8

Malum Terminus

Earth Index 1306.302

Jared stared out at the viewscreen, where the end of the fold was in sight. He looked at one of his displays, which noted the date: just over six months since they’d departed the Confederacy and crossed into the Great Void. And now he was staring, literally, at the end of the long succession of solitary jumps. Finally.

The fold parted, and the Hattan emerged into open space. A universe of stars crowded the main bidimensional screen, including one just off-­center that seemed a little brighter than the others. As planned, the Hattan was on the outskirts of the system, nearly five billion kiltrics from its sun. Directly ahead was the terminus of Malum’s particle transmissions.

This had been a long time coming.

Jared’s hands gripped the arms of his command chair, an unconscious reaction to setting their first proverbial foot into hostile territory. Taking a breath, he relaxed his hold. “So here we are. Aioua?”

Aioua pored over the new, fast-­growing mountain of data now overwhelming her displays. “Initial reports suggest no contacts in the immediate area. It will take a few minutes to analyze the system.”

Jared stood and walked closer to the viewscreen. He took up a position immediately behind and next to navigation, a location he had often favored on board the interceptor Retaelus.

Kilvin Wrsaw, seated at navigation, asked, “How long has it been since a ship from the Confederacy has explored an uncharted system?”

“Under the terms of the Titan Accords, never,” Jared said. “You’d have to go back to the first contacts of the pre-­Confederal era, and even further if you include systems the Humans or Hazionites explored that the Aecrons had not already charted.”

“It is a unique experience,” said Aioua, sorting through the information that surrounded her.

Jared felt a peculiar sensation at that remark. Humans had long exhibited an impulse to discover, a curiosity about the unknown. The age of interstellar travel before the creation of the Confederacy had been a sort of legendary era in the romantic recollections of modern Earth, a time when Humans had emerged from darkness and into a whole new universe. Although few historians had articulated it as such, Jared wondered if the prohibitions of the Titan Accords against extra-­Confederal exploration had been detrimental to Humanity’s development and sense of self. Recent Human history was viewed in the public consciousness as a time of political infighting and stagnation.

It had not been all bad. The exchange of technology, commerce, and culture had strengthened the bonds of peace among the Confederal nations. Moreover, a number of Human colonies had been planted within explored Confederal space, so it was not as if Humans were affixed to their homeworld. But with Humanity focused on cultural convergence with the other sentients rather than braving new parts of the universe, something seemed to be missing in the Human experience, and it was something Jared did not fully realize until he was standing there, staring at that small star in the darkness ahead.

Looking at Aioua, Jared wondered if Aecrons also possessed such an exploratory impulse. Certainly they must have at some point. Now, though, with the influences of the conditioning, they seemed content to refine technologies and grow their influence among the Confederal races.

No, not content. Complacent.

He also reminded himself that Aioua was not under the influence of the conditioning. None of the Aecrons on board were. They were liberated. Did that mean that a desire to explore was also liberated?

Jared suppressed the thought for the moment and turned to Orel Dayail. “Is anyone talking out there?”

Orel’s eyes were filled with awe. “Incessantly. It was not apparent during our approach, but there is an enormous amount of communication both inbound and outbound.”

“I have a visual of the system,” Aioua announced. “I am placing it on the tridimensional display now.”

Off to one side of the main viewscreen, a full-­bodied rendering of the system appeared in the air. Jared moved closer, examining it with a mixture of wonder and suspicion. It was an amazing sight, but it was also the destination of a transmission from a giant planet that had nearly destroyed the Confederacy.

Aioua narrated as the projection turned and various pieces of information superimposed themselves over the visuals. “There are four planets in the system and a number of smaller bodies. All of the planets are gas giants of varying sizes, not unlike those we have seen inside the Confederacy.”

Jared paced a few steps around the visual to examine it from different angles. “Where are the communications coming from?”

“Most are coming from the vicinity of the largest gas giant, which is also the farthest in-­system.” Aioua scaled in the projection on a mockup of the innermost gas giant, along with small superimposed highlights in orbit around it. “Something near the planet is rerouting and amplifying the transmissions.”

