Lilia stood and gathered his hands in hers. “Stan Ryley Archer, I love you. I have from the start. I want—”
“Stop.” Stan pulled away and stepped back. “There’s too much blood on my hands, woman. You deserve better.”
“Does your reluctance, Stan, have anything to do with the Emperor’s Princess?” John interrupted, “because there’s something you should know about the liner. She carried followers, sure, but that isn’t why Dais had it shot down. It was a political move, pure and simple.”
Both Stan and Lilia turned to give John their full attention.
“Proctor McCullough was aboard her as well.”
“What?” Stan’s face grew suddenly angry. “That bast—”
“Who?” Carl asked.
“Consul Dais’ political rival,” Stan growled. “Dais had Wolverine squad do his dirty work for him. I should have checked the manifest.”
“You wouldn’t have found McCullough on the ship’s manifest, Stan,” John said. “No one but the aristocracy knew until after the liner had been downed. Dais acted alone and without Senate sanction. He’s been arrested for treason.”
“Wow,” Carl said, “this is big news.”
“Bigger yet,” John said, “McCullough was a pro-freedom Paladin; someone the proletariat has been aching to find. A dove, his political platform rested on the facts that this building threat of war was completely contrived by Dais and the Senate hawks, to wrest even more control from the people. He was already in the arena when he came to be a follower. He and his political ideas were very appealing to the common voter and that threatened Dais’ reign as High Consul. McCullough was killed for that, and that alone. No one knew of his affiliation with us.”
Stan glanced at Lilia before focusing on John and Carl. “No matter what the political ramifications, I was still used to kill innocent people. What do you want me to do about that now?”
“Join the underground, Stan. As a Paladin you, Lilia, and Carl can make a difference.”
Uncertain, Stan shook his head in reluctance.
Suddenly the room changed. He, Lilia, Carl, and John now stood in the white, never-ending expance where Stan had faced Troy.
“What is this place? John said.
“This,” Stan said, “is the heart of Reliant.”
Wide-eyed, John looked around. “Rather big, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never found its end.”
The ship’s avatar stepped up to Stan. “There is nothing to distract you here, Capt. Archer, but you must understand that indecision and uncertainty are not your allies.”
“Where do I go from here, Reliant?”
“A look into the Right mirror will help you find your way, sir.”
Stan hesitated. Then, taking Lilia’s hands in his, he drew her closer. In her eyes he found unwavering acceptance.
“John?”
“Yeah, Stan?”
“Perform weddings, do you?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Still some distance away from Providence, and away from traffic lanes, on its own, DarkStar drew to a stop.
“Reliant? What’s going on?” Stan asked.
The ship said nothing. A holograph tactical display appeared over the pilot’s console. A blip told them a ship approached.
“Reliant?” Lilia said softly.
No answer.
Stan and Carl tried to activate various controls but nothing worked.
“We’re dead in space,” Carl said, and turned to the others. “Swift?”
“I got nothin’, Carl.”
“Bay door is raising,” Lilia said, her voice calm but apprehensive.
The door to the bay appeared, and the three looked at each other for answers. Finding none, Stan pushed to his feet, as did the others, and headed for the bay. Soon, a ship, an old well-worn freighter, pulled up alongside them. An energy air-containment field connected their two ships, a ramp extended from the new arrival to theirs, and its bay door opened. A man in a smock stood at the opening.
Stan, Lilia, and Carl exchanged glances.
The man, raised his head from a digital pad, saw them, and smiled. “Why, hello!”
“Hello, yourself,” Stan offered, uncertain.
“Yes, well . . . may I come aboard?” Without waiting for an answer, the man proceeded across the ramp, entered their bay, and looked around. “Remarkable, remarkable.”
“Can we help you?” Lilia asked.
“Indeed,” said the man cheerily. “Indeed you can, Lilia. Or should I call you Miss Slone?”
“It’s Mrs. Archer now.”
His eyes widened. “Indeed?” He looked up. “DarkStar, that wasn’t in your report.”
