The Splinter Alliance (Beyond the Impossible Book 2), page 3
“How long?”
“Forty minutes, ten seconds. Collectorate Standard Time.”
“If you don’t mind,” Po Wynn told Kara, “I’m not gonna let go.”
“Twenty seconds to aperture,” Cando and Yusef announced.
Cando turned to Ham. “Good to go, Admiral?”
“I must confess, I’m pleased I came out of retirement for this,” Ham said. “Yes. All crew, prepare for Worm slip.”
The pilots confirmed. “Preparing to slip. Ten seconds.”
External cams documented the moment as the wormhole aperture opened around Scramjet Ram and invited it into the larger universe. The ship lunged as if thrown forward by a greater power then tossed backward by an opposing force.
“Two, one, slip …”
It happened the way they said. She not only felt her lungs, heart, liver, stomach, and intestines flip and scramble among themselves, but Kara was sure she heard this impossibility. As quickly, her body recombined and settled.
And then? Quiet. Comfort. Stillness.
The Worm engulfed the ship like an epidermis. The stars vanished. Assuming the ship was moving at all, it flew as if on a bed of clouds.
Cando gave her a double thumbs-up and pointed to the overlay, which showed a pulsating object inside the red snake pushing across the galaxy. A timer counted down to arrival.
Kara turned to Po, who grimaced.
“OK?” She said, pointing to his vomit bag.
He smiled through a series of deep breaths.
“How am I still here? My whole body just … you know?”
“I know. Hang in there.”
She noticed some of the holowindows disappeared.
“How is the other ship?” She asked Cando.
“There’s going to be a delay. We move too fast through the worm to maintain vid contact. We’ll see their ping in fifteen. Once we establish the link, we’ll be able to track each other’s slip.”
Though humans had been spacefarers for two thousand years, built city-ships miles long, and colonized more than three dozen planets, Kara struggled to wrap her head around how they devised the secret to mobile wormhole travel. In her universe, only the Aeternans were known to possess the technology, and some rumors said they had outside help in developing it. But the idea of it being commonplace for the Talons – routine ventures outside the realm of the visible universe – seemed an engineering and mathematical feat beyond human ability. It felt more magic than science.
“This sensation is like being inside a dream,” she told Ham.
“Movement without movement,” he said. “Speed without speed. The unreality of a dream. Yes.”
“I should have been prepared for this. The Aeternans were doing it years ago. They never would have brought down the Chancellory without it. But still …”
“The Chancellory experimented with this science for two hundred years. Never created one stable path. Of course, we had the Fulcrum, so there was no great sense of urgency. I’m curious, Cando. If the Worm is standard technology in your Collectorate, is there some mechanism to regulate its use? I would think mass distribution would result in chaos.”
Cando finished his ping response to Scramjet Horn and nodded.
“It did when it first hit the open market. Long before my time, but I’ve heard the stories. They reaffirm what any smart man knows: Humans are, by and large, assholes.” He smirked. “No, the Worm is expensive, requires a license to operate, and every slip is regulated. A transponder records each trip. When a ship exits the aperture, it sends an automated beacon to the nearest TL station. Huh. TrimLine Corporation. Where the anal retentive go to die. Three things are inevitable in my universe: Death, war, and TrimLine. Despite all the other madness, the slip system goes on.”
“I see. And what happens to those who try to evade the system? Remove the transponders, for instance.”
Cando grunted. “Can’t be done. Transponders are built into the drivers. No transponder? No drivers, no magnetic field. Nobody’s insane enough to build drivers without them. Illegal slips are met with death. No arrest, no trial. Just incineration.”
“That’s one way to keep the mob in line. But these transponders intrigue me. You say they search for a TL station to send a recorded log of each trip. When we arrive at Artemis, I assume they’ll search for a station. What happens when they can’t find one?”
Cando leaned back and shaded his eyes.
“Never gave it a thought, Admiral. Can’t imagine anything would come of it. Had no problems when we crossed the divide.”
“Given the confusion at Mangum Island, I doubt you were monitoring the transponder signal.”
