Music of the Spheres (The Interstellar Age Book 2)

by Daniels, Valmore

  Before her imagination took her down paths even more frightening, she said, “What now?”

  “Now,” Clive said in a drawl and glanced at Justine. “Now we need to figure out where we’re going. Maybe that will give us a clue to the hijackers’ intent.”

  Lieutenant Jeffries turned as Corporal Marks reported. “I tried to tap into the onboard computer, but it looks like they set up their own firewall.”

  “It’s too bad we didn’t have Alex here,” Justine said, and then when Clive gave her a curious look, she quickly added, “Because of his ability to see extraspacially. We’re all blind in here without instrumentation.”

  Clive put his arm around her and growled. “There has to be something we can do other than just wait for them to initiate contact.”

  Corporal Marks had an odd look on his face as he fixed his eyes on Justine’s harness. “Even if I had something more powerful than my holoslate, it could take weeks to break the firewall. But…”

  “What is it, Corporal?” the lieutenant prompted.

  A hint of a smile played at the young man’s lips. “That’s a PERSuit, isn’t it?” he asked Justine.

  “Yes.”

  He said, “I believe it has built-in gyroscopic sensors and an inertial reference platform.”

  For a moment, Justine had no idea what the corporal was getting at, but then she clued in. “As well as an attitude indicator, vertical and horizontal positioning. Along with visual and olfactory sensations, the suit can also provide inertial sensations to viewers. If I were at sea, or on a roller coaster, viewers who are susceptible would experience motion sickness, it’s that real.” She sounded like a brochure.

  The lieutenant, excited, asked the corporal, “Can you access the suit and the data?”

  Corporal Marks nodded. “I think so. With any luck, I should be able to track our course from the moment we launched. I have astrogation charts in my holoslate—maybe I can figure out where we’re going.”

  He cocked his head to one side and said to Justine, “You’ll have to remove the suit, though.”

  ∞

  Though she had been blind for years, there was always a part of Justine that hadn’t completely accepted the fact. There was that glimmer of hope that one day she would wake up and be able to see. The universe had played a cosmic joke on her, and at any moment, it would deliver the punch line, everyone would have a good laugh, and then she would be normal again.

  Sitting back in the webbed cargo seat without her PERSuit sensors or her optilink, which the corporal needed to interface with his holoslate, her world had completely plunged into darkness.

  She experienced a few moments of all-too familiar despair. It wasn’t a joke, it was a cruel prank and she was only fooling herself into thinking it wasn’t permanent.

  Then she felt a warm hand slip into hers. Clive. He gave her hand a quick squeeze of reassurance.

  She leaned into him. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “Just being here.”

  He laughed hollowly. “All things being equal…”

  “Same here.” She smiled at him, though she had no idea if he was looking at her or watching as Corporal Marks rigged a connection from the PERSuit to his portable holoslate.

  “Listen,” he said, “we’ll get through this. The hijackers haven’t turned off our life support so they obviously need us alive. That gives us an opportunity.”

  “I know,” she said. “I just wish I could do more. I feel so helpless.”

  In answer, Clive put an arm around her shoulders while they waited.

  It was only a few minutes later that the corporal called out that he’d made the connection.

  Clive stood up from the seats to approach, and Justine went with him.

  “What have you got?” Lieutenant Jeffries said.

  “It’s compiling the data at the moment. We should have a readout in less than a minute.”

  There was a hushed silence as everyone circled around the corporal and his computer. Justine felt a deep frustration that she couldn’t see the screen and had to wait for someone to feed her the information secondhand.

  “Here comes the trajectory now,” the corporal said.

  A moment later, Lieutenant Jeffries spoke, and his voice took on a caustic tone. “That can’t be right.”

  “What?” Justine asked.

  Jeffries said, “Are you sure you have the correct information? Maybe the computer reversed the coordinates or something.”

  “What coordinates?” Justine asked again.

  Corporal Marks tapped repeatedly on his computer again. “No, it’s right.”

  Justine grew frustrated. “What’s right?”

  She heard Lieutenant Jeffries take a deep breath and let it out in a hiss. “Well, according to our current trajectory, the hijackers are pointing the Diana directly at the Sun.”

  17

  Lunar Lines Vessel, Diana :

  Solar Trajectory :

  It had been a frightening and crazy week for Terry. At first, when he and Jose had confiscated the alien scroll—along with Terry’s grandfather—he had felt empowered.

  He was finally taking control of things and able shape future events. With like-minded people on his side, Terry had taken the first steps toward returning the Mayan people to their rightful place in the world. If he had anything to say about it, his people would not suffer and die needlessly like Itzel.

  As with any revolution, there were bound to be casualties. Deep down, Terry knew this; he wasn’t so naïve as to think all they had to do was brandish their weapons and people would simply give in. Though he steeled himself for the possibility, he still wanted to avoid violence as much as possible. Jose assured him he felt the same way. He assigned Terry and another Cruzados, Carlos, to guard the shuttle’s cabin, in the unlikely event one of the American soldiers managed to get out of the cargo hold and infiltrate the upper decks.

