by M. D. Cooper
“I don’t care what you say, I won’t accept it,” Sarah replied, anger lacing her words.
“I know it’s hard for you to accept.” Katrina altered her voice, adopting a softer accent common on the platform. “But I hate them nearly as much as you do—I’m only half Lumin…what my mother suffered through.... I would see our Endeavor succeed and leave this place—leave them behind forever.”
“Those are just words,” Dmitry said. “How do we know that they are true?”
“Because I say they are,” Markus replied. “I kept you in the dark for your safety and hers. What she did was too risky for any slip-ups. Also, I was worried about how you’d react—I couldn’t have dissent fracturing us while we worked to gain our freedom.” He looked to Katrina. “Sit, please.”
She lowered into a seat at his left side and Markus surveyed the team.
“We have just under forty hours to finalize our preparations. Anything that can wait until we’re in transit must wait. Propulsion and navigation are our only concerns.”
He was met with nods, even if some were sullen.
“James, hit the armory. The sergeant on duty is Larson; he’s bought and paid for. Disperse the weapons to the rally points and send the word that we move on all Lumin positions in one hour—sooner if we can manage.”
HYPERION
STELLAR DATE: 3248427 / 10.16.4181 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Mining Platform SK87
REGION: Noctilucent Space, Sirian Hegemony
The ease with which the inhabitants of SK87 secured the platform made Markus nervous. It should have been harder; there should have been pockets of the Lumins that took extreme measures to flush out making for pitched battles and bloody sacrifices.
There were none.
“It’s not surprising,” Katrina said as they surveyed the results of the overthrow from overwatch.
“No?” Markus replied.
“This isn’t the first time an overthrow has been successful. You don’t hear about most of them, the workers in Noctilucent Space are kept as isolated as possible.”
Markus took a long draught of coffee. “You never said they happened that often.”
“Well, once every few decades. There are thousands of worker platforms and stations. It’s a pretty good ratio. It’s not worth the cost to have Luminescent security forces at the levels it would require to stop them all. It’s cheaper to lose the odd installation here and there.”
“Or catch things before they get to this point,” James grinned. “Like what you’re supposed to have done.”
Katrina nodded. “Precisely.”
“Makes sense,” Markus nodded. “With a population close to a hundred thousand you would need at least three or four thousand security guards to ensure any uprising was crushed.”
“More, statistically,” Katrina said.
Dmitry entered overwatch. “Everything is secure, but we’re going to need another week to get everything ready for the transformation.”
“You likely have twenty hours,” Katrina said. “The battalion I spoke of will be here soon and they’ll purge this platform for re-seeding.”
“There’s no way we can be ready in twenty hours,” James shook his head.
“We need those intercoolers installed,” Dmitry nodded his head in agreement. “If we don’t this will be one short trip.”
Markus was silent as he considered their options.
“At least we don’t need a distraction to get them across the station. You have ten hours to get them moved and installed.”
The next morning Markus addressed the entire station, much of which was assembled in the main promenade to hear his speech in person.
He couldn’t help but think of the grand corridors and markets of the Luminescent stations. The platform had nothing to compare, only the few shops and company distribution centers that were somehow grander, now that they belonged to his people and not the Lumins.
Through the dim lighting, he surveyed the crowd below him, elated that this day had arrived. His happiness was dampened by the niggling worry in the back of his mind that the last, crucial phase of their Endeavor could still fail.
He pushed the doubt from his mind and schooled his expression. No trace of uncertainty must show to his people.
Markus looked to his sides. The command crew surrounded him. Though most had not slept in more than a day they were all smiling; even Sarah—though she was scanning the crowd. No doubt looking for Luminescent sympathizers.
“People of platform SK87, we’ve done it,” Markus said simply. Thunderous applause exploded. Cheers and whoops of joy echoed through the station’s corridors for a full minute before he raised his hands for silence.
“We have always been free in our hearts. Our ancestors came here because they had an untamable spirit, a desire to see new worlds and new stars. The Lumins spent generations trying to crush that spirit out of us, but they failed.
“Today we are truly free. Your children will never know the yoke of slavery. They will be able to choose their own destinies!”
He waited once more for the crowd to quiet.
“You all know the story of the ship Hyperion, the ship that escaped after the shorts betrayed our ancestors. They left Sirius and found a new home in the stars. Now we are Hyperion!”
A shudder rippled through the deck plates and above the crowd a holo shimmered to life. It showed the platform suspended in space. Markus held his breath, a transformation like this was unprecedented as far as he knew, no one took a mining platform between the stars.
More shocks reverberated through the decks and the holo showed several sections of the newly christened Hyperion drift off into space. In their wake, much larger engines were revealed.
Two massive fusion burners sat on either end of the platform and in the center a cluster of short-burn antimatter pion engines were exposed as the west yard drifted away with the last month’s harvested ore still resting in containers.
