Brothers in Exile_Sons of the Starfarers Read online

  “I mean it, Isaac. I think we should go talk with him.”

  “I’ll do it firsht thing when I wake up.”

  “You promise?”

  “Shure, why not?” said Isaac. He couldn’t quite tell what he was getting into, but sleep seemed so sweet to him that he’d say almost anything to taste it.

  * * * * *

  How did I get suckered into this? Isaac wondered as he walked down the wide, bustling avenues of Hephesteron Station. Argo had said to meet at a cafe just off the central square, which was fine by him. Better to stay to a place where there’d be plenty of witnesses if the slaver thugs showed up.

  At least Aaron had agreed to remain with the ship. That had taken some wrangling, but he’d accepted the ultimatum that Isaac would see Argo alone or not at all. There was plenty of work to keep him busy, and for once he’d agreed to do it without argument.

  The cafe sat on the second and third levels, overlooking the avenue near the vaulted glass ceiling. The bright station lights partially obscured the stars, but they were still barely visible through the glass overhead. After searching around the various crowded market stalls, Isaac found the stairwell that led up to the cafe. The place was nearly as crowded as the avenues below, but there were plenty of small alcoves that offered some privacy. Argo was waiting alone in the nearest one.

  “Isaac Deltana,” he said, standing from the small round holotable to offer his hand. “So glad to see you again.”

  “You too,” said Isaac as they shook. The domed ceiling of the alcove opened up to a circular skylight. The glowlamps were dim enough that the stars were clearly visible, much more so than in the avenue. Most of the illumination came from lights around the edge of the holotable, which displayed two copies of the menu. Isaac sat down and began to peruse it.

  “The coffee here is excellent,” Argo offered. From the beverage vessel that sat in front of him, Isaac guessed that he’d already ordered.

  “I’ll just take whatever you’ve got. What is it?”

  “Chondarr black, third option under the coffee section.”

  Isaac keyed the option in the menu and the tabletop screen soon changed, displaying an artistic illustration of the local constellations. He looked up and rested his elbows on the table.

  “I owe you my thanks for your help with those slavers.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Argo, waving his hand as if it was no big deal. Of course, that wasn’t true. They owed him their lives now, and he had to know that.

  “I’m not sure what we can do to repay you,” Isaac said, unsure how to broach the subject of the henna girl without first addressing his debt. “You said you’re looking for starfarers to join your cause. Our ship isn’t particularly large or fast, and we don’t have any military experience to speak of.”

  “That’s fine. We’re just looking for star wanderers who can join an occasional supply convoy between trade runs. If you don’t want to fight, that’s perfectly understandable.”

  Aaron won’t be content with supply runs—not when he’s missing the war.

  “Has there been any fighting yet? I haven’t heard anything.”

  Argo sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Nothing beyond a few local revolts, which the Imperials have put down quite harshly. They occupy several frontier systems, which we hope to liberate as soon as we have a flotilla put together.”

  “I’m sure,” said Isaac, nodding. A hiss sounded from the table, and the center panel lifted up to reveal a cylindrical compartment. Inside was a drink canister just like Argo’s. The mechanism waited until Isaac had retrieved the drink before retracting back into the table.

  “Fancy, eh?” said Argo. “That’s what I like about this place: plenty of privacy.”

  “I suppose.”

  Isaac took a sip and pursed his lips. The coffee was a lot stronger than he’d been expecting, but Argo was right: the quality was amazing. He opened the condiment rack and pulled out a tube of creamer.

  “If you’d rather join us in a more military capacity, we’d love to enlist your help, but we won’t force you. And you don’t have to worry about taking a loss on the convoys. You’ll still get paid, just like any normal trade run.”

  Seems reasonable enough, Isaac thought. The only trouble would be dissuading Aaron from trying to enlist on his own. The merchant convoys sounded like a viable compromise, but there was no way he’d be satisfied with that for long.

