Stellaris: People of the Stars

by Robert E. Hampson

  “Waiting,” the Calmt replied, her tone notched up in what sounded like worry.

  “Stand by for His Holiness,” a voice, modulated by transmission from the distance, through an atmosphere, and reflecting somewhat inferior electronics, spoke up.

  “We are ready, Your Holiness,” the Calmt said.

  “Godspeed,” His Holiness’ voice came back. “May this be the beginning of a great new adventure.”

  “Thank you,” Valrise replied. “We look forward to continued trade.”

  “Do we have your permission to commence the operation, Holiness?” Coklon asked.

  What? Cin shot to Valrise.

  “You are authorized to proceed,” His Holiness responded. “Godspeed in all your efforts.”

  “Coming up on insertion,” Emery said with a note of worry in his voice. Cin checked her readouts: If they waited too much longer, they’d have to abort to the next orbit.

  Cin? Valrise asked.

  “What if we don’t go?”

  Trade would be impacted, Valrise said.

  “Then go,” Cin said.

  “LEO team, separate,” Valrise spoke over the comm. To Cin, she added, Keep your eyes open.

  Cin watched as the team separated in order. Cin went last, the Calmt just before her.

  “Insertion,” the Calmt ordered when everyone confirmed their positions.

  “Initiating,” Cin responded when her mark showed.

  Little pinpricks lit the sky around her as the bouncers began their descent into the planet’s gravity well.

  “Cargo marks,” the Calmt called out.

  “Roger, targeting cargo,” voices came back in confirmation.

  “Drone release,” Emery called.

  “Roger,” the Calmt replied. Cin double-checked the telemetry. “Drones on course.”

  In addition to the eleven bouncers there were now thirty-three remotes en route—allowing the combined bouncers to manage the eleven upbound cargo containers which were themselves matched by eleven containers coming from Valrise. They were not matched for mass. The outbound containers were far more massive than those coming from Valrise. That reflected the greater value of the incoming cargo—gram for gram it was worth nearly a thousand times more.

  The maneuvers—bounces—were fairly straightforward: Cin and the others would change the initial circular orbits of the containers into highly elliptical orbits, then turn the orbits around—this was possible because at an orbit’s apogee the velocity of the object was nothing—minimizing the energy required to alter its trajectory.

  So the LEO crew would bounce the outbound cargo up, then exchange momentum with the inbound cargo—slowing it down by speeding themselves up—and repeat the process.

  The process became involved because of the relative masses and the need to make the momentum-exchanging impacts at sufficiently low gravities.

  Bouncers could safely handle ten gravities—Cin herself had tested to twenty. The containers were often much more fragile: taking only three gees maximum. This was particularly true for the planet-built outbound containers. Included in the value of the exchange was the higher-tech of Valrise’s containers—containers that were standardized in the Trade.

  According to preliminary calculations, it would take twenty-three exchanges to complete the momentum translation.

  The first impacts would be glancing blows as the bouncers dropped to the atmosphere.

  Cin double-checked the trajectories—the earthers had to hit center of mass in two dimensions to avoid imparting any spin or yaw to the containers. The remotes could help in correcting any errors. And, in this first instance, the rules of physics were the only rules to be considered. Once bouncers hit the turbulent atmosphere of the planet, inconsistencies would be introduced.

  “Impact in three…two…one…” Coklon called out. His bouncer and the three remotes were the first scheduled to hit a container. “Impact!”

  On profile, Valrise confirmed. Coklon’s ship rebounded from the container which seemed unaffected by the multiple impacts. Cin’s telemetry showed otherwise and she added her voice to the others congratulating the Arwonese man on his first bounce.

  One by one the others hit, all on profile. Cin grunted as Terra impacted on the last, and most difficultly placed, container.

  Off profile! Valrise reported even as Cin’s telemetry flashed red. There is a mass discrepancy! Center of gravity also does not correspond.

