EXTRACT FOR
The Stars Are Ours: Part 2 - Powerplay
(Author Unknown)
Chapter One
In orbit, Clemis ejected the Tafret data crystal from its niche and substituted the flight plan Nimion had supplied. Little happened when she engaged it; the sphere would continue to the far side of Celestra before setting a course for Alda Five. She felt very exposed during this phase and hoped Nimion was honouring his promise to keep her off the scanners.
During take off she had seen Alda Mexa spread below, picturesque and sunny, much as it would have appeared to Tralvar on his last ascent. But he wouldn't have seen the asymmetrical scar of the Eldorian base, nor the massing of men and machines on the flood plains where live fire exercises were shortly due to commence. Like Tralvar, Clemis felt fiercely protective toward her homeworld, and was convinced that salvation lay in the plans she carried possibly more convinced than their creator had been. She touched the broad belt next to her skin and smiled, albeit tremulously, to herself.
She left the viewscreen active during the short journey, although there was little to see except Alda's fiery disc dwindling to the size of a nugget. Soon, the programme complete, her control station fell idle. She now had sole command of the sphere.
Alda Five lay ahead, a gas giant with three large moons, innumerable small ones and orbiting bands of fine dust. Clemis had been there once before on a training run, and her tutor Plinn had been at pains to help her cope with the hazards. Alone, she still had difficulty contending with the shifting nature of the dust and the rapid retrograde motion of some of the satellites.
She made three complete circuits of Alda Five without finding a trace of the alien vessel she sought. And then, suddenly, there it was a huge barrel of a craft, proceeding in its orbit with a slow rolling motion. It had come from the dark side of one of the moons, the largest, whose mass had effectively concealed it from Clemis' instruments. As soon as it had left its place of eclipse, the sphere's scanners had locked onto it and alerted her. The logic system gave her its dimensions: it was, as Aprival had inferred, a world in its own right.
Clemis engaged a tentative forward course to take her nearer the ship. All at once there was too much to do, too many indicators to watch. Distance, speed, trajectory, the object's slow drift, and the ever present risk of encountering meteorites in this cluttered region of space. For a moment she almost panicked; then she imagined Trevone's self satisfied look and her resolve came back in a rush. "Not expert enough to fly a sphere alone?" she muttered. "I'll show you!"
The other spacecraft moved implacably on its predetermined course. As she neared it she could discern viewports, solar panels and various types of antennae. Energy emissions were at a minimum, however, and she was unable to lock onto a transposer array.
How was she going to contact these people? If they were tracking her and she had no evidence that they were how would they know that it was she, Clemis, on board? If she continued to circle them they might think she was an Eldorian and open fire on her. There seemed to be only one solution: since they were obviously not going to communicate, she would have to attempt a touchdown on the vessel's surface and try to make herself known by telepathic means. Contacting nonconversants under such circumstances would be far from easy; her most sensible move would be to search for Aprival's damaged yet distinctive mind. Surely he, more than any stranger, would recognise her and indicate she was welcome.
She sent the sphere closer and closer until the entire viewscreen was filled with the bulk of the other craft. Her own little spacecraft was behaving well its spin was steady, its equilibrium constant. Clemis was just beginning to pride herself on her competent handling of a tricky manoeuvre when the thrusters abruptly cut out. The viewscreen image collapsed, but not before she'd glimpsed a slowly widening aperture in the adjacent hull.
Then the lights failed. Instantly her qualms were swept aside by a greater fear, a primitive reaction to the sudden darkness. Where was the emergency lighting? Why hadn't it worked? Part of her mind registered that all auxiliary systems had shut down, including life support. As the sphere's rotation slowed, so her weight decreased; it was the first time she'd experienced free fall, and the sensation did not appeal to her. She sobbed aloud and clung to the console's edge to prevent herself from floating about.
There was movement of an indeterminate nature, a slight swaying as the sphere was nudged along by some external force. Then came a series of lurches, a shuddering impact, and silence. All apparatus remained inert and functionless.
After a few moments of mental disarray, Clemis forced herself to think coherently. It seemed as if she had been drawn inside the big ship, possibly into a cargo hold or storage bunker. There was gravity here, at least. Two low powered blasts on her stun gun yielded just enough light to guide her to the hatch, which could be cracked open by purely mechanical means; but once there she hesitated. There could well be a vacuum outside. On the other hand, she had no idea how long the cabin's air supply would remain viable. Plinn had spoken of such contingencies, but much of his careful teaching had been lost on her.
Nervously she sent her thoughts into the unknown, to brush against a series of encapsulated minds: anonymous crewmen, each intent on his own task. She passed them by, searching ever more frantically for Aprival and a release from the claustrophobic blackness. At last she found him. He was weary and on the verge of sleep, and her intrusion startled him considerably.
