Galaxy's End: Book One

by LeRoy Clary

  The crew was divided. About half believed Captain Stone was doing what she could to help the ship and them. The rest thought otherwise.

  Stone continued, “I want the usual good service for the passengers. They will be upset with the death of the captain, especially when they find out where we are headed. Do your best to calm them. As part of the settlement with the owners, I will insist the passengers be supplied transportation at no charge to their original destination, and of course, the crew deserves a generous bonus for the hazardous duty encountered.”

  A man she recognized as a steward who had waited on her earlier, asked, “Have you found the killer? I mean, the one that murdered our captain?”

  “Not yet.”

  They were uneasy but less tense than when the meeting began. Her eyes roamed over the six, including two of the engineers who hadn’t yet said a word. She had watched for telltale clues of their internal reactions as she spoke, anything that might indicate the killer, but all were within norms. They were angry, fearful, and unsure about her. All those were reasonable and expected reactions.

  The fear in their eyes was probably a residual from Kat’s empathy, but they wouldn’t know that. Everyone on the ship felt uneasy from her emanations. She directed the fear at those on the other ships, but it was like her efforts bled over to everyone on the Dreamer.

  If none of the crew besides the Champers was involved in killing the captain, that left one or more of the passengers as suspects. There were not many of us who were not part of the crew, and aside from herself, there were only four others she could exclude, which was her small group. Everyone else had to be considered a suspect.

  When she called the meeting with the passengers, there were only eight other travelers. They crowded into the galley and quietly took seats, most wearing the arrogant expressions of the wealthy privileged. Only those of high status or those working for rich companies could afford the expense of a ticket, even on a tramp starship. Rather than letting them ask imperious questions and try to take control of the meeting as they intended, Captain Stone cut off all conversation and repeated most of what she had told the crew.

  Again, her eyes watched carefully and found nothing to help her identify a killer or a being that was involved with pirates. She hadn’t expected to. Besides, with at least four distinct races represented, expressions became unreliable. After all, pulling lips back and baring teeth for a human displayed humor or being pleased. The same action with most predator races meant they were about to attack and probably eat you.

  However, one of them, possibly more, had killed the ship’s former captain and she had no doubt she was next on the list. They were all speaking at once, each trying to speak louder and make more dangerous threats than the others. However, their threats were more along the lines of filing lawsuits than physical. They were wealthy and typically used their positions to get their way.

  Stone had learned long ago how to handle a meeting efficiently. She reached for a dinner plate made of a ceramic as hard as steel, but light in weight. Perfect for use on a ship. Or for pounding on the nearest tabletop, softly at first, then harder and faster until she drummed out all conversation.

  When they had quieted, she spoke in the commanding tone of a starship captain addressing recruits, “Shut up or I walk out of here and leave you to your own devices. You can cook, clean, and feed yourselves, or you can cooperate with me. No second chances.”

  A stunned silence followed. She waited. It wouldn’t last long.

  A woman wearing far too much jewelry if she was on Roma, however, styles differ from planet to planet. She started speaking with a snarl, demanding she is treated as the passage she had paid for had promised.

  Captain Stone pounded the plate a few more times, drowning out anything else the woman may have said. The captain waited again, this time ready to spin on her heel and walk away, locking the door to the passageway behind her.

  Her father had taught her that. Make a claim and stick to it. She wouldn’t bluff. People can tell. They can also tell when they know you will do exactly as you say.

  The same frustrated woman started to speak again. An overdressed man beside her jabbed an elbow in her ribs.

  Captain Stone said formally, “I am now in command of this ship. Our new destination is through a series of wormholes that will take us almost to the opposite side of the human sphere. I will insist the owners of the ship pay your way to Franklin. They will gladly do that in return for possession of their ship. You will arrive back at Franklin only a brief time later than your original arrival time.”

  “Why are we going way over there?” A man asked politely.

  “Two reasons. The first is that I want to be sure we escape the pirates that were after us and I have no idea of how good their detection equipment is. It will be impossible for them to follow us. The second reason is that I want to go there because my ship has been relocated to that area.”

  She waited. Her second reason was a direct challenge to each of them. Which ones would argue? She watched for clues as to who might be working with the pirates and received nothing for her efforts.

  A woman sitting off to one side, who was not a human but dressed as one, said, “There is no such thing as a pirate. You have been watching too many old videos, I fear.”

  Instead of barking a return, Stone gave her a faint smile. “Until today, I’d have agreed with you. Maybe “pirates” is the wrong name. However, we had at least three ships intent on halting us and boarding. I have no way of knowing what they intended, but I do know they ordered the murder of the captain of this ship. I can suspect the death of the crew and passengers was a possibility.”

  The same woman said, “Let’s stick with pirates for a while. What did they do to earn that name from you? Besides, I’ve heard that a ship in transit cannot be boarded.”

