The Endless Sky

by Adam P. Knave

  “That’s not true—we’re building a bunch of good cases here, Mud,” Bee said.

  “Too many, maybe,” Mills put in. “We should let it sit for a while.”

  “We can’t,” Mud said. “If we let this continue too much longer, Mills, your bosses will decide it’s been lingering and take it over themselves. And we know what happens then. Dumb things.”

  “Hey now,” Mills said, “let’s not just decide all Gov decisions are bad and only you know the good choices, all right?”

  “You guys do seem to want to blow things up first, write a paper about it later,” Steelbox said.

  “You’re just being—”

  “Mills, relax,” Chellox cut in. “Our point stands. We have a better chance at solving this than someone else does using our data but not our experience.”

  “If you all hate the Gov so much then why do you work for it?” Mills asked. He couldn’t quite tell if his anger lay at feeling forced to defend his bosses or at a sense of betrayal from a team he defended to his bosses constantly.

  “Enough,” Olivet said, “from all of us. We’re all on the same side. Mud, you need to rest. The rest of us can keep working the angles. We’ll reconvene in a few hours.”

  “Fine,” Mud said, shaking his head, “but we really don’t have much time.”

  “Agreed,” Mills told him. “But we’ll make some out of nothing if we have to. I promise, doubts about my superiors aside, I won’t let this get kicked out of your roster yet.”

  “It’ll do,” Mud said, “since it sort of has to. Fine, get out of here.”

  The team left with Mills, taking the console and equipment with them, leaving Mud theoretically to rest. He lay there, admitting his own exhaustion to himself but unable to really wind down, spending much of the time trying to move his right leg and wondering what the future held.

  A while later, Mud woke up, not remembering falling asleep, to familiar voices.

  “The only thing that’ll wake him up is if you insist on keeping me from seeing him.”

  “Baby—”

  “Oh, you’re going to side with some military rule, Soldier?”

  “No, I’m siding with a medical professional.”

  “You do that, I’m going to see our son.”

  “Mom, Dad,” Mud said, raising his voice, “I’m awake. Just come in, and don’t hurt anyone doing it.”

  “Mud,” Shae Madison said, shoving past a nurse and rushing to her son’s bedside, “we came as soon as we heard.”

  “Mills called us,” Jonah said, walking in slowly. Mud noticed, looking at his father, that he was working to hide his limp. Mud wanted to laugh. Did his father think that seeing someone limp would somehow affect Mud himself? Probably did, but that was his dad.

  “I figured he would,” Mud said, patting his mother’s hand where it laid on his shoulder.

  “Which is why you didn’t call us yourself?” she asked pointedly.

  “Mom…”

  “Shae, leave Newt be.”

  “Dad…”

  “Sorry, Mud,” his father said. “Old habits and dogs and tricks and all that noise. Look, what do you need? Want us to take over the Op?”

  “Nope. I just need the latest report from Medical and then we can get back out there.”

  “I’ll get them in here,” his mother said, “but Mud, I don’t know if you’ll be—”

  “Let me talk to them,” he insisted.

  His parents shared a look, making Mud sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be good news—he knew that from how his leg felt. But he resolved to find out for himself.

  A doctor came in not long after his mother left and returned. The doctor kept her serious face on, the expression a professional wears when they need to deliver bad news to a patient who they can’t be sure won’t find a way to go irrational.

  They exchanged pleasantries, perfunctorily, both Mud and Doctor Henbough sounding as if they’d been issued cue cards for the conversation. Another minute or two of that and Mud ran his hand over his head slowly, then locked eyes with the doctor. “Just hit me with it, will you?”

  “A lot of the damage is permeant,” she said briskly. “You’ll never recover full use of the right leg. However, with time, we think some of the effects of what happened will fade. You’ll be back on your feet, within a month, but lingering issues—we just can’t be sure yet. Best case, you’ll need a cane.”

  “And worst case?”

  “The leg won’t support your weight correctly again, and the range of motion will be severely hampered. Either way, field work isn’t going to be an option.”

