Homeworld united, p.1
Homeworld United, page 1
Homeworld United
T E BUTCHER
Copyright © 2022 by Tyler Butcher
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Part II
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part III
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Author Notes
Also by T E Butcher
Part One
Chapter
One
0430 (Mountain time), 8 October 2025
Main Hangar, S12, Area 51, Nevada
Among the many skills Staff Sergeant Henry G. Wells had accumulated over the course of his army career, the ability to catch meaningful sleep anywhere was chief among them. Sure, technological marvels surrounded him older than humanity and possibly the Earth. Sure, they were at war with a revanchist branch of an ancient Earth civilization, and the population of the hangar was split fairly evenly between from Earth or from space, but Tyr needed time to repair the ancient mothership buried underneath the Nevada sands.
So after his squad cleaned their weapons and topped off their water, Henry had them rack out. It seemed like the sensible thing to do. He got a solid six hours racked out between two metallic tubes before awakening to the red gaze of a Cyclops robot. Now, most people would have freaked out at the sight, and even more so when the robot began yammering in his indiscernible language the second he noticed Henry wake up.
“Galurang nomatche, korporonano jublix cerranao.” He paused briefly before adding, “bort.”
Henry groaned and rose to his feet, his back cracking as he stood.
“What do you want, Bort?” he asked before cracking his neck. “At least, I assume you’re Bort.”
“Bort.”
Henry sighed.
“Not helping, big guy.” He looked up at the ship overhead. Astreia had given him the rundown of the colossal vessel. For one, it was absurdly ancient, older than humanity, or even the dinosaurs. Speaking of dinosaurs . . . He stepped over to Krek and nudged the big M’Nok in the ribs.
The dinosaur man, wedged between the same cylinders Henry had slept on, hissed as he stood. He held a tablet in his hands and had fallen asleep watching, of all things, Wild Wild West.
“Come on, Krek, I think we’ve got an op coming up.” Henry pointed at the tablet. “Did you already run out of good Will Smith movies?”
Gingerly, Krek got to his feet.
“The Will Smith isn’t in bad movies, just good movies or good sleeping aids.”
Henry chuckled, and the two went about rousing the rest of Midnight November, with probably-Bort following them about.
“Oh good, you lads are up,” rumbled a voice that sounded like an avalanche in high definition. A metallic giant leaned under the massive ship as smaller spiderlike robots crawled about it. “I told your friend there to wake you up an hour ago. I have a task for you.” Bort rattled off a string of words that meant nothing to Henry, prompting a confused look from the giant, Tyr. “What do you mean they don’t understand you? I thought the M’Nok language translators had an index of over ten thousand!”
Bort stretched out his hands in front of him as he spoke.
“They were wiped out?” Tyr raised a finger. “You know, they shouldn’t have messed with probability-altering missiles. We told them not to, but—” Tyr paused and shrugged. “Oh well, guess your helmets need adjusting.”
Spider bots dropped off the hull of the ship above and fell among Midnight November’s gear, which had been staged dress right dress in an open space away from where they were sleeping. The bots scuttled amongst their equipment, scanning and tinkering with their helmets while they slept.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Henry waved his hands. “What are they doing?”
“Updating your translators,” Tyr said. “And that’s not even the biggest change. I’ve been repairing your armor, upgrading your sensors, chatting with Mikey, a pleasant lad I might add, and impregnating it.” Ari and Ozzie, M’Nok twins and the youngest members of Midnight November, dropped their jaws in the M’Nok equivalent of laughter. Tyr shook his head. “I mean the metal, numbskulls! The paint is part of it now, so it won’t chip and shine. I’ve also impregnated them with scrap armor plating from this beaut right here.” He affectionately patted her hull. “We just need two things: a set of solar cores and a pilot to link with the AI.”
Gene shrugged.
“You’re going to have to explain the solar cores thing to us, but the pilot isn’t a huge problem. We actually—” His face sunk as the realization hit all of them. “Shit, we left Rooth outside this whole time.”
“That’s fine,” a firm but fierce voice said behind them. Warrant Officer Astreia looked like she hadn’t slept all night. “Rooth should have enough supplies to last, and the Sugar Mama looks like a wreck. I doubt the enemy would have investigated too much. As for the solar cores, I believe he has your answers.”
She pointed to Five, a being that looked like the typical stereotype of a gray alien leaning against one of the supports holding the massive ship. Except he wore a black jacket, scarf, and a wool hat over his white jumpsuit and boots.
Without moving his lips or mouth, he replied,
“Our ship used a pair of solar cores in the engines, though I don’t know if that will be enough to power . . .” He pointed to the ship overhead. “This.”
Tyr waved a hand.
“Oh no, we don’t need them to power this, just to start the engines.”
Five’s features didn’t shift, but a wave of shock rolled across the room.
Henry shot the short alien a look.
“Are you sure we can just run off with part of your ship’s engines?”
“Well, it’s not like I can fly it without the pilot.” Five looked back at them. “Where would my ship be?”
