Supernova
Page 1
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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First Edition: October 2019
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Morgan, Kass, author.
Title: Supernova / Kass Morgan.
Description: New York ; Boston : Little, Brown and Company, 2019. | Sequel to: Light years. | Summary: As the war draws closer and secrets are revealed, Orelia, Arran, Vesper, and Cormak, along with others at the Quatra Fleet Academy, face significant changes and new challenges.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019001739| ISBN 9780316510516 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780316510493 (ebook) | ISBN 9780316510509 (library edition ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Space stations—Fiction. | Military education—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | Secrets—Fiction. | Science fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.M8249 Sup 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019001739
ISBNs: 978-0-316-51051-6 (hardcover), 978-0-316-51049-3 (ebook)
E3-20190726-JV-NF-ORI
Contents
COVER
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1: ORELIA
CHAPTER 2: ARRAN
CHAPTER 3: VESPER
CHAPTER 4: CORMAK
CHAPTER 5: ORELIA
CHAPTER 6: ARRAN
CHAPTER 7: VESPER
CHAPTER 8: ARRAN
CHAPTER 9: CORMAK
CHAPTER 10: ORELIA
CHAPTER 11: ARRAN
CHAPTER 12: VESPER
CHAPTER 13: ORELIA
CHAPTER 14: VESPER
CHAPTER 15: CORMAK
CHAPTER 16: ARRAN
CHAPTER 17: ORELIA
CHAPTER 18: CORMAK
CHAPTER 19: VESPER
CHAPTER 20: ARRAN
CHAPTER 21: VESPER
CHAPTER 22: CORMAK
CHAPTER 23: ORELIA
CHAPTER 24: VESPER
CHAPTER 25: ORELIA
CHAPTER 26: ARRAN
CHAPTER 27: CORMAK
CHAPTER 28: ARRAN
CHAPTER 29: VESPER
CHAPTER 30: ORELIA
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
DISCOVER MORE
In memory of my friend David Crist: writer, teacher, adventurer, and sci-fi evangelist. Thank you for sending me in search of wondrous new worlds.
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CHAPTER 1
ORELIA
Orelia lay on her back on the narrow, rigid bench—the only piece of furniture in the tiny cell. The gravity controls here were separate from the rest of the Academy, and the force was so intense, she could hardly lift her arm to scratch her nose, let alone try to escape. Standing was out of the question, and even sitting proved too arduous for more than a few minutes at a time. She could almost feel her heart struggling to pump blood through her heavy, immobile body.
No one had spoken a word to her since yesterday, when she’d been seized by the guards and dragged from Zafir’s office. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she’d been accused of. Had the Quatra Fleet realized she was a Specter? Or were they merely suspicious of her knowledge of the Specters’ spread spectrum, a fact Orelia had exploited to help her squadron mates destroy the ship headed for the Academy? If it was the former, then there was no doubt that Orelia’s labored breaths would be her last. She’d be tortured and interrogated by the fleet’s top intelligence officers, perhaps even by Zafir himself. Orelia shuddered as she imagined the face that’d once made her heart flutter gazing at her impassively as she writhed in pain.
She closed her eyes and forced her overtaxed lungs to take a few deep breaths as she fought against the panic expanding inside her like toxic gas. She’d spent her entire life training for this mission, and despite the immense danger, she’d succeeded. She’d managed to infiltrate the Quatra Fleet Academy, triangulate its top-secret location, and transmit the coordinates to her commanding officer on Sylvan. Because of Orelia, the Sylvans could finally launch the campaign they’d been planning for years—a crippling strike at the heart of the Quatra Federation’s military operations, the Quatra Fleet Academy. But at the last minute, Orelia had found herself unable to watch the Sylvans kill the first real friends she’d ever had, and she’d made the wrenching decision to sabotage the attack by telling her squadron mates to fry the Sylvan ship’s communication system by sending a directed pulse across multiple frequencies. The plan worked, but success had come at a devastating cost. Every Sylvan on the battlecraft had been killed, and the Quatrans had grown immediately suspicious about Orelia’s knowledge of Specter technology.
The door hissed open and Orelia flinched. Her head felt too heavy to move, forcing her to lie tense and still.
“Hello, Orelia,” a deep, familiar voice said. She managed to turn her head just enough to see Zafir and Admiral Haze standing in the doorway.
“Can you sit up, please?” Zafir pressed his link and the weight pinning Orelia to the bench vanished. She moved her fingers tentatively and flexed her feet a few times before she rolled onto her side and tried to push herself into a seated position. She’d been in the best physical condition of her life when she’d arrived at the Academy—a state she’d maintained through grueling daily training sessions—but the long hours she’d spent in the cell had weakened her muscles enough to make even this small act difficult.
