by Chris Ward
‘Just shut up, you slimy prick,’ Beth said, as the ship’s sudden velocity threw her back against the seat. ‘Lianetta’s not even here. I’ve never even met her.’
‘Then who—?’
Beth smiled. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know? If I ever get close enough to tell you, there’ll be a blaster muzzle pressed between your eyes.’ With a smirk, she switched off the intercom.
Through the view-screens, she saw fighters launching from the cruisers, but the Matilda was quickly gaining speed. With the cruisers unable to turn sharply enough, the ship was past them in moments, dodging between volleys of cannon fire, ducking and weaving between the oncoming fighters.
Then, suddenly, all that was ahead of them was space.
‘We made it, Harlan,’ Beth said.
‘Not yet, but we’re close. Increase speed to deep-space maximum.’
On the rear-view-screens, Vattla and Raylan Climlee’s fleet was receding. A few fighters had given chase, but they lacked the Matilda’s cruising speed and soon fell back. A couple of minutes later, they were out of range of even the cannon fire.
‘They’ll follow,’ Harlan5 said. ‘Find the nearest wormhole and get us out of here.’
Beth punched up some coordinates. ‘Got one.’
‘I’ve got nothing on the main database,’ Harlan5 said.
‘I did a local region search,’ Beth said. ‘It’s unregistered, but it’ll do to get us away.’
‘Where does it go?’
She grimaced. ‘Trill System.’
40
Lia
Lia spoke into the intercom with one hand over her mouth. ‘Bennett, are you there? I need your help.’
She had been trying for an hour while she cruised over Steer’s rocky surface. She had thought she had cried herself out, but every time she spoke, she felt that same welling up of misery. Please answer me. Get this over with.
‘I’m here.’
Lia closed her eyes. Part of her had hoped he would never answer, that her request would fade along with the corrupted message. ‘Bennett, I need you. I need you to do something for me.’
‘I’m waiting. The same place as before.’
This is it, she thought. This is where my last dreams die.
She took the shuttle in, landing not far from the rocky outcrop where Bennett waited. She donned a spacesuit, took up the portable transmitter she had prepared during the flight, and headed out.
Bennett was a silhouette as before. The night sky was dark, the stars a speckled silvery background. So quiet, so still. How she wished it would stay that way forever.
‘Lia,’ Bennett’s voice came through the intercom in her helmet as the great creature shifted toward her. ‘Have you learned what you needed to learn?’
Lia couldn’t bring herself to speak. She just nodded.
‘What use have you of me?’
It took her a few moments to calm herself to speak. ‘A stolen message. Corrupted with ancient corroding software. I need to transmit it to the other governments in the Fire Quarter. Phevius has made alliance with Raylan Climlee and the Bareleon Helix.’
‘Is that so? Let me see what I can do. Do you have the information?’
Lia held out her recording device. It nestled into Bennett’s hand then was gone, taken into his half-organic, half-robotic body.
He nodded. ‘I have found the virus. I cannot stop it, but I can slow it long enough for the transmission to work.’
With tears in her eyes, Lia said, ‘Is there any way we can send it from my shuttle? From space?’
‘Lia… Lianetta… I see what pains you now. No, there is no time. More than two-thirds of the message are already gone. Much longer and there will be nothing worthwhile to send. Prepare your equipment.’
‘Then there is no choice?’
‘None.’
A hand reached out, and Lia felt a gentle caress in the darkness. She shook her head, trying to hold back her sobs, but with the flexi-helmet she was unable even to cover her face. Instead, she sank to her knees, busying herself with the transmission unit, not wanting Bennett to see her eyes in the unit’s lights.
‘It is ready.’
‘Here.’ Bennett held out a hand. Lia took the device, inserting it into the transmitter. A light began to flicker.
‘Leave it here. I will look after it. You should go.’
Lia stared out into the dark. Far distant, on the horizon, a handful of moving lights appeared.
‘I will stay.’
