Heart of the Nebula Read online

  James frowned. “But the patrician—”

  “The patrician is the servant of the people, nothing more. He doesn’t have any more power than we give him, and if you ask me, he already has far too much.”

  Yes, James wanted to say, but the Corps isn’t run by popular vote, and if it were...

  There were a number of ways he could have finished that statement, all of them colorful, but instead he kept his political views to himself.

  “I’ll do my best,” he said, bending down to pick up his bag. “Don’t worry—I won’t fail you.”

  His father smiled and wrapped an arm around his tearful mother. James turned and held his wrist console up to the computer terminal. His ID cleared, and the gate opened to let him onto the concourse.

  “We love you,” his mother called out one last time. He stepped through, then turned and waved.

  “I love you, too,” he called back. “See you in a few weeks.”

  Biting his lip, he turned and headed toward his terminal, passing over the giant mosaic image of the star system. Karduna was a golden nub at the very center, coordinate lines radiating outward. A giant pink and red mass off to the right marked the Good Hope Nebula, the imposing cloud of gas and dust that marked the edge of the frontier this side of settled space. On the other side, a gold nub bigger than the first marked Gaia Nova, the seat of galactic civilization.

  Before the Hameji slagged it, that was.

  “Hey, Lieutenant!” came a familiar voice from behind him. James turned and saw Ensign Jones running up to him.

  So much for formality.

  “Sterling,” said James. A grin spread across his face at the sight of his boyish copilot.

  “It’s good to see you, sir. Need a hand with those bags?”

  “Sure. Thanks for the help.”

  He gave Sterling the lighter of the two bags, and they soon fell into step, walking past the half-empty shops and vendor kiosks toward the boarding area. It wasn’t uncommon to see soldiers in this part of the station, though the two of them did turn a few heads. A quick glance at the cluster of enormous holoscreens overhead showed that the Freedom Star was scheduled to depart in twenty-five minutes.

  “So what do you think of that girl?” Sterling asked.

  “Girl? What girl?”

  “You know, the one we’re supposed to protect.”

  “You mean the patrician’s daughter?” said James, picking up the pace. He shouldered his way through a crowd heading in the opposite direction and got a handful of dirty glances. Deal with it, people.

  “Yeah,” said Sterling. “Isn’t she something?”

  James’s cheeks reddened. “Now isn’t the time to talk about that, Ensign.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  Because she might be somewhere in this crowd right now.

  “Because it’s too damn distracting,” he said instead. “We have a mission to perform, and ogling her halfway across the galaxy is not going to accomplish that.”

  Sterling covered his mouth and suppressed a laugh. “Sorry, sir—that’s not what I meant.”

  “Of course not.”

  Compared to the rest of the station, the spaceport was extravagantly spacious. The ceilings were high and vaulted, while the walls and floors were made of high-grade basalt from the nearby asteroids. Every surface was polished smooth, so that the place still looked new. The architectural engineers had done a good job: the veneer of prosperity was convincing enough to fool just about anyone.

  But in truth, the spaceport was little more than an imitation of what it had once been. The spacious concourse was more empty than full, with only a handful of people returning from the terminals. Along the walls, far too many caged and boarded-up doors marked where shops and restaurants had once flourished. The Colony, once an attractive, thriving settlement, was now an isolated outpost in a system that had been utterly ravaged by the Hameji.

  “Is this your first time out of the system, Sterling?” James asked. He couldn’t help but notice the quickness in his copilot’s step.

  “Oh, yes, sir. I’m not much of a pilot—never have been. I’m more of an engineer.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “An engineer?”

  “That’s right. Back when the mining industry was still profitable, I used to work at the shipyards repairing broken equipment. When most of the workforce got laid off, I joined the Corps for the steady paycheck.”

  “Right,” said James. He didn’t bother to point out that the payroll office was four standard months behind.

  “So really, sir—”

  “Call me James.”

  “Yes, er, James—really, I’m not much of a pilot.”

  “No, but you’re a fine copilot and the patrician chose us both for a reason. You’ve got a unique skill set, and that might just help us get out of a tight spot. Don’t put yourself down.”

  Sterling grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

  James checked the displays and led them to the right, toward their terminal. “So what can you tell me about the Freedom Star, Ensign?”

  Sterling’s eyes lit up, just as James expected they would. “Gaian Enterprises deep space luxury yacht, Dolphin class—latest model, too. One hundred and twenty meters stem to stern, with room for six crew and eight passengers. She’s one of the few civilian ships left at the Colony with a functioning jump drive—two, in fact.”

  “Two?” That wasn’t a common feature on civilian ships.

  “Yeah. The dual drives don’t add much to the distance rating, but they more than double our jump rate in deep space.”

  “Which means we don’t have to rely on the starlanes for transport,” said James. “If we have to make it back on our own, we can do so quickly without having to worry about being interdicted.”

  “Right,” said Sterling, “though that won’t help us much in-system, since the reactors aren’t significantly boosted.”

