Hera 2781

by Janet Edwards

As a small child, I’d assumed that travelling by drop portal was just the same as conventional portal travel, with the obvious difference that you didn’t need a physical portal to exist at each end of your journey.

  At Military school, my class had suffered a whole series of lectures on drop portals. I hadn’t understood a word of the physics, and I suspected our physics teacher didn’t understand it either. The key detail was clear though. Drop portal travel was potentially dangerous. A huge burst of energy went into forming a drop portal, and some pilot errors could make all that energy backfire in a spectacularly lethal fashion.

  The fighter pilot training course had encouraged us to be careful not to make any of those errors, by starting every day with a horrific vid show of what had happened to pilots who did. I’d seen what happened if you were flying in a planet’s atmosphere and fired a drop portal too close to the ground. I’d seen what happened if you were in space and your drop portal touched even the tiniest fragment of rock. Worst of all, I’d seen what happened if the drop portals of two different ships intersected.

  I didn’t want my death to feature in the next vid show for trainee fighter pilots, so I checked with paranoid care that I was well out of range of the atmosphere jump portal, the other ships, and any debris.

  “Freya Flight,” said Jaxon, on command channel, “your drop portal controls should be set to the first stored coordinates for Aether and countdown at ten seconds. Prepare to initiate drop portal sequence on my mark. Mark!”

  I hit the red button on my controls, and the countdown started. As it reached zero, the ring of a drop portal appeared directly ahead of my fighter. There was a fuzziness about that ring which confused the eyes. Partly because it was composed of dust particles. Partly because those dust particles were simultaneously existing in two different places in space, both here in front of me and at my destination point.

  As my fighter shot through the dust ring, there was the usual weird moment when musical notes seemed to ring in my head. Everyone on my fighter pilot training course had experienced something strange during the instant they travelled by drop portal, but I was the only one who’d heard music. The oddest thing about it was that my mother was a composer, but I hadn’t inherited any of her musical abilities.

  I could see the planet Aether below me now, with its distinctive semi-circular inhabited continent. Behind my ship, the dust ring of the drop portal had reached the end of its five second existence and was drifting apart. I relaxed and flew to join the other fighters gathering behind Jaxon’s ship.

  A voice spoke on the command channel. “Aether Orbital Traffic Control to Freya Flight. Transmitting your flight path to Aether orbital portal now. We’re routing you through Adonis to Cassandra, which will put you within drop portal range of Freya.”

  I’d guessed we were likely to get a view of Adonis from space on this trip. Almost every ship travelling to Alpha sector was routed via the two great orbital interchanges of its capital planet. I planned to grab my chance to wave a rude gesture at the Alphan aristocrats below.

  In other circumstances, I’d have shared that moment of Betan childishness with Jaxon, and reminded him of the time the two of us got caught pulling faces at the statues outside the Beta Sector Parliament building. We were instantly dragged off to our clan hall and given a stern lecture from our head of clan. Jaxon had claimed all the blame was his, because he was a colossal ten years old while I was only eight. I’d pointed out that both the expedition and the face pulling were my idea. We’d both been sentenced to two weeks of weeding the paths in the clan hall gardens.

  I bit my lip. I couldn’t laugh over that old memory with Jaxon now. I’d probably never get to laugh over old memories with him again.

  The glowing lines of our flight path appeared on my control panel, and our team flew on towards where the ring of a great portal floated incongruously in space. Any orbital portal could transmit ships over far longer interstellar distances than those achievable by just a drop portal, but the sheer massiveness of the rim of this one showed it was capable of handling even cross-sector distances.

  The orbital portal was currently active, with lights flashing round its rim as incoming ships appeared through it, and there were several clusters of other ships waiting nearby. The voice spoke on command channel again.

  “Aether Orbital Traffic Control to Freya Flight. You are designated position six in departure queue three for Adonis.”

  “This is Freya Flight,” said Jaxon. “Confirming position six in departure queue three for Adonis.”

