The Void Script

By Ben Fernwey

When a diplomatic liaison lands on a remote planet, what he assumed would be a simple summit turns out to be something else entirely. Now, caught in the middle of a centuries-long hunt for a mysterious pod, he must choose a side among the galaxy's most powerful Orders - all while surviving humanity's greatest threat, a deadly subspecies who's evolution began long ago...on Old Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ben Fernwey
• Release date: Nov 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370358786

Ben Fernwey

Ben Fernwey lives in Virginia with his wife, kids and dog. As a youngster he read Joe Haldeman's Forever War. Ever since, his state of mind found itself outside our solar system, in the nebulae of faraway thoughts, within the corridors of great interstellar ships, and trying to reconcile the character of humanity - from Appalachia to the void.

Book preview

The Void Script

The Void Script

Copyright 2016 Ben Fernwey

All Rights Reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

Ben Fernwey

[e-mail]

First Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Cover background image credit: NASA and The Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA)

For J.

PROLOGUE

The waves of time and gravity bend - they flux shape and form light's constant journey. Velocity and singular purpose, arcing through the void, shaping the endeavors of man. But their designs were of far greater importance. The oldest and most profound sort of sanctity. Light through the dark - both reliant on the other in the equation of purpose.

In this way the black silhouette appears against the giant holocaust of the dying sun's facade. The angular shape speeding high across the star's fiery field. Soaking through its gravity, slowly changing course as it wraps around the body of fire. And then it's free. Speeding away from the flames, it's course forever changed by them. Now what was once the silhouette is alight. Its metallic surface illuminated. A mechanized dart. Its purpose nothing less than immortality. A catalyst to produce more of its own, owing its origins to the same.

As the star fades in the distance, the silver-metal probe feels the pull of another, much smaller orb in the black. A wild place without yet the touch of man. Once again the silhouette forms. This time, it is one of fire and smoke streaking through the planet's sky down toward destiny. Down to the matter appointed to it by its own kind. Down toward its rightful place in the verse. Down toward the dark violent dirt...

[Holo-text drawn from ghost ship - Sector z8GND5296]

Old Earth - 2015

Long after the probes began their journey and well before the rise of the Hierkalanon, Jack had a headache. It throbbed terribly, echoing pain and misery with every slight movement he made. It took all the enjoyment he was having with his friends. It took his fun. Took his carefree ambling elementary school life. He was always worried about getting them now. Because once he got a headache, the day was as good as done.

The more his headaches took, the more he gave. Give me, they seemed to demand, and he acquiesced. Holing up in his bedroom under the sheets, curled up in a ball but perfectly still.

Give me, they crescendo’d, interrupting him playing kick-the-can outside. Give me they screamed as he tried to sleep. Give me. Give me.

GIVE ME! Jack winced.

Marcy shouted, Give me the controller Kevin!

Jack recoiled and stood up, starting to back away from the tv. The inside of his head erupting into painful echoing sparks. Kevin let out an exasperated sigh and tossed the device in her general direction.

Fiiiine, he said, you don't have to yell all the time.

Jack smiled assent, wincing.

Hey guys, I'm gonna go, he said quietly, still backing toward the door. Marcy was already mashing the buttons but paused and joined Kevin as they turned to see their friend go.

Ok man, feel better, Kevin said smiling sympathetically at him.

Marcy nodded, Feel better Jack. Next time you can play some more. Maybe this guy won't hog it the whole time. She glared at Kevin, who ignored her.

See you at school bro, Kevin said, clearly weary of his sister.

Jack thanked them and left. Although he wouldn't be at school tomorrow. Or the next day.

The initial scans revealed nothing, but with the extent of pain he was feeling, they were performed again. This time, they revealed the shared nightmare that Jack's parents had for so long silently persuaded themselves could not be the source of their son's pain. What followed was a series of ever-lengthening appointments and somber talks between his parents and other adults who always looked so sad.

Jack had never given death much thought before and it scared him terribly. He knew that was what the adults were talking about, even though they didn't use the word. He looked up terminal and malignant when he could. And while the explanation of these words yielded other words he did not yet know, he soon realized that he was probably going to die.

When he asked his parents what death felt like, they could not adequately explain the sensation to him. Jack could not understand how so many people had died throughout history and yet no one seemed to know anything definitive about it. He wondered vaguely one night while staring up at his black ceiling, his head pounding and his puffy eyes bleary, if death was where he would meet the people whose voices sometimes drifted through his thoughts.

