The Dark Between the Stars

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “If we find a place and settle down, will Mother come to live with us again?” Seth asked.

  Garrison didn’t want to lie. He stared out at the forest of stars ahead and the great emptiness in which they had lost themselves. “She wants to take her chances at Sheol for now.”

  The boy looked sad but stoic. “Maybe someday.”

  Garrison could not envision any other answer but Maybe someday.

  Still running, they crossed the expansive emptiness for days, and then they encountered an amazing anomaly: a cluster of gas bags far outside of any star system. Each bloated globule was twice the size of their ship.

  Garrison ran a quick diagnostic. “Never seen anything like these.”

  The membranous bubbles drifted along in a loose gathering with nothing but light-years all around them. In the dim light of faraway stars, the spherical structures appeared greenish brown, and each filmy membrane enclosed a blurry nucleus. Hundreds of thousands of them formed an island in a sea of stars.

  Seth studied both the sensor screens and the unfiltered view through the windowport. “Are they alive?”

  Garrison shut down the engines so their ship could drift toward them. “No idea.” The strange objects seemed majestic—silent, yet powerful. Organic? They filled him with a sense of wonder. “They remind me of . . . space plankton.”

  “They’re bloated and floating,” Seth said. “We should call them bloaters.”

  A random glimmer of light brightened one of the nodules, an internal flash that faded. Then another bloater flickered and quickly faded.

  Close together at one of the windowports, they stared out at the view. “If we discovered them, we can name them whatever we want,” Garrison said. “I’d say bloaters is a good name for them.”

  “So we just made a discovery?”

  “Looks that way.” He moored the ship among the thousands of silent, eerie nodules. “Let’s stay here for a while.”

  TWO

  ELISA REEVES

  Elisa was so furious and indignant she could barely think straight, but she had enough common sense to maintain her composure in a business setting. She stifled her instinctive reaction and wore her professional demeanor like armor.

  She could not let Lee Iswander see her as weak. There was too much at stake, and her responsibilities were too great. Her kidnapped son and her husband’s betrayal were only part of what she had to worry about. Priorities needed to be weighed and balanced.

  He took my son! He stole a ship, and he left me behind!

  Even before she’d married Garrison, she had known he was a backward bumpkin, but together, they had agreed on a plan. He said he would follow it, keep his eyes on his silly Guiding Star, trusting that it would change everything for them.

  And Elisa had believed him. That made her angrier than anything else. She had believed him. She hated to feel like a fool.

  Now, Elisa approached the door to Iswander’s office in Tower One of the Sheol lava-processing facility. Standing high on carbon-reinforced ceramic struts, Tower One held five decks of offices and habitation spaces. Scarlet lakes oozed up from molten springs to form a shimmering—some called it terrifying—panorama all around them.

  Standing outside of Iswander’s office, Elisa straightened her uniform and took a moment to compose her expression. She smoothed a hand over her short, professional-length auburn hair with highlights of gold. When she was ready, she entered.

  Lee Iswander was busy, an important man, but he always had time for her. As far as she could tell, the industrialist didn’t hold her husband’s irresponsible behavior against her.

  Iswander stood with impeccable posture before the wall of polarized windows that looked out upon Hell. His dark suit fit him well. A frosting of gray at the temples of his dark brown hair gave him a distinguished look, a man who inspired respect and confidence at first glance. As a boss and a business leader, he automatically knew what he was doing and thus was able to convince armies of middle managers and employees to do as he asked. People trusted him when he made a business decision or took a corporate gamble. Elisa believed in him too.

  Turning from the window, he welcomed her with a smile. “Pannebaker says there’s a new roostertail forming. He’s heading out to the hot spot to get images. You know how he is with fresh geological activity.”

  Elisa also knew how dangerous that was. “Did he sign a waiver?”

  “He’s signed numerous waivers. He hasn’t managed to kill himself yet.”

  “Then you’re set, sir.” Elisa took her place beside him at the wall of windows.

