Siege of Praetar (Tales of a Dying Star Book 1)

by David Kristoph

  The screen in front of the machine guided his effort as he pedaled, until his heart rate reached the required level. He breathed heavily but did not sweat; perspiration had long since been removed in the genetics of Melisao humans. He glanced out a small window that showed the yellow planet they orbited. He wondered if the Praetari still perspired. Praetar was settled millennia ago, so there were thousands of years where the two people evolved separately. They probably do perspire, Hyken decided. Everything on Praetar was dirty; it was easy to picture grime sticking to their sweaty skin.

  He pedaled dutifully for 30 minutes until the computer beeped. The machine disappeared into the floor, leaving him standing on wobbly feet. His muscles ached from the effort. Endurance or physical strength training were required every day, but it was easier when Hyken was younger. At least it felt that way.

  He pulled one leg up behind him to stretch. It didn’t bother him much; physical strength wasn’t as important for a Sentinel pilot as it was for a soldier or peacekeeper down on the surface. But it still made him feel old. Like Saria, the red giant at the center of their system, it was a reminder that everything eventually died.

  After precisely ten minutes of stretching he went to the food station. It was nothing more than a box-shaped indentation in the wall, with three holes from which food dispensed. From the computer screen he selected coffee, and for a few moments there was a soft hum. Finally from one hole slid a pouch, made of a transparent material that showed the dark liquid within.

  He unfastened the end and took a pull, letting the bitter taste wash around in his mouth. It took his mind back to Melis, to the small home on the bit of land his father once owned. He allowed himself to savor the memory for only a moment before shaking it from his head. It’ll all be gone soon, in my lifetime or the next. There was no use focusing on it, not when there was much to do in the future. They had to look forward.

  He would need to make preparations for his sons to leave. The Exodus Fleet was already preparing to leave the system, and the next wave of evacuations would begin after Hyken’s tour. Cairne and Jon would get priority on the second fleet, because of Hyken’s service. The Emperor blessed those who proved their loyalty.

  He thought of the freighters trying to slip past the blockade. The Praetari used children as weapons, he knew. A child could reach places an adult could not, and even a small vest of explosives could kill hundreds. What if they reached the Exodus Fleet, dense with civilians? Maybe I should pull up the training videos, he thought. That would help Alard remember the importance of their mission.

  Saria was now visible in the common room window. Filters in the glass allowed him to look directly at the red giant without danger. It looked angry, more than usual. Flares of plasma swirled away from its surface, curling back inward in impossible arcs, pulled by the magnetic field. The surface itself shimmered like half-molten glass. It certainly looked like it was dying.

  It wouldn’t happen all at once, he knew. Stars burned by fusing hydrogen into helium. Most hydrogen was gone from Saria’s core, and it was burning what was left in the outer shell, causing the star to slowly expand, over millions of years, until all the fuel was depleted. This expansion would destroy Melis, which orbited closer to the star than the other planets. Once the hydrogen was depleted the star would collapse, eventually becoming dense and hot enough to fuse helium instead.

  But by then the Empire would be long gone. Melis was already a few hundred or thousand years from being uninhabitable, and the Emperor didn’t want to wait any longer. There were lush, fertile systems only a few light years away, with primitive biology that could be easily discarded.

  Hyken trusted the Emperor’s judgement, both in the exodus and siege of Praetar. The Exodus Fleet must be protected. The Melisao Empire had to survive. They had to look forward.

  With half his coffee gone he turned back to the station to select a meal. Their options were limited, but he didn’t mind. When he was younger he was bitter toward the Praetari, who he assumed ate far better fare on the planet’s surface than he did in orbit, but in his age he almost prefered the waxy, artificial food that was standard on Sentinel-class ships. There was a paralysis in having too many options, he’d found. Life was simpler when you didn’t need to make such mundane decisions.

  His finger froze before touching the computer. Both pilots were listed on the screen, with the number of meals they needed to consume during their shift. Hyken frowned at the screen before exiting the common room.