It was a week before Jack saw his friends again, and another before they were included in the news. The school made a big to-do about it and all his friends were extra nice to him. Jack felt ashamed and embarrassed that his condition forced everyone to feel such guilt on his behalf. At least it seemed that everyone felt that way. So instead of making all his friends feel guilty, Jack spent most of his time by himself. He didn't feel like being around lots of other people anyway. Everyone was always so sad and he knew he was the reason.

The strange thing was, the more Jack had relative silence around him, the clearer and more often he heard the voices. Many voices. Sometimes three or four different ones. Normally there was at least one female voice. They talked about everything it seemed. News, sports, some even did prank phone calls. And then, on an autumn day, Jack was outside on the porch and they stopped.

He found himself in a stream of sensation. He heard his parents voices. Soft and loving. He felt the starchy linen and the encompassing pillows. Various low lights and soft beeps flitted in and out. A feeling of expectation. That he was being asked something and expected to answer. Long periods of dark sleep. The taste of plastic. And then Jack heard a song and discovered what death was like.

Iridesce - 8080

The craft skirted the horizon, cupping the bent haze of the planet's atmosphere. It listed a moment as it slowed, preparing for what we did not know. I could feel the pilot tense in front of me. The tight spaces amplified everything. I wasn’t sure her history, but she was said to have seen some rough aspects of the void, a fleet conflict among them.

Only a portion of the side of her face was visible but her angled features pierced concentration through the triple plated view. I glanced back out to the craft, now completely still.

Dealing with Andolesians was always a bit dicey. Never knew what may suddenly overcome them. Anarchists at their worst, some sort of egalitarian democracy at their best, I’ve no problem admitting I was continually curious of them.

I glanced at the envoy. She didn’t seem concerned. A blissful ignorance perhaps or maybe just some pills. In my time, the use of traveling pills seemed to be ever more common. Euphoria, stupor, mixing your churning anxieties into a calm third person existence. I never cared for them. Still, she was calm, almost annoyed looking. Placing my hand on the shoulder of her seat in front of me I leaned over.

Apologies for the delay ma’am. We should be down shortly. These occurrences are relatively common, especially among the Andolesian sectors.

Sure. She said hollowly. Pills.

The pilot glanced over to the envoy, her one-piece suit a single grey fabric, tailored to her slim form and adorned by a single ribbon lanced into her left lapel. The blue, white and black of the Mercantile Expanse.

The trip had been a quiet one. Cruising comfortably for 12 day cycles, we’d maybe exchanged a couple hours worth of words together. All polite, mostly useless. She was an easy client, the envoy, and I hoped to finish with her quickly planetside.

Liaison missions in arrow class ships always brooked a little reason for concern. Very small quarters and a single life cabin ensured the journey was determined by the company you were traveling with. The two seats in front commanded wide views of the void while the middle back seat was initially meant for the gunner. After its initial design as a medium fighter was surpassed by other models; the arrow class was relegated to diplomatic transport duty. Fast, agile and always a smooth ride, they were a reliable, if small, ship to work on.

The Andolesian craft slowly oriented itself to face us. Through the view it looked like a tiny light spec on the horizon, but we could clearly see it through the targeting screen above. It’s bulky hull bristled with sensors.

No weapons systems on board, the pilot said. She glanced back at me. I knew that meant at least there were none that our scanners could pick up. That ship may even be big enough to hold a small blink turret or two.

The envoy remained staring blankly off. We waited awhile more. Not feeling it necessary to soothe an otherwise tranquil specimen, I remained silent. Staring out at the far-off ship, for what seemed like an eternity, this close to our destination, I let my thoughts wander. If my package was accepted, I’d be able to complete my contract aboard one of the Armada's legendary Leviathan Doros cruisers. There was no better place for access to clients and the best traveling comforts known to man. I'd sent the lope with my particulars in it months ago. Whether the adjudicators had actually made their way to my paperwork was another matter. The Expanse, especially its military divisions were notoriously encumbered by bureaucracy.

A harsh buzz cut my reverie as our sensors picked up and broadcast the engines of the Andolesian ship throttling away from us. It disappeared in the mist of the upper atmosphere's light green-blue. Our pilot grunted.

