Dark Space

by Stephen A. Fender

  As they stepped into the open doorway, the hatches ahead and behind them abruptly closed, sealing them in. The lights were then shut off, and Shawn, Melissa, Litto, and Doctor Uudon were suddenly cloaked in total darkness. A moment later, the lights came on as the feeling of vertical movement took over.

  “The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not ‘Eureka!’ but rather ‘Hmm … that’s funny …’”

  -Isaac Asimov

  Late 20th century author and biochemistry professor, First Earth

  Chapter 15

  As the lift came to a slow halt, the single door swung outward, admitting the group into a large, open space. Litto seemed to know exactly where he was going, obviously the recipient of information Shawn and Melissa weren’t privy to. Behind him, Doctor Uudon was trying to look at everything all at once. The long, peppered hair whirled as his head spun to face a dozen different directions every few seconds. Shawn and Melissa tried to follow his curious gaze, but were soon distracted by sights of their own.

  “This is the station’s main walkway,” Litto said over his shoulder, loud enough for Shawn to hear over the combined Kafaran chatter all around. “I’d advise keeping as close to me as possible. There are restricted areas here, known only to Kafarans. To trespass on them is to invite unwanted attention to our party.”

  All around, Shawn watched as each group of Kafarans they passed turned to stare at them. Some grunted in disgust, others gawked silently. Others muttered Kafaran curses—only a few of which Shawn was aware, and none he was delighted to hear. “We’ve got plenty of unwanted attention already,” Shawn said sideways to Melissa, who in turn nodded silently.

  Walking past an open bay, Shawn wagered a glance inside. There were several brightly lit signs, and what looked like a bar at the far side of the room where several Kafarans had gathered. Above them hung the fragments of an old Sector Command fighter, a spoil from the last war evidently hung as a trophy.

  Rounding a final corner, they came to a wide view port with an unobstructed view of space. Outside, firmly affixed to the station, was a Kafaran warship. The oblong shape and moss-like covering did little to persuade Shawn it was anything but. The large-bore cannons and smaller emplacements tucked into every hard point the superstructure could accommodate betrayed its ominous intentions.

  “Don’t tell me this is our transport?” Shawn asked in disbelief as Captain Litto came to a halt.

  Litto looked up at the Kafaran script stenciled on the airlock door and nodded. “It is, Commander.”

  “I was under the impression this was a covert operation, not a military mission,” Shawn said.

  Litto nodded. “I’m afraid I can’t speak to that point, Commander.” Reaching out, he tapped a short series of codes into the keypad beside the door.

  “You’ve got access to the ship as well?” Melissa asked.

  Litto snickered as he inputted the last few characters. “Hardly. I’m sending a message to the bridge, advising the captain that we are here and waiting.” He then turned to see her look of disapproval. “I’m afraid that’s all I know how do with this terminal, you understand.”

  “Commodore Savath?” she asked.

  Litto nodded once again. “His instructions were quite specific. I took the liberty of committing them to memory.”

  “Probably wise,” Shawn mumbled, which Litto acknowledged with a smirk.

  A few minutes later, a hissing sound came from within the doorframe of the airlock. A second later it was open, and four heavily armed Kafaran officers—each nearly eight feet tall—glared down angrily at the foreigners. The most forward of them, one with a blue sash tied around his waist, made a series of popping and clicking noises that was instantly translated to a device hung around his neck.

  “You are Captain Litto?” the Kafaran asked Melissa.

  She shook her head, not knowing what to say that wouldn’t offend the officer. Thankfully Litto spoke up.

  “I am Litto.”

  The Kafaran’s amber eyes shifted to the Rugorian officer, resplendent in his crimson uniform. “You’re late,” the translator efficiently growled.

  If Litto was insulted, it didn’t show. “And who am I addressing?” he said formally, correctly knowing that before he could give any response to the Kafaran, their native protocol required them to identify themselves.

