by P. K. Lentz
With a look of dazed shock in her eyes, Serenity let go of her liberator and began to drift. Kearn propelled himself toward her, halting on a grab hoop and catching her gently in one arm. When she looked up at Kearn, the panic in her eyes subsided, replaced by a sort of nervous uncertainty. Kearn’s own expression showed little of anything, mostly because he wasn’t yet sure what to feel.
Within seconds the centuries-old awkwardness between them loomed large, threatening to return. It was Ren who prevented it by averting her eyes. She unclenched her tightly balled fists to plant both palms on Kearn’s chest. Clutching two handfuls of his shirt, she pulled herself into him, tucked her head beneath his chin and heaved a single, wracking sob. Kearn wrapped both arms around her in an embrace.
His comm sprang to life.
“It worked!” a jubilant Ilias cried. “We’re in one piece!”
“Aprile, confirm,” Kearn requested.
“Aye, Cap’n, one piece,” was her quick reply. “Current coordinates...one-point-six light years from Merada!”
***
“Vanished.”
Standing on Hunter’s bridge, Sallat echoed the word dumbly, not in astonishment or disbelief, neither of which he felt, but rather in grim recognition of the vast import of what had just transpired.
A crewman reported what Sallat had already guessed. “EM signature confirms activation of a translight core at the freighter’s last known position.”
At Sallat’s side stood Hunter’s captain, Cassandra Rideaux. They had been monitoring the impending strike on Lady of Chaos when suddenly all signals from the boarding craft had abruptly terminated. Nothing came of the bridge crew’s subsequent efforts to reestablish contact. Lady, too, failed to respond to a hailing request. Rideaux had just placed Hunter’s weapons systems on standby to unleash a crippling EM pulse on the freighter when it simply vanished without trace from their screens.
It was immediately apparent to Sallat, as it should have been to all present, that they had just been privileged, or rather cursed, to witness an historic moment: the first confirmed use of translight by a non-Interim starship.
Centuries from now historians would record that the beginning of the Interim’s end had been written at Merada. The grave mood aboard the bridge seemed to indicate that Sallat was not alone in grasping this fact.
“Our shuttle is out there, sir,” one of the bridge crew informed Hunter’s captain. “Adrift.”
“Retrieve it,” Rideaux ordered.
Nearly an hour later Sallat was present in the hold for the opening of the recovered craft.
The strike team and flight crew were dead to the last man, and not by accident. They had been slaughtered.
Fleet had made a big mistake indeed.
***
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kearn took Ren to his quarters. She’d been quiet since her rescue, probably still stunned. Privately Kearn wasn’t looking forward to his first real exchange with the woman. In her perception they had been separated for a matter of weeks at most; in his, forty years. His feelings toward her were dominated, perhaps rightly, by guilt. How Ren felt about him remained to be seen. The intervening centuries might have changed nothing for her, or perhaps she hated him for having left her to her fate. One could hardly blame her if the latter was true.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Kearn said. “We don’t have guest quarters free right now, so you can take mine. Your clothing and possessions are in the holds. I’ll have someone bring them up.”
Ren glanced around at the accommodations, which were spacious compared to what she had known on Halo.
“You kept my things,” she said. “Thanks.”
By her rather dejected tone Kearn gathered that Serenity sensed his own ambivalence about her return. She was right--he was going through the motions but failing to make her feel very welcome. He wanted to remedy that, even if he could hardly conceive how.
“You should get cleaned up,” was all he could manage.
Ren slouched into a soft chair and sat hunched. “I guess it must be strange for you, seeing me after all this time.”
Kearn stumbled for a response. “No. I mean, yes--it’s not easy.”
“You’re under no obligation, you know. I don’t expect to pick up where we left off or anything.” Ren’s voice was distant. As she spoke she stared vacantly at the floor. “I’m sure you have another life now.”
