Absolute Zero (The Sector Wars, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  “I got the code,” Marvin said, entering the bridge.

  I glanced over my shoulder at him. Malcolm’s ship had detached, and the pirate flotilla was escorting us to the jump point entry.

  “Can we trust it?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Just think?”

  “It’s the best I’ve got, Captain. But my father wants this alliance to work. It’s in his best interests.”

  “And that’s what we’re basing our trust on?” I muttered.

  “At the very least,” Marvin said, taking the bridge’s spare jump seat, and entering the code into the system, “it won’t screw with us or our mission. He wants to know what those alien drones are up to as much as we do. And he wants to make sure they don’t reach Chi Virginis.”

  “About that,” Zy said from navigation. “How did he know about the aliens?”

  “I…” Marvin started.

  I stared at Zyla. I knew there’d been something I’d missed in that conversation at the docking hatch. Malcolm hadn’t been surprised to hear the drones attacking Zenith worlds were possibly alien in origin.

  “Where the hell does he get his information?” I muttered.

  “I don’t know,” Marvin said.

  It was a puzzle for another day. We were alive. We were together. And we still had time to reach Pi Mensae.

  “Get us on target for the Pi system, Nav,” I said.

  “On it.”

  “Cass, are you there?”

  “I am here and clean as a whistle, boss,” she announced. “If you don’t count the hack, that is.”

  “Anomalies still isolated?”

  “Affirmative. I’ve given them a glass of milk and tucked them up tightly in bed. But Marvin’s code was good. There is no trace of Malcolm in my systems.”

  “You seem to be talking a lot more freely.”

  “Strange thing,” she said cheerfully. “Everything I’m saying is me and not nefarious in nature or origin. I’m getting better at checking my own code.”

  Or finding a way around it.

  I scratched my chin and pushed that dark thought to the side.

  “One problem down, a half dozen or more to deal with.”

  “What’s that?” Zy asked. I’d muttered, and she was being pedantic. The familiarity of it made me grin.

  “Just commenting on the state of things, Nav.”

  “Oh, and here I thought you were complaining again.”

  “Never.”

  “Jump Exit has acknowledged our request and is processing,” Cassi said.

  “And Malcolm’s flotilla?”

  “Following us in.”

  “Do you think they’ll follow us all the way to Pi Mensae?” I asked the bridge.

  “Not a chance,” Marvin muttered. “Dad likes to manipulate things from afar and not get his hands dirty.”

  “His armour looked well worn.”

  “Oh, it is. And well earned, I think. But he hasn’t reached his grand age with so few losses to show for it without having possessed a little caution. For a Mal, he is surprisingly adept at avoiding conflict.”

  “And yet, he’s respected.”

  “Not on Malee, Captain,” Marvin corrected.

  I guessed, amongst pirates, caution in a Mutt wasn’t a negative. Not when he could back it up with missiles.

  I changed the view on my vid-screen to show what was left of the Base. It had been obliterated, saving me the hassle of activating a self-destruct to ensure there was nothing left of it. Or blasting the place with plasma fire from orbit.

  I wouldn’t have enjoyed that. Seeing the deep pit that was all that was left of my former home was bad enough. But slightly better than having created it.

  At least, I could hate Malcolm for it. I had enough self-hate going on over Doc.

  “ETA to jump entry is t-minus sixty seconds,” Cass advised.

  “Well,” I said, changing the view on the vid-screen before I displayed too much emotion, “we’re still on target for reaching Pi Mensae before the drones. We might actually make a difference.”

  “That’d be nice for a change,” Zy said quietly from my side.

  It was easy to forget that these were her worlds. Her people. Numbers were so much less personal when we spoke about potential or actual losses. But who was to say that Zyla didn’t know someone on these planets.

  She’d only just started to open up with me. She still had so many more secrets.

  “We’ll make it,” I said, checking my systems. We had to make it.