The Hyperion’s supply of antimatter was limited, but the engines would give them enough thrust for a slingshot around Sirius before running dry. If their calculations were correct the platform should achieve a velocity just over a tenth the speed of light.
Markus glanced down at a small tablet he held and then to Dmitry. The chief engineer gave him a thumbs up. So far everything was going to plan—impressive
Beside Markus, Dmitry was nodding as he listened to his teams report in. He smiled and gave Markus a thumbs up.
Markus returned the gesture as another shudder rippled through the deck, causing a fresh round of cheers. The hastily set up holo projectors showed the south yard breaking free from the ship, exposing a much larger MDC emitter that would function as a stellar matter scoop.
The scoop would draw in as much fuels as possible during the slingshot maneuver around Sirius. Once the platform was on an outsystem vector it would be reconfigured to function as a solar sail.
They would burn the engines as long as possible, retaining half the fuel for braking once they reached Kapteyn’s Star. Dmitri’s estimations put the journey somewhere between fifty and seventy years—with new engines and a untested scoop the variables were many.
The holo projections shifted, showing a view of the engines roaring to life—a visual that was accompanied by a low rumble in the deck.
Markus looked to Dmitry who was smiling broadly.
“Thank the light,” Markus whispered while he watched the holo show streams of plasma race into space as the platform eased into motion.
“I can’t wait to see the faces of the shorts when they see this on their long range scans,” James said with a grin.
“They’re going to lose their minds, or piss themselves,” Sarah said with a laugh.
Katrina caught Markus’s eye. Her expression was not so jovial.
“If those were there only two options I’d feel a lot better right now,” she said softly to Markus.
The interceptor was running dark.
Voices were hushed; any and all unneeded electronics were switched off. Even lighting was dimmed.
The only discernible energy output was a stream of pions—traveling near the speed of light—streaming out the engine’s long funnel.
Major Han re-read the EMF output and engine reports. Surprise was key. The inhabitants of SK87 had no idea a stealth ship was bearing down on them. The longer that lack of awareness persisted, the more of his soldiers would survive the fight.
He looked over the troop readiness reports a third time. This was his company’s second combat deployment; though they had made countless training runs—both simulated and physical.
The brass had considered his first live combat mission to be a smashing success, but he did not. Too many of his troops had died at the hands of the Noctus scum they were putting down. The corporation had wanted the station to stay intact, and the lives of his men and women bought that result.
That was why, when this new stealth interceptor became available for a trail run, he jumped at it. The normal troop transports could be seen half the system away. A station had days to prepare before his soldiers arrived.
SK87 would have no such foreknowledge. They would know of their demise the hour it was upon them.
“Sir!” the officer manning the scan terminal called out. “Something… something has happened to the platform!”
Major Han surveyed the scan report with disbelief. At first it appeared as though SK87 was exploding, but there was no fire, or small debris. Chunks of it were simply falling off.
Minutes later, as the scan updated, it became quite clear what was occurring. The platform had been surreptitiously refitted. How or why was not his concern, stopping whatever they planned next was.
“Helmsman, increase burn, I want to get there as fast as this ship can take us. No need for surprise, they know we’re coming.” Major Han’s tone was brusque.
Helm nodded and Han’s XO gave him a quizzical look. “How can you be sure?”
Jennifer was new to Han’s command, a recent OSC grad. She had promise, but like any newly minted lieutenant, thought she knew a hell of a lot more than she actually did.
“Because they’re making no attempt to hide what they’re doing. That means they’ve taken the station and either know about us specifically, or expect some retaliation soon.”
“Then we should expect them to have weapons,” Jennifer replied.
“Lieutenant, we should always expect them to have weapons.”
Han let out a long sigh. It was going to be bloody. Too many Lumins would die at the hands of Noctus animals and there was little he could do about it now.
Other than kill every man, woman, and child on that platform.
Yusuf’s expression remained calm and serene as he read the report. Those around him at the monthly executive meeting would never have suspected that a sea of rage roiled beneath his calm demeanor.
That Markus would do something so brash, so outrageous. That Luther, the coal-brained station overseer, hadn’t suspected a thing was inexcusable. If he survived, Yusuf would have him executed.
The brief flashed with an update from the field commander, a Major Han. It was a single line of text:
We think they have your daughter.
Yusuf looked up at the other governing executives. Greenich, a pitiful man responsible for reclamation infrastructure was speaking—Yusuf interrupted him without notice.
“You’ll have to excuse me, something urgent has come up.”
With no further ceremony he swept out of the room, already calling Admiral Pontius on the Link.
Yusuf severed the connection. He hadn’t given Pontius their destination, but he knew the Admiral would figure it out soon enough.
