Ghost Star Page 7

  “No. No arguing. I’ve made up my mind.” Galen stared them down for a moment, then strode purposefully toward the door.

  Burr was not giving in. “We understand your sister’s life may be at risk if you don’t go to her right away. However, the lives of many thousands of your people are at risk if you do not make this detour.”

  Galen stopped, then turned back toward the group. “What are you talking about?”

  Burr gestured for Galen to sit, then fished a handheld out of his coat pocket and called up a sizable three-dimensional image of a planet Galen had not seen before. It spun slowly before them, various features such as volcanoes, dry riverbeds, and city ruins visible on its surface.

  Burr said, “Behold the remains of our beloved Tac, the Ruam homeworld.”

  Galen’s jaw dropped. “It looks dead.”

  “It is, thanks to the Nell,” said Iden. “The Imperium frowns on competition when they invade a new zone.”

  “As you can see, the final Nell assault caused heavy volcanic activity that enveloped nearly the entire planet,” said Burr. “It was a death blow to our people.”

  Galen shook his head, still stunned. “How?”

  Messel waved her hand, and a Nell fleet appeared in orbit around the planet, its ships dropping AI-guided missiles at an alarming rate. “Aerial bombardment. Most of our fleet had been destroyed by this point, leaving Tac virtually unprotected. Our people’s pleas to surrender were ignored. As you can see, the seismic shifts fractured the continental plates and sent magma rushing to the surface.”

  Galen clenched his fists. “Horrible—”

  Burr zoomed in on one of the larger ruins. “This mining facility, named Zidac, escaped destruction. They used a zaf to power their operation.”

  “Another zaf?” said Galen.

  “Yes. It was shut down after the great fall and forgotten—by most.”

  “You want me to go to Tac and get the zaf,” said Galen flatly.

  Burr glanced at the others. “Yes, my lord. Until your arrival, our gradual slip into Mael seemed a foregone conclusion. We knew of the other zaf but lacked the necessary vessel and pilot to fly out through the tube to retrieve it.”

  “Now that you’re here, there’s hope again. Hope that you have saved the last of our people from extinction,” said Iden.

  “You can’t build a new one?”

  Burr shook his head. “Unfortunately, we lack the device’s technical specifications.”

  “As smart as old Burr may be, he’s not build-a-zaf-from-scratch smart,” said Iden.

  Galen sat back in his chair. This was one of those decisions that was impossible and easy to make at the same time. Impossible because every fiber of Galen’s being told him he had to rescue Trem now! Easy because it was obvious what Galen had to do to save his people. Let my sister suffer in the company of a detestable Nell for a while longer or do a smuggling run that would save the population of an entire planet. Impossible and easy.

  He took a moment, but that was more for effect than anything. “All right, we’ll pick up the zaf and bring it back here. Afterward, I’m going for Trem.”

  Burr beamed. “Very good, my Lord Bray. We’ll make ready for departure.”

  Chapter Twelve

  A few hours later, with his crew of Burr, Iden, Messel, Hex, and four techbots on board, Galen sealed the cargo bay and went to the command pod. Everything about the ship had been painstakingly restored, upgraded, or cleaned. Objects not vital to the mission were placed in storage containers and taken off the ship. Galen made sure that any items of a personal nature, like Trem’s crystal collection and his Mom’s assortment of Terran pottery, were carefully packed and removed. Even his old quarters had been shoveled out—apparently by the tech who kept shooting Galen dirty looks.

  Burr’s Ruam techs had also gone to a lot of trouble to rearrange the old decoy plates to make the Ghost Star look like a different battered smuggling freighter than the one the Nell had captured. They’d also added their own twist by lining some of the key panels with a generous layering of Iden’s metalloceramic armor. The Nell Imperium is going to find it a lot more difficult to put a hurt on us the next time we meet, he thought. “Are you ready for this, Bartrice?”

  “All the mission coordinates have been entered into my navcom. All exterior doors have been closed and sealed. Tripdrive is on standby, as are main thrusters. Yes, Galen, I am ready.”

  “Good.”

