Heart of the Nebula

by Joe Vasicek

  Home, she thought, her heart practically leaping out of her chest. Home at last.

  “We’ve done it,” said James, grinning from ear to ear. For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to hug her, but with Lars, Sterling, and all the other passengers seated around them, he let out a loud victory whoop instead.

  All around the crowded observation deck of the Freedom Star, everyone took up the cheer. One of the crew popped a bottle of champagne, and the foam sprayed out all over as if they were at a wedding. Even Lars, who had been sullen and withdrawn ever since they’d left Gaia Nova, was smiling.

  James put one arm around him and another around Sterling, pulling them both close. “It sure is good to be back, isn’t it?” he said, glancing over at Sara with a smile in his eyes.

  “Yeah,” said Lars. “It sure is.”

  “Though you have to admit, it has been like a free month of leave,” said Sterling. “When are we going to get another chance to fly on a ship like this?”

  “For all I care, never,” said James. “No offense, Sara, but I’d take a good gunboat over the Freedom Star any day.”

  “None taken,” she said. Their eyes met, and for a moment, it seemed like he had something else he wanted to tell her. But then, he either clammed up or thought better of it, because he turned and led the others off to celebrate.

  Just as long as you keep your promise not to tell anyone, she thought to herself. She would have to tell her father immediately, so that they could contain the damage if James didn’t keep his word. That meant admitting to her father that her mission was less than a perfect success, a disappointment too small to warrant a reprimand but too large to completely ignore. As if she needed any more of those.

  Don’t get too comfortable, James. With everything he knew, their paths were bound to cross again very, very soon.

  * * * * *

  Kyla’s hands trembled, and her empty stomach felt as if a swarm of flies was trying to get out. She paced the small but cozy space of her quarters. Not long, and the comfortable luxury bedroom would be replaced by a real prison cell, with a retractable slab for a bed and electrified bars for a window.

  A gentle rumbling sounded through the floors and walls, followed by the distant groan of machinery. That was probably the sound of them docking with the station, returning to the hell that she’d vowed to leave behind. Unable to wait any longer, she palmed open the door and stuck her head out.

  “Oh, hi there,” said Sterling, sitting on the chair just outside her door. “Can I help you with anything?”

  You can help me get the hell out of here, Kyla thought silently. She considered making a dash for it, but even if she did get past Sterling, there was still the airlock to deal with—and it would be a lot harder to escape through that than to escape from her quarters. She slunk back inside and palmed the door shut.

  Once inside, she fell on her bed and screamed into her pillow. Everything she’d gone through to get away from the Colony was a waste. She was a criminal now, and a caught one at that. The money she’d saved up for the smuggler, the sexual favors she’d done for him to make up the difference—all of it had been wasted.

  Too soon, the door chime rung. Kyla took a deep breath and lay perfectly still, not bothering to answer it. A few seconds later, the door hissed open, and heavy footsteps sounded on the floor.

  “Kyla.”

  It was James. She looked up and saw him flanked by two armed men with dark blue helmets and wristbands. They stared at her dispassionately, the way a person would gaze at a robot that was behaving erratically. Kyla swallowed.

  “These men are here from the Colony police,” James explained. “They’re going to escort you to the penitentiary, where you’ll stay until we get things sorted out. You’ll be treated well there, with food and a place to sleep.”

  How do you know? Kyla wanted to ask. Instead, she said nothing.

  “You don’t have a court date yet, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple of days from now. Lars assures me that that’s plenty of time to file the paperwork for guardianship. If you cooperate, you’ll probably get off with a few hours of community service and won’t have to worry about child services taking you away. Does it sound like a good deal?”

  It sounds too good to be true, which probably means that it isn’t.

  Probably.

  Kyla lay motionless on the bed, refusing to acknowledge James or the police. Perhaps if she ignored them, they would simply go away.

  “Kyla, do you hear me? This is the best chance at a new life that you’re going to get.”

  It wasn’t until then that she realized just how scared she was. Her future was uncertain, and for the first time in years, she had something to lose.

  Hope.

  “I’m coming,” she whispered as she rose to her feet. The men in the dark blue uniforms came forward to take her away, but though all of her instincts screamed at her to run or fight back, she did not resist.

  * * * * *

  James could not believe the crowd that had gathered in the spaceport terminal to greet the delegation. The gate was packed from wall to wall with cheering people, while banners hung from the bulkheads welcoming them home. As they stepped out of the tram and onto the platform, they were immediately mobbed by a horde of citizen reporters with microphones and transcoders.

  “How does it feel to be back?”

  “Was the conference a failure?”

  “How many of the other delegates were killed?”

  “Should we prepare for any Hameji reprisals?”

  Instinctively, James looked around for the people he was supposed to protect. Sara was only a few feet ahead of him, but with the noisy press of the crowd all around them, she might as well have been on the other side of a wall. He glanced over his shoulder at Sterling and Lars, but they were cut off from him as well.

