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MARAUDER

Marauder is set a few centuries after the events described in Stealing Light, Nova War and Empire of Light, and is a standalone work.

HISTORICAL ARCHIVES SUBSECTION C/5 category ALPHA

HISTORICAL ARCHIVES SUBSECTION C/5 category ALPHA

[From the offices of the Corso Institute of Non-Human Languages & Ciphers, in collaboration with the Accord Stellar Archaeology and Weapons Research Division. Presented by the Department of Alien Affairs during a plenary session of the Accord Central Chambers of Government at Ymir in 2745.

Please note this document contains restricted information and is rated PRIORITY RESTRICTED ACCESS.]

SUMMARY

The first Nova War of record is known to have taken place a hundred and sixty thousand years ago in the Large Magellanic Cloud, a dwarf galaxy orbiting the Milky Way. This conflict, which is believed to have lasted millennia, was made possible by the same nova drive technology that enables our own starships to travel at faster-than-light speeds. The Magi, a multi-species collective that then dominated the LMC, had discovered that the nova drive was also a weapon of enormous destructive power one capable of obliterating entire star systems, and billions of lives, at a single stroke.

Fragmentary Shoal records show that the nova-drive technology originated not with the Magi, but with a far older alien civilization known as the Makers, who appear to have been responsible for seeding caches of this and other advanced technologies throughout both the LMC and our own Milky Way. No other species is known to have independently discovered a means to travel faster than light, and attempts by Accord researchers to reverse-engineer existing drives have so far met only with failure.

Our extensive analysis of recovered historical records, several hundreds of thousands of years old, lends credence to the idea that these caches were intended as a kind of trap, albeit of a highly sophisticated nature. Any species sufficiently advanced to develop interstellar civilizations without the benefit of faster-than-light travel, so the thinking goes, would naturally exploit the contents of any Maker cache they might stumble across in their process of expansion. Given sufficient time to discover the drives inherently destructive properties, they would ultimately destroy themselves either through internal unrest or during conflict with other species.

Following the cessation of this earliest known Nova War, the surviving Magi built fleets of autonomous starships and directed them to seek out Maker caches and destroy them. The majority of these Magi ships were later destroyed by the Shoal Hegemony who, forewarned by events in the LMC, created a stable empire controlling interstellar traffic throughout much of our own Milky Way until they, too, were destroyed by internal factionalism and an aggressive territorial war conducted with a neighbouring species two centuries ago.

The Shoal Hegemonys departure from the greater galactic stage has since allowed for humanitys rapid expansion, by making use of nova drives recovered either from derelict Shoal craft or from the Maker cache in the Tierra system. Such rapid growth, however, makes it difficult to keep track of the devices and, given their hugely destructive potential, we recommend prioritizing the acquisition by any means necessary of all extant nova drives, including those recently recovered by independent human colonies such as the Three Star Alliance.

Taking control of this technology is therefore an essential step towards preventing the occurrence of another Nova War.

We do, however, anticipate strong resistance from the Three Star Alliance in particular, and a draft proposal has been prepared regarding the possibility of military action should current negotiations fail to reach a satisfying conclusion.

ONE

Megan

June 2763, 82 Eridani System (the present)

Megan Jacinth watched as the ship that had carried her down to Avilons surface lifted up once more, its drive-fields flickering as it passed through the former asteroids atmospheric containment field. She had been the only passenger.

The stars overhead were still in visible motion, unsurprising given that Avilon had only jumped into this system within the last few hours. Avilon was a boosted world, after all a landscaped rock barely a few hundred kilometres in diameter, with a gravity engine at its heart and a containment field to keep its atmosphere from dissipating. Light and heat came from fusion globes, orbiting outside the containment field like tiny suns.

She looked around at the wide, dusty plain on which she now stood. The horizon appeared so close that it made her feel as if a single step might send her toppling over its edge.

She reached into the satchel slung across her shoulders and pulled out a band, using it to tie back her shoulder-length dark hair, flecked here and there with silver. Then she started to walk.

Megan hadnt been walking for much more than an hour before some instinct caused her to glance up. She glimpsed a black outline occluding the stars and growing larger by the second as it descended towards her. It appeared that her arrival had not, after all, gone unnoticed.