  The cockpit door opened at his motion, giving Hyken a view of the yellow planet through the window. Alard sat in his chair, watching a video on the computer. There was the Emperor’s face, solemn and determined as he spoke. “...will lead the way from the system, paving our path to a new Empire. Though our star becomes unstable, we will not. We must look forward.”

  Hyken recognized the speech from a few years before, when the first preparations were made to leave the system.

  Alard didn’t look up at his entrance, so Hyken sat in the other chair. Only when the video ended did he speak. “It’s good to reaffirm yourself with the Emperor’s words. I find myself doing it occasionally, when my shift grows long and boring.”

  The boy only nodded, not taking his eyes from the now blank screen. Outside the cockpit window an electroid moved, still cleaning debris and remains away from the ship. Hyken watched the human-shaped robot move silently through space to the other side of the ship before disappearing out of view.

  “You missed your last two meals,” Hyken finally said.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “It’s not your decision. Eating is one of your duties.”

  He still didn’t respond, or face him. Hyken could have ordered him to eat, but he knew there was no use. Not when there was something deeper bothering the boy. “That freighter probably had hidden weapons on-board.”

  Alard turned to him and shook his head. “It didn’t. I checked. There was no sign of any volatile material in the wreckage.”

  Hyken tossed his bulb of coffee roughly onto the controls in front of him, his anger rising. “I ordered you not to bother. It’s a waste of the ship’s energy.”

  “It seemed like a suggestion. If you meant it as an order you should have been clearer.”

  Hyken clenched his jaw, and Alard stared back defiantly. It was the first time the boy showed any backbone in their few days together.

  He opened his mouth to reprimand him, but then red light painted the boy’s face and the rest of the cockpit all at once. The alarm was painful in his ears. They both turned to their computer screens: another ship was leaving the planet, still just a tiny prick of light in the atmosphere below.

  Despite the alarm Alard relaxed back into his chair. When he spoke his voice held the correct tone of subordination. “I’m sorry. I’ve been feeling ill. That’s why I missed my meal, and why I haven’t been myself.“

  Hyken softened. “Have you checked your vitals?”

  “No, but I will as soon as my shift’s over. You go ahead and eat your meal. I’ll eat after taking care of this freighter.”

  Hyken considered that a moment before nodding. “See that you do.” He stood and returned to the hall. The cockpit doors whirred closed behind him, dampening the sound of the alarm.

  I ought to file a report, he thought. Insubordination couldn’t be tolerated, even if the boy was ill. It wasn’t uncommon among rookies. A mark on his record wouldn’t hurt him too much, but should give him the reprimand he needed. He nodded to himself. He would write the report during his shift, when Alard was asleep.

  He reached the common room and selected one of the meals from the screen, bringing the food station once again to life. He felt the familiar shudder as the ship released its missiles. He smiled. The boy was doing his duty. Hyken himself had been stubborn as a rookie, questioning every order until he was put in his place. It reminded him how important it was to mold the young pilot, to help him become the loyal citizen the Melisao Empire needed. H
e needed to be more than Alard’s co-pilot: he needed to be his mentor.

  He’d left his coffee in the cockpit, he realized. His feet carried him back up the hallway, but something made him pause. He stopped just short of the door and pressed himself against the wall to peer through the square window without activating the door sensor. The room inside still flashed from the alarm, and Alard’s gaze was fixed on the front window. Hyken shifted some more so he could see it: the Praetari freighter leaving the planet, and the two missiles hurrying toward it.

  Hyken tensed as he watched, but just before they reached their target Alard touched his screen. The missiles exploded, blinding his view of that small section of space. But the cockpit still flashed red, and the freighter’s information was still displayed on the screen. Hyken squinted through the after-image of the explosion: there it was, a rectangular ship still racing away from the planet. Intact.

  Alard had detonated the missiles manually.

  He was letting the freighter escape.

