Dark Space: The Invisible War (21 page)

Alara’s gaze dropped to the star map projected from her nova’s MHD, and she tracked the two, small green icons which resembled mark II’s. They were already sling-shotting around Taylon for the return trip, meaning they hadn’t discovered anything amiss on scanners either. That begged another question—why not simply send out the interceptors as scouts? Why send the whole squadron? She crossed her arms over her chest and glared out at space. During the last 30 minutes, with nowhere to go, nothing to do, and nothing to look at besides the same pattern of stars and the same mottled red and purple planet, she’d grown thoroughly bored. This wasn’t a glamorous job. It was just one step above night watchman!

She heaved a deep sigh.

“Alara, if I may point out, it appears that you are distressed by something. As you already know, any and all physical states which may interfere with the mission are my job to address. Would you like a pick-me-up stim? I have a wide variety of anti-depressants to choose from.”

Alara’s eyes narrowed. “Are you offering to drug me, Ethan?”

“There are no long-term side effects, and I promise it’s not an addictive substance.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Just give me an estimate of how long before we’re back aboard the
Defiant
. My legs are cramping, and I need to use the bathroom.”

“Approximately one hour, but your fighter does come equipped for such an eventuality.”

“For what eventuality?”

“The need to relieve yourself.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a suction hose. If you would open your crotch, I’ll extend the hose.”

“Excuse me? Open my crotch?”

“Yes, your flight suit has a separate opening for you to relieve yourself on long flights. Don’t worry, it’s independently pressurized in the event that disaster should strike while you are doing so.”

“Never mind, Ethan. I’ll hold it.”

“Very well, though I should warn you that a full bladder has been known to increase pilot error by a significant—”

“Shut up, Ethan.”

Silence fell in the cockpit once more and Alara shook her head in annoyance. Talking with her AI instructor wasn’t much better than talking with no one at all. She wasn’t sure who had programmed the AI, but it was the most annoying bot she’d ever had to deal with.

Alara went back to watching the star map. Once she had remembered how to use the universal coordinate system and star map, she’d begun to play around with the different settings, finding that she could simply change the zoom level of the map to alter the granularity of the display, rather than always show the default, which was one whole division of space.

The nova’s AI had been impressed with Alara’s so-called
intuition
with the controls, but she knew it was more than simple intuition. Her surprising knowledge of star navigation and gravidar systems was clearly coming from somewhere—old memories which her slave chip had somehow been unable to completely suppress.

My slave chip.

Alara pursed her lips into a bloodless line. She was startled by how quickly she’d allowed herself to adapt to the fact that she was really Alara rather than Angel. But she couldn’t fight it anymore; too many things weren’t adding up. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to bring Alara back, however, because if she did, then what would happen to her? Would she cease to exist just as Alara had?

For now it was easier to ignore the question than it was to answer it.

Alara eyed the green nova icon immediately to the right of hers and then looked out her window to see her wingmate’s fighter glinting sharply at her in the mauve light of Taylon’s sun. She could make out every detail of the fighter clearly with her naked eyes, which was a deceptive visual reference, since a nova fighter was only 16 meters long, and the star map reported her wingmate was actually a kilometer away. At that range his ship should have been little more than a speck.

While she’d been idly waiting to reach Taylon, Ethan the instructor bot had explained this discontinuity. Space battles usually took place at relatively slow speeds and close distances due to the requirement that one had to first overcome momentum in order to change directions. Even so, fighters and interceptors were so small that one would barely be able to see them if it weren’t for the ships’ AIs making compensations for scale. As such, what one actually
saw
in space was more simulated than real—much the same way that sounds were simulated because nothing could be heard in a vacuum.

Visual auto-scaling
was currently set to the default factor of five times actual, so small contacts would be visible at range, but not overwhelmingly large. The effect would taper off exponentially as range to target dropped, so Alara would still be able to execute precision flying around large capital ships and stations without feeling like she was about to collide with them all the time.

Alara glanced up and out her forward viewport to visually locate the rest of her squadron. All around her she could see their glinting hulls and the blue ion trails of their thrusters.

“Ethan,” Alara began, a thought occurring to her as she returned to gazing at her wingmate’s fighter.

“Yes, Alara?”

“Can you temporarily increase the scale of a ship—just one in particular?”

“Of course.”

“Would you increase the scale of my wingman’s fighter to a factor of say . . . 100 times actual?”

Without bothering to reply, Ethan did as he was told, and Alara flinched as a massive nova suddenly appeared flying beside her. It appeared so close that she could even read the stern expression on Captain Reese’s face as he worked his nova’s controls.

“Interesting . . .” Alara smiled. She could spy on her squad mates like this without them ever even knowing.

