Star Raider

by Vaughn Heppner

  Ursa retraced her steps. She showered, scrubbing herself. Even though her stomach growled, she did not eat. That would interrupt the hibernation process. She put on the crinkling garment and returned to the hibernation room.

  “Lion Maximums Remus,” she said into a microphone.

  The computer went into action.

  She settled back into the cubicle, put the mask over her face and breathed the long-sleep gases. The glass slid into place and her eyelids fluttered.

  The computer would erase its steps. No one would know she’d been up. This might cost her on Planet Zero, as she wouldn’t have slept as soundly as the others had. But she needed an ace card against the Shand. He would want something at odds with them. When he tried to enforce his will, Ursa knew she would have to strike out of the blue in order to beat a creature few had bested.

  ***

  The small spacecraft continued its journey through hyperspace. It carried living beings through a strange and lifeless realm. As it traveled, a special clock inside a hibernation unit slowly went tick-tock, tick-tock. At a precisely numbered tock, revival gases hissed inside the first cubicle.

  The Dark Star still had several subjective days left in hyperspace before it dropped back into normal space. The others would not revive for one hundred and fifty hours. Lord Acton stirred in his chamber, however. After a time, the glass plate slid back. He rose in a mechanical fashion, feeling stiff.

  He had lived for so long now, so very long, and there were still so many projects yet to complete. After climbing out of the hibernation cubicle, he stood there like a weak vampire, simply enduring until his heart began to beat faster and with greater rhythm.

  Moving stiffly, Acton headed for the engine room. As he took one step after another, the process became easier. He did not want to stay up long. This shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes’ swift work. The key to doing it now was that it would be unrecorded.

  These humans were a cagey group. The apeman was most unusual. Acton debated if Greco should have a hibernation accident. In the end, he decided against it. The centurion wouldn’t listen to reason or allow any faint to touch his skin. He’d been surprised the first time at the creature’s strength of will. The centurion was uncommonly stubborn. Acton had never met anyone more so. No. He would let the apeman live. Otherwise, he would have to kill the centurion too, and he needed Tanner on the horrible planet.

  In the engine room, Acton went to a small station. He had explained this as a cooling unit for the venter. It was nothing of the sort. This could act as an emergency control unit for the entire ship.

  Acton crouched over the unit, programming fast. When the time came, he could override any automated command. It would only work once, he suspected, but once was all he needed.

  Afterward, the Shand headed back to the hibernation room. He hadn’t even taken off his crinkly garment.

  Lying down, Lord Acton waited. Soon, the plate slid into place and the gases hissed. He fell back into hibernated slumber, knowing that he would wake up soon to the most dangerous enterprise of his exceedingly long life.

  ***

  Once again, the small spacecraft continued through hyperspace with all its passengers asleep in a mechanical womb. The computer processed. The hibernation unit kept the frail creatures of flesh and blood alive and the support systems functioned without fail.

  As the end of the journey neared, a hidden program in the computer slithered into prominence. Greco had written it for Centurion Tanner.

  “Acton might know you woke up early,” the apeman had warned.

  “What do I care about that?” Tanner had replied. “If he plots devilry, this might trump him. I hate the idea of lying supine, killed in my sleep.”

  “It would be better killed face to face?” Greco had asked.

  “Yes! I want all my wounds in the front, none in my back.”

  The apeman had scratched his head. “What difference does that make?”

  “All,” Tanner had said, “all the difference in the universe.”

  The program ran, switching relays in a hibernation unit. The centurion’s cubicle began waking its occupant.

  Like the others before him, the young legionnaire stirred, soon opening his eyes. In slow motion, he removed the mask, slid back the glass and climbed like an old man from the sleeping tube.

  Two phrases kept recurring: I’m alive. I made it. I’m alive. I made it. Finally, he had a new one: Acton didn’t kill me. Well, well, well, how about that?

  Tanner managed a slow grin. He felt ancient, as if his blood barely stirred. He tore off the crinkly garment, staggering nude from the hibernation chamber to his quarters.

