by F Stephan
“Thank you, Navigation. Are we ready to engage?”
“Captain, Engineering is good. Singularity is stable and within limits.”
“Captain, Navigation is good. We are aligned to the trade route and all vectors are positive.”
“Perfect.” The captain cleared his throat. “Students, you can monitor jump with nanites. No other uses of nanites allowed. No interference with my consoles. Is that clear?”
Brian caught his own reflection over the metal of the console closest to him. His dark-green student jumpsuit contrasted sharply with his fair skin and deep-green eyes. Am I ready? Can I activate them again? Like the other students and the captain, he was very fit. He needed to be to withstand the energy needed to use the nanites. He had learned the hard way to be wary of their voracity, and he hoped he had recovered enough to withstand them.
Fear in his guts, he closed his eyes and activated the nanites. Suddenly, his thoughts accelerated a thousand times, and he went through the detailed checks requested by Master Heikert beforehand.
Okay. Overlay the 3-D representation of the bridge with the gravitational fields around the jump points. A thousand hyperspace stress vectors, a hundred objects, and now a million energy readings. Every vector converges to the jump point ahead of us.
He basked in delight at the sheer beauty of this glorious world he lived in, whole body and mind.
“Hyperspace jump minus one minute.” The loudspeaker began the final countdown in a voice infinitely slow.
His bracelet activated, linking him to the group discussion led by Master Heikert.
“Since I am with you until Volpre, I intend to use this time as best as I can.” Volpre was the midway point to Alkath. “Feel now the singularity behind us. Feel the distortion building. See how it connects us to the jump point ahead. See the weak point in space where the singularity forces the rift to open. See the weak point at the other end of the right. Feel it.”
It’s so slow, so frustrating to speak. Everything moves so fast with the nanites. I can even see beyond the exit point.
“Brian, stop grumbling and focus on the jump itself. Just about there.”
The sharp words, unforgiving, brought a halt to Brian’s thoughts and he concentrated on the jump. He could feel the stern man’s penetrating yellow eyes on him.
All items on the list checked and okay.
Brian looked at the others. For most of them, this analysis was entirely new, and he could see them frowning at the difficult tasks. During the past year, he had had to pilot through many jumps under Captain Derantor’s watchful eyes and this had become routine for him. Sonter, his former enemy and mate on the voyage, looked at him for a brief moment with a smile. He had been through the same experience, albeit for reason of his own.
“Now, see how the hyperspace vectors surround the ship? Can you tell along which of the gravitational lines we are moving?”
“The lowest line of energy, sir.” The answer came from Emily. Even when Brian had practiced more than her, she managed to still be first.
“And the hyperspace vectors?” Focus, focus, Heikert won’t stop. Damn, he’s checking on me again.
“All pointing toward our path, sir.” She brushed a curl aside as if to look directly at those vectors. Why can’t I stop looking at her?
“Can a ship move in hyperspace up the gradient of energy?”
“No,” is the collective answer. They’re wrong. I have jumped up the gradient. I don’t know how, and I nearly died in the process. But, I did it. “Don’t comment.” Single one-way order from Heikert. Across the room, he nods at me.
“Jump, now!” Space opened as the ship crossed into hyperspace. Stars disappeared and reappeared instantly in a different configuration. In an instant, they had crossed fifteen light years.
“Navigation, confirm direction and next course correction.”
He’s less anxious now even though we’re still watching him over his shoulder. Could something happen in hyperspace? Beads of sweat were on Brian’s forehead. Nanites are beginning to eat at me. Stop.
Brian released the nanites and gasped, searching for air. He was drenched in sweat and began to shiver, feeling the cold air around him. For the following several minutes, the crew members reported on all parts of the ship until the navigator snapped, “Captain, the new course is downloaded to your console. First adjustment in ten minutes.”
Brian hated how time slowed when he released the nanites. But, he had learned the hard way the price of staying under too long. He still remembered losing control, losing his own body and shape to the wild nanites. Better to stop at the first warning. One by one, other students were blinking back from the supernatural awareness of the nanites.
He looked at their course and wondered, not for the first time. They always followed the same route. So predictable. He saw how minor differences in the jump conditions would cause the ship to exit differently. For short-range jumps within a star system, inaccuracy didn’t have much of an effect. For longer-range ones, it could be catastrophic, differences building over time and eating at the ship’s resources.
“Very well, get ready for course correction. Master Heikert, I have an asteroid field close by in half an hour. Could you clear my bridge?”
“Naturally, sir.” They quickly filed out to the adjoining meeting room. Like all living quarters, it was paneled with precious woods and filled with soft pillows in extravagant colors. A buffet had been set up on one side of the room, filled with pastries and energy bars. They all grabbed some before settling on the soft cushions. Using nanites took a lot of energy and they needed to compensate for that loss. Brian had taken three energy bars and gobbled the first one to relieve his body of tension. Warmth came back slowly. We know so little of the buggers. Can’t trust them.
Crew members streamed in one by one to join them. Laughter began to resound. A song started, an old rhythm from Madoul. Games appeared on the side table. They were all alone in a small shell in the void, and they enjoyed the relaxed moments they could spend together.