“Like a communications array.”

“Possibly. Additionally, the communications profile does not match that of Malum. We are dealing with a completely different race.”

Jared feared he knew the answer before he asked the question. “Who?”

“The transmissions are consistent with our understanding of Invader communications.”

He mulled over the revelation. Malum’s transmissions had been directed across the Great Void in the same presumptive direction the Invaders of 1124 had come from so long ago. Jared and his crew had long known that some sort of connection between Malum and the Invaders was possible.

He took a few steps back from the tridimensional display, still watching it. “So if I understand this correctly, you are saying that the Malum transmission is completely different than these transmissions, which appear to be Invader.”

Aioua gestured to the affirmative. “They are unique and completely different methodologies of communication. Even in the Confederacy, various races now use standardized encoding. That is not the situation here.”

“Yet we also know that Malum’s transmissions were sent to this very place.”

“Yes.”

“The mere fact that the two languages are converging on the same point is a concern,” Garo Ball rumbled. “It would be a realization of our greatest fears to learn that the two were allies.”

Inside, Jared felt a chill. Sarco, please don’t let this be true.

•••

Rete and Rami sat at a table in the dining area. He was eating a modest meal of Earth vegetables; she was biting into meat encrusted by a pastry. Rami had just finished recounting her visit to the fabled Sarconian colony world of Teirel, which had been purged of life during the Invasion of 1124. Rete listened with rapt attention as she described their arrival at the uninhabited but revitalized world, and their discovery of a massive cache of Sarconian information: history, science, law, and other writings.

Rete noted that Nho had failed to mention any of this to him; taking care of the crew’s emotional needs continued to dominate Nho’s life. Rete was especially curious to read what had been pulled from the Sarconian library. Rami promised to have it sent to him.

After spending some time talking about the contents of the cache, Rete changed the subject. “So, these transmissions. They have to be exciting for you.”

“In some ways. Looking at this new species, watching their communications, trying to decipher their culture . . . it’s the sort of thing every Human dreams about when they enter a life of interstellar travel.”

Rete sensed she wasn’t telling him everything. “But?”

“It’s also overwhelming. Every moment we are here is a moment we risk being seen by these—these Invaders, and all of us feel the pressure of that. The Aecron research we acquired helps a great deal with the base language—a lot of it hasn’t changed in two hundred years—but the Aecron lexicon says very little about Invader sociology.”

“In other words, you’re having trouble putting their words into cultural context.”

She brightened a little. “Exactly. Just this morning, we came across a transmission alluding to ‘going to war.’ What does that mean? Even in our Confederacy, it can mean many things. A Human would be speaking of putting measured forces into play as a righteous cause, such as promoting freedom. A Ritican would see going to war as a means of defense, but one that would invariably involve the complete annihilation of the enemy. A Hazionite would view going to war as an extension of domination over Hazion Prime, purposing to conquer other planets. An Aecron would see going to war as a tool of scientific and influential gain, not military might.”

“The Invaders attacked the Aecrons,” Rete said. “Doesn’t that give us insight into what they mean?”

“If all Invaders are of the same mindset, yes. But how can we be certain even of that? Consider the Sarconians. They’re Aecrons, but when they spoke of going to war, they meant the war within, not without: fighting the lures of the Outcasted and prevailing against the desire to do that which was self-­destructive. Their discussions of war were within the mind and the heart.”

“I see your problem.”

“And that is just one phrase. Imagine trying to determine the cultural context for an entire language without knowing the culture.”

Rete took a tentative bite out of one of the more foreign-­looking vegetables on his plate, then asked, “And the Aecrons’ Invader lexicon doesn’t offer any insight at all?”

“A little, but not much. It seems the Aecrons were primarily focused on deciphering the language for tactical reasons. They wanted it in case the Invaders returned, so they could possibly intercept enemy communications and anticipate their movements. Cultural understanding does not seem to have been a priority.”

Rete pursed his lips. “I’m no strategist, but it would seem to me that cultural understanding is a valuable component of war. Knowledge of a species’ culture can be useful in anticipating what they might do.”

