The Dying Light (2 page)

“I find that hard to believe. It has to be here somewhere—”

“None of the stars in this region produce a spectral match. Neither do any within a fifty light-year radius.” The Box paused before pronouncing its conclusion: “Palasian System is patently not where it is supposed to be.”

Roche found her sense of fatigue quickly fading. “That’s impossible. The disturbance must have knocked us more off course than you thought.”

“Not by so great a margin as to lose an entire star, Morgan.”

“Then the star charts must be wrong.”

“They aren’t. Apart from a few slight discrepancies, every other navigational marker in this region matches.”

“Well,
what
then?” She shook her head in annoyance. To come so close to her destination only to find that it had been snatched away from her was like something out of a bad dream—another one. “A system can’t just disappear without a trace!”

“I agree that it is improbable,” said the Box, its tone mollifying. “But the only conceivable alternative is that it has been destroyed.”

“How?” She automatically glanced at Cane. No one knew exactly what the genetically modified clone warriors made by the Sol Apotheosis Movement were capable of—possibly not even Cane, who was one of them. “Surely not even a Sol Wunderkind could do
that
.”

“It would seem unlikely that the entire system was destroyed,” agreed Cane. “But when you consider that the only alternative explanation is that it has been moved, you have to admit—”

“This is a rhetorical point,” the Box cut in. “We lack data, Morgan. What measurements I can make from this distance are hampered by the fact that light from the region is at least one week old. I have found no evidence to suggest any sort of event sufficiently calamitous to destroy a star without leaving any trace of stellar wreckage—but I may be missing something. We need to go closer to find out.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I thought you said the disturbance posed too great a risk to navigation.”

“Not necessarily. Long-distance jumps through this region of space are likely to be perturbed. I suggest instead that we approach the vicinity of where Palasian System used to be by increments, studying the anomaly as we go. Should the risk increase further still, we can come to a halt again and consider other courses of action.”

Roche nodded, agreeing in principle with what the Box was saying. If the risk was only to navigation and the ship was in little physical danger, then there was little reason not to continue. The lack of information, however, made it hard even to guess how much danger they were in: if something
had
destroyed Palasian System, then they might be heading right for it.

Nevertheless, there was no other choice. They had to keep going. It was either that or turn around—and the latter was hardly an attractive prospect. With the possible exception of the Box, none of them had a home to return to any longer.

“What does COE Intelligence have to say about this?” Roche asked. “Is there any mention in the data they’ve given us?”

“Very little, I’m afraid, Morgan. We have the report transmitted by the battalion of Armada Marines before it was destroyed, including a vague description of the damage done to the system at that time. It describes Palasian System as quarantined or sealed, but nothing else.”

“No updates since then?”

“Since the
Ana Vereine
disengaged from COE Intelligence HQ, reports have been intermittent at best.”

So much for their agreement with De Bruyn, she thought sourly. Still, if that was the worst the head of Strategy had planned, then she should be grateful. Unless—

Again she shook her head. Not even Page De Bruyn would destroy an entire solar system to obtain revenge—especially not when the fate of the Commonwealth of Empires might be at stake.

“I agree with your analysis of the situation, Box,” she said slowly. “We need to find Palasian System, but to do
that
we need information. We will, therefore, proceed with your plan: to approach the last known location of Palasian System more cautiously, by slow-jumping a little closer each time and taking stock as we go. That way we’ll have a chance of staying on course and avoiding anything waiting for us.”

There was almost an air of smugness to the Box’s tone as it replied: “Very well, Morgan. I will begin plotting a new course immediately.”

“Good. But don’t perform any maneuvers until Uri is conscious and watching what you do. We don’t know what effect rapid transfers might have on the ship. Defer to him if he thinks you should take it more cautiously.”