  Who were these aliens? What did they ultimately want? Genocide of every species this side of the Belt? Or just the Zeniths? Had the High Council or the ZNA done something none of us knew about?

  They were the only ones with the ability to navigate the Belt. As far as we knew, they hadn’t yet achieved it. But what if one faction had? What if the reason why those drones appeared to be Zenthian in origin was that they were Zenthian tech?

  What if we weren’t dealing with aliens at all? But Zeniths on the other side of the Belt. A new faction? One of the existing factions finally making their move to end this internal conflict once and for all?

  “Entering Jump Point in 3, 2, 1.”

  A white light momentarily blinded me, and then we were streaking past stars in exo-space.

  “Six hours to our first jump point exit,” Cassi announced. “Eat, sleep, be merry; I’ll notify you when we’re getting close.”

  “Did the flotilla follow us?” I asked.

  “Negative. They’re heading back toward Chi Virginis. They’ll be home in time for dinner.”

  And we had multiple jumps ahead of us to reach Pi Mensae.

  “Cassi’s right,” I said. “Let’s take a break. Nothing we can do until we get there.”

  Marvin unbuckled and stood up and then hesitated.

  “You have free rein of the ship, Marvin,” I told him, not looking up from my vid-screen.

  “Captain,” he said, sounding solemn. I glanced at him then. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for getting that code,” I said.

  “It was the least I could do.”

  “Well,” I drawled, leaning back in my seat. “You might not think my offer is so great when we land on a planet, and you’re in charge of the assault.”

  He grinned at me. “I doubt that.” And then he was gone.

  “It was a good thing you did,” Zy said from her station.

  “He manipulated us,” I told her. “Malcolm. Not Marvin. At least, I’m pretty sure Marvin didn’t know a thing.”

  “I don’t think Marvin knew what his father had planned,” she agreed. “But Malcolm certainly wanted this outcome or one like it.”

  I turned my chair to face her.

  “I need to ask you something, and I need you to lay your cards on the table if we’re to have any hope of beating this thing.”

  “Just say it, Captain. You have my loyalty. Completely.”

  It felt entirely too good hearing that.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Can you contact your father from anywhere outside Ceres Alpha?”

  “We’re in exo-space.”

  “We’ll be dropping out of it briefly in six hours.”

  “I…” She shook her head. “Why do you ask?”

  I arched a brow at her avoidance tactics.

  “The drones didn’t set off any planetary defences, Zy. Why was that?”

  “They have superior stealth?”

  I shook my head. “I think it’s because they are similar to or exactly the same as Zenthian tech.”

  “No…”

  “Think about it. Zenthia Actual hasn’t even sent out a fleet to meet them on their projected path. That’s just plain wrong.”

  She sat back in her seat and stared at nothing.

  “Now, I’m not saying it’s because they want these planets to be nuked.”

  “You better not be,” she muttered.

  “And it’s pretty clear,” I wen
t on, “that the civil unrest has distracted them from considering any other possibility than an internal attack. So, my thought is, if the High Council believes the drones are ZNA in origin, they don’t expect the attacks to continue. Because twenty-three million beings, Zy? That’s just plumb crazy. And the ZNA, well shit, they don’t have the organisation skills to combat the drone army, so they believe the High Council has lost its marbles completely. Better to attack them on an internal stage than take the fight to the stars and be wrong about it.”

  She lifted her head and stared at me.

  “Who has the best drone technology in the known systems?” I asked.

  She said nothing.

  “Zenthia does,” I said. “Who is the most likely to have made it through the Belt?”

  She closed those beautiful eyes of hers and let out a sad breath of air.

  “Zenthia is,” I said softly. “Zy, I think we are dealing with an internal Zenthian problem, but it’s being directed from the other side of the Belt. And if a Zenthian ship has navigated the Belt, who knows what they’ve encountered on the other side of it to improve their odds of winning.

  “Now,” I said, leaning forward and softening my words further, “if we could get an assurance, from say a member of the High Council themselves, that it’s not them, then we’re one step closer to identifying who it is.”

