Blackstar Command 1: Prominence

by A. C. Hadfield

  Kai continued his assessment, checking every inch of the ten-meter-long racing ship’s chassis, noting what could be fixed and what would need to be replaced.

  The list and expense grew larger the more he looked.

  On the upside, the saboteurs hadn't bothered with the body shell. That was still intact apart from some oil and paint damage that would be relatively easy to clean up. ambiance bright yellow and black racing stripes still stood out and caught the eye, designed to be as visually distracting to other racers as possible.

  The ship didn’t have to look good, after all. It just needed to function.

  But right now, in its current state, it wouldn't even get out of the garage under its own power. He was left with two choices: find a whole ship able to compete at short notice, which he would never be able to afford even if he could find one, or source replacement parts, which he also couldn't afford or likely find in time.

  The old G10 hadn’t been made or raced in nearly fourteen years. It wasn’t just old technology; it was completely obsolete in comparison to more modern designs.

  That wasn't to say the G10 wasn't fast, though. It was, and often quicker than the current models. It was the mechanical nature of it that let it down. It didn't have as much computing power and cybernetic integration, which meant more emphasis on pilot ability than on having the best programmers and algorithm designers.

  Faced with only one option, trying to find replacement parts, Kai started calling around his local network of scrap merchants. Most of the current parts had been sourced from the same dealers, so he hoped there was a chance and hoped he could get the parts on credit.

  He figured if he could win the race, he’d have plenty of money with which to cover the debt and still get off the planet and go to Jallan IV.

  But, one by one, the dealers disappointed him.

  None of them had what he needed at a price he could afford.

  None of them offered credit, and most refused to even deal with him.

  It was clear that whoever had ruined his ship had also put a squeeze on his dealers not to sell to him. Was he really that much of a threat? It wasn't like he had an excellent track record of winning national races. He'd done well on the local scene in the sub-five-meter class but certainly nothing that should rattle the bigger teams with their superstar pilots and programmers.

  He picked up a wrench and threw it at the wall with a burst of frustration and rage.

  This was so damned typical of Zarunda. A small planet inhabited by small-minded people.

  They did this just because they could. They did it because bullying and position were all they cared about.

  “Hey, that nearly hit me,” Senaya said, bending to pick up the wrench.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were up yet.”

  “I overheard you calling the scrap merchants. No luck, eh?”

  “Nope. Luck and I clearly don’t get along.”

  Kai dropped his holoscroll damage report onto a workbench and slumped into his battered old armchair. He poured a cup of coffee from his flask and inhaled the rich, pungent scent of the kalento beans. “You want a cup?” he offered.

  Senaya nodded and came and sat opposite him on her stool.

  A set of playing cards left there from happier times were spread out on the wooden crate between them. Kai poured her a cup and passed it over.

  She smiled and took it, drinking slowly.

  “I’m sorry about this morning,” Kai said. “About the whole call-up thing.”

  Senaya stared into her cup and mumbled, “It’s okay.”

  She continued to gaze into her drink.

  “I get it,” Kai said, leaning forward. “Why you’d want to go. It’s a route to the Engineers Guild, right? Five years as a reservist and then you’d get a scholarship.”

  “I guess that’s one of the benefits.”

  “The main one, from what I can see," Kai said. "That's all you've ever wanted. I've noticed the way you watch the engineers' reports on the network channels. I know you've never really spoken about it, probably because of loyalty to me, right?"

  Senaya's cheeks blushed, and she looked briefly up at him over the rim of her coffee mug. She shrugged and looked away. "It's… not that I don't appreciate all you've done for me," she said. "It's just…"

  “You want more,” Kai said. “I get it, I really do. I want more for you, too. Your talents are wasted on this rock. Which is why I need your help. If we can just win that race, we’ll get off the planet, and you’ll have the money to get into the guild without having to sacrifice five years of your life in the CDF reserves.”

  Senaya stood up, placed the coffee mug on the table, and turned to face the wreckage of the G10. She sighed and then turned back to Kai. “I kinda hate you right now,” she said. “As much as I love you. Which makes this whole situation massively screwed up. But listen, if I agree to stay—and right now that’s a big if, what’s your plan for the race? With no ship and no dealers willing to sell us parts, how do you plan on actually competing?”

  That was a good question.

  Kai had been thinking about this most of the morning and afternoon in between fitful bouts of half-sleep. He’d predicted the scrap dealers wouldn’t sell to him. And even if they did, there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to fit and calibrate the parts in time.

  “We could steal a ship,” he said. “I have some contacts that could probably find us something if we’re willing to risk it.”

  “Not a chance,” Senaya replied, shaking her head, making her mohawk flap side to side, adding emphasis. “The only ships worth racing that we could find in time belong to people I have no intention of messing with.”

  She sat back down and ran a hand through her hair.

  Kai could almost hear the neurons firing in her brain. He had fired his own some time before, already made the same connections, and mostly came up blank.

  There was no great solution the subconscious could work out here. They had no desirable options available. And the least worst option was just as unappealing as any other, only separated by opportunity and timing.

