Sons of the Starfarers: Omnibus I-III

by Joe Vasicek

  Fortunately, he made it back to the Medea without losing his way. The station was far too small for that. As the airlock hissed shut behind him, he groaned and slumped onto the cabin’s circular couch.

  “Back already?”

  “You!” he said, sitting up at once. His brother stood in the doorway to the cockpit. “Do you have any idea what I’ve just been through? Why didn’t you come down to help me?”

  Isaac shrugged, infuriating him all the more. “Argo said I should wait for you here. Besides, I only finished ten minutes ago.”

  “Finished with what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Blood rushed to Aaron’s cheeks. If his brother had been within striking range, he would have slapped him. He drew in a sharp breath, but before he could say anything, the airlock doors hissed open behind him.

  “Hello again, Isaac. And Aaron, good to see that you’re back. How was your physical?”

  Aaron turned and saw Argo standing in the back of the cabin near the EVA suit locker. The man’s gracious smile and deeply set eyes disarmed him.

  “Uh, fine, I guess,” he said unsteadily.

  “Aaron was just telling me that he had some problems with the language,” Isaac said. “He—”

  “No, no problems at all,” Aaron lied. “Everything was fine.”

  Argo raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s good to hear you’re getting along. Mind if I sit down?”

  “By all means,” said Isaac. He ushered Argo over to the couch and motioned for Aaron to scoot over. Soon, all three of them were seated around the circular table.

  “The main office is processing your paperwork,” said Argo, looking at Isaac. He clasped his hands over the tabletop. “It will probably take them some time to get it all sorted out, but everything looks clean so it will probably go through. In the meantime, Admiral Tully said it would be fine to bring you two up to speed.”

  “Up to speed with what?” Aaron asked.

  Argo looked him in the eye. “Our scouts report that the Imperial fleet that took Colkhia is a full-fledged expeditionary force, with at least three battlegroups, possibly more. Even with all the ships and volunteers we’ve mustered, we can’t equal their numbers, and our firepower is significantly weaker than anything they can bring to bear.”

  Isaac’s cheeks paled. Aaron tried hard not to squirm.

  “Fortunately,” Argo continued, “we have something to give us an edge.”

  “What kind of edge?” Isaac asked. “If we’re clearly outnumbered and outmatched, what could possibly even the odds?”

  “This,” said Argo. With a grin on his face, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flat, gray box slightly wider than his palm. It had bolts on either end for mounting onto a surface, and a clock that measured time down to a hundredth of a second.

  Isaac frowned. “What is that thing?”

  “It’s a quantum clock, entangled and synchronized with hundreds of others to give exactly the same time no matter where in the universe they go. All of our courier ships carry one, as well as the flagship of every supply convoy.”

  “Why?” Aaron blurted.

  “Because we have a technology they don’t—one that will enable us to hit them harder and faster than they can bring their forces to bear.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Isaac. He took the clock from Argo’s hand. “How does a quantum timekeeping piece give us an edge over fully armed Imperial battleships?”

  “It’s not the clock itself,” said Argo, “but what the clock allows us to do. Let’s back up a bit. You are both star wanderers, yes?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So you’re familiar with how a jump drive works?”

  “Well, yeah,” said Aaron. “You triangulate your position, use a starmap to figure the coordinates of your next jump, plug those into the nav-computer, and it feeds the sidereal distance and direction to the jump drive.”

  “And what are the limitations of our current FTL technology?”

  “Power expenditure,” said Isaac. “For any given distance, the amount of power necessary to jump between the start and end points increases exponentially with the total mass being jumped. That’s why starships in the Outworlds tend to be small—it’s faster, easier, and cheaper to transport cargo in a one-man ship than it is on a massive super-freighter.”

  “That’s very true,” said Argo. “It’s a limitation, certainly. But what is the principal cost?”

  Isaac lifted a hand to his chin and frowned. “It isn’t the power?”

  “Think even more basic than that. What is so integral to your jump drives that you have to adjust for it every time you travel between stars?”

  Silence fell over the three of them. Isaac frowned as if trying to answer a trick question. That was certainly what it seemed like, considering how high the energy cost was for FTL travel. But “cost” could mean a lot of different things, not just energy expenditure. If energy cost wasn’t the answer, then Argo was probably talking about something even more fundamental.

  In a flash, Aaron saw it.

  “The endpoint accuracy,” he blurted. “You can’t plot where you come out of jumpspace with perfect precision. The further you jump, the more inaccurate it becomes. That’s why you never jump into a system from more than a few dozen light-hours away.”

  “And why you never plot a jump further than a small fraction of a light-year,” Isaac added.

  “Exactly,” said Argo. “Jump accuracy—that’s the greatest cost. Now, what if I told you we had a way to mitigate that?”

  Aaron’s eyes widened along with his brother’s. “You do?”

