feel himself growing stronger. It had been a very long time since he had experienced this, and he remembered now why he had missed it so much. The Plasma made him more than he could ever hope to become alone. It made him strong.

When he let the light fade and started down the hill toward his apartment, Ned had no more of an idea what the future would bring than when he had arrived. But he did have a much clearer perception of who he was, and for now, that would have to be enough.

Chapter 1

How much longer?

We should be in scanning range within a few minutes, Sir.

Smardwurst drummed his large, green fingers on the arm of his command chair. There was probably something better he could be doing than just sitting there, waiting, but he had no clue what it could possibly be. He and his crew had been flying through space for nearly a week now with no contact with any other vessel or planet, and everything Smardwurst could think of that might be useful for this mission had been done several times already. Now there was simply nothing left to do but wait. Smardwurst considered himself a patient man, but after a week of this he was growing restless. At least it wouldn’t be long now.

He sighed. Responding to distress signals was always a stressful business – it was great if you made it on time, but there was always the chance that you would simply witness someone’s tragedy. But this one was particularly troubling. For one thing, it was coming from deep space, well beyond where any Anacronian ship could be expected to travel – hence the difficulty with communications. And then there was the message itself, if it could really be called a distress signal at all. An Anacronian outpost had picked up a recorded transmission that stated Engines down, need assistance. Nothing more. Upon analyzing the message, the outpost had found that it was in fact a recording of the voice of a pilot whose starfighter had been damaged in the Alien war years earlier. That pilot had been promptly rescued, however, and was safe at home on the planet Anacron. It was beyond anyone why someone would send an old, recorded message like that into space, but Smardwurst had been available and Emperor Marnax had sent him to investigate. Or, more to the point, Marnax had wanted someone to investigate, and General Harvey had been willing to send Smardwurst. Green Scorpion was equipped with medical supplies and some repair equipment, but no one had really expected that such a vague, obscure message would indicate an actual emergency. On the other hand, the context and source of the message had Smardwurst’s nerves on edge. The recent civil war was finally over, and it was unpleasant to be reminded that even before that war had started, a mysterious invader had nearly defeated Anacron. Smardwurst could not help but wonder if this message were somehow related.

At last one of the control stations beeped and the officer sitting there turned around. Sir, we’re in range. We’re still not picking up any transmissions, but we’re scanning the area now… There are two vessels, neither with a warp signature. We should be there soon.

Green Scorpion dropped back into phase space, and the pricom crew inhaled sharply as the vessels came on screen. Both ships looked to have once been powerful vessels; they had large warp drives and many of what looked like weapons ports. Now, though, they were both reduced to little more than scrap. Holes had been blasted into their hulls in several places, and one of the ships was leaking some kind of gas into space. It was no wonder they had issued a distress signal. But it was not the state of the ships that concerned the crew at the moment. It was their configuration. There was no mistaking them.

Aliens, muttered Güzhmäk Undúvlahuth, the first officer from under a heavy, frown-shaped mustache. Of course, in an interstellar empire, everyone was an alien to someone, but since everyone was used to that, the term alien had largely fallen out of use. But no one had ever made contact with the enemy from that war, so most people just referred to them as Aliens.

It’s a trap, someone said.

Smardwurst shook his head. He could understand his crew’s concern, since it was well known that Alien ships were rigged to self-destruct to avoid capture. But somehow, this did not feel like a trap. What would be the point? he said out loud. Why go to this much trouble to destroy one ship? Why give up the element of surprise for that?

One life sign on the starboard vessel, came the report. The other ship had suffered a containment leak in one of its weapons energy containment units, and all decks had been flooded with a toxic gas. If there had been people alive on that ship when it had dropped out of warp, the gas had finished them off days ago.

Well, Smardwurst said, get a rescue crew over there and see what we can do for the survivor.

Sir, are you serious? Güzhmäk’s gruff expression betrayed a hint of panic.

They sent a distress signal, and we responded. We can’t very well leave now, can we?

