Supergiant (Gigaparsec Book 2)

by Scott Rhine

  Meanwhile, Roz had a hundred more calculations to run and check against the physical model. Because reading the book Learning Bat for Fun and Profit had been no help, she made a note to chat with Deke about the sounds in the Bat alphabet. Deke would be able to tell if Jeeves could hear and produce the tones outside Human hearing. She was certain she wouldn’t have time for Max in any case.

  ****

  The intense solar wind in the Phoenix system was dangerous but surged in predictable cycles. Nevertheless, Roz couldn’t rely on autopilot alone as their ship returned to normal space. Lethal stellar flares might lash out at any moment, and flying close to the larger sun, she would have very little time to react. With white knuckles clutching the helm for hours, she barely had attention to spare to listen to the cargo negotiations.

  The exchange rate between grain and gems was well established. The ice cream and news about the milk embargo were both more valuable than anticipated, but so was the scarce photovore nano. In the end, she had to throw in her own fine, wooden bedroom set for Royce, the colony’s CEO. Indeed, every scrap of wood and paper book on the ship sold as a luxury item. Kesh wanted to trade some of the ship’s living trees to the domed colony, but Echo put her foot down because they were part of the air-recycling system.

  On the bright side, their load heading out to Cocytus would be extremely light, requiring no additional fuel. In the absence of a convenient gas giant, fuel was at a premium in this system. They would wait and top off the tanks somewhere with lower prices. On the negative side, bursts of static and odd oscillations often disrupted radio communication.

  Deke referred to such occurrences as “the Voice of the Void.” As she ended her shift, the Bat tuned the bridge radio to these sounds, treating the communion time as meditation or prayer. Roz indicated the upcoming flare events and the ETA for the colony on the flight plan.

  Arriving for his stint on the bridge, Max likened the sounds to whales or the ancient “Music of the Spheres.”

  Deke said, “You, sir, have the soul of a poet. You will do well in the courts of our leaders.”

  Max smiled. “I’ll be practicing my courtly manners at the cotillion. We should schedule you to do a series of lectures on Bat culture once we leave this system.”

  “Cotillion?” asked the Bat, puzzled.

  “Um … Banker is horrible with certain concepts. A soirée, hoedown, the annual Spawning Dance on the surface. It’s a huge social event. Reuben scored us invitations.”

  “Us?” Roz repeated, suddenly alert.

  Ivy, her shift companion, whispered, “We discussed this. You wanted to inspect the gem fields.”

  “I can’t dance,” Roz whispered.

  Max cleared his throat. “A cruise director recently showed me the basics. I can lead convincingly enough for both of us. You just need to relax and follow.”

  Glaring at her friend Ivy, Roz said, “I don’t have a dress.”

  “Except the one you wore to Max’s dolphin-medal ceremony,” Ivy said. “You wore that on the shuttle up from Eden.”

  Roz set her jaw and tried glaring louder.

  “Oh, that’s a nice dress,” Max said, offering a drinking bulb to Deke.

  Ivy nudged her. “Eh. He likes that one.”

  The noise of solar static and social anxiety forced Roz from the bridge. In the elevator with Ivy, Roz squeaked, “What am I going to do at a dance?”

  “You mean, other than spawning?” Roz slugged her friend in the arm. “Ouch. I guess you’ll have to give up total control of your life for a couple hours.”

  “Impossible.”

  The lift reached their bedroom level, and the door slid open. Ivy said, “How much is the information you’re after worth to you? If you won’t do it for curiosity, do it so we won’t offend Mr. Royce. You’re attending as his guest, so you need to be very nice to him for selling us the photovores. Tell everyone else at the party what a great guy he is and how valuable your bedroom set was.”

  Roz growled as she bounded toward their room in reduced gravity. “You use logic the way I use pliers to eat crab—to get what you want.”

  Ivy pulled an ID out of her desk drawer and handed it over. “Reuben spent a lot of effort on this. You’re name for the night is Rosalyn Cinder.”

  “Cinderella?”

  “Isn’t that what you’re hoping for?” Ivy asked.

