by Joe Vasicek
Sorry, Aaron, he apologized inwardly. Sorry not to go after them. The apology was pointless without Aaron there to hear it, but he couldn’t help but make it anyway.
Wanderers Bewrayed
Isaac sighed in relief as the Medea exited jumpspace with the yellow-orange star Ithaca clearly in view. It took a few moments for the scanners to bring up the system’s three planets: Laertes, Anticlea, and Penelope. Anticlea was less than a hundred thousand klicks off the Medea’s bow, and by the time he triangulated his local position, docking control was already hailing him.
“Attention, unknown starship. This is Anticlea docking control,” the controller said in Pleiadian creole. “Please identify immediately.”
“Hello, docking control, this is Isaac Deltana of the Medea, requesting permission to dock.”
Silence followed as the controller processed his request. Next to him, Reva pointed at the star out the tinted glass of the forward window.
“What is it name star?” she asked.
“Ithaca,” said Isaac. “We’re in the New Pleiades star cluster.”
“New Pleiades?”
“That’s right. Sound familiar?”
She didn’t seem to understand the question, but from the look of recognition on her face, it was clear that the answer was yes. Her eyes widened with excitement, and she began to point absent-mindedly with her fingers, drawing out some kind of a map to help her put in context where she was. It didn’t seem like she knew the star as Ithaca, but the New Pleiades was definitely a name that she knew.
“Medea, this is docking control. You are cleared for bay 7S9. Stand by for flight plans.”
“Copy, docking control. Awaiting transmission.”
On the scanners, more than two dozen starships danced around the crater-marred world of Anticlea. The planet was so small that the orbital patterns overlapped considerably. A number of defensive satellites ringed the world as well, a sign that the Resistance was still firmly in control of the system. It looked as if they’d fortified it well against any possible incursion from Imperial advance forces.
As Isaac waited for the flight plans, he checked the local planetnet for any news about the war. The message boards were all sparse on information, though. He’d probably have more luck buying someone a drink at the local bar.
It’s possible that they haven’t heard about Colkhia yet, Isaac realized. I might be the first one to come out here since the battle. If so, he would have to spread the news quickly—the others in the Resistance needed to know about it as soon as possible.
For a moment, he considered posting to the message boards before beginning his maneuvers. That would mean revealing his hand immediately, though, which could be dangerous. He doubted that the pirates had infiltrated Ithaca Station, but they could easily be lurking elsewhere in the system. For all he knew, one of those ships on the scanners could secretly be with Gulchina’s Marauders.
Better to hold off for now, then, he told himself. Once we’re safely docked, though, I’ll do all that I can to spread the news. With all of the defensive satellites securing the planet, he doubted the pirates would try anything while he was at port.
The flight plans transmitted cleanly, indicating an ETA of three and a half hours. Isaac nodded. That was acceptable. Three hours until his mission was finally over.
Three hours until they were safe.
* * * * *
The New Pleiades! Reva thought to herself. The sublight engines roared softly through the bulkheads, pressing her back against her seat, but her thoughts were so excited that she hardly noticed. I remember where the New Pleiades are. But which way is home?
Isaac had called the system “Ithaca,” but Reva didn’t know any star by that name. It was possible that his people used a completely different naming system for the stars than she was used to, though obviously there was some overlap. Perhaps the people here worshiped a different pantheon? Then she really was far from home.
None of that mattered, though. What mattered was that she finally had some idea of where she was.
As she waited for the engine burn to finish, she tried to recall what little she remembered from her history classes back home. History had never been her best subject; it hadn’t interested her as much as the others. She did remember learning something about the original settlers of Anuva, who came from a star known as Edenia. A religious colony had gathered there to transform one of the planets into a paradisaical, Earthlike world, but the terraforming project had failed, leading to strife and discord. Her ancestors had been branded heretics and had broken off to start their own colony. She didn’t remember anything else about Edenia, though, or how to recognize it on a starmap. Astrography wasn’t one of her strong subjects, either.
“New Pleiades where is?” she asked, turning to Isaac.
He shrugged and gestured with his hands, unable to come up with an answer. She pointed to the scanners.
“Where is?”
“Wait,” he said. Then, as the engines subsided and the gravity returned to normal, he unstrapped himself from his seat and stood up. “Come.”
She followed him into the cabin, where he motioned for her to sit in the niche with the table. He sat down in front of her, activating the controls and cycling through the menus. She tried to see what he was doing, but even if she could read the writing, it was all upside down. Instead, she waited impatiently for him to finish.
“What is it? New Pleiades where—”
The lights in the cabin dimmed, cutting her short. Her eyes widened and the hair on her arms stood on end as the image on the tabletop shifted to a 3D hologram hovering above the surface. It showed hundreds of points of light, each with a tiny label next to it. Some of the points were red, others white, others yellow and orange.
Stars, she realized. She was looking at the three-dimensional projection of a starmap.