But we need to report this! There could be an attack underway right now!

We need to know what we are looking at before we report it, Smardwurst observed. I am perfectly willing to lead the rescue team.

No, I’ll go. Just keep the ship far away in case… something goes wrong.

Agreed.

Smardwurst had been sincere in offering to board the Alien vessel, but of course his first officer’s professional pride would not let him remain behind while his captain risked his life on a crazy boarding party. Commander Undúvlahuth quickly gathered a few crewmembers and took a shuttlecraft over to the wrecked vessel. All of the docking ports had been destroyed or damaged beyond possibility of use, so the rescuers were forced to enter the ship by floating in space suits through one of the holes in the hull and setting up a temporary airlock. Once inside the ship they activated cameras that sent the image of what they saw to Green Scorpion’s pricom viewscreen. Two engineers started toward the computer core in an attempt to find out where the ship had been, while the others moved toward the life signs. Neither camera feed showed a very pleasant view. The lights had failed, and a few computer consoles still scattered sparks from overloaded power conduits. Guided by the survivor’s life signs, the rescue crew worked its way deeper into the wreckage. It was an eerie sight, but at least the vessel had not self-destructed. That had to be a good sign.

At last the rescue crew paused by a door. The readings are coming from just beyond here, a medic reported. The door’s opening mechanism had failed, but a technician managed to pry it open without explosives. The team entered the dark room and looked around.

A lone figure lay unmoving in one corner of the room. It was a bit shorter than the average human and rather thin for its height, with two legs and four slender arms. Smardwurst could name a few species it might be, but the figure was wearing a life support suit that covered its entire body, so no other details could be deciphered. Two medics moved over to it and lifted it onto a stretcher. Life signs are faint but holding; I think we should get him back to the ship before we take off that suit. The rest of the team agreed, and together they began to move back toward the airlock they had set up.

Smardwurst felt his pulse quicken. It was odd enough to have his crew crawling around in the first Alien starship ever to be found intact, but now they were bringing one of the Aliens themselves aboard. No one had ever seen or heard from one of these creatures, and even their distress signal had been merely an echo of Anacronian speech. As ominous as this whole situation looked, Smardwurst could not help but be a little intrigued, as well. At last the rescue crew was back at the airlock, where the other two engineers met them with what appeared to be a data module they had salvaged from somewhere. Together with the still-unconscious Alien, the team climbed back aboard their shuttle and began the return trip to Green Scorpion.

A soon as they were aboard, Smardwurst headed for the sickbay. He arrived just ahead of the rescue team, who placed the Alien survivor on a bed. The medics cut away the armor, revealing a hard, dark-green exoskeleton. Its clawed limbs and mantis-like head reminded Smardwurst vaguely of some other insectile races he had encountered, but this creature’s body seemed surprisingly muscular. Its huge, red eyes glowed faintly, and below them a set of mandibles protruded from its mouth. It wore a uniform made of a black, shiny material, and some kind of computer was attached to the front of its shirt, near the top. The Alien made a faint hissing sound as a constant flow of air entered through the mouth and left through the gill slits in its neck.

He’s stable, the chief medic announced. That’s about all I can tell you until we complete these scans. I’m not even sure what some of these organs are for.

Smardwurst nodded. Can you wake him?

"I think the question is whether we should. The medic made no attempt to hide the anxiety in his voice. It might be wise to wait until we reach Anacron, or at least until he wakes up on his own."

I don’t think he’s any threat to us here. Besides, you can always sedate him again. I think we should find out as much about him as we can right now. I’m anxious to know...

Smardwurst stopped as he felt a clawed hand lightly brush across his arm. He looked down to see the Alien looking at him, its red eyes glowing more brightly now.

Thank you. The rough voice came from the box attached to the Alien’s uniform.

Smardwurst placed his hand reassuringly on one of the Alien’s shoulders and smiled. You are safe now. But I am afraid you were the only one left. Your ship was destroyed."

