by Mark Wandrey
It was only months later, when his friend Rick Culper found out about his pinplants, that Jim realized what a foolish thing he’d done. The medical “clinic” could just as easily have been a chop-shop, a place that specialized in harvesting unaware fools’ organs to sell on the open market. Or they could have put malfunctioning junk in his brain.
The startown where he went to get his pinplants was an extra-jurisdictional place, outside the planetary government’s control. The cities which surrounded starports—startowns—did not fall under the control of the planet’s legal structure. In effect, it was Union territory, and only Union-specific laws applied. There was no law against chopping up some idiot and selling his parts if he signed a waiver or was stupid enough to not be careful. His status as the son of Thaddeus Cartwright and the heir to one of the Four Horsemen got him into Houston Startown, and from there he could do whatever he wanted with his credits.
There had been an incident 90 years ago where greedy aliens had sold a cetacean recovery group bargain basement pinplants under the guise that they were permanent translators. Of course, there was no such thing as a pinplant-style permanent translator, but the researchers hadn’t known. The researchers had disappeared with all the whales and dolphins out into the galaxy, never to be heard from again.
Luckily for him, his operation had been legit. An unusual alien called a Wrogul handled the procedure. Jim was already going under anesthesia, so he only got a quick glance at an octopus in a tank before drifting off. Later he’d use the pinplants to look them up and wished he hadn’t. He left the clinic an hour later with delicate microscopic wires fused into his cerebral cortex thanks to Union nanotechnology and a bizarre alien’s ability.
The physical component of the pinplants were both mechanical connections on the side of his skull just behind his ears and internal mechanisms. The internal parts were processors and storage. In all, the pair he’d paid for consisted of an ultra-fast processor and 16 petabytes of storage. The connection points on his head were what often got people like him called pinheads. They were magnetic connections known as a pinlink, where he could physically connect a data cable. He could link wirelessly, however, the physical pinlink was many times faster and with a much higher bandwidth.
Even years after the pinplants became available, Earth’s various governmental organizations were still struggling with the implications of citizens with 24/7 audio/visual recorders running in their brains. Jim’s grades in school, already impressive, became perfect. He’d even made some money writing Tri-V games, and he’d spent the money on upgrading his pinplant storage.
He struggled to use his brain as much as possible, trying not to depend on the pinplants completely. It turned out to be a good move. When the government reps showed up to administer his VOWs, his Voluntary Off-World assessment tests, he’d had to allow them to access his pinplants and disable data recall. He’d aced the difficult mental tests anyway. Now, he was an adult who ran a merc company, and they were as much a part of him as his hands.
The data scrolling through his mind concerned their destination, a system known as Occul. It was 6,398 light years from the last bit of Raknar evidence he’d found in Kikai, home to the Empire of Machines. He was now in the central region of the Core, the brightly glowing central area of the galaxy was some 10,000 light years across. The stars in the Core were packed so closely that some were less than a light year apart. Before his last jump, Jim had looked out of the bridge toward the outer rim of the galaxy and saw only brightness.
The Core was the oldest region in the galaxy, with many ancient super giant stars and thousands of stellar nurseries where stars were born. It was a chaotic region. Capital Planet, the home of the Galactic Union’s meager government, was there.
The density of the stars was beneficial for FTL travel through hyperspace. One of the seemingly contrary rules of hyperspatial physics was the more stars there were in a region, the farther you could travel in one jump. It was also the reason you could never reach the next closest galaxy through hyperspace, there were almost no stars in the endless void.
He’d toyed with the idea of a side trip to the very center of the Milky Way. There, in the center, holding a trillion stars together, was a super massive black hole named Sagittarius A. You couldn’t see it with the naked eye, of course. It was also currently in a quiet phase. However, with various instruments, it was visible, a black hole with an event horizon measured in light years. Sadly, there was no time.
His pinplants warned him they had ten minutes before hyperspace emergence in Occul. Jim looked toward the rear of the cockpit where four slates floated like a constellation around Splunk. He marveled at how deftly she moved between them, entering data and tapping on the screens so quickly. After each entry she’d arrest movement on the slate before moving on. She worked with her hands like he did with his pinplants. He wondered, for the first time, if she could have implants, or would want them. Maybe he’d talk to an expert if her physiology matched any established races.
“Coming up on Occul,” he told her.
Splunk looked at him with the distracted look she got when something particularly interesting had her attention. “
“Occul,” he said again. “We’re about to come out of hyperspace.”
“Oh, I see,
Prepare for arrival, the computer said.
Outside was pure whiteness in every direction. Hyperspace. Jim watched the timer count down to zero. For a split second, he felt the familiar falling sensation in the pit of his stomach, then space was back. Welcome to Occul.
Each of their last few stops had taken them ever deeper into the Galactic Core. He kept thinking he couldn’t be in a place with any more stars. He’d been wrong. Space around Occul was so bright it was almost like daylight on some worlds. He blinked in amazement. He had to use the navigational interface to find the star, which was only a red circle, less than a centimeter across from his perspective. “A red dwarf,” he said. “Interesting choice.”
