Last Ship Off Polaris-G: A Central Galactic Concordance Novella

by Carol Van Natta

  He rolled his tense shoulders and neck, trying to relax. “I need to get away from people.” Exhaustion washed through him, and the night was far from over.

  5

  * Frontier Planet “Polaris-Gamma” * GDAT 3233.054 *

  Anitra stood in the pooled light from a building spotlight, near the gaping, beamer-blackened entrance to the storage unit, waiting for Gavril to bring the ground hauler around. He’d offered, and she’d accepted. Her feet hurt almost as much as her head.

  She was out of practice exercising the full extent of her minder talents, and now she was paying the price. Her sinuses felt like someone injected them with solidified road glass. She probably deserved it for pushing Gavril into using his uncontrolled talent before he was ready. He’d retreated to the thorny side of his personality that made others give him a wide berth. She’d have preferred to avoid him, too, or at least activate her shields and ignore him, but she worried she wouldn’t be able to tell if he was in trouble, because he certainly wouldn’t tell her. He’d obviously never experienced blowback before, and didn’t know what to look out for.

  The ugly ground hauler had survived the rioters, probably because it already looked broken down, but that had been the end of her good luck for the evening. In between her initial surveillance of the storage unit and tonight’s midnight visit, someone else had found it and cleaned it out. As it was the third such theft in a row, she’d have to be a farking flatliner not to assume someone was using her as an unwitting hunting dog to snap up desirable goods.

  The only people she figured she could exonerate were Gavril and the young navigator, Lizet Asylkan, because they could have easily waited for the cargo to come to them when she finally sent it. Planetary Police Chief Ferrsi had the resources to monitor her activities, but he had the whole planet to choose from for lucrative targets, not just the small finds she’d tracked down in and near Aetheres and squirreled away all over the city. At least the thieves hadn’t yet found her caches.

  Unfortunately, her thief suspect list included her supply depot staff, city transportation department employees, any of the freighter ship refit contractors, anyone on the escape committee, or a minder with a finder talent who had sensed her pattern and told theft crews where to raid. On top of everything else that kept her up at night, now she had to figure out how to hide her activities and still do her job. She wasn’t cut out to be a spy, and hated clandestine bullshit. She’d had enough of that at the end of her former career with the Citizen Protection Service to last a lifetime.

  The lumbering, rattling hauler pulled up, and she climbed in. She sat up front next to Gavril in the humid, darkened cab and webbed herself into the co-driver seat. The smell of mold was strong enough to make it past her stopped-up sinuses.

  He brought up a holo map from the city’s traffic control system. “Know any good chems and alterants shops between here and your building? I’ll need oreznil to sleep tonight.”

  “No, sorry.” She knew he wouldn’t like her next words. “It’s not a good idea to get warped when you’re recovering from blowback. It messes with your containment.”

  “I don’t have any fucking containment.” His irritation buffeted her empathic senses.

  Chaos, but she was tempted to use her talent to smooth out the bitter flavor of his resentment, but it would destroy what little trust he had in her. “Chems can flatten your talent, but they make you vulnerable to any telepath who wants to poke around. When the CPS interrogates high-level empaths, they use Pazi Nidrasom, the nova-strength version of oreznil, so they can’t focus long enough to defend themselves.”

  He entered her building’s coordinates into the ground hauler’s navigation system with stabbing fingers and sent the request to the traffic control system. Ten seconds later, the TCS took control of the hauler and moved them out into the sparse traffic.

  His sharp anger finally abated, leaving simmering irritation. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the side window. She needed about twelve hours of sleep, and was likely to get less than six.

  “How can an empath defend against a telepath?” The scorn in his tone reminded her how little he appreciated his talent. She supposed she’d feel the same, if it had driven her away from people she liked, and brought nothing but overwhelming pain.

  “Flood the telepath with distracting emotions. You’re strong enough to manufacture it in them by will alone.” She lifted one shoulder. “I have to use my own emotions or reflections from emotional people nearby.”

