The Ascendant Stars

by Cobley, Michael

  ‘May I know what this task is?’

  ** Like you, I have observed the conflict taking place out in space ** The black ship that destroyed the Hegemony vessel interests me ** With the Keeper’s assistance I will be able to gain a closer perspective and gather detailed information that would be otherwise unobtainable **

  ‘Sounds like you want to use me as some kinda glorified telescope,’ she said.

  ** No, my purpose is quite different ** May we proceed? **

  She paused, curiosity warring with distrust.

  ‘Fine – let’s proceed.’

  ** First, close your eyes and do not open them until I say ** Shrugging, she closed her eyes.

  At once she felt a sudden swirl of sub-zero iciness all over her body for just a moment, then it was gone. But her spirits lifted at the thought of experiencing physical sensation again. Could the Zyradin be taking a contrary position to Segrana, such that she might get her body back? It wasn’t exactly her preferred circumstances but if the offer was made she knew that she would accept. In any case, it seemed obvious to her that any of the senior Uvovo Listeners would be more suited to the role than she.

  ** You may now open your eyes **

  At first all she saw was blackness, perfect, indivisible, until she glanced to one side and saw the stars.

  Panicky terror seized her, along with a reflexive gasping for breath, and a wild flailing … until she realised that her body was pale and translucent, that she had no skin to freeze solid in the hard vacuum, nor any lungs to be sucked empty. The inky blackness was the shadow side of a big piece of ship’s hull, floating in a cloud of debris, much of it still spinning, rebounding from other pieces, being struck by faster-moving ones, a constellation of collisions, a random sea of razor glitter.

  Must be another spectacle of memories, she thought to herself. Another meticulous mirage …

  ** You are wrong ** This is quite real and you are experiencing it directly **

  A vertigo reflex ghosted through her, a promise of nausea that never came.

  ‘If this is real,’ she said (or at least heard herself say), ‘you must be projecting my awareness beyond the planet’s stratosphere. Why? I doubt that it’s just so you can get a closer look.’

  ** Segrana chose her Keeper well ** An elevated Listener would have been overcome by terror but you have adapted and have begun to ask the right questions **

  ‘An answer would be a big help, actually.’

  ** In time ** Look to your right and down ** Do you see the very large ragged piece of wreckage? **

  She could. It was the size of a football field and was surrounded by a halo of smaller glinting fragments.

  ‘I see it.’

  ** Stretch out your hand towards it ** Imagine that you are reaching out to touch it and you will move towards it **

  Catriona followed the instructions and she did indeed begin to move. As she drifted out from behind the shadowing debris she noticed a sudden dimming in her vision. The sun’s direct glare was muted and dazzling reflections were softened.

  ** Filtering the light protects your visual receptors ** Do not be concerned about the lesser pieces ** Push them out of your path or go around **

  The debris was of all sizes and almost all of it had edges or surfaces that were jagged, sharp and lethal, yet her opaque form seemed unaffected by grazing collisions or scrapes. There were other objects that evoked a mixture of horror and pity, the frozen bodies of the carrier’s Sendrukan crew. Most wore heavy vac-suits or flimsy emergency environment suits and most seemed dead from high-power energy bolts. Those large humanoid bodies were twisted into anguished contortions and everyone bore a layer of sparkling frost. It was like slowly wending her way through a silent zero-gee morgue.

  Then her goal was before her. It looked like it had been ripped out of the Hegemony carrier’s structure by sheer force. Apart from the stretch of hull plating down one side, every other surface was a picture of destruction, torn bulkheads, snapped-off lengths of cabling, gaping and twisted air ducts, bent and severed pipes around which beards of ice had grown. She could see where the cleft crossed several decks and saw more bodies, motionless figures floating in corridors or frozen in death agonies while wrapped up in a sleeping recess, gaping mouths, grasping hands …

  Catriona had seen many terrible things under the canopy of Segrana these last few days, but this sight stirred in her a crawling horror unlike anything she had felt before.

  And the Zyradin wants to study this? she thought.

  ** Move round to the area of hull plating **

  As quickly as she could she aimed herself at that part of the wreckage and was soon floating directly over it.

