Nearspace Trilogy

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  Their helmets, by contrast, were completely transparent, and oblong, shaped to accommodate their beak-like mouths. They seemed able to call up various displays on the inside of the faceplates, although the mechanism for doing so was never obvious. Viss and Gerazan stayed in engineering to assist them, although there seemed little for them to actually do. When the Corvids needed to communicate, they did so through small speakers set at the bottom edge of the helmet, and apparently did so with as much language facility as Fha had displayed in talking to us.

  “We got very lucky,” Viss said to me that evening in the galley, where we’d happened to end up at the same time, seeking hot drinks. “If it had been the Corvids who’d wanted to wipe out humanity a century and a half ago, none of us would be here. I’ve never even imagined some of the tech that’s everyday for them.”

  That was a chilling thought. “How’s the work going?” I’d stopped in to the drive bays a couple of times throughout the day, but I didn’t have any real sense of what they were doing or how long it would take.

  Viss shrugged. “Fine, I think. They mostly go about their business. Ask us questions, and we try to answer. When we understand what they’re asking.” He smiled thinly.

  “Do you think it’ll work?” I was still worried by Fha’s statement that with our current drives, we wouldn’t be able to outrun a Chron ship if we ran into one.

  He ran a hand over his face. “It’s not easy for me to admit it, but half the stuff they’re doing—I don’t even understand it. That’s what I mean about the technology. It’s so far beyond what we know about, it’s like they’re operating on a whole different plane of understanding.”

  “Maybe that’s why they don’t mind sharing tech with us,” I said. “They know we’re not smart enough to reverse-engineer it.”

  Viss chuckled. “You could be right.”

  I pulled a deep breath. “Well, I hope we made the right decision. We seem to be totally dependent on what they’re doing for us.”

  “We are, no mistake about it. But I do trust them.”

  “Me, too,” I told him, warming my hands around my mug. “I just hope it’s enough.”

  Chapter 26 – Luta

  An Unexpected Displeasure

  AS THEY’D PROMISED, the Corvids finished their work in two days. Fha appeared in her holographic form one last time on the bridge. Today her cowled robe was pale grey, proving, perhaps, that the Corvids did have some use for and perception of colours. It was strange how quickly we’d become accustomed to the Corvids’ alien features and begun to read expressions on them. Now, hers was . . . worried.

  “Stay to the route we’ve provided,” she cautioned one more time. “Avoid all other ships and planets if you can. Even with our modifications, I cannot be sure you’d escape from Chron ships if they were bent on capturing you.”

  She didn’t say or worse, but I’m sure we all thought it. “We can’t thank you enough,” I told her. “You’ve given us at least a chance to get home.”

  Another black tentacle slid through the wall, and deposited a datachip into my hand. I barely even flinched this time. Another thing that had quickly become “normal.”

  “This is what you might call a diplomatic package,” Fha told me. “Please deliver it to your government. With the resurgence in Chron activity, I believe it’s imperative for us to work more closely with the inhabitants of Nearspace. It contains instructions for contacting us again.”

  I tucked it into my pocket. “If we make it, I’ll get it into the right hands,” I assured her. I’d give it to Lanar, and he’d get it to the Nearspace Worlds Administrative Council. No planetary governments. I’d make sure it went straight to the top. Fha didn’t say what the Corvids would do if we didn’t make it back safely. No doubt they had a plan, but she was nice enough not to mention the eventuality.

  “The urgulat will release you in a moment,” Fha said. “Go in safety.” And the hologram winked out.

  Baden flashed me a smile. “No leaving issues there.”

  “Power is available to all drives,” Rei announced.

  “And the course to the first wormhole is laid in,” Yuskeya said. As far as we’d been aware, there were no more Chron incursions while we’d been docked at the station. It was a different wormhole that we were headed for, though, not the one the Chron ships had come through. Fha had said there had been no traffic through this wormhole, except for periodic Corvid survey drones, for many years. The drones simply went through, scanned the area around the other terminal point, and returned.

  “What about the asteroid navigation path?”