“Naturally.” The Box’s smug tone had faded, and Roche did her best to suppress a smile of satisfaction. Although the uniquely self-aware AI had been programmed by its creators on Trinity to obey her orders, that didn’t mean it had to enjoy the situation; any chance it found to assert its independence, the Box took it. She had learned the hard way not to give it generalized orders that were too easily evaded, or outright perverted, in order to meet its own hidden agenda—whatever
that
was. Where her own lack of experience made it difficult for her to be specific, she allocated an overseer to keep an eye on the Box’s activities, just to make sure.

If that bothered the Box, all the better. She had earned this subtle form of revenge, at least, after the way it had manipulated her in the past and probably intended to in the future.

“Okay,” she said. “You get started, Box. Cane, track down Maii and get her up here. We’ll need her to search for life signs when we get close enough. I’m going down to rehab to see what’s happened to Haid.”

“Shall I rouse Kajic?” asked the Box.

“No,” said Roche, levering herself out of the chair. “He’ll be awake soon enough, if he isn’t already. Let him come to you in his own time, when he’s finished any status checks he needs to perform. We don’t need to rush him. I want to take this slowly: we might not get a second a chance to find out what’s going on.”

Especially if the other Sol Wunderkind
is
behind it,
she added to herself.

“I’ll notify you when we are about to begin,” said the Box.

“You do that,” Roche said as she left the bridge.

* * *

The ship’s rehabilitation unit was four levels down from the bridge, in an annex off the medical unit. On the way down, Roche was joined by a fist-sized drone that darted from a service hatch and assumed a position near her right shoulder. The jets of air propelling it sounded like a cough played at high speed. When the drone spoke, it did so in a tinny version of Uri Kajic’s voice.

“What do you think, Morgan?” he asked.

Roche glanced at the drone without breaking step. “I thought you’d be listening in.”

“And?”

“I think something strange is going on.”

“Likewise. The sooner we find out what it is, the better.” The drone skittered ahead, emitting agitated
fft
’s as it turned a corner. “I do believe the Box, though,” he said, “when it says it doesn’t know what the anomaly is.”

“So do I, strangely enough,” Roche admitted. “Otherwise it wouldn’t have brought us out of the jump so suddenly.”

“There’s more to it than that, Morgan. I’ve studied the astrogation data. The Box mentioned a few ‘slight discrepancies’ but it didn’t tell you what they were.”

“Are they significant?”

“Perhaps. The stars in the direction of Palasian System appear to be closer than they should be. Not much closer, admittedly—a few billion kilometers or so—but closer all the same. It’s as though a big chunk of space is missing from this area.”

“The space containing Palasian System?”

“That would seem the logical conclusion,” Kajic agreed. “But can you imagine the force required to achieve this? Destroying a star, or even moving it, is bad enough; taking the space surrounding it as well is a completely different matter.”

Roche contemplated the possibility for a long moment. She had never heard of such a thing—indeed, she found it hard to visualize. Nothing could destroy space itself. Nothing she had ever heard of, anyway.

“All the more reason, then, to make our approach a cautious one,” she said. “Will the ship hold up?
Can
it slow-jump as often as the Box would like?”

“I’ve looked at the basic plan, and it seems sound. We’ll drop in and out of hyperspace once every ten minutes, traveling several million kilometers each time and accelerating between. At first we’ll approach the anomaly in tangents, so we can look at it from a number of directions; that way we might be able to determine exactly how large it is. If things go well, we’ll try getting a little closer to see what else we find.” The drone bobbed as Kajic spoke. “The ship itself will be fine. Its engines are designed to function under battle conditions. In fact, it’ll be good to have a really thorough workout. The last time we put it through its paces was back at Sciacca’s World.”

Roche nodded but did not speak. The
Ana Vereine
and a handful of raiders had made short work of the
Midnight,
the ship she had been traveling in at the time. Only the Box’s decision to blow the frigate’s antimatter reserves had prevented the Dato Bloc captain from capturing the ship, or destroying it himself. As a result, the
Ana Vereine
had yet to make its first kill.

Still, it had performed well in battle, and she accepted Kajic’s opinion that it would survive the coming hours. It was only an old superstition that made her hesitant to place her faith completely in a new ship.

