Supernova

by C. Gockel

  In the real world, Carl snored, but in her mind, he said, “I’m here and so is Shissh.”

  Ramirez’s thoughts continued in her mind. “How did Stratos and Jerome get transferred to the far side of nowhere?”

  Volka blinked.

  Ramirez continued, “Bethlem isn’t a posting. It’s a punishment. What did they do?”

  “How did he not hear?” Dr. Elam asked.

  Rhinehart answered the question. “Stratos told his Intelligence Inquisitor to have carnal relations with an asteroid.”

  “Carnal relations wasn’t the exact expression Stratos used,” another captain said.

  Stratos’s ship Firewatcher nearly sang with pride at her captain’s bravery.

  Young was suddenly in the telepathic conference call. Although he didn’t speak, Volka could feel him … and so could the other captains.

  “Uh, oh … officer on deck … or in the head,” Ramirez mentally babbled. “Oh, wait, that didn’t come out right. Err … sir. Damn, do I salute? Wait, I didn’t mean to swear.”

  Except for Elam and Young, none of the Skimmer captains were technically officers. It had annoyed the Fleet to no end.

  Young’s consciousness sighed. “At ease, Marine.”

  Laughter rolled over the waves between the humans and the Skimmers. It made Volka smile, and Sundancer shimmer. The other elderships were … confused and happy, caught up in their captains’ emotions, but perhaps not precisely “in” on the joke.

  Young did not join the laughter. “Stratos may have received a less-than-ideal assignment for conduct unbecoming. Jerome lost TAB.”

  Farsong, Jerome’s ship, became indignant, and a moment later, Jerome’s consciousness was part of the telepathic conversation.

  “Jerome lost a gazillion-credit Q-comm chip?” someone exclaimed.

  There was a collective momentary end of thought, and the waves rippled with disbelief, and stomachs sank for Jerome’s sake.

  Jerome’s thoughts echoed through the waves. “Uh … guys, you know I am part of this telepathic holo conference, right?”

  There was a moment of stunned mental silence. Volka blinked.

  And then Young demanded, “What the hell happened, Corporal?” Along with his words came Young’s anger and shame. Volka’s brow furrowed as she tried to pick apart the reason for that last emotion.

  “You lost a Q-comm!” Young continued, and with his outburst came a sensation of … disgrace … and Volka understood. Young felt like Jerome’s failure was his own, which didn’t seem quite fair to her.

  “It’s a long story,” Jerome said.

  The holomat crackled, and TAB’s voice echoed across the bridge, fast and excited. “Can I tell the story? Can I? We’re in ether range, Jerome. You don’t have to keep speaking to the other Marines telepathically, and I don’t have to hide anymore since we’re very nearly with them again!”

  Sixty sat up fast and was drawn short by the hardlink.

  Bracelet chirped from Volka’s wrist. “TAB?”

  “Where are you?” James asked.

  Jerome groaned, and Volka felt exasperation deep in the fiber of his being.

  TAB’s voice erupted over the ether. “In Jerome’s neural port. He did not lose me!”

  Jerome sighed and answered over the ether, “No, I did not.”

  “I pretended to be a musical library,” TAB continued.

  “I gave his chip to a tech before my debriefing, Lieutenant Young,” Jerome explained. “An hour later, they threw him back at me and told me I was demoted, and going to Bethlem, but I could keep my music.”

  “I was so clever,” TAB declared cheerfully.

  Sounding not nearly as excited, Jerome said, “Yeah, it was great.”

  Bracelet whispered, “I don’t think it is greatly clever.”

  TAB said wistfully, “Now Jerome and I can be together forever.”

  “Oh, Nebulas, we’ve talked about this!” said Jerome, and his ether cut out, but the emotion did not. The waves rippled with laughter at Jerome’s expense. Volka had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. She met Sixty’s gaze, and he gave her a smirk. The only one who wasn’t smiling was Noa. She had a hand on her chin, and she was staring at the holomat as though her thoughts could set it on fire. Volka’s smile faded.

  Sixty’s smile abruptly dropped, too. “We’re being hailed by the commander of Bethlem Settlement.”

  “Put it on the holo,” Noa ordered, waving at the device.