“Never do. It’s like turning in paperwork automatically.”
“So, can you determine if it sent a slip log at Mangum, despite the lack of a TL station?”
Cando slapped his leg. “Score one for the Admiral. Here we go.”
He thumbed through several subdirectories. Screen after screen. Names, places, standard dates. Kara was intrigued.
“Are those all your slips, Cando?”
“Less than a third. The others were the, um, previous owners. Ram is an old ship.”
Ham smiled. “Bought or stole?”
Cando glanced over his shoulder at the other Talons, who gathered around. He shrugged.
“They wouldn’t sell, so we killed them and reprogrammed the license. One of the Colonel’s best laid plans, and he’s had quite the run. But the names are ours.”
“Interesting choices.”
“They derived from a silly debate. Someone asked, ‘If you mutated, would you rather have horns or rams?’ I recall that discussion becoming animated deep into the night. We entertain ourselves in the strangest manners between battles.” His voice faded for a moment before a sudden revival. “Ah. Here we are. Mangum Island. Now, that’s a code no one could ever translate. This bit right here, where we crossed the divide? Never seen algorithmics like it.”
“Did it transmit?”
“Sure enough. Fifteen seconds post aperture. There’s no destination lock. No way to tell where it went. I don’t see the concern, Admiral.”
“I doubt there is one, Cando, but it’s my job to consider every eventuality. The signal contains a package of algorithms unique to Worm travel. If it were to be intercepted by anyone with an understanding of its implications, we may be vulnerable.”
Ham pointed to the GPNM. “Aeterna is seven light-years from Y-14. Remarkably close relative to most colonies. To our knowledge, they are the only ones who possess this technology. If they should intercept the package …”
“The odds are all but zero,” Cando said.
“Agreed. But they would recognize the competition. The Aeternans have been extremely guarded about their tech, not to mention their star system. They won’t let this one slip by.”
“Perhaps, but they’d have to know it’s out there.”
“And they can. The Collectorate’s comm network outlasted the empire because it had to, much like TrimLine, I suppose. There are ten thousand relays scattered throughout the expanse. If the transponder beacons are searching for a destination, they might latch onto a relay. The odds remain against it, I agree, but I want you to record the beacon’s course parameters when we exit Worm.”
“This I can do. I’ll notify Yusef of your orders. I am amazed to say it, Admiral, but I’m pleased to have a Chancellor in that chair. I doubt any of us would have had this insight.”
Kara saw the hint of a smug grin. She suspected Ham needed a moment like this to justify his title. Though no Talons showed outward disdain for him, Kara feared the dynamic might turn on one negative word from Ryllen.
After Cando recorded his message to Yusef, and Ram’s passengers settled in, she let go of Po Wynn’s hand. He thanked her and said his stomach was calm.
“Tell me, Ham,” she said, “if the Aeternans intercept the signal and track it back to us, how do you think they’ll respond?”
“Three possibilities. Ignore. Investigate. Attack.”
“Which is most likely?”
“I’ve no idea, which is precisely my concern. The Aeternans have diplomatic relations with half the colonies but no embassies. Trade agreements with far less. My contacts – when they were of quality – said negotiations always take place on Aeterna. The Aeternans arrive by Slope, ferry the diplomats away, and provide limited tours of their home world before sitting down to talk. This routine continues for months until both sides are comfortable with the arrangement. It’s why they’ve established trade deals with so few colonies.
“Hokkaido tried five years ago, but all we got out of the deal were a limited run of these bi-comms.” He held up his left wrist, where the round device was melded. “Our attaché to Aeterna has an office the size of a walk-in closet in the heart of New Seoul. There’s never been a push for greater dialogue. I suspect the Hokkis in the Inventor’s alliance made certain to squash it.”
“Why? Wouldn’t the Aeternans make for a powerful ally?”
“Too powerful, Kara. They frighten the ambitious. In all these years, the Aeternans have played a very cautious game. Never revealed their hand. Possibly because there are so few of them, but …”
“What, Ham?”
“No ship has entered their system in eight years. The last one to try was destroyed, and ten thousand soldiers of the Guard with it.”