  “I’ve heard that too. It’s true, for all I know, but what happens when a ship is ready to launch a missile unless this ship leaves warp-transit and return to normal space?” She waited while they digested that, then continued, “What these pirates appear to have done is that they placed several ships at the wormhole entrance, or nexus as we call it. One reason seems to have been to keep us from using that entrance portal.”

  “If they do that, then ships will not go near the entrance,” the first man said, as puzzled as the others seemed. “They will use other portals, once the word is out.”

  “Agreed. But the ships emerging from the wormhole are not yet in hyper-transit and the pirate ships can pen them up and threaten to fire their missiles before they enter warp. They can board the ships there and take whatever they wish.”

  “And do what? The cargo on a ship is not normally that valuable. Not enough to threaten the lives of all on a ship.” The speaker was a new woman, as big around as she was tall. Her tone was sharp and disbelieving.

  Stone knew it was time to end the meeting, but first, she decided to answer the woman in the same tone. “You are correct. There is only one valuable thing on a spaceship. You. Each of you. You’re rich, or the companies you work for will pay ransoms demanded for your return. With a gun to your temple, which of you will not provide the pirates with your biometrics and passwords into your accounts? All of them. You would supply the title to your homes and lands, mines, and companies. Please raise your hand if you think you will not provide that information, then use that hand to slap your face because you are lying.”

  Their expressions changed to ones of support for Captain Stone.

  Before they could respond, Stone slipped out the door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kat

  After using my empathic power on the “pirate” ships, I fell into a deep, troubled sleep. I was mentally exhausted. Weary didn’t even begin to describe it. There was little time between lying down and pulling the covers to my chin, and my mind blanking into a sleep that was almost a physical collapse.

  Dreams of Captain Stone ordering me to use my empathic power on thousands of p
eople filled my restless sleep, as did flesh-eating insectoids at the bottom of a pit. The dreams that followed were worse.

  In one, we were back at the Coliseum on Roma and she ordered me to encompass the entire crowd. “Kat, Scare them.” And “Kat, make everyone around you scared.” Of course, she hadn’t ever said those things, but that’s what filled my dreams, along with questions about how I would face others after what I’d done. How scared of me they would be if they knew what I’d done. If not scared, they would never trust me to not enter their minds.

  Worse, was the implication that such an event might happen. Even worse than that: It had already happened when I’d scared those on the ships chasing us.

  As I tossed and turned, my mind convulsed, and tried to justify what happened with the pirates. Convincing a street vendor to add a little more meat-and-cheese filling to a pocket sandwich was far different from what I’d done today.

  I’d never heard of such a thing. It seemed a wild tale. It would spread. People would talk and the story would grow with each telling and along with it, hate and fear. I would be killed publicly.

  When I woke, a sense of time had passed, far more than my normal sleep cycle. I needed the toilet, water, and food. In that order. My mind reviewed the happenings of the day before. While surprised that I had been able to shed my fears like a blanket thrown over a small child, that was not what held my interest. I had always accepted my empathic powers as part of me, as much as my thumbs. I appreciated the ability but also appreciated what my thumbs allowed me to do.

  This time, my mind seized on the larger picture. Pirates, the death of the ship’s captain, us taking command of the tramp starship. Even more than that, the interaction of the beings I cared about most, along with the new one, Fang. My gut said he would join us, and we’d be grateful.

  A steward stood in the hall when I opened the cabin door. She said respectfully, “Captain Stone requests you join her on the bridge after you awaken. I can show you the way.”

  “I know where it is.”

  “Is there anything you need?”

  “No,” I started to say, then reconsidered. My mouth was as dry as if it were full of sand. In contrast, if I didn’t use the toilet soon, I’d explode. “Bathroom and a drink.”

  “What would you like?”

  “I don’t care. Anything wet and cold.” I left her and shuffled down the passageway as I heard the steward open and close another door. I rushed to the bathroom.

  When I appeared, the steward waited, glass in hand. I emptied it. The hatch to the bridge was closed and locked so the wheel wouldn’t spin. I pushed the button to the side, a doorbell, and it almost instantly opened.

  The inside of the bridge had changed. Cots lined the far wall, three of them where they would be less in the way. People on duty would sleep there, I instantly understood. It was too dangerous to leave. We didn’t have enough trusted people to stand watches. Two more chairs were inside, the same kind as those in the dining room, where I assumed, they had come from. Fang occupied the same command seat as before, however, a pair of misters sprayed a thin film of water at him with a touch of his flipper.

  Captain Stone sat in the other command chair. Bill had a drill in one hand. He was fastening the second of the chairs from the galley to the floor. He pointed at the one already bolted in place. He was taking the engineering/mechanical thing seriously.

  I sat and waited.

  Bill finished and climbed into the second chair as a tap on the hatch sounded. The camera showed the steward holding a small tray with a glass and a small pitcher. When Captain Stone glanced at me, I said, “I asked for it.”

  She touched a button on her armrest and the hatch opened. The steward wordlessly strode to me, smiled, and placed the tray on a shelf at my side. She poured the glass and retreated.