  The lava flowed in slow-motion waves, their swells and dips caused by seismic instabilities. A reinforced landing gridwork stood in the middle of the three habitation and control towers. Armor-hulled smelter barges drifted on the molten sea, scooping up metals, separating out the valuable ones, and vomiting the detritus back into the pools.

  The cratered other half of the binary planet filled much of the sky, tidally locked with the main body of Sheol. The two planetoids fell toward each other, orbiting around a common center of mass. The stresses squeezed and pushed the crust in a gravitational tug-of-war. Garrison claimed to have discovered that the broken planet was unstable—brilliant observation! It was the very instability that kept all the hot raw material flowing for easy industrial extraction. Beyond that, he was being an alarmist, looking for problems rather than solutions.

  Right now, Iswander seemed preoccupied. Though Elisa wanted to explode with her news about Garrison—to scream, “My son has been kidnapped!”—she forced herself to remain calm. Lee Iswander was her best ally.

  He turned to her and touched the front of his jacket. “New suit for my speech at Newstation in two days. Specially tailored. I want to cut the figure of a leader when I give my speech to the Roamer council. What’s your impression?”

  “I’m not a fashion consultant, but it’s a good look. You always look like a leader, sir.”

  Iswander did not hide his smile well. “I don’t ask my wife for her opinion on these things because she always dithers and says it’s fine. I wanted an honest answer.”

  “I give you an honest answer every time. When you present yourself, the Roamers will see that you are a businessman and a leader, not some sloppy worker who shuffled off a production line. Your opponent won’t even bother to change out of his jumpsuit. I expect the decision will be obvious.”

  “Then I accept that. Sam Ricks cannot possibly believe he has a chance of winning, although there are some clan members who prefer their eccentricities to the reality of business and politics.” He frowned.

  “Roamers are a dying breed,” Elisa said, thinking of her husband and his backward family. Garrison had already caused so much trouble. She searched for a way to tell Iswander, but he was obviously preoccupied.

  “I’ve been looking at the records of the Roamer clans, studying their interactions with the Confederation government—the concessions we’ve received, the inroads we’ve made. Even though you married a Roamer, I’m not sure you understand the mindset, Elisa: clan connections, seat-of-the-pants innovations, personal promises and barter, exchange of favors. My business model takes us away from those old, inefficient ways. It’s time for the clans to get serious. I truly believe that I’m best qualified to be the next Speaker.”

  Even with the concern about Garrison and Seth weighing on her mind, Elisa realized in a broader sense that Lee Iswander’s advancement as Speaker would open up many opportunities for her. Caught up in his governmental role, he would need to delegate the Sheol operations, put her in charge. “Having watched Roamer politics from the outside, I’d say anything would be better than Isha Seward, sir.”

  He gave her a wry frown. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

  “You’re obviously the stronger candidate, sir. It goes without saying.”

  “But the clans need it said. Isha Seward was just the interim Speaker after Del Kellum retired. She knows it, and everybody knows it
. She was chosen as a compromise candidate because she was lackluster and didn’t offend anyone. Now it’s time for vision, and I’ve certainly proved myself.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be giving you my speech.”

  “The election’s only a few weeks away,” Elisa said.

  He went back to his desk where reports streamed across the data-screens embedded in its flat surface. “If I’m going to be elected as the next Speaker I’ll have to keep in touch everywhere, in real time. Not just through business shuttles, like I have now. Maybe I should bring a green priest here.”

  Elisa nodded. “Many have hired themselves out, and they take oaths of confidentiality. A green priest stationed here with a treeling could be in instantaneous contact with every other green priest at any other outpost, ship, or settlement. Would you like me to look into it, sir?”

  “I doubt it would do any good.” He swiveled in his chair to look out at the oceans of turbulent magma. “They prefer to be back on their forested world—or at least in a more hospitable place than this. All this fire and lava would make them nervous.”

  Elisa made a note in the back of her mind that she would send out an inquiry; perhaps with a sufficient financial incentive, she could find an open-minded green priest who would be willing to move to Sheol. But she couldn’t devote her time and energy to solving that problem until after she tracked down Garrison and got Seth back. It was time to tell Iswander.