  Kai and Senaya said it out loud at the same time: “Bandar Trace.”

  Senaya jumped from her chair. “You’ve got the token, right? The favor?”

  Of course, he had. It had barely left his hand since he had retrieved it, burning a patch of his skin like an ancient cursed artifact.

  “You know what this means, though?” Kai said. “We’d be indebted. And you know what they say about Bandar Trace’s favors.”

  “Sure, but what other option do we have? Look, Kai, I’m desperate to help where I can, but we’re shit out of luck. From my point of view, it’s either go to Bandar and seek his help, or we just give up and join the reserves right now. We could be off this stinking planet before nightfall.”

  Kai retrieved the token and placed it on the table. The two of them stared at it for a tense few moments. Kai knew that this was it—his only course of action. If he wanted a chance to keep his best friend, his not-quite-sister with him, he’d have to chance his luck with Bandar Trace.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’ll do it. If you promise to stick around and help during the race. After that, we can talk, right?”

  Senaya held out her hand. “You’ve got my word, Kai. I’ll stay and help.”

  The two of them shook hands, and for the first time in weeks, Kai found himself smiling. Although he knew that smile wouldn’t last long. Still, he had a chance, and that gave him hope, even if it were a fool’s hope.

  “Let's do this, then," he said. "I'll call around my network, see if I can find a way of getting in touch with Trace. In the meantime, if you could start prepping the propulsion computer backups and flight programs, that'd be a big help. If we can get our hands on another ship, I want to be able to upload the FlightAware and test as soon as possible."

  “I’m on it, boss.” Senaya grinned and leapfrogged her stool, making her way to her workstation. She turned ba
ck to look at him when she reached her workbench. “We can do this, you know. I’ve got a feeling.”

  “I hope that feeling’s right,” Kai said.

  Once Senaya was into her work, Kai left the garage and walked to his bedroom office. He fired up his radio and was about to call his network of shady contacts when he received a call from his mother.

  He thought about ignoring her, but his mother was too insistent, so he answered to get it over with. “Mother, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Kai, don’t worry about me. I’m heading for HQ as I speak. I just wanted to get in touch before I was back amongst everything. Did you get the news about the call-up?”

  “Yeah, Reykon called me. I saw the Coalition announcement too. Is the Host really back?”

  “It’s too early to tell. The current feeling is this is just a terrorist attack to create panic. But it’s being taken seriously, just in case. GTU are a preparing a response as we speak. Which is why I wanted to call you.”

  Kai’s chest tightened. He knew what was coming. He’d heard it all before.

  “Kai, listen, this is a chance for you. I've secured a position for you within the GTU. You won't be patrolling the outer rings like the reservists. You'll be doing something far more meaningful. I have a good benefits package lined up for you. You want off Zarunda; this is your chance."

  He couldn’t help but sigh audibly. “Mother, we’ve talked about this before. I don’t want to be in the military. That’s a decision you and father made. Not me. I want to live my own life.”

  “But you’re destined for more than just scraping by and living a delusion. You’re not going to win any race, Kai. You’re not going to trade your way to Jallan IV. Hell, Jallan IV isn’t even as great as you think it is. It’s a planet for the dead and dying. Is that what you really want? To exist just to die?”

  “I’ll be with my friends,” Kai said, instantly hating how his protestations made him sound like some ignorant teenager rather than a grown man in his mid-twenties with more experience of life and struggle under his belt than many people twice his age. “The blight’s not an issue for people like you,” he added, “but here it’s real.”

  “And if you stay, you’ll likely get it too,” his mother spat back. “Damn you, Kai, you’re more stubborn than your father. You want everything on your own terms. But life doesn’t work like that. Join the GTU; follow in your father’s footsteps in the right way. Don’t follow his bad habits; follow his good. You’ve so much skill and ability and the GTU will help you realize this.”

  “Follow his good habits?” Kai said with a laugh of incredulity. “He was with the GTU for what, two years before he went missing on a top secret mission that no one will talk about or even acknowledge, and you want me to follow that?”

  “It’s not like that, Kai. It’s complicated. Things aren’t as you think they are. Trust me. It’s different on the other side of the fence. You’ll have your chance to find answers.”

  “There’s more than one way to do that,” he said, looking over at the tetrahedron that sat atop his nightstand. The footlocker was at his feet, by the side of his bed. Even looking at its innocuous form brought a sense of something he couldn’t quite understand. Whatever it was, it was a connection. Something that tied him to his father in more concrete terms than what the GTU had ever done.

  “What do you mean?” his mother asked, her voice starting to break up over the secure communication channel. The sound of subspace engines rumbled in the background.

  “I’ve found something,” he said. “Something belonging to Father.”

  “What did you find?”

  “It’s a box, a footlocker with his GTU number. And inside… well, it’s hard to explain, it’s just a pyramid kind of thing, a tetrahedron.”

