Nearspace Trilogy

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  “I wouldn’t ask. Not for myself.” He shook his head vehemently.

  “She might have been able to help you!”

  “No. She doesn’t even know—but for you . . . she had a daughter, too. She’d understand.”

  “Could she still be alive?”

  He laughed, a short sharp bark that held no humour. “Oh, she’s still alive, I’m sure. She’d have used the bioscavs, no doubt—probably better, newer ones than mine.”

  “What’s her name? I’ll get in touch with her. I’ll ask her to help you, if you won’t ask yourself.”

  He shook his head mutely again, and I snatched my hand away from his. I stood, knocking the chair over. It hit the floor with a dull thud. “I’ll get her here. I’ll make her help you—”

  He’d closed his eyes and eased back against the pillows again. “No, Jahelia. Not for me. But I’ll make sure you know . . . if you need her. Only if you need her . . .”

  His voice trailed away as he fell asleep, quickly, in mid-thought, as he was prone to do lately. I stood staring down at him for a few long moments, shaking, damping down the anger. He didn’t have to be dying! He’d lied to me! There was someone out there—somewhere in Nearspace—who might have been able to help him. But he’d been too stubborn to ask. Not for Mamma, either.

  I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a long breath. That was him all over.

  Slowly I righted the chair and took the glass of water to freshen it up for when he woke later. My eyes strayed to his datapad, dust-covered on the nightstand since he hadn’t bothered with it for weeks now. I picked it up, glancing over to make sure he hadn’t woken up as suddenly as he’d fallen asleep. He wouldn’t like me snooping around in his data. But his eyes were still closed, the thin, blue-veined lids twitching slightly.

  I weighed the datapad in my hand, considering. There might be nothing on it, no clues to this woman he’d mentioned. I licked my lips. But if there was a chance . . . I’d risk his anger. Tech was my thing, and I doubted the old man could have a pass-encryption on his data that I couldn’t break. I was going crazy sitting in this tiny walk-up, anyway.

  I took the datapad with me out to the pallid kitchen and set to work.

  I’D UNDERESTIMATED MY father. He must have paid some techdog a pile of credits to pass-encrypt that datapad. He could have simply asked me to do it, but then I’d know the way in. It was obvious that I was one of the people he’d been keeping secrets from for a long, long time. I cracked it, ironically, the day he died, and later found the key scrawled on a paper he’d hidden under his mattress for me to find. That assuaged my guilt at breaking into his datapad.

  There was no news for me in the fact that he’d worked for PrimeCorp as a genetics researcher, searching for ways to extend the human lifespan. Searching for the fountain of youth, or at least for the nanobioscavengers of immortality. He’d apparently found them, too, as my youthful appearance attested. I’d known that for a long time, and known what he’d done with them just before the project had come to a mysterious end. Some people might think it unethical to inject your two-year-old daughter with barely-tested nanotechnology, but I couldn’t fault him, not really. Not when I looked—and felt—twenty-eight instead of seventy-seven. Not when the same technology had kept him and Mamma alive and healthy too, letting us travel the reaches of Nearspace together—until the day it all started to go wrong. I’d blamed him for the choices he’d made. Still did. But there were things I hadn’t known.

  That my father had been blackmailed, a coercion that dictated how he and my mother and I had lived the rest of our lives together. That the woman responsible had also made herself the self-appointed gatekeeper of immortality for the entire human race, and shut down the project. I realized now, as I read the files, hands trembling with repressed anger, that if the project had been allowed to continue, my parents would probably still be alive. The name of the woman responsible was there, too. And the way that everything circled back to PrimeCorp, and ethics, and money, the way that everything always comes down to the money.

  That even now, my father had died when he could have been saved.

  Those were the things he’d kept from me.

  Those were the things I vowed to do something about.

  Chapter 1 – Luta

  Homecoming Delayed

  Nearspace, 2284

  I WAS ALONE on the bridge, enjoying a mug of hot, sweet double caff and a few minutes of uncommon solitude, when the comm signaled a message from my brother the Admiralo. My far trader, the Tane Ikai, plied the spacelanes about halfway between Mars and Earth. It had been a long and difficult few weeks since Lanar and I had left our mother behind again on Kiando after an all-too-brief reunion, and I hadn’t expected to hear from him at least until we’d arrived Earthside.