  Since joining the Cruzados, Terry had been surprised at the size of their network of sympathizers in the USA, Inc. government and NASA. There was an even larger number of people who they could bribe or blackmail into doing what was needed for their principal mission.

  One of those they had bribed was the ship’s navigator, Lieutenant John Franks. Terry didn’t know the details, but from what he had overheard, he guessed the navigator may have had a gambling problem and rising debts.

  Within an hour of successfully breaking away from the station, Franks stepped out of the cabin and demanded to speak with Jose.

  Pointing a meaty finger at the man, Carlos said, “He’s busy. What do you want?”

  Franks growled. “I want more money.”

  “You’ll get what you agreed on.”

  Franks shook his head. He looked very frazzled. His hair was in disarray, his skin flushed and his pupils were dilated. Terry thought he might be on drugs.

  Franks growled. “I need more. And I want to settle this now.”

  Carlos kept his voice even, but the lids of his eyes dropped, and his irises unfocused. “It’s too late. The deed is done. When we get to our destination, you’ll get paid. Now go back to the cabin and do your job.”

  Either Lieutenant Franks didn’t recognize that he couldn’t bully or cajole Carlos, or he was too far gone in his panic that he didn’t care. The navigator held up his holoslate and showed them the screen.

  Even from a bad angle, Terry was able to make out the message someone had sent to Franks. He had obviously received it just before the hijacking, but by then it was too late for him to do anything until they were well under way.

  The message was from Lunar Lines head office. Franks had been suspended pending a criminal investigation for smuggling.

  “See this?” he said. “It was just a couple lousy cases of rum. People do it all the time. Why’d they have to pick on me?”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Carlos said. “But it’s not my problem.”

  “Don’t you see? They’re already on to me. I need to co
mpletely disappear, get a new identity. I need more money for that.”

  Carlos was losing his patience. “You’re getting enough from us to do that.”

  “I need more!” Franks said.

  His eyes flicking wildly back and forth, the lieutenant made a motion as if to race past Carlos and Terry. Holding out one hefty arm, Carlos clothes-lined the navigator, and the man fell back into the wall.

  Carlos produced an ion pistol and pointed it at the navigator. “I said: get back to the cabin.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Franks screamed and rushed Carlos.

  A crimson flower blossomed out of the middle of the navigator’s forehead. Terry barely registered the whir of the ion pulse.

  Franks’ eyes widened in sudden shock for a brief moment before the life went out of him, and he sank to his knees and toppled over on his side.

  “What the hell did you do?” Terry yelled at Carlos.

  “He was crazed. High or something. We couldn’t have him creating a panic right now. Or sabotaging the flight computer. There’s no telling what people like that will do.” Carlos was once again completely calm. He showed no more concern than if he had slapped a bug with a flyswatter.

  “But you killed him!”

  Carlos turned his full attention to Terry. “Are we going to have a problem now?”

  Terry stammered. “N-no. It’s just—”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Couldn’t we have just knocked him out? Tied him up or something?”

  Carlos scratched his hair behind his ear. “I thought you were on board with this mission.”

  “Yeah. I am.” Terry stared down at the blood pooling under the navigator’s head. He could feel Carlos’s eyes watching him. “It just caught me off guard, you know. Sorry.”

  Anything else they might have said to each other went unspoken as two men approached at a jog. It was Jose and one of the other Cruzados, Alberto.

  Jose surveyed the scene and asked, “What happened?”

  With a shrug, Carlos said, “He got out of hand.”

  Jose glanced at Terry for confirmation. Reluctantly, Terry gave a quick nod.

  The leader of the Cruzados took a breath. “All right. Clean up the mess. We’ll have to find someone to take his place and help our pilot fly the liner.” He pointed at Terry. “You up to it?”

  Terry, still trying to come to terms with the killing, blinked dimly at Jose. All three men were looking at him expectantly.

  “Uh. Yeah,” he said finally.

  The Cruzados leader nodded and left with Alberto. Carlos tapped Terry on the shoulder.

  “Take his legs. Help me get him into one of those freezers.”

  ∞

  Terry remained somewhat withdrawn over the next two days as he assisted the pilot—the first non-Mayan Terry had met in the Cruzado movement.

  Captain Gruber was an older man who spoke English with a heavy German accent. Terry’s English was not very good, so it made communication difficult at first, until Gruber ran a translator program from the ship’s haptic console.

  At first, Terry had been overwhelmed with the myriad controls and banks of computers, but that quickly settled into tedium.

  Captain Gruber told him that, for the most part, he could pilot the liner himself; all flight crew were trained to fly solo should the need arise.

  “Basically,” he said to Terry, “I just need you to babysit the console when I sleep. Someone needs to be here at all times or the sensors will shut the ship down. Don’t worry, it’s on autopilot, and if anything happens, the alarm will sound. Your main duty is to call me or come and get me if that happens.”

  They rotated in twelve-hour shifts. It gave Terry a lot of time to think about his role in hijacking the liner and whether he had made the right decision.

  He had spent most of his life believing everyone in his family had made bad decisions. His parents lived in squalor, never trying to better themselves or providing a higher standard of living for their family. His grandfather had a precious artifact which he could have traded for great wealth for his community. And now, he had to admit, Terry had followed in their footsteps. In an attempt to make a difference, to better his family and community, he had fallen in with a group whose ideals were aligned with his own, but whose methods were extreme.