  “The coordinates are programmed,” Yuskeya said. “Once we reach the field, we’ll go to auto-pilot, and the computer will guide us through. We’ll engage the skip drive when we reach the wormhole mouth.”

  “Like that doesn’t make me nervous,” Rei muttered.

  “We’re trusting the Corvids on everything else, I think we can trust them to get us through their asteroids,” I told her. I knew she didn’t like the idea of relinquishing control while traversing the barricade of tumbling rocks.

  “I guess so,” Rei agreed grudgingly.

  “This should cheer you up. We’ll try out the upgraded burst drive to see how quickly we can get to this wormhole.”

  “Ooh, thanks,” she said, without a hint of sarcasm. “Did you hear that, Viss? Give me the burst drive.”

  I opened the comm channel into Jahelia Sord’s room. “We’re leaving the station, Sord. Wormhole skip coming up shortly after that.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll let me know if anything exciting happens.”

  I didn’t bother to answer that, and closed the channel again.

  Cerevare came onto the bridge then. “Captain, I hope you don’t mind. I’d like to be up here when we skip into the first Chron system.” Her brown eyes were bright with excitement. For the rest of us, this was a trip into certain and frightening danger. For Cerevare, it was a voyage of discovery into her passion.

  “You’re absolutely welcome,” I told her. “I hope you have everything from that Corvid chip memorized. We might need your expertise.”

  She grinned. “It will take months to comb through everything on that chip. I already feel like my head’s been opened up and reams of data simply poured in.”

  The ship lurched slightly, and the sensation of being carried returned. This time the viewscreens showed the black, viscous-looking material of the station retreating as it disgorged us, as I’d imagined it would. I shuddered. As nice as the Corvids had been, their technology had an element of creepiness.

  “Rei, you’ve got the burst drive,” Viss said a moment later from engineering. “I’m set to monitor everything as we try it out.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, then, Rei.”

  She engaged the drive and we leapt forward, leaving the safety of the Corvid station behind. Rei pushed the drive to its limit.

  “Handles fine,” she observed.

  “All good on this end,” Viss added.

  “And about a twelve percent increase in speed,” Yuskeya said. She met my eye and smiled. “The Protectorate will definitely want to know more about this.”

  “Everyone in Nearspace will,” I said. “But I think we’ll treat it as top-secret until the Council has a chance to figure things out.”

  Rei had slowed us to a normal momentum by the time the asteroids loomed threateningly in our path. Inwardly, I shared Rei’s trepidation. They were intimidating and appeared near-impossible to navigate, even knowing we’d managed it once, on the way into this system. Surveying the tumbling chunks of rock, I realized what a close call we’d had. Sheer luck had played a big part in our survival, regardless of how well Rei and I had worked together to guide us through.

  “Here goes,” Rei said. “Engaging the auto-pilot. Nothing that happens now is my fault, folks.” She took her hands off the controls and raised them over her head, waggling her fingers. The Tane Ikai sailed int
o the maelstrom.

  I held my breath, but we slipped almost effortlessly through the asteroids. The coordinates for the safe pathway ensured that wherever an asteroid was, we weren’t, although the computer put the ship through some delicate maneuvers. When we cleared the last obstacle, Rei took control again, the skip drive whirred to life, and we slipped into the wormhole.

  When my chest began to burn, I realized I was holding my breath, and released it in a long exhale. The skip went like any other. We emerged out the other end, and I heard Cerevare draw her own breath in with a little whistle. I knew what it meant to her; we had entered Chron space.

  The system was . . . beautiful. At least this corner of it. An enormous particle cloud hung in plain view when we emerged, painting the vacuum of space with a brilliant crimson, glazed with yellow specularity. In the distance a yellow sun burned.

  “Scan shows a planet barely on the edge of range,” Baden reported. “Right where the Corvids said it would be. No ships detected. We seem to be alone.”

  “Let’s keep it that way,” I said. “Yuskeya, lay in the course for the next wormhole. I want the scans running constantly. Rei, Viss, let’s fire up that burst drive and hit the next wormhole as quickly as we can.”

