Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta

by Robin D. Owens

  But it hadn’t been only mating. It had been lovemaking.

  She shook off the thought. Time to make sure that their future would be good. If Kelse believed the white star’s planet was the right one to settle, Fern would do everything to support him.

  She leaned down and brushed his thick hair from his face, looked at the warrior planes of it. They would make it through everything. She had such hope this morning. She believed in the essential goodness of life. The Lady and Lord would bless them with a new home . . . and children.

  Fern wanted children.

  She’d never dared believe that she and Kelse could have children. It would have been impossibly tragic on Earth. And she hadn’t believed in that since Awakening. But during the long-drugged dreams of the stasis sleep, children had run through, laughing.

  “Guard him,” she ordered.

  “How?” The Ship sounded curious.

  “If anyone comes near him, wake him.”

  “How near is near?”

  “If they reach the top of the rise.”

  “Agreed.” There was a note of satisfaction in the Ship’s voice, as if it, too, wanted to be useful.

  Fern moved quietly to the passage that was the back way to their quarters, then to the landing bay. She double-checked the lab and the instrumentation. Then she fumbled her way into a space suit, shut the airlock behind her, and counted down.

  Knowing she could infuriate her husband, alert the crew to secrets being kept, and anger the other two Captains, Fern pushed the button to launch planetary laboratory station two.

  Immediately lights began to flash and a claxon blared through the Ship. “Object launched from Landing Bay Two! Object launched from Landing

  Bay Two!”

  “Ship!” Fern yelled as the airlock closed and atmosphere equalized and she struggled from her suit. The alarm continued to pound at her ears.

  “I am sorry, Fern Bountry, many of my responses are set on automatic that I can’t override without human manual control,” Ship said. It didn’t sound too happy, either.

  “Well, hell.” No use sneaking around. “Please invite the Captain, Exec, and Randolph Ash to Conference Room B.”

  “I am receiving signals from the other Captains. Captain Ambroz requests information on the launch of a planetary laboratory to the white star system,” Ship said even as Fern’s handheld marched with Kelse’s comm tune.

  “What’s going on!” he snapped. Then, “Yes, I will meet you in Conference Room B.”

  “Be right there,” Fern said, overly cheerful, mouth drying. She walked fast and garnered wide-eyed looks from the crew as she moved through the corridors. And picked up two security guards on the way who stationed themselves outside the door.

  When she strode into Conference Room B, chin lifted, Randolph flicked his glance at her and hunched his shoulders. Chloe scowled at her.

  Yes, she was in trouble. Kelse moved to her side in support.

  On the large screen, split for Captains Julianna Ambroz and Netra Sunaya Hoku, along with former Captain Umar Clague, heads turned to see her enter. Better looking at them than space.

  Ambroz’s disapproving visage stared down at Fern. “You sent out the only planetary laboratory we have—”

  “No.”

  “No?” snapped Julianna.

  “No,” Fern replied. She moved to the beverage dispenser and poured herself a mug of coffee, gestured to Randolph, who was sitting at the small table, to help himself. He rose and tiptoed toward the dispenser.

  Kelse grumbled and went to get his own coffee.

  “The flawed planetary lab was fixed. I deployed that.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Julianna switched her gaze to Kelse. “You authorized this?”

  Kelse slipped his arm around Fern’s waist. As always, he was solid. “Yes.”

  “We have limited resources,” Julianna scolded.

  “I am well aware of that.” Fern sipped her coffee and looked at the Captain over her mug. “But I believe that the sixth planet of the white star system was dismissed too easily as a home for us, based on only a couple of probes. I sent the lab out to record everything and orbit the planet.

  New information about the system, and even the planet, should be coming in now.”

  Umar grunted, looked down at his handheld. “It is.”

  Hoku glanced at his handheld, raised his brows, but said nothing.

  Kelse looked at Randolph. “Have you had time to check the previous samples?”

  He reddened and bobbled his coffee. “I rounded up a couple of old friends.” He flushed even more. “And asked them to help.”