  ** Approach the hull surface and place your hand against it **

  ‘How will this help you analyse the thing?’ she said. ‘Why not just take a few pictures, or whatever your equivalent is?’

  ** It will serve my purposes and my curiosity **

  She drifted towards the flat surface, which was mostly a dark grey with metallic blue bands crossing part of it. She was facing an area with a block of what she assumed to be instructions in Sendrukan. She reached out her strange, milkily opaque hand and touched the flat greyness with her fingertips then her whole palm.

  Well, I hope this is helping somehow …

  Suddenly she was enveloped by meshes of light, misty braids coiling around her and up and around the wreckage, swathing it in shining bands. Catriona was frozen in place, unable to move but sensing a buildup of something powerful. The shining braids began to brighten, everything seemed to tremble, and there was a dazzling burst of light and an abrupt moment of tranquillity, an instant of perfect silence …

  … before a plunge into darkness, impressions of shadows, great trunks, masses of greenery, vine-woven mossy curtains – she was back in Segrana! – and before her, hanging in midair, that immense slab of wreckage with her hand still pressed against it …

  ** Release ** Release it **

  A second of incredulity, of mystification, of realisation, then she snatched her hand away.

  The wreckage fell from her, smashing several trees into splinters before it struck the ground with a deafening crash.

  GREG

  It was only a fifteen-minute hop from the Retributor to the Starfire but Greg’s head was full of details from the meeting and he just couldn’t relax. The summary of the Starfire’s weaponry seemed meagre in the light of the Imisil commander Remosca’s revelation on the size of the Hegemony armada. Hundreds of warships among which there would be more carriers like the Baqrith-Zo, capable of fielding scores of interceptors, drones, smart missiles, a veritable cascade of war machines rushing towards them.

  Greg had projected a kind of cavalier optimism mingled with anger and defiance, mainly because he did not want to face his own despair. As he sat listening to Commander Remosca laying out the bleak realities, something that Uncle Theo once said came back to him – ‘A ship tied up in the harbour is safe, but is that what ships are for?’ It was a folksy little saying but its nugget of wisdom was clear. He had once told the Tygran Ash that while Darien was worth fighting for it was the people who were worth dying for.

  The gathering had agreed unanimously to stand their ground. Greg just hoped that the dying part would be slow to arrive.

  Now, sitting in the Retributor’s pilotless shuttle pod – a short-range craft on loan from the Roug, apparently – his thoughts turned to the situation on the planet’s surface. There had been several attempts to establish contact with the Human rebels at Tusk Mountain but all effective channels were being jammed. The source of the jamming was mainly Giant’s Shoulder, which wasn’t such a surprise now that the Legion agent and its combat droids were in control of the place. But Ash was not seeing the break in communication as an immediate crisis and wouldn’t authorise a shuttle journey to the surface. Nor would he order a bombardment of the Giant’s Shoulder defences, on the grounds that it might provoke retaliation which they could do wit
hout in the hours ahead. Greg was frustrated at these decisions but had to resign himself to them.

  At last the pod reached the Starfire, the Tygran ship that had brought him from Nivyesta and which had been heavily damaged in action against the Hegemony carrier’s escort vessels. Although the hyperdrive was junk, the thrust engines had been partially repaired and some of the weapons were back online. They could move and they could fight, after a fashion.

  The pod docked with one of the underside hatches, and moments later he was climbing from the pod’s weak deck gravity into a weightless airlock. It was a small, blue-lit chamber with a short ladder. The outer hatch thudded shut, sealed audibly, and the light turned red.

  ‘Just a few seconds, Mr Cameron, and you’ll be through.’

  Sure enough, moments later Lieutenant Berg was helping him up into a cramped compartment.

  ‘Welcome back, Mr Cameron.’

  ‘Glad to be back, Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘Commander Ash clarified my position, by the way. He was very keen to point out that you are in command and that I am just a civilian adviser.’ He shrugged. ‘And that’s fine and dandy by me, really.’

  Berg grinned. ‘You shouldn’t worry, Mr Cameron. I’m sure I can find you something to do, given the circumstances.’