  He made a rude sound. “I tried that in the restaurant. It didn’t work.”

  She tried for a reasonable tone. “You can learn.”

  An acid wash of anger was her only warning when he suddenly brought his full empath talent to bear on her. He wanted her as mad as he was, mad enough to give him a fight. Survival hormones flooded her brain, narrowing her focus and sending her heart racing. She struggled to raise her shields against his formidable strength, and finally sealed him out.

  She took deep, slow breaths to reinforce her shields and regain some semblance of her equanimity. He wasn’t the first student to have ever lashed out at her, but coming from him, it hurt. A lot. She counted to one hundred, and then again, visualizing each number in her mind’s eye, to give her body a chance to ramp back down.

  She finally turned her seat to look at him. Her shields prevented her from sensing his feelings, and she couldn’t see his expression in the dark hauler cab as he watched the hauler’s navigation console. At that moment, she didn’t really care.

  “That was your one and only free pass.” She spoke quietly and precisely. “You’re hurting, you’re still experiencing blowback, and you don’t know your own strength.” She waited until he turned to look at her. “If you ever do anything like that to me again, I’ll put you in lockdown on your ship until launch day, even if that’s six months from now. Do you understand?”

  “I’m sorry–”

  She cut him off. “Do. You. Understand?” She ground out each word.

  His posture straightened, and his remorseful expression faded to unreadable. “Yes. I understand.”

  She held his gaze a moment longer, then turned away. The console’s countdown said only ten minutes left until they got to her building. A hot shower before bed would help clear her sinus congestion, but wouldn’t mend her heart.

  Her government percomp startled her with the vibration and tone of an incoming private ping. She answered and heard Ferrsi’s message in her earwire.

  “This is an unannounced drill for the emergency response team. You are instructed to report to your designated command center by zero two hundred hours, and bring your player handbook.”

  The message repeated itself, then ended. The escape committee’s cover was disaster preparedness, but they’d never met at two in the frickin’ morning.

  “Trouble?” asked Gavril. He must have noticed her listening to the message.

  “I don’t know.” She pointed to the navigation console. “I need the nearest public transport kiosk that calls autocabs.” She used her government percomp to order the autocab, and entered the special code that encrypted her pickup and designation coordinates.

  He immediately rerouted the hauler. Three minutes later, the hauler signaled arrival and slowed to a halt.

  She sealed her coat and pulled up her hood. “I’ll ping you with news when I can.”

  “You’ll be warmer if you wait in here.”

  His peace offering tempted her, but she was too wrung out to take it. “It’s only a couple of minutes. I’ll be all right. You’ve got an hour’s drive back to the ship.” She opened the hauler’s side door and clambered out, nearly turning her ankle because of her damned, bad-luck shoes.

  She watched the ground hauler pull away. She turned away and wrapped her arms around herself against the cold, and against the overwhelming sense of loss. Her trust had been abused, and she’d lost Gavril’s affection, which she wasn’t sure she’d ever had in the first place.


  Hazy dawn had crept over Aetheres by the time she stumbled into her apartment. Her life had gone from merely stressful to full-blown chaotic in the space of three hours.

  She pinged Gavril and Lizet at the repair dock and asked them to come to her apartment immediately, but told them to stay off the traffic control system. She threw her unlucky shoes in the recycler, wishing she could watch them burn, then showered and put on painting clothes and running boots. If she was going to have to face the end of the world with no sleep, at least she’d be comfortable, for once.

  She brewed the last of her real coffee and foraged in her kitchen to pull together a haphazard breakfast for herself and her guests. She’d just pulled out plates and silverware when Lizet pinged their arrival on the rooftop airpad. To have gotten there so fast, they’d probably flown the repossessed racing flitter. She ushered them in a few minutes later and pointed to the breakfast bar.

  “Eat, or it’ll go to waste.”

  She dug into a plate full of fluffy scrambled eggs and reheated breaded fish, eating as fast as she could to stave off the waves of exhaustion that threatened to knock her over.

