The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I’m sure we’ll find out,” she said, looking back at the unmoving alien form. “What will you do with the bodies?”

  “Store them in stasis, for the moment,” the captain told her. “I’ll have them transferred to Hudson Base when we arrive. At that point ...”

  He shrugged. “We’ll probably launch them into the sun, unless there is some reason to keep them,” he added. “That’s what most of the Galactics do with their bodies.”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “You don’t want to send the bodies home?”

  “It depends,” the captain said. “Would they want the bodies sent back?”

  “I don’t know,” Rebecca said. “We’ll have to check before we do anything.”

  She smiled, tiredly. Dealing with so many different races was a headache. There were alien civilisations that would demand the bodies returned, if they knew they’d been recovered intact. And there were others that would throw their hands up in horror if the suggestion was made. She dictated a short reminder to her day-log to research this particular race, just in case they were one of the former. There was nothing to be gained by giving them unintended offense. For all she knew, they might make powerful allies.

  “We’re going to destroy the hulks,” the captain said. “There’s no point in trying to salvage them. Right now, they’re nothing more than a navigational hazard.”

  Rebecca wasn't surprised. The engineer had practically called the hulks worthless. She doubted there would be much, if any, prize money if the alien ships were somehow transported home. And yet, it still struck her as wasteful. Surely, the hulls could be broken down and recycled into something useful.

  We’d still have to ship them home, she told herself. And that would be a waste of time.

  She met his eyes. “Who do you think they were?”

  “So far, all the evidence insists that they were pirates,” the captain said. “Luckily, they ran into us instead of someone defenceless.”

  Rebecca nodded. Years ago, she’d thought it was odd that a towering galactic civilisation still had criminals and pirates. Now, she knew it was yet another factor ripping the multiracial civilisation apart. The Battle of Earth had unleashed shockwaves that had created a growing power vacuum, clearing the way for pirates, rebels and terrorists. Civil wars were already springing up as the Tokomak retreated from power.

  And if we don’t get the Grand Alliance up and running, she thought morbidly, no one else will be interested in policing space.

  ***

  “Rebels, then,” Elton mused.

  “We finally cracked the datacores, sir,” Lieutenant Jayne Fisher said. She was a cyborg, her left eye replaced with a series of cybernetic implants. “They’re definitely rebels, part of a faction that launched a military coup in the wake of the Battle of Earth. It’s hard to be entirely sure - the translations aren’t perfect - but it seems that they lost and had to scatter into deep space. Right now, they’re raiding shipping in preparation for a return to their homeworld.”

  Elton stroked his chin. “So they became pirates,” he mused. “Do they have a hope of returning home?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Jayne said. “Their files suggest that their commanders were optimistic, but they would have claimed to be optimistic ... wouldn't they?”

  “Probably,” Elton said. He considered the problem for a long moment. “Their homeworld is ... where?”

  “Five hundred light years from our current location,” Jayne said. “According to our files, sir, we have no direct contact with their rulers. They’re a fairly small power that has never impinged on us or vice versa.”

  “And they don’t pose a threat,” Elton noted. “They’re certainly not trying to block our way to Hudson and the Harmonies.”

  “No, sir,” Jayne said. “Everything we found indicates that they were picking on shipping at random. They must have found the convoy a tempting target.”

  Elton smiled, rather coldly. If he were a pirate, he would have hesitated to pick a fight with a starship like Odyssey. Maybe she wasn't a true warship, but she was still armed. Had the pirates mistaken her for a liner? It wasn't entirely impossible, he had to admit, yet it still required a great deal of incompetence. Or had they merely assumed they could blow Odyssey out of space and then snap up the freighters at leisure?

  “They won’t be troubling anyone any longer,” he said.

  He shook his head, slowly. It was tempting, very tempting, to alter course and find out exactly what was going on, but it would take Odyssey at least a week to reach the alien homeworld. But it would delay their arrival at Harmony. Besides, whatever was going on, it wasn't his concern. He’d pass the whole affair over to Captain-Commodore Jenny Longlegs when they reached Hudson Base. If pirates and rebels were threatening the shipping lanes between Sol and Hudson, she’d have to know about it.

  And she wouldn't if we ran into trouble and got blown out of space, he mused. The Solar Navy would never know what had happened to us.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you think there’s anything left in the datacores we can use?”

  “The AIs are cracking the remaining files now, but their last update suggested that it was nothing of great interest,” Jayne said. Her face, what little was visible, reddened. “There’s a considerable number of entertainment files, including something we think is alien porn ...”

  “I don’t think that’s of great interest,” Elton said. He didn't want to know what an insectoid race might consider pornographic. “If there’s nothing else we can use ...”

  He paused. “Is there anything on the Harmonies?”