‘No. You are too valuable.’
‘I’ll stay!’
‘Lia.’
The second voice didn’t belong to Bennett. Lia turned, and in the transmitter’s lights saw another figure walking toward her.
‘Mother… I’m so sorry.’
Trina took hold of Lia’s arms and pulled her close, embracing her as best she could in the spacesuit’s confines.
‘Bennett contacted me when he first picked up your transmission,’ Trina said. ‘He understood what you had to do. I came to make sure you got away.’
‘Come with me, Mother. Please!’
Trina shook her head. ‘My place is here. With these people.’
‘These people who will die now because… because of…’ Lia couldn’t finish. She slumped to one knee, her head bowed.
‘And how many now have the chance to live? How many countless billions of lives might be saved?’ Trina pulled her up. ‘You’ve made me the proudest mother in the galaxy. Your strength is a strength few have. Now, go. Your place is not here. There are greater things waiting for you.’
The lights were moving quickly now, shifting in the night sky. Spacecraft, a dozen or more.
Trina pulled a blaster from her belt and gave Lia a grim smile. ‘We’re not done yet. But I swear I’ll turn this on you if you don’t get back to that shuttle and leave.’
‘Mother … I love you. I love you so much.’
‘Lia … I love you more than I have words to say. Go now. Please.’
Lia could say nothing more. Her eyes filled with tears, she turned from Trina and Bennett, heading for the rocky stairwell, not looking back. In her mind she was screaming, but no words came out her her mouth.
She barely remembered reaching the shuttle, but somehow she was inside, somehow she was activating the launch procedure, rising up into air in a plume of fire and space dust, blasting off into space, not looking back as the fighters out of Hopeful turned their cannons on the hidden refugee base.
She couldn’t watch. She switched off the rear-view-screens, closed her eyes, and cried for everything and everyone she had lost.
41
Raylan
‘Kyle Jansen, to the bridge please.’
Raylan listened to the repeating intercom message, wondering if Jansen would have the nerve to come, or whether his worryingly inept commander would know he’d crossed one line too many and attempt to jump ship. Raylan had only kept the fool alive because of his personal connection to Lianetta Jansen, but there were only so many mistakes he could allow, and with the Matilda now lost from the transmitters, Jansen had made one too many.
It had been bad enough he ordered the Evattlan queen destroyed by the seek-and-destroy unit. There were other hives, but Evattlans weren’t like most off-worlder species. They were primitive, unintelligent. They had to be trained to give up their eggs for his cause; they couldn’t be brought to a negotiating table. His armies would take some time to recover from such a massive loss.
A bad mistake, but forgivable. Allowing the escape of the Matilda, however, was not.
The door slid open and Kyle Jansen entered, his head bowed.
‘On your knees,’ Raylan snapped. Jansen slumped to the floor, his knees making a satisfying crack.
Raylan took a deep breath then swung a kick into Jansen’s face, the claws of his bare foot opening gashes across his cheek and jaw. The former GMP commander hissed through his teeth but kept his eyes down.
‘I’m done with your inco
mpetence,’ Raylan said. ‘I have allowed you too much freedom. Tell me why you ordered the Evattlan queen to be destroyed.’
‘I felt she was a threat to our ships—’
‘No!’ Raylan shouted so loudly that the engineers working at their terminals turned to look. Raylan glared at them, and they quickly turned away, hunching their shoulders as though to hide themselves from his wrath.
‘No,’ Raylan said again, quieter this time. ‘The queen’s emergence was so sudden you couldn’t possibly have made that decision. You destroyed it to protect Lianetta, didn’t you?’
‘My lord—’
‘Shut up.’ Raylan kicked Jansen again, his claws this time tearing through the man’s uniform. Jansen winced and doubled over. ‘And then, having lured her into lowering her ship’s shields, instead of immediately opening fire with everything our fleet could offer, you let her escape.’
‘She wasn’t on board,’ Kyle muttered.