  A man appeared in the holo. He was gray haired, and there was the sheen of sweat on his brow. “System 11 vessels, I understand you are manned by Fleet veterans and System 11 local guard.”

  “That is correct,” Noa replied.

  There was a pause. “Admiral Sato?”

  “This is she,” Noa responded.

  “We need your help,” the station commander said.

  Volka’s mind buzzed with Noa’s shock. What could make the Commander of Bethlem so desperate he’d reach out to the forces of a breakaway system and former Fleet Marines?

  The man’s voice came in a rush. “We need help securing the transport. There is a mob threatening to set fire to the food shipment.”

  There was a moment everyone was so stunned Volka thought that the constantly vibrating waves were actually still.

  Sixty’s Q-comm spark was briefly black and then fired madly.

  Noa made a cutting motion to 6T9. He nodded, touched his temple, and said, “Muted. It takes weeks to ship anything to Bethlem. Why could they possibly want to destroy their own food?”

  Brows drawn together, lips pressed tight, Noa turned to Volka. “Is he being sincere? Is this a trap?”

  Volka’s ears swiveled, and she answered hesitantly, “I didn’t sense deception.”

  Carl yawned. His voice-to-ether device crackled. “He is being sincere. Although, if it were up to me, I’d just shoot the idiot protestors.”

  Noa scowled at him. “Usually during these sorts of things, the violent protestors are in the minority.”

  Carl sniffed and curled into a tighter ball. “Well, then the quiet majority can eat the protestors when the food runs out.”

  Rolling her eyes, Noa responded to the commander, “Of course we’ll help in any way we can.”

  “Sending you a flight path now,” the commander said, and the holomat flickered with numbers.

  Carl grumbled, “My way is a better long-term solution.”

  Volka barely heard. Noa’s thoughts were stronger than Carl’s, and she was sucked into them. Noa was only half thinking about Bethlem. She was thinking about the Dark. It had to be hungry. If it wasn’t here, then where was it?

  14

  Donner Settlement

  Kanakah Cloud

  “The outrigger’s alignment is still not optimal,” Alaric barked into the comm.

  “The extension mechanism is larger than on the LCS craft, sir. That means—”

  “I know what it means,” Alaric said. It meant that minute errors in the system caused large alignment issues—large in this case being half a millimeter. They’d be able to jump … but only once before requiring realignment. “But we still need to fix it.”

  “I’m not sure it can be—”

  “Of course it can be,” Alaric shot back, voice calm now. “Your job is to find out how. That is why you went into engineering. Correct?”

  Before the man could answer, Alaric’s communication officer declared, “Sir, incoming Q-comm transmission from Gate 8. It’s urgent, sir.”

  “Put it on the comm,” Alaric ordered. Solomon leaped from his shoulder and stood upon the holo table.

  Archbishop Sato’s voice flowed through the bridge. “Captain Darmadi, we have a report from the Kanakah Cloud. A single ship free-gated within a few kilometers of the Donner Settlement and then attacked.”

  Alaric had never heard of the “Donner Settlement.” It wasn’t surprising. There were dozens of unincorporated settlements in the Cloud. He shot a glance at his navigator. The man
nodded and began typing rapidly at his console. Seconds later, the Kanakah Cloud was hovering over the table. A silvery ring marked the singular Kanakah Gate—the Republic outpost closest to Luddeccea. A purple shimmer indicated the Donner Settlement.

  “How did the Donner report arrive at Kanakah, sir?” Alaric asked. “And did they inform you how long it had been since they’d received the transmission?”

  “Lightbeam,” Archbishop Sato said.

  The navigator began typing furiously again.

  The archbishop continued, “Kanakah notified us within minutes, and according to our agents there, contacted us before they gave the intel to the Republic.”

  Alaric’s jaw tightened. He heard a few grumbles on the bridge and a whispered, “Can you blame the poor sods?”

  Alaric couldn’t blame them. He glanced at the readout on the holo. A lightspeed transmission from Donner to the Kanakah Gate would have taken three hours.

  He didn’t know if the Skimmers could follow a trail three hours old, but the Dark might not have left the settlement yet. The settlement could be resisting attack, or the Infected might be busy stripping the settlement of supplies; food had to be the reason they had attacked Donner.

