The station was vast, stretching for several kilometers. The tracks lay sunken a few meters into the ground, flanked on either side by a tall, timeworn fence of dark maroon brick. On the rails stood old locomotives – yellow-rusted diesels and half-dismantled electrics – along with what looked like research cars and even a small train of ancient carriages. Once, long ago, it must have been painted blue, with the faded words Restoration Train still just visible on its side.
Looking at it all, Kane felt conflicted. On the one hand, the decay stirred in him a dull ache of desolation. Yet on the other, this faded but still strangely vivid watercolor blended beautifully with the golden-red crowns of the surrounding trees. The whole scene – this post-apocalyptic landscape that might have passed for a film set in some amusement park was haunting in its strange harmony.
Suddenly, the device on Maarv’s belt seemed to stir to life, pulsing with crimson light and sending out cryptic signals.
«They’ve tracked us down after all – curse them», he said wearily, forcing himself to gather his thoughts. «And I had hoped to enjoy the view.»
«Well then, there’s nowhere to run», he murmured aloud, rising to his feet and unfolding the virtual control panel of the confluator as he moved. «I’ll try to deal with it», he declared calmly and distinctly, the way one speaks to children in difficult moments. «As for you – take this thing as far as it will go, and don’t stop. Then run, and run as fast as you can!»
A crimson shield flared to life, enveloping Maarv on all sides. «I’ll find you! If this works…» he added with a sorrowful smile to his friends, then leapt from the moving platform straight onto the railway tracks.
The handcar carrying Kane and John, swept away in the chaos of events before they could even grasp what was happening, vanished around the bend. Maarv frantically recalled the combinations of combat commands. I never thought I’d need these again, he muttered to himself while activating his weapon. But I won’t be taken down so easily, he resolved grimly, as the rapidly approaching drone came into view. Its round contours shifted to oval, and from both flanks extended the barrels of heavy atomic cannons.
Circling above him like a predator savoring its prey, the drone unleashed a barrage. They fired simultaneously. Maarv’s energy shields absorbing blasts that flared into dark ripples, steadily draining the reserves on both sides. Stray shots ripped apart the surroundings, turning derelict train cars and jagged concrete structures into molten shrapnel that sprayed in every direction.
Then the drone released a swarm of glinting alloy bolts. Several pierced through Maarv’s shield. One tore clean through his left shoulder; another pinned his leg to the ground, wrenching a grimace of pain from him. Pressing the attack, the drone descended low, almost skimming the earth, as though toying with him before delivering the final blow.
Maarv’s shield was nearly gone. Wrenching a length of rebar from the cracked concrete, he clutched it in helpless fury, knowing this was the end.
Suddenly, behind him came the screech of rending metal, and the ground shook with a growing vibration. Blood from a deep wound on his forehead streamed across Maarv’s face. Barely clinging to consciousness from the searing pain, he caught sight of something massive thundering toward him at terrifying speed.
With the last of his strength, leaning on the length of rebar, he wrenched his leg free from the bolt pinning it to the earth and hurled himself aside. A heavy locomotive roared past at full speed, striking the hunter with the full force and weight of its colossal mass, hurling it far along the tracks, where the iron wheels tore it apart and scattered the fragments in a storm of screeches, crashes, and sparks.
Maarv regained awareness only when Kane was shaking him gently, trying to bring him around. With effort, he forced his eyes open.
«Maarv, you scared the hell out of me», Kane said, pale as a sheet. «I thought you were… you know… done for.»
«What happened?» Maarv asked, wincing from the pain of his wounds. «For a moment there, I thought I was finished myself…»
Kane laughed with relief. «You see, when you so cheerfully decided to step off the handcar, we thought it unfair that all the fun should be yours alone. A little farther on, we spotted that massive iron beast – a derelict locomotive. Its generators and engines were still in decent shape, and I managed to get it running. John climbed into the control tower and, by some miracle, managed to switch the tracks correctly. Lucky, wasn’t it? Guess that drone was never programmed to give way to locomotives – something to keep in mind for your next firmware update!»