She punched a few buttons and I felt the massive light sail detached itself from our ship. A low shudder and the sail glided out and then started the process of collapsing into a smaller craft. The sail allowed us to make this trip to the rim relatively quickly as it fed through cosmic dark matter, propelling us at exponential speeds. Without it, or a similar engine, the trip would have taken generations.

The RCS outlets on the sail shot quick flaring bursts at various angles to position the sail in its default orbital holding pattern. It would wait there for our ship's return before starting the trip back out to interstellar space, which would not be soon enough.

Going planetside had its benefits but they were not near enough to counterbalance the generally squalid living and imperfect environs, particularly on Andolesian worlds. Variable gravities, pollutants, allergens, extreme temperatures and the chaotic hazard of the natives all stained my early optimism of sightseeing when planetside.

No, space travel was the stuff. Perfectly controlled atmosphere, the right mix of gravity depending upon the ship and most of all, solace and privacy from the sects of humanity who either could not attain starside travel, or didn’t deserve it if they had.

Then the sky swung around us, the world arcing below, as we angled for entry, to a low cutting terminal orbit.

Why…the wait? the envoy finally said, through clenched teeth. I was beginning to feel the growing intensity of gravity pushing against me as well. I took a deep breath to answer, wondering why now of all times she decided to engage in conversation.

I glanced at the pilot. I'd be getting no help from her. Almost as if in response to my silent plea for the pilot to engage on this topic, she instead activated the outer shield doors to cover the plated glass. The immediate darkness was stark compared to the bright atmosphere we'd been staring at over the last few hours.

Doing my best to paraphrase against the pressing forces of the upper atmosphere I managed, Our pilot was awaiting confirmation to land. Their ship was our greeting party.

Or their first line of defense, she said.

I checked my mild surprise. Maybe the pills were starting to wear off. At any rate, that was not the line of thinking I expected from a diplomatic trade envoy. Such militant thinking belied a lack of experience or even an abundance of all the wrong kinds of it. Perhaps that's why she was chosen. She looked increasingly perturbed.

Does it not seem a bit much to physically encounter us up here in orbit. Why here and now? Why not just deal with us on the ground or send us a translope before we reached the system? she said, all the while her chin slowly rising, as if her head itself was about to enter the atmosphere.

Because a ship is most vulnerable in orbit, I said, starting to feel the vibration of the entry burn.

There’s little room for maneuvering as you're taking off or landing, I said. And that ship's only duty, I'd guess, is to intercept incoming vessels. Your ladyship will remember that this is a relatively new planet, unaccustomed to visitors.

She nodded stiffly, Untrusting you mean.

Perhaps, I said.

The planet was the only organically habitable one in the system. The system was the only one with any sort of life for epochs around it. In fact, the system inhabited a relatively dark corner of an outer rim constellation that by many accounts was not much good for anything but some spectral mining.

The natives here were said to be from an Andolesian colony ship that went off course many centuries ago. The intelligence file that I provided to the envoy, and seemed to have remained unread, claimed that the ship's navigation system malfunctioned sending the craft past its intended gravity intercept point. Sailing past their target with dwindling life support, the crew of the colony ship had little choice in selecting a backup planet. Iridesce was their only option.

The world had since excelled at remaining an unremarkable and distant outcropping of humanity. No doubt this was the very reason the Armada had sent a diplomatic package to secure a potentially strategic location. If the Expansion Conflict had taught us anything, it was the value of far flung centers of human capital. Hopefully the small summit my charge was attending would vouchsafe the beginnings of a foothold here.

Yet the planet was a long way from being able to provide any means of galactic strategic significance, other than a place to land and stretch one's legs. It was a raw and violent place. Even though I'd read of a small Gnostic presence here, the tech appraisal categorized the planet as an E200, a shameful rating dating nearly to when humanity first attained sustainable starside life. If our orbital encounter belied a general untrusting nature of the Andolesians planetside, they certainly had good reason to be. Iridesce was a fertile, relatively unknown presence that had already endured violent strife between its few inhabitants.

The ever increasing shaking that was now rattling us around in our harnessed seats suddenly ceased. The dark enclosure breached with a dim light as the shields collapsed back into their holding form around the ship. The dim light now grew slowly sharper as the viewing pane slowly lessened its shade to spare our eyes the shock of utter blackness to stark planetside bright.