  “Nothing apart from the standard navigational and background files,” Jayne said. “I think someone must have purged the core when the starship was sold - probably several times, judging by the degradation. They didn't even bother to download the last set of updates from the galactic libraries.”

  Elton shrugged. Whatever else one could say about the Tokomak, they built their starships to last ... and to endure a degree of mistreatment that would have horrified any reasonably competent starship engineer. The ships he’d captured or destroyed had been in space before humanity had mastered steam power, passed down from owner to owner until they’d eventually ended up in rebel hands. There was a story there, he was sure, but it wasn't one he had time to pursue. His mission to the Kingdom of Harmonious Order came first.

  “Finish scanning the cores, then put them in stasis,” he ordered. “We’ll hand them over to Hudson Base when we arrive. They may have a use for them.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Jayne said. She paused. “Do you think we’ll be sending a mission there?”

  “That’s a decision for higher authority,” Elton said, reprovingly. Jayne was young, too young. It wasn't a question she could reasonably ask. “I’m sure they’ll decide how best to handle the situation.”

  Jayne nodded, embarrassed. “Thank you, sir.”

  Elton dismissed her, then turned his attention to the starchart. The alien rebels - whatever the true story actually was - didn't pose an immediate threat. They were quite some distance from Sol, after all. And besides, unless they had gravity-well technology, they were unlikely to be able to intercept other starships moving between Sol and Hudson Base.

  And there aren't that many unescorted starships making the run, he mused. We normally convoy ships this far from Sol.

  His intercom bleeped. “Captain,” Biscoe said. “The freighters report that they are ready to depart.”

  “Very good,” Elton said. “Inform them that we will be departing in ten minutes.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said.

  “And confirm that their navigational computers have been updated with the next planned waypoint,” Elton added. “I don’t want to lose them somewhere in interstellar space.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said.

  He sounded irked, Elton noted. He didn't really blame the younger man. Biscoe had served on Jackie Fisher, under Captain-Commodore Hoshiko Sashimi Stuart.
He’d done well there, Elton knew, but Odyssey was a very different ship. And Elton, in truth, was a very different captain. He was, he knew all too well, far fussier than Hoshiko Stuart.

  And I’m not going to hare off in search of adventure, he told himself, firmly.

  He rose, feeling a flicker of annoyed frustration as he headed for the hatch. He’d hoped to give the merchant crews more time on Odyssey, but there was no way to know if the alien rebels had friends lurking somewhere within the barren system. His sensors should pick up approaching starships in FTL, yet ... there were ways to spoof the system. Did the rebels know they’d lost three ships? They shouldn't, unless they’d had a fourth ship watching the battle from a safe distance ...

  We’ll be gone before they can muster a response, he thought, stepping onto the bridge. They may never know who took out their ships.

  “Captain,” Biscoe said. He rose, offering Elton the command chair. “The convoy is ready to depart.”

  “Very good,” Elton said. He sat, studying the display for a long moment. There was no sign of enemy ships, save for the two derelicts. The system was apparently empty. Even the sensors watching for starships in FTL were blank. “Tactical?”

  Steve Callaway looked up. “Yes, sir?”

  “Target the enemy ships,” Elton ordered. “Prepare to fire.”

  “Aye, sir,” Callaway said. “Phasers only?”

  “Yes,” Elton said. There was no point in wasting missiles on defenceless hulks. “Fire on my command.”

  “Aye, sir,” Callaway said.

  Elton sighed inwardly. Fleet HQ wouldn’t be too happy with him for destroying the hulks, although they’d understand that Odyssey couldn't tow the alien ships to Hudson Base. There was nothing to recover, as far as he knew; there was certainly nothing to gain by leaving the ships intact for later recovery. Besides, it would be months - at best - before human ships could arrive to collect the hulks. Who knew what would happen in that time? The rebels might be so desperately short of ships that they’d try to recover and repair the hulks themselves ...

  They might not have the funding to buy new ships, he mused. And even if they do, who’ll sell them?

  It wasn't a pleasant thought. The last set of intelligence reports he’d read had insisted that all the known galactic powers were building up their navies as quickly as possible. They’d be putting starships that dated back centuries into service, arming them with modern weapons in a desperate bid to deter attack. Or, perhaps, to take advantage of the current power vacuum to start attacking their neighbours. The hulks floating near Odyssey might have value, even though they’d need to be almost completely repaired ...

  He shook his head. “Fire.”

  Odyssey hummed as her phasers lashed out, digging into the enemy hulls. The smaller ship disintegrated rapidly, practically melting under the onslaught; the cruiser held out, as if the dead hulk was struggling for survival. But it was futile. The hulk started to come apart, shattering into a cloud of debris. It was completely beyond recovery.

  “Cease fire,” Elton ordered. There was no point in hammering the last few pieces of wreckage. “Helm?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Take us into FTL,” Elton said.

