The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [8]
“Hail them,” Archer ordered.
Hoshi complied, working her console; after a pause, she turned toward Archer. “They’re not responding.”
“Try again,” Archer said.
In the instant he spoke, he caught movement in his peripheral vision—swift and spiderlike flashes of red. One moved toward him from the side, two overhead.
The Suliban, Archer thought, just before the bridge went utterly dark ... then vanished completely.
* * *
The lights flickered, then came back on.
It was Malcolm Reed who noticed first that Archer’s chair was empty; he called out to the others.
“The Captain!”
Archer found himself standing in a small, dimly lit chamber; he had no doubt that he was now aboard the largest of the Suliban vessels, transported there instantaneously courtesy of future technology.
He had hardly time to draw in a breath and orient himself before Silik entered, flanked by two Suliban warriors.
Archer was not surprised; this was not his first encounter with Silik—a high-ranking officer in the Suliban Cabal, a mysterious organization from the twenty-second century, fighting in what he referred to as the Temporal Cold War.
Of all the aliens Archer had encountered, Silik still impressed him as the most exotic-looking. Though his body and features were clearly humanoid, he was entirely hairless, and his skin was a deep shade of olive green, stippled with rust. His eyes were bright, clear orange; combined with his red uniform, it made him an unsettlingly colorful creature.
It was hard to know, however, just how much of that coloration was natural for a Suliban; Silik bragged about his genetic enhancements, which he earned—or lost—depending on his performance as a soldier. He had little love for Archer, who had once cost him his visual enhancements.
Silik spoke immediately after entering, without explanation or greeting. “There’s someone who needs to speak with you.” He spoke in an elegant, rich bass. Natural or an enhancement? Archer wondered. He was lean and fluid in his movements, naturally graceful, and velvety in manner.
Archer looked on him with hatred. It could not be an accident that Silik had chosen to appear now, after the devastation on Earth; clearly, the two were connected. It was easy to envision a scenario where the temporal warrior had decided to conveniently remove certain humans who might one day in the future cause trouble for the Suliban. “I knew you had something to do with this.”
Silik’s expression was perpetually bland; either he was a master of self-control, or members of his race were not given to showing emotion using their facial muscles. “Do with what?” Impossible to tell whether he was lying—though the Captain had come to learn that most of the time, Silik was.
“Millions of people, Silik!” Archer’s tone was vicious, bitter. “You killed millions of people!”
Smoothly, Silik answered, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Outraged, Archer took a threatening step toward the Suliban; the two soldiers stepped forward, weapons raised, and blocked him.
Silik was unmoved by both the specter of violence and the thought of millions of human deaths. In the same self-composed manner, he said, “That wouldn’t be wise, Captain.”
“What the hell am I doing here?” Archer demanded. Grudgingly, he stepped back; the soldiers at once dropped back as well, and lowered their weapons.
“There’s someone who needs to speak with you,” Silik replied, regarding Archer calmly with his deep-set orange eyes. “He has information you should find helpful. Don’t worry, you won’t be harmed.”
“Information about what?”
“Something to do with your species,” Silik said. “It’s in great danger.” Even while discussing such an emotionally laden subject, he remained unmoved, distant, as though the human race and its fate were rhetorical subjects, centuries away from anything relevant.
Archer did not permit his expression and posture to cease radiating outrage—but Silik