by M. D. Cooper
“That blast sure did a number on our shields,” Finn muttered. “Still running diagnostics, but I think everything’s OK.”
I nodded absently, cross-checking our position and vector before plotting a burn to get us back on course for the closest FTL transition point. A small part of me wanted to check on Kallie—a big part, if I was going to be honest—but I knew that if there was any reason for concern, Tammy would let me know. Kallie had enough spacer’s mods that a half a minute in vacuum wasn’t going to do her any serious damage. Even a minute or two rebreathing her own air without CO2 scrubbing wasn’t a huge risk.
Focus, get us on track.
Tammy had us on a vector leading to a jump point two AU beyond the system’s seventh planet. Adjustments to get on course were minor. Once we transitioned, it would be a straight shot from there to the Delphi System, though the window before the next occlusion was closing fast.
Compared to interstellar space outside the nebula, the ‘clear’ bubble within the L was practically packed with dust and gas. The particulate matter wasn’t thick enough to pose a major risk for interstellar flight. However, the dense interstellar medium also meant that the L had something not normally experienced by most regions: inclement weather in space.
The three main stars within the nebula’s core all orbited a common barycenter. At present, Chal was on the ‘north’ side of the center of gravity, while both Delphi and Paragon were on the south. Roughly perpendicular to the orbits of the three major stars were four red dwarfs, lazily drifting at the edge of the nebula’s clouds.
Some people described the seven stars as a single system, but with as many as five light years between them at apastron, each star had a powerful influence over its own gravitational region, and were typically considered distinct star systems within a greater whole.
Chal and Paragon were both over three light years from the system barycenter, nearing apastron, while Delphi was moving toward the center of gravity. At times such as this—when most of the mass was spread wide—the red dwarfs drifted further into the nebula’s clouds, drawing more dust and gas into the center of the L, blocking direct FTL routes between the north and south regions.
The fact that FTL was possible at all in the L had initially struck me as a miracle. For ships to slip past the speed of photons, they had to transition from normal space into what was known as the dark layer. There, space was both truly empty and smaller. Ships could travel hundreds of times faster than the speed of light.
So long as they didn’t run into any dark matter—which tended to bring about a swift end to any unlucky enough to do so. Dark matter clumped where gravity from normal matter was stronger. This meant that it was thick within twenty to thirty AU of a star, and also clustered at the L’s barycenter.
When the red dwarfs drew more gas into the center of the system, the effect created an hourglass shape, drawing dark matter into the interior. When that happened, FTL was no longer possible for a few hundred AU at the center of the L, adding weeks to any trip between the north and south sides.
For now, a few north-south routes remained open, but in just a few weeks, they’d all close up for a few years. Maybe longer.
“OK,” I said after a minute of finessing our course. “I think we’re good.”
“You want me to check it over?” Finn asked.
“Nah, nav comp didn’t spit it back, and once Tammy’s back up here, she’ll complain about my piloting skills and make some minor adjustments of her own.”
Finn chuckled and shook his head. “She certainly likes things to be just so.” He nodded to her pilot’s seat. “I mean, she flies the ship from inside a hamster ball, so we know she’s one of those pilots.”
“Believe it or not, that gyro-thing was here when I bought the ship. I was going to get rid of it, but Tammy fell in love with it.”
“Weird.” Finn twisted his lips. “Oh shoot! I have to register our attack on the Restaff. Don’t want to get in trouble with the locals and get our writ revoked.”
I snorted a laugh. “Our fake writ?”
“Hey, without it, we’d be in hot water. Plus, it’s only half-fake.”
I decided not to ask exactly what that meant just yet.
“We’ve still got Korinth’s money tucked away. We could grease a lot of palms with that if needs be. Plus, when we bring the cargo to him, we’ll still get money for delivery. This is going to be a big haul. Everyone’s cut will be bigger than the initial amount quoted.”
“OK…well, I want my full share, don’t waste it on greasy palms. Who knows where those have been.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Fair enough. Let me know if you need me to sign off on any part of the report.”
“Will do, Captain.”
I checked system scan and saw that the two patrol boats were slowing to examine the expanding cloud of dust where the Restaff had once been. I kept expecting them to hail us and demand an explanation, but so far, nothing had come.
I wonder if they hadn’t been looking forward to a fight with Reeve’s ship either, and are glad we did the job for them.
I set a monitor on the comm system to ping me if any hails came from the patrol boats, and rose from my chair. “Bridge is yours, Finn. I’m going to check on Kallie.”
“Surprised you stayed this long.”
Tossing a sour look his way, I left the room and ambled down the passageway. The first four doors—two on each side—were crew cabins, with the third on the right being the galley. I half-expected to see Oln inside, downing a meal. He was usually famished after any sort of mildly stimulating event, but the room was empty.
Past the galley, the corridor branched in a T, and I turned right, following it for ten meters before turning left onto the main port-side passage. The first door on the left led to the medbay, and I heard Kallie’s voice spilling out long before I reached it.
“Seriously, Tammy. Stop. Don’t you have shit to do? Like fly the ship?”
