Storm Between the Stars: Book 1 in the Fall of the Censor

by Karl K Gallagher

“Let’s get going,” said the captain. “Cruising speed.”

  The worries they’d had during the previous leg were mostly gone. Betty still fretted about long incubation period war plagues, but the rest ignored her. Trying to do that kind of quarantine wasn’t practical so they’d decided to accept the risk.

  Landry’s top priority was language training. Or rather, accent training. Welly reluctantly accepted being the teacher.

  Alys had recorded the entire visit to the mining station. This gave Welly good examples to work with. Translating new parts of the conversation was a good test of how much progress her students had made.

  Landry still had trouble with the ‘grace note’ sounds.

  A card saying ‘JUST’ went around the table.

  “Ehyp,” said Landry.

  “No, sir,” corrected Welly. “You’re saying ‘ehyp’. It should be ‘ehyp.’

  “I really can’t tell the difference.”

  “I’ll emphasize.” She repeated the word several times.

  “Vehyp.”

  “Okay, that’s getting the idea. But you’re hammering it. Be gentle.”

  After a few more repetitions, Welly suggested, “Don’t move your lips so much as you say it. You’re touching your lower lip to your upper incisors. Leave some space between them.”

  Trying to control his lips as he talked left the captain unable to speak for some minutes.

  Practice did help.

  After three days they’d all made enough progress for Welly to declare meal time conversations would be in the local accent.

  Bowls of stew went around the table. Passing salt and Worcestershire was simple enough in the accent. A few pleasantries were traded. Then the table went quiet. Nobody was confident enough in their skill to bring up a topic.

  Welly focused on her stew.

  The vacuum gave Betty a chance to bring up her pet issue again. “What are we going to do if someone gets sick? The Evacuation Fleet had reports of extermination plagues. We could wipe out most of the Bubble if we bring something back.”

  Crew traded looks around the table.

  The first mate spoke gently. “Betty. Our ancestors heard rumors of all sorts of terrible things. Historians proved they didn’t have any actual evidence for them.

  “Because anyone who witnessed it died!”

  “There’s a whole planet of living people,” said Soon. “They weren’t exterminated.”

  “They could be vaccinated or descended from a few immune people.” Betty’s knuckles were white as she clutched the edge of the table.

  “Then they’ll be able to treat us if we get sick,” said Lane.

  “Only if the incubation period is short enough.”

  The captain ran out of patience. “While we’re there you can research it. When we get back to Fiera we’ll stay in orbit until the Health Ministry clears us.

  Betty took a breath.

  She wasn’t given a chance to say any more. “And that’s what we’d do if we turned back right now. So going on lets us get more data and treatment. Turning back doesn’t help any.”

  The sensor tech looked down at her bowl. She thrust the spoon in and scooped some stew up, splattering gravy on the table.

  ***

  Further meals polished their skills without explosions.

  Behind the phoenix they found a rift in the shoals around the star. That led to days of wandering. The star was surrounded by shoals in multiple spheres around it. They had to search for gaps in each sphere to find their way farther in.

  “The good news is going back will be faster,” said Soon. She rotated the maps of the shoals over her navigation display.

  Roger yawned. “Good.” He showed the strain of long shifts. The captain had started rotating others into the helm position. Roger insisted on a larger share. His skill did let them explore faster. He could maneuver close to shoals when others would steer wide, reducing the distance to cover.

  The search spiral found an irregular gap in the shoal. Wisps blocked the view through it but the radar revealed a gap and then the round surface of another spherical shoal.

  The ship crept through the gaps. Roger kept to the center, wary of spikes that might have been missed by the long-range radar. They came out in the familiar void between two spheres.

  “Start clockwise,” said Soon. “I’ll plot the whole spiral when we have the layer measured.”

  Roger nodded and began moving away from the gap in the outer sphere. There were no wisps here. They could see both spheres clearly. Ripples of pink and yellow striped them.

  Welly sat up at the comm console. “Cut the radar!”