“S2,” Henry replied before looking up at Tyr. “If we get the cores and the pilot, will this be ready to fly and fight?”
Tyr nodded and patted the side of the massive vessel.
“Oh, she’ll have legs and then some. I’ll give your Warrant Officer the full rundown while you lot are getting your pilot and the cores.”
Henry nodded and gestured for Midnight November to secure their gear.
Walking over to his own kit, he inspected it. He could see where his helmet and armor no longer looked painted, but rather like the metal itself was the sand and grass colorway. It had an odd feel to it as well, lighter than before, but also incredibly solid.
Donning his armor and helmet, he looked over his team and ensured everyone was ready to go. They were getting low on ammo for their spike rifles, but Henry doubted they’d experience any protracted battles. After all, they were getting in and out quick; no need for lengthy engagements.
“How are we transporting these cores?” he asked Five. “I assume, if it can power a starship, they’re dangerous enough to warrant special care?”
Five sat up and gestured for Bort to approach.
“They’re encased in shielding, so if it’s radiation you’re worried about, you can relax.”
“Well, that’s—”
“The shieldings are incredibly heavy, though, and the only way it doesn’t crater the ground under it is because of a gravity cradle. It’s impossible to carry by hand.” Henry blinked as Five set a hand on Bort’s shoulder. “Luckily, Tyr modified Bort’s backpack with a gravity cradle, so he’ll be the one to handle them.”
When Bort stepped into view, the HUD in Henry’s helmet updated. Archon Preserver Mark 3—Callsign “Bort”. Interesting. Those words don’t mean much to me, but it tells me Tyr knows more about the other robots. Tucking that knowledge into his back pocket, he gestured for the group to circle up.
“We’ll stick together until we get to S2,” Henry began. “Gene, Swayze, and Ari will go with Bort and Five to get these solar cores. Krek, Ozzie, Carlos, and myself will go grab Rooth.” He paused. “Anything to add, Junior?”
Mikey Junior, named after their late operations NCO, chimed in immediately.
“While you guys were snoozing, I synced all maps and data from every level. No isolated systems, no waiting on maps, and not only that, but we have all the shortcuts.”
Henry acknowledged as Mike populated a minimap in the corner of his eye.
“Alright Midnight, let’s move out!”
0530 (Mountain time), 8 October 2025
M’Nok North American Command Center, City of Inner Sea, Montana.
Qrora paced the room, circling the projection before him like the ancient predators he’d descended from.
“Run more passes, Gway,” he said. “I need something, hell, anything that will give us some answers or an advantage.”
A full summary of all the information Gway had collected on his brother, Qaroww, spun before him. His enhanced physiology, the known pieces of his past, and what they were finding in his genetics.
“Qrora.” The normally bubbly AI sounded worried, further aggravating Qrora. “We’ve run every test that we have. This is all we know.”
Qrora rested his scaled hands on his de sk and hissed.
“Well, let’s go over everything one more time. Maybe something will stick out.” His eyes felt heavy and sore, and he wagged a vestigial claw in the air. “I’ll put on some coffee again, Gway.”
“Well, I don’t recommend coffee, but seeing as how you’re already loading the K-pod, I doubt that’ll convince you.” With a sigh, she shifted the projector to an image of his wayward brother.
“From what we saw, Qaroww possesses enhanced strength and durability over the standard M’Nok of his age. We’ve seen him shrug off fire from spike rifles, which leads me to believe that his circulatory and nervous systems may have redundancies, as he continued to move quickly while being shot.”
Qrora nodded slowly, taking it all in as she spoke. He nudged his mug under the coffee maker and tapped the button. The rich scent of the warm beverage jolted his brain, and he felt some life creep into him.
“He was able to grow extra limbs and chitinous plates—how?” Qrora removed his mug and began sipping on the warm drink in his hands.
“In a roundabout way, through stem cells and cellular regeneration,” Gway said. “It appears to be similar in principle to the way our regeneration pods work.” An image of the egg-shaped incubator replaced the ghostly image of his brother. “Human and M’Nok are naturally covered in dead and dying skin cells. These cells are naturally replaced by a deeper layer of stem cells, while our machines harvest the vast amounts of dead and dying skin cells, revert them to stem cells, and reprogram them to serve whatever purpose the pod needs.”
With another swig of coffee, Qrora resumed pacing around the room.
“Last time I checked, he wasn’t lugging around a regeneration pod with him, and the pod can only regrow things according to your body’s blueprint for you. Now I don’t know about you, Gway, but I haven’t seen a M’Nok with crab legs or chitinous armor.” Qrora paused and looked at the projector. “So how is he doing that?”
“We detected aberrations in his gene sequence when we tested his blood,” Gway said. “It’s possible that these aberrations are some kind of implant or recessed blueprint. In theory, it would allow Qaroww to store the ‘blueprints’ for things like crab-like limbs or chitinous armor plating and grow them with his own reserves of stem cells.”