"Clemis, where are you? What "
+Slowly+ came her answer, echoing weirdly through his head. +Speak your replies aloud, very slowly. I can't understand you otherwise+
"Are you on the ship?" asked Aprival, still bemused.
+Yes, but I don't know where. Go and tell your friends it's me tell them to turn off this force field or whatever it is+
"Yes, Clemis. Hold on wait don't move..." Aprival's thoughts became inchoate, a typically nonconversant reaction. Such a lack of focus would normally have irritated Clemis, but this time she found it rather endearing.
Aprival was now speaking rapidly with some technicians, and she concentrated on receiving the subject matter behind his words. A landing bay that was where she'd been brought. It was unpressurised, but air was already being filtered in. The tractor beam was no longer operating, but the sphere was temporarily useless. Its power cells had been drained. The crew regretted the inconvenience caused, but Xorian had instructed them to take no chances. Any approaching spacecraft were to be snared intact, and a communications blackout was to be maintained at all times. Clemis had been sensible not to transmit any voice messages.
To hear herself discussed in these impersonal terms only increased the captive's discomfiture. Was no one going to show any concern? Aprival had been anxious enough for her to come here, after all, and now she was being treated like a prisoner instead of a guest. I won't hide I'll go and confront them, she told herself; and, moving clumsily in the dark, hand cranked the hatch until she was able to squeeze out.
The air outside was chilly and laden with a metallic odour. There was very little light here either, but sufficient to reveal an immensely high, concave vault and the dim silent shapes of many shuttlecraft. Despite her attempted bravado, she couldn't help feeling lost and miserable in such gloomy alien surroundings. And thus, when swift footfalls and a bobbing lamp announced Aprival's presence, she was overwhelmed with relief. Impulsively she ran across to him and flung herself into his arms.
Aprival supported her gently, not speaking. After a moment Clemis drew away. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "It was because of the darkness and silence..."
Aprival smiled at her. "Don't be afraid," he said quietly. "You've nothing to fear from us, Clemis."
Recovering, she took refuge in sarcasm. "I'm glad you appreciate my being here. Thank the boys for a wonderful welcome."
"They were only following orders," protested Aprival. "I was off duty and knew nothing about it."
"And Xorian?"
"Asleep, I suppose. Even captains have to sleep sometime."
"I daresay. Well, shouldn't you wake him up? I imagine he'll want to see me."
Aprival didn't move. "On the landing field, you said that if you came to us you'd be willing to trust us."
"And you said I'd be told all about your people before negotiations began. If you're still prepared to do that, we have a deal."
"We'll be pleased to honour our side of the bargain." Aprival put an arm lightly about her shoulders and escorted her toward an inner airlock. "While we're waiting for Xorian, I'll give you the guided tour."
"Thank you."
"My pleasure. Or more accurately, my one and only chance to show off. You'll soon know more than I do about this expedition."
***
Two ilden after Clemis' departure, an unhappy but determined Trevone arrived at the Lyricon and summoned the lift to Nefyrra's suite. Something was delaying its descent, and he was on the point of heading for the stairs when the doors finally slid open. To his surprise, Lydion stepped out.
"Sorry to hold you up, young man. I was just finishing a chat with your mother."
Trevone managed a smile. "What strange new friendship is this?"
Lydion grinned broadly in return. "Oh, just admin stuff. I get on much better with Nefyrra these days."
"Is she in a good mood?"
"She's glad to be rid of that circus, if that's what you mean. We've got every available cleaner scrubbing down the lower levels to freshen them up. If you're free later, we could use another pair of hands."
"I'm supposed to be at work," Trevone began automatically, then paused. "Oh, to chaos with it. I'm sick of toeing the line. I'll be glad to help."
Nefyrra, finding her duties interrupted a second time, was initially cool toward her son. Then she noticed his woebegone expression and tactfully ushered him into her private quarters. "I haven't seen you looking like this since Kalyx used to break your toys. What's wrong, my earnest one?"
Trevone should have commenced by asking, very circumspectly, if she knew anything via Jarras about the Alda Five itinerants. Instead he found himself pouring out the whole story, up to and including Clemis' solo mission. "I promised Nimion I wouldn't take my protests to Laura," he concluded. "He was right to talk me out of it I'd probably have made a scene. It sickens me to think she's let Clemis go blithely into danger. Clemis wouldn't see it as such, of course; she's too infatuated with that amnesiac messenger."
Nefyrra listened sympathetically. She had known about the alien spies, as Jarras had called them, but not in any great detail as he'd regarded them as Eldor's problem. "You really do love Clemis, don't you?" she remarked softly.
