He was worried, early in this mission, that he might lose the music forever. The recovery ships had picked clean every piece of rock within three Jumps of the Colonies, and had gotten all the best bits from three Jumps farther out. With every trip, the pickings were leaner and farther away. And the other scavengers seemed to nip at his tail, or tried to get the jump on each new pocket of plenty the Lightning might find. It was his own fault, really. Everyone wanted to be as rich as Nadu.
The other scavengers forced him to play his little tricks. He did everything he could to discourage competition. He had had to abandon and slightly modify a second, smaller craft—an outdated cargo ship—that they had liberated from a research station on a nearby moon.
They had also found a way to eliminate the overly curious on an abandoned mining outpost. Nadu always found what he needed. After all, he was guided by his song.
“Captain! The message! It’s cut out!” Griff called. “I’m getting a live feed!” He switched the wireless over to the speakers.
“This is Research Station Omega, calling the approaching craft,” a man’s voice boomed through the control room. “Please respond.”
“This is Cruiser Lightning,” Griff replied. “We had no response to our hails. We have two small exploratory craft coming in from orbit.”
The voice hesitated a moment before responding. “I’m surprised you’re approaching at all. Apparently, your proximity activated our ancient warning.”
Nadu’s comm officer waited a moment before making a reply They didn’t want to come across as overly eager. It was always best if people didn’t realize they were scavengers.
“We realized we had triggered a recording, Station Omega,” Griff added smoothly. “We had the idea it wasn’t recent, and was worth further investigation. We expected the station to be deserted. There isn’t much out here.”
Nadu frowned, his song temporarily gone. Would the research station demand their immediate withdrawal? Now that Nadu had found them, Lightning wasn’t going to go away. If Griff failed in his diplomacy, there might have to be a bit of weapons fire to assure the station’s compliance.
The voice once again came through the speakers. “That message—I suppose I should apologize—it was put into service long ago. I hadn’t realized it was still operational. We didn’t even know we had visitors until our sensors alerted us to the approach of your small craft. We are a research station, cut off from communication by some—unfortunate accidents, I guess you’d call them.”
The voice from the station paused again. Griff looked to Nadu for some sign of what he should say next.
“We haven’t had a visitor in over thirty years,” the voice added at last. “Frankly, we’re surprised to see anyone.”
Thirty years? Before the Cylon War? A research station of that vintage would have to have extensive resources to survive for all that time. If the Lightning could strip those assets from the station, they might be worth a fortune. Nadu hummed ever so softly.
“We knew there was a conflict, but we were never directly affected. That warning was concocted by one of my predecessors as a form of protection. We don’t have much else in the way of defenses. But I think the recording has long outlasted its purpose. We are self-sufficient here, more or less. We’ve had some problems, but we survive, and the research goes on.”
“Would you be willing to show some visitors around Omega Station?” Griff asked. “Will you give us permission to land?”
“We welcome news of the outside world. I will send you landing coordinates.”
The comm officer nodded. “We have the coordinates. We look forward to meeting you.”
Griff broke the connection and turned to the captain.
“Should we call back the Vipes? Send down somebody who’s a bit more used to talking?”
Nadu scratched at his scarred cheek. “We know what he’s telling us. But do we believe him? We’re flying into a defenseless research station. A station that somehow missed the whole Cylon uprising.” He shook his head. “Twitch and Symm can handle whatever they’ve got. They’ll tell us what is really there. But I suppose we should warn our pilots to mind their manners.” Nadu laughed. “We don’t want to give our new friends the wrong impression.
“Open the channel again, Griff.”
His comm officer nodded.
“Research Station Omega. This is Captain Nadu of the Cruiser Lightning.” He would tell them as much of the truth as served his purpose. “We are exploring these parts of space that were lost to commerce after the war. We are gathering information, and reclaiming areas and equipment wherever possible.” Not exactly a lie. “We sent a couple of Vipers down to take a look. I’m afraid our pilots are a rough and tumble pair. They go by the names of Twitch and Symm. Our troubleshooters. I’ll tell them to be on their best behavior. After they take their first look around, we’ll send down a diplomat or two.”
The voice took a moment to respond. “Acknowledged, Lightning. We welcome you all. Please wait for us at the launch area. We are a unique research facility, and we may hold some surprises. We—well, why don’t I wait and let your pilots see for themselves.”
“Acknowledged,” Nadu agreed. “We will instruct our pilots not to leave the landing area.” Of course, they would have already had a quick flyover with their Vipes.
“Again,” continued the voice from the station. “Urge your pilots to wait for us. We have had some unfortunate accidents in recent years, and there are some areas of the research facility that are not safe. We look forward at long last to contact from the Colonies.”
“Lightning out,” Nadu said. Griff broke the connection.
