by Rob Dearsley
“As you can see,” Vaughn said, “Dannage’s brain has almost identical neural morphology to someone with a ship-link, or one of the non-officer Turned.”
Hale moved to inspect the image more closely. The guards tracked her, their hands near their guns. “Like Sylus.” It sounded more like she was talking to herself than to them. “Which means you probably carry the TX89561 gene.”
“Yes,” Vaughn said. “We’d surmised as much. But how can we reverse it? Without more specifics, gene therapy is out of the question.”
“It wouldn’t work anyway,” Hale said, still inspecting the screen. “The morphological changes have already occurred. The only way to undo that would be neural remapping.”
“So, let’s do that then,” Luc said.
Hale shook her head, finally turning to face them. “You’d need a Neural Sculptor, and the only ones I know about are in the Prime Shipyards. We used them to imprint the Core-Minds for new ships.”
Dannage raked his hands through his hair letting out a low growl. Bloody typical. Any solution was out of reach. There was no way they’d ever be able to get to the Terran capital world. “There has to be something else?” Please, Stars, let there be something else, anything else.
“Sorry,” Hale replied, her shoulders slumping.
Rossini leaned over the table, her dark eyes intense. “If we can get one of these Neural Sculptors, we can use it to fix Mr Dannage?”
“Yes. But Terra Prime is half a galaxy away. There’s no way back there.” Hale’s head dropped.
Rossini smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
◊◊
Doors parted with a sigh of hydraulics, permitting Niels entry into the Nowhere senate chambers. The room was styled after the traditional Senate chambers from the core colony worlds. Ranks of padded benching in a deep green ran in tiers up three sides of the room. Between the ranks of seating sat an ornate table with a holographic sky-globe projected about a foot above its surface. The benching was crammed full of robed senators.
Niels paused letting the buzz of quiet conversation wash over him. Deep breath. He centred himself for what was to come, ignoring the nerves. Give him a flight deck full of uppity marines over a room full of politicians any day.
“You’ll do fine, sir.” Jenna placed a hand on his arm. Niels started, he hadn’t realised she was out of medical, let alone planning to join him. Although he was glad to have the young woman at his back for this battle. The Nowhere senators were spoiling for a fight.
“Order. Order,” a rotund man with a red face and a voice like crumbling masonry bellowed. The First Senator, according to SDF files a Mr Jerome.
The room subsided into silence, everyone looking down at Niels and Jenna, pensive, waiting. Jackals ready to strike at any sign of weakness.
He’d best not show any, then. Niels straightened his uniform jacket and stepped forward.
The rotund man, Mr Jerome, rose. “This chamber recognises Admiral Niels from the Systems’ Defence Force.”
“Get lost,” someone heckled from the back benches.
“Thank you for allowing me to address the Senate,” Niels said, slipping into parade rest, hands clasped loosely behind his back… Where they couldn’t see him worrying his fingers. He was too old for this crap.
“Admiral Niels, you have the floor.” Jerome lowered his bulk into his chair, leaning forward in a hawk-like posture.
“Thank you, Mr Jerome,” Niels refused to raise his voice. Let them stay quiet if they wanted to hear him. “The Systems’ Government and the SDF is keen to reach a negotiated agreement with Nowhere. It is apparent that you can’t function wholly independently of the Systems.” That sent ripples of murmured discontent around the room. “Not yet, at any rate.”
“We don’t have to listen to this.” Another interruption from high above him.
Niels continued, keeping his voice even and calm. “The Systems’ Government is willing to allow open trade if we can keep a small SDF force garrisoned here. We would be willing to-”
“We’ve already heard all this,” one of the Senators from the front row shouted, standing as he spoke. He was a tall man with a severe face and hard eyes. Almost the polar opposite of Jerome. “You’re wasting our time.”
“Order,” Jerome shouted, his face going a deeper shade of red. “Order. Admiral, the Senator has a point. If you’re just going to make us the same old offer. Then I can tell you now, our answer remains the same.”
This was it. His trump card. If he could just get them to buy into the concept – believe it was possible – then they stood a chance. Maybe there could be a way out of this that made everyone happy.
“The SDF is working on a project with potentially historic implications. They would like to work with Nowhere, a fifty-fifty split in all outcomes. But we would need the trade deal in place before this happens.” He knew it was overly cagy, but he wanted to lure them in.
“Why?” the tall Senator from the front row asked. “Why is the SDF willing to share this ‘historic project’ with us?”
Now for the hard part. “We need access to the Nowhere gate and its technology to make this work.”
Shocked chattering broke out across the room. He could feel the nervous energy. It was a big ask, getting them to allow the SDF to mess with their only link to the other colonies.
“Why use ours? Why not make your own if you need one?” the Senator asked, ignoring Jerome glaring daggers at him.
“It’s true, given enough time we could make our own gate.” It wasn’t wholly a lie, given enough time they might be able to replicate the gateway, but so far, their attempts had fallen flat. But he wasn’t about to admit they couldn’t make another gate. That the technology at the heart of Nowhere was balanced on a knife-edge of anomalies that, as of yet, no-one quite understood. “But it makes for a suitable olive branch to lubricate the current negotiations.” Those last words felt odd in his mouth. Jenna had come up with that one, she was way better at politicking than he was.
