Thief of Stars (Final Dawn, Book 2)

by T W M Ashford

  “They’re tracking us quicker than we can move.” Rogan checked her terminal. “We’re penned in. Thirteen seconds, by the way.”

  Jack sprinted to the windows at the front of the cockpit.

  “What about there?” He pointed port side. “Between Paryx and Krett.”

  At their present angle of approach there was barely any gap between the planet and its moon. Two hundred thousand kilometres had been reduced to a sliver in the Adeona’s windows. The soft glow of their respective atmospheres brushed one another.

  “Ten seconds,” said Rogan. “Nine…”

  “Gonna be a tight fit.” The Adeona spoke as if she had all the time in the world. “On the other hand, I’d like to see anyone squeeze a Mansa battlecruiser into that gap…”

  “Six. Fi—” Rogan gave up. “Oh for crying out loud, Adi – do something!”

  “Where are we even going?” the ship asked.

  “Literally anywhere!” Tuner screamed. “Anywhere that isn’t here!”

  Jack could pick out the individual attack ships outside the window now. They reminded him of a swarm of hornets. Looked about as angry, too.

  “Adeona…”

  “Don’t blame me if we skim off Paryx’s atmosphere and crash into a battleship,” said the Adeona. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

  She activated her skip drive.

  They jumped.

  17

  Dark Side of the Moon

  The Adeona burst back out of subspace only a moment later. Jack grabbed his helmet and braced himself for the wave of Mansa gunfire that would soon punch through the ship’s hull. Klik crouched on the floor with her eyes scrunched tight. She didn’t open them again until a good ten or so seconds after they stopped.

  The Mansa attack never came. Jack released his grip on the hologram table and nervously returned to the front of the cockpit.

  “Where are we?” he asked, peering out the window.

  “The dark side of Krett.”

  The Adeona sounded pleased with herself. Jack, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as impressed.

  “There’s a whole flipping galaxy we could hide in,” he screamed at the ceiling. “Why the hell would you choose to stop here?”

  “If you think there’s anywhere in this galaxy we can run where the Mansa won’t find us,” replied the ship, “you’ve got another thing coming. Their own moon is probably the last place they’ll look, especially as it’s the closest.”

  “She has a point.” Rogan checked the scans on her terminal. “If they suspected we were still here, we’d know about it by now. And I’m not picking anything up—”

  “Speaking of which…”

  Everything in the ship shut down, plunging everyone into complete darkness. There were a few yelps of surprise from the crew before her red emergency lighting kicked in.

  “We can’t risk anyone picking our signals up,” she said, before anyone could register a complaint. “Comm channels, scanners, radar – they could all give away our position. I’m shutting everything non-essential down just in case. Krett is tidally locked with Paryx, so as long as we stay on this side of the moon we should go unnoticed.”

  Jack stared out at the dark underside of Krett. “So that’s it, is it? That’s the plan? To hide out here forever, until our food stocks run out?”

  “Not forever, Jack. Just long enough for everyone to catch up with themselves. You look dead on your feet.”

  “I’m fine,” said Jack, staggering into a chair.

  “You’ve got blood on your face,” said Rogan.

  “Doesn’t mean I’m not fine.” Jack crossed his arms and leaned back. “Though I suppose I could do with a shower…”

  “Good,” said the Adeona. “Everyone get some rest. We’re not going anywhere.”

  Jack spent a long time standing in the ship’s shower, letting the cold water wash away the grime and muck that had built up over the past couple days. He scrubbed the blood from his neck and face until the skin felt raw and it hurt to scrub any further.

  He returned to his quarters and climbed onto the empty bunk. His spacesuit lay in an untidy heap on the floor beside it, speckled with the stowaway’s blood and bleached from the Paryx sun and sand. Jack sighed. That would need scrubbing, too.

  He closed his eyes.

  Everything had gone wrong.

