by Mark Wandrey
* * *
Jim watched the complicated, three-dimensional representations of units moving across an alien landscape, his eyes wide with interest. He’d been incredibly excited when Daddy came home and announced, since Jimmy was five, he could begin watching replays of some of the Cavaliers’ battle footage. His mother had been incredibly angry, which Jim didn’t understand.
“Daddy?” he asked.
“Yeah, Jimbo?”
“There are a lot more of them than there were of you.”
“You’re right, son, there were.” Thaddeus looked down at Jim with a smile, obviously pleased the boy caught the detail.
“What are they?” Jim asked.
“Besquith,” Thaddeus replied.
“Werewolves,” Jim said, his voice full of wonder and awe.
“No, Jimbo,” Thaddeus said, a laugh in his voice. “They just look big and scary.”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“The other kids at school, in MST, say I’m too fat to be a merc.”
Thaddeus looked down at his son, the expression on his face serious. “Mercenary Service Track is a waste of time for most of those kids,” he said. “You know why?”
Jim shook his head.
“Because none of them will ever be a Cartwright.” He gently took Jim’s face in his big, strong, calloused hands—hands which piloted a CASPer into war and led men into combat. “Will never be a Cavalier. There’s more to a merc than your pant size, Jimbo. You can do anything you want.”
Jim nodded and smiled at his Daddy. He looked back at the map and saw the battle continuing to develop. “There are so many of them,” he said. “How did you win?”
“As long as there’s a chance, you never give up trying.”
* * *
The alien presence made Jim feel like he was drowning in oil. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. It all happened so fast. The image of his long dead father, Thaddeus Cartwright, holding his face and telling him he was a Cartwright and why he could succeed came to him like it was yesterday. “You can do anything.”
He pulled from the depth of his being, the very core of who he was, and somehow found a light. The light was another memory, this one of his first completed mission. A moment of success; it was something he’d experienced so little in his life, it felt like a moment of transcendent joy.
Jim latched onto the feeling like a talisman and shoved it at the presence, pushing it back ever so slightly. Inch by agonizing inch, Jim Cartwright reclaimed himself. Then, finally, it stopped.
Enough!
The attack ended, the presence fled and took his consciousness with it.
* * *
Jim opened his eyes and looked around the obligette. He blinked a couple of times and tried to remember what he’d been doing before going to sleep. “Dead ends,” he said, shaking his head, “just dead ends.” All those days and nothing worth his time.
He rolled out of the sling and found his bag. He must have packed it before going to sleep. He picked it up and went to the door, pulling it open. The little robot he’d repaired was there. It skittered into the room and began cleaning.
“Take care, little guy,” Jim said and left the obligette.
His memory of the halls was a little blurry. He guessed he hadn’t slept very well. Maybe a Flatar would help, he thought and laughed. Where had the thought come from? He shook his head. He thought he sensed the tip of an idea or a thought in the back of his mind. But as he reached for the thought, it slipped away like mist in the morning sun.
Jim shook his head and bounced along, looking for the lock. He eventually reached it and keyed in Pale Rider’s access code. The door slid aside obediently. He removed the slowly pulsing golden chip from his pocket and set it on the floor. He didn’t know what else to do with it. He was about to turn and leave when the little cleaning robot came quickly skittering into view. It raced up to him and came to a stop at his feet.
“You can’t come with me, little friend,” Jim said. The robot held out a manipulator with a computer chip in it. For a second, Jim thought it was the one he’d just set down. Then he realized it wasn’t. This chip was one of his.
He looked at it and blinked a couple of times. It looked like one of his. What were the chances a Human-manufactured chip would up on Occul? Just about zero. He took out his computer chip holder and looked inside. It was full. The robot continued to hold it out for him, until he reached out and took it.
The robot swung around and left, returning in the direction it had come. Jim watched it go and shook his head.
“What took so long?
“I came right away,” Jim said, turning around and seeing Splunk hanging from a handhold just inside Pale Rider’s lock. Another itch at the back of his mind. He shook his head and moved into the ship.
Splunk closed the lock behind him. “What did you find,
“Nothing,” Jim said.
A short time later, they were on the bridge and casting off from Oblique #6. Splunk programmed a course for the stargate, and Jim brought Pale Rider’s ion thrusters online, gradually accelerating away from the Science Guild installation. As they coasted toward the stargate, Jim opened his hand to look at the chip the robot had given him and hissed in pain.
There was an angry looking bruise on his right wrist, and the knuckles on the same hand were scuffed. I don’t remember hitting it on anything, he thought. He looked at the chip for a second, then stuck it into a port in the ship’s computer. It was full of navigational data he didn’t remember saving. One after another, he checked the other chips in his carrier. They were all empty.
“Well,” he said aloud. None of the planets’ names in the data correlated with those in the ship’s computer. So, where had the data come from? The robot? Mystery Guild is about right, he thought. He considered deleting the seemingly worthless data.
