Lacuna: The Spectre of Oblivion (19 page)

From the base of the vast, dead ship a tiny vessel slipped from a hangar bay, a shining light against the black fabric of space and crowned with a faint blue light, the illumination waxing and waning on a steady frequency as it slowly floated, clearly under power, towards the
Beijing.

“Captain, incoming transmission.”

“Put it through,” said Vong.

Ben’s voice filled Operations once again. “Your chariot to my home has arrived, Captain. Come, let us discuss matters like civilised people.”

The line crackled and went silent. Liao gave Vong a subtle nod, glad, for the first time since coming aboard, that the title of captain did not refer to her.

*****

Hangerbay

TFR
Beijing

Lieutenant Yanmei Cheung watched with some degree of hesitation as the depressurisation of the hangar bay completed its cycle and the large double doors that lead to the launch bay opened, granting entrance to the ship’s large flight deck.

She didn’t trust things she couldn’t see, and that included the thick perspex that separated her face from the airless nothing on the other side. Her work as a marine often took her places that she felt uncomfortable, including the inside of pressurised spacesuits and alien spacecraft that any sane operator would have long ago consigned to the scrapheap, but she always swallowed her fear. She was able to control her mind’s protests and focus on her duty, but although the perspex was hardened and specifically designed to resist the forces of the void, it seemed so frail and humble to have something invisible separating one from nothing.

Cheung focused on the small ship as it drifted through the doors to the hangar bay, holding her high-powered rifle comfortably in both hands. Bug-like and fat, rusted and decrepit, the transport appeared almost inert except for a single blinking blue light fixed on top. The tiny ship, seemingly under power, came to rest on the metal of the landing deck, balancing precariously upon thin, spindly metal legs. A long ramp ominously descended from the mouth of the ship, silently beckoning the two of them to enter.

Her suit’s radio crackled in her ear, and Commodore Vong spoke. “That really doesn’t look safe.”

She smiled slightly at that. “No, sir, I have to admit it doesn’t. Still, if Ben was trying to get us killed, I think he’d have a better way to dispose of us than letting us die a rusty ship-related death.” She wiggled a hand. “Spacesuits protect from tetanus, too.”

They walked together towards the ramp, Cheung moving in front of Vong, the classic bodyguard position.

“I’m not sure how things were with Commander Liao, Lieutenant, but I think it’s important we maintain a professional distance.”

Cheung nodded her head, exaggerating the gesture slightly so that he could see her suit move. “As you wish, sir.” She moved into the maw of the small vessel, surveying the surroundings. It was dark, and none of the internal lights seemed to be active. Then, with a slight vibration, the ramp began to close. Several bright, white lights flickered as they sprung to life. The door sealed and locked, and all around her Cheung heard the faint hiss of air filling the compartment.

“Permission to remove my helmet, sir?”

Vong shook his head, looking around for a seat. There wasn’t one. “I don’t think we should,” he said. “We don’t know what kind of atmosphere is here, nor what kind of contaminants are in these metals.”

Cheung knew that Ben had full knowledge of what life support requirements Humans had but said nothing. She let her rifle hang by the strap, glancing at her arm-mounted O2 sensor. It was safe for her to remove her helmet, but orders were orders, and it made sense.

She barely felt the ship move at all as it lifted off, turning with barely a hint of momentum. The Toralii version of the reactionless drive that cancelled out the ship’s inertia was clearly more powerful and accurate than their own, even in such an ancient, decrepit ship.

The trip was conducted in silence aside from the faint hissing of air circulating within her suit. With no outside perspective and very little in the way of inertial shifts to give them any kind of direction, it was only when the hatchway began to open with a loud creak-groan that Cheung realised they had arrived.

The shriek of metal-on-metal was loud, even muffled by her suit, and she almost wished Ben had not pressurised the ship so she would not be subjected to the noise. When it finally ended, the ramp striking the deck with a loud clang, Cheung shouldered her rifle and slowly made her way down.

They were inside a place that bore a remarkable similarity to the hangar bay of the
Beijing
, a wide open space with a high ceiling, packed full of corroded hulks of vessels, some with their landing struts partially buried in the sand that covered the metal deck in large patches. It seemed so odd to find the natural desert joined with the ship, to see it almost entirely indistinguishable from her previous visit when it lay beneath the surface of Karathi.

Waiting for them near the base of the ramp were a number of small, spider-like robotic creatures that Cheung recognised.
Bevra
defence drones, automated weapons which automatically attacked and destroyed non-Toralii life. Unlike the decaying, rotten corpse of the ship, these robots were chromed and sleek, giant cockroaches with glowing blue eyes and delicate, articulate legs. Two powerful energy weapons were built into their foreclaws. Saara had indicated that they had a range of seven kilometres, something their research had confirmed. A rusted, ruined model from the wreck of the
Giralan
had been brought aboard the
Beijing
during their salvage of the ship. The Humans had studied the Bevra drone’s weapons but had not yet been able to successfully reverse engineer it.

They looked at her, their myriad of sensors tracking her movements, but made no attempt to raise their weapons or threaten her in any way. Reaching the bottom of the ramp, she hesitated slightly, then waved for Vong to follow her.

When they both stood shoulder to shoulder, one of the machines stepped forward.

“Follow,” it intoned, a flat, synthetic voice that reeked of the artificial. “The master will see you now.”

Cheung gave a polite nod of her head. “Lead the way.”

Immediately, the machines turned and strode towards a gaping hexagonal exit, their metal legs skittering across the rusted deck as the constructs lead the pair of Humans into the gloom.

The skittering robots, ignoring the sand and the occasional corroded hole in the deck, took Cheung and Vong further into the heart of the ship. There, the corrosion became less intense, and the sand gave way to metal.

