Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta

by Robin D. Owens

  When he glanced at Julianna, her face was hard. Her words were crisp and bitten off like the professor she once was. “If you will recall, I was declared a treasure of the USTATES. Which meant I was kept under lock and key. I don’t see the government we left progressing into a higher morality toward individuals. Not their own citizens and definitely not anyone they perceive as different.”

  “Mutants,” Umar said. “That’s what we psis were considered and we still would be.”

  “We’re agreed that we don’t take the wormhole,” Kelse said.

  “It hasn’t been charted, none of this space has, since Earth liked keeping all its resources on planet. Our starfaring years were a very short time period,” Julianna said.

  “We know that,” Kelse pointed out.

  She drew in a breath. “As I said, this area is not charted, the wormhole could go to anywhere.” She hesitated. “The energy emanating from it does appear like that near the last Earth outpost. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “Understood,” Kelse said. “I’m asking if there’s anything more viable for us. A planet to colonize.”

  “There’s a little system closer, but I don’t like the looks of it. White sun, two planets that might possibly support life. My calculations put them slightly too far from the sun.” She shrugged. “As well as other considerations that indicate a poor choice for colonization.”

  “Launch probes to the near system,” Kelse ordered.

  “We only have a limited number of probes, and fourteen potential planets we’ll need to scan in the future,” Julianna said. “Arianrhod’s Wheel has five probes and no labs.”

  “Lugh’s Spear has two probes. We had a planetary laboratory station, but it was dismantled before my time for parts,” Umar said.

  Chloe said, “Nuada’s Sword has two probes and one lab.” She cleared her throat. “We don’t have a trained scientist to deploy the lab and analyze the data. Chung was Awakened on time and died of old age.” She looked down at her handheld. “Fern Bountry was trained as backup.”

  “Fern is not being Awakened, under any circumstances, until we land,” Kelse said, rising. She could die in her sleep.

  The thought that she’d die, they’d never have that future they’d fought for, made him wild inside; panic slid on his nerves. He could not let that out. He’d known fear and panic and loss before and withstood it. “That’s my price for handling this conspiracy for you.” He’d said the word they’d all been avoiding.

  Julianna’s face tightened. “It’s a bad situation, but Moungala wasn’t you.” Trained in craftiness and fighting, she meant. “You have a small violent minority. Just infuse the majority with purpose, Kelse. You were always good at that.”

  “Or cull out the youngsters and build an army,” Umar said cynically. “You’re leader enough to do that.”

  Kelse realized that was exactly what Umar had done. It had worked for him.

  “I intend to improve morale first.” A side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Then they will be infused with purpose. Before I sign off, Julianna, what are our real odds of finding a habitable planet and making it there considering all our problems?”

  She stared aside. “Arianrhod’s Wheel has a sixty percent chance of making landfall if an acceptable planet is found. Our survival after that will be in question if the other ships, particularly Nuada’s Sword, does not survive. Currently Lugh’s Spear has a twenty percent chance of landing. If the drop goes as expected, Lugh’s Spear also has a sixty percent chance of reaching a planet.”

  “And Nuada’s Sword?” Kelse pressed.

  Julianna’s stare met his. “That’s why I am glad you are Awakened, Kelse. Currently, not taking into consideration your talents—”

  “Bottom line, Julianna,” Kelse said.

  “Thirty percent chance of reaching a planet.” She smiled brightly. “But we’re sure you can improve that.”

  Four

  I’m launching probes at the white sun system.” There was protest, but he cut the signal, ending the conference.

  Chloe looked as his shaking body, the sweat rolling down him, and tsked. “Take a shower and get some sleep.”

  “I want to address the crew as soon as you’re done with the drop,” he said.

  She glanced up from her handheld. “No.”

  “That’s not the correct response,” Kelse said. He sat back down. “There’s only one Captain on a ship.”

  Turning, she put her hands on her hips and stared at him. He stared back. She flushed, uncurled her fingers around her mini computer, and looked at it. “All right.”

