Blood on the Stars Collection 1

by Jay Allan

  “Why two names?” Atara Travis sat across from him, trying to act normal, though he could see that she, too, was distracted by thoughts of recent events.

  “Badlands systems are governed by international law, at least they’re supposed to be. But the ambassadors and other gasbags move at a glacial pace. They managed to implement a numbering system for stars out there, and they’re supposed to ratify names as they’re submitted. But I suspect the whole thing’s actual purpose is to justify a massive number of diplomats and their staffs semi-permanently assigned to the International Tribunal for Administration of Restricted Space. ITARS.” He paused. “Amusing, isn’t it, that the names governments give to their webs of appendages all seem to form pronounceable acronyms?”

  Barron was trying hard to keep his mind off sickbay. He’d been down there half a dozen times, and Doc Weldon had told him the same thing again and again. He simply didn’t know if Jake Stockton was going to make it or not.

  “He’ll pull through, Ty.” Travis ignored the quip about governments and went right to the heart of what they were both thinking. Not that she didn’t agree about the pointless nonsense produced by pompous bureaucrats…she suspected she was more critical even than Barron, and that was saying something.

  Barron just nodded. Travis was smart, capable, the best first officer in the fleet. But blind faith was far from her greatest strength, and her attempt to reassure him about Dauntless’s star pilot was almost comically unsuccessful.

  “We’ll see, Atara.” His thoughts drifted back to the final stages of the battle with Vaillant. Commander Fritz had gotten the primaries back online…and she’d managed to keep them functioning for two shots before her rushed repairs gave out. It had been a near-miracle that she’d managed to repair the main guns so quickly, and it had equalized the battle, even given Dauntless the edge for a few minutes. But then the fight became a slugfest between the two ships…and it went on long enough for the fighter squadrons to come about and make a second strafing run.

  Stockton had led his people in, again ignoring the enemy fighters—more of them in space now—driving to point blank range before firing. The veteran pilot had placed his shot precisely, right into a massive hull breach where Dauntless’s primaries had hit the Union ship…and the rest of the Blues and Eagles had followed him in. By the time they were done, the pride of the Union navy was crippled, the battle all but decided. But Stockton had taken a hit from one of the vessel’s defensive turrets.

  He’d managed to get back to Dauntless—Barron still couldn’t figure out how—but then he’d had to land his stricken ship. Barron had watched his ace pilot make more than one difficult landing…and squeeze through close call after close call. But this time Stockton’s skill and luck had failed to meet the challenge. He’d lost control of the fighter as he approached the bay, and his braking thrusters failed. He came in like a bullet, and slammed into the far bulkhead. His disintegrating fighter had burst into flames.

  The struggling fire crews worked feverishly to put out the conflagration and get to the trapped pilot. Stockton was still alive, but almost every centimeter of his body was burned, so badly in some places that the flesh was simply gone, nothing but exposed bone and blackened remains of charred muscle.

  He’d been unconscious—thankfully—when they rushed him to sickbay. Jake Stockton would have died almost immediately if anyone else save Stu Weldon had been Dauntless’s chief surgeon. The skilled medical officer acted quickly, proving himself once again to be a member of the crew on par with Stockton himself, and Fritz and Travis. He performed emergency surgery, and then he put Stockton into a cryo-tube, placing the wounded man in near-stasis. His report had been blunt, straightforward. If they got the patient back to a base with regeneration capability, he had a chance. But he could only last so long in cryo-preservation. Weldon had left the definition of “so long” frustratingly vague.

  It had taken everything Barron had to resist the urge to turn around and head right back to Dannith. To save his friend. But duty was there, as always, overruling personal feelings. Images of ancient vessels slipped into his mind, massive engines of death out in front of the Union fleet, burning Confederation planets to cinders. He’d realized almost immediately. There was no turning back. Not this time. He wasn’t sure what he would find when his ship arrived at the designated system, but he knew he had to follow through. Stockton would just have to hang on…somehow. He felt grim, his logical mind telling him there was no way his friend could last long enough. But he’d learned never to count “Raptor” Stockton out, not completely.

