Constellation (Blood Empire Book 1)

by Robert Scanlon

  The Sergeant salutes, executes a perfect twist-and-turn, and sails back down the passageway.

  Jordi let’s a scornful whistle escape. “Pfft. Loyalty, my ars—”

  “He speaks truth, Mr Jordi,” Aktip says.

  Jordi shuts up and sulks.

  I lean back the best I can in my weightless position and look over at Aktip. “Thanks. Now let’s talk about a certain mythical battlecruiser, what the hell Sloper wants with it, and our plans to find it.”

  I pause for a moment to look around at my new crew.

  “And stay alive at the same time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I punch up the hull’s holoscreen, and I point to the simulated image of a staggeringly large X-class battlecruiser on the screen.

  “This is supposedly what the Constellation looks like. I asked Sloper for a description, and he confirmed what we’re looking at here. It was built in secret to fight the Blood Empire. Ten years ago, when Oberon’s Circle of Seven started to amass significant cruisers and weapons stores on the fringe of the Sector, someone very high up escalated the design and construction of the Constellation. General—”

  “Wait,” Jordi interjects. “How do you know all this?”

  I make a face at him. “Papa, of course. He followed all this stuff like it was all that mattered.” Maybe it was at the time, I think. “I got this image from his cube store—who knows where he got it from. As I was saying”—I glare at Jordi—“the Constellation was crewed by General Garnek and his marines. It was rumored to have experimental weaponry onboard, which is why the Sector kept it from general knowledge. They thought trade partners in the region might get upset, or pull back from cooperation.”

  “Why would they behave this way?” Aktip asks, raising her brow protuberance. “I do not understand.”

  I sigh. “Human relationships can be complicated. Everyone has an agenda. I guess they were worried that someone might get wind of the Constellation’s power and switch sides.”

  “Back the Blood Empire? That’s a pretty serious transgression.” Jordi says.

  I purse my lips. “It’s happened before. Maybe they were worried history would repeat itself. But it never mattered. Oberon launched his play on the Sector and we responded. According to the myths, it was only because of the Constellation that we overpowered the Circle of Seven and they retreated.”

  “Then where is this ship now?” Aktip swivels from the holo to me. “It is surely valuable and symbolic? Would this Blood Empire not return if they knew the ship was no longer in use?”

  “You got me. I don’t know. It was supposed to have been destroyed in the last great Sector battle. Then the Sector fell apart, and it’s still in disarray.” I stare at the image for a while before switching it back to an external view, and I linger on the sparse starfield in front of us. “But Sloper has wind of it.” I correct myself. “More than that. He gave me the exact hypercoordinates.”

  I look at my crewmates and shrug. “I have no idea how he got them.”

  “He paid for them,” blurts Jordi, then, realizing what he had just admitted, reddens. He looks at me meekly. “Oops.”

  “Your gambling debt was with Sloper? You knew he was on Rykkamon—and you know I would go after him, yet you kept it from me. What kind of friend are you, Jordi?” I stare at him, feeling my temperature rising, and pushing it back down. Jordi has his faults, but this is going too far.

  He holds up a laserpistol. “Good job he gave me some firepower, eh? Your friend helped get you out of a tight spot with these.”

  I seethe at him. “I’m tempted to eject you into space right now.” I push up and fly past him to retrieve the holocube I threw. I tap the sides and flick the image across to the hull’s screen. I’m pretty sure there is only one reason Sloper put the cube in my cabin. “I told you Darpesh took out the Chief’s gang. But I didn’t tell you he posed as me. Now tell me if you can work out why we needed the pistols.” I press play.

  I’m proved right, as the video shows the ambush on the Rykkan outlaw camp. I see Aktip’s discomfort next to me and switch it off.

  Jordi’s face is white. “I ... I—”

  “Stow it for later. For now, you owe me. Big time.”

  For once Jordi says nothing.

  Aktip’s face is unreadable. “Why did this man do this?”

  “Because he wants the Constellation.”

  Aktip looks at me, confused. “Why did you agree?”

