Supernova

by C. Gockel

  The lights of the airlock turned red, and the metal doors opened. The Skimmers flew out into the void. Converging into the Phalanx position, they turned to light. Less than a millisecond, and they were solid again. For a few more milliseconds, 6T9 was staring at Sundancer’s pearlescent walls, and then the hull was transparent once more.

  16

  In the Presence of Mine Enemies

  Kanakah Cloud : Donner Settlement

  The sight outside the Skimmers made 6T9 gape and crane his neck upward. An immense ship hovered just beyond and slightly above. She was long and sleek, with short wings with hover engines for planetside maneuvering. Her hull was a pale, slightly iridescent shimmering Luddeccean green. She had few windows. Hatches large enough for short-range fighters circled her hull. Zooming in, he realized that the shimmer he saw was from tiny green lights along her body. The hull appeared to be the same camouflage material as their envirosuits or close to it. If the lights were turned off, the ship would be nearly invisible. His circuits sparked. If she were here—

  “—she’s the Luddecceans’ free-gate-capable fighter carrier,” Volka said.

  The local ether came on, and with it, Jerome’s voice. “That is Luddeccean?”

  TAB bubbled happily over Jerome’s channel. “That is a rhetorical question everyone! No need to answer! Jerome is just amazed at how beautiful she is, and that the Luddecceans could ever produce such a ship.”

  “Luddeccean,” James snorted.

  TAB made a throat-clearing sound. “Why yes, James. Beyond the ship’s colors, the Luddeccean dove is emblazoned on—”

  “That’s sarcasm, TAB,” James said.

  On Volka’s wrist, Bracelet cleared her throat. “Sarcasm is when—”

  6T9 glared at the device and shot an ether reprimand. “All the humans know what sarcasm is. You don’t need to explain it aloud.”

  TAB sniffed etherly. “I know, too.”

  “No, you don’t,” Bracelet replied haughtily.

  And then TAB admitted, “Well, Jerome understands, so I understand.”

  6T9 switched off their channels. In the real world, Noa said dryly, “She looks amazingly like a fighter carrier proposed to Fleet twenty years ago.”

  Sixty glanced down at Volka. Her eyes were still closed. “The captain would like to speak to us,” she said at the same time Dixon said, “We’re receiving a hail.”

  “Put it on the holo,” Noa ordered.

  Volka held up a hand. “You should know the Skimmers say that there is an unusual amount of radiation on the planet below.”

  James strode over to the side of Sundancer’s hull, and 6T9 joined him. The planet below had an enormous, smooth crater of ice, not pockmarked by any smaller impacts and definitely fresh. The side of James’s lip quirked.

  6T9’s eyebrow hiked. “What?”

  James responded over the ether. “It has the pattern of a nuclear blast—the presence of radiation indicates it was conventional. They don’t have fusion quantum teleportation weapons yet.”

  “Is that really such a good thing?” 6T9 mused directly to James’s ether channel.

  Carl snored and rolled over on Volka’s lap. He smacked his lips, and his voice crackled over his ethernet-to-speech device. “They sterilized the planet. The Dark was there.”

  The interior of the ship dimmed, and Volka said, “The Skimmers are stunned.” She smiled grimly. “They knew from my memories that the Luddecceans have done that before. I guess it is something for them to see it in person.”

  James grumbled over the ether, “Now there’s no way to go on a computer forensics hunting expedition there.”

  “Shall I put Captain Darmadi on the holo?” Dixon asked.

  At the name, static flared along 6T9’s spine, and he found himself fuming silently to James, “They gave him a new and bigger ship after he destroyed his last one?”

  The buzz of the ether between himself and James stuttered briefly.

  “Go ahead,” Noa said.

  The holo flickered, light flashed upward, and Captain Darmadi was standing on Sundancer’s bridge. Volka sat still as a statue, legs crossed, chin dipped, eyes still closed.

  “Volka, open your eyes,” Noa whispered.

  Volka’s eyes bolted open and glowed faintly in the low light. The glow wasn’t technological or supernatural—it was the result of a tapetum lucidum on the anterior surface of her oculus—and yet 6T9 had seen special effects in fantasy holodramas just like it to indicate the presence of the supernatural. 6T9 noted that her gaze was focused on nothing.

