The Gooch was ordered back to Midelon before the Bangor jumped to the Rumanta System. Hundreds of unknown ships showed on the nav display.
Tawn frowned. “She was telling the truth.”
Harris powered the ship forward.
Tawn asked, “What are you doing?”
“I'm taking us in for a look. The DDI will need as much intel as we can provide.”
Tawn flipped on the circuits for the railgun.
Harris glanced over. “We're not gonna need that.”
“Just in case.”
The display in front of the console was filled with images of Denzee ships. Harris quickly compared their shapes to a fleet of “baby rattles” A small forward sphere sat at the end of a long tube. On the other end, a much larger sphere made up the remainder.
Harris shook his head. “Bright yellow. Not the best if you want to remain unseen out here.”
“Don't think they care.”
Harris gestured toward the comm console. “See if you can pick up any communications. If we can record a sufficient amount, maybe Alex can translate it for us.”
Tawn flipped several switches, turned dials, and pushed buttons. “Nothing. Not a peep.”
“Check the light-speed frequencies.”
Seconds later, Tawn sat back. “Wow. Chatter like crazy.”
“You recording?”
“Yes. I'm picking up what appears to be thousands of simultaneous comms. Maybe our FTL comms will give us a big advantage.
Harris zoomed in on one of the ships. “Those would be gun turrets. Question is, what do they shoot?”
Tawn pointed. “Those look like missile tubes?”
Harris nodded. “If those are conventional, I'm a lot less worried than I was.”
“Hmm. The Earthers are worried. That tells me they've already engaged with these ships and lost. Which is why they're going all in on those mines.”
Harris frowned. “I'm starting to think this isn't gonna work out in our favor.”
“How so?”
Let's say we team up with the Earthers, build up their fleet and ours. If we defeat the Denzee, which of us will be left in the power position? I doubt it will be those idiot politicians at home putting us on top.”
Tawn chuckled. “Well, don't get yourself all worked up because of one possibility out an infinite number. You're looking too far ahead.”
“Am I?”
“We just found out about these invaders. Let's take this in for an hour or two and then head back. I'd like to get that crack in our ass fixed.”
“It's not leaking. We're fine.”
“We're fine unless we get in another fight.”
Harris waved his hand toward the nav display. “You see anything heading toward us?”
Tawn stared. “Actually? Yes. You best get us out of here. That has to be a third of their ships coming this way. And they're fast. Faster than us.”
Harris turned the Bangor. A wormhole was opened and the small vessel slipped through. A second jump had them in Midelon space. Forty-four minutes later they were landing in the grass outside the bunker.
Trish, Gandy, and Sharvie were waiting as the hatch opened.
“What happened?” asked Gandy. “Was that Baxter?”
Tawn nodded. “It was.”
“Why'd you let her go again? She's working for the Earthers.”
Harris shook his head. “There's been a new development. We might all be working to help the Earthers build more ships.”
Gandy returned a perplexed look. “Why?”
Tawn said, “Humans have lived our whole existence as the dominant and only sentient species. We're smart. We craft tools and use them to do the work we can't naturally do. No other animals have had that ability other than making use of a stick or a rock… until now.”
“Until now?”
“One of the Earther colonies has been attacked and overrun. Bax thinks one of their scout ships may be responsible for killing the pacies. We've just been out to that Earther colony. The invaders are real.”
Harris said, “We have to send this info to the colonel and Mr. Morgan. They'll have to feed it to their contacts at the DDI. As Tawn said, we may be helping the Earthers build ships now.”
Tawn brought the others aboard the Bangor, replaying the video they had captured at Rumanta. Stunned stares looked on in disbelief.
Harris said, “Farker, comm Alex for us.”
The image of Alexander Gaerten flashed into view. “Good morning, Harris.”
“We've got problems, Alex.”
“Explain.”
“I'm sending you some comm recordings done at light-speed frequencies. We've encountered another species of sentient beings and they've invaded our happy little space.”
“You must be referring to the Denzee.”
“How'd you know?”
“You advised me to open comms to New Earth and Domicile to gather information. I determined that might be a good idea for each of the colonies. The Denzee are a fascinating species. Very hive-like in their behavior. They have a queen, workers, and warriors. They are intelligent, although I would place that at just below that of Humans.
“Unlike Humans, however, they are committed to their tasks. And their queen, from what I've been able to gather, is of much higher intelligence than the standard human. The colony at Rumanta consists of multiple minor queens and a single major queen. Their warriors and workers follow orders exactly as given.”
