Galaxy's End: Book One

by LeRoy Clary

  She was right. But that’s all I could do, or so I’d believed. I could gently sway a decision or push a person in one direction or another, people who were usually located within a few steps of me. That was my only choice. My simplistic explanation was that I believed if a person came to a fork in a country road, I could influence them to take either.

  To be clear, that is not the same as making them take either fork. Nor is it a fact that I could do so. My beliefs are the result of studies and tests performed by two young teenagers without formal training—or schooling. We made it up as we went along.

  Bill and I had learned to read via autonomic teachings, like everyone else. No teachers, classrooms, or spirited discussion. We’d gone to sleep in a government training center one night and the next morning we could read. However, knowing the words is not the same as understanding them. It took us years to understand that concept and begin to comprehend what we read. Not that we read much. Mostly things to do with daily life, like the names of stores and what they sold.

  What we devised for my abilities came from not understanding how to intelligently design tests to accurately decide if I had empathic powers, or how strong they were. There were hundreds of things we hadn’t tested because we either didn’t know how or hadn’t thought of it. To us, it was almost a game.

  “Which part?” I repeated Captain Stone’s words to stall answering directly. “I mean, I had no idea that I could make my thoughts known across such a distance. Those ships were hundreds of kilometers away, right? I’m not sure what you want to know.”

  “Much farther than that. Add a couple of zeros to your estimate. Let’s start with the basic idea of ‘fear’ instead of the idea of simply swaying a person’s decision. The second could almost be the result of your body language, a sweet smile, an irritated expression, and so on. But transmitting, if that is the right term, a feeling is unheard of. At least, by me.”

  She was a starship captain, and I was a girl of what we guessed were fifteen years. Maybe sixteen. I had shared the secret of my ability to change or influence minds only with Bill. Nobody else. Now, in a matter of days, four people knew my secret. Which brought up the subject that she also shared her related power. We had not discussed that. Perhaps that anti-empathic power gave her more insights.

  Captain Stone could detect empaths when they touched her mind. She hadn’t fully explained that, nor truthfully acknowledged it to any degree. But I had seen her reactions at the arena. I knew. She was keeping her secret to herself. I wondered if she had performed tests on herself that might shed stray information on my skills, or even better, be able to test and expand mine.

  I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Trust was earned in my world. She had earned some of mine, not all. I was still wary. We hadn’t had time to discuss much of a lot of things I wanted to know. Events had been happening too fast.

  I said, “Putting fear into their minds was a surprise to me, too.”

  Stone said, “You put it in all our minds, not just theirs.”

  “Lack of control is the best explanation. But they were so far away, in other ships, I had to push like never before.”

  Stone looked into my eyes, probably trying to decide if I held back or was lying. Maybe to try understanding. She said, “Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me all you know about empathy.”

  “Bert says that I’m never to research it because those opposed will track me down. He says it is like advertising I know something or someone if I even do a single computer search. What I’m saying is that I know almost nothing of it because where would I find out?”

  “However, you do know. At least, a little.”

  “A little. Bill and I made up some tests when we were younger. They might not be correct.”

  Captain Stone smiled. Not much. Just a little as her eyes narrowed and she considered my answer. She said, “Very wise of both of you to keep it all to yourselves. Bert gave you solid advice.”

  “What about you? You sensed at the arena I was influencing you—or trying to.” I noticed the change in Bill’s posture. He didn’t know that. Fang slowly turned enquiring eyestalks in her direction.

  A silence filled the room as if each of us had lost the ability to hear. Eyes slowly moved from one to another until all focused on the captain. On their way to her, they paused at me long enough to accuse me of revealing something I should have kept to myself.

  The captain drew a long breath and seemed to dismiss my revelation. “Yes, you are correct. I am sensitive to empaths. You are only the third one I’ve been in contact with. One was captured by authorities and her contact with me ceased after that. I assume she died at the hands of her captors. My guess is that a government or university has her brain in one of their labs to study. I also assume she killed herself to avoid what was about to happen.”

  “Okay, I’m the third. What about number two?”

  “Less than a short year ago. A man. Old. Never met him. He was and may still be on Trager Three, a small moon near a wormhole transit point. We carried fish embryos as cargo to that world. He tried to influence my destination. I never understood his intent with the embryos, but he wanted them.”

  “You detected him as you did me?”

  “Yes. I think he knew that I sensed him, and I reacted by shutting him off and breaking contact. I was almost in a panic. He also pulled back from the contact. Fled would be a better description.”

  “That’s all?”

  “No. When I was almost asleep that night, I felt his touch again. Gentle. Like a whisper on a windy evening. Instead of sleeping, I remained awake and waited. Listening, if that is the correct word to describe it.”

  “He returned?”

  “Yes. Soothing as a soft rain. He suggested I had imagined the earlier attempt to sway my thoughts, like something found in a daydream. He tried to convince me that while I thought it had happened, it was not real. He also made it seem as if I wanted to deliver the embryos to his world and sell them to him when I met him. He would appear friendly and honest. A man I wanted to do business with.”