  Greg nodded as he followed Berg out and along the spine corridor. In order to fully operate the Silverlance, the former Hegemony ship, Ash had left the Starfire with little more than a skeleton crew of eleven, barely enough to cope with the necessary repairs. The Retributor’s captain, K’ang Lo, had said that he could spare some of his techs so perhaps that would solve their problems. Provided the language problem was solvable.

  They had just entered the split-level bridge when the tac officer, a woman Greg didn’t recognise, turned with an excited expression.

  ‘Sir, I was just about to alert you – a fleet of eighteen vessels has exited hyperspace at the periphery of the system!’

  ‘Have they identified themselves?’ Berg said as he lowered himself into the commander’s couch.

  ‘Yes, they are claiming to be a Vox Humana expeditionary force sent to offer assistance to the besieged people of Darien … ’

  ‘Go to combat-readiness,’ Berg said, and Greg could hear the high-pitched alarm from the corridor outside. ‘How have the other captains reacted?’

  ‘Taking the same precautions, sir. Shall I screen the ongoing exchange?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  Greg had resumed his old seat, at the auxiliary station left of the commander’s couch. The console’s holopanel blinked on, displaying a pair of insets showing Ash in one and a round-faced woman of mature years in the other. She had a steely gaze and a streak of black in a head of otherwise silvery hair.

  ‘ … would be more advantageous to all concerned. I repeat, Commander, we are here to offer all and any assistance to the benefit of the Darien colony.’

  ‘I’m afraid that we must insist on a process of verification, Admiral Olarevic,’ said Ash. ‘We have a sensor probe in orbit around that gas giant. If you set course for it, we can easily verify your idents.’

  The Vox Humana admiral gave a stiff nod. ‘Very well, Commander, we shall do as you suggest.’

  Abruptly her image vanished from the screen.

  ‘Why is Ash having problems IDing their ship?’ Greg said.

  ‘He’s not,’ said Berg. ‘It’s the Imisil – they’re saying that such a generous offer of military assistance is atypical for the Vox Humana, who are usually rigorously neutral when it comes to conflicts involving Hegemony interest.’

  ‘So they’re here to either play some spoiler, disruptive role,’ Greg said, ‘or something’s happened to force them to actively support us because it’s in their interest. I’ve no idea what that could be but I’m pretty sure that you know more about the Vox Humana than I do.’

  Berg shrugged. ‘I can’t say much, Mr Cameron, except to say that the Imisil are right about Vox H neutrality … ’

  ‘Sir, long-range sensors are picking up energy weapon emissions from the vicinity of the outer gas giant.’

  In the next moment, the face of the Vox Humana admiral reappeared on the viewport overlay, as well as in Greg’s holopanel.

  ‘We are under attack!’ she said. ‘Did you plan this, Commander? Did you?’

  In the other inset Ash’s face was affronted yet restrained.

  ‘Admiral, I give you my word that we have nothing to do with this. Have you identified the attackers yet?’

  ‘ … four … five, no six Ezgara destroyers. They did not show up on any scans but it seems that they came at us from concealments on one of the gas giant’s moons … ’

  Greg noticed that Berg had suddenly become more focused on the Vox Humana admiral.

  ‘Six destroyers,’ the Tygran muttered. ‘That’s almost two-thirds of the fleet.’

  ‘Why would they commit such a high proportion?’ Greg said.

  Berg gave a sour smile. ‘The “why” is tied up with the “who” – only Becker would browbeat the commanderies and the Bund into backing such a plan. But even six of our ships could not prevail against eighteen Vox H vessels, so this has to be a tactical move.’ Berg shrugged. ‘I’m sure Ash can see this and has a better idea of what’s going on.’

  At this point the Vox Humana admiral had turned aside to deal with urgent matters, while the channel stayed open. Then new datastreams began filling sidebar columns which unfolded into a 3D schematic of the hostile engagement.

  ‘That’s the feed from the probe near the gas giant,’ said Berg, who then frowned. ‘What’s it called, the gas giant?’