She stumbled backwards as a machine came thudding down onto the cracked dirt before her. Starlight glittered from its glassy black skin and armour-plated struts. Judging by the markings on its carapace, it was one of Avilons security mechs, set to guard against unauthorized intrusions.

Megan stared at it in shock. Even though shed been prepared for something like this, actually coming face to face with such a deadly machine was another matter. Her body instinctively wanted to turn and run, but she was all too aware of just how much firepower the mech was carrying. Shed be dead before she could take a single step.

Moving with exaggerated care, she reached inside her satchel and removed a stubby tube made of copper-coloured metal and dark plastic. She held it out towards the mech, at the same time pressing a small switch on the side of the device.

She waited for something to happen but nothing did. She stared at the mech, dry-mouthed and unsure of what to do next.

The mech began to probe the machine part of her consciousness with informational feelers, looking for possible points of entry. It had already detected the cerebral implants she used to interface with starships. A brilliant white light flared out from the mechs torso, dazzling her. Then a sudden gust of air from its turbo jets sent her coat flailing around her legs.

She kept the override unit held out before her in one trembling hand. But suddenly the idea that this little box this cheap, prefabbed gizmo of hacked-together circuitry and stolen override codes could possibly protect her seemed utterly futile. She was outclassed, and she knew it.

Kazim had assured her endlessly of the devices efficacy, but at that moment she found herself wondering whether she might have made a terrible mistake by relying on him. It had since occurred to her that if anything were to happen to her, all those contacts she had so carefully built up over the years would have no choice but to deal with him directly and then Kazims profits from the illegal exportation of sans de sezi, out of Corkscrew, would surely increase by a not inconsequential margin.

The machines servos whined faintly, its carapace splitting apart to reveal intricate glittering machinery underneath. It was, she realized to her further dismay, focusing its attack systems directly on her.

At the same time, a low rumble built up somewhere deep within the machines core, building towards a crescendo.

The paralysis that had gripped Megan until that moment suddenly slackened. She stumbled backwards, preparing to take her chances and run . . .

The noise cut off abruptly, the machines attack systems folding themselves away and the carapace closing back over them once more.

She felt suddenly numb with relief. Maybe Kazim hadnt been lying after all

A flickering beam of energy shot out at her from another section of the mech, propelling a flood of fire through her nerve endings. She fell backwards, slamming the rear of her skull on the ground, her jaw clamped in a rictus grin as her body twitched and shuddered.

She caught sight of the mech leaping back into the sky, like some oversized mechanical locust, before rapidly vanishing out of sight amidst the stars.

With an extreme effort, she was just about able to turn her head to where she could see Kazims override unit lying near one outstretched hand.

Ill kill you, thought Megan, in those last moments before consciousness slipped away. I should never have listened to you, Kazim, you lying piece of shit.

Megan finally came to again some hours later, the grass feeling cool and damp beneath her cheek. Beside her knelt a heavily muscled man with intricate tattoos on his neck and a look of deep concentration as he searched through the contents of her satchel. She instantly noticed he had a rifle slung over one shoulder.

She tried to say something, but her tongue felt sluggish and unresponsive. Even trying to form a few words made the muscles in her throat ache, and she could barely feel her arms and legs as she tried to move them. Nevertheless, a faint tingling in her extremities suggested the return of sensation, though she could no more command them to obey her than she could sprout wings and fly away.

She glanced beyond the man and saw a spider-truck parked nearby, with two headless and bare-chested figures standing next to it. These were bead-zombies, she realized, their bodies controlled by microscopic devices implanted in the nub of spinal column that protruded from the healed-over stumps of their necks. Each carried a long, curved sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.

Bead-zombies were, she knew from experience, incapable of feeling pain. Taking them on in a fight was a good way of getting yourself sliced into chunks, regardless of how much damage you might inflict on them in the meantime.

But the zombies didnt worry her nearly so much as the neck-tattoos on the man still searching through her satchel. They signified that he was a Freeholder and a native of Redstone, and the tattoos represented the number of people he had killed in one-to-one combat. He wore a traditional Freehold blade on his hip, its haft wrought in a fine filigree the colour of jade and ivory, depicting stylized human figures in close combat.

He stood up suddenly, slinging her satchel over the shoulder not burdened by his rifle, and looked down at her. Can you get up?

What the hell do you think? she tried to say, but the words emerged half-slurred. Her tongue felt like something that had crawled into her mouth for shelter and died there.