  Darmadi said, “Greetings, Admirals. I have bad news. I am afraid that your plan to trace the Dark from raids on supply ships is going to fail.”

  Noa took a step closer to the holo, her lips parted as though to speak, but Volka spoke first. “You didn’t check to see if the Infected raided Donner’s food stores.”

  Darmadi’s head jerked as though he’d been slapped.

  For a moment, 6T9’s processors skipped. And then he understood. She’d read his mind. Static rushed from his spine to every inch of his skin … there was a conversation between Darmadi and Volka that he was locked out of. And then his Q-comm sparked. Just a moment ago, he and James had been talking etherly without thinking about it, locking Volka out. How often had she only heard half a conversation when 6T9 deigned to share? 6T9 found himself scowling at the insight.

  Staring hard at Volka, Darmadi said, “Your ship is transmitting thoughts again.”

  Volka shook herself as though she was coming out of a daze. Her ears curled, and she looked distinctly unhappy when she responded, “Yes, she does that sometimes.”

  Darmadi’s gaze softened, and 6T9 wondered if the expression was accompanied by a silent endearment or consolation. The captain had lied to protect her—from the Republic, from his fellow Luddecceans who’d find her “demonic,” or both. 6T9 felt another flush of static.

  Captain Darmadi said smoothly, “We didn’t need to check the stores. They left behind livestock and crops ready for harvesting.”

  “Perhaps your arrival startled them,” Volka replied.

  “They left the settlement unprotected, its food as bait,” Alaric said, words clipped.

  “That is conjecture,” Volka responded in the same tense tone.

  “They aren’t eating food,” Alaric retorted. “They left an injured Infected behind. We slit his stomach—”

  6T9’s Q-comm went white, and he forgot about his hatred of the human. “It’s consuming itself,” he blurted out.

  6T9’s vision came back to find everyone’s eyes on him, even Volka’s. It was the first time since his arrival on the ship that he’d seen her using her eyes. Surely that counted for something? She smiled like he was the only person in the room, and her ears came forward. “How did you know?”

  He responded like she was the only person in the room. “It was a guess. The spirulina riots put it in my mind.”

  “The what?” Darmadi asked, tone incredulous. As well it might be. That 6T9 was in agreement with the captain on many things didn’t make him more comfortable.

  Volka’s eyes went blank. “We have company arriving.”

  A muscle in Darmadi’s jaw jumped. “Archbishop Sato would like to call a meeting aboard the Uriel, as we are about to have a strategy change.” He bowed politely. “We would welcome you aboard.”

  “We accept,” Noa said.

  6T9’s hand twitched at his side, and Volka’s ears flicked. Darmadi winked out of the holo, but numbers started scrolling in its glow. Staring at the space formerly occupied by the captain, 6T9’s vision blurred.

  Eyeing the data readout, Jerome said, “They’re opening a dock in the stern for us. There’s room for three Skimmers and the archbishop’s LCS which should be arriving …”

  “Now …” said Volka, looking over her shoulder into the void.

  As the Skimmers proceeded to the Uriel’s stern, a pinprick of blue light flashed behind them. The pinprick expanded like a balloon, thou
gh the balloon wasn’t solid, but rather a net of light. Within its shroud, one of the boxy Luddeccean LCSs appeared, outriggers extended in all directions. In a flash, the net of blue wound up into the outriggers, the arms began withdrawing into the LCS, and the craft began following them toward the Uriel’s stern.

  More data flowed through the holo: the number of people at the meeting and how many representatives of the Skimmers could attend.

  TAB’s voice erupted over the holo. “Jerome should come to the meeting! Then you’d have the benefit of a third AI aboard the Luddeccean vessel. One that is …” TAB’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Incognito.”

  Should TAB go instead of 6T9? 6T9 thought about his thoughts last time he’d met Darmadi in person and after Volka’s recent dream. It would be convenient if Darmadi were to die. His Q-comm hummed again. He knew, from human literature, that a normal human would feel guilty about such an obvious truth. Without programming not to kill, he couldn’t feel any remorse.