  “Yeah, why does Sloper think you can do what nobody else has been able to do?” Jordi says.

  “Did you forget?” I tap the holocube again and the video resumes. It’s the same imagery Sloper showed me before, and just as difficult to watch the second time around. I feel my eyes moisten as I look at my brother, reduced to tears himself, near-naked and bloody in Sloper’s cage.

  I look at Jordi. “Do you think I had any choice?”

  ***

  The video finishes and we sit in silence. Eventually it is Aktip who breaks the spell. “Then we must find this battlecruiser and bring it to Sloper as requested. He will then return your brother.”

  “If only it were that simple. Space pirate gossip has it that many salvage crews have located the Constellation, and not a single one has returned. Even the fact that Sloper has given us coordinates means nothing. Most spacers say if it is still in existence, it’s a ghost ship, hunting for new victims.”

  “What garbage. Surely you don’t believe that?” Jordi has recovered. “A ghost ship? Nup.” He scratches his head. “But what does Sloper want? He’ll have the entire Sector out for his blood if he really has found it.” He frowns at me. “Will you really give it to him?”

  “There’s more to it than meets the eye,” I admit. “At this point I’m not able to make a decision. We have no choice but to go to the coordinates given.” I look at my two crewmates, lost for words. What if Sloper lied? Just to get rid of me? Am I about to take my friends (which is debatable in Jordi’s case) to their death?

  Then I think of my brother, and what he would do in my position.

  “Boot up the hyperDrive, Jordi. There’s only one way we’ll ever find out the truth.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  We emerge from hyperspace into what should have been empty territory, devoid of any nearby planetary systems, and immediately the proximity alarm shrieks. I shut the salvage cruiser’s alarm down as I’ve already read the holo-warning:

  LARGE MASS, METALLIC-ORIGIN IN CLOSE PROXIMITY. RISK OF COLLISION.

  But there is no risk—I have halted our motion, and engaged the ship’s cloaking function.

  I flick on the cabin’s holoscreen to panoramic mode and zoom in.

  However many credits Sloper had paid for these coordinates, it was worth it.

  There before us, drifting in space in all its glory, floats the massive hulk of the Constellation. Sloper hadn’t lied. The nagging doubt that he had invented this entire scenario simply to dispose of me vanishes, replaced by an icy tingle up and down my spine.

  I turn to Aktip, sitting in the navigator’s chair beside me. As a skilled comms engineer, she offered to man the navigation and general communication. I was grateful for any help. Especially if it came with undying loyalty, unlike Jordi, who only seems to know how to look after himself.

  The squat alien’s brow protuberance rises, and her eyes pulse at me. “You have indecision.” It is not a question.

  I glance at the holoscreen, then turn around to Jordi, who is sitting behind me. His eyes are fixed on the screen, his mouth slightly open. He shakes his head to clear it and focuses on me. “It’s massive.”

  I nod. “We’d better be cautious. Anything tries to attack, we can only run away.” Silently I curse Sloper’s insistence on a salvage cruiser with no weapons. I guess that means he’s still scared of me.

  Aktip speaks. “No other salvage vessel has returned from a search for the Constellation.” The Rykkans have a tendency to state the obvious, often when you least need to hear i
t. But Aktip is right to remind us. Not only are we unarmed; history suggests we have a 100% chance of not surviving.

  “Aktip, how far do your senses extend?” I ask.

  “Your question is considered taboo on Rykkamon. But since we are in special situation, I answer—”

  “Bit like asking a guy how long his di—”

  I turn around and swat Jordi’s grinning face to shut him up. “Go on, Aktip.”

  The alien lifts one clawed hand—the Rykkan equivalent of assent. “In clean space such as this; perhaps 500 meters. Possible it is 600.”

  I grimace. Not far enough. “Let’s circle and take readings. Jordi, you’re on standby for an instant jump. At anyone’s call.”

  I urge the ship forward gently using only impulse power. To any observer, we’d be an unidentifiable dark mass, moving silently through space.

  We circle the giant battlecruiser, like a small moon orbiting a planet. The vessel rotates majestically below us, so I match its motion first, then gradually speed up.