  She struggled with her sense of failure, as well as the guilt of knowing that this unexpected matter was going to take her away from her work. Before she could make her request, though, Alec Pannebaker broke in on the comm. “The plume’s about to burst, Chief. Right on schedule, right on target. I’m getting images that’ll take your breath away!”

  Elisa felt tremors in the deck of Tower One, and moments later they calmed down. Sheol was in a constant restless slumber on an unquiet seismic bed.

  Out on the lava lake near Pannebaker’s small shielded craft, a large bubble became a spurting geyser of lava. It sprayed high, then rained down in a roostertail. Pannebaker whistled as he withdrew his shielded boat. “Those will make great PR images!”

  Iswander sounded skeptical. “‘Come to Sheol and see the sights’?”

  “No, Chief—I was thinking more of how it shows you’re a visionary with the foresight and the balls to establish a viable industry where even other Roamers feared to tread. No one can argue with your profit reports.”

  “It might be good for your Speaker campaign, sir,” Elisa said after the deputy signed off. “But you should delete the part about the balls.”

  As Iswander returned to his desk, Elisa stood straight-backed, anxious. She had never brought personal problems to him before. Finally, she said without preamble, “Garrison’s gone, sir. He stole one of your ships.”

  Iswander sat back. “What are you talking about?”

  “He left between six and ten hours ago. He kidnapped our son and flew off.”

  “I can’t believe your husband would do that. He seemed like such a . . .”

  “Passive man?” Elisa said. “Yes, he fooled me too.”

  “I was going to say ‘good father.’ Is he still insisting that we’re operating too close to safety margins? It’s nonsense. We’ve been here for years without any mishap, and the recent structural scans should have put all concerns to rest.”

  “He thinks the seismic makeup of Sheol is changing, and the old calculations are no longer valid.”

  Iswander was disturbed. “My consultants double-checked their test results and disproved your husband’s concerns. Even so, he riled up the other workers. If they find out he’s fled, they’re going to demand answers—and I don’t need nervous work crews.”

  “I suspected he might be plotting something.” Elisa focused more on her specific problem than on the overall question and its impact on Iswander operations—which demonstrated just how rattled she was. “I could tell by his mannerisms. Garrison can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

  “Do you have any idea where he’s gone? For a man to steal a child away from his mother is . . . not a good thing, not a good thing at all.”

  “It’s fortunate I was suspicious, sir. He checked the Iswander ships, saw which ones were fueled and supplied. Garrison thought he was being discreet, but I rigged tracers on all vessels. No matter where he goes, each time he stops and changes course, it’ll drop off a tiny signal buoy and squirt a message with his new coordinates.” She fought with the dryness in her throat. “I can track him, sir, but I’ll need to leave right away. He’s got a head start.”

  Iswander folded his hands on his desk. “You’re one of my most important employees, Elisa.”

  She thought he was going to refuse her request. “I understand this is a critical time for Iswander Industries, sir. You’re just leaving for Newstation—”

  His expression softened. “And I understand that this is even more important. Choose a ship of your own, any one you like—you’ve earned it. I’ll inform the other team leaders that you’re taking an unspecified amount of time for a personal matter.”

  Elisa should have felt relieved, but her anger wasn’t dampened, merely focused. “Yes, Mr. Iswander. This is definitely personal.”

  THREE

  ADAR ZAN’NH

  Orbiting the planet Ildira, the new starship looked out of place and alien, even to Ildiran eyes. The first of its kind, the Kolpraxa had an unusual design developed by visionaries, astronomers, and explorers. Unlike the giant fighting-fish silhouette of a Solar Navy warliner, this exploration ship had expanded-range engines, habitation spaces, and enlarged cargo holds for supplies on long voyages far outside the Spiral Arm, to push the edge of knowledge.

  After the Elemental War, the Mage-Imperator had given their race a new vision, to explore the unknown, to expand the Empire’s comfortable boundaries that had stood unchanged for millennia. Adar Zan’nh, the grand commander of the Ildiran Solar Navy, knew the Kolpraxa would be only the first of many such missions.