“Where to now,
“I don’t know,” Jim replied. The computer was flashing an attention icon, and he tapped it. There was a message for him. Thinking it was probably a message from the Science Guild, saying he owed for something, he tapped receive. It was a recorded message. The grizzled face of his XO, Hargrave, came on the screen. “Oh shit,” Jim said.
“You young jerk,” Hargrave yelled, and Jim unconsciously jerked backward. “You weren’t happy taking a squad with you for security. No, you had to go gallivanting across the galaxy by yourself! Serves you right if you’ve been eaten by the time you get this message.”
Hargrave paused to compose himself or catch his breath, Jim wasn’t sure which. The image was from the wardroom on Bucephalus, and Jim was sure he heard a familiar Polynesian accent in the background.
“You can just fuck the hell off,” Hargrave roared, pointing at someone. “I know your pineapple-eating ass helped him.” Another voice, this one feminine. “Okay, fine, whatever. Look, I sent this message because they said you’d want to know when we got a big contract. Well, the Peacemaker Guild contacted us, and we’ve been offered a gig. Something about enslavement and genocide of the Aku race. Their planet is Soo-Aku and we’re to provide support.” Hargrave gave a date and coordinates.
Jim paused the message and glanced at Splunk who’d entered the data into the ship’s computer to plot a course. After a second, the results came back, and she gave him a thumbs up. Jim sighed in relief. If they couldn’t make it, there might well be hell to pay. He restarted the message.
“You damned well better be there,” Hargrave said, jabbing a finger at the camera. Then he smiled. “I hope you’re okay, kid, and that it was worth it. See you soon.” The message ended.
Jim looked at the bridge’s Tri-V which displayed navigational data and noticed a system along their route. If everything went as planned, they’d arrive at Soo-Aku a full month before Bucephalus. Excellent. There was plenty of time. “Go ahead and set the course and transmit to the stargate for the next transition,” Jim said
. With any luck I can do some research on the way.
Pale Rider jumped into hyperspace three hours later. They didn’t notice a smallish ship, close to the minimum size capable of having a hyperspace drive, just waiting near the stargate. It wasn’t the kind of thing you noticed. Ships constantly moved through the most populated star systems using these methods.
After they were gone, while the stargate was still open, the ship also passed through the stargate behind them and was gone. The system of Occul continued its timeless existence, unaffected by the events occurring around it.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
Pale Rider existed in hyperspace, somehow moving vast distances while its occupants paid no notice to the non-Newtonian physics magic which moved them. On the ship’s gravity deck, Jim Cartwright trudged on his treadmill at a consistent pace, his breath huffing at a measured rate.
He’d had to work hard the first few days of this latest trip through hyperspace to get back on track. His time in Occul had offered no chances to work out, and it showed. Unfortunately, a young, overweight man who spent all his time in zero G eating pizza and playing games only tended to become more overweight, so he’d grudgingly adopted a regular workout schedule. His second in command and friend, Ezekiel Hargrave, was instrumental in the decision.
“I’m never going to like it,” he grunted as he continued to trudge at a steady 5 kph. Not quite a run, not quite a walk. Despite hours on the damnable thing, Jim couldn’t quite get up to a sustainable run. Instead, this program had him running on a 4-kilometer long track, up and down gradually rolling hills. It mixed running with jogging and walking. The treadmill would increase in angle to simulate hills, even in the gravity deck’s reduced gravity. It ended with a 5-minute flat out run which kicked his ass every fucking time.
The treadmill’s little alarm sounded the last sequence, and the motor sped up. Here we go. Jim’s legs worked faster to keep him centered. His pinplants switched the music selection to match the faster pace. He’d linked them to the machine long ago, along with every other computerized device which could be linked with pinplants, which was pretty much everything on Pale Rider.
He ran on to the straining lyrics, mentally lip-syncing “Sweet Child of Mine,” as it played. It was one of his favorite songs. His mind temporarily distracted from the work of his body, he sang on.
The song ended, and the treadmill slowed to a stop. He stood and stared at the controls for a long moment, his legs quivering with fatigue and lungs pumping before it sank in—he’d done it. “Holy shit!”
“What shit,
Jim looked up, smiling between huffed breaths. “I did it—my run!”
“Good,
“I’ll meet you in the galley. I’m starved.”
Jim climbed up the middle support of the gym deck. Pale Rider’s gravity decks were retractable, elongated pods mounted on booms around its cylindrical hull. When the ship spun, it created artificial gravity inside.
As he reached the hatch, gravity was almost gone, and he pushed off and floated into the central corridor of Pale Rider, which ran from the engine room to the forward navigation station. Staterooms, the bridge, mechanical spaces, and the medical bay were scattered along the length of the corridor with access hatches spread throughout. The ship was only 40 meters long, just slightly longer than his Raknar, though it weighed considerably more.
Instead of moving along the corridor, he caught a handhold and maneuvered down another tunnel into the second gravity deck. This one held the galley and meeting area. Splunk had fired up the little autochef for him, and the smell of cooking pizza was being carried throughout the ship by the ventilation system.