She glanced at Zafir, who’d stepped into the cell and was now watching her with an inscrutable expression. Just a few days ago, it would’ve seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to reach for her hand and help Orelia sit up. She could still feel the lingering traces of the warmth that had spread through her body the last time he’d touched her. But this time, Zafir’s arms remained at his sides as he watched Orelia struggle into a seated position with her back against the wall.
She knew she shouldn’t be surprised by his detachment; although they were about the same age, he was one of the most accomplished intelligence officers in the Quatra Fleet. Like Orelia, he’d been trained to maintain his professionalism in any situation, even if that meant interrogating the girl who’d kissed him in the ocea
n simulator. Unless—a new wave of fear crashed over her—unless he’d known her secret all along and feigned attraction to get close to her. Could he really have faked the look in his eyes that night? The tenderness and intensity with which he’d kissed her back?
“What’s going on? What am I doing here? There has to be some mistake…” It didn’t take much effort to make herself sound confused and terrified instead of guilty and terrified.
“You can skip the theatrics,” Admiral Haze said. “Tell us your name.”
“Orelia.”
“Your real name.”
“That is my real name.” It was true. There’d been no need to devise a fake name. To the best of their knowledge, the Quatrans had never even laid eyes on a so-called Specter, let alone compiled a database of known secret agents.
Admiral Haze glowered at Orelia, then gave a small nod toward Zafir. The nearly imperceptible gesture was enough to send an ominous shiver down Orelia’s spine as she wondered how many times they’d performed this routine: Haze stepping aside to let her counterintelligence expert and master interrogator do what he did best—extract information from unwilling participants.
“How did you know about the spread spectrum?” Zafir asked, his tone surprisingly light, as if they were back in his classroom instead of a high-security prison cell.
“I told you. It was a lucky guess.”
Next to him, Admiral Haze crossed her arms and glowered, but Zafir merely raised an eyebrow. “You have an impressively analytic mind, Orelia. I highly doubt you ever resort to lucky guesses.” He sounded more amused than accusatory, but that only made the situation feel even more chilling. It didn’t matter that her life was on the line; this was just a game for him. It’s all just a game.
“Right,” Orelia said. “We tried a number of options, but none of them worked. The spread spectrum was unlikely, but it was still worth trying.”
“We know you sent that encrypted transmission with the coordinates,” Admiral Haze said, ignoring Zafir’s subtle look of warning as she abandoned whatever plan they’d devised. “The security cameras caught you prowling through restricted areas. You were responsible for the attack. So either you’re spying for the Specters, or else—” She cut herself off with a frown, as if the second option were too disturbing to say aloud.
“Or else you are a Specter,” Zafir continued calmly.
Her years of training kicked in, allowing Orelia to keep her voice and breath steady despite her frantically thudding heart. “A Specter?” she repeated with as much incredulity as she could muster.
“Enough,” Admiral Haze snapped. “We have sufficient evidence to lock you up on Chetire for the rest of your life. If you even make it that far. The Quatra Federation knows we captured a spy who put the entire solar system at risk, and we have the legal authority to extract information from you by any means necessary. If you refuse to tell us the truth, then Lieutenant Prateek will be forced to resort to less pleasant methods.”
Orelia looked at Zafir, desperately searching his face for a sign of sympathy, some indication that he’d do his best to protect her. But his expression remained as inscrutable as ever.
She’d been trained to resist interrogation. It’d been the most frightening, grueling portion of her intense preparations, but she’d learned to stay calm and withstand pain. This one will never crack, her gruff instructor had told General Greet while Orelia sat slumped in a nearby chair, struggling to breathe normally after being deprived of oxygen. She’d find out soon enough if he’d been right.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Admiral,” Zafir said, turning to Orelia. Instead of the sadistic gleam she’d always associated with interrogators, Zafir’s eyes seemed full of something akin to wonder. “You are a Specter.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said quickly. Under no circumstances was she to admit the truth. Better to die a terrible, violent death than endanger her people.
Zafir’s face hardened slightly as he reached into his jacket and produced a metal device Orelia didn’t recognize. “Fine. If you don’t feel like cooperating, there are other ways to discover the truth.”
Orelia took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steel herself for what was about to happen. Part of her had always known she’d be forced to withstand torture, but she’d never imagined that the first person she’d ever cared for would be the one to do it.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” Zafir said with unsettling composure as he stepped up next to the bench. “Are you a Specter?”
“Of course not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zafir leaned toward her with the metal device and she twisted away, but he still managed to brush it against her arm. She felt a mild stinging sensation and braced for the agonizing shock of pain that was sure to follow, but to her confusion and relief, Zafir drew back. He held the tool in the air and squinted as he examined it, brow furrowing as he stared at a small screen Orelia hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t a torture device, she realized as her relief drained away. It was something far more dangerous.