“Ugly place,
Jim nodded. The sensors warned of ships in their battlespace, a zone which brought other vessels within weapons range. The ship’s shields came up immediately, and fusion plants came out of standby mode where they’d been since emerging from hyperspace. The radio sounded a moment later.
“Newly arrived vessel,” a voice said in a language Jim’s pinplants identified as Caroon. “This is Science Guild patrol ship J559A. State your registry, command, and purpose in Occul.”
“ESS Pale Rider, Earth registry. Colonel Jim Cartwright, registered merc, in command. I’m here for research.”
The radio was silent for a time. Jim accessed the GalNet via his pinplants. He’d never seen a Caroon, and the images reminded him of an anteater with huge claws. They liked to dig and were well-known in the mining industry. No surprise there. He didn’t figure them for cerebral types.
“ESS Pale Rider, what sort of research do you wish to do? Military research is only authorized via remote requests through the SGLO, Science Guild Liaison Office.”
“I’m not here for military research…exactly.” Splunk looked at him, her ears slowly curling upward in humor.
“Research is not free, Colonel Cartwright.”
It was a response Jim wasn’t prepared for, though he recovered quickly. “I can pay.”
“Transmitting coordinates. Do not deviate to other destinations. Do not communicate with non-guild ships while here. Failure to follow all rules and instruction will result in your exclusion from any further visits to Science Guild facilities. Welcome to Occul.”
“I don’t feel very welcome,” Jim said after he shu
t off the radio. Splunk nodded, and Jim plugged the transmitted data into the navigational system. It showed where the planet was in relation to the emergence point, as well as the stargate. The sensor showed there were also a dozen patrol ships. They were a lot bigger than the run-of-the-mill patrol boats he’d seen in his travels; these were the size of cruisers. The Science Guild seemed to take its security seriously.
Splunk powered down the ship’s defenses, and Jim set course for the planet Occul. Once they were under a calm, one-third G of acceleration, he examined the information they’d received.
The surprisingly small amount of data showed an extensive asteroid field and at least a thousand comets which seemed to crisscross the inner system in a dizzying pattern the computer struggled to plot. As Pale Rider slowly accelerated toward Occul, its sensors began to build a better picture of the planet.
“It’s just a rock,” Jim said, looking at the Tri-V that displayed Occul with multiple data balloons showing composition, size, nature of orbit, heat, and albedo. There were 11 moons, not much bigger than Mars’s moon Phobos, all tidally locked and identical in size. Each was 42 kilometers across—precisely. “And that is impossible.”
“Planned,
“Has to be,” Jim agreed.
Splunk watched the Tri-V image being built by the incoming data with her usual, quiet intensity. Jim could see her eyes moving back and forth over the image and data stream, noting aspects, then moving on. The computer updated their destination based on the coordinates the patrol ship gave them. It was one of the moons. The ship’s navigational system automatically altered their course parameters as other ships appeared around the orbiting satellites.
When he’d begun research for his Raknar exploration trip, the Science Guild had not been a priority destination. So many other places had seemed like better choices, but after traveling to some of those “better” places, he realized his assumptions had been wrong—most were dead ends. Some were the Galactic Union equivalent of tourist traps. Some, like the Emerald Sea, were just traps.
He didn’t want to go to the Science Guild because, quite simply, he didn’t trust them. It seemed certain data on the Raknar had been purged from the GalNet. It was like the juvenile version of the Aethernet on Earth, scrubbed of all porn or violent content. Somebody didn’t want races learning about the Raknar, and it had to be the Science Guild. He watched the strange planetoid’s approach with mixed feelings.
We need Raknars. It was an unavoidable conclusion. He’d even sent a warning to the Mercenary Guild about his encounter with Canavar. They’d never responded with so much as a thank you. If there were Canavar, the galaxy would need Raknar. Maybe it was up to him to do it? He dearly hoped not.
“Lots of ships,
“Sure are,” Jim agreed. They hadn’t received any additional data on the planetoid they were approaching, however, more information was becoming available on the increasing number of ships. There were many cruiser-sized patrol ships, some smaller ships coming in from the emergence point, like his, or heading out toward the stargate, and innumerable smaller ones running around.
Occul seemed to have no commerce he could detect. The asteroid field wasn’t alive with prospectors or power signatures indicative of zero G smelting and refining. Considering the size of the asteroid belt, he found the lack of activity unusual. Was everything already played out?
The number of smaller craft made little sense, especially since they all seemed to be too small to be hyperspace capable. The inverse law of hyperspace stated the smaller the ship, the more power it took to stay in hyperspace. Pale Rider was on the small side, and 40% of her tonnage was dedicated to making power for hyperspace travel. Most of the ships he could see on the sensors were much smaller. Some were no bigger than Pale Rider’s shuttle.
Pale Rider stopped thrusting, flipped over, and, a minute later, the fusion torch spooled up again. They’d passed the halfway mark to their destination. All the velocity they’d built up after emerging from hyperspace now needed to be scrubbed off. It was time to get ready for possible visitors.
