Incursio (Oolite Saga Part 3) Read online

  His sole companion was a demure lady feline, clad in dark mauve fur, who was serving Myy'q wine from a decanter hewn from a single carbon crystal. She topped up his glass with a coquettish wink, salaciously arching her tail in a suggestive way.

  Sootia had a job to do, she knew what was required and she was good at it. Myy'q was not a traditional customer. Most of their clients came from the elite social classes. Myy'q was clearly a trader, not somebody they would normally consider entertaining. She had been momentarily shocked when she had seen the run-down vessel in which he'd arrived. It was just so - ordinary.

  'I mean,' Myy'q continued, swirling the wine in his glass. 'Here I am, enjoying a small but well earned treat for all my hard work and all they can talk about is the war. I mean, it's not happening here is it? It's only those ghastly outlying systems that complain and they always complain! Bet it's all overhyped. It usually is.'

  Sootia was too well trained to roll her eyes at the 'well earned treat'. A repast such as that provided by the Zaracean Cuisine Guild was no 'treat'. The restaurant ship Preen was the pride of the Zarace civilian shipping lines. A custom built, no expense spared Emerald class cruiser, entirely given over to state rooms, galleys, kitchens and every style of on-board restaurant from the flamboyant to the intensely personal. More than three kilometres from end to end and crewed exclusively by the native felines of Zarace, it was one of the premier eating experiences to be enjoyed in Chart one.

  It was cheaper to buy your own ship than to eat here; the pinnacle of gastronomy. Ludicrously expensive, it was the preserve of the fabulously rich or those with rather mixed up priorities.

  'You know what I think?' Myy'q said, favouring her with a glance. 'I reckon it's a tax gimmick. Galcop wants a new set of ships and they're getting us to pay for it. Taxes are outrageous, worse than they've ever been.'

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin, focussing his attention back on to the wine.

  'Now that is good stuff.'

  Sootia refilled his glass, sparing a glance out of the observation windows, her vertical irises narrowing slightly. Even to the least experienced space traveller, it was obvious that the convoy looked a little unusual. Every large ship was flanked by at least two escorts and these were not the run of the mill Sidewinders or Mambas; hired Black Monk Heavy Gunboats nestled alongside navy spec Mk2 Vampire interceptors. There was enough firepower out there to start a small war. It seemed overkill for a trading convoy that normally faced nothing more dangerous than the after-effects of its clients' occasional over-indulgence.

  Sootia had known some folks on the Teorge convoy that had been raided, few of them had survived. Her cousin had been one of the lucky ones. All of his human friends had been killed, along with the hired hands in the escort ships.

  And Teorge wasn't that far from Zarece.

  'Scare mongering, that's what it is.' Myy'q drained his glass again. 'You shee? As shimple as that.'

  There was a flash of chromatic light from the windows. Sootia instantly looked up. No more clients were expected until later on today. An unscheduled visitor? Impossible. Reservations were booked years in advance.

  'More wine my dear, more wine. Time to drink a toast to… ' Myy'q frowned. Sootia was staring out of the window, the decanter held loosely in her paw. As he watch the decanter slid away, dropping to the floor with a ringing crash, splattering both of them in vintage Caribinay. The thick wine oozed across the carpet, which rolled up slightly, becoming instantly intoxicated.

  'What are you doing!' he yelled. 'Have you any idea how much that… '

  Sootia was backing away from the windows, one careful cautious step at a time. Myy'q could see her fur was standing on end in alarm. He turned and almost fell of his chair, his face lit by the blaze of unnatural light from the observation windows.

  The soft music in the room was suddenly interrupted by a rough authoritative voice.

  'All ships, intercept and defend! Scramble! Intercept and def… ' the voice was cut off abruptly by another; deeper, rasping, deafening.

  'VULGATE! DUO, QUINDECIM, NOVEM!'

  Myy'q recognised the sound of that voice and a thin film of cold sweat broke out on his brow. It was how the translator circuits rendered Thargoid communications. Even if he hadn't, the sight of four octagonal Thargoid warships heading directly towards the convoy left little doubt as to the current situation.