  “Salut, Kapitano,” he said in Esper, grey eyes twinkling as I opened the comm screen. “How are things aboard my favourite far trader?”

  “Don’t even ask,” I told him, shaking my head. But I smiled at him. “It’s good to see you again, little brother.”

  His eyes narrowed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  I sighed and shrugged. “How long have you got?”

  He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his steel-blue Protectorate uniform. Behind him, a viewport opened to an endless starfield, so he was certainly aboard his own ship, the Nearspace Protectorate vessel S. Cheswick. The Cheswick was a Pegasus-class ship, with a hundred and seventy-five crew aboard, but Lanar seemed to manage them with ease. “I’ve got time, Luta. Spill it.”

  Well, with such a large crew under him, maybe he could give me some pointers. I relaxed in my own chair, ticking items off on my fingers. “I’ll give you the condensed version. Viss won’t speak to Yuskeya, and he’s grimly overhauling every system on board to keep busy. Yuskeya, or Commander Blue to you, hardly pokes her nose out of her quarters unless she has a duty shift.” I gave Lanar a look to remind him that I still hadn’t entirely forgiven him for secretly installing an undercover Protectorate officer on my bridge, then went on.

  “Rei got a message the other day that she refuses to talk about, even to me, and she’s spending every off-duty minute practicing some kind of Erian martial art down in an empty cargo pod. It seems to involve considerable amounts of screaming.” I rubbed my temples. My nanobioscavengers were probably the only thing keeping my blood pressure from spiking merely talking about it.

  “And Hirin has decided that he hates PrimeCorp so much, he’s planning to research everything they’ve ever done until he uncovers enough dirt to bury them. The only ones who aren’t miserable are Baden and Maja, and watching them gaze at each other all starry-eyed is making everyone else crankier. Is that enough?”

  I took a sip of the smooth, creamy liquid, hoping Lanar wouldn’t notice I was leaving something out–the tension between my husband, Hirin, and me. Or what had been bothering me ever since Lanar and I had finally found our long-lost mother. Sisters have to keep some secrets, after all.

  Lanar raised his eyebrows. “Well, everyone hates PrimeCorp, so I can’t fault Hirin for that. But it does sound like you’ve got your hands full.” A slight frown creased his smooth forehead. “I’d wondered why Commander Blue’s reports were slow, but I thought things were just—quiet.”

  I chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, they’re quiet, all right. Unless you go down to the cargo pod with Rei. Frankly, I can’t wait to get Earthside for a little shore leave.”

  Lanar broke eye contact with me, glancing down at his desk. “Um, about that, Luta . . .”

  “Dio, Lanar, don’t tell me there’s some reason we can’t go to Earth now?”

  It was his turn to sigh, and he glanced up, grey eyes apologetic. “Remember when we were on Vele, and you wondered how long Yuskeya would be staying on board your ship?”

  “Yes,” I said cautiously.

  “I said there was something I’d talk to you about when you got back to Sol system.”

  “I thought it would
be when we got Earthside, and that it actually had something to do with Yuskeya,” I said, “but go on.”

  He leaned toward his comm screen. “How’s your encryption level?”

  “If I know Baden, better than yours,” I told him with a grin. My comm officer was a techdog, and he liked to have the latest—everything. “He upgraded it when we were on Kiando.”

  Lanar quirked a half-smile. “Maybe I should borrow him sometime. Anyone there with you?”

  I started to shake my head, but footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the bridge and I turned to see Yuskeya crossing toward me, carrying a steaming mug and a plate of cinnamon pano. It was still early morning, shiptime, and her duty shift wasn’t set to start for a while yet, but her long dark hair was neatly plaited and her shipsuit fresh and crisp. Only the creases at the top of the suit’s legs betrayed the fact that she’d been up and dressed and probably sitting and reading for a while now. We’d all taken refuge in something to ease the tension aboard the ship, and Yuskeya’s escape, like mine, was books.