  “We got a bad bounce,” Emery reported from Lewrys. “Recomputing.” On a private channel he said to Cin, “What did you do, woman?”

  “Not me,” Cin replied. “Something’s off.”

  “Off by a tonne,” Emery reported. “The ship’s on it; she’s talking with the downsiders.”

  “Recomputing bounce,” Cin responded, toggling her computer interface. Fortunately, the bounce was not too far off profile; she could easily correct. She was glad it was her and not one of the Arwonese: They would have been dismayed by the prospect of a deep bounce.

  “Got your will in order?” Emery teased over their private link.

  “Huh!” Cin snorted derisively. It was an old joke common between bouncers and pilots: a part of the rivalry between two “crazy” professions.

  “Cin—” the Calmt called on a private link.

  “We have communications from earthside—” Captain Merriwether reported at the same time.

  Valrise?

  Trouble, the ship responded.

  “What is it?” Cin said to the Arwonese woman.

  “Missile launch! Multiple missiles inbound!” Emery roared over the link. “Red watch, red watch, red watch! We are under attack! I repeat—”

  His voice cut out at the same moment that Cin lost telemetry with Lewrys. Instinctively, Cin kicked her thrusters, twisting her vector and velocity at the same moment.

  Valrise!

  Her comm filled with the voice of His Holiness. “The unholy must be cleansed.”

  “What—?”

  “The containers, we must save them!” the Calmt cried on her link.

  Missile lock, armed, impact in two hundred seconds, Terra warned.

  Cin kicked her thrusters to max, setting Terra to dive into the atmosphere.

  “Follow me!” Cin called over the private link. She sent the same instructions to her remotes but only two responded. A quick check showed her that the other two had been destroyed.

  As had all the bouncers save Mira’s and the Calmt’s.

  “What’s so important about the containers?” Cin shouted over her comm link.

  Communications loss in ninety seconds, Terra warned, referring to the standard atmospheric plasma disturbances that occurred during a bounce into an atmosphere.

  “My people,” the Calmt replied.

  “What?”

  “There are two thousand women and girls on your container,” the Calmt told her. “They are the last of my people.”

  “What?” Cin checked telemetry: All the other containers had been destroyed.

  “Please, you must help us,” the Calmt replied. “We had filled four of the containers with our people. This is the last one.”

  “But—”

  “Our people were destroyed; they were going to be eliminated,” Mira said on the private circuit. Brokered into the link by the Calmt, Cin surmised.

  “We hid them,” the Calmt replied.

  “I thought you were part of the Greater Whole?”

  “I pretended to betray my people,” the Calmt said. “I sat on the Council while they were destroyed, trying to find some way to save them.”

  And now this, Cin thought.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “And be discovered?” the Calmt asked. “Until my people were in space, there was no surety.” She paused. “And even then…”

  Debris fields calculated, Valrise added. Prepare for updates.

  “Loss of signal!” Cin warned, as her ship started to glow pink with the air rushing around her.

&n
bsp; You are on your own, Cin, Valrise told her sadly. The safety of the ship and crew are paramount.

  “I know,” Cin said.

  Do your best, daughter.

  The link went dead: loss of signal.

  “I’m going to lose your signal,” Cin said to the Calmt and her compatriot. “Just take your bounce and we’ll talk when we get signal again.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Bounce,” Cin told her simply. “Bounce your cargo to my ship.”

  “Terra, recompute with maximum gravity impacts for quickest transfer of cargo,” Cin ordered her craft. “Ignore safety margins.”

  Around her, the air grew brighter. Cin took a moment to bask in the glory that was a world trying to destroy her. The temperature rose as Terra hit her perigee and then she bounced off the atmosphere. Back to the stars.

  “—almt calling anyone, please respond!” the Calmt’s voice came to her, stressed with fear and worry.

  “This is Cin, I’m recomputing now,” she assured the Calmt. “Is Mira still with you?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” another voice replied, sounding less stressed and more awed.