  By Randomius… ' Myy'q croaked, his mouth dropping open.

  'Turrets armed and tracking. Shields to full power. All escorts to attack formation. Fire at will, commanders! Fire at will!'

  Myy'q saw the ten escorting Vampires streak quickly into a delta formation, triggering their fuel injectors in a sequenced and professional manner. The Zaraceans only employed the best.

  'Vamp Leader to Vamp group. Engage targets in sequence. Concentrate all fire on primary target and then switch to secondary. Lock missiles.'

  Myy'q saw the Vampires roll into a circular formation, allowing them to all fire simultaneously. The distance between them and the incoming Thargoids closed rapidly.

  A third voice, deep and sonorous, echoed from the speakers. 'Cleric to Monks. Hold formation and watch for straggling sinners. We'll fleece the unwary. Hold position and consolidate your assets.'

  The eight Black Monk Gunboats dropped into defensive positions, blocking the route between the incoming Thargoids and the fleet.

  The Thargoids had adopted a 'wall' formation, travelling through space in a square two by two grid arrangement. Myy'q frowned. It was an unusual tactic for them. Thargoids usually swarmed in an almost random manner, deploying their remote controlled 'Thargon' autonomous craft as extra firepower. There was no sign of Thargons. The alien ships were driving in a straight line towards the convoy with no evasive moves at all.

  Something is wrong here.

  The Vampires were almost in range…

  'Vamp leader to Vamp group, fire on my command. Three, two… '

  There was a flicker of light from each of the Thargoid vessels and strands of clear white energy lashed out from each of them. The battlefield was obscured by a scintillating inferno of coruscating light.

  But Thargoid weapons are green, what…

  Myy'q rubbed his eyes only to see flames, spinning debris and disintegrating wreckage. He blinked and squinted. For a moment nothing happened. He held his breath.

  Yes! We got them!

  The Thargoid warships emerged from the destruction; unharmed, unstopped, unaffected.

  No!

  The Vampires were gone. Myy'q stared in astonishment and fear. Not a single one had survived. The Thargoids were bearing down on the fleet, still in formation.

  'VULGATE! DUO, QUINDECIM, NOVEM!' The terrifying proclamation crashed through the audio circuits of the convoy ships. Myy'q had no idea what it meant. He winced at the volume.

  They never make sense… but they never say the same thing twice either…

  'Cleric to Monks. Market has crashed. Depreciate the foe.'

  The Black Monk Gunboats lumbered forwards, their turret mounted weaponry peppering the Thargoids with long range fire. Myy'q saw the Thargoid vessels' shields glowing green as they repulsed the attack.

  Abruptly, the Thargoids broke formation, rotating their ships and moving to intercept the Black Monks. Actinic laser fire from the defending ships criss-crossed the dark sky, catching one of the Thargoid warships. It succumbed to the combined attack, its shields collapsing. Myy’q watched the lasers hitting the exposed surface of the ship before it exploded violently.

  Hurrah!

  The three remaining Thargoid vessels triggered their weapons in response. Myy'q gasped as the lead Thargoid vessel emitted a blazing, twisting, raging storm of tormented energy which angrily arced towards the nearest Black Monk ship; streaming tendrils of white fire mixed with lightning. He'd seen nothing like it before.

  The Black Monk was impaled by the stream. Myy'q saw it drill straight through the ship, slicing it clean in half, leaving two neatly dissecte
d sections of flaming hull, spewing debris and bodies into the void which floated past the windows of the Preen.

  Sootia screamed in horror.

  The other Thargoids opened fire a moment later, with identical, devastating results. The Thargoids were able to aim their weapons off-axis, making it impossible for the heavy Black Monk Gunboats to dodge. Despite their heavy armour, defensive fire and powerful shields they were no match for the Thargoid weapon. It was a massacre.

  Ship after ship was hunted down and slaughtered without mercy, cut to scrap in a terrifying twisting cacophony of clashing metal and blistering weapons fire. Frantic calls from the defenders echoed briefly over the wideband, before being abruptly cut off. Screams of the dying faded into the darkness. It was over in seconds.

  Dear Randomius, not us, not me!

  The Black Monks were gone.

