by F Stephan
Brian
Blanel, 2140 AD, October
“Rad up one point to twenty. Level one reached.” Liliana’s slow count was their anchor while the ship hurled itself toward the sun’s corona. At thirty, their lives would be in immediate danger; at fifty, they would be dead.
Everyone was strapped into their chair in the small bridge, all facing the central console. The room had become a giant spider when Sunray had set up a physical link with all of them, using the spare connectors from the repair lab. Silence had also taken over the room when all communications had gone subvocal.
“External antennas and nanites detectors retracted. Durasteel compartments sealed. All passive receivers active.” Chilin let out a breath of relief. “We are now near blind.” We can’t see the jump point anymore. “Before I finished, we were receiving a message from Iflyfarther.”
“Emily’s ship?” Brian’s heart lifted.
“Yes. It’s scrambled with radiation.” Chilin began to apologize.
“Don’t worry. I know what was inside.” Scolding me for doing something so foolish. Probably enraged as well. Brian had removed all the fire from his screens in order to keep focused on the energies around him. All his jumps had been perfect so far, and he loved what he was doing just now. At last, he felt good. And I’m not going into the fire. Not even near. I’m half a light minute away from it.
“Rad up one point to twenty-one.”
“We are jumping in five minutes. Liliana, better gel us sooner than later.” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Sunray?”
“Singularity’s stability is down at eighty-five percent. I’ll let you know when it reaches seventy.” This was the threshold they had agreed on.
“No air left below or above this floor.” Chilin’s anxiety had risen again as he undertook a new task.
“Rad up three points to twenty-three. Flare.”
Brian closed his eyes and activated a little of his nanites, as little as he possibly could, keeping in reserve all he would need for the jump.
I gather all energy readings from the remaining receivers converted into a map. More radiation hits our rear than front. Twenty-seven behind. Climbing.
“Flare to our side. Sunray, I need to move faster.”
“Gel confinement activated.” Liliana is still calm. I have reached the point I needed to. The gel is rising. Focus forward.
“Bridge floor, clear of air. Ship, clear of air and fluids.” Chilin’s anxiety had ebbed, and he was back to his normal self.
“All power to singularity. Stability is still at eighty percent.”
Okay, they are handling the situation. Now, my part. Jump point is in front of the ship. It’ll distort the energy pattern. I need to find it. Damn, find it.
Seconds ticked by with the countdown from Chilin on environmental readings.
There, there’s a hole in the flare. Thirty light seconds. Full nanite.
As all nanites activated and burned energy within him, Brian felt fear rise like a tsunami. He’d fail like he had so many times. The jump was so close. In the last effort against his panic, Brian reached out through the fire in front of him and brought the ship into hyperspace, leaving behind in an instant the radiation hell. The hole was unstable, and he had to fight for ages to keep the ship inside it and across to the other side. Nanites rose around him in a red haze of madness. He was losing his sanity and fire burned around him. At last, he pulled the ship back into normal space and fainted on the floor.
Brian woke up lying on soft cushions. “How long have I . . . ?”
“One hour.” Liliana was kneeling next to him. “Sunray says we’re on track. Next jump in five hours. It’ll be an easy one.”
“It burned. It burned so much.” The pain came back at him vividly.
“Not for real. In your mind only. Your body’s fine.”
“Good. What’s your recommendation?”
“Grab a lot of food, rest, and prepare yourself.” She stood up and turned back to him. “Brian, for whatever reason, when you use too many nanites, they drop on you. I saw it today while you struggled against the jump point. It was noticeable, and I’d guess this is what’s been happening to you for a while now.”
“What can I do about it? Can you help?”
“Use fewer nanites in all your actions. Be more efficient. I’ve seen you. You’re wasting energy. And your medical record shows that you bled yourself to death when you pulled that stunt with Derantor. For once, this isn’t me asking you to do better. It’s your own body. Listen to it.”
