Ember's Echo (The Nimbus Collection Book 2) Read online

  Via an open ramp at its stern, the shuttle crossed into the frigate’s hangar bay, lighted by straits of spotlights across its ceiling. After the ramp had promptly closed behind us, I could feel and hear a steady mechanical hum coming from below my feet. The jump-engine, located in the lowest deck, was preparing itself for the forthcoming jump.

  Two steps after I escaped the transport and bounded into the repressurized deck, Hardy, the Wanderer’s simulated intelligence, announced, “Jump-drive ready. Brace for jump.”

  The entire ship lurched slightly forward to signify we had just leapt hundreds of light years across space, although, if it hadn’t been for Hardy’s announcement, I probably wouldn’t have registered it.

  “Optional recharge time assessed at seven hours,” continued the S.I. in his always humdrum tone. “Fourteen maximum-length jumps possible with current fuel load. Six jumps estimated to reach mission destination.”

  In order to acquire our respective equipment, my companions and I proceeded just beyond the confines of the hangar to enter the stowage room. While not as spacious as the room before it, it was deemed more pleasing to the soldier’s eye. Lining three of the walls were an assortment of firearms, armor of every weight-class and species style, and plenty more supplementary gear stashed in lockers. Keeping this arsenal company were two armor-encrusted figures of completely different forms.

  The first and more imposing of these figures was Kiran, our self-possessed draken captain. His dark orange scales marked him as one of the more common desert species. If grimalkins were catlike in nature, then draken were of a reptilian make. They strongly resembled a stretched monitor lizard standing on its hind legs, however, they could also manage to scuttle fairly well on all fours if a situation prescribed it, but they much preferred to look down on other species. With an elongated body, neck, limbs, and a whipping tail that was at least as long as their lean frame, their default stance gave them a distinct S-shape. Protruding behind Kiran’s head were two marginally curved horns of a harsh whiteness, each about seven inches long. Though my captain stood eight and a half feet tall, he was by no means the loftiest of his kind. I knew some sects of his species could easily reach ten feet high in their casual posture. It made one feel brave simply standing alongside this prehistoric-like being.

  The second figure, with a much more humanoid shape than the first, belonged to the stately eldrick species. Her name was Vasilissa, at least, it currently was. Eldrick had a tendency to change their names after important events during their long lives. Vasilissa previously possessed two other names before joining the squad. The first was her name as a child, which she kept for about a hundred years. The second was her adult name, and the current one belonged to the warrior phase of her life. Due to her ebony shade of skin, she was recognized as the most encountered of her race outside her homeworld, who were branded the Ashen. Overall, eldrick resembled humans more than any known species in the galaxy. The superficial differences were relatively few, such as their simple circular ears, lavishly long, silvery hair, extra-nimble fingers and toes, and three vertical slits used as noses. Vasilissa, for practical purposes, had only shoulder-length hair, though it lost none of its luster in the cutting. The entirety of her eyes were of a deep midnight green, from pupil to sclera, which seemed to absorb light like two miniature black holes. One did not stare in them long. In spite of the similar appearance to humans, something in their methodical movements and placating speech gave the impression that they were far more elegant. At 453 human years of age, she was a little over a century older than our captain, but the extra years were currently of little benefit to her, for they did not carry as much combat experience as the captain or even the lieutenant.

  With all of us outfitted in our combat suits, we joined the captain in the center of the room when he said, “All right, let’s get this over with.” His actual speech sounded much like angry hisses, but the linguistic databases in each of us instantly translated those hisses into our particular languages. “Your turn to go first, Vasilissa. The rookie will go last.”

  “Equipment failure,” Vasilissa replied, complying with her captain’s wishes. “Three hundred credits sounds appropriate. Lieutenant Henring.”

  “No way it’s just faulty equipment,” said Brent, with a roughness in his voice that was usual to him. “Did you read all the report? They were preparing for seven years and they were funded by a top university and tech developer. They had some pretty fancy toys.”

  “I do not see the rationality of your clarification. If you read between the lines, they were forced to be undermanned due to their proximity to Ispen. It matters not if you have the most advanced of hardware if you are not allowed to bring enough technicians to fix them. The readings also exhibited signs of high interference, which likely affected their ship’s communications as well.”

  “Nah,” said Brent, dismissing an argument I was sure he didn’t hear, “I say pirates. I’ll go with three hundred creds. Briannika.”

  An exasperated Briannika looked up to the ceiling and said, “Ugh, I’ll play it safe this time. Equipment failure. Two hundred. Emory.”

  “Finally tired of losing, eh, talorian?” said Emory. “Well, I have it on good authority the advok are tied deeper with Coalition slavers than most people think. I say we find everyone and everything taken. Two hundred fifty big ones.”

  He playfully, but not gently, slapped his cousin’s shoulder to indicate it was his turn.

  “I was going to say that!” revealed Fife. “Damn, give me a second.” Pondering his options, Fife jumped up and down a few times, as if the motion was the only way he could organize his jumbled thoughts. “Okay, I’ll go with mercs making it look like a pirate attack. Oh! And probably hired by a rival tech company. Two hundred. Captain.”