Maarv gave a weary smile and pressed his hand to his wounded side, drawing a shaky breath before speaking. «Unfortunately, I can’t treat myself just yet – the confluator is nearly drained. The defensive barriers burned through almost all of its energy, and it will take some time to recharge. In the meantime, we’d better get far away from here. If the hunter managed to transmit anything, more company will be on the way soon.»
No sooner had he finished speaking than the familiar handcar appeared from around the bend, with John at the controls. He looked cheerful and mischievous.
«Did somebody call a taxi?» he asked, hopping off the handcar and glancing around in surprise. The twisted heaps of still-smoldering metal, rails, and shattered debris had transformed the once-familiar landscape beyond recognition.
«Well, you two certainly did some work here! ‘The dragon’s ire, more fierce than fire, laid low their towers and houses frail’», he quoted in his usual fashion, drawing on the classics.
With combined effort, they managed to haul the heavy Maarv onto the handcar. Despite his protests, John pulled out a first-aid kit, cleaned and dressed the wounds, and then tucked the kit carefully back into his pack. «One should never start something new without finishing what’s already begun», he grumbled.
After a while, the tracks began to merge, until only a single rail stretched ahead, ending at a set of massive steel gates. The leaves were bound with thick iron chains, parted just enough for a man to slip through, but far too narrow for the handcar.
«Well, from here on we’ll have to walk, as far as we can manage», said Maarv.
«‘Walk as far as we can’ – that’s not really an option for you», John pointed out dryly. «And hauling you would be like trying to drag a rhinoceros! I say we make for that spot over there instead.» He tilted his head toward a patch of forest and a glimmering lake, visible not far away. «We’ll rest there, regain our strength.»
In the backpacks they had prudently grabbed from the bunker, they found a coil of fishing line with hooks and a box of matches. While the wounded Maarv sat warming himself by the fire, Kane and John quickly improvised fishing rods, tried their luck and returned with several fat, wriggling fish.
«Now we’ll roast them over the coals», Kane announced, finishing with the cleaning and gutting, «and you’ll see what it means to dine in true style, even out here in the wild.»
Maarv, who had been following Kane’s efforts with a steadily deepening look of doubt, winced and muttered: «The hunters may have spared me, but this… this will surely be the end of me.»
He eyed the severed fish head and shuddered. «Those merciless, glassy eyes are going to haunt my nightmares.»
«The cure for that», John replied lightly, «is to taste it. Then you’ll remember those eyes in a far kinder way.»
Maarv’s bracelet came to life again, releasing a series of strange sounds. Suddenly, something vast appeared above them, eclipsing the sky over the clearing. In the stillness, they could hear only the faint crackle of the dying fire and the quiet murmur of the forest. With effort, Maarv rose to his feet, stepped into the center of the glade, and beckoned his friends closer. He spoke a few words in his own tongue. A column of brilliant light enveloped all three, and in the next instant the clearing was empty. The mysterious craft shot upward with terrifying speed, utterly silent, and in a heartbeat it had melted into the clouds.
Chapter 9
Draam found Abuun on the captain’s bridge. He was finishing the verification of calculations transmitted from Fraal’s polar weather stations.
«I sent an autobot to retrieve him and move him aboard the Armaon, our reserve cruiser – away from the main fleet, together with two Fraalians», Draam reported, recounting the whole string of adventures that had befallen their friends. «He barely made it out alive.»
«Maarv is no soldier», Abuun said thoughtfully. «Nor are those two Fraalians fighters. Their victory over the hunter was more luck than skill, nothing more. Still, you have to admit – it was an original outcome.»
Draam gave a gruff snort. «Come on, out with it. I know you too well – you’ve had this all mapped out for ages, haven’t you?»
«Not for ages», Abuun replied with a small, knowing smile. «And whatever plans I do have are only for the safety of my friends, my comrades, and our people as a whole.» His brow furrowed again. «For sooner or later, we will pay dearly if we allow our Warrior caste and a handful of senile fanatics in the Senate to carry out what they’ve devised here.»
Abuun leaned forward, his voice firm yet tinged with warmth.
