Nearspace Trilogy

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  “So did I, once you left me alone long enough.”

  “Whatever.”

  “So, what now?”

  That was a very good question. “Patch me into the audio comm again,” I told her. “Every feed on the ship you can get. I need something to listen to while I eat.”

  Chapter 24 – Luta

  Truce and Negotiations

  FOLLOWING HER RATHER portentous remark about our survival chances, Fha had excused herself to attend to something urgent on the station, promising to return later. As her hologram faded, another black tentacle extruded through the bridge wall, bearing another chip.

  “Route data, do you think?” Yuskeya guessed.

  “Likely,” I told her. “Take it and see, would you?”

  She set it into her datapad and nodded.

  “All right, everyone. We need to eat anyway, so we’ll do it in the galley and discuss our options.”

  Not that I had much doubt how everyone felt, but I always made it a point to listen to my crew whenever possible. Even though it was mealtime, Cerevare remained in her quarters, still poring over the data the Corvids had provided. She seemed completely absorbed when I poked my head in to tell her the plan, so I left her there. Hirin and I quickly threw together a big pot of spicy pasta and vegetable paste for supper, and Maja and Viss took plates to Jahelia Sord and Cerevare. Yuskeya sat with her head bent over the datapad and the information the Corvid had provided.

  Baden pulled cold drinks for everyone and passed them around, while Rei and Gerazan set places. I could almost convince myself it was a normal suppertime. Almost.

  Viss returned. “I’m not sure Cerevare will even taste that before it gets cold,” he said. “I had to knock twice before she answered.”

  “Let’s hope she gets some insights that might help us,” I said. “Where’s Maja?”

  “She took Sord’s meal, said she wanted to meet her,” Viss said. “Do we have to wait for her? I’m starving.”

  But Maja had returned by the time we had all the plates dished up. Her face held a thin, pensive tension, and I wondered if Sord had said anything untoward to her, but there was no chance to ask.

  “Well, everyone heard what Fha said, so we might as well discuss it,” Hirin said once everyone was settled, plates before them and a communal basket of sweet rolls in the center of the table.

  “Maybe the Corvids could give us some better weapons,” Rei said. “She obviously feels bad about stranding us.”

  “Unless they’re wary about sharing tech,” Viss said. “They don’t even know us, so who knows how much they really trust us? And it sounded like they’ve been burned by the Chron in that department.”

  “Three skips seems long. Maybe it’s too dangerous. There’s only one of us, and how many Chron?” Maja said. “I don’t think our chances are very good, even with whatever help the Corvids can give us.”

  Baden turned to her. “So you’d stay here?”

  She frowned. “I’m not saying that. With Mother sick—”

  “Now, don’t everybody start worrying about me,” I interrupted. “I’m doing okay.”

  “With respect, Captain, you’re not,” Yuskeya said. “You’re well aware it’s taking more and more medication to keep you going, and sooner or later one of two things is going to happen. Either it’ll reach a saturation point and stop working, or we’ll run out of supplies. I doubt the Corvids can help us with that. Getting you to Nearspace has to be a priority.”

  I didn’t argue the point. I wondered briefly what she’d say if she knew about the nosebleed I’d had earlier.

  “Does anyone think we should go back to the system with the artifact moon, and see if a new wormhole has opened up?” Maja asked. “That would solve the problem.”

  Hirin cleared his throat. “Given the size of the system, and the data we, er . . . appropriated from the Domtaw, it could take months, even years, to search the entire system. We’d have to get close enough to the wormhole to pick up its radiation signature. It would be no different from any kind of wormhole spelunking.”

  “Even if we found one, it might not be a ‘replacement’ route to Delta Pav. It could lead anywhere,” Gerazan suggested.

  Hirin nodded. “Granted, we could get lucky and find it—if it exists—in the first week, but I don’t think I’m willing to bet Luta’s life on it.”

  “And we could end up in a worse situation, depending on where it spit us out.”

  “If we take the Chron route and run the burst drive as much as possible, we might slip between wormholes without even being noticed,” Viss said. “I can give it a quick overhaul to make sure it’s in top shape.”

