Star Rebels: Stories of Space Exploration, Alien Races, and Adventure

by Audrey Faye

  She took a step back, her torn boots sinking into the plush carpet. Did they mean to barter—no jail time for her and Tipper, in exchange for her servitude here?

  “What do you mean?”

  The Director must have seen the suspicion on her face, for he let out another hearty laugh.

  “No, no, it’s not what you think. You and your friend’s misdemeanors have already been dismissed. A bit of a youthful lark, what?”

  Diana heard Tipper let out a theatrical sigh of relief, but she kept her gaze focused on the man before her. Distrust warred with hope, churning together uneasily in her belly.

  “On behalf of Spaceport Authority, I would like to offer you employment, Miss Smythe. What would you say to that?”

  “What would I need to do?”

  “Exactly what you just demonstrated. Watch the ships, calculate the trajectories and arcs. Help us all achieve the stars to the best of our ability, and put your rare skills in the service of the greater cause of humanity.”

  It was a pompous speech, but it stirred her all the same. There was a glint of truth in the Director’s eye that swayed her, even more than the grand words.

  “How much?”

  “Ever practical, aren’t you?” He named a sum that stilled her heart for a moment.

  But only a moment.

  “A month?” she asked, half in jest.

  This time it was the Director’s turn to blink. Then he laughed again.

  “And why not? Do we have an agreement?”

  She pulled in a breath and glanced once more at the spinning arcs and sines weaving outside the window. The sum she had named would keep her in grand style. Even better, it would send Tipper, and any other alley rat who wanted out, a ticket to the stars. In style.

  Slowly, she gazed up, past the blue, to where the stars gleamed and shone. The stars were a wonderful dream. But not, as it transpired, the best dream of all.

  She extended a grimy hand to the director, and smiled when he took it without hesitation.

  “Yes,” she said. “We surely do.”

  Want to read more Victorian Spacepunk? Scoop up the STARS & STEAM collection for more tales set in the universe of Victoria Eternal!

  A USA Today bestselling author, Anthea writes Victorian-set romantic adventure under the pen name Anthea Lawson and Science Fantasy featuring cyber-punk elements and treacherous faeries as Anthea Sharp.

  Sign up for her new release mailing list and get a free story! Click here.

  Arcturus 5

  A Twenty Sectors Story

  D.L. Dunbar

  Xella went to Arcturus 5 to mediate a simple trade dispute between the Mol and the Dark, but now she’s not sure she’ll get out alive.

  Arcturus 5

  Everyone traveled multi-sector distances by The Fold, but Xella wished for once she could take the longer, more scenic route to the Andromeda Galaxy. The endless passage of white stars in a cold, black background was soothing, a reminder that there were things far more vast than their daily concerns—far more important in the cosmic scheme of things than a squabble over helium collector transport and the restriction of space in key shipping lanes.

  But Mother had decided that involvement in this dispute was key to their future in this sector. And one more sector under the influence of the Graha-Es was a good thing—for the Graha-Es as well as these other races who seemed only to care about short-term gain and personal wealth.

  Of course when some species measured life in a few hundred orbits of a planet around a sun, they were bound to have such a narrow view of the future. And these short lives were the reason she was traveling by The Fold rather than take the two-thousand light year scenic route.

  “Ready, Tovenaressa Xella?”

  Xella turned to her little sister, Pey. The girl was so excited—her first trip to this sector and her first time experiencing The Fold. Pey had assisted other Tovenaressa in diplomatic missions over the last century as part of her training, but this tense arbitration would be yet another first.

  With one of her long forearms, Xella reached out to touch the decorative gem embedded in her sister’s pebbled skin, giving it a reassuring pat. “Ready.”

  The girl keyed in the sequence to begin The Fold and edged the ship into the transport window. There was a feeling of intense pressure. G-forces immobilized them against the seats. Stars blurred outside the viewer, then there was nothing on the screen besides a dark, empty space. Most races needed personal pressurization containers when using The Fold, a few even needed to enter stasis or travel in a cryogenic state. The Graha-Es were thankfully able to withstand great G-force as well as a variety of atmospheric conditions, even if they were somewhat limited in the temperature ranges in which they could function.