“Sounds a little strange, doesn’t it?” the captain asked.
Griff nodded. “Strange, but possible. Anything’s possible after thirty years. They sound a bit overwhelmed. We’ll have to figure out if they’re as helpless as they sound.”
“Twitch and Symm can handle them. They know enough to get out of there at the first sign of trouble.” Nadu hummed softly for a moment. “Give me a direct line to our Vipes.”
“I already patched them in to our last exchange with the station.” Griff shrugged at Nadu’s scowl. “I know what the captain wants.”
“Maybe you do.”
“We heard, Captain,” Twitch’s voice replied.
“Then you know what I want. Take a look around the place before you land. And if you can, take a stroll past the landing field. Anything that can be used to our advantage. We don’t want them knowing what’s going on until it’s too late for them to do anything. Remember. Best behavior.”
“Okay that, Captain. We’ll go in like society.”
Nadu doubted they’d recognize society if they ever saw it. “Do your best. Try not to break anything.”
Nadu realized he was grinning. The feeling was even stronger than before. This would be the score.
It would be a shame if they had to kill a few survivors to get what they needed. But this far out, who could get in their way? He hoped all of his crew had the stomach for that kind of work. He knew he could depend on the old-timers, but Zarek and a couple of the others hadn’t yet had their trial by fire. They had had crewmen in the past who had actually objected to Nadu’s methods. Those who had issues with their captain were always quickly removed.
After all, business was business.
CHAPTER
7
RESEARCH STATION OMEGA
They were no longer alone. The Colonies had come back to them. And he had invited them to land at the station’s front door. Doctor Villem Fuest looked around the large, empty room that now held their communication array. It was his decision to make. Had he done the right thing? He had so wanted to talk to people from the home worlds before he died. And yet—
He wished some of the others were still here, so he could talk this out. He had waited so long for contact. Why did he feel so conflicted about their arrival?
He set up the proper protocols to welcome their visitor
s—their first visitors in thirty years. It was a simple task, really, punching a series of codes into the station’s primary computer. Other scientists, men and women who were no longer with him, had automated the process a long time ago. He opened a channel on the stationwide wireless.
“We have been contacted by emissaries from the Colonies. We will be receiving visitors shortly. All senior staff should proceed immediately to the observation deck by the landing area.”
He pushed himself out of his chair. Now that he had announced the meeting, he wanted to be careful not to be the last to arrive. The others would have many questions, most of which he couldn’t answer until the newcomers had joined them. The first question was simple: Why was he allowing these strangers to land? That question had many answers, actually, but the only one that was important was that the station really had no way to stop the newcomers. Their facility had never been equipped with armaments. They had depended on patrols of cruisers from Picon, ships that had been called elsewhere long ago.
Of course, once their visitors were inside the station, they had other options. Fuest wished he didn’t even have to consider such things.
His footsteps echoed as he descended the stairs. Everything always sounded so empty. The station had been built to maintain a staff of close to one hundred. At its busiest—in the months before the conflict none of them had foreseen—it had housed half that many. And most of them had left with the outbreak of the war. The authorities had left behind little more than a skeleton staff of humans, augmented, of course, by the companions, who had responded brilliantly to the new opportunities. Fuest still thought how odd it was that it had taken a crisis to get the station to finally realize its true purpose.
Perhaps he should have told his new visitors about the companions. He wished he knew something about the true outcome of the war. But it had been over for so many years. Men and machines must have found some way to work together again.
He walked down a long featureless corridor that linked a pair of buildings. Sometimes he wished he had had the time to put up some small decorations on these never-ending, featureless walls. The human touch, he guessed. The gods knew the companions wouldn’t care about such things. He supposed he only thought about it now because of their impending visitors.
It would be good to have new people walking these halls.
Doctor Fuest had always known this day would come. It was for the best, really. This station had never really been designed to be totally self-sufficient. They had managed, of course, but only because they had had no other choice. After the second accident, Fuest was surprised any of them had survived at all.
It was natural for him to feel uneasy. Everything was going to change. He wished he could see just how. These new humans were unknown. It appeared they were an independent group—some sort of explorers. The doctor only had their word as to what they wanted, or even who they were. They were the first true unknowns Doctor Fuest had had to face in decades.
He would have preferred a military detachment, or at least someone with government connections. He had spent years learning how to deal with bureaucrats. Fuest wondered, after all this time, exactly which governments were left?
He hoped the spacefarers offered a way home—a home he realized he would no longer recognize. But it was what he wanted most in all the universe.
Would they take him away from here? He wondered if they would be generous with their offers of help, or if they would demand something in return. The station had some things to offer in trade. Fuest simply had to convince the newcomers of the worth of their research.
The doctor realized that his life had become so routine, this new possibility frightened him.
