Interim: On the run from the Galactic FTL Police

by P. K. Lentz

  Initial inspections indicate no extensive structural damage to Halo after the massive system failures experienced during the Beshaan boarding. Dumping the antimatter core saved us, even if we are still doomed. We’ll be triple-checking every system before we enter hibe for the long haul out to the dead star L155 and subsequent slingshot back into inhabited space. I’ve drawn up a duty schedule that revives us in pairs on a five-year cycle to catch any problems before they happen. --MK

  ***

  “I’m finished talking about this, Ren.” Kearn unbuckled his chair harness in a move to extricate himself from the bridge and the conversation. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”

  Unfortunately, Serenity followed Kearn as he sailed toward the hatch. “You’re being unreasonable,” she accused.

  Kearn spun on her. “I’m being plenty reasonable. I told you I’d take you anywhere you want and sign over every asset I have there. I wish you a great life!”

  “That’s just getting rid of me.”

  “Count yourself lucky I don’t just dump you on Reissa the minute we get there. I’m not this kid’s father--I’m an involuntary donor.”

  Quickly regretting the outburst, Kearn softened his tone. “You’re a good person, Ren,” he said, “an asset to this crew. But you’re obviously imbalanced. You should have been honest with me about these...impulses. I would have known right away you weren’t cut out for spacing.”

  “So you’ll wash your hands of me?” Ren wasn’t quite crying, but that seemed only the result of sheer willpower.

  “What else can I do? I’m not about to raise a child on my ship, and even less am I going to settle down somewhere to do it. But truthfully it’s not even about the baby anymore. I trusted you and you deceived me.” Kearn frowned at a bulkhead. “You should have told me, Ren. I probably would have given you my genes. But you can’t have my life. Or my ship as a nursery. I’m sorry.”

  Ren accepted the rebuff tight-lipped. She nodded sadly, humbly. “If I...terminated it,” she asked, “could I stay aboard?”

  Kearn was forced to avert his eyes lest he find his judgment clouded by pity. The answer to her question required no thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to deliver it just now.

  “It’s absurd to be discussing this,” he said instead. “We’re on course for nowhere. Whatever future any of us may have is a long, long way away.”

  Looking back at Ren, Kearn was mildly surprised to find her eyes still dry. Sullen, defeated, she stared at him. Finally, without further word, she sailed back to her station and strapped in. Kearn watched her back for a few moments before leaving the bridge.

  What a mistake it had been to get involved with a crewmate, even recreationally. This was no recreation at all. Never again, he swore. Maybe it would be best if Ren’s capsule didn’t pop again until Reissa. Halo could get by without her.

  In the corridor just outside the bridge, Kearn’s comm unit chirped. Kearn tapped his ear to accept the call--then quickly remembered to fish the tiny earpiece out of his breast pocket. Damn thing bothered him sometimes when he left it in.

  It was the ship’s doctor, Moriet, reporting that the girl from Beshaan was conscious. Glad for the chance to forget about Ren, Kearn made haste to the medsuite.

  “So how is she?” he asked the doctor upon arriving.

  “She’s in perfect physical health. But mentally, I don’t know. She hasn’t asked where she is. She may have some memory loss.”

  “Name?”

  “Lisset Hawthorne.” Moriet gave a little laugh. “I also got her local date of birth on Troia and did a little math. At the time of Beshaan’s launch her age in standard years was seventeen.”

  “Wow. A baby.”

  Kearn glanced over his shoulder at the young woman to find her staring back from inside a cocoon of safety webbing, patiently awaiting her turn to receive his attention.

  “Guess I’d better introduce myself,” he said to Moriet. But he hesitated before approaching the girl, turning back to the doctor with a sudden thought. “How did you communicate? None of us are imprinted with Troian.”

  The doctor smiled. “That’s the other thing. She speaks Galactic as well as any of us.”

  “What use does a colonist have for spacer talk?”

  Moriet offered no answer to this question, which should have been rhetorical.