  I considered her description of his actions during a pause in the captain’s speech. The old man was smart. Nudge a person to make a choice, then later convince them it was their idea the entire time. I learned something useful there, something I might use one day. It was like the perfect crime Bill and I had imagined and discussed many times. If a victim never knows a crime is committed, they will never report it.

  The perfect case for my empathy was to help a person make the choice I wanted then later convince them it had been their desire the whole time. It deserved more thought. I said, “You never met him?”

  “No. My ship passed through Trager Three several more times and I never felt his mental touch again.”

  An idea grew and matured almost instantly. “Why would he want the fish taken to a different place than they were contracted to go? Maybe because that was where he was going. He may live on a planet with seas but no fish.”

  “I came to much the same conclusion. A time may come when I visit the planet where he wanted me to deliver the fish. Now that I know about you, that time might come sooner. If I can detect him again, the two of you might get to know each other. It seems he may have things to teach you.”

  “How do you know his sex and age?”

  “I cannot explain that, but it’s the same as with you. I knew you were female and young with your first mental touch. It is simply an overall impression you send with your messages. My idea is that if we can find him, he may help you understand and improve your abilities. Become a teacher for you.”

  That was interesting. He may have learned a lot in his lifetime.

  I needed to talk to Bill and Bert before making decisions. However, my outlook was far better. There seemed a future for me. At least, a possibility.

  As much as I was calculating my uncertain future, I caught Captain Stone doing the same. Her intense concentration gave away her intentions. For the briefest moment, I h
ad the urge to use my empathic abilities to convince her to take us all into her care as crewmen, which was silly because that was already decided. It was just a stray thought emanating from my frustrations.

  I’d once heard a tale of a man and wife who couldn’t have children. Through a series of humorous accidents, they became the parents of ten kids. That made me chuckle because it seemed Captain Stone was like those parents.

  I also wondered what the rest of the crew of her ship would think when we came aboard the Guardia—if we did. There was still uncertainty. At least, in my mind. Her existing crew might not readily accept four new crewmen, none of whom knew the least thing about trading between planets.

  My attention shifted. “Stone, I never knew there were pirates. I thought they were just stories, like everyone else.”

  “There are no pirates. At least, not like entertainment videos depict. However, taking over a wormhole transition point is a political or military action I’ve never heard of. There have been planets that guarded their nexus, and even charged fees for transitions, but almost all agree they should be free and accessible for everyone. It is hard to stand against all other civilized races.”

  I realized there was a flaw in her explanation. “It seems like an effective way to earn credits, at least, for a short time. I’d think more people would do it.”

  “The problem is that they set themselves up against every other planet. Nobody wants a small group controlling travel. War is rare but a trade embargo is not. Cut off trade and a planet suffers. It’s one of the few things we agree on.”

  That made sense. “So, you think the pirates are free-lancers who are there on a temporarily?”

  “For an unknown reason.” She settled back and allowed herself time to think. It was not that she was rude or putting me off, but rather trying to think of the best answer. I waited.

  While she thought about that, I shifted my mind to review what she was trying to tell us. There are no pirates, but there are pirates. Within that convoluted statement lay the truth. I only had to figure it out.

  I also had to think ahead to my future. Also, to the futures of my friends. A few days ago, we lived in a makeshift tent trying to earn enough to ensure we ate for a few more days. Today I sat across from a starship captain addressing her as an equal.

  It didn’t make sense. My mind hadn’t yet grasped all that had happened, let alone what we were planning.

  Captain Stone turned to me. “Planets have gone to war over the control of entrances to wormholes. A ship might travel in warp for weeks or months, even years, to travel the distance a wormhole carries a ship in a microsecond. Without them, the universe would be a different place.”

  “But why control one?”

  “If worlds are fighting, supplies can be either carried or halted at the nexus. But pirates? I see no use for them to try the same. It just does not make sense.”

  I had a glimmer of a thought, then followed it and came to an answer I didn’t like. “There is one reason they might do it.”

  “Which is?”

  “They might not want to control the nexus but to intercept a specific ship heading there. It is a junction, a place where a ship departing from one world and heading for another will be.”

  She calmly waited for me to continue.

  I said, “Nothing and nobody on this ship is worth going to all that trouble . . . except for you.”

  Her face flashed puzzlement, then anger, and disbelief in a series of contortions as she realized I might be right. She said, “I’m not important.”

  “You’re the one that booked tickets on this ship at the last moment. Anyone on the crew or the other passengers could have been apprehended on Roma. That leaves the four of us. I assure you that Bert, Bill, and I are not important enough to send a single police officer our way. Hell, nobody in the government even knows we exist. That leaves you.”

  Captain Stone went deadly quiet as she allowed herself to follow my reasoning. Suddenly, she sat upright. “It’s not me. It’s the Guardia they’re after.”