  “Major Fralok,” the translator repeated. “Second-in-command of the warship Tangled Web.”

  “Tangled Web?” Uudon repeated almost comically. “That’s not a very imposing name for a battle cruiser.”

  Major Fralok glared at the small doctor in disbelief. “You dare to insult the name of the Empire’s proudest cruiser!” he barked through his translator, then took a step closer to Uudon. “I should crush you where you stand.”

  Shawn was quick to put up his hands as he stepped between the doctor and the advancing Kafaran. “Please, Major … calm down. Doctor Uudon may be an equal opportunity insulter, but I don’t think he meant any harm.”

  Fralok growled at Uudon, who said nothing in return.

  “Besides, we all know how finicky these Kafaran translators can be,” Shawn continued, then looked over his shoulder, imploring the doctor into an apology. “Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

  Uudon stared at Fralok for a long moment before speaking. “Oh, very well. If it will get this mission over with sooner.” Stepping around Shawn, Uudon stood toe to toe with his accuser. “My deepest apologies, Major,” he said, then offered a courteous bow.

  Major Fralok, his ashen face having turned almost red during the intercourse, allowed his breathing to slow as his skin once again lost nearly all traces of color. He grunted, this time in approval. “For the moment, you are forgiven. See that it does not happen again.”

  Uudon, still bowing, stepped backward to place himself behind Shawn.

  “I was not informed that a droid would be present,” the major said as he glared at M-9. When Shawn turned to follow the major’s gaze, he saw the robot admiring a particularly grimy recirculation vent.

  “He’s part and parcel with Doctor Uudon.”

  Fralok growled, then turned to Litto. “As for you, Captain Litto,” he continued, “your presence is not authorized on board our ship. You will remain here.”

  Litto nodded, then turned to Shawn. “I’ll need to get the ship outside Kafaran space as soon as possible.”

  “Where will you be?” Melissa asked.

  “Just on the other side of the border. You have three days, Commander Kestrel. After that, I’ll be forced to return the Honor Guard, and anything in her cargo hold, to the Unified fleet. It’s simply too dangerous to remain alone and unprotected this far away from our support.”

  “I understand.” Shawn reached out a hand, which Litto grasped. “We’ll be back well before then, Captain.”

  “Safe journeys to you all.” Litto nodded to Melissa, then turned and disappeared into the throng of Kafarans milling about.

  “Not much on goodbyes, is he?” Melissa asked.

  “You will accompany me to the bridge,” Fralok said briskly. “The captain is anxious to get underway, and we are already late.”

  “Late for what, exactly?” Uudon asked as M-9 swaggered up beside him.

  Fralok only turned and headed back into the ship. “Follow. Now.”

  Resigned, Shawn put an arm lightly around Melissa’s waist. “Come on, Angel.” Looking over his shoulder, he could see that Uudon hadn’t begun to move—he simply stared at the imposing Kafaran standing before him. “Let’s go, Doc! Get the lead out. And don’t forget that mechanical menace of yours,” he said, then turned back to face whatever was about to greet them inside the ship. “Didn’t you hear?” he murmured. “We’re late.”

  %%%

  The corridors of the Kafaran warship were just as Shawn imagined they would have appeared: dark, foreboding, and echoing with the clicks and pops of the alien language. There were eight sides to the corridors, with
pipes and conduits running parallel both above and under the grates below their feet. Occasionally they would pass what looked like a computer terminal or other device protruding from the bulkheads, their monitors and switches uncomfortably high for humans to operate. Every fifty or so feet there were lighted panels in the ceiling, casting dull shadows over everything. Looking down a cross-section as they passed it, Shawn could see glowing cables the diameter of his arm stretched across the deck, linking one alien device to another. The haphazardness of the cabling presupposed some jury-rigging had been needed, and that repairs were still pending.

  “Seen some combat lately?” Shawn asked as Major Fralok continued down the corridor.