He came to another set of stairs that would lead to another corridor and eventually, the observatory. He was still alone. He paused to lean against the wall. He closed his eyes. He needed to talk.
“Betti, Betti.”
At times like this, he always talked to his dead wife, ever since he had buried her, three years and two months ago. Even though she wasn’t there, he knew what she would say.
“Betti, dear Betti.” He said her name rhythmically, as if he was indeed calling forth a spirit that had gone to the gods.
He breathed deeply. He could hear her soft laugh. She would always let him know when he was too full of himself.
What are you going on about now, Vill? It would be a better place if you worked more and worried less.
“Someone’s got to worry, Betti. Things are changing. There’s so much I don’t know.”
He realized he wanted to talk the situation through. If he could convince her, it would be so much easier to talk to the others.
So wait a little while. Let these newcomers present themselves. Judge them by their words and actions. Things will happen, and you’ll learn.
“I suppose you’re right.”
He could hear his wife laugh once more.
You don’t know that yet ? Of course I’m right. How long do we have to be married before you realize that?
He smiled at the thought. “A little longer, I guess.”
So we’ll have to stay married then, won’t we?
He smiled at that. She always left him smiling. It was a little game they played. When she had been alive, she had always known just when to talk to him.
Her laugh, if it had ever been there in the first place, faded at last into the air, lost to the sounds of machines. The doctor smiled. Betti and he would be married as long as he lived.
It was the trouble with all this change, all this death. No one was left who truly understood. There were those left who believed in his research, who would continue his work. But how many of those could truly feel, the way he had once, when Betti was alive and by his side?
When Betti was with him, she had kept him young. Now he just hoped her memory would keep him alive until his job was done.
Laea stared down from the roof of the observatory at the vast expanse of the landing field below. The companions always kept it clean and in the best repair. Now, at last, they would have a use for it.
They needed to be careful. She knew, even before their meeting, that that was what the doctor would say. He often talked about what might happen when they got a message from the place he called home. The doctor had hoped for this for a long time. Laea guessed she had hoped for it, too.
She decided this was the most exciting day of her life.
Laea could not stay still. As soon as she heard the announcement, she ran from one of her special places to another—the large window in the “conference center” (whatever that was, it was really just an unused room); the catwalk far above the factory floor; the supply tunnels that connected all the remaining buildings; and finally the roof of the observatory—the places where she could watch what happened all around the station, and the special places where she could look up at the sky.
She knew all the ways around the center. The ways built for people, the ways built for machines. She was thin, she was young, and could fit through most anywhere. She knew the quietest and quickest path through every one.
She knew places where she could see and hear anything she wanted. Sometimes the doctor, or her brothers Jon and Vin, or even the companions would exclude her from some of their business. Jon had taken on many of the doctor’s duties. Vin studied the maintenance of the station and the companions. (She took care of the things outside the station. Didn’t they think that was important?) They would leave her out. But she always knew. She made a point of knowing about every change within the station. Somebody had to do it, after all.
When people and companions kept things from each other, she kept them to herself. She knew all the secrets. What would happen after the people came to take them home? Would there be any more need for secrets?
In the next few moments, she would find out everything. She quickly popped the hatch that would let her back into the interior of the building. She didn’t want to miss what the doctor had to say.
&n
bsp; Fuest was the third one in the room. Jon and Gamma had reached the observatory before him. Laea and Vin were right behind, followed a moment later by Beta and Epsilon. Together, the four humans and three companions ran what was left of the research station. They called themselves the senior staff. The doctor, though he never said the word out loud, considered the seven of them a sort of governing council.
Each of them greeted him by name. He waited for all of them to settle into their positions around the long table.
“You heard my decision. I was informed of our visitors’ intention to land. They did not give me a choice.”
He paused, as if he was waiting for objections. But the council never spoke until he was done.
“I had to act quickly. I decided to be gracious.”
Beta nodded its shiny silver head. “Whatever you feel is best for the station.”
The other companions added nothing.
While all the companions that worked within the station had been given independent neural pathways (and, in theory, independent thought) as a part of this station’s original objective, they most often deferred to their human counterparts. Even these three, designed to lead the others, would only express a preference if addressed directly.
“Well,” Fuest continued, “we will have to see what is best after we talk to these newcomers. But until then, we are to consider them as friends.”
Jon, the oldest of the three youngsters—the doctor still thought of them that way, even though all three of them were over twenty—raised a hand. “Is there anything you wish any of us to do?”
“I’ve given them the proper coordinates and guidance to land. I believe we should let them do this on their own, and see their subsequent actions. If they are as friendly as my wireless communication has indicated, I would suggest that you lead a small delegation to greet them and bring them up here. Once we determine their intentions—as best we can—we’ll see about letting more of them visit, and what they might give to us.”
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