As Isaac cycled through the menus, the stars swirled and turned, making her dizzy. She tried to keep up, but her knowledge of astrography was too limited to recognize anything. At length, though, he brought the projection to a stop, with a large cluster in the center and several dozen stars all around it.
“New Pleiades,” said Isaac, gesturing with his hand.
“New Pleiades?” Reva asked, frowning in disappointment. The vague cluster of dots did little to help her.
Apparently Isaac saw that, because he turned back to the tabletop and began cycling through the menus once again. This time, though, the holographic projection remained still.
“New Pleiades,” he said, pointing to the display on the table.
Reva looked down and gasped. She saw another map, this one a picture of the sky around her home. She recognized the constellations of the New Pleiades at once: the Pentagon, the Snake, and the Rocketship. None of the constellations were drawn out or diagrammed for her, but she recognized them from her memories of lying down on the transparent floor and watching the stars drift by. They were all in exactly the same positions that she remembered.
“Your home,” said Isaac, pointing up at one of the holographic stars hovering near her head. A red arrow marked it for her. She peered at it for a while, then stood up so that her eye was right next to it and looked down at the other holographic stars. To her delight, she could make out the familiar constellations.
“It is! It is!” she squealed, unable to hold her excitement any longer. She clasped her hands together and bounced up and down in her seat. Isaac smiled.
“We are here,” he said, pointing to the outskirts of the holographic cluster. He tapped the keypad, and another arrow flashed to mark the star, this one green instead of red. On the tabletop display, a similar arrow flashed to point out the star as it appeared from Reva’s home.
“Thanatar,” she murmured, recalling the name of the star-god. According to her religious training—which she remembered quite well—Thanatar was the god of the moments of death, birth, and conception. He was a minor god, serving the others that featured more prominently in the
pantheon, but he still played an important role. In all the myths, he featured as a trickster, disguising himself as a friend or family member only to reveal his true identity just as somebody died. He often escorted the dead to the first stage of the afterlife, staying with them until the body grew cold and still.
Reva shivered. This was not a good sign. She wasn’t as religious as some of the people she’d known, but still, their arrival here at Thanatar did not bode well. They would have to do something to appease the god—or at least to stay out of his way.
“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked, noticing her discomfort. She shrugged him off and forced a smile.
“Home,” she said, pointing at Anuva on the holographic projection. That, at least, was a good thing to know. For the first time since waking from cryo, she finally felt some sense of orientation. If nothing else, at least she knew where she was now.
And it was right where she didn’t want to be.
* * * * *
“Where is the station master?”
Isaac waited impatiently as the doorkeeper AI processed his request. It must have been an older model, or else its voice recognition subsystem wasn’t working properly, because he had to repeat the question again before it processed.
“Master Achilles is at Quadrant B, level two, room four,” the AI answered in its canned voice. Definitely an older model.
“Let’s go,” Isaac muttered, dragging Reva along. She hesitated, just as she had at the airlock before stepping onto the station. For some reason, she seemed strangely skittish. Was it her clothes? No, she’d worn them consistently ever since tattooing his shoulder a little less than a week ago. She should be used to them by now. Was it the fact that her henna tattoos were starting to fade? That might be it, though again, he doubted it. It wasn’t until he’d shown her the starmap that she’d started to act unusual.
No matter. They were safe at Ithaca Station now. The most important thing was to spread the news of the defeat at Colkhia, then chart a course for the nearest Resistance base. With the jump beacon network in place, it was only a couple of jumps away.
They hurried down the narrow rimside corridor of the small station, past the docking nodes and the down-facing windows. Strangely, there weren’t any refugees from the Imperial invasion. Isaac knew that this was the far side of the rift from Colkhia, but he had still expected to see at least a few of them. Either the Resistance had managed to find temporary shelters for them elsewhere, or the pirates had been more ruthless than he’d realized. Judging from his meeting with Aslan at Gibeon, he suspected it was the latter.
The scent of incense met his nose as they followed the upward-curving corridor. A small shrine stood on the right, near a large observation window.
“Stop!” said Reva. She pulled her hand free and walked over to the shrine, stopping to bow with her hands peaked against her chest before approaching it. Isaac sighed and rolled his eyes.
What’s she stopping for? he wondered impatiently. Can’t she see that I’m in a hurry? Now was not the time for religious observances.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing for him to come. She ignored him, though, and picked up a stick of incense to light.
For a moment, Isaac considered taking her by the arm and dragging her out, but then he realized that if it was a Christian shrine, he probably would have let her pray. Yes, she was pagan, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t let her pray like anyone else. It was annoying, but if that was what she felt she needed to do, he could wait for her.
“Ready?” he asked as she returned from the small shrine. She nodded.
He took her hand, and they hurried off once again. This time, she did her best to keep pace. Perhaps letting her pray had been a good idea after all.
At length, they arrived at the atrium marking the start of Quadrant B. Isaac palmed the access panel for the nearest elevator, and the doors slid open with a slight hiss. He paused to let Reva in first, then entered.
