Heart of the Nebula Read online

“Mister patrician, sir,” he said, dropping his bag to offer a salute. “It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

  “Lieutenant James McCoy, I take it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent. It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well.”

  The patrician offered James his hand and gave him a firm, commanding handshake. He was a tall, heavyset man, with a clean-shaven face and receding hairline. His chest and arms were surprisingly strong, though, and his expressive face betrayed a mind that was obviously quite active.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Lieutenant,” he said. “My aides here have briefed me on your entire file.”

  “My, ah, file?” James asked. He swallowed nervously and tried not to think about what was in there.

  “Yes, yes, of course. You’ve built up quite an impressive service record, with—what? Twenty-one kills?”

  “Twenty-six,” said James, his heart racing.

  The patrician smiled. “I’ve already spoken with your co-pilot, Ensign Jones. He speaks very highly of you.”

  Sterling?

  “I’m… glad to hear that, sir.”

  “Yes, he’s waiting for us in the car. But first, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Sara.”

  A gorgeous young woman stepped forward, offering her hand. James froze, and his stomach all but dropped through the floor. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her smile almost made his heart stop. Her form-fitting smart-dress accentuated the natural curve of her hips, while her deep blue eyes shone like the shimmering starfields of deep space.

  “Hello,” said James, unable to say anything else. Somehow, he managed to shake her hand without making a fool of himself.

  “Hello,” said Sara. “James, I take it?”

  “You can call me that,” he all but stammered.

  She nodded. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “I’m afraid we’re running short on time,” said the patrician. “Your ship is scheduled to leave in only a few hours, and you still need to be briefed on your mission.”

  James blinked. “Our mission?”

  “Yes, your mission. Didn’t Commander Maxwell explain it to you?”

  “No, Sir. The commander didn’t tell me anything.”

  The patrician pursed his lips. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You won’t have much time to handle your personal affairs. Do you have any family that you wish to say goodbye to before you leave?”

  I was hoping to say hello to them first.

  “Yes,” said James, “but I’m sure that I can do that later, sir—after I’ve been briefed.”

  “Excellent,” said the patrician, patting him on the back. “Come, to my car.”

  James picked up his bags and followed behind the patrician’s daughter, who glanced at him over her shoulders. He gave her a weak smile that quickly changed to a frown once her back was turned.

  What in all the holy constellations of Earth is going on?

  * * * * *

  Sara stepped into the car while her father held the door open, ducking as she entered the narrow space. She sat knee-to-knee across from the ensign, who grinned at her like a small puppy.

  “Hello again,” he said. “Are we—Oh! Captain McCoy, it’s good to see you!”

  “Lieutenant McCoy,” James corrected him as he scooted up next to him. “I’m only your captain when we’re on the Lone Spear.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.”

  With a soft grunt, her father squeezed in next to her. The door hissed shut, while outside, the two aides waited for the next available car.

  Sara took a good look at the lieutenant as the car started moving in its track along the ceiling. Like Ensign Jones, he had a sort of nervous look about him: a wide-eyed, who-took-the-ground-away kind of look. Unlike the ensign, though, he didn’t seem quite so young and boyish. In his eyes, she glimpsed a depth of experience that she didn’t usually see in people his age. Here was a young man who had seen things—perhaps even more than she had.

  “So, ah, Mister patrician,” said James. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what exactly is this all about?”

  Her father chuckled. “Cutting to the chase, are we? I can see why you went into the military and not politics.”

  Sterling laughed nervously, clearly unsure of himself. James only nodded.

  “I take it you haven’t heard of the interstellar conference at Gaia Nova,” her father said, clasping his hands together the way he always did when he got down to business. “A quorum of delegates from the Hameji-occupied worlds is seeking to draft a petition of redress for the general security failure and widespread economic collapse. It’s been a long time in coming, but the Hameji have agreed to sponsor the meeting, which is scheduled to take place in two standard weeks.”

  James frowned. “Petition of redress? Since when did the Hameji allow that?”

  “We’ve managed to convince them that it’s in their best interests to let us organize,” said Sara, giving the lieutenant a disarming smile. “Besides, they’re much too interested in their military campaigns to worry about us.”

  Whether from her words, her smile, or some combination of both, James offered no further objection. Her father continued.

  “I’m sending you both with the delegation as a military escort. You are responsible for the security of the diplomatic team, including the safety of my daughter.”

  “Yes, sir,” said James. From the way he looked at her father, it seemed almost as if he were purposefully avoiding eye contact with her.

  “There are some on the committee who view your presence as merely a formality. However, I want you to know that I expect nothing less than your finest. Our colony has a lot riding on the outcome of this conference. I personally have a lot riding on it, considering that my daughter is a member of the diplomatic team. It is vitally important that you see to their security and ensure that they return unharmed. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” said James. “We understand perfectly. Don’t we, Sterling?”

  “Of course,” said the ensign. “Don’t worry, sir.”

