“I have bad dreams,” Garryn confessed after making his way to the main cabin. A compartment against the wall held Flinn's liquor collection. Garryn wasted no time in pouring himself a drink. He needed one badly.
“Is that why you're going to Cathomira?” Flinn joined him for the drink.
Garryn nodded.
“I remember. I never remembered before. The dreams used to be vague and I never knew what they were about until I went to Jonen.”
A wave of grief swept over him in memory of his friend.
“Jonen showed me what I was dreaming about. I sent him with a scientific expedition to Cathomira, but their ship suffered a catastrophic core breach. They're all dead. Now, for the first time, I can remember the dreams without him and what I remember scares the hell out of me!”
Flinn did not meet his gaze, but stared instead into his glass for a few moments. In the past few days, Garryn had learned that there was a great deal of substance beneath the thin facade of the cocky star pilot. When he spoke it was almost revelation.
“You don't think you and the New Citizens are really from Cathomira, do you?”
Hearing suspicions he himself harboured spoken out loud was jarring. Garryn met Flinn's gaze and nodded.
“I have to go to Cathomira myself to know for sure,” he finally admitted, staring vacantly at the bulkhead. “Only then am I going to be able to accept it.”
“And then what?”
Garryn looked up at him directly. “Then I start looking for the truth.”
* * *
The Wayward Son emerged from hyperspace as close as possible to the Cathomiran star system. After learning of the Asmoryll's destruction shortly after arriving in the system, Flinn decided to take no chances. Despite having difficulty believing any warship could take on Admiral Vyndeka and win, the pilot held no such illusions about his own ship.
Flinn and Garryn watched the blur of stars around the canopy of the cockpit settle gradually after the ship entered normal space, once the hyperspacial eddies dwindled around them. Flinn immediately set the ship for cruising speed as the cockpit glowed with the amber light of Cathomira's lone star. The red giant seemed to fill the cockpit window and immediately automated alarms began to warn the occupants of the Wayward Son of the increasing radiation levels.
“I'm going to have to divert extra power to give us more shielding,” Flinn explained as his hands flew over the controls.
Garryn averted his eyes from the massive star, but it was difficult to keep it from view for very long. The size of it filled every corner of the cockpit window. Blast shields began to lower across the outer window, shutting out the harmful rays. Prolonged exposure to the powerful radiance would cause permanent damage to their eyes. Once the thick plates slid into place, it took a few seconds of adjustment for Garryn to see clearly again.
From this point on, their only view of the star would be through the cockpit's holographic viewer.
“I'd keep the long range scanners running,” Garryn suggested, remembering most acutely how the Asmoryll had met its end. How far had the Asmoryll travelled into the system before she was destroyed? How had Vyn been bested?
“I've set the sensors to give us a perimeter alert,” Flinn replied, not looking up at him from the controls. Flinn was just as wary as Garryn about an attack. He had no wish to tangle with a warship if it could be avoided.
“Good.” Garryn eased back into the co-pilot's seat, trying to dispel the tension he was feeling. “How long until we reach Cathomira?”
“About twenty minutes, but we're in scanner range now if you want to take a look.”
He did and leaned in and, within seconds, the holographic image of Cathomira appeared before them both.
Garryn held his breath as he saw, for the first time, the planet of his birth. Not even the visual enhancement to the feed could hide the fact that Cathomira was a bleak and desolate world. The hot, acidic gases of the planet's atmosphere had given it a yellowish glow. Garryn could see continents riddled with large craters and expanding patches of charred earth where the planet was lashed by massive solar flares. Its proximity from the sun destroyed any remaining doubts as to the existence of life.
Cathomira was a dead planet.
“Can your scanners run some numbers for me?”
Flinn's boast of upgrading the Wayward Son's equipment included sophisticated multiphasic sensors from Jynes. Despite his dislike of piloting fleet ships, it was obvious Flinn found some elements of a starship useful. Legion ships possessed the most sophisticated scanning equipment in the galaxy. They took pride in the ability of their equipment to home in on a single strand of DNA from a planet of millions.
“Sure. What are we looking for?”
“How long has the climate been like this?”
Flinn glanced over his shoulder at Garryn, aware of the implications of the answer. “Let me check it out.”
It took a few minutes for the computer to calculate the answer and, during those minutes, Garryn's thoughts were racing. Earlier on, Garryn had told Flinn that until he saw Cathomira for himself, he could not rest. Now that he was here, his gut told him his worst fears were about to be confirmed. Perhaps he'd always known it and the dreams were his way of confirming it.
When Flinn looked up at Garryn again, his face was grim and Garryn knew the answer before he even spoke.
“Fifty thousand years according to the computer.”
Fifty thousand years. The sun had been baking the planet for fifty thousand years.
Flinn saw his distress and tried to reassure him that all was not lost, even if the pilot knew better. “Look, for all we know, the Cathomirans could have lived underground. They might not have been as highly advanced as Brysdyn, but they could have found a way.”
“No,” Garryn discounted the possibility immediately. “The official reports say that the children from Cathomira were taken from cities. Above ground cities! Can you find evidence of any?”