  “Trust me to know my own limitations.”

  Again she looked up. “You’re tough.”

  “Damn right.”

  There was an audible click. “Captain Bountry will address the crew at FirstAfternoonBell. Any work not of an essential nature is suspended at that time.” Chloe’s voice came through the speakers of his cabin.

  “Thank you.”

  “Get a shower and some sleep.”

  “I’ll need to tour the ship after the address.”

  She let out an exasperated breath. “You just push your luck, don’t you?”

  “The only way to get things done.”

  “Right.” Her gaze was serious. “You’d better look healthy when you do that.”

  “Or I’ll draw assassination attempts.”

  She winced.

  “The conspirators made a mistake in escalating to violence. They couldn’t break the shields to the cryonics bay or get into the Captain’s console. Though they killed Kiet, they had no time to follow up on that coup because you had Awakened me. They’ve made the majority of the crew nervous.”

  “My hunch was good, but not soon enough to save Kiet.” Despair passed over her face. “If only I’d had the hunch earlier you might have been able to save him.” Her hands fisted. “Just a few hours earlier to start your process.”

  He rose and went to her, wrapped his arms around her, and set his feet so she could lean against him. “We can’t live our lives on if onlys; if we do, we go bitter or crazy.” If only he hadn’t believed in this journey. If only he’d taken Fern away to a nice, calm country on the lower side of the world instead of fighting for psi rights.

  They’d be dead by now, fighting or living in peace.

  “And you expected me to need seventy-two hours to recover. Didn’t know I’d be functional,” he said.

  She stayed silent against him for a minute. She was so much more frail than he’d expected. Her spirit masked that. The conspirators had underestimated her. How long would they do so?

  As long as he commanded their attention.

  She straightened. “Right now I need to launch the probes and initiate the cargo drop for Lugh’s Spear. Good thing the emergency cubes were all stored together.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed her forehead.

  “For what?” she asked, stepping away.

  Fern had taught him the answer to that question. “Just for being you.”

  Chloe flushed, waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Shower. Get some sleep. Eat.” She left.

  Kelse paced the room. He was tired of all this hiding. But showing himself outside his quarters wasn’t wise.

  He’d asked Chloe about the cameras focused on the Captain’s Quarters last night and was told they’d had a glitch. Pulling up the recording anyway, he noted it was fuzzy, and nothing he or the computer could do could clear it up.

  He hadn’t interacted with his crew, the people he wanted to save. All right, Fern was the first on that list, and himself and his friends. The sleepers in the other ships, then the crew. But he was used to being responsible for people.

  And he missed young faces. The youngest face he’d seen recently was his own, and that was far too grim.

  After he showered, he spent a while watching the ship’s cameras.

  His crew appeared . . . soft. And pale. Very pale. Even the obviously mixed-race people seemed to have skin lighter than w
hat he’d expect their natural color to be. Mutation due to living on the ship? Genetics? Flair? Who knew, and that didn’t matter a damn.

  He ate. Terrible food. That was one thing he could fix as long as the crew’s stomachs hadn’t gotten as tender as their bodies. If they were going to colonize a planet, they’d better get in shape physically. He’d set up required exercise. Yeah, that would make him popular, but maybe Fern would have an idea—

  Then came the shock that he’d thought Fern was with him as she had been for the last four years. He’d already grown accustomed to this job, a portion of this life. How could he have forgotten she might be in jeopardy?

  The alarm pinged. Ten minutes to his address. The crates for Lugh’s Spear should have been dropped. He accessed the view outside. The comm stated, “Captain’s Quarters porthole transparent.” Slowly he turned, braced himself. The vastness of space, the huge sweep of spangled stars, nearly overwhelmed him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice wailed that he should not be here. Space was no place for him.

  He breathed through his nose to keep calm, though the hair on his skin rose.