He found his friend sitting at the galley’s main table. Two small slates sitting next to her displayed Tri-V images, and she was happily munching pepperoni. He reached the bottom of the ladder and walked over to the autochef, which was flashing a completion code. Opening it, he found a sausage pizza and a drink.
“Sausage?” He looked over at Splunk, who was pointedly ignoring him. “I wanted pepperoni.”
“All out,
“Oh, you sound regretful,” he said as he took the meal and joined her at the table. When they’d stocked Pale Rider, he’d purposely made sure they had a huge supply of pepperoni. Besides his favorite pizza topping, it was also the Fae’s preferred snack. She liked any meat, but the little slices proved to be her go-to after she’d rescued him years ago.
She glanced up at him as he sat down, popped another pepperoni into her mouth and chewed as she looked back at the display. Jim munched his pizza for a minute, trying to let his friend realize he was annoyed. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered, so he gave up.
“What did you find?” he eventually asked.
“The chip has a lot of news articles. I’ve been studying stories,” she explained. “Stories about Raknar,
“Yes,” he agreed. “There are so few accounts of Raknar beyond fanciful war stories and a few reports by the press in the ancient days. It’s why I went to Occul, only…” Jim trailed off. His train of thought suddenly evaporated like early morning dew. “What…” he started to ask.
Splunk looked at him curiously. Jim opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but no words came out, and Splunk’s expression changed to alarm. “Jim okay,
“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “What were you talking about?”
Splunk watched him for a moment, her head cocked and ears up in her “what was that” expression. Jim waved her off, so she continued.
“Some stories about Raknar talked about repair depots.” She touched her little slate, and a map of the galaxy appeared. “None of the depots are mentioned specifically by name.”
“Of course not,” Jim said. “None of the worlds associated with Raknar ever are. It’s as if all the information was deleted.” It probably was, too.
“No,
“Take away any with only two reports,” Jim suggested. Most of the remainder blinked out, leaving only eleven. “Not very many systems,” he said. He used his pinplants to consult a calendar and sighed. There wasn’t nearly enough time to visit them all. He was due to rendezvous with the Cavaliers in less than four weeks.
He lit up their location on Splunk’s display, then the planet they needed to reach. As he feared, only one of the eleven star systems was within the rounded diamond of their course deviation zone.
“If the report was made from that world, it means the Raknar depot must be close,” Jim said. Splunk nodded. She had the map display all the star systems within a thousand light years around it. Like before, there were a lot of star systems.
“Removing agricultural worlds,” Splunk said.
“Take out water predominant worlds,” Jim said. “Oh, and those with huge populations, or at least ones having huge populations 20,000 years ago. I don’t see the Dusman using those planets as Raknar depots.” Splunk nodded and typed on her slate. Like before, they were left with only a small handful of star systems. Just one remained within their range.
Splunk pointed at the star. “Q’posa,” she said, pronouncing the system’s name. Data appeared next to it. An ancient orange giant, the star was massive and cold. There’d been a series of failed mining operations in the system’s numerous asteroid belts. A pair of lonely planets clung to heliocentric orbits, one a tiny gas giant and the other an abandoned rock.
Jim pulled up the data on the abandoned world. Q’posa Prime had once been a minor indust
rial world. Details went back to the Great Galactic War, but there they ended. The lack of information prior to the Great War wasn’t unusual, in and of itself. Vast amounts of history had been lost in the war as a result of entire planets being destroyed. However, the basic details matched the criteria, and it was along their course.
“Okay,” he said. “After we arrive in Gentall we’ll jump to Q’posa. There isn’t much there, but maybe we’ll find something.”
He and Splunk stared at the tiny, glowing blue point representing Q’posa—their quest’s end. He ate his pizza and lamented the end of their pepperoni stores. Splunk burped quietly.
* * *
Like so much about hyperspace, the distance you could travel in a single jump was an insane inverse calculation based on stellar density. The heavier the concentration of stars in your region, the further you could go. It could take multiple 170-hour jumps to cross the void between galactic arms, while just one or two jumps allowed you to travel across the super dense Core. Of course, you couldn’t fly through Sagittarius A and live to talk about it.
As Jim had planned, they entered the Gentall system and immediately departed via its stargate, arriving at Q’posa nine days after he’d made the decision. Pale Rider dropped out of hyperspace and Jim began examining the system. Because of weak gravitational forces, the primary star was closer to its planets than many systems. The bridge was immediately illuminated with an orange, otherworldly glow. The star itself took up a 90-degree arc of their viewable area; it was massive and as close to its emergence point as he ever recalled seeing.
“Well, it’s pretty enough,” Jim said. Despite its size and apparent brightness, it didn’t hurt to stare right at it. Classified as a K1b, the star was a less-luminous supergiant. Jim had seen a great many stars in his years since becoming Colonel Cartwright, commander of Cartwright’s Cavaliers. The first orange supergiant I’ve seen. “Any problems?”
