Cira stared at her mother, but it was Tink who said, “It looks like someone finally developed a transdimensional drive.”
“Worse, they seem to have figured out how to use a ship’s existing power supply and systems to make it work.” Meida sighed and leaned back in her chair to look at her audience. “From what I just uncovered, there are only a few more steps between Pax Novis and a trip so far away from occupied space, we’d never see a city again. Not in our lifetimes.”
“Oh.” Cira swayed, looking lost and like she was no longer standing on solid ground.
Riston understood how it might feel as though the ship had suddenly destabilized. Trying to absorb the information was already spinning zem through the implications. A transdimensional drive explained how the ships had seemed to vanish. Riston couldn’t see the why of it, but so much else just fit. “I…wish that didn’t make so much sense.”
Meida glanced at Riston, her gaze measuring and weighted, but she simply nodded.
Gathering courage from the small gesture, Riston took the idea forming in zir mind and let it spin itself out in words instead of thought. “Earlier, Cira was telling me about the sensor sweep the crew is doing with modified devices, the ones that have been frequency tuned? She said they’re using them to look for more interference left behind, but…”
Ze paused and glanced around the room, but no one was glaring at zem. Everyone seemed to be waiting for more, and when ze continued, the words spilled faster with each rushed syllable. “Well, scanners might be able to find the actual person, too. Ghost must be talking to someone somewhere, right? This isn’t just an attack on Novis, it’s an organized invasion of the entire fleet, right? And Novis has taken longer to drop out of communication than any others, so things have gone wrong—clearly—but that means updated plans and multiple notifications. How, though? If there’s a subfrequency, seems like it’d be easier for the ghosts to put everything on the same frequency rather than trying to create two or three. The more there are, the more likely they’ll be discovered too soon.”
“But then discovery would expose everything at once.” Meida’s tone wasn’t harsh or dismissive. To Riston, it sounded like she was considering all the angles.
“They could easily plan for that,” Cira countered. “Encryptions and whatever other security Ghost’s team might’ve come up with.”
“Uhh, yes. Exactly.” Ze barely reined in the urge to hug Cira breathless for standing up for zir ideas. “They’ve had one for everything else, so it’s not a stretch. If we home in on the signals and track the placement, level of activity, and bandwidth, I’m betting we won’t just have Ghost’s work, we’ll have Ghost.”
I think. I hope. Stars, what am I going to do if this doesn’t work?
For a moment, no one moved. They stared at Meida, waiting for a decision, everyone except Cira. She and Meida were watching Riston, and Cira had something that almost, almost looked like pride in her eyes.
“I’ll get you the hardware you need, and I think I can spare Tinker—”
“Mika.” The correction came so quietly that Riston almost didn’t hear. It was Tink’s blush, a deep crimson spreading across her cheeks, that gave it away. She looked down and shyly said, “I’d like it if you called me Mika.”
Meida glanced at her young partner and smiled. “Mika, then. Mika can coordinate that part of the search while I keep digging into the code we decrypted.”
“What about the captain?” Cira asked.
“I’ll deal with your mother.” Meida stepped closer and cupped the back of her daughter’s head, tilting her stance to look directly into Cira’s eyes. “And no matter what’s happened before now or what might happen next, she’s still your mother. Still Ma. Nothing will change that, or how much that stubborn woman loves you, so whatever you’re thinking, stop. She’s not going to throw you in a cargo hold or deny this plan just because your zefriend came up with it.”
“Mama!” Cira’s exclamation would’ve sounded like a scold if she’d been able to keep the embarrassment off her face or stop her eyes from flickering toward Riston. In a rush, Riston remembered the brush of warm lips on zir cheek and the split second of impossible hope that had risen after one moment of pure joy. That same hope rose again before ze could squash it.
Meida smiled, pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, and stepped away. “Go get what you need for this venture of yours to work. Riston, since it was your idea, you can coordinate with Mika and the other teams to make sure the groups are tracked and moving efficiently.”