Brian turned white and gulped. It didn’t help, but she meant what she was saying.
“Now, Brian, you can make the last two jumps without exerting yourself too much. So, be nice and blast our competition to shreds.” Then, to his astonishment, she gave him a quick, gentle hug. “If you do it, I might even let you off the hook for a few days. But, mind you, no more than that and only if we leave everyone behind.”
Emily
Blanel, 2140 AD, November
At the same time, Emily watched the show on her main screen. Nolam and Shaman Sheila had joined her to watch in utter horror. Brian’s small ship was diving straight into the sun. A flare had enveloped it seconds ago and all conventional readings were now off. Emily changed the display and the jump point appeared, fluctuating. The gravity disturbance from the ship was also visible, closing fast on it now.
“They can’t reach it. It’s too unstable. They’re going to die.” Nolam couldn’t believe it.
“How far are they from the jump?” asked Leila.
“Less than a minute now. Brian can do it. Watch out.” The jump point showed the distortion linked to the opening. The flare intensified around the jump and the jump point pulsed in a way Emily had never seen. So, this is what they call an unstable jump point. Holy mother of God. This is madness. The singularities merged, and Emily shifted her display to the outer envelope of the system. A jump point had been engaged there and a ship appeared days ahead of everyone else. You’ve won, Brian. Congratulations! She smiled, humming to herself. She would have to do her best just to keep in the game. This is fun. Cheers, mate. Then, she turned back to her crew, feeling her sadness at the sudden loss, and cheered. “We’ve got second place to win, people. And I want a brilliant second place at that. So, let’s go and get it!” They cheered with her, still dismayed by the shortcut Brian had taken. She would have to dig into it more. He’s mad.
Sonter
Alkath, 2140 AD, November
“You’re the worst group of students who’s ever worked in this academy. Destabilizing singularities? What were you thinking? With the current pressure of the Origin, we can’t afford this type of behavior.” Sonter shuddered at the mention of the incident. Nisar’al’Latol had been raving about it for the last fifteen minutes, hammering his message into them. To catch up with Brian, two crews had managed to damage the singularity propelling their ships. “It’s going to take at least two years to get the worst one back into space.” The academy had expelled one crew and the other had lost so many points that its future was uncertain. Talent was too rare to be wasted by the Federation, even under pressure by the worst communication campaign in years, but there were plenty of jobs no one wanted. With so few points, they’d land one of the worst ones, like at a remote mining station.
“Now to the other feat of this exercise. I’ll kill on the spot anyone who attempts to repeat what backandthere has done. It worked but barely. No one is to attempt such an insane route in another exercise. Is that clear?” Sonter nodded. Yet, from the way the teacher pronounced “insane,” Sonter wondered if he wasn’t proud that someone had been crazy enough to try and succeed. While being officially reprimanded for their reckless behavior, the ship’s crew had gotten two hundred points and had risen from the abyss again back into the top ranks.
They were back on Alkath and all pilots had gathered in the main hall for a special course. Sonter glanced around and saw other pilots on the floor. He quickl
y counted fifty pilots, which meant that every single available trainee stood here today, listening patiently to the mistress raging. A giant stood next to her, his arm crossed, looking severe and stern in his gray pilot uniform. On his shoulder, all had recognized the compass shape of a Freerider, one of the rare pilots allowed to go anywhere they choose to. From his size and his metal hair, rising like a hydra over his head, Sonter knew he was Calouli Analouli, one of the few survivors of the Kirthan collapse and one of the most enigmatic pilots of the Federation.