Brian
Out of Adheek, 2140 AD, June
A week later, they were all gathered again in the main lounge, sprawled out on the sofas. Master Heikert welcomed them with a sharp tone. “This is your daily assignment.” A list arrived in his bracelet and Brian felt the trip would be awfully long until they reached Volpre and the teacher left them.
From now on, each of them would take a turn at helping the captain and the pilot. Brian liked the idea of getting back to practical work instead of dull theory. It was comforting. But now, he was getting scared of losing the mentor he had had for the last three years. “You won’t be coming all the way with us?”
“No, I have a few tasks for Master Reinkel in Volpre, and then I head back to Adheek. Any other questions before we start?” Master Reinkel led the pilot academy on Adheek, one of three in the Federation.
“Yes, sir.” Brian smiled inwardly. Emily always has questions. Why do you bother asking, sir? “Can you give us more details on the Core Federation Academy? What should we expect?”
“Yes, I can.” He paused, looking at them one after the other. “This may even be the right time for this conversation. Tell me, why are you here? All of you.”
“I don’t see . . .”
“Humor me, Emily. Please.”
“All our planets need the support of the Federation. To gain it, they must provide starpilots.” Emily had taken on her teacher voice, confident and unbearable.
“Was that what you learned on Adheek?”
“No. What we learned so far allows us only to move ships inside systems. Not outside. Intrasystem pilots have less value for the Federation.”
“Perfect.” Heikert turned to a copper-skinned, muscular man. “Shanak, where can intrasystem jumps be learned?” The teacher had something in mind, but Brian couldn’t see where he was leading them. His friend, Shanak ken Ilmar, came from a warrior clan on the planet Iliken and, from the look of him, he was lost as w
ell.
“The Federation trains pilots in three academies. Adheek, from where we come, Alkath at the center, and Baol on the other side.” The voice was a rumble, a deep low baritone.
“Why are planets attached to Baol’s academy sending students?” Heikert grabbed a piece of cake from the buffet.
“Same reason as we do.” Shanak shook his head. “Most planets have rotten ecosystems. Overusage of resources, wars, even natural climate change. The only way to get support from the Federation is to find pilots. And all of us need that support desperately. Ancient reclaimed machines to clean the ground, scientists from other worlds with specialties we don’t have, genetic samples to increase the ecosystem diversity or enable new breeds to appear.” Shanak’s father was involved deeply in the Reclaim projects on Iliken, and his son had watched him negotiate resources from the Federation Envoy, the local representative. The tales he told Brian had been very educational.
“Perfect. Now, what is special to Alkath?” Heikert continued purposefully without a break.
“This is the only place where we are taught to jump between systems.” It seemed obvious to all of them.
“And what about their ecology?”
When Shanak couldn’t find an answer, Illoma intervened. “It’s perfectly balanced. It doesn’t need support and contributes freely. Most core planets have similar ecologies and provide more than they receive.” Brian had dated Illoma when he was new at the academy, and it still hurt. She was a lovely petite brunette with an oval face, golden eyes, and a sweet voice. She always fascinated him whenever he looked at her.
“Planets around Baol and Adheek desperately seek help.” They all nodded in agreement. “And core worlds don’t? Why are they going and risking death by nanites?”
Every year, during the injections, students died, unable to hold their nanites, losing shape and subsequently shot down by Marines or burned from within. Others became mad or permanently maimed and never recovered. Some became addicted to the enhanced power and were forbidden their use ever after. No one in his right mind faced so many risks. “You say they don’t need pilots?” Brian asked.
“Technically, no. Small exceptions but irrelevant to our discussion. So, why do they come?” Master Heikert’s voice had taken a gloomy tone.
Shanak suggested, “Power and honor?”
Heikert nodded. “Honor, maybe not. Not in the way you mean it on Iliken. But, power, yes. In Alkath certainly, and usually even more so in Ullem. Every year, they choose future pilots before they turn ten and they prepare them until they are sent to the academy at twenty-five.”
“So, the competition will be tough?” Brian had been chosen at twenty-five with little training on Earth before going to Adheek. That meant fifteen years’ advantage for them.
“Worse than that for most of you. They’re better trained than you, and you are outsiders in their lands. They feel superior to everyone in the Federation. Emily, you’re going to piss them off, but I have faith in your ability to rub their noses in their ignorance.” She had the decency to blush at that, a little girlish for once. “For Brian, it’s going to be awful.” Heikert looked at Brian intently. “You’ve recovered five spaceships. They’ll envy you terribly for that.”
Brian thought for a moment. The Federation could not build new ships. They salvaged ships, and as many artifacts as they could, from the Ancients, the civilization that had preceded theirs. As part of the discovery rules, Brian had won one of the ships, a small scout, for his own, and another for Earth. This had been an unexpected boon for the planet which, until then, had had to borrow transport to the Federation at a prohibitive cost. “I’ve found something they probably won’t. Ever. I’ve something none can emulate. And I’m not of their world.”
Master Heikert inclined his head with a grim smile. “Yes, that’s the spirit.”
“But my ship isn’t working. It’s broken.” What was there to envy?