  “We’ll be giving a press conference in just a few hours,” Lars told the reporters. “Until then, I’m afraid I can’t take any of your questions.”

  Even so, the reporters swarmed as quickly as a pack of beggars to a man with money in his hands. Lars ignored them much better than James ever could, coming within inches of colliding with some of them before they moved out of his way. Though his face was expressionless, James could tell from the fire in his eyes that their questions were aggravating him.

  “Do you personally feel responsible for the massacre, Lieutenant?”

  The question knocked him completely off guard. He glared at the reporter who’d asked it—a young twenty-something woman with carefully groomed hair and too much eyeliner.

  “Responsible for what? We brought back the entire delegation without a single casualty. In my book, that’s a success.”

  The words no sooner left his mouth than he realized he’d made a mistake. Instantly, almost a dozen microphones converged upon him.

  “Will the security situation in the Karduna system deteriorate because of—”

  “Do you feel that the patrician was justified in—”

  “—see any relief from the occupation?”

  A wave of dizziness and claustrophobia swept over him, worse than the sensation of jumpspace. Much worse. He took a deep breath and lifted his arms to swat the reporters away. He had to get through them—had to get out of this mess.

  Before he could do so, though, the patrician’s voice sounded from the other side of the gate.

  “Sara!”

  “Dad!” Sara exclaimed, rushing forward. She threw her arms around her father in a warm embrace, camera flashes exploding all around them. In an instant, the press deserted James and thronged around the patrician and his daughter.

  “You’ve never looked better, my dear,” the patrician exclaimed, smiling as he looked his daughter over. “When we heard about the massacre, we feared the worst.”

  “I know,” she said. “But thanks to these two brave soldiers, we all made it out alive.”

  “Let me see them.”

  A chill ran down James’s back a
s the patrician turned to him and Sterling. He stood up straight and gave his best salute, kicking Sterling in the leg to make sure he did the same.

  “Outstanding—simply outstanding. Here, let me shake your hands.”

  The decidedly more civilian gesture was a bit awkward, especially with the crowd pressing in, but they managed it as well as they could. As the patrician took James’s hand in both of his, he gave him a quick wink.

  What was that for?

  “Lieutenant McCoy and Ensign Jones,” said the patrician, “on behalf of our entire community, let me be the first to thank you for your bravery. By risking your lives to see our entire delegation safely back home, you demonstrated exceptional courage. For that, the military council and I have decided to give you both promotions. Congratulations, Lieutenant Jones and Commander McCoy. Welcome home.”

  James’s eyes widened in shock. “C-commander, sir?”

  “That’s right, McCoy. Congratulations.”

  The patrician shook his hand again, but he could barely feel it. He glanced over at Sterling, who looked just as shocked as he was, then at Sara. As the patrician moved on to shake Sterling’s hand, she stepped forward and gave him a hug.

  “Play along,” she whispered in his ear.

  Instantly, a thousand questions rushed through his mind. Play along with what? Was this part of the patrician’s game? How had he gotten the military council to agree to this promotion? Were they in on it as well? And most importantly, what did this have to do with Sara’s mission?

  “Citizens,” said the patrician, addressing the crowd, “I’m sure you all have many questions. First, the members of the delegation must be debriefed. I apologize for the delay, but we will hold a press conference as soon as we have more information. Thank you.”

  A few of the citizen reporters still pressed forward with their questions, but most of them began to disperse. James glanced at Sara, who motioned for him to wait. Sure enough, the patrician soon came over.

  “I hope to meet with you after your military briefing, Commander,” he said in a voice that only James could hear. “Please come to my office at your earliest convenience.”

  Chills ran down James’s back. Before he could respond, though, the patrician was already boarding a car with his daughter. James stood and watched as they took off.

  “Can you believe it, Captain?” Sterling asked, as excited as James had ever heard him. “Promotions! How does it feel, Capt—er, Commander? How does it feel?”

  “Ominous,” James answered under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, Sterling. Congratulations on the promotion—I knew you’d make lieutenant soon.”

  Sterling beamed. “And congratulations to you, too, sir! Now, shouldn’t we be headed to that debriefing?”

  James glanced around the crowded terminal. The mob of citizen reporters had more or less dispersed, but there were still plenty of people watching them, and not all in an admiring way.

  “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.” And not just because of the debriefing, he added silently.

  * * * * *

  Sara followed her father away from the crowded terminal. Together, they boarded a private car that whisked them away from the spaceport and back toward the official residence.

  “That lieutenant is quite a character, eh?” her father said as the car sped away.

  “I suppose,” said Sara, remembering their dinner date and the way he’d cut it short to take care of the stowaway. “He hasn’t got much tact, but he does stick by his principles.”

  “Yes,” said her father. “And he certainly can be useful for the purposes of political spectacle.”

  “Is that all that was to you?”