«I’d like you to go with them», Abuun continued. «I’ll feel your absence keenly, but they need you far more than I do. And besides, I’ll feel much calmer knowing you’re there. You and Maarv will make an excellent team – your intuition and his strategic mind will complement each other perfectly. Those two from Fraal aren’t exactly fainthearted either. You’ll like them. If you have no objections, prepare what you need, take whatever’s necessary, and join them as soon as you can.»
Draam stroked his chin thoughtfully. «Everything essential is already aboard the cruiser Armaon. I have no objections, but we’ll need at least one more supply container.»
He cast a sidelong glance at Abuun, who was smiling. In unison with Draam’s words, Abuun added: «I already ordered all the unnecessary cargo thrown out and additional containers of provisions delivered. Now let’s hope those greenhorns don’t drive you mad.»
Chapter 10
Kane and John had already spent a full day inside the capsules designed to prepare them for extreme overloads. In addition to diagnostics and correction of their physical state, the system was steadily imprinting into their minds several primary intergalactic tongues – among them the Vriinian language and Galacton, the official language of the Galactic Union.
Maarv, meanwhile, had completed his rehabilitation and was now fully healed from his wounds. He strolled with quiet satisfaction through the bright corridors of the Armaon, dressed in a new, comfortable outfit: a white elastic suit of soft fabric that hung loosely without restricting his movements, and light shoes to match.
He and Draam had already shared several meals together, and though at first Maarv had regarded with puzzlement the endless rows of food containers delivered from the flagship in such quantities one might think a small army had embarked with them – after these so-called «light» meals he could only admire Abuun’s foresight.
«It’s a good thing you’re not our Supreme Ruler», Maarv joked to Draam. «Our System could never afford to keep you fed!»
«He who eats well, works well», Draam replied good-naturedly. «And I work very well indeed!»
There was little reason to doubt it: in just a few days aboard the Armaon he had inspected, upgraded, and recalibrated every navigation and defense system of what was already one of the most formidable light cruisers in the Vriinian fleet.
When Kane and John finally stepped out of the capsules, they too were given new uniforms. At first glance they resembled military attire, yet they wore as comfortably as clothes one might lounge in at home. Both men looked astonishingly renewed: Kane’s old scars had vanished, while John appeared twenty years younger, more like a sturdy elder than an aging pensioner. Even his movements had grown lighter – a change he immediately noticed and, true to form, could not resist commenting on: «My glass shall not persuade me I am old.» Still, he thought, finding his backpack and getting a proper shave would hardly go amiss.
Maarv walked them through the astonishing ship, pointing out its features and functions.
«Armaon is, in many respects, a unique cruiser – the latest development, one that has no equal in our fleet», he explained, his voice steady but proud. «Technically, it carries the same capabilities as a heavy battlecruiser and matches it in both firepower and speed.»
He lifted his hand in a measured gesture, as though tracing the outline of an immense vessel in the air. «But unlike a battlecruiser, Armaon is many times smaller, far more maneuverable, and after a hyperspace jump its energy systems recover almost instantly, and that can make all the difference.»
As he spoke, his palm rested briefly against the wall, and the faint vibration of the living structure responded to his touch. «The ship was built using the latest biotechnologies and is, in essence, a living organism capable of self-restoration. Its brain is an advanced organoid intelligence that never stops learning, evolving, and expanding its vast archive of knowledge on all known planets, systems, and galaxies.»
Maarv turned back to them, his expression softening into a rare smile. «We call her Arma – she is everywhere, and you can speak with her at any time. I am certain you will become friends.»
They stepped onto the command bridge. In the center of the room, a vast virtual map of the starfield shimmered in the air.
«This is the navigation system,” Maarv explained. “It’s simple, convenient, and highly intuitive. And as I mentioned earlier – should the ship, heaven forbid, take a breach, it can seal it on its own.» His eyes slid toward Draam, who had just entered the bridge, towering over the others. «Provided, of course, the hole doesn’t exceed certain limits.»
Draam’s eyes flashed darkly. He was already more than weary of these jokes about patching up ships with his bulk. He stood a full head taller than Maarv and nearly half again as broad across the shoulders.