Kearn sighed, gazing at the back of Ren’s head while he grasped for words. If moments ago his guilt had been immense, now she’d succeeded in tripling it. By granting him permission to discard her, she made it impossible to do so, not if he cared to be able to live with himself afterward. Zerouali had used much the same tactic. The difference, Kearn had come to sense, was that where Zerouali really had expected him to throw her to the wolves, Ren just seemed to think she deserved it.
“It’s all very sudden,” Kearn said eventually. “And right now we’re the most wanted ship in the universe. We’ll be lucky to even find a place to hide. I need to concentrate on that first.”
With no appreciable change to her dismal mood, Ren nodded.
“Whatever happens...” Kearn said in the hope of easing her gloom, and by extension his own conscience. “I want you and your...our child to be happy. I’ll make sure that happens.”
Serenity looked up at him with eyes that showed fatigue and little else. Kearn extended a palm toward her. She studied it a moment before taking it in her own hand. A melancholy smile touched her still blood-spattered lips.
“So what’s the universe like now, anyway?” she asked.
The lightness of her question gave Kearn some relief. “Very different,” he answered, “and not for the better. I’ll fill you in later. For now you should clean up and rest. I have some decisions to make. Check out the ship if you like. It puts Halo to shame.”
With that Kearn made a graceful exit. He had hardly taken two steps, however, before someone called out his name. He turned to find Zerouali striding up.
“What happened?” she asked, showing a barely discernable enthusiasm which, on her, passed for excitement. “I felt nauseous earlier. Like a Drive translation only ten times worse.”
“Sorry about that,” Kearn replied tersely, moderately annoyed at the intrusion. Like Serenity, Zerouali was a living reminder that the easy life of Will Gareth was long gone and irrecoverable. “We’re out of trouble. For now.”
She stared incredulously. “So you do have translight,” she said with the hint of a mischievous smile. It didn’t look bad on her, and for some reason brought to mind the embarrassing near-kiss they had shared earlier.
“Walk with me,” Kearn invited, starting toward the radial lift en route to Lady’s bridge. “Yes, we have translight. I guess it’s not as refined as what you’re used to.”
Trailing behind him, Zerouali let out a true, if abbreviated, laugh. “So where are we now?” she asked with an uncharacteristic level of interest.
Kearn sighed. By force of habit he was still reluctant to speak on the subject he’d spent centuries keeping a careful secret.
And even if he’d largely dismissed the theory that Zerouali was a spy, she was still a relative stranger.
Screw it, he thought then. Everyone knew everything now anyway.
“Our Drive has no nav control,” he admitted.
He couldn’t see Zerouali’s face behind him, but he sensed amusement. “You mean you don’t know where we are?”
“We know exactly where we are,” Kearn said irritably. “We just didn’t choose to end up there. Now we’ll make some calculations, decide vaguely where we hope to end up next, and make another jump.”
They halted at the lift.
“Doctor,” Kearn said, curt but hopefully cordial. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay in your quarters for the time being. I hope you understand.”
In an instant Zerouali became her distant, unreadable self again. “Certainly, Captain,” she said stiffly. “Sorry to bother you.
Perhaps when you have more time.”
Nodding, Kearn stepped alone into the lift. When the door closed on the woman’s retreating form, he tried to put both her and Serenity out of mind. Minutes later he emerged onto the bridge, where Aprile was a welcome sight. She was simple, familiar. She made sense.
Her face split in a wide, celebratory smile. Kearn clasped the hand she extended from her station.
“It has never felt so good to puke my lungs out!” she said. “We got both your girls and got away right under their noses!”
Though Kearn’s own joy was hardly as unmitigated as Aprile’s, her excitement was infectious. Kearn couldn’t resist smiling himself.
“We probably shouldn’t celebrate just yet,” he cautioned. “Things will be tough for us from here on. Within two weeks we’ll be known to every Fleet crew in every corner of human space. I don’t think we’ll be truly safe anywhere now.”