  “How are you doing?”

  Galen’s heart skipped a beat, as AI Bartrice used the same vocal inflections that his mom, the real Bartrice, would have used if he’d fallen and scraped a knee or come down with a fever. It took him back six standards and then ripped him forward in the space of a blink.

  “Oh, I’m doing okay, I guess. I’m about as ready for a mission like this as I’ll ever be.”

  “Wonderful. I am proud of you Galen.”

  Galen fidgeted. “Okay, Bartrice, enough chatter. Initialize main thrusters, and prepare to depart on my command.”

  “Yes, Galen.”

  A high-pitched whine filled the air, and the ship shuddered when Bartrice fired the main thrusters.

  A few moments later, Burr entered the pod along with Messel and Iden.

  Messel glanced out the viewplate. “Hey, how about giving us a warning the next time you’re going to take off!”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted to be here for that,” said Galen.

  “We’re your crew, aren’t we?” said Messel.

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “Take your positions,” said Burr. “Lord Bray, with your permission, I will be acting as first mate.” Messel and Iden took their positions at the two flight control panels. Burr sat in the mate’s command chair.

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “It’s been quite a while since I was on the deck of a functioning spacecraft,” said Iden. “It feels good.”

  Messel ran her fingers over the control surfaces. “It does. Although I’m concerned I might be a bit rusty. All the controls look familiar, which I’m taking as a good sign.”

  “Hold on! All of you used to fly?” said Galen.

  All three crew members said, “Yes.”

  Burr said, “The Ruam were one of the great space-faring races of the galaxy. Everyone on Dob who wasn’t born there has experience onboard a space vessel—military or otherwise. It was a mandatory part of our schooling.”

  “Like learning to ride an inliner without the training spars!” said Messel. “My first ‘command’ was flying my father’s old delivery tug. I was younger than you, Lord Bray.”

  “Oh. Now I know. Great!” said Galen.

  “In your defense, I will say we forgot you are new to all of this,” said Burr. “This journey is going to be a long one, easily several weeks. I shall make every effort to educate you on your heritage and unique skill set.”

  “That would be nice,” said Galen. “Maybe then I won’t ask so many dumb questions.”

  Everyone chuckled some more, then stared quietly at Galen as if expecting him to say something. Even Bartrice’s holo was watching him now. “What?”

  Burr cleared his throat. “We await your command, Lord Bray.”

  “Oh. Right,” said Galen, trying to remember what his father used to say before lifting off. “Uh, let’s see. Burr, take us out of here, please.”

  “Very well, Captain. Bartrice, increase thrusters to half power.”

  “Thrusters are at half power.”

  “Navigation?”

  “Navigation, check,” said Iden.

  “Weapons and ship systems?”

  “Weapons and ship systems, check,” said Messel.

  “Very good. Bartrice, commit.”

  “Committing.”

  “If you don’t mind, Lord Bray,” said Burr as the Ghost Star lifted off the surface, “I should like to orbit Dob a few times to assess our situation.”

  “No problem. Bartrice, take us around Dob three times at s
canning speed.”

  “Yes, Galen.”

  Burr frowned. “Bartrice, you will address the captain with his proper title.”

  “Yes, of course. My apologies, Captain Bray.”

  Galen shifted uncomfortably in the command chair. “That’s okay.”

  Bartrice brightened. “We’ve achieved a stable orbit around Dob. You may begin your scans.”

  Messel tapped her station’s control surface. “Scanning.”

  Burr climbed out of his chair and stood behind Iden as he looked out the viewplate.

  Iden grimaced. “Look.”

  “It’s even worse than we thought,” said Messel, joining them.

  Galen glanced at the vidscreen, but he couldn’t tell if anything was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

  Burr pointed at a red area on the screen. “The planet is nearly through the buffer zone. That’s why the earthquakes are intensifying. It won’t take too many more zaf slips before Dob is fully at the edge of safe space. At that point it will only be a short time before it is . . . absorbed.”

  Galen set his jaw. “Bartrice, take us out of orbit and toward the tube entrance.”