  Which sounded good, but it wasn’t like we’d be there in an hour, or even ten. Yuskeya had estimated twelve hours to the next wormhole as the best possible time, if we ran the burst drive full out and didn’t encounter any problems. We couldn’t run the drive steady at full for that long; two-hour bursts with an alternate hour for cooldown was the most we could push it.

  I noticed Maja gazing out the viewscreen with a strange expression on her face. “Anything wrong, Maja?”

  She glanced over and half-smiled at me. “Not really. I was thinking it’s sad we’re not here to explore. I’d rather be making contact, building alliances, instead of racing through without time to investigate or learn. It seems like a wasted opportunity.”

  “Maybe we’ll be back,” Baden said. “Things might be different with the Chron someday.”

  “I’d like to think so, but—I don’t know. This feels like a one-way trip.”

  I shivered, an unwelcome, eerie feeling trickling down my spine. I hoped we were still in the middle of that trip, and that it would end in Nearspace.

  We ran that way for half an hour, and nothing untoward happened. Maja excused herself, and Gerazan came up from engineering, where he’d been with Viss for the burst drive test and the first skip. He settled at the co-pilot’s board next to Rei. Cerevare still seemed entranced, although to tell the truth it looked like any other system to me.

  I was having trouble keeping my eyes open; no wonder, really. I’d slept fitfully, no doubt nerved up about leaving the station, but the pains in my arms and legs had worsened. I couldn’t make it through the night now without getting up at least twice to take one of Yuskeya’s painkillers. I needed a nap, although I was beginning to dread the realization. It came too fast and often now. I’d never taken naps in my life, except occasionally when Maja and Karro were young. I stood from the big chair, intending to turn things over to Hirin, but everything blurred and I had to grasp the arm of the chair tightly to keep my balance. The bridge whirled around me. I blinked and breathed shallowly in through my nose, out through my lips. No-one seemed to have noticed.

  The vertigo passed, the spinning bridge slowing and stabilizing again. I swallowed against a dry throat, hoping my voice would come out sounding normal. “Okej, we’ve got three pilots, so we’ll take it in four-hour shifts,” I said. “Hirin, you have the chair. I’m taking a break. You relieve Rei when her shift is done, and I’ll come on after you.”

  He crossed to sit in my place, catching my hand as I turned to leave the bridge. “You okay?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  I squeezed his hand and nodded. “Fine. Just a little tired. And we need to keep ourselves fresh while we’re here. Keep the scans running and all eyes out.”

  He threw me a mock salute and released my hand.

  Outside the bridge, once I was far enough down the corridor that I knew no-one could easily see me, I leaned against the wall for support. My knees felt like water. How could I fly the ship when this might happen? I knew suddenly that I couldn’t. It would be completely irresponsible, and could put us all at risk. Rei and Hirin would have to manage without my help.

  And I would have to admit to everyone why I was taking myself off the roster. That might be the hardest part of all.

  I made my way slowly down the corridor to my quarters, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone and have to answer questions. My luck held; I collapsed on my bed without seeing anyone else. For a long moment I lay on my back and stared out at the stars though the porthole above me. Usually, I left the bridge with pleasant anticipation of the moment I’d return. For the first time ever, I felt as if I didn’t belong there. And despite everything that was on my mind and should have kept me awake, I fell asleep with chilling ease.

  The next thing I knew, the signal tone of the ship’s comm woke me. I pressed my implant, and Hirin’s voice came through.

  “Luta, you’d better get up here. You won’t believe what we found.”

  “On my way.”

  The nap had worked magic. My head felt surprisingly clear, and the weakness in my limbs had fled. It was a good thing, too, because I wasn’t at all prepared for what met my eyes on the viewscreen when I entered the bridge. All sorts of possibilities had skittered through my mind as I hurried up the corridor: a Chron ship, a wormhole, another station. It was none of those.

  It was PrimeCorp.