“What does it say?” Admiral Haze asked.
“Her DNA matches the structure of the samples we collected from the Specter ship.” Orelia could tell it was taking considerable effort to keep his voice steady as he turned to her and said, “This is remarkable. You are a Specter. Though you certainly wouldn’t call yourself that, would you?”
Her brain raced to come up with a plausible explanation: The DNA scanner had malfunctioned or been contaminated. Yet the denials fizzled in her mouth as she took in the expression on Zafir’s face. He knew the truth, and for the first time since she’d left her home planet, the fact filled her with more relief than terror.
“No.” Orelia met his eyes. “I’m a Sylvan.” It was the first time she’d spoken the word aloud since arriving in the Quatra System.
“Sylvan,” Zafir repeated, frowning. “How many of you are at the Academy?”
“Just me,” Orelia said quickly.
“How many of you are there in the Quatra System?” The edge had returned to his voice, and all traces of wonder had disappeared from his penetrating gaze.
“Just me,” she repeated. “I’m the only one.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Admiral Haze said with a dismissive sniff. “Why would they send you on your own? It’d be a suicide mission. If you’re actually a Specter, then there must be more of you embedded throughout the Quatra System.”
“I’m telling you the truth. I’m the only one.”
Admiral Haze narrowed her eyes as she took a few steps toward Orelia. “What do the Specters want from us?”
Orelia stared at her, wondering if this was a trick. She glanced at Zafir for clarity, but the counterintelligence officer’s gaze had become searching and urgent. “We don’t want anything from you,” Orelia said. “We just want you to stop killing us.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have attacked us unprovoked,” Admiral Haze said dryly.
They really don’t know, Orelia thought as her confusion turned to disbelief. During her first week at the Academy, she’d discovered that the cadets and instructors were under the false impression that the Sylvans, not the Quatrans, had attacked first. But she hadn’t realized just how far the lie had spread. Not even the highest-ranking officers in the Quatra Fleet seemed to know the truth.
“We didn’t,” Orelia said, careful to keep her voice firm without being accusatory. “Fifteen Tridian years ago, the Quatra Fleet sent a probe to collect soil samples from Sylvan. A few months later, three battlecraft arrived and dropped a bomb on our capital city.”
“That’s impossible,” Admiral Haze snapped. “No Quatran battlecraft has ever made it all the way to your home planet.”
“That’s what you’ve been told. But it’s a lie.”
“This is becoming ridiculous. Lieutenant Prateek, you have ten minutes to extract the truth from this girl, or else I’ll bring in someone who’ll get the job done. There’s an a
ttendant that’s been programmed to interrogate enemies of the state. It has a one hundred percent success rate and even cleans up after itself, no matter how much blood it leaves on the floor.”
“Just wait a moment, Admiral,” Zafir said before turning back to Orelia. “What kind of soil samples? Do you know what the probe was looking for?”
“Fyron,” Orelia said, using the Quatran word for the mineral.
Zafir and Admiral Haze exchanged startled looks. “Are you sure?” Zafir asked.
“Yes. After the first bombing, it was clear that the Quatrans would be willing to kill every Sylvan on the planet to get to the fyron. That’s why we launched a retaliatory attempt.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “And that’s why I was sent to transmit the coordinates of the Academy.”
“That’s the most absurd story I’ve ever heard,” Haze said as she shifted her weight uneasily, glancing at Zafir out of the corner of her eye. “There’s no record of any such mission.”
“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Orelia’s voice grew louder, her exhaustion momentarily pushed aside by desperation.
Haze gave Orelia a long, searching look that made her glad the admiral was Vesper’s mother and not hers. Then she jerked her head to the side to focus her penetrating gaze on Zafir instead. “Can we trust her?”
Zafir’s eyes traveled over Orelia, and for a moment, she felt some of her anxiety drain away as she thought about their kiss, when he had looked at her with an expression she’d never seen directed at her before. Like he’d glimpsed the real her, and it’d been enough to make him want to kiss her back.
Zafir would believe her. He’d understand that she’d done the best she could, given the terrible position she’d been put in.
When he spoke, his voice was so light, it took a moment for her to process the meaning of his words. He sounded almost amused when he said, “She’s the last person I’d ever trust.”
CHAPTER 2
ARRAN
“Are you okay?” Vesper asked, glancing at Arran with concern as they hurried through the crowded corridor toward the launchport, where they’d been ordered to report for patrol duty. Since the Specter attack, the Quatra Fleet had tripled the security around the Academy, requiring so much additional manpower that even first-year cadets were given shifts on patrol ships.