  A grunt escaped our leader. “Ever the conspiracist. Let’s see, the interference thing seems most likely, but I still smell looters written all over this. Four hundred. Rookie.”

  All their eyes fell on me, waiting to see how I would respond to this apparent ritual. I quickly accepted being integrated into this custom, not minding adding some stakes if the mission turned out to be tedious, but I did wonder who the original propagator of this practice was. The grimalkins were an obvious bet, but Briannika, with the fidgety manner she carried throughout the ceremony, had me doubt the assumption.

  I didn’t want to win my first wager on a violent circumstance, so I said, “Malfunctioning equipment. Uh, two hundred.”

  Aside from Brent, who I believed to have given me the slightest of nods, no one else provided any form of acknowledgment and immediately proceeded to whatever else called their attention. I considered this a good thing.

  All our gear had soon been garnered. Each weapon was secured in its place, our shields were fully charged, and the armor became a part of ourselves. Even the captain and the grimalkins had a sheath of flexible material specifically tailored to protect their wispy tails. Only our helmets went unworn, carried to be used for a more appropriate time. It was strange to think that I wasn’t too far from feeling like I was only about to play soldier. Sure I carried the knowledge to wield any weapon with deadly efficiency, but without the actual equipment, I always felt like I was just a step above a pretending child. Now, arrayed in armor of opulent blue, my magnetic holsters at my hip and back holding onto my trusty N202 heavy-class pistol and my favorite all-purpose KAA-74 assault rifle, the transformation to become a warrior was complete, through and through.

  A short elevator ride to the floor above brought us to the central deck. Seeing as the elevator was made to accommodate several of the lengthy draken, it allowed the entire team to be transported at once. The doors parted down the middle to welcome us to what was the largest and brightest area of the ship. Lining the walls of the oval-shaped room were various screens, both in physical and holographic form, which were responsible for about half the soft, bluish light in the room. They displayed all the Wanderer’s vital signs, down to the condition of her s
mallest strut. Hovering above a short cubed platform at the center of the room was a holographic celestial map that showed our current position in Nimbus. Everyone separated to a different part of the expansive room, each going to their individual responsibilities. My assignment was a section of consoles near the elevator, where I overlooked the ship’s status, including examining her shielding strength, life support systems, engine settings, and the like. Here we stayed for seven hours, waiting for the time it required our jump-engine to cool itself before it could safely take its next jump.

  On this second jump, we rendezvoused with our backup, who was already waiting for us on the other side.

  “Captain,” began Hardy, “a frigate-class ship of the Coalition, the C.S. Vixen, is hailing us.”

  “Put them through.”

  “This is Captain Thorton of the C.S Vixen,” stated a voice coming from the speakers of the ship, sounding both human and masculine. “We’ve been assigned to aid your mission as you see fit.”

  “I’ve noticed your vessel is not designated as military,” noted our own captain. He stared at the largest screen in the room, showing the sleek frame of the Vixen, which was not as large and definitely not as intimidating as the one we were in.

  “You’re correct, captain. The Coalition does not wish to send two armed ships that close to Ispen territory and risk provocation.”

  “So sending an unarmed ship to possible hostile space makes more sense?” said Kiran, his deeper tone exposing his displeasure. While obviously restrained, a draken’s mere irritation could make the most tyrannical eruption by a homicidal human seem like nothing more than a pouting toddler.

  “I understand the frustration, Captain Kiran. I’m not particularly comfortable with the prospect either, given that we are the unarmed ones, but we are heavily shielded and we’re heading into an area where pirates would not linger long. And I’m sure the advok are not interested in starting another war.”

  “Have it your way. I’m sending you our next jump coordinates.”

  “When can your ship next jump?”

  “We have a backup I’m willing to use now.”

  “Very well. Signing off.”

  An almost imperceptible grunt escaped Kiran, the draken’s version of a sigh.

  “Prepare to use backup jump-engine,” resumed our captain.

  “Yes, sir,” said Hardy.

  It was only half a minute later when the ship once again grumbled from her exertion and the S.I. detailed the adjusted fuel reserves.

  “Keep cruising speed just below maximum,” the captain requested of Helt, our draken helmsmen, who was positioned in a cramped looking room at the bow end of the deck.

  Helt was an old compatriot of the captain’s, though I did not know exactly how old, given that neither draken liked to talk about their lives before joining the rescue squad. From snippets of information my other comrades could gather, they assumed they were childhood friends, but nothing was ever affirmed. What was known was that when Kiran left his homeworld, Helt went with him. Based on what we knew, Kiran did not quite get along with his normally hotheaded and battle hungry brethren, which was quite something to say, as draken were never inclined to like each other by default. Once they left, they did what few draken ever do willingly; apply to work for other species.

  I heard someone come sit on a swiveling chair beside me, and even before I looked, I knew it to be Vasilissa. Her presence was unlike any other; serene but also with a hint of vivacity.

  “Are you nervous, rookie?” she asked, not waiting for any form of acknowledgement from my side, perhaps knowing I had already sensed her.