  His eyes focused on some big cubes floating away to other sparkling lights in the distance that outlined Lugh’s Spear. It was a prettier ship than Nuada’s Sword, built with the romanticism of dreamers who thought people would actually go into space instead of war on Earth. He focused on the crates. Those were tangible results of human effort, unlike the cosmos, which was beyond his understanding.

  The door to his quarters opened and Chloe said, “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Kelse made a sound, couldn’t say himself what it meant.

  “There are those of us who love space. And I speak for most of the crew, too. Viewing rooms are always open and always full. I suspect that what the mutineers really want is to refuel and continue on an endless journey.”

  At that instant the crates vanished. Kelse blinked. Stared. Shut his eyes and opened them. But they weren’t in sight.

  Chloe sucked in her breath, then cackled in satisfaction. “Umar said that they would have a Flaired circle translocate the drop. I didn’t think they had the strength, but that proves me wrong.”

  “Have him send me everything he has about this,” Kelse said, still expecting the crates to be there and a bot or machine to snag them.

  “He already has. Some of our older folk are practicing power circles, but not the younger.”

  “You?” Kelse asked, still staring at a whirlpool of stars, far, far away. It seemed less intrusive of her privacy.

  “Yes. Opaque portal,” Chloe ordered. “There are uniform shirts in the closet in several colors. Get one and wear it. Like it or not, you’re the top authority on this ship. Unlike on Earth, you don’t have a rep here, so you need symbols of authority.”

  “I will never turn into a dictator or a tyrant,” he said, remembering the uniforms who’d always spoken for the government.

  “You won’t have the time,” Chloe said. “And I wouldn’t let you.”

  Kelse stared at the shirts. They were all of a shiny fabric. Nothing he’d seen on the crew. The least offensive was a black one with a mandarin collar with oak leaves on the throat and golden buttons. He wasn’t sure about the buttons, but it beat the red shirt with epaulettes, and the green multicolored design—

  “Time, Kelse,” Chloe said.

  He shrugged into the shirt and took his place behind the desk. The video panel showed him looking unusually stern. He loathed uniforms. They represented a corrupt authority. He was all too aware that he might be seen as that. But he was uninterested in power. He wanted only to save lives. Fern’s. His own. Everyone on the ships.

  He still radiated a goldish aura that would mark him as different. Well, he’d been different all his life. He ached deep inside to think that these people, his people, might consider him a freak and mutant, too.

  Authoritative. He straightened his shoulders into an even tighter line. He wasn’t going to pretend that all was well, and he damned well wouldn’t be the fatherly figure the prez of USTATES had projected.

  He watched the blinking light of the camera as it counted down the seconds to broadcast.

  Chloe was watching her handheld. “Say, greetyou.”

  Three. Two. One.

  He stared into the camera. “Greetyou, fellow travelers. I am Kelse Bountry, succeeding Kiet Moungala as Captain of Nuada’s Sword. I am here to tell you the status of our journey. First, Captain Moungala has been killed, and the three security officers have disappeared. If anyone has information on these matters, please contact me or Exec Chloe Hernandez. That is the most immediate issue that threatens all of us, violence against us on our ship.

  “Second, Nuada’s Sword is on the way toward two star systems with fourteen prospective habitable worlds. We are launching probes to a world even closer to measure its viability as a place to land.

  “Our resources are strained, but we can make planetfall. I want to live, as I’m sure all of you want to live. I was Awakened to ensure that we all live. That means coming together with purpose to ensure our lives on the ship are good ones, and more, to make sure that we continue our mission. You all are descended from courageous men and women. People who believed in a better life on a planet of our own. Believe in our mission.

  “In the meantime, I want suggestions from you as to how you think we can make life on the ship better.

  “We are a great people, with intelligence and ingenuity and vision. We can succeed in our mission. Believe.”