“They don’t give a damn about that. We’ll bring it to the yard in Volpre for repairs. It’ll work. Eventually. Don’t worry about that.”
“Sir, what can we do? About the competition.” Emily would not let their teacher change the subject.
Shanak answered quickly. “Support each other, first and foremost.” Brian smiled. Whatever their dissension and internal strife, Shanak would find it dishonorable to not stand by his comrades.
“It will be hard,” Master Heikert continued in the same voice, and Brian’s heart sank. “You’ll be split into new groups, and you will not work together anymore. Don’t count on that.”
“Is it that sinister, Master?” Brian felt his voice tremble more than he would have wished. No human from Earth had ever gone to the Core Federation World, and they had no real idea what they were facing.
Master Heikert smiled one of his rare smiles. “Maybe, it sounds too sinister. But not by much. So, one practical piece of advice. Do as they expect. Play dumb. Don’t trust anyone, not even me. Form your own opinions. If you don’t see any problems, then you are in deep trouble.”
Behind Master Heikert the captain appeared, nodding in approval. With that, they all settled down for their usual shared meal. Brian ended up playing cards with Sonter, Shanak, and Illoma, while Emily read closeby. This was a life he had learned to like since his arrival in Adheek and he dreaded throwing himself into the unknown again.
Lapren
Volpre, 2140 AD, June
Volpre was a very unusual star system within the Federation. The sun had become unstable thousands of years ago, scorching all planets within its reach. Every rotation it would blaze, release massive radiation bursts and roast all life around it until, in a few millennia, it would finally become a nova.
In this most hostile place, the Ancients had set up a space station. The large uneven sphere provided, within its two-klick radius, a radiation-shielded habitat for more than ten thousand humans, standard gravity in a large area, enormous hydroponic farms supplying both the station and the ships that stopped there, and one of the five known naval yards capable of repairing Ancient spaceships. Finding it had been a boon for the Federation, and it had become a key in its development in the Adheek sector.
This year, the archbishop had chosen Volpre to hold the Origin Church’s meeting. The cult opposed the Federation, believing that current progress would only lead to more ruin, like what had destroyed the Ancients, and this setup of constant destruction would provide a perfect background for his message.
He had rented a series of connected domes on the external side of the station, facing the sun. The gravity was weak there, two-thirds of common gravity, and it gave them all a feeling of strength and power. One hundred cult members had come here from the different chapters spread out in the Federation, even from distant Dupner in the Baol sector. The archbishop Lapren and his closest acolytes had mentored them through the different workshops. Now, at last, they had donned the white linens of renewal and had reached the Mass of the Parting in a fervent mood. An immense flag with a stylized red robot eating a planet had been raised behind the massive dais where the priest stood.
“The Origin was only a small cult from a remote planet. But it spread just a tiny little bit." The archbishop spread his arms wide and smiled at the laughter that echoed his words. He was quite tall, if slightly overweight, a consequence of age and stress, as he liked to say, and the span of his outstretched arm encompassed the sun shining behind him through the roof. Lapren synchronized his speech in real time on the information relayed by Neht, his assistant. “Now, we are a force in the Federation. I am proud of our achievement and of your success. I am proud of you and what you have done. The Federation has managed to gather most human planets on this side of the galaxy. But they have underestimated us and our dedication." Above him, beyond the protective dome, the sun began to flare, sending immense tongues of fires in space toward them. His deep, rising voice rose and was met by thunderous applause.
“We have shared intense days together; we have planned our next s
teps. Our future is in our hands. We know where we are going. Remember where we come from. Has humanity ever been able to rise out of its condition through technology?”
“No!” The answer was a roar.
“When it failed, what happened?”
“Disaster, plague, and death.” They knew the gospel by heart. But, today, bathed in the light of the mad sun, the words took on a special meaning. Their answer was fervent, adoring. Lapren himself was caught up in his own speech.
“What does the Federation want to do?”
“Lead humanity again on the path of technology.”
“What shall we do?”
“We shall preserve humanity. We shall be the rocks facing the tide, unmoving, unflinching, keepers of the true values of humility. We shall oppose progress and keep ourselves strong on each planet where humans live.” A massive tongue of fire sprang from the sun while the cheers exploded. This is power, Lapren thought, watching his flock below him.
A few days later, after the departure of the remaining pilgrims on the Nomoodforbullshit, one of the transports running between Volpre and the Core Federation Worlds, Lapren relaxed close to a large swimming pool, in a reclining chair under one of the smaller domes he had rented for the event. He wore a loose shirt and pants instead of the heavy robes of his office. He was alone now with fine music, an amazing meal, and the lingering perfume of the priestess who had come earlier. Life is good, he thought. He was a simple man, with simple pleasures.
Their chosen course of action was too quiet for him, somehow cowardly. For the next five years, they had decided to target research centers to highlight the dangers of technology. They would also hit the pilot academies and all the dangers they represented. It would be legal, very explicit, and efficient. There had always been scientists who dared to go too far, and the Origin would find them and expose their sins. For Lapren, it wasn’t enough, but the meeting had been public, and the Federation must have had spies. They would have nothing forbidden to report. He banged his fist on his chair. I need more than that.