Yes. Only a few of us survived. The others did not want us to leave. But we… The Alien’s voice trailed off, and his eyes dimmed slightly as his body relaxed.

He needs to rest, one medic said, drawing an irritated look from a crewmember or two.

Smardwurst nodded again, silently watching the creature. This was obviously a momentous moment, and he wanted to know the implications as much as anyone else. But there was no sense in turning a first contact into the interrogation of an injured patient. When the creature made no further attempt to communicate, Smardwurst turned away. Let him rest. Call me if anything changes, or if he needs anything.

Yes, sir. The chief medic continued his work, looking no less anxious than his captain felt.

What do you think Harvey will do? Güzhmäk asked him when they were alone in Smardwurst’s office. Smardwurst was at his desk, looking over the results of the scans of the Alien vessels, while Güzhmäk sipped something from a mug and regarded Smardwurst with a furrowed brow.

Smardwurst gave a small shrug. "He will probably organize border patrols and mobilize all reserve units. Green Scorpion will probably be placed on active duty."

What about the Alien? I guess they’ll want to interrogate him, find out what they can about the previous war.

I suppose so. He may not know much about it, though. We do not really have enough information to know what to do at this point.

This has to mean that war is close, though.

It may.

You don’t think so?

I… hope not. In any case, we have some time before we are back in communications range. Hopefully we can find out more before then.

Güzhmäk took a sip from his mug. I just hope we-

He was interrupted by the lights and siren as someone sounded red alert. Both men sprang to their feet, and Güzhmäk grabbed his blaster.

Get to the pricom, Smardwurst ordered. I’ll go to the sickbay. His first officer was clearly not happy with that plan, but Smardwurst hurried down the corridor before there was a chance to object. A couple of armed crewmembers flanked him as he passed an intersecting corridor, and a moment later all three arrived at the sickbay doors. What happened? Smardwurst demanded.

It attacked Flenjin! someone shouted.

The creature knocked us away and then fled down the corridor, said a medic. Medical equipment lay scattered and broken all over the floor, and Ensign Flenjin was sprawled in a corner, cradling his arm. A couple of medics were just now regaining their feet. Smardwurst also noticed a blaster lying among the medical rubble.

Is everyone all right?

The chief medic looked around. We got knocked around a bit, but nothing life-threatening as far as I can see. Yet.

Which way did he go?

Down the corridor, that way.

Smardwurst touched a com panel on the wall. This is Captain Varlon. Hold your positions, everyone. Do not fire unless attacked. I am on my way.

He stepped back into the corridor and moved in the direction the medic had indicated. Several crewmembers saluted him shortly, weapons drawn. Before they had traveled far, they reached a corridor where something had ripped through the lighting fixtures, leaving it in darkness. An additional crewmember stood at the entrance to the darkened section, pointing his weapon down the corridor and glancing around furtively. I think he went into the storage locker, sir. I was following him when I got your message.

Is he armed?

Not that I know of. But by the looks of the lights, he doesn’t need to be.

Has he attacked anyone since leaving sickbay?

I haven’t heard anything.

Smardwurst frowned. Something about this whole situation seemed wrong. One hand strayed to the blaster he wore at his hip, but then he changed his mind and left it there. Stay here, he ordered. Be ready to come if I call, or if any shooting starts."

Sir…

That is an order. Smardwurst strode authoritatively down the corridor and left his worried men behind.

The main lighting was out, but the dim emergency lights along the ground gave him enough visibility to make his way forward. At first the lights behind him revealed scratches and cuts in the walls; evidently his new guest had impressive climbing skills, not to mention the ability to deal a lot of damage with those insectile claws, given the state of the lighting. Smardwurst’s com link clicked before he had gone far, and Güzhmäk’s voice greeted him solemnly. He’s in the room just ahead. Any particular reason why you’re approaching him alone?

I do not want to scare him off. I need to find out what happened, and I suspect he will be less likely to talk if he sees several armed men chasing him down.