  “I can’t believe they’d do this. That either side would do this.”

  “You know them best, Zy. Both sides of the fence.”

  Her eyes met mine. “I can contact him, but it might compromise the ship. They trace all comms and send a virus back if they don’t recognise the origin. Cassi has enough bugs to deal with.”

  “I might have a solution to that,” I said and stood.

  “You never cease to amaze me, Captain.”

  “Let’s hope I never stop doing that,” I said with a wink. “You might grow bored and leave me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Kael,” she promised.

  And it was the sweetest promise I’d ever heard.

  “Is there any way at all that Cass can dissect those anomalies?” Zy asked.

  Cassi answered for herself.

  “I could attempt to do so while in exo-space. It would avoid any fallout reaching New Earth.” Or anywhere else for that matter. “However, if things go wrong, you could be stuck in the jump tunnel. Or blown to bits.”

  “And who would be left to help Pi Mensae, then?” I added.

  “So, no,” Zy said.

  “After we deal with the next drone attack,” I promised. Somehow my promise was lacking in comparison to hers.

  “And what if there’s another drone attack planned after Pi Mensae?” Zy asked, voicing the words I’d been trying to avoid inside my head.

  “These are the only drones we’ve heard about in the known systems. Whoever sent them would have to send more through the Belt. Maybe that’s hard. Maybe they don’t have anymore. There’s no way to tell, Nav. But if we blow them out of the sky above Pi Mensae, then it’ll buy us some time to fight all the background stuff.”

  “The hack in my system is background stuff?” Cassi asked.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m getting a clearer picture, boss, and I’m not sure I like it.”

  “Cassi,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  “Just kidding. I get it.”

  I sighed.

  “You need some rest, Kael,” Zyla said.

  I almost asked her to join me. But in the end, I just nodded my head.

  “You too, Nav.”

  “I’ll get some, but first I want to plan out what I should say to my father.”

  “Don’t plan too hard; there’s a lot to be said for winging it. Sometimes spontaneity allows us to say things we wouldn’t.”

  “Not necessarily a good thing.”

  “Oh, I don’t know; it’s worked well for me in the past.”

  “Yeah, sure, Kael,” both Cassi and Zy said.

  I was laughing when I left the bridge. I checked on Odo in engineering and Marvin in the mess; grabbing a muffin from the basket he’d fabricated. Given free rein of the ship, the Mutt had ended up in the galley.

  There’s a lot to be said for familiarity as well, I thought.

  I entered my berth feeling better than I had for a while. This wasn’t over by a long shot, but I had a good crew, a fine ship, and even if Cassi was compromised, I had Cassi at my back.

  It could have been worse.

  “Wake me when we’re about to exit the jump point,” I told Cass.

  “Sweet dreams,” she replied, which wasn’t an acknowledgement of the command but was all Cassiopeia.

  The lights dimmed. I kicked my boots off and laid down. And then the next thing I knew, Cassi was waking me up again.

  “Jump Point Exit coming up in t-minus two minutes, boss.”

  I rubbed my eyes and sat up.

  “Any problems?”

  “Negative.”

  “Comm Zy and have her meet me in here.”

  “Ooh, a romantic liaison.”

  “Cassi.”

  “On it! Do you want me to send roses, too?”

  “Cassi!”

  “Never mind.”

  I washed my face and ran a hand over my slept-on hair. Then thought brushing my teeth was a good idea but God knows why. I wasn’t calling Zy into my berth for a make-out session.

  Damn Cassi filling my mind with thoughts like that.

  “Exiting Jump Point in 3,2,1,” Cassi said. The world turned white, and she announced, “ETA to Jump Point HD 73534b entry in t-minus sixty minutes.”

  Zy announced her presence with a soft tone on the door.

  “Open,” I said, and my navigator peeked inside my berth.