  “We could just insert you into a digital tablet, TAB,” Jerome suggested. Was that a note of hopefulness in his tone?

  “Or we could stay aboard the Skimmer,” TAB said, “and I could facilitate Q-comm communication should James or 6T9 require it.”

  Jerome sighed in what definitely sounded like disappointment.

  As three of the Skimmers slipped into the Uriel’s neat and bright airlock, the LCS just behind them, Bracelet sniffed on Volka’s wrist. “TAB’s not needed. I’ll be there, incognito.”

  Volka’s lips pinched, and she glanced sharply at the device. But no one could play parent to Bracelet. The airlock’s outer door had sealed, and lights within the airlock were going from red to green. Within minutes, the inner door opened, revealing a landing pad with circles demarking landing spaces for the ships.

  It occurred to 6T9, as they descended, that he wasn’t going to have a chance to talk to Volka alone. “I won’t try to kill Darmadi.” It seemed important to reassure her.

  Volka’s eyes had drifted shut again, but they opened at his words. Her ears came forward. “I didn’t think you would.”

  6T9’s brow furrowed. She was wrong in the main; however, in this particular instance, he conceded, “There would be no way for me to murder him aboard his own ship and make it look like an accident.” He rolled his eyes. “In fact, knowing the Luddeccean attitude toward androids, even if he were to collapse due to a perfectly innocent stroke, heart attack, or aneurysm, I’d probably be blamed.” His Q-comm began unhelpfully supplying him with the names of drugs—pharmacological and nanomalogical—that could do the deed not as innocently.

  Volka’s lips pursed. Carl, still draped in her lap, raised his head and blinked sleepily. “Sometimes I forget you’re not really human. Other times …” He yawned and closed his eyes again.

  The comment made 6T9 aware that there were other humans aboard Sundancer … and the ones that weren’t on the bridge had moved up from the aft compartments sometime in the last few minutes. Weere and human crew were staring at him with wide eyes.

  “Good to know, Sixty,” James said, clapping 6T9 on the back. Under his breath, the other android muttered, “With luck, I won’t kill Darmadi, either.”

  Volka’s ears flicked. Noa narrowed her eyes. Sundancer’s keel opened, and 6T9 looked down and found Darmadi himself, werfle wrapped around his shoulder, glaring up at them. A dozen different murderous scenarios played in 6T9’s mind … none of them remotely feasible. With a sigh, he jumped out of the craft.

  Alaric and Commander Ko stood apart from their guards, but well outside the landing space designated for the Little Ship by lights and bright new reflective paint. The Little Ship—and somehow Alaric knew it was the Little Ship, the first and the original—ignored the lines and flew directly above Alaric and his first officer. Eyes widening, Ko stepped back. Alaric heard his guard unholster their weapons. Calling to the commander and his guard, Alaric said, “It’s fine. The ship’s just being excessively friendly.” He knew that somehow, too.

  The ship flashed, and Alaric had the distinct impression that it was happy.

  Its keel opened, and over the thrum of the Uriel’s engines and life support, James’s mutter of, “With luck, I won’t kill Darmadi either,” was just barely audible.

  Alaric almost smiled. They were still friends. If they weren’t, James would be murderously unemotional; Alaric was confident of that. It’s how he would be. He checked behind him—Ko was thankfully too far away to have heard. Lifting his eyes, forcing himself to glare to hide his grin, he peered into the ship and met the murderously unemotional eyes of the other android, Volka’s “friend.” The ship was still a meter above Alaric’s head, but the android leaped down and landed beside Alaric without any visible effort, eyes never leaving Alaric’s own. Alaric didn’t blink. Neither did he.

  “General 1, sir!” Ko exclaimed. “It is good to see you, sir.”

  Looking away, the android exhaled, though he didn’t need to breathe. His face softened, and he held out a hand to Ko. “It is good to see you again, Commander. I was sorry that I had to deliver the news about Davies to you via Q-comm. He fought bravely and honorably. I wouldn’t have survived without him.”

  Taking the proffered hand, Ko offered the usual Luddeccean platitude. “He is with God now.”

  The words, as they always did, grated on Alaric’s nerves. Davies was a good man who was dead and gone forever.