Jim detached his safety harness and floated out of the cockpit. He knew Splunk would keep an eye on things. She’d proven more than capable of handling Pale Rider. He reached his quarters and grabbed a quick shower—the one-third G of thrust made it easy. He dressed in one of his Cavaliers’ duty uniforms, snagged a meal bar from the ship’s small autochef, then dug out his personal bag. Inside was a small stash of credits and his yack. He was going to need both. When he returned to the bridge, the satellite they’d been directed to was looming on the screen.
Splunk displayed comparisons between the satellites on the Tri-V, and there seemed to be no differences. Not only were they the same size, they appeared identical in every way. The two on either side of the one they were approaching were exactly 42 kilometers in diameter, appeared to be cut from carbonaceous asteroids, and had extremely low albedos. They also sported large arrays of solar panels and radiators on their surfaces. The huge solar arrays made sense since the red dwarf would give off an anemic amount of energy. But the radiators?
The radio sounded. “Pale Rider, this is Occul Oblique #6 Docking Control. You are authorized for docking at Station Eight. At five kilometers, slow your approach to 100 meters per second. At 500 meters, slow to five meters per second. At 50 meters, hand over control to the Oblique’s docking system. An inspector will meet you upon successful hard dock. Acknowledge your understanding of these regulations. Failure to strictly follow these limits will result in you being denied docking rights.” The speaker was another Caroon.
“I recognize and understand, Oblique #6,” Jim transmitted. He looked at Splunk who was shaking her head. She obviously agreed their rules were more than a little restrictive. Like an overprotective mother. He programmed the helm with the satellite’s requirements. Oblique, he thought, interesting word. Slanting, sloping, or sideways? Maybe because they were orbiting Occul in a specific orbit? It was also a Latin word, so somebody from Earth had been here before him.
Pale Rider used her radar to follow the orders. Once they reached 50 meters, the satellite’s computer pinged Pale Rider’s computer requesting control. Jim touched a virtual control, to allow the handoff. The remote control quickly and efficiently nestled them against a docking collar, and they were mated via magnetic couplers.
Hard dock achieved, the computer informed him. Umbilicals linked.
Splunk put the reactors into low-power mode and began going through the systems checklist for docking. Jim took a long breath and let it out through his teeth. They were there.
“You ready?” he asked.
Splunk looked up at him and shook her head.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head again and started messing with the computers.
“You aren’t coming.”
“No,
“How come?”
“Things need to be done here,
Jim’s eyes narrowed. She’d been keenly interested in going to both Kikai, where the Empire of Machines was, and to K’o with the Valley of Loss. Part of his anxiety in coming to the Science Guild was losing sight of her. She was an unholy terror around interesting or rare technology. He thought this would be as close to nirvana as she could imagine, so her reaction was dumfounding. She looked away without further comment.
“Okay. Are you sure?” She nodded, and he shrugged. A tone sounded, signaling that someone was at the mated airlock. He quickly snapped a multifrequency comms link onto his pinplant. The built-in transmitter was only good for a few kilometers outdoors, probably less inside an asteroid. He tapped it. “I’ll give you updates.” She gave him a thumbs up, and he smiled. She was her own being, and if she didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t force her. He didn’t think it was possible to make the Fae do anything she didn’t want to, anyway.
He flipped over and pushed out of the bridge to the main bow-to-stern companionway. Past the cent
ral mount of the gravity deck he caught a handhold and pushed sideways toward the ventral docking collar. He noted a tiny bit of gravity, more than he’d expected from a rock only 42 kilometers in diameter. The buzzer sounded twice more while he made his way to the airlock. Impatient, he thought.
At the lock, he followed procedure and cycled the inside and outside doors. It showed a proper seal, but you never knew. He liked being the commander of Cartwright’s Cavaliers and didn’t think being sucked into space would be a fun way for his life to end. He wasn’t surprised to find a Caroon floating on the other side.
“You took long enough,” the alien said, his beady eyes looking Jim up and down.
“Sorry,” Jim said and held out his yack.
The alien took it and inserted the chip into a slate, tapping the plastic screen with one of his long, pointy claws. “You are Colonel Jim Cartwright, commander of the Human mercenary company Cartwright’s Cavaliers?” The alien’s language was an interesting mixture of huffing and grunting sounds, punctuated by what Jim thought might be teeth grinding and clicking. The sound made his hair stand on end.
“Correct,” Jim said.
The alien tapped for some time, floating just outside Pale Rider’s lock, hanging onto a hold with his prehensile tail. “Your manifest?”
“We have no commercial cargo,” Jim replied.
“This is a private vessel?” he asked suspiciously.
“Yes, this is my family yacht.”
“Yacht,” the alien said derisively. “You mercs are as rich as you are arrogant.”
“Am I going to be allowed access?” Jim asked, beginning to feel his temper rise.
“No specific military research is allowed, merc commander.”
“I…know…that.” Jim said, carefully pronouncing each word. He would have added an expletive but was afraid the alien’s translator would be as good as his. Jim could see two pinplants on the alien’s narrow, pointy head.