  Gavril, handsome as ever, looked calm and collected, despite the fact that he was clearly wearing sleep pants and an engineer’s tunic under his pullover sweater. Black-haired, ash-pale Lizet wore charcoal gray everything, and looked both nervous and excited. Gavril said she was an extraordinarily talented navigator, for being only sixteen.

  Anitra took a deep breath. “Liftoff is the day after tomorrow.” She took several gulps of her cooled coffee. “As of an hour ago, the planetary traffic control system, and the weather and local comms satellites are simultaneously ‘down for maintenance’”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“and blocking outgoing comms to the system’s CGC comms satellite. The ground-based disaster communications networks are fully functional and activated, but each of the three continents has its own.”

  “Why now?” asked Gavril.

  “Because Chief Ferrsi’s best intel says someone high up is a settlement company spy who’s getting too close to discovering there really is an evacuation plan, not just a dysfunctional, flailing government rearranging the deck chairs. The committee is damn lucky the ‘red herrings and rumors’ campaign worked for as long as it did.”

  “How are they going to get everyone off the planet?” Lizet looked to the ceiling, as if she could see ships overhead.

  Gavril shook his head. “They won’t have to. I’ll bet at least fifteen percent refuse to leave.”

  “More like twenty-five percent. Settlers are stubborn.” Anitra poured herself another cup of coffee, and took a piece of buttered toast to keep her stomach from complaining. “The coordinators are using the disaster comms network to tell people what they can take and where to go. The traffic system will route people to their assigned ships.” She turned to Lizet. “Which reminds me. Your missing uncle is with his ship on the west coast, near Serenum. They’ve been moving ships away from the spaceport as much as possible, in case the settlement company or the military does something sneaky.” She quirked a smile. “They even printed shells to look like the ships, to fool orbital surveillance.”

  Gavril frowned. “Assuming we all make it past the blockade, which is a damn big ‘if,’ where are we going? Or is it every ship for itself?”

  “Biggest secret there is.” She made herself eat a bite of her toast. “The committee hates not knowing. Dalgono, my boss, and his allies on the committee aren’t happy about only two days’ notice, either.” She held up her left wrist to show them her new government-issued bracelet percomp that looked a lot like a parole tracker. “They really aren’t happy that all of us committee members are being safety-monitored until liftoff. That’s why I asked you to come to me. I didn’t want to risk giving away the location of the repair dock.”

  Lizet tore a strip off her paper napkin. “What about the Diamantov?”

  Anitra sighed. “We’d need another month to make it spaceworthy, and I never found a pilot, much less a crew. Saving people comes first.”

  Gavril and Lizet exchanged a look. Lizet tore another strip off her napkin. Gavril cleared his throat. “About that…”

  Anitra raised an eyebrow.

  Lizet focused on her napkin shredding. “Remember that twisty guy, early on, who said he was a metal fabricator, but turned out he didn’t know incalloy from iron? He asked a lot of questions before Gav fired him.” She glanced up through her bangs at Anitra, then down again.

  Anitra shook her head in confusion. “I’m not following.”

  Gavril crossed his arms. “We’ve been lying to everyone, including you, about how far along we are. We told the other contractors the ship repair is a scam, and that we think you’re secretly using it to siphon funds from a wealthy zero-head who thinks it’s their family’s ticket off the planet. We said we didn’t care, because a job’s a job.”

  “Why would you… Oh.” She waved apologetically. “Spies. Theft crews. Scammers. Sorry, I’m slow this morning.” She put her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her fist. “So, tell me about the Deset Diamantov.”

  Gavril got up from his stool at the breakfast bar to retrieve his tablet. “This is what everyone thinks.” He displayed a very familiar holo diagram of the ship showing progress on the various repairs, with long lists in mostly red and gray to indicate incomplete status. He manipulated the interface, and the list of repairs faded, leaving a few items, with only two in caution status. “This is reality. We can work around the comms problem. Top off the flux and system drive fuel, and the Diamantov could lift off today.”