  It took him longer to feel normal than it had taken the other two. He showered, ate sparsely and put on his uniform.

  He felt better afterward, slapping his chest and taking a deep breath. Was it time to get the Innoo Flaam? He didn’t think so. Let the blaster stay where it was, brooding as it must have brooded for centuries, maybe even for millennia.

  Tanner stopped. Was that right? Did the blaster brood? You know what? Maybe it did. Could it be alive? No. It was an object. It was stupid to believe it lived.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Tanner moved to the hatch to get into the control room. As he did, he paused. The gun couldn’t be alive. It wasn’t a cyborg. But if it was haunted, how had it become haunted? Acton had said it was through the force field. Might the blaster have trapped the essence of ancient energy creatures?

  Tanner snapped his fingers. There was the answer. The energy creature or creatures would do the brooding, a living entity. Could he communicate with it or them?

  The centurion laughed hoarsely. He already had been communicating with them or they with him. He felt…what—emanations from an ancient energy creature?

  That sounded about right.

  Could he tap into fuller communications with the beings?

  Tanner shook his head. He highly doubted that. The energy beings likely would have gone mad by this time. Besides, this was all conjecture. He had more important things to worry about.

  The centurion hurried. He kept looking over his shoulder as he went. He didn’t like the empty raider. He especially didn’t like it with a haunted Innoo Flaam with him.

  “Get a hold of yourself, man. Acton has freaked you out. You’re a legionnaire of the AirSpace Service. Remember that.”

  Shortly thereafter, Tanner slid into his seat. He looked at the bleak hyperspace world with its dark streaks. It felt desolate. He wanted out of this realm, the sooner the better.

  In order to take his mind off hyperspace and off ancient energy beings stuck on a spaceship with him, Tanner made diagnostic checks of the ship’s systems. Everything was looking good. He became so absorbed with the checking that he forgot to keep track of the time.

  Suddenly, a klaxon began to wail. Tanner’s head snapped up. He checked the chrono. “Right,” he said, jumping up, hurrying to the hibernation chamber.

  -38-

  Tanner stepped into the hibernation chamber as Acton’s upper glass slid open. As the Shand sat up, the centurion leaned against the hatch, pretending to pant.

  With the sound of his crinkly garment, Acton sat up.

  Tanner watched him out of the corner of his eye.

  The lean alien used his arms to lift himself from the tube. Acton seemed stronger coming out of hibernation than Tanner remembered being.

  The Shand began to cough as he climbed out all the way.

  “You’re up,” Acton said in a dry whisper.

  “Yeah,” Tanner whispered.

  “And you are pretending to have hibernation sickness,” Acton said. “Why is that? Ah. I understand. You’re practicing deceit.”

  “How do you figure?” Tanner asked.

  “You rigged your unit to let you out before everyone else. That shows a lack of trust.”

  Tanner felt guilty, and he nodded. “I guess I underestimated you. I thought you would try to do something t
o me.”

  “You were wrong.”

  “It appears so,” Tanner said.

  “And…?”

  Tanner scowled. Why did everyone want him to apologize? He was getting sick of it. “Don’t you have things to do?”

  “Yes,” Acton said. “There is much to do before we drop out of hyperspace. We cannot afford any mistakes, any missteps. I suggest everyone undergo a physical to make sure nothing is wrong with him or her.”

  “What do you think is going to be our worst danger?”

  “That is an excellent question,” Acton said. “I do not know, probably when we go underground on Planet Zero.”

  Tanner instantly recalled his dream. “What did you say?”

  “The underground search will probably be the most dangerous.”

  “Great,” Tanner muttered. “I had to ask.”

  A new klaxon began to blare. The two looked up.

  “We’d better find out what’s wrong,” Acton said. “It could be critical.”

  ***

  Tanner and Acton sat in the control chamber, the Shand still wearing his crinkly garment.

  “I’ve discovered the problem,” Acton said. “We are about to drop out of hyperspace.”

  “It’s too soon,” Tanner said.