  I turned to meet her dissecting gaze, which I learned not to pull away from. “I can honestly say I’m not,” I answered. “Despite the moniker you guys have given me, I have been in a few battles.”

  “Then why so quiet?” she asked, almost playfully, but not quite. “You’ll drive yourself senseless if you try acting serious all the time.”

  “I’m not acting. I’m just a serous person, I guess.”

  I felt her eyes delving into mine. It was difficult to know if she was pleased with what she found, but when she was satisfied, her next words did not come from her lips. She used the thought-comm to keep the others from overhearing us.

  “You know, I was terrified in my first mission and I certainly would not have become a warrior at your age.”

  “Right,” I said, feeling as though I was about to receive an unwelcome pep talk before my first little league game. “Your kind would consider you a little more than a toddler if you were my age, but I can assure you, I can handle myself.”

  “No doubt. The captain would not have allowed you to join us if he thought otherwise. While he’s not much like many of his species, he’s still a draken. I do have to warn you, if there is trouble when we arrive down there, he won’t exactly back you up. Don’t worry though, I’ll dedicate myself to watching your back, rookie.”

  The thought link was disconnected as she walked away in her unfathomable grace, seemingly unencumbered by the armor she wore. Her last words lingered in my mind, but I gave little thought to their importance at the time.

  Chapter Three

  Two and a half days were spent crossing the great speckled canvas of Nimbus. The numberless orbs of light and nebulous billows of every hue that zipped by us made me feel we were a remote world all onto our own. Only a brief stop at a fuel depot to top off our fuel reserve disrupted the ceaseless movement to our preordained meeting with Ember. On finally reaching the system’s outer boundary, the Wanderer’s scanners stirred from their lethargy to begin sweeping the cosmological expanse that Ember called home.

  After several minutes of letting the scanners to do their work, Briannika said, “Captain, there appears to be an unusual amount of interference.”

  “Wasn’t that expected?”

  “Yes, but this is more than the report indicated.”

  “So the interference has become stronger? How bad?”

  “Not extreme enough to give us inaccurate readings this close to the system, but long-range communications will be a problem while we’re here.”

  “What’s the origin?”

  “That’s the strange part,” she said, taking her eyes off the holoscreen for the first time since the beginning of the ship’s hunt. “At least some of the interference can be attributed to the star, but some of it is definitely coming from, well, everywhere else. I can’t tell if it’s artificial or not.”

  “Uriel?”

  “It’s not affecting the ship’s status,” I responded, recognizing the implied inquiry. “Everything is reading normal.”

  “Helt, anything?”

  “Nothing on my end,” replied the helmsmen. “Recommend circling the system to be sure, but there doesn’t appear to be any places an enemy force can surprise this piece of shit.”

  “The archaeological team had a cruiser, the Revel. Any sign of it?”

  “Nope, and Vixen is having as much luck as we are.”

  “Keep circling until sweep is complete. If nothing significant comes up, start approach to 2X79-K.”

  Nothing of significance did crop up, allowing us to make our approach to the ominous world. One cycle after the next, the scanners and radio frequencies continued to echo our isolation, giving no hint there was anyone to rescue. Seeing the speck of Ember grow allowed me to appreciate the reasoning for its informal name. It gave off a candlelight glow, the result of the principally orangish sands that covered the landmasses. About two-thirds of the planet’s surface area were these burnt continents, though splotches of green did speckle parts of the equator. The rest of the sphere was splashed with turquoise seas. On commencing our orbital trajectory to the ever baking planet, we saw that we would join ourselves with two moons. The larger one, wrapped in a dull brown, jealously hugged the mother planet, forcing its smaller, yellow-hued sibling to take a wider orbit.

  “Cruiser found, captain,” said Fife. “It’s planet-side near th
e main camp. I’m hailing them, but no response.”

  “Send in the scouts,” directed our captain.

  “Scouts away, sir,” confirmed Hardy.

  Arousing themselves from their long slumber in the lower confines of the ship, two automated orbs of silvery metal were fired into Ember’s atmosphere. Many of the screens surrounding us began to display the live feed sent by the artificial eyes as they descended deeper into the dusty world. From a couple of miles above the camp, with the auburn sunlight beginning to fade at ground level and clouds too thin to hamper a clean visual, we could see that the archaeological team had set up their main encampment close to what was once an ancient port city to its east. Nuzzling the southern portion of the metropolis was the end of an extensive river, coursing its final path into the murky ocean. It reminded me of the Amazon River, though in form, not at all in spirit. It appeared dreary and listless, possibly knowing full well it had not been needed for centuries. The city it once attended was even more bleak and dismal in its clear state of deep decay. Much of the labyrinth of stone and steel buildings had become little more than rubble, and, in many cases, were buried under sand dunes. Only a handful were brave enough to peer into the desolation that stretched for hundreds of miles. These skeletal ruins were the last surviving indications that we were looking at a once thriving civilization. No matter their alien origin, I was able to note the mildly familiar grid-like pattern of the desolate city, resembling the layout of old human cities in the era before celestial colonies, and far before encountering other intelligent species.