The Oceans between Stars

by Kevin Emerson

  “Good,” said Liam. Relief flooded through him, and he pulled out the beacon and pressed it, his fingers jittering—but at the same time, his eyes drifted to that roiling orange star, slowly growing as they got closer, and the supernova and skim drone flashed in his mind again. The beacon didn’t blink back, but it didn’t need to; they would be there soon. And yet Liam peered out one side of the cockpit, then the other, looking for any sign of enemy ships.

  “Do you think your people are out here, somewhere?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Phoebe. “I don’t have a clue what they’re up to now.”

  Liam also wondered if the Drove might be lurking out here already. He remembered that oily teardrop ship he’d seen at Saturn.

  “I am picking up highly unusual readings from Centauri A,” said JEFF. “It appears to be collapsing in the same way that our sun did, only at a much faster rate.”

  “Can you tell how long it’s been doing that?” Phoebe asked.

  “I calculate a minimum of ninety hours, possibly more.”

  She turned to Liam. “The chronologist said ninety-six hours, right?”

  When Liam blinked, the vision of the supernova flashed behind his eyes. I don’t want to die here. “Why are they still heading toward it?” Liam wondered. “You don’t need comms to figure out that that star is about to blow.”

  “It would seem logical that the fleet would relocate,” said JEFF. “However, there are two other starliners in the vicnity.” He pointed to the navigation holoscreen. “The Saga and the Rhea.”

  “There they are.” Phoebe pointed past the Scorpius, two long strands of blinking lights.

  “Something doesn’t feel right about this,” said Liam. “You know?”

  “Yeah. How soon until we can hail them?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” said JEFF.

  “Okay. I’m starving,” said Phoebe. “It’s been thirty-three years since we had anything to eat.”

  “I do not believe that is possible—”

  “It’s a joke, JEFF,” said Phoebe.

  “Oh, yes! Humor! I remember! And my appropriate response should be ha, ha, ha.”

  Liam surrendered the briefest smile, as did Phoebe.

  “Let’s eat something,” she said, floating out of the cabin.

  “JEFF,” Liam said, “are you going to be all right?”

  “Of course, Liam.”

  “I mean, like, with your memories.”

  “All packets are stable and functioning normally at this time.”

  “Okay.” He patted JEFF’s shoulder. “We’ll get you all patched up on the Scorpius.”

  Liam pushed out of the cockpit. Phoebe wasn’t in the galley. He floated to the back of the ship and found her between her parents’ pods.

  “Checking up on me?”

  “No,” said Liam. But maybe he had been, a little. “How do they look?”

  “My parents need a serious makeup job, but otherwise all right. Alive.”

  “Do you need to do that now?”

  “I’ll wait until we dock. It’s a lot easier with gravity.”

  Liam floated over his parents, a lump forming in his throat. Their faces were virtually unchanged. It was nearly impossible to comprehend that thirty-three years had passed. “Almost there, guys.”

  They started back to the cockpit. As they crossed the galley, the oven beeped.

  “Here.” Phoebe handed him a round, covered bowl of freeze-dried mac and cheese. “Is JEFF going to be all right?”

  “He’s forty years overdue for servicing,” said Liam. “Hopefully he’s got a little more time in him.” He barely got the words out when the supernova flashed in his mind again.

  “Are you okay?” Phoebe asked.

  “Fine.” He scooped up a bite with a covered spoon and pulled it out of the hole in the side of the bowl. The food was a tangy mush, not all that different from slow fuel. Liam had never even had real cheese, so he had no idea if this approximated the taste or not, but his stomach growled hungrily and he shoveled it in anyway.

  Roiling ball of fire. Phoebe’s pale face—

  “Hey.” Phoebe had put her hand on his. “Stop lying to me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Liam, I think I know what lying looks like.”

  Liam breathed hard, his insides flipping around worse than ever. He didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to worry her, but she had trusted him. . . . “I’ve been having this sort of vision.”