  The crew organizing the event hit one major snag. The ship couldn’t have both pilots on the surface in case of unanticipated flares. With no space station, they couldn’t dock. Most Human ships landed on the airless world, but gravity would deform Sphere of Influence, ruining all her careful repairs. Without the perfect shape, the star drive wouldn’t function properly. Therefore, only one of the Sphere’s pilots could travel to the planet at a time.

  When Roz asked when she could take their shuttle down, Deke replied, “You’re not touching my blade.”

  “We’re on the same team. You refueled your shuttle off of my fuel tanks, and somehow that was okay?”

  Deke wouldn’t even look at her. “The captain authorized everything.”

  “He’s not a real captain. If he were, he’d tell you to rein in that hotdog flying style of yours.”

  Max raised his hands. “Don’t worry. We have plenty of fuel. You saw to that. The Phoenix colony is sending several massive cargo shuttles with efficient moving crews. That was all part of the sales price. We can ride to the surface with them.”

  “Then why is Deke flying down there with the Goat?” Roz asked.

  “They’re going early to swap the whiskey for some opportunistic cargo,” Max explained. “The quality of each will affect the quantities traded, and nobody can trade horses like Reuben.”

  ****

  The dance experience was terrifying and humiliating for Roz. In the hours between the end of her shift and the arrival of the transport, she had to shave her legs and squeeze back into a tight, golden dress that didn’t quite fit anymore. Wearing the shoes was an exercise in self-torture. Then Ivy put on makeup for her again. The eyelash brush poked Roz, and the beautician had the nerve to say, “Don’t cry, or you’ll ruin all my hard work.”

  The admiring look Max gave her when she wobbled onto the shuttle in heels made the torment worthwhile. He looked awesome in a tuxedo and radiated confidence. The fact that he wore Goat contact lenses and sideburns felt a tad creepy, though. “Sorry about the disguise. Magi usually employ Goats as servants, not Humans. This will throw any police off the trail if we have an incident. Reuben will ride up with us on the next load.”

  Roz sat in the copilot’s seat in the Phoenix shuttle in case anything went wrong. As they landed on the nearly airless surface, the pilot of the rental spoke to her for the first time. “Three hours till my last liftoff. I won’t wait.” Adding surface transport each direction and the official dance duration, she had just enough time.

  Security at the spaceport had the strangest ritual—they weighed her to the gram. Then the guard pointed to the poster hanging over the exit arch that said, “You Can’t Take It with You.”

  “Our water recycling is the best in the Human Confederation,” said the guard. “Our biggest loss to the system has been from visitors. Now we require every visitor to void himself before leaving.”

  “What if I can’t pee on demand?” Roz asked.

  “We weigh you again on the way out and charge for the water you acquired while here.” The words were cheerful, but the guard scribbled a note by her name.

  Now I’m a suspected water smuggler?

  Max said, “Have a little alcohol at the party. That stuff goes right through.”

  “It’s free?”

  “One glass each comes with the price of admission.”

  After she confirmed the photovore shipment at the gate, Roz let Max do all the talking. He led the way through the maze of tunnels with confidence. Reuben had programmed the entire event into his wrist computer like a military mission. Max refused to let down his guard for idle ch
atter on a crowded train in “enemy territory.”

  At the cotillion grounds, Roz clung to the observation bubble, avoiding actual dancing. She didn’t dare eat for fear of exploding out of the dress or tipping the scales. All she could do was sip champagne beside CEO Royce and gush over him the way Ivy had requested. To keep him talking, she asked questions about his favorite subject—crystals. “They remind me of a field of sunflowers.”

  The pompous, gray-haired executive nodded. “Much like heliotropes, our plants track the sun as well. Are you familiar with the concept of mahdra?”

  “Of course. I work with Magi tech every day. Crystals at different frequencies are like batteries at different voltages.”

  Royce said, “Cutting the live crystals to precision that way is a trade secret.” However, he elaborated on several points to demonstrate the breadth of his technical skills.

  Max traded Roz’s empty glass for his full one.

  “Where did the seeds come from initially?” she asked.