  Displays went blank as Betty flipped switches.

  “I’m picking up a signal. Lots of interference. Digital. Text only. Repeating.” Welly cycled through filters to try to extract more information out of the ragged transmission.

  “Got it. ‘Corwynt navigation buoy twenty-seven.’ That’s all it says.”

  “That’s all it needs to,” said Captain Landry. Good work, Welly. Can you give me a vector?”

  “It’s off the port bow. Can’t get better with the surface receivers. But if we point the big dish at it we’ll have it for sure.”

  Roger perked up at having a target to aim for. He pivoted Azure Tarn until her main dish was pointed toward the source of the signal. Welly guided him in with old fashioned ‘hotter-colder’ commands rather than try to calculate angles.

  The better receiver gave Welly a more detailed look at the signal. “This is bouncing off the outer shell multiple times to get around the horizon. The interference is other copies taking less optimal bounce paths.”

  “We have a ways to go then,” said the captain. “Roger, follow that trail.”

  “Aye-aye”

  Azure Tarn traced a geodesic over the shoals.

  ***

  The buoy floated by a gap torn in the inner sphere. The design was ancient, one still used in the Fieran Bubble. Just a powerful omnidirectional radio and a long duration power pack.

  Passing through the gap exposed the signal of Buoy 23. It marked another gap. On the other side of that was Buoy 19, which announced itself as the marker for transition to normal space.

  Spines slumped with fatigue became alert.

  Landry felt their eagerness. But . . . the crew had been on duty for eighteen hours picking their way through shoals.

  “All hands,” he said on the PA. “We’ve found the marker for entry to the Corwynt system. Meeting them will make for a busy day, so we’re going to heave to and run minimum manning for a sleep shift.”

  A couple of the bridge crew made small disappointed noises but most had enough sense to be relieved.

  “We’ll return to full manning at 0900. I’ll take first watch. See you in the morning.”

  ***

  Pastel ripples turned black. Then stars appeared.

  Landry gripped his seat until his jump-induced vertigo passed. Then he scanned the bridge crew to make sure they were all right. They were. Soon hadn’t even unfolded her sick bag.

  “I have two navigation beacons,” reported Welly.

  Soon checked their vectors. “They’re marking the safe zone between shoals.”

  “Nice to know they’re not cheapskates,” said the captain. He bit back a demand for more information. Welly would share as she figured it out.

  “There’s a lot of traffic here,” said the comm tech. She wrestled with her controls.

  After a minute Welly continued, “I’m pretty sure I have the planet identified. Let’s put the dish on it.”

  A few minutes work lined them up. More data streamed in.

  “Ah. This signal’s for us.” She put it on the speaker.

  “—and intentions. Repeating. Unknown vessel, this is Corwynt System Traffic Control. Your transponder is out. State your identity and intentions. Repeating—”

  The voice was rich and cultured. It had a smoother version of the accent they’d learned from the miners.

&
nbsp; “Put me on,” said Captain Landry.

  Welly turned a few switches then gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Corwynt System Traffic Control, this is Azure Tarn carrying refined metals from Fwynwr Ystaen Mining Station. My apologies for transponder failure. Request vector to Bundoran City Landing Field. Azure Tarn out.”

  Betty said, “The transponder is in perfect working order.”

  “Yes, but it’s not responding to the local ping codes. Figure out if you can modify it or if we want to buy a local one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Acknowledged, Azure Tarn. Welcome to Corwynt. Vector will be sent on subchannel five.”

  “Thank you, Control.” Landry drew a finger across his throat.

  Welly cut the transmission.

  “See? No problem. We came in from a known port with a normal cargo and nobody cares that we have a funny accent.”

  Lane shot him a ‘stop gloating’ glare.

  “Vector received. Transferring to Nav,” reported Welly.

  Soon typed for a couple of minutes before passing judgement on Traffic Control’s directions. “It works. Restricts our acceleration profile. We’ll take over a day to get there. Takes us around the planet twice before landing.”