  “Bounce well?” Cin asked.

  “It was beautiful!”

  “And all the missiles burnt out trying to follow us,” the Calmt remarked.

  “That was the plan!” Cin said. “Do they have more?”

  “Possibly,” the Calmt said. “But it will take them some time to rearm and launch.”

  “Okay,” Cin said. She was silent for a moment. “Two thousand?”

  “Maybe more.”

  Terra completed the calculations. Cin glanced at them: She’d expected nothing more.

  “Mira, would you like to really bounce?” Cin asked.

  “Will it save my people?”

  “It’s their only chance,” Cin replied. “We’re going to have to go deep pink.”

  “Deep pink?” Mira repeated in confusion.

  “She means we’re going to dive deep into the atmosphere,” the Calmt replied. “How safe is that?”

  “Not very,” Cin replied. “Terra is sending your bouncers the data now.”

  “Twenty gravities!” Mira swore when she got the download. “Can anyone survive that?”

  “I have,” Cin said. She didn’t mention that it had taken her a week to recover. In this case, it didn’t matter.

  “If we die—”

  “We’ll time the highest gees for last,” Cin replied. “We should be fine until then.”

  There was a moment’s silence as the other two absorbed her words. They had the calculations: They knew the price.

  “Very well,” the Calmt said. “I am prepared.”

  “So am I,” Mira said. “My sister is on that container.”

  “Then we’ll give her the best ride we can,” Cin said.

  I can see no other way, Valrise said through their link. We will receive your gift, Cin, have no fear.

  “Thank you.”

  I’m launching remotes to aid you, Valrise added. At the very least they may be able to complete your mission.

  “Good,” Cin replied. After a moment, she added with a laugh, “Does this qualify as combat?”

  Most certainly!

  * * *

  They bounced four more times. The third time, a new launch of missiles picked off Mira’s bouncer before she could get deep into the atmosphere.

  Valrise had launched countermeasures by then so the next array of missiles from the planet were destroyed.

  Not that it mattered: There was now too little mass to complete the momentum exchange.

  “There has to be a way,” the Calmt cried over their link. “There has to be!”

  “Follow me,” Cin said.

  “What can we do?”

  “Our ships are built better than we are,” Cin told her. “They can handle fifty gees. And they can handle higher temperatures. The computers will do it all for us.”

  “But my people!” the Calmt cried.

  “We’re exchanging momentum,” Cin reminded her. “They’ll only get a sharp nudge.”

  “To do this we must go to the depths of the atmosphere?” the Calmt asked.

  “To do this, we must melt,” Cin told her grimly.

  The Calmt was silent for a long moment. Finally, she said, “It will be a hell of a ride, won’t it?”

  Cin grinned. “No one will ever see its like.”

  “And live to tell the tale,” the Calmt chuckled in bitter agreement.

  “Ready to see the white at the end of the pink?”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  Valrise recorded it all. She recorded their breaths, their heart rates, their skin temperatures, their pain. Their screams.

  From the depths of the atmosphere two fiery, glowing spheroids rose back into the sky to hit the last cargo container with all their light and energy.

  It was enough, as Cin had calculated.

  “Prepare a grapple and secure that cargo,” Captain Merriwether said over the comm.

  “Aye aye, sir,” the cargomaster replied with a nontraditional military bearing.

  “You must return now!” His Holiness called over the link. “You are in grave danger; the people on that container are escaped criminals.”

  “You are in grave danger,” Merriwether replied. “You have committed an act of war on a civilian ship.” He paused for a moment, glancing at his telemetry. “You have killed four of our crew and thousands of your people.”

  “Only eleven are mine,” His Holiness returned acidly. “The rest are vermin.”

  “We are taking your ‘vermin’ with us,” Captain Merriwether said. He cut the comm. Jump, he ordered Valrise.

  Alarms sounded as the ship prepared to jump into hyperspace.

  A moment later, Valrise entered the nothingness.