  “More than others,” the Kafaran grunted without turning to face the commander. “Not as much as most.”

  “Have you done any service alongside Sector Command?” Melissa asked, trying to gauge how much interaction the major had had with humans—or any other Unified member race.

  “Our duties have carried us to other fronts,” Fralok grumbled. “The Unified Collaboration isn’t the only empire threatened by the Meltranians.”

  “We’re not an empire, Major,” she defended. “The UCS is a peaceful collection of worlds.” This caused Fralok to stop in his tracks.

  “Peaceful?” the translator spat. “Your history of territorial conquest is well documented, not only by my people, but by that of the many races included in your so-called collection. So while you may be able to convince lesser life-forms of your veiled intentions, do not fool yourself into believing that all inhabitants of the galaxy are so easily duped.” Without turning to face her, Fralok continued on down the passageway.

  “Do you think there was an error in translation?” Uudon asked quietly from behind Shawn.

  “I think the major’s message was loud and clear, Doctor.”

  Coming to halt at the end of the corridor, Fralok waved one of his hands over a nondescript portion of the door frame. Other than the door opening, there was no other indication that he had been granted access.

  “Some kind of DNA coding, I imagine,” Melissa said, answering Shawn’s unasked question. “That’s going to severely restrict our movements.”

  “You’ve got somewhere more important to be?”

  “Aren’t you the one always saying that you need to know more than one way out of any enclosed space?”

  “We’re on a Kafaran warship, deep in their own space, with no way back to the USC or our own fleet. And, from what I’ve seen of the layout of the computer terminals, it’s highly doubtful I’ll be able to pilot a Kafaran ship … at least not without blowing us up in the process. I think, for the time being, we’re pretty much at their mercy,” he said, then turned to her and smiled. “Getting through one or two doors is the least of my concerns right now.”

  “Come!” Fralok barked, snapping Shawn and Melissa out of their conversation. Following him through the door, Shawn could instantly tell they were on the ship’s command deck. Unlike the rest of this ship, this compartment had a logical layout. There was a large screen placed on the forward bulkhead, with manned stations lining the walls. In the center of the room was the command chair, elevated to such an extent that if Shawn were to sit in it, his feet would have surely dangled over the edge. As they approached, the seat swiveled to reveal another Kafaran. As he stood to his full height of over eight feet, his scarred face looked down on Shawn and the rest with what could only be described as contempt.

  “I am Captain Ralath, and I shall begin this mission with only one stipulation—one you will follow to the letter or face my scorn. I am the absolute authority on this ship, and you will do as I say, when I say. In addition, you will be assigned a security detail, one which will accompany you at all times. If they fail to keep you in check, not only with they suffer my justice, but so shall you. Keep to these edicts. Am I understood?”

  Shawn, Melissa and Uudon nodded in unison. M-9 made a squawking noise from behind them, but when Shawn turned, the droid was motionless.

  Captain Ralath grunted, hopefully as a sign of approval. “As you can see, this is a military warship, one that I’m proud to say carries the finest assault troopers in the whole of the Empire. This is not a pleasure craft, and you will not find many of the accommodations you’ve likely become accustomed to in Sector Command. Likewise, I have my orders from Commodore Savath himself, and they require me to ferry you to your destination … nothing more beyond that.”

  A silence fell between them, and Melissa took it as the opportunity to ask a question. “And do you know what that destination is?”

  Ralath nodded slowly. “The coordinates provided by the commodore will, if they are consistent, take the ship to the heart of the Hellnastor system.”

  “Can you tell us anything about it?” she asked when the information was not forthcoming.

  “At one time, it was the location of a major Kafaran shipbuilding facility. Approximately three months ago, it fell to the Meltranians. There were no survivors.”

  Melissa nodded quietly, trying to give respect to the fallen. She neither apologized nor attempted to sympathize with Ralath, which the Kafaran captain regarded with a look of approval.