  Extra queuing area details appeared on the flight path graphics, with a helpful green arrow showing where we were supposed to go. Once our formation had moved to that spot, I peered nosily at the other ships that were heading to Alpha sector. There was a group of three Military survey ships in position one, but the others all looked like civilian transports.

  Right at the back of our queue of ships was a whole line of the terrifyingly long and skeletally thin specialist transports that carried solar array panels. Aether Orbital Traffic Control would have put them in last position because they all had full loads of panels bolted to their sides and would have to creep through the portal at minimal speed. I wondered if they were on their way to Freya like us. The Freya solar array was bound to need a major expansion if it was going to cope with supplying the power needs of an orbital portal on top of those of the planet itself.

  Mari spoke on the private channel again. “While we wait for our block portal window to Adonis, we can get back to discussing the problem between you two.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.” I said. “Jaxon thinks that comparing me to a Cassandrian skunk is insulting to the skunks. He’s right. He’s giving me a hard time because he thinks I deserve it. He’s right about that too. This is a personal issue between the two of us, so you should just ignore what’s happening.”

  “I can’t just ignore something that’s unsettling the whole team,” said Mari. “Things were miserable enough while we were stationed on a proper Military base. Clearing the debris from Freya orbit won’t take long, but what happens if we’re ordered to stay and help with alterations to the Freya solar array? If we’re crammed into space bubble accommodation for days, and you two start fighting in zero gravity, we’ll all be literally bouncing off the walls.”

  I frowned. Mari was right. If the overworked maintenance staff of the Freya solar array asked for extra help then we were the obvious people to give it. Our ships were the Military’s favourite, all-purpose, dart fighters, designed to do a whole range of jobs from combat to light transport and emergency rescue work. Normally, spending days towing solar array panels into position would just be boring. With Jaxon in his current mood, it would be an utter nightmare.

  “It’s my duty to try to resolve this conflict,” continued Mari, “and I can’t do that until I understand the problem. One of you has to give me a proper explanation, and that’s an order.”

  “You can’t give me orders,” said Jaxon. “You’re my deputy.”

  “Yes, I can,” said Mari. “I’ve been studying Military regulations, and they clearly state that in this situation a deputy can override the chain of command to make her insufferably rude and stubborn team leader tell her what the chaos is going on.”

  There was a choke of a laugh from Jaxon. “Is that an exact quote?”

  “I believe Military regulations actually use the word obdurate,” said Mari, “but my version is close enough.”

  “This involves sensitive and complex Betan cultural issues and clan honour,” said Jaxon. “Even if we gave you an explanation, Mari, you couldn’t possibly understand it. You’re fourth generation Military, and the closest thing you’ve got to a cultural link to any of the sectors is your passion for that disgusting brown stuff the Gammans drink.”

  “It’s called coffee,” said Mari. “If you’d try it a few times then you’d see why I adore it.”

  “You bullied me into sipping it once, and that was more than
enough,” said Jaxon. “I’m not getting poisoned again.”

  Mari sighed. “I admit I find some elements of Betan culture completely incomprehensible. I’ll patch Brandon and Ramon into this channel to help me.”

  “Don’t do that!” said Jaxon.

  A crackle on the comms told me that Mari had already done it. “Brandon, Ramon,” she said, “you’re going to help me sort out whatever the problem is between Jaxon and Drago.”

  “Why drag us into this?” asked Captain Brandon Lin Milan, yellow wing leader.

  “Because they’ve been telling me it involves Betan cultural issues. Brandon, you’re the only other Betan on the team, while Ramon had diplomatic training before he joined the Military. That training surely must have included some details of Betan culture.”

  “You can’t ask me to interfere in a personal conflict between two members of another clan,” said Brandon. “Particularly when that clan is from Zeus and far higher ranked than my own.”

  “It’s your duty to help me, Brandon. You’re not just Betan, you’re also Drago’s wing leader, so you have to defend him from Jaxon’s bullying.”

