Lightwave

by AM Scott

  “You are welcome, Saree. I think we should install stunners above the control area. That would be a better solution for most pirates.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Well, unless they are in armor. But still, you are right. It shouldn’t be too difficult, but we’ll have to buy some; I don’t have any extras.”

  “It can wait. I am sure no one else currently on Lightwave will attempt anything like this.”

  “That’s for sure, Hal.” Saree looked around her shuttle. Harnesses lay strewn across the floor tiles like a 3D printer had gone crazy, and everything was coated with dust and dirt. She should start cleaning, but…oh, to the suns with it. She was tired to her core. Walking over to her couch, she started unfastening the harnesses there. “Well, Hal, this place is a mess, but I’m exhausted. I’m going to put the bed back, clean myself and sleep. I’ll clean the rest tomorrow.”

  “That is an excellent idea, Saree. I will run the vacuum remotes as much as I can around the harnesses. I will wake you if there is an emergency.”

  “Thank you, Hal.”

  “You are welcome, Saree. Sleep well.”

  She groaned as she pulled the couch back into a bed. She’d be lucky to get her teeth clean before collapsing flat on the bed. Thank all the seven suns of Saga for Hal.

  Chapter 11

  Ruhger breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn’t help. Probably because he wasn’t relieved—Lightwave was full of old women, children, and wounded, with very few useful people to care for all of them. His folder was a crowded, chaotic mess. The potential for trouble was staggering—and would only get worse. The exhaustion of survival and evacuation would fade, and passengers would make trouble. Some would desperately try to rescue others from the planet’s surface. Some would agitate to leave Gliese—now. And some would simply get bored.

  His crew was stretched very, very thin. Chief locked himself in engineering, intending to stay there for the duration. One of them spelled him a couple times a shift to eat. Good thing there was a sani-mod in engineering. Ruhger stayed in Alpha Shuttle most of the time, alternating command with Chief. Tyron and Katryn moved into Beta Shuttle and worked night and day shift respectively, while a few of the Sisters borrowed their rooms, hot bunking. Loreli and Grant kept their cabins, but they alternated shifts, coordinating the feeding and cleaning of Lightwave. The senior Sisters also worked shifts, providing additional security, nursing for the wounded, cooking and cleaning. Nari Al-Kindi helped in the kitchen and Al-Kindi himself assisted with medical, mostly creating medications from the raw ingredients the Sisters brought with them. The Scholar assisted in the kitchen and she’d loaned out her guitar and rhythm instruments to the Sisters. The shuttles they’d accepted were from some of the wealthier residents of Gliese, but they all housed additional people. All in all, the evacuation was going as smoothly as possible.

  Still, space was tight and tempers flared. Some didn’t understand why they weren’t folding out-system right now and others wanted to squeeze more people on board. And the issue of the two captured Sisters still festered. Ruhger, his crew and the Sisters’ leadership were extremely reluctant to pursue a rescue. They didn’t have enough people or firepower. They’d stepped up surveillance of the Badlands, and Al-Kindi loaned some of his remotes to help, but no actionable intelligence developed.

  Lightwave hadn’t spotted a glimpse of the Inquisitors. Were they waiting for Lightwave to leave, or for Galactica to show, or some other disaster? Or were they just working? There was no way to know. The Sisters were almost certain Tonee and Lessa were a lost cause, but they didn’t know for sure. None of them could say any such thing, especially in the uneasy ambience of the Sisters’ uncertain future.

  And that was the biggest problem: no reply to Haven’s pleas for help. Not from Secundus or Prime. Everyone knew about the ships full of passengers, denied landing rights, going from system to system until they ran out of food, water and fuel. Or were captured by slavers. Sure, the worst examples occurred around the core, where each system had particular and strict policies, politics and religions, but there were plenty of examples in the fringe too.