“They just want to destroy the gate,” shouted another backbencher.
“I assure you, this is a good faith gesture,” Niels replied.
“Speak up,” someone else shouted from high above.
Jenna stepped forward. “If you agree to the venture, then there will be ample opportunity for your own scientists to study our research.”
Jerome glared down at them. “Admiral, this chamber does not recognise your assistant.”
Only because they were a bunch of half-blind muppets. Especially Jerome, for him Nowhere was nothing more than a desperate grab for power.
“First Senator,” Niels said, forcing his voice to stay calm. Back in the military, he’d have had Jerome running drills by now. Heck, addressing an officer the way he’d spoken to Jenna, he’d have been beasted.
Before he could continue the front row, Senator spoke up. “What is this ‘project’ you want us to help you with?”
Interesting turn of phrase – whatever helped him sleep at night. But he was right, no way to put it off any longer. This was his trump card. If they took him seriously. Time to roll the dice.
“The SDF is planning an expedition to Terra Prime.”
◊◊
“You’re doing what-now?” Luc asked into the stunned silence.
Dannage couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. His mind stumbled over the implications. How? Even if they knew where it was…
Oh. Of course. Bloody SDF and their games. This was why they’d been pushing Dannage and his not-quite-a-Ship-Link to connect with the Terrans. It wasn’t about security – hells the Terran ships were running scared. It was about getting one of them and getting the navigation coordinates for Terra Prime. Or more toys for the scientists here to play with. Make more weapons.
He looked up at Rossini. She had moved to stand at the head of the table as she explained the plan and the technology, they’d developed that would allow them to travel halfway across the galaxy in ‘the blink of an eye’. Was
she complicit in all this? Was Arland?
System scan complete. No threats detected. Safe. Begin charge cycle.
Dannage focussed on the people around him and tried to ignore the whispers. The way he saw it, he didn’t have a choice but to play along.
Rossini was still talking. “We are still missing some necessary parts, but we’re very close to being able to launch the mission.”
“You need navigation data?” Dannage said, interrupting. “You want me to interface with the ships or something and find the location of Terra Prime?”
Rossini opened her mouth, then closed it again. “As far as I was made aware, yes. The Admiralty wanted to see if your link could be utilised.”
Dannage glanced over to Arland expecting her to be incandescent. Instead, she was oddly calm. She’d known.
She caught him looking at her. “You did agree to allow them to study you.”
“And we’ll hold up our end of the deal,” Rossini said. “There’s a place for the Folly on the expedition. If it goes ahead.”
“Decision’s yours Cap’n,” Luc said.
He wanted his mind back. And he’d do what it took. But…
“Can we do this remotely?” Dannage asked. Looking between Hale and Vaughn. “I mean, I can hear them now. So, is it just a case of training? Or augmenting my link somehow?”
“It won’t work,” Hale said. “Navigational charts are encrypted. Even if the ship shared them with you somehow, you’d never be able to understand it.”
“So how do we decrypt it?” Arland asked.
“You’d need the encryption key from the same ship you got the charts from. Only way to get a key would be to physically download it from the air-gapped security terminal on the ships' bridge.”
“We need to get people onto one of the Terran ships,” Rossini said, more thinking aloud than talking to anyone.
Which meant they needed to track one down. Damn, they could spend weeks hunting the remaining ships. Heck, the SDF had been hunting them for months. And it was getting worse, he was losing more and more of himself. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep hold of himself.
There was a way. Jump vectors, coordinates, always in his mind. All he had to do was let go, give in to it. And risk not coming back.
Memories of blood and cracking bone filled his mind. Anger. Pain. Then, serenity washed over him, heady ecstasy as sunlight flared over solar panels. The ship was one he’d seen before, the Vanir.
Welcome, Captain.
That wasn’t right. Oh crap, they knew him. They… he didn’t have the words for the complex series of emotions and desires that flowed around him.
Hands touched his face, soft, feminine. Arland? He fought to hold on to the sensation and the feelings of the ship fell away. He was back in the briefing room, Arland’s face intimately close.
“I don’t like this,” she said, her eyes silently begging him to stop. To find another way.
He lowered his eyes, he didn’t want to do it either, but what choice did he have. It might end him, but maybe that would be better. To go all at once, rather than fading a piece at a time.
Arland cupped his cheek. “Please don’t. There has to be a better way.”
He placed his hand over hers. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.”
She bowed her head, pressing her forehead into his chin. “Damn you. Damn them all. If you do this, I can’t save you.”
He slipped his arms around her. “You save me every day.” Right now, that seemed more literal than he’d meant it. “I’m not giving up. Not yet.” Not giving up, but maybe letting go. He met Rossini’s eyes across the conference table. “I’ll do it. I’ll get you one of the Terran ships. Then it’s up to your people to get the data.”
“Is there anything we can do to mitigate the risks? Anything you can do to help?” Vaughn asked Hale.