  “What can you tell us about the physical makeup of the system?” she asked.

  “Thirteen planetary bodies, none habitable by Kafaran—or human—standards. There are three … what you humans would call ‘gas giants,’ all composed of highly toxic vapors. The system’s value lies in its strategic position, and in the wealth of mineral deposits in several of the smaller planetoids.”

  “What can you tell us about the Meltranians in the system?” Shawn asked.

  “Very little,” Ralath said with dissatisfaction. “Before the invasion of the system, several enemy warships had been detected on long-range sensors. According to archived communications received, the Meltranians moved with lightning efficiency. After the system was taken, no other information was received.” Ralath turned to the forward screen, looking out to the vista of stars that stretched out before the vessel. “In short, Commander Kestrel, I have no idea what we will find when we get there … if you are still intent on going.”

  “What makes you think we’ve changed our minds?”

  Ralath chuckled, which of course his translator could not process. It gave a buzzing error before he spoke. “In my experience, humans have a way of running from fights they know they can’t win. We are but one ship, Commander. However, as you have no doubt seen from the station, an invasion force is being assembled to retake Hellnastor as we speak. However, they will not do so until called upon by us. So you see, to travel into the Hellnastor system is to invite the possibility of death upon us all.” He then turned and stepped to within arm’s reach of Shawn. “Do you wish to accept such an invitation, even knowing the odds you face?”

  “We don’t have a choice, Captain. And, even if we did, I’d still choose to go. The information we need to retrieve is vital, not only to the safety of the UCS, but I believe to the Kafaran Empire as well.”

  Ralath glared down on Shawn with unblinking, burning-amber eyes. “You would risk death for the Empire?”

  Shawn’s chin rose, and he hoped at that moment he could be the one staring down the alien. “Your people have done the same for me. It’s time I return the favor … if in fact Kafarans know the meaning of the term.”

  Ralath stared at him a moment longer, but then the corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. “I’ve heard of your exploits, Commander. Colonel Tausan is a friend. In my entire life, I’ve never heard of one of my people speak about humans with anything but hatred and condescension. All save for Tausan. His admiration for you, in particular, is … indisputable.”

  “Then it sounds like I’m in good company,” Shawn said plainly.

  Ralath grunted, then leaned his head closer to Shawn. “That has yet to be proven, Commander,” the Kafaran said in a lowered voice that the translator at his side didn’t fail accommodate. He then stood back to
his full height to address the team. “Major Fralok will show you to your quarters. There you will remain until called for. I’m afraid you would not find Kafaran meals to your liking, so provisions have been taken on during our layover. If they do not meet with your approval, I have little else to say on the matter, other than our information from Commodore Savath was … lacking. As for your droid …” the words trailed off as the Kafaran stared at M-9. “Please keep it away from my sight. I loathe synthetic life-forms.”

  Thinking back to a time on board the Rhea, Shawn and Melissa remembered full well the smell from the meals provided by the Kafarans for Colonel Tausan’s journey aboard Sylvia’s Delight some months ago. With any luck, their quarters were well away from the Kafaran mess hall during mealtime.

  “How long will it take us to arrive at the Hellnastor system, Captain?” Melisa asked.

  “Fifteen-point-six of your hours at our maximum available speed. It would be less, but we incurred some damage during our last encounter with the enemy, and have not had the time to effect full repairs of our drive engines.”

  She nodded, then looked to Shawn. With no further questions, they turned to Fralok, who ushered them out of the compartment.

  %%%

  Stepping away from the makeshift lavatory stall that had been hastily erected in their combined quarters, Shawn stepped over to an expansive view port on the starboard wall. To the left of it, Melissa was sitting on thin layer of foam placed atop a smooth metal surface—the Kafaran extrapolation of the human word for bed. Doctor Uudon, much to his credit, was remaining silent as he adjusted something inside the tube-shaped chest cavity of M-9.