  Secundus needed colonists—they advertised constantly—but the planet was far more hostile than Gliese. Seismically active, colonists suffered through constant earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, and a wet, hot and humid tropical environment. There was a thin slice of temperate climate and relatively stable plate near each pole, but those areas were already claimed. New colonists had to push into the jungle, literally carving themselves living space, constantly battling the tenacious native growth. Insects, plants, and animals were hostile, territorial and often poisonous. Many of the native animals were large, carnivorous, lizard-like egg-layers, all too similar to Old Earth dinosaurs. Humans weren’t preferred food; they were poisonous to Secundus wildlife and probably didn’t taste good. But most of the wildlife wasn’t smart enough to know that; they figured it out by dying. Once the jungle was cleared, human-safe food was easy to grow, but keeping the jungle tamed and plant-eaters away was a constant struggle. The Sisters worked out a tentative plan for homesteading, dependent on the territory they could claim. The other refugees on Lightwave were in no shape to do anything but survive.

  Ruhger scanned the surveillance while he mused. Deneb was a much more Earth-like planet, but it was settled—and rigorously controlled and defended. Strict environmentalists colonized it centuries ago. They insisted on absolutely minimal impacts to the natural environment. Population was strictly controlled and human settlements limited to small areas of dense population, most of those underground. Food was grown hydroponically and raising animals for food was forbidden. There were some intrusions on the environment, such as selective lumber harvesting and careful collection of useful native plants, but those were strictly regulated. Their primary source of credits was adventure travel—Deneb was blessed with tall, majestically rough mountains, wide oceans full of beautiful islands, animals and plants and plains full of amazing and dangerous wild animals.

  Safaris on Deneb were extremely expensive, requiring extensive applications and vetting; only one in ten applicants was accepted. Therefore, travel on Deneb was highly sought after—exclusivity sells. The lucky few were housed in luxury and style, but only in very specific areas. Both Artiste Borgia and the Chelonians were at the main tourist destination—a barren plateau above the vast savannas of New Africa—the only location with a theater. Even kayakers and mountain climbers camped in carefully designated locations—and any deviations were rewarded by immediate expulsion, even in cases of extreme emergencies like avalanches. Every moment of every adventure was recorded—Deneb deployed a huge number of remotes with vids, recording in every spectrum. Part of the attraction was a professionally edited vid of each visitor’s stay, enabling effective bragging.

  The draconian rule-set only increased Deneb’s attraction for adventure seekers. Successfully breaking the rules was a standing bet on casino worlds, with vast sums at stake. Deneb had a highly trained security force, with extensive space forces, but they were strictly defensive. Ground security were jammed into tiny underground barracks. Space forces lived on space stations, allowed on the planet only once a year. Deneb had a hospital ship with fold capability for the unlucky adventurers who got injured; the Havenites hoped they’d see the evacuation of Gliese as a good training exercise. Or a chance for good publicity. Or both.

  Ruhger knew Deneb wouldn’t welcome the Sisters and their religious subsistence lifestyle, although they’d be individually recruited for the security forces. Very few of the Havenites had any skills valuable to Deneb. Nor did they want to crowd into the Deneb habitats, providing obsequious service to ultra-wealthy, entitled people. Sure, the workers were paid well, but since they weren’t allowed use of the surface recreation facilities, real vacations were taken off-planet, which was expensive and time-consuming. Most got a real vacation every five years or so. There were other systems happy to take anyone and everyone, but all too often they were Corp
-owned planets where people were little more than slaves. Mines, terraforming, or farm and ranch worlds supporting core planets were the norm, rather than the exception.

  Lacerta, Lightwave’s next destination, had some frontier planet possibilities, but Lightwave couldn’t take most of the Havenites or the Sisters that far. They needed paying customers. Nobody would pay to fold with all these refugees on board.

  Overall, Lightwave had been sucked into a giant black hole of blast and rad. Ruhger snorted. Okay, he’d flown them straight into a black hole of blast and rad. What other choice was there? None he or the rest of the crew could live with. So, enough with the regrets. They were in a situation of their own making and they’d deal with it.

  “Captain, Tyron.”

  “Go ahead, Tyron.”

  “One of the surveillance remotes picked up a lift bike coming out of the Badlands. It appears to be towing something. Remote three, if you want to pull up the vid.” Tyron’s expression was tight-lipped.