  “Yes, Captain Bray.”

  “Are you confident you can enter slowtime again?” said Burr with the tiniest bit of nervousness in his voice.

  “Yes. I’ve been thinking about how it happened ever since we arrived on Dob. Slowtime kicked in when the Ghost Star was in danger of being destroyed. We were traveling at the extreme high end of ship’s speed. I had no AI support and was flying the craft on manual.”

  “Amazing!” said Messel.

  Galen blushed. “I wasn’t bragging, but thanks. All I have to do is recreate those conditions for the flight out, and I should enter slowtime again, right?”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Burr. “That should do it.”

  They sat in silence for several long moments, watching the darker-than-dark ghost star, which now filled all of the viewplates in the command pod.

  Bartrice broke the silence. “Approaching tube mouth.”

  “Thank you, Bartrice,” said Galen. “Burr, give me full thrusters and close your eyes.” Galen paused. “Wait. How do I escape Mael’s gravity once I exit the tube? I mean, I was pulled in before I began the descent.”

  Burr grinned. “Excellent question. I’m guessing you came in at an angle to the tube. Keep going straight upon exiting, and you’ll not feel the effects of the ghost star.”

  “In other words, the tube’s physics extend beyond the gravity well,” added Iden.

  “Don’t worry,” said Messel. “We’ll help you.”

  “Good.”

  “Engage thrusters at maximum power on my mark,” said Burr. “Engage!”

  “Thrusters engaged,” said Messel. “Eyes closed.”

  The Ghost Star shot forward at a little under light speed. Galen held the steerstick loosely and guided his ship into the tube’s mouth. Once inside, a wave of crippling terror swept over him before, all at once, the chime sounded and everything slowed dramatically. Galen easily steered Bartrice past the plasma peaks and valleys of the tube walls. A short while later, the Ghost Star shot out of the other end of the tube, and Galen dropped out of slowtime.

  “Well done, Lord Bray!” said Burr. “That trip was never one of my favorites, so I’m grateful I barely had time to be terrified.”

  Iden cleared his throat. “No sign of Imperium or other vessels within scanning range.”

  “No one in their right mind wants to get anywhere near a ghost star,” said Burr. “Especially one as large and powerful as Mael.”

  “Probably why my father used this sector to lay low after a smuggling run,” said Galen.

  “I suspect there was some sentimentality to the choice, too,” said Messel. “Being near Dob as it was.”

  “That brings up two questions that have been bothering me since I found all of you,” said Galen. “Why does Dob exist?”

  Burr shrugged. “I don’t know. We found it.”

  “Found it?”

  “Yes, along with the zaf technology that’s allowed it to exist. Some ten thousand standards ago, Clemis, a Ruam lord—”

  “And talented wind painter,” interrupted Messel.

  “Was accidentally sucked into the tube and, well, here we are.”

  Galen blinked. “Okay, that brings up about three hundred new questions, but let me ask my second one. How come my father never came down for a visit?”

  “As remote as this sector might be, Lord Nolo could not risk being seen going in and out of the tube,” said Burr. “Nor, other than a few brief times after the fall, could he risk contacting us by any means that might be intercepted by the Imperium.”

  “But they saw the Ghost Star go into the tube.”

  Iden stood and stretched, hitting his head again. “Ow. Technically, they saw your ship get sucked in by a ghost star, something no one ever survives. Were the Ghost Star to be seen doing that repeatedly, they’d think it was something worth looking into.”

  Galen had to agree. “Makes sense. All right, time to go.”

  Burr held up his hand. “One moment. Turn on the rear vidscreen and tell me if you notice anything unusual.”

  Iden stood and looked over Galen’s shoulder. “Ooh, I’d almost forgotten about this.”

  Galen swiped the vidscreen control and called up the rear cam. Mael’s malevolence filled much of the frame, but, other than that, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. “No, I don’t. What am I looking for?”

  Burr pointed at the screen. “Lower left corner.”

  Galen leaned forward and scanned the area where Burr was pointing. “I still don’t see . . . wait. Are you talking about that heart-shaped star cluster?”

