by B. V. Larson
There was some rough complaining in the hallway as the man was inspected and ushered into the hospital room.
I almost hoped the visitor did turn out to be a Stroj imposter when I saw who they’d been patting down and irritating. A red-faced Admiral Halsey confronted me. He was my superior, one of the top commanders of Star Guard.
“Private goons, Sparhawk?” he demanded. “You’ve got the balls to doubt your own commanders?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I began.
“Well, don’t be,” he said, cutting me off. “With all the shit you’ve been through, I can hardly blame you. May I come in?”
As he was already standing in my hospital room, I made a gracious gesture. He began to speak then, and while he did so Zye and Jillian both gave him suspicious glances now and then.
“Fortunately for you, I’m not a Stroj,” Halsey assured me. “They don’t seem to love you much do they?”
“They don’t seem to, Admiral,” I said. “They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to take me out. It seems excessive.”
“This time I think the enemy is playing the game right. They know you’re one of our best and brightest. Sure, the Guard has always leaned on you. You’re a man from a Great House invading the ranks of Star Guard. It’s bound to make jealousy and envy spring up in the hearts of every mean-spirited man.”
I thought of reminding him he’d been quite high on that list of distinguished doubters, but I passed on the idea.
“Again, my apologies,” he said. “It’s clear there are forces here on Earth, forces allied with colonists, who don’t want us to leave this star system.”
Turning that thought over in my mind, I quickly decided he was right.
“You’ve got a point, sir,” I said. “I’ve been wondering about that for some time now. Why haven’t we attempted to leave the Solar System again?”
“Political reasons, mostly,” Halsey admitted. “People were burned by the loss of all contact with other star systems. The Cataclysm triggered an economic and social collapse. We turned inward, and we began to think that was a good thing. Powers arose who benefited from the status quo.”
He eyed me significantly.
“You’re talking about the Great Houses,” I said.
He nodded slowly. “Think about it. We’ve got longevity combined with legal cloning and the ability to pass on that power to progeny—we’ve become a planet controlled by dynasties. Long term familial power has become institutionalized with the help of our technology.”
I shifted uncomfortably and began to dress as he spoke. He caught my mood.
“Heretical talk, I know,” he said. “But now that we’ve made contact with other worlds, people are wondering again, questioning. That’s precisely what the Great Houses didn’t want.”
“Do you think it was a conspiracy?” I asked. “Or maybe just an evolutionary shift in thinking over time?”
He shrugged. “It could have been either. I’m a student of history… did you know that, Sparhawk?”
“No sir,” I said, pulling my sleeves on painfully. They rasped over my flaking skin. My teeth bared themselves in discomfort.
“Well, I am. History teaches us that every society has its blind spots, evils they perform without question. They come to believe their barbaric practices are hallowed traditions. Think of the Romans with their blood-sports in the coliseum. Or the Mayans, who sacrificed thousands of innocents to please their heartless gods. Even the Americans, more recently, came to believe in—”
“Sir?” I interrupted, now fully dressed. “May I ask what this has to do with the matter at hand? We have Stroj agents on Earth again, sir. That much is clear, and they appear to have Betas helping them.”
“Eh? Yes, well… you’re obviously correct. The general belief at Central Command is that this was an isolated sleeper cell. A group of undiscovered enemy agents that took action to exact revenge upon the man who defeated them in battle last time.”
I looked at him. “Is that what you believe?” I asked.
“Hell no. Two renegades can’t hack implants, blast holes in the umbilical and break into a hospital bent on assassination. It takes an organization to do all that.”
I nodded. “I agree, Admiral. I agree.”
“Good!” he shouted, clapping me on the back.
The blow was painful, but I kept a wincing smile on my face.
“Now,” he boomed, “get back up to that ship. Get her underway and get the hell out of this system. Find your way to Beta. The emissaries are waiting aboard your vessel now.”
My expression shifted into a frown. “Emissaries, sir?”
He laughed. “What? Did you think the government would let you represent Earth? What if you started a fight with the first colonist you met? You’re good at that—at least, that’s your rep.”
“I see,” I said unhappily. “I’ll transport these emissaries to a colony world and make contact. Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir—”
“There will be no excuses this time. There’s a color guard waiting out in the hallway, and a pinnace on the roof.”
That startled me. “A pinnace, sir?”
“Yes. To hell with the umbilical. Take my personal transport up to your ship and get going.”
Nodding, I walked down the hallway. With great effort, I managed not to limp.
Behind me followed a grim-faced group. Jillian, her partner, Zye and a team of four marines all walked with visible tension. They were looking everywhere at once, and eyeing everyone but me.
How had I become the center of controversy again? Why had the enemy singled me out? After all, even if they did manage to kill me, Star Guard was certain to appoint a new captain to my post aboard Defiant and send him out into the unknown to explore.
There was more to this situation on Earth than I understood, that much was clear. I decided to put it behind me as best I could. At this point, I relished a nice calm journey into the wilds of interstellar space.
-5-
When the pinnace reached Defiant and docked with her, I was shocked to realize how much time had passed. Of the thirty-nine hours I’d promised Durris I’d return within, only two remained. I’d spent a full day in the hospital without knowing it. We would have to fly to the departure point in all haste to exit the system on schedule.