  He leaned back in his command chair as the main displays went blank. If there was anyone watching the system, they’d know that Odyssey and her charges had vanished. Maybe they wouldn't have realised that the hulks had been destroyed. He doubted it - they’d made no attempt to hide the phaser fire - but it was possible. The rebels might just waste time trying to recover the ruined ships.

  Or they might not have noticed at all, he mused. Who knows when they’ll realise that three of their ships are overdue?

  He shook his head, dismissing the thought. There was no point in feeling sorry for the aliens, even though he could understand why exiled outcasts might want to go home. Humanity had no interest in the alien civil war, as far as he could tell. The aliens certainly hadn't made any attempt to muster support. Instead ... instead, they’d just attacked the convoy. It didn't matter if they were fighting for a just cause or not, not after they’d engaged his ship. They’d picked a fight and lost.

  “We are underway, Captain,” Marie said. “We will reach the next waypoint in two months, five days.”

  “Enough time for dinner, then,” Elton said, wryly. He rose, nodding to his XO. “Mr. Biscoe, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my office.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said. “I have the bridge.”

  Elton stepped into the office and sat down at his desk, hearing the hatch hiss closed behind him. A string of reports from the tactical and engineering departments were already waiting for him. He skimmed the first two, noting that Odyssey had performed well in her first true engagement. The aliens clearly hadn't expected a real fight, but still ...

  That should do wonders for morale, he thought, as he opened the ship’s log. He’d have to write an account of the engagement - and of his thinking - while the whole incident was still fresh in his mind. We encountered a trio of enemy ships and beat them.

  He shook his head, feeling tired. The voyage had barely lasted two months, so far, but the crew were already feeling the strain. Morale would improve, true, yet he knew that wouldn't last. They’d need a week or two of shore leave on Hudson Base - if it could be arranged - before passing through the next set of gravity points to their final destination. And he wasn't sure if he could arrange it.

  I had better arrange it, he thought, morbidly. We’re not going to be in any state to impress anyone if we don’t get a chance to blow off steam before we reach Harmony.

  Chapter Six

  How many problems have been caused by people claiming they had a moral responsibility to help the less fortunate? Colonialism and imperialism were justified by claims that they helped the natives - so, too, were everything from government handouts to social justice bullies demanding that the majority change to suit the minority. I say no - we do not have an obligation to help the less fortunate!

  -Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).

  Rebecca hadn't wanted to spend her time in a VR sim. She’d never really appreciated why people would want to plunge themselves into a virtual reality that was played directly into their heads, rather than a holographic simulation or a physical game. But, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, she’d found herself spending more and more time lying in a VR tube, her mind inserted into a remarkably-detailed fantasy world based on a wizard school series she vaguely recalled reading in her youth. It was relaxing, she had to admit, yet ...

  The scene froze, just as the evil wizard prepared to cast a spell. He’d lost in the original series, if she recalled correctly, but the simulation changed and updated as Rebecca - and the other characters - made different moves. She felt an odd moment of disconnect, as if she wasn't quite sure which world was real, then her eyes opened. She was lying in a tube, staring up at a white ceiling. Her body felt odd. It wasn't quite hers.

  It is, she reminded herself, sharply. The player character was a teenage girl, fifty years younger than Rebecca herself. You’re not her.

  She rubbed her forehead as she sat up. There were people who spent all their lives immersed in simulated worlds, as if they couldn’t get what they wanted in reality. She’d thought of those people as pathetic, but she thought she understood them now. The fantasy world was far more magical than the real world. They didn't have to work to be great, they didn't have to compete against others who might be better ... they could just withdraw into fantasy and enjoy themselves.

  Her throat felt dry. She coughed.

  “Drink this,” Tyler said. He held out a glass. Rebecca took it and sipped gratefully. The high-energy drink tasted odd, but she knew it would replenish what she’d lost. “You asked to be alerted when we reached Hudson Base.”

  Rebecca frowned. They’d reached Hudson Base? “How long was I in the tube?”

  “Three days,” Tyler said.
“I think you lost track of time.”

  “Oh,” Rebecca said.

  She checked her implants. Tyler was right. She’d definitely lost track of time. The VR sim had taken place over a day ... her head spun as she tried to make sense of the differential between the illusion and reality. Had she really been in the tube for three days? She looked down at herself and sighed. Her body felt grimy. The tube had taken care of her physical needs, but she still needed a shower and a change of clothes.

  “We’ll be entering orbit in two hours,” Tyler said, as he helped her to climb out of the tube and stand on wobbly legs. “The captain has requested that you accompany him to the naval base.”

  “Nice of him,” Rebecca said. She kicked herself, mentally. If she’d realised she’d remain immersed in the simulation for so long she would have set a timer. “Did you bring my robes?”