“Why didn't you tell us any of this before?”
“My programming enables me to answer questions or take on specific tasks. I was not programmed to inform or alert based on external events. If you would like, I can do so. I will however need very specific instruction for that mission to be effective.”
Harris sighed. “Fine. And since you already know about the Denzee, do you have an understanding of their language?”
“I do.”
“And do you know what they are planning?”
“I do.”
Harris shook his head. “Can you... wait... just tell us what they're planning.”
“Orders from the major queen are to conquer this section of the galaxy and to subdue and exterminate all Humans.”
Tawn rolled her eyes. “Well, that's just great. We're moving from one disaster to another. You wouldn't happen to have an image of what they look like, would you?”
“Yes.”
“Please show it to us.”
The hologram floating above Farker's back turned to an image of a small, brown, furry animal that stood upright on two legs. Its hands and feet consisted of two long, taloned fingers and opposable thumbs. A ridged, bald skull-plate ran from their forehead around to the back of their neck. Despite their small stature, they appeared to be both sturdy and muscular. A pair of beaver-like incisors highlighted an otherwise flat and featureless face.
Trish said, “Other than the talons and the teeth, they're actually kinda cute.”
Harris asked, “Do you have an image of one of their queens? And if so, please show us.”
The image changed. The Denzee queen, other than the ridged skull-plate, looked nothing like her minions. Her body was devoid of fur, covered instead by a pale blue skin. She was also taller by a third and appeared to be obese.
Harris said, “She's a big girl.”
Tawn chuckled. “If we painted you blue, you'd be a perfect match.”
Harris sighed. “I'm not much bigger than you. And certainly nothing like that. Alex, what else can you tell us about their queens?”
“They are continuously pregnant. From what I have been able to gather, they have multiple uteri that are generally at different stages of gestation. At birth, broods commonly consist of eighteen to twenty-two offspring. A single uteri pregnancy takes approximately ten weeks.”
“What do we know about the others?”
“The warriors are fiercely protective of their queen, as would be expected. The workers perform the tasks given, regardless of the complexity or danger. If the queen orders work to be done, they are compelled to do exactly as she asks.”
Gandy asked, “What about their ships?”
“They refer to the standard ships as Dulons. The workers move about by use of the Dulons. The ship itself consists of two spheres of differing size, and a long tube connecting those spheres.”
Harris nodded. “The baby rattles.”
“Yes. That would be a fitting description of their external shape.”
“You said the worker ships. Are there others? Those rattles were all we saw at Rumanta.”
“Yes. The warrior ships.”
A new image was displayed.
Harris said, “Looks like the head of a claw-hammer.”
“The Ratoon is four hundred and twenty meters in length. Each Ratoon holds at least one queen and as many as a hundred thousand warriors.”
Harris smiled. “Given the size of their warriors, we should be able the kick the crap out of them on the battlefield. What kind of weapons do they carry?”
“The translated language refers to them as shock weapons. Pistols and rifles, not unlike our own. A ball of energy, similar in nature to our plasma rounds, is emitted by these weapons. The rounds are slightly less powerful and move more slowly, but they appear to be guided, making them highly accurate.”
“Ours are accurate enough.”
“The Denzee hand weapons, once a target is selected, may be fired up in the air if so desired. The guided round will arc and seek out the target, making it difficult to hide behind obstructions if looking for cover. There do appear to be limits to that arc, so they are not 100 percent effective in that manner.”
Tawn asked, “What about the weapons on the Ratoon? On the rattle we could see turrets and what looked like missile launch tubes.”
“The armaments on the Dulons consist of a maser cannon, and missiles as you suggested. The masers have a range equivalent to our plasma cannons. The destructive power is also similar. The missiles provide defense for close combat. Raider ships attempting to board either the Dulon or the Ratoon would find that feat difficult.”
“Those look like turrets on the Ratoon. What are we up against there?”
“Again we have a maser, only an order of magnitude more powerful.”
Sharvie asked, “Where are you getting this information?”
“From their conversations and data. One can construct an accurate image of many of their systems from listening to not only their conversations, but also by analyzing their data transfers. I can provide a somewhat complete layout of a Ratoon, although it fully lacks information on the ship's power systems.”
Tawn frowned. “So they're coming to wipe us out. Do we know anything about their history? Where they're from? How many of them are there?”
