Interstellar Starpilots Read online

  “But Don Mariano has worked miracles in Adheek?” Emily had seldom seen the ambassador, but on those rare occasions, he had managed to provide her with a sense of security she’d rarely had in her life.

  “This is why he’s staying there." Leandra’s eyes were shining slightly. “With Don Mariano, Earth will build good relations with its neighbors. Adheek, Nelom, Pelor, Iliken. We can trade with them and it’ll help us get more advanced technologies and the scientists we need, faster than trying our luck with the Core World Lottery.”

  “In that case, why are they sending an ambassador with us?” Emily was used to thinking in a simpler world. Succeed or not. Find the answer and deliver the solution.

  “First, because the ride with you is free, according to Federation rules. Wherever starpilot students go, an ambassador can go, once in five years. Second, because I’m expendable.” Leandra could have been bitter, but she didn’t sound it. She was just stating a simple fact. “Earth, and President Anaru, are spending this credit on me so I can provide Brian and you with any help I can. You’re my priority. He’s also hoping I can find a miracle, and if I cannot, explain who could and how. Beyond supporting you, my real mission is to evaluate who will make a difference as our next diplomat.”

  Suddenly, Emily’s mind shifted. “But, you’re surely worth much more than that."

  Leandra laughed a sweet gentle laugh at that. “Honey, probably not. You come from one of the richest families on our planet and you react so innocently. Your father protected you too well.” She smiled. Emily winced. Be careful, you idiot. “We’ll have to have quite a few talks on power and diplomacy. I’ll organize it.” The last statement wasn’t left up to discussion.

  “And Brian? Shouldn’t he participate?”

  “No, he isn’t suited for this work. His eyes are in the stars too often. You might give me interesting insights.”

  “We surely could help him.” Emily wasn’t sure why she wanted to help him. There was something in Brian that attracted her, but she knew she couldn’t let her guard down and enter into a relationship. Not ever.

  “No, honey.” This was the second time the diplomat had used that epithet and Emily knew it would stick. She had never been called “honey” that way before. “Where he’ll go, you’ll not be able to help him. You may support him, if you choose to, but you’ll have to find ways I cannot see yet. But. Enough serious talk. The groups will meet in an hour, and we need to see this. Hurry.”

  Leandra got up and pushed Emily into a jog to follow the procession up the shaft.

  A few minutes after they had left the hill, the operator from the elevator moved out of the shadows. His pictures were clear and his audio recording perfect. His master would be delighted. He checked for the last time all the data he had gathered and sent his signal. Then, he hurried to join the procession. He’d arrive late and would face the transport rat for this. Better facing him than his master, he thought, running down the path.

  Brian

  Volpre, 2140 AD, July

  Brian and < five spaceships. As they arrived, Brian’s ship was lowered by a crane onto a gigantic berth. Huge scars marred it from head to tail—the marks of asteroids during its long wait. Its rear, which held the singularity, was caged in a strange contraption Brian had never seen before. From a balcony set in the middle of the wall, a woman was directing the crane and amplifying her words through her bracelet and through a 3-D console at her side.

  “If any of you asteroid rats loses time on this, I’ll have you scrub the hangar clean until the end of the festivity.”

  A few smiled, but all increased their speed to secure the ship to the berth. There was a bustle of activity during the next ten minutes during which the woman continued to curse and rush the work. Brian got annoyed at the way she was handling his ship, but Master Heikert’s hand on his shoulder stopped him for doing or saying anything.

  At last, the woman turned toward them. She was very tall and portly, with a long nose, flowing hair tied in a ponytail, and small red eyes surrounded by wrinkles. She had taken great pains to darken them, increasing her resemblance to a rat.

  “Good day to you, rats from afar. Don’t worry about the scum rats below. They’ve done a decent job bringing the ship in. It’s just that bringing a singularity into a gravity field requires following specific procedures. Not an easy task.” She pointed to the contraption at the rear of the ship. “It’ll stabilize it while we keep your ship on board.”

