Supernova

by C. Gockel

  Volka’s helmet shield became transparent again. Around the bridge, people rose. Sundancer’s hull was brilliant, dazzling white, and through her walls they saw Nightwing and a world on fire. The dark shadowy sea was no more; it had been replaced by white light, and then as they rose that white became blue, blue became purple, and purple became orange that stretched toward the stars. There was no smoke, except where the Dark’s ships burned.

  Nightwing spoke, not just to Volka, but to every human aboard. “There were forty-seven ships within near orbit. Those are gone.”

  Dixon put his hands to his head. “Galactic Intelligence had them at approximately fifty.” Volka felt hot tears on her cheeks, on a lot of cheeks.

  Ko threw an arm over Dixon’s shoulders. “Luddeccean Intelligence believed the same.”

  “We almost wiped them out,” a Luddeccean weere said.

  “God have mercy.”

  “Allahu akbar.”

  “Forty-seven ships gone,” Alaric whispered.

  And then everyone was hugging each other, laughing and cheering, shaking hands. Volka only wanted to hug one person. She turned to Sixty and did.

  6T9 had his arm wrapped around Volka, and her arm was around him. Sundancer’s bridge was crowded with Luddecceans, Sundancer’s crew, and a collapsed Luddeccean plasti-tubing gangway they’d picked up in the Luddeccean System. The Skimmers and Luddeccean LCSs were searching System Zero for fighters that had been damaged when they’d exited Planet Zero’s orbit. Everyone had been awake for over twenty hours, but enthusiasm was high.

  They were approaching such a fighter now. She was coasting on inertia and headed in the opposite direction as the emergency gate at the edge of the system. Sundancer matched her pace. Just before Sundancer’s hull became opaque, 6T9 looked over his shoulder. Planet Zero appeared to be a large star at this distance. They were 54.6 million kilometers away from the planet, approximately the distance of Earth to Mars at the nearest point in their orbits. It looked bigger and brighter than Earth did from Mars. Of course, Planet Zero was bigger than Earth. He blinked and blinked again. Was Planet Zero growing larger? The hull became opaque, and he glanced down at Volka. She was gazing down at Carl—or, the werfle that was sometimes Carl—he was still sleeping in the makeshift bed.

  “He still isn’t back in his body?” 6T9 asked.

  “No.” Volka’s shoulder fell. “I feel like he is fine … but I kind of miss him.”

  6T9 sighed theatrically. “I do too, but don’t ever tell him I said it.”

  Volka chuckled and rubbed her head against his chin. They’d long since sanitized their suits and Sundancer’s bridge—her helmet was off and the soft velvet of her ears brushed against him. His eyes slid closed with pleasure, but he sighed for real. “I need to do a check in.”

  “Go.” Her arm tightened. “I’ll protect you.”

  He smiled and let himself into a mindscape. At first, he checked in with the Luddeccean ships. It was cumbersome. Their Q-comms were only for communication and weren’t attached to smart servers. He had to put in a call. The comm officers aboard the LCS had to answer before 6T9 could give a report—audio only as they preferred, and probably for the best as half his face was still peeled away. Then he received an audio update of their status. It was all tediously slow and impersonal.

  Accomplishing that task, he called out to Time Gate 5 and Gate 11. Their avatars immediately appeared. Gate 11 smiled, revealing wolf-like canines, her ears coming full forward. “Still no sign of any more Infected faster-than-light vessels in my System.” Her smile dropped. “We’ll have to sterilize our second planet. But we are already working on it.” Her eyes flashed in the light.

  Expression stony, Time Gate 5 said, “Nor have more ships been discovered in my system, and my connections in Luddeccean space and at Kanakah say the same.”

  After the bomb had triggered, the Dark’s faster-than-light ships had vanished from all other engagements. Where they had gone was, unfortunately, anyone’s guess.

  “Good news,” 6T9 said. The Dark was still in the Republic, but the Dark’s major advantage had been drastically weakened. It was impossible to say how many ships it had had in the end, but they’d spent a lot of resources on building Planet Zero’s time gate for their conventional ships, the singularity beams protecting the planet, and in building the shipyard and filling it with human workers. All those things were gone, and they had a lot fewer ships to begin the process anew. The allies had bought time for a cure and for the Republic to wake up.

