He deliberately waited a few more seconds before waving his hand to turn off the screen. “Well,” he began, “it’s unfortunate we had to see that just before bedtime.”
“And you want us to go out there?” Destra shook her head. “I think we need a better plan.”
“Like what?” Digger snorted. “Maybe we can dig a little deeper down here and find some juicy worms.” He smirked and went on, “Except I don’t fancy eating worms. Don’t worry, the Sythians only hunt at night. So long as you don’t wake any of ‘em up you should be fine.”
“Thanks,” Destra said as she and Lessie rose from the couch. Lessie had her son in her arms and was trying to soothe his crying by patting and rubbing his back. Both Lessie and Destra scowled at Digger as they walked past.
“G’night,” he said, smiling thinly at them.
Destra gave no reply. Digger had just drawn a line in the sand. He’d shown them who was the head of this household, and exactly what that meant. In the process of exercising his authority, he’d finally answered for her the question of why a scuzzy outlaw like him would go out of his way to shelter three complete strangers. He was sheltering them because they were his meal tickets. They would go out and hunt while he stayed safe at home.
As they walked into the spare bedroom they heard a growl and saw one of the rictans turn its head to glare at them with red eyes glinting in the dark.
Lessie froze in the doorway with a gasp of shock, and Destra felt her heart rate spike, but then she walked by Lessie with a scowl and shooed the beast from the room, doing her best to ignore its snarling. She had to remind herself it was chipped, so it wouldn’t bite her. “Doc, get out of here! We’re going to bed!”
The initial arrangement with her sleeping on the couch and Lessie and Dean sleeping alone in the spare room had quickly been overturned when Destra had been unable to get any sleep with the rictans pacing the living room at night, their claws clickity-clacking across the polished duranium floors.
As soon as Doc was out of the room and glaring at her sleepily from the other side of the open door, Destra moved to seal and lock the room. The door shut with a swish and subsequent thunk of bolts sliding into place. “There,” Destra said, turning to Lessie and Dean with a frown. “Let’s get some rest. It sounds like we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Lessie nodded slowly and moved to deposit Dean on the bed while Destra began to undress. After what they’d seen on the cameras, she had a feeling it would be a long night, too.
* * *
—THE YEAR 10 AE—
Brondi stared up into the starry blackness of space, feeling the chair beneath him dip and slowly turn to carry him through the Star Dome. With the room’s dome-shaped transpiranium ceiling he was treated to a broad, unobstructed view of space. Reclining grav chairs floated in a slow dance around the room, gently rising and falling as they drifted in lazy circles. The Star Dome was an officer’s lounge, with drinks being served by a server bot at a bar along the far wall of the room. Brondi could make an order using the controls in his armrest and then his grav chair would stop to pick up his drink on its next pass by the bar.
The whole purpose of the Star Dome was to relax. Between the room’s low gravity and amazing vistas of space, it functioned just as intended.
Chairs could be configured to circle the room together in more social groupings, or to circle the room alone, as Brondi was doing now. The crime lord wondered how many times the indolent overlord had come here just to catch a nap or to piss away the afternoon and evening with an endless stream of fancy cocktails. The dome was also equipped with a holofield so it could be configured to show any scene at all, or even a holovid.
Adding to the relaxing atmosphere was the sound of water which bubbled up from a light sculpture in the center of the room. The water cascaded down the sides of the sculpture, but somehow kept from disturbing the glassy pool on the deck. The effect of the water below and the transparent dome above was startling. The pool reflected the view through the ceiling almost perfectly, giving a sense that one was suspended, floating in deep space. It was the perfect environment for Brondi to clear his head, which was exactly what he needed to do now.
He had to plan his next move. At first, he’d been content just to have the Valiant, and to rule all of Dark Space without the nettlesome interference of the ISSF, but now like a kid who’d just had his first taste of candy, he wanted more.