  The Thargoid vessels swarmed amongst the civilian ships of the convoy. Myy'q was just able to see the ghostly emanations of scanning beams flickering over one of the transports. The ship's hull flickered gently, as if being caressed.

  They're looking for something, perhaps they'll let the civilians go…

  As if reading his mind the Captain of the transport opened up his wideband transmitter, his human voice high with fear.

  'Thargoid vessels, we surrender! Take any supplies you want! We surrender! No conditions!'

  The ghostly scanning beams converged on the bridge of the transport for a brief moment.

  ‘Frak, engage the witch-jump motors… just do it…!’

  ‘They won’t engage, sir… something is…’

  'VULGATE! DUO, QUINDECIM, NOVEM!' The strange prose resonated across the fleet, all the more terrifying for its new found familiarity.

  Next moment, the streaming energy weapons burst forth. Myy'q stumbled back from his chair, tripping over the prone form of Sootia, who was now cowering under the table. By the time Myy'q had dragged her out and tried to wrestle her towards the exit the transport was gone and the Thargoids were heading across the formation, scanning the remaining freighters and passenger vessels. Each one was dispatched in turn after a brief pause and another doom laden proclamation from the invaders.

  'We've got to get to the escape pods!' Myy'q cried. 'Now!'

  Sootia was slack in his grasp, her eyes still locked on the observation windows where flash after flash signalled the demise of the rest of the convoy.

  'No!' She gasped. 'This can't be… '

  Myy'q turned to see the Thargoids coming about from their final quarry and heading towards the restaurant ship.

  Too late…

  The windows of the observation deck flickered with the ephemeral light of the scanning beams. The light cut out, the huge green pulsing hulk of a Thargoid warship blotting out the light of the stars, of the sun…

  Sootia grabbed him close in an embrace, shivering and wincing against him. He closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. He could hear blood pounding in his ears, his heart racing. He counted the beats; one, two, three… how many more before they were obliterated? Would it be instantaneous or would they suffer a short choking death in the vacuum of space?

  There was a series of clicks from the wideband transmitter, followed by a burst of static.

  Myy'q opened one eye. He could see stars. He opened the other.

  The Thargoids were gone. The space outside the observation deck of the Preen was filled with spinning wreckage but there was no sign of the hostile invaders. Tremulously, a growing awareness filtered into their stunned minds.

  They let us go… but why?

  Sootia whimpered beside him but he stroked her head and raised it to him.

  'They've gone. We're alive. Look!'

  The Preen was alone in space. Intact, undamaged, un-raided; lone survivor of a senseless attack. Thousands had died aboard the other lost vessels of the convoy, not counting the vain sacrifice of the defending gunboats and interceptors.

  Myy'q recovered quickly, more used to the shock and awe of space combat. His mind was trying to understand his unlikely survival. He released Sootia and picked the remains of the decanter up from the floor, turning it over in his hands as his mind turned over their unlikely survival.

  Myy'q looked at Sootia. Her feline eyes gazed back; uncomprehending, still terrified.

  Then it came to him.

  Chapter 2

  The musicians on Teanrebi were some of the most accomplished in the chart and the Worshipful Company of Historical Instrument Makers had provided them with the fruits of their unique craft. Their skills were reported to be centuries old in origin, with tools and techniques that dated back to the diaspora; the semi-mythical exodus from the homeworld, Old-Earth.

  Certainly many of the instruments were more than just antiques. Many were made of obscure materials, some even organic plant matter, the turned and polished remnants of old trees dating back into times before space flight was even thought possible. Those carefully preserved devices remained capable of catching emotions and captivating audiences in the right hands and yet had seen a thousand years of history pass them by. History: with all the progress, cataclysms, celebrations, despairs and atrocities that ten centuries of time had visited upon the people of the universe.

  Jim McKenna had always loved ‘real’ music. It was a unique and distinguished form of entertainment in current times. With a population of trillions, the aligned worlds had few opportunities to experience such a spectacle in its true form; live; with instruments played with no recordings, no enhancements, no storage and transmission technology.