“Me?” Riston squeaked.
“Your idea, your responsibility,” she said sternly. “Don’t let me down.”
“No. Of course not, sir.” But even as the words left zir mouth, Riston began to tremble.
The ship was just under one thousand meters long. There were thirteen decks and literally dozens of kilometers of shafts and passages and crawl spaces between the levels. It wasn’t just luck that made it possible for Ghost to hide successfully despite lockdowns and search parties—Riston had been exploiting the sheer size of the ship for cycles before anyone but Cira and Adrienn knew. Despite zir idea about signal hunting, failing to find the culprit wasn’t just a possibility, it was nearly a certainty. Yet Riston had promised success.
All I’ve got to do now is find a way to deliver.
Then the lights in medical sputtered for several torturous seconds and abruptly died.
Intersystem News Feed
Article out of the Primis System
Terra-Sol date 3814.256
An investigation has been launched into the death of an unidentified man whose body was found inside a hidden second chamber of a modified cryopod. Official representatives from the cryopod’s manufacturer insist the illegal modifications were made well after the stasis chamber left their facilities and are disclaiming all responsibility for the product’s failure. For once, their preemptory disassociations from their own product are unnecessary—authorities are far too focused on attempting to figure out who the deceased is. The ID encoded into their chip was false. Additionally, neither their facial scan nor their DNA profile has given investigators any solid leads to follow. According to one sergeant who wished to remain anonymous, “No one should be able to erase themselves quadrant-wide so completely. It’s weird. It’s almost like no one has died here because this person hasn’t even been born yet.”
And the sergeant has a fair point. Without a personal history to dig into, the case’s lead detective has been reduced to tracking the life of the cryopod itself down to the minute, a task that might not yield much success if the pod’s history has been erased or tampered with to the same extent as its one-time cargo. Unless new information comes to light, this case may already be destined to linger in the system for decades or longer as unsolved.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cira
Terra-Sol date 3814.257
Cira looked up, staring in shock at the strips of illumination that had never failed in her lifetime. Emergency lights came up almost immediately, but their glow was tinted blue, giving everything a strange, almost ominous gleam.
“What happened?” Riston asked.
“Exactly what half the crew has been trying to prevent,” Cira muttered. “Ghost is messing with the systems. Trying to throw us off.”
“Or…” Tinker swallowed, her dark eyes jumping from one point of blue light to the next. “Or they’re drawing power from one system and diverting it somewhere else.”
Like a transdimensional drive. Fear shuddered through Cira, and she had to force herself to keep walking.
“Everyone move,” Meida barked. “We’re running out of time. We need to find this walking pile of shit before we end up on the other end of the galaxy.”
Riston grabbed Tinker’s—no, Mika’s hand and pulled her to the closest console. Before Cira followed her mother to the bridge, she saw a flash of the maps Mika had set up.
“Riston isn’t my anything, especially not m
y zefriend,” she insisted as soon as the door shut. The lights in the hall were out, too. The emergency lights barely illuminated the path ahead, and the blue lights cast strange and unfamiliar shadows on the hall and her mother’s face.
“But you want zem to be,” Meida murmured back.
Cira couldn’t deny the comment, but it wasn’t something she could dissect now, so she rolled her eyes. “Is now really the time for this conversation?”
Meida smiled, though the expression was strained. “You started it.”
“Mature.” Then Cira bit her lip. “I’m sorry I lied to you both. I just wanted to…”
“Save the children and change the quadrant,” Meida finished for her, stopping at the door to the security office. “You always have. It’s something I’ve always loved and feared in you. That kind of deep empathy can make you an incredible leader, or it can bleed you dry and leave you too drained to care about anything. I didn’t want the latter for you.”
With a quick swipe of Meida’s ID and vocal verification, the door slid open and allowed them both to enter. Farran was inside with two junior officers. All three nodded a greeting to Meida, who strode quickly toward the bridge door. Cira only got one step in before Farran’s gaze pinned her in place. The contempt in the woman’s eyes was there and gone in a second, but in that instant, it burned like a flash fire, especially in the sharp blue glow of the emergency lights.