  She halted far enough away that she couldn’t see the comm screen and raised her eyebrows.

  “Yuskeya just came in,” I told Lanar. “I think everyone else is still asleep.”

  “Well, actually, that’s perfekta,” he said. “It will save me briefing her later. Ask her to sit in, would you, Luta?”

  “Your boss,” I told Yuskeya, tilting my head toward the comm screen. “He wants to talk to both of us. Extra encryption level, so I’m sure we can both guess what that means.”

  “Trouble?” Yuskeya said, grinning. She set the mugs down with the plate of pano between us, and pulled an extra skimchair over before saluting Lanar and sitting down.

  I took a slice of cinnamon bread as Lanar and Yuskeya exchanged greetings. It was crumbly and delicious, as I knew it would be; Yuskeya had been pampering me a little on this trip. Her way of making up for keeping the secret of her identity as a Protectorate officer from me for the last year or so.

  “So what’s happening to keep us from Earth?” I asked, before they could get too involved in Protectorate gossip and forget all about me.

  Lanar held up a hand. “Now, it’s only a favour. You’re not under any obligation to act for the Protectorate if you’d rather not.”

  I waved that away, the cinnamon bread sprinkling crumbs across the comm panel. “Sure. But I know you wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t really need help, and if you really need help you know I’ll do it. So tell me.”

  He grinned again, and I knew he’d been counting on that. “Okej, here’s the situation. A new wormhole’s been discovered in the Delta Pavonis system.”

  “Really?” Yuskeya narrowed her eyes. “I hadn’t heard that.” As navigator, she made it her business to keep informed about new wormhole discoveries.

  “Almost no-one has,” Lanar said to placate her. “The Protectorate is keeping it pretty quiet. It’s not the wormhole itself, but what’s on the other side.”

  “Which is?” I prompted, when he didn’t continue.

  “Are you sure about that encryption?”

  “Dio, Lanar,” I said in exasperation. “If you don’t trust it, then come and meet me, and we’ll talk in person. After I’ve had a nice long vacation Earthside.”

  “All right, all right.” He leaned in toward the comm screen again, grey eyes earnest. “Beyond that wormhole is an unknown system. And in that system, there’s a moon.”

  Yuskeya and I glanced at each other. This was like slow torture. I’d never known Lanar to be so reticent.

  “Hola, a moon. How unusual,” I said.

  He didn’t smile. “It’s no ordinary moon. It’s an artifact, and they think . . . they think it’s a Chron artifact.”

  I almost choked on the sip of double caff I’d just taken. A Chron artifact? No wonder the Protectorate was keeping it quiet. The Chron had come close to eliminating the human race, along with our allies, the Vilisians and the Lobors, in a war a century and a half ago. A war for which we’d never learned a reason or explanation. The Chron had made no attempt to communicate with us, simply showed up in Nearspace and started attacking. Nearspace wasn’t even very big then—a handful of systems linked by a few wormholes. The war had gone on for three years, and on the cusp of a Chron victory, they disappeared without a trace.

  Yuskeya leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “When you say artifact, do you mean—”

  Lanar nodded. “Not naturally occurring. Man-made. Well, Chron-made.”

  “An entire fabricated moon? What was it for?”

  Lanar’s eyes were bright with curiosity. “That’s what everyone wants to know. And that’s where the Tane Ikai comes in. Look, here’s the way it is. The Protectorate is very interested in keeping this completely quiet for a while, as you can imagine. We know we’re being watched by any number of the corporations, including PrimeCorp—especially PrimeCorp—as well as a half-dozen other groups who don’t trust any kind of power or authority and want to keep tabs on us. A rush of Protectorate ships into the Delta Pavonis system will attract unwanted attention.”

  I nodded. That made sense. The power balance in Nearspace, among the various governments, corporations, and Protectorate authorities, was complex, esoteric, and delicate.

  “There’s a Lobor historian on Nanear who’s willing to come and assess the moon, see if they can help understand it,” Lanar continued.

  “Historian? Why wouldn’t you be bringing in scientists?” I asked.

