almost obscured by a riot of sigils representing hundreds of communities and industrial complexes scattered throughout it. It was Night’s End, home to Immortal Light.
The viewpoint zoomed in abruptly, first bringing into focus a small, heavily cratered moon orbiting a cloud-streaked gas-giant, and then a large industrial complex orbiting some hundreds of kilometres above the moon’s equator. Hundreds of pressurized capsules were strung together, joined by gossamer transport tubes, the whole flimsy-looking structure encapsulating a number of fat-bodied helium dredgers. The viewpoint zoomed in a third time, to show another craft docked nearby that was quite unlike any of the other vessels.
Trader felt a sudden and unpleasant thrill as he recognized it: a ship of the ancient Magi fleet – and looking the worse for wear.
Long, curving arms reached out from the craft’s rear, as if grasping at something invisible. These were the drive spines, conduits that could rip time and space open and throw the ship across light-years in an instant. Much of the craft’s milky-white outer hull had been burned away – particularly where it covered over the drive spines – exposing the skeletal framework beneath.
‘And the two humans?’
‘Here.’ The General gestured again. The Magi ship faded, replaced by two figures – one instantly recognizable, the other only slightly less so.
The first was Dakota Merrick, of course, small, with a narrow frame, short dark hair curling around her ears. The other human was Lucas Corso, citizen of a violent and marginalized human society known as the Freehold. It seemed that his government had charged him, against his will, to unlock the derelict Magi ship’s secrets.
Both were immobilized, strapped onto gurneys in a chamber. Several Bandati clung to the sides of pillars standing here and there throughout the chamber, while others were leaning over the two humans.
‘And are they still alive?’ Trader asked his superior, in as nonchalant a manner as possible.
‘Yes,’ Desire replied. ‘Immortal Light have been trying to extract information from them ever since they appeared rather unexpectedly on the edge of their Hive’s system, in the Magi ship.’
‘Then the Bandati may already know too much,’ Trader observed mournfully. ‘They may already know that the superluminal drive is a weapon, and I’m guessing the miserable winged bastards mean to trade that knowledge to the Emissaries.’
For all their aggressive forays into Hegemony territory, the Emissaries – during all their millennia of interstellar travel – had apparently failed to discover the star drive’s destructive potential.
‘That,’ Desire agreed, ‘would appear to be the most reasonable conjecture. In which case, we could soon be facing a nova war of unprecedented proportions – one that could destroy our entire civilization. Based on the evidence we’ve extracted from our Bandati spy here, the Emissaries want direct proof of what Immortal Light claim to possess. They intend to send a covert expedition deep into our territory with the simple purpose of verification. Given the circumstances, one might easily find justification for a pre-emptive strike against the Emissary forces massed on our borders.’
Trader’s head swam for a moment. ‘We should not be discussing this in such close quarters to your crew,’ he snapped.
The rulers of the Shoal Hegemony had long held back from using nova weapons against the Emissaries, for fear it would give them the clues they needed to start developing their own, thereby escalating the conflict to mutually destructive levels. Yet at the same time there remained the very real concern that the Emissaries might discover the truth any day now; and if such a day ever came, the Shoal would be facing its greatest challenge.
Pre-emptive escalation was a phrase only rarely heard, usually whispered in darkened corners or in secluded high-level meetings. It was the notion of