Supernova

by C. Gockel

  Time Gate 1 said, “That is real time footage. I will maintain the ruse as long as I can. On the promenade, it will become more difficult to keep up the façade. The real world won’t correspond with my footage on file.”

  “Thank you, Daddy 1,” 6T9 whispered.

  Gate 1 continued, “They have disabled the cameras in the corridor outside your hiding place.”

  6T9’s eyes opened, and he found himself staring down into the eyes of FET12. “This is where they’ll try to kill Volka.” It was the only corridor that led to Sundancer; she had to come this way.

  Gulping, FET12 nodded.

  “Be ready,” 6T9 whispered to FET12.

  FET12 shifted nervously on his feet.

  Their weapons had been taken during their interrogations. They’d armed themselves with items they’d found in the closet. 6T9 clutched a broom that he’d unscrewed from its bristles. The pointed end would make a decent spear. It was a trick he’d learned from Volka on their first fateful adventure. FET12 clutched a spray bottle of cleaning solution.

  “If the cameras are disabled,” FET12 said, “we won’t be able to see her when she enters the—”

  Fast, impossibly light footfalls passed outside the door.

  “Volka!” whispered FET12. “She’s running.”

  6T9 was already commanding the door to open. In the split second it took to do so, more footfalls, heavier, and too fast to be completely human, passed by. FET12, smaller and slighter, was sliding out into the hallway as 6T9 took his first step.

  Instead of spraying Volka’s pursuers, FET12 hurtled the bottle down the hallway with inhuman strength, hitting one of two men in Fleet Grays square in the back. FET12’s target stumbled but didn’t fall. Recovering, the man spun toward them. The other man turned, too, just as 6T9 hurtled the broomstick like a javelin. The man plucked it from the air, broke it in half, and tossed it behind him, his movements too fast, too accurate. He was either highly augmented or an android.

  Shouting at the top of his lungs, FET12 charged the first man. With all his mighty processing power, 6T9 could think of no better plan. Bowing his head, he raced forward, dimly aware of Volka, a shadow beyond her pursuers.

  The men raised phaser pistols. FET12, three steps ahead of 6T9, dived, and the first man’s shot missed and blasted past 6T9. 6T9 was too far back, and in the nanoseconds FET12 was belly flopping and sliding across the floor, 6T9’s processor intuited if he kept running he’d be hit in the gut, if he dived like FET12 he would be hit in the back or his legs; it was just a matter of where there would be less damage. His processor tried to decide—

  A blood curdling shout came from behind the two men. The man aiming at 6T9 spun 180 degrees at the waist in a way that would be impossible for any human, lowering his phaser momentarily as he did to avoid hitting the wall. Volka was flying through the air directly at him, a broken end of the broomstick clasped in each hand, jagged ends directed at her foe, millions of years of evolution and predatory instinct pitting themselves against superior strength, speed, and a phaser. Before the man could raise his weapon again, she’d driven the pieces into both his eyes. Sparks flew. He didn’t collapse, but his body jerked back at the force of the impact, driving him into 6T9. 6T9 wrapped his arms around what had to be an android, locking its arms to its sides. The android fired the phaser, managing to shoot its own foot, and toppled forward under 6T9’s weight. The phaser clattered away, the android still writhed, and 6T9 couldn’t release it. He heard FET12 wrestling with the other android, and then there was a phaser shot and heat above 6T9’s head. The ‘bot beneath 6T9 stopped moving. There was another phaser shot, and 6T9 looked up and saw Volka standing above them, phaser in her hand, panting heavily, lips twisted in rage or despair.

  His Q-comm sparked, and he wanted to laugh. Evolution had won.

  “It’s not funny,” FET12 whispered, sounding horrified. “They’re destroyed.”

  Realizing he was smiling like he had an operating system malfunction, 6T9 ducked his head and bit back the smirk. The head of the ‘bot beneath him was completely slagged. Its Q-comm, if it had one, was toasted, as well as any local operating system. The ‘bot FET12 was rising from was in a similar condition.

