🚀 go-pugleaf

                 005RR, in the year of our lord 3711 A.D.,
                        Imperial Standard Year 914
      The Serenity System, the fourth planet (local name Dali Lama)



     Jackson wheeled under the table, pulling the pistol from its holster
and rolling for the door.  He had no reason to get into a fight here -- not
for the money at stake.  If Molly wanted to get herself killed she could
get herself killed.  She was a damn poor Shipmate anyhow.
     No, he didn't believe that.  He also didn't believe she'd get herself
killed.  She had a knack for survival.
     The route to the door was clear.  No one was paying attention to him.
He dove, rolling, and came up in a run for it.  His eyes stayed fixed on
the door -- get the Hell out, don't stop to fight or take potshots, and
keep the inner eye looking for anyone looking at him....
     Contact.  Westland Merchant seeing him running.  The merchant was
aiming, pulling his pistol and focusing his thoughts at Jackson,
concentrating... aiming--
     Jackson dove, rolling up into a three point stance, the gunshot
ricochetting off the floor and away even as Jackson fired three times at
the merchant, the pistol thrumming with the hum of the gauss-pulses.
Metal-laced plastic slammed into the merchant's pistol, the merchant's leg
and the merchant's upper right arm, spinning him back and sending blood
into the back wall.
     Right.  Firearms violation.  Yes, it was self-defense and a mind probe
would prove it.  A mind probe would also reveal things Jackson had no
intention of revealing. "Molly, get the Hell *out*" he shouted, throwing
himself through the door even as a bunch more Westland men had noticed him.
He ran, letting his perceptions wrap around him as he tore down the dirt
path between buildings.  Get back to the Meridian, get up-ship before--
     He slowed.  He felt something.  Something... odd.  Something Alien.
Not one of the Minor Races, either.  Something....
     Jackson slowly pressed himself against a wall.  It was too light, he
was too exposed.  He had to try and block perceptions to stay hidden.  He
had to... if there was an Abyssian here, this far in Terran Territory....
     He felt the Abyssian reaching... looking... touching all around... and
then he saw the figure at the end of the alleyway, cloaked in green.  Of
course cloaked in green -- the Mystics wore green, always.  And wearing an
amber pin.  *Amber?*
     "I can see you," the Abyssian said quietly.  "You can stop trying to hide."
     Jackson stepped from the wall.  "I'm... sorry, but I don't know who
you are and there are people trying to--"
     "I thought the Grey Legion didn't let their soldiers resign."
     Jackson took a deep breath.  "I don't know what you're--"
     "Your enemies have sought you elsewhere.  No others are chasing you.
We can go to your ship now."
     "Go to my... an Abyssian Noble wants me to take her on board my ship?
And I'm supposed to just accept that?"
     The Abyssian reached up, and drew the hood off her head.  The light
green skin looked almost iridescent in the pale white sunlight.  Her hair
was greenish tinted gold.  Her eyes stared at his.  "If you want to live,
Jackson Holt, you will accept that, and a great deal more."




                            Authorial Productions
                                  presents

                                    Risk

                                Chapter One
                              "The Hole Card"
                                     by
                             Eric Alfred Burns