  There was a slight hiss and the vid wavered and Kelse’s torso was replaced by another man’s. His face was narrow but quite beautiful, his skin pale, his hair black, and his eyes piercing blue. Kelse recognized men like these, lean, lithe, with a quickness of mind and body. And he became aware of every scar on his face, his hands. Would the crew see those scars as strength or detriment?

  “But there can be a better way,” the newcomer said with a flashing smile. “There’s a wormhole much closer. One that will take us to civilized space where we can refuel, where we will be welcomed.”

  Kelse stared. The guy was literally selling pie in the sky. “I doubt that. You are?”

  “Dirk Lascom.”

  Nodding, Kelse replied, “Wormholes damaged our ship once. I wouldn’t risk it again. But you will. Risk damage to everyone in the ship.”

  “As for resources, didn’t you just send some of our very valuable resources away?” Dirk asked.

  Kelse wondered how he knew. The screen split, showing them both. Kelse let his held breath filter out.

  Dirk’s eyes glittered. Drugs? Psi—Flair? Or pure natural vitality? He grinned and showed perfect white teeth.

  Kelse answered, “I sent some solar sails we stored for Lugh’s Spear to that ship.”

  “And food!”

  Kelse smiled easily, saw the irritation simmer under Dirk’s skin. “I sent standard meal bars nearly three centuries old to Lugh’s Spear. They are life-sustaining, but not tasty. In fact, we still have enough for everyone to try. I’ll have them available in the cafeterias, should you wish to have one.

  Then you can tell me whether it was a good jettison or bad.”

  Dirk’s eyes narrowed. “You sent seeds.”

  “Also true. They, too, were excess, something that we would have recycled and will not be missed. Did you have another purpose for those?”

  He looked over to Chloe. “Can you post the manifest of the goods we dropped for Lugh’s Spear?”

  Once again the screen split, adding a sheet with a list of the drop.

  Dirk hissed through his teeth. “I need time to study this.”

  “Surely,” Kelse said. Then his tone hardened. “Are you so selfish that you would have others starve when you could help?”

  “I’m not the selfish one here. The sleepers draw too much energy. You and yours are selfish.”

  “No.”

  “Care to defend that statement with more than words, Captain Bountry? Or will
you hide in your quarters like Captain Moungala did, never showing his face?”

  “I don’t like how you refer to a man who has been murdered. It shows a lack of respect for human life, same as being uncaring of wormhole dangers. I’ll show my face and the rest of me,” Kelse said. “Sounds like you’re challenging me to a bout of sparring.”

  Bright glee shaped Dirk’s features. “Sure, come on. Let’s fight, oh golden one.”

  So the guy knew how long it usually took for someone recently Awakened to recover from the experience. Probably figured a man who fought on Earth wouldn’t acclimate to the ship fast, either.

  Surprise. Kelse inclined his head. “Done.”

  A flicker of wariness showed in Dirk’s eyes, then his same cheerful grin. A grin Kelse had seen on others that masked mania.

  “Top of the pyramid,” Dirk said. Emphasizing that he was a man of his people and knew the slang and Kelse wasn’t and didn’t. That Kelse was the past, not the present or the future?

  Kelse would show everyone differently.

  “Sporting Room One,” Chloe murmured. She stared at Kelse, fury in her eyes, but scanned him ruthlessly. “In an hour.”

  “Sporting Room One in an hour,” Kelse said.

  “No weapons,” Chloe murmured.

  “No weapons,” Kelse said.

  Dirk’s mobile brows rose up his equally mobile forehead. “Of course not.”

  Kelse knew he lied.

  “Now I’ll continue with my address to my people.”

  “Our people,” Dirk said.

  “Do you wish a command position?” Kelse asked.

  Another charming grin. “You might say that.”

  “Come see me.”

  Dirk shook his head. “Oh, no. I don’t trust you and your old ways.” He lifted his hands, gazed straight out of the screen. “Nuada’s Sword should be ours, we who lived on her all our lives, not some outdated mission forced upon us. Let us take her back and through the wormhole to refuel and decide our own lives.” His image faded.