Now that Mistress Nisar'al'Latol had finished her monologue, Calouli Analouli took one step forward and spread his arms in greeting. “Good day to you, little ones. I must add a word to what your mistress said.” The audience gasped. They were used to the rebukes of their teacher. But this was another thing. Sonter knew many strange accents from all over the Federation but even he strained to discern the words in the deep low rumble that was Calouli’s voice. “The singularities drift in space and sometimes they end up close to gravity wells. Close to planets, they collapse on themselves, returning to nothingness. Close to stars, the energy from the star can feed them a long time. But they are unstable and will require more energy from your nanites to control the ship through the jump. Now, look at the picture of your friend after the jump.” Sonter had already seen Brian on the floor bleeding. Most hadn’t, and the audience took a step back, gawking. “If anything had happened on the other side, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it. If multiple long-distance jumps had been required afterward, he wouldn’t have been able to handle them. The path he chose was nearly too much for him. The mistress has already warned you. She is the voice of wisdom, and for your own sake, you should heed her.” Sonter looked around. Alvam and his clique were clearly disgruntled by the news. With all their nanites and their core blood, Sons of the Prophet, as they called themselves, they’d never done something as foolish as that.
“Today, I will, as the council bides me, teach you an advanced maneuver. Beware, for it is not for the faint-hearted. I will show you the path and you will try it in the scenario I have built for you. You will fail. If one of you succeeds, I will count myself blessed by the gods. But, maybe, in time, enlightenment will come upon you and let you execute this skill in times of need. This is the way we learn, after all.”
Sonter had already activated his nanites and his recorders. 3-Ds appeared all around the room to facilitate the lesson.
“Two ships can enter a jump point the same time. When they exit, one ship can transfer its energy to the other, causing it either to accelerate or decelerate. It sounds amazingly simple. But when doing so, both ships can explode. They can collide during the jump or be pushed outside the jump envelope. If that happens, they will cease to exist. One can receive too much energy and not absorb it. Then, it will collapse into itself. One can spend too much energy and become unstable. Then entropy, the mighty, will obliterate it. But in some cases, it might be the only way to save one of the ships.”
Sonter was stunned. A basic rule of the Federation was that no ships could jump simultaneously. At the same time, his father had told of such jumps done in emergencies. Now, he understood why.
The 3-D detailed the maneuver while Calouli walked them through the procedure. Before long, he was sweating. The parameters were very precise and needed perfect execution. And then he heard out of the background noise a random sentence that sent shivers down his spine. “This is for the Sons of the Prophet. You’ll show everyone how good you are with this, Brian. Don’t fail; you’d lose too much ground if you did.” Sonter snorted. Again Alvam! He can’t stop for a minute, can he. Sons of the Prophet. Holy core world crap. Then the crowd dispersed to the simulators before Sonter could talk to Brian. He had heard that crap while he was playing with Alvam. The Sons were supposed to be perfectly in control of their nanites, the best pilots that existed, and truth to tell, amazing pilots had come from Ullem. But there was no need to aim at it. It was a trap and Brian was walking straight into it.
Later that night, after a gruesome day full of ships exploding around him, Sonter joined his group for dinner in the main hall. He had succeeded once before the end and felt elated beyond measure after so many failures. It had been a glorious moment of achievement. He slowly ate the weed cake with roasted nazari, a rare treat, while listening to the excited blabber around him. Those who had succeeded, even only once, were busy telling the others the wonderful connection they had felt at that moment. Sonter was happy to let them brag. He looked at the main board.
So, how did they do? Emily has managed it. Not surprising. Illoma and Shanak, once with uncontrolled trajectory after the jump. Alvam, three times. Guess he was practicing. There’s no other way. Poulem, same as Shanak. She’s always been bright. And Brian? Ouch! Not again.
He darted a look across the room. The east wing was eating together as usual. Alvam sat in the center, bragging excitedly about his three successes. Brian entered the room and Sonter heard him nicknamed “the oaf” by one of his mates of the east wing. Poulem and Illoma glared him down but Brian sat apart, even from the girls, at the end of the table. The look of despair on his face was so strong Sonter winced. No respite for the wicked.