  Ruhger swept up the vid. A lift bike weaved around the spires and hoodoos of the Badlands, a huge plume of dust in the bike’s wake. The bike zipped into the open at the edge of the Badlands, made a one-eighty and zoomed back in, the wake much smaller. The bike must have dropped whatever it was towing. Tyron thought so too, because the remote stayed above the dust cloud. Ruhger’s stomach sank faster than the dust—he knew what was coming.

  The dust settled, slowly, revealing two human forms.

  “Mud-burrowing slime suckers,” Tyron snarled. “Blast them all to the giant black hole of Andromeda.”

  The vid zoomed in, but the dirt of Gliese prevented identification. Were they the missing Sisters or some other Gliese residents? If they were the missing Sisters, there was no incentive for the Sisters to attack; the Inquisitors saved themselves the trouble of mounting a defense. If someone else, were the Inquisitors trying to provoke Haven? Ruhger pondered the possibilities. Maybe they were bored and wanted a fight. That would fit with that Dalm character’s personality. Was it safe to retrieve the bodies? He wouldn’t ask the Havenites to do the grim task. They had enough trouble trying to defend their town. Or agree on how to defend it or if it even needed defense.

  Ruhger shook his head, remembering the ridiculous arguments some of the Gliesian colonists made during their last town meeting. He’d monitored the meeting at Harlan’s request. Just a few days after the surprise attack and people already forgot the terror. If the Inquisitors were smart, they’d just wait. The defense of Haven would die off and they’d be easy pickings. The town council knew this, but trying to convince everyone to maintain a defense against nothing for weeks on end was a difficult proposition.

  “Tyron, you’ve got command of Lightwave. If anything else happens, wake Chief and pass command to him. I’ll take Alpha Shuttle for the pickup. And…five of the Sisters with me for security. Thoughts?”

  Tyron sighed, then said, “Copy, Captain. I can’t think of anything at this moment. I see no signs of life, which makes this particularly dangerous—it might be a trap. Those shuttles are out there, remember?”

  Ruhger snorted. “Of course I remember. But we can’t leave them there. If it’s the missing Sisters, the ones here need closure. Besides, there’s always a chance someone’s alive down there.”

  “I doubt it, Captain; there’s no movement. I switched to infrared, and there’s no heat either. I can think of one thing to make this safer, although I hate to suggest it.”

  “Yes?” It must be something Tyron knew Ruhger wouldn’t like. But nothing came to his tired brain.

  Another sigh. “You could ask the Scholar to do the pickup and provide her top cover.”

  Oh, blast it all to the big black hole of Andromeda. Wait… “Why not use the Sisters’ shuttle? Let them do it.”

  “Because Chief is concerned about the shuttle’s flightworthiness. Flying the Sisters’ shuttle for the evac was worth the risk, but he’s not sure it will survive more than one or two more orbital trips. He said every atmospheric traverse might be the last. He insisted we fly with our suits the whole time, and in them for the last few trips, just in case. None of the Gliese shuttles will work; they’re full of people. Actually, so is the Sisters’ shuttle—it works fine as a dormitory.”

  A black hole of dread opened in Ruhger’s belly. He did not want to put the Scholar at risk again. And if he asked, she’d do it. “Tyron, she’s been more than generous to help us so far. How can we ask for more?”

  “Because it’s the smart thing to do, Captain,” Lashtar said, fatigue dragging at her face and tone. “I’ll ride on your shuttle, in command of ground forces. I’ll bring another Sister who knows shuttle weaponry, although not as well as you or I. We’ll put three Sisters on the Scholar’s shuttle; they can do the pickup and provide ground security. The Scholar has a tractor beam in her cargo bay, right?”

  Resignation slowed his reply. “I’ll check. Her shuttle is a University shuttle—there’s no telling what might be on the thing,” Ruhger told her. Yeah, like battle sims? Maybe a Scholar of War used it once? It didn’t matter right now. What mattered was the crisis at hand. “Stand by.”

  He swept up comms to the Scholar, putting the auto-annunciator message into it with an ‘urgent’ tag. Hopefully she wasn’t on sleep shift.

  “Shuttle Fortuna Lucia here, Captain,” the Scholar’s rich, low voice said, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. And causing the black hole in his stomach to suck harder.