Was it this easy to become despised? Farran had been Cira’s first hand-to-hand combat teacher, sneaking in lessons even before her mothers had given permission. They were colleagues and friends, everything but family, and yet there was no compassion or forgiveness in Farran’s eyes. There was barely recognition. Behind the mask of bland respect she’d pulled on, anger burned, and Cira had no idea what she could do or say to change that now.
“Keep up, Ensign,” Meida called. It jarred Cira free, and she jogged after her mother, eyes firmly downcast. If Farran could hate her so completely, she likely wasn’t the only one.
Halver sat in the command seat on the bridge, his attention mostly on the multiple holo-displays in front of him. Meida stopped to ask him a question. He shook his head, murmuring something too low for Cira to hear. Then, so quick she almost missed it, his gaze flicked toward her, his expression uncertain. She didn’t miss her mother’s glare or the ice as cold as space as she spat, “That is not going to happen, and do not dare suggest such a thing to me again.”
Immediately, Halver straightened, face going blank and posture stiffening. “Yes, sir.”
Farran hated her. Halver, it seemed, didn’t trust her on the bridge. The stowaways may have been gaining ground with the crew and slowly earning their respect, but Cira was different and there might not be enough time left to repair much of the damage she’d done.
I only wanted to help people! She wanted to scream it in his face, at all of them. None of my friends ever did anything to you!
She kept her mouth shut and her head down. She didn’t want to see the fear, distrust, or hatred in any more eyes, and she didn’t want them to see the anger in hers. It’d only make things worse. Thankfully, no one tried to stop them as they crossed the bridge. No one spoke as she passed, either. In fact, the bridge crew was oddly and conspicuously silent.
“Give them time,” Meida said once the conference room door had closed them off from the crew. “Right now, it’s— Everyone is scared, and we don’t have a solid enemy yet, so they’re focusing on you. It’ll get better once we’re on the other side of this.”
“Okay.” Cira didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t sure she believed Mama was right, but she hoped.
When in lockdown, even the command crew had to be granted access to the captain’s office, but Erryla must have programmed an override for her wife’s ID. The office door slid open as soon as Meida scanned and verified her chip.
“Tell me you know something about the drain,” Meida said as soon as they entered.
“Nothing good.” Erryla looked away from the information on her wall, lips pursed. “I’ve had reports from six decks. Power is being rerouted from the entirety of one and two, including life support. The shuttle bays won’t be survivable in a few hours.”
“Because they need the power or because they don’t want us coming up with an escape plan?” Meida wondered. Then she shook her head. “Fill me in on the rest later. Cira needs to explain the idea Riston came up with.”
“Does she?” The captain closed several files before turning, hands linked behind her.
Haltingly, Cira began. It was hard to know where to look as she spoke. Her mothers had always stressed eye contact, but today, Cira couldn’t bring herself to look at her mother for long. She couldn’t keep her gaze on the floor, either. When Meida took over to explain the speculation about the transdimensional drive, Cira was finally able to fix her eyes on the rank insignia and Novis logo embroidered on the right shoulder of Erryla’s uniform.
“Oh. Are we…” Erryla’s voice trembled. “Meida, a TD drive? Are you sure?”
Cira gathered her courage and looked up. The lost look in her mother’s eyes dropped Cira’s heart into her stomach. Erryla’s eyes were wide, her bottom lip quaked, and sweat beaded on her forehead. It didn’t make sense. What made a TD drive scarier than a bomb? Cira’d always guessed that, if confronted with an explosive, Erryla would’ve winced, nodded, and skipped straight to “How do we defuse this?” Why was the drive enough to break Captain Antares’s facade? Or maybe not. It wasn’t the drive itself that terrified Cira, after all, it was the loss of control. There was something hidden in Novis that could thrust ship and crew into something so far beyond the unknown that humanity hadn’t invented a word for it yet.