  HIRIN HAD KILLED all the drives and brought us to a stop with the thrusters by the time I reached the bridge, and the Tane Ikai hung silent and relatively still. The viewscreen, I could tell, was at its maximum magnification, but still the ship it had focused in on wasn’t visually clear. The data scrolling across the bottom of the screen, however, was.

  Closest vessel: PrimeCorp drive signature type RT34564: Registration unconfirmed: Class unconfirmed

  I stared stupidly at it, wondering if I had sunk low enough medically to be having hallucinations. For a fleeting moment I wondered if I’d been so sick thak I slept through the rest of the journey and we had actually made it to Nearspace. Hirin wouldn’t have simply called me to the bridge, though, if that were the case. And if I were hallucinating, everyone else was, too. Still. “It can’t be a PrimeCorp ship. We’re in Chron space.”

  Baden said, “It could be some other kind of ship, with a PrimeCorp drive in it, I guess.”

  “What are the chances of that?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty low, I’d say. It’s too new to be something the Chron could have stolen or captured during the war.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What could they be doing here, and how did they get here? Any wormhole leading into this system would have to be in the Nearspace catalogue. If we don’t know about it, PrimeCorp shouldn’t. And the Corvids would have it blocked anyway.”

  “Well, ‘shouldn’t’ is the operative word, isn’t it?” Hirin said. “PrimeCorp could be carrying out its own wormhole exploration program, and keeping the results a secret. If there was a profit to be made. Wormhole spelunking was how they got started, after all.”

  “And the Protectorate knew about the other wormhole, and hadn’t released it,” Rei reminded me.

  “Do you think they’ve noticed us?”

  Baden shook his head. “I doubt it. They haven’t moved, and we stopped the instant we picked them up.”

  “All right. What’s this?” I asked, pointing to a mass on the nav screen.

  “Asteroid,” Yuskeya said. “About half our size. You’re thinking of using it as camouflage?”

  “I wondered. If possible, get us close and try to match the asteroid’s path. It might keep us from getting noticed. Keep an eye on that ship. Hirin, you still have the chair. I’m going to talk to the only person on board who might know more about PrimeCorp than I do.” And I headed for the q
uarters where we were holding, more or less successfully, Jahelia Sord.

  I shut down the enhanced plasma bar that Viss and Baden had reconfigured, and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again, a little more sharply. The logical part of my brain suggested that maybe she was asleep, but the cynical part had gone way past that. It was thinking that she’d done it again.

  I opened the door cautiously, in case she was waiting to jump me. That seemed too unsubtle for her, but one never knew. I was beginning to think I understood her, which is a dangerous thing to think about your enemy, especially one who’s your prisoner.

  The room was empty. It wasn’t one with access to the secret lockers, so there weren’t many places she could hide. Not any, in fact. I moved outside the room and stood, trying to decide what to do next. I didn’t want to initiate a full-scale search, because we were starting to look like incompetents. My crew didn’t need more frustrations.

  It wasn’t a terribly big ship, but Sord could be in a number of places. Any of the other quarters, for a start, since no-one locked their doors. The galley, the head. The First Aid station, although she probably didn’t know how to get there through the storage room behind the head, so the only other way would be through the bridge. The engineering deck, although she’d have to get past Viss. The cargo pods.

  I started down the hatchway leading to the cargo area. Something told me she’d be there, waiting to be found, strolling the catwalk or doing something equally relaxed. She wasn’t trying to escape; there was nowhere to go. Her chances of commandeering the ship with this crew on board were next to nil, and she had to know that. But it wasn’t in her nature to let herself be caged, and she had to let me know that.

  I deliberately tried to sneak down the ladder past Viss, and managed it; not that difficult if you watched for your chance. I saw her as soon as I emerged into the cargo pod. She was engaged in a smooth, flowing workout I recognized, after a few moments, as the Vilisian martial art of zelendu. She didn’t have a staff, but had improvised one from a long broom handle. She’d rolled up her pant legs and shed her boots, reminding me of Rei when we sparred. Her grey t-shirt showed dark sweat blotches.