  “Overlook, a former Magi outpost. Very few stars emit the necessary gamma radiation to charge the crystals.”

  Roz steadied herself against Royce’s arm. “Your power surges must be huge.”

  He recited the exact wavelength and duration needed to trigger a spawn.

  Mrs. Royce, a radiant socialite, made her way across the room to greet Roz. “You’re monopolizing my husband. Should I be worried?”

  “He was merely reassuring me that this safety shield will hold. The field out there is glowing in several patches.”

  “That means the show is about to begin,” said the trophy wife. Flashes of deep-red energy crackled between the gem clusters as the white sun rose over the crater’s rim. “Get ready.” She slipped a proprietary arm around her husband.

  People on the dance floor fell silent, gravitating toward the huge windows for the event.

  The alcohol made Roz dogged. “How much explosive force—”

  Max swept her over and planted a kiss on her lips to silence her. He was warm and sweet. She embraced him, deepening the kiss. Her whole body tingled with excitement.

  Lights flashed in the corner of her eye, and she heard roaring. When he broke the kiss, Roz panted, “Am I having another episode?”

  He whispered low in her ear, “Sorry. Follow me.”

  Roz made her apologies to Mr. and Mrs. Royce. “Something’s come up that demands my attention.”

  Mrs. Royce smiled knowingly. “Is it true what they say about the rams? Eight times?”

  “Twelve,” Roz corrected automatically and winced. Now everyone thinks I’m Ivy.

  Max led her through the celebration to a quiet hall near the exit. “Security is on alert. We need to get out of here.” He touched his earbud to indicate the source of his intel.

  Arrested after my first kiss? How cruel is that? Roz pushed the call button on the tunnel tram. “Did Prairie Station send a pursuit vessel?”

  “That’s not scheduled to emerge from subspace till tomorrow morning. No. Reuben almost got pinched collecting some supplement cargo. Good thing he looped the cameras.”

  The door slid aside, and the two of them hopped into the empty railcar. Everyone else was distracted by the show outside. She drained the rest of her second champagne. “You’re talking about smuggling?”

  Max put a finger over his lips and pointed to the security camera. “We could snuggle on the way there, sure.” The low-speed train would take about fifteen minutes to reach the spaceport stop on the night side.

  He sat on the padded bench and pulled her to his side. His warmth felt so good, she could almost forget her anger and fear. She removed her painful shoes and pressed idly at a sore spot. Max shifted and took her foot in his hands. He began rubbing with strong, experienced strokes. Her eyes rolled up. “Oh. Y-you don’t have to.”

  “Nonsense. If you had to wear these torture devices to maintain our cover, the least I can do as a team member is to take care of the damage they cause.”

  She tried to protest again, but his hand slid up her heel, releasing cramped muscle. She had to brace an arm against him to avoid going limp and flopping back onto the bench. As it was, Roz had to bite her lower lip to avoid crying out or moaning. Definitely compatible.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice deeper and huskier than normal. The way he swallowed and glanced at her dress, Max was more than interested. If it weren’t for corporate security watching, their ride could have had a much different conclusion. Still, he was a gentleman and didn’t press further.

  She didn’t remember much after the ride ended other than holding hands and walking barefoot in a cloud of bliss.

  In the last few moments of privacy before boarding the Phoenix shuttle, Max whispered, “I apologize for being so forward. I had to make our cover look convincing.”

  “That was exciting.”

  He grinned. “A close call does get the blood pumping.”

  When they were safely strapped inside the shuttle and ready to depart, Max explained the urgency to Roz. “Reuben was legitimately collecting raw materials for solar panels for resale to the Cocytus colony. The cops tried to arrest him for buying tellurium. We have no idea why.”

  Muzzy from the sensual distractions, Roz took a moment to process the information. “That’s a controlled substance.”

  “Why? They produce more than they need as a byproduct of gold and copper mining.”

  “Sensor invisibility. Bats have some of the best ship detectors in the Union. Even with Icarus engines off, the only known way to hide from them is to lace the hull metal with tellurium.”