  Her father nodded, evidently satisfied. “Good. This diplomatic mission is critical. If we don’t persuade the Hameji to take a more active role in resolving the growing security crisis, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  Though the emotion was evident in her father’s voice, she could tell by the glassy look in his eyes that he didn’t fully believe what he was saying. Fortunately, as the car slowed down in front of the Defense Corps’s barracks, neither of the soldiers seemed to notice.

  “Captain Jarvis will have more details for you on board the Freedom Star,” her father said as the car came to a stop. “Before you go, however, I want your personal promise that you will guard my daughter at all costs.”

  “Of course, sir,” said Lieutenant McCoy, saluting. “I swear on my life.”

  “Me too, sir,” said the ensign.

  “Good.”

  The door hissed open, and her father stepped out to allow them to disembark. While Sara waited in the cabin, he helped them retrieve their bags and sent them on their way.

  “Excellent men,” her father said as he sat back down across from her. “If only we had a hundred more like them.” The door hissed shut, and the car rose up and headed for the residential district of the station.

  “You didn’t have to get that last promise from them,” Sara said, folding her arms. “That was a bit melodramatic.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, “but they won’t soon forget it, will they?”

  “I suppose not.”

  The floor fell out below their car as it rose up the high ceiling of the station’s central dome. Sara recognized the familiar gardens and parks that were so characteristic of the upper class neighborhoods of the Colony. Young mothers pushed strollers past the carefully manicured hedges and picturesque streams. Leafy green trees shimmered in the sunlight that shone through the carefully tinted windows overhead. From high above, however, Sara could see that e
very house and hedge was virtually identical, and the streams all ran in endless circles, doubling back on themselves. It was a sheltered world apart from reality—an artificial imitation of the peace and prosperity that had once been common throughout the system. Though she’d grown up within that illusion, she had no desire to stay there.

  “Do either of them have top-level clearances?” she asked.

  “No,” said her father. “As far as they know, you’re just another delegate.”

  Sara sighed. “That’s going to make things difficult, if I have to keep my mission a secret from them.”

  “Be discreet. They’ll never notice a thing, if you do it right.”

  If I do it right. That was the trick, wasn’t it?

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “That might not be good enough,” said her father. “The Colony may not survive if you fail.”

  “I know,” said Sara. “I know.”

  They sat in silence as the carefully manicured illusion of prosperity passed far below.

  Chapter 3

  Kyla Jeppson ignored the growling in her stomach as she slunk through the dimly lit corridor toward the spaceport loading docks. The familiar smell of urine and rotting garbage filled the air, masking her like the shadows. She skirted around a large group of beggars gathered around an electric stove and slipped into a narrow crawlspace between bulkheads, careful to make sure no one was following her.

  After squeezing past a particularly nasty patch of mold, she arrived in a small chamber hollowed out from a defunct ventilation shaft. The motionless fans still hung overhead, and she ducked to avoid banging her head on their enormous blades. Her eyes flitted back and forth across the foul-smelling place, her heart beating a little faster.

  A small man slouched against the far corner, arms folded across his chest. Though the room was too dark for her to make him out, she imagined she could see the smug expression on his face. A chill ran slowly down her back.

  “You’re late, darling.”

  Kyla said nothing.

  The man unfolded his arms. “Well, come here.”

  She began to approach him, but stopped in the middle of the room, her body tense. When he saw that she wouldn’t come any further, he sauntered casually over to her.

  “You had me a little worried, dear. For a while, I didn’t think you’d come.”

  He caressed her neck with his hand, running his fingers through her matted hair. She flinched at his touch, but made no protest.

  “I see you’ve lost weight. Are they not feeding you as well at the soup kitchen? Or has child services caught on to you?”

  “I’m here,” she said, drawing in a sharp breath.

  “Of course you are.”

  His hand ran down the front of her jumpsuit, groping at her small breasts. Reflexively, she knocked him away. He clucked at her and shook his head.

  “Temper, temper. Is that a way to treat your benefactor?”

  “I’ve paid you once. I’m not going to pay again.”

  He laughed. “A pity. Too bad your ride is leaving so soon—otherwise, we could have had a little fun.”

  Go to hell, you sick bastard.

  She hated herself for fucking him, but she hated even more that she didn’t have a choice. No place on the station would give her work, and the soup kitchens did little more than keep her alive—barely. It was worse in child services, though. She’d heard all the horror stories. At least with the smuggler, she only had to pay him once.

  He turned to lead her out, but not without snaking his arm around her waist and pinching her butt. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of jumping.

  “Right this way,” he said, leading her out a maintenance corridor. Wires hung from broken conduit, fluorescent lights flickering in the narrow space. A broken pipe joint tore her sleeve, but she ignored it and went on.

  It hadn’t always been like this. Years ago, when her mother had still been alive, she’d had a clean bed to sleep on, in a room to herself that didn’t smell like urine. Places like this had been foreign to her, where the air was rank with body odor and people slept on rat-infested floors. That was when she’d had a family, though. She didn’t have anyone now.