  He looked up, realizing he and Travis had been sitting quietly for several minutes. He felt like he should say something, but no words came. A feeling of guilt came on him. He was particularly fond of Stockton, despite the wild pilot’s tendency to push orders to—and sometimes beyond—their limits, but he reminded himself that almost seventy of his people had died in the fight against Vaillant. He’d spent hours reorganizing the duty rosters, struggling to keep his stations fully manned despite the loss of so many veteran spacers. They deserved his thoughts too, though there was little he could do for the dead.

  “I wonder what we’ll find,” he finally said, as much to break the silence as for any other reason. He knew Atara had no more idea than he did if there really was a great ancient artifact waiting for them, or if this had all been a waste of time. A very costly waste.

  “I don’t know, Ty. You are far more familiar with the Badlands than I am. Do you have a gut feel?”

  Barron just looked back at her for a few seconds. He was a voracious reader, at least when things like war and duty didn’t lay waste to his private time. He’d read everything he could find on the Cataclysm, but that had proven to be a sparse array of offerings, even for a man of his resources. There was no doubt that the empire had possessed technology far in advance of the Confederation’s…but that didn’t mean there was a great war machine waiting in the next system.

  “I don’t know either, Atara. The admiral and Holsten wouldn’t have sent us here unless they at least had strong reason to believe it was a possibility. They were spooked by that translation. What is a ‘planet-killer’ anyway?” He hadn’t shared the designation with his people, only with Travis. “Just a scary name for a powerful weapon? Or is it literal? Could there be something out there powerful enough to destroy entire worlds?”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” she answered, just before the comm unit buzzed.

  “Yes,” Barron said.”

  “Approaching transit point, Captain. Estimated time to jump, fifteen minutes.” It was Darrow’s voice.

  “Very well…I’ll be right there.” He looked over at his first officer. “Well, I guess it’s time we go find out.” He stood up, moving slowly around the desk. “And see if it was worth everything it cost us.”

  And whatever else it’s going to cost before we’re done.

  * * *

  Stara Sinclair sat quietly next to the cryotube, in exactly the same place she’d spent virtually every off-duty hour. It was a violation of regs, of course, but she knew Doctor Weldon didn’t have the heart to make her leave. He’d begged her to get some sleep, and he’d demanded that she eat something, even making that a condition of allowing her to remain, but otherwise he’d let her be.

  She had cried for the first three days, her normal granite resolve failing her, but now there were no more tears. There was just emptiness, and a cold grief the likes of which she’d never imagined. Stockton wasn’t dead, not yet, and she tried to hang onto the hope that he would survive, that he would recover and come back to her. But she didn’t believe it, and on some level, she knew she was already beginning to mourn him.

  She hated herself for giving up, but she’d always been cynical, considering those who could blindly believe in things to be fools. She knew just how badly hurt her lover was, and also that his survival depended on getting back to Confederation space as quickly as possible. And that wasn’t possible, not now.<
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  “No change?”

  She knew the voice, of course, but it still took a few seconds for her mind to focus, for familiarity to assert itself.

  “No, Commander…no change.” She spoke softly, almost emotionlessly. Her head hadn’t moved, and her eyes remained fixed on the tube in front of her. “Dr. Weldon said there wouldn’t be any…not unless…”

  Kyle Jamison moved alongside her. “I’ve known Jake for a long time, Stara. He’s a fighter.”

  “Oh, I know…he’s a fighter. Fighting is his life, and maybe now the end of it.” She was mostly overcome with sadness and worry, but there was anger there too, and it was starting to boil over. “How many times has he done something like this? Again and again…he acts like danger can’t touch him, like he’s indestructible. I thought for sure he’d never make it when he left to deliver the communique to fleet command, but there he was, waiting for us when we got back. But his luck had to run out…”

  “It hasn’t run out yet, Stara.”