“Buzzkill,” Aprile scoffed. “I know it’s not over yet. But we just humiliated the lords of the fucking universe and I’m going to enjoy it. I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Will. Or should I say ‘Mayweather.’ What a fucking name! That alone is reason enough to use an alias!”
Kearn cracked a fresh smile and smacked the sandy stubble on the back of Aprile’s head. “We have work to do, partner,” he said.
“As usual, I’ve already done most of it, partner.” Aprile touched controls that sent streams of data pouring onto the main viewer. “A nine-point-five light year jump gives us a sixteen percent chance of landing within a ship-year of an inhabited system.”
“For someone who just found out about our translight drive an hour ago, you got the hang of it pretty quick,” Kearn observed. “But sixteen percent? That’s really the best we can do?”
“What more do you want with no nav? Unfortunately, according to the figures from Ilias--or whatever his real name is--that nine light years is also very close to the upper limit we can jump while leaving enough fuel afterward for propulsion.
“Of course,” she added, “we could always just get under thrust now, but my instincts tell me to put Merada far, far behind us first.”
Aprile waited expectantly while Kearn studied the displays.
He found that the data, not to mention his own instinct, bore out Aprile’s suggestion. Assuming they actually planned to go on the run, that was.
“There is one other option,” Kearn said reluctantly. “I know it doesn’t sound appealing, but--”
“Extended hibe,” Aprile finished for him. “Go out of circulation for a while and hope things cool off. I thought of it. I even picked out a few scenic routes.” Her tone betrayed clear distaste for the idea.
“I don’t like it much either,” Kearn agreed. “Still, it’s probably safest. Why flirt with disaster?”
“You may be right. But if you do take that option I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to part company first. I’d rather take my chances living life than just crawl into a box and hide for who-knows-how-long.”
Kearn nodded, already a trifle shamed at having made the suggestion. Once more Aprile had managed to remind him why he liked and admired her.
“It’s decided then,” Kearn said with fresh resolve. “We jump.” He cued his comm for shipwide broadcast. “Crew,” he announced, “honored guests, fugitives, criminals, stowaways, and other assorted scum. Empty your bladders, strap yourselves in, and hold onto your lunch. In one hour’s time Lady of Chaos will initiate a second translight jump. Details to follow.”
***
Following the Kearn Debacle, as he knew it would one day come to be called, Vice-commander Sallat beat a hasty retreat to Whisper of Death without waiting for Bohringer to recall him. The damage to the Interim was irreversible now, but he might yet prevent the ruin of his own career.
During the shuttle ride Sallat composed his own private, if unofficial, account of events, emphasizing his lack of input in--his outright objection to, in fact--the decision on how to handle Kearn.
Truthfully, he wasn’t certain he could have done much better. To get at Zerouali, Fleet had been forced to back Kearn into a corner, leaving him little choice but to use his illegal Drive. In retrospect it would have been better to leave both fugitives unmolested. For all Fleet’s effort they had not only lost both their targets but also gained a potentially powerful enemy in Kearn, a man who probably could have destroyed Reissa at any time in the last three centuries, yet instead had never raised a finger.
Kearn hadn’t wanted a fight. But after this ill-conceived molestation, who knew what he might attempt? Centuries without the slightest whisper of a serious challenge had led most among the Interim brass to dismiss the ‘Kearn threat’ as more imagined than real. The histories even said he was dead--perhaps a mistake, or more likely a deliberate massaging of facts meant to allay those very fears that might soon sweep the Commonwealth if this incident did not remain highly classified.
The most frightening scenario envisaged by the Interim’s upper echelon was one in which Kearn was found to be in possession of a number of Drive cores--five, ten, fifty--with which he could threaten the Commonwealth’s very existence.
But these were matters for men and women of much higher rank than a vice-commander. Sallat would be lucky to set foot on a voidship again, if Bohringer indeed had him pegged to take the fall, or if Command decided on its own to be generous in distributing blame.