        <-< The Q'leth system, Abyssian Space >->


     Ardess frowned slightly, drawing his red cloak around him further.
"Tactical," he asked the Sensory.
     "There are two of them," the white suited Combatant said at Tactical,
wearing the hematite of the lowest officer rank.  "Mass is less than three
thousand tons for the former, less than five hundred for the latter.  They
are moving at a constant velocity, twenty-two point four meters per second,
no acceleration.  They are not under power."
     "My Lord," one of the blues at the Theorist station said, turning to
him.  She had cheek, hematite pinned or no -- interrupting without being
asked to report. Ardess wasn't sure if he'd mate her or kill her.  "I have
a spectral analysis of their Transition to Realspace and their vector."
     Ardess frowned slightly, and leaned back in the command couch, fingers
steepled on his chin.  "Report," he said quietly.
     "The emissions indicate a very distant Transition -- vectoring from
two hundred sixteen degrees at a distance approaching eight hundred
eighty-nine and a third astronomical shifts."
     Ardess's frown deepened.  "You have erred, or your equipment has.
Recompute."
     "My Lord," the Theorist commander said, anger in her eyes.  "I have
verified, as has my staff.  The Secondus also confirms."
     "You are telling me they come from the Galactic Core?  But one of
their ships has less than five hundred tons displacement mass.  How did
they survive the radiation with so little armor?  How could any ship even
mount enough stored energy to *mount* a Transition of--"
     "My Lord," the Combatant at Tactical said.  "The ships are vectoring.
We do not have immediate signs of method."
     "Theorists, analyze," Ardess said, rising. "Direct the Secondus and
Quadrus to approach and contain.  Tertius to high guard.  Approach.
Weaponers, arm the primaries.  Continue to send communications."
     The Theorist commander worked her equipment, executing her Lord's
orders.  At least, as far as she could -- the mass readings seemed... no,
this was impossible.  "Confirm," she snapped to her blue-garbed assistants.
     "The readings must be off," Todias half-whispered.
     "Gravistatic effects, like the humans' capital ships?" Elduss asked,
shaking his head at his screen.  "Let me confirm with the Sec--"
     The Theorist commander shook her head angrily, turning--
     Ardess was looking at her, amused.  "You've something to report," he asked.
     "I... have nothing rational, my Lord.  We do not yet have method of
maneuvering."
     "Report the irrational then," Ardess said, walking towards the
Combatants at the Weaponers station.  "This is the unknown."
     "My Lord," Theorist Todias snapped.  "The readings imply that the
ships' mass is altering -- shifting higher and lower at different areas of
the vess--"
     The Commander swore at her assistant, then turned back to Ardess.  "My
Lord," she said, "we are awaiting confirmation from the Secondus on the
nature of the effect."
     Ardess snorted.  "You won't get it," he said.  "The Mass Detector must
be broken."
     "My Lord," Todias said, "the Mass Detector's one of our simplest
sensors.  It can't break in this wa--"
     Ardess turned and regarded the Theorist coolly, and he silenced. He
looked at their commander.  "Confirmation, Gadra?" he asked.
     "Not as yet, My Lord," she said smoothly.  Ardess smiled slightly.
She had reversed to subservience now, confronted with the unexplainable and
with a staff Ardess had to admit was foolish.  Speaking to Command such,
indeed.
     "My Lord," the commander at Sensory said quietly.  "Secondus and
Quadrus are in position.  Targets have ceased acceleration, now on a
heading relative to system prime three hundred fourteen degrees by two
hundred twelve at... nineteen point six meters per second on first target,
nineteen point four meters per second on second.
     "Slowing," Ardess said, rubbing his chin.  "Are they preparing to
communicate or are they preparing--"
     "My Lord," Prodess said from navigation, "why should they be preparing
an attack?  We outmass them, we outnumber them.  We see no evidence of gun
emplacements--"
     "We saw no evidence of how they maneuvered, either," Gadra murmured.
"Energy signatures are conflicting--"
     "What of your mass-shift," Adress said, turning back to the displays.
The Primus was forty-nine kilometers from the unknown ships -- too far for
useful visuals, though the Astronomical gear would know doubt be recording
visual images.
     "It has stopped, My Lord.  I..." Gadra blinked at her displays.  "My
Lord -- the Secondus has confirmed.  Both the mass shifting before, and
it's cessation now."
     "Confirmed... theory?"
     "Instrument errors in read," Gadra said smoothly.  "First hypothesis