Fair enough.

He leaned down, took hold of her under her armpits, then began dragging her towards the spider-truck and the waiting bead-zombies. Her boots left dark grooves in the dusty yellow soil.

He slammed her upright against the side of the truck, between two of its legs, propping her there with one hand against her shoulder. The bead-zombies had turned towards him, from which she deduced they must both be slaved to his control.

Its wearing off now, right? asked the Freeholder. The stuff the mech shot you with?

Fuck you, she mumbled, then coughed, though it was getting easier to talk. What the hell do you want with me? she managed to ask. And who the fuck are you, anyway?

Sifra warned me youd be a pain in the ass, he replied, taking his hand away from her shoulder. He wasnt kidding.

Megan just about managed to stand upright without his support. Sifra? She swallowed hard. Anil Sifra?

One corner of his mouth curled upwards. So you do know him.

No. Megan shook her head. No, Im not going anywhere if hes

The Freeholder sighed loudly, then hauled her over to an open hatch at the rear of the truck. She yelled in protest as he pushed her inside a cramped and windowless compartment with a metal floor and walls before slamming the door shut.

Im sorry, Bash, she thought, feeling all her carefully wrought plans slipping through her fingers like so much water. Looks like Ive failed you again.

A few minutes later, she felt the vehicle stagger into motion. The ceiling was low enough to force her to sit bent over. Her head banged against the hard surface above her when the truck lurched suddenly as it picked up speed, but before long it had achieved a smooth, steady rhythm, bouncing only slightly as it leaped around the tiny planetoids circumference.

Before long the numbness in her limbs had nearly worn off, but it was soon replaced by intense cramps. She flexed and stretched her arms and legs to try and ease the pain, but that was far from easy in such a confined space. When she felt sufficiently recovered, she banged and kicked at the door of the cramped compartment, throwing all her rage and frustration at it, until she finally ran out of physical energy.

She then made up for it by screaming abuse at her Freeholder captor at the top of her lungs, even though she knew he almost certainly couldnt hear her from where he sat in the trucks cabin. Which was a shame, because she thought some of the insults shed just come up with were particularly inventive.

She finally slumped down again, her rage and fury replaced by a kind of numb emptiness.

Sifra.

How could he possibly have known she was coming here? Her plan had seemed so simple when she had first worked it out, back on Corkscrew, which lay a hundred and fifty light years distant:

1:Make her way to 82 Eridani, where the world of Redstone was located.

2:Avoid, by any means necessary, actually setting foot on Redstone itself.

3:Wait in one of the outer-system refinery settlements for Avilon to make its scheduled stop in-system.

4:Land on Avilon, bypassing its security protocols with the aid of the override device provided for her by Kazim.

5:Find Bash and rescue him from whatever hole Sifra had squirrelled him away in all these years.

6:Fly to the Wanderer and save the human race from all-too-certain extinction.

An agenda clean and uncomplicated in principle at least. But, as ever, real life in all its complexity had got in the way. Just finding a way to land undetected on Avilon had required the negotiation of numerous deals and also the payment of bribes that had drained her remaining finances. Numerous favours had been called in. And, if not for Kazim, part-owner and investor in several ships used for smuggling sans de sezi as well as being the nearest thing shed had to a friend these past several years, she would never have got even this far.

But, for all her preparations, there had remained the unanswered question of just how the hell she was going to get Bash out of the high-security medical facility he was supposedly being held in. And that, added to her discovery that Sifras reach extended deep inside Avilons global security network, made her job close to impossible.

It then occurred to her that her only remaining option was to admit defeat and turn herself in to Avilons civilian authorities. She might not be able to save Bash, but it was still a hell of a lot better than letting Sifra get his hands on her.

She managed to access the local data-net via her implants and quickly found a responsive AI representing Avilons civilian council. She explained to it that she had been kidnapped and gave a brief description of her abductor and the spider-truck.

A few seconds later, the truck came to a sudden, lurching halt. She heard the hollow thump of a door opening somewhere overhead, then the sound of boots hitting the ground.

The door cracked open once more, and the Freeholder peered in at her, haloed by bright artificial daylight that hurt her eyes.

Dont do that again, he said, holding up one fist and then flinging its fingers open. An Avilon Security ID materialized in the air, before fading after a few moments. Otherwise Ill have to knock you out for the rest of the journey.