  “What are the chances that we avoid an all-out war?”

  “At this point, no one really knows,” said Argo. “Some people think that the chances are pretty good. But from the size of the battle fleets they’re sending, it’s clear that they want to take over the whole of the New Pleiades—by force if necessary.”

  “But why would that be necessary? After all, there hasn’t been any fighting in the Oriana Cluster.”

  “That’s because the Orianans were divided and unprepared. Alpha Oriana was a cakewalk for the Imperials. That isn’t going to happen here.”

  Would it really be so bad if the Gaians took over? Would things be all that different if we were under Imperial rule?

  “The Gaians have made some pretty harsh changes in the Alpha Oriana system,” Argo said, as if anticipating his question. He looked Isaac square in the eye, his gaze unflinching. “My sources tell me that they’ve gutted the local manufacturing industry and are requiring merchanters to be licensed in order to conduct any trades.”

  Isaac frowned. “Why would they do that?”

  “Because they don’t want Alphan goods to compete with their own. They only want to take over the Outworlds so that they can exploit our resources, and establish new markets. Our independence and way of life are anathema to them.”

  Father, mother, the rest of the family—what’s happening with them right now? If Argo was right, and the Gaians were in the process of dismantling Alpha Oriana as a major Outworld hub, things had to be getting difficult for all of them. If the local economy collapsed, he didn’t know how they’d survive.

  “If the Imperials get their way, what’s happening in the Oriana Cluster will happen here, too,” Argo continued. He spread out his hands. “Hephesteron Station thrives as a major trading hub, but it will collapse, and all the minor systems that depend on us for trade will collapse as well. The Imperials are only here to exploit us, and they’ll do that if we don’t stop them.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  Argo leaned forward. “As sure as I am about anything. That’s why I’ve dedicated my life to this cause.”

  Isaac shifted uncomfortably. “You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I tell you I’m not ready to share your dedication until I’ve heard it from a different source.”

  “Of course. You’re free to do as you wish, just like any other Outworlder.”

  “Still, we may take you up on some of those convoy runs. We owe you our lives, after all.”

  “Don’t mention it. The system coordinates I gave you are for a rogue planet that we use as an embarkation point. There’s an outpost there that can register you on our network and let you know of any convoys that we’re putting together.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you,” said Argo. “Any help at all is greatly appreciated.”

  Isaac took a sip of his coffee, relieved that they’d gotten that business out of the way. He had to admit, Argo didn’t seem like a bad guy. Passionate, certainly, and devoted to his cause, but not so overzealous as to be blinded to the concerns of others.

  Can I trust this guy? Isaac wondered. There was only one way to find out.

  “There’s something else,” he said, setting down his drink.

  “Oh?”

  “A couple of months ago, we came across a derelict station in the Far Outworlds. Our charts registered it as an isolated colony, but everyone on board was dead. We found a makeshift cyrotank, with what appears to be the station’s only survivor. Do you know where we can find a way to thaw her?”

  Argo frowned
and scratched his chin. “Nothing comes immediately to mind. I know what you’re talking about, though. Plenty of the settlements in this star cluster were colonized in mass migrations, so they’d likely have that kind of equipment. The trouble is that most of that old infrastructure has been dismantled, so I don’t—wait, no. There’s one system that definitely has it, and it’s not too far from here.”

  Isaac’s heart leaped. “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s the Colkhia system, Nova Colcha on some of the older charts. I was there about four months ago. The local defense forces had done an inventory of their equipment, and I remember one of those devices on the list.”

  “That’s great,” said Isaac. “Do you think they’d let us use it?”

  “Sure, just tell them I sent you. There is one problem, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  Argo took a deep breath, his gaze distant. “Colkhia is the last frontier system that the Imperials haven’t occupied yet. It’s a little ways off the main trade corridor, but still very much in their sights. You might have a run-in with the Imperials if you go there.”