  Kearn proceeded to the girl’s bedside. Her luminous blue eyes tracked him all the way. She looked just as Kearn remembered her from the icy capsule, albeit minus the deathlike pallor. Long auburn hair was pulled back to prevent drift.

  The girl responded to Kearn’s approach with a mysterious twitch of the lips, not quite a smile but close enough to pass for one. Moriet was right--she didn’t seem terribly upset.

  “Lisset, is it?” Kearn said warmly. “How do you feel?”

  “A little nauseous,” she said. Sure enough, her Galactic was flawless. “I miss gravity.”

  “I’m afraid it may be a while before you get gravity again. Moriet here probably already gave you something to help with the nausea. I’m Kearn, captain of this ship.”

  Lisset looked pensive for a moment. Her serene expression melted into one of mild puzzlement. “You’re not the captain we started with,” she observed.

  So, Kearn realized with a knot in his stomach, the poor thing still believed she was aboard Beshaan.

  “Honey,” he started. “I don’t know how to tell you this gently, so I’ll just say it.” He reached in vain for delicate words with which to deliver the sledgehammer blow. “This isn’t your colony ship. There was an accident. We rescued you. You were the only one. I’m sorry.”

  Lisset’s mouth twisted in a distracted frown which was somehow not the powerful reaction Kearn might have expected. She sighed and nodded in a sort of sad acceptance.

  Was that it? Was this her response to such cataclysmic news? Kearn almost felt like asking her as much, but knew that would amount to a deliberate attempt to upset her. Besides, who was he to judge? Maybe she had been a less-than-willing passenger on Beshaan. An outcast, perhaps? She didn’t quite seem the type to be running from her past. At seventeen she could hardly have much of a past.

  No--instinct told Kearn that her family had been on that ship. Her passive acceptance made no sense. But even if he had the right to judge, now was not the time.

  “You’re in good hands now,” he said. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  Lisset shifted within the restrictive netting. “I’d like to get out of here. I feel fine.”

  “I think Moriet would prefer to keep you for a while,” Kearn said with a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “Actually, her vitals have been perfectly stable since revival,” Moriet contradicted him. “She’s as fit to move as any of us are after hibe.”

  Kearn hesitated, feeling trapped. As much as the girl intrigued him, he wasn’t keen on playing host just now.

  “I suppose we’ll have to let you out then,” he conceded. He disengaged the webbing to let her float free.

  Lisset launched herself too hard from the bed and began a wild headfirst dive into the medical suite. Kearn’s arm shot out and grasped one bare ankle to pull her back, causing her body to swing round and collide with his. She wound up sprawled awkwardly in his arms. The girl talked like a spacer, Kearn concluded, but she didn’t move like one.

  She looked up from his chest and giggled.

  “Careful,” Kearn whispered, his face centimeters from hers. Her bright blue eyes drew him in swiftly and easily, stirring something unwanted within him. He forcibly reminded himself that she was just a baby. If that weren’t reason enough to tread with caution, something in those eyes told Kearn she could be as much trouble awake as she had already been in sleep.

  Quietly disengaging himself, Kearn took the girl by one hand and guided her toward the exit. As he left he gave Moriet a facial shrug, which the doctor met with a soundless laugh.

  In the corridors beyond, Lisset
ricocheted off bulkheads in a string of narrowly averted concussions. At first Kearn cautioned her and offered assistance, but he quickly gave that up. He gave up too on trying to guide her, and instead just let her enjoy herself. After a half hour of aimless wandering they came at last to the hatch that led to Halo’s bridge.

  “Take it easy in here,” Kearn warned. “You could do serious damage.”

  “Aye, Captain,” she answered with a smile.

  Though Kearn offered no reply, he remained astonished by what appeared to be the girl’s complete removal from reality. She may as well have been on a pleasure cruise.

  As the pair came into the bridge, Serenity watched them with mild interest from her post. Or rather she watched one of them; her eyes didn’t linger on Kearn for more than a moment.

  “Ren, this is Lisset,” Kearn said. “Lisset, Serenity Martijn, navigator and my right hand on Lucifer’s Halo.”