  “Yes. I haven’t yet found the reason for the early drop. This is strange. I would— Emergency!” Acton shouted. “Hang on, Captain.”

  Tanner watched in amazement as Acton began emergency procedures to bring them back into normal space. He studied the board and finally saw it. The Dark Star headed straight toward a gravity-well anomaly. If they got too close to the anomaly, the ship would implode.

  “We’re crossing into normal space…” Acton said. “Now.”

  Tanner felt a bump, and the universe seemed to flare into existence. He closed his eyes fast. Everyone knew that watching during the switch from hyperspace to normal could drive a man mad.

  Yet another klaxon began to shriek. Tanner heard Acton tap the controls, shutting down the noise.

  “It’s safe to look,” the Shand said.

  With the scanner, Tanner began searching for the anomaly that had almost killed them. He found it right away.

  A huge rogue gas giant was dead ahead a billion kilometers or so. Far beyond the planet was a single star. Was that Planet Zero’s star?

  “What you’re seeing,” Acton said, “is a wild planet.”

  “I never heard of such a thing.”

  “It simply means the gas giant does not belong to a star system. This planet is free, wild, unaffected by any star’s gravitational pull.”

  “It has to feel some pull from that star out there,” Tanner said.

  “I am running a scan and an analysis of the gas giant’s path. Give me a few minutes.”

  “Sure,” Tanner said. He studied other ship’s sensors, searching for anything that might be trying to lock onto them and fire weapons. Once he satisfied himself that the Dark Star was safe from immediate danger, he began to study the distant star.

  “It’s a Spectral type F star,” the centurion said. “It has a yellow-white hue and a surface temperature of seven thousand K. Does that match with Planet Zero’s star?”

  “Yes, yes,” Acton said. “Please, allow me to work in peace.”

  Tanner kept studying the star system. It was still the length of several normal star systems away. That meant they would be traveling for a while to reach it. He doubted they would burn at high Gs. They wanted to go in stealthily, not in a blaze of velocity that any sensor could spot.

  He found three gas giants in the outer system and one terrestrial planet in the inner system. The terrestrial planet was in a Remus-like orbit. Given the F-type star, it would probably be hotter than Remus but not as jungle-like as Avernus. That was something at least.

  “Oh, this is interesting,” Acton said low under his breath.

  Tanner waited. When the Shand didn’t say anything more, the centurion leaned over to look at Acton’s board.

  “What’s that?” Tanner said. He saw huge objects orbiting the wild gas giant.

  “Those are gigantic laser platforms,” Acton replied. “On one of them, ancient sensors are sweeping outward in our direction, searching. The others appear to be inactive.”

  “Shouldn’t the platform have pinpointed us, then? We just came out of hyperdrive. That usually shows up as a splash.”

  “Our raider no longer does anything in the usual manner. It has become a highly unusual vessel.”

  Tanner ingested the idea.

  “I’m curious,” Acton said. His long fingers played upon the controls. For a time, he stared at new readings.

  “Well?” Tanner said.

  “The laser platforms are of Old Federation design,” Acton said. “I have seen models of those before. That would imply the laser platforms are several thousand years old.”

  “Maye that’s why the thing doesn’t sense us,” Tanner said. “The sensors don’t work like they used to.”

  “That is a possibility,” Acton said quietly. “But that also presents a problem. How did the platforms get into orbit around a wild planet?”

  “Uh…the Old Federation guys put them in orbit. That’s the only thing that makes sense, right?”

  Acton shook his head. “You do not understand. The wild gas giant wasn’t there last time I was out here.”

  “That’s it,” Tanner said, “time out. You’ve been here before?”

  “Why would that be surprising to you?”

  “Ursa said she’s been here before as well. If the two of you have already been here, why did you need me to take you back?”

  “I was here…” Acton let his words fade.

  “Yeah? You were…what?”

  “Quite some time ago,” Acton said, dryly.

  “Twenty years, thirty years, what?” Tanner asked.

  Acton resumed tapping the board.

  “Longer than that?” Tanner asked.

  The Shand still didn’t respond.