  “We need the Skimmers,” Alaric said. “We need their tracking ability to find the shipyard.”

  “We will contact the admiral, Captain,” Archbishop Sato said. “We need you to keep the Dark’s ship there until they arrive.”

  The atmosphere in the room changed at the archbishop’s words. Alaric swore that he could taste ozone, like before a lightning storm. Ko was leaning over the navigator’s console before Alaric had seen him move, and the navigator began typing furiously at his terminal again.

  “Aye, sir,” Alaric said, internally cursing the misaligning outrigger.

  The connection cut out. Alaric was already strapping in, giving orders over the comm for immediate departure, and receiving status from his fighter pilots. There were many pieces that had to fall into place before the Uriel could jump, but the outriggers were already extended, and the fighters were stowed in their berths. He reviewed the holo data of Donner’s party, conferred briefly with Ko, his navigator and pilot, gave instructions to his pilots over the comm, and contacted the man who would be leading their away team—should they need one.

  “Sir, we’re ready to engage the Net-Drive,” Ko said.

  If the Archbishop Sato had already contacted them, the Skimmers were probably already there. Still, better late to the party than never, and if there was active fighting going on in the colony, the Uriel could provide support.

  “Engage,” Alaric said, keeping his expression neutral and relaxed, even though this was only the ship’s third jump. Around the bridge, eyes went to the ceiling, and he heard a few whispered prayers. There was a hum through the hull, but no alarms kicked in, which was a nice change. In the view screens, a spherical net of light shrouded the Uriel.

  “Net-sphere’s alignment is acceptable,” a priest said.

  Alaric had only time to nod before the sphere contracted, the deck shook, the viewports went to white, and then they were staring at stars and endless black.

  The endless black wasn’t necessarily a problem. “Navigation?” Alaric asked.

  “We are within a half meter of our jump target, sir!”

  “Signs of enemy craft?” Alaric asked.

  “None. No friendlies either, sir,” declared the man at the sensor array.

  Alaric leaned forward. “Time or gravitational distortions?”

  “None, sir,” said one of his priests.

  Alaric exhaled. Perhaps the Skimmers had already come and pursued the Dark’s ships?

  Pressing a button on his armrest, Alaric contacted the fighters waiting in their bays. “Scouts, you have your target.”

  There was a buzz on the bridge as members of that squadron responded.

  “Holo, highlight it for us,” Alaric ordered, and the holo table sprang to life again. A single speck of light hovered before them. It was hundreds of kilometers away, but only seconds for the Uriel and her fighters. Donner’s Settlement was a rogue planetoid, encased in ice, no larger than Sol System’s Pluto. The colony existed beneath the ice. The readouts indicated some mineral exports and local agriculture. There were perhaps two hundred settlers. Alaric tapped his finger on his armrest. Raiding such a small colony for food seemed hardly worth the trouble. Attacking a transport at emergence from lightspeed would be easier: no gravity well, fewer defenses, everything already neatly packed for space travel.

  “Berth hatches opening,” someone declared.

  And then, “Away!”

  In the holo, the short-range fighters blasted toward Donner.

  “Follow,” Alaric ordered.

  He glanced at Solomon, seated at the holo table. The werfle turned around and signed, “I can’t get a clear reading from here. There were none of us in Donner.”

  Nodding in acknowledgement, he thought pointedly at the werfle. “The Skimmers?”

  “The archbishop has reached them. They will come as soon as they are able.”

  There were a thousand reasons they could be delayed. He didn’t have to worry, and yet to be so close to having been able to track the Dark … or not. Their sensors detected no sign of faster-than-light disturbances. He gripped his armrests. They’d have more chances. The Dark was hungry—had to be hungry—on that Galactican and Luddeccean intelligence agreed.

  In the view screen, the Donner Settlement grew larger as they approached.

  “Squadron Leader reports no signs of life in the settlement,” said the ensign at the comm.

  Solomon began to hiss, and his fur puffed so he appeared twice his normal size. A black haired, wolf-eared weere priest spun in his chair. “The demon—werfle—says that there is at least one Infected in the settlement.” The man’s face crumpled, and he put a hand to his mouth as though to restrain a gag. The two other weere priests swallowed hard, noses wrinkling.