To his great relief, Sallat discovered upon returning to Whisper of Death that its Captain had ideas of his own. On Whisper’s bridge, a bitter but stoic Bohringer announced his resignation and handed over acting captaincy to his Vice-commander, Daniel Sallat.
Bohringer’s official statement on record complained that Command had failed to provide him with proper intelligence and that under the prevailing circumstances at Merada, no one in his position could have succeeded. It was an argument clearly aimed at exonerating himself in the court of Commonwealth public opinion rather than in Fleet’s unforgiving eyes. Maybe it was the wisest move he could make, or maybe a foolish one--only time would tell.
Sallat’s first action in command was to confine Whisper’s outgoing captain to quarters. His next directive halted offensive operations on and around Merada, pending his own complete review.
The next order of business was something he’d all but forgotten amidst the chaos: the suspect neurilace security upgrade. The latest analyses had come back and were again inconclusive. While it really offered a slight improvement to existing protocols, the upgrade did contain at least one patch of ambiguous code, the effect of which could not be determined.
Perhaps it was his sense of the temporariness of his position, the conviction that his career was already speeding groundward, that gave him the courage to do what he did. With a few inconspicuous words in his log, Sallat noted that the neurilace upgrade had been implemented as ordered. Chances were good that no one would ever notice it hadn’t.
***
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lady’s second Drive translation passed without complications. After fending off the resulting attack of dizziness and nausea, Kearn waited anxiously for a verdict from the ship’s disoriented nav systems. Within a few seconds the displays revealed the ship’s new position. Kearn and Aprile both launched into a frantic search for the nearest inhabited systems.
“Ona,” the two concluded and announced almost simultaneously.
“Six months at maximum burn,” Aprile noted. “That’s pretty lucky. Ever hear of it?”
“Nope.”
Kearn called up some data on the body. When he saw it he began to wonder just how ‘lucky’ the jump had been.
“Terraformed moon founded by a militant religious sect,” he read bitterly. “Sounds like a total shithole.”
Scanning the entry herself, Aprile concurred. “No vacation spot, but its saving grace might be a minimal Interim presence.”
“I was hoping for someplace we could refit or maybe even ditch Lady for something else. Can we even get fuel there?�
�
Aprile tapped a finger on her display. “As of ‘74 they had an antimatter station. Anyway, our next choice is at least seven years out, and that’s a Commonwealth partner. Probably not the first place we want to turn up.”
Kearn sighed deeply. Why couldn’t anything be simple anymore?
Nonetheless, considering what they’d been through already, this latest development was hardly worthy of complaint.
“Alright, let’s get underway.”
Soon Lady was programmed for the voyage to Ona, and a two-hour countdown commenced until onset of acceleration. Kearn’s mind turned toward what seemed the next most pressing of his several problems. Fyat might refuse hibe. If he did, it meant that someone--meaning Kearn--would be forced to spend the next six months counting stars and watching over him, for all the good it would do.
Truthfully, Fyat would probably be wise to decline hibe, for if he went under Kearn wasn’t sure he would ever bother to revive him.
“I’m sure you have some personal business to attend to,” Aprile said. Her use of that phrase was markedly less derisive than usual. “Go on, I’ll finish up here.”
“‘Personal business’ ain’t what it used to be,” Kearn said wistfully.
“So you’re really going to be a daddy, huh?”
Kearn laughed. “The galaxy will have to tolerate my genes for another generation, if that’s what you mean.”
“Not really, but then it’s none of my business, is it? You’ll manage.”
“I might. So long as you stick around to watch my back.”
“Careful, Captain. I might start getting ideas about the size of my stake in Lady.”
“Stake? I’m ready to give you the fucking thing.”
Bidding her thanks and goodbye, Kearn left the bridge. En route to his quarters, to Ren, he changed his mind and stopped off in the common room.
Again it was not empty. No, he couldn’t be that lucky.
“I thought I told you to stay put,” Kearn said to Zerouali without much feeling.