  “We’re just star wanderers, though. Is there any reason they’d stop us?”

  “Probably not. But it could be dangerous. Colkhia isn’t going to roll over the way Alpha Oriana did.”

  Isaac frowned. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in the middle of a revolt. Still, the war hadn’t broken out yet, and this was the best chance they were going to have. He thought of the girl and how she was the sole survivor of her people. She deserved to be thawed sooner rather than later.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I guess we’ll just have to get there before the Imperials do.”

  Argo grinned. “I like your way of thinking.”

  Just don’t tell my brother.

  Contraband of War

  “Drive primed and coordinates set,” said Aaron as Isaac settled down in his chair. “Ready to jump when you are.”

  “Very well,” said Isaac. He double-checked the calculations and flipped the switch. Colkhia stood out as an orange-yellow star in the deep space starfield. The bluish wisps of the Good Hope Nebula were barely visible off to the side, the New Pleiades at their back. Through the bulkheads, the hum of the drives slowly grew.

  The final jump to the Colkhia system was only a tiny fraction of a light-year, but it was still enough to turn Isaac’s stomach. As the humming grew in pitch, he closed his eyes and clutched his armrests tightly until the sound died and the nausea passed.

  “Triangulating position,” said Aaron. “Sun, planet, and primary moon—we’re also getting readings from several local nav-buoys. Calculating orbital trajectory.”

  “Can you open a channel with the station?”

  “Hang on. It looks like we’re having trouble picking up a signal.”

  Isaac frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not on the—wait, what’s this? Incoming transmission, main channel.”

  Isaac gripped the flight stick as the metadata for the transmission scrolled across his primary screen. The sound of static met his ears, along with a man’s voice.

  “Attention unidentified starship, this is GIS Starfire. State your name and port of origin.”

  Stars of Earth—it’s the Imperials.

  Aaron turned to Isaac, a look of panic and confusion on his face. The voice had spoken in Gaian, and he couldn’t understand it. Isaac took a deep breath.

  “Uh, GIS Starfire, this is Isaac Deltana of the Medea. We are an Outworld starship, without any home port or base. We’ve come to Colkhia to—”

  “Medea, state your last three ports and declare your cargo. Assume a stable orbit as close to your current trajectory as possible and prepare to receive a boarding party.”

  What’s going on? Isaac wondered, his heart pounding. The sector scan came up on the main screen, with the rocky, airless planet about ten thousand kilometers below them and half a dozen points in various orbits. At a low planetary orbit, one of the points had a trajectory line that wrapped around in a large circle; its identifiers showed that it was the main station. But between the station and the Medea was another point, its shorter trajectory line indicating a shifting course. The point turned into a small swarm of maybe ten points, several of them accelerating toward the Medea.

  “Medea, this is GIS Starfire. Do you copy? Declare your last three ports and cargo, or we will assume hostile intent.”

  “GIS Starfire, this is Isaac again. We have no hostile intentions. We’re just two star wanderers, here to make some trades. Our cargo consists of synthetic fibers and finished leather goods. If you want, we can transmit a detailed manifest.” He turned to his brother and switched to Deltan. “Send them a copy of our cargo manifest.”

  “Very well, Medea. Transmit your manifest and declare your last three ports.”

  SHOULD I DELETE THE INFORMATION ABOUT THE CRYOTANK FROM THE CARGO? Aaron typed in a text window on the main screen. Knowing him, it was more a declaration than a question. At least he had the sense not to say it aloud.

  “One second, Starfire,” said Isaac. His hands raced across the keyboard at his station.

  YES, BUT LET ME DO THE TALKING. WE CAN STILL TALK OUR WAY OUT OF THIS.

  Aaron looked like he wanted to say something, but with the transmission still live, now was not the time to discuss the particulars. Obviously, the Imperials had taken over they system, exactly as Argo had feared.