  “Study group friends,” Chloe murmured. “Not Ship for Ourselves party members.”

  “And?” Kelse prompted.

  Randolph glanced at the screen. “They’re working on the samples. My friends are excited.” His brows lowered. “Optimistic.”

  Kelse clinked his mug against Fern’s. “Always pays to be optimistic and determined.”

  The bond that had sprung between them the night before was still there, though she knew he wasn’t as calm as he sounded.

  “We’ll be studying the new results,” Kelse said, glanced at the screen. “Anything else?”

  “Not us,” Umar replied. The vid from Lugh’s Spear winked out.

  Julianna sighed heavily, a twisty line between her brows. “I’ll examine the findings, too. Later.” Her image faded and the screen became wall again.

  Kelse’s arm dropped from Fern’s waist and he glanced at Randolph. The youngster looked longingly at his mug.

  “Take it with you,” Fern said.

  Randolph nodded and slipped from the room. Lips compressed, Chloe shook her head at Fern and left, too.

  Kelse stared at her. Anger pulsed through their bond. “You aren’t wearing armor and you’re running around the ship. We agreed you wouldn’t do that.”

  “You’re right. I used mostly the back ways, but I violated our agreement. I’m sorry. The optimal time to launch was at six bells.”

  “You left me alone and asleep in the grotto.”

  “I raised a spellshield.”

  His gaze was dark. “Don’t do it again.” He turned on his heel and left, without touching her.

  The constant stream of information from the planetary lab, and data from Randolph and his friends and the nose bridge crew, kept Kelse busy for the next week. Too busy to spend much time with Fern.

  Who was keeping some sort of secret from him.

  Of course she wouldn’t endanger the crew or the ship or him. But she might endanger herself. Since she wasn’t talking, and he’d been too damn quiet since being Awakened, it was easy for her to avoid him. She spent most of her time in the Greensward, or the Earth DNA storage unit, checking on all the species the ship carried.

  The Ship for Ourselves party had been too quiet, too. Randolph had heard through the grapevine that their prime tech hadn’t been able to use the ship’s intercom or broadcast system. That would be frustrating for Dirk Lascom, and could make him more dangerous.

  Kelse had a security force of twelve by now, well trained because he’d spent a great deal of time with them. Their first priority was to protect the crew and the ship. No violence. The second was to protect Fern. Their third job was to note and observe the members of the SFO party. Kelse was sure of the eleven who’d conspired to kill Moungala and break into the cryonics bay. Dirk, his tech, and nine guards. Too many to cover up the situation, but they’d planned on being in power. Kelse still didn’t have any proof.

  Randolph was still extremely nervous about the fuel cells and reserves. At the rate they were going, they could barely make the solar systems and asteroid belt. He was also depressed when the final results of probe samples remained equivocal. He and his friends spent too many hours studying how to eke out the fuel to the two star systems that held the Colonists’ best chance. And, somehow, the ship’s energy had become more efficient.
r />   Kelse felt unusually indecisive. His gut told him the white star system was the way to go. But that might just be because he wanted off the ship.

  Fourteen prospective habitable planets were surely better than one marginally viable one, even if that was closer.

  The decision point, the point of no return, was upon them. Either way they chose, they would be set on a course that couldn’t change.

  That night, Kelse tossed and turned in bed. He’d let Fern hold him, or he held her, dozed, then dreams or his running mind would wake him and he’d struggle with the choice. He sweated through the linens, woke and noted the undertone of gray in his skin. Then he called another Captains’ conference to inform Ambroz, Hoku, and Clague of his decision.

  He’d dressed in his dark green uniform. He and Fern hadn’t spoken much, but she knew his mind. When he reached for her hand, she let him hold it, and they walked to the small conference room with fingers linked. The restraint between them had subsided . . . for the next crucial moments.

  Again he sat at the head of the table. Fern was at his right. Chloe and Randolph sat at the other end. Peaches had accompanied Randolph and settled near the food and beverage dispenser. A small screen showed the grouped nose bridge crew.

