Final Frontier - SAMPLE CHAPTERS

[Varthikes]

PROLOGUE

Earth Calendar: 9 June 2072 A.D.

RAKAN GRIPPED her console with webbed fingers as the ship shook around her. Alarms blared and the deckplates beneath her feet vibrated with the hum from the ship’s engines. She glanced around the dimmed bridge. The chief engineer was feeding all available power into the engines in an effort to combat the effects of the gravity field. Was this what had happened to the eleven ships that had disappeared in this region over the last seventy years?

“Is there any progress?” Captain Shenkak asked.

“We are still trapped in the gravity field,” the helm officer said. “We are slipping toward the source of gravity.”

“Captain, we cannot maintain these power levels,” came the urgent voice of the chief engineer over the intercom.

Shenkak looked up to meet Rakan’s eyes. “Are we in position?”

She quickly confirmed the readings on her screen. “Affirmative. The message probe should now have a favorable return trajectory toward Earth.”

They had spent nearly a year on the third planet of the nearby system, establishing a promising relationship with the dominant sentient species living upon it. “Trennask, is the anomaly still interfering with communications?”

“It is. I cannot guarantee a clear signal to Earth.”

“Launch message probe.” On the viewscreen a moment later, the probe shot away from them, trailing red. With the interstellar communication equipment they had given them, the Humans should be able to inform Perij of their fate.

“Captain, I must shut down the engines. The ship will crumble if I do not.”

Shenkak turned back to the screen and sighed through his gills. Rakan understood the dilemma. If they continued resisting the gravitational force of the anomaly, they would die. If they did not resist, they could very well die anyway—though, admittedly, they did not know that for sure. All they knew was that the Republic had already lost eleven ships in this region, their ultimate fates still unknown. “Very well. Shutdown engines. All hands, brace yourselves.”

Shenkak tightened his grip on his armrests. Rakan did the same as the hum of the engines died. The vibrations in the deckplates continued, steadily growing in intensity. Then, the ship lurched, rattling her bones. She grimaced as light flooded the viewscreen, bleaching the command deck in a blinding white.

[Varthikes]

CHAPTER 1

Earth Calendar: 5 March 2105 A.D.

“WE APPROACH a landmark day in the history of Humankind—the official launch of the Earth Alliance Ship Frontier. We remain on track following a successful test run around the inner planets almost a month ago. Earth’s first interstellar vessel, also the first space vessel commissioned under the joint venture of the Earth Alliance, is scheduled to launch at ten-thirty in the morning, Greenwich Mean Time, on the tenth of March with Captain Bryan Hamilton commanding and Lieutenant Commander Kenneth McClance as his executive officer. Shannon Casey is on Space Station Eternity’s Edge, documenting this historic occasion from there. We connect with her now. Miss Casey, you’re on.”

Ken, sitting back on the sofa, crossed his arms and grimaced at hearing the news anchor for International Broadcast Network, Ian Brocksmith, mention his name. It wasn’t that he objected to the position. On the contrary, he was thrilled to receive such a coveted assignment—executive officer on Earth’s first interstellar spacecraft and a member of the first Human crew to venture beyond their solar system. He had put forth honest effort to qualify for the position. Despite that, Brocksmith’s implication was clear. He would only ever be the son of Aldwin McClance—the man who single-handedly saved the whales!

“What's the matter, Ken?”

Ken looked over his shoulder. Back in the kitchen, Claudia stood behind a counter, breaking lettuce into a salad bowl. “What?”

“You're crossing your arms. You always cross your arms when something’s troubling you.”

Ken separated his arms and broke out a grin. “You know me too well.”

Claudia broke the last of the lettuce and circled the counter to step down into the living room. As she stepped up behind the sofa, Ken glanced at her belly, just beginning to swell, before he looked up to meet her eyes. “It’s known to happen between married couples,” she said.

Ken turned back to the monitor mounted on the wall at the other end of the room, re-crossed his arms and sighed. “It’s my dad’s shadow. It follows me into space.”

On the monitor, a woman in a black suit with shoulder-length brown hair—Shannon Casey—had replaced the male anchor. She stood beside a viewport aboard the Alliance’s space station. “Thirty-four years ago, the U.S.S. Copernicus made contact with the Peridjinn Survey Ship Krask. Ten years later, Peridjinn engineers began working with an international group of Human engineers and scientists to develop warp drive. Finally, twenty-four years of perseverance have been rewarded.”

Casey gestured toward the viewport. The camera panned to reveal the E.A.S. Frontier, in her drydock outside. The blue globe of Earth, its white, swirling clouds, formed a stunning backdrop. The view of the planet moved with the station’s orbit and rotation and the Earth's rotation. “Moored here is the Earth Alliance Ship Frontier, undergoing final preparations for the momentous occasion.”

“Frontier! Frontier!” a high-pitched voice cried, accompanying the patter of little feet on the wood floor. Edward ran into the room from the hall and jumped onto the sofa. Ken barely felt anything as the cushions absorbed the impact. “Is that the Frontier?” Edward held wide eyes on the monitor, now showing various angles of the ship that Casey and her assistant had captured, presumably on their approach to the station.

Ken smiled and put an arm around his son. In his small hand, the boy clutched a miniature version of the ship. “That’s her, Eddie.”

The door chime sounded. Ken, rolling his eyes and repressing a sigh, withdrew his arm and came to his feet. He followed his wife up to the front door and braced himself against a blast of cold air when Claudia opened the door.

“Claudia, dear!” his mum cried with open arms as she stepped in, followed by his dad. She and Claudia hugged each other. Then, she moved towards him. “Hello, Kenneth.”

“Hiya, Mum.”

“Grammy! Gramps!” Edward ran up to his grandparents, cutting between Ken and Claudia.

Aldwin, with peppered hair, bent and opened his arms to the boy. “Hey, Eddie! How’s my grandson, eh?”

All the while, Ken watched him, his dad obviously trying to avoid his son’s eyes. “Aldwin, are you forgetting someone?” his mum asked, her tone rebuking. The evasion did not escape her notice either, evidently.

Aldwin looked up at her, then finally met Ken’s eyes. The smile vanished as he straightened. “Hello, Kenneth.”

“Hello, Dad.”

“Go on, Eddie. I’ll be with you later.”

“So, Claudia, have you had any odd cravings lately?” his mum asked, leading her off to the kitchen while Edward went back to his room.

Soon, Ken and Aldwin were alone. For what felt like minutes, neither said a word while the air between them thickened. On the monitor, Casey continued talking about the Frontier and her place in history. “I hear you've been accepted for a position aboard the starship,” Aldwin finally said.

“That’s right.” Ken swung back towards the monitor, just switching back to Brocksmith. “Lieutenant Commander Kenneth McClance, son of Aldwin McClance—the man who single-handedly saved the whales!”

“Coming up next,” the anchor said, “we’ll speak with Professor Deshi Kwang of Harvard University regarding the incredible discovery recently made near Manu, Nigeria, which seems to indicate the existence of Humanoid life on Earth sixty-five million years ago.”

“Monitor off,” Ken ordered.

“Of course, I didn’t do it single-handedly,” Aldwin said as the monitor obediently went blank. “You know how much the media loves to exaggerate things.”

“You haven’t seemed to mind it.”

“I do, and I’ve tried to set it straight. That I could never have done it without my team or the efforts around the world. But when a story achieves the status of legend, details get twisted or lost. And when the world watches you and sees you in a certain way, you’re obligated to live up to it. I would’ve thought they understood that—Robert, Sam, and Nancy. I'm sure David would’ve.”

Ken looked back at his dad, the weary eyes gazing into the past as he recalled his old friends and teammates. He remembered Robert Davis and Sam and Nancy Fisher—they used to come around often when he was a lad. That is, until Aldwin started welcoming the attention. Then, Robert and the Fishers distanced themselves, causing a stir in the media. David Vargas had been killed in the war, so Ken only knew of him through photos and what his dad and friends had shared about him.

“You’re not the only one who’s got to live with it,” Ken said. Aldwin looked up to meet his son’s eyes. “Have you any idea what it’s been like to grow up in your shadow? I can’t do anything without being singled out as the ‘son of Aldwin McClance’. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate what you’ve done. I admire it even. It’s just so frustrating to have my accomplishments paired right alongside yours.” Ken glowered at his dad, then at the floor.

