Chapter 4 of The Epherium Chronicles: Echoes

1. The Epherium Chronicles: Echoes
By T.D. Wilson
Carina Press, Harlequin Ltd.
Chapter 4
On the Command Deck of the Armstrong, Hood made one final check of the repair crew’s status
then walked to the Tactical Station. Commander Sanchez and Lieutenant Aldridge were already
waiting for him. It had been a long twenty-four hours since they’d had to race to the Cestus’s
rescue. The repair teams had worked around the clock to attach a maintenance drive to her hull,
but the effort was worth it. The devastated cruiser was almost ready to jump back to the orbital
repair platform near Cygni 4. Hood was eager for answers and he needed them soon.
“Commander, you said you have definitive intelligence about the attack. What is it?”
“We do, sir,” Sanchez began. The pensive expression on his face told him it wasn’t all
good news. “But it’s more what we didn’t find.”
Hood gave his XO a skeptical look. “I don’t follow.”
Sanchez gestured to Aldridge, who brought up a detailed representation of the Cestus and
the debris field after the attack. She pointed to three areas along the Cestus’s hull. “Sir, our
analysis shows that these holes were caused by a high-powered explosive. The tears are outward
in each case, which means that whatever hit her pierced the hull first and then exploded.”
“I see,” Hood said as he studied the visual of the cruiser. “The Cilik’ti Stinger missiles
can do just that. So what’s missing?”
Aldridge highlighted several more areas across the external superstructure of the cruiser.
“These are the major locations of hull damage. All the others are all secondary ruptures. There
aren’t any melted armor plates or scorch marks from particle cannon fire. If a Cilik’ti ship hit
her, there should have been evidence.”
Hood shook his head. “Any Cilik’ti ship would have seen the state of the Cestus and sent
in drones to finish her off. They could’ve stayed far out of her limited range and decimated her.”
Sanchez’s deep frown spoke volumes about his sensitivity toward his former ship. “True,
but why didn’t they? According to the Cestus’s logs, they had ample time before we arrived and
they got in close. Close enough for her damaged sensors to see them.” He paused and looked at
Aldridge, who seemed to have come to the same conclusion. “If their weapons were limited,
maybe they had to.”
“What about the video logs from the external cameras? Did they pick up the ship or any
drones?” Hood asked, hoping to narrow down the answer.
“Negative on the video logs, sir,” Aldridge replied. “Lieutenant Commander Turnbow
mentioned that their combatant used powerful countermeasures against them. It scrambled just

2. about everything, but from the garbled glimpses we did get, the ship isn’t that big. The sensor
logs and crew testimonies confirm it.” She pointed to the edges of the debris field. “Our scans
did detect the remains of Cilik’ti drones in the debris field, but they’re only from drone fighters.
Based on what I can find about the state of their point defense guns, hitting a target that small
without tracking would have been a million to one shot.”
Hood didn’t say anything. He just stared at the images of the cruiser.
Sanchez brought up another window on the terminal. “Sir, the Cestus managed to launch
two fighters during the attack. We recovered just one transponder and flight recorder from the
debris field.” He pointed to the location, which was several kilometers away from the position
where they’d encountered the Cestus. “According to the data, that fighter was destroyed
moments after she launched. The ship logs show the second made it out minutes later, but there’s
no trace of her.”
Still in silent thought, Hood stroked his chin with two fingers. Without saying a word, he
leaned forward and selected a Cestus video log from the list displayed on Aldridge’s terminal. It
was the internal fighter bay cam. He fast-forwarded the video until he found what he wanted. A
lone figure ran into the bay in a flight suit. A secondary explosion rocked the bay, and the person
struggled to keep his feet. The catapult still held a fighter to launch, but its mechanisms were
crippled. The man climbed up the ladder to the landing near the fighter’s canopy and hopped
inside. Moments later, the fighter’s engines ignited, the prelaunch clamps holding the fighter
snapped and the small craft edged its way out of the bay and into open space.
Hood rewound the video and zoomed in closer on the pilot. Elation and relief washed
over him when he saw the nameplate on his left breast.
“That’s Captain Styles!” Sanchez announced. “He did make it out. But where did he go?”
Aldridge shrugged. “The entire investigation team has scoured every bit of data we could
gather about the surrounding area and the debris field. There’s no trace of the second fighter.”
“They took him.” Anger was already beginning to swell in Hood’s voice.
Aldridge glanced up at Hood, but his eyes still focused on the nameplate on the screen.
“Sir, I think we know who was responsible for the attack, but why would they try to mask it?
Surely they had to know we’d be able to see through it.”
Images of the asteroid field incident from a few weeks before flooded Hood’s mind. “Of
course they did.” He reached past Aldridge and closed down the images of the Cestus on her
terminal. “They knew we’d be here. The attack was a test. It was meant to send us a warning.”
“Sir?” Sanchez and Aldridge questioned in unison.
Hood panned around the Command Deck, pausing at the other stations to observe his
diligent crew perform their functions. At last, his vision settled back on Sanchez and Aldridge.
“They wanted to let us know they can hurt us, that we won’t see the next one coming and there’s
little we can do to stop them.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long exhale, taking a little
of the stress of the realization along with it. “Lieutenant, analyze every piece of data regarding
the countermeasures used against the Cestus. If our systems can penetrate it, let’s use it to our
full advantage. If not, find a weakness.”