“No one ever said the Aecrons were superb tacticians. Their brilliance seems largely confined to science.”

“To their credit, they did defeat the Invaders, and they managed to acquire much of the Invader language in the process.”

“Fair point,” she conceded. “They also were able to figure out how Invaders package and transmit sound and images. Without their work, we’d still be trying to figure out just how to make sense of these particle streams. That alone would take years.”

Rami leaned forward and looked at him. “But enough about what I’ve been doing. What about the rest of the crew? How are they doing?”

“Excited, but nervous. I’ve heard your words echoed many times over. This is what they have long dreamed of. The Humans especially feel this way, but so do the Hazionites. The Aecrons are less direct about it, but it is clear they are also fascinated by these new developments.”

“And the Riticans?”

Rete laughed. “Take a guess.”

“They see the Invaders as a threat to their homeworld and they want to destroy them right now.”

Rete nodded, glancing at a group of Riticans eating nearby. They looked like a lot of the Riticans he’d seen elsewhere on the ship: ready to kill something. Fortunately, that Ritican instinct was narrow enough that it hadn’t been displaced toward any crew members. Rete hoped it stayed that way.

“And how about you?” Rami asked. “How are you?”

His face took on a more sober expression. “About the same as the last time we met. Tired, busy beyond measure. Most of the Aecrons are over the guilt and most of the others on board are over the resentment. Now we’re dealing with an entirely new range of problems: the stresses of being deployed so far from home for so long, fears of the unknown, impatience over our current position, and a sense of being overwhelmed by the amount of work that lies ahead.”

“The last one sounds like me.”

“We’ve had a few from your department, but they are doing all right. They just need someone to talk to.”

She rested her cheek on her hand. “Last time we talked, you were pretty overwhelmed by all the people who needed someone to talk to.”

He smiled weakly. “I was, but it’s better now. Besides, I have to do something to earn my keep on this ship.”

•••

Nho was sitting quietly in his quarters when the door chime rang. As much as the crew demanded his time, they were usually good at giving him his privacy when he retreated into his quarters. Usually. “You may enter.”

The door opened and Rami walked in. “I just wanted to let you know that I compiled a new round of documents for you. I had them sent to your workstation.”

“Thank you.” He was so preoccupied with his counseling and spiritual work that he often forgot to check on her progress sorting through the massive information cache they’d discovered in the ruins of Teirel last year. She knew this was a deficiency of his, which was why she would often drop by to remind him. He asked, “Anything of interest?”

“Statutory records from the Teirellian government.”

“Hm.” As much as he appreciated learning about the Sarconians of Teirel, the minutia of lawmaking was not the most exciting topic, even for him.

“Don’t be too quick to dismiss them,” she warned, her finger waving in the air. “Some of these records appear to date from the years immediately before and during the Invasion.”

He perked up a little. “What do they say?”

“You’ll have to read it for yourself. Let’s just say that if you ever wanted to learn what Teirel’s policy was toward the Invaders, you’ll find out.”

“Extraordinary. Have you told the captain yet?”

“I wanted to wait until you’d read it first.”

“I’ll start on them as soon as I have time.” He scratched his beard. “Rete mentioned that you were meeting him today for lunch.”

“Yes. He’s a nice person.”

“He’s a little old for you.”

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Of course he is. It’s not like that.” When he didn’t respond, she pressed her lips together in thoughtful concentration. “Look, I’ve been thinking a lot about family lately, probably because everyone else on board is talking about how much they miss their own.” Her voice changed; Nho couldn’t tell if she was choking up a little or if it was just fatigue from a day of meetings. “It’s started to really hit me just how much I’ve missed out on, both as a child and now in adulthood. I have almost no family to call my own anymore. Mother and I have little in common now and I never knew my father, as you know. I’ve decided to take more control of that.”

She sat down next to him. “You’ve been a good friend, and I’ve decided I want more friendships like that, people who can be . . . something like family. He’s one of them.”

Nho cradled his staff and leaned back a little on the couch. “He and I are different in many ways, but he is a good man. I know he appreciates the time.” He hesitated. “Rete has no family or children to call his own.”

