The Forsaken Empire (The Endervar War Book 2) (2 page)

Nonetheless, Arendi chose to feel to feel what was important.

The cold came into her mind, and chilled air wafted from her lips as her machine system simulated both a heartbeat and a steady breath.

These attacks, she thought, all three of them had been carried out in ways that defied plausibility. The perpetrators had been able to penetrate and annihilate facilities believed to be secure.

The attackers’ killing methods were mysterious. So was the way they moved. In every instance, no ship had been seen entering or leaving the vicinity. In this case, the orbital security perimeter had detected nothing significant flying in or out. It all suggested that new technology was in play. Something Arendi and the rest of the Alliance had perhaps never seen before. Something they could not guard against.

Her gaze fell back to the body in the snow. An attack via telepathy, she said, disturbed. If the ensign was right, all organic life was potentially at risk.

***

Well, we’ve found something.

Arendi heard the message. The alert appeared in her thoughts. She activated her body’s physical systems and left her quarters. Entering the ship’s bridge, she spotted Ensign Justice, once again wearing her officer’s uniform and standing at the command console. The young woman was busy, interfacing with both the ship’s main view screen and a separate holofeed at her side.

I think this is it, the ensign said more confidently. What we’ve been looking for.

It had been three hours since they had left the surface. Since then, Arendi had been on her ship, examining the research records from the base. Much of it had been stored off-site, in virtual repositories located across the system. Clearance had finally been granted, but Arendi would need more time to analyze and understand the records.

As for Ensign Justice, she had been tasked with salvaging the surveillance footage.

So they’re intact? Arendi asked.

Badly damaged, but yes.

The files had originally resided within the facility’s structural foundation, in a secure database that monitored and stored all surveillance activity on the premises. Under more normal circumstances, the database would have been vaporized in the fusion blast. Fortunately, the science staff had followed the new security directives, and force fields had been deployed once intrusion was detected, blunting the impact. Two days later, the local Remnick authority managed to find the battered database, still buried deep within the rubble.

I’ve been looking over the bits of readable data, the ensign explained. And I reprocessed it, to produce this.

Arendi eyed the main view screen, curious. She immediately noticed the location and time indicators attached to the images.

This is inside the base, Arendi said. Right as it happened.

The partially scrambled pictures showed hallway after hallway, each doorway slammed shut, the layers of force fields in place; the defense drones had activated and were ready to fire. Arendi watched as all of it came undone. One explosion and then another, each forcing a breach. Smoke, sparks, and plasma beams sizzled across the images as the surveillance footage started to cut out.

As we suspected, they’re using a cloaking field to mask their movements, the ensign said.

She pointed to the evidence. The visual distortions and incongruities briefly appeared throughout the pictures telltale signs that the attackers were bending the light around them and hiding their true presence.

But that’s not all, the ensign said. I looked closer and noticed this. Our first glimpse.

It was a clear image, captured just as the attackers sought to cross a security field.

It only lasts half a second. But the cloaking field is disrupted right here.

The visual distortions had become a reflective silhouette of a large apparition that seemed to be moving and walking. Then it lifted. The illusion briefly scattered to the air.

Arendi walked closer to the view screen, fixating on the image. The veil of mystery had begun to fall. It was not what she expected. Walking through the hallway was a humanoid. The facial features were feminine, the hair silver and white. The eyes were dark and shrouded in black. The figure was partially masked by her environmental gear, but the scans from the data were sketching out the probable physical appearance.

Is this a woman? she asked.

Ensign Justice shook her head and shrugged. Maybe, but I don’t think she’s human.

Arendi looked again at the image and noted the apparent lack of a face. There were eyes, but no mouth or nose. It was a simply a flat surface a mask of flesh. Even her skin was different. It glowed, giving off a strange, almost iridescent glint. The whites were imbued with hints of violet, blue, and glassy ash.

I’ve been running the image through the Alliance databases, trying to find a match, the ensign went on. So far, nothing. Not even which race she belongs to.