  For months, all he’d wanted was to go back home. Hell, he didn’t even care about that, if he was truly honest. What he really wanted was to save Amber. Whether they were both on Earth or both aboard the Adeona didn’t really matter, just so long as they were together.

  And now his one chance was gone, stolen by the very man he’d tried to warn the Ministry about. The idiots hadn’t listened. Of course they hadn’t. What could a human and a pair of automata possibly have to say about anything?

  Jack gritted his teeth. His head pounded.

  He’d put his life on the line, risked the lives of his friends, even become a fugitive from one of the most powerful species in the galaxy, and for what? What did he have to show for it?

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  He rolled onto his side. Knowing that he’d helped Charon made him feel sick.

  Despite the anxiety and the adrenaline sending his thoughts galloping across his mind like a million dollar racehorse, Jack slipped into a brief and fitful sleep.

  For the first time in three months, he dreamed of an angry sun.

  “So can somebody please tell me how a Gillaxian Salt Miner got on board the ship?”

  Everyone – Jack, Rogan, Tuner, Klik and Brackitt – was sat around the rec room table. Rogan had asked the question. Nobody seemed eager to answer it. Jack was much too tired to think – he’d only managed a couple hours of sleep, and neither had been particularly good.

  “That’s probably my fault,” said the Adeona. She may have shut a lot of her main systems down – the lights throughout the ship were still a dark, troubling red – but the voice coming through the speakers was as crisp and calm as ever. “When I heard you call for help over comms, I forewent my usual checks. My thrusters went hot real quick. The Gillaxian must have climbed up my landing gear as I retracted them. They’re cold-blooded as it is – there’s no way I could have detected him inside the engine room after I took off.”

  “I can’t imagine what one was doing out in the middle of the Paryxian desert to begin with…”

  “Does it matter?” Jack sighed and went back to his drink. It was alcoholic and he wished the galley had more of it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap. But don’t we have more important matters to deal with?”

  “Jack’s right.” Tuner stood up on his chair, then hesitated. “Though we should think about chucking him out the airlock before he starts to rot.”

  “I’m still not cleaning it up,” grumbled Brackitt, looking daggers in Jack’s direction.

  Jack finished his drink and stretched out his arms. His whole body ached.

  “Guys. What are we going to do about the Mansa armada on our arses? Or should we focus on janitorial duty first, do you reckon?”

  “Well, Jack – what do you suggest?” Rogan glared at him. “Because unless you’ve got some bright idea on how to get out of this mess of yours, I’m not sure there’s a whole lot we can do.”

  “Actually, I might be able to help with that.”

  Everyone around the table stopped talking. They turned towards the speakers dotted around the room. As loved and valued as the Adeona was amongst the crew, it was easy to forget she was part of the conversation.

  “It seems to me that the Mansa Empire is after us because they think we stole the Core. Which is true. But what they really want is to bring someone to justice. Perhaps that ‘someone’ should be the person who actually has the Core now – the person who masterminded the heist in the first place.”

  “Charon?” Tuner shrugged. “Sure. I’m all up for pinning the blame on that maniac. But how? He could be anywhere in the galaxy by now.”

  �
�Maybe not,” said Klik. She was sat at the far end of the table and had been pretty much absent from the conversation up until that point. Gone was her cloak, which she’d shredded during her attack on the Gillaxian stowaway. Now she wore a t-shirt and pair of cargo trousers Brackitt had picked up for Jack at the Kapamentis market. Jack didn’t mind. Trusting an automata to shop for clothes had been almost as poor a decision as letting one stock the pantry.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Well.” She rubbed the tops of her forearms. “I saw that Charon guy visit the resistance base on quite a few occasions over the past four months. When he brought supplies and intel, I mean. And in the weeks leading up to smuggling me off-world, he was coming to Ankhir every other day. Wherever he’s based can’t be that far from the planet.”