  “Absolutely,” Rei agreed. “And if not, we do have torpedoes.” She flashed a grin at Hirin.

  “Yuskeya, what’s the word on that starmap the Corvid showed us? Can you calculate how long that route will take to get us to Nearspace, and where it will come out?”

  “How long—it’s difficult to say until I study it more. I have to convert the in-system distances between wormholes for these systems to make sense for us. As for where it comes out . . .” She paused, checking something on her datapad. “I have an educated guess that the last wormhole skip will bring us out in the Tau Ceti system.”

  I frowned. “Tau Ceti? Isn’t there only one wormhole in that system?”

  “Only one on record. But the configuration of the terminal system fits. And obviously, we already know where all the other existing wormholes go—or else they’re red-flagged. It could be one of those.”

  Wormholes flagged as “red” meant that no explorer had ever returned safely from a trip inside. No-one in their right mind went into one.

  “If Fha is right,” Yuskeya continued, “I guess we have to rethink everything we thought we knew about ways into and out of Nearspace.”

  I felt a slow chill creep up my spine. How many wormholes existed in Nearspace, undiscovered to us, but known to others? The feeling of safety and comfort that we’d gradually attained since the end of the Chron War seemed suddenly empty and foolish. Nearspace was as vulnerable as it had ever been. We’d simply chosen not to see that.

  “Do I get a vote?” asked a voice from the doorway of the galley, and all heads snapped around. Jahelia Sord stood casually leaning against the ultraplas wall, holding the empty dishes from her own supper. Her pale-tipped black curls tumbled around her face in waves, and her pridattii spilled in inky lines around her eyes, emphasizing the challenge in them. I vowed at that moment not to underestimate her again.

  Viss, Rei, and Yuskeya had already pushed their chairs back, but I said, “Hold on, folks. You think you deserve a place at this table, Civitano Sord?” I wasn’t going to call her Captain, even if she did have her own ship. I felt I was doing her a favour by calling her a citizen.

  She shrugged. “I’m as stranded as the rest of you. And I was getting bored, listening in on the ship’s comm.”

  I shot a questioning glance at Baden. She should definitely not be able to do that. She should have been able to talk to the bridge, in which case we’d open a channel for her to hear us respond, but that was all. He raised his eyebrows and one shoulder in a don’t ask me shrug.

  “And I don’t suppose someone conveniently left the door open for you?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, grinning insolently, “dear Maja locked me in nice and tight. But a plasma bar isn’t really a big deterrent if you know what you’re doing.”

  “Are you armed?” I asked bluntly. She’d had to pass right by the weapons locker walking from her quarters to the galley, and I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to find that she’d helped herself.

  She shook her head, holding her arms out to the sides, dishes balanced on empty palms. “Nope. Your girls—or boys—can search me if they want.” She fixed her sly grin on Baden. “Mr. Methyr, in particular, might want to renew our acquaintance.”

  Baden’s face pinked, but he merely leaned back in his chair. “No, thanks, Relana . . . Jahel
ia . . . whoever you are. Someone else is welcome to the task.”

  She twisted her lips into a mock pout. “And we were such good friends a few months ago. You haven’t even come to see me since I’ve been on the ship!”

  “You might as well come in,” I said. “As of about a minute ago, I’ve decided that I’d rather have you where I can see you. Hirin, do run a scan over her, just in case. My apologies, Ms. Sord, but I’m not exactly ready to trust you at this point.”

  She merely grinned again and submitted to the scan from Hirin’s datapad. When he finished, he directed her to an empty chair between Viss and Rei. I was struck by the contrast between the two Erian women. Rei wore her pridattii comfortably, the way some women can wear lipstick without seeming pretentious. On Jahelia Sord’s face, the swirling dark tattoos were a statement of defiance.

  “I don’t suppose you’re particularly interested in getting to Nearspace quickly,” I said to her.

  “On the contrary, I’m anxious to get out of this backwater,” she said. She stared pointedly at our drinks.