  The girl gave a childish wave. Ren smiled insincerely and turned her attention back to the console. Kearn cleared his throat to break the icy silence that followed.

  “Ren,” he said, “I thought you might take Lisset here to the hold and find her some decent clothes.” Currently Lisset was dressed in the tight black leggings and sleeveless top she had worn in hibe. “I also thought maybe you could keep an eye on her for a while.”

  Now Ren looked up to glare at Kearn briefly. Then her eyes tracked Lisset, who was roving the walls of the bridge, investigating various instrument panels.

  “Don’t touch anything, honey,” Kearn chided. The girl gave no indication of having heard him.

  “Fine,” Ren said spiritlessly. “I’ll babysit her for you.” She might have muttered something else under her breath that Kearn didn’t quite catch.

  He let it go. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Serenity unbuckled and sailed toward the hatch.

  “You’ll be going with Ren,” Kearn explained to Lisset, though not before having to call her name several times to get her attention. “She’ll take good care of you.”

  Obediently, the girl followed Ren to the exit. She seemed to be adapting quickly to zero-gee.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” Lisset asked.

  “I have a lot to do, but I’ll catch up with you later.”

  With a parting smile the girl pulled herself through the hatch behind Ren. She let out a little yelp of pain as her ankle inadvertently struck the hatch rim.

  ***

  LOG: LUCIFER’S HALO

  Beshaan interception +22h

  I’m baffled by Lisset’s behavior. She’s shown no interest whatsoever in the fate of Beshaan and shrugs off any attempt to discuss it. If her family or friends were aboard, she certainly doesn’t miss them. She’s enjoying herself on Halo and even seems to have taken a liking to Ren. Maybe vice versa, as well.

  I’ve asked Moriet to give the girl a psych evaluation. Hibe delirium is rare and she doesn’t show any of the typical signs, but it’s all I can think of to explain her behavior. Or maybe I should just stop judging and be glad she’s not suicidal like she probably has every right to be.

  In any case, Lisset is the least of our concerns. Eighteen hours from now we’ll enter hibe for the 68 year voyage to L155-0918. --MK

  ***

  “Well, everyone,” Kearn said before his assembled crew of nine, plus one unlikely guest. “As spacers we rarely know where we’re headed next. But what we face now is unique. I don’t think any of us have been in hibe quite as long as we will be this time. With one notable exception, of course.” He indicated Lisset, positioned to one side of him. “But I know we’re well equipped to take this in stride. What’s a century or two in the grand scheme of things, especially to us?

  “On the bright side, we get to be the first humans to orbit a virgin star. Castro tells me life-support should be near one-hundred percent reliable for the whole journey. And if not...I’ll make sure his capsule is the first to fail.”

  A chuckle rippled through the crew--notably bypassing Ren. Kearn raised a squeezeflask of six century old red wine.

  “Here’s to a boring journey,” he toasted. “And to Lisset, whose life is well worth this little unexpected detour. Now eat, drink, and then drink some more for tomorrow we sleep for a very, very long time.”

  Kearn downed the contents of his flask, refilled it, and spent the next few hours doing his best to forget reality. The informal gathering passed smoothly, if too quickly. Despite their uncertain future, the crew seemed in good spirits. Ren kept to herself, talking only to Lisset before leaving the assembly on her own.

  When the room had nearly emptied, the girl caught Kearn’s arm and drew him aside. “Why do you treat Ren so badly?” she asked. Her delivery was gentle, even if the words were blunt.

  “I don’t think that’s your business,” Kearn answered.

  “She’s my friend. I’m concerned for her, that’s all.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, really I am. But whatever Ren and I have between us is private. I hope you understand.”

  “She has your baby,” Lisset said, quite casually. “I know the choice wasn’t yours, but didn’t you just finish saying that this crew was ready for the unexpected?”

  Kearn could only gape. Who was this girl? Didn’t she have bigger things to worry about? Although Lisset’s unenviable situation might excuse much of her erratic behavior, it failed now to keep Kearn from growing defensive and annoyed.