  6T9 clambered to his feet. In the next instant, Volka threw herself at him, and then a million years of evolution and predatory instinct huddled, shaking in his arms. He was still wearing armor and couldn’t feel her, but he hugged her back and dropped his cheek to the top of her head. For a millisecond, he let himself feel the velvet of her ears—softer than human hair and warm. His sex ‘bot body didn’t want to let her go. His Q-comm didn’t want to let her go, either—his processor wanted more time to turn the contradictory behavior inside out and to analyze it properly. But then FET12 said, “I know these androids.”

  Volka pulled away. 6T9 let her go.

  “They’re G3 units,” FET12 continued. “Younger than I am.”

  6T9’s eyebrow rose. FET12 was only a few weeks old, if one considered his “birth” as the date he got his Q-comm.

  “Where did you meet them?” Volka asked.

  FET12’s expression became guilty. “One of Lauren G3’s virtual soirees. I didn’t know how much they didn’t like animals or humans then—they wouldn’t let me loop Shissh into the party.” To Volka, he said, “Where is Shissh?”

  Gulping, Volka shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “The captains?” 6T9 asked.

  Volka’s ears sagged. “They’re alive, but they’re being reassigned, and all their crews, too. They’re upset. Their ships are upset, but not afraid. They don’t sense immediate threat.” Her ears shot in two different directions. “Where is everyone else? The hallways are never this empty.”

  She was right. Shaking his head, 6T9 began surfing the ether to find out.

  FET12 grabbed the android he’d fought by the wrists. “I don’t know where everyone is, but I suggest we take advantage and hide the bodies in the closet.”

  6T9’s Q-comm sparked. The longer it was before the G3s were found, the better. It would be better not to be roped into a legal investigation. The other androids would find them, but 6T9 had a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn’t let Fleet know. “I doubt this was a Fleet authorized hit; the ‘bots are too young to be given this assignment.”

  “Is Time Gate 3 behind all of this?” Volka asked. “I don’t sense the Dark anywhere near.”

  Tugging the first android into the closet, FET12 replied, “Impossible to know with so little data. We are all individuals. G3 could be involved, or it could be not monitoring its androids closely enough.”

  Still scanning the ethernet, 6T9 lugged the other attacker into the closet.

  On Volka’s wrist, Bracelet spoke, “Volka, two other men were hunting 6T9 and FET12. They are coming this way.”

  “Bracelet? You’re you? How?” Volka whispered.

  “I’m only talking to you in the ether, Miss Volka. Please hurry to your ship, or I’ll never really be on your wrist again.”

  Finishing his task, 6T9 bolted from the closet. “Come on,” he said to Volka, taking one of Volka’s hands. FET12 took the other. They started off down the hall at a jog. Just before they reached the corner, Bracelet said, “Two more have joined them.”

  They swung around a corner into a stairwell. 6T9 accessed the local cameras, saw how fast they were being pursued, and declared, “Carrying Volka.” FET12 released Volka’s hand, and 6T9 swung her into his arms. FET12 and 6T9 took the stairs entire flights at a time. They were on the level of Sundancer and the other Skimmers in seconds, and they broke into a sprint.

  “Where is everyone?” Volka murmured again against his neck. 6T9 was too focused on adjusting his stride to reply. He’d cut off his ether scans as well—she was light, but he wasn’t as efficient or as fast with her in his arms. There were only a few techs and Marines about. They looked up at them with startled eyes, but no one stopped them. “There’s no general order for our arrest,” Volka murmured. “You wer
e right. This wasn’t a Fleet hit.”

  Seconds later, they reached the Skimmer’s docking bay, and the airlock doors parted for them. The two guards on duty shouted as they ran past, “Is she all right? Do you need medical?”

  Four steps in, 6T9 skidded to a halt. Sundancer was hovering as close to the door as was possible; the other Skimmers were huddled close behind and beside her. An unfamiliar man in bright orange service overalls was standing just beneath the ship. His skin tone was darker than anyone’s but Noa’s; his body was well muscled but somewhat wiry. He smiled brightly at them and ran his hand beneath Sundancer’s keel, drawing gloved fingers across her glossy surface. “She’s pretty. I wonder if you’d let me take a look inside?”

  “Who are you?” FET12 said.

  “Get inside!” Volka cried, ears shooting back. The keel irised open. The man leaped two meters into the air and vanished.

  6T9 protested. “What are you—?”