3. “On it. I’ll let you know what I find.”
Hood and Sanchez left Aldridge to her work and moved to the Command Station.
“They’re confident now, Raf, and they’re getting bolder.”
Sanchez agreed. “Sir, what about Captain Styles? There’s no guarantee whoever attacked
his ship abducted him. If his fighter’s still out there, we need to resume the search.”
Hood could sense Sanchez’s apprehension. He had no desire to believe it either.
“Commander, we’ve done all we can. We’re going to escort the Gresham back to Cygni with the
Cestus. I’ve already ordered the Isis and Repulse to jump back here and search the debris field
for any more intel.” His voice was stern now. “I’ll have them do a staggered sensor sweep to the
best possible range of his fighter. Raf, if there was a remote chance, I’d be out there with you
looking for him, but our sensors would’ve detected its trail. There isn’t any trace.”
Sanchez gritted his teeth at first, but relaxed.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” Hood assured him. When we do, the people involved in
this had better pray hell isn’t real. He clenched his jaw as images of his helpless friend came to
mind once again. Because I’m going to send them there.
Nestled into the back corner of his new quarters aboard the Armstrong, Kree sat in silence. The
large metal room had once been a storage locker close to the medical bay, but Captain Hood’s
aide Mr. Martin had it cleared and converted to accommodations of his suiting. The choices on
board were limited, and this was one of the few rooms with a door wide enough for him to pass
unhindered.
The lights were dim, and Kree liked it that way. He’d grown accustomed to the darkness
of the cave in the canyon he’d called home while on Cygni 4. Undisturbed by the light, he could
focus on other things. The darkness brought silence and serenity, and he could listen. But it
wasn’t sounds Kree was trying to detect. His mind stretched out from the boundaries of his room
into other areas of the ship. Upon finding new crew members in each area, he listened and held
out hope he could hear surface thoughts or feel their emotions. Even with all the activity on
board over the past few hours, there wasn’t anyone he could sense—except one. Regardless of
where he focused his mind around the ship, Kree could sense Jillian Howard’s thoughts. He
could feel her anxiety and concern for those injured or dead aboard the Cestus.
Captain Hood had come to see him about the incident with the cruiser a few minutes
earlier. The human captain’s demeanor had conveyed it as an official inquiry for Cilik’ti
involvement in the attack, but what Kree couldn’t sense from his thoughts or emotions, he’d read
in Hood’s body language. Over the past several weeks studying humans, Kree had spent a
significant amount of his time focusing on their nonverbal communication. He was sure Hood
knew who the real attackers were and was indirectly asking for his, or rather, the N’lan’s help in
locating them.
Kree had reached out to the Ota elders of the N’lan, but their response had been less than
enthusiastic. Ut’liss and the other members of the Hal’ta, the leadership of the N’lan, were in

