Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4

by Donna S. Frelick

  Both officers acknowledged his orders and moved to comply. A subtle blue light flashed at the base of the bulkheads to warn the crew of impending silent running. In seconds, the light had turned solid blue and the harsh bridge lights had dimmed, indicating stealth mode had been implemented. If anyone spoke now as an absolute necessity of his job, it would be in a whisper.

  “Navigator, set course for these coordinates.” Trevyn transmitted the numbers he had worked out earlier on his comp to the navigator’s station. The spot in empty space brought them close to the seventh planet in the system, but outside its orbit—far enough outside to avoid the notice of the two Minertsan warships circling the bit of rock known only for a labor camp on the surface called T7.

  The navigator studied the course coordinates, then glanced up at him. “Course locked in, Captain.” If a slight wrinkling of his brow indicated doubt, the officer said nothing about it. More evidence that the crew was settling down under Trevyn’s leadership. There had been a time when his every order had been cause for debate. No longer.

  The Honor proceeded slowly through the crowded solar system. Four inner planets circled close to their star, so seared by its heat and radiation they were unable to sustain life. An asteroid belt separated the inner planets from the three outer ones, only the last of which harbored living creatures of any size. That seventh planet was no garden, but it had served the Grays well enough.

  Trevyn rose from his seat and paced the bridge, a luxury only he, as captain, could indulge. His crew was as edgy as he was, but had no such outlet. The Honor was a tiny cub sneaking past a sleeping targa; wake the beast and they would be torn to pieces.

  He pulled up at his First Officer’s station. “Any sign of stirring on either of those ships, D’Lac?”

  The former security officer looked up from the monitors he’d been studying intently. “No, Captain. Routine communications and sensor sweeps. They have no idea we’re here.”

  “Good. And the . . . creature?”

  “Nothing. No unusual EM signatures. No erratic signals.” He shrugged. “If I knew better what I was looking for . . .”

  “If I knew, I would tell you.” Trevyn clapped his shoulder. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

  Segment after slow segment passed as the ship worked its way through the system, slipping around the lifeless, sun-lit orbs of the four inner planets, dodging asteroids in the belt, slipping past two outer planets to soar free into black space, with the blue/green/brown of the seventh planet at the center of the viewscreen.

  Until at last, his helm officer turned to him. “Coordinates reached, Captain.”

  “Very well. All engines stop. Station-keeping only.”

  “Aye, sir. Station-keeping.”

  “We’ll remain here for the time being,” Trevyn said to the bridge crew. “D’Lac, you have the conn.”

  The First Officer rose to take his place as Trevyn moved toward the exit, but D’Lac paused before he sat down. “With respect, Captain.”

  Trevyn turned to him. What is this?

  “May I ask what our mission is here? We are far from . . . home.” The older man spoke quietly, his manner diffident. But it was possible he represented others who would not dare to speak except in bitter whispers among themselves.

  Trevyn nodded, and swept the bridge with his gaze. “We’re on a hunt, crew, for a sentient machine. A planet-killer, responsible for many lives. We may have to snatch this thing from the arms of its Gray defenders. But if we are successful, we will protect many more innocents—women, children, elders—and it will be known throughout the galaxy that the Blood’s Honor saved them.”

  D’Lac straightened. “Aye, sir. A mission worthy of your crew. We won’t let you down.”

  “I never doubted it, Commander.” He turned to the young woman at Comms. “Relay that message to every comp on the ship.” Then he headed for the exit. “I’ll be in my quarters, D’Lac.”

  The ship was designed to maximize the captain’s privacy and security, with little distance between the bridge and the captain’s quarters, the suite that had once belonged to Trevyn’s father, then to his brother, Kinnian. Trevyn had worked through his duty cycle and his R&R cycle and into his sleep cycle, which he shared with the senior bridge crew and one-third of his ship’s complement of 180. So, it was no surprise that he encountered no one as he took the stairs down one level from the bridge and walked the short span of empty corridor to his cabin.