“I hope deep space is the answer for you.” Finally, Ken looked up to meet his dad’s gentle eyes.

At that moment, the enticing aroma of lasagna filled the flat, clearing the air. “Dish up!” Claudia announced from the kitchen.

*

Captain Bryan Hamilton gazed out the viewport at his ship, caged in her drydock. Initially, he was proud to have been chosen to command Humanity’s first interstellar vessel. But, because the E.A.S. Frontier was the first interstellar vessel, he would have to act as host to a reporter documenting the maiden voyage...and other passengers who, except for the Peridjinn, probably have never been in outer space before now. The frustration canceled out what pride he would have felt otherwise.

“Our next broadcast will be on the ninth, the night before the launch, from aboard the E.A.S. Frontier,” the reporter said, standing in front of another viewport to his right, speaking to the camera headset that her assistant wore. “Until then, this is Shannon Casey signing off.”

Her assistant flicked a switch on his headset. “We’re off,” he said.

“Thank you, Ward.” Casey turned to the captain. Bryan met her eyes squarely. “Well, Captain, any thoughts?”

“You're a promising reporter, Miss Casey, but that doesn’t change my mind about your presence on our maiden voyage.”

Casey scoffed and rolled her eyes. “This is a historic event! As big as making first contact with the Peridjinn, the first colonies on the Moon and Mars, the first ion-driven spaceship, the moon race of the 1960s, and the launch of Sputnik.”

“Yes, I heard you say all that on your broadcast. And, if you don’t like my opinion, you shouldn’t have asked for it.” He turned to leave the lounge.

Casey followed. “Why shouldn’t we be aboard to document the maiden voyage of Humankind’s first interstellar spacecraft?”

“I don’t object to that, Miss Casey,” Bryan said, keeping his voice calm. He stopped and turned back to her. “I object to having individuals aboard who are untrained.” Casey opened her mouth for a rebuttal. Bryan cut her off. “If it makes you feel any better, yours isn’t the only presence I object to.”

The station’s intercom whistled for attention. “Captain Hamilton. Captain Hamilton. Admiral Maddox will see you now.”

“If you’ll excuse me.” Bryan hastened his step, leaving Casey in the lounge, though lightly tapping footfalls on the deckplates told him the reporter followed. Bryan resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. Well, let her follow. This meeting was partly about her, anyway.

“Yes, Hamilton, what did you want to see me about?” the admiral asked the moment he entered her office, her eyes on the computer terminal, angled away from the door. Her short, red hair had just the slightest hint of gray in it.

“I wish to file a protest, Admiral,” he said, drawing her attention, “in regard to having this civilian aboard my ship.”

“And I must remind the admiral,” Casey said as she entered the office, right on cue, “that Alliance Command understood and agreed to the importance of having this achievement fully documented. Cooperation was ensured.”

Maddox nodded her agreement. “Yes, it was. Your protest is noted, Captain Hamilton. Anything else?”

Bryan threw the reporter a quick glare, then returned his attention to the admiral. “As a matter of fact, there is.” He opened his mouth to continue but paused as he considered the reporter behind him. He swung back to her. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have this shared with the inner system.”

Casey crossed her arms. For a moment, Bryan thought she was about to refuse to leave. Finally, she stepped back, slowly and holding the captain’s eyes a moment longer before turning to storm out.
When he was sure she was gone, Bryan once again turned back to the admiral. “While I’m at it, I also protest the presence of the Peridjinn and Soviet observers—especially the Soviets.”

Maddox leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “The Federation delegation I can understand, but why the Peridjinn? They’re the ones who gave us the warp technology. Their engineers spent the last twenty years working with our people—and with the Federation—to make ships like the Frontier a reality.”

“And I’m grateful for that, but is it necessary for them to hold our hands every step of the way?”

“Their government extended the offer, in an effort to maintain strong relations between our worlds, to place observers aboard the Frontier for her maiden voyage. Alliance Command accepted. But again, the observers will only be aboard for the maiden voyage. After that, they’re off. Same goes for the Federation delegation—the maiden voyage is enough to satisfy our agreement with the Peridjinn Republic that the Soviet Federation be included in all matters relating to the warp technology.”

Hamilton sighed his resignation. “Fine. As long as it’s clear that I'm the one in command. Do I have permission to lock them in their quarters if necessary?”

“Granted,” Maddox said slowly, then hardened her eyes, “but only if absolutely necessary. All three parties want a smooth voyage. Toward that end, you are ordered to extend every courtesy to the Peridjinn and Federation delegations, and to the reporters, short of jeopardizing the safety of the ship and those aboard. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly. Do I have that in writing?”

“Yes. It’s in the orders I transmitted to your ship.”

*

Sharesk inhaled. The cold winter air rushed into his gills and down his air passages into his lungs, warmed by his body along the way. Even after six years, it was still strange but curiously invigorating to feel the icy, oxygen-rich air chill his neck from the inside. The cold air did not affect him in any way tonight, however. He did not even feel it through his standard jacket.

He looked up at the crystalline night sky, alive with millions of twinkling stars and a waning crescent moon. He ignored all that as his thoughts dwelled on a world twenty-two light-years away.

Norcz. Thirty-six years ago, an exploratory mission to that world had made contact with the sentient natives there, the reptilian Norseen. Since then, they have been assisting the Norseen in achieving warp flight, just as they have been assisting the Humans. The Norseen had seemed cooperative. They were certainly more unified than the Humans. Why did they attack the embassy? And what has become of his mate, Fech? Everything had seemed fine just two weeks ago when he had gone to visit her.

Dear Fech… What had gone wrong on Norcz?

Sharesk approached the balcony overlooking the main courtyard and Lake Geneva beyond. Lights in each corner of the lower yard and the upper yard behind him lit up the night. Southward, a million-plus specks of light formed an outline around the dark, reflective expanse of the lake—more concentrated in certain areas than in others.
He bent his head and closed his eyes. Tears swelled. He clenched his fist and slammed the metal railing.

“You have heard.”

He whirled to find Krishnik standing behind him, bundled in a thick coat like the ones the local Humans wore, a fur-lined hood up. He carried another, which he offered Sharesk. Now noticing the cold piercing his bones, he accepted the coat, dipping his head in acknowledgment. “Do we know the extent of the damage?” he asked as he slipped on the jacket.

“The Norseen have seized every bit of technology that is not integrated into the structure. They now occupy the building with thirty hostages—it is unknown if your mate is among them. The Norseen are threatening to kill them if Captain Jureskan fails to surrender her vessel. She is attempting to stall until reinforcements arrive.”

“I am tempted to back out of this observatory mission and join Captain Jureskan, though I know there is very little I could do to help the situation.”

Krishnik fidgeted. “I am surprised that you are still considering at all to proceed as planned.”

Sharesk turned back to the city lights across the lake. Thousands of Humans—billions more around this world—going about their lives, oblivious to the crisis brewing twenty-two light-years away. Since news of the Norseen betrayal, he must have asked himself at least a dozen times about the wisdom of continuing their relationship with the Humans. What is to stop these Humans from betraying them as well? It was only a matter of time if their history was any indication.

As he recalled, there had indeed been some outright hostility from certain Human groups when the embassy was first established. Other Humans, however, have managed to keep them contained, particularly the local government, which held a reputation of neutrality in Human conflicts for over five hundred years. In the six that he had been on Earth, he had seen honest friendships develop between Humans and Peridjinn. He had even experienced it himself.

But were they honest? It could all be a deception, an attempt to lull the Peridjinn into dropping their guard.

He returned his attention to Krishnik and explained his dilemma. “The Humans had nothing to do with the Norseen betrayal. I will not make them the recipients of undeserved suspicion. We have, after all, had no trouble from the Malcons.”

“Beyond their demands for isolation,” Krishnik said. “We should still take precautions.”

“Indeed we will. Should we fail to return, the Republic will bear down on the Humans.”

[Varthikes]

CHAPTER 2

Earth Calendar: 998,368 B.C.

GOVKOR CLUNG to the docking interface near the port side airlock, shaping his body to grip the latch and mimicking the metallic hull of his scout ship. Immersed in the complete silence of space as the ship approached an orifice of a spherical starbase.

He had emerged from foldspace at the edge of the sector and waited for the Zirquin patrol ship. He did not have to wait long; the Zirquin came promptly. After scanning the vessel, during which Govkor temporarily froze all his life functions, one of the mechanoids boarded his ship and took control while the other ship continued its patrol.