  “I don’t want to be defended from Jaxon,” I said. “If you must have an explanation of what’s going on here, Mari, then I’ll tell you. Betan culture is centred around loyalty and good actions being rewarded, but that means dishonourable behaviour has consequences too. I betrayed the trust of a fellow clan member. Jaxon didn’t know anything about it until I told him the story three days ago, and his reaction is perfectly understandable.”

  It was especially understandable given the fellow clan member had been Jaxon’s sister. My mind replayed the unpalatable facts for what seemed like the ten thousandth time. Gemelle and I had been in the same class at the Military Academy, I’d fallen in love with her, but she’d gently told me she wasn’t interested because she was already involved with someone else.

  Any reasonable person would have accepted that decision and moved on, but I’d never been rejected before and believed my looks and my smile were irresistible. I was sure I just had to wait a while and Gemelle would change her mind and dump her boyfriend in favour of me, but she didn’t. As graduation approached, I decided it was time to make a grand, flamboyant gesture to win her affection. I told Gemelle I was madly in love with her and proposed marriage.

  I could see now how ludicrous my behaviour was, and understand exactly why Gemelle had been startled into laughing at me. Back then though, I’d been hurt and angry. I wasn’t sure what went on in my head after that. I’d gone over the sequence of events too often already, trying to make sense of what I’d done, and each time I accused myself of extra levels of malice.

  Whatever I was thinking back then, whether my ego was so huge that I genuinely believed Gemelle had feelings for me, or I’d been acting out of pure vindictive jealousy, the facts spoke for themselves. I’d told Gemelle some spiteful lies that wrecked her relationship.

  Afterwards, when I saw the harm I’d done and the distress I’d caused, guilt had descended on me like the weight of the universe. I should never have treated anyone that way, but the fact Gemelle was a member of my own clan made things even worse. I’d confessed the truth to her, but it was too late for either of us to undo the damage. Gemelle had dealt with the situation by breaking my nose and then blanking me out of her life forever, declaring both the incident and I no longer existed.

  Distracted by thoughts of the past, I might have missed a couple of comments on the private channel before Brandon’s voice called me back to the present. “Drago, has your clan council given a ruling on this or have you been dealing with it privately?”

  “We didn’t need to bring the clan council into this. I freely admitted my guilt, the injured party decided how they wanted to deal with my behaviour, and I accepted their judgement.”

  “You said you told Jaxon about this three days ago, Drago,” said Mari. “Surely the fact you confessed should count in your favour?”

  “It wasn’t exactly a voluntary confession.”

  Jaxon had called me a few times while I was doing my fighter pilot training, but I’d dodged answering the calls, sending him brief recorded replies to avoid talking to him in person. The evasion tactic worked beautifully until my course was completed, when I was shocked to discover my first posting was on Jaxon’s fighter team.

  I should have known there was a risk of that happening. Wherever possible, a new pilot was assigned to a team with someone who had a personal connection with them and could help ease the transition from training to an active service assignment.

  There was no way for me to refuse the assignment without embarrassing both of us, so I’d arrived on the team five days ago and been welcomed with open arms by Jaxon. I’d felt horribly uncomfortable about continuing our friendship under what I felt were false pretences, and spent the first two days trying to work out what I should do, but then the issue was decided for me.

  Gemelle had completed her Military Security training, and decided to pay Jaxon a surprise visit on her way to her first assignment. When she arrived and saw I was on Jaxon’s team, she’d instantly turned round and left. Jaxon had naturally dragged me off into a room and demanded to know what was wrong.

  By Betan custom, it was my duty to say nothing more than the fact I was the guilty party, my behaviour had been unforgivable, and Gemelle’s actions were entirely justified. I gave Jaxon the traditional required answer, but he’d refused to believe I was totally in the wrong.

  Once he started suggesting Gemelle had overreacted to something trivial, I’d felt I had no choice but to tell him the whole truth. I’d never forget the way Jaxon’s expression had changed from one of concern to utter contempt.