More of the unknown Arendi replied. But I doubt that she’s alone.

As Arendi continued to gaze at the image, she noted another striking thing. Next to the face was a larger figure another apparition presumably plowing a path through the base. The figure was probably three meters or more in height, and moving fast. The giant body was blasting through solid wall. The footage continued. The cloaking field restored itself, and the attack proceeded. A final explosion went off, and then there was no more.

That’s where the surveillance data ends, the ensign said. I’m working with the Remnick authority to piece together what’s left.

The young officer pressed on, tapping the neural implant at her temple to connect with the ship’s computer. Arendi walked closer and placed her hand on the ensign’s shoulder, gripping it tight.

Good work, she said. This is what we need.

She then instructed the ensign to rewind the footage. On the main view screen the crucial moment reappeared. It was the mysterious figure the attacker glaring back, her appearance no longer hidden. The tape had paused the image.

Isolate this shot, Arendi ordered. Inform the Alliance and the rest of the Sentinel Guard. Priority code. I want this picture circulated.

In hours, she would have her wish. Across the Alliance every governing agency and mass news sphere would begin carrying the image of what many would soon describe as the white-haired woman.

Whoever she is, Arendi said, glaring back at the image, she’s now the most wanted person in the galaxy.

Chapter 2

Three months ago, he had seen the image. It had been everywhere, in every language, and in every form, rippling through star system after star system. The source: a galactic supergovernment six sectors away, nearly on the other side of the quadrant.

It was also why he was here in this place, a so-called orbital den, located near an asteroid field.

From what he had been told, shady practices and activities often prevailed in this nonaligned space station. In fact, there was little formal regulation here, and he could see the lawlessness through every winding passageway. The drugs, the weapons, the biomodifications were all crowded together in this bazaar of normally illegal goods.

He shut off his translation module, tired of the sight. Now the alien words in his vision became a blur of digits and symbols. The surrounding holo signage remained a distracting eyesore. He looked elsewhere, inhaling the bits of chemical-infused smells, with nothing to do. The bar he sat in was dimly lit. A lifeless red glow hovered over him.

There were others there. Others who could breathe the same air, move in the similar gravity, and presumably subsist off the same foods. He recognized none, however. All were too tall, too small, or too mechanical. Frankly, too bizarre.

He hid behind his two hands, breathing from the gills in his face. He was a long way from home. The languages and customs in this part of space were still foreign to him. He didn’t care to learn them, understand them, or even feel them. Looking down, he stared at the square table at which he sat. His cup of water was the only thing to keep him company.

Why am I here? He asked the question in the clutter of his mind, frustrated, worried, and lost.

Then he did what came naturally and reached into the pocket of his jacket. Out of it came the memento a circular locket. It was his most prized possession. Within it was a simple picture that he had drawn long ago. It was she.

Farcia what are you doing?

It was the same woman. The one who had reportedly killed over forty thousand people in this region of space. The same woman whose image was everywhere, even at this station.

He heard it from the corner. A newscast was playing over the bar’s speaker.

Authorities report that at least eleven thousand are dead from yesterday’s attack against the Alliance military base at Gavidus Three. The culprits remain unknown, but it’s likely the same group who instigated the attacks at four other bases this past year.

As stated before, the Alliance has issued a kill-on-sight order against the presumed leader.

The man shuddered, hearing the live audio feed from his translation module. He quickly pulled the device out of his ear. Feeling the sweat on his four-fingered hand, he tried to close his eyes but saw the image instead. This time, from the bar’s holoprojector. The image of the so-called white-haired woman was etched in the light. It was a far cry from the other woman who sat in his locket.

Farcia where are you?

As he asked the question, he felt the subtle change. The air was moving. His visitor was close and approaching. He could sense the shroud of wayward thoughts. He looked to his side and saw the man. Or what he thought was a man. The alien had four arms and four legs, but at least he had a face, one covered in hair. This was the bounty hunter, the contact he had requested. He put away the locket, reactivated his translation modules, and then fidgeted with his hands, trying to remain calm. He was still new at this. The hunter was coming.