  He was relieved; he wanted to see no one. He had work to do that required all the peace and quiet his status could give him. He reached the sanctuary of his quarters, stretched out on his bunk, and reached deep in his mind for his connection to Gabriel.

  --Trevyn.

  --We have arrived. No sign we have been detected. What is your location?

  --Entering Tamira system. Doing our best to stay blind to the Grays’ sensors. Our stealth tech isn’t as good as yours.

  Trevyn read Gabriel’s concern and the reason for it. The Shadowhawk would be taking even more time than the Honor had to wend its way through the system to arrive at the rendezvous point, using the electromagnetic interference of the planetary bodies to cloak its approach.

  --Understood. Have you decided upon a tactical—”

  --Who are you?

  Trevyn froze, his body motionless, his mind silent, waiting. He could sense that Gabriel had done the same. No one—no thing—should have been able to intrude on their conversation. Their connection was inviolate, a thread born with them in the womb, as essential and unique as their DNA. It was impossible.

  And yet the presence made itself felt again. How are you here? With me? No one comes here. I am alone unless the Creator speaks with me.

  Trevyn could sense the creature’s—for it was a sentient being, not a computer-generated voice he was hearing—excitement, its astonishment. We often speak to each other this way. I am Trevyn. The other is my brother, Gabriel. He put aside any questions he had about how the creature had found them. That was no longer important. On the emotional plane he shared with his sibling, he sensed agreement.

  --Do you have a name? Gabriel asked.

  --My Creator calls me BiN.

  The full text appeared in Trevyn’s mind—Bi[nary] N[anoplex].

  --You are Thrane?

  --Yes, Gabriel answered. How did you know?

  --You are not like the Creator, or the slaves, or the guards. There is much data available about your race. Your minds are not as anticipated, however.

  Trevyn asked, though he thought he already knew the answer. How so?

  --Thrane history relates many incidents of extreme violence, betrayal and greed. The planet had an extensive bloody imperial period in which it attempted to invade and rule its more peaceful neighbors until the Imperial Fleet was defeated by Consys Forces at the Battle of Zortan in the reign of Emperor Galt II. Even now—

  --Thank you, BiN. We are aware of our planet’s history, Trevyn interrupted. We do not condone the acts of our ancestors. My brother and I have sworn to defend the innocent throughout the galaxy.

  He felt a squeeze of warning from Gabriel at the deepest level of their connection. But what was much more fascinating, he felt a wave of conflicting emotion from the creature—guilt, shame, confusion. And, perhaps, a tiny spark of hope.

  --It is possible to escape the past, then? To atone for past mistakes with good deeds in the present?

  There was a long pause before Gabriel answered. Some acts of atonement require greater sacrifice. Some require the ultimate sacrifice.

  --You mean of self, BiN replied.

  --Yes.

  There was another long silence. Trevyn kept his mind empty, free of images or words that would suggest anything to the creature.

  --Are you here to destroy me? A wave of deep sadness washed through Trevyn’s mind from the creature, and a loneliness as vast as the space beyond his ship.

  His brother’s weary sympathy rose up in reply. Will you make it necessary? />
  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Charlie brought her vehicle sliding to a halt in front of Rafe’s cabin, her heart thudding in her chest. The black SUV that had been following her at a distance—the one Rafe had assured her was Zouk—was no longer behind her, but her skin crawled as if the man might reappear at any second. She exhaled in relief when Happy bounded out to greet her, not sensing any danger.

  Javin Darto was not so relaxed. “Get in the house,” he said, taking the porch stairs two at a time to get to her. “Zouk took a turn and Rafe lost him.”

  Charlie stared at him for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Help me get these things inside. Get out of the way, Hap.”

  Together, they gathered up the groceries from the back of the car—and the pies—and hurried into the cabin. They dumped everything on the kitchen counter where Charlie could sort it out.

  But something had occurred to her. “Where did Rafe say Zouk turned off?”

  Javin shook his head. “He didn’t say. Just said he was checking out three different roads up the mountain and we should be on the lookout.”

  “No. Call him back. Zouk’s gone up the ridge road.”