4. deep meditation while communicating with the rest of the Shi Council and were not to be
disturbed.
Kree raised his head and tilted it sideways as he concentrated. He could feel the sensation
of a space-fold jump event about to occur and braced for it. An unprepared Cilik’ti mind during a
jump could be sent into a whirlwind, leaving the victim incapacitated for hours. On board the
Armstrong, the effects would be unpredictable. Human jump drives were raw and unrefined
compared to those of the Shi. If he was in midcommunication with his Shi at Cygni during the
Armstrong’s jump, he might be rendered unconscious for days.
A few moments later, the jump completed. He reached out with his thoughts again. There
were more voices now. The ship had returned to Cygni 4, and he recognized the minds of the
other colonists there.
He stood from his quasi comfortable position on the floor and walked toward the center
of the room, filling it with the sounds of metallic pings as he skittered. The single piece of
furniture he required was a long table, which was adorned with several small objects Kree had
brought on board. The items had been scanned several times by security to verify they were
indeed not weapons—despite his declaration of their use. He understood their precautions and
was sure if humans had come on board a Cilik’ti vessel, the situation would’ve been the same.
To his left was his translator device. Just to the right of it were several packets of
compressed pellets. The olive-green oval tablets each contained enough organic sustenance for a
full-grown Cilik’ti for several days. After all his analysis of human behavior, Kree was still
unsure of their dietary choices. He made certain to bring plenty of nourishment, should he be
asked to stay on board for a considerable amount of time.
But he wasn’t hungry and moved on to the last two items on the table. The first was a
triangular-shaped device with pointed crystals at the ends. His Kiri’na. Few Cilik’ti from each
Shi could master the art of long-range telepathy, and the Kiri’na was the tool to harness their
focus. All members of the Hal’ta used them for extended periods of time, and warriors dedicated
to intership communication and reconnaissance spent years training with the devices. The Ota
were the engineers of each Shi and developed the Kiri’na, but it was rare that any Ota could
master one. Kree was the exception. He’d been identified as a strong telepath since his birthing
and it came as no surprise to the N’lan Ota elders that Kree would one day use a Kiri’na to serve
his Shi. Even standing close to the device, he could sense it with his mind.
He let the temptation to use the Kiri’na pass and picked up the last item on the table with
his lower right hand. The green metallic box housed a complex matrix of crystals, which glowed
with a pale light as it activated. The crystals stored all of his observational data on humans to
date, but it also held his research related to the beacon he discovered on Cygni 4.
His mission to investigate and observe humans on Cygni wasn’t the only task entrusted to
him by his Shi. Uncovering the beacon and deciphering the information it contained was of high
value to the N’lan. If the legends were true, he’d unlocked a treasure any Shi would risk its own
status on the council to obtain. The beacon was close to his cave on the planet, but the humans
had discovered it too when they’d explored the canyon.

5. During his brief communication with Ut’liss before she’d boarded her ship, the leader of
the N’lan had instructed him to continue his work with the beacon and unlock all its secrets.
She’d warned him that the beacon belonged to the Shi and, despite the recent diplomatic
successes, under no condition were humans permitted to access it. He was to keep her apprised
of any developments.
Kree had silently accepted his charge from Ut’liss, but his agreement contained an
omission. He was already aware that Lieutenant Wells had been studying the beacon and
managed to decipher the code to unlock it. It would be only a matter of time before she
understood what she’d discovered.
Kree focused his mind on the data recorder and started to catalog his latest observations,
but paused in midthought. He’d never failed to offer any valuable information to an elder of his
Shi before and to disobey a command from a member of the Hal’ta—let alone Ut’liss—could be
punishable by banishment or death.
He shuddered. Why had this one defied her command? He thought about it for a moment.
His time among humans and the relationships he’d formed with a few of them had already put
him in direct confrontation with the elders of his Shi. Before the recent battle at Cygni, he’d
shamed them in an effort to make them understand their culpability in the scheme set forth by the
Chi’tan and their allies. He knew there was no other way to bring their dishonor to light. But now
he realized he was protecting his friends for a different reason. He feared for them. Accessing the
beacon was dangerous. If the other Shi should ever realize that humans had the knowledge the
beacon possessed, the effort to obtain it from them by force would make the Chi’tan K’rveen
look like a skirmish.
He needed time—time to dissuade Lieutenant Wells from her research. If he couldn’t,
would he risk sabotaging her progress? What would Jillian Howard think of him then? She was
his first and closest human friend.
He lowered his head and shook it slowly from side to side. His whole world was in an
upheaval. He wanted it to be simple again, but there was no turning back now.
“Ota!” The words thundered inside his mind, and he staggered backward.
“Answer us, Ota!” He heard several voices echoing the command. The N’lan Hal’ta
elders were calling to him in unison.
He buried his worries and thoughts regarding the beacon deep in the recesses of his mind
and opened his thoughts to the leadership of his Shi. “This one hears you, great Hal’ta elders. Do
you have a response to this one’s message from Captain Hood?”
“Captain Hood’s troubles are his own, Ota,” a single voice answered. It was Ut’liss
speaking to him now and her voice was stern and serious. “The N’lan have new matters that
outweigh the need to find a single human vessel.”
Ut’liss’s next words froze his blood. In shock, he dropped his data recorder. A clang
echoed in the room as the device struck the metal floor, and the elegant crystals inside shattered
into tiny pieces.