  Mud closed his eyes and breathed slowly. “That’s not going to work for me.”

  “It’s not up to what you want,” Henbough said.

  “I don’t know, Doc,” Jonah put in. “I’ve been working with a bum knee for decades. Your idea of what’s acceptable for field work is all paperwork and forms.”

  “It ignores,” Mud said, “that I’m not less capable of anything. I just have to think around it.”

  “That’s my son,” Shae said. “We—”

  “Were worried I’d be pinned down by this and spiral?” Mud asked. “Are you forgetting who I grew up with? This won’t be easy, I know,” he told Henbough, “but my job isn’t easy to begin with. What I need now is a hip and leg brace that’ll let me get moving in a few hours.”

  “Impossible. I can’t sign off on that,” she said.

  “Then we have a problem,” Mud said. “Dad, go force them to work something up for me?”

  “Sure thing, Mud.” Jonah stalked off, steering the doctor out of the room by force of will.

  “And Mom?”

  “Mmm?” She was trying to fight the smirk on her face as her son gave them orders.

  “Can you wrangle my team back in here? We have work to do.”

  “They left your comm on the table,” she said.

  “Oh,” Mud laughed, and he grabbed it, calling everyone back. “I am going to get through this, right?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” his mother asked softly.

  Mud thought about it and flexed his toes slowly. “Telling you.”

  “There you are, then.”

  Neither of them, of course, felt certain the other believed either themselves or each other.

  CHAPTER 24

  THE INSERTION TEAM, along with Mills, Shae, and Jonah, assembled in Mud’s medical bay. Everyone worked to seem properly motivated and optimistic, each of them convinced the others were faking.

  “Mills, do they have clearance?” Mud asked, pointing to the draped screen that shielded the right lower side of his body. Doctor Henbough worked there quietly, along with two nurses, attempting to adjust and fit a device to Mud’s leg.

  “Not really,” Mills said, “but they’ll be done soon, right, Doctor?”

  “Even sooner,” Henbough said, “if you continue to talk about us like we’re not in the room, I’m sure.”

  “Sorry,” Mud said, “but how is it going?”

  “Fine, and I’ll be out of your way soon. I don’t think this is a good idea, though.”

  “I get that,” Mud told her, “but it needs doing.”

  “When you come back in worse shape, I won’t be surprised,” she told him. The rest of the room just watched, not sure what to do while Mud and his doctor fought.

  “I won’t be, either,” Mud told her, “and we’ll get there when we get there.”

  “Well, you’re done for now,” she said, and moved away from the bed. “The harness and brace combination will allow you to move the leg with mostly normal range at about half the speed you would normally be able to. But,” she warned, “it’ll hurt after a while. The more it hurts, the more damage you’re actually doing to the leg, so just be aware of it.”

  “Got it.”

  “Also, I added the power adaptor your friend asked for,” she said as she left the room. “But they wouldn’t tell me why.”

  “Clearance levels,”
Mud told her. “Thanks, Doctor.”

  Henbough left, her nurses right behind her, annoyed at yet another useless patient. One day, she hoped, she might get a patient who decided to listen, and actually heal. One day.

  “We don’t,” Olivet said as the door closed, “have enough shielded power supplies from Bercuser to equip the Arrow, say, but I thought—”

  “Yeah,” Mud told him, testing the brace and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand, slowly and unsteadily, “and thanks for that. When we re-breach I’ll need it.”

  “Also,” Bee said, “you might need this.” She grabbed a metal stick from where it rested against a corner in the room and passed it to Mud.

  The staff stood shoulder-height on Mud, and just about an inch in diameter. Dark, matte black, the staff gave off the coldness of solid metal. Mud gripped it in his hand and lifted it, studying it close.

  “I compressed some hull metal into a staff,” Bee told him. “Shaved it down to get the weight to about twenty pounds for you. I hope the next version will be able to interact with your thinsuit, and color shift with you. But for now, it’ll help you stay steady.”