‘How do you know that?’ Raylan shouted. ‘How could you know? Because the crew told you? Are you as stupid as you look?’
‘My lord—’
Raylan waved his guards forward. ‘I will have you punished properly this time,’ he said. ‘While Lianetta lives, you still have some use to me, but it’s time you learned a lesson you will not forget.’
‘Lord, I—’
‘Guards. Still his tongue. Loosen a few of his teeth while you’re at it.’
The guards—three large Tolgiers—came forward and set about Kyle Jansen while Raylan watched. Only when the front of Jansen’s uniform was wet with his blood did Raylan order them to stop.
‘At last, the beautiful silence of compliance,’ he said. Then, turning to the guards, he added, ‘Have him taken by shuttle to the fleet’s research vessel. Leave him in the charge of my head scientist, Ranx Viddler. I will notify Mr. Viddler of what I would like done.’
The guards hauled Kyle back to his feet and marched the groggy officer off the bridge. Raylan turned back to the sky view outside and sighed.
Now that Jansen was dealt with, Raylan was prepared to admit that he had been right: Lianetta Jansen had almost certainly not been on board the Matilda. Camera footage taken by the three transports and transmitted before their destruction showed grainy video of three people, but none of them appeared to be Lianetta. Suspicious, he had instructed a voice analyst to examine the brief transmitted conversation they had shared, in order to make sure.
Easily mistaken by the human ear, especially over a transmitter, the voice had failed to match any of the samples he had of Lianetta Jansen’s voice. The ship was likely stolen or borrowed. Even so, its destruction would have pleased him, and while Lianetta might not be on board, it was possible the ship would find its way back to her.
They had disappeared from his fleet’s scanners, but with only one wormhole in the vicinity, it was obvious where they had gone.
‘Set a course for Trill System,’ he shouted to the captain. ‘It is time I returned with my fleet to my kingdom.’
42
Caladan
Caladan sat slumped in the pilot’s chair staring out at the static background of stars. He wanted to sleep but his mind was so awash with conflicting thoughts he feared the dreams if he committed himself to a sleep chamber. The Raging Fire’s bridge, built for two dozen men operating terminals that could all be processed through a single automated system if necessary, felt uncomfortable for a man alone. Lump had gone off somewhere, and Jake was yet to wake from the recuperation tank.
For perhaps the fiftieth time—out of boredom and loneliness more than anything else—he pressed the transmitter button to send out their private distress call—Matilda, Matilda, Matilda—followed by one to an old GMP code of Lia’s. The Raging Fire’s systems were old—it didn’t have the ability to transmit through wormholes like some ships had. But if either Lia or their old ship were somewhere in Trill System—and either were listening—they might pick it up.
He wasn’t confident. It would be nice to have someone to pass the time with, even if it was their old rust bucket of a droid. At times he even enjoyed their verbal sparring. Was the old robot still onboard the Matilda where they had left her? It might be worthwhile if they survived the next few days to revisit Ergogate and see if the Matilda was still sitting quietly at dock.
The wormhole had left them far out in Trill System’s deep-space, beyond even the most remote of its fire planets. Immediately on opening the transmitters to roving signals and messages, the Raging Fire had been bombarded with distress calls, maydays, and other requests for help from a thousand or more fleeing ships. Many of the calls were months old, meaning their senders were likely long dead.
Even in the emptiness of space, the system felt empty.
For the hundredth time, he checked the incoming transmissions, hoping for one from Lia.
Nothing.
Yet he felt she was here, somewhere. Something had happened. A sixth sense, maybe. She had gone after her mother, Jake said, her mother who had fled Trill System into Phevius System. Caladan had flown with Trina a while: an earthy, hardened woman, one who could take care of herself.
No one was safe these days, it seemed.
He sent the transmissions again, then with nothing else to do, he ran some scans on their surrounding area.
