The Admiral and the Assistant

The Ash-Tongue boneship slammed to a stop in the space near Takkar. The two moons of Takkar gleamed, reflecting dully off the jagged surfaces of the bones.

As soon as the ship appeared, swarms of scarab ships wriggled free, streaming toward the verdant surface of the forest planet.

Herin had made a couple new directives for dealing with Imperial space.

No more waiting around. That was Herin's first directive. They'd sweep in hard and fast, grab as much as they could. Takkar was thinly populated, but the planet would be empty by the time the Navy showed up. If they showed up at all.

If the Navy did arrive, Herin's second directive was that they'd no longer wait for the scarabs to return before engaging in battle. They would lose some scarabs, but they'd eliminate the Imperium's ability to pound on them while all the automated ships returned.

The Ash-Tongues were timid. They weren't really combatants, but the Cryptographers had put them in this desperate situation. Now they had to deal with the Imperium on the Imperium's terms.

The Ash-Toungues would know, in the future, to keep a watch for interference from jumpspace. They Cryptographers should have been eliminated, no matter how bad they tasted, nor how polluted their energy was with the chaotic filth of jumpspace.

And speaking of...

Herin grinned as his many arms manipulated the controls in his egg. His transformation was nearly complete, yet his background as an Imperial had allowed him to conceive a weapon that no other Feeder possibly could have.

Herin was eager to test his weapon. He scanned the sector. As an SS sector-- well, until recently an SS sector-- there wasn't much Imperial technology here. But every sector with a jumphole had an Imperial relay.

It was the only way to communicate.

Under ordinary circumstances, he would never have dreamed of touching a relay. They were communication, they were security. They were critical for safely using jumpholes.

But when you could simply move from place to place faster than light, well, why not?

He began powering up the weapon and aligned the targeting hairs on the relay. The relay was small, dumbbell-shaped device, blazoned with the Imperial seal, ready to fire data through the jumphole to the next relay.

The weapon finished powering up. Herin activated it.

There was no dramatic flash, no beam, no explosion. One moment the relay was there, the next it was not. Herin's weapon had generated a small bubble, an unstable jumphole for a tiny moment, just long enough to drop the device somewhere into the depths of jumpspace.

His arms writhed with satisfaction. It worked perfectly. It was not as powerful or as impressive as the beam had been, but they would see if the Ninth Fleet could reset themselves back from the depths of jumpspace.

The light of the moons reflected off the shells of the scarab ships as they descended, looking for food.

Unit 24601, once known as Flander, pulled itself through the interior of the boneship, following the flow of power. Energy radiated along the struts and lines of the boneship, easy to see and to follow.

Unit 24601 was a mining bot, and its directives were simple.

First, of course, was to protect the citizens of the Imperium. But there was nobody to protect right now.

Next, was to find home base, the source of power. Power was where the Imperials would be, would be where it could drop off minerals and findings.

Third, Unit 24601 needed to map out the mine. This was unlike any other mine it had experienced, but 24601 was designed to deal with new experiences, learn from the unknown. Somewhere in here there were minerals or valuables to find, otherwise Frontier Landworks would not have left it here.

The flows of power led it onward, growing stronger, brighter. It scanned as it went, looking for rich veins of ore or lost technology, perhaps archaeological remnants of an unknown civilization. But all it could find were endless struts of organic material.

Unit 24601 was patient. It would map the entire mine, then report. It did have a small note of concern-- it had not gotten any pings from the usual mining relays. But it didn't much matter. Sooner or later, a mining relay would show up, and then it could report. Until then, it kept scanning and mapping.

The robot continued forward, smoothly pulling itself from strut to strut with its many arms, recording data.

Without warning, the gaps between the struts opened up. Unit 24601 found itself scanning a massive energy source. A huge open area, hundreds of yards across, gaped before it. In the center of the gap floated a giant black sphere, featureless and smooth. It hummed with dark power. Jagged shards and bits of struts by the thousands reached across the gap and touched the sphere, connecting it to the mine. Unit 24601 could feel the energy radiating from its featureless surface, sending its power down the struts and throughout the ship.

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Unit 24601 noted the current location with something like relief. It was not a standard format, but here, at last, was the mine's primary reactor. That was the second step completed.

A few segmented, shrimp-like creatures saw Unit 24601 and darted away, fleeing into the gaps in the mine. It ignored them. The creatures weren't Imperial, and they weren't a threat.

On to the next step.

Somewhere deep within the processors and circuits of Unit 24601, Flander screamed and thrashed and tried to find a way to take back control of its body.

Grimthorn relaxed on the sofa, Kinnit in his arms. They were sitting together quietly, staring at the long narrow portal, gazing out at the stars. He rested his head on top of hers.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Nothing, really," Grimthorn replied. He rubbed her arm. "I'm just enjoying the moment."

Kinnit smiled. "It's weird that you can do that," she said.

"Well what are you thinking about?"

"The stars." She reached out to the portal, opening her hand to the glittering array. "Even after everything, after all I've learned and experienced, they're still beautiful."

"You're beautiful," he said.

She grinned and poked his side. "Charmer." She focused back on the portal. "There's just so much out there. I want to see it all."

"Do you still love the stars so much, even knowing what kind of evil lurks among them?"