  Sighing inwardly, I said, “Can I offer you something more to drink?”

  “Do you have cazitta?”

  “I’ll get it,” Yuskeya offered, leaving me to continue my conversation with Sord.

  “You were saying you’ll be happy to get back to Nearspace?” I said.

  She nodded. “And if there’s about to be another war with the Chron, well, that will open up all kinds of possibilities for me. War is, sadly, often good for business.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You do understand that I’m planning to turn you over to the Protectorate at the earliest opportunity?”

  She smiled as she accepted a mug full of dark, licorice-scented cazitta from Yuskeya. “Hey, thanks, Protectorate,” she said, casually dismissive.

  I saw Yuskeya’s lips press into a tight line, but she didn’t say anything as Sord continued.

  “Yes. And you should understand that I expect my employers to extricate me from any trouble I might find myself in as the result of taking on a job for them.”

  “You think PrimeCorp will get you out of this?”

  Sord merely shrugged. “I’m not naming names. But I’m confident enough to not worry too much about it. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I leaned back in my chair and studied her. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t entirely trust you.”

  “Don’t blame you a bit. But there’s nothing—absolutely nothing—for me here. I don’t have my ship, I don’t have any way to retrieve it, and I damn sure can’t see these crows needing my services anytime soon.”

  Rei turned slightly in her chair, facing Sord. “So your job, the one that got you into this mess, was simply to deliver a message to Captain Paixon for PrimeCorp?”

  Sord took a slow sip of cazitta. “I don’t believe I’ve said who engaged my services. Or if there was more than one. But the message was part of my task, yes.”

  “Then what was all that messing around with flash-pack torpedoes and following us out to the Delta Pavonis system but not contacting us there?”

  “Gather information, deliver a message,” Sord said. “It’s no secret that some corporations have an interest in Captain Paixon and her family—in all of you. They like to know where everybody is, what they’re doing. What their capabilities might be. How I get the information isn’t important. I take what opportunities I see.”

  “And Baden was one of those opportunities,” Maja said evenly.

  Sord smiled at her. “Every job has its perks.”

  This was turning into a conversation I’d hoped to have with the woman in private, when time and circumstances permitted. I steered the talk around to the general topic of what we should do.

  “Despite all the concerns—and they are valid ones—I don’t think we have any viable options but to try the route Fha showed us.”

  “So can these crows give us anything else? Weapons, other tech?” Sord asked. “They seem pretty advanced, and unlike the Chron, they don’t want to kill us, so that’s promising.”

  Yuskeya turned a cold eye on her. “We’re already planning to ask them that. They may or may not have tech that can help us, or be willing to share it. And stop calling them crows,” she added.

  “Sorry, Cor-vids,” Sord said with exaggerated emphasis. “Anyway, why are you still talking about it? Get all the help you can from these aliens and get the hell out of here. If you have to blow a few Chron ships out of your way, so be it. That’s a few less to come blasting the crap out of Nearspace.”

  “Well, I like to get as many different viewpoints as I can when making important decisions. And now I certainly have yours.” I stood up, pushing my chair out of the way. “Thanks, everyone. I’ll let you know in a little while what I’ve decided.”

  I walked the length of the galley, then turned and crooked a finger at Jahelia Sord. “I’ll escort you to your quarters,” I said. “Feel free to take your drink with you.”

  She came without protest, which didn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d refused, either. She was a wild card, this mercenary we’d somehow wound up with, and I wouldn’t place bets on anything she would or wouldn’t do. I wondered what she and Maja had talked about.

  “Your meeting with Baden wasn’t chance,” I said to her as we passed the weapons locker.

  She turned her smile on me. “I don’t leave much to chance,” she said, and winked.

  “I don’t take it well when people mess with my crew,” I told her. “Luckily, Baden seems to have come out of his encounter with you unscathed.”

  We were at her door now, the hallway between her quarters and the galley being short. “He didn’t tell me anything he shouldn’t have, in case you’re worried,” she said, leaning against the closed door and cradling her mug in both hands. “Not that I didn’t try to worm some things out of him. But he was mainly a way for me to be sure I had the right ship.”