  “And club anyone I need to,” Mud said, tapping it on the floor. “Thanks, Bee. And that, I think, concludes the injury show, if we can get to work?”

  “Sure thing, Cap,” Steelbox said. “So the translation database has a much deeper understanding now. We still need a better word than Sweepers for them, but their name is unpronounceable by us, so we have to set that straight.”

  “Also,” Shae said, “you’ll need to figure out how they pushed you out of their universe. If they have tech like that, just laying around—”

  “Right,” Chellox finished, “who knows what else they have. Any strike from us would be possibly catastrophic, Mud.”

  “We have zero plans of a strike. Zero. Mills, that’s true for your end, too, right?”

  “So far. I won’t lie,” he said, leaning against a wall, “there’s word upstairs that, while they don’t think they should take over, they want me to take a more direct approach and declare this a military operation. I’m not sure what they would do if that was the case. But I can’t imagine it would entail invading a universe. But they’re getting worried, and more so all the time.”

  “That ends well. They know your engines won’t work, right?” Jonah asked.

  “I’ve made sure of it. They’re looking into solutions but are starting to edge around more.”

  “All right, so we go back as soon as possible,” Mud said, “same retrieval plans as before, but I think we have to have two goals this time. First, we find one of the two groups we spoke to before and get a sense of their society. If it’s just a bunch of unaffiliated clans, we’re about to have a real problem.”

  Chellox hmm’d, tapping his foot on the floor. “We can’t unite them, either. Worst case we hope there’s a giant council or something.”

  “Or that they inter-community communicate by sneezing,” Steelbox said. “Whatever we end up with, there’ll be something.”

  “All right, so let’s assume we can get a consensus of any sort from them. We still need to bring a leader, a small delegation at most,” Mud said, “back here to really get this moving—plus find a way to get our people there that doesn’t, hopefully, at least, involve pain and GravPacks. I can’t see a lot of the brass going for it.”

  Mills nodded, “That sounds—”

  An alarm cut him off, followed by flashing red lights. Everyone reached for comms and screens to try to figure out the problem. Mills spoke into his comms in a hushed tone, demanding to know the emergency. The Amalfi was only technically in service, not a hundred percent spun up yet. An emergency big enough to set a ship-wide alert meant they were either being attacked or something simply that bad was going on.

  Looking at the assembled people in the med bay, Mills spoke slowly, with the calm of a man living in a totally unbelievable moment. “Claudia 64-TU is...imploding.”

  “There’s a star imploding?” Jonah asked quickly, “at speeds we can witness? With no damn warning?”

  “That’s what they’re telling me,” Mills said, already moving to leave the room. “I have to—”

  “Go!” Mud said, knowing everyone else intended to follow. As a group, they rushed the best they could. No one waited for Mud, and he understood. He tested out the brace, and with his new walking stick to lean on, he could hobble fast enough to at least keep visual on them as everyone else hurried to the bridge.

  On the bridge, Mills took command quickly. Officers pulled stats up on screens and showed him the best video they could of the scene. Claudia 64-TU did seem to be shrinking, frighteningly quickly for an early-stage yellow sun. “Anything inhabited around it?” Mills asked.

  “Only Claudia Seven,” Shae replied quickly. “Claudia 64-TU runs a bit cool still.”

  “We’re going,” Mud said.

  “To do what?” Mills asked. “You intend to fight a sun? Or fix one?”

  “Doubtful,” Chellox said, “But I think Mud’s point was more one of evacuation. Who’s near Claudia Seven?”

  “Nothing big,” Mills admitted, “but even if you guys went, the Arrow can’t hold that many people and—”

  “Mills, I helped organize a planetary evac once, remember?” Bee said. It wasn’t strictly true—she had left right before the Trasker Four evac started, but she and Steelbox had helped draw up plans while building the first ship she’d left planet on, the Hang On.

  “Bee’s right,” Jonah said, winking at Bee. “They have the skills to run this on site.”

  “Given how fast Claudia 64-TU is going, I don’t know if you can get there in time,” Mills told them all, reading data.