  Not as limited as some. Xella had heard of creatures who could only survive within a two hundred degree temperature range. How difficult those races must find space travel.

  “We’re here,” she said as a red streak burst into view on the screen, then froze. Their speed abruptly dropped, and the blur of red became a planet.

  “Oh!” Pey extended a midarm to touch the viewer, as if she could hardly believe her eyes.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Xella reached out again to stroke Pey’s gem-studded skin. How wonderful to have a companion along for this negotiation. So many times she was making these journeys alone. Graha-Es should not be alone. Ammita, in all her wisdom, had not created them to be solitary creatures.

  But she was alone, even with Pey right next to her. Xella’s warm feeling faded as she contemplated how very alone she was. At eight thousand orbits, she was far too old to still be alone. All the other Graha-Es sisters had been gifted with their soul mates before four thousand. Even Pey at a young two-thousand orbits had just been joined.

  Envy was a disgraceful emotion, and self-pity not much better. Mother would eventually find her the perfect match, and then she would never be lonely again. Calm acceptance, attention to duty, and diligent work toward the betterment of the Graha-Es was what she should be contemplating, not how much she wished Mother would hurry up and find her someone.

  It was embarrassing, though. She knew there were whispers. She knew the others wondered why Mother had denied her a soul mate. Was she not worthy? Had she done something wrong and fallen into disfavor?

  Xella straightened her torso, lifting her head. It didn’t matter what others thought. Mother had sent her on this mission. Her work here would prove her loyalty and her worth. And then maybe she would eventually be gifted with a match.

  The planet grew larger as they approached until nearly the entire viewer was encompassed by its pretty twisting lines of red. Arcturus 5 was the fifth planet out from the star, and home to the warehouse and transfer outpost of the Mol for this particular part of their business. The first two planets had been engulfed by the red giant when it had expanded, the second two were boiling masses of liquid rock and violent volcanic activity. Arcturus 5 wasn’t much in terms of an ideal outpost, but helium collection required a site close enough to the star to easily retrieve the units for shipment, yet far enough away that a biosphere and shipping was feasible. This fifth planet barely met the requirements. Its temperature varied 1100 degrees from day to night, and the scant atmosphere meant it was constantly buffeted by solar winds. Thankfully the planet rotated slowly, meaning the biosphere “walked”, shifting locations in time with the rotation, keeping it constantly in the twilight zone.

  “Why is their outpost on the surface?” Pey asked, her black eyes riveted to the screen. “If they’re just storing and transferring collection containers to a freighter, why not run an orbital site? Or a mid-space one?”

  Xella was secretly thrilled to play the role of teacher, to impart what knowledge she could to Pey. Although she would be a terrible teacher if she just told and didn’t push the girl to think through these things herself.

  “If the Graha-Es were to run an orbiting site, what environmental controls as well as health and safety proce
dures would be needed for the workers?”

  The girl tapped the long curved hook at the end of a forearm on the monitor. “Artificial gravity and mandatory weight-bearing sessions for workers with internal skeletons. Although if we used Capire or Arach workers, we could minimize that. No, maybe not. They’d need a high nitrogen atmosphere and the costs of that might outweigh the AG units.”

  Xella deployed the breaks to slow the ship as it entered the atmosphere and listened to Pey continue to think through the engineering and financial scenarios out loud. If the girl wasn’t suitable for diplomatic missions, she’d definitely recommend her as a project manager. Although that wouldn’t be as coveted a job since it would force her to work day-to-day with the Mezadu. The worker males of the Graha-Es were enthusiastic and loyal, but didn’t exactly provide stimulating conversation.