I watched as we soared into a bank of white clouds dotting the otherwise teal sky. Underneath the cumulus, a long glittering jewel of a river rippled light against the deep greens and browns of the rolling land below. As the land drew closer, a town began to form out of the vague pastiche of landscape. Individual buildings, paths and constructions took shape, filling me with some hope for order down below. In the far distance, dagger-tall mountains held sentinel on the ever rising horizon.

We’ll be down shortly, the pilot said, as the various landmarks below grew and solidified. A few maneuvers later, and the roar of the vertical thrusters slowing us onto a small landing pad, we arrived. I unstrapped from my seat, helped the enjoy out of hers and watched as the door seal melted away in a fizzle of molten red highlight. After which the hiss and sigh of two similar atmospheres meeting announced the door's opening as it darted out and up from the craft.

Stepping down from the shuttle, I reached out a hand to help the envoy as she descended the steps. Lightly taking my hand, without looking me in the eye she said 'thank you' and continued down to meet the local astral port liaison.

She was clearly new at this. Obviously not a traveler, she had made little use of her trip time. I had catalogs of information on this place, it’s peoples, lands, townships, but she’d declined any brief at the beginning or throughout the trip. I'd probably combed through more research on just this planet than she had for her diplomatic entrance exams.

Welcome to Iridesce, Lady Andrienne! the portsman made a sweeping low bow as he met her. He wore a red tunic, cut up the middle with shimmering laces, abruptly terminating at his grey throat. His gaunt features and thinning brown hair, made him look distinguished, if a bit malnourished.

Thank you...greeter, the lady said, I’ll take my quarters now please. I’ve much preparation to do before the summit.

This way then, ma’am, he gestured down toward a long dimly lit hall that stretched into the hillside upon which our shuttle had landed. The landing field was long and scorched. A strange thing, built of blocks of some sort of marble. It's green sweeping pattern entranced me a little.

Praxis, will you be joining us? the man asked pointedly, a look of smug amusement on his face.

Of course, I said, breaking away from inspecting the stone.

The Andolesians above must have fed him the ship log they demanded from us. I could see no other way of him knowing my name. He was once an Expansionist however. I did not fail to check who my counterparts would be at the summit. Lady Adrienne was on the summit list of attendees but a liaison such as myself hardly merited any such honor.

I straightened my suit and followed, turning to see the pilot standing in the shuttle's doorway. Her face was still, but her eyes betrayed sadness. She'd be out in the void soon enough. Home was a cockpit for her. Space could mold the mind to appreciate its quiet vastness. The sheer scale that pretended no favorites, no politics, that barely supported life, pressing infinitely forward softly into slow entropy. It could produce quiet, introspective individuals who relished exploring the expanse within themselves as they hurled them and their clients through the black. It could also warp minds terribly, I reminded myself, turning back and jogging to catch up to the portsman and Lady Adrienne.

As you no doubt have heard, Iridesce is a vibrant planet, full of life and inhabited by many sects of humanity. Us Andolesians, as you like to call us, mostly, but the Gnostics also have a hold here. There are a few large townships but you'll find that life here is very different than I'm sure you're use to in the Core, the portsman said as we strolled under the massive archway that lead further into the hillside. I took my place next to the portsman and watched the dull expression on the lady's face as she nodded obligatorily to him and he, looking to her for reassurance of his efforts. He must not get many visitors here.

I hope I can learn more of this place's intricacies, she said a bit pathetically. Her stride was forced. The man glanced at me. He was realizing the depth of his new charge. I simply shrugged. I'd been with this husk of a diplomat barely two week cycles and I was growing ever more accustomed to her dull mediocrity.

After following the long, marbled tunnel that opened from our hillside landing site, we found ourselves turning into a warmly lit hallway. Here the green marble which had composed the landing strip and initial hallway, gave way to a solid gray stone passage, festooned with light sconces and various framed paintings. All of them contained some sort of ode to agrarian life. A common cultural trapping of outer colonies, I mused. A verdant field, swaying in the morning's early light. Some sort of quadruped lashed to a device, being compelled to pull through the dusty ground. A small girl and petite woman gathering what looked to be apples from a giant tree. All these paintings and more lined either side of our trek deeper underground. I could not help but notice though, that the females pictured, much like our portsman, were small, sickly looking things with an ashen hue to their skin.

After quickly ascending some short stone stairs, we passed through a large wooden door, the other side of which resided an empty reception desk. We traipsed past this and down yet another hallway. This one had carpet, I noticed.

Here we are! the portsman said hurriedly, now quite clearly unimpressed by