  “No electromagnetic radiation.” Aktip states flatly.

  Unusual. An abandoned ship will usually have some chatter. Then again, the Constellation is—was—no ordinary vessel. Lit only by our ship’s spotlights traversing the huge ship’s structure, the Constellation is intimidating even when powered down. Turrets bristle at regular intervals; laser-ports pepper the matt-sheened plasma-resistant surface, and numbered locks big enough to swallow ten of my own ship sweep past our viewports with clock-like frequency.

  Whoever commanded this oversized warship could probably take on an entire planet.

  Jordi taps me on the shoulder and points to the edge of the holoscreen.

  I realign our ship to where he is pointing, and we all fall silent. I reduce our propulsion, and we slow down to approach one end of the giant ship. There is a massive gaping black hole at the stern—one we hadn’t spotted, since we’d arrived at the blunt bow.

  “This is ship power units?” Aktip looks at me and smooths her wide lips back with her large, flat tongue. That’s one nervous Rykkan.

  “Was the ship’s power unit; singular” I correct. “Except by the look of those cuts, this power unit wasn’t destroyed by firepower or an explosive device.” I look from Aktip to Jordi, whose expression of curiosity has changed to a battle-hardened visage. He meets my eyes and waits for me to finish. I continue. “The Constellation’s engines have been surgically removed.”

  “Who can do such a thing?” Aktip asks.

  I pan the holoscreen across the chasm, picking out the precise lines where hundreds of meters of war-grade, plasma-resistant hull alloy has been sliced through. “If we knew that, then we might have an idea why no other salvage vessel has returned.”

  But Aktip is acting strangely. Her head is jiggling. She gives me what I assume is an intense look. “Ma’am, we must leave immediately—”

  I am already reaching for the controls to reposition the ship when a swarm of fiery-red projectiles streak toward us from deep inside the battlecruiser’s exposed interior.

  We are sent scrambling into action.

  “Jordi, hyperDrive. NOW!” I hit full-speed reverse, hoping the fDrive on this ship has more thrust than the missiles bearing down on us. The acceleration throws us all forward against our harnesses and we watch the cruiser’s image dwindle to a speck on our screens.

  But the missiles are outpacing us.

  “Jordi?” With difficulty I twist around to see Jordi slumped forward against his belt. The idiot has left his harness loose, and he’s passed out when the upper strap has caught his airway. I turn back against the high-grav thrust and try to reach with an impossibly leaden arm over to the hyperDrive module, but Aktip is too quick for me. Her Rykkan body is unaffected by the thrust and she is out of her harness, and has climbed behind me. She grabs my hand and pulls me forward. I hit the hyperDrive command, hoping that Jordi’s preset was still programmed.

  We jump into hyperspace, and for all intents and purposes vanish from normal reality. I pass out.

  When I come to, Jordi is in front of me and has me by both shoulders. He peers at me.

  “Damage report?” I manage to whisper.

  He shrugs. “I’m okay. I just couldn’t breathe for a while.”

  I push him away and rise up. “Not you, you idiot,” I say through gritted teeth, “the ship.”

  “The ship is functioning at 100%, Madam Captain,” Aktip says, thumbing her non-clawed finger at the helm functions. She stops and swivels her head toward me—an aspect of Rykkan physiology I still find unnerving. “One crew member reports a possible broken nose.”

  “And one crew member is still risking one.” I glare at Jordi. “What were you thinking—”

  He waves my comment away. “Let it go, Indy. We escaped, thanks to Aktip. I’m sorry. I was caught completely unaware. No electromagnetic broadcast; no signs of life—who would have predicted a plasma attack?”

  Jordi is right. I smile weakly at Aktip. “Thanks. Without your high-grav conditioning we’d be galactic gas.”

  Aktip inclines her squat head and raises a hand. “Thank you, Madam. Shall I complete the damage report?” I nod. The Rykkan continues. “My sensors did not register any lifeform ...” She scratches what passes for a nose.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Do go on.” I think I’m about to find out why the alien was able to give me a warning when my ship couldn’t.