Or he might just attack you.

I think I can take care of myself. Stand by. Smardwurst touched a keypad near the storage room door. The space beyond was as dark as the hallway.

Hello?

Silence. Smardwurst stepped into the doorway, looking around cautiously. A faint, red glow near the ceiling told him he was being watched from behind a row of shelving. No weapons fire – again, a good sign. "I am Captain Smardwurst Varlon. Of the starship Green Scorpion. We spoke earlier."

You blame me for the war.

I know nothing about you. That is why I am here – to talk, to find out what happened. My medics said you attacked one of my crew.

The Alien made a hissing sound. Interesting.

Is it true?

There was silence.

Please, I need to know the truth.

I came here to escape. I am not a threat to you.

What happened in the sickbay?

The hissing sound came again. He entered the room yelling, pointing a weapon. I did not stay to hear what he said. I disarmed him and fled.

Smardwurst gritted his teeth. So one of my men attacked you.

He did not get the chance.

Disgusted, Smardwurst clicked on the com link again. Güzhmäk, get a security detail to the sickbay and detain everyone who was there when our guest escaped. It seems we were the ones who instigated the attack."

Are you…

Do it. Smardwurst turned back to the red eyes watching him. I apologize for the actions of my crew. Are you all right?

I have recovered.

Smardwurst nodded. What is your name?

The response did not come from the translator box; it was really more a series of clicks and scrapes than recognizable sounds. Smardwurst tried to repeat them. Kjrvlnk?

That is an acceptable approximation.

And your species? We have never known what to call you.

We are the Vortak.

Smardwurst found it odd that the species name would have a translation when the personal name did not, but he let that pass. Well, Kjrvlnk, I am glad you have recovered. Are you hungry?

I am more interested in your plans.

Right now I am simply hoping you can explain to us what has happened. Some on my ship fear that your appearance means that we are about to come under attack.

That… is not entirely incorrect.

"Maybe you should back up and tell me the whole story.

Security guards and other crewmembers backed away at the sight of their captain striding down the hallway, his insectile companion close behind. Smardwurst did not stop to wonder whether they were more concerned with the expressionless face of the Vortak or his own sharp-toothed scowl, although he knew that few of his crew had ever seen him as angry as he was now. He ignored the men in the hallway and barged into the sickbay, stopping just far enough inside to let his companion enter the room as well. A quick look around informed him that Ensign Flenjin was lying in a bed with his arm wrapped in gauze.

The chief medic started speaking as soon as the door opened, out of habit. Looks like an electrical burn. Somehow it shocked him when it struck out with its… his voice trailed off.

Smardwurst walked stiffly to the bed, keeping his face in check. It would not do to lose control of himself now, but this matter had to be dealt with. Grabbing Flenjin by the front of his uniform, Smardwurst lifted him clear of the bed and pinned him against the wall, his feet dangling in the air as his face went pale. Everyone else in the room just stared, open-mouthed. What were you thinking? Smardwurst shouted.

I… Flenjin just stared in fear for a moment, but then he caught sight of the Alien, and indignation pushed the fear away. "That thing. That creature. Don’t you know what they did? My brother, dozens of my friends… Millions of people dead because of their…"

Shut up. Smardwurst’s bulging eyes narrowed, and the confidence drained from Flenjin’s face once again. "We have just opened communication with a foreign society and you decide to start it out with murder? We have one chance to find out what is going on beyond our borders, and you decide to begin by killing the only person who knows? You think a blaster in your hand gives you the right to judge one man for the deeds of a billion?"

It…

Smardwurst could not bear to listen to the man speak, so instead he turned and dropped him to the floor, where he collapsed in a heap and did not attempt to stand. Smardwurst turned to his companion. Kjrvlnk, if you had wanted to kill this man, would he still be alive?

Kjrvlnk surveyed the room silently for a moment before answering. It is… not likely.

Smardwurst turned back to his cowering crewmember. So the man you tried to murder has spared your life. I believe you own him an apology.