Lapren
Ullem, 2140 AD, November
It had been a good ceremony and a good sermon, one of his favorites, on the failure of the Ullemite resurrection. The crowd was awed, and he enjoyed that feeling. With elated spirits, Archbishop Lapren walked back to his office at the top of the Origin compound, barely glancing at the sun setting over the horizon. His terrace overlooked the capital and isolated him from the noise of the city. There, he quickly reviewed the reports from the Origin activities in the core world with his core cadre of priests. Once finished, he dismissed them, keeping only his assistant, Neht.
“What’s your summary?” The recap he asked for from Neht was a way for him of checking on what he had missed at his meeting. He liked the groveling from his directors. He had worked all his life to gain that power over the people but that didn’t help him manage his organization.
“We’re progressing against rebirth among Federation employees, which is good. Our first new actions to show the Federation’s effect are not very effective yet.”
“Is that an issue?” asked Lapren slowly.
“You didn’t think it would work anyway, but our more radical elements aren’t convinced, and they are very unstable, ready to strike at any time. A spark could ignite their anger at any time.”
Lapren nodded. The boy was clever. “Which is why they’re especially useful to us. We show the higher ups in the Federation that we try to keep them in check. Used well, anything can further our cause. Just anything. What else?”
“Nothing really to do around here anymore. When do we move to Baol?” Neht was asking a question Lapren had been wondering about for a few days. He alternated his stays in the three main sectors of the Federation even if Adheek remained his home.
“In a couple of weeks. I’d like some feedback on our actions on Alkath before we move on. Thank you, Neht. I won’t need you anymore.” It was time for his evening prayers and a bit of solitude. When his assistant left the room, he relaxed at his desk. His illness was eating him more and more, leaving him exhausted after his sermons.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t have all those conversations out in the open.” A masked man walked into the room from the terrace. He was dressed all in black and clearly enjoyed the surprise he created. He quickly opened his backpack to withdraw a small device he installed on the table. Lapren took a step back, clutching at his ears, while a deep buzz filled the room. After a minute, it reduced, allowing them to speak again. The newcomer sat at Lapren’s desk, nibbling an energy bar. “Fortunately, I’m a friend of one of your friends, Archbishop, with a need to talk discreetly. We should keep our conversation to less than five minutes.”
“What are you here for? How can I know who you are?” The whole situation unsettled Lapren.
“The Federation doesn�
��t work that way, and you know it. So, we’re the only other ones who use those gadgets. Now, how are you progressing on Alkath?”
“We’re monitoring the two students from Earth continually. We can’t act on the girl. She’s too focused on her studies, too sure of herself. Until we find a chink in her armor, we’re making sure the boy won’t graduate. We’re using in this the devices you provided but they’re weird and we’ve had a few accidents.”
The man snapped, “Don’t play with the toys we provide. And if you do, don’t complain.”
Lapren made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Anyway, we’re making satisfactory progress.” He didn’t like being ordered around, didn’t like this man. But he had seen the picture of that accident. He was playing a dangerous game, one that required extreme diplomacy.
“Are you joking with me, priest?” The other man’s voice became ice cold. “A week ago, the kid jumped close to a star. How many can do that? Increase the dosage and make sure he can’t jump anymore. Act, man, or you’ll disappear.”
Lapren gulped. “I’ll do as you ask.”
“Fine. You’re nice and obedient. My master will approve. You can launch the other plan he discussed with you.” The man withdrew a small black briefcase from his backpack. “Don’t open this before you’ve reached your destination. You’ll need to add a small explosive on site. Nothing fancy. Just a quick discharge.”
“But—I’ve got questions about it.”
“Questions aren’t allowed. Anyway, I don’t have answers. I’m just the messenger. Don’t try to follow me. You won’t be able to and I don’t want to hurt your people. Is that clear? Good evening, priest.” The man took his device back and moved out to the terrace. Then, he jumped from it, onto the street fifteen yards below. Lapren rushed to the edge but by the time he could look, the man had disappeared back into the shadows. Time to act, now. I can’t delay anymore. He shuddered in fear of his last step.