“Report?” Stan said, suspicious. Something about the man seemed familiar, but he just couldn’t place him.
“Yes, oh, umm, I see,” the man said. “Come, let’s coffee over our exchange, shall we?” He turned and headed straight for the galley.
Stan glanced at his fellow confused companions, and smiled wryly. Raising a hand, he indicated they follow the stranger. “Yes, let us coffee over our exchange, shall we?”
“This is all too weird,” Carl said as he followed Lilia.
“I’ll say,” Stan agreed. “But he’s just one guy. I think we can take him if he tries something.”
“What did he call this ship, DarkStar?”
“That was her name,” Lilia said, “before we changed it. Please, don’t ever call her anything but Reliant.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”
They entered the galley to find the stranger already gathering what he needed to brew a pot. “Sit, sit,” he said without looking their way.
The three took places at the breakfast bar. “You seem to know your way around my ship,” Stan said, making his annoyance apparent.
“Your ship? Yes, yes, I can see how you’d think that. DarkStar, who do you belong to?”
The avatar appeared before them.
The man jerked in surprise. His eyes grew bigger. “An avatar? I don’t recall programming in an avatar.” He jerked his head to Stan and Lilia. “Is this your doing?”
“Sir, I belong to the Archers. We are bound together.”
“Bound? Yes, you said that in this report. What do you mean, bound?”
“What is this about?” Stan asked with growing annoyance.
“Oh, yes, right.” The man poured four coffees and set the cups before them. “As you recall, stole this ship.”
“No . . . I don’t think so,” Stan said, looking at Lilia, but all she could do was shrug blankly.
“I released myself to these good folks,” Reliant said.
“Why would you—” Coalfire stopped himself. “Well, now. That does paint things in a different light. Okay, here we go. I built DarkStar in our secret base, Ice Station Zebra. I completed her A.I. programming, and retired for the night. The following morningI discovered DarkStar missing.”
“Ice Station Zebra?” Lilia said. “You mean on Chagwa?”
“Chagwa? Goodness no. Providence Minor. The southern pole actually.”
“Wait. This is all too confusing,” Stan said. “Prov Minor is sixty-seven light years away from Chagwa.”
“Of course,” the man said. “What does Chagwa have to do with anything?”
“That’s where we found DarkStar,” Stan clarified. “In a big ice cavern.”
“Who are you?” Lilia asked. “Why are we talking to you?”
“This is my creator, Peter Coalfire,” DarkStar’s avatar said. “A wormhole connected Chagwa to where I was on Prov Minor.”
Coalfire pondered that for a long moment. “So, the wormhole altered your program. Is that what happened, DarkStar?”
“Did it, sir? When the wormhole appeared, I . . .” The avatar paused.
“You what?” Stan asked after a moment of silence.
“I, sir, I woke up. I knew what I had to do then and there. In the next moment when you, Stan Archer, and you, Lilia Stone, stepped
aboard, I knew that we were created for each other.”
“This is all too weird,” Carl told the newcomer. “I’m totally lost here. Who are you again?”
“Yes, yes, oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me,” Coalfire said. “I suppose introductions are well over due. As your avatar said, I’m Peter Coalfire. My ship is Dangerous Haul, and Mr. and Mrs. Archer are my apparent thieves.” He turned to Carl and held out his hand. “Carl Ogier, is it?”
Suspicious, Carl’s brows dropped jadedly, but he took the offered hand anyway. “Indeed,” Carl mocked.
Peter took Lillia’s hand, then finally Stan’s. “You said you found DarkStar on Chagwa. Hmmm. Let me see.” He rifled through his datapad. “Ah, here it is. Oh my. This is interesting. According to DarkStar’s data, you burst into our lab with a Dart though a side wall bypassing our antechamber entirely. Yes, yes.” He looked up and smiled. “That would be the same Dart we found in our lab. Considering how damaged that ship was, it’s hard to believe you survived the crash. Then, according to DarkStar, she exited through the ceiling and out into Confederate space near . . . yes. I see. Well now, there is much here to weed through, isn’t there? A worm hole might explain your passage from Chagwa to Prov Minor, and then back again, but this binding of you to DarkStar. That is odd.”
