by Jay Allan
“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.
“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.
“Down this corridor. That’s where we found it. I’m not sure it’s the control center, but it looked like an important place, with at least a dozen workstations.” She knew damned well she wasn’t leading them to any kind of critical location. It was some kind of lab, she guessed. But this entire exercise was about wasting time…and once they realized the location wasn’t a critical one, she’d suggest another. And then another. She would lead them all over the vessel, from one useless spot to the next, at least for as long as they continued to believe she knew more than she did. Then…well, there was no use worrying about that until the time came…
“The hall is very long, several kilometers, at least. It looks like there was a system of ship’s cars to move around the vessel, but I have no idea if it’s still operative or how to use it.” Actually, she knew very well they were not functional, at least not the ones she’d found. But the slower she gave out information, the better.
“That is no concern, Captain Lafarge. We will walk.” Laussanne’s voice had become an almost unbearable irritant to her, the nasal whininess mixed with intolerable arrogance almost more than she could handle. She’d always had a temper, and she was usually quick to act on it. But the Union commissar was flanked by FR guards, and her hands were shackled together. Now wasn’t the time, but she promised herself she’d kill the bastard the instant she got the chance. If she got the chance. Things weren’t looking good right now.
She’d passed the time in captivity—between interrogation sessions, that is—imagining herself cutting Laussanne into quivering chunks, staring into his eyes with a smile as his life slipped away. But she would settle for any opportunity. Even a quick shot to the head would be satisfying, though she had to concede it would be disappointing to miss the chance to watch the bastard suffer.
She led them down the corridor. She’d chosen it because it was long, and would take considerable time to traverse. You’re ignorant scum. You have to believe I know something, because you’re lost yourselves. You think the answer to every problem is beating cooperation out of someone…or worse…
She took a bit of solace from her guess that things would go badly for them all if they returned home empty handed.
But that’s not likely…not unless the others bring back help…
She wondered again what had happened to her crew. Had they made it back to Confederation space? Had they been able to get help? She had no definitive evidence that they’d escaped at all, but the guards and Laussanne had been careless with their own words. She had excellent hearing, and she was always paying attention. And her captors were clearly concerned about time, about learning what they needed about the artifact as quickly as possible.
She wondered for an instant if, having escaped, her people would return. Would they take the risk of contacting the navy, knowing full well their activities were illegal in the Confederation? Would they really try to persuade the authorities to send help? Their kind—and hers—usually avoided the government forces any way they could.
She pushed the thought from her mind. Her crew was loyal, and they deserved better than her doubts. And when they reached Dannith and d
elivered Pegasus’s scans of the monstrous ancient vessel—and the Union frigate that had taken control of it—the Confederation forces would respond. They couldn’t afford to ignore that kind of evidence. They’d have to check, even if they suspected it was fabricated.
She had to buy time, and the best way to do that was to get away from her captors, to find a place to hide, and make them track her down again. She wished Laussanne had brought Vig as well, but the fool wasn’t that stupid. Still, if she managed to get away, it would make her friend safer. They wouldn’t dare risk killing or seriously injuring their sole captive. As long as they had the two of them, she knew there was still a chance they might actually kill one.
“How long is this corridor?” Laussanne’s fatigue was clear in his voice.
She frowned. If it had been possible to think less of the Union political officer, she would have. “I told you it was a long way. I was on the run last time I was here, as you know. I’m afraid I didn’t count my steps.” She paused then added, “It’s at least another kilometer, perhaps two.”
She actually had no idea of the distance to the end of the hallway—she hadn’t come this far earlier, having turned off into one of the compartments along the way. She’d decided the lab she’d been leading them to wouldn’t be convincing enough, that she’d take a chance and see what lay farther down the hallway. And she enjoyed the expression on the commissar’s face as she told him he had two more kilometers to go.
She’d been watching, waiting for a chance to make her move. She liked her odds in any straight up fight with Laussanne. She was sure she could put the pompous ass down. She figured even money she could take the junior officer next to him too. But there were two FRs following about three meters behind. They carried assault rifles, and their faces were grim masks, showing no signs of any emotion at all. She figured she had just about zero chance of taking them both out as well as Laussanne and his aide. At least without some kind of distraction.