  ‘Hmm? – eh, Kronos … but listen, why would your marshal lead his ships into a fight when he’s outnumbered three to one? What kind of strategy is that?’

  Berg frowned. ‘No, it’s a tactical move in support of a strategy, but what is it? … wait, did you see that? Raker, replay last sixty seconds of probe data.’

  On the screens the 3D model of the vicinity of the gas giant Kronos showed the trajectory trails of various ships, with fading tags denoting weapon fire. Suddenly Berg froze the playback and zoomed in on the shadow side of one of the gas giant’s moons where a solitary tag had appeared.

  ‘Hyperdrive activated,’ Berg said, pointing at the tag.

  Before Greg could reply, a priority message frame popped up over the playback, with Ash looking grimly out from it.

  ‘Attention, all vessels – it appears that we have a seventh Ezgara warship in the area. It was spotted by our probe nearly three minutes ago when it broke from cover behind one of the gas giant’s moons. It then almost immediately made a hyperspace jump – we are assuming that it was a microjump to somewhere else in the system, most probably Darien.’

  Ash’s image blinked, then he spoke again.

  ‘Berg, we’re now on a secure channel. Who do you think is behind this?’

  ‘Marshal Becker, sir. Has his hallmark all over it.’

  ‘Yes, which means that he’s certainly on board that seventh ship. And since the other six weren’t spotted by the Imisil probe until they came out and attacked the Vox H, it’s logical to assume that they’ve been there since before the Imisil arrived.’ Ash rubbed the side of his head, as if at an ache. ‘They’ve seen all there was to see and probably listened in on our channels, so now they know who’s here and who’s planetside.’

  ‘Like Captain Gideon,’ said Greg. ‘He’s no’ exactly Becker’s favourite Human being.’

  ‘It’s possible, Mr Cameron, but it’s equally likely that he’s acting under orders. Lieutenant Berg – keep your ship at combat alert and switch your patrol pattern to semi-random. If a Tygran vessel appears do not approach or pursue, and do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Those destroyers are atmosphere-capable so it might try for a landing – again, observe and track but do not intervene. Clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but—’

  ‘Wait!’ Ash said, his gaze snapping to one side. ‘Now the Tygran-Ezgara sh
ips are breaking off and making a dash for open space. They know they’re outnumbered.’

  On the 3D schematic Greg could see six symbols heading away from the scene of the battle. Seconds later these symbols starting winking out as the ships jumped to hyperspace. Except for two, and when Greg looked closer he saw that the velocity values for both were falling rapidly.

  ‘Mr Berg, Admiral Olarevic has crucial information,’ said Ash. ‘I’m switching the channel back to convoke mode … Admiral, I am pleased that you survived the Ezgara attack.’

  Greg and Berg exchanged a look but said nothing.

  ‘Unfortunately, two of my ships did not and I have another three so damaged they are not fit for front-line duties.’ The woman was visibly straining to keep her temper under control. ‘But I can see now that the Ezgara assault was none of your doing, in the light of the tactical overview you generously fed to us from your probe. More immediate, however, is the matter of these two Ezgara ships which stayed behind. Both are casting messages claiming that all or most of both crews have mutinied. One is called the Vanquisher, the other the Firebrand. However, our sensors are picking up indications of fighting aboard the latter … ’

  ‘Do you know the name of whoever is in charge aboard the Vanquisher, Admiral?’ said Ash.

  ‘He calls himself Braddock,’ said Olarevic. ‘Claims that he was the security officer. Would you like me to connect you to him?’

  Berg glanced at Greg wide-eyed and gave a silent shake of the head.

  ‘That could be very useful, Admiral,’ Ash said. ‘But I’d like to go over it with my colleagues on the other vessels first, put together a consensus on how to proceed. In the meantime we need to keep our sensor arrays active at all ranges. We still haven’t located the seventh Ezgara vessel and we cannot relax until we can be sure that it’s left the system.’

  Suddenly Ash’s attention was distracted by one of his bridge crew, just as Berg’s own tac officer spoke.

  ‘There’s some activity at the Firebrand, sir – most of the aft life-pods are ejecting … ’