  “I can’t imagine he’d have risked staying on Paryx itself,” said Rogan, tapping her fingers against the table, “but he could have had a station based in the system somewhere.” She shook her head. “No, that wouldn’t work either. The Mansa have their home system locked down pretty tight. An unsanctioned space station lurking on the periphery would arouse a lot of suspicion.”

  “A lone ship could probably avoid being detected,” said Tuner. “That’s what we’re doing, after all. But it’s hard to believe that Charon would simply hide in a one-man cruiser for four whole months, only coming down to the planet to make contact with the resistance.”

  “It would make for an easy getaway, though.” Jack sighed, despondent. “If he was keeping his operation that low key, nothing would have held him back from jumping to subspace. We’ll never be able to find him.”

  “There is one place the Mansa wouldn’t think to look,” said Klik. “Somewhere nobody ever goes anymore.”

  Rogan’s face softened.

  “Oh…”

  “What?” asked Jack and Tuner in unison.

  Klik bobbed her head towards window on the wall of the rec room.

  “Krett,” she replied.

  “Krett?” Jack leaned forwards with his elbows on the table and laughed. “Are you saying that Charon has established some sort of temporary base on Paryx’s moon?”

  “Actually, it does sort of make sense.” Rogan processed the new information. “Tuner, do you remember how Charon used to constantly check up on how his Iris project was coming along?”

  “Yeah. And then his visits stopped all of a sudden.”

  “Roughly a month before we broke free, as well. That would make it about four months ago – about the time he started manipulating the Krettelian resistance, apparently. Wherever he went, it was so important to him that in all that time he didn’t come back to check in on his project even once.”

  “I don’t wish to cut all this lovely speculation short,” said the Adeona, “but Klik is correct. There was another reason why I kept our subspace trip so brief instead of fleeing back to Detri or elsewhere. I too have reason to suspect Charon is hiding out on Krett.”

  “If you want us to stop speculating, this is a funny way of doing it.” Jack spun his empty cup around. “Come on, spill. What haven’t you told us?”

  “Before I jumped to subspace, I ran all manner of scans. Mostly radar – monostatic and doppler, that sort of thing – to track ship movements and incoming ballistics. But I still have chemical and elemental sensors installed from my old mining days, and I ran them too.”

  “What did you pick up?” asked Rogan.

  “Traces of Somnium discharge outside Krett’s orbit and isolated patches of unnatural fuel vapour within the moon’s upper atmosphere,” the Adeona replied. “Any subspace capable ship could have left that, of course. It could have been the Mansa – though as Klik alluded to earlier, visits to Krett are generally forbidden, even to those in high command. And besides – while there’s no way to be absolutely sure, I can deduce with reasonable certainty that those discharges were created only hours before I picked them up. If they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have appeared on my scans in the first place.”

  “It’s hardly a guarantee,” Jack said with a shrug, “but it’s a start.”

  “A start to what?” Rogan groaned. “Forget about starts – when does all this stop?”

  “If the Mansa Empire is after your blood, probably never,” said Klik, flippantly. “It’s not as if they’ll just drop it.”

  “Come on, Rogan.” Tuner stretched across the table and took her hand. “Think of everything Charon did to us – to all the other automata who didn’t make it. You want to stop? Well, this is our chance to stop him.”

  “Well, I’m game.” Klik sat forward, angry. Jack worried the bone blades might make a repeat appearance. “He killed my father. He killed my friends and destroyed everything I stood for. I want to see him pay.”

  A solemn, contemplative silence fell over the whole group. The Adeona did the AI equivalent of clearing her throat.

  “So, what’ll it be? I can either take us down to Krett or plot a course back to Detri. No species has the technology to track a ship through subspace that far, not even the Mansa. We’d be safe. The choice is yours.”

  “Shall we put it to a vote?” asked Jack. “All those up for getting the hell out of here?”

  Everybody sat perfectly still… everyone except Brackitt, who raised a reluctant hand.