The corridor at level two was much wider, with market stalls scattered on either side. Most of them were empty, but a few merchants were selling wares. Room four was actually a large cantina, crowded with starfarers and other people who were clearly from out of system. The air smelled thick of spices that were foreign to Isaac’s nose. He hadn’t had much time to get used to Pleiadian cuisine. A few people eyed him and Reva as he entered, but most of the patrons paid them little mind.
“Where is the station master?” Isaac asked the man behind the counter. He was busy polishing glasses with his apron, while a server-bot hovered back with an empty food tray. Isaac waited a few seconds, but it seemed that the man hadn’t heard him.
“I said, where is the station master?”
“Over there,” said a man seated at the bar. “You’ll have to excuse old Frank. He’s a little hard of hearing.”
“Over where?” Isaac asked. There were so many people crowded around the tables that it was difficult to see who the man was pointing to.
“Over there, see? The big guy with the black goatee.”
“Ah. Thanks.”
“Is this your girl?” asked the man seated next to him. He grinned at Reva, who glared unflinchingly back at him.
“Uh, sort of,” said Isaac. “Thanks, but—”
“Those are some might fine tattoos,” he said, reaching out to touch her. She slapped his hand away and sneered, making everyone nearby laugh.
“Ouch!”
“Catty woman.”
“Where did she get that face paint?”
Isaac took Reva by the arm and pulled her away, blood rushing to his cheeks as he did so. It was too late to avoid attracting attention, though. By the time he got to the station master’s table, half the cantina was staring at him.
“Are you Master Achilles?” he asked the man with the black goatee.
The man paused his conversation with his neighbor and turned to face Isaac. He was large and heavyset, with jowls and a balding head. In spite of that, his eyes were sharp and clear.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, you can,” said Isaac. “I’m Isaac Deltana, an agent of the Resistance. I just came here from Colkhia.”
“Colkhia?” Several people around the table looked at him and frowned.
“That’s right. I have some bad news. The attack there has failed—we were unable to push the Imperials back, and the Flotilla was either routed or destroyed.”
Silence gradually fell as the people nearby turned from their conversations to listen. All ears were on Isaac now.
“You say the Flotilla was destroyed?”
“Yes. Destroyed or routed, I don’t know which one for sure. I left before the battle got bad, but we definitely lost. The Imperials still control the system, and for all I know they’re pushing forward to Vulcana.”
The silence shattered to hoots and peals of laughter. Isaac frowned.
“What’s going on? You don’t believe me?”
“You say the Imperials still control Colkhia?” someone behind him asked. “When were you there? Two months ago?”
“No,” said Isaac, his cheeks reddening a second time. “I just came from there via Shiloh. I left less than two standard weeks ago.”
“That explains it,” said the station master. He rose to his feet and laid a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Friend, the Flotilla was victorious. We heard the news just a few days ago. They’ve taken control of Colkhia and pushed the Imperials out of the Outworlds.”
Isaac’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. “W-what do you mean? Are you sure?”
A loud grunt of assent came from around the room, followed by more laughter. The station master smiled and gave Isaac a firm pat.
“As sure as we are about anything in this war. A convoy came through just this dayshift with news from Admiral Tully herself. Colkhia has been liberated.”
“But how is that possible?”
“It wasn’t easy,” said one of the starfarers seated across the table. “Hell, I was there kid. The Flotilla got s
cattered all across the system somehow, and a lot of ships were lost before we managed to regroup. But then the Starfire showed up out of nowhere, with a message that the Aegis platoons were in control of her. Without their flagship, the Imperials bugged out of there faster than the speed of light.”
The Aegis platoons! Isaac’s heart skipped a beat—that was where Aaron had been assigned.
“Yep, that’s right,” said the station master. “So thanks for the warning, but—”
“Do you have a casualty list?” Isaac asked, turning to the starfarer who’d given his account of the battle.
The man frowned. “Not really, no. I don’t even think they made one.”
“What about just the Aegis platoons? Do you know who survived among them?”
“I’m afraid not, kid.”
“The Flotilla, then—the Flotilla,” said Isaac, rapidly becoming frantic. “Do you know where they’re regrouping?”
“I don’t know if I can tell you.”
“I’m with the Resistance—here, I’ll show you.”
Isaac took off his wrist console and brought up the coordinates for New Hope Station. That was the rallying point for the Outworld Flotilla, and the headquarters for the liberation campaign. It orbited a rogue planet near the frontier stars, and wasn’t on any conventional starmap.
“Here,” he said, handing it off to the starfarer. “Is that good enough for you?”
He looked at the display and handed it back. “Yeah, that’s enough all right. The Flotilla is heading back to New Hope Station. You’ll get your answers there.”
“Thanks,” said Isaac, his hands shaking almost uncontrollably. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem, kid. Here, can I buy you a drink?”
But Isaac was already on his way out of the cantina, with Reva close in tow. The Flotilla had won—they’d actually won! And the Aegis platoons had even captured the Imperial flagship. That was some amazing news. The war wasn’t over yet, but the Imperials had been pushed back.