is a maneuvering propulsion method which distorts the mass-detectors."
     "They shouldn't be distortable," Todias said, shaking his head.
     "Mass-shift," Gadra snapped.
     "Vectors, sir," the Combatant at Tactical said.  "Negligible
alterations in acceleration, they're reorienting--"
     "Energy fluctuations on the larger target, now redesignated Threat
Alpha," the second at Tactical interrupted.  "Energy buildups, on primary
display."  Ardess turned, watching a schematic of the new ship appear.  It
was two heavy saucers, with long cylinders lengthwise between them.  The
saucers had inner circles, with energy signatures building at forty-five
degrees, one hundred thirty five degrees, two hundred twenty five degrees,
and three hundred fifteen degrees.  Building... crimson on the screen...
then orange... then blue-white and white--
     "Order evasive maneuvers," Ardess snapped, "Prepare--"
     The eight points erupted into streams of energy, searing into the
Quadrus along its long, sleek hull.
     "Acceleration!" Ardess shouted, storming back onto the Command Deck.
"All Hands prepare to engage!  Order the Tertius to prime the mauler.
Secondus to cover the Quadrus."
     "Damage report from the Quadrus," the Communications officer said.
"Hull integrity has been compromised.  Superstructure unharmed.
Effectiveness nominal."
     "They're unwise," Ardess said quietly.  "Order the Secondus to fire
main batteries."
     The Secondus maneuvered on the tactical displays, angling towards the
larger hostile ship and firing three of its channel beams, searing them
along one saucer and leaving long scores in the alien's hull.
     "Smaller vessel vectoring about -- now redesignated Threat Beta," the
Tactician reported, "They are flanking the Secondus--"
     "No energy buildup," the Tactical Second reported in swift unison.
"Quadrus is moving to follow up engagement on Threat Alpha."
     "Maneuver the Secondus out of Threat Beta's estimated firing arc,"
Ardess ordered. "Time to our engagement?"
     "Acceleration twenty-four meters per second per second," the Helm
reported.  "Firing range in thirteen seconds--"
     "Mass Dist...this isn't possible," Gadra breathed.
     "Report," Ardess snapped.
     "Sir, Mass-fluctuation spiking on Threat Beta," Gadra snapped out,
disbelief in her voice.  "Generalized effect -- it... sir, we are detecting
a singularity-grade event horizon centering on Threat Beta -- no, not
centering.  Now detecting a wave phenomenon, focused -- it's heading for
the Secondus!"
     "Retreat the Secondus!" Ardess shouted, throwing himself to his feet.
     On the Tactical Display, the Secondus wheeled, firing reaction thrust
to increase acceleration -- when suddenly energy readings spiked throughout
its hull -- the hull warping, the entire ship wheeling around the sudden
wave, tearing itself to shreds.
     "By the First," murmured the Tactician.  "Secondus... destroyed."
     "Report... *report!*" Ardess howled.  "Main batteries online!"
     "Sir," Gadra said, shocked.  "Wreckage patterns on the Secondus
consistent... with destruction by tidal effects."
     "Like... hitting a singularity's event horizon," Elduss breathed.
     "Firing range!" the Helm reported.
     "Weaponers, bring all batteries to bear, targeting Threat Bet--"
     "Mass shift on Threat Alpha," Gadra shouted.  "Singularity class."
     "Correction," Adress shouted.  "Orient on Threat Alpha, all
batteries," snapped Adress.  "Contact Quadrus, synchronize fire!"
     "Effect remaining localized, my Lord," Gadra said, desperately
adjusting her equipment.  "There is no Singularity Wave effect."
     "Fire Synchronized!" Adress shouted, throwing himself forward, hands
on the rail of the Command Deck.
     The Weaponers turned and worked controls.  The four main batteries
unleashed channel-beams, in concert with the two main batteries of the
Quadrus.
     The beams seared out, but seemed to bend away from Threat Alpha,
angling off into space.
     "No hit," the Weaponer snapped.  "No hit.  All batteries, no hit."
     "Targeting--"
     "Targeting confirmed," the Tactician reported.  "They should have hit.
They should have--"
     "By the First," Gadra said in horror.  "The singularity effect -- it's
warped space to the point of bending the Channel beams away--"
     "*Impossible!*" the Helmsmen shouted.  "It would have to mass stellar
masses to--"
     "Tertius in position targeting Threat Alpha -- sir, Threat Beta
angling towards the Quadrus!"
     "Have Tertius fire maulers, maximum effect.  Quadrus to maximum
acceleration -- get it away," Adress shouted.
     "We have singularity effect on Threat Beta!" Gadra shouted.  "We--"
     The Tertius engaged the Maulers.  Twin magnetic cannons focused the
massive power build into streams of concentrated plasma, arcing like twin