  I met her gaze. “I wasn’t worried,” I told her. “Do you have the plasma bar that was on the door?”

  She opened the door and reached inside, relinquishing the bar to me without apparent shame.

  “Care to tell me . . .?”

  Sord pursed her lips, her eyes surveying me coolly. Then she shrugged. “There’s an override code, pretty standard encryption, built into the OS for the ship system. A little scrap of code that never really gets upgraded because it hardly ever gets used.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  She laughed. “Come on, you’ve checked my history by now. I’m a techdog. I know this stuff. Ask your Mr. Methyr. He probably knows about it too, but forgot it even existed.”

  “So you could have left your room anytime? Why’d you wait until now?”

  Her eyes turned challenging. “Who says I waited?”

  I sighed. These kinds of games made me tired. “How many more of these little surprises do you have?”

  She grinned. “Hey, I’d be crazy to endanger the ship while we’re stuck in this godsforsaken system. I know it’s my ticket—my only ticket—out of here.”

  “But once we get to Nearspace, all bets are off? Just so we understand each other.”

  “I think you’re starting to get the picture.”

  I folded my arms. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t particularly like me, Sord? On a personal level, I mean. I think I’ve treated you pretty well. Some people would have been tempted—more than tempted—to leave you on your ship. Anybody questioned it, I could have said there was no answer when we commed you, so we thought you were dead.”

  She shrugged. “You’re one more job to me, Captain. Get information, deliver a message. It’s not a question of liking or disliking.”

  I studied her, trying to decide if that rang true or not. I couldn’t think of any reason she’d have a grudge against me—and she was prickly with everyone on board—but there was an edge in her voice when she spoke to me, like an extra layer of whatever she was projecting at the moment. Sarc
asm, or disdain, or plain dislike.

  “One more question,” I said. “What do you know about PrimeCorp’s actual plans involving my mother?”

  “What makes you think I’d tell you if I knew anything?” She cocked her head at me, and the veneer of hostility fell away. She really was curious.

  “Seems like it might be in your interests to get me to move faster, get us to Nearspace even quicker. If I thought she was in immediate danger, I might do that.”

  “True.” She considered it. “But you might also take stupid chances, which wouldn’t be in my best interests at all.”

  I shrugged, not saying anything.

  After a moment, she said, “If I were Alin Sedmamin, I wouldn’t share my actual plans with the likes of me.”

  It was probably the closest thing to an answer I was going to get out of her. Unfortunately, it did nothing to alleviate my fears.

  Viss and Baden rounded the corner then, anxious, I was sure, to reset the plasma bar in a way that might stick next time. They had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

  “I’ll tell you when we have a plan,” I told her. “Try to stay put from now on.”

  She threw me a mock salute and stepped inside the room, pausing to blow a kiss to Baden before she shut the door. I went to my own quarters then, thinking that I must be the only captain around who could pick up unwanted passengers in the middle of uncharted space.

  I debated returning to the galley, but the others would clean up, and I wasn’t on the night duty shift. In fact, I could hear the sounds of cleanup and conversation, but I slipped past the doorway without anyone noticing. Waves of fatigue had begun to hit me like huge breakers as I walked away from Sord’s quarters. The conversations with the Corvid, my crew, and Jahelia Sord had exhausted my reserves. All I could think of was crawling into bed and letting darkness wash over me. My hands started up more of their tremors as I peeled off my jeans and slipped between the covers. If any crisis arose in the next few hours, Hirin would have to handle it.

  Fear of whatever was happening to me threatened to keep me awake as soon as my head touched the pillow. I shoved my trembling hands under the pillow, pressing down to try and still them. Mother can fix it, I told myself. These Corvids will show us the way, and we’ll get home, and she’ll know what to do. For a few moments, worry and fatigue battled for control, but in the end, fatigue won. My last thought as I fell asleep was that I had to ask Yuskeya if I could keep a med injector in my pocket. Maybe with a double dose. And I’d have to ask her soon.