  “How long do you think we’re going to be out here, chasing whatever we’re chasing? Whatever chance he has, it’s back at Dannith. Dr. Weldon was clear about that. Time is running out, Kyle, and we’re still heading in the opposite direction.”

  She turned to look at Jamison, one of the few people on Dauntless—or anywhere—she’d let see her red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Why is he like this, Kyle? Why did he always take so many risks?” The past tense that slipped out of her lips.

  “Stara…that’s how he is. But, let me tell you something not many people know. He isn’t nearly as crazy as he wants everybody to think. Yes, he’s aggressive, and he seems almost insane to those who watch him. But the truth is…he’s just that good, Stara. He looks suicidal to most people, because they can’t imagine pulling off the stunts he does. But he does pull them off. That’s the point. People can’t comprehend the reach of his ability.” He paused for a few seconds. “I consider myself an accomplished pilot, but I can’t fly like he does. No one can.”

  “Except Dirk Timmons,” Stara said, almost smiling for an instant as she remembered Stockton’s expression when they’d first run into his old rival in Dauntless’s corridors.

  Jamison nodded. “And that’s why they were always such rivals. We all wondered what terrible wrong was the origin of their mutual dislike. But there was nothing…except each one of them had always been unquestionably the best, until they met each other.”

  Stara did smile this time. It didn’t last, but she was surprised to find that talking about Stockton made her feel better. A little, at least.

  “I think Jake is the better of the two, not that I ever told him that.”

  Stara nodded. Then she turned back toward the long canister. It looked too much like a coffin for her tastes, though she knew the device was keeping Stockton alive.

  “Thank you, Kyle.” She was surprised how much talking to Jamison had helped. She wasn’t sure if it was real, or if she was just letting herself buy into empty hope, but she knew she wasn’t ready to give up. And she had been a few minutes before.

  “He loves you, Stara. As gregarious as he can be in a crowd, he’s a closed book to most people…but he’s like a brother to me. And what he feels for you is the real thing. I’ve never seen him as crazy about anyone.” He paused. “He’ll fight Stara, harder than you or I could imagine. He’ll do it because that’s what he is. And he’ll do it to get back to you. Don’t give up on him, not now.”

  Stara just nodded. She could feel the tears coming on again, but she also felt better, stronger. Jamison was right…giving up on Stockton now would be wrong, whatever her cynicism told her. She owed it to him to believe, at least for a while longer. If he could fight, she could fight…and that was exactly what she was going to do.

  * * *

  “Transwarp insertion in thirty seconds, Captain. All systems green.” Travis’s voice echoed across the bridge. She’d been a human being in Barron’s office, alone there with her friend. She’d voiced her uncertainties, even her fears. But now she was back on the bridge, Dauntless’s solid steel executive officer once again, and the very tone of her voice stiffened the spines of those who heard it.

  “Very well, Commander. Proceed.” Barron admired his first officer, and he nodded to himself, a brief recognition of his good fortune in having her as his second in command. She hadn’t been well-known when she’d first transferred to Excalibur, second officer to his first, but she was now. Dauntless’s adventures had created recognition, and one had to go no farther than her captain to discover that Atara Travis had been vital in helping secure those great victories. Barron had credited her in every report, given her the full due she deserved. He suspected every captain in the fleet envied him, and he’d sworn to himself that he’d never forget everything that she did.

  Barron braced for the transit, wondering as he did just what his people would find in Z-111. He’d taken the mission seriously—there was no other way to approach an operation assigned by both the top admiral in the service and the head of Confederation intelligence. But he wasn’t sure he’d ever really believed he’d find what they’d sent him here to discover. An ancient warship? Intact, or close to it? It all seemed too crazy.

  But now he realized his stomach was twisted in knots, his mind going over every detail of what he knew. He realized that for all his skepticism, he did expect to find something. Or at least he considered it a significant possibility.