Dominic had been hiding more than Brondi could have ever thought possible. First of all, he wasn’t actually the overlord; he had been a holoskinner in a long line of holoskinners; second, there was a whole race of aliens beyond Dark Space that no one even knew about; and third, and possibly most interesting of all, there was another enclave of human survivors—and who knew how many ships they might have!
All of those details had been swirling together in Brondi’s mind for the past two hours, and now finally, he knew what to do. Brondi keyed the controls in his armrest to let him off when his chair next drifted by the entrance of the Star Dome. When he reached the doors, and his chair slowed to a stop, Brondi pushed himself to his feet and walked out of the room in a dreamy haze. The doors swished open and he started down a long corridor toward another pair of doors. The gravity in the corridor gradually increased until it reached ISSF standard. After hours in low gravity, normal gravity made him feel twice as slow and heavy as usual. Frowning at the sudden headache which he felt encroaching at his temples, Brondi made his way to the nearest pair of lift tubes.
By the time he stepped back onto the bridge deck, he was already barking orders to his crew. “Nav! Set course for the Dark Space gate. Engineering, check all systems and report! Comms, we’re on yellow alert, notify the crew and have them standing ready at their stations as soon as we exit the gate.”
“Engineering reports all systems green.”
“Nav, setting course.”
“Sir, most of the crew is asleep, should I wake them with the yellow alert?”
Brondi shook his head as he reached the end of the gangway. “Set their alarms for an hour before we exit SLS and update readiness then. No need to deprive them of sleep.”
The captain whom Brondi had appointed and then left on deck to deal with the minutiae of running the Valiant walked up to Brondi now. “Sir,” he stopped and saluted one step down from the gangway, bringing him to eye-level with Brondi.
“Yes?” Brondi asked, frowning at the dark-skinned captain. He had white hair which was suggestive of his age, but the body and musculature of a much younger man. His eyes were dark and glinting with steel.
“Are we going to chase the Defiant through Sythian Space? While you were off deck I came up with a plan to hunt them down.”
Brondi was already shaking his head. “No, Captain Thornton.” He turned to look out the viewports and nod at the distant space gate—the new Dark Space gate, which was really just the in-system gate, repositioned to replace the shattered cloud of debris that the overlord and his crew had left of the old one. “The Defiant is only one ship. We have a whole fleet out there waiting for us to take command, and it’s time that we did so.” Brondi turned back to his captain with a gaping smile. As he met the captain’s curious gaze, Brondi mentally activated the holoskin he now wore.
Captain Thornton gasped, “Overlord Dominic!” Soon every eye on the bridge had turned to stare at Brondi in his new form, uncertainty and shock warring across their faces.
But when Brondi spoke once more, it was still his voice which reached their ears. “Relax,” he said.
“Is that a holoskin?” the captain asked, his mouth agape. “Where did you get that?”
Brondi smiled. Holoskins were supposed to be very rare. Not only were they illegal, but they were made of strictly-controlled substances and very expensive shielding. “This is the overlord’s very own holoskin,” Brondi replied. The confused looks which answered that revelation prompted Brondi to explain. “Our beloved Dominic was an imposter.”
Now
the bridge grew loud with gasps and exclamations from the crew, while Captain Thornton just stared straight ahead, his eyes glazed and unblinking as his mind struggled to catch up.
Brondi shrugged and then turned in a slow circle to address everyone. “Whoever he was, the overlord has left us with a great gift! He’s left us himself.” Turning to the captain, Brondi shook his head. “Except I’m not tall enough to pull it off. Would you do us the honor of being the overlord, Captain?” Captain Thornton just went on staring at him, and Brondi nodded, his mouth gaping in a smile once more. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Brondi turned his smile out to space. “It’s time we took back our birthright—” He nodded once at the gate which was now growing steadily larger in the forward viewports. “—freedom.”
