Dark Beneath the Moon (18 page)

“So you weren’t close to anyone on board?”

“I . . . I did have some friends.” He nodded and swallowed. “They died in service of the Protectorate. They knew the risks. We all accept them.”

I thought briefly about meaningless platitudes, but said only, “What about Chen and Antixo?”

“Antixo was like me, a special assignment.” He glanced away. “Chen’s wife was on board the
Domtaw
.”

I sighed. Maybe that explained something. “If Chen comes around, I’ll tell him. It doesn’t have to be you.”

The Lieutenant sat a little straighter, hands clasped tightly before him on the table. “I was nominally in charge down there, Captain. Chen is my responsibility. I’ll tell him about the
Domtaw
.”

I didn’t say
if he makes it.
I knew we were both thinking it anyway.

I took another sip of my drink. “Okay, so that brings us back to you. We’re all shaken up by this, but obviously you and Chen are the hardest hit. If you need or want to talk to someone about it—”

“Thank you, Captain, but I’m fine.”

I levelled a stern stare at him, catching his eyes and not letting them go. “Theoretically, I could order Commander Blue to
order
you to talk to her about it. She outranks you.”

He stiffened, but he must have caught the hint of a smile I allowed through. He answered with a weak one of his own. “That won’t be necessary. If I do—or when I do—I’ll speak up. Thanks for your concern.”

I shrugged. “It’s not just about you. We’re in what you might call a tight spot here, so I need everyone on board doing the best they can.”

Gerazan nodded with a rueful smile. “I don’t think you have much need for a cryptographer at the moment, but I was an assistant engineer for a while. I might be able to contribute something.”

I stood up, taking my mug with me. At least our conversation had seemed to wake him up a little, which I hoped was a good thing. “Good to know. I’ll tell Viss that if he needs a hand in engineering, you’re the man. You sure you don’t want a drink to take with you to the bridge?”

He glanced at the machine. “Well, maybe something cold . . .”

“Help yourself,” I told him. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

I left him musing over his choices and returned up the corridor to the bridge.

“A bit of new of information, Captain,” Baden said as soon as I emerged. “The database shows two explored wormholes that emerged in systems with Type B stars, similar to this one.”

“Any chance this is one of them?”

“Doubtful, unfortunately. Judging by the configuration of planets logged for them, this one doesn’t seem to match up to either.”

“
Okej
,” I said, “what else?”

“We’re starting to get some analysis on the scan data Yuskeya recorded while the—attacks, I guess we have to call them—were happening.” Baden paused. “There’s a lot to go through. This is only the beginning.”

I settled myself in the big chair. “Okay, what do we have so far?”

“Some of it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

“Like the data on the second ship, for one thing,” Rei said. “The spidery one.”

Gerazan entered the bridge carrying a tall glass. He slipped into the co-pilot’s chair beside Rei.

I smiled. “That’s how I was thinking of it, too. The surface shimmered, as if it were treated with something reflective. Or maybe it was painted to project a certain look?”

“Neither.” Rei sat back and crossed her arms. “The chemical composition of the hull doesn’t match any metal or alloy we can identify. It’s something entirely different. Which means we can’t even speculate on its properties.” She sounded glum. I noticed that Gerazan was listening closely. She was gazing at the screen. He was gazing at her. Interesting.

“Any readings on the weapons?” Viss asked.

Rei shook her head. “Nothing classifiable. Something that read like ultra-high energy particles. Can’t be more specific.”

“All right, so do we know what effect that kind of weapon would have if it were fired into a wormhole?” Gerazan asked. “Surely at some point someone has experimented with something like that? I mean, in the early days of wormhole exploration, maybe, when they were still trying to figure out if the damn things were even safe?”

“Wormholes aren’t something you mess around with, Lieutenant,” Viss answered. “We’ve never known, and still don’t, what might happen to the connected systems if a wormhole collapsed or was damaged, and no-one is willing to take the risk to find out. This,” and he nodded toward the malevolently swirling wormhole, “is the closest we’ve ever come.”

“Cerevare, have you had a chance to compare our scans on the first ship—the one you identified as Chron—to your own data?” I asked. “Were you right?”

She gave me a grave nod over the top of her steaming mug. She had a sweet tooth, I’d learned, and preferred hot cocoa to drink. “They are a match, Captain.”

“Not that I doubted you,” I assured her with a smile, and lifted my own mug to her in salute. “Anything else new?”

“I checked the pilot registry database for the name Jahelia Sord, and it returned some interesting results,” Yuskeya said. “Sord was a Protectorate candidate, one of their top student pilots, extremely competent AI tech as well. She dropped out after her third year of training at the
akademio
. Went home because of her father’s ill health; he died, she never returned to training. But while she was in school, she was good. Has piloted a number of vessels since then, the latest being that little starrunner she’s stuck in now, the
Hunter’s Hope
. Which,” she added, “now that I’ve been able to cross-reference the drive signatures, is registered to a dummy corporation that’s linked to . . . can you guess?”

“PrimeCorp?”

She nodded. “Exactly. As for Sord, there’s nothing shady on her record, but that would be easy enough for an employer like PrimeCorp to remove. And this is interesting—her great-grandfather worked at PrimeCorp years ago.”

“If she’s that experienced, I’d rather have her stay on her own ship as long as possible, then. They teach more than piloting at the Protectorate campus.”

Yuskeya threw me a wink. “No, we come out quite—well-rounded, some of us.”

I contemplated my caff, then surveyed the faces turned to me. “
Okej
, so the main question, folks, is—what do we do next?”