  “Then we’re gone,” Mud said, and he turned to leave the bridge. His team followed him. Outside of the bridge, Mud looked at them, realizing his parents had joined him. “Bee, Chellox, guys, don’t wait for me, prep the Arrow.” They nodded, and the Insertion Team hurried ahead to the hangar. “Mom, Dad, stay here and help Mills. He’s going to need it. So will I.”

  “Good luck,” Jonah said, nodding at his son before he turned to head back to the bridge.

  “Make yourself proud,” Shae told her son.

  “Don’t you mean make you proud?” he asked her as she turned to follow her husband.

  “You do that already,” she said over her shoulder.

  Mud took a deep breath and tapped his walking staff on the ground. The hum and whirr of his leg brace distracted him as he started to push it harder, hurrying as best he could to the hangar.

  He boarded the Arrow and sat in his seat heavily. “Sorry that took so long, I—”

  “Cap, end it. We’re good to launch. Mills has us on deck and green lights across the board.”

  “Chellox, make us regret having you pilot,” Mud said, strapping in.

  Chellox looked back at Mud, his birdesque helmet already in place. “Hold onto something, everyone.”

  They launched, pushing the engines as hard as they’d go, turning and twisting in space to find the angle Chellox wanted so they could gain velocity straight to Claudia Seven. On a hard burn it would normally have taken them a day, but Claudia 64-TU looked like it could collapse completely before then. Chellox decided to get some help from the universe for the trip, swinging them by the first big gravity well he saw and skimming it to gain speed off a slingshot.

  The internal gravity fields couldn’t keep up with Chellox’s moves as he kept finding them gravity wells, small and large, to continually increase their velocity. Bee and Olivet moved to secured seats near the engines, keeping an eye on them as various components and motors whined and creaked under the strain. They complained like children who don’t want to do the dishes, and who thought that if they only caught fire, they could escape work.

  They held, regardless, for the moment. “Bee,” Mud said from the main cabin over ship comms, “I need you working on a plan for Claudia Seven.”

  “Mud, you kno
w I didn’t really—”

  “Yeah, except you did. I remember the briefings after. The ship rotation and schedules were mostly your design.”

  “Steelbox—”

  “Did a bunch of it with you, sure,” Mud continued, “and as he can spare brain power away from navigation, he’ll work on it, too. So both of you, double up.”

  “You got it, Cap,” Steelbox said. “Bee, I’ll patch us to a private channel, I have the specs on ship deployment and planetary capabilities on a screen here.”

  “We should be done with the worst of the maneuvers,” Chellox said. “I could push it harder, but I don’t think the ship would stay in one piece.”

  “All right,” Mud said, thinking. “Bee, Steelbox, get your GravPacks on, go ahead and start work. We’ll catch up in a few hours, but right now every minute counts.”

  “But the engines—”

  “We can put out fires, Bee, go.”

  Reluctantly, Bee slid on her GravPack and watched Steelbox do the same. The idea of going flat out with a GravPack remained low on both of their lists. Steelbox just didn’t trust the devices fully—he felt pretty sure he never would. Bee felt differently. She didn’t enjoy the GravPacks, but also had never gotten around to hating them. She basically nothinged them. But ever since the Breaches, she’d felt guilty using them. While she knew they weren’t causing the problem, the technology remained the same, and that alone bugged her.

  Regardless, they cycled the Arrow’s airlock and leapt into open space, selecting strands along the Arrow itself to gain speed. Chellox’s route slid them past enough gravity wells, in case he needed them for a boost, that they were able to accelerate quickly, gaining super-light speeds within minutes.

  “Bee,” Steelbox said, “where are we evacuating the planet to?”

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “The whole system will be dead without a sun. We can’t just planet hop them.”

  “No, and finding enough ships to get everyone to another system...this doesn’t end well, does it?”

  “Probably not,” Steelbox agreed, “but we’ll get it as close to decent as we can.” They flew on, running through data and considering options as they went, selfishly hoping the trip would take longer than they both knew it would.