It was just as she remembered it, but different. Every now and then, a brand new, shining plate was welded into place over what was obviously a gaping hole. Thick bundles of cables ran along the corners of the corridor, occasionally ducking and weaving through the corridor’s supporting frames, disappearing into the bulkhead to reappear later. Clumps of thin, pale, blue lights flickered along the length of the cable, occasionally pulsing and flickering, casting a strange light along the entire corridor.

“This place is more than a little creepy, sir,” Cheung observed.

Vong nodded in agreement, despite his request to remain professional. She knew that the Commodore was an experienced commander, someone who had seen a great many things over the years, and although she could not see his face, his body language, his defensive posture, told her that he was more than a little apprehensive. Cheung was sure he had never experienced anything like this. No one had.

The robots guided them to a large, open-mouthed staircase that descended down to the next level, then the constructs moved to either side of the entrance. The construct that spoke first gestured down the stairway with a metallic claw.

“I’ll check it first, sir,” she offered, and Vong nodded again. Cheung carefully moved down, her rifle snug up against her shoulder, the barrel pointed down towards the ground.

The stairway lead to a wide open room with a raised ceiling that was covered in computer screens, consoles and electronics. The majority of them, in contrast to the silent, dark screens found dotted throughout the rest of the ship, were active; they displayed innumerable graphics, displays and readouts in the Toralii language, the text scrolling past so fast Cheung had no hope of reading it. The ceiling, braced by struts and supports, was almost completely covered by an image of outside space, a field of untwinkling stars on a sea of black. Judging by the distance they had travelled and the gradual disappearance of the otherwise ever present sand, Cheung knew that this room was deep within the heart of the ship. The roof was no window; it was a full projection, detailed and perfect.

On a raised dais in the centre of the room, the focal point of the entire area, was a large metal chair. Within it sat a metal ball, roughly spherical and similar in appearance to the jump drive on the
Beijing
but capped in a large, twin-linked turret. A river of cables flowed into the large dais below it, the various threads converging into a giant vein linked into what she presumed was a giant computer, the living heart of the ship.

More of the same Bevra robots scurried around near her, indifferent to her presence, like a swarm of oversized bugs feasting on a corpse.

“It’s clear, Captain,” she called over her shoulder, “more or less.”

She heard Vong’s footsteps behind her, then out of the corner of her eye, saw him move up to her side.

“This must be the ship’s bridge,” Cheung remarked, “but I don’t see Ben.”

“Then,” came a deep, booming voice, “you are not looking hard enough.”

The sphere slowly uncurled revealing six elongated legs, two claws, and a large head, twin blue lights mounted in recessed sockets like a ghostly man peering out of an ancient Greek helmet. Gracefully and delicately, the metal insect rose up on its legs, stretching itself above the ruined chair to an imposing height, the top of his head almost touching the ceiling.

This was a new look for Ben. Cheung knew that the construct could control his ‘body’ remotely, taking and using whatever form he desired, his mind safely housed within a featureless hexagonal datacore. Whereas his previous preferred appearance was a maintenance drone, working futilely and endlessly to repair the destroyed guts of the
Giralan
, this body seemed much more hostile, aggressive and, most notably, armed. The turret moved independently of the body, swivelling around with a faint whir before sitting still upon his back.

“Good evening, Commander Liao.”

Vong stepped forward, hands by his sides. “Com—”

Ben jerked forward, his eyes flashing a bright cyan, and raised his claws in anger. The turret spun faster than Cheung could see, its twin barrels focused ominously on Vong.

“Liao dares to send a minion in her stead?”

Cheung raised her rifle and levelled it at Ben, but he either did not notice or did not care.

“Commander Liao is no longer in command of the TFR
Beijing
,” Commodore Vong offered. “I am Commodore Wei Vong, of the People’s Republic of China. I speak for our people.”

Ben skittered forward, his thin claws grasping the rusted metal of the floor. He moved off the raised dais, claws clacking together eagerly.

“I thought I had expressed myself clearly and was confident that it was not unreasonable to expect that Commander Melissa Liao would be the one to come aboard my vessel to see my triumph. I have no interest in you, nor your people, and you have absolutely nothing you can offer me but your swift departure to fetch Commander Liao so I may converse with her and her alone.” The sky-blue lights that served as Ben’s eyes flared dangerously as he spoke. “Where is she?”

“She is aboard my ship,” Vong admitted. “She has accompanied us as a consultant.”

“A consultant.” Ben’s British accented tone dripped with sardonic mockery. “Commander Liao, the fearless Valkyrie who brought fear to the hearts of the fearless, she who broke the back of Kor’Vakkar and inspired the Kel-Voran to seek alliance with your pitiful race, the slayer, the bringer of death, she whose very name now inspires
fear
throughout the known galaxy… the Human who dares to defy the most powerful empire this section of the galaxy has ever seen and gets away with it… is now a
consultant
to some snivelling word-man in way, way over his depth.” Amplified by some unseen source, Ben’s voice suddenly increased in volume as he gave a booming, mocking laugh that echoed as the sound bounced down the empty, hollow corridors of the dead ship. “
You waste my time
.”

“You speak highly of Commander Liao, but I assure you she is human, Ben, not a God, just a Human who’s doing well for herself, might I add. While she’s no longer the commanding officer, she is now serving in a much—”

“Enough! Return from where you came, then send Commander Liao to me.”

Cheung looked at Vong but was unable to see his face through the reflective visor. She lowered her rifle. If Ben didn’t fear her weapon at all, it was likely utterly useless.

“Very well, Ben. I will return with her.”

Ben slowly raised a claw, pointing it directly at Vong’s face. Her fingers closed around the pistol grip of her rifle, feeling her muscles tense involuntarily, but she kept her weapon down.