It took a few more minutes for Flinn to give him that answer, but by now the truth was undeniable.
“No cities,” Finn's guilt oozed at every word confirming Garryn's worst fears. “Just because none were left standing doesn't mean there weren't any. This planet has been bombarded with radiation, massive solar flares and energy discharge for decades. It there was anything on the surface, it would have been obliterated by now.”
Flinn's efforts were admirable, but futile.
“I think we both know why they're not there, Flinn.”
The captain was truly sorry for Garryn. He tried to imagine what it must be like to realise everything you believed about your life was a lie.
“I'm sorry, Gar. I don't know what to say.”
“There is nothing to say.” Garryn rose from his seat. “All of us, every New Citizen in the empire, has been lied to. We never came from Cathomira.”
Once that fallacy was done away with, another, more sinister theory began to stir in his head. Words were tumbling out of his mouth with the momentum of his anger to carry it along.
“Cathomira was convenient, just a name to give us when we were old enough to ask questions about where we came from. They concocted a story about a biological war so no one would try to land on the planet and discover the lie. After the Scourge, they knew no Brysdynian would take that kind of risk.”
“The 'they' you're talking about. Are we talking about the Empire?” Flinn asked. He found it impossible to believe that a conspiracy like this could exist without the highest levels of power manipulating it. Still, the Brysdynians of that time were very much a warrior culture and would find such treachery beneath them.
“I have to consider it.”
The thought that his father might have lied to him all these years made him sick to his stomach. He refused to believe the Imperator could have orchestrated such a monumental deception. His father was a good man. If Garryn did not believe that, then everything he'd endured to become Prime was for nothing.
“It must ha
ve come from pretty high up, Gar. If what you say is true, if Cathomira is just a smoke screen, then some pretty powerful people in the Empire must be behind this.”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not some. Just one.”
“He must be pretty connected to have this kind of power.”
It fell into place perfectly, once Garryn discounted his father's part in this. He knew he would have to re-examine the Imperator's involvement at some point but, for now, he chose to live with the illusion. If it wasn't the Imperator, then it could only be one other person.
General Edwen.
Anything else Flinn was going to say in response was forgotten as a loud klaxon screamed angrily in their ears seconds before the ship shuddered violently.
XVIII
Nova
“What the hell was that!”
This and a string of obscenities escaped Garryn's lips as he picked himself off the floor after the ship was struck. The deck continued to shudder as the bombardment continued, making it difficult for him to regain his balance.
Flinn was already on his feet and studying the sensor readings. Instruments were screaming out in protest with erratic readings and flashing red lights wherever they was capable. The holographic screen was flashing with colour, indicating the full extent of their troubles.
“It's a solar flare!” Flinn barked, even though Garryn was capable of interpreting the same data.
“I've never seen one this big.”
Flinn did not answer as he reclaimed the captain's seat. The ship was being swept backwards, trapped in a wave of solar fire. Despite his ship's superior shielding, he knew they could not withstand the intense radiation for very long. Disengaging the emergency klaxons, he attempted to regain helm control. They had to free themselves of this nuclear wave or else die by radiation poisoning, long before the shields buckled and incinerated them.
Flinn's fingers flew effortlessly across the panel as he regained control to steer them out of the wave. After a few seconds, the dangerous rocking eased to a gradual shudder as the ship reached the edge of the solar current. The holographic screen began to clear and the image of Cathomira's sun returned when the ship was considerably steadier.
Garryn was impressed by Flinn's efficiency. Now, more than ever, he felt glad that he'd chosen the former Fleet officer to take him to Cathomira. He must have been a great pilot in his Fleet days, Garryn thought. Even though Garryn was a good pilot, he had little experience in dealing with anything larger than a one-man craft.
“Are we clear?”
“Yeah, we're clear,” Flinn replied distractedly. He was running a quick diagnostic over ship's functions to ensure they had not sustained any permanent damage they would be sorry for later. As it was, the sensor readings emanating from the Cathomiran sun gave him reason to be concerned. After viewing the sensor data, he realised how lucky they were to have survived that initial blast.
“How bad?”
Flinn's grim mood was telling. They may have escaped the wave, but they were not out of trouble.
“Bad enough.” Flinn glanced at him. “Radiation levels have just jumped up 2000 percent. The temperature outside has quadrupled. My shields are barely keeping the heat out as it is.”
Garryn could believe that. While the temperature in the cabin was not uncomfortable, it was warmer than before.
“We were lucky we didn't get vaporised. That sun is about to go nova. According to the sensors, she'll go anywhere within the next 22 hours.” He gestured to the holographic image showing a cross-sectional view of the sun. The pressure was mounting under the surface and the temperature of the sun's core was rising rapidly. “I give it less time than that.” He turned to Garryn and took a deep breath. “With all due respect to you and your charter, I'm getting my ship out of here.”
“No arguments from me.”
Garryn was a pilot too and knew what this space would be like if the red giant went nova. As it was, the erupting solar flares were steadily turning the area into a hellish mix of superheated gases and intense radiation. The planets, already radioactive, would start to disintegrate. Smaller spacial bodies would actually explode, sending their debris into space as flaming asteroids. It was no place for any ship, no matter how well equipped.
