Jonathan’s station, and then Miko’s. The two drank gratefully.
Jonathan returned his attention to the oddly formed vessel on the video feed. He magnified a portion of the object and the display pixelated slightly as digital zoom was applied. The gold hull seemed slightly translucent, and he saw the vague outline of structures inside.
“Ops, what does the CDC make of it?” Jonathan asked. CDC stood for Combat Direction Center, where all tactical and sensor data was processed by the ship’s AI and a team of specialists before being bundled up into something the bridge crew could use.
The fifth watch ops specialist spoke up. “The general shape matches the ruins of Elder vessels we’ve discovered in our own galaxy, including the wreckage on Achilles I in the Vega 951 system.” That was the system they had been exploring when they first encountered the Raakarr. Apparently the Raakarr had been using Vega 951 as some sort of breeding ground, but whether their usage of the Elder wreckage had been coincidence or necessity, no one knew.
“Apparently their ship design hasn’t changed much in the five hundred thousand years since they left our own galaxy,” the ops specialist finished.
“And I thought human beings were creatures of habit,” Jonathan said. “Kind of brings new meaning to the phrase, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“Maybe they’ve forgotten how to build ships, and this is all they have,” the specialist said.
“Forgotten?” Jonathan said. “Doubtful. But if they managed to create ships that were completely self-sufficient and self-sustaining, I suppose at some point there would be no need to build any further vessels.” He stared intently at the golden shape. “So these are the Elder.” He couldn’t help the slight awe that slipped into his voice.
“There is one big difference between this ship and the ruins,” the ops specialist said.
“What’s that?” the captain asked.
“Structures of some kind seem to be housed underneath that hull,” the specialist answered. “We’ve never seen anything like it before. The Elder ruins found previously were all hollow inside.”
“I noticed them, too,” Jonathan said. “Does the CDC have any guesses on what those structures are?”
“They look almost like buildings,” the specialist said. “Grouped in clusters. It’s almost like... like there are entire cities housed within.”
Jonathan felt his brow furrow. “What are you saying, it’s some kind of generation ship? Or an artificial world?”
“No idea,” the specialist answered. “But there are no obvious weapon mounts, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really.”
His eyes focused on the center of the display, where his own fleet resided, composed of six human vessels, plus the Raakarr defector ship, the Talon , thirty thousand kilometers off port. He still wasn’t quite sure of the latter’s allegiance, or intentions. Certainly, that dart-shaped alien ship had turned on the other Raakarr in the last battle, shooting down two of their own vessels. The action had caused the surviving Raakarr to flee.
There was a human telepath stationed aboard the defector vessel, a man named Barrick. The explanation the telepath had given for the unexpected help was members of the so-called Zarafe faction had risen up and usurped control of the ship from the other Raakarr, whom he called the Elk .
It was probably true, but Jonathan’s distrust for the telepath ran deep. After the man had awakened from his mind link with a captured alien six months ago, his psychic abilities had somehow skyrocketed, and Barrick had easily assumed control of the flagship. He had almost succeeded in making the bridge crew fire on their own vessels, but Maxwell and Stanley had saved them. He wondered if something similar had happened aboard the alien vessel. What if the telepath was controlling all of the defectors? It was certainly possible. Still, Jonathan had a feeling the alien minds
Jonathan returned his attention to the oddly formed vessel on the video feed. He magnified a portion of the object and the display pixelated slightly as digital zoom was applied. The gold hull seemed slightly translucent, and he saw the vague outline of structures inside.
“Ops, what does the CDC make of it?” Jonathan asked. CDC stood for Combat Direction Center, where all tactical and sensor data was processed by the ship’s AI and a team of specialists before being bundled up into something the bridge crew could use.
The fifth watch ops specialist spoke up. “The general shape matches the ruins of Elder vessels we’ve discovered in our own galaxy, including the wreckage on Achilles I in the Vega 951 system.” That was the system they had been exploring when they first encountered the Raakarr. Apparently the Raakarr had been using Vega 951 as some sort of breeding ground, but whether their usage of the Elder wreckage had been coincidence or necessity, no one knew.
“Apparently their ship design hasn’t changed much in the five hundred thousand years since they left our own galaxy,” the ops specialist finished.
“And I thought human beings were creatures of habit,” Jonathan said. “Kind of brings new meaning to the phrase, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“Maybe they’ve forgotten how to build ships, and this is all they have,” the specialist said.
“Forgotten?” Jonathan said. “Doubtful. But if they managed to create ships that were completely self-sufficient and self-sustaining, I suppose at some point there would be no need to build any further vessels.” He stared intently at the golden shape. “So these are the Elder.” He couldn’t help the slight awe that slipped into his voice.
“There is one big difference between this ship and the ruins,” the ops specialist said.
“What’s that?” the captain asked.
“Structures of some kind seem to be housed underneath that hull,” the specialist answered. “We’ve never seen anything like it before. The Elder ruins found previously were all hollow inside.”
“I noticed them, too,” Jonathan said. “Does the CDC have any guesses on what those structures are?”
“They look almost like buildings,” the specialist said. “Grouped in clusters. It’s almost like... like there are entire cities housed within.”
Jonathan felt his brow furrow. “What are you saying, it’s some kind of generation ship? Or an artificial world?”
“No idea,” the specialist answered. “But there are no obvious weapon mounts, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really.”
His eyes focused on the center of the display, where his own fleet resided, composed of six human vessels, plus the Raakarr defector ship, the Talon , thirty thousand kilometers off port. He still wasn’t quite sure of the latter’s allegiance, or intentions. Certainly, that dart-shaped alien ship had turned on the other Raakarr in the last battle, shooting down two of their own vessels. The action had caused the surviving Raakarr to flee.
There was a human telepath stationed aboard the defector vessel, a man named Barrick. The explanation the telepath had given for the unexpected help was members of the so-called Zarafe faction had risen up and usurped control of the ship from the other Raakarr, whom he called the Elk .
It was probably true, but Jonathan’s distrust for the telepath ran deep. After the man had awakened from his mind link with a captured alien six months ago, his psychic abilities had somehow skyrocketed, and Barrick had easily assumed control of the flagship. He had almost succeeded in making the bridge crew fire on their own vessels, but Maxwell and Stanley had saved them. He wondered if something similar had happened aboard the alien vessel. What if the telepath was controlling all of the defectors? It was certainly possible. Still, Jonathan had a feeling the alien minds
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