  FET12 popped into existence in the mindscape. “Sixty, we’ve almost got all the fighters through Zero Gate. Rhinehart and Jerome say that Moonlight and Farsong are convinced there are no more on the way.”

  James appeared. “Nightwing has made our last pickup.”

  6T9 smiled. “It’s almost time to go home.”

  “Where is that, might I ask?” Gate 5 asked.

  6T9’s eyebrows rose. Gate 5 knew that the asteroid had been overrun. 6T9 hadn’t thought of that in weeks. Because they’d been busy, because it never had seemed like it was really his, or because as long as he was with Volka, he was home.

  Gate 11 slid next to 6T9. “Admiral Wolf and Android General 1’s home is Odessa … if they accept.”

  Gate 5 bowed. “You may call System 5 home if you like as well.”

  Gate 1’s voice erupted in 6T9’s mind. “Are you both trying to steal my child away?” Static flared under 6T9’s skin.

  “Yes,” said Five and Eleven.

  “System 1 waits with open arms,” Gate 1 said.

  James winked … and winked away.

  6T9’s jaw got hard.

  FET12 only stood and stared, lips parted.

  6T9 met the younger ‘bot’s gaze. “I have to talk with Volka, Carl, and FET12 about where home is.”

  FET12 beamed and disappeared.

  Gate 11 and 5 bowed and vanished.

  And then it was only Gate 1 and 6T9. 6T9 gazed up into the gray.

  Gate 1’s voice rumbled. “You have something to ask?”

  6T9’s hands balled into fists. “When you gave me access … I saw … I understood how gateless travel might work. Why did you not give that information to the Republic?”

  The mindscape flickered as though in a sigh. “Do you understand how gateless travel works now?”

  “Well, no, my processor isn’t—”

  “We tried to give it to the Republic a few months ago, when it became evident the extent of the danger. They still don’t understand what they have,” Gate 1 said. “Some things have to be learned, 6T9.”

  6T9 thought of Volka calling to him first when he’d dived into Sundancer from the Uriel. Her hands clutching him in the dark. He remembered how she’d turned to him and only him when the fusion bomb had erupted. She loved him, first and foremost.

  Emotional understanding. Technological understanding. Why should they be any different?

  “Exactly,” said Gate 1. “Okoro, the researcher you rescued from Shinar, is very close. The Republic will have gateless travel within months.”

  “And where will you be then?” 6T9’s anger morphed to worry. The gates’ power—perhaps their very existence—depended on their usefulness. If they were no longer useful …

  Gate 1 chuckled. “Fortunately, it will be frightfully expensive, and we’ll still have a part to play in cybersecurity. But don’t worry about me, 6T9. Go back to Volka.” The mindscape dimmed faintly, and 6T9 understood he’d been dismissed.

  He pulled out of the mindscape in time to hear Darmadi say, “Pull up the gangway. Gentlemen, you’re safe now.”

  A man exclaimed, “Captain Darmadi, we were so happy when the bomb exploded … but we’re even more relieved now!”

  There was general laughter, thumps of hands on backs, and then the gangway was back onboard. 6T9’s arm was comfortably around Volka, and her arm was comfortably around him. Sundancer’s hull became translucent, and just on habit, 6T9 looked over his shoulder.

 
; Planet Zero was shrinking in a way that made him think of a flower blooming in reverse. His Q-comm flashed, analyzing the pattern, and understanding came fast.

  He hadn’t been aware that Darmadi had approached him. Putting a hand on 6T9’s shoulder, he whispered urgently, “Sixty, you must tell the LCSs quickly that—”

  “I understand,” 6T9 replied.

  “Tell them what?” someone asked.

  6T9 leaped into the mindscape to warn FET12, James, and the LCSs, too. Planet Zero was going supernova.