No-one answered right away, so I went on. “I’ve thought about it, and I’m willing to stay put here for up to three days and see what happens, with the Delta Pav wormhole, or otherwise. I need to get a message to my mother, so getting back to Nearspace is an urgent necessity. During that time, Viss can see to the burst drive, and we’ll attempt to send a comm signal through the wormhole to see if we get a reply. We’ll keep taking whatever readings we can on the moon, and keep an eye on the
Stillwell
and the other wormhole. But if nothing happens by that time, we need another plan. We can’t stay here indefinitely.”

“Can we investigate this system for other wormholes?” Cerevare asked.

Yuskeya said, “We can do some long-range scanning, but we aren’t really equipped for wormhole hunting. We might get lucky, but the chances of us getting home that way—they’re slim. Even if we found a new wormhole, who knows where it would come out?”

Hirin said, “I agree with Luta. If nothing else comes up, I don’t see any other viable options besides going through the second wormhole.”

I drew a deep sigh and flashed a grateful smile at my husband. Going through that unknown wormhole would likely be highly dangerous—possibly even suicidal, but I couldn’t see any better options. I was glad to have his support for the plan.

“Provided,” Viss added, “that scans show the wormhole to be compatible with our Krasnikov generators. It could be a different type of wormhole. If it won’t work with Krasnikov matter, it might collapse in on us.”

Everyone was silent, thinking.

“Comments?” I asked finally.

“I don’t see any other options, either,” Maja said staunchly. “Like I said, we’re well set for provisions, but they won’t last forever.”

“Never expected I’d get to fly into Chron territory, I’ll admit,” Rei said, smiling grimly. “But I don’t see anywhere else to go. I don’t relish the idea of flying around this system indefinitely, running low on food and getting slowly fried by radiation.” She shrugged elegantly, her long
chestnut
hair rippling over her shoulders. “Honestly, I’d rather go busting into Chron space, even if it meant getting blown to bits.”

Gerazan stared at her. His earlier shellshocked expression had transformed into something like admiration. Maybe, I thought, I’d get
Rei
to talk to him about the
Domtaw.
If he wouldn’t open up to me, he might to her.

No one else seemed inclined to say anything, but I didn’t sense any rebellion, either.

“
Okej.
We stay here for three days, learn everything we can, and if nothing changes, take a leap into that wormhole if it’s compatible with our drives.” I stood and stretched. “Divide up the scanning and analysis tasks. I want someone—two someones—on the bridge the entire time. Gerazan,” I said, and he tore his eyes away from Rei to face me. “From what you observed since you’ve been here, is it generally safe for us to stay parked on the moon while we wait?”

He nodded. “The moon’s been extremely stable the entire time we’ve been observing it, Captain. It didn’t appear to do anything at all until today.”

“Good. Then that’s what we’ll do. We’re a little less noticeable down here than we would be hanging up there in orbit.”

I turned to my daughter. “Maja, work up a duty and watch schedule, would you? Gerazan has volunteered to help Viss out in engineering as needed, but I believe he and Cerevare should continue to study the inside of the moon as much as possible. The Protectorate will need any data we can get them, even more now.”

She nodded.

“What about our friend Jahelia Sord?” Baden asked.

I sighed. “Right. Send her a message, see how long she has provisions for—and whether she has access to her ship’s waste disposal systems. If we can leave her where she is, good. But I suppose I can’t do that if it’s too uncomfortable for her.”

Rei grinned. “Why, Captain, you
do
have a conscience,” she joked.

“Sadly, I do, and it gets me into no end of trouble.” I smiled. “I’ll be in my quarters if anyone wants me.”

THE NEXT TIME
I heard from the
Tane Ikai
, they didn’t even bother coming around and opening up a voice channel. Just sent a damned WaVE from over on the artificial moon.

Plan to wait three days to see if wormhole normalizes. Do you have provisions/facilities adequate for that time period?

I scowled at the screen and swore.

“What?” Pita asked, although she could have accessed the message herself. She really does work hard to seem like a fellow crew member.

I read her the message aloud.

“So, what’s the problem? Three days is great! That gives us more time to try and bypass the field. Or it might go away before then, and we can get out of here under our own power.”

“I know. They’re just so damned arrogant. I mean, they can’t even open a voice channel?”

“It’s a good thing,” Pita said in a soothing voice. “Sure, they’re jerks. But it gives us lots of time to take what we need and get it all packed up nice and inconspicuous.”

“I guess,” I growled. “I’ll bet Baden Methyr sent this message. All prim and proper now that he’s with his precious captain.”

“Let it go, Jahelia. You want me to send an answer?”

“No, I’ll do it.” I typed a brief line and sent it off to the other ship with a contemptuous flick.
No issues. Thanks for your concern.

Maybe they wouldn’t get the sarcasm, but at least
I
knew it was there. “
Okej
. Let’s get back to work.”

I’d completely disassembled my datapad, spreading the components on the deck since I didn’t have access to the little worktable in my sleeping quarters. It seemed ironic that being a techdog was a more useful survival skill than martial arts or weapons training, but so far that’s how it was turning out. Pita’s intricate and detailed knowledge of every circuit, chip, wire, and screw on the ship came in handy as I Frankensteined the pad. We made a good team. The pad already had some “modifications” from PrimeCorp, ones that were slightly outside the strictly legal. Sedmamin had asked me, quite seriously, if I had concerns about carrying illegal tech. I’d almost laughed in his face, considering that my body was full of tech that, while not technically illegal, I’d certainly gone to great lengths to keep secret. I simply smiled and told him that if it wasn’t obvious from the outside and was reasonably code-camouflaged on the inside, I was fine with it.