  Curiosity, ambition, and exploration were not common to the Ildiran psyche. This drive to seek answers to questions that had never before been asked was clearly a human thing. Zan’nh, and all Ildirans, had to adjust to so many changes in recent years. . . .

  The Adar’s inspection cutter arrived at the spacedock facility where the final engineering touches were being applied to the Kolpraxa. Teams of spacesuited worker kith floated around like beetles, using manipulator arms to remove the construction framework and nudge it away from the hull.

  Zan’nh landed the cutter inside the Kolpraxa’s well-lit receiving bay and stepped out onto the polished deck. His hair was plaited in a tight braid and done up in a topknot. His short tunic was tied at his waist with a green sash that accentuated the greenish gold of his skin. Glittering rank insignia adorned his chest. For this formal meeting with Tal Gale’nh before the Kolpraxa’s departure, he wanted to be worthy of the Ildiran epic, the Saga of Seven Suns.

  Yes, history would be made here.

  The halfbreed Gale’nh, who had been given command of the ship, marched forward to greet him. He was a young man with a proud demeanor and creamy features that clearly revealed his partial human heritage. A product of the secret Ildiran breeding program, he was the son of the green priest Nira and the legendary Solar Navy commander Adar Kori’nh—Zan’nh’s predecessor.

  At twenty-six, Gale’nh was young for his rank of tal, but he had a sharp mind and the ability to make swift and accurate decisions. Because of his mixed heritage, he also had a knack for seeing things differently—an advantage in his role, since the Solar Navy suffered from rote adherence to long-established ways.

  Gale’nh pressed a fist to his chest in a gesture of respect. “Welcome aboard my ship, Adar. I hope it meets with your approval.”

  Zan’nh gave the young officer a nod. “You inspected the systems? Drilled your crew? Interviewed your engineers? And it all meets with your approval?”

  “More than I can
say, Adar.”

  He gave a brief nod. “You are the Kolpraxa’s captain, so your approval matters more than mine.”

  The two men took a lift to the command nucleus. The blister dome that formed the ceiling of the bridge gave the commander a sense of the universe around him—the starry field, the glare of sunlight, the swiftly moving ships and worker pods withdrawing the last pieces of framework.

  Proud of his experimental ship, Gale’nh rattled off a summary of the crew complement, the sophisticated technical equipment, the variety of probe satellites that could be dispatched when needed, and—important for the Ildiran soul—groups of artist kithmen, singers, and especially rememberers who recorded history.

  When Adar Zan’nh and Gale’nh arrived in the command nucleus, Rememberer Ko’sh awaited them. The rememberer was a tall, imposing man, dressed in a shimmering gray robe marked with symbols. The expressive lobes on his face were able to shift coloration like a chameleon to add flavor and emotion to the stories he told. He lifted both hands in greeting.

  “Adar Zan’nh, this is the greatest mission in our recent history! More significant than Adar Bali’nh’s rescue of the human generation ships and his first journey to Earth. Or Tal Bria’nh’s encounter with—” The tall rememberer caught himself and bowed. “The Kolpraxa will be a light that shines into the emptiness between stars. It is time for our people to go beyond what was to what can be.”

  Zan’nh was surprised by Ko’sh’s upbeat attitude, for the man had been stodgy in the past, especially upset when the human scholar Anton Colicos had pointed out errors or omissions in the Saga of Seven Suns. “Tal Gale’nh will lead you to points unknown. I have complete faith in him.”

  Gale’nh bowed, struggling to accept the praise with good grace. Zan’nh had groomed the young officer, training and mentoring him as he moved up through the ranks. Though he was a halfbreed, it didn’t hurt that his mother was the consort of the Mage-Imperator, or that his father was the greatest military leader Ildirans knew. “I can only hope to do great work of my own, in my father’s name. I am . . . humbled by my own heritage, the weight of responsibility. The Kolpraxa is so important.”