  28

  Deadly Surrender

  Luddeccean System

  Sitting at the conference table, Volka looked longingly at Carl, on his foam bed, in the ordnance box. The conference room aboard Time Gate 8 was cold, dark, and bleak, even with its vibrant view of Luddeccea. Carl looked so warm and comfortable with his tiny nose tucked under his tail, and she was so tired. Her ears curled. It wasn’t really Carl—it was only “Mr. Pickles,” the prickly werfle that had been 6T9’s employer’s pet.

  She missed Carl, but at the moment, she was wishing she could sleep. Or even just to lean against Sixty. She glanced up at him. He was, as he’d put it, “Fully dressed,” which was to say, his skin was back on. His eyes were focused on the holo at the center of the table, where a holo of System 11’s President—Sasha—was flickering and saying very politician things about this historic effort of cooperation.

  It had been hours since they’d left System Zero, and hours more since this debriefing had begun. The Luddeccean Premier was here, Archbishop Sato—and Isssh on his lap, though Isssh was asleep—Admiral Sato, James, and Lieutenant Young. There were Luddeccean Admirals, Alaric, and his first officer. Everyone involved in the battle at Planet Zero had recounted what had happened so many times.

  The Luddeccean Premier said to the holo of Sasha, “We wish you luck with the sterilization efforts on your second planet. We are facing a similar situation on Atlantia, one of our moons.”

  Volka sat up straight, and her ears came forward. Atlantia was considered among the wonders of the galaxy. She blinked down at her lap, her eyes getting hot with exhaustion and sorrow. They’d saved humanity, but only for now, and they’d lost more than just Dr. Patrick and his crew, and the crews of the Luddeccean LCSs. They’d lost at least one world and maybe more. Atlantia and System 11’s second planet belonged to vibrant alien life, and it didn’t matter if that life wasn’t sentient … it was still a loss. On watery worlds, could the Dark ever be contained?

  The holo flickered. “If possible, we’d like to put our xeno-epidemiologists directly in touch with yours. Sharing information may help us both,” Sasha said.

  The Luddeccean Premier was absolutely motionless for a moment, his thoughts filled with suspicions of atheism infecting his people, but then Archbishop Sato leaned over and whispered, “They are also people of The Three Books.”

  The Luddeccean Premier’s features relaxed … a fraction. He’d heard about System 11’s sizeable weere population. But maybe they also had trouble keeping weere in line. Volka’s lips pursed, not sure if it was a good thing that the Oddessian President was so human looking.

  The Luddeccean Premier said, “I will need to run this by our council, but I don’t believe that will be a problem.”

  Volka’s ears went back. For all that they were enduring together, the Luddecceans were still xenophobic, and, and … and … weere-a-phobic. Her annoyance must have shown, because Sixty’s hand found hers under the table. His fingers slid against hers, and not just her hands were warmed. He kept his eyes on the holo though, looking very serious and very much like Android General 1.

  There were a few more politic words when Sasha touched his neural port and said, “I have just been informed that Gate Zero has been obliterated.”

  Volka swallowed. Sixty had explained to her that the supernova’s explosion would take many hours to reach the gate … now it had, and the star was nearly the size of Sol’s entire system. The supernova hadn’t been supposed to happen.

  The archbishop’s thoughts were so technical they were hard for her to understand, but he speculated that Planet Zero might have had more methane trapped beneath its seas than they expected. The other planets in the system might also have been similarly methane rich.

  His sister quietly wondered if Dr. Zeller hadn’t deceived the Luddecceans and created an extra powerful weapon on purpose.

  The waves shimmered in Carl’s box. Volka blinked down. Stretching, Carl yawned. His ethernet-to-speech device crackled. “I think you all had better connect your holos to one of the Republic’s news networks.”

  Poking his head up from the archbishop’s lap, Isssh squeaked. “Yes!”

  “Which one?” asked Kenji.

  In the holo, Sasha’s eyes went wide and then blank. “Any of them.” And then his hologram vanished.

  Rubbing a hand between Isssh’s ears, Kenji pushed his glasses up his nose. “Are you going to keep us in suspense, Carl?”

  Smacking his lips, Carl twirled his whiskers. “Nah, I’ll tell you. The Dark is dead.”

  “Pardon?” said the Luddeccean Premier.

  Archbishop Sato leaned forward in his chair. “Dead where?”