“I’m as sure as I can be until we find the device.” Meida stepped closer, drew Erryla into a tight hug and kissed her wife’s head. “Or until we find ourselves across the universe.”
“But…” Cira’s mind spun, all her thoughts coalescing around one important question. “If they’ve installed something on Novis that can jump us somewhere, couldn’t we use it to get ourselves back?”
“Eventually, maybe,” Meida said, but her tone made it clear what she really meant was probably not. “But why would they make it that easy for us? It’s more likely that the device is built to self destruct after a single use. Or we won’t be able to hack the controls and figure out how to make it work. Or it’s rigged to disable the ship completely if we ever try to activate it again. Or—”
“Not helping,” Erryla muttered against Meida’s shoulder. “I just don’t understand why they—” She took a shuddering breath and eased away. “What do you need from me for it?”
“Official authorization to repurpose tech and personnel on a long-shot idea concocted by an illegal stowaway,” Meida said.
Erryla’s gaze snapped to Cira, who struggled not to shrink away. “You trust zem so much?”
“Yes.” Cira swallowed and resettled her stance. “Riston and the others would die for Novis and our crew. Shadow already did. I trust them as much as any member of the crew.”
Although Erryla’s mouth opened, she quickly closed it with a small shake of her head, clearly rethinking what she’d been about to say. Bit by bit, her usual control was snapping back into place in her expression, her posture, and her every word. “Alright. Take whatever you need from any function that isn’t equally critical to our survival.”
“And also?” The tilt of Meida’s head and the angle of her eyebrows was a clear “you’d-better-do-what-I-said message.
“I…” Some of Erryla’s confidence faltered, then she sighed quietly. “I’m not sure I believe you pulled it off alone, no matter how smart you are—”
Meida made a protesting noise, and only a slight flick of Erryla’s hand showed she heard.
“However, as I’ve told you, having met the children and seen both what they’re capable of and how devoted they are to you and this ship, I can see why you thought they were worth saving.” Erryla
closed the distance between them and put her hands on Cira’s shoulders. The touch—the first since the moment Cira confessed—shuddered through her. She instinctively shifted onto her toes just to press into the weight of her mother’s hands. Erryla nearly smiled as she said, “If we’re… Well, if we’re still in this quadrant when the debris of all this settles into a predictable orbit, I’ll make sure the PCGC knows how much they helped when it mattered. I don’t know what good it’ll do, but I’ll try because I love you. I just hate seeing your heart getting you into trouble like this.”
“What if we end up somewhere else?” Cira asked in a whisper.
“I don’t know.” Erryla’s grip tightened before she dropped her hands and shifted away. “We’ll see what happens. But now, go. You have the permission you need, so get out and find this ingrate before they do any more damage to my ship.”
“Yes. Okay.” Cira stepped backward without looking away from her mother. This was the first comfortable moment between them in ages, and Cira didn’t want it to end. Encroaching deadlines were closing in on all sides, though; she had to leave. “Thank you, sir.”
“Yes, well, you earned it, Cira,” Erryla said with a soft, hesitant smile. It was enough to give Cira the strength to walk away. That smile was a promise. Things weren’t okay now, and her transgression hadn’t been forgiven, but Ma was willing to try. It was more than enough.
The return trip across the bridge and through the security office was as silent and awkward as before, but this time Cira bore it better. At least if something went wrong and the ship broke to pieces around them tomorrow, she wouldn’t die feeling like her mother hated her. She’d at least have this moment to remember. It was even better than their previous conversation because her mother had said she still loved her.
“Feeling better?” Meida asked once they left the security office.
“A little.” Cira glanced at her mother. “Is that why you brought me?”
“In part.” They reached the door to medical and Meida entered the override code. “It was selfish, too. I don’t like it when my loves are fighting. We have other enemies to deal with.”
Pax Novis Page 28
