The computer’s screen lit up and words began to scroll by, which he simultaneously heard echoed in the back of his head. Its voice was childlike and boisterous. “Initializing… Initialization complete. Greetings, Sinit Kai. You will be pleased to know that all of my systems are functioning at maximum efficiency.”
The older models weren’t so cloyingly personable. “Sure. Great,” he said as he slipped into his uniform. “What’s my mission?”
“You’re a rude one. No matter. Your mission is simple. You need only step into the capsule, and it will do the rest.”
Kai fastened the last of his buttons and tugged his jacket to make sure it was straight. The self-healing material of the uniform sealed itself against his half-formed skin, and the last of the pain disappeared. “I don’t follow. What does this capsule do?”
“How strange. I thought Sinit-class infiltrators were supposed to follow orders without question.”
“Things change,” Kai said. “And I seem to be the entire chain of command now.”
The computer took a moment to process that. “Well, if you absolutely must know, the capsule is an experimental transit system. There’s a significant chance it will deliver us to a distant star… or it may annihilate us in a lovely show of lights. To be quite honest, I’m not sure which is more likely.”
“Comforting.” Kai didn’t take long to make his decision. At least the capsule offered some chance of survival. He stepped inside and tried to make himself comfortable. “To what end?”
“Our intelligence operatives were able to determine the enemy’s next target, and the device is programmed to deliver you there. Upon arrival, you will have two objectives.”
The capsule closed, and hissed as its pressure seals locked into place.
“Get on with it, machine.”
“You are terribly impatient, you know that? I was getting there. Your first objective is to protect me. I was implanted with a shard of the Primogenitor’s holographic data-core, and I now contain the entire stored knowledge of our people. Our accomplishments must not be forgotten. Your other objective is to deliver a message.”
The hiss slowed to a halt, and was followed by a series of warbling tones that caused the capsule to vibrate. Their volume raised until the entire vessel became one great tuning fork.
Then it happened. There was a bright flash, and the capsule climbed up and up through the many layers of the ruined fortress and further into the bleeding sky. The teeming ranks of the enemy stretched away in all directions, covering the land to the far horizon.
Once the capsule was clear, a furiously burning light swelled up out of the fortress and engulfed the land. It raced out and swallowed the invaders, burning and crackling as it went. As the planet shrank away from Kai’s view, the whole world was eaten by the blinding power of that light, and then it all blinked out at once.
“What in creation?” Kai asked.
“There will be no surrender, Sinit Kai. The Somari race died today, but the enemy paid dearly for their victory.”
The whole situation was too surreal. Kai’s head swam and he prayed to wake up, but it was no use. He was alone in a strange capsule hurtling through the blackness of space, and the world he knew was gone. “Tell me, what message am I to deliver?”
“Tell the universe that the Nefrem have awakened. Tell them the devourer is coming.”
The mission-comp’s words echoed through his mind as the remains of his homeworld disappeared from view, and he heard them over and over until he finally drifted off to sleep. It was a sleep haunted by a billion wailing ghosts, and the spectre of strange worlds yet to come.
Chapter 1:
The Hidden
Dr. Marcus Donovan was looking through a rectangular porthole. A thick pane of clear polycarbonate separated him from the cold emptiness of space and the radiant blue, green and white-flecked Earth some 300 kilometers beyond. It was mid-morning down there in New Zealand, and he idly wondered what details escaped his sight from this distance.
“You ever get tired of staring out the windows, Marc?”
Without turning, he knew that Dr. Vijay Rao, his best friend and second in command, was floating in the doorway. They had played out this scene a hundred times before on a series of orbital platforms looking out over every continent but Antarctica. It was their routine. “Tired? Maybe someday, Jay. Not today.”
“I honestly wish I had your love for it. I mean, I was pretty starry eyed my first time up, but I could forget there are windows at all these days. Know what I mean?”
Marcus dragged a dark brown finger across the transparent surface, tracing the line where blue-green water met the thin beige strip of beach so far away. “No, don’t think I do. This is the whole reason I’m here. Mom always said I had my head in the clouds, but she was only half-way there.”
He turned, pushed himself away from the window and floated toward the open door, lightly brushing at a series of hand-rails as he went. “I take it the array’s ready to roll.”
Rao waved him on. “She passed all diagnostics with flying colors. Just waiting for you to throw the switch, boss.”
“Lead on,” Marcus said, and together they made their way through the heart of the Copernicus Observatory like creatures born to weightlessness, until the narrow tunnel opened up into the spherical command center. The walls there were covered with workstations, each with its own technician and glowing terminal, except at the room’s equator where a ring of windows revealed the Earth beneath them, the sun above and countless stars in every direction.
“Commander on the bridge!” someone shouted, and the crew snapped to attention.
“Damn jokers,” Marcus muttered. He wasn’t a stickler for protocol, or anything remotely like formality for that matter. The Global Aerospace Foundation drove him batty with that stuff, and everyone knew it. “Back to your stations, people. We’re three weeks ahead of schedule, but there’s still work to do.”
He pushed off and drifted out into the middle of the room, and stopped by gently colliding with his own station. Rao trailed a meter behind him. “Jansen, bring the generators up to full output and start cycling the capacitors,” Marcus said.
“Already on it, sir.”
“Park, bring the array about. You know where I want to look.”
“Aye, sir.”
“We only get one chance at this. Let’s make it count.”
Rao patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a liar, Marc. The only reason you’re up here is to tilt at this little windmill of yours.”
Marcus cracked a smile. “One man’s windmill is another man’s giant. Ms. Park, are we ready?”
“Coordinates locked and ready to scan, sir.”
Rao put on a gambler’s smile. “Bet you fifty credits we only come up with rocks and empty space this time.”
“Make it a hundred and you’re on.”
They shook hands, and Marcus turned, saying, “Commence scanning, full spectrum at eighty-five percent intensity.”
With that, the Copernicus Observatory was momentarily filled with an ear-splitting whine as its massive capacitors discharged, followed by the deep electronic hum of its multi-megawatt scanning array. No one spoke for minutes as they awaited the first results.
Ms. Park finally called out, “We’re receiving data, sir. Should I pipe it over to the main viewer?”
“Yeah. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
A three-dimensional holograph blinked into existence in the center of the room, at first indistinct like a roiling cloud of smoke. Park worked furiously at her station and the image became more crisp, but it remained speckled with noise that frustrated any attempt to make sense of it.