  There was nothing personal to see in here. I hadn’t transferred anything like that from the Base. It was just a berth with an isolated comm panel hidden in its wardrobe.

  “Come in,” I said.

  “Can we not do this in the mess?” she inquired. “Or that small meeting room?”

  “Are you afraid to enter my lair, Nav?”

  “I am not afraid, Captain.”

  I spread my arms wide, “Then mi casa su casa, Zyla.”

  She blinked at me and stepped into the berth.

  “I have no idea what you just said,” she admitted.

  I waved the unasked questions way and walked to the cupboard. When I opened it, Zyla let out a surprised breath of air.

  “It’s isolated from Cassi and the ship,” I assured her. “So, if your dad decides to hit us with a virus, it won’t hurt either of them.”

  “You won’t be able to use it again,” she pointed out. “And I’m sure it’s onboard for a valid reason.”

  “My people know there’s a threat. Details won’t matter. They’ll be on high alert. It’s time to warn yours, Zy.”

  Her eyes met mine, but she said nothing.

  “I can leave,” I said, part of me hoping she would say no. Another part already had me walking toward the door.

  “Stay,” she said. “Please,” she added.

  I sat down on the bed.

  Her lips quirked slightly as she stepped toward the comm panel.

  “You know how to use it?”

  “Of course, I do,” she said. “I am a Zenith.” And that about said all there was to say about that, I thought and made myself comfortable.

  Zyla familiarised herself with the comm panel. I noticed she checked that it was isolated; I appreciated her concern. But the longer this took, the slower we’d be entering the next Jump Point. It was some distance away from the one we’d just exited, and Zy had already spent twenty minutes of flight time testing the comm array and setup.

  “Clock’s ticking, Nav,” I warned her.

  “There’s still time.” She checked everything again.

  It occurred to me that the virus the Zeniths sent back down unknown comm beams must have been invasive because Zyla was being thorough i
n her checking of the device’s isolation. When she was finally satisfied I’d not botched the transfer of the system from the Base, forty minutes had passed since we’d entered the current system.

  She had twenty to make contact with her father before we’d fall behind schedule and risk not making Pi Mensae in time.

  Zyla reached forward and activated the comm panel. Nothing exploded, so things were looking up. And then she entered a string of numbers and letters from memory that even I had to admit would have been a challenge to remember.

  “This is my own personal key,” she told me, aware I was watching what she was doing. “It should hopefully stop my father from sending the automated virus back down the tight-beam.”

  “If it’s automated, can it be stopped in time?”

  “There’s a delay of ten point three seconds. That’s usually enough for the recipient to verify the sender’s credentials and take action to prevent the virus from being sent out.”

  Ten point three seconds. The Zeniths liked to challenge themselves, then.

  “The key has entered the lock and is turning it.”

  It was strange phrasing, but I got what she meant.

  “Someone has answered.”

  “Your father?”

  “I can’t tell from here, but I hope so.”

  “Not sounding promising, Zy.”

  “I did warn you this was dangerous. And I’m sufficiently assured that the comm panel is isolated; otherwise, I wouldn’t have tried at all.”

  Damn Zeniths and their superior tech. It complicated everything.

  A buzz sounded over the speakers.

  “Who is this?” the speaker said in Zenith. I’d picked up a few words in the Zenthian native tongue and could get by. I’d never look like a Zenith, so there was no point being able to speak it fluently to fool anyone. But there had been plenty of opportunities to listen in on Zenthian conversations and being able to translate them on the fly was all part of a deep-space operative’s job.

  “Father,” Zy said, again in Zenith. “It is Zyla.”

  “Zyla?” He doubted her. “I recognise the key, but my daughter has been declared dead.”

  “By whom?” she demanded.

  “By the ZNA scum, she left to join up with.”

  “They tried their best, but I am Zenthian,” Zyla said with all the haughtiness of a Zenith from a purple bloodline. “They failed in their endeavours, Father. I only wish I could have…” The next words were unusual, but I got the gist.