  The android answered with more politeness than Alaric could have mustered. “I am sure that there is a cat with him.”

  Whether animals were admitted into heaven was a matter up for theological debate; yet Ko smiled, obviously pleased with the android’s response. But then the smile turned to alarm as the ship descended, its keel still open as though it sought to scoop them up.

  “Don’t worry,” the android assured Ko, “she’s lowering so Volka can get out. I was just relieved to see you again, Commander Ko, and quite forgot myself.” In a tone that telegraphed that it was joking, the android added, “I was worried when I left you with Police Chief Strom on Time Gate 5 that one or both of you might meet your end.”

  Flushing neck to hairline, Ko put his hands behind his back. “Whatever our disagreements, Strom is a fine woman.”

  The ship surrounded them then, pearlescent and bright, her bridge empty of any tech but a holomat. James and Noa stood before him, and Volka was rising from the floor, looking impossibly small among the Galacticans, even in her armor. That thought earned him narrow eyes from her. Since she was reading his mind, he felt no guilt whatsoever in fostering a memory of Lieutenant Young declaring that the suit she wore was a modified child’s suit. Volka blushed, and her nostrils flared. On Alaric’s shoulder, Solomon laughed. Carl, the golden-haired werfle, rose to his hindmost paw pairs and sniffed.

  Noa declared, “Captain Darmadi, it’s so nice to see you again,” which was a good thing. It kept him from thinking how adorable Volka looked when she was angry. At least he didn’t think it very long. Turning to the admiral, Alaric replied, “Likewise, Admiral, and you, too, Sinclair.” He added, “I regret the circumstances of our meeting are less than pleasant.”

  James scowled, but Alaric barely noticed. His words were pulling memories from the past few hours, and the memories were evoking questions, and both were bringing the mission back into focus. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but it was still too amorphous to put into words. He needed details to complete the picture. “The archbishop is recovering from his journey,” and reviewing any new intel they had before the Galacticans did. “My steward has prepared refreshments for you and your crews in the meantime.” He turned to the 6T9 unit. The android’s expression went from open to complete blank under his gaze. “However, we have a favor to ask as well. We have a 6T9 unit from Donner’s Settlement.” The android’s expression didn’t change. “The Dark damaged it severely, but it seems to have its mental facilities intact.” Such as they were. “It refuses to speak to us.”

  The android
tilted his head. Volka stepped out of the ship so she was standing next to Sixty, much too close in Alaric’s opinion, and he kept his gaze on the android. “It saw us shoot an Infected and has declared us hostile.” There were other ways to get the information, but those ways risked memory loss if its systems were protected.

  The android’s demeanor relaxed again. Looking down at Volka, it said in an apologetic tone, “It would do that.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Yes.”

  Alaric frowned. “We were hoping it would speak to you.”

  The android’s gaze shifted to a point on the dock, a perfect facsimile of consideration, and then he nodded. “It might.”

  “Would you like me to go with you?” Volka asked it.

  “Yes,” the android said, and then closed his eyes. “But you shouldn’t. If it sees you, it will become uncomfortable with the damage it’s sustained. You’d be bored waiting out in the hall.”

  Volka sighed. “Of course.”

  The android said, “I will do what I can.”

  “May we take him back to the Republic when Sixty is done with him?” Volka asked.

  The request seemed to startle “Sixty.”

  Alaric weighed the request. “If we have a full download of his memories, I don’t see that there would be any problem.” It would wind up scrap on Luddeccea or target of some high-ranking official’s sexual depravity. Alaric knew it was a machine, and that it could be programmed to enjoy almost anything, but it made him uncomfortable just the same. He wanted no part in it.

  The android smirked. “I think many of his memories will be illegal on Luddeccea.”

  “No doubt,” said Alaric dryly. He wouldn’t be surprised if those memories wound up stolen from the Guard and sold on the black market in print. As long as nothing classified leaked, and no one in his family found them on his uncle’s bookshelf, he didn’t care.

  Volka’s eyes went wide; she was probably reading his mind. Did she have no idea things like that happened on Luddeccea? She worked for his uncle. She had to have seen evidence.