  Hyken watched, unbelieving, until the ship drifted out of view and the Sentinel’s proximity alarm ceased. Only then did Alard finally stir from his seat. Hyken stepped forward to trigger the door and enter the cockpit.

  He retrieved his coffee and said, more calmly than he felt, “You take care of that ship?”

  “Oh yeah, no problems. The missiles bays are reloading, too.” He smiled wanly.

  The ease with which he lied infuriated Hyken. Only with great effort did he nod and leave the cockpit without saying more.

  How many ships have gotten through? he thought when he was back in the common room. His meal was ready, steaming inside the food station, but he only stared at it while his mind raced. He’d never witnessed such defiance: both allowing the freighter to escape and manually detonating the missiles to hide it from his superior officer. It was treason.

  He nearly marched back to the cockpit to confront him, but he made himself think it over. Was Alard acting on his own, or was it part of some larger conspiracy? There were separatists on Praetar, and elsewhere in the Empire. He pulled the name from memory: Children of Saria. Religious fanatics that worshipped the star and opposed the Empire’s exodus. Alard’s actions would make sense if he was one of the Children, he decided. Nobody could be that sympathetic toward Praetari without a deeper reason.

  The boy didn’t know he was aware. Perhaps Hyken’s superiors would want to question him, to discover his true motives. The information would be valuable. He considered his options before deciding it wasn’t a choice he could make on his own.

  The food was cold in his mouth, but he chewed methodically while staring at the door, in the direction of the cockpit.

  Alard was in a cheerful mood when he returned to the cockpit. Hyken forced himself to make small talk. The boy smiled easily now, which was unsettling. He was downright pleased with himself, chatting eagerly about their tour and the Emperor’s exodus plan. The facade twisted Hyken’s stomach.

  Finally the boy’s shift ended, and Hyken watched him disappear down the hall and into the common room. He returned to his chair and pulled up the messaging system on the computer, typing quickly. Within moments the message was away to his commanding officer.

  A thought occurred to Hyken. He should have done it earlier, when he was in the common room. It was necessary, he decided. But he would need to wait for Alard.

  He returned to the door. He waited there, looking sideways out the window while staying out of view, for what seemed like an eternity. His legs tensed, still sore from his exercise. He strained his ears. The only sound was the hum of the ship’s air recycler.

  Finally the common room opened and Alard appeared. A bowl of food was in his hand; he ate eagerly, still looking pleased. He disappeared into his room. Hyken watched for several minutes until he was certain it was safe.

  He left the cockpit, grateful for the soft shoes that muffled his steps. He slowed as he passed Alard’s door, which had no window to reveal him. Inside the common room he went to the food station and turned around. He waited there a long moment, straining to hear anything. When he was sure Alard wouldn’t appear he stepped in front of the armory wall.

  The gun was tiny, smaller even than his open palm. He hefted its weight. Sentinel pilots went through basic arms training, but that was a long time ago, and the cold material felt foreign against his skin. It was a biomass weapon, only deadly to lifeforms; it would cause no damage to the hull if fired.

  He stuffed it inside his pocket and whirled, but he was still alone in the room. You need to relax, he told himself. He felt like a recruit, jittery and afraid. He needed direction, some orders to calm him down.

  Back in the cockpit a small portion of the computer screen blinked. He tapped it and read the words:

  Message received. Peacekeepers and replacement co-pilot will arrive in 10 hours. Observe delinquent but do not alert him. Use force only if strictly necessary.

  He read the message three times, until it was memorized, before deleting it. He’d hoped for more definitive instructions on what to do. His options were limited. The Sentinel was a simple ship with no locks on the doors. He didn’t think there was any way to confine Alard to his room. He could tie the boy up with a spare uniform, but that would do a poor job of holding him until the replacement arrived.

  No, he wasn’t supposed to alert him. He was only to observe. That made no sense, but it was what he was ordered to do.

  His ears pricked, and he leapt to the doorway. The door whirred open but the hallway was empty. The only noise was the soft purring of the ship. He fingered the gun in his pocket before returning to his chair. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.