  “Are you going to tell me the last time you were out here was longer than fifty years ago?”

  Acton seemed to become absorbed in his work.

  “Just how old are you, Lord?”

  Acton’s head whipped about so he stared at Tanner. “Don’t ever ask me that again.”

  “What? Why not? Oh, I get it. Are you saying that asking you your age is like Ursa and me rutting on the floor?”

  “It is.”

  “Okay. I supposed what you’re also saying is that you and Ursa weren’t together here a few months ago, or whenever it was that she was.”

  “Correct,” Acton said. He pulled out his slate and began to tap on it. He stood abruptly. “I must be alone in order to consider this.”

  “Consider the wild planet or the laser platforms?” asked Tanner.

  “I will be in my quarters, Captain. Unless it is an emergency, do not interrupt me.” The Shand stalked out of the chamber, absorbed with his slate.

  Tanner watched him go, wondering. Then, he went back to studying the gas giant, the orbital laser platforms and the star system shining in the distance. That was their destination, and once they landed on the freaking planet, they would have to go underground just like in his dream.

  -39-

  The others revived at their leisure.

  In time, Greco joined Tanner on the raider’s tiny bridge. They spoke for a time concerning the wild gas giant. It had three laser platforms in crisscrossing orbits. Every so often, sensor signals blipped outward from the working one.

  “As far as I can tell,” Greco said, “we’re invisible to it.”

  “The old Dark Star wouldn’t have been invisible,” Tanner said.

  The raider sailed serenely through the dark. Every so often, Tanner tapped squirts of gravity waves, minutely increasing the ship’s velocity.

  Two days later, Greco made a discovery. “You’re not going to believe this. I’m not sure I believe it myself. I’ve found a gigantic battleship i
n the gas giant’s upper atmosphere.”

  “An active battleship?” Tanner asked.

  “Its fusion engine is idling,” Greco replied, “so I’d call that active. Various signs show extreme age, well over one thousand years.”

  “Why do you think it’s down there?”

  “The reason appears obvious to me,” Greco said. “Given the right situation, I believe the battleship will fully power up and charge any intruder.”

  “Are there any more battleships down there?”

  “I’ve only detected the one,” Greco said.

  “One could be trouble,” Tanner said, “but at least it isn’t a flotilla.”

  The hours passed as the Dark Star invisibly crawled past the wild gas giant and its deadly arsenal. Tanner sipped coffee in the galley with Ursa. They talked about the wandering planet, mulling over the Shand’s theory about its not being here before.

  “He must be right,” Ursa said. “I don’t remember a wild gas giant the last time I was here either. Yet, that seems impossible. Gas giants don’t travel like spaceships. No one could have cloaked it.”

  “Maybe it was on the other side of the star as your raider,” Tanner said.

  Ursa shook her head. “We still should have detected it, especially with the platform making sensor sweeps.”

  They didn’t come up with any workable theories as to how the gas giant had gotten here. It was an unbelievable mystery.

  Every hour, Tanner slightly increased the Dark Star’s velocity. By now, they were traveling considerably faster than before, but it was still slow in relative terms.

  All the while, Tanner or Greco watched for the Coalition fleet dropping out of hyperspace.

  “If the Coalition followed our path,” Greco said later, “maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll miss spotting the gravity-well danger. Boom, boom,” the apeman said while clapping his hands. “They’re gone, imploded one by one.”

  “That would be nice,” Tanner agreed.

  As the wandering gas giant fell behind them and the star drew closer, Tanner spent more time searching the approaching system.

  It was different with no other nearby stars. After the F-type sun, there was empty space, a vast gulf before the next galaxy. The Local Galactic Group contained 54 different galaxies: most of those were dwarf galaxies. A dwarf galaxy was small, often with several billion stars. The Milky Way contained as many as 400 billion stars. Most dwarf galaxies orbited the larger ones like the Milky Way or Andromeda Galaxy. The distance between normal galaxies was incredible, far beyond what anyone could hope to travel in a lifetime even in hyperspace.