Qrora narrowed his eyes.
“It’s an interesting theory, but I have an issue with that,” he said. “I’m no biologist, but how would his base stem cells be able to sustain that? How does he grow these things so quickly, and what’s the black substance found in his blood?”
Gway fell silent. Qrora knew it was because she was devoting an impossible amount of power to pursue multiple trains of thought at once. Of course, she could have been pausing for dramatic effect, but since Chloe had gambled her life on Qrora’s ability to engineer a way to defeat Greith’s forces, Gway knew Qrora wasn’t in a mood for dramatic pauses.
“I have a few ideas,” she finally said. “To compensate for the sudden rapid growth of features not compatible with his biology, he probably eats like a horse. I’d estimate the amount of calories he’d burn would be comparable to an Olympic level athlete.” She switched the projector to an image of a vial filled with blackish fluid. “As for your first and last questions, I believe they’re connected.”
“Connected.” Qrora repeated the word as he set his mug under the coffeemaker and loaded a fresh pod. “How?”
“Well, we don’t have exact answers as to what the black substance is. We know it’s biological, but we’re having trouble identifying any unique DNA. There’s a lot of RNA, but I believe that this is merely the medium that Qaroww uses to manifest his abilities.”
Qrora tapped on the side of his mug as the coffeemaker spat up the rich liquid.
“And they found this black substance in the other M’Nok on Qaroww’s ship?”
“Roger dodger,” Gway said, some of her normal cheerfulness returning.
“Then I think it’s reasonable to assume that, whatever this substance is, it extends to the rest of the M’Nok that were aboard the Lost Light.” He ran a hand through the proto-feathers lining the top of his head. “I can’t articulate it, but Qaroww mentioned they found something out there which they could use to defeat the Blacktide.” He looked up at the substance before him. “I can’t help but think they’re linked, whatever they found and the Blacktide.”
“Why? Other than the black liquid, there’s little patterns I can see that would connect them.”
Qrora took his mug and walked across the room.
“We were never able to get a sample of the substance the Tidepools released once they’d made planet fall, but it was a black liquid.” He paced about his office, tapping his short snout as he thought. “We never saw them use technology like ours. All of their ships were biological in nature; all of their soldiers were horrible abominations.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Shot in the dark: whatever the core of the Blacktide was, they’ve manipulated their own biology to the point they’ve become unrecognizable.” He scratched at his head. “It could be the Lost Light M’Nok stumbled upon the same technological breakthrough the ancient Blacktide did, and their branch of the species is headed down a similar path.”
“Your theory has merit,” Gway replied. “But you’re running on fumes, Qrora. Ever since your brother made off towards the Lost Light with Chloe, you have not slept at all, you have not rested, you—”
“I’ll rest wh-when Chloe is safe in her home.” Qrora blinked back his own weariness and downed more coffee. “And as tired as I may be, I still trust my gut.” He looked back at the projector and narrowed his eyes.
“Bring up an image of the Lost Light,” he said as he began sipping his coffee.
The massive generation ship filled the image of the projector. Like the motherships he’d arrived on, it was a long massive cylinder, rotating to simulate gravity for its occupants as it unfurled a solar sail to provide light and supplemental power. Unlike the ships he’d arrived on, he could see the hull was patchwork, evidently repaired with parts from other vessels, as the irregular frame did not possess the clean lines typical of M’Nok architecture.
Where did those other parts come from? It unnerved Qrora, but the possibility that Greith’s forces had intercepted other M’Nok generation ships was on the table, definitely other ships. Had some of their old allies fled as they did? Only to be found by Greith and . . . consumed? His tired brain began whirring.
“Gway, are there any records of the old alliance races?” He sipped more coffee. “Specifically any that were fungus-based? Like the cannon fodder Greith’s forces have deployed?”
“We don’t have an exact match.” Gway shifted the image to show a brilliantly-colored organism resembling a mushroom fill the screen. “This is the closest I could find in the archives, though admittedly our records are incomplete.”
Qrora looked the image up and down.
“Well, it’s a start,” he said.
Chapter
Two
0545 (Mountain time), 8 October 2025
Bay 5, S2, Area 51, Nevada
“You guys are sure you’re good?” Henry asked as he stood on the outside of a large circular craft about the size of a Freddie’s, parking lot and all. He paced around a large rent in the side—according to Five, damage caused by lightning. The short alien’s excuse was their shields had been tuned to absorb radar as they didn’t expect energy projectiles on Earth, but he still found it ridiculous that such a sophisticated craft made after millions of years of research had been bodied by some bad weather.
“The cores are intact,” Five said. “The lightning just fried our engine. And the inertial dampers.”
Henry glanced at Krek as the big M’Nok cocked his head.
“Then how did you live?”
“They made me to keep the science team safe and the ship secure,” Five said. “So I’m a lot more durable than they were, and I heal faster.” The alien motioned for his half of the team to join him in the cramped confines of the ship. “We’ll get the cores. You recover your pilot.”