The Zirquin pilot fired forward thrusters, sending vibrations through the hull, slowing forward momentum as the hatch opened to receive them. Over a half-dozen ships were moored in the hangar bay—many like his own, others of different configurations. Some were undergoing maintenance. While his ship approached an empty berth, Govkor pulled himself out of the docking port and along the ship's hull toward the airlock.

Vibrations rung through the hull as the clamps locked. Govkor stretched, extending himself away from the ship while returning to his natural, gaseous state. He pushed off the hull with the last bit of him holding the metallic state. He floated free while a gangway extended toward the ship. He followed it to the door that accessed the rest of the station.

The door opened just as Govkor reached it. He flattened himself against a nearby bulkhead, morphing back to imitate a metallic surface. No sooner was he in position than a Zirquin entered the hangar bay, moving upon a pair of limbs. A second pair were attached just below an inverted triangular head, each ending in a hand with five smaller appendages—two of them, on either side of the hand, with opposable joints. Two inward-slanting visual sensors in the head glowed white. The bipedal form was an efficient design, a template that the Sagans had used in creating a large percentage of sentient life in the Universe.

Govkor slid along the bulkhead, returning to his gaseous state before slipping through the door. On the other side of the bulkhead, he expanded and shaped himself into a Zirquin. With the transformation complete, he looked up and down the corridor, imitating a Zirquin’s mechanical movements. So far, his presence had gone unnoticed. Now to find a dataport…

He chose a direction and followed the corridor. He passed a Zirquin, then another—both ignored him. To them, and to any other Zirquin he would come across, he was just another unit going about fulfilling its function. If they scanned him, they would know otherwise, but they would have no need to scan him as long as he moved and behaved like one of them.

He arrived at a control interface located in an alcove off the main corridor. He found the interface port. The port allowed a Zirquin unit to link with the station’s central computer. It could also establish a link with other ships and stations throughout the galaxy and, provided the connecting unit was authorized, to the Central Processing Unit on the Command World. Unfortunately, he had been unable to make direct contact with a command unit to form a memory of the notches and ridges on its middle fingers. The moment he attempted to link with the Central Processing Unit, the system would detect an unauthorized intrusion. He had only moments to find what he was after before the system traced the intrusion back to him.

Govkor leveled his arm with the interface port and inserted both middle fingers.

He, or rather his mind, entered a conduit of reds and blues, slowly swirling around him in fluidly. The conduit seemed to run off into eternity. Pulses of light rushed past him and through the smaller conduits that intersected or branched from this one—Zirquin on this station and throughout the galaxy, plugged into the network with him. Govkor willed himself forward. This was the main conduit; following it should lead him to the Command World.

He gained speed. The reds and blues swirled with greater speed until they merged in a purplish hue. In moments, the color faded to a deep red—like the light from a red super giant star. The Zirquin were aware of an unauthorized presence. He pressed on, following the conduit, curving left, circling right, dipping, rising. He finally came to a set of coordinates on the opposite side of the galaxy, near the galactic core.

Sector 1002-300. A binary star system containing three planets orbiting a light blue star and a white dwarf—three natural planets, that is. There was a fourth—an artificial planet. As Govkor studied the coordinates, he noticed a faint, pulsing ring, steadily growing in pitch. But there was another tone, more level than the ringing. He followed it into another conduit while the pulsing ring increased in volume and frequency. By now, the walls of the conduit glowed a deep violet.

He followed the conduit back across the galaxy to a sector in his current quadrant. Sector 3800-256—Epitara, the last holdout of the Darkkon Imperium in the galaxy. The Zirquin were poised to attack.
Govkor turned into another deep violet conduit and brought himself back to Sector 3815-459 and the Zirquin Sphere he was currently on—just as the pulsing ring was becoming a flat tone. He disconnected himself from the interface.

He was back in the control alcove—a high-pitched alarm screaming at him. He turned from the alcove and started back through the corridor toward the hangar bay. With each step, the deck seemed to become unstable. The deck was fine. His shape, however, was losing cohesion. He fought to stay calm and hold his shape. His steps surer, he continued at a quicker pace that he hoped would not draw the attention of actual Zirquin units.

He was nearly at the hangar bay when two security units, the two slanted visual sensors in their triangular head glowing red, rounded a bend and closed on him from the opposite direction. He reached the hangar bay first. The door remained closed. He lifted his right arm to the nearby control panel.

“HOLD POSITION!”

The command came in over the receiver he had formed along with the Zirquin shape. Struggling to maintain his composure, he froze his right arm and turned his head to the approaching security units. Their left arms were up, hands folded inward, wrist-mounted disruptors extended. Clanking, metal-on-metal footfalls behind him announced the approach of more Zirquin units—probably additional security.

Govkor folded his left hand as he swung it toward the two security units, disruptor extended and blazing, and smashed the control with his right. The first two security units were down by the time the door was open. He rushed through. A maintenance unit attending his ship turned glowing yellow visual sensors on his approach. Govkor trained his disruptor and fired. While the unit crumbled, Govkor leaped and dissolved back into his gaseous state. He flowed as fast as he could toward the boarding hatch. He held the shape of his disruptor hand just long enough to destroy the moorings.

The ship drifted from the gangway as Govkor passed through the opened hatch. He floated up to the cockpit and tied his mind to the ship’s computer and thought, Engines. He activated forward starboard and aft thrusters, orienting the ship toward the space hatch, then activated the sublight engines. The ship shook under light disruptor fire. Additional security units had arrived at the hatch. Govkor connected with the weapons systems: aft disruptors, target the gangway, and fire. A chain of explosions took out the gangway and a portion of the corridor he had been in a moment ago.
Govkor turned his attention to the forward weapons, setting the main disruptor cannon to a focused beam, target the space hatch, and fire.

[Varthikes]

CHAPTER 3

Earth Calendar: 9 March 2105 A.D.

“I HOPE you find what you long for out there, Kenneth,” Aldwin said, holding out his hand. Ken tried to keep his expression firm, but his dad’s beseeching eyes tugged at his heart. He sighed and accepted the hand.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I love you, son.”

Ken spread his lips in a shy smile and nodded his acknowledgment. Then, he moved to exchange hugs with his mum. “You’re about to go further from home than anyone has ever gone before,” she said.

“Well, me and about fifty others,” Ken said with a crooked smile, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Be safe out there.”

“Not to worry,” Ken said as he broke away from her and turned to Claudia. “I’ll be back in plenty of time to see the birth of our new son.” He placed a hand on her swollen belly and felt a slight vibration under the skin.

“He’ll hold you to it,” Claudia said, wrapping her arms around him. Ken returned the hug. “And so will I.” They held each other like that for several long minutes before Ken reluctantly pulled away and knelt to his older son.

“Can’t I come with you?” Edward asked with begging, brown eyes. “Just to see the Frontier?”

“I’m sorry, Eddie, not this time.” Edward’s eyes fell. “But I promise you… That’s the first thing we do when I get back, alright?”

Edward gave a slight, sorrowful nod. “Okay.”

“Come now. Give me a hug.” Ken wrapped his arms around his son. Edward returned the hug. “You’re the man of the house until I get back. Be good for your mum,” he pulled away and looked into his son’s eyes, managing an encouraging smile, “and if we land on any planets, I’ll be sure to bring back an alien rock for you. Sound good?”

A smile crept onto Edward’s face, and he nodded.

Claudia’s entreating eyes and Edward’s hopeful smile remained in Ken’s mind as he gazed out the window at the buildings and leaf-less trees that whipped by, his right arm supporting his head. The train was traveling northeast, rumbling smoothly along the rails at a moderate clip. They had left St. Denys Station and were now rejoining the path of a river, but only for a moment before the river forked away once more. The PA rang for attention, announcing their arrival at Swaythling as the train slowed.

Then, there was the slight kick little David had given him. He felt his insides turning into knots. He was going to be four light-years—over forty trillion kilometers—from his family. It was only for a two-month survey of the Alpha Centauri System, and all previous tests with the warp drive were successful. So, why was he feeling uneasy?

Passengers around him shuffled and moved toward the doors as they pulled into the station. After an exchange of passengers, the doors closed, and the train pulled out of the station. His stop was next—Southampton Shuttleport. From there, he would transfer to a shuttle bound for Eternity’s Edge.