  She could tell Javin had no idea what she meant by “the ridge road,” but he tapped the communication device at his ear anyway. “Rafe, you there? Got new intel for you.”

  “Tell him to take the third road on the left. That one leads to the ridge above the cabin. Near where we went to look at the stars,” Charlie clarified. “He’ll remember.”

  Javin nodded and repeated what she had said. He listened another second or two, and acknowledged his orders. “Roger that. We’ll shift our focus. Darto out.”

  Then he grinned at Charlie. “He’s cussing like an engineer. Said he should have known.”

  Charlie shrugged and set about putting away the groceries. “I grew up around here. He’s only been here a few months.” Was that all it had been? How could she have gotten in so deep in so short a time?

  “Still, guess he figures it was his job to know,” Javin replied. He tapped his earpiece. “Sorry, gotta talk to my guys now.”

  She nodded and turned back to her work, only to be interrupted by Del, wheeling in from the next room. “What’s all the excitement?”

  She saw no point in lying to him. “Zouk’s making his move.”

  “We need weapons,” he said.

  “I think the boys have that covered.”

  The old man scowled. “No. I mean we need ’em—you and I. What happens if that bastard gets through? We supposed to sit here with our, uh . . . well, you know what I mean.”

  The circumstances were dire, but not quite dire enough for her to put a weapon in Del’s hands. “I get your point, but how about you let me handle the shooting irons, pardner?”

  Javin was bent over a computer at the kitchen table, reprogramming the fleet of tiny surveillance drones they had scattered through the surrounding woods to focus on the ridge road above the cabin. She put a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention.

  “What do you think, Javin? Got anything for me? I’m qualified on a handgun or a shotgun or rifle, doesn’t matter which.”

  Javin looked up at her, eyes wide. “Um. Do you have any of those things?”

  “Well, not here,” she admitted. “But you must have something I can use.”

  For a long moment, Javin just stared, clearly not knowing what to do. Then he got up and went past Del into the great room. Rummaging around in a large, rectangular locker near the door, he pulled out what looked like a clear plastic toy gun, like the one Rafe had used to kill the intruder at the beginning of this nightmare.

  “This is a stun gun. Some people say stunner,” he explained, showing it to her. “Two settings—stun and kill.” He indicated the settings. “Point and shoot. Easy.”

  “Any kick on this thing?” Charlie said as she accepted it.

  “Huh?” He thought a second. “Oh! No. And it needs no charging or loading, like the old days.”

  She smiled at him. “Would that be your old days, or mine?” He’d gotten that confused look again, so she held up a hand. “Never mind.”

  Darto nodded. “You set? I need to get back to monitoring the sensors.”

  She hefted the stun gun in her hand, wondering whether she felt better or not. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Humph,” Del grumbled at her side. “A stunner. Better have that damn thing set to kill.”

  Charlie made sure. She wasn’t taking any chances, either, even with four bodyguards and all the technology the future could provide.

  --Will you make it necessary?

  For a long moment after he asked the question, Gabriel heard nothing, felt only his brother’s presence in his mind. He sensed the creature had left them, refusing to answer.

  Carefully, he reached out to his sibling on the deepest level. Trevyn, do you think the creature has retreated?

  --I can’t feel it any longer, Trevyn answered. It has a strangely emotional personality, don’t you think?

  Gabriel agreed. Not like a machine at all. Very . . . human, in a way.

  --You mean the guilt? You felt it?

  --Distinctly. How could a machine, even an artificial intelligence of great sophistication, display such overt emotion? Gabriel knew what he’d felt was real; he’d detected it in the blockage in Del’s mind, too. But to what end?

  He could sense the same question in Trevyn’s mind. I don’t know. It serves no purpose for the creators of the machine, certainly.

  --Quite the opposite, Gabriel replied. If this capacity arose independently in the creature, as I think it did, it may provide us with the means for the thing’s destruction.

  --I agree. Regrettably.

  --Yes. I almost pity the creature.