  The Teanrebi Michel-Jarre Hall was a unique structure. Designed to house several hundred thousand people for concerts, untold credits had been spent on ensuring that its natural architectural shape and composition carefully conveyed sound from the centre even to the extreme edges of the hall. There was no electronic manipulation, merely the acoustic design. It was the only music hall of its type in the chart and had no real equal outside of that.

  Needless to say, concerts were rather oversubscribed and reassuringly expensive. It was the preserve of those with eclectic, otherworldly tastes and significant disposable income. The Teanrebi Ancient and Philharmonic Orchestra was rather specialist entertainment.

  The interval was drawing to a close. Jim ran a hand through his hair. It obstinately flopped back onto his forehead. He could see it in front of his vision. Grey. No hint of the strong black it had once been. Time had passed, a lot of time. He leant back in his seat and surveyed the huge hall. The guests were beginning to filter back in ready for the second half. The seat next to him was still unoccupied. The musicians were retuning the instruments. It was sign of their age that they needed constant adjustment – some even between pieces, let alone performances.

  The back drop for the musicians was a holofac display. It had been showing ancient footage from Old-Earth; rolling oceans, huge swaths of green grasslands and woodlands, mauve mountains capped with snow. It looked like a beautiful place.

  I wonder what it’s really like? Not that we can ever visit it. Galcop saw to that centuries ago. Anyway, my travelling days are over…

  She was making her way back along the aisle. Jim looked up with a sigh. Slim and dressed in a white dress that flattered her figure despite the years that had continued to spin past in a blur. His wife of eight years. She negotiated her way around a rather large couple who struggled to get out of her way, with smiling apologies and embarrassed laughs. She waved at him once she’d got past, her eyes sparkling.

  He smiled back, half-heartedly.

  She sat down next to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Got them,’ she said, waving some comm-tab slips at him.

  ‘Really?’ he said, tiredly.

  ‘You could show some enthusiasm,’ she snapped. ‘Do you know how much these are worth? All the entertaining I had to organise to associate us with these people?’

  ‘I remember,’ he replied, looking back at the musicians, wishing they would start. Esc
apism, that was what he needed.

  ‘They are only the most influential people on the whole damn planet!’ she fired back. ‘Remember how we got that research grant organised?’

  ‘Selling our souls for the sake of politics,’ Jim returned.

  ‘We’ve got standing and respect,’ she retorted angrily, ‘despite your embarrassingly inept attempts to socialise. People see us in the right places, with the right people. We can finally make something of all of this hard work!’

  ‘I’m sure your right,’ Jim said.

  She glared at him but whatever she was about to say was lost as the lights dimmed and the musicians stopped their tuning exercises.

  ‘How long is the second half?’ She moaned.

  ‘Two hours,’ Jim replied, irritated.

  ‘Ugh,’ she said, composing herself in her seat and adjusting her hair. ‘Quite what you see in all this is beyond me. It’s just fortunate the Pasquals and the Harrisons are here. Hardly worth coming otherwise…’

  ‘Shhhh!’

  The lights had faded to a faint background illumination. The holofac backdrop of old-earth faded and was replaced with a star-scape. Uncounted tiny dots blazed against the infinite depths of space. The effect was dramatic. Jim gasped. He’d not seen anything like it since…

  …since a long time ago. Another time, another life…

  The conductor strode onto the stage, bowed to the orchestra and then turned towards the audience. A single spotlight picked him out. He was dressed in appropriately historical garb; an almost baroque collection of pantaloons, tuxedo and ostentatious bow-tie. He gestured with his baton and the orchestra poised, ready to play.

  ‘My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he announced. ‘Today I have the pleasure of introducing a prologue to our second half. A surprise addition! One of our most celebrated young composers, recently having achieved his mastery here at the Teanrebi Guild of musicians…’

  There was a muted rumble of anticipation throughout the hall. People were leaning forward to get a better view.

  A young man joined the conductor on stage, simply dressed in a smart modern suit, bowing to the audience and receiving an enthusiastic round of applause. Jim recognised one of the rising stars of the guild. Despite his relative youth he had mastered several of the ancient instruments and had composed new material based on their capabilities. Many envied his talents but none could deny him.