Youre . . . ?

The police, said the Freeholder. Welcome to Avilon. Now shut the hell up.

He closed the door hard, and she heard him climb back up into the trucks cabin. They were soon under way once more.

Well, thats that, then. Shed clearly walked into a trap, and a carefully prepared one at that.

She let her head fall forward on to her knees, giving herself up to hopeless exhaustion. As a result, she barely noticed when the truck finally came to a halt, a few hours later.

She squinted painfully as the compartment door opened again, letting daylight flood back in. The Freeholder reached in and grabbed the collar of her jacket, dragging her out and depositing her in a heap on the yellow soil.

She looked around, seeing they had come to a halt in front of a vast sprawling building that looked as if it had been modelled on a fairytale castle. It sat at the centre of a few dozen acres of carefully tended lawns and coppiced trees. It was, even by the excessive standards of Avilons population of the ultra-wealthy, stunningly tasteless.

Get up, said the Freeholder, as the two bead-zombies came over to stand behind him.

How long have you been working for Sifra? she asked as calmly as she could, staring up at him. She was damned if she was going to let him see how frightened she really was.

He told me to bring you here, the Freeholder grunted. He didnt say whether you had to still be in one piece. He gestured towards a nearby gate. So how about you shut the fuck up, and start

She jumped up and ran. One thing she knew about bead-zombies was that they werent very good at moving fast.

For the first few moments, she thought her legs might actually give way beneath her. She was still afflicted by numerous aches and cramps, and one ankle felt strangely numb. But she ignored all that, letting her frank terror of ever again setting eyes on Anil Sifra empower her muscles to carry her away as far and fast as humanly possible.

She sped back along the same narrow road on which the spider-truck crouched. Just a few kilometres away she could see the glistening towers of Cockaigne Avilons primary settlement rising up to pierce through the containment field more than a kilometre overhead.

The aching in her legs grew, her lungs burning in her chest like twin embers. She listened for the steady thump-thump of the spider-truck pursuing her, but heard nothing yet. Just when she began to think she might actually make it to freedom, she heard a yipping sound from somewhere to her right, and the noise of something running up behind her.

She risked a quick glance over her shoulder, and nearly stumbled in fright. Two mogs were closing in on her from either side: half-human, half-canine hybrids, bipedal like a human being but dumb, vicious and short-lived.

Not to mention wildly, incredibly illegal. Megan had once seen a mog rip a mans throat out within seconds.

They were closing in on her fast, and she knew she could never outrun them. But the thought of those long snouts equipped with their rows of gleaming teeth spurred her to even greater effort.

Damn Sifra. Damn him to hell. And damn Bash for losing his mind.

She suddenly stumbled, falling to the ground with a yell, and stuck out both her arms in a desperate bid to protect herself. The sleek grey bodies of her pursuers darted all around her, jaws snapping at the bare flesh of her throat but never quite coming close enough. She saw, at close quarters, humanoid hands tapering into long, black claws. She screamed in panic again, convinced she was about to die in a particularly horrible and unpleasant fashion.

Just then, a sharp, high-pitched sound cut through the air. Suddenly, the creatures pulled away, crouching on the soil nearby and continuing to watch her with hungry intent. The worst thing about them, she decided, were the eyes because they were the most human-looking part of all.

Do you know how easy it would be for me, said the Freeholder, as he stood over her once more, to just let them rip you apart?

Call them off, Megan managed to croak. Please.

He whistled twice, pointing at each mog in turn. The creatures stood up in response, their long, pointed ears twitching as they rose from their skulls. They both turned and ran back towards the luxurious estate.

Maybe this time, said the Freeholder, unslinging his rifle and aiming it at her, youll be prepared to go where I tell you.

He led her back, past the parked spider-truck, and through the nearby gate, before guiding her inside an arched doorway. Megan found herself in a cool, dark interior with whitewashed walls and low-standing couches. Soft rugs and cushions lay scattered all around and, even though the building seemed otherwise deserted, a hidden projector filled the space with low-resolution holograms of intertwining naked forms. The air smelled of sweat, mingled with the burned-honey aroma of sans de sezi. They continued on down some steps into a starkly lit basement.

After you, he said, opening a heavy steel door and motioning her inside.

At first, Megan thought the room was empty.

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