  He chuckled. “Practically speaking. Off the record, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Sara, rolling her eyes. She and her father were so close, “off the record” was practically a joke.

  “Now tell me,” he said, clasping his hands together. “How did the meeting with the Nabattans go?”

  “Very well, all things considered.”

  “Ah, good. So you were able to strike a deal?”

  “Yes. They bargained hard, though—the price isn’t going to be cheap. It’ll take almost half a year’s production to fill it.”

  “Not a problem. As long as it saves our people, we can pay anything.”

  “There is one more thing, dad.”

  “Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  She swallowed. Here goes nothing.

  “James found out about my mission and forced me to tell him everything. The exodus, the station drive—I tried my best to keep it from him, but he cornered me after the massacre and wouldn’t let up.”

  “Very well,” said her father. “I trust you got his promise not to go public?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He silenced her with a casual wave of his hand. “I’ve had my eye on that young man for quite a while. He can be a maverick now and again, but at the same time, he’s a deeply practical man with an incisive mind and good intuition. And as you said, he sticks by his principles. Once convinced that we’re doing the right thing, I had no doubt that he would prove both capable and loyal.”

  She stared at her father incredulously. “You knew that he’d find some way to get that information out of me, and you didn’t tell me that that was part of your plan.”

  “Well, to be fair, I didn’t know for sure that he’d get it out of you. But if he had failed to put it all together, that would have proved he wasn’t capable enough to be let into the inner circle.”

  “And what if he betrays us? What if he goes public?”

  Her father grinned. “Leave that to me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sara asked, frowning.

  “James is too honest to go back on his promise without first investigating your claims for himself. He’ll go to the source, and when he sees what we’re working to accomplish, I’m confident that we’ll win him over to our side.”

  Just like you convinced me that I had to keep my mission a secret?

  “You could have told me that you planned to let him in on everything,” she said, folding her arms.

  “I’m afraid not, my dear. If you had known that I intended to bring James into the inner circle, that would have changed your behavior significantly, wouldn’t it?”

  Sara thought back again to her date with James and the self-defense lesson he’d given her. She had to admit, her father had a point.

  “That was still very manipulative of you.”

  “All leadership is manipulation,” said her father, “just as all warfare is deception. Democracy is fine and good, but without someone at the top to pull the proper strings, it’s little better than mob rule.”

  Sara nodded, still dumbfounded by the way she’d been played by her own father. In some ways, she wished that he’d been disappointed instead. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to face the awful truth that her father had used her like a pawn.

  “This is why Mom left you, you know,” she said. It was the only retort she could come up with that she knew would hit home.

  Her father frowned. “This has nothing to do with your mother.”

  “But you treated her exactly the same way you’re treating me.” She knew that she would regret this fight later, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Sending you on a first class luxury liner at the family’s expense with an attractive, and very eligible, young Defense Corps officer?”

  Her cheeks reddened, and not just from anger.

  “Using me as one of your pawns to accomplish your political ends.”

  “I only do what has to be done, Sara, and I do it for the good of us all.”

  “But your career always comes before your family.”

  Her father sighed and stared out the window. “I assume you’re prepared to present your report on the negotiations to the inner circle?”

  “Of course,” she said, scowling as she
turned away. It was just like her father to deflect when he knew he was losing an argument. Well, she’d show him that she was just as capable and independent as he was. She wouldn’t let him use her.

  Chapter 11

  James stepped into the patrician’s office alone, not sure what he’d find inside. The reception area was rather generic, with a couple of couches and wallscreens along the off-white wall tiling. A set of shelves sat in the corner, with a few antique synth-paper books on display. Generic planetscapes cycled through the wallscreens. Except for a young female secretary behind the counter, the place was empty—conspicuously so.

  “Commander McCoy?”

  “Yes,” James answered.

  “Please follow me,” said the secretary, smiling as she rose from her seat.

  She led him down a short hallway to a magnificent, wood-paneled conference room. A number of people had already gathered around the long table, leaning back in their luxuriously wide chairs. Most of them were middle-aged businessmen, though a couple were civilian ship captains, judging from their clothes. None of them were with the military—at least, none that James recognized.

  As he glanced around the room, he saw Sara near the front, dressed in a light blouse and a tan vest. Her father wasn’t present, but he assumed that the chair at the head of the table was for him. Whether by design or serendipity, the only other empty chair at the table was next to her.

  “Hello, James,” she said as he sat down next to her. “Glad to see you could make it.”

  “I’m glad, too,” he said, keeping his voice low so only she could hear him. “What is this about?”

  “We’re about to be briefed on the next stage of the mission,” she said. “The real mission, if you know what I mean.”

  “Then who are all these people?”

  Before she could answer, the door hissed open and the patrician stepped into the conference room. He went around the table shaking hands.

  “Stanis, Lorena, thanks for coming. Jeppe, it’s a pleasure as always. Ah, Commander McCoy,” he said, arriving at James. “So good to see you.”