  “What you mentioned to the chronologist?”

  “Yeah.” He described the scene in the skim drone, with the exploding star. “I thought it was just a bad dream about our sun, but not anymore.”

  “You think it’s our future?”

  “Maybe, yeah.” Just saying that lifted a huge weight off his shoulders; he hadn’t even realized how much it had felt like he’d been lying to her simply by not telling her. But still . . . “I’m sorry. It doesn’t seem fair to give you something else to worry about.”

  Phoebe smiled. “We can worry about it together. And it’s just probability, right? We can change it. Whatever happens, we won’t end up in the skim drone near a supernova.” She slapped his shoulder. “No problem!”

  Liam tried to laugh.

  “We have local link connection,” JEFF called.

  They shoved in a few last bites while floating to the cockpit. The Scorpius had grown into a small geometry of blinking lights up ahead. Liam tensed as he and Phoebe buckled into their seats. Once again, they were close enough to see the ship they’d been chasing for so long. . . .

  “It’s not the usual signal for the Scorpius,” said JEFF. “They seem to have set up a backup link system. Their original network must have been damaged in the attack, with the rest of their comms. I am hailing them now.”

  Liam blinked and saw the fiery star about to explode. There were spots in his eyes as he looked at the Scorpius again—but now a strange new feeling overtook him, a cold and dizzy sensation, as if he had floated upside down. His vision swam, and his sense of the world seemed to shimmer. Liam clutched the sides of the seat, wincing as the stars blurred.

  So strange. . . .

  Tell him you want to hail the Scorpius, Liam thought. Except it felt more like an actual voice had just spoken inside his head, his voice. Maybe it was the dizziness, disorientation from their travels—

  Hurry! Before he talks!

  Liam shook his head. He looked down and saw that the watch had begun blinking blue.

  “Starliner Scor—”

  “Hold on, JEFF,” Liam blurted out. “Can I hail them instead?”

  “O-o-of course,” said JEFF. “You are the captain.”

  “Thanks.” Liam wiped fresh sweat off his brow. He blinked hard; the world seemed to be right side up again, as much as it could be in zero gravity.

  “What’s up?” said Phoebe.

  “I don’t know. Just . . .” He didn’t finish. That feeling had been so odd. He barely knew why he’d asked to speak, but he leaned over and tapped the console’s link screen. “Starliner Scorpius, this is Cosmic Cruiser Delta Four Five, inbound from Delphi, come in.”

  They all watched the screen. Waiting.

  He repeated the message.

  Out the windshield, the starliner had grown. Liam could see its four remaining engines and the five cores in their parallel arrangement, with a gaping space where Core Three had been.

  The link lit up. “Cosmic Cruiser Delta Four Five,” said a woman’s voice, “this is Captain Freeman. You are a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Yes!” Liam pumped his fist. He and Phoebe shared a grin.

  “Thanks, Scorpius,” said Liam. “Requesting permission to dock. We have six on board, four adults with serious injuries. They need—”

  “Understood, Delta Four Five,” said the captain. “As you can see out your port side, we have a bit of a situation here. Red Line for the Centauri A supernova is in two hours and thirty-one minutes, so let’s get you on board
as quickly as possible. Please proceed to the docking bay at the forward core junction immediately. Copy?”

  “Copy that. Is everyone on board all right?”

  “Affirmative. At the moment all passengers except for essential crew are in stasis lockdown so we can conserve power.”

  “Okay, but we saw the wreckage at Delphi and are wondering about the status of our family and friends from Core Three.”

  “Roger that, Delta Four Five. Good news: Ninety-eight percent of the pods were rescued and are accounted for. They’re stacked a bit unceremoniously in the various hangars and cores right now, but we have them. You can check the logs for your family and friends once you’re on board.”

  “Has there been any sign of the attackers from Delphi?” Liam asked.

  “Negative.”

  “Where’s the rest of the fleet?” Phoebe asked.