  “Keep us on the rails,” said the captain.

  “Aye-aye,” answered Roger.

  ***

  Attention shifted from scanning radio traffic to looking at the planet as they drew closer.

  “Is there any land?” demanded Betty.

  “There’s lots of islands. See the city lights on the night side?” Soon pointed to an irregular chain of dots.

  “I’m amazed the cities survive.” Roger’s voice was awed. He’d focused on the hurricanes dominating the illuminated side of the planet. “How strong are those storms?”

  Captain Landry had done weather spotting when visiting the Bubble’s less developed planets. “All three are category five. Or maybe they’ve created higher categories here.”

  The tropical and temperate zones of the planet were dominated by the spiral formations of huge hurricanes. The dark blue of deep ocean shone between them. One straddled the terminator, half hidden by night.

  Corwynt’s moon was bare rock. It reflected enough sunlight on the night side of the world to reveal two more hurricanes, as massive as the others.

  The night side city lights were all concentrated, lacking the dimmer suburbs of Fiera’s cities.

  As they crossed to day side again Soon pointed out their destination. “That’s Bundoran. It’s an hour past dawn there.”

  “We’re landing on a dot?” grumped Betty.

  The captain chuckled. “It’s not that big a ship.”

  Completing their first circuit of the world revealed a sixth hurricane.

  “Why the hell would anyone live here?” said Betty.

  “Water worlds are scarce,” said Landry. “Colonists can’t be fussy.”

  He resolved to restrict Betty to the ship until they’d developed a feel for what the locals would be offended by. He didn’t need the sensor tech starting a war with her bad attitude.

  The next loop around the planet made them appreciate their luck in Bundoran being clear of the hurricanes. Azure Tarn’s engines could power through a storm but landing in such weather could bend the gear.

  Traffic Control’s prescribed path didn’t take them through a storm. They flew through the upper atmosphere over one, too high to feel its winds. Then the vector angled down straight to Bundoran.

  “I see the island,” reported Roger. “Can’t see the city.”

  “Coordinates are on the north side,” said Soon.

  Captain Landry focused on keeping his mouth shut. His crew was doing fine. Micromanaging would just make things worse.

  Welly handled coordination with the spaceport. “They want to know when you have a visual on the field.”

  “I haven’t even spotted the city yet,” complained Roger.

  Lane sat up at her console. “Yes, you have. That’s not a mountain. It’s an arcology. A city in one big building.”

  “That’s . . . it can’t be.” Roger looked between the radar display and the view out the bridge window.

  “Look at the shape. It’s a pyramid with a rounded top. Designed to stand up to hurricanes. The sides are too flat to be natural.”

  Welly drew in a breath. “How many people can fit in there?”

  “I don’t know how densely they live. Millions, maybe.”

  Roger expanded the flat part of the island on the radar display. “That makes these things ships and hangars then.”

  Captain Landry turned to Welly. “Tell them we have visual.”

  As they drew closer the pyramid’s nature became apparent. Rows of windows revealed indoor trees. Aircraft flew out of hatches halfway up the sloped wall. Antenna of varied shapes were scattered over the dome topping the structure.

  Roger said, “I’m surprised there’s no balconies.”

  “The hurricanes would rip them off,” responded Lane.

  The spaceport was the normal flat expanse of concrete. Painted circles indicated landing spots. Straight stripes restricted paths for ground vehicles. The perimeter was lined with hangars. These weren’t the thin metal walled structures used back home. Corwynt hangers were slope-sided and built of concrete.

  An old-fashioned windsock showed the angle of the stiff breeze blowing over the spaceport. It didn’t bother Roger at all. He brought Azure Tarn down gently as a first kiss

  Landry wasn’t sure they were down until Roger shut down the thrusters, their hum deepening into silence.

  “Permission to shift to local?” asked Lane.

  “Granted,” said the captain.

  The artificial gravity stopped. Landry waved his arm to judge the difference. At only seven percent less than Fieran standard it was barely noticeable.