That was apparently too much for Flenjin, because he rose to his feet, indignant again. "Man? You think this is a man? Can’t you see it’s…"

Smardwurst’s huge fingers closed around the Anacron insignia on the front of Flenjin’s uniform and tore it clear of the fabric. You are stripped of rank and confined to quarters. Guards, please escort him there now.

But my arm!

Smardwurst took a single step forward, and Flenjin hurried into the corridor, where two men seized him by the arms and led him away.

Smardwurst sighed. I apologize to everyone for the circumstances under which we have met. I trust we can continue our discussions in a more civilized manner. He opened a com link to the pricom. Güzhmäk, how are we with our investigation of the wreckage?

I believe we have everything we’re going to get, unless we plan to try to patch one of these ships up to take with us.

Smardwurst looked to Kjrvlnk.

That would not seem a wise use of time, he stated simply.

Take us home at maximum speed, Smardwurst said into the com link. General Harvey will want to hear what Kjrvlnk has told me.

Gerran Marnax was awakened by an ominous beeping sound. It was not just an urgent beep, like when the Council needed to meet quickly over some sudden development on an allied world, or even the irritating beep that signaled a diplomatic crisis requiring the Emperor’s personal attention to smooth things over. This particular beep meant that General Harvey had military information that was important enough to awaken the Emperor in the middle of the night. Marnax forced the sleep from his eyes and rolled out of bed. Rinel did not move, but he wondered if she were awake too. Either way, this call was not going to make her happy. He was sure of it.

He walked into the office adjoining his bedroom and activated the com link. Marvis. Marnax offered as much of a smile as he could, but General Harvey’s face was wrinkled with concern.

"Green Scorpion recovered a survivor from a pair of wrecked starships. Captain Varlon is on his way back now with a full report, but he said that there was some sort of ‘incident’ that he did not want to discuss over the communications relay, even on a secure channel. It will take him a few more days before he can be here in person. I was hoping I could take Galactron and meet him along the way."

That would definitely speed things up. Smardwurst didn’t say anything more than that?

No, but I fear whatever it is will imply a dangerous situation.

Marnax thought for a moment, drumming his fingers against the inevitable consequences of what he felt he had to do. I’m coming too, he said finally.

Are you sure? I can have a report to you in a few days, and surely the rest of the Empire will need you until then. Not to mention…

Rinel will be furious, Marnax finished for him. It can’t be helped though. If your fears are justified, the implications won’t just affect the military. I will need to make decisions quickly. I need to be there.

"Understood. We will leave as soon as you are aboard Galactron. Sorry to have woken you."

Thank you. I’ll be there as fast as I can.

Thanks to Galactron’s superior warp drive, Green Scorpion was on warp range sensors less than two days later. Marnax sat in his black-polished office, gazing at his plant collection as he waited. Marnax and Harvey had been correct, of course: Rinel was furious when he had told her he was leaving immediately. When the war had ended and the Marnax family had finally been reunited, all of them had looked forward to spending time together, in peace. Of course, the job of Emperor was time-consuming and Marnax was still gone quite a bit, but Rinel had dealt with that – after all, having him leave occasionally was better than having him off to war while she was holed up inside an enemy fortress. But this was different, and Rinel knew it, even if she didn’t have the details. This time, Gerran might very well be off to battle again. And he had left with barely six minutes’ goodbye. Marnax clenched his fist on his desk. This had better be worth it, he thought.

Smardwurst had been so concerned about keeping his information confidential that Marnax had agreed to meet aboard Green Scorpion instead of having the survivor brought aboard Galactron, where additional crew members would see him. When the two ships finally met up with each other, Marnax joined General Harvey and a small security detail and took a shuttle over to Green Scorpion. The few people they encountered there saluted them, but otherwise they remained impassive. Smardwurst was waiting for them alone in a conference room.

I’m not sure we can stand the wait much longer, Marnax said as he sat down. What’s going on?