“Jax is flying,” the pilot replied.
I heard a groan from Oln. “Great. We’re doomed.”
Tammy laughed as I reached the doorway. “He’s not that bad. We’ll probably survive for ano—Oh. Hey, boss.”
I swept an annoyed glare across the room. “Glad everyone’s so blasé after we nearly died.”
“Nearly died?” Oln asked. “How so?”
“Oh, I don’t know, imagine if you’d been outside the hull when the Restaff blew. Your entire body would look like the burnt toast you love so much.”
Oln cocked his head to the side. “You know…I am kinda hungry.”
“Good.” I stepped aside to let him out of the room. “You’re cook for the crew tonight.”
“Me?” He placed a hand on his chest. “I saved Kallie from certain doom. I feel that that exempts me from cooking.”
“Yeah, but you also stole cargo from Skip and got us into this whole mess.”
A look of puzzled concern formed on the big man’s brow. “But if I hadn’t done that, we would have never gotten it at all, and then we’d’ve had to go back to Korinth empty-handed.”
I shook my head and pressed a hand to my temple. “Stars, Oln. I can barely parse half that sentence. Go make food.”
“Fine.”
With one less body—and a massive one, at that—in the small room, I approached the medtable and reached for Kallie’s hand. “Damn, you gave us a scare. How the fuck are you so brave?”
She gave a rueful laugh. “I have no clue…or maybe it’s just that all of you are chickenshit.”
“I’m not chicken!” Oln’s voice boomed down the corridor. “Remember who saved your ass.”
“OK, everyone but you!” Kallie shouted back. “You’re my hero!”
“Fuckin’ right I am.” His reply echoed through the ship.
I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it side to side. “You know you can use the Link to talk to people, right?”
She laughed, and the sound of it set my jangled nerves str
aight. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Scans all show you’re doing fine,” Tammy said from the other side of the medtable. “But I want you back here for another check before you go to sleep.”
“Yes, Mooooom.” Kallie slid her legs off the table and slowly stood. She exhibited a slight waver, but then she rolled her head side to side. “OK…just between us girls, that was a rush. And I never want to do it again.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t help but smirk. “I got upgraded to ‘girl’.”
Kallie winked. “Provisional. Be on your best behavior, or I’ll drop you back down to ‘some dude’.”
“This how you treat your captain?” I glanced at Tammy.
“Don’t look at me.” She held up her hands. “You may be the boss, but Kallie is…well…Kallie.”
The engineer fixed me with a winning smile. “You know you love me.”
I pursed my lips. “I’m still kinda pissed. You took a hell of a risk.”
She shrugged. “You want no risk, find legit cargo.”
“Sounds boring,” I muttered.
“Exactly. Plus, you still owe me dinner. Don’t think getting Oln to cook tonight gets you off the hook.”
“Damn…remembered that, did you?”
Her lips split to reveal a wide grin. “Yup!”
II
Paragon
THE BRIEFING
Elsewhere in the L…
I leant forward in my seat and peered out the window of the military passenger shuttle, watching as Fallon Station steadily grew larger, eventually filling the view. Paragon Prime’s light glinted off each of the structure’s four rings as they spun lazily around the station’s hundred-kilometer central spire, and I marveled at the size of the structure.
Ring Three, Beta Quadrant, Deck Seventy-Nine, Block 73, Room 1192A.
Three times I repeated the location, recementing it in my mind. Not that it was necessary anymore. The mental mods I’d received after my recent promotion had made it a lot easier to store information and retrieve it instantaneously, but old habits died hard. Plus, I preferred to keep my neurons sharp and active.
I’d rather not turn into a wet-head like half the junior officers, forever amping up to keep up.
The thought of all the spoiled JROs, with their neural enhancements that their parents had bought, still made my blood boil. They’d had every advantage, but I still bested most of them. Coming out on top time and time again, in OCS and then as I climbed the junior ranks.
In many ways, the military was easy. There were safeties and safeguards. It wasn’t like growing up on a mining rig, where walking down the wrong corridor at the wrong time could mean your death.
“Relax, Sherry,” I said to myself, drawing in deep breaths. “You’re a major now. You don’t need to compare yourself to those laggards any longer.”
The fact was that most of the people I’d trained with and served alongside at the platoon level were long gone from the PMF. They’d done their time, satisfied their families with their faux sense of honor and loyalty, and gotten the hell out before being deployed on any serious mission.
Shit, Sherry. Stop getting yourself all worked up.
I knew it had nothing to do with those I’d served with in the past, and everything to do with whomever I’d be serving with in the future: the Primary Forward Command.
The PFC was the real deal. Where hulls kissed deep black in the empty lightyears between stars. A part of me feared what might come, while another craved it.
There was a strong chance I’d be given command of a small wing of patrol craft and sent to watch over an imaginary line between stars, but there was also a chance that I might be selected for something better.
If I had my way, it would be Intel.
Over the past several years, I’d done my best to operate as an unpaid analyst, reviewing whatever data I could get my hands on, putting it together to build accurate pictures of both the military and civilian situation in the L, accompanied by predictions about what might happen in the future.