«Friends, allow me to introduce my comrade and colleague! This is Draam – the cornerstone of our safety! As steadfast as stone, and as swift as Armaon itself!» Maarv declared with a touch of ceremony. He then introduced John and Kane, adding that they had proven themselves remarkably reliable companions, and that it was thanks to them they had all escaped unscathed from the hunter-drone’s attack.
«I’ve already heard enough about how you ‘escape unscathed’», Draam grumbled, clasping the Earthmen’s hands with surprising warmth. «That’s why I’m here. And some freshly minted captains still need someone to wipe their noses…»
«Pay no heed to his grumbling, nor to that fearsome look he wears to terrify the living», Maarv whispered in a stage murmur loud enough for the whole bridge to hear. «He will go through fire and water for his friends.»
They moved up to the command bridge. In the center, a large virtual chart of the starfield hung in the air.
«Now that we’re all here, please look at the map», he went on. With a flick of his fingers, the projection tightened its focus. «To reach the Galactic Council, we must first secure the backing of at least two races that hold seats there – obtaining the so-called Ticket. Our time is short, so we’ll have to strike a golden mean: optimize the choice by distance and try to keep the risks to a minimum.»
He rotated the starfield a fraction and indicated a large, pulsing point. “One race that can help us is in this galaxy – using your names, in the Milky Way, in the Scorpius Cluster, in one of the Perseus Arms.» He slid the map outward; a second marker kindled on the edge of a neighboring spiral. «The other lies in Andromeda, near the Cassiopeia you know.»
Kane and John exchanged a quick look, lost amid the crush of planets, systems, and clusters. Catching it, Maarv softened his tone and gave them a brief, reassuring nod. «For most of us, it will be not only crucial but highly instructive as well – none of us has been out that way, save for Draam.» Draam, arms folded, gave the slightest tilt of his head by way of confirmation.
«And the Galactic Council itself», Maarv concluded, enlarging a pale blue knot of stars, «sits on a very beautiful green world in the Pleiades, a planet called Ilion.»
A clear, melodious voice with warm undertones suddenly filled the bridge а – it was Arma.
«Star charts, like any other data, can be virtually uploaded into your consciousness», she said, her tone calm yet subtly resonant.
«But it’s far more engaging to study them with your own eyes», Maarv countered gently, glancing at Kane and John with a faint smile. «The amount of information already loaded into you through the capsules is enormous; it will take time for it all to settle and be fully absorbed.»
«And what exactly is this Ticket?» Kane asked, leaning forward with curiosity. «Why can’t we simply fly straight to the Council and appeal to their sense of justice?»
«The traditions stand», Draam replied with a hint of irony. «To my mind, it’s more symbolic than anything else – certainly not the embodiment of some higher wisdom or great galactic truth. Be that as it may, without a Ticket you won’t even set foot in the Council chambers. Everyone knows it, though no one can say exactly why. Quite contradictory, isn’t it?»
«A contradiction born of ignorance», Maarv countered. «Fragments of the Ticket are given to each High Councillor upon entering the Council, and they are free to dispose of them at their discretion. Only in this way can young worlds, just beginning to set their cosmic course, obtain support when it is needed or make themselves known in order to become part of the Galactic Union.»
The Armaon’s powerful engines were in cruise. The ship was preparing for a hyperjump, and, just to be safe, Maarv double-checked the coordinates of Destination One – a planet called Omera, home of the Star Masters.
«I never imagined that once you became captain you’d turn into such a bore», Arma’s voice drifted above them like a cool cloud.
«You’re still far too young and carefree a ship», Maarv shot back. «When you’re at least two hundred years old, we’ll see what you turn into.»
Two days later, the ship emerged from hyperspace near the target system and began its approach to the planet of the Star Masters. Kane had buried himself in the intergalactic star charts compiled over millennia of Vriinian voyages and research – a monumental labor of countless generations. He studied with care and persistence, poring over the histories of other races and the intricacies of new languages, with a special focus on Galacton.
Of course, he had also explored every corner of the ship, venturing even down to the main hypergraviton reactors, and had grown close to Arma, who tirelessly answered his endless questions. She showed him holographic projections of systems and nebulae, of exotic planets teeming with strange and often astonishing forms of life.