  And Carlos! He had killed the navigator without batting an eyelid. There was no remorse or doubt afterwards. With no more thought than stepping on a bug, Carlos had ended a man’s life.

  Terry was certain they could have restrained the man and resolved the situation without resorting to murder.

  There was a line Terry had vowed not to cross. Now, upon reflection, he realized that the line had been breached the moment he agreed to kidnap his grandfather and steal the ancient scroll.

  How far was too far? It was all too far, Terry knew. But the problem was that he was in too deep to back out now. They would certainly eliminate him if he made too much trouble. The Cruzados had Terry’s grandfather and they had the document. They did not need Terry any more.

  If he was to survive this thing, he would have to continue to play along and wait for an opportunity to escape.

  Where they were going, however, there was no place to run.

  ∞

  It was three days later that Captain Gruber, looking ruffled from a broken sleep, came in while Terry was on shift. He offered up a token smile of greeting, then motioned for Terry to move aside.

  “What’s happening?” Terry asked.

  In a gruff tone, the captain said, “We’re stopping.”

  “Stopping? We won’t have enough fuel to build velocity again.”

  Glancing up at Terry in annoyance, the captain said, “We don’t have more than a day’s worth of fuel left anyway. What did you think, that we were just going to coast the rest of the way?”

  Terry hated to admit it, but that was exactly what he had assumed.

  The captain pressed his lips together. “We’re going to rendezvous with another ship and unload the cargo.”

  “And the hostages?”

  Frowning, Captain Gruber did not reply.

  A dark look settled over Terry’s face. “We can’t just abandon them and let them drift in space. They’ll run out of food and water before any rescue ship finds them.”

  The captain either didn’t have a reply, or chose not to say anything. Instead, he concentrated on bringing the liner to a dead stop.

  Within an hour, a bright speck appeared in the distance, and Terry pointed at it. “Is that the new ship?”

  “Looks like,” the captain said and called up a display. “Yup. It’s the Ultio.” He pressed the intercom button and announced the new arrival.

  Moments later, Jose and Carlos entered the cabin.

  “He’s here?” the leader of the Cruzados asked. His face was lit up with anticipation.

  Terry wondered who, but didn’t ask out loud. He had the realization that he had been kept in the dark about many things. Though he hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about it earlier, he knew now that he wasn’t as trusted as he had originally thought back in Honduras when the Cruzados had first brought him into their revolution.

  When he looked up at Jose, he saw that the other man was watching him ponderingly, and Terry flashed a smile to show that he was still on board with the operation.

  They all watched as the other ship grew larger until it completely filled the display. The Ultio pulled alongside the liner and an umbilical tube extended out and attached to the main door.

  All four men exited the cabin and made their way back to greet the new arrival.

  It was with growing anticipation that Terry waited as the cabin door unlocked with a hiss of escaping air, then slowly opened. Only one man stepped out.

  “Jose, I’m glad everything went well.” Tall and blond, with piercing blue eyes, the man was in his late twenties or early thirties, though he carried himself as if he were years older. He wore a black suit in a modern cut witho
ut a tie. His white shirt did not have a fold at the collar, but instead circled the man’s throat in a restrictive circle. His smile held no humor.

  It was at that moment that Terry detected a faint resemblance between him and Captain Gruber. His notion was confirmed when the two of them stood together and shook hands.

  “Uncle,” the younger man said in English. “How was the trip?”

  “Uneventful.”

  Jose, a wide grin on his face, stepped up and shook the blond man’s hand as well.

  “Your plan worked perfectly,” he said.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” The man turned his steely gaze on Terry. “And is this who we must thank for providing the opportunity?”

  “Yes,” Jose said. “This is Te’irjiil, who goes by the name Terry Fernandez. Terry, I would like you to meet our benefactor, Mr. Klaus Vogelsberg. His uncle is Captain Gruber. Without their support, we would still be meeting in deserted buildings and just talking about the movement.”

  A corner of Klaus’s lip went up in a humorless smile, and he extended his hand to Terry. “Very pleased to finally meet you. We’ve been waiting years for the so-called geniuses at NASA to figure out the ancient scroll, and in the end, the secret is unlocked by a simple villager. How perfect is that?”

  Terry felt very uncomfortable under the other man’s penetrative gaze. He didn’t know if he was being complimented or insulted, but didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so he nodded and offered up a smile of his own.

  Turning his attention back to Jose, Klaus asked, “I trust we didn’t have any trouble with our guests down below?”

  “No. They are completely secure. All entrances are magnetically sealed. They already had enough food and water for the journey down there, and aside from one of them attempting to blow open the elevator door with some small explosive—which failed of course—we haven’t heard a peep.”

  “That’s good.”

  Terry found his voice. “They aren’t going to be harmed, are they?”

  Letting out a sudden barking laugh, Klaus said, “Going to be harmed?” He shared an amused look with his uncle, then continued: “If we wanted them harmed, we wouldn’t have taken them hostage.”