"The stars aren't evil. It's what people do with them." She turned to look up in his face. "Do you think the stars are beautiful, Grimthorn?"

He gazed deep into the portal, thinking hard for a long moment.

"They are," he said finally. "They're beautiful and hard, like a gemstone. They're beautiful and dangerous, like a cat-bear. They're beautiful and cold, like an ice palace." He squeezed her. "Not beautiful and warm, like my wife. Beautiful and sunny. Beautiful and happy."

He turned to her and captured her lips in a deep kiss, holding her tightly. They broke apart, gazing at each other, looking intently into each other's eyes.

Their scanners blared in unison, with a priority alert.

"Feeders couldn't have waited another twenty minutes?" Grimthorn muttered. But he dug his scanner out of his pocket.

Kinnit sat bolt upright, staring at her scanner in horror.

"No! Grimthorn, they're over Takkar!"

They both bolted for the bridge. They were halfway there when the alert was silenced, as sharply as though cut with a knife.

Captain Cohrmere stood on the captain's dais on the ISS Helix, his flinty gaze locked on the bridge monitor, his milky-white eyes taking in the scene over Takkar. The Wraithfleet followed him, streaming from the jumphole. They formed up as a shield wall in front of the jumphole, protecting the rest of the fleet as it emerged.

The Feeder boneship loomed over the tiny planet, silent and ominous. The last of the scarabs were already down at the surface, doing their work.

"Captain, we're getting a signal from the boneship," his comms officer said.

Captain Cohrmere frowned.

"The Feeders are attempting to contact us?"

"No, sir, it's... an Imperial signal. Looks like a... a mining protocol?"

"Who's sending an Imperial signal from that boneship? Get it to the Admiral when he arrives. His infographers can sort it out."

"Yes, sir."

The Ninth Fleet finished entering the sector. Admiral Stonefist's face appeared on Captain Cohrmere's console.

"All ships," he said, "Peeling maneuver. You all know the routine. Let's chip away at this thing, force them to bring their scarabs back."

Captain Cohrmere nodded and began issuing orders.

Admiral Stonefist opened a direct comm to the ISS Helix.

"Captain, what is this signal you've sent me?"

"I don't know, Admiral. We received it as soon as we arrived in the sector. It's an Imperial signal that came from the boneship."

"Flander!" cried Kinnit, popping up on the console.

Admiral Stonefist nodded.

"Our infographers are processing it now. It looks like coordinates, or some kind of map." His image frowned down at his console, then his eyes widened.

"The reactor!" he said breathlessly. "Flander has given us the location of the boneship's reactor!" Coordinate data began streaming across the bridge monitor. "All ships!" Admiral Stonefist cried. "This is the location of the Feeder's reactor! Take that out and we remove this threat to the galaxy!" He scanned the data more. "Shallowest entry is on the far side." He marked a spot on the boneship. It lit up in red on the bridge monitor. "This target, all priority."

"Yes, sir!" responded Captain Cohrmere, along with a hundred other captains. The Ninth Fleet began to circle around the boneship, heading for the far side, a third of the way around the boneship from the previous crater. Captain Cohrmere frowned at the data. If the data were accurate-- and he hoped it was-- the reactor was still buried deep; deeper than they'd ever managed to penetrate.

But it was something to shoot at, at least.

The ships of the Ninth Fleet streamed around the boneship, lining up for a peeling maneuver on the far side. The ISS Helix got in formation, directly behind the ISS Centurion.

"Captain! We're getting a new energy signature from the boneship!" cried one of the Lieutenants.

"What is it?"

"Not sure, sir. It... closest analysis match looks like a... roadbuilder torpedo?"

"Get it to Admiral Stonefist. Maybe the infographers can make something of it."

"Yes, sir!"

The Ninth Fleet began hammering at the boneship once more. The Helix moved smoothly forward along with the fleet.

"Ready weapons!" cried Captain Cohrmere.

The Centurion, just ahead of them, began unleashing its payload. Captain Cohrmere glanced down from the bridge monitor to verify weapons status. When he looked back up, the Centurion was gone.

His brow wrinkled.

"Lieutenant? What's the position of the ISS Centurion?"

The young Lieutenant worriedly scanned his console.

"Lieutenant?"

"It's... I'm looking, sir..." he turned to the Captain. "I can't find the Centurion's transponder!"

"Scan for debris."

Another moment passed.

"Nothing, sir!"

Captain Cohrmere leaned forward, clutching the banister around the captain's dais.

"What new devilry is this?" He shook his head. "Never mind. Weapons ready. We'll be in range shortly."

The Helix sailed through the area the Centurion had just occupied. Everyone on the bridge gasped.

Euphoria swept the bridge. The feel of jumpspace sleeted across everyone.

Captain Cohrmere straightened, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes, reveling in the lingering feel of the jumpspace bubble. Epiphany dawned on Captain Cohrmere.

"The Centurion has gone home," he said quietly.

Herin Kasra wriggled in his egg gleefully. The weapon had worked perfectly. The Navy ship had simply vanished, and there was no reset. It stayed gone.

He scanned through the thin ranks of the remainder of the Ninth Fleet and began charging his weapon again. A glance showed that the million scarabs of the Feeders were busily sweeping across the surface of Takkar, collecting energy.

Herin was pleased. This would be quick.

Everything was going according to plan.