  “Contact the Captains of Arianrhod’s Wheel and Lugh’s Spear,” Kelse stated. He was relieved all the thinking was over and he could move into action.

  As soon as Julianna Ambroz’s, Netra Sunaya Hoku’s, and Umar Clague’s faces appeared on the screen, Kelse made the announcement.

  “I have decided that Nuada’s Sword will head for the sixth planet of the white star system.”

  Julianna squawked, “No!”

  He met her eyes, felt his face harden. “Yes.”

  “It’s marginal! And if we go there, we’ll have no resources to find something else!”

  “We know,” Fern said calmly beside him, and he’d never loved her more.

  “We could die off in three generations,” Julianna pointed out.

  Twelve

  That’s three more generations than we will see on this ship,” Kelse said. “Nose bridge crew of Nuada’s Sword, your input?”

  There was a hesitation, then a clearing of several throats, murmuring. “I’m waiting,” Kelse prompted.

  “With all due and great respect to Captain Ambroz, we believe the planet to be more than viable. We consider it quite habitable,” a young, quavery female voice said.

  Another one chimed in. “It appears to be perfect for terra forming and city building.” Another small cough. “Or so all our programs show.”

  Ah, now he knew why they were enthusiastic. They were those who would run the machines to build the cities—or, rather, one city to begin with.

  They’d played/practiced with those during games, too.

  “Good land and water masses. We should land well,” added a third.

  “What do you base this on?” asked Julianna.

  “Your programs,” someone replied.

  “Which programs?” snapped Julianna.

  “Why, the ones you designed and sent to us and Lugh’s Spear just before you became Captain.”

  “Ah,” Julianna said, appearing slightly mollified, though she yet had lines in her broad forehead. “How many times have you run those?” she asked.

  “Oh, um, oh,” said the breathy youngest voice. “One of us has been running it continuously since we launched the first probes.”

  “Since. You. Launched. The. Probes.”

  “Yes, our colonies died quite a bit when we first began.” A strained, nervous giggle. “Especially those from Arianrhod’s Wheel.”

  “My ship,” Julianna said.

  “But we started living past the sixty percentage point after the first data came back from the probes, and after the info from the lab . . . well, we usually make ninety-seven or ninety-eight percentile. Even when we add rougher parameters . . .”

  “Could you send me a summary of data on these runs?” asked Julianna.

  “We’ll spurt it to your transnow.” There was the sound of activity in the background, then a loud whisper. “If we might recommend something to the great Ambroz,” someone said.

  “I’m listening,” said Julianna. She was leaning forward.

  “We think that, due to the size and configuration, Arianrhod’s Wheel should land at a certain point.”

  “I see.” Her gaze had gone to a monitor that showed a rotating world. One of her assistants—dressed in a long gown with sleeve pockets like a kimono—pulled an electronic tablet from her sleeve and gave it to Julianna. Charts and figures flashed on it. The games summaries.

  Randolph cleared his throat. “Could I have one, too?” He was staring sourly at the screen. Kelse thought he was both envious and feeling superior.

  “Surely,” a young woman from the bridge said. “We’ll spurt it to your handy and your desky.”

  “I, too,” said Hoku.

  “On its way to Lugh’s Spear!”

  “My thanks,” Hoku said and lapsed into silence. He was still looking pretty golden from the Awakening.

  “Randolph, your input?” Kelse asked.

  The young man jerked his mind back to the business, flushed as if caught daydreaming at a vital meeting. He squared his shoulders. “We take the chance.”

  “Fern?” He took her hand and squeezed.

  “I don’t have the great scientific knowledge that these others have.” Her lips quivered. “And I haven’t played the game—I mean, I haven’t run the programs. But I know that I still believe in founding a society, the culture that we want. Of fulfilling our dreams.”

  Peaches hopped onto the table. The four Famdogs say yes.

  Turning red, Randolph repeated what the cat said.