  “It is embarrassing in our culture to be boastful, Madam Captain. I provided false information earlier. I can sense up to 3000 meters if there is no obstruction. I confirm there are no lifeforms on that ship. The attack was 100% automated, which is why at first I did not understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “There are no lifeforms ... but there are. I take sense of something I have never sensed before. Just before I recommend we must leave. Sorry, Madam Captain. I am failing my debt obligations.”

  “Hardly, Aktip. We’re still here, thanks to your early warning, as well as your strength. I’d say your obligations are more than being met. But that would explain why no other salvage ships have come back. None of them would have had a Rykkan’s long-range senses on hand to save them. They’d have assumed that no power equals no threat. But why didn’t we register any EM radiation? There must be something activating those plasma launchers.”

  Aktip shrugs, one of her more humanlike gestures. “I cannot provide the answer, Madam. So sorry.” Her head swivels back to the controls.

  “Why don’t we send in a drone?” Jordi sounds hesitant. Better a dented ego than an over- ambitious Jordi, I think. I decide to flatter him.

  “Smart thinking.” I run some rough calculations in my head. “Let’s jump back in to one klick out from the Constellation, and send in two drones; one after the other.”

  Jordi furrows his brow. “Huh? Why two?”

  Aktip swivels back. “Madam has superior tactical intelligence. She plans to sacrifice the first drone. The second will be cloaked and carry an emergency salvage power unit.”

  I laugh. The Rykkan’s sensing capability at close range is almost like mind reading. “Exactly. Let’s put a spy in there. I plan not only to come back from this mission, but with the Constellation in tow.”

  Jordi lets out a low whistle.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I return to the helm after personally preparing the drones. Our ship might not be armed, but I don’t plan to damage my rep. So far, India Jackson has delivered on all her missions. Both legal and illegal—maybe that was why Sloper chose me. A vision of Mitch writhing in agony flashes into my head. I’d pushed my brother’s plight out of my mind, but for him to survive, I have no other choice except to bring the Constellation to Sloper.

  “You must leave brother-worry in hyperspace,” Aktip says quietly.

  I take a deep breath and focus on the helm panel. “Let’s do it.” I swipe my finger and we hyperjump. No proximity alarm this time, and now the Constellation shows on the holoscreen as a smal
l, computer-labeled object.

  “Launching both drones,” I say, and hold my breath. The screen tracks them both, one invisible to the Constellation, the other metaphorically waving its hands and exclaiming, “shoot me, shoot me.”

  “Hang on,” Jordi says, frowning. “Our own ship was cloaked before, but whoever shot at us still knew we were there.”

  I smirk. “You forget I have”—I make quotation gestures with my fingers—“‘superior tactical intelligence.’ It’s not whoever, but whatever. That attack was automated. To the Constellation, we are a large, slow-moving mass showing traces of power. In other words, something to shoot at. But they can’t program it to auto-fire at any small unpowered object, or they’d be waving a flag to anyone watching. A small asteroid is of no consequence.”

  “But—”

  “Just watch.”

  We are glued to the screen as the two drones approach the massive man-made wound in the side of the battlecruiser. As predicted, more plasma missiles launch from the bowels of the ruined ship’s engine area, and Drone One vanishes in a ball of fire. Drone Two sails down into the hole.

  “How?—”

  “Magnets,” I reply. “Old science. They wouldn’t have planned for that. I had Drone Two under power until it was close to the ship, then cut all systems. I left it magnetically locked onto Drone One at a short distance”—I flash a look at Aktip—“using old school solid, plasticized magnets. Aktip knew about them from her days at the spaceport and reminded me. All salvage vessels carry supersized magnets for retrieving iron and steel from flammable environments. When Drone One was destroyed—”

  “Drone Two lost the attraction to Drone One and instead directed itself to the nearest large semi-ferrous object.”

  I clap my hand on Jordi’s shoulder. “You do have a brain in more than one member after all.”

  He smiles, then screws his face up. “Then why aren’t the missiles now firing on Drone Two?”