As I rushed to the command deck, teeth gritting with each painful step, another thought occurred to me: Chloe hadn’t come to visit me.
I’d been stretched out on a hospital bed for nearly two days, but she’d never come to see me.
I’m no expert at relationships, but I knew this simple fact couldn’t be positive. I ducked into my office and contacted her on my implant.
A tiny, irritating vibration ran up through the base of my skull. My implant had been restored and upgraded while I was unconscious. The new version seemed to be more intrusive—but that might just have been a side-effect of the swelling at the insertion-point.
The call kept buzzing, but she wasn’t picking up. I glanced at my chronometer, there was so little time left. Perhaps I could call later when I was just about to leave Earth orbit.
But then, just before I gave up and disconnected, the call was answered.
“William?” Chloe asked. “Are you all right?”
“Yes—at least, I am now. I’ve been in bed for days, but I pulled through.”
“I’m very happy to hear that. I was so worried.”
“Chloe…” I said, summoning up the courage to say what must be said next, “I’m going to be gone. Gone for a long time, I suspect.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ll miss you.”
“Will you wait for me?” I asked, blurting out the words. I hadn’t meant to say it that way. It sounded weak and pleading. I’d meant to indicate that I barely cared—but I did.
“William…” she said slowly. “I don’t know what to say.”
Suddenly, I understood. She’d already moved on. She’d made up her mind during the months I was away in space. Not
knowing if I was alive or dead had been too much for her.
Possibly, she’d taken on another lover to speed things along.
“I see,” I said stiffly. “I’m sorry to have troubled you with this call.”
“Don’t be like that, William. We can still be friends.”
“Of course.”
“Be well, be safe. Come home to Earth again.”
“I fully intend to. Goodbye, Chloe of Astra.”
“Goodbye, William of Sparhawk,” she responded automatically, with equal formality.
The connection closed. I took a deep breath. I felt irritated and saddened all at the same time. But part of me felt liberated as well. Since Chloe had taken over her mother’s position as a Public Servant, she’d grown steadily more preoccupied and distant.
After a brief internal struggle, I managed not to curse aloud. I told myself sternly that it might all be for the best.
Forcing myself to get moving again, I refused to sit in my office and brood. I found Durris in my chair, and relieved him with a tap on the shoulder and a friendly nod. He was red-eyed, and his head hung from his neck like a drooping plant.
“Are you sure you’re all right, sir?” he asked me, looking me over with a tired, but critical, eye.
“Better than you, by the looks of it,” I told him. “You’re to report to your bunk for at least twelve hours.”
“Yes, Captain—and thank you, sir.”
He left, and I watched him walk away. I had no doubt he’d spent virtually every hour I’d been absent at his post. It gave me a guilty pang to think of it.
“Oh, by the way,” he said in passing, “the ambassador is on C-deck. She’d like to meet with you and have a formal dinner gathering.”
“Right…” I said, having almost forgotten about carrying an emissary to the stars, “I must welcome her aboard. But she’ll have to wait for now, I must get this ship underway.”
He left, and I turned back to my duties. I was full of questions about the ambassador, naturally. I knew she was a she, but that was about it.
I didn’t ask Durris any more questions about this ambassador as I had too much to do. Pleasantries would have to wait.
Once I was sure Defiant was ready to fly, I had the helmsman back her away from Araminta Station. A few minutes later we zoomed away under heavy acceleration.
The sensation of a moving ship under my feet caused me to smile. It was good to be back in business.
Our real acceleration rate was around thirty Gs, but due to our dampeners, we felt only a fraction of it. Still, the weight of our own bodies was uncomfortable.
“Let’s head for the departure point,” I ordered, and the navigators laid in an appropriate course.
Defiant was Earth’s only ship capable of interstellar travel. We’d long been out of contact with our colonies—it had been nearly a century and a half, in fact. It was something of a thrill for all aboard to know that history was about to be changed dramatically.
Using Defiant’s sensors, we’d previously identified several possible ER bridges out past Jupiter. In the past, before solar flares had ruptured the existing network of bridges to other systems, these bridges could be found closer to the Sun. The Cataclysm had washed away those easy-to-reach links like sand bars in a flood.
“ETA to the departure point?” I asked the helmsman.
I frowned in surprise when I saw who was in the pilot’s chair. Rumbold had spun around to face me.
“Sixteen hours, sir,” he said. “We’ll barely make it. I suggest we give the inertial dampeners a workout.”
“Rumbold? Didn’t I assign you to the damage control deck?”
“You did indeed, sir,” he admitted. “But we only have two other trained pilots aboard, and they’re off-duty.”
“Ah, I see. You edged yourself back onto the roster for take-off. Is that it?”
“Just trying to help out, Captain.”
“Right. Well, lay in the course and apply thrust as evenly as you can. We have a guest aboard.”
Once the ship was underway, the droning of the engines built to a continuous roar. The stresses on the hull and our bodies increased simultaneously.
I’d sounded the all-hands warning, but I hadn’t carefully checked upon the status of our formal companion. Complaints were, therefore, not long in coming.