  Descending below the wispy layer of pink clouds, the Mol transport and storage facility appeared on the horizon. It was ugly, like a squat, misshapen gray beast. The tallest portions were docking bays for shuttles and small ships. Atmospheric and worker concerns aside, Xella would never have chosen to place such a facility surface-side. The helium collectors were close to the red giant star that occupied the lower quarter of the sky. Small ships grabbed the full containers, replacing them with empty ones, then brought them to the surface for storage here only to haul them back up to the massive freighter once a month. That was a whole lot of fuel, and a whole lot of little ships when an orbiting facility could load directly onto the freighter.

  It wasn’t her business how the Mol ran their operations. She was here to arbitrate a dispute, not judge them on cost-effectiveness and operational efficiency.

  Xella took control of the ship, using the guided assist from the landing bay to enter the bay doors and gently touch down. The doors shut behind them. Mechanical collars locked the ship’s landing devices to the floor and the whoosh of decompression began.

  This was an expensive outpost in a tight-margin business. She’d been briefed that the Mol kept environmental controls to a minimum. The workers ate nutrient sticks and received fluids on a schedule, as conditions even inside the biosphere weren’t suitable for growing food or for producing more than the minimal necessary water. Only species who could tolerate the six hundred degree temperature of the biosphere were allowed to work here. It would be far too costly to fight the planet’s heat and cool the domed area to accommodate more temperature sensitive workers. The Mol weren’t particularly sympathetic to complaints. Xella had been here forty orbits ago to settle a labor dispute. There had been changes in feeding and shift schedules, and some turnover of workers who probably weren’t suited for this type of employment, but the Mol were the Mol.

  Yes. An orbital warehousing structure would have been wiser. Idiots. But thankfully she wasn’t here this time on a labor dispute. The Dark had begun cutting through the Bootes constellation as part of their salvage operations, passing near Arcturus 5. Their presence had made the Mol uneasy. The Dark were an opportunistic race. What they called salvage was often what another species called momentarily unattended, or perhaps insufficiently guarded.

  The Mol fears weren’t unfounded. Two hundred orbits ago the Dark had seized one of their freighters. It had been completely dismantled and sold as scrap along with its cargo by the time the Mol had tracked it down. The Dark had claimed they’d found it drifting near Gamma Crucis, no crew aboard and severely damaged. They blamed raiders.

  Of course they did. Clearly the Dark were the luckiest of anyone in the twenty sectors because they always managed to come upon ships that had been attacked by raiders and left behind with a wealth of cargo and equipment. Amazing how often that seemed to happen.

  The Mol lodged a protest but didn’t pursue any action. Bringing the Dark to justice had proved an expensive and deadly endeavor for many species. There hadn’t been any other provable infractions against Mol ships until this past month, when a cargo ship had disappeared right outside the Arcturus system.

  Rather than accuse the Dark outright and risk an international incident, the Mol claimed domain of the system and the shipping lanes around it as part of their operations. If they prevailed, the Dark wouldn’t be able to come close enough to find a “salvage” ship without a fleet of Graha-Es destroyers on their tails.

  The few female Graha-Es, the Tovenaressa to which Xella and Pey belonged, were known for civilized diplomacy and cultured negotiation. The sterile male Graha-Es, the Mezadu, were gifted with extra chromosomes, making them best suited for battle—and they were fierce. They lived to serve, and if Mother told a group to protect the shipping lanes, there would be no further complaints from the Mol about Dark raiders.

  The Mezadu were what solidified the Graha-Es position in the twenty sectors, and why the Dark kept as far away from them as possible. The fact they’d agreed to this arbitration was a surprise. A Dark at the table was unusual enough; a Dark agreeing to abide by a decision by a Graha-Es Tovenaressa if a compromise was not reached was unheard of. It made Xella nervous. All races were predictable to a certain extent. This behavior shift worried her greatly.

  But she wasn’t about to show uncertainty in front of Pey. Tovenaressa were sisters, daughters of the Mother, but there were no guarantees that Pey wouldn’t let slip a few stories of her weaknesses if things went bad. Increasingly, Xella worried about things going bad. Her assignments had become more challenging over the last dozen orbits—so challenging that she feared it would be only a matter of time until she failed. And failure was something that the Mother did not forgive.