  The six FamCats say yes. We are tired of Ship. And Ship says yes, too.

  Again Randolph stated the Fams’ position.

  There was silence as everyone stared at Peaches. Finally he hopped from the table and strutted to the door. Time for food. Steak bits in Cafeteria Three A today.

  Chloe let him out, saying, “I have a good feeling about this.”

  “I still don’t think . . .” Julianna began stubbornly.

  Damn. Kelse hadn’t wanted to bring this up. He squared his shoulders. And looked directly into Julianna’s eyes. “Julianna,” he said softly, “throughout this seventy-year journey of yours”—and she still appeared more like fifty—“we have come across six planets that you did not consider viable.”

  She flinched.

  “And you don’t consider the one circling the white star viable.”

  “I’ll check the new data,” she said stiffly. Her fingers were trembling.

  “Julianna, I can’t afford to base my decision on your advice alone, no matter how estimable your credentials. We have to act, and act now.

  Nuada’s Sword is taking the chance.” He stood. “Because we cannot risk any farther voyage. We will be diverting to the white star and the sixth planet from it.”

  “I will follow Captain Bountry’s decision,” Hoku said. “With the vids I’ve scrutinized of the planet from the lab, I am confident that I can make a good landing.”

  Julianna had paled. “I still think the other star systems would have been better. Despite what everyone says, what everyone believes, this is a huge risk.”

  “It’s the only one we can take. Sooner, rather than later, we’ve come to our last chance,” Kelse said. He leaned over the console, tapped a sequence.

  “This is nav, Captain.”

  “Launch Planetary Lab One to land on the planet and stream data back. Engage the nano engines and steer for Celta.”

  “Yes, sir! Nose crew back to our duties! Signing off.”

  Julianna looked down.

  Randolph squirmed in his seat and Kelse nodded at the young man. He escaped. Chloe’s raised-brows glance at him, then at Kelse, indicated that she wanted to follow her grandson. He nodded.

  Hoku scanned their room, then said, “Thos
e young idiots on your nose bridge aren’t expecting to land Nuada’s Sword because they’ve been practicing in simulators, are they?”

  Fern flinched beside Kelse.

  “No,” he said. “You’re our best and most experienced Pilot, but we have our own who has landed starships as large as Nuada’s Sword.”

  “Good.” Hoku’s expression was somber. “Because games are just that. Games.”

  “That’s right,” Kelse said.

  Hoku nodded. “We’ll make it there, and I’ll land Lugh’s Spear, then we’ll see what we’ll see. Later.” His image vanished.

  The last sight Kelse had of Julianna was with her head bowed, her chest rising and falling with weeping. She couldn’t go it alone. He’d forced her to follow him, and he hated that. He hated that he had no choice about anything.

  He hated that, at the beginning of this trip, so long ago, he’d thought that everything would go well. He and Fern would be out of the escalating violence against psis. They’d sleep, they’d find a new home, build a new city, a new culture.

  Everything had looked great on paper. The science programs and all the other analyses they’d studied more than two centuries ago had been fine. He’d believed in experts.

  He’d had hope.

  Nothing was as horrible as when hope crashed.

  He’d brought Fern into a dreadful situation. All his insides squeezed, sweat spread on his palms. He dropped Fern’s hand.

  There were measures to be planned if worse came to worst.

  They’d changed course. They were committed.

  Vids of “their” new star system and planet sent from the planetary labs—one in orbit and one on the way to the planet—were updated every hour and had become the main entertainment.

  Fern lingered on the path to the grotto. She’d come the back way from their quarters, as usual.

  She’d thought that after the great decision, Kelse would loosen up. She’d been wrong. He’d narrowed the bond between them, and she could think only that he was too sensitive to the link. That he believed it might make him weak in some way. She was learning more about her husband under these circumstances, and fear crawled through her, gnawing. Her breath quickened as she considered how fragile their marriage was. She swallowed and bit her lip, tasted blood. She hadn’t been able to reach him and their marriage could break. The worst fear of all.