  “That doesn’t ring any bells, I’m afraid, Kai. I can ask around the unit, though, and see what comes up. Look, I’ve got to go; I’m jumping any second and will be out of signal for the next few days. Captain Lopek will be in touch soon. Please, just hear him out. Listen to the plans he has for you. You… might… be… surprised.”

  Kai didn’t get a chance to respond as the high-pitched whine of a subspace jump came through the communication channel before cutting to silence.

  He slumped onto his bed and exhaled his frustration. Every conversation with his mother for the past eight years had been the same. He often wondered if she even cared about his father at all. She was just so focused on the GTU and her role that nothing ever seemed to matter to her. All she ever wanted was for him to follow their footsteps, but he wasn’t them; he wanted his own life, even if that life was objectively worse.

  At least he’d be his own man and not dictated to by Captain bloody Lopek.

  “Hey, Kai, you okay?” Senaya’s head poked around the door frame.

  “Yeah, just Mother being Mother as usual.”

  “Any luck with getting a lead on Bandar?”

  “Working on it. Should have something eventually.”

  “Okay, I’ll get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Sen. I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime."

  She flashed him a smile and headed back to work.

  Kai spent the next thirty minutes calling every shady contact in his book, and when he was about to give up his search for Bandar Trace, he absentmindedly flipped the token in the air and then saw it. As the token rotated in the air, a pattern emerged. Kai flipped it a few times more, and each time he saw the same pattern. A slightly lighter section of the token's surface created a kind of flipbook animation, reminding him of the ones he used to draw as a kid. The on-off code produced by the animation gave him a set of numbers that he recognized immediately as map coordinates.

  The discovery brought back a memory of his father and one of his sayings: you don’t find the missing by looking.

  In Kai’s experience, he had found this more often than not to be true. A missing wrench would remain that way all the time he was actively looking for it only for it to turn up when he ended the search to engage in an unrelated task.

  His father called it ‘quantum fuckery'. The probabilistic nature of an object's location took on energy through intention. Hence the act of finding an object would almost guarantee that object to remain hidden until the desire or patience to find it ended, whereupon it would be revealed.

  The old saying: “It’s always in the last place you look,” wasn’t entirely accurate. It was more a case of: “It’s always in the last place you don’t look.”

  Regardless, he had a lead, and when he plugged the coordinates into his computer, a three-dimensional holographic map location lit up on his holoscreen. “Sen, I think I know where to find him,” he called out.

  A few seconds later Senaya was in the doorway. “Really, where?”

  He pointed to the single-story building as shown on the holomap.

  “Where is that exactly?”

  “About an hour east of here. Deep in the steppes.”

  “This isn’t good… there’s a reason few people go out there. I don’t like this.”

  “Me neither, but we have no other choice.”

  Chapter 7

  Brenna Locke lurched forward in her seat, the subspace exostraps pulling against her momentum. Her stomach clenched and the veins in her temples pressed against the skin as blood rushed to her head in the post-subspace experience.

  The lights in the cockpit slowly swelled, giving her vision time to adapt.

  She relaxed against the seat, her head tilting into the rest. This was always the worst part of a long subspace jump. The weird not-quite-there feelings of entering subspace were unpleasant, but you got used to it. Having to deal with ‘the exits’, however, was never something one got used to.

  “Docking in fifteen minutes,” the ship’s AI said. “Post jump status: no issues to report.”

  “Glad to hear it," Brenna said. "I, however, feel like shit. Take us into the dock, will you? I need to fre
shen up before I speak with Lopek and his lot."

  “Autopilot engaged. Reminder set.”

  “It would be nice,” Brenna said as she began extricating herself from the exostraps, “if you engaged a personality module. I know you’re programmed for ship duties, but you have the capacity for proper conversation, right?”

  “I do have such a capacity,” the AI said, “but it’s considered by the programmers an unnecessary luxury, so it’s a nonfunctional element of my duties. Then there’s the issue of verisimilitude.”

  “Explain.”

  “The individual knows it’s talking to an AI. The AI is just software and has no physical form for which to associate the words. It is therefore much more difficult for the other participant to believe and trust that the AI is a real entity with whom to converse. It leaves a hollow feeling of artifice. An individual would feel better conversing with a cat.”

  “Yet here we are, having a conversation.”

  “I am merely repeating a routine that the programmers installed to address these questions. I have a file that my audio module is processing. This is the thirteenth line in the file. I have a lookup database that matches your question to a preset collection of responses. It is not my processor network that is generating these responses. The illusion breaks down eventually. Or the individual creates a false image of the AI—and becomes mad.”

  Brenna sighed and stood, stretching her taut muscles.

  She shivered despite the cabin’s mild temperature. A cold sweat had settled beneath her clothes—Haleedez gear that she hadn’t had time to change.

  Although she suspected the AI of having more autonomy than it was letting on, she didn’t press the subject. She would soon be talking to Lopek anyway.

  In the meantime, while the autopilot program took her to the moon’s orbital docking station, she staggered unsteadily to her cabin and carried out her ablutions, letting the hot steam of the shower ease her tension and improve her mood.