  Still, at least we won’t be stranded. That was the problem with sublight engines—if the political situation was unfavorable, you were at the mercy of whoever controlled the local system. When the Hameji had invaded nearly five years ago, virtually every starship with a working jump drive had fled, taking hundreds of thousands of refugees with them. Only a handful still remained at the Colony, and almost all of those belonged to the Corps now. The Freedom Star was one of the rare exceptions.

  “Are you worried about something?” Sterling asked.

  “No,” James muttered, “but it bothers me that the patrician’s putting us under the command of a civilian.”

  “A civilian?”

  “Captain Allie Jarvis,” he said, leaning in a little closer to speak under his breath. “She’s the captain of the Freedom Star. Her family has no military background that I could find, but she’s distantly related to the patrician.”

  “That explains why she didn’t run with the rest of the refugees.”

  “Yeah. It also explains why the patrician went outside of the normal chain of command to brief us—he wants to keep the Corps out of this mission as much as possible.”

  Sterling frowned. “But why would he want to do that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I want to find out.”

  A chime from the loudspeakers interrupted their conversation, followed by the tinny, feminine voice of a recording. “Attention, passengers,” it said, “Tram approaching. For your safety, please wait until the car comes to a complete stop before boarding.”

  “That’s us,” said James. A glance at the holoscreen displays over the main concourse showed the Freedom Star leaving in fifteen minutes.

  “Right,” said Sterling, hefting James’s bag under his arm. “Let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  “Hello, mistress,” came Nina’s voice through the jewel in Sara’s ear. “Lieutenant McCoy and Ensign Jones have entered the tram and will be boarding shortly.”

  Sara nodded, though of course the AI couldn’t see her. But in the privacy of her cabin on board the Freedom Star, it
wasn’t as if anyone else could, either. Since they were still in port, the outside view largely consisted of the pockmarked hull of the next ship over: a sublight freighter of some sort by the drab, windowless exterior. No matter. Soon enough, she’d have a view of the stars.

  With a stretch and a yawn, she rose from her lounge chair and stepped out into the corridor, turning left towards the airlock. She met the captain in the hallway, just outside the main elevator.

  “Miss Galbraith-Dickson,” said Captain Jarvis, giving her a smart nod. A stout, middle-aged woman, the top of her head only came up to Sara’s nose. Her short, curly red hair was pulled back from her round face, revealing a wide brow and small eyes. Her white uniform was crisp and spotless, the brass buttons polished smooth so that they shone in the bright LED lights that ran along the ceiling.

  “Captain,” said Sara, shaking her hand.

  “I take it you’ve settled comfortably into your cabin?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Sara glanced down at her wrist console: two hours to their scheduled departure.

  “I’ve been apprised of the special circumstances surrounding your mission,” said Captain Jarvis, lowering her voice. The hallway was empty, but since they were still in port, it was still a good idea to be discreet.

  “Good. So you can help me get in touch with our contacts at Gaia Nova?”

  “Certainly. They’ll be waiting for you at the station.”

  “And what about the lieutenant?”

  The captain waved her hand. “Don’t worry. The rest of the delegation will keep him busy enough. So long as you’re careful about it, he won’t notice any deviation from your schedule.”

  “Perhaps,” said Sara. She sighed. “I wish I knew why my father insisted on sending him with us. He’s not a part of the inner circle.”

  “I admit, it does seem a little odd. Knowing your father—”

  At that moment, the elevator door hissed open and a young, bright-faced man stepped out. Sara recognized him at once: Lars Stewart, head of the delegation to the conference. Instantly, she and Captain Jarvis grew silent.

  “Oh, hi there,” he said, giving them a disarming smile. “Don’t mind me—I heard that James was coming along, and I thought I’d greet him at the airlock.”

  “The lieutenant? You know him?”

  Lars grinned. “Of course I know him—he’s an old family friend! We go back a long way, the two of us.”

  Sara nodded politely. Unlike herself and the captain, Lars wore a loose gray jumpsuit with a dark leather vest and an empty utility belt: standard dress for the working-class merchanters. Considering how the Colony had originally been a corporate mining outpost before Karduna had won its independence, his choice of clothing had something of a patriotic flair to it. Still, Sara hoped he’d choose something more formal when they arrived at the conference. She didn’t want the other delegates to think that they were all Outworld hicks—even if many of them still were.

  She tried to smile, but found it difficult to do so naturally. Her body stiffened, and she tried very hard to think of something to say to break the awkwardness.

  “Well, that’s a surprise,” she finally managed. “How exactly do you know each other?”

  “Our families used to cover the same shipping routes, and shared many of the same clients. We spent a lot of time on each other’s ships, and we watched out for one another when our parents were out on a haul.”

  Sara nodded politely. Fortunately, the airlock door hissed open again before she found herself at a loss for words. Lars turned and grinned.

  “Hey, James,” he called out. “Long time no see!”

  “Lars! It’s good to see you!”

  James dropped his bags and gave him a warm, brotherly hug, thumping him on the back for good measure. For a fleeting moment, the two of them looked almost like little boys.

  “So how are politics treating you?” James asked.

  “Not too bad, considering. How’s the military?”

  “Civil Defense Corps, Lars. We don’t have a formal military.”