“But you and Ryllen want us to go there if Artemis Station doesn’t lead us to the Inventor.”
Cando chuckled. “Not to worry, Kara. Sounds like a bit of fun.”
That fun was all Kara thought about for the next thirty minutes as Ram advanced toward the end of its long journey. So much to consider about their proposed second stop, when they had no idea what awaited them at the first.
New orders from Horn eliminated her internal debate about Aeterna. Cando opened a ping five minutes from the aperture window and read the embedded message:
“Orders from the Colonel: All Talons enter Status Green. IF berths to UniCon. Prepare active engagement. Exit with gunports … open?” Cando paused. “OK. That’s unexpected.” He turned to the other Talons. “You heard the man. Time to prepare.” To the Hokkis: “To your still-seats, please. We’ll need to lock down before aperture.”
“What’s happening?” Ham asked.
“Appears the Colonel expects company to greet us. Or at the very least, he’s guarding against the possibility. I suspect he’s listening to Exeter, but I doubt there’s any cause for concern.”
The Talons tapped their neckplates, and their black helmets sprouted over and around their heads in a blink. They retrieved their turbo pulse rifles from holds along the bulkhead then took positions by both the starboard and port egress. A red glow wrapped around their boot soles like a band.
As Kara made for the still-seats, she felt a hand. Po Wynn’s cheeks turned cherry.
“I don’t think I should have come,” he said.
She knew the feeling.
“Not to worry!” Cando shouted. “It’s going to be a bit of fun. Trust me. Just stay to your still-seat. This ship can maneuver with the best, but sometimes the anti-grav tweaks a tad.”
Kara looked back. Cando was the only one at the nav matrix, now encased in his helmet and surrounded by a forest of holowindows.
She held firm in her still-seat, magnetized at ninety degrees vertical. A window opened before each of them. It captured night devoid of stars.
“It’s nothing now,” Cando shouted. “Wait until we exit. You’ll see what I see. If you’d rather not, swipe it away.”
Po, in the seat beside Kara, did just that.
Kara almost followed suit, but if she looked away now? Allowed imagination to dictate her emotions?
“Face it head on,” she whispered. “Too late to change course.”
Two minutes later, when the wormhole aperture opened, and she saw what lay directly of the Scramjet, Kara turned her eyes.
Cando’s elongated curses echoed through the cabin.
4
K ARA KNEW WHAT THESE HUNKS of floating metal were without being told. As a girl, she rewatched the newsvid of Ark Carriers destroyed by singularity weapons. This wreckage was far worse. The Scramjet re-entered visual space amid a massive cluster of remains ranging from entire bulkheads and engine arrays to millions of fragments no larger than a human hand but as deadly in the right combination.
The ship buckled and swerved. The laws of physics competed against the magnetic force of the still-seats. If physics won, she and the other Hokkis would soon unclamp and hurl helplessly across the cabin. Even as she struggled to maintain a hold within the binding cylinder, Kara noticed the Talons, who seemed unbothered. They were tethered to the deck with those lighted boots and held their ground at a sixty-degree bank.
No one spoke, save for Cando, who moved between shouts and grotesque laughter while charting a path through the deadly cluster. The evasive maneuvers continued for what seemed like minutes, but Kara knew were seconds. She even hit upon a brief flicker of hope, as a clearing appeared to form, and a planet lay beyond.
Yet as Ram swerved to avoid a sizable fragment, a much larger piece suddenly blocked the escape route. A name emblazoned across the singed bulkhead:
Herodotus.
“This is going to hurt!” Cando yelled.
The ship vibrated as it unleashed a solid green blast which cut through the middle of Herodotus and split the bulkhead into three distinct pieces. Cando charged through the emerging hole.
It didn’t widen fast enough.
The Scramjet jerked and trembled as it slammed into the outer edge of the smallest piece. A low but distinct moan reverberated across its superstructure from bow to stern.
“Oh, cud!” Po cried. “It’s falling apart. It’s …”
“Going to be all right, Po,” Kara said. “Cando knows what he’s doing.” She closed her lips before adding, “I hope.”