  “Yes. We’ve developed a device called a ‘jump beacon.’ It creates a field that can pull a starship out of jumpspace. Any ship that would have come out somewhere within that field instead comes out in the immediate proximity of the beacon. And with very little energy, the field can be made to cover a wide swath of space, up to a tenth of a light-year.”

  “So wait,” said Aaron, his mind racing. “You’re saying that if we had one of these beacons at a station orbiting a planet, a starship could jump straight into orbit from as far as one or two light-years away?”

  Argo grinned. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And that’s what’s going to give us the edge we need to defeat the Imperials.”

  “So what are the quantum clocks for?” Isaac asked.

  “Because the Imperials have already invaded us, we can’t leave these beacons on all the time. They can pull a Gaian battle cruiser out of jumpspace just as easily as one of our own, and we have no way to filter between the two. For that reason, the jump beacons for each star system only go live for thirty minutes every eight hours. The clock is for measuring that.”

  Aaron glanced over at the clock in his brother’s hands. The face read 4:52, give or take a few seconds, and appeared to be counting down. The thought that in less than five hours, a ten day journey could be shortened down to a single jump made chills run up and down his spine.

  “Eight hours is barely enough time to charge the jump drives for a point-four light-year jump,” said Isaac. “To jump any further than that—”

  “But you don’t need pinpoint accuracy,” Aaron interjected, “you just need something in the range of a quarter light-year or so. With that broad of a range, the Medea could jump as far as two or three light-years.”

  “And most of the stars in the New Pleiades are only two or three light-years apart,” Argo added. “With this new technology, we can move goods and information to the other end of the star cluster in the time it would otherwise take to travel between two stars.”

  “That’s incredible,” said Aaron. His lips turned up in an insuppressible smile.

  “But wait,” said Isaac, “how does that help us fight the Imperials? Sure, we can move supplies around a lot faster, but they still have us outnumbered and outgunned.”

  “But the Imperials have to spread out their forces in order to conduct their campaign. Their
battleships are so massive that almost half of the ship is devoted solely to energy production, and they can jump only a fraction of the distance of a light freighter like yours. Even within a given star system, they have to spread their forces to maintain order across all the local settlements.”

  “I see. We jump in fast and hit ‘em with all we’ve got,” said Aaron, striking the palm of his hand for good measure. “By the time they realize what happened, we’re already gone.”

  “More than that,” said Argo. “Before the news of the battle even spreads beyond the system, we can make our next attack. All we need is a spy disguised as an Outworld star wanderer to jump into the system and activate a jump beacon at a predetermined time. If everything is timed just right, the entire flotilla jumps into a concentrated area without any warning and crushes the Gaians before they can call for reinforcements.”

  “And let me guess,” said Isaac. “You want me to be one of those spies?”

  Argo held out his hands. “You requested a support position that would keep you close to the Flotilla. This is the best position you’re going to get. At the same time, we’re in need—desperate need—of experienced starfarers who are willing to fill the role.”

  Isaac gave Aaron a look that was almost pleading. The question was unspoken, but Aaron knew that he wanted him to change his mind and stay with the Medea. It certainly seemed safer than going into combat. But how would Aaron ever prove himself if he stayed under his brother’s shadow? No—he’d made his decision, and he was going to stick with it.

  “Is there a position in the Flotilla for me?”

  “Yes, definitely,” said Argo. “I don’t know where it is yet, but once the main office has processed your forms, I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

  “In that case, I’ll start moving my stuff onto the station. You guys have an opening in the barracks, right?”

  Isaac opened his mouth as if to protest, but held back. In his eyes, Aaron could read a desperate internal struggle. He chose to ignore it.

  “Of course,” said Argo. He checked his wrist console and rose to his feet. “Well, unless you have any questions, I’d better get going. Things are rather hectic with the Flotilla getting ready to embark. Aaron, I’ll message you once I’ve found a spot for you in the barracks. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour or two.”

  He shook both their hands and left the cabin. Isaac, still stunned, said nothing as Argo walked out the door.

  “So,” Aaron said, drawing in a long breath. “I guess I’d better start packing then.”

  “Are you sure?” Isaac asked. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  “Come on, man. Are you going to make this harder than it needs to be? We both knew this day would come.”

  Isaac nodded, his eyes glistening. “I guess so. Well, take care of yourself.”

  “Of course.”

  “I mean it, Aaron. I’ll never forgive myself if you get killed.”

  Just let me out already, Aaron thought. Even though he made a show of rolling his eyes, he could feel himself starting to lose it as well. Why did goodbyes have to be so hard?

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like we’ll be that far from each other.”

  “Perhaps.”

  As Aaron scooted out from behind the table and stood up, Isaac took a long breath and did the same. There wasn’t much more to say, but before Aaron could get started with the packing, his brother gave him an unexpected hug.

  “It’s not a premonition,” Isaac said softly. If that was meant for anyone besides himself, it was impossible to tell.