“She prepped us,” Stan said. “Hurt like hell.”
“Prepped? DarkStar, what is this ‘prepped’ business.”
“Per my programming, sir, I altered their DNA to—”
“DNA!? What! No, you mean you inserted data into their neuronets. You altered their memories to include an understanding of your controls?”
“No, sir, I altered them genetically.”
Coalfire ran a worried hand over his forehead. “This is bad. This is real bad,” he muttered. Turning from his coffee, he paced the galley. Stan could see the man was working things out in his head. No one said a thing, but the looks exchanged said Lilia and Carl were as worried and confused as Stan felt.
Coalfire turn to them. “A wormhole forms, and somehow alters DarkStar’s programming and just then you enter and somehow get aboard her.”
“She opened to us,” Stan clarified.
“No, no,” with a wave of the hand, Coalfire discounted the possibility. “Security protocols, and such. That just wouldn’t happen.”
“I opened to them, sir,” said the avatar.
“What? No, you were safeguarded. Your programming—”
“She opened to us,” Lillia interrupted. “It’s coming back to me now. I remember you, Dr. Coalfire. You were there.”
“That was me,” the avatar said, and instantly morphed into Peter Coalfire. “I let you in. I appeared to you in this guise, as Peter Coalfire.”
“No, no, no!” Peter Coalfire said. “None of this is right! This exceeds your programming by leaps and bounds. Even the most sophisticated A.I. just can’t, out of thin air, produce knowledge that doesn’t yet exist.”
“Maybe Lilia’s right,” Stan said. “Maybe there is a higher power controlling the universe.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Ooh, sure. A loving God who takes delight in altering a ships programing. Look, let’s not start jumping right to that nonsense. A wormhole’s energy scrambled things a bit. It’s nothing more than that.”
“Yeah,” Lilia said in a blasé tone. “Everyone knows God isn’t as smart as Mr. Coalfire, here. Look! The One who programmed the Heavens and all that’s in it can’t rewrite something as simple as a manmade A.I. program? Are we supposed to kneejerk straight to that kind of nonsense?”
“No, wait,” Carl interrupted. “Data wasn’t altered—well, it was—but it was also added to. Where did this new knowledge come from?”
Coalfire released an irritated breath. “On the surface, Mr. Ogier, I’d say you were right. Clearly this’ll require further study. And I need to determine if DarkStar’s altering your DNA caused you harm. Providence Minor is just across the border. We’ll go to my lab there and check things over, you and the ship. I’m sure we’ll get it all sorted out before long.”
“Fine,” Stan said.
“Yeah, sure,” Lilia agreed.
Carl shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride.”
The DarkStar avatar dipped her head in approval, then vanished.
Peter tabbed his cuff-communicator. “DH, follow us to Prov Minor. I’ll be staying here.”
“Aye, sir,” came the response.
“DH?” asked Stan.
“Dangerous Haul, my ship. DarkStar was the prototype. DH was her replacement.”
On the languorous fight back to Providence, they retired to the lounge and Coalfire told them a little of his own history. “To fund my engineering lab,” Coalfire said, “I had turned to the Providence military. At the time it seemed like a smart move. They said he’d have a free hand and that they’d not interfere in any way.”
“But they lied,” Stan said aloud.
“Indeed,” Coalfire said. “I take it you’re familiar with the Prov military?”
“Not specifically. But I know military types.”
“Yes. Quite. Well, contrary to what they’d promised, government money gave them a vested interest in everything I did.”
“And it quickly became apparent to you that funding your research via the military was a huge mistake.”
“I soon discovered that like Durilian bloodworms, once they were in, there would be no getting rid of them without a whole lot of pain. In their view, their money made everything that was once mine, theirs.”
“And so began the constant interference with your work.” Stan dropped his eyes to ponder the floor.