“Is this seat available?” a feminine voice asked with a New England accent. Ken looked up to see an older woman, seeming to be in her seventies or late sixties, peppered hair framing her gentle face.

“I’m getting off at the next stop actually,” Ken said, standing up and stepping out into the aisle.

“Oh, thank you.” The woman sat down and slid toward the window. Ken started for the door when she continued, “I couldn’t help thinking your face looked familiar.”

Ken rolled his eyes. So far on his trip out from Bristol, his fellow passengers had failed to take notice of him—or, at least they gave him no more than a glance. A cocked eyebrow perhaps. He put on a polite smile and turned back to the woman. “I must have a doppelganger walking about.”

“No, you’re Aldwin’s boy—Kenneth, isn’t it?” Ken furrowed his brow, searching his memory. Could this person be more than just another individual who followed the news? The lady’s grin broadened. “I’m Nancy—Nancy Fisher. You were just a child the last time we met.”

Ken cocked his eyebrows. Nancy Fisher—one of his dad’s old friends and teammates, who worked with him in their civilian life and fought together during the War. But he thought she and her husband had moved back to Maine. “So, you’re an officer in the new Earth Alliance Space Force,” she said.

Ken looked down at his black uniform and the blue emblem of Earth overlayed with a rocket on his left breast. Below the emblem, two gold bars and one black, signifying his rank of lieutenant commander. He nodded and sat down beside the woman. “That’s right, and about to head out—literally—aboard the Frontier.”

“Your father must be proud.”

The PA rang once again. “Now approaching Southampton Shuttleport.”

“I’ll certainly be if I can escape his shadow.”

“Don’t you pay any attention to that fuss the media makes. The important thing is the achievement. Regardless of how your father handled the attention he was given, we—Robert, Sam, and me—we continued to appreciate him for taking the lead and accomplishing what we did together. Saving a group of magnificent creatures from being wiped out entirely.”

Ken smiled and, meeting her eyes, nodded. “Yes, I know. So do I, honestly.” Through the window behind her, he noticed the train slowing and the space shuttle platform beyond the terminal. Excusing himself, he stood again and made his way to the door.

A space shuttle was on the rails when he arrived on the platform.

“McClance.”

He found Captain Bryan Hamilton approaching. Ken moved to meet him, nodding his acknowledgment. “Captain.”

“At ease, Commander.” Ken was about to salute, but his arm had barely twitched before the captain spoke. “How’s your family?”

“They’re well, sir. Are we supposed to meet the representatives here?”

Hamilton shook his head. “We’re to meet them on the station, at the airlock to the ship. You’re missing something on your uniform.” He indicated his own nameplate on his left breast.

Ken slipped his left hand into his trouser pocket and felt the cool, metallic bar. “Yes, I was trying to keep a low profile. I’ll put it on when we get to the space station.”

Hamilton nodded and turned towards the shuttle. Ken followed him aboard and forward to an area near the cockpit reserved for military personnel. “Miss Casey and her assistant will meet us at the airlock aboard the ship,” Hamilton added with a glare. “I’m required to grant them and the representatives every courtesy short of jeopardizing ship security. She said it would be ‘more dramatic’ if she had a shot of us, from the front, stepping aboard our ship.”

Ken nodded as he secured his harness. “She may be right.”

Hamilton, seated near the window, cocked an eyebrow at him for a moment. “Perhaps. I just hope she won’t want an exterior shot of us accelerating to warp. Well, maybe I do...”

Ken smirked at the mental image of the reporter in a spacesuit, a camera on the Frontier as they warped away.

The intercom buzzed for attention. A male voice spoke, “Attention passengers, this is your pilot speaking. Attention passengers. We will be launching in three minutes. If you have not done so already, be sure your harnesses are secured. Attendants are now making their way through the aisle to ensure that you are secure. Should you require assistance, they will provide it. Thank you.”

Ken looked back over his shoulder to see the attendants in white-and-blue uniforms making their way forward, giving each passenger’s harness a firm tug. A few minutes later, the attendants reached them and one of them activated the wall-mounted intercom. “All clear,” he said. He closed the intercom and settled in a seat across the aisle from them while the other started toward the rear of the shuttle at a brisk pace. The boarding hatches whined as they closed and locked with a loud click.

Ken felt movement. He glanced out the window to see that the shuttle was moving backwards. After a couple of minutes, the movement stopped with a loud clang that reverberated through the hull. A magnificent roar shook the shuttle and continued as a steadily increasing rumble that rattled his bones. After five minutes, a second clang! Ken clenched his armrests, suddenly feeling himself pressing against the backrest. He glanced at the window—they were moving, quickly gaining speed. The shuttle tilted upward. The rumble once again became a roar. A third clang!

Ken managed a peek out the window. They were free of the rails and climbing. The harness pressed tighter against Ken's chest.

The shuttle banked right, and Ken soon felt himself upside-down. In minutes, they were far over the English Channel, then mainland Europe.

By the time the rumble of the engines ceased, Ken's weight had disappeared. Out the window, the blue-white Earth receded behind them. The shuttle rolled starboard, shifting his view away from Earth. The great spinning wheel of Eternity's Edge lay ahead of them, steadily getting bigger. An endless black, brilliantly sparkling expanse formed a backdrop. The station was already big enough for Ken to clearly make out the four drydocks, each pair at diametrically opposite points—three of them open and empty.

As they drew closer, the one occupied drydock circled towards them. Their ship greeted them like a proud child, moors attached to port and starboard hulls, umbilical supports attached to the dorsal hull of the rear section. A hushed awe fell over the passengers behind them, eyes undoubtedly glued to what would be Humankind's first steps into deep space.

Their flight took them close enough for Ken to clearly make out the ship’s name spread across the starboard side of the forward section. In large, bold lettering: E.A.S. FRONTIER.

Their shuttle arrived in a landing bay not far from the Frontier. As soon as the bay was re-pressurized, Ken and Hamilton disembarked first, followed by those civilian passengers not continuing on to Luna, and Ken reluctantly took the nameplate from his left pocket and attached it to the left breast of his jacket, under the Earth Alliance insignia and rank bars.

They arrived at the airlock. As Hamilton had said, the Federation and Peridjinn representatives were there, standing with Admiral Maddox. All turned their eyes on their arrival. A pair of security officers, dressed in maroon uniforms, stood behind them, trying to be inconspicuous. Ken cocked his eyebrows as he noticed a man wearing a camera headset and a green cardigan. He glanced at the captain. He could have sworn Hamilton had said Miss Casey and her assistant would be waiting for them on the ship. “Last-minute improvisation, no doubt,” Hamilton mumbled to him.

“Captain Hamilton, Lieutenant Commander McClance,” Maddox said as she stepped towards them. The representatives followed.

Hamilton acknowledged the admiral with a nod, he and Ken exchanging salutes with her. Then, she introduced the representatives. First, the Peridjinn: Sharesk and Krishnik, who bowed their heads and crossed their wrists over their chests. Ken reciprocated the gesture, meeting their alien eyes with the four-pointed pupils. Their gills pulsed at a gentle rate—gentle as far as Ken could tell, at least. He had seen the aliens in the flesh before, but this was his first time actually standing face-to-face with them.

“On behalf of the Peridjinn Republic,” said the one called Sharesk, “we are pleased that you have accepted our request to join the maiden voyage of your first vessel capable of faster-than-light travel.” He extended a hand.

“We’re pleased to have you,” Ken said as he took the hand—smooth, clammy, almost viscous. The sensation lingered after Ken released his grip.

Sharesk moved on to the captain. Hamilton looked at the hand for a moment before taking it. “Yes, we are pleased that your government made the offer,” the captain said. “I’m sure we both would like relations between our peoples to remain close.”

“Indeed,” Krishnik said, his tone level, as he dipped his head slowly.

Then, Maddox introduced the representatives of the Soviet Federation. Olenka Yanova of Russia, her black hair pulled back and tied in a bun. She stood tall enough that Ken almost had to look up to meet her serious, blue eyes. Kosaku Sakaguchi of Japan, who stood slightly shorter than his Russian colleague. In contrast to Yanova’s stern appearance, Sakaguchi appeared more relaxed. With hands over his torso, he bowed from the waist. Ken returned the gesture and glanced at Hamilton in time to see the captain watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“We wish to thank you for honoring your agreement and allowing us to share in the maiden voyage as well,” Sakaguchi said. He gestured toward the airlock. “That ship, the Frontier, represents the achievement of all the peoples of Earth.”