  “Sir,” the ensign said, “we’re getting a lightbeam hail … it’s coming from a location approximately three hundred kilometers from the settlement. Says they are a transport vessel, that they sent the original emergency hail when they realized something was wrong here. They’re asking for assistance.”

  “Transport vessel” probably meant “pirate.” That they were asking for assistance from a military transport was odd. “It’s a trap,” Ko said.

  Alaric had a thought that was even more horrifying. “Or they are just that desperate. Comm, are we close enough to put them on holo?”

  “Aye, signal’s strong enough now.”

  The holo flashed, and a man in rough, mismatched clothes came on. He was flanked by others similarly garbed. They all wore weapons on their hips.

  “Transport vessel, my gran,” Ko whispered.

  A text flowed on Alaric’s screen. “Wanted by Republic and Luddeccea for piracy, disorderly conduct …” The convictions continued to scroll.

  “We surrender,” the man said. “Just get us out of here! We don’t want ‘em coming back for us!”

  Solomon’s fur, Alaric noted, had returned to its normal smooth state; he was staring intently at the holo.

  “They’re clean, the demon says,” the weere priest choked out.

  “‘Course we’re clean. We saw the demon ship, ‘fore they saw us. Hid—”

  “Crashed,” Ko muttered.

  The pirate winced. “Sent transmission soon as we could to try and help.”

  “As soon as the Dark was gone so their transmission wouldn’t be overheard,” Ko said.

  A weere priest shook his head, lips pressed together. “The Dark is still in the settlement.”

  Solomon nodded.

  The pirate in the holo declared, “It’s everywhere in two and a half months’ lightspeed range! Please. Our timebands are damaged. It will come back for us. It’s taken anyone who can walk and swing a hammer.”

  Alaric narrowed his eyes. “We’ll send a rescue party for you,
Mister …” He glanced at the readout. “Sacks … but you’ll have to wait.”

  The man bowed and whimpered, “Please don’t forget us.” The men behind him followed his lead.

  Alaric signaled for the holo to be cut.

  Ko said, “They could be useful.”

  “No doubt,” Alaric said. Where were the Skimmers? Every minute they weren’t here was a minute that the Dark’s trail got colder.

  “Should we sterilize the settlement?” Ko asked.

  Alaric’s jaw ground.

  “Captain?”

  “No, I want a team sent down there.”

  Solomon hissed, and the weere priest said, “Even the demon cannot interrogate the Infected.”

  “There’s more than one way to extract information,” Alaric replied. “Ko, I want a surgeon on that team and one of the xenobiologists. They have field kits, don’t they?”

  “I’ll find out, sir. I don’t think they have suits for them, but we’ll find some that will fit.”

  Alaric waved him off, and to the comm officer at the sensor array, he said, “I want the closest view of the settlement you can get, and I want our men going down outfitted with cameras.”

  “Yes, sir,” the officer said. He bowed and left the bridge.

  Alaric stared hard at Solomon. “Track down that Infected man.”

  The werfle bobbed and turned back to the holo.

  It took thirty-seven minutes for the team to be ready. The Skimmers did not arrive.

  They still hadn’t arrived eleven minutes later when the team was hovering over the surface of the planet—at .63 G, it was possible for the Uriel to get very close without endangering its ability to free-gate. If the bridge had had windows, Alaric might have been able to see the ice cave opening to the settlement. Instead, he saw it through the camera on the suit of Lieutenant Loran. At the shuttle’s approach, lights turned on beneath the ice, and it reminded Alaric of Christmas lights beneath snow. The illumination revealed a massive passageway that was smooth and natural, perhaps formed by an ancient vent from a magma core long since dead. The shuttle descended, and lights flickered on within the cave. The tunnel got progressively narrower and curved so that the shuttle was traversing along an almost horizontal path. It brought to Alaric’s mind a trumpet-shaped carnivorous flower on Libertas that had a glowing blossom to lure prey. Through Lieutenant Loran’s microphone came a recorded woman’s voice, “Welcome to Donner Settlement. Your stop for fuel, food, and fun times. Remember, what happens in Donner, stays in Donner.”