  Outside the interior space of his communion with Trevyn, Gabriel suddenly became aware of blaring alarms and flashing emergency lights throughout the Shadowhawk, warning of imminent attack. He heard the call to battlestations and the confirmation that this was not a drill. He prepared to disengage from his conscious link with Trevyn.

  --I must go. The Grays have finally seen us. We’re under attack. Meet you on the other side, brother.

  --Go. The Honor fights at your back.

  Lana was waiting for him to bring his mind into the here and now. “They need you on the bridge, k’taam.”

  “Me? What about you?”

  She shook her head as they exited the cabin and headed for the lift. “Car chases, fist fights, gunplay, I’m your girl. But a space battle? Not my area of expertise. I’ll see if I can be of use in Sickbay. Rayna said she’d meet me there.”

  They parted with a brief touch of the lips at the lift, ignoring the ship’s crew hustling through the corridor around them. They didn’t speak. All the emotion they felt ran along their bond—love, fear, courage—there for them to experience in the privacy of their hearts. Even though they would be separated during the upcoming battle, they would never be apart.

  When he arrived at the bridge less than a minute later, Gabriel found the atmosphere calm, but focused. Sam sat at the conn in the center of the circular deck, tracking the movements of a Gray battle cruiser on the main viewscreen. The enemy ship had left orbit around Tamira VII and was fast approaching weapons range.

  Sam swiveled in his seat to look up at him. “We’re still in stealth mode, but they’ve located us anyway. Two minutes ’til contact.”

  “Just the one ship.” Gabriel could see that for himself, but he wanted Sam’s thinking on it.

  “Guess they figure we’ll be easy to run off,” the captain answered. “And, if we’re not, they’ll have backup from the other ship. Comms show they haven’t discovered the Honor yet.”

  “They’re coming in hot, Cap,” the man at the Weapons station said. “Laze cannon and ion torpedoes all online.”

  “Prepare to fire as soon as we’re in range, Ott. Mo, disengage stealth mode. Might as well save the power. It’s not doing us any good anyway.” Both the Weapons Of
ficer and the ship’s XO acknowledged the orders. “As soon as we blast ’em, Dartha, take evasive action. I don’t want to stick around for the response.”

  The woman at the helm nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  At Navigation, Sipritz counted down the distance between ships in a raspy whisper. “75,000 kilometers and closing fast, Cap. Bearing 17 point zero 5. Weapons range in fifteen seconds.”

  “Thank you, Sipritz. Ott, stay sharp. Fire cannon as she bears.”

  “Aye, Cap. Ready on cannon.”

  “Patel, all hands brace for impact.” As the Comms Officer acknowledged the order and made the announcement to the ship, Sam punched a pad at his station and spoke. “Engineering. You there, Kwan?”

  “Here, Cap. You gonna tell me to break the laws of physics again?”

  “Nah. Just a warning to hold on to your ass. Oh, and, yeah, I might need all the power you can give me in the next half-hour.”

  “Whatever you need, Cap.”

  “Thanks, Steve. Captain out.”

  “Weapons range, Cap,” Sipritz said.

  “Incoming!” Mo said from his station. But they could already see the thick blue line of laze fire arcing from the Gray ship.

  “Brace!” Sam shouted. Then, “Fire at will, Ott!”

  No warning. Gabriel thought. So much for space protocol.

  The bridge shook under the impact of multiple strikes from the Gray ship. Control consoles popped and hissed. Smoke issued from one or two, only to be quickly suppressed. The emergency lights dimmed, then came back.

  “Our forward shields are down thirty percent, Cap,” Mo warned. “We’ve had minimal impact on their shields so far.”

  “Shit, we’re getting pounded,” Sam said. “Where are those evasive maneuvers, Dartha?”

  “Trying, Cap. He’s stuck to me like a fang eel.”

  “Torpedoes, Ott. Aim for his vulnerable spots and make him back off a little.”

  “Aye, cap. Targeting engines and sensor ports. Torpedoes away.”

  Another laze blast struck them in the flank as the ’hawk danced away, leaving behind a cluster of torpedoes to swarm the enemy ship. Rocked by the impact, Gabriel missed what happened on the viewscreen.