Judas Unchained

“Then we have to launch a strike against Dyson Alpha right away,” Nigel said. “That’s where the Hell’s Gateway generator is. Don’t tell the navy, don’t consult anyone else. Just do it.”

“The Charybdis should be back in communications range in another day,” Nelson said. “And the Searcher is already home. Frigate construction is already under way. We can launch within forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”

“See to it,” Nigel said. “You personally, Nelson. God knows if it’s infiltrated our Dynasty as well. Is there any kind of test?” he asked Paula.

“We have to wait until the results from Isabella come back. Once we understand what was done to her, we might be able to recognize it in others. But don’t expect it to be quick or simple. It could well take decades to find the last of them.”

“You’re reading her memories?” Nelson asked.

“I have a Raiel doing that for me, yes.”

Nigel couldn’t help an admiring smile. Investigator Myo was always one unexpected step ahead. “Do you think Ozzie is a Starflyer agent?”

“Difficult to say. From what I’ve just heard, I’d say he was helping the Guardians. We will need to read his memories to be sure. Do you know where he is?”

“We lost track of him on Silvergalde,” Nigel said. “His last message said he was off to ask the Silfen what they knew about the Dyson Pair barriers. He hasn’t been seen since.”

“I see,” Paula said.

“Do you have any idea what this Starflyer is?” Nigel asked. His expanded mentality began to access the Dynasty files on the Guardians. They weren’t a lot of use, summaries of investigations launched by the Serious Crimes Directorate.

“It’s the survivor of the Marie Celeste arkship on Far Away,” Paula said. “Which is about as much as we know. Bradley Johansson claims it took over the humans investigating the arkship, so any data from the Institute is obviously suspect. We have no idea where it came from, what it looks like, its size, even if it’s an oxygen breather. Even now its existence can only be deduced from the behavior of its agents. It is the perfect bogeyman myth.”

“Son of a bitch,” Nigel muttered angrily. He was indignant—no, actually affronted—that an alien like that could move humans around like chess pieces. An unseen malign influence creeping around his Commonwealth, subverting and corrupting whatever it touched, like some medieval demon. Small wonder nobody wanted to believe in it. “How could it have gone unnoticed for so long?”

“Because it’s cautious, and works on a long timescale,” Paula said. “Which actually gives us our first clue as to its nature. It is obviously long-lived. Given this strategy to eliminate us and the Primes so that its own kind can expand unhindered into this section of the galaxy, it thinks in terms of centuries if not millennia.”

“But it must have a base somewhere, a physical presence. We have to be able to track it down.”

“Bradley Johansson and Adam Elvin are both physical and real,” Paula said with a regretful smile. “I’ve never managed to arrest them. Which gives me a theory as to the Starflyer’s location.”

“Where?” Justine asked sharply.

Paula stood up and walked over to the office window where she was silhouetted by the blurry gray sky outside. She beckoned Nigel over. Together they looked down on the station marshaling yard, where long trains snaked their way along the silver and white rails.

“Johansson and Elvin know and understand the covert activity game very well,” she said. “They are always on the move, they have no permanent home, they avoid relationships, attachments, friendships, anything that can tie them down. That’s why I was always chasing them; they were never in one place long enough for me to catch up; that and their political cover from Mr. Isaac.”

Nigel felt as if the cold sea air trapped under the force field was permeating the office as realization dawned. Goose bumps pricked the skin along his forearms. Below him trains slid in and out of the tunnels that led to the cities of the East Coast states, from New York all the way south to Miami. The cliff face of gateways shone light from distant stars across the ground in long pale ellipses. “Oh, dear God, no.”

“It’s the logical conclusion,” she said. “The Starflyer is alien. At the very least it will require food proteins from its native world, either grown or synthesized. Its body would attract attention if it were ever seen. What could be easier than having its own freight wagon? It would always be traveling, always be free to go where it wanted, always have its own environment.”

“Our control RI can search the records, look for trains that never stop,” Nigel said with a dry throat. It was hopeless, and he knew it.

“The wagon will switch engines and even companies, it will spend months or years on a siding, or inside a warehouse, it will roam over planets wherever there are rails; the Starflyer will even change and modernize the wagons over the decades.”

“It could be anywhere,” Nigel said in an aghast voice.