  “We’re fully confident of your team’s abilities, Firstrat Bolgor. You inspire them and are a light to us all."

  “Thank you, Master Heikert. But enough bowing to tradition. How are you, you old rascal?” And then she hugged him fiercely.

  Master Heikert seemed a bit surprised by the sudden demonstration of affection but quickly found his composure again.

  “I’m well. As well as can be, anyway, considering." Firstrat Bolgor nodded at that and withdrew a step. Brian saw a shadow between them, but it disappeared in a blink. Past history? Why is your past so secret, Master? What did you do? “I came to see you with young Brian here and to inquire about the ship’s status.”

  “So, you are him?”

  “Who, Mistress . . . Firstrat?” Brian caught himself, wondering what title to use.

  “Being a rat from afar, you are allowed Mistress or Firstrat. No need to blush. The first knowledge of a rat is his ignorance. From ignorance comes caution. And caution will allow you to avoid the Shadow. This comes from the Book of the Founders. Our memories from the first rats who arrived at this station.”

  Brian found himself leaning forward to hear her words. The Shadow must have been the strange statue he’d seen at the back of the procession. But, as she seemed ready to embark on a long explaination, he interrupted her, his attention back on her first words. “You’d heard of me, Mistress?”

  She smiled. “In a hurry, aren’t you? Well, some of us were, at your age.” She winked at Master Heikert. “We heard about both Sonter and you and your last voyage of the Iambignow. Captain Derantor sent a report about what happened, and it was shared in the firstrat council. Your captain was impressed by both of you, and she seldom is. Good for you. If you fail in Alkath, we could find you a place around here.” At a sudden noise below, she looked at her crew and quickly gave them the final orders before releasing them for the procession. Brian was thoughtful. Firstrat Bolgor had casually offered him a way out. His sister had never planned for failure, his father never taught him to accept it. But here, everyone offered options as if it was entirely normal. Or were that many people thrown out of the central academy?

  She turned back to them. “It’s good this story is over. To answer your question, young rat: We very recently held the Origin decennial meeting at the station, and you’ve upset everyone a great deal. They don’t like you. Or, for that matter, Captain Derantor, but she’s far from their reach, flying her own ship.”

  “I don’t like them either for that. Their behavior on Fizhert is dubious at best."

  “Caution, young rat. Caution. They’ve many supporters, many of whom are hidden from view, and they are far stronger than you believe. Don’t speak that openly. The cult members have just left the station to fly back to their planets, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t left behind henchmen. Accident happens. Be careful." Her words, suddenly murmured, sent a shiver down Brian’s spine. “Now, lighter words and back to your ship. First, my congratulations on recovering it and the other ones. We always need more ships, and this is a fine scout you’ve found, even it doesn’t work for now.”

  “So, it’s repairable?”

  She paused, and Brian’s heart stopped.

  “Do you understand how we repair a ship? Or this whole station?” She took in the hall around her with a grand gesture.

  “No, Firstrat." He stole a glance at Master Heikert. He had set himself to the side and was watching them pensively.

  “The station releases, automatically, a constant stream of nanites into th
e air. Enhance your vision and you’ll see them.” He did so, activating his nanites for a brief instant. They were few, but he saw some robots flying around, dark specks in the air. “They’re powered by the energy from our sun and fed by raw materials from asteroids the station grabs around us. And, they repair any mechanical nonconformity they find while ignoring all organic life forms. Break a mug and leave it lying on the floor long enough, and one day, you will find it fresh as new.”

  Brian started. “This is how you crossed . . .”

  Mistress Bolgor finished for him. “The nontechnological ages. Yes, this is what we called the period when we lost science. Before the rats arrived and until we regained enough knowledge together. Yes. It is a grand sustainable design. Given enough time, this station will repair anything that was once in its database or that has been updated into it since.”