Hale shifted nervously. “There are some techniques we can try.”
Dannage pulled himself from Arland’s arms. “Let’s get this done.”
He cast one last look at Arland. Stars, she looked lost.
◊◊
Dannage sat across from Hale, his legs crossed beneath him. The lights in the room were kept low. Pale light from the star highlighted the outlines of tables and chairs they’d pushed to the sides of the room.
“And breathe,” Hale said.
Dannage relaxed, focusing on soft hushing of his own breathing. The thump of his heart.
Just breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. The bulkheads fell away and he was in endless night. Just the beating of his own heart amongst the stars.
The thump of his heart was joined by the thrumming of engines, the steady pulse of spinning particles within an accelerator.
Hale’s voice filled the night. “Dannage, focus on the sound of my voice. Remember who you are.”
He was Michael Dannage. He wasn’t the ship, the Vanir again. Vanir turned, flank on to the red giant, bathing her solar panels in its warmth. It felt good. Like basking in the sun after a long day, or that first breathe of frosty air on a cold morning.
Hands on his arms pulled him back into the darkened compartment. He surfaced gasping for breath. He felt like himself again, but less somehow. He missed the fresh, revitalising rays of the star.
Stars, what was happening to him?
“Dannage?” Hale’s shadowed eyes found his. “You good?”
For a minute, Dannage focussed on just breathing. The cool metal of the deck plating beneath his hands. The tingling where his right foot had fallen asleep.
“Captain?” she said again, concern filling her face.
“I don’t think I can do this.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “I feel like I’m losing more of myself every time.”
Hale leaned forward, her eyes intense, penetrating into his very soul. “You can do this. I know you can. I’ve been in the same place before. You just need to find something to hold onto. Something that matters more to you than anything else in the world.”
“Like what? What did you use?”
Hale released his shirt front. “That’s a personal question.”
“Please?”
Hale shifted into a more comfortable position. “First, let’s try an exercise. Close your eyes. Relax.”
Dannage mirrored her, the tingling in his foot increasing as feeling rushed back into it. “Where’s this going?”
“Hush. Listen. What’s the first thing you think about in the morning, the last thing at night? Where does your centre lie?”
The answer was simple. The Folly. She was his home, his best friend. His truest confidant. She had loved him and cared for him for nearly half his life.
But that wasn’t quite true. Not anymore. What was the first thing he thought about in the morning? Arland. The last thing at night, Arland. She was his centre.
“Arland.” He hadn’t realised he’d spoken aloud until he heard his own voice.
Dannage opened his eyes to find Hale smiling.
“At least you admit to it now.”
“How does this help? I think of Arland and it stops me from losing myself?”
“Pretty much, the more details, the more senses you can engage, the more of the ship data you’ll block out. Now try again, and this time when you make the connection think of Arland.”
Dannage nodded, realising she’d distracted him from his question about her important thing, and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, on the beating of his heart.
Stars fell into place around him, it was beginning. Two Terran ships skirted the outskirts of a system, five planets and their moons scribed lazy arks around a main sequence star. The yellow glow of its light wasn’t enough to activate the solar panels, not this far out at any rate. But it reminded him of the red giant. He knew this place, Zircon system, not far from Pyrite. He should be, something…
System jump sequence seven four five nine.
The beat of their collider rings increased as they prepa
red to jump. Power increasing, coursing through them. Through him.
Local forces broke from their flight paths to engage, but they were distant, not a threat. Not yet anyway. The fire was still fresh in their minds. Fear, but muted, just memories. They were safe for now. Safe with him.
Captain.
Voices floated across the darkness intruding on Dannage’s thoughts. He ignored them.
Hands on his arms pulled at him. He fought against them. He belonged here, with the ships. This was his home.
Home.
The word struck a memory within him.
Home.
The Terra system? Images, recordings of a large planet orbiting a superstar. A single continent faced him, its jagged edges breaking apart into a scattering of smaller islands. Satellites and stations spun past, all in the red and blue livery of the Terran Imperium.
These weren’t his memories, were they?
Was this his home? There was something, something important, just out of reach.
Hands touched his face. He blinked. The pulse of the ships sped, their drives spinning up, faster and faster. Hair against his face, a familiar scent, apples. It was important. Lips against his, soft, sweet, beautiful.
Reactors spun. Pressure building, aching for release. His lips pressed back, hungry, looking for that release.
Arland.
She was his home. His centre. His hands reached up to touch her face, revel in the feel of her.
Jump in five, four, three, two…
Sensations from the ships fell away.
“Michael, open your eyes.”
Arland’s face was inches from his own. Stars, she was beautiful. Her golden hair fell loose around her heart-shaped face. Concern etched into her honey coloured eyes.
He reached forward, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, leaving his hand cupping her face. She placed her hand over his.
“I thought I’d lost you.” Her eyes glanced down, glistening in the silver light of Pyrite’s star.
He brushed the tears from her eyes. “I’ll always find my way back to you.”
She lunged in and kissed him again. Hard and passionate, her body, firm and luxurious, moulding to his. He responded in kind.