  Ruhger firmed his resolve. He didn’t have time or energy for all these ridiculous emotions. He sent the vid of the lift bike delivery to her. “Scholar, we’ve had some unfortunate activity. Take a look at the vid I just sent. I hate to ask, and you can certainly say no, but can we use you and your shuttle for the pickup? We’ll put some Sisters onboard for security, and I will fly top cover.”

  “Stand by, Captain.”

  Shifting uneasily in the pilot’s chair, it creaked and groaned, and he huffed an unamused laugh. One of these days, fatigue would take its due, and he’d end up with his ass on the plas. Probably at the worst possible time. Work to do, remember, Ruhger? Bringing up the navigation program, he calculated courses. Putting himself and his people at risk was one thing; putting an already too generous passenger at risk was entirely different thing. But her help would make this a much safer prospect—for everyone but her. The idea of her in the hands of those animals sent shards of icy pain shooting through the black hole in his belly. Ruhger closed his eyes. Why did I ask?

  “Captain Ruhger?”

  He had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Yes, Scholar?”

  She sighed, and despite his worry and despair, for just a second, he thought about hearing her sigh almost like that, after… He snorted internally. He was such an idiot. Secrets, remember? Too many secrets.

  But he wanted her anyway. Suns, he was such an idiot.

  “I’ll help, Captain. Who are you sending my way?”

  He swept the Scholar into the ops net. “Lashtar, who are you sending with the Scholar?”

  Lashtar sighed too. “Scholar, once again, we are deeply in your debt. Thank you. I’m sending you Danile, Cerena and… Sofia, just in case the Mother sends us a miracle. Don’t worry, she’s fully trained in weaponry and tactics.”

  “That’s fine, Sister Lashtar. When are we doing this?”

  “Unless there’s a reason not to, right now. Objections?” Ruhger asked. He got silence in return. “Scholar, I’m sending a recommended course to you now. Do you have a tractor beam or other cargo-loading capabilities?”

  “I don’t have an exterior tractor beam, but I do have a cargo bay tractor beam. I’d recommend I hover, we open the cargo bay with Danile and Cerena on watch, Sofia uses the beam, then we close up and move out as quickly as possible.”

  Great minds think alike. “I concur. Sister Lashtar?”

  “Concur. Will you let the Havenites know?”

  Ruhger said, “Yes. But not until we’re too close for
them to reach us. We don’t need anyone taking advantage of this situation or making it worse.”

  “Agreed,” Lashtar said. “Scholar, the Sisters will arrive at your hatch in a few minutes. Ruhger, I’ll be at yours in about two mikes. Thank you again.”

  “You are welcome, Sister Lashtar. Umm, this probably isn’t the best time to bring this up, but since we’re waiting, I will,” the Scholar said. “Your Sister Trena was an interesting person. You do realize Trena wasn’t her real name, right?”

  “Ah. Scholar, we don’t ask questions about someone’s past, unless it’s necessary for healing. Many of our Sisters take on new names. We’ve learned to take a…different approach from many organizations. Adult supplicants get a thorough records check, but after acceptance, the records are sealed. Each adult is closely watched for the first year of their life with us—they are never left alone, and counseling is mandatory. If they thrive during that year, then we accept them as novices, give them more trust and we expunge any record of their life before joining. If they don’t fit in, they’re asked to leave, and we refer them to other programs or ways of life. Having said all that, I know Trena was a miner and prospector for many, many years. She had some medical issues from her work when she joined. Why do you ask?” From the background noise, Lashtar must be walking while she talked.

  “Because, Sister Lashtar, Trena was a member of the Inquisitors in its early incarnation, before it became the completely brutal entity it is now. She worked for Galactica Corp for many, many years, including some of the more horrific Galactica takeovers. Nothing like what happens today, but close.”

  Ruhger shuddered, knowing how easy it was to be sucked into a way of life you despised.

  Lashtar sighed, heavily. “Yes, I did know this. Sister Trena deeply regretted many of those actions and sought to balance the scales before she passed. That’s one of the reasons she joined us. But she loved prospecting and couldn’t stop doing it. In the end, Ferra allowed her to continue just to keep her from falling into despair. Why is this important?”