  Brian was bewildered by the sheer enormity of the statement. Humans had lived for millennia, generation upon generation, under the care of the station. Then, another thought flashed in his idea and he spoke slowly, weary of his words. “If damages had occurred very quickly, the station could not have repaired them." He looked at the mistress, who nodded. “And it would have collapsed. Is this why we haven’t found another station like this one?”

  Master Heikert nodded gravely. “We have found some smaller ones. But, we don’t talk about it a lot.” He glanced at the firstrat and she nodded sadly. “Some suffered from space battles, probably at the end of the time of the Ancients, and were scorched beyond repair. Others faced catastrophic events like a collision with an asteroid that overwhelmed their repair system. Empty shells.”

  A glimmer appeared in Brian’s eyes. He wanted to go out there and find those stations and maybe discover other human settlements, lost among the stars. Then, he saw Master Heikert looking at him and remembered their earlier conversation. “Didn’t they have robots like the ones we saw on Fizhert?”

  Mistress Bolgor took the lead again. “We have some maintaining the outer shell of the station. They’re the only ones left. We believe that our station is not intelligent enough to have maintained the others across the ages.”

  Brian shivered. “They were no AIs on the station?”

  “No—at least, we didn’t find any. They are legends, even before our arrival and the departure of the Shadow. But there are no AIs active today, as far as we know. If there are any, they're restricted to the forbidden levels."

  Brian looked quizzically at her. Master Heikert intervened with a slight edge in his voice. “If an AI was still active and wanted to hide, how would we find it? Our Marines are scorching Fizhert for that very reason. Remember?”

  Brian gulped.

  “Don’t worry, the station is safe,” reassured Mistress Bolgor. “Back to repairs! Besides the nanites, we also manufacture spare parts and reuse the few we find in derelicts. This accelerates the repair time.”

  “If I understand you,” summarized Brian, “nanites are a very passive and slow system for maintenance. They drift through the air and repair what they find when they find it until they are exhausted. Spare parts will go faster but are rare.”

  “Yes, you’ve got it. Exceedingly rare would be a better description.” She turned back and called up a large 3-D of his ship in front of them. “Let’s talk about your ship. It is a classic scout ship with a few unusual features. Each Ancient ship was different, adapted to specific uses.” She highlighted various parts. “Extended navigation console, defensive weapons, large hydroponic farms for prolonged flight. I think it could have been a survey scout ship.” Brian had never heard about those ships and his attention doubled. “They existed, but the Federation lost the last known ship of this type a hundred years ago. The Core Data Sphere was less developed at that time, and I don’t have full schematics of this older ship for comparison. But, I’m fairly sure of my guess.”

  “Firstrat, a survey scout is good news. What’s the bad news?” Master Heikert was growing impatient.

  “The ship took a hit from a power weapon. The singularity is fine and stable. But the rifter, the device that opens a rift in space using the singularity, is completely fused. Repairing it with nanites is going to take ages."

  Brian’s heart sank. He had an extraordinary ship that didn’t work. “Can you find spare parts and replace it?”

  Mistress Bolgor seemed a bit reluctant to answer at first, then sighed and faced Heikert directly. “It can be replaced. We have spares. But, it needs a priority order from Federation headquarters. We need access to restricted components.”

  Master Heikert turned to face Brian, his voice softening. “Brian, using nanites for repair is free of charge. Manufactured components need to be paid for in Federation credits, however. We replace Ancient ones with spares from the restricted list. Each one of those is tracked individually, and using one requires a specific authorization."

  “What do I need to do to get it?” If there was any hope, Brian wanted to know all about it.

  “There are diverse ways but mostly through special service to the Federation or by enlisting for a longer tour."

  The training by the Federation was not free. When he got his license, Brian would owe fifteen years of service to the Federation. “The standard duration seemed already an eternity to me.” He sighed. “And now, I might be required to serve even longer? How long?”