“I can only interpolate numbers for you with regards to the number of known or suspected queens. I have one communiqué that refers to the ‘Council of Queens,’ with an attendance number being close to a hundred thousand. Each of the queens at Rumanta has approximately a hundred thousand workers and fifty thousand warriors.”
Gandy did the math. “That would be fifteen billion. They outnumber us, but not by a huge amount.”
Alex's image returned, replacing the Ratoon. “Also in that communiqué was the mention of the council being only one of many such councils. We may be vastly outnumbered. I will add that I have been unable to gather any reliable information on the number of planets or ships they may have. We don't know if this is an advance fleet, one of many, or their entire garrison.”
“What about their drive systems?” asked Trish.
“From the information I've gathered, their ships are capable of reaching 62 percent light-speed by conventional means. I do not believe they have the ability to travel through wormholes. Although I suspect they may have already acquired that technology from the dozen Earther ships they have captured.
Harris winced. “Captured?”
“Given the fact they were likely the culprits at Jebwa, they may have already perfected or adapted the wormhole systems.”
Harris crossed his arms. “If they can do 60 percent light-speed, they will run circles around us in battle.”
“I don't believe that to be applicable in a wartime situation,” Alex’s image replied. “Indications are this speed can only be obtained over several hours at full throttle. Their combat speed capabilities are similar to ours, limited by their inertial dampening fields.”
Tawn asked, “You said their queen is constantly spitting out pups. What about their workers and warriors?”
“There are worker spawners as well as warrior spawners. The queens themselves give birth to spawns and elites. Within a queen's realm of a hundred fifty thousand subjects, several thousand births and deaths happen every day. A worker will be fully mature in fifteen weeks and live for approximately seven years. A warrior for twelve.
“The elites are specialized workers such as engineers, scientists, even mathematicians. The elites are highly educated and are tasked with overseeing much of the daily activities, ranging from farming to shipbuilding.”
“How about the queens and spawners, or elites as you called them? What life expectancy do they have?”
“A spawner becomes fertile at twelve weeks and will continue to be impregnated and give birth for the remainder of her life, approximately seventeen years. Elites have a similar longevity. A queen, on average, may live for seventy years.”
Harris asked, “What does their colony look like? Buildings? Businesses?”
“The hive is one contiguous building. Contained within are the birthing rooms, care facilities, housing for all, manufacturing—virtually everything except food growth. Their food consists of a smaller species that is not dissimilar in appearance to themselves. They call them bogwem.”
Tawn said, “So they're carnivores, like Harris.”
Harris chuckled. “I eat bogler. They're big and ferocious. Not some helpless little rat.”
Tawn shrugged. “Bogler, bogwem, whatever.”
“As I said, the hive is a contiguous building. The breeding houses for the bogwem are separate.”
“What are these buildings made of? We didn't get close enough to see out at Rumanta.”
“Dirt, laced with secretions from the workers. The resulting substance hardens to equal the strength of concrete. Their buildings are a maze of tunnels and rooms. Interestingly enough, they construct the ships within the hive. When complete, the hive is destroyed, allowing the ship to leave. Construction of a new hive is begun immediately thereafter.”
The conversation about the Denzee continued for several hours before a slew of questions had been asked and answered.
“Wow,” said Tawn. “Wasn't expecting any of this. I know we're trained to avoid such thoughts, but this is almost back to overwhelming.”
Harris nodded. “Not what I was expecting out of today either. Our mission has definitely changed. I think it's time we called the colonel.”
“He won't be happy with this news. They were just starting to get settled there at the Retreat. I wouldn't doubt they'll all get called back to active duty, maybe even in the next few days.”
“That would include us too. If they don't lock us up.”
Tawn sighed. “Yeah, I guess it would. At this point though, I'd have to think we could do far more from here than stomping around in some Biomarine unit again. We have a lot more to offer than quick reflexes and muscle.”
Tawn chuckled. “Especially you. You've probably got an extra forty kilos to offer.”
Harris shook his head. “You just keep digging in with the digs. One day you'll be sorry.”
Tawn nodded. “Maybe, but the rest of those days I'll be happy.”
Gandy said, “I hope the two of you can stop joking long enough to get serious about this. This is big. We can't afford to let them get a foothold on our worlds.”
“We have no intention of letting that happen,” said Harris. “We'll talk to the colonel and get a strategy going of what we might do. Between him, Bannis Morgan, and the DDI, we'll figure something out.”
Tawn asked, “We tell the colonel or Mr. Morgan first?”
“This is war. That goes to the colonel.”