He offered his hand. Ken and Hamilton each accepted it in turn. Meanwhile, Yanova stood back, silent, hands behind her. “Yes, it is,” the captain said. “Well, gentleman—and ma’am—if you would like to follow us, we’ll go aboard and begin your tour.”

Maddox excused herself while Hamilton pushed between the Peridjinn and Federation representatives. Ken and Casey’s assistant took up the rear, following the captain and the representatives through the airlock and down the boarding tube.

“And here comes Captain Bryan Hamilton,” Shannon Casey announced as they stepped through the ship’s airlock. “Following him are Sharesk and Krishnik, the Peridjinn representatives, and Olenka Yanova of Russia and Kosaku Sakaguchi of Japan, who will represent the Soviet Federation on the maiden voyage of the E.A.S. Frontier.”

*

Lieutenant Commander Hobart Mandrel stood on the catwalk, sealed in a precautionary radiation suit, looking over the reactor column, four meters in diameter. A deep, sonorous hum rattled the grating beneath his feet and sent vibrations through his body. It was humbling to be in the gentle embrace of so much power. Conduits a meter-and-a-half thick ran from either side of the chamber, through the port and starboard bulkheads, feeding plasma into the warp nacelles that would propel them up to thirty-six million kilometers per second.

He returned to the airlock and closed the hatch behind him. He closed his eyes while ultraviolet beams ran along the height and width of his body. When an alarm declared him clean, Hobart stripped off the suit and stowed it in the closet with the other one. Finally, he opened the hatch to the engine control room. His assistant, Lieutenant Ellen Anderson, stood at the main console. “How’s the reactor?” she asked.

Hobart joined her, looking out the viewport to the outer chamber, trading growing smiles. More than a little pride fueled his. “She sounds healthy…eager to work her muscles. Have you inspected the nacelles and checkpoints?”

Ellen nodded. “The plasma-flow is holding steady.”

The door behind them whined open. “…And this is our engine control room,” followed the captain’s voice. Hobart and Anderson turned to see Hamilton and McClance enter with four others.

Hobart repressed a sigh, but his prideful smile fell into a frown as he noted the two Peridjinn. “Here we go,” he muttered.

“This, of course,” Hamilton was saying, “is where we control the reactor that powers the warp drive and everything else—under the supervision of our chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Hobart Mandrel.”

“Welcome,” Hobart said flatly.

A Peridjinn stepped forward and offered his—or her?—webbed hand. “Greetings, Lieutenant Commander Mandrel. I am Krishnik.” Hobart took the offered hand—and nearly released it at once upon contact with the slick skin. “I look forward to working with you on this voyage.” The alien’s stiff tone suggested otherwise, but that could just be due to language shortcomings.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Hobart said. Krishnik tilted his head ever so slightly. Hobart released the hand and turned to the others, specifically eyeing Hamilton and McClance. They were just starting to usher the group out of the engine room. “Captain, Commander, may I have a moment?”

“McClance, will you?”

“Yes, Captain.” McClance turned back to the engineer. Hobart held his eyes on the group, making sure everyone, especially the reporters, had cleared the room. McClance watched with him. As soon as they were alone, save for Anderson, McClance turned back to meet his eyes, patiently waiting.

“I must once again voice my objections,” Hobart said, keeping his voice down—just in case.

McClance nodded his understanding. “Yes, I know you don’t like the idea of a Peridjinn ‘babysitter,’ as you call them, looking over your shoulder. The captain relayed your objection to the admiral.” He shrugged. “It would appear we’re stuck with them.”

Hobart sighed his frustration and rolled his eyes toward the reactor.

“They’re not all that bad, really. Just try to be diplomatic—with Krishnik as well as the Federation representatives if they come in here.”

Hobart sighed. “I’ll try.” He turned to squarely meet his eyes. “But, if any one of them tries to gain access to restricted areas, I’ll throw them out—whoever the hell they are.”

[Varthikes]

CHAPTER 4

Earth Calendar: 998,368 B.C.

GOVKOR BANKED to avoid a pair of disruptor blasts, and then rolled to avoid a second pair. The pale green beams flashed across his view while the ship lurched under the impact of a third pair, momentarily jarring him from the neural interface. He felt the ship spin out of control, forcing him against the forward bulkhead. He refocused his mind, reconnecting with the neural interface. He concentrated on the engines, firing ventral thrusters then dorsal thrusters.

As soon as the ship was under control, Govkor focused his attention on the forward sensors. The three Zirquin fighter drones were there, closing fast, firing their disruptors. Govkor keeping his ship steady, fired the forward battery. One drone exploded. The others evaded, disruptors firing, scoring hits along Govkor’s ventral and dorsal hulls. Govkor fought to keep himself stable against the barrage. Govkor brought his ship about, following the drones. They were faster, already coming back with disruptors blazing, scoring more direct hits before Govkor could refocus his weapons. His ship lurched violently. Sublight engines went dead. The drones continued their barrage.

Govkor’s ship disintegrated around him. He blew the hatch and allowed himself to be blown out into space just before a brief, fiery explosion engulfed his ship.
The explosion cleared, leaving him hanging relatively still in space amidst the spinning debris of his ship. The drones adjusted their course to return to the starbase, their target eliminated.


Earth Calendar: 10 March 2105 A.D.

Ken stepped onto the bridge, one of the Peridjinn and both Federation observers right behind him. He paused with them for a moment on the operations deck, looking over the command deck two steps below. Casey, already there with her assistant, turned her live camera on them. “And here is Lieutenant Commander McClance,” she said in a subdued voice that she probably thought was unobtrusive, “accompanying Sharesk, one of the two Peridjinn representatives—the other, Krishnik, is with Lieutenant Commander Mandrel in the engineering room—and the two representatives from the Soviet Federation, Olenka Yanova and Kosaku Sakaguchi.”

“Umbilical supports have been retracted,” Ensign Herberg reported from her station left of the helm console, immediately in front of the central science station. “Boarding tube and starboard moorings are clear.”

Ken stepped down to the command deck, leaving the observers on the platform, and took his post, right of Hamilton’s command chair, and directly below the vacant tactical station. Alliance Command felt the position was not critical for their survey of Alpha Centauri. If necessary, Ken could access tactical operations from his console. He settled into the seat and looked up just in time to catch the helmsman holding piercing blue eyes on him before returning his attention to the controls before him. Ken held his eyes on the blond head for a moment longer before looking down at his own console.

“Josef, thrusters and ion engines to stand-by,” Hamilton ordered.

“Ready,” the helmsman said.

“Drydock is clear,” Herberg said.

“Eternity’s Edge signals,” Gross said from communications, on the other side of the bridge, behind and above the central science station. “They’re ready to release port moorings.”

“Reply that we are standing by.”

“At this moment,” Casey said quickly, her quiet voice barely containing her excitement, “the two port moorings are all that connect the ship to Space Station Eternity’s Edge. Once those are released, the E.A.S. Frontier will float free of the station.” Whether she spoke softly so as to not disturb the launch procedure or out of respect for the moment, Ken couldn’t decide. Perhaps it was both.
On the main screen, their view of the Earth shifted as the ship turned with the station’s rotation. “Port moorings released,” Herberg announced.

“Port, then aft thrusters,” Hamilton ordered. Josef worked his controls, pushing the ship starboard and then forward.

“We are clear of the station,” Josef reported moments later.

“Ion engines. One-quarter burn.”

Josef played his controls. There was a muffled roar and a gentle vibration in the deckplates.

“We are now clear of the station,” Casey said for her audience’s benefit. “The E.A.S. Frontier is operating under its own power. We will now orbit the Earth, gaining momentum as we prepare to break free of Earth’s gravity, and venture out into deep space. Is that correct, Captain?”

Hamilton glanced back at her. “That’s essentially it.”

For an hour, all eyes were glued to the screen, watching the Earth spin above them. Then, their course shifted, their home planet peeling away from them. “We have now completely broken free of Earth’s gravity. Behind us: the cradle of Humankind. Ahead of us: a whole Universe. This will be the last live transmission we make for two months. Until the Frontier returns from surveying the Alpha Centauri Star System, this is Shannon Casey signing off.”