  Hyken’s shift was twelve hours. The reinforcements would arrive before then, while Alard still slept. If he was lucky he need not do anything. The gun felt heavy in his pocket.

  The yellow planet stared back at him as he nodded to himself. He was a veteran of the Empire. He could handle a rookie for a few hours.

  Chapter 3

  It was near the end of the shift when the cockpit door opened. Hyken spun, startled, and there was Alard in the doorway. Hyken forced himself to remain in his chair, calm. He nodded to the boy politely.

  Alard took the other chair. One hand was in his pocket, but the other trembled while it held a bulb of water to his mouth. His eyes were red and tensed. Maybe he is sick, Hyken thought. He glanced at the clock: there were two more hours until the peacekeepers arrived.

  He forced a smile. “It was a quiet shift. No other souls to speak of.”

  Alard stared out the window at the planet. Hyken studied his face for any belied emotion. He was brooding, it seemed, all cheerfulness from the previous shift gone. Could he know of his fate, that armed peacekeepers raced to their location to remove him? There was no way for him to know, but he appeared suspicious. He hadn’t even glanced in Hyken’s direction since he entered.

  “You didn’t eat,” Alard said. He fiddled with the computer, checking various data about the Sentinel.

  “I’ll eat in a little while.”

  “You’re supposed to eat now,” Alard said, smiling. “Eating is one of your duties.”

  Hyken chewed his lip. Refusing to eat would alert the boy more, but he didn’t want to leave him alone in the cockpit. Observe delinquent but do not alert him. Detaining Alard then and there would violate his orders. And after a full shift Hyken’s bladder was too full to hold him for long.

  There wasn’t much danger in leaving Alard alone for a few moments, he decided. The cockpit doors couldn’t lock, and even if they could there wasn’t much mayhem he could cause before Hyken returned. The worst he could do was inaction, if another freighter appeared. Hyken could eat fast.

  “You’re right,” he finally said, standing. Alard was watching him carefully now. Had he waited too long to decide? “Even veterans gets stubborn every once in a while.” He chuckled to himself, but his was the only laugh that echoed in the cockpit. He felt like running, but l
eft the room in calm, calculated strides.

  He emptied his bladder in the cleanliness room first, then chose a meal from the food station. The machine was miserly with its food, but a pilot could have as much coffee as he wanted. He’d had four servings during his shift, he saw. Too much. You’re jittery, that’s all. He pressed the button for water and a plastic bulb appeared. He took a long drink.

  The water immediately made him feel better. He began to relax. If the alarm went off he could return to the cockpit to ensure protocol was followed, but otherwise he need only relax and wait for the peacekeepers to arrive. There didn’t need to be any confrontation at all.

  He wondered what would happen to Alard. The separatists on Melis were publicly executed, but his co-pilot would undoubtedly be interrogated first. The Empire didn’t know the Children of Saria’s size and strength on Praetar. Alard’s knowledge would be valuable indeed. Hyken might even be rewarded for uncovering him.

  He started to turn around, but his gaze stopped on the armory wall. He froze.

  The second gun was missing.

  Everything changed. His mind raced to think of new plans. For a long moment he didn’t move, the water still held in his outstretched hand. The food dispensing from the station with a soft thud finally jolted him back to alertness.

  The hallway was empty, but Hyken watched it from the doorway a long while, opening his eyes wide to take in every detail. He moved up the corridor, picking each step carefully as if on dangerous ground. He paused at Alard’s room, slowly leaning his head around the doorway. The room was empty. He continued up the hall, the only noise the soft wheezing from his breath. The gun seemed heavier in his pocket, pulling against his uniform.

  Hyken reached the cockpit door, Alard still unmoved from his chair. The door made a soft sound as it opened, but Alard still didn’t take his gaze from the planet. The back of his head was visible, but the chair blocked his view of the rest of him. He couldn’t see his hands.