John, meanwhile, had spent the entire journey in deep scientific discussions with Maarv, learning much about the far-flung fields of knowledge in which the Vriinians and other sentient species had advanced far beyond humanity. Maarv was quietly astonished at the eagerness and curiosity with which his human companions absorbed every detail, adapting themselves so quickly to a universe that was, until recently, utterly unknown to them.
«You see, Maarv», they explained to him over yet another meal in the ship’s mess, where a vast oval viewport revealed the breathtaking immensity of space, “it’s like suddenly being admitted to a school of magic, where you can turn into anything you wish, enchant objects, or gain supernatural powers!”
Trying to explain the very notion of magic to Maarv, however, proved far from easy. The Vriinians had no such concept, for their culture had never known literature in the sense familiar to humankind. What they called literature was bound up with art and served purely aesthetic purposes. The Vriinians could perceive a far broader spectrum of colors than humans, shades and subtleties invisible to the human eye.
Maarv also explained how they managed to journey between galaxies.
«There are several very ancient races in the known universe», he began, his voice steady, though his eyes gleamed with quiet reverence, «that set out to explore the stars many millions of years ago. They move across the void, raising bridges between galaxies – what you call wormholes. Time for them is only a convention; they exist under their own physical laws. These bridges endure for ten or twelve thousand years on average, and then they close… only for new ones to appear elsewhere.»
As he spoke, he spread his hand across the air, and a shimmering holographic map bloomed into view before them. Points of light flared along the spiral arms of the Milky Way, marking the nearest of those ancient passages. «We have long since learned to recognize these bridges, to find them, to use them – as have many other races.»
He paused, resting a hand lightly on the glowing projection, as though feeling its pulse. «This knowledge transformed our lives. It opened the way to distant galaxies and made us part of a vast Galactic Empire. Yet the effects of such bridges on living organisms remain uncertain. That is why we rely on ships equipped with the most powerful and swift hypergraviton drives.»
A faint, almost mischievous smile touched his lips. «Just like our Armaon.»
«Who are the Star Masters?» Kane asked. «And why is our first route leading to them?»
«They are one of the most mature races known to us», Draam replied. «In their time, they helped us Vriinians when we were still young and had only just opened the path to the stars. Sadly, only few of them remain now, and most prefer to wander in small groups across different worlds. It was they who created the artificial sun of Ilion – a true wonder of the galaxy!»
«Many regard them as seers», added Maarv. «It is said that their prophecies almost always come true. Here, on Omera, stands their main temple with the High Priestess, and all Star Masters obey her without question. By the way, nearly all of them are telepaths, so you’d better keep an eye on your thoughts.»
Maarv chuckled, while Draam suddenly burst out laughing, as if recalling something amusing. Then he said, «You see, our thought process is multi-channeled. Alongside the main stream of reasoning, which some of the Star Master telepaths might be able to ‘hear’, there are several secondary ones. And that, I assure you, is not without its uses!»
«Exactly so», Maarv agreed. «And thanks to that very trait, on his last visit Draam managed to fleece them thoroughly at cards. I have a feeling that certain someones among them still remember it all too well. The problem is – those very someones are precisely the ones we need to see. So don’t expect a warm welcome.»
«Don’t worry», Draam reassured them. «I still have a few aces up my sleeve, so with any luck we’ll manage. Besides, who wouldn’t be glad to see old friends?»
Although the planet itself was open to visitors, the planetary defense grid immediately demanded the ship’s identification and the purpose of its arrival.
«Enjoy your stay», came a courteous voice through the speakers. «Proceed to the nearest spaceport of your stated destination, landing pad twenty-seven.»
Dressed in the uniforms of Vriinian star-scouts, Kane and John were nearly indistinguishable from Maarv and Draam. Along with their gear, each had been given a wrist communicator for staying in contact with one another and with Arma, who wished them a pleasant excursion and promptly sealed the hatches tight the moment they stepped off the ship.
«Just like a child who can’t wait to get rid of her parents for a while», Kane remarked. Then, with a crooked smile, he added, «Behave yourself and don’t make a mess.»
«I’ve seen your cabin, Kane», Arma retorted. «And I doubt you’d notice the difference even if I opened the hatches at night and let the local drifters settle in.»