  He had the crew of Pegasus onboard, their ship docked to Dauntless, during the entire voyage…even through the combat with Vaillant. Somehow, fortune had smiled on their vessel, and it had escaped damage entirely.

  He’d assigned them quarters and seen that their needs were met, but he hadn’t spoken to them yet. He didn’t think much of the kinds of rogues who scoured the Badlands for ancient trinkets, and since he knew he wouldn’t believe anything they said anyway, he didn’t see anything to be gained by interviewing them. They’d requested permission to come to the bridge when they’d first come aboard, but he’d ordered them confined to the immediate vicinity of their quarters. He’d heard hardly a peep from them since the fight with Vaillant. He didn’t doubt they’d seen danger before, but he’d have bet almost anything that none of them had been in a battle like the one Dauntless had just fought.

  He knew Travis had spoken with them, and of course, he had reviewed their scanning records. They were convincing, he had to admit. Still, it was nothing but data, and he knew data could be easily faked. Some things simply had to be seen to be believed…but, nevertheless, through all the doubts, he realized that in his gut he did believe there was something in the Chrysallis system.

  He felt Dauntless slip into the transwarp link, the strange alternate reality of hyperlight travel. It was uncomfortable, as always, and he felt disoriented…but he managed to cling to his thoughts, to his imaginings of what was waiting for them.

  “Transitioning to normal space,” Travis shouted. Movement to and from alternate space tended to affect the senses in strange ways, and spacers often came out whispering or screaming at the top of their lungs. “All systems report green, Captain,” she said a few seconds later, her voice returning to normal.

  “Active scanners, Commander. Full power.” There was no point trying to hide, and no time to play the game of cutting power and sticking to passive scans. Whatever was here, Barron had to know, and he had to know as quickly as possible.

  “Active scanners online, Captain.”

  “You’ve got the specified coordinates, Commander. Let’s see what’s there.”

  “We’ve got the planet, sir, but we’re too far out to pick up orbiting structures.”

  Barron glanced at the display. The planet wasn’t far from the transwarp link. Dauntless could be in range in a matter of minutes. “Engage the engines…5g thrust. Take us in.”

  “Yes, Captain. Thrust commencing now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Inside Abandoned Spacecraft


  System Z-111 (Chrysallis)

  Deep Inside the Quarantined Zone (“The Badlands”)

  309 AC

  “We came in right here…you can see where the umbilical connected.” Lafarge gestured toward the spot where Pegasus had docked with the ancient vessel, and the rough patch her people had left behind when they’d escaped. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do now that she was back aboard the ancient craft. She’d pretended they had broken her, that hunger and thirst—and most of all, the threat to put a bullet in Vig Merrick’s head—had driven her beyond endurance. She’d been pretty sure they were bluffing with the threat to kill her friend. They only had two hostages, and they weren’t likely to kill either one of them until they got what they wanted. Lafarge’s piteous appeal for them to spare her friend was a bit of acting, as were her promises to lead her tormentors to the crucial sections of the ancient ship.

  The truth was, it would take more than a few beatings and a little hunger to defeat her. Even more than murdering her friend in front of her. She knew very well they would never let either of them go once they had all they needed. Giving them what they wanted, making herself useless to them, would be a death sentence for both of them. She was sure of that.

  There was just one problem. She was useless to them. Pegasus had docked right before the Union ship had arrived, and she and Vig had just begun to explore the great artifact. She had seen a good portion of the ship when she’d been trying to evade the FRs hunting them down, but there hadn’t been time to study anything in any detail. Her concern then had been evading the troopers trying to hunt her down, and she’d hardly noticed anything about her surroundings, save places that looked like likely hiding spots.

  She shuddered as she thought of the Union’s clone soldiers. She’d heard of them before, of course, but she’d never seen them before now, much less faced them as adversaries. It wasn’t so much their combat capabilities, though she didn’t doubt those were substantial. They just seemed so cold, so…alien.