  I smiled in understanding. “The ship managed to get away while you remained on Roma. You’re the captain. You will lead the pirates to your ship.”

  “But they cannot follow in a wormhole. Only I know the destination of my ship.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Captain Stone

  She sat across from Kat and reviewed their conversation up until now. The pirates, smugglers, thieves, or militia of a world unknown had planned to capture her at the wormhole nexus. Stone was certain of that. It made sense. With drugs, torture, or whatever it took, they would drag the location of the Guardia from her. That was their target.

  The ship was valuable, but so were all others. Why single out the Guardia? While she considered the ship special in many ways, and it was her only home, the singular thing special about it to others must be the cargo it carried.

  That was the only reasonable explanation.

  The Guardia had carried valuables before, in fact, on every trip it carried valuables, or the owners wouldn’t pay the enormous price to ship them. You don’t ship trash on an interstellar ship. She had carried priceless antiques, ancient works of art, cut and uncut jewels, mechanical repair parts, computer memory cubes, and more. However, nothing came to mind that would cause others to close off a wormhole to try to intercept her ship.

  Stone said to Kat, “Take a nap, eat a meal, and then meet with us on the bridge.”

  She left Kat and strode purposefully down the passageway, pausing at the door to the passenger’s lounge. She opened it and entered, ignoring the immediate silence and the eyes drawn to her. While the pirates and her cargo were both problems to solve, the more immediate one was to decide which of the passengers had killed the previous captain.

  She didn’t want the same thing happening to her.

  No, she corrected herself in sudden inspiration. Two of them were bounty hunters, already identified and confessed. The other passengers were unlikely suspects for the murder. Possibly one of them was guilty. Bert was doing background dives into his computers on each of them. Nothing out of the ordinary had appeared.

  But the original captain had been murdered on his bridge, she thought. The bridge of his ship. No captain, not even on the smallest ship, ever allowed passengers on the bridge. That pointed to the crew.

  The simple lock of a pin made of metal the size of her little finger inserted into a hole in the door prevented the opening wheel from turning. It was standard on the entries of all bridges. That was an effective method of keeping unwanted people from entering. A cutting torch or similar tool could slice through it, but that was not the point.

  The pin was intact. The shiny surface showed it was standard practice to slip it into place and had been that way for years. Nobody had forced their way inside.

  Therefore, they were wasting their time trying to figure out which passenger had killed him. It had been a crewman. Not the Champers. But instead of a perpetrator bribing one crewman, they had bribed two. Bribes, threats, or other inducements; it made no difference. It had to have been one of the crewmembers that did it.

  Stone started to order a beverage from a nearby steward and paused. A steward always had access to the bridge, perhaps even stood duty watches there. Some did. The number of crewmen on any ship was limited. Any of a thousand poisons or drugs could kill or incapacitate her if slipped into a drink and if anyone had those intentions for her, a steward was the obvious choice.

  Captain Stone decided one of “her” people had to prepare and deliver all food and drink to her four new crewmen until they found the murderer. She said in a friendlier voice, “I have a few moments if any of you want to ask me questions.”

  “How much longer is the trip going to be?” The speaker was reptilian, his skin wrinkled and leathery. The words sounded from a voice box on a thong looped around his neck.

  Stone considered her answer, then decided to deflect. The timing was not great compared to the threat they face
d. “Is there a specific concern?”

  “I am a Vector. There is a hatching ceremony on my planet I wish to attend.”

  “I see,” Stone said compassionately. Now that she had all but excluded passengers as suspects, she had more flexibility in her response. “I believe less than ten standard days of total delay. Perhaps less.”

  “Acceptable,” he growled, then held up one claw and flicked it at her as if it were a compliment or he was appreciative of the direct answer.

  An overweight human woman moved aggressively a few steps closer. She was draped in gold chains, many of them encrusted with gems that twinkled in the soft light. “You have no authority, and you are not the real captain of this ship. I insist we go directly to Franklin, as intended.”

  Stone held her temper. She said with an exaggerated shrug, “If you insist, I’ll step down and you may do it. Tell the pilot on the bridge he is relieved of the additional duty he is taking on, because he is a passenger, just like you.”

  The woman paused just as she was about to make her wealth and power known when Stone refused. The woman was confused. Her eyes narrowed. “You agree with me?”

  “I’m sure this ship has lifeboats in good condition. We can put you and your belongings in one and program it to travel directly to Franklin. Normally, that would be a reasonable request,” Captain Stone lied. “However, your choice does surprise me. In my professional opinion, the pirates will certainly destroy the lifeboat as it nears the nexus. It will be identified as from this ship and thus destroyed.”

  “No, I want the Dreamer to take me there! Not a lifeboat.”

  “They will destroy this ship too. Probably quicker. Within a few microseconds of emerging into normal space, the first missiles will strike. But I’m not the real captain of this ship, so why don’t we take a vote? Who wants to aim for the Franklin nexus and get killed? Please raise your hands, paws, or flippers.”