  “Welcome, Tovenaressa Xella, welcome.” The Mol escort greeted them enthusiastically the moment the bay door opened, bobbing his gelatinous head.

  Xella adjusted the voicebox she’d attached to the port on the side of her neck, ensuring that the frequency was compatible with Mol vocal communication. “Greetings to you, also. May I know your name?”

  The Mol’s body shifted color to a lavender hue, indicating how flattered he was to be asked. Polite creatures with clear lines of societal structure, all but the most important of Mol were used to remaining anonymous figures. It was much the same among the Graha-Es, but Xella had learned early that personal attention went a long way in securing loyalty. And if things went as badly at this negotiation as she feared, she’d want every Mol possible on her side.

  “T434, thank you for asking Tovenaressa Xella.”

  She nodded. “This is Tovenaressa Pey who will be observing and assisting me.”

  The Mol blinked at her turning a pale golden color. “We were expecting only one.”

  Mother did like to surprise. Xella tilted her head in what passed for a smile among the Mol. “We can share accommodations. That would be no insult to us as we frequently do so at home.”

  T434 bobbed his semi-liquid upper half and motioned for them to follow, their footsteps echoing loudly in the empty landing bay.

  Empty. How odd. There should have been crates of boxed storage containers ready to shuttle up to the freighter parked in the upper atmosphere. It couldn’t have been full or it would have left by now. Unless the Mol were holding shipment until negotiations were complete to ensure no interference from the Dark. Still…it seemed oddly empty for such a large landing bay.

  T434 led them through a giant set of doors large enough to accommodate pallets and to the left into a narrower hallway. The biosphere was sparse, the temperature cool to Graha-Es standards. Not cool enough to cause either of them to be lethargic, and certainly not cool enough to send them into stasis, but cool enough that Xella felt mildly uncomfortable. From the liquid the Mol leading them was dripping onto the floor, she assumed he must be fairly new here. Their home world was quite a bit cooler, this being near the upper limits of temperature that Mol could comfortably tolerate. No wonder they used other races in thermal collection and processing. A Mol exerting himself physically at this temperature wouldn’t be conscious for long.

  But where were those other races? They’d encounter
ed no one on their long walk through the facility—no Mol or anyone who might possibly be a worker. It was as if they were all hiding as far from the Graha-Es visitors as possible.

  T434 opened a door and waved a round white arm at the room—their resting quarters, a space barely big enough for them to lay side-by-side. It was luxurious compared to what the workers had the last time she was here. Pey entered first, then T434 pressed a button on the wall and Xella saw how honored they’d been to receive this space. As private as the room was, the entire thing had a clear view of the planet outside the biosphere. It must have been right on the edge of the dome to have such a view.

  Pey gasped and pressed her fore and midarms against the barrier, drinking in the landscape. Xella longed to do the same, struggling to appear professional and not like a young, untested sister rarely off her home planet.

  Arcturus 5 was stunning. The prevalence of iron on the planet colored everything in shades of red. The ever-setting sun filtered through the thin atmosphere, tinging the jagged cliffs in the distance a bright gold. The magnetic storms that slammed into the planet created the dancing streaks of white and green far off on the horizon.

  In all her orbits, Xella had yet to become jaded to the beauty around her. And she was absolutely aware of the fleeting nature of such beauty. In a few million orbits this red giant star would have depleted all of its helium and collapse upon itself, leaving Arcturus 5 a cold rock in an empty sky.

  It would still be beautiful, but it would be the beauty of death.

  T434 touched another button on the wall and a blue line appeared. “Will one tick be sufficient to rest, Tovenaressa Xella? The Donnar Mol is eager to begin.”

  She nodded. “I too am eager to begin.”

  He bowed out of the room. “Then I will return to escort you when the blue line is exhausted.”

  As soon as he was gone, Xella allowed herself a moment to feel her exhaustion. Even with The Fold, travel was tiring, and she needed to be constantly alert from the moment she arrived. It all mattered—the landing bay, the corridors, the room they’d received, T434’s gestures and words. There were so many variables in a negotiation, and what was said at the table was often the least important.