I can show you some video footage, but essentially the situation is this: We discovered two wrecked vessels that matched the ones we fought in the Alien war. There was one survivor, of an insectile race that calls themselves the Vortak. Kjrvlnk is his name, as far as I can pronounce. He tells me that his people have decided that the time has come to go to war again. Kjrvlnk was part of a small group that sought to escape the other Vortak in order to avoid the war, but they were hunted down. Evidently the refugees managed to escape the battle, but residual damage caused their warp drives and life support to fail before they could reach safety.

Marnax felt his heart rate increase as Smardwurst spoke. He had sensed that the news would be bad, but hearing it in such concrete terms was still unsettling.

So it is war again, Harvey said solemnly. With Venom destroyed.

Marnax nodded. The construction of Venom had narrowly saved the Anacron empire from defeat before, but that project had been almost entirely the work of Plasma Masters, whose power had since been lost. We’ll need to prepare for battle immediately, he said.

Harvey tapped the table. I understand your desire to keep this matter secret to avoid spreading panic, Captain, but I’m really not sure how much good secrecy will do. Does the… survivor know anything about how many of them there are, or when they plan to strike?

He did not seem to, no. Communicating with him is a bit difficult – he carries an electronic translator, and I am not always sure we are conveying the ideas we mean to. In any case, I have not pressed him very hard, given his medical condition. That is the other thing I need to mention: on the way, one of my officers tried to kill Kjrvlnk, for revenge.

Harvey scowled. Not a very wise course, although I can hardly blame him for wanting to.

I am concerned about how people will react to Kjrvlnk if we make too many details public. Obviously my crew knows about him, but if many more people see him as a target for vengeance, we may miss out on whatever help he may be able to offer.

Well, let’s see what help he can offer, and then we’ll decide the best place for him. Where is he?

In the waiting area. I can bring him in now if you would like.

Harvey turned to the Emperor for approval, but Marnax was lost in thought. Just a few years. It hasn’t been easy to reunify Anacron and StarBlazer, but overall we’ve done pretty well I think. I had started to think the peace we’ve built would last. At least long enough for this generation to enjoy it.

It has given us a chance to build up our strength, Harvey observed. He was probably trying to be helpful, but Marnax could not help but think that maybe his old friend was feeling a certain eagerness to get back to the kind of work where he felt useful.

I know, Marnax said. And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s often a calm before a storm, and things have been very calm for a very long time. He looked up at Smardwurst. Let’s see what our new Vortak friend has to say. He ignored the scowl that crossed Harvey’s face at his choice of words.

Smardwurst tapped a control panel, and a set of doors to one side slid open. Marnax stood as the creature entered the room. He smiled and tried to maintain eye contact, but it was difficult to know if Kjrvlnk was even looking at him with those expressionless, glowing eyes. That was the difficulty with insectile beings; the lack of recognizable facial expressions made it impossible to tell whether Kjrvlnk was glaring at him hatefully, smiling hopefully, or staring in fear. Thank you for meeting with us, Marnax greeted. I’m truly sorry about the rest of your group.

Thank you for your help, Kjrvlnk said through his translator box. If nothing else, he sounded polite.

I’m glad you were able to make it back to us safely. Is there anything else I can do for you?

I can think of nothing. Your people have been very… helpful.

Marnax was silent for a moment. He was about to ask Kjrvlnk for a great deal of information, but he wanted to avoid sounding like an interrogator, so he gave his guest the opportunity to speak first. When Kjrvlnk said nothing, Marnax began.

Smardwurst tells me that you left your people because you did not want to go to war. Let me assure you that I share your feelings in that. I have lived through two major wars in quick succession, and I would like nothing more than to see the galaxy continue in peace. What can I do to make peace with the Vortak?

I do not believe that possible. The Vortak have everything they need. War has been decided upon, and it will result. The decision is made.

I don’t understand. Are you saying that your people go to war just for the sake of fighting?