  Lanar shrugged. “There are scientists there already—a xenobiologist, a cryptographer, I don’t know what else. But the Chron war was a hundred and fifty years ago. No-one’s really studying Chron technology—what little we have of it—anymore. There were no real breakthroughs with it, and with the Chron out of the picture there was really nothing else left. This historian is the best bet we’ve got, besides the Protectorate science team that’s already on-site.”

  “So let me guess. You want us to collect this historian and deliver him to Delta Pavonis?”

  Lanar winked. “Got it in one. Except, it’s a she. She’ll get herself from Nanear to Anar in the Lambda Saggitae system, and you can pick her up there. Then it’s only four skips out to Pavonis. You’ll be fully compensated at double the usual passenger rates.”

  “Only four skips! Couldn’t she get passage as far as Sol system? Then the crew could have a little break while we wait for her, restock and refuel on Earth and set out from there.”

  Lanar shook his head. “We don’t want her coming into Sol system on a commercial shuttle. Someone might pick up on it. Better if you pick her up on Anar. I also don’t want you coming Earthside and getting into a scuffle with PrimeCorp. You just finished sticking it to them on Vele, and—”

  “I know, I know,” I broke in. “Don’t go looking for trouble. Okej, Lanar, we’ll do it, just like you knew we would. But we’re stopping on Mars for supplies. I’m not making another wormhole skip until we’ve restocked.”

  “Understood. PrimeCorp doesn’t have the influence on Mars that they do on Earth, and the Schulyer Group keeps a pretty close rein on everybody else. But keep this quiet, all right?”

  I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “Yes, Lanar, I get it. Got any other dirty work you’d like me to do for you while I’m at it?”

  “I think that’s it for now,” he said with a satisfied smile. “I’ll send along the details of when you should be on Anar, and a full briefing for Yuskeya, and the rest is up to you. And good luck,” he added with a smirk, “with those other problems you mentioned.”

  “Thanks a bunch. Always nice to talk to you, little brother,” I said wryly, but I winked at him before I broke the connection.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Yuskeya said, cradling her own mug. Hers would be filled with hot, spicy chai. “And what problems did he mean?”

  “What was interesting? What problems?” Hirin asked, coming onto the bridge. He’d dressed for the day in dark cott
on pants and a faded Ivan Mecha Band t-shirt he’d picked up in a thrift shop on Kiando; he disliked shipsuits as much as I did. He hadn’t brought a lot with him when he left the nursing home on Earth to rejoin me on the Tane Ikai for what he thought would be his last journey, so he was building a new wardrobe with bits and pieces.

  The nanobioscavengers my mother had given him had continued to shave years off his appearance, so that now he resembled a hearty sixty-year-old instead of a nonagenarian. Which he was, of course. He simply no longer looked or felt like one, just as I looked about thirty, not my chronological eighty-four. He wore his salt-and-pepper hair slightly longer than military length, and his face was freshly shaved and smooth.

  He strode in, hesitated slightly, then headed over to the pilot’s skimchair and sat. I knew that long habit would have taken him to the chair I occupied, had it been empty. The captain’s chair. He hadn’t said a word about it . . . yet. But it had been his chair for decades, until he’d taken ill, and now that he was better, I knew without a doubt that he must want it back. But he wouldn’t ask me, his wife of sixty years, to give it up for him. And frankly, I didn’t really want to.

  In the ten years he’d been in the nursing home, I’d discovered that I liked running the ship.

  That was one of the problems I hadn’t mentioned to Lanar.

  “Oh, nothing much,” I said, ignoring the second of Hirin’s questions. “We’ve been drafted by the Nearspace Protectorate, that’s all, and we won’t be landing Earthside anytime soon.”

  Hirin’s eyebrows shot up, and I shook my head wearily. “Let’s wake everybody up and I’ll only have to tell it once,” I said, and shuddered at the thought of everyone having to be in the same room together. The amiable crew I’d left Earth with a scant couple of months ago had turned into the surliest bunch of spacers this side of the Split, and I was still trying to figure out how to deal with them.

  I only hoped they wouldn’t mutiny when I told them shore leave had been curtailed.