  Welly notified the spaceport control tower of their arrival. “Could you relay a message from us to the local net?”

  She checked the note on her screen while waiting for the answer. “Thank you. Please notify Vychan Goch that we have a cargo from Fwynwr Ystaen for him.” A pause. “Thank you.”

  Welly took her headset off and turned to face the captain. “An Inspector is on the way. Other than that we’re set.”

  “Good. Welly, you have first watch. Let’s go take a look at the place.”

  Lane notified the rest of the crew, reminding them to keep quiet. The captain still reached the forward airlock first. He swung it open and stepped into the morning sunlight.

  The ocean here had the same salt smell as Fiera’s. The whiff of burnt hydrocarbons Landry was used to in industrial areas was missing. Instead there was an oily, fishy scent he couldn’t place.

  He’d expected to smell some rot from a marsh. Instead the air was as clean as a sailboat in mid-ocean.

  Landry wiped sweat from his forehead. The air was tropical despite Bundoran’s middle latitude. The air was too humid for any sweat to dry. He’d have to get his summer clothes out of the storage locker. Some of the crew might have to make cut-offs of their jumpsuits.

  Marcus stepped up next to his father. “No wheels,” he muttered.

  Landry followed his gaze. All the ground vehicles scooting around the spaceport floated on antigrav. On Fiera antigrav was reserved for emergency vehicles and VIP transports. Here even the cargo hauler with two shipping containers on its flat platform hovered on shimmering air.

  One floater turned off the traffic lane to their pad. It was a two seater. The forward seat held a driver in a rough vest over bare skin and a floppy tan hat, his own protection a low windscreen. The rear seat was an enclosed cylinder only big enough for one.

  The driver aimed straight for the crew. Just as Landry readied to pull Lane and Marcus clear the floater pivoted, slid to a stop, and settled to the pavement with the door of the rear compartment facing them.

  It popped open. A young man with dark Asiatic features stepped out. He wore a deep bl
ue tricorn hat with gold trim, held on against the breeze with a braided gold chinstrap. The heavy jacket had more gold braid on the cuffs and epaulets. A multicolored ribbon sat over one breast pocket, an asymmetric silver pin over the other. A yellow stripe went down each side of the black pants. The boots were tall and shiny and, of course, black.

  “I am Ensign Koing, the Censorial Inspector. You should know that while there are worlds in the Censorate where laxness is permitted in law enforcement, this is not one of them. Who is the master of this vessel?”

  He stepped forward and bowed. “Sir, I’m Niko Landry, master of the Azure Tarn. Thank you for your welcome.”

  Landry didn’t feel any respect for the inspector—the kid was younger than Marcus—but this kind needed to be buttered up so they wouldn’t feel the need to exert their authority. What kind of government was a ‘Censorate’? And were all their officials like this?

  “Is this your whole crew?”

  “All but the technician on bridge watch.”

  The ensign frowned.

  Landry turned to Marcus. “Ask Welly to join us.”

  The boy dashed for the airlock intercom.

  “We’re mostly carrying refined metals from Fwynwr Ystaen, but there’s some other cargo. I have a complete inventory.” Landry tugged a flimsy from his thigh pocket and unfolded it.

  “Any contraband?”

  “No, sir,” Landry said firmly. Maybe too firmly. Was the kid fishing for a bribe? No, the corrupt ones always started off friendly.

  The ensign ignored the flimsy. His gaze drifted over the crew.

  Landry put the flimsy back in his pocket. He wondered if the inspector would insist on a visual examination of the cargo.

  Running boots sounded through the airlock. Welly emerged. Landry could hear her panting.

  The ensign’s mouth twitched up in a hint of a smile.

  You like making people hop when you say frog, do you? thought Landry.

  “You will all register with the planetary index.” The officer produced a palm-sized flat gadget. “Place your thumbprint in the center. Hold it while stating your name and the name of your ship.”

  As was proper the captain went first. “Niko Landry. Azure Tarn.”