  “Sorry, guys. I’m all up for a bit of adventure, but right now I think I’d rather just go home.”

  “That’s all right, Brackitt. Duly noted. All those in favour of putting a stop to Charon before he does any more damage?”

  Everyone else – Jack, Rogan, Tuner, Klik and even the Adeona – either raised their hand or voiced their approval.

  “Okay, Adeona. Take us down.” Jack turned back to everyone sat around the table, then gave Brackitt a knowing nod. “But before we go any further, there’s something you all need to know…”

  18

  Krett

  Krett was a lot different to how Jack had imagined. In his mind they’d been descending upon a barren moon ravaged of life, its earth mined for precious resources and its trees felled for lumber. Instead he discovered a world more lush than any he’d ever seen before.

  It made sense, of course. Though Krett had been abused by the early spacefaring Mansa for building materials – not to mention its abundant supply of slave labour – thousands of years had passed since. The earth healed. The trees regrew. Now their continent-spanning green canopies grew so plump they blocked out all view of the forest floor beneath them. Even the moon’s pristine lakes and oceans were blanketed with lilies the size of parks.

  Compare that to Paryx – a dry, inhospitable landscape that could barely sustain any vegetation at all. They may have shared an orbit together, but they were worlds apart.

  Of course, everything looked a little green through the Adeona’s night-vision filters. Whoever left those trace elements of fuel behind had been headed down towards the dark side of Krett – the side that faced permanently away from the prying eyes of Paryx. Not that it was always dark there – Krett shared the same short day-night cycle as its planet – but when the opposite side was lit, those on Paryx couldn’t see it. It was tidally locked, much like Earth’s own moon.

  The Adeona kept her systems offline, reluctant even to ignite her thrusters in case their fire was detected by the lurking Mansa armada. Many of the battlecruisers had jumped to subspace in pursuit of a ship that had gone nowhere, but plenty others remained in a protective blockade around their home world.

  Once inside the moon’s atmosphere, and therefore a little better shielded from the Mansa scans, the ship dared to deploy a few of her onboard instruments again. Only what was strictly necessary, however. The lights, the communication arrays, the computer terminals – these all remained unavailable. To anyone looking up from Krett’s surface, the Adeona would have looked no different than a fragment of meteorite burning through the night sky.

  Jack watched the twilight forest grow steadily closer through the tinted cockpit windows. />
  “The whole moon is overrun with flora.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I wonder how the wildlife has flourished without all the Krettelians around.”

  “Apparently some of the carnivores were pretty nasty to begin with,” said Klik. She fidgeted, still struggling to get comfortable in her new t-shirt. “Some of the herbivores, too.”

  “I recommend we take the guns, just in case.” Rogan did a double-take at Tuner. “Though it seems that was plan anyway…”

  Tuner bowed his head sheepishly, one of their leftover Raklett plasma rifles already clutched in his hands.

  Jack saw vines as thick as anacondas, vibrant petals as wide as trampolines, ancient trees as tall as office blocks. He wondered if he would experience something similar to what early explorers must have felt trekking through the midnight jungles of darkest Peru.

  Something beneath the ship caught his eye. Amongst the dense foliage, a single tree shook with so much force it came close to being uprooted. No beast shy of twenty thousand pounds could have done that alone. Jack watched as the mysterious culprit carved a swathe through the forest undergrowth below.

  Yeah. No question about it.

  He would definitely be taking a gun.

  “It’s getting harder to follow the particles the further we descend,” said the Adeona. Her engines slowed and she hovered amongst the jungle mist. “The oxygen is much thicker here, and the high concentration of pollen is throwing my instruments off. Extrapolating the data, however, I can estimate that the ship landed no further than a few miles north of here.”

  “We shouldn’t land too close anyway.” Rogan searched the canopies for a clearing. “We don’t know what weapons this ship we’re chasing might be armed with. Or what their hypothetical base is like. They could have anything from a tent to a fully operational battle station.”