Thus far, a few of my less likely predictions—ones that my peers had scoffed at—had proven to be true. I hoped my memos had found their way to someone who recruited for Intel. I knew that if I could just get a face to face with their recruiting team, I’d be brought in.
I knew it.
Something that helped fuel my optimism was that PFC Intel was based in the same quadrant of Ring Three that I was heading for. Granted, so was fleet maintenance, custodial bot repair, and a dozen other commands I’d sooner turn in my commission than serve under.
I shooed the errant thought away. I might want to, but I wouldn’t. I’d promised to serve with honor and distinction. Neither of those things involved running away when the going got tough.
But it’s not going to get tough. It’s going to be amazing.
My view of the ring was momentarily blocked by a dark grey hull. Bumps and protrusions flashed by until the ruddy glow of engines drifted past. I craned my neck to see the ship, only able to ascertain that it was a newer Century-Class cruiser.
“Either the Toroshi or the Lauren Wright,” I said to myself.
“You know your ships,” a voice said from nearby, and I turned to see the woman in the row behind me waving above the seatbacks. “Have you served spaceborne for long?”
“Not long at all,” I replied, laughing at the incongruity of the statement. “I’ve only been a muddweller so far. I don’t even know what I’m headed up for. I just have a room number and a time.”
“Oh!” The woman seemed genuinely impressed. “Well, if that’s the case, it will certainly be a lot more interesting than running around planetside. Though probably not any cleaner.”
“I grew up turning bolts on an RSM miner in the outer belt,” I replied. “Pretty much everything is cleaner than that.”
“RSM?” the woman said, drawing out each of the letters and making me wonder if she even knew what it stood for. “Not a lot of folks from those go in for commissions. Usually they’re working stiffs.”
“Officers work too,” I replied a little more defensively than I meant to.
My words were met with a laugh. “Easy now, I meant no insult. I mean, this is a downright comfortable military transport….” I could hear the sound of a hand patting the seat cushion. “Chances are that I’m an officer, too.”
“Are you?” I asked a little too impertinently. Then it occurred to me that the woman behind me might just outrank me by more than a little. I tacked on a “Ma’am” just to be on the safe side.
“At ease, Major. I didn’t identify myself as an officer, you don’t need to worry that I’m upset.”
I nodded nervously. It was PMF etiquette that if you were unaware of another person’s rank, and they didn’t inform you of it, you were not to be held accountable for any lack of formal address.
Granted, that didn’t stop some officers from taking a perceived slight and turning it into real retribution.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Now I was sure she was an officer who outranked me.
The woman behind me didn’t reply, and I turned my attention back to the growing station. The shuttle eased past the rings, approaching the southern docking bays.
Almost there.
Moments later, the ship was swallowed by grey bulkheads, then a massive bay came into view, littered with ships stretching hundreds of meters into the distance. The shuttle pivoted, and I saw an empty cradle rise up to meet us, arms stretching out like a mechanical kraken, eager to pull us into the depths.
“Stars, Sherry,” I muttered. “Too much poetry.”
I didn’t hear from the woman in the seat behind me, and I craned my neck to look behind, only to find both seats empty.
Did I imagine her?
“Set-down complete. Shuttle secured,” a voice said over the ship’s comm system. “Please gather your belongings and prepare to disembark out the forward exit.”
I rose from my seat and looked around at the other fou
rteen passengers. I hadn’t actually seen the woman behind me, but only six of the other travelers were women, and none had the appearance suggested by her voice.
Putting the incident from my mind, I gathered my things and exited the shuttle, pulling up a map of the station and the best route to a maglev platform.
Here goes.
Twenty minutes and only two accidental detours later, I stood at the door to Room 1192A.
It was unmarked other than its number, which was stenciled with non-descript ink. I was still hopeful that it was Intel, though I could also imagine a lowly service command noted in a similar style.
It was eleven minutes before my appointment time, which meant that I was almost late. Everyone knew that the PMF brass set their mental clocks to run fast.
Being any less than ten minutes early to anything meant that you were late.
Not this time. Not for this.
I drew in a deep breath, steadied my nerves, and knocked twice before receiving a response over the Link that I may enter. I’d expected to see a number of different things within the room, but not one of them is what met my eyes.
The room was over fifty meters across, concentric circles of consoles wrapping around a raised dais in the center. Nearly every seat at the consoles was filled, and on the dais stood four people, all leaning over a holotable, pointing at the image it displayed.
“The L,” I whispered.
“Major Sherry?” a voice at my elbow asked.
I turned to see a chief petty officer standing near the entrance.
“Yes?”
“You’re expected, ma’am.” The CPO made a sweeping gesture toward the dais, and gave me an encouraging smile.
“Where? U-up there?” I stammered.
“Of course,” the petty officer laughed. “Go! Don’t keep them waiting.”
I nodded quickly, and began to walk down the aisle. I attempted to identify the people on the dais with my upgraded optics, but failed. Glancing around, I realized that I couldn’t pull an ID on anyone in the room.