  “Apparently they broke off and retreated to a safe distance as soon as the first readings came in from Centauri A. As you can tell, our long-range comms are down, so the Rhea and Saga maintained course and intercepted us, as we’re nearly out of fuel. See you soon. Command out.”

  “I have locked course on the forward docking bay and am beginning d-d-deceleration,” said JEFF. Retrorockets fired and they strained against their seat belts.

  Liam breathed deep, and yet his head still spun. Ninety-eight percent. That still meant tens of thousands were lost. . . . It was too awful to imagine, and yet, after everything they’d seen, he’d take those odds. “This is going to work.” He eyed the distant boiling star and thought, Maybe you don’t get to have me.

  Phoebe nodded but her face was tight, her fingers gripping the armrests of her chair.

  “It’s going to be all right,” said Liam. “They won’t know who you are.”

  The Scorpius grew before them, and a few minutes later, they were flying past its four remaining engines, which glowed a mellow blue now as retrorockets fired intermittently from points along the great ship’s side, making bursts of white steam, and steadily slowing the ship down to prepare for the rendezvous with the other starliners.

  They passed diagonally over Core Four, which rotated slowly along with One, Five, and Six and seemed to be undamaged, across the gap where Core Three had been, and then past Core Two, which had stopped rotating and was striped with burn marks. Halfway down its length, a great gaping hole had been punched completely through its side, perfectly round with melted sides, as they’d seen on Delphi. Liam spied the outlines of decks inside, as well as floating pieces of debris.

  They reached the front of the cores and JEFF slowed the cruiser further. Long structures connected each core to the front section, which always seemed small from a distance but from here was a massive tubular structure, with myriad branches extending off it, some just machinery and antennae, some larger corridors with windows looking in on workspaces. Whole sections were missing here and there, with dark burn marks and twisted metal on the remaining areas. Shards of golden material hung off what remained of the great, X-shaped framework on the very front of the ship.

  Liam was tingling all over. He wanted to believe they were almost safe, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the star behind them, a ticking bomb. The watch kept blinking, as if in agreement.

  JEFF brought the ship on approach to the large airlock doors. As they neared, a button flashed on the console, indicating that the cruiser had paired with the docking system. JEFF pressed it, and the enormous double doors slowly slid open. JEFF guided the cruiser between them. The ship shuddered and lurched as they entered the starliner’s gravity field, and JEFF fired the stabilizers. Liam felt himself suck down to the seat, his body seeming to stick tighter together. They hovered, facing the inner set of doors as the outer set shut behind them. There was a rush of air and a whoosh of sound as the airlock pressurized, and then the inner doors rumbled open.

  They flew into the massive hangar, a C-shaped platform around a wide opening that led to multiple decks both above and below. Catwalks extended from the platform to a bank of elevators on the far wall. There were ships of all kinds parked around them: boxy military vessels, sleeker private craft, a couple Cosmic Cruisers like their own, a tall rack holding hundreds of skim drones.

  As the giant doors closed behind them, Phoebe rubbed his arm. “We finally made it.”

  Liam nodded. He spied stacks of stasis pods along the side of the hangar. There were hundreds: could Mina be in one of those? More likely that she was among the tens of thousands scattered throughout the ship.

  A ring of lights flashed on the metal floor ahead of them, signaling their landing spot.

  “I am surprised that there is not a landing crew,” said JEFF.

  “The captain said everyone except essential crew was in stasis,” said Liam.

  “Yes, but I would consider a basic landing crew essential.”

  “They probably weren’t expecting us to show up,” said Liam.

  JEFF tapped the navigation screen. “VirtCom appears to be down.” He unbuckled and stood. “I was unable to completely repair the landing gear after we departed Delphi, and will need to lower one of the stabilizers manually. I will be right back.” He rolled out of the cockpit.