* * *
Ethan strode onto the bridge with Tova walking silently behind him. She was naked, so as not to overly upset any crew members who might remember the Gors’ black armor from the war. As a concession to Tova’s physical needs, the lights on the bridge had been dimmed and the temperature dropped to just a few degrees above zero, adding to the frigid silence which swept across the bridge as she came in. Atton was waiting with Commander Caldin on the far side of the captain’s table, his eyes on them as they approached. Atton gave a shallow nod which Ethan returned as he turned to address the crew.
“Deck Officer Grimsby, open the intercom to the rest of the ship, I need to make an announcement.”
Grimsby worked quietly at his station for a second before nodding up at Ethan.
Ethan took a deep breath, and then he began. “Good morning, Defiant. This is your overlord speaking. We are about to set out on a journey to cross Sythian Space in order to make direct contact with our forces at Obsidian Station. Without a cloaking device, it will be dangerous, but I can assure you we have reviewed all of the alternatives, and setting out in the Defiant to cross Sythian Space was the very last option we considered. There are no easy ways out of what’s to come.
“As you may or may not have already heard, we have a Gor aboard to help us make the trip safely. The Mighty Tova is going to help us detect cloaked Sythian ships, and to make contact with her crèche mates aboard Obsidian Station before we arrive. We are crossing just two systems before we will stop to launch another, smaller vessel to complete the journey. Tova will go along for that final leg of the journey, and we will wait at a designated safe location for reinforcements to arrive with fuel and a relief crew. Our preliminary recon shows that we will encounter only mild resistance while crossing the two systems between us and our launching-off point, but we are about to conduct a recon of Taylon, where we are now, to confirm this. Let’s hope there are no Sythians lying in wait for us. From this point on, we are on yellow alert. Our departure is set for twelve hours from now, so we’re going to have to work hard to get everything ready before then. Make sure you are standing by your stations and reachable on the comms at all times. Ruh-kah!”
Ethan ended his speech and gestured for the comm officer to turn off the intercom mode. Some muted grumbling followed Ethan’s introductory speech, but he ignored it. The crew didn’t have to be happy that they were working with Tova, they just had to accept it.
Ethan turned back to his son. “You’d better get to the flight deck.” Atton nodded and started toward the doors at the back of the bridge. Ethan caught him by the arm as he walked by. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Ethan said in a quiet voice.
Atton shrugged. “If not me, then who? We’re short of capable pilots.”
Ethan grimaced. “Your mother would never allow it.”
Atton gave a sad smile. “No, she wouldn’t, but she’s not here.”
“Yet.” Ethan raised a warning finger. “Don’t think I won’t tell her what you’re doing when she is.”
“And get yourself into trouble?”
Ethan snorted with laughter. “Get out of here.”
“Yes, sir,” Atton replied, grinning wryly at him before starting off at a jog. Ethan watched him go with a painful lump rising in his throat. Letting his son join the Defiant’s fighter screen was like signing the boy’s death warrant. Ethan didn’t expect to make it to Obsidian Station with very many of their pilots still among the living, but Atton had insisted he be allowed to fly one of the remaining novas, and like father like son he also had an “A” pilot rating—although, his kill score was lower, making him 4A rather than 5A. Still, that rating still marked him as a superb pilot, so if anyone were going to live through the crossing, it would be him.
And Ethan couldn’t argue with the boy’s logic. If their capable pilots didn’t fly, then what chance did any of them stand? Ethan turned away with a shaky sigh as the doors swished shut behind his son. Besides, there was no guarantee that Atton would be any safer aboard the Defiant. At least in a small, maneuverable fighter he could dodge most of the enemy fire.
The Defiant, on the other hand, would be a sitting duck.
THE CROSSING
Chapter 11
Alara sat at the small table below the viewport in her parent’s quarters, her arms crossed, her gaze averted from the room as she stared out into space. She’d been doing her best to ignore her parents—if they even really were her parents. They could just as easily be two imposters and she would never know. They certainly felt like imposters.