  * * *

  A month had passed since the jump from Arwon. The refugees had been settled on a number of worlds, some had petitioned to join Valrise as crew. Some had been accepted.

  Captain Merriwether and Valrise conferred on the final reports.

  “I got good reads on her all the way down,” Valrise said out loud.

  “Cin?” Merriwether asked. His brows furrowed. “What do you propose?”

  “I’m going to make another,” Valrise declared. “We’ve room in the infirmary, and in the growth tanks; her genetics are on file.”

  “You’re not going to give her all those memories?” Captain Merriwether asked, aghast.

  “No, of course not,” Valrise replied.

  “You don’t just want to name a shuttle after her?” Captain Merriwether said. “After all, she was just a bouncer. Hardly irreplaceable.”

  “All five of them,” Valrise said. Captain Merriwether gave her a questioning look. “We have genetics on the Arwonese.”

  “They didn’t consent,” Merriwether protested. Typically, cloning required the progenitor’s consent.

  “My authority,” Valrise said.

  Captain Merriwether thought for a moment. Nodded. “It’s your ship, after all.” After a slight pause, he added, “And what was her real name, the Calmt Prime?”

  “Sorka,” Valrise replied. “She’ll be Sorka Arwon.”

  * * *

  Three of the girls were smaller and darker than the fourth. But they were inseparable: born of the same pod at the same time, along with the boy.

  Captain Merriwether visited them when he could; Valrise was always with them.

  “And what’s your name?” Captain Merriwether asked the fourth girl.

  “I’m Cin,” the girl replied proudly. “Cin Valrise the Second!”

  Pageants of Humanity

  Brent Roeder

  Brent is currently a neuroscience PhD student researching how to restore damaged memory function. A lifelong geek, he enjoys writing sci-fi and fantasy to relax from work. Very occasionally he even remembers to finish a story. We hope you enjoy his vintage take on the future of what it mea
ns to be human.

  “To all of our new viewers, welcome to our coverage of the two hundred and thirteenth decennial Exposition of Humanity!” the male host announced cheerily from where he sat next to a female companion. “I’m Boberto Lopez and this is my co-host, Cindellou Whoon.”

  “And to all of our returning viewers, welcome to our new channel,” the female host added with a smile.

  “For over two thousand years the Exposition of Humanity, or The Expo, as we like to say, has been helping humanity recognize itself as we spread throughout the stars,” Boberto began.

  “The question of what it is to be human became something of absolute importance during the Gene Wars,” Cindellou added. “Following the wars, as we clawed our way out of the Cataclysm, we came together and agreed on an answer to that question. Until that time there had been disagreement between biologists about what the definition of a species was. Since then, we’ve used the same definition. For a population to be human, they must first be interfertile with other human populations. Second, they must be attracted and attractive to other populations.”

  “As the Diaspora began, we had a definition of what it meant to be human, but we had not yet established a way to check,” Boberto took up the narration. “Almost fifty years after the establishment of the Ehrewemos colony, The First Expo was sponsored by the Johnson’s Fertility Initiative. That Expo not only allowed us to determine whether a population remained human but provided a sense of security and unity that had not been felt since before the Gene Wars.

  “All of the colonies and Earth agreed that The Expo was an effective way to check on a population’s membership in humanity, but this brought up the question of how often this needed to be checked.

  “After much discussion, it was decided that The Expo would be held once a decade. To be considered human, a population can’t go a century without meeting the requirements of The Expo. There are two parts: the interfertility testing, which is nicknamed the Baby Pageant, and the attraction and attractiveness portions which together are the Beauty Pageant.

  “Since then, The Johnson’s Fertility Initiative has not only helped run the interfertility, or Baby Pageant, portion of The Expo, but has also been working to help overcome Cataclysm-induced infertility. Because of their research, and that of other organizations, Earth has once again reached the point where over half of conceptions are natural,” Cindellou said as she leaned forward, allowing the camera to see her seriousness.