“We’ll stick out like a beacon, jumping that often,” she said, halfheartedly trying to pick holes in the Box’s plan.

“True. But there’s nothing we can do to avoid that.” Kajic paused, then suggested: “We can camouflage the ship, if you like. Make it look like a freighter experiencing drive difficulties—?”

She shook her head. “Palasian System has been quarantined. Only a fool would try to get in, faulty drive or not. If we stumble across an Armada blockade, as unlikely as that is, they’ll shoot us out of the sky regardless of what we look like.”

“They can try.” Roche heard the ghost of a grin in the thin reproduction of Kajic’s voice. “Any other questions?”

“Only one.” The one she had avoided asking herself: “What do we do if we can’t work out what happened to the system? Where do we go from there?”

“Only time will tell us that, Morgan. Time, and the right data.”

“I know, I know.” Roche inhaled deeply, trying to center herself. “Just make sure the Box tells me if we
do
find something, okay? That’d give me one less thing to worry about.”

“You have my word,” said Kajic. “And don’t worry, Morgan. You’re doing fine.”

Roche smiled. “Thanks, Uri.”

With a staccato tattoo of air-bursts, the drone accelerated ahead of her and ducked into a maintenance closet.

Roche continued the rest of the way to rehab alone, genuinely reassured by Kajic’s closing comment. Her relationship with the Dato Bloc ex-captain was still an ambivalent one. Although both had been betrayed by their respective governments, making them allies of sorts, Roche had initially felt uncomfortable having the ship’s previous commander aboard. Removing or imprisoning him had never been an option, though: he was as much a part of the ship as the navigation AI or the engines. What remained of his body floated in a life-support tank in a little-visited section, plugged by an experimental neural interface into the workings of the vessel surrounding him. As much as she might have preferred, she couldn’t have one without the other.

So it was just lucky that he had chosen to take her under his metaphorical wing and train her in the art of command. All her years in COE Intelligence had taught her how to obey orders, not how to give them. Already she had come to rely on his judgment in many matters, not just those to do with the ship; without him, these last few weeks would have been considerably harder.

Still, she could understand why others might be suspicious of a Dato Bloc captain in their midst with unlimited access to the entire ship. The situation begged betrayal of some sort—which is why she had instructed the Box to keep as close an eye on Kajic as
he
was keeping on
it.
She couldn’t allow her own, possibly irrational, opinions to place her or her other companions at risk; she mistrusted all of them equally, had to do so in order to keep going. And if Kajic ever found out, she was sure that he would understand.

The Box’s voice broke into her thoughts via her implants: Ana Vereine
has achieved the necessary velocity to slow-jump.>

she subvocalized.

She increased her pace through the Marauder’s glowing corridors. The entrance to the rehabilitation unit finally appeared on her left. At the same time, a warning buzzer sounded, alerting the occupants of the ship to an imminent hyperspace jump.

She had barely steadied herself when the ship’s drives went to work. Reality flexed around her; space-time twisted in impossible directions. A wave of giddiness came and went, making her blink.

Then everything was as it had been a moment before—except that the ship was no longer a part of the physical universe. It had entered hyperspace, and was accelerating at many thousand standard gravities relative to the normal universe. For all the effect the jump had on the interior of the ship, however, it might have gone nowhere. Which was exactly how it should have been.

The doors to the rehab unit slid open when she took another step forward. Yet another step took her across the threshold, into a world she rarely visited.

Rehabilitation, as the term was employed in most military organizations, was synonymous with cybernetic enhancement. Where more orthodox medical techniques failed to heal a wound, replace a limb or rebuild a broken mind—or if there was no time to employ sophisticated methods of healing—technology stepped in to breach the gap. Everything from artificial limbs to neuron patches could be provided by the best mobile rehab units in the Commonwealth of Empires, and those of the Dato Bloc were at least as advanced. The
Ana Vereine
in particular, given its recent manufacture, possessed facilities Roche had only heard about.