  “For those types of spares, maybe ten years, maybe even more. Once you’ve graduated and if the council agrees to it, of course.” Master Heikert’s dubious tone suggested that this estimate was on the lower end. “I’m sorry, Brian. I know how you feel about it, but you may never be able to use your ship."

  “And if I go back to Earth now?”

  “Then you’ll never get it back. Maybe in one or two generations. If you want the chance to fly it in your lifetime, you need to go to Alkath.”

  “He’s right, young rat,” added Mistress Bolgor. “You’ve got an interesting ship, you know. It would be sad to let it languish in a hangar.”

  Master Heikert took a long look at him before adding, “You’ve got a night to decide, Brian. Don’t hurry. Come with me. I’ll bring you to the party.” He took him by the shoulder in an uncharacteristicly fatherly move and pushed him toward the exit and the music outside.

  Heikert

  Volpre, 2140 AD, July

  Three hours later, Master Heikert quietly left the party. Amid the chaos of the boarding day, he walked furtively through the lower corridors of Volpre. He had left all his students and the party without notice. He didn’t like crowds, never had. Tonight, he was just a rat from afar like any other traveler. He hurried down one of the shafts. Far from the surface and the greenhouse, with heavier gravity and a shorter rotation of the sphere, these were the less enjoyable parts of the station. Nonetheless, he moved briskly toward the Lonely Drink. The bar was an old decrepit series of rooms whose original purpose had been lost ages ago. Its only distinctive feature was that, for some unknown reason, the rooms were outside the station computer’s network. No electronic signal moved in or out.

  The lights in the corridor were dim. The tired waitstaff carried jabsticks, long metal sticks which, when activated, would discharge enough of a jolt to send a man to the infirmary for a week or two. The bouncer came from Iliken, and he looked fierce and ready for a fight at any time. The light reflected on his coppery skin. Any conversation here could be truly private, one of the only places in the overconnected Federation where that was true, thanks to the quiet booths spread out around the main room, which allowed confidential discussions.

  Heikert moved slowly to the last booth on the left. A broad-shouldered man in shaman attire was waiting for him. His outfit was eye catching, with stupendous colors, so obvious the man could have been invisible inside it it.

  “You called?” Heikert hadn’t liked receiving orders, especially after such a long time since the last call.

  The man laughed. “A simple fellow like me, calling an honored master like you? No, I didn’
t call you.” His sarcastsic tone grated on Heikert’s nerves, but before he could rise and walk out, the man went on in a more serious manner: “Our Mistress did. She is concerned, and she needs answers. I only took the liberty of ordering drinks." He gestured to two glasses set on the table with a brown earthy liquid in them. Heikert didn’t look at them.

  “Why me? After what happened on my last run, she agreed not to call on me again.” She had been—was still—the mistress of all undercover agents in the Federation, and he didn’t know what scared him more: her, or something big enough to cause her to break her own word.

  “Because we don’t have anyone with your capacities in this sector. Things are stretched right now."

  The man had a casual tone, like these were the most normal reasons in the world.

  “Very easy explanation for you. Bad planning on her side doesn’t justify breaking her promise.”

  “Your wife Nellym wouldn’t have hesitated an instant.” The other man evaded Heikert’s eyes, looking distraught. He wasn’t used to resistance to orders.

  “And she died, alone, facing pirates. Our mistress had made a mistake and Nellym never came back.” Heikert was flushed with anger. “I won’t go.”

  The man looked worried now. “She had warned me you wouldn’t accept easily. My apologies for mentioning your wife. Everyone is watching the Origin right now and we’re stretched tight. I’d like you to review this data.” The man pulled out a minuscule console. Heikert knew those devices well, the most secure data transfer tools in the Federation, and this one brought sad memories of ancient times. Agent, why did I ever accept her offer? Honest with himself, the answer came back unbidden. Because I wanted to discover the stars with Nellym. And then she died. The hurt was still there, still raw after thirty years. “This is your vengeance.”