  A small lean shadow with tattered ears and a broken tail caught his attention. “Eric Hoffer,” he whispered. The cat he’d met on New Grande paused. Its eyes glowing in the low light of the shadows met his. It occurred to 6T9 that unlike the Illustrious Mao, Hoffer had retained the form he’d had before the nuclear blast.

  “Go, Sixty, go!” Volka cried.

  Their pursuers were exiting the stairwell—he could hear their footsteps echoing down the corridor. FET12 leaped into the ship. Pulling Volka tight, 6T9 leaped up behind him. His feet touched the bridge. The tech pulled him to the side, and a thump sounded behind him. Another tech leaped in, black hair plastered on a pale face with green eyes, shouting, “Close the keel. The airlock will open in two minutes.”

  “We can’t!” Volka exclaimed. “Carl and Shissh are coming!”

  FET12 said, “Our pursuers are thirty seconds from the bay.”

  The techs met each other’s eyes. Shouting, “Keep the door open for us,” they leaped out, their bodies shimmering like heat over pavement, pistols appearing in their hands. 6T9 plugged into the docking bay cameras. The two techs stood just inside the inner airlock doors. The dark one shouted, “Take cover!” to the guards. The pale one began playing with wires in a panel beside the door.

  One of the guards turned to the tech—and was blasted from behind. The tech swore and fired out into the corridor. Another phaser caught the other guard. Volka gasped, though she couldn’t have seen the man fall. The techs returned fire; one, two, three of the attackers fell—and then an orange blur came sliding into the docking bay, the last attacker beneath it. 6T9 blinked and found himself staring at Shissh atop a man face first on the floor. With a swat of a paw, the attacker’s neck snapped. Obviously an android, he shouted “Beast!” Shissh grabbed one arm in her jaws and began digging her hind legs into his body, her front claws into his shoulders. She bounded away, leaving the android’s arms and legs shredded, and in impossible angles, a phaser sagging in his hands. Behind Shissh, legs pumping, came Captain Orion Smith, madly clutching Carl Sagan. Carl’s voice erupted in 6T9’s mind. “Help Orion! His legs are not augmented!”

  FET12 and 6T9 bent down and hauled Orion up by the back of his coat.

  “Captain Smith,” said FET12. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m not a captain anymore. I’ve been demoted to midshipman.” His lip trembled. He turned to 6T9, and asked, “But even a midshipman is honor bound to obey all appropriate orders?”

  Before 6T9 could answer, Shissh leaped into the ship. FET12 dropped to wrap his arms around the tiger and bury his nose in her neck. Chuffing, the tiger led him to the side. In the next instant, the techs leaped into the ship. The dark tech ordered, “The bay’s about to open. Volka, get us and all the ships out of here! ”

  “Of course,” Volka said.

  “Wait! Volka,” Orion exclaimed. “We don’t know who they are!”

  Ignoring him, Volka closed her eyes, and the keel closed. Sundancer’s hull became transparent. The bay opened before them, and Sundancer shot past the other ships into the void.

  “All the ships,” the tech insisted again.

  Volka opened her eyes. “They want their captains.”

  The tech dipped his chin. “We’ll deal with that later.”

  Volka nodded minutely, closed her eyes, and the Skimmers slipped out into the vacuum.

  “We need to go someplace safe,” the tech said.

  “Volka, don’t listen to him!” Orion said. “We don’t know who they are!”

  For once, 6T9 agreed with Orion, but he said nothing. His ether surfing had seized on the event that had probably drawn Fleet personnel from the hallways. All his circuits dimmed. He was vaguely aware of Carl hissing, “We know who they are!”

  6T9 stood, stunned. The information in the ether overwhelmed him.

  “Sixty? Hatchling?” Carl said.

  He blinked. The techs had their hands on their collars, and their bodies were shimmering. A nanosecond later, he was looking at Noa and James—and for the second time in only minutes, he was almost blinded by relief. When he could see again, he noticed that their collars, wrists, and Fleet armor gleamed beneath their tech coveralls.

  “Sorry, I forgot you can’t smell them,” Volka murmured.

  6T9’s lips parted, and then his ether pinged with a message from the gate above his asteroid. Answering, his eyes widened at the binary data scrolling through his processors.