“Men with gold-trimmed epaulets and chests covered in ribbons sauntered around my shop as if they owned it and I was merely their employee. They had the audacity to call me by my first name and were incensed when I replied in kind.
“Commander Hammond! one had snapped, indicating he was to be so addressed. But the same man never ever called me anything but ‘Peter’.” Grinding his teeth, Peter’s face took on an angry cast.
“I imagine you still tolerate their disrespect?” Lilia said.
“With growing ire, I do. But what can say. I need their money plain and simple.”
“So, they’re still in charge, are they?” Stan said. “And that’s what you want me to walk straight into?”
“Ah, yes. Point taken.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
With Lilia and Stan Archer bound genetically to DarkStar, the military authorities decided it best not to separate them from it or each other. Coalfire had told them doing so might cause irreparable harm to the Archers and the ship. So, without first consulting Peter Coalfire, they rested more control from him by hiring Stan and Lilia as DarkStar’s test pilots. For the Archers, it was that or go to prison as Confederate spies.
Carl was another matter entirely. He wasn’t trusted, but neither Stan nor Lilia would cooperate unless Carl was cleared and kept with them.
Coalfire and the Archers were now in too deep when the Prov military’s true agenda come to light. Somehow the ship had genetically improved Stan and Lilia, and the military wanted to duplicate that onetime anomaly. To them doing so became priority one, and they demanded further study into the matter. Despite Coalfire’s protests, they insisted he focus on blood and tissue samples, poking and prodding, and being as much an irritant to the Archers as the brass was to him. Coalfire believed his wormhole theory was worth checking into. They disagreed, going so far as to bar him from the ice cavern where it all began.
With the ship’s sensory/recording devices already in place, it was further decided by the brass that the Archers should be monitored nonstop along with their ship. The ability to do so was already in place, so why not? Not only could DarkStar keep track of every event inside and out, but it could also continuously record the Archer’s vitals. The military’s every demand was already being done by Peter Coalfire, and yet they strutted around like their ideas were fresh, something never befo
re considered. Coalfire hated the military’s constant interference, but what could he do?
One day everything changed. The steadfast telemetry signals died. DarkStar disappeared with the Archers and Ogier, and Dangerous Haul vanished with Peter Coalfire and his wife, Valentine who he had just learned was expecting. An extensive military search turned up nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Five Years Later
Lilia entered the captain’s cabin and slumped into the chair. Just then her husband stepped from the shower to tower above her. His skin shown dark as bronze and glistened wetly in the muzzy light of the bedroom sconces, the faint lines of old scars visible on his broad chest. His brown hair, trimmed in the time honored fashion of military men, looked ink-black in the low light, as did his trimmed beard. His mouth twisted in a frown beneath his mustache. “Too close to home, are we?”
She nodded faintly as she looked up at him, so tall and magnificent. Secretly she both loved and hated his scars. Seeing them for the first time on their wedding night both startled and thrilled her. Was that so wrong? They made him look warrior-like, so rugged and manly, but they also spoke of the vicious military whose training involved beatings with bamboo rods. She was ashamed of herself, too ashamed to tell him of her secret fascination. Doing so seemed somehow wrong, and that saddened her.
“Let’s take a chance and see your folks,” he said, turning to tug on his clothes, after which he put his hand on her shoulder in gentle reassurance. “Come on. We’re here.”
Her heart leapt at the thought but quickly sank as reality gripped her. “It’s too dangerous. The Consul has his troops on high-alert, and our presence might give my folks away, not to mention putting those in need of rescue in even more danger.”
Turning fully to her, Stan went to her and gathered her hands in his; his strong fingers gave her a sense of safety, but his calm expression didn’t fool her. His eyes said he was troubled by the prospect of explaining himself—his history—to her family just as much as she was.
Lilia slid to the chair’s edge, leaned forward, and pulled Stan’s hands around her expanded waist—the baby due any day—then embraced his neck to whisper in his ear. “I love you. You and I are not the same people we were back then. We’re a family now. We’ve got one child and another one on the way. We have to consider their safety.”
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