The Beacon: Hard Science Fiction by Brandon Morris (heaven official's blessing novel english .txt) 📗

eyes, and those of his co-conspirators, if one wanted to give the small group such a lofty name, the current Netmaster posed a threat to the continued existence of their species. He took unforgivable risks and had everything hanging from a single thread now that they’d jumped into this system. Of course, the remote scout had indicated no fewer than four of the gas planets with deposits of urgently-needed helium-3 deposits. But there had also been the option of jumping into a system where one of these rare celestial bodies had been sighted, also orbiting its central star from a greater distance.

That other, alternative planet had been much closer, and they still could have jumped here afterward. But Kasfok had insisted on heading straight for this destination, even if there had been a risk of encountering unforeseen obstacles here—like now! Tolkut didn’t want to imagine what the situation would be like if it turned out the remote locator had been mistaken.

They had come here with the last of the helium-3 that remained in their repositories, and if the locator was wrong, they would likely be stranded here for a very long time, probably several generations. That was how long it would take to extract enough helium-3 from the ground of one of this system’s moons to hazard at least one more jump.

Whatever the case, Kasfok’s stubbornness spelled disaster. Now they had come across another intelligent species that had also traveled into this system. Since there was nothing remarkable here other than the four gas giants, it was clear what they were looking for. Kasfok would have only one response. War!

Tolkut thought this was ridiculous. First, the net fleet’s ships were in pitiful condition, which made combat operations highly risky. Second, nobody knew what resources the unknown species might have, and in the past, this had almost wiped out the remaining Mendraki. Third, the atmospheres of the four planets could provide enough helium-3 for both species.

Perhaps it would even be possible to collaborate and exchange technologies, even though the other species seemed to be inferior to the Mendrak technologically, as indicated by the lack of FTL-compatible propulsion. The giant asteroid's mass—the generational spaceship—was far too great to be moved through the higher-level continuum using wormhole generators. The energy requirement for such a maneuver would be astronomically high and could not be met using any of the known methods.

But collaboration had never been the strong suit of the Mendraki. Long ago, Tolkut had conceded that their situation was attributable to the extremely high potential for aggression among his kind. Kasfok was a product of the ancient civilization shaped by war and struggle. He was the representative of an era that had ultimately led to the loss of their home planet. And now, if he couldn’t stop Kasfok, he could lead the last of the Mendraki to extinction.

Netmaster Kasfok scurried through the corridors of the ship. He was pensive and worried, not so much because of the other species or their plans. He was convinced that despite the smaller size of their ships, the fleet would emerge victorious in the event of a conflict. Though the Mendraki spaceships were much smaller than the considerable generation ship, they were far more agile and versatile. They could circle the hulking giant like a swarm of kletz mosquitoes. And the 20 ships in the net fleet could attack the asteroid just as the tiny mosquitoes could drive an adult Mendrak insane with their lightning-fast attacks and furious bites.

The difference was that the ships’ attacks were not just nasty and painful, like the bite of a kletz mosquito, but instead, they would be made with weapons that could tear deep lesions into the asteroid’s surface. What started as small wounds would continue to grow relentlessly until they eventually fused into one large and fatal wound. Once it managed to tear open one of the cavities that must surely exist as living space within the asteroid, this would be the beginning of the end of the generation ship. The encroaching vacuum would have devastating consequences, and the ungainly colossus would then die, just like a Mendrak who’d been attacked by a swarm of kletz mosquitoes and ultimately fell victim to the countless bites that would bleed profusely.

It was also evident that the asteroid’s inhabitants didn’t have the same technological sophistication as the Mendraki. The analysis of the available data left no doubt about this. They wouldn’t have anything to fight against the fleet’s weapons.

No, it wasn’t the strange species that worried Kasfok. They would be devastated. Rather, it was the fact that such a crisis could offer his adversaries an opportunity to bring his leadership into question. Kasfok was aware that from now on, he had to be more on guard than before.

He reached a restricted area of the ship that could be accessed solely by select Mendraki. Only he, Netmaster, was allowed to enter this sector at any time—one of the many privileges of his position.

A soldier stood in front of a closed bulkhead. Seeing Kasfok, he raised the pair of legs closest behind his head to bring them together in the traditional salute.

Kasfok briefly danced a gesture of impatient confirmation of the greeting with his second pair of legs, but didn’t bother to produce a thread of communication that would have allowed for personal conversation. He simply drummed his command on the floor. Across the short distance, this would be enough to transmit the vibration and make it clear to the soldier that he was to promptly open the door.

The soldier waved his mandibles submissively and obeyed.

The bulkhead closed immediately behind him, and Kasfok entered a richly-decorated room. Skillfully spun webs of different colors covered the walls and ceiling, and changing light created a relaxing atmosphere.

A door opened in a side wall. The Mendrak who entered was somewhat smaller than Kasfok and wore a red and gold cloak over his bifurcated body, a sign of his status.

Netmaster, he drummed on a thread running diagonally