Most of his passengers rarely showed any good sense, so Flinn was grateful for Garryn's attitude. He turned back towards the cockpit controls and the ship jolted violently again. This time, Flinn managed to remain seated, but once again klaxons across the ship began screaming.
“That was not a solar flare! Something hit us!”
“I know!” Flinn shouted back in turn. “The radiation is interfering with the sensors! I'm going to have to lower the blast shields!”
Another blast rocked the ship and Flinn swore angrily. The Wayward Son reeled from the impact. As the shields began to lower, the strong crimson light illuminated the cockpit. Garryn looked up to see in what form this new attack had come.
“It's a warship!” Garryn exclaimed, Finn's claims confirmed when he identified its origins. “A Brysdynian warship.”
“Great! I'm diverting all auxiliary power to my targeting scanners. I need another hand in my port gunnery turret!”
“I'm there.” Garryn jumped from his chair immediately and headed out of the cockpit. He had not taken more than a few steps when another blast impacted against the hull, throwing him against the wall. A sharp pain cut through him as his elbow slammed into the metal wall, making Garryn wince.
“You okay?” Flinn cried out.
“I'm fine!” Garryn retorted before going for the door again. “What are they doing? They could just grab us with a tractor beam or disable us. Why are they dragging this out?”
“They're driving us,” the captain said grimly. “They're forcing us into the sun's gravitational field.”
Of course. Why soil their hands when they could let Cathomira do their work for them? Driving the Wayward Son in the sun made things considerably easier to explain. When Iran went searching for his son, there would be nothing to find.
“How close are we to that happening?”
“Too close, now get going!” Flinn snapped impatiently. He did not look up to know that Garryn had gone and, at the moment, there were other concerns on his mind. The warship commander had timed his attack perfectly, using the sensor interference to remain hidden until the distraction by the solar flares.
Flinn poured more power into the engines, causing the Wayward Son to fly out of range of the warship's tractor beam, if that was even their intention. The fact the enemy made no demand for surrender while in a position of advantage did not bode well.
The warship meant to destroy them.
Another blast impacted against the ship. Flinn could see the rapidly extinguishing plasma explosion in the corner of his eye as the flare lit up the cockpit momentarily. Ahead of him, the star was continuing to expand and Flinn brought the ship about sharply to get as far away from it as possible. The warship's larger size forced it to continue onward for a few seconds before making the course correction to match the Son's trajectory.
Very soon, it was firing on them again.
“Are you ready?” Flinn yelled into his headset. A blast detonated alongside the ship, closer than before.
“I'm primed.” Garryn shouted, finding the return to the gunnery turret almost comforting.
“Good, I'm going to stay ahead of them while I'm plotting the jump into hyperspace. We need to confuse her scanners as much as possible so she can't track us in normal space. If she can't chart us, she can't keep up with us.”
It was not an optimum strategy, but Flinn did not want to engage the warship in a fight. Brysdynian warships were well armoured, carrying heavy artillery capable of a sustained fight. All Flinn Ester wanted to do at this moment was to get out alive with his skin and his ship intact.
“I'll get it done, make the computations!”
Inside the gunnery turret, Garryn could see the ship clearer than Flinn. All that lay
between him and the cold vacuum of space was a thick sheet of plexiglass. The vessel, a Brysdynian Slicer class, was currently firing its own thrusters to keep up with Flinn's manic manoeuvres. A less experienced pilot would have felt some alarm at the tight swerves and spins Flinn was forcing the Wayward Son to do.
The controls differed a little from the one-man fighters Garryn was accustomed to piloting, but he was able to adapt easily enough. The targeting scanners, the control throttle and instruments were generally configured the same, so adjusting was a matter of a quick study. There was little time to waste in familiarising himself before Garryn placed his hands on the controls and returned fire on the warship.
A volley of fire strafed the front bow of the warship. Plasma impacted the hull with a white hot flare before turning into ribbons of energy cackling against the greyish dish of the scanner array. The ship faltered for an instant as it attempted to recalibrate from the sudden disruption. The moment was brief. Within seconds, the warship's engines flared to life and continued the pursuit.
“That's it!” Garryn heard Flinn through his headset. “You had them for a few seconds. Keep doing that! I need a few more minutes!”
A few more minutes seemed like an eternity. The warship commander was not a fool. It wouldn't be long before the warship commander recognised the tactic and took counter measures to protect his ship's scanning equipment. Still, evasive manoeuvres were easier to perform on a small freighter than a large, military ship of the line.
More plasma bolts escaped the dual barrel of the gunnery turret. Garryn maintained a continuous barrage of fire until the sound of escaping plasma boomed in the small cubicle. The warship shrugged off the assault with ease, but each volley widened the Son's lead.
In a desperate attempt to prevent their impending escape, the warship fired an equally deadly barrage of fire at the smaller ship. But by this time, the Wayward Son's lead on the warship was significant enough to blunt the assault. Without warning, another flare of light filled in the corner of Garryn's eye but this was far more intense, making him flinch away.
Children of the White Star Page 15