"You know that."
"In that case, if I'm to make sense of what's happened, you'll have to try very hard to see beyond your grievance with Aprival. Now take me through the facts again, slowly. Idenion declined to liaise with these unknowns but let them remain in our solar system?"
"Only because he thought they wouldn't stay."
"But they did stay, at tremendous risk to themselves. Which to me suggests resolve and courage, not the frivolous desire of one man."
"I never said they weren't courageous I said they couldn't win," Trevone said, still smarting with anger. "Can't you see what's going on? Laura's being a bitch female, as the Eldorians would say. She's out to avenge the attack on Idenion and that's why she's decided to back these people."
"That's nonsense," Nefyrra declared. "Laura defers to Idenion in all matters of state. If she says he countermanded his previous instruction then that's exactly what he did. There's nothing like a brush with death to help you get things in perspective and I should know!"
"Well, maybe it was his decision. That doesn't mean he's right. Clemis was completely taken in by Geffin's scaremongering; maybe Idenion was too, enough to prompt him into a bad move."
"I was there when Clemis was talking to Geffin," Nefyrra said quietly. "He wasn't scaremongering. His forecasts were sincere and genuine, and I believe them."
"Oh, he can pitch a story. I'm just surprised you give him credence," Trevone said disapprovingly. "I suppose you also think Clemis had a glimpse into the future last night?"
"There's a difference between informed opinion and a wild tale," Nefyrra replied brusquely. "It's perfectly obvious what she reacted to. Idenion was mortally afraid from the moment he entered the lurlan's cage, and Clemis must have sensed it even though he wasn't consciously sending. She's very close to her father, in case you hadn't noticed."
"She just took off and left me," Trevone said, half to himself. "Never explained, never said sorry. She's marginalising me, and today's just another example."
Nefyrra sighed. "Trevone, we're not getting anywhere with this. You're losing sight of one important fact: Clemis is the daughter of our ruling family. She's had to take her position much more seriously since the Eldorians came, and now that Idenion's ill she's been precipitated into an active role. You say she's been keeping you at a distance. Kalyx complained of the same thing."
Trevone scowled involuntarily.
"So," Nefyrra went on calmly, "didn't it occur to you that duty requires her to keep everyone at arm's length? Laura mentioned new intelligence: whatever's been discovered, Clemis is bound to be a party to it. She's trying to be a good citizen and your attitude isn't helping. Again, I speak from experience."
"You mean father?"
"Yes. Jarras can't take the strain and he resents me because I can. Try to show Clemis you're above such things. Support her even when you don't fully understand her."
Trevone seemed placated to some extent. "I hadn't considered the security aspect. Thanks, mother I knew I could rely on your common-sense."
***
Once clear of the landing bay, Aprival led his bemused guest to a small monorail. "This is designed for shifting freight, so it's a bit primitive," he apologised. "But it's better than walking!"
He stepped onto a flat motorised platform of dark green metal. Clemis followed gingerly. Their transport's one wall housed a simple instrument panel and handgrips for two passengers: soon, with Aprival at the controls, they were proceeding at a modest pace through a succession of engineering departments.
There were surprisingly few people about, but those they passed subjected Clemis to a variety of stares. She caught a fragment of thought: "...never dreamt I'd see a live one!" Which, on reflection, struck her as somewhat insulting.
"I suppose I'm bound to attract some comments," she remarked to Aprival.
"Oh, they'll get used to you," he replied. "You're going to be here a while!"
There was yet another airlock at the monorail terminus. Clemis, ahead of Aprival, emerged on the far side and halted in surprise. They had passed from a factory environment into a realm of luxury. An ornate staircase with burnished handrails led down to a large and very empty restaurant. There were rectangular tables with tinted transparent tops, furnishings of green and gold, panelled walls with delicate abstract artwork, and a huge viewport which revealed the slowly rotating constellations in all their splendour.
"Why isn't anyone using this?" Clemis whispered.
"It's just too big. This ship was designed to carry two thousand people, and there are less than three hundred of us. This is one of the passenger decks. The crew's quarters suit us better."
On closer inspection Clemis could see wear and tear beneath the opulence; damage to the tabletops and upholstery, flaking paint on the wall panels.
"I must show you the ballroom," said Aprival. He threw open a set of intricately carved wooden doors, and Clemis walked slowly onto a vast expanse of polished but well trodden flooring. Again the walls were sumptuously panelled, each frame individually lit from below. At the far end of the hall was a stage; on the walls to either side were two life size etchings of trees, their gold and silver branches extending gracefully to the ceiling. Metallic leaves, paper thin, fluttered gently in the airflow from concealed ventilation.