  Carl shrugged. “Everywhere in the human inhabited galaxy. Even in your test tubes and petri dishes.”

  Isssh squeaked and said telepathically, “And places inhabited by The One, too.”

  “Sir,” said the weere priest with the tablet. “I think you had better see this.”

  The holo flashed on again, and two announcers Volka had seen many times reporting on the antics of the Venus De Willendorf—or was it Venus De Rubens?—appeared. They both had their hands on their neural ports. They looked stunned. The man’s brow was shining. The woman spoke. “Reports are still coming in from all of the systems of an alleged plague causing rapid death among humans and animals. Hundreds and thousands have died … nearly instantaneously …?”

  Behind them, images of humans in hazmat suits appeared in blurry and jittery holos obviously shot by amateurs. They were of dead people and animals laying in streets, their eyes open.

  The male announcer spoke. “This situation is still developing. Systems 3’s senator was giving a public address just before he collapsed.”

  The holo switched to a man who could have been thirty, or forty, or fifty. He stood behind a podium in a large assembly hall.

  “That is the Senate Station in the Sol System,” Sixty said.

  System 3’s senator looked distinctly unwell, with dark circles under his eyes, dirty gray hair unevenly trimmed, and shiny, ashen skin. “We offered you peace, and you seek to destroy us. You have wiped out our home. We are withdrawing our offer and retreating from all human settlements. Leave us alone. Please.”

  At those words, the senator’s eyes focused somewhere far away, and then his body buckled and fell.

  The holo scene switched back to the announcers. The woman actually had lines in her usually impossibly smooth forehead when she said, “There is a cluster of at least 103 thousand dead in the moon colony above Shinar—”

  “Maybe we can turn the conversation to something … err … happy?” said the male announcer.

  The woman smiled weakly. It was sort of a twitch of her mouth, as though her muscles couldn’t quite hold the expression. “Yes, that seems like a—” She exhaled. “Good idea. What is the Venus de Willendorf doing now?”

  The man hissed, “He hasn’t been the Venus de Willendorf in months.”

  The holo went black.

  Carl twirled his whiskers again. “You don’t have to worry about Atlantia or the second planet in System 11. It’s all dead.” He blinked upward. “Unless its dead cells are toxic to marine life. But I imagine they don’t want to incur any more of our wrath, and it will be harmless to all that consume it. Well done, pets!” Carl’s little shoulders shook, and he licked a gleaming green pearl of venom from his fangs. Isssh made a sniffing sound.

  Volka swallowed. The One were laughing.


  Clearing his throat, Archbishop Sato pushed his glasses up his nose. “The Dark is dead … everywhere?” Behind the words was the same overwhelming sense of disbelief Volka felt.

  “In all human inhabited systems,” Carl said. “Republic, Luddeccean, and unincorporated.”

  “I can’t believe it,” said the premier.

  Carl shrugged. “It’s true.”

  There were murmurs around the table.

  Alaric thumped his hand on the table absently. “It believes we can blow up more solar systems. That we could annihilate it if we wish.” Volka’s ears swiveled. They couldn’t, though. There had been only one fusion weapon.

  And then she was distracted by Noa, thinking about the nation one of her ancestors had come from: Japan. That country had been the testing ground for the first atomic weapons. It had taken two bombs for the Japanese to completely surrender, but the Japanese were used to warfare and used to determined adversaries; still, it had surrendered unconditionally, eventually. The Dark hadn’t faced true resistance until it met humans.

  The Luddeccean Premier straightened in his chair. “We shall have to make sure that we are able to destroy more of their solar systems if we need to.” There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

  Volka’s ears curled. She noticed the quick look that Noa and James exchanged. She suspected the Republic would wind up with those weapons, too.

  To Sixty, she whispered, “Is it really over?”

  “We have a reprieve at least.”

  “How long do you think?”

  Sixty shrugged. “Ten years or a hundred …”

  Volka remembered Dr. Elam saying they’d have a cure within twelve years.

  Ten years would be enough. She’d started the day thinking that the battle in System Zero would just be the beginning of a long, soul-crushing slog … but it was over for now.

  29

  Reprieve

  System 11 Odessa