“May I ask what purpose this magnification serves?”

“Sign language,” Alara said, trying to come up with something plausible.

“That would only work if your wingman did it, too.”

“Well, tell him to enlarge me.”

“Comms are restricted.”

“Let me see if I can get his attention, then.”

“But Alara, at this distance he’ll never see you—”

“Quiet.”

Alara was gratified to hear Ethan shut up again. At least the bot did as he was told. Alara studied her wingman a moment longer, taking time to appreciate his youthful features. He appeared to be concentrating intensely. As she watched, his lips began to move, and she frowned, trying to figure out what he was saying.

“Ethan, can you read lips?”

“Of course.”

“Can you read what my wingman is saying?”

“That would be a breach of fleet regulations. ISSF reg. #743 officers are entitled to their privacy whenever said privacy does not conflict with—”

“If you can’t do it, Ethan, you could just say so. You don’t have to lie about your capabilities.”

“Lying is against my programming, Alara.”

“So you
say
. I’m going to have to get the service techs to get a look inside your brain. I have a bad feeling you might be in need a memory wipe. It pains me to say that, Ethan, but it is what it is.” Alara had to work hard to keep her tone and expression serious, but it paid off. Without another word from the AI, a glowing green transcript appeared on her comm display.

We are green to execute, Commander. . . . Are you sure about this? . . . The overlord isn’t going to like it. . . .

When the transcript didn’t continue scrolling, Alara scowled. “Hoi! Where’s the rest of it?”

“I trust that’s sufficient proof for you that my statements have been accurate.”

“Ethan . . . bring the transcript back right now!”

“What transcript?”

Alara growled deep in her throat. “Ethan!”

“Yes?”

“You know what transcript! Bring it back now!”

“But you told me to shut up. Perhaps your capricious and contradictory wishes stem from some type of emotional instability. I think I’ll have to recommend you for a psychiatric evaluation when we get back to the
Defiant—
in case you need reconditioning. It pains me to say it, but it is what it is.”

Alara blinked incredulously at her displays.
Great! A touchy AI! And he’s tracking when
I
have PMS . . .
She sighed and tried another tack. “I suppose I deserved that, Ethan. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Do you have any idea what Captain Reese and Commander Adari were talking about? I thought we were in a comms silence.”

“Clearly that does not apply to everyone in the squadron. Or perhaps it just ended.”

Alara frowned again. “Perhaps . . .”

Suddenly her comm crackled to life. “Contact, contact! Bearing T-13-60-57!” The speaker was Guardian Twelve. Alara had no idea who that was.
What kind of contact?
she wanted to ask.

“Twelve, this is Lead—my scopes are clear. Please confirm contact.”

“I . . . hold on . . . it’s gone now. Must have been a glitch in the grav.”

“Roger that. Eyes and ears people. We’re just about—”

“Hoi! Bogey’s back! Same coordinates!”

“Lead, this is Five. I can confirm contact. The planet must be interfering with your scanners.”

Alara saw it now, too—a neutral yellow contact approaching their formation at high speed, coming at them directly from the planet. Alara felt her pulse quicken. Out here in Sythian Space an unidentified contact could only mean one thing—

A Sythian.

“All right, listen up, greenies! Disengage your autopilots, power up weapons, and increase power to forward shields. Target profile suggests cruiser analog, so switch to silverstreaks and try for a lock! Your AIs will help you with the fire control systems.”

The blip turned red on the star map, and an enemy contact siren screamed through Alara’s cockpit. Red brackets appeared around the target on the HUD, giving a distance to target of 846 km.

“We’ll try to get back to you as soon as we can, but for now, Captain Reese is in charge. Follow his orders exactly and hopefully we’ll all get out of this alive.”

Just as Alara was about to trigger her comms to reply, she heard—“
Defiant
, this is Guardian Leader, we have an unknown enemy contact, bearing T-13-60-57. Bogey is cruiser analog. We are moving to engage.”

The comms crackled a second later with another, more distorted message. “Roger that, Guardian Leader. Extreme caution is advised.
Defiant
is retreating to the cover of the nebula now.”

This can’t be real,
Alara thought, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Guardians,” Captain Reese began, “we need to reset forward momentum and get closer in order to engage. Power up your SLS drives for a precision jump. Sending coordinates now. We’re going to meet them head on. Click your comms to confirm jump coordinates received and set. Time until coordinated jump is six minutes, starting . . . now!”

A handful of clicks came across the comm as the pilots figured out how to
click
them. Alara forgot to
click
hers as she said, “Ethan, start spooling for a jump to the specified coordinates.”

“The drives are already spinning up. They’re at 5%. Check the blue icon below your shield gauge.”