  “That’s what our ship’s former owner and the Blue Claw Clan were up to on Eden—

  supplying pirates.” Max reached over to squeeze her hand. “You cleared up months of mystery in just a few seconds. I should tell you everything. Somehow you end up having all the answers.”

  His contact and honest faith meant more to her than if they had taken a tumble on the train. “No, but you can ask me anything.”

  Chapter 13 – Enigma Cube

  As they fled the Phoenix system, mere hours ahead of authorities, Roz didn’t sleep much. Just as well, as her bed had been replaced by a sleeping bag on the hard floor. The only comfortable part was the extra cushioning Jeeves provided as he grew plumper. Max made a big deal about how much better the floor was for his bad back. Without a bed of her own, Ivy moved into Reuben’s stateroom temporarily.

  Alyssa brought Roz hot cocoa to help her relax. She clearly wanted to initiate a friendship, but Roz answered her with monosyllables. The cook looked so crestfallen at the rejection that Roz felt obligated to attempt some sort of small talk. Desperate for a topic, she asked, “Based on what you know about Max, what would his ideal pastry be?”

  The mysterious ex-con considered for a moment. “Baklava. He refuses most donuts as unhealthy. He’s mature enough to know what’s good for him. The honey can be converted easily to energy, while the nuts provide longer-term sustenance. The dough looks tough, but the layers fascinate him. He knows that, baked long enough, the perfect tan of the phyllo leaves will be tender and melt in his mouth. He looks forward to the flavors that are hidden deep inside. The treat also travels well and can be enjoyed almost anywhere.”

  Only later did Roz realize the cook had been speaking in a wicked metaphor.

  That night, Roz woke from a nightmare in total darkness. Jeeves immediately cuddled with her. Her breathing was still jerky, almost a hiccough. Heartbeats later, she could see the outline of Jeeves’s open doggy door by the faint light of a clock or some other glowing electronic device in the next room. Max’s voice whispered through the opening, “What’s wrong?”

  Trying to focus on the threat, she felt embarrassed. “The matrix equation.”

  “The one in Echo’s room?”

  “Yes. It seeped through the walls of the bridge and glued me in place like a tar pit. I couldn’t steer the ship anymore.” Roz petted the mimic and calmed. “A solar fla
re threatened to flay the ship and everyone on it, but I couldn’t break free of the equation to dodge.”

  “I think we’d all agree you’re the most responsible person on this ship,” Max said through the darkness, “but this problem has been around much longer than you have. None of us expects you to solve it, let alone overnight.”

  “I expect myself to because I know it can be solved.”

  “Roz, I need you to listen to me very closely. Even if you never accomplished another repair or solved another puzzle, we would all still respect you and trust you with our lives. You’ve performed above and beyond ever since we met. You need to let other people carry some of the weight and trust they’ll be beside you to take up slack, even if you stumble.”

  She nodded, even though he couldn’t possibly see her. “Okay.”

  “Now let me get some rest. Not all of us get to lie around on a couch all day and have people bring things to them.” The door swished as it swung shut.

  “You take that back,” Roz said in mock outrage.

  Max faked snoring sounds, so she poked her hand through the doggie door to give him a punch in the arm. He caught her hand and held it until she relaxed. Then he interlaced his fingers with hers and lowered their joined hands to his blanket.

  Roz asked, “Why were you already awake?”

  “You’re not the only one who has nightmares.”

  “Sharing might make you feel better.” When he remained silent, Roz said, “You could write your dreams down in a journal or something. My therapist told me it would help, and somehow it did—I put the bad things in perspective and found better things from my past to dwell on.”

  “From your accident?”

  “No. I was too young then. I don’t want you thinking less of me, but during my journey to the university, I had flashbacks, panic attacks, homesickness, and mild claustrophobia.”

  “I think you’re all the braver for sharing and overcoming those fears,” he murmured. “I’m not sure my life is all that interesting.”

  “Nonsense,” Roz said. “You know more about aliens and other planets than anyone I’ve ever met. You grandfather wrote an excellent book about Eden. I think you could do the same for all sorts of places. We didn’t have any good post-war travel textbooks at the university. Perhaps you could write the first.”