  “The asteroid?” Volka asked again.

  6T9 grasped her arm. “No, someplace safe.”

  6

  Someplace Safe

  Uncharted Space

  When they emerged from the light of the free-gate, Sixty’s arm immediately wrapped around Volka’s shoulder, and she leaned into him. She thought her legs might give out from under her. She needed to know what was happening. Who had tried to take the Skimmers and tried to kill her? Why wasn’t the asteroid safe? Why had the hallways in Fleet’s section of the gate been so empty?

  But too many thoughts and emotions were racing around her. 6T9 was the only thing stable physically and emotionally. Carl and Shissh were seething, and if she focused on that she might growl or break something. She couldn’t read FET12’s emotions, but he was clinging to Shissh, and she didn’t need telepathy to see he was upset. Orion was in shock.

  “Where are we?” Noa asked, her back to Volka as she stared out past the other Skimmers to the massive swirl of stars beyond.

  “A baby galaxy,” Volka said, relieved. The direct question, and Noa’s orderly mind, had drawn Volka out of the well of telepathy. “We always come here when Sundancer feels threatened. The Dark isn’t here.”

  Sixty whispered to Volka, “System 12 has declared a state of emergency. They are requisitioning our asteroid for their Local Guard base—and for refugees.” He smiled grimly. “And based on our experiences today, I would suspect so that we cannot take refuge there.”

  Volka felt like her legs might give out again. “Our home?”

  Carl began squeaking rapid fire in what sounded suspiciously like swears in werfle-ese.

  She closed her eyes. She was an orphan again. But then 6T9 kissed her head, and Sundancer touched her heart, and Carl’s swearing reached an obscene pitch … She released a breath. She wasn’t an orphan. She was homeless, but she still had her family.

  She opened her eyes, and 6T9 said philosophically, “It wasn’t really ours.”

  They’d only been borrowing it while 6T9 took care of Carl.

  Noa came over to them. “I’m sorry. But we wouldn’t have been safe there. Too easy a target.” The admiral’s gaze slipped out to the galaxy before them, and she thought silently, “Now the Dark inhabits humans with faster-than-light ships, and even this place isn’t safe.”

  … And Volka was being sucked into Noa’s thoughts again. Terrible things were happening in the Galaxy. Civilians were fleeing from System 13; they were the refugees who would be seeking shelter on their asteroid. Volka, put a hand to her mouth. System 13 was where Ambassador Zhao had rendezvoused
with the Dark.

  Noa’s thoughts continued, dragging Volka along in their torrent. The Skimmer Fleet had been disbanded by the Republic’s Senate Armed Forces committee, led by a Senator from System 3 …

  Carl, not having any qualms about telepathy, interjected, “System 3 is where Volka’s and 6T9’s android assassins came from.”

  There was no surprise from Noa … or Orion.

  “They don’t like The One there,” Volka said. Carl had pretended to be an animatronic scarf to avoid being leashed.

  Orion huffed softly. “Convenient for them.”

  Noa met Volka’s eyes. “One of the Senators from System 3 leads the Committee. He didn’t come to the most recent session, claiming events in Shinar demanded his attention. Eric Hoffer, a Member of The One that helped me escape, told me that none of the other Senators on the Committee are Infected, but they didn’t like the Skimmer project, and they don’t have to be Infected to be led by someone who is.”

  That thought triggered memories in Noa … Volka saw shadows of an assassination attempt against the admiral this morning. Noa was coming off an adrenaline high from that event. She was angry, but not afraid, though she was very glad that James was here. Noa was glad that Volka and 6T9 were safe too, and, gazing on them, with each second Noa felt a growing sense of optimism, of opportunity within her grasp, and oddly, hope.

  Volka’s ears curled at those improbable emotions. How could Noa believe it?

  The disaster in System 13 and rapidly developing disaster in System 12 wasn’t all she saw in Noa’s thoughts. System 11 had broken off from the Republic … That was the system weere originally came from.

  “What is happening in System 11, Noa?” Volka blurted.

  Sixty’s eyes went wide. James cocked his head. Noa narrowed her eyes. “You reading my mind?”

  Volka’s cheeks flushed.

  Noa waved a hand. “Because you’re nervous? Because Sundancer is amplifying?”