  The click of sound told me the hatch was locked again. Nobody had spoken. It was worse than I feared. All eyes were on me.

  Captain Stone drew a breath and said, “That steward has been researched and approved by Bert. You can assume it is safe to drink. However, the person who injected the captain with poison is still aboard and unidentified. I suggest you use the water in the faucet in the corner.”

  “I see.” My abrupt response was because of my dry throat and a feeling of separation as if my friends were all afraid of me and were pulling away. I took a sip without choking then changed my mind and poured the water down the drain and refilled it from the spout. Bert is smart but he is not all-knowing. There was a murderer at large.

  The Captain continued, “Bert, how are your background checks coming?”

  “Five people are eliminated. Working on the others.” His voice came over the speaker.

  “Bert is in the Comm room?” I asked.

  “Yes, with a vetted crewman, and a cargo handler is standing guard outside the locked door. I have a camera on the crewman, just in case he’s attacked.”

  So much for Bert’s vetting. Even Captain Stone didn’t buy into it fully. I wouldn’t until Bert found the guilty one. I took a long drink and refilled the glass, feeling the eyes on me as if I were the featured stripper in a stim bar. I looked up and motioned with a wave of my hand for her to continue.

  “We’ve been working while you rested,” she said carefully. “We feel it is time for a meeting of the five of us.”

  Five? I counted on mental fingers. Yes, but only if Fang were included. I assumed he was now part of our little band. I said, “You want to know about me?”

  Captain Stone sighed. “I have never heard of what happened. Neither has any of us. Not a hint nor whisper.”

  I said nothing.

  She went on, “I confess to suggesting the idea. I hoped that if they came within boarding range you might influence them. I never anticipated what happened.”

  Bert’s voice came over the speaker directly over my head, “I can find nothing in my research that equates. There is little factual information to be located, so anything could have been suppressed.”

  “You are not supposed to research that subject,” I growled. “They will come for you.”

  “We have bigger worries than that,” Captain Stone said. “Bert is acting on my orders.”

  She might not understand, but I held my tongue—for now. The damage, if there was any, had already been done.

  Bert spoke again as if he knew my thoughts, “Kat, there is no record of what you did, so I approached the issue obliquely. There is no information I can find that either limit the distance an empath can affect others or limiting the same.”

  “Nothing?” I muttered.

  Bert replied, “That does not mean much. As I said, the information may have been purged, however removing all sources of information is almost impossible. There are data stored in the oddest places, not all of them on the usual networks. I’m still looking. It is also possible that your episode did nothing but scare those of us on this ship.”

  “They fled from us.”

  “They were not warships. Their crews were civilians. When we turned and “attacked” they might have turned without your help. When one broke formation, it would be reasonable that the others would also.”

  “And if they come after you for researching the subject?” I snapped.

  “Our captain has informed us, while you were napping, that not only will the Guardia be renamed and rebranded, but each of us will have the best possible new identities that universal credits can purchase.”

  “I was not ‘napping,’” I snarled. “Besides, we’re talking about the government of an entire world and you think they can’t find us?”

  Captain Stone spoke first. “There are thousands of worlds, each with their information banks. None can hold a small fraction of the total, even if the systems were compatible and could exchange information. My people will use remote identification that will have your history listed on backwater planets where part of the data have been destroyed by war or worse. In short, your new identities will hold up to scrutiny.”<
br />
  “DNA?” I asked, thinking I had found the chink in her argument.

  She spat a laugh before catching herself. “Kat, when and why have the governments of several planets isolated by dozens of lightyears, gathered your DNA?”

  Okay, she was right. Bert may have allowed his DNA to be gathered because of his long life, but I saw no reason for Bill or me to have ever been recorded. Besides, she was right in the complexity of the various computer systems. Not only did they not speak the same computer languages, but some systems were thousands of years old, while others were only dozens.

  If we were traced with DNA on one planet, it would take months to request DNA identification from the nearest planets—and not all of them would provide that information. Many were enemies or distrusted other planets and their inhabitants. All was not peace and harmony between worlds. I turned to Captain Stone. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

  She nodded and said, “It was one thing when you were stuck on a single planet. It’s amazing what a bankroll of credits can purchase on certain worlds and habitats.”

  I had other thoughts. I asked Bert, “Fang said the Malabar, and the Bright, are probably the other bounty hunters. I assume you checked them out first as the possible ones who killed the captain?”

  Bert said, “Yes. They are no longer wishing to try claiming the reward as both wish to survive this transit. Neither appears to be the one working with the Champers.”

  So, we still had a murderer on the loose. And we had a pair of bounty hunters we couldn’t trust. That didn’t make me feel better.

  I sighed inwardly and mentally checked off everything physical and found myself fine, even my mind seemed normal, and any lingering fear was normal. I said, “I had no idea I could do that stuff with the other ships.”

  “Which part?” Captain Stone asked as she watched me carefully as if thinking she had broken something inside my head, and maybe she had. Her voice was softer, more caring. “You already knew you could sway a person’s choices.”