As if they had a choice.
The moan turned into a whine and then a gentle whimper. The debris field disappeared behind them. The ship’s velocity slowed.
“Fun, yes?”
Cando’s attempt at relieving tension didn’t sit well with Kara.
“We’re through the field,” he added. “Long-range scan is clear. She’s scarred but still in one piece.”
A new window opened beneath the nav matrix. Yusef and Ryllen shared a screen.
“Sorry about that, my brother,” Yusef said. “On the brighter side, you can’t have worse luck, mathematically speaking.”
“Hold on, my brother. Did you know about this? Colonel?”
“Drop Green Status,” Ryllen said. “Move to Orange. Silence your IF berths.” At once, the Talons retracted their helmets and deactivated the clamps on their boots.
“I take responsibility,” Ryllen said. “My intel from X wasn’t as complete as it should have been.” He glared over his shoulder at someone off-screen, presumably Exeter Woolsey. “We didn’t consider the danger until the last few minutes. We couldn’t drop out of Worm prematurely, and I didn’t want to overstate the risk, so I put us on the best footing I could think of. Nice shot, Cando.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” Cando swung about to the passengers. “Feel free to disengage still-seats. If you pissed yourself, hang on. We have a procedure for that.” He returned to the windows.
Kara silenced her binding cylinder and stepped off. Po Wynn was a wreck, tears and tremors tearing the poor man down. She thought it best he remain strapped in tight for now.
Kara, Ham, and the Zaan twins returned to the center swivels and listened in as the ship-to-ship conversation continued.
“There was an incident here two years ago,” Ryllen said. “A disagreement between Chancellors and the Inventor. Artemis used its defense system to destroy a ship. The debris field is a permanent fixture. In the grand scheme, it’s small, but Exeter realized our aperture might open too close, depending on the field’s position. This was luck at its worst, but I take responsibility. Your thoughts, Admiral?”
Ham shrugged. “Consider it a lesson well learned. Anticipate every possible permutation, no matter how insignificant. We’re fortunate both ships didn’t enter the field. Having said that, we’ve crossed twenty systems in forty minutes. Both ships appear to be holding together. We have no casualties. And this, from the shots I’m seeing, is most definitely Planetoid Y-14. It’s as ugly and despairing as I remember.”
Kara was not the only one who jerked her head toward Ham.
“You’ve been here?” Ryllen said. “You never told me.”
“Twenty-seven years ago. A supply drop during my first tour of duty. I landed a ship, waited for it to be off-loaded, and never looked back. A year later, there was an explosion. The station was abandoned.”
Ham expanded the holowindow for all to gather a closer look.
Y-14 was a crater-pocked, egg-shaped mess. Vast mountain ranges snaked across the visible landscape, which at turns was tan and yellow. Red canals resembled an arterial network.
“There’s no atmosphere?” Kara said.
“Not for humans.” Ham crossed his arms. “The Chancellory built a number of off-book stations in the uninhabited systems. The more secretive the project, the more desolate the location.” He spoke to the entire crew: “We’ll soon be in range of Artemis. We’re to scan it with care and analyze the results before we make any decisions to land. We don’t know what’s down there, and I’d rather we not end our mission like Herodotus. Any disagreement?”
Cando voiced relief. “Good. Gives me time to run a ship diagnostic. There’s no chance we escaped the debris without damage. Here’s hoping it was superficial.”
Ryllen jumped in. “We’ll conduct the station scan on our end. X knows it better than anyone. In the meantime, I want all Talons to prepare for full combat landing. Test your systems. I doubt we’ll encounter resistance. It might even be dead, but we can’t sleep on it. Like the Admiral said, think about every permutation.”
“Yes, Colonel,” the soldiers said in unison. Horn’s holowindow dissolved.
“Define full combat landing,” Ham asked Cando.
“Effectively, it means we bring all our toys. We’ll enter behind active mirror, like we did at Kara’s wedding. But this time, we’ll also trigger the autobreath and hydrofeed valves. They’re short-term solutions. Allow us to fight in any terrain, even a vacuum.”