“Sir,” Lieutenant Commander Yamada said, spinning her chair around to face me. Like many of my crew she’d been recently promoted, but she hadn’t let that go to her head. “Our diplomatic guest is unhappy. She’s sending me complaints approximately every minute.”
My face tightened. I supposed this was an unavoidable reality. Any ambassador wanted to be fawned over and groomed until she felt well-treated. I wasn’t looking forward to the task, but fortunately, my upbringing had prepared me for it.
“Bring her up to the command deck,” I told Yamada. “She can take a look at what we’re doing up here in person.”
Yamada looked dubious, but she relayed my summons to C-Deck.
We continued our flight, slipping past the Moon in less than an hour. As the ambassador didn’t show up immediately, I dared to hope she wouldn’t bother to come to the command deck at all—but my hopes didn’t last long.
“Captain Sparhawk?” asked a woman’s voice from behind me. The voice was a familiar one—shockingly familiar.
The ambassador was an older woman dressed in a black gown. The color and the garment were almost a uniform for any member of her Great House. I knew her quite well as my mother had been born a Grantholm.
“Lady Grantholm?” I said, standing up and bowing to her. I almost lost my footing—the acceleration had us all at a disadvantage. Despite the dampeners we were at one-point-seven Gs of thrust and rising.
“This acceleration is wholly unacceptable,” she said in a severe tone. “I want you to slow this ship down—or turn on the dampeners. Whatever it takes.”
I straightened from my bow and saw she was struggling not to grab onto the rail that ran around the inner region of the command deck. Finally, she swayed and reached for it. Supporting herself with two pale claws, she bared her teeth at me.
“If I don’t miss my guess, we’re still increasing our rate of acceleration,” she said.
“We are, madam,” I admitted.
“Whatever for?”
“Two excellent reasons: First, we’re on a time schedule. In order to reach the departure point at the moment CENTCOM has instructed me to do so, we have to move at speed.”
“Surely they’ll understand a delay,” she said. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, I gather.”
“That’s my job, Lady. Any Guardsman would be required to do the same.”
“False pride,” she muttered. “What’s your second reason, Sparhawk?”
“My understanding of ER physics,” I said. “The recommended velocity wasn’t chosen at random. When we reach the departure point, it isn’t good enough that we float there motionless, waiting for an opening. We have to breach a membrane—a barrier between space and hyperspace. Only at that perfect moment can we engage the bridge-drive. The prerequisite speed is being built up right now.”
“I had no idea this would be such a trial,” she complained.
“I had no idea a Grantholm person could be so adverse to discomfort.”
Her eyes flashed at me. Every Grantholm alive prided themselves on the rugged nature of people from their House. Compared to most upper class types, they were a capable lot, but they weren’t accustomed to the rigors of the Guard.
“All right,” Grantholm said, wheezing. “I’ll return to my cabin. Have an oxygen bottle sent down, would you?”
“Immediately, madam.”
She left with poor grace. I returned to my seat and Rumbold rolled his bulging eyes around to land on me.
“That wasn’t diplomacy!” he exclaimed. “You spat at each other like two alley cats.”
“Two cats from rival houses, you mean,” I said.
; “Why would they assign such a person to the task of playing ambassador? You might as well give Zye the job.”
I chuckled at the thought. Zye’s concept of diplomacy was limited in the extreme.
“Appointments of this sort are rarely based on merit,” I admitted. “She’s well-connected, and she wanted the job. I doubt anyone had the guts to refuse her request.”
“She wants to go into space,” Rumbold said thoughtfully, “but she can’t handle an extra half-G of acceleration…? This doesn’t bode well.”
“No,” I agreed, “it doesn’t.”
The hours went by quickly, as did the inner planets. We passed the orbit of Mars, tilted above the plane of the ecliptic to miss the asteroid belt, and soon thereafter Jupiter was looming.
We’d traveled an amazing distance in a short time. The full power of Defiant’s engines was startling. When I’d flown her home to Earth nearly a year ago, she’d been a limping wreck. Now, she was in prime condition.
As we approached Jupiter’s orbital lane and passed it, we came into the region of space where the ER bridges lurked. The existence of these channels into hyperspace had first been proposed by Einstein and Rosen in the early twentieth century. They’d later become popularized with the term “wormhole.”
As in so many cases in theoretical physics, the practical realities didn’t match the theory exactly, but the bridges were close enough in nature to warrant the naming credit. Rather than being a warped connection between two points in space and relating to a black hole, the entry points were more numerous and less deadly. They appeared as fractures in space, rather than holes. They did, however, operate to connect two spots in normal space.
Once entered into, a given ER bridge led the explorers on an exciting journey, during which they had to locate and pierce the exit point. The bridges were called bridges because they operated in two directions, with fixed entry and exit points in normal space.
The only difficulty came when one explored a new bridge for the first time. There was no known way to detect ahead of time where the exit might lead—or even where it was, exactly. In most cases, the other end was located near a large gravitational force. After all, there had to be something big enough to cause the fracture in the first place—but even this detail wasn’t always dependable.