  “I’ve told her all I have to say on the subject,” he said, intending to have the final word. “I’m genuinely happy you’ve become friends, but I have to ask you to stay out of this.”

  Lisset fell quiet and regarded him a little sadly with her bright blue eyes. “She loves you,” she said quietly, plainly.

  The statement stunned Kearn into silence. The girl went on.

  “No one expects you to change your life against your will,” she said. “Maybe you have a right to be upset with her. But please don’t dismiss her. Even if there is no solution that suits both of you, you can still be kind to her.” She smiled warmly and touched his hand. “That’s all I have to say, Captain. Thanks for listening.”

  Not knowing how else to respond, Kearn just nodded. Lisset turned to leave. On an afterthought Kearn caught her by the arm before she shoved off.

  “She didn’t send you to say this, did she?”

  “No,” Lisset answered. “She told me she would find someplace to settle down, get on with her life and forget about you. But I think you and I both know she would never quite give up. After five years, or ten, or twenty, she’d try to stop checking the spaceport registries. But she wouldn’t. And every time she looked at the stars she’d wonder how long before you came back to admit your mistake.” Lisset’s arresting eyes shone with sorrow. “However it ends, Captain, don’t let it be that way.”

  Once more Kearn was at a loss. He muttered, “Thanks for your concern, I guess.”

  Lisset smiled. “Thank you for your hospitality.” She pulled herself closer, lightly kissing his cheek before bolting off. Her skull barely avoided the hatch rim as she left.

  Suddenly Kearn found his good mood shattered by unwelcome thoughts which were as much about Lisset as Ren. A girl awoke from centuries aboard a doomed colony vessel and within a day was offering relationship advice to total strangers. Coupled with her implausible fluency in the spacer tongue and a total lack of regard for her past, it made Lisset Hawthorne a first-class enigma. What that growing pile of evidence might amount to, however, Kearn couldn’t begin to guess.

  ***

  LOG: LUCIFER’S HALO

  Beshaan interception +41h

  After our encounter with Beshaan I can’t help but wonder at our own fate. Will Halo end up an icy derelict to be discovered millennia from now or never at all? Perhaps, long after we’re dead, this ship will vanish silently into the heart of a sun many thousands of light years from human space.

  Maybe, but I tend to doubt it. I like our chances, and if this log is ever ac
cessed then I suppose Halo at least made it back to civilization. Either that or some distant alien race is mining our datastores for insight into the minds of a perhaps extinct species.

  Some ambassador I’d make.

  Enough rambling. Time to close the lid on this ark. --MK

  ***

  LOG: LUCIFER’S HALO

  Beshaan interception +138,406h

  All passengers and crew are alive and well after our third scheduled revival. Life support is running flawlessly on backup. In about four years this will become the longest uninterrupted voyage of my career, and we’re only an eighth of the way through.

  Think I’ll save the celebration for our first orbit of L155. --MK

  ***

  LOG: LUCIFER’S HALO

  Beshaan interception +592,321h

  L155 is an ugly star, but a welcome sight. During the last few years of approach, Halo has been gathering data. The star has six major orbital bodies, each less hospitable than the last. In that sense it’s no different than billions of other barren systems. There are, however, some faint anomalous signals originating from a point between the third and fourth orbital bodies, signals that match no known natural phenomenon in datastores. In a few ship-days our course will give us a closer look.

  We’ve lost three passengers to hibe failure. Statistically that number is what one would expect on a voyage this long, not that statistics will be any consolation to their next of kin. --MK

  ***

  LOG: LUCIFER’S HALO

  Beshaan interception +592,387h

  The source of the anomalous signals is an artificial satellite of unknown origin. No one wants to say it, but we’re all thinking it: this might be the first evidence in history that humans are not alone. After what Halo has already been through I hate to put us at more risk, but as I see it there’s just no choice. We will change our flight plan to remain in-system as long as it takes to investigate.