*

Ken breathed in and basked for a moment in the cheesy aroma of the Italian meatloaf and scalloped potatoes, appreciating the moistness of the steamed green beans on the plate before him. He picked up his knife and fork and began slicing the meatloaf.

“Well, I suppose I should have expected to see you here,” a familiar voice cut in. Ken sighed, his smile collapsing to a frown, and paused to look up to see Josef approach with a plate of his own. Ken glared as the other sat down across from him. “But to see you here as executive officer... That’s pushing it a little, don’t you think?”

Ken lowered his eyes and took a deep, silent breath to calm his annoyance. He looked up again and met Josef’s waiting eyes, forcing a smile. “I’m delighted to see you, too, Josef—in another reality.” He took a bite of his meatloaf and beans.

“Would it be the one where you’re a normal person with a normal father? And, had to actually work hard like the rest of us to make it here?”

Ken finished chewing and swallowed, all the while reeling himself up for a venomous reply. “I worked just as hard to be here. Whatever my parentage may be, whatever my father had accomplished before I was even born, I applied just as much effort to be here.”

Josef was already nodding. “Sure. I remember that song. I still don’t believe it. Your position should have gone to someone more experienced. Someone who is ready for the responsibility.”

“Who do you suppose that would be? This voyage is a first for all Humankind. Believe what you wish, but as long as we’re in our respective positions, I’ll expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I will. Just don’t expect me to polish your boots.” Josef glared at Ken a moment longer before turning his full attention to his lunch, an awkward silence hanging over them.

*

Sharesk stood on the operations deck, hands resting on the rail before him. After they left Earth orbit, he had left the bridge to tour the ship, hoping to clear his mind of anxiety over the situation on Norcz. It was going to be a long two months—though he was not completely out of touch with the Republic. Whatever developed—good or bad—he should hear of it.

When he returned to the bridge, Captain Hamilton and Lieutenant Commander McClance were absent, leaving the Chief of Sciences, Lieutenant Commander Victoria Stoner, in command. “The captain had an interview scheduled with Miss Casey, much to his chagrin,” she explained from her console, “and McClance is in the mess hall.”

Sharesk recalled sensing annoyance from Hamilton directed at the female reporter as they left Earth’s orbit. Not quite hostility, but from what he knew of Human interactions, he would not call it friendly either. Why the captain would be annoyed with the reporter, Sharesk had no idea, but it was not his concern. “I understand. What is our position?”

“We passed through the asteroid belt an hour ago, and we are now passing Jupiter’s orbit. Mandrel is building power in the warp nacelles. Warp drive should be ready in another...” Stoner glanced at her chronometer, “forty-five minutes.”

“We make excellent progress,” Sharesk commented, his tone neutral. Despite his efforts, the Norcz crisis still weighed heavily on his mind.

Sharesk looked over the command deck and the Human crew busy at their stations. The launch had been free of complications, and, if the warp drive operated just as well, this crew would soon become the first Humans to venture beyond their solar system under their own power—aside from a cryo-ship that had launched ten years prior to their last great war. If it still functioned, it should remain en route to its destination—Epsilon Eridani.

Over the next century, more Humans would follow, establishing colonies and starbases. But for what purpose? The Norseen will probably do the same, and, if what was now happening on their homeworld was any indication, they will likely use their warp technology for hostile purposes. Now that Humans, with their violent history and still divided, were venturing beyond their system, what might they do with their warp technology?

In their over-confidence after their success with the Malcons and giving, perhaps, too much attention to a prophecy of a coming scourge, had the Republic created what could become two galactic superpowers? Perhaps the Humans and Norseen will one day join and become the very scourge that had been foretold.

“Is there something wrong, sir?” asked a feminine voice, breaking into his deliberations.

Sharesk realized he had narrowed his eyes and his breath had quickened, wheezing through his gills. At once, he relaxed his glare and took a deep breath before turning to the woman manning communications, her turquoise eyes on him, short red hair topping her head. He searched his memory for her name—Lieutenant Tasha Gross.

“I-I apologize, Lieutenant. My thoughts are elsewhere.” Once again, Sharesk tried to set aside his concerns. The future will bring what it brings. “Will you let me know if you receive messages for me from Perij?”

“Of course, sir. Are you expecting?”

“Yes.” And he turned to step down to the command deck. He paced around the helm and navigation consoles. A different man was stationed at the helm than before—this one with darker skin and a light fuzz of hair atop his head. The woman at navigation with long black hair was the same, however. They held their attentions on their controls as he passed—whether it was out of duty to their work or if they were ignoring him, he could not be sure. He was aware by the occasional glares he got that there were those among the crew who seemed to resent him for some reason.

He glanced at the navigation console. The officer seated there—Second Lieutenant Trinette de Seleaux—charted their course on the navigation screen. The projected course took them out of the system toward Alpha Centauri, but it seemed to detour significantly. “Is that the course we are to take?”

“Yes, sir,” de Seleaux said in an accent that placed her origins in the region the Humans call France. Or possibly eastern Canada.

Sharesk circled the console to stand behind the lieutenant, looking over her shoulder at the navigation screen. “For what reason is the deviation?”

“That was the captain’s order.” She held her eyes on her controls. “He wants to investigate something.”

Would those coordinates happen to be...? Surely, the Humans would not be that irresponsible. Though, judging from their history, they certainly could be. Sharesk studied the coordinates and memorized them. “I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.” He turned and stepped back up to the operations deck. He noticed Stoner’s eyes on him.

“Can I help you?”

Sharesk, deep in thought, ignored her as he left the bridge. Those coordinates had better not be what he thought they were.

*

“Now that we're utilizing faster-than-light travel and venturing beyond our solar system, what do you predict will unfold for Humankind in the next ten years or so?”

Bryan sat, hands resting on his desk, fingers laced together, while Casey sat across from him with a camera headset on. He tried to project an air of courtesy, forcing a gentle smile on his face, but he still felt like a lab specimen. Casey had told him from the outset to just relax and say what felt natural. He wouldn’t be surprised if, when they get back to Earth and Casey’s material is distributed throughout Sol System, every word he says is picked apart, taken out of context, results in some kind of scandal, and the Alliance establishes an outpost on Pluto just for him.

“More ships will follow this one, for sure. It wasn’t long after developing ion engines that we started to expand our presence on the Moon and set up outposts on Mars. Now that warp drive has put us in touch with other star systems, I don’t doubt that we’ll send ships to chart them—just as the sixteenth-century Europeans explored and settled the Americas. In time, perhaps setting up outposts and colonies on suitable worlds.”

“Sounds like science fiction,” Casey noted.

Bryan chuckled. “It was a hundred years ago, but that’s our life today.”

Casey returned the smile and nodded her understanding. “What about relations between the Earth Alliance and the Soviet Federation? Do you think we’ll finally achieve world unity?”

Bryan just sat for a moment, returning Casey’s attentive gaze with a hard, appraising one. This was exactly the kind of question that could draw a potentially controversial answer. Whatever answer he gives, radicals on one side will take his words as gospel while radicals on the other side will scream in outrage. Finally, he took a deep breath. “One can only hope.”

“I’ve seen the footage my assistant captured when you greeted the representatives on the space station. Soviets and Peridjinn. You were somewhat reserved. Do you resent their presence here?”

Now, they were definitely getting into controversial territory. The door chime sounded, mercifully interrupting the interview. Bryan fought to repress an enormous sigh of relief and mentally noted to thank whoever was on the other side of that door.

Casey, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and shot an annoyed glare at the door. “I thought you made it clear to your officers that you weren’t to be disturbed.”

“Unless it was an emergency. Come in!”

The door obediently slid open, and Bryan looked up to see one of the Peridjinn observers enter. His expression seemed hard and determined, but Bryan couldn’t really tell on that alien face. He noted the datapad in the alien’s left hand. “Captain Hamilton, I must speak with you.”

“Yes, er... Krishnik, is it?”

“Sharesk. I must know the reason for the deviation in course.”

Bryan’s smile vanished. His gaze turned hard to match the alien’s. Never mind the ‘thanks’. The once grateful interruption simply traded one annoyance for another—an intrusive reporter for a prying alien. “Why should it be your concern? It’s my ship. I’m in command.”

“You are in command, but I believe the ship belongs to your government. Answer your question, the coordinates to which you have diverted the ship are in a dangerous sector.”

“Dangerous? How?” Casey asked.