solar flares out across the gulf between the Tertius and Threat Alpha,
which had yet to maneuver off its vector.
     "First," Gadra whispered, "*No*, My Lord!  The plasma has mass -- it
will be *more* affected than the channel beams!"
     Adress swore, wheeling to the displays... watching the white hot power
trails of the plasma disperse into cooling droplets, splaying around the
bubble of warped space that surrounded Threat Alpha and harmlessly into the
depths.
     "Secondary Batteries at bear," the Weaponer reported.
     "Retarget Threat Beta!" Adress shouted.  "Maneuver on a tack
thirty-seven degrees by one hundred ninety-seven degrees and accelerate to
thirty meters per second squared."
     "Mass shift on Threat Beta!" Gadra shouted.  "Singularity Wave along
interception vector for Quadrus!"
     "Get the Quadrus off that Vec--!"
     The Quadrus whirled uncontrollably suddenly, before half its hull
buckled and the other half yanked away, shattered.
     "Quadrus destr--"
     "Singularity wave from Threat Alpha -- vectoring towards the Tertius
-- First, that wave's *huge!*"
     "Can you get me a display?"
     "No, My Lord, equipment is not calibrated--"
     "Fire secondary batteries -- time to primaries online?"
     "Firing!"
     "Eighteen seconds, my Lord!"
     "Tertius destroyed my Lord!"
     "Hits," the Tactical second shouted.  "Two channel beams hit on Threat
Beta.  One confirmed hull puncture."
     "Threat Alpha Maneuvering," Tactician said.  "Maneuvering us into
their beam weapons' estimated arc of fire."
     Adress was of the Command caste.  His entire life had been training to
make decisions.  So, even as his thoughts were of the horror that he had
seen -- three warships decimated by tiny foes in less than five minutes --
his voice and training were snapping out the only rational orders.  "Angle
away, evasive.  Maximum acceleration and charge Transition Capacitors.  Get
me a Transition Point *anywhere,* **now**!"
     The ship groaned slightly, and the crew felt a slight lurch as the
Primus's inertia exceeded its recoil compensation.  The crewmembers stabbed
buttons.
     Behind them, eight energy beams seared through space, on the Primus's
old vector.
     "My Lord, Threats Alpha and Beta maneuvering to pursue.  They're
adjusting... sir, the inertia of their turns must be astronomical!"  The
Tactical second sounded scared.
     "They warp space as a weapon," murmured Gadra.  "How difficult would
high-gravity turning be?"
     "My Lord," the Navigator called.  "I have a Transition Point -- levels
three through nine available.  Level three is to neutral space.  Above
that... sir, it's into Terran Space."
     "Direct us to the deepest Terran Space point, and feed navigational
information to the Helm."
     "My Lord -- the treaty--"
     "We need *cover,*" Adress snapped to the Navigator.  "Frankly, Terran
devils scare me not a bit compared to them!  Do it!"
     "Sir," Tactical said, "They are on an interception vector,
acceleration... eighty-two meters per second squared."
     "Mass-shifting is spiking on Alpha... they..."  Gadra turned, her skin
pale nearly to aquamarine.  "My Lord.  Singularity Wave."
     "We must evade," the Tactical second started--
     "Time to Transition Point?" Adress asked quietly.
     "Thirty-one seconds, my Lord," the Helm responded.  He sounded frightened.
     "Time to interception?"
     "No way to be certain," Gadra said quietly.  "Twenty to forty seconds?
Perhaps?  We've never had to track a moving event horizon."
     "We cannot maneuver away, can we?"
     "No, My Lord."
     Adress nodded.  "Please synchronize Transition Point achievement with
Capacitor Discharge.  Sound Transition Alarms, maximum danger."  He leaned
back into the couch slightly, watching the tactical displays of the two
unknown crafts, the wave of annihilation invisible between them.
     "Twenty seconds," the Helm said.
     The second Tactical began to murmur -- a prayer.  Adress wished the
flotilla's Mystic hadn't been on the Quadrus.  He himself would like to
have seen the old bastard, right about now.
     "Ten seconds.  Nine... eight... seven... six..."
     From the point of view of a hypothetical observer, floating in space
in the Q'leth system, the Primus seemed to be chased by a slight distortion
-- like a wave of heat off of hot desert sands in an atmosphere.  The ship
began to thrum, splitting space open into the Transition that let ships
travel vast distances between the star, and began the plunge into that
crack.
     The wave hit, and there was a burst of light, like an explosion.
There was no wreckage.
     And then there were the two ships.  They paused, turning and angling
in space for some minutes, and then accelerated towards a Transition Point
of their own.


[[Continued in Part Two]]