  “Yes. It marks the entrance to the tube. Point the Ghost Star’s nose at it on our return, and you’ll fly right into the tube’s mouth.”

  Galen frowned. “Or I could just record the coordinates.”

  “Where’s the romance in that?” said Burr, winking at Messel. “Iden, enter the coordinates for Tac and go to tripspace as soon as we’re clear of Mael’s gravity well.

  “We go to save our people.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Galen stared sullenly at the vidscreen. Frozen there was an image of his father, mere moments before his death. “Why am I looking at this again?”

  Burr leaned back in the first mate’s chair. “To learn something. Bartrice, start playback.”

  “Starting playback.”

  The recording unfroze, and Galen grimaced when the Nell commodore stepped into frame and cut the ties binding his father to the chair. The ties fell away, and Nolo was out of frame in an instant. Galen watched as the same blurred images of scales and claws and foreclaws played in front of the cam, and if the sound was up he would have heard the same shrieks and bellows.

  “There! Did you see it?” said Burr.

  “See what?”

  “Bartrice, play back the recording at one-tenth speed starting from when the ties are cut.”

  Bartrice did so, and they watched Nolo jump out of his chair. Even in super slo-mo, the sequence was remarkably fast.

  “Freeze it,” Burr said when the blurred part came up.

  Bartrice stopped the recording right at the point where some monster from Galen’s nightmares filled the frame. Galen leaned forward in his chair, unable to take his eyes off the horrific face. “What is that thing? What happened to my father?”

  “That thing is your father. He’s demonstrating another of the unique abilities possessed by some members of the Ruam nobility, the ability to become the Shre,” said Burr. “In fact, all such abilities—slowtime, telepathy, and even our people’s longevity—are believed to come from this mysterious creature.”

  “Are you saying Ruam nobles have Shre blood in them?”

  “Perhaps. Many believe this to be true, although nothing has been proven. It’s been said the only real difference between Terran and Ruam, noble or other
wise, is a tiny amount of Shre genetic material.” He gestured at Bartrice’s holographic image. “This would explain why the two peoples can, shall we say, interbreed.”

  Galen sat quietly for a long moment. “If my father could do this, why didn’t he transform and kill them when they came on the ship?”

  “My logs indicate there were two Imperium cruisers in the immediate vicinity. Each had a weapons lock on this ship,” said Bartrice.

  “They would have blown the Ghost Star to pieces,” said Burr. “I’m guessing Nolo hoped to transform quietly, then kill off the boarding party. If he wasn’t so badly injured and there wasn’t a Nell lord onboard, his plan would’ve succeeded, in my opinion.”

  “Can I do this, too?”

  “We don’t know . . . yet. The Shre ability is mostly, but not always, passed down through the female line. Your father was a rare exception to the rule. Bartrice, do you have any Ruam blood in your family?”

  “Not that I know of. I didn’t even know who the Ruam were until I met Nolo Bray, and even then he didn’t tell me anything until several standards after we were married.”

  “Sometimes the traits are transferred to the offspring of a Ruam–Terran joining; sometimes they are not or only partially so,” said Burr.

  “But we know I can do slowtime,” said Galen. “Doesn’t that mean they all transferred?”

  “Not necessarily. Sometimes only one or two of these special abilities are inherited. You may not be able to do all that a full-blooded Ruam noble is capable of . . . or you may. Oh, one more thing. Are your dreams often filled with dread, foreboding, and the feeling someone or something is watching you?”

  Galen blinked. “Uh, not really.” At least not until now.

  **

  Dur made his way slowly toward Lord Mohk’s cabin. He had news that bordered between “interesting” and “how dare you annoy me with such trivial information.” The first might get him the reward of a few thousand creds. The second might get his head separated from his shoulders. He had a hunch Lord Mohk would want to hear this tidbit of info, as it concerned their Ruam captive. This is the fun part of working for a psychotic Nell, he thought as he reached the door to Mohk’s private quarters. I’ve lasted longer than any of his previous aides. Maybe my luck will hold. Taking a deep breath, he touched the com and waited.