  New Old Friends

  Aaron set his duffel bag down on the metal floor grating and palmed open the door to the temporary barracks. A tall, narrow hallway extended straight in front of him, with ladders embedded in the walls. Sleepcubes were stacked six high and more than a dozen deep on either side, their doors perfectly uniform like so many oversized wall compartments. Without anyone else in sight, the place felt like a mausoleum.

  I suppose this is where I’ll be staying for now, Aaron thought, swallowing. With the harsh white lights and the loud hum of the ad-hoc ventilation system, it didn’t feel welcoming at all.

  The only unclaimed sleepcubes were high up on the top row, nearly five meters from the floor. Aaron almost fell off the ladder twice trying to drag his duffel bag up to the top. When he got there, he had to drop it in order to free up his hands so he could open the access panel. It fell against the floor grating with a loud, rattling clang. He hoped that no one had heard.

  The sleepcube was a little less than one meter high and one meter wide. It was just long enough for him to lie down comfortably, with a soft foamy cushion that conformed to the shape of his body. It seemed a bit oily—he didn’t like the feel of it. A storage compartment sat at the head of the cube, just large enough for his duffel bag. On the ceiling, a display screen showed the time, and two parallel glowlamps ran along the corners.

  Once he was settled in, with sheets spread out across the cushion and the door to the compartment closed, Aaron lay back and took a deep breath. The walls muffled the outside sounds, making the tiny private space feel like a miniature sanctuary. The initial excitement of joining the Resistance was already starting to wear off, leaving him with a host of conflicting emotions. At least here, on this strange and foreign space station, he had a small space to himself.

  As tempting as it was to stay, though, he knew it would get him nowhere. Better to try making some friends, even though he didn’t know anyone besides Argo and didn’t speak the language.

  Reaching into his duffel bag, he pulled out an earpiece jewel and synced it with his wrist console. The translator program from the Medea’s computer would hopefully be enough to get by, at least until he could learn Gaian well enough. He also pulled out the kukri knife he’d picked up at Hephesteron Station and fitted it onto his belt. Even though he knew he wouldn’t need it, the weapon gave him a small boost to his confidence.

  With that done, he opened the door at his feet and scooted out. The hum of the ventilators up by the ceiling filled his ears, but he ignored that as he climbed back down the ladder. As sterile and unwelcoming as this new place was, he wasn’t about to let that get to him—especially not on his first day.

  * * * * *

  The cadets’ lounge was a repurposed cargo container, with caged light fixtures and wallscreens in place of portholes. It was just as well, though, since the sunless rogue planet didn’t offer much of a view. Wires ran along the corners where the wall met the floor, powering a computer terminal and a pair of holotables. A crowd had gathered around one, watching a game of chadrak with interest. Few of the recruits noticed Aaron as he entered, but those who did eyed him curiously.

  “Greetings,” he said in Gaian. His wrist console picked up the word and translated it for him in his ear.

  The cadets nodded and returned to whatever they’d been doing before he entered. Aaron stood awkwardly by the door, not sure what to do. He fought back the urge to run away from this place where he didn’t know anyone and instead stepped forward.

  A cute blonde in gray fatigues chatted on a couch with two young men who looked to be his age. He walked over to them in the hope of making some new friends.

  “And so on,” the mechanical voice from the ear jewel translated as the girl spoke excitedly, “he telling me I have experienced a higher than else in my … and I am, seriously? Because I think he just is trying to—”

  The translation stopped. Aaron realized abruptly that all three of the cadets were looking at him. His heart skipped, and he grinned rather sheepishly.

  “Greetings,” he said again, offering his hand. “I am name Aaron Deltana.”

  The boy nearest to him took it and shook rather curtly. “Hercule,” he said. “You are from where?”

  “Oriana,” Aaron answered. He didn’t know the word for star cluster.

  “Oriana which?” the girl asked. “My father was the birth of stars in the c
luster—Theta Oriana, I think. Did anyone in your family do you know?”

  What the hell is she asking? Aaron wondered as sweat began to form in the back of his neck. Even if he could understand her, though, he didn’t know enough Gaian to answer.

  “Please excuse,” he said, grinning stupidly. He inwardly kicked himself for being such an idiot.

  The other boy gave him a funny look. “Are you lost?”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Here is everything right?” a newcomer asked—the brunette that had jogged past Aaron in the corridor. She put a hand on the second boy’s shoulder and looked up at him.

  “I am fine, thank you,” Aaron said, trying in vain to keep the blood running from his cheeks. “Please, excuse.”

  He turned to leave before he made a bigger fool of himself. Before he could get to the door, though, a hand on his arm stopped him. It was the girl.

  “Are you from Delta Oriana?” she asked. The ear jewel didn’t translate.

  “I am name Aaron Deltana,” Aaron answered in Gaian. He offered her his hand. “What is your name?”

  “I’m speaking to you in Deltan,” she said under her breath.

  “Excuse?”

  “I said, I’m speaking to you in Deltan.”

  The realization that he could understand her without the translator hit him like a meteor. Behind her, the people on the couch shrugged and returned to their conversation. No one else seemed to notice his shock.