“Wait,” Dash said. “Nearby stars? How nearby?”
“Within one to two light-years.”
“But there aren’t any stars that close to this one.”
“No, there aren’t.”
“So what are you saying here?” Leira asked. “That there are stars nearby that we can’t see?”
“Substantially correct,” Tybalt, the AI that ran Leira’s Swift, said. He managed to both agree and insult everyone with the same tone—a true artist. “However, anticipating your next question—no, they are not hidden or invisible. Rather, I would suggest that they are on the other side of the anomaly, which appears to be the proximate terminus of a wormhole-like structure.”
“It’s a gate,” Dash said.
“So it would appear,” Tybalt said, and for once, his tone wasn’t a veiled—or open—insult. That made Dash take note. This gate was something new. Perhaps something new and bad.
“We’ve never seen a gate that wasn’t created with obvious tech,” Leira said. “That means someone is creating this one, and as to how, it’s well beyond our tech. Maybe even the Unseen’s.”
“Yeah, they are,” Dash said, a sensation of dread building. World-crushing tech was common for the Unseen. Tech that could shift matter like this gate was well beyond anything Dash wanted to be near. Gates could swing shut.
“And why,” Harolyn said.
Dash watched the stars dancing, their light bending like living ribbons as the gate changed reality. “Harolyn, let’s try sending that probe through it, see what happens.”
“Dash, are you sure about this?” Leira put in. “What if it’s—"
“A trigger? We’re about to find out. It’s either this or fishing.”
Leira snorted. “Outta the way. I’ll push the button. I’d rather vanish in a flash than be bitten by those, um—”
“Mosquitoes. Allow me, dear.” Dash sent the probe, and the gate swallowed it whole.
The probe survived long enough to show the anomaly up close, revealing that it was a twisting, contorting ring of black and purple, not too different from the appearance of a dark-lance beam. That was all it could transmit, though, before it was suddenly torn apart by the soaring gravitational gradient.
“Dash, a word?” Harolyn said. “There was a difference of over two hundred g’s between the nose of the probe and its tail. In one meter. I’d say that’s well outside our current tech.”
“So, however much this thing looks like a gate,” Leira said, “it obviously isn’t. I mean, what would be the point of a gate you couldn’t use?”
“Actually, there is a no-g zone in the core of this phenomenon,” Sentinel put in. “If transit was confined to that, then passage would theoretically be possible.”
“Harolyn,” Dash asked. “You have any more probes aboard the Rockhound?”
“Two, and both are ready,” Harolyn answered. She was prepared.
“Configure and launch both of them. Let’s try this again.”
Dash waited as the probes were deployed. The second started its run, using data from the first to refine its trajectory. It still wasn’t enough. This time, the drone was able to reach a point in the gate that was closer—and yet even more lethal in terms of gravitational pull. The probe vanished in a ripple.
Dash regarded the single, blurred image, head tilted in thought. “Stars.”
“Stars?” Leira asked, then made a noise of agreement. “I’ll be damned.”
“Let’s start big, Sentinel. Is it inside the Milky Way?” Dash asked.
“Unfortunately, no. There is insufficient data, and what is available is of poor quality.”
Dash cursed softly. “Time to push some more metal, then. Firing lucky number three,” Dash said.
“What makes it lucky?” Sentinel asked.
“It’s our last one. So, it’s lucky,” Dash said with placid resolve.
“I must research luck more. I think you made it up,” Sentinel said.
Dash grinned. “Always a doubter. Probe away.”
The waiting probe began to maneuver, with Sentinel and Tybalt controlling it directly. They used inputs from its wrecked fellows to refine its trajectory even more. This time, it sailed through the zero-g zone in the midst of the ferocious gradient. When it reached the surface of the gate, it carried on, smoothly passing through it to—
Somewhere else.
“Huh. Kinda expected—I don’t know, something a touch more exotic,” Dash said, nonplussed.
“I tend to agree,” Tybalt intoned. “However, space itself is rarely exotic. In point of fact, such a term would be—”
“Tybalt?” Dash asked.
“Yes?”
“Look at the scans,” Dash said. “Everyone. Now.”
Something eclipsed the ordinary stars in view of the probe. Whatever it was, it was as black as midnight and sleek. The probe immediately began to focus its sensors on it but only had time to detect a violent surge of energy across the EM spectrum, and then its telemetry ended in a hail of static.
Silence.
Harolyn finally broke it. “I’m assuming the probe is scrap?”
“Or plasma. But one thing is certain. That ship isn’t one of ours, and it sure as hell isn’t the Unseen,” Dash said.
“Marking as an enemy vessel, just to be safe,” Leira said.
“Good move. Now, let’s rally to the Forge. We might have a battle to plan,” Dash said, and to everyone listening, he didn’t sound angry at all.
2
“Just like old times,” Dash said, flashing Leira a grin. She and Dash had just left a planning meeting in the Command Center of the Forge, an expansive space full of gear that would make any human military organization salivate. It showed how little time Dash had spent here since the end of the Life War that he had to take a moment to be impressed all over again.
Leira’s smile back to Dash was less enthusiastic. “Yeah, it is. Here we are, about to launch ourselves on an op against what seems to be an enemy we don’t understand. That sounds a touch too familiar for my taste.”
Dash slowed as they approached the lift that would take them down to the hangar deck where their mechs were stored. “I’m not happy about it. Just . . . energized.”
She looped an arm through his as the lift closed in a silent rush. “I know. And I’m sorry if I come across as a little shitty about it.” She sighed. “Have to admit, though, I was really starting to enjoy looking forward to a life that wasn’t about war. One where the most I’d have to bitch about was those mosquito things while you try to catch tout.”
“Trout. With an r.”
“Whatever.”
Dash took her hand. Leira let him, but it was a few seconds before she closed her fingers around his.
She turned to him with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. I sound like I’m taking this out on you, and that’s not fair.”
“Hey, I’m still the Messenger, at least until the Archetype starts moving like an old man and needs a cane.”