  “You’re obviously sorry for what happened though,” said Mari. “Can’t you apologize to Jaxon?”

  “I deeply regret what I did, Mari,” I said. “I’d happily apologize to Jaxon, to the injured party, and to the whole of Beta sector, but that wouldn’t undo the damage I did or change the current situation. Jaxon and I have to deal with this Betan style.”

  Mari made a despairing noise. “And dealing with it Betan style means Jaxon hurling abuse at you? That seems remarkably childish to me.”

  Brandon spoke in a voice that had suddenly gained an aggressive edge. “I’m sorry that our culture seems childish to you, Mari. There are whole levels to this that you don’t understand. Standard Language doesn’t even have the words to describe what I need to explain. For Betans, the extended family of their clan is their personal universe, as vital to life as the air they breathe.”

  He paused for a second. “A clan splitting, shattering that universe, permanently dividing husbands from wives and parents from children, is the ultimate nightmare. Actions that could threaten clan unity, such as a betrayal of trust of a fellow clan member, have to be dealt with severely. Jaxon is perfectly correct to treat Drago like a clanless lowlife.”

  Mari gave a pointed cough. “Given most of the team aren’t Betan and don’t belong to clans, I’d rather you didn’t use the term clanless as an insult.”

  Ramon, the green wing leader, finally joined in the conversation. The poor man was from Adonis and stuck with one of their ridiculous randomly generated names, so his full name was Captain Ramon Washington Pleiades Narcissus. The Military would normally shorten that to Captain Narcissus. I wasn’t surprised that he’d requested to be called Captain Ramon instead.

  “Can everyone please try to calm down? We’re all in a bad mood at the moment, and that’s not really because of what’s going on between Drago and Jaxon, but because we’re worried sick about what’s happening at Hera.”

  There was a grim silence at the reminder of Hera. Humanity hadn’t lost a colony world since the Thetis chaos year over a quarter of a millennium ago, but we could be about to lose Hera.

  “The Military status report on Hera is still saying ‘Comet blockade operation continues,’” said Mari in an angry, frustrated voice. “If the comet core explosion
had been successful, there’d surely have been an update by now.”

  I wished I hadn’t seen that image of the baby and toddler on the Alpha Spectrum newzie channel. At this moment, the memory of that image was hurting me even more than the fact my best friend hated me. I wasn’t part of the battle to save Hera, but that wouldn’t stop me from feeling responsible if those children died. The Military shared a collective duty to protect civilians, and we shared the collective guilt when we failed. If the comet core destroyed Hera, then the image of that baby and toddler would haunt my dreams for years.

  “This is the worst possible time to have personal conflicts causing trouble on the team,” added Mari. “Perhaps Drago should consider requesting a transfer.”

  I winced. Betan custom meant there was only one thing Jaxon could say in response to her suggestion. He said it.

  “Drago is welcome to request a transfer. His continued presence on this team is a personal insult to me.”

  There was only one thing I could say too. “If Jaxon wishes me to request a transfer, then I’ll do that.”

  I heard a groan that was probably coming from Brandon. Mari didn’t understand what she’d done, but Brandon would. There was nothing he could do to help though. The words had been said. I’d request my transfer and leave, the fragile contact between me and Jaxon would be broken, and he’d blank me out of his life the same way Gemelle had done.

  The worst of it was that we couldn’t avoid meeting in future. We were part of the same clan, so there’d inevitably be times when we were physically in the same place. It had been hard walking down a Military Academy corridor and having Gemelle walk past me, her eyes freezing me out of existence. It would be much worse going home to my clan hall and seeing the same wall of ice around Jaxon. Half of my childhood would be frozen away with him, the memories unbearably painful once he’d cut me out of his life.

  A voice spoke on the command channel. “Aether Orbital Traffic Control to ships in departure queue three for Adonis. Countdown to opening block portal window to Adonis Orbital Interchange 1 is at one minute. Move to approach zone now.”