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Prologue
The ship hummed in the peculiar way of zerospace, something you could only barely hear or feel, or sometimes even taste.
At least Brooks had always had that sense of the quasi-realm. Even in his study, deep in the heart of the ship, he could feel it as easily as at any other location. There was no shielding against it, and though it had long been deemed harmless, he found it both bothersome and comforting.
It was something interesting to consider, a sensation that humanity, nor any form of life had ever evolved to be used to – the feel of another dimension.
But that was not something he could focus on now. The business at hand demanded his attention.
“What are your results?” Brooks asked the two before him.
Urle and Cutter both set out a case containing pieces of the Hev weapons and equipment that had been recovered from their boarding parties.
As Brooks looked at them, holographic data tables appeared in his HUD over each piece.
“We can’t prove who made them,” Urle said flatly. “There are no direct traces of any major power’s tech in them. Not Glorian, not Aeena, not Tsabax Arms . . . none of them.”
Brooks looked to Cutter. “And this in itself tells us much,” the Beetle-Slug told him in his precise, clipped voice.
“Go on,” Brooks said, steepling his fingers.
“We have considered every piece of tech, symbol, design detail, material,” the Beetle-Slug said.
Urle continued. “On initial inspection, the designs are common, the parts are all off-the-shelf, they lack any symbols except those that the P’G’Maig added, and the materials were mined across numerous systems, mostly in independent space.”
“But looking close,” Cutter said. “We see each piece is finer. Fabricators used in production were better. Sought signs of fabricator origin – but even those were not produced by any specific power. Even tools used to put fabricators together were not identifiable.”
“You can tell the tools used in the fabricators that made the weapon?” Brooks asked.
“Sometimes. Infer from minor details – some tools may leave atomic-scale marks in certain elements of fabricator, which carry into fabricated weapon. These marks can be connected to tool designs and alloys favored by specific powers. No such traces exist.”
“So the machines that made the weapons were themselves made to give nothing away,” Brooks said.
“There is more,” Cutter said. “While all parts appear stock – they are not. They are common designs, but with expert eyes that corrected design flaws, increased efficiency, lightened and strengthened. They were meant to seem stock while being far more.”
“A great amount of effort was taken to make excellent weapons that looked close to garbage,” Urle summarized.
Brooks leaned back and took a deep breath. “So that means Aeena.”
Cutter hissed. “I possess no proof. But my lack of proof is my proof. I would place a bet of all I own on this.”
“You bet?” Urle asked.
“Only when I am certain to win,” Cutter replied.
That the Aeena – a xenophobic and reclusive species – would do such a thing and take every possible action to hide their involvement was news indeed. Decades ago, the Sapient Union had fought a war with them, after the Aeena ethnically cleansed several member systems. The war had been long and bloody, but the Aeena hated to lose anything, and had ultimately sued for peace.
But only, it seemed, for the open conflict.
“Good work, both of you,” Brooks said. “Submit all your data and I’ll forward it – include your conclusions and I’ll add my own stamp to it.”
“Have we had any more success with the Fesha ship? Been able to track anything down?” Urle asked.
“The ship had never been seen before, her radiation leakage rates suggested she was new but meant to look older – it’s the same story as these weapons.”
“Too much secrecy,” Cutter hissed. “Suspicious. Alarming.”
“If we’re seeing these clues, then there are surely others being found by other ships and intel teams,” Brooks noted. “Whatever the Aeena are up to – we will figure it out.”
Other Terrestrial 
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