Sharesk glanced at her, then offered Bryan the datapad. He took it and studied what looked like the navi-screen, a course projected toward Alpha Centauri and a second to a set of coordinates—a difference of about seventy degrees. “In the last century, twelve ships disappeared while charting this region of space. The last disappeared thirty-three Earth years ago. Soon after contact was lost, your people received a message probe originating from those coordinates.”

“I remember reading about that,” Casey said softly while Bryan swiped the screen to the next page. He found a portion of the message that had been retrieved from that probe, highlighting the coordinates where the Krask had disappeared—the same coordinates they were diverting to. As he studied the pad, he, too, recalled the news report thirty-three years ago. He was in secondary school when the Russian ship Vostok intercepted the probe. According to the message contained within, the Krask had been pulled into something just beyond the heliosphere of Sol System.

“Since then, the Republic placed restrictions on those coordinates to ensure no more ships and lives are lost.”

Bryan looked up from the pad and met the alien eyes. “I’m aware of what happened, and I assure you that we’ll be careful. Since we finally have the means, Alliance Space Command gave me the option to investigate these coordinates.”

Sharesk’s gills flared, air wheezing through them. “I give you warning, Captain,” he said earnestly. “Going to these coordinates will put your ship and everyone on board in danger.”

“We’re just going to take a quick look. After that, we’ll continue on to Alpha Centauri as planned. If you like, I’ll discuss it with my officers and relay your warning.”

Sharesk opened his mouth, but the intercom interrupted with a buzz. Bryan reached for the com-switch. McClance’s voice came through the speaker, “Captain, Mandrel reports the warp nacelles are at full power. In short, warp drive is available. Shall I have Josef accelerate to warp, or would you like to give that order personally?”

Bryan looked between Casey and Sharesk, noting that the reporter’s camera was still active—she had been recording the entire exchange. Even with those strange eyes, Sharesk’s adamant expression was as clear as it would have been on a Human. “Continue at sublight for now, McClance, and summon the senior staff to the briefing room.”

“Yes, sir,” McClance said, his voice sounding perplexed.

Bryan switched off the intercom and came to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Casey, thanks to Sharesk, I have ship business to attend to.” Well, at least it got me out of this silly interview, he admitted to himself. Then, with a sudden thought, his lips spread into a sly grin, which he turned on the Peridjinn observer. “But maybe he can take my place.” Sharesk’s hard expression softened to one of confusion.

“Oh, definitely! I wanted to get a Peridjinn perspective! Would you mind sitting down, Sharesk, and answer a few questions for the people of Earth?”

Bryan, still grinning, held glaring eyes on Sharesk as he slipped out the door. That should teach him to meddle in my command decisions.

*

With gentle vibrations beneath his feet, Hobart studied the monitors before him. He focused on the plasma levels flowing from the reactor to the nacelles. In two other compartments—one port, one starboard—an engineer monitored the conduits halfway between the main engine room and the respective nacelle.

Hobart nodded his approval, glancing at the feed from the other monitoring stations. Everything appeared to be holding steady. Beyond the viewport, the reactor hummed with the great power it produced. Krishnik stood at the main console. Hobart joined him. “Kind of humbling, isn't it? All the power it generates. A marvelous piece of technology.”

Krishnik followed his gaze to the reactor. “It is adequate. Primitive, but adequate for the materials at your disposal.”

Hobart rolled his eyes at him. “Well, if your government had given us the resources to construct a reactor to your current specifications...”

Krishnik met his gaze calmly. “It was important you be able to construct the reactor from resources available to you and develop at your own pace. I understand you object to my presence.”

“I feel we don’t need you to hold our hands.”

“You desire to be independent. I understand. Would you be independent had we provided materials you are unable to produce on your own?”

Hobart held the alien eyes, the question echoing in his mind. He had to admit Krishnik had a point. Before he could reply, the door behind him opened, drawing his attention. The Russian representative entered. Her hard eyes scanned the room for a moment before she stepped toward them.

Hobart repressed a sigh of annoyance and forced a courteous smile. “Can I help you?”

“I want to see reactor,” the woman said.

Hobart pointed at the viewport. “There you are. Enjoy the view.”

“I want to inspect inner chamber itself.”

Hobart relaxed his grin and shook his head, matching the woman’s hard eyes. “No. You will have to settle with seeing it from here.”

“We were to be granted every courtesy on this voyage.”

“Short of jeopardizing ship security...or your lives.”

The woman glanced at the viewport. “I thought reactor was safe. No danger of radiation.”

Hobart nodded. “That is the consensus. However, this is still new technology. We must take every precaution. For your safety, and because that device is the most important part of the ship, I cannot allow any unauthorized personnel beyond that airlock. Only my staff and I.”

The intercom beeped for attention, forestalling any response the woman may have been preparing. Hobart stepped toward the console and opened the intercom. “The captain has summoned a senior staff meeting in the briefing room,” Gross said.

“On my way.” Hobart closed the intercom. “If you two will excuse me. Anderson, take charge of our guests. Make sure neither of them enters the outer chamber—especially the Russian.”

*

“How do you predict the next ten years will unfold for Humankind now that we’ve achieved faster-than-light travel?”

Even after six years on Earth, this was Sharesk’s first actual dealing with a reporter, though he was familiar with the function they served in Human society. As soon as he had settled into Hamilton’s chair, Miss Casey began asking him questions such as his age and how long he had been on Earth. Some questions were uncomfortably personal.

“I expect more such vessels will be constructed, transporting more of your kind beyond your home system,” Sharesk said. “Your kind achieved much in recent centuries. Question is the manner your kind will expand beyond your home system.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am familiar with your history. Six thousand years for Humans to spread over their world—all while killing each other for every measurement, often for insignificant reasons and over simple disagreements.”

Casey nodded her understanding. “It is pretty maddening to think about. Do Peridjinn not have a similar history with violence?”

Sharesk dipped his head in acknowledgment. “We do have history of war. When we got into space, however, it became clear that we cooperate as a species or risk destruction upon each other. You must do likewise to succeed beyond your home system.”

“Don’t you feel that we’ve taken adequate steps toward world unity?”

“There were multiple attempts in the last two centuries: League of Nations, United Nations, Earth Alliance. Sometimes, attempts result in increasing divisions.”

“Wouldn’t you agree the current Earth Alliance has made great progress toward greater unity?”

“With assistance from our Republic, ensuring equal sharing of warp technology. Concern, however, is not only how you deal with yourselves beyond your system, but how you deal with other races you encounter.”

Casey nodded. “I understand.” Her tone suggested otherwise, but the reporter apparently felt it was time to change the subject. “Just one more topic that I would like to get your thoughts on. Are you familiar with the recent discoveries made in paleontology?”

“You refer to fossils that indicate anthropoidal life on Earth in distant past?”

Casey nodded again, this time in affirmation. “That’s right. According to some of the latest reports, a number of the fossil remains, dating from sixty-five million years ago, have been identified as Peridjinn.”

Sharesk nodded, imitating the Human gesture for affirmation—and other things, apparently, but affirmation most often. “There were also Human remains discovered, I understand. Current Humans—not simians from which your scientists believe your species descended.”

Again, Casey nodded. “Any thoughts on that? Do you think the findings are real or a hoax?”

“I am not a scientist. I, therefore, cannot make a professional conclusion. Speaking personally, it is not impossible for findings to be...hoax.” Sharesk paused for a moment on the unfamiliar word. Hopefully, he inferred the meaning correctly from Casey’s usage. “Not when one considers your people’s custom of producing life-like fiction.”

“That’s a good point.”

*

“I intend to continue our detour to these coordinates,” Hamilton said. The captain stood at the head of the conference table while Ken, with arms crossed, gave him his full attention. He had just relayed to the officers the permission he had from Alliance Space Command to investigate the disappearance of the Krask and Sharesk’s warning to avoid that area of space completely. “However, if there are any objections or reservations, I will hear and consider them. After all, according to the Peridjinn, eleven other ships besides the Krask have disappeared in this region. If you all would rather we heed Sharesk’s warning and avoid these coordinates, I’m willing to forego my intentions and proceed to Alpha Centauri.”

Ken looked from the captain to the officers sitting around the simulated-oak, waxed-top table: across from him, Lieutenant Commander Victoria Stoner, Chief of Sciences; beside her, Lieutenant Commander Hobart Mandrel, Chief Engineer; directly across from the captain, Lieutenant Franzis Josef, Helmsman; and, immediately to his right, Lieutenant Tasha Gross, Communications. Mandrel and Josef gave the captain their full attention. Stoner and Gross, however, gazed at the table in front of them, silently working out the decision.