  “This is stunning.” She stared in awe at the slowly rotating holo of the ancient freighter. “You’ve done more with the ship than I’d have ever thought possible.” Tears threatened as she gave them a watery smile. “I’m sorry we can’t see it fly.”

  “Lizet and I had a long talk this morning.” Gavril tilted his head toward the young woman. “After your midnight meeting, we figured something was up.” Gavril enveloped Anitra’s cold fingers in his warm hand. “Get us the cargo and four crew with interstellar transit experience. I’ll be loadmaster and prime pilot, Lizet will be navigator and second pilot, and we’ll hope the blockade folds in the face of an unorganized, unarmed, thousand-ship fleet of refugees.”

  Gavril’s expression showed stubborn determination. Lizet looked up with hope in her eyes.

  Anitra straightened up and met Gavin’s gaze. “Who’ll pilot your ship?”

  Gavril looked to Lizet.

  “My cousin Tamazo,” she said. “He doesn’t have a cert because he’s only fifteen, but he’s got more hours than most commercial pilots twice his age. My family vouched for him, and Mr. Danilovich agreed.”

  Gavril nodded when Anitra sent him a questioning look. “Better another trader with good recommendations than some random amateur pilot who needs an AI assist just to find the fresher.”

  Anitra turned to Lizet. “And what does your family think about you going on the Diamantov, instead of with them?” In her experience, trader families were clannish and very protective of their kids.

  “They said I’m old enough to plot my own star chart. I want to go with you.” She began braiding her napkin shreds. “I’m a minder. Just a filer, but my father…” She swallowed whatever she’d been going to say. “Mr. Danilovich says you and he are minders, too.”

  Anitra wanted to hug the too-skinny, diffident young woman and tell her it’d get better, but realistically, it probably wouldn’t. Most days, prejudice against minders felt like a part of civilization’s DNA.

  Gavril squeezed Anitra’s fingers, then let go. “Her grandmother said it’d be better not to put all the family treasures in one ship.” He glanced at Lizet. “They trust her. So do I.”

  Anitra closed her eyes for a moment, then looked straight at Gavril. “You don’t like people, and you’re not enamored of me right now, either. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I owe you.”
Gavril held her gaze. “Not just because I was a colossal, selfish jackhole last night, but because refitting the Diamantov gave me something good to do. I was on the path to chemming myself into a medical center or mind shop because I couldn’t stand the crowds.” He paused, then continued. “You knew that, and trusted me anyway.”

  “You trusted me, too, even though it was a fantastical idea,” she said softly. “Both of you. I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.” She wiped away a tear that fell.

  Lizet peeked up through the black hair that usually obscured her pale blue eyes. “You’re not torqued about us telling everyone you’re running a twist?”

  “Not at all.” Anitra smiled tiredly. “I’m not devious. If you’d told them the truth, someone would have stolen the ship in the first ten-day.” She shook her head. “I’m too idealistic for my own good.”

  Gavril topped off her coffee. “The galaxy needs people with dreams. You inspire the rest of us.” His sweet, serious smile made her heart skip a beat.

  “So are you going to do it?” asked Lizet. “Can I stay?”

  “Yes.” Anitra took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then looked at Lizet. “And yes.” She pulled her tablet out of her pocket and unfolded it. “First, can the Diamantov take more people than just the four crew you asked for? It’ll be easier to get my hidden stockpiles to the ship if I can offer an evacuation berth for the people who transport them to you.”

  Gavril squinted at the holo of the ship. “Yeah, maybe eighteen if they don’t mind shift sleeping on pads and eating mealpacks. And if they don’t bring every stinking thing they own.”

  “They’ll travel light.” Anitra added a note about the crew limit on one of her myriad lists. “Remember those household recycling crates the government issued, that everyone thought was a bureaucratic screw-up because everyone got one? The evacuation orders will restrict each person to whatever can fit in one crate.”