“Aras!” Yusuf yelled to his assistant without turning. There was no need to ensure that the man was there; he was always scuttling in Yusuf’s wake. “Ensure bags are packed for me and transferred to Pontius’s shuttle when it arrives. We could be gone for several weeks.”
As he stepped into the lift Yusuf considered the words, we think they have your daughter. Katrina had been on SK87 several times in the past few years, checking up on them and ensuring that there was no unrest following his killing of Markus’s assistant.
Her reports, and the reports of his other operatives, indicated that it was the model station and he had all but put it from his mind.
Now, with this new information, he could arrive at only one conclusion: his daughter had betrayed him. If that was true, she would die as well—at his hands if possible.
GETTING OUT OF DODGE
STELLAR DATE: 3248428 / 10.17.4181 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Hyperion
REGION: Noctilucent Space, Sirian Hegemony
Markus leaned back in his chair, forcing his heart to slow and his breathing to calm. Though the events now unfolding had been his goal for the last few years, actually carrying out these final, irreversible actions left him feeling more anxiety than he had imagined he would.
The door cracked open and Katrina’s head peeked around.
“Do you have a moment?” She asked.
Markus couldn’t help it as a smile crept across his face. “I always have a moment for you.” He stood and she stepped into his arms. The pair shared no words for a long moment, simply breathing in one another’s presence.
“Hard to believe this day has finally come, isn’t it?” Katrina asked as she stepped back and sat on the edge of his desk.
Markus slipped back into his chair, taking in the sight of this beautiful woman who genuinely seemed to want to spend time with him. She still wore the skin-tight clothing of her people—though she had muted its coloring somewhat. The way it hugged the curves of her body undid all of the calm he had managed to acquire before she entered his office.
Katrina gave a slight chuckle, drawing his eyes to her face.
“You’re always so calm and in control, it’s nice to see you acting as a mortal man every so often.”
Markus laughed in reply. “If this is what we are judging me by, I am so very mortal.”
Katrina smiled in return and took several moments to speak.
“I don’t know what is going to happen over the next few days and months, but I need you to know something.”
“What would that be?” Markus asked in reply.
“There has been no acting on my part,” Katrina said. “I know that because I am a spy you suspect my motives and whether I am genuine. Hell, sometimes I wonder where I end and a cover begins,” she said the last with a rueful chuckle. “But I need you to know. This is real, I have feelings for you, it is no act.”
Markus worked to find the right words. He had certainly hoped that her feelings were genuine, but a kernel of doubt had always lingered within him, gnawing slowly at his surety.
“Why?” he finally asked.
Katrina’s expression showed puzzlement and then she gave a light and silvery laugh. “Markus, you really are a fool of a man. A great leader, amazing in how you motivate your people and have earned their trust, but when it comes to this…well… let’s just say you’re not too skilled.”
“Something I have never claimed to be, but you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I can see into people’s motives all too well and manipulate them as needed, but I can’t say I understand love,” Katrina said the last word with a finality that rung like a bell.
“Love?”
“Yes, administrator Markus, love.”
She reached down and pulled him up into her arms, their lips meeting with a deep yearning.
“Uh, Boss?”
Markus looked and saw James standing in the doorway, red-faced and sheepish looking.
“Yes James?”
&n
bsp; “Sorry to disturb you, but we need you in overwatch, both of you actually.”
Markus and Katrina disentangled their arms and they followed James through the administrative wing toward overwatch.
“What’s up?” Markus asked.
James’s voice was grim. “It would seem that our visitors are going to be here a bit early.”
“How is that possible?” Katrina asked.
“They’ve boosted a lot harder than we had anticipated after we transformed the Hyperion. I guess someone lit a fire under their assess.”
Markus and Katrina exchanged glances.
“I can imagine who held the match,” Katrina said with a grim expression.
James cast a glance her way. “Yeah? Who?”
I’m guessing it was her father,” Markus said.
James chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve heard of dad not liking the boyfriend, but this is a bit much. Who is he anyway?”
“Yusuf,” Katrina’s voice was tense as she spoke the name.
James turned sideways as he walked, locking eyes with Katrina and then Markus. “Are you kidding me? What… why…?” he sputtered.
Markus just shrugged. He wanted to ask James what he would do had he caught the attention of Katrina, but decided that was not the wisest response.
“What does their ETA look like?” Katrina asked, changing the subject.
James took the hint. “About nine hours, but they’ll be in weapons range in half that time—provided they don’t plan to use something that we can’t deflect.”
“They don’t have any nuclear weapons; their superiors don’t like the mess those make. They prefer, at least, to have salvage if they can’t keep the station intact,” Katrina said. “No, their first offensive will be a full-scale boarding and cleansing.”
Dmitry had joined the trio in the corridor as Katrina was speaking. “Cleansing. I guess we’re just bacteria to them,” he said angrily.