Rami sharpened her gaze on him again. “Please don’t tell him I told you this. I don’t want him to think he’s some sort of lab experiment in surrogate family.”

Nho chuckled. “He already feels out of place on this ship. I wouldn’t dare do anything to make it worse than already is.”

•••

The lights dimmed in the conference room and were replaced by a series of images: some still, some moving, all hovering above the table. The background hues were decidedly purple, and the objects or beings on display were decidedly alien. The sound that accompanied them was like an unpleasant cross between a swarm of Earth bees and a grinding of metal on metal.

Orel Dayail, standing at the head of the table, said, “These are some of the Invader transmissions we have decoded and compiled.”

There were quiet murmurings as the other officers in the room leaned in to catch a better view of the imagery. The Invaders were a deep, dark purple, and had small dots toward the top of their bodies that might or might not be eyes. A series of whip-­like extensions passed for limbs, radiating out of the creatures on all sides, and they moved like upright slugs. Even viewed through the varying aesthetic sensibilities of those in the room, the consensus was that the beings were hideous.

“We are still trying to develop an understanding of Invader society and culture,” Orel continued, “but much of this appears civilian rather than military. There are some elements that resemble something that may involve weapons, but most of it seems almost personal.”

Jared spoke. “What have you learned so far?”

One of the ship’s xenosociologists, a Hazionite male, responded. “That has been an elusive question, sir. We know that various Invaders are communicating with one another, but we have little clue as to what the relationships are between those who are talking. Their correspondences do not conform to any social norms of any Confederal or Minor race, so trying to determine what institutions they have—occupations or family, for example—has been difficult. They do seem to adhere to some sort of hierarchy, but we are having a hard time understanding what shapes it or drives it. We are not even sure if there are one or more genders in play, or if they utilize any concept of family.”

“Is there any mention of Malum or the Confederacy?”

“Not that we can tell,” Orel said.

Tir Bvaso gestured to one of the floating images. “There are tens of different planetary settings to these visuals. Am I safe in assuming that they come from systems other than this one?”

“Most likely,” said Aioua. “This system appears to be a hub for retransmitting and redirecting messages and other communications among a large number of worlds. Something inside the system there is managing all of this traffic.”

Jared asked, “Is any of it from this system?”

“It is difficult to say, but if so, not a great deal. This seems to be more of a conduit for interactions between other systems than a location from which interactions originate.”

“Is this conduit inhabited? Are we looking at a station of some sort? Or just an automated array?”

“We are too far away to take any direct readings, so we cannot be sure.” Aioua brought up a tactical map showing lines spread out across the star system. “However, there are a few additional sources of communication coming from other points in the area. Based on our estimates, those are coming from open space, and they may be moving.”

“Ships?”

“Possibly.”

That could be a problem. “But the vast majority of the traffic is coming from the gas giant?”

“Either the planet itself or the immediate vicinity. I believe it is coming from something in orbit around the planet.”

Jared paced around the table. “What would you say are the chances that we can learn what we need to from our current position?”

Orel answered, “We have discussed that question, and we are not optimistic. The communications we are analyzing do not, on their face, seem to relate to Malum. Without knowing exactly what is sending and receiving these messages, we have little sense of what we are dealing with.”

Jared rested his hands on the back of a chair. “So how do we go about learning what we need?”

“We need,” Aioua said, “to take the Hattan farther into the system so we can get more detailed readings.”

Jared shook his head. “I’m not comfortable doing that, not with as little information as we currently have.”

“We do have several short-­fold probes at our disposal,” Vetta said, speaking up. “They could be sent in to gather information.”

“We also have two fully operational interceptors,” added Redelia. “Either ship would be well suited to covert reconnaissance.”

Jared cast a sideways look at Aioua. “What do you think?”

She considered the question briefly. “The probes may prove useful, but I would be hesitant to send them in blindly. An interceptor would be more effective at eluding detection, at least until it could get close enough to begin detailed sensory collection of the target planet.”

Jared regarded Redelia, his senior interceptor commander, with an even expression. “Are you prepared to do this?”

“I was hoping you would ask, Captain.”