Not exactly. The Vortak are a very unified people. We require little direction to work in groups. Usually we are content to live simple lives in our various labors. Raising families. Strengthening our people. We are not like you; there are not usually individuals assigned to be leaders. But occasionally ideas enter our society that many agree upon. A problem arises and ideas for a solution spread. Sometimes that solution is war.

Marnax was having difficulty understanding. Perhaps something was being lost in the translation, as Smardwurst had suggested. So, your people sense a problem in their society, and they have decided that the way to solve it is to go to war. Is that what you’re saying?

In a way.

Smardwurst turned to Kjrvlnk. Could you tell us what prompted your people to go to war with us before?

Kjrvlnk was silent for a moment. I do not know. The decision was made. I was young, so I did not fight in that war. Those who were called left and fought. When it was over, those who remained returned. Then life resumed.

And something like that has happened again? Smardwurst prompted.

Yes. The same, like before.

Marnax wanted to press for more details about Vortak society, but something told him that Kjrvlnk was telling him as much as he could at the moment. So, you chose not to comply with the decision of your people.

I chose not to comply. I and those in my community. We lived on an isolated planet, far from the others. The decision of the others reached us later. The decision did not… suit us. We chose to leave. We did not wish to fight.

Kjrvlnk’s speech was becoming choppy, and Marnax guessed that he was feeling uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. It was leading nowhere anyway; Marnax decided to drop the matter for now. Instead, he looked over at Harvey, who was clearly waiting patiently but eagerly for a chance at military information.

Harvey leaned forward, drawing the Vortak’s gaze. Would you mind telling us a bit about what we can expect from the Vortak fleet when they attack? Any particular tactics we should be ready for?

Tactics?

Yes, you know, plans for how to go about attacking planets or groups of starships.

I… think I understand. I do not know their plans.

There were no trainings or debriefings when you were told about the plan to go to war?

Trainings?

You know, to prepare. To practice what to do in an actual battle.

Practice… no, the Vortak do not practice war in advance. It would be a waste of time.

Then how do you know what to do in a battle?

It is decided. Based on battle conditions.

The three Anacronian officers looked around in mutual confusion. Smardwurst shook his head. Kjrvlnk, could you tell us a bit about how the Vortak communicate? I suspect there is something important that we are missing.

We… communicate. We speak as you do, and our words are carried.

Carried how? What is it exactly that your translator box does?

The box translates your air vibrations into words.

But it doesn’t make noise when we talk. How do you hear what it translates?

We do not hear. The words are carried.

Smardwurst leaned toward the General. It seems to be linked directly to his nervous system.

Harvey raised an eyebrow. Where did you get it? If you have never spoken to us before, why would such a device even exist?"

These devices have been passed down, Kjrvlnk said. This is not the first time we have spoken to your kind. The Masters came before. And we have listened.

Harvey looked at his companions, his face mirroring the surprise and confusion that Marnax was feeling. What ‘Masters’ are these? Who did you listen to?

The Masters came before. Many years before. They commanded us. But they were destroyed. It was decided. We did not need them.

And the recent war? Did that have anything to do with the Masters?

The Masters are gone. But we heard you. You were like them. Reaching out. Conquering. You were… a threat.

So you were afraid we would try to conquer you, so you decided to destroy us without any communication whatsoever?

Again, I was young. I was not part of the decision. I know only that the Vortak feared you, and it was decided. After the defeat, the fear only grew.

Great, Harvey muttered, as if to himself. The ‘Masters.’ It sounds like Thendrak’s exploits may have awakened the very enemy he claimed to have saved us from.

Yes, Marnax said, and now his actions are bringing the war back even after he’s gone. Kjrvlnk, there must be some way we can speak with the Vortak and come to a peaceful agreement. We do not want to conquer them or expand into their space. Do they all have those translator boxes like you?

There are many boxes. But they will not help you. We use them to listen. You cannot speak as the Vortak do.

But you have translators…

"The translators convert your speech. But your thoughts we cannot