  “Our last three ports were Vulcana, Esperanzia, and, uh, Nova Minitak. Our trade ledgers confirm this. Would you like us to transmit those as well?”

  “Negative, Medea. Prepare to receive a boarding party to confirm. Over and out.”

  As the transmission cut, Aaron let out an exasperated breath and turned to face him. “What are we going to do? The Imperials are swarming all over the place! Have they taken over the system? If they have—”

  “Calm down, Aaron. It’s okay. They asked for our names, our cargo manifest, and our three most recent ports of call. Right now, they’re sending over a boarding party to check us out.”

  “But what are we going to do if they find the girl? If they learn that we met with Argo?”

  “Good point,” said Isaac, staring out the window at the nearly starless view. “Upload Argo’s identifiers to my wrist console and wipe it from all the ship’s data cores. As for the girl…”

  “Yeah?”

  He sighed. “There’s not much we can do but hope they don’t find her. She’s stowed securely in the back, right?”

  “As secure as I could make her.”

  “Good. With luck, they won’t even open our cargo hold—or if they do, they’ll only give it a cursory search. And even if they do find her, they don’t have any reason to interfere.”

  From the look on Aaron’s face, it was clear that he didn’t believe it for a second. Isaac found it a bit incredible, too, but he had to hold out some hope that they’d get out of this. With the vectors set for a high altitude capture orbit, he eased forward on the flight stick and began to bring the Medea around.

  “We should start recharging the jump drive,” said Aaron.

  “Is there even any point? That boarding party is coming in fast.”

  “At the rate they’re going, we have thirty minutes, maybe forty-five. Enough for a short jump.”

  “But that’ll barely get us more than a light-hour from our current position. The moment the Imperials locate us, they’ll come after us with everything they’ve got.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here, Isaac,” said Aaron, his voice nearly cracking with desperation. “If they take us into custody—”

  “They aren’t going to do anything to us,” Isaac said as firmly as he could manage. “But if it makes you feel better, start charging the jump drive anyway.”

  That seemed to appease him somewhat, though his cheeks were still pale. Isaac didn’t blame him for being worried, but that would have to change soon if they wanted to look as unsuspicious as possible. He s
miled and put a hand on his brother’s arm.

  “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because if Mathusael and Argo are right, we’re walking right into the jaws of a lion.”

  I know, Isaac thought silently, and it’s my fault. He realized now that he should have listened to Argo’s warning about coming to this place. If the Imperials really had taken over, in just a few months, this whole sector of space could be a war zone.

  “I’ll make sure we get out of this all right. I promise.”

  Out the forward window, the airless horizon of Colkhia IV came into view. A handful of tiny blue circles stood out amidst the dark gray rocks, the only signs of any life. They had the rigid symmetry of a corporate colony world—or strict adherence to the hierarchy of the Coreward Stars. Perhaps both. The sublight engines engaged, pushing them back in their seats as they gently accelerated into a capture orbit. On the main screen, the Imperial boarding party shifted to intercept them.

  * * * * *

  Stay calm, Isaac thought as he waited by the airlock to greet the boarding party. The groaning of metal on metal through the bulkheads announced that they’d docked. With Aaron in the cockpit, he would have to face the men alone—though perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

  The access panel blinked red, showing that airlock was occupied. A moment later, the door slid open, revealing a squad of six soldiers in light gray fatigues. They carried menacing assault rifles and wore black body armor, giving their chests a barrel-like appearance. Their faces were as hard and cold, as if they expected someone to shoot at them at any moment.

  “Welcome to the Medea,” said Isaac, doing his best to smile. “My name’s Isaac Del—”

  “That’s enough,” said the lead soldier. He stepped forward with his partner, a young woman, and moved Isaac aside while the others boarded. Once the others were in, they patted him down, taking his wrist console—Isaac was glad he’d thought to turn it off, since only someone with the pass-code could get at the data inside. At the same time, the others began to systematically check every door and compartment in the ship.