  The cruiser hovered over its landing spot. Liam and Phoebe sat silently. Liam heard JEFF talking to himself back there. He’d be better soon: fully updated and serviced. Their parents would be treated and awake. And he’d get to see Mina and Shawn.

  And yet why didn’t he feel more relieved? Because too much was still uncertain. When he knew his sister and friend were safe, when their parents were in the medical center, when they were away from that supernova . . . But I don’t get away. The thought chilled him, the star flashing in his vision. And the watch kept blinking.

  The cruiser’s legs clanged down on the deck and the ship settled at an angle. As its thrusters powered down, Liam turned to Phoebe. Her face was stony, staring out the window. He realized that, for her, this was, if not enemy territory, a place where she would be considered an enemy. “We won’t say anything until we can tell my parents. They’ll understand. They’ll have to, especially after we tell them about Phase One. And then with the Drove—”

  “Liam.”

  Phoebe was still staring out the windshield. She almost looked sad. Liam followed her gaze. On the far side of the hangar was a strange ship: large, oblong, made of brilliant silver metal, and it seemed to be hovering just off the deck floor. Liam didn’t remember it from when he and Shawn used to look at ships in the VirtCom, but maybe it was a classified military vessel, or something that had been designed during these last few decades in flight. Hadn’t he read that there was a division of the ISA that planned to keep working on faster spaceships during the journey; that way if for some reason Aaru-5—Telos; he should call it by its real name—didn’t work out, they would be able to scout for new planets more quickly—

  And yet despite all of those thoughts, he knew there was another possibility. So did the watch, blinking faster, almost as if it was synced to his heart.

  Elevator doors slid open on the far side of the deck, and a team of colonial personnel emerged, coming toward them.

  Phoebe turned to him, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” But Liam knew, before he could even put the thought into words.

  The party coming toward the ship: ten officers wearing the maroon colonial uniforms—but their skin was lavender and spotted, their eyes black and gold.

  15

  TIME TO CENTAURI A SUPERNOVA RED LINE: 2H:19M

  “No!” Liam jumped up.

  “Listen—” Phoebe began.

  “Did you know?”

  “I didn’t!” said Phoebe. “I swear!”

  “We have to get out of here!” He bolted into the main cabin—

  And ran straight into JEFF.

  “It’s the Telphons! They’re here! We—“

  JEFF grabbed his arm. “This is what you requested.” He poked Liam sharply in the shoulder wit
h an electric syringe.

  “Ow! What are you doing?”

  But JEFF was already holding out something else in front of Liam. It was the dampener Phoebe had used to knock him out. “I have modified this, per your instructions.” He started rolling toward the cockpit. “I must hurry and set the timing system before they enter.”

  “What are you talking about?” Liam rubbed his aching shoulder. “Your memories are messed up again. I didn’t tell you any of that! What did you do to my arm?”

  JEFF’s eyes flickered. “I suppose it makes sense that you do not know what I’m talking about, given the circumstances.”

  “JEFF—”

  “I must also tell you,” said JEFF as Phoebe appeared beside him. “When you are both taken into custody, please mention that I had a processor malfunction that resulted in terminal system f-f-failure, and that you haven’t been able to reboot me.”

  “Why would we say that?” asked Phoebe, her voice quavering with worry.

  “Liam knows,” said JEFF. And he turned and rolled into the cockpit.

  “No,” said Liam, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

  Someone banged against the outer airlock door.

  Liam turned to Phoebe. “What do we do?”

  She shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do except try to reason with them. If I make them understand that the Drove are trying to wipe out all of us, and that we need to work together—”

  More banging.

  “They’re not going to listen.”

  “They will,” said Phoebe. “They have to.”

  Liam tried to nod, but his nerves were wound so tight he could barely move.

  Phoebe threw her arms around him, squeezed him tight, and pulled quickly away. “I’ll be right back.”

  She ducked into the bathroom.

  The banging ceased. A moment later the walls rumbled and Liam heard the shrieking whine of a magnet drill.