Sons of the Starfarers: Omnibus I-III Read online

  “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 keeping Aaron from trying to join as a soldier, but if the supply runs were voluntary, they could agree to join the network while still being free to pick and choose which convoys they joined—if indeed they joined any at all.

  “What else can you tell me about the coming conflict? Is there a chance it might not turn into all-out war?”

  “At this point, no one really knows,” said Argo. “Some people think the Imperials will be satisfied with just a few systems, or that the takeovers will be slow enough that we’ll have time to spread out and start new colonies as the old ones fall. But from the size of the battle fleets in the Tajji Rift, 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? There hasn’t been any fighting in the Oriana Cluster that I’ve heard of.”

  “That’s because the Orianans were divided and unprepared. Taking Alpha Oriana was a cakewalk, and the Imperials moved swiftly enough that no one was able to oppose them. That isn’t going to happen here.”

  Would it really be so bad if the Gaians took over? Isaac wondered silently. 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. “What? That’s insane—why would they do that?”

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

  Father, Isaac thought, his heart sinking. Mother, the rest of the family—what’s happening with them right now? If Argo was right, and the Gaiains were in the process of dismantling Alpha Oriana as a major Outworld hub, things had to be getting difficult for all of them. Just the anti-immigrant bigotry was hard enough. If the economy collapsed on top of that, he didn’t know how they’d survive.

  “If the Imperials get their way, what’s happening in the Oriana Cluster will happen here, as well,” 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 the goods that come through here will go with it. The Imperials only want 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, because I don’t ever want to see that happen. Not here—not at the stars I call home.”

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

  “Of course,” said Argo, leaning back with both his hands palm-down on the table. “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’ve been using as an embarcation 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. Isaac had half expected him to get red in the face when he’d said he needed to get more information from another source, but instead, it seemed like he was forthright and honest.

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

  “There’s something else,” he said, setting his drink canister back down. “Something I was wondering if you could help us with.”

  “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. We came here to find a way to thaw her. Do you know where we could find a mass cryothaw device, like the ones the first colonists used?”

  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 that sort of equipment, 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 border system that the Imperials haven’t taken yet. It’s a little ways off the main corridor, but still very much in their sights. I think I would have heard about it by now if the system had fallen, but news doesn’t always travel quickly between stars. You might have a run-in with the Imperials if you go there.”

  “Is there any reason they’d see us as a threat?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose not. But if the system’s already fallen, the people probably won’t be in a position to help you. You might even see some fighting.”

  Some fighting, Isaac thought to himself. That was the last thing he wanted. Still, the war hadn’t really broken out yet, and Argo’s lead was the best they had so far. He thought of the girl, so serene in spite of the fact that all of her people were dead. The longer she stayed frozen in cryo, the stranger and more alien things would seem to her when she came out. 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, Isaac thought as he took another sip. Through the skylight, the stars shone like the silent witnesses they always were.

  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. The orange-yellow star that was their destination stood out amidst the deep space starfield. The bluish wisps of the Good Hope Nebula were barely visible off in the corner, the New Pleiades at their back. Through the bulkheads, the hum of the drives slowly grew.

  The final jump to the Colkhia syste
m 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.”

  “Put it on audio, and give me a sector scan on the main screen. The main settlement shouldn’t be far. I want to get a visual of that and anything else unusual in the sector.”

  “Got it. Connecting now.”

  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 docking 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 with transponder flags attached to them. 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 lines 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 conduct some trades. Our cargo consists mostly of synthetic fibers and finished leather goods. If you want, we can transmit a detailed manifest.” He turned to his brother. “Send them a copy of our cargo manifest,” he told him in Deltan.

  “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, he replied. 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 of their situation. Obviously, the Imperials had taken over. That would explain why the station was silent. If there was any resistance, the Imperials were probably busy putting it down. The thought made Isaac shudder, but he couldn’t afford to think about that now.

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

  “Negative, Medea. Prepare to receive a docking party to confirm the information you’ve sent. 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 docking party to check us out.”

  “But what are we going to do if they find the henna 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 henna 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 and hidden 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. “Get out of here as quickly as possible.”

  “Do we even have time? That docking 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, at the risk of burning out our jump drives. 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 smiled 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, the conflict was advancing a lot faster than he’d thought. 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,” he said. “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 life, much less human settlement. 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 docking party shifted to intercept them.

  * * * * *

  Stay calm, Isaac thought as he waited by the airlock to greet the docking party. Through the bulkheads, the groaning of metal on metal announced that they’d docked. With Aaron in the cockpit, he would have to face the men alone—though with the nervous wreck his brother was right now, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

  The access panel blinked red, showing that the outer door had been opened. A moment later, the inner door hissed and slid slowly open, revealing a squad of six soldiers in light gray fatigues. They carried menacing assault rifles at the ready and wore thick body armor, giving their chests a barrel-like appearance. Their faces were as hard and
cold as space ice, 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 other soldiers started systematically checking every door and compartment in the ship.

  A balding middle-aged man in a crisp white uniform stepped on board, flanked by two more soldiers. He had a gaunt face and eyes that were sunk deep in their sockets, with a cybernetic headset attached to his right ear. He stood so tall that he had to duck as he stepped through the open doorway into the cabin. From the way he pursed his lips as he entered, it was clear he didn’t think highly of the place.

  “I take it you are the captain of this skiff,” he said, not quite facing Isaac head on. Something about the disapproving way he said it made Isaac swallow.

  “More or less, sir,” he said offering his hand. “The name is Isaac Deltana.”

  “So I’ve been told.” The officer’s hands remained firmly clasped behind his back. Rebuffed, Isaac pulled back his hand and hooked it nervously around his belt.

  “Hey!” said Aaron, pushing away the soldiers who escorted him from the cockpit. He clenched his fists as if ready to fight back. The Gaian officer raised an eyebrow.

  “Stay calm,” Isaac told him in Deltan. “Nothing’s happened yet. We’re still okay.”

  “Are you kidding? They’re ransacking our ship!”

  “Who is this man?” asked the officer. The soldiers escorted Aaron forcibly to the wall and pushed him up next to Isaac.

  “He’s my brother,” Isaac explained. “I left him in the cockpit to handle some, uh, navigational calculations.”