The nearest inhabited planet was Treen-4, an outlying volatile fire planet. Its few hardy mining settlements were either deep underground or based in high-atmosphere, gravity-controlled floating cities. Caladan hated those: unlike an orbiting space station, they were subject to constant atmospheric motion, and played havoc with a person’s guts.
Orbiting nearby were the three inner Treens, one through three. Treen-1 had once been a planet, but some ancient collision back in the mists of time had blown out nearly one-quarter of its former mass, leaving it an unstable L-shaped lump of volatile rock. Some trioxyglobin mining teams worked from orbiting stations, but its surface was too unstable for habitation.
Between the two, Treen-2 and Treen-3 were basically overlarge asteroids. Treen-2 had some trioxyglobin deposits, but Treen-3 was dead, lifeless rock, of no economic value.
Caladan nodded. It would make a decent place to hide for a while until they figured out what to do.
He set a course then fired the thrusters to deep-space velocity. Two Earth-days and they would be in orbit, masked by the planet’s background radiation from anyone who might be pursuing them. From there, he could send out more distress signals and hope Lia showed up.
He headed off the bridge, wondering if he could finally sleep.
A short way down the main corridor to the crew lodgings, a light was on outside the door of one of the scientific research rooms. Empty labs for the most part, designed to keep onboard scientists entertained during long deep-space journeys, it could only be Lump inside, getting into mischief.
He pressed the door release and stepped inside. Lump jumped up from a computer terminal and backed away.
‘Fa—Caladan. You scared me.’
‘What are you doing in here?’
‘Just… nothing.’
Caladan nodded at the door. ‘I’ve set us a course. Get out of here, go get some rest. I’ve set up the life-supports in cabin three for you.’ When Lump hesitated, he flapped his only hand. ‘Go on, hurry up now. I’ll clean up whatever mess you were making.’
Lump glanced once at the computer terminal then scurried past Caladan, out into the corridor. The door slid shut behind him.
Caladan took a deep breath, angry at himself for feeling another pang of guilt. Perhaps he had spoken a little harshly. Lump had saved his ass a couple of times now.
He went to switch off the computer. Lump had been playing a game, and a 3D character revolved on the screen. Caladan frowned. It looked vaguely familiar, almost like a younger version of himself, albeit one with two arms and lacking a beard.
Beside the terminal lay a scattered handful of petri-dishes, syringes, and test tubes. A small analysis device was
plugged into the computer. Caladan picked it up, turning it over.
A DNA sampler.
He sat down at the terminal and looked at the controls, then at the display. He frowned again. Lump had done a DNA analysis of himself, a projection of how a person with his DNA ought to look.
The figure on the screen, the younger, fitter, stronger version of Caladan, was Lump, had the miniaturization technology never been used.
Caladan stared at it a long time.
My son.
Jake had recovered and was sitting on the bridge when Caladan came through the door, feeling a little groggy from two days of induced sleep. The journalist sat in a chair near to the wide windows, his hands cupping his chin. He looked up as Caladan approached. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
Caladan shrugged. ‘If I’d listened to the boy you’d never have got stuck down there. It was my fault you almost died.’
‘You couldn’t have known what would happen when you released that radiation core.’
‘I could have listened.’
‘We all make mistakes.’ Jake turned away, staring out to space.
‘Well, we got you to Trill System,’ Caladan said. ‘Looks just like anywhere else. Beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Stunning.’
‘You don’t sound that impressed.’
Jake sighed. ‘I lost the Stillwater.’
Caladan lifted an eyebrow. So, it seemed the journalist was unaware who had been responsible for the loss of his prized possession. Caladan, carrying enough guilt already, saw no reason to enlighten him.
‘I guess I could take part of the blame for that, considering it was my mistake in shutting down the systems.’
‘No, the master of the Stillwater takes full responsibility. It is my burden to bear, and alas, I will never be the same.’
Caladan decided to change the subject. ‘Have any transmissions come in from Lia while I was asleep?’
Jake shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