  The smuggler led her up a ladder to another ventilation shaft. Quick as a rat, he climbed out, reaching back in to pull her up. As she crawled to her feet, the sound of heavy machinery rung in her ears. She kept low as he led her around a bend behind several enormous storage containers.

  “You’re in luck,” he said. “I got you a ship headed for Gaia Nova, the old Imperial capital. Stars know it’s hard to get one of these days.”

  Kyla tensed. Is he trying to raise the price? She hugged her chest and walked a little faster.

  The smuggler glanced at her and snickered. The harsh sound of his laughter was almost, but not quite, drowned out by the groaning of heavy machinery.

  “No need to be afraid, darling,” he said. “The police don’t ever come here.”

  Just get me to my ship and go away, she thought silently to herself. She kept her eyes on the floor grating and tried to ignore the way he kept moving closer to her.

  Just when she thought he’d snake his arm around her again, he turned and led her through a narrow crawlspace. The walls were old and corroding in places, but the mold was gone. In spite of the loud industrial noises, she took care to be quiet as she followed on her hands and knees.

  They came out in the middle of a platform with rectangular cargo containers stacked about five or six high. Each one was fairly small, about two body lengths long and not quite tall enough to stand in. The corners were rounded and reinforced, while the hatches had a complicated cross-bar system to keep them sealed.

  The smuggler quickly scanned the containers and picked out a blue on the bottom of the stack. After glancing over his shoulder, he leaned forward and swiped a card over the access panel. The cross-bars disengaged with a loud click, making Kyla jump.

  “Here,” said the smuggler, cracking the hatch open. “In you go.”

  She hesitated for a moment, not sure whether it was safe to crawl into the dark, cramped space. The far end was filled with plastic crates, so that she barely had enough room to sit against the wall. She couldn’t imagine being cramped the whole voyage like that.

  “It’s only until you’re on board,” the smuggler hissed. “See this wire? Pull it tight, and the hatch will open from the inside.”

  “What if it’s up against a wall?”

  He shrugged. “Then tough luck.”

  She took a deep breath and poked her head in the hatch. There was a little more space inside than she’d thought, with an old, stained blanket for her to sit on. Other than that, it looked fairly clean. The blanket was a little damp, but not so much that she couldn’t get used to it. And as for the smell—

  “Are you in or not?” the smuggler asked, his voice low and impatient. In the distance, the sound of the loading crane grew louder.

  There’s no going back once you’re in, Kyla thought to herself. You’ll be leaving this place forever. For the briefest moment, she almost felt a yearning to turn around and stay. But then, her anger swelled up, dousing any nostalgic delusions about the place she’d once called home. She had no future in this place—the Colony was little more to her than a living hell. Better to leave and never look back.

  She slipped into the open hatchway and eased herself onto the blanket. There were no lights inside, of course, but she was used to that. The hatch was something else entirely. Before the smuggler closed her in, she felt around its smooth inner surface until she found the wire and knew exactly where it was. It made her shudder to imagine being sealed in the container with no way out.

  “There now,” said the smuggler, a wry grin crossing his face. “Are we comfortable?”

  Kyla tensed—she’d seen that grin before. He opened the hatch a little wider, one hand fingering his belt as if in anticipation. The space in the container was just big enough for two people—probably because h
e’d planned it that way. Before he could advance any further, however, voices sounded further down the hold. He swore and quickly shut the hatch, taking care not to make too much noise.

  Darkness enveloped her—but not the kind of darkness in the moldy crawlspaces that hid something dangerous and unknown. This was the comforting darkness of a warm, snug hiding place. She counted to sixty, but the smuggler didn’t return—something must have frightened him off, thank the stars.

  She eased herself back against the wall of the container and fingered the release wire with her hand, just to reassure herself that it was there. With no other way out, that little strand of threaded metal made all the difference between an escape pod and a coffin. As to where she was going, she hardly cared anymore. All that mattered was that she was getting away.

  * * * * *

  James stepped off the public tram with his parents and walked toward the ticketing gate. Traffic was light at the main terminal today, but a few people still hurried about, busy as usual at the hub of the Colony’s small spaceport.

  “Well, this is it,” he said, stopping in front of the counter. He dropped his canvas duffel bag and turned to give his aging mother a hug.

  “I wish you could stay longer,” she said as they embraced.

  “So do I,” said James. “But duty calls.”

  “Just come back alive. That’s all I ask.”

  James gave her a sad smile. Every time he left the station for another mission, she always made the same request. With his brother dead and his sister taken by the Hameji, he was the last of the children she had left. It always filled him with a tinge of guilt for the risks he knew he would soon take.

  “I’ll do my best,” he told her. It might not have been the most comforting answer, but it was certainly the most truthful.

  His father gave him a parting handshake. “Take care of yourself, son.”

  “I will.”

  “Be sure to keep your eyes and ears open.”

  “Of course.”

  “I mean it,” said his father, looking him in the eye. “Conference or not, this smells of centralist politics.”