  “Right, the Corps, then. I understand you’ve made quite a name for yourself.”

  “Well, I haven’t been killed yet, so I guess that’s true. Though at the rate things are going, Commander Maxwell is probably going to have my hide as soon as we get back.”

  They laughed and slapped each other on the back, while behind them, Sterling stepped onto the ship and closed the airlock doors. Captain Jarvis coughed, making James notice her.

  “Sorry, Captain,” he said, saluting.

  “Not at all, Lieutenant. Welcome aboard the Freedom Star.” She stuck out her hand, and James eyed it for a moment with some confusion before recognizing the civilian gesture. They shook, a bit stiffly.

  “I trust both you and the ensign have been briefed on our mission before coming aboard?”

  “That’s right, though the patrician said you’d have some more details for us.”

  “Certainly. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss them before we arrive. In the meantime, your quarters are ready—feel free to make yourself comfortable. Mister Stewart, would you be so kind as to show them down?”

  “Certainly, ma’am,” said Lars. “Come on, James—we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  As the three of them boarded the elevator to the lower level, completely absorbed in their own conversations, Captain Jarvis glanced over at Sara and raised an eyebrow. Sara didn’t need to read minds to know what she was thinking.

  You’re right, she thought to herself. This does complicate things.

  * * * * *

  In the darkness of the cargo container, Kyla’s ears were her only connection with the outside universe. The groaning and clanging of distant machinery fell into a rhythm, lulling her into a tentative sense of peace. She curled up with her knees against her chest and fingered the wire with sweaty hands, waiting.

  With the hatchway sealed, the container was starting to get stuffy. She thought about opening the hatch just a crack to let in some fresh air, but until she was safely on board the ship, it wasn’t worth risking it. If the authorities discovered her, she’d be sent to child services for sure.

  Alone in the darkness, with crates on one side and a wall on the other, there was nothing to shield her from her troubled thoughts and memories. An image of her mother flashed across her mind, lying on her urine-soaked deathbed of a mattress. She remembered the scene as clearly as if she had just been there: the acrid smell of the electric heating coil in the corner and the dull, faded colors of the ragged blanket that hung over the doorway to the small alcove. A family of beggars crouched against the opposite wall, watching her, but no one offered any help or comfort. No one really cared.

  After a long while, Kyla sniffed and clenched her teeth together. Well, if Mother was dead now, then Kyla might as well be dead to everyone, too. People were cold and cruel, and she wanted to get away from them all—just get away.

  As if in answer to her silent plea, the groaning of heavy machinery sounded almost directly overhead. A loud clang reverberated throughout the container, and the floor shuddered beneath her. She reached for the walls with spread-out hands, grabbing for support. The groaning returned then moved into the distance somewhere behind her.

  That’s probably the loading crane, Kyla thought. She remembered all the containers stacked above the one she was in—maybe they had started to move them onto the ship.

  The groaning returned, followed by another loud clang that shuddered through the walls. This one made her teeth chatter and sent chills up and down her back. She steadied herself and tried very hard to control her breathing—not much air left, after all. Seconds turned to minutes, and her heartbeat slowly returned to something close to normal.

  How much longer? she wondered. If only she had some way of sneaking a peek, she could—

  The groan sounded again, starting in the distance but growing steadily closer. When it was directly overhead, it stopped for a second, then changed pitch and gr
ew even louder. Something large and heavy hit the top of the container, making the whole thing shudder even harder than before. Her heart skipped a beat, and she held her breath as the noise turned to deafening silence. Then, without warning, the groaning returned, and the container lifted up, making her stomach fall out beneath her.

  All at once, everything around her started to reel and pitch. She gasped and grabbed onto the walls for support as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her. Gradually, she realized that the container must be dangling from the crane—that was why the floor shook the way it did. The heavy machinery groaned directly overhead as it carried her away from the loading platform, though where it was taking her, she had no idea.

  Eventually, the groaning stopped, and the container rocked for a few seconds until it more or less stabilized. Kyla took a deep breath, but just as she started to relax, the floor dropped out, making her stomach sink. She yelped in surprise in spite of herself, then clamped a hand over her mouth. Moments later, the container hit the next platform with a thud that sent shocks vibrating through the lower half of her body.

  Did anyone hear me? She gripped the release wire on the hatch and began counting down each second. The loading crane moved off into the distance, leaving her in relative silence. No one came, however—no one had heard her outcry. She sighed in relief.

  The container began to move. It started off slowly at first, but it soon picked up speed. In the darkness, Kyla reached out to the crates to make sure they were secure. Fortunately, they were packed so tightly that they hardly budged, but the steady acceleration pressed her up against the hatch.

  Where are we now? A bolt of fear shot through her, and she wondered again if she’d made a mistake. There was no turning back now, though. All she could do was ride it out, wherever it took her.

  An uneasy flutter rose in the pit of her stomach. At first, she dismissed it as just another hunger pang, but the more the feeling grew, the less certain she was. She turned her head, and a strand of hair brushed against her face in the darkness. She lifted her hand to pull it back, and felt more than one strand drifting up over her head.