You Red?

Naturally, he wanted to reply not in words but through his mind. Instead he exhaled a low gargle. The translation machines did the rest.

Yes, I’m Red, he said timidly. That’s me

Red twisted in his chair. He tasted the saliva in his gills, trying to hone his words better.

The spoken language. It was a crude thing. Although words were at times necessary, especially when dealing with alien races, he much preferred thoughts. Or in his case, telepathy. But for now, he set aside old habits.

You’re late, Red complained.

The hunter nodded and sat down at an adjacent chair. He crossed one pair of legs, while the other remained planted on the bar floor. His face, meanwhile, breathed hard through a mask. The tubes funneled the air from his environmental suit into his cheeks.

Sorry, the hunter said, venting puffs of white mist. Red waved it off. His visitor offered no explanation, but he already knew the reason. The hunter had been in another part of the station, watching Red from afar, through the use of a floating drone. Red could feel the truth. Surrounding sensations and unadulterated thoughts easily entered his mind.

The hunter was a cautious fellow. Curious as well. Curious why Red this interloper with no known registered ID would want to hire a bounty hunter.

I was told you have a lot of money, the hunter went on, but our mutual contact was thin on details. Said you needed to meet immediately. What do you want, exactly?

The hunter stared at Red, studying him and his clothes. He was dressed in a way that showed little. His arms, neck, and hair were all concealed behind by blankets of fabric. Even his lower face was hidden by a cowl. His eyes remained obscured by a black visor.

The hunter lifted an eyebrow. You must have a special request an urgent need.

Red could sense the hunter’s skepticism. Normally, he would have answered with a stream of telepathy. In seconds he could deliver his complete meaning, with the force of his mind. But instead, Red let the conversation unfold methodically, at this slow but still normal pace. He didn’t want to reveal too much.

I have a job, Red said. The white-haired woman. I need

So you’re the guy, the hunter interjected. The guy with the crazy request.

Hear me out.

The hunter was ready to leave. All four of his feet were planted on the floor. Red reached out across the table.

I can pay you, he said, desperate. I have luxury credits. I can even pay some of it now

Yeah, but you want her alive. That’s the problem.

The hunter fell back in his chair and pulled off his mask. He spat on the ground and licked his teeth. The pink tongue and its green mucus slid across the incisors.

You’re lucky I’m a professional. Others would swindle you. Rob you blind.

Red could sense the sincerity, although the hunter’s facial expression and voice suggested annoyance. At least the mercenary was nonthreatening for now, anyway.

I was told you were tracking her, Red said.

Well, yes and no. I was curious. Everyone is. But this woman the target. She’s elusive. No tracks at all. Her image has been out there for months, and no one seems to know her.

Red heard this and swallowed. That last part wasn’t entirely true, he thought.

No clues. No nothing, the hunter added. The Sentinel Guard can’t do shit. They’ve been on her tail for even longer and are just as lost.

The hunter looked out of the bar, watching as others walked by. He spotted a floating drone, followed by two security guards, each wearing mechanical armor. Red heard the thud of each robotic step.

Damn Alliance is even here, patrolling the nonaligned territories. Ridiculous goddamn galaxy is in turmoil again.

Reaching to scratch the mane around his face, the hunter looked at the news feed playing from the bar.

Anyway, you must know about the last attack. She cut through an Alliance stronghold. Top-of-the-line defenses, and it didn’t even matter.

I know, Red said. I know

So, yeah. This stuff is out of my league. Out of everyone’s league, apparently. I’d stay away. Not that it matters. You’ll never be able to find her.

The hunter put on his mask, sucking in a breath. Red watched, powerless to do any more. He could pull out his credits and plead again. But it wouldn’t matter. The hunter had made his decision. He would not budge.