“I vote we continue the detour,” Mandrel said. “As much as I appreciate the help the Peridjinn have given us, this is our ship. It’s enough that they think they need to hold our hands.”

“I agree,” Josef said. “Now that we’re capable of interstellar travel, are we going to let the Peridjinn tell us where we should and shouldn’t go?”

“They're warning us of danger,” Ken said. “A very real danger, if you remember the probe the Vostok picked up thirty years ago. And that, up until that time, nearly every Peridjinn mission into this system was never heard from again.”

“So they claim,” Josef said. “We have no way of verifying that.”

“Then, should we dismiss it out of hand? Dismiss the danger because of our lack of first-hand experience with it?” He and Josef held each other’s eyes for a moment longer.

Then, Gross spoke up. “I agree. The Peridjinn have more experience with what’s out here. I say we heed Sharesk’s warning and avoid those coordinates.”

“Two and two,” Hamilton said. He turned to the Chief of Sciences. “Stoner, it’s up to you.”

Stoner looked up and around at the officers. “McClance and Gross make good points. However, I must admit to being curious about what’s causing those ships to disappear. I vote for the detour—just for a quick look.”

Ken propped his elbow on the table and facepalmed with a heavy sigh. “This is a mistake.”

“That’s what it will be—just a quick look,” Hamilton said. “Then, we’ll be on our way to Alpha Centauri. I’ll inform the Reps. Josef, de Seleaux has the coordinates plotted. Set course and proceed—warp factor two.” He finished with a wide grin at the anticipation of finally using the warp engines.

Josef returned the grin, rising to his feet. “Aye, sir.”

Ken and the other officers followed. He found Josef waiting for him in the corridor. “Well, I guess your parentage didn’t help you there,” the helmsman said. “That’s what we call ‘real life’.” Ken glared at him but continued after Stoner and Gross toward the lift. Josef took up the rear. “Your father is a scientist. If he was here, I think he would agree to check out what’s making ships disappear.”

“My dad’s field is cetacean biology, not stellar phenomena. And, if there’s one thing I learned from him, it’s the importance of heeding warnings—no matter where they come from.”


Earth Calendar: 11 March 2105 A.D.

Ken rubbed his sore eyes and glanced at the chronometer on his console: 0145. Well into the night shift, yet most of the command crew remained on the bridge. Soon, they would be arriving at the coordinates—the area of space in which the Peridjinn had lost a dozen ships over the past century. Word had spread among the crew—by Miss Casey, probably—and the question hung over them of whether they would join the missing Peridjinn ships. Then, in the mess hall, someone observed that they could be Number Thirteen. That didn’t help the tension level at all.

Then, there was the warp drive. It had been over eleven hours since they engaged the drive. The deck plates had been vibrating the entire time from the power driving the warp nacelles. Initially, there were concerns that the ship would fly apart. The concerns only got worse as the hours dragged on. Mandrel and Krishnik attempted to reassure the crew with a ship-wide announcement that all was well and that the vibrations were normal. Most seemed to accept the reassurance, but a few in the mess hall were still visibly bothered by the constant shaking.

“We are arriving at the coordinates,” Josef reported.

“Decelerate to sublight,” Hamilton said.

The intensity of the vibrations beneath Ken’s feet decreased. On the main viewscreen, the streaks of light that were present since they engaged the warp engines returned to a familiar starscape.

“Now at sublight speed,” Josef said.

The door behind them opened with a mechanical hum. Gross stepped onto the bridge, her red hair in disarray, her uniform jacket missing, and the top two buttons of her shirt undone. Casey, Yanova, and Sakaguchi followed her, joining Sharesk behind the captain. “Gross, I thought you had retired for the night,” Hamilton said.

“I couldn’t sleep, knowing that we’re headed straight into an area that has already claimed a dozen starships.” She finished with a notable bite in her voice.

“Noted, Lieutenant,” Hamilton said firmly.

“There is still time to turn away,” Sharesk said. “Please, turn away. For your ship and crew.”

“I agree with the Peridjinn representative,” Sakaguchi said.

Ken opened his mouth to voice his agreement, but the captain spoke up, determined. “And I say we may learn something about what is here that is claiming starships. Wouldn’t the Peridjinn like something conclusive to put in the reports of their missing ships?”

“I agree with Captain Hamilton,” Yanova said.

“Thank you,” Hamilton said, this time appreciatively. Again, Ken opened his mouth to voice his objection, but stopped. The captain already knew his position. With one officer already voicing her objection and two of the representatives aligning with her, loyalty compelled him to side with his captain. “Stoner, are the sensors working?” Hamilton asked, unaware of the conflict within Ken’s mind.

“Yes, Captain. Sensors are operational and recording. Nothing so far.”

“Josef, confirm our coordinates.”

“Coordinates confirmed. The probe originated from here.”

They continued forward. Everyone on the bridge was still for several minutes. The minutes seemed to stretch into eternity, the only sound being the steady beeping of controls and readouts. On the viewscreen, the space ahead of them was still. Ken looked down at his tactical screen. All clear there, too.

Then, an alarm sounded from the science console, drawing all eyes to Stoner. “There!” she cried, perhaps a little louder than necessary. “Activity off forward-port quarter—ten o’clock position. Are those tachyon particles?”

“I thought tachyon particles were hypothetical,” Ken said.

“Not anymore, it would seem.”

“Josef, ten degrees to port,” Hamilton said. “Then, cut ion engines. Thrusters and inertia only. We’ll gather as much information as we can and transmit it back to Earth.”

Josef played his controls. On the screen, the starfield shifted.

“Activity increasing from the particles,” Stoner said.

A flash on the viewscreen bleached the bridge in a sudden white light, drawing all eyes forward. Where a moment ago there had been clear space ahead, there was now what looked like a small white star pulsing brilliantly. Ken gripped his console as the ship shuttered and deckplates rumbled beneath his feet. “Have the warp engines reactivated?”

“Negative,” Josef answered.

“But we are being pulled forward,” de Seleaux added. “Toward that light.”

“We must leave, Captain Hamilton!” Sharesk said.

“Josef, hard to starboard,” Hamilton ordered. “Full power to ion engines. Stoner, send to communications whatever information you got on this anomaly. Gross, send it to Earth as soon as you have it.”

The viewscreen shifted again, this time away from the new “star”. Vibrations in the deckplates increased until the whole ship rattled. “We are still being pulled in,” de Seleaux said.

“We’re caught in a gravitational field, generated by that...tear in space,” Stoner said.

Just like the Krask, Ken thought. “Josef, engage warp engines. Full power.”

“Warp engines firing.” The ship creaked around them under the strain.

“We are being pulled in faster,” de Seleaux said.

“I demand you get us out of this, Captain,” Yanova said, “if you wish to avoid incident.”

“That doesn’t seem possible,” Josef said. “Warp engines at full power.”

“Engine room reporting power output from the warp nacelles are red-lining,” the night-watch ensign reported from communications.

A visibly worried Hamilton looked around the bridge, not sure what to do. Ken didn’t envy his position. He had ignored warnings, leading Humanity’s first starship toward destruction less than twenty-four hours into their maiden voyage. Possible destruction. The fates of the missing ships were unknown, though the fact that the Republic obviously never heard from them again was concerning. “Now you see, Captain Hamilton,” Sharesk said.

“Gross, have you sent the message to Earth?” the captain asked.

“Message sent. But there’s so much interference from that thing, I canna be certain it got through.”

“Signal all hands: brace yourselves.” Brace for what, Ken wondered to himself. Hamilton continued, “Josef, shut down the engines.”

“You can’t be serious!” Casey exclaimed. “We’ll be pulled into who-knows-where!”

Ken held his eyes on the captain, uncertain if he had just heard him correctly. He opened his mouth to voice his objection, but he didn’t exactly have any other ideas. Neither ion nor warp engines were doing any good. “We’re being pulled in anyways,” he said instead. “I suggest you hold onto the rail.”

“Engines shut down,” Josef confirmed. The vibrations beneath Ken’s feet seemed to lessen, though not by much.

A moment later, the ship lurched, and a brilliant white light again filled the screen just before everything went black.