Her memories, the ones that she could bring to mind and the ones that felt real, were of growing up in a girl’s orphanage. When she was just 16 the orphanage had run out of funds, and Alec Brondi had generously agreed to take in all of the orphans. He’d raised them like his own daughters, and then he’d taught them a valuable trade, one which would enable them to live in comfort and ease while the rest of humanity starved to death.
As for the old couple sharing a room with her aboard the Defiant, they were just a pair of overbearing strangers who wouldn’t let her out of their sight. She’d spent the night in the overlord’s quarters, and nothing had happened, but her “parents” hadn’t been satisfied with those assurances. Since then, she’d been prohibited from leaving the room. They’d brought her breakfast, and just a moment ago the old man had left to get her an early lunch. She’d sent him off with that request more to shut him up than out of any real desire for food—he’d been telling her stories from her childhood in order to trigger her memories, but she couldn’t remember any of the things he’d been recounting.
Alara looked away from the viewport to see the old man’s wife, Darla, standing to one side of the room, staring at her with a heartbroken smile and watery violet eyes.
“What?” Alara asked. She wasn’t buying the act.
The old woman flinched at her tone, but Alara couldn’t have cared less. These two weren’t paying her to be nice, so why should she be?
“Oh, nothing, dear it’s all right.” The woman looked away and sniffed.
Alara’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see why I can’t leave the room. I’m a grown woman, you know. I have a right to live my life the way I want to. You can’t keep me locked up in here.”
Darla looked back with tears dribbling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the backs of her hands. “Oh, my dear sweet little girl, we’re not trying to limit your freedom; we’re just trying to help you avoid making any mistakes you’ll regret later on.”
“You mean when I get my memories back.”
“Yes.”
“What makes you so sure that your little girl is still there to bring back? I’ll tell you one thing, Darla, I’ve looked for her, and there’s not even a trace.”
The old woman’s face crumpled anew. “Excuse me,” she said, and hurried to the bathroom.
Alara frowned, watching the door swish shut behind her. It wasn’t entirely true that she couldn’t find any trace of the person she’d supposedly been, but it was close enough to the truth. Whoever she’d once been was lost in a sea of much sharper and clearer memories from an entirely different life.
A knock sounded at the door, and Alara assumed it
was Dr. Kurlin. She eyed the bathroom a moment longer, waiting for Darla to come out and see who it was, but the bathroom stayed shut, and the knocking sounded again. With a sigh Alara got up and went to answer the door.
She waved the door open with her wrist, and was surprised to find a young man standing on the other side. She was even more surprised to see that it was the man from the bar last night, the one who’d tried to stop her from leaving with Commander Adari.
“Hello again, Alara,” he said.
“My name’s Angel,” she replied, frowning.
“We can make that your call sign.”
“My what?”
He held out a black flight suit which matched the one he wore. “Your call sign. It’s how we’ll refer to you while you’re flying with the squadron.”
Alara shook her head. “You must have the wrong door, Captain. I’m not a nova pilot.”
The man grinned, revealing a perfect set of straight white teeth. “Not yet you’re not.”
“Hoi there! What’s the meaning of this?”
Alara turned to see Darla coming up behind her with a scowl. The old woman squeezed into the open doorway beside her and jerked her chin at the officer standing outside. “You can put that back on the rack where it belongs. My daughter isn’t going anywhere, least of all into the cockpit of a nova.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Vastra, but that’s not your choice to make.” The man’s eyes met Alara’s once more. “What do you say, Angel? You up for it?”
Feeling suddenly nervous she shook her head. “I don’t know how to fly.”
“I think you’ll be surprised at what you know, but in any case your fighter’s been equipped with a flight trainer AI to help you get over the learning curve.”
“I . . .”
“Or you can stay here.” He shrugged. “But you’re going to miss out on all the action.” He winked and shot her a meaningful grin. “I’ll fly your wing myself. We’ll make a great team. I think you’ll find flying with me to be very stimulating.” The officer was drawing out his words and speaking in a soft, slow voice, so that everything he said took on a whole other meaning.
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