"It's lovely, but so sad to let it deteriorate," Clemis said.
"We're not here to dance," Aprival answered wryly.
"Then what's the point of all this extra space?"
"A good question. I wish I knew the answer." Aprival made an attempt to be flippant. "Don't worry, Clemis you'll soon have more answers than you can handle."
"I doubt that," she retorted.
"We'll see. Now come on, we have to keep moving. Nordall has the watch and he's very strict about energy saving. He'll be waiting to shut this section down."
Clemis took one last look about her, trying to imagine the desolate rooms filled with life and laughter. It wasn't easy. How could anyone sustain a party mood with that sobering starscape wheeling past?
"That's a strange remark, coming from you," Aprival said when she'd voiced her reflections. "What happened to all that Celestrian hedonism?"
"We're going to war, Aprival," she said tonelessly. "Excuse me if I don't sound too cheerful about it."
"War. You're sure of that?"
"I'm certain." Her gaze held his, steady and solemn, and he suddenly wanted to kiss her.
"We should go," he muttered instead. She's scarcely arrived and I'm screwing things up, his thoughts said.
"I'd like to continue this conversation." Clemis was the essence of tact. "But not with Nordall about to cut the life support. I've already been subjected to that once today!"
"He won't do anything till we're clear. Our life signs are on the ship's sensors." Aprival led Clemis back the way they had come until they again stood in the bleakly functional supply bay. Their transport platform had been commandeered by a man and woman in blue overalls, who were loading canisters onto it. Unconcerned, Aprival went to consult a wall terminal, leaving Clemis to watch the distant pair and listen to their good-natured banter.
Chaos, she thought, it was hard work reading these people! The canisters contained stew, which they were both heartily sick of she understood that much. But their backgrounds and objectives were impossible to pin down. She hadn't encountered anything so slippery since Kalyx had taken her snowboarding on Ninka Heights.
"I'm to bring you to the conference room - or as near as I'm able," Aprival said on his return. "It's security protected and I'm forbidden to enter."
"Oh," said Clemis, disconcerted at the thought of being separated from him.
"Xorian will come to meet us, so you won't be by yourself at any time," Aprival added in an attempt to reassure her. To Clemis it seemed more like an admission of mistrust.
"How do we get there?" she asked a little distantly.
"If we go via the propulsion hall we can take an elevator tube. Unless, of course, you like climbing stairs?"
Clemis wanted to show him she could manage the climb, but was curious to see what drove the ship. Curiosity won. "The tube, please."
The elevator was on the far side of the bay. During the short walk Clemis' gaze was never still, noting everything they passed. She still didn't know what to make of her new environment. She'd imagined an efficiently run war machine, not a floating palace with a skeleton crew. It had obviously been designed for peacetime use and borrowed maybe even stolen for its present mission. Something else which puzzled her was the language spoken on board. It didn't seem as strange as it should have done, although it bore scant resemblance to anything she'd heard before.
The tube ejected them onto a broad gallery overlooking what appeared to be a pumping station. There were extensive fuel lines and numerous power cables, all leading to a bulky piece of apparatus at the rear of the vessel. Again, there were only one or two people in attendance.
"The system's shut down at present," Aprival informed her. "Only the gyroscopes are active; they're in the peripheral chambers."
Clemis surveyed the collection of pipes dubiously. "I've never seen anything like this before. How does it transpose?"
"It doesn't. You're looking at an ion drive: in other words, electrical propulsion. Nordall says we can achieve one quarter of light speed eventually. There are chemical boosters to get the acceleration under way, or rather they might if we had enough fuel. We used most of it making a dash for Alda Five's shadow."
"Then how in chaos did you get here?"
"That will shortly be explained," said a new voice. Clemis turned to see a mature, darkhaired woman standing at the back of the gallery.
"Meet Xorian," said Aprival.
Clemis was somewhat taken aback. She stammered an uncertain greeting as Xorian moved serenely toward her. Like Aprival, the newcomer wore a plain two piece garment with no badge of office; yet her every move expressed quiet authority.
"I'm glad to see you here at last," said the matriarch. Her voice was firm but pleasant, her Celestrian accent faultless. "What did you expect, Clemis? Another young man? I hope you aren't too disappointed."
"On the contrary," answered Clemis, recovering. "My reaction was one of surprise, not disappointment. You remind me of my mother."
"I'm flattered," said Xorian. "I hope that idea can be sustained. Well, Clemis, in accordance with your wishes I must now enlighten you. Aprival, would you leave us please?"
He hesitated. "Can't I stay?"
"You cannot," answered Xorian coldly.
"Xorian, please...!"
"I said no. Try to curb your impatience. Or are you prepared to trivialise your sacrifice for the sake of another few days?"