Savage Stars Read online

  "Gavin! Activate the EMP! They're going to kill us!" Skylar's blue eyes became his focus as she turned his head towards her. They're going to kill her. He thought to himself. He looked to his panel and saw that the electromagnetic weapon was at ninety-seven percent charge, it was more than enough to disable anything within fifty thousand kilometres that wasn't disconnected from active systems and heavily shielded. He entered his code and activated the electromagnetic weapon.

  The lights went out.

  Seven

  The joy of being accepted by a government as large as the British Alliance was drained by drab waiting rooms and certification check points. Spin had the longest amount of processing to go through. The first waiting room was a white floored, navy blue walled room that was wide enough for people to walk through the middle aisle with a row of chairs on either side.

  It was easily thirty metres long, and localized audio that projected directly at each person told them what their spot in line was and when to move up to the next room. Spin's entire crew, with the exception of the Governor, who was on watch aboard the ship, were sitting together. The support and hibernation box containing the mind of Dorian, an old friend of his who needed a new body. It was in stasis, but he'd filled all the paperwork for his boxed companion with the help of the Governor, who was the guide for the entire ship's application process. He filed his own as an applicant with special circumstances so he could answer questions from the ship while he was on watch.

  After half an hour in the first waiting room, they were all called to the second. Everyone was dressed in environment suits and cleaned up. Spin didn't know what to expect in the refugee processing centre. It was much calmer than she thought. The city of Olm was a series of tall, fin-like buildings that were pointed into the planet's winds. All able to turn slightly when the wind changed with the season. High levels of sulphur and a mixture of acidic gasses were in the air, so they were lucky to land inside a docking bay.

  Most of the refugees were human, and the waiting room was quiet but busy. They were part of a large group that were moving up, sent through a set of old double doors, down a hallway with no windows, to another waiting room. "Oh, cool, a view," Della said as she moved to the broad window. Spin, Nigel, Sharon, Leland, and Mirra joined her. Wind drove rain between the tall fin shaped buildings as light from the east, where the clouds parted created shifting rainbows for a moment before the light disappeared. Heavy, square hover ships moved small mountains of glistening stone to the edge of the city, dumping their loads into a processing chute where people in suits that looked like tiny miniatures in scale held devices up. "It's beautiful, even in the dark." Della said.

  "Too bad the acid rain would strip us to the bone in seconds if we went outside without a suit," Sharon said, sitting down, ignoring the view.

  "Downer," Della sighed, staring through the window.

  "Thank you for getting me here," Spin said. The waiting room was filling up, a hundred red seats in back to back rows waited for refugees. "I had faith that you wouldn't hate each other by the end of the voyage, and I'm glad I was right."

  Nigel turned around and slid down into the seat. "Don't know if that's true," he said quietly. "Some of us aren't sticking around."

  "Hey, I said I'd talk to her about it, not actually leave," Della said.

  "It always sounded like you were leaning towards leaving the crew." The way he shrugged made Nigel look like he'd already argued with her about it so many times that the topic exhausted him. "You kept telling me you weren't much use aboard, and I kept telling you everyone wants you on the crew, that you're worth a share, but I could never convince you, so I guess you're going, right?"

  There was the real argument, the one they had in private. The argument everyone thought they were having about Nigel having a new toy was only what people thought the cause of the drama was. Spin could see it in the faces of everyone around. It looked like they'd never heard them talk about this, especially Mirra, who seemed surprised but worked to regain an unaffected expression.

  Spin thought for a moment as Della stared at Nigel, and Nigel looked at the floor. "Did you learn about the ship while we made the crossing?" Spin asked Della.

  "I shadowed Nigel as much as I could while I kept cleaning with Mirra and cooked for everyone. I got some gun simulation time in too. I just don't know if that's really useful. You can find a dumb bot to clean, a processor to cook, and there are better gunners."

  Spin took in the quiet stares of the crew. Mirra was still trying to figure out what to say, Leland was watching the discussion, Sharon was looking away, listening but pretending like none of it affected her. There was something there, though; an intentional iciness that told Spin that their new pilot did have an opinion but she didn't want to share it. Spin suspected that Sharon didn't want Della to leave either, none of them seemed to. "None of those things would add up to who you are," Spin said. "So, there's that, but I'm wondering if there's a reason you want to leave. Are you afraid that where I'm going may be dangerous? That's justified."

  "No, well, a little, yes," Della replied. "Not enough to leave, though. I thought that, since I'm no good with a gun, and I don't actually know how to fix much, I might just be in the way."

  "You've never been in the way," Mirra said. "If you have a problem, it's that you consider others before yourself too much."

  "That's not true. I can be as selfish as anyone else."

  Nigel and Mirra both scoffed at Della's remark. Spin took the opportunity to break back into the conversation. "If you have to go for any reason, I understand. You have enough money to set yourself up somewhere, and I didn't expect everyone to stay when we got here. You're free, we're all free, so who am I to hold you back? If the question is if I need you, well I think the longer you spend with us, the more I will."

  "She comes to the bridge and does puzzles for hours," Sharon said. "She says she's reading the news, but I checked. They're technical troubleshooting problems. Some of them for the Convoy King, our ship. Sometimes it takes her a while, but she's pushing Training Level Three. I needed to go to college to get that far."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Nigel asked.

  "I wanted to finish the courses first. There are nine levels, you don't have to be a genius to get through the third one."

  "You have to be really smart to do it without any help or tutorials, and you haven't used the help system at all," Sharon said. "Don't sell yourself short."

  "Well, sure, but I didn't think it would be worth telling anyone about it unless I made it to at least level six. I was really just having fun."

  "Troubleshooting a starship is your idea of fun?" Mirra laughed. "That's amazing, engineering problems are your brain teasers."

  "Okay," Spin said, smiling a little. All eyes were on her and Della. "Let's put that aside for a minute. "Every ship needs a Della. Usually the crew calls him Cookie, or Mother Goose, or Den Mother. If any of you want to leave because you want to get started on your life, that's the smartest thing to do. I expect that I'm going to dangerous places. I have a search running for doll designers right now that I'm sure will lead me to some dangerous person on a dangerous planet. That's for a start. If I get what I need by chasing after designers and Geist survivors, I'll probably have to go there eventually, and the chances of survival are not good. So, go with my blessing. If your only barrier to staying is the thought that you might be useless aboard our ship, then forget it. You and Mirra take care of us. If you want to learn more, to do more aboard, then you're welcome to, but you don't have to. I don't know the ship like the rest of you, I was asleep while you made it your home, but I see you as part of this crew just as much as anyone else." Spin didn't mean for it to turn into a lecture, or a speech, but she kept finding the right words, so she kept saying them.

  It almost brought Della and Mirra to tears. Nigel's eyes were brimming too. "I'm staying, then," Della said. Mirra put her arms around her from behind.

  Nigel took her hand and kissed the back of
it, and Leland was all smiles. Sharon was still looking away, but Spin caught her nodding. A pair of intake officers in blue, red and white uniforms approached Nigel and knelt down in front of him. "I'm sorry," one of them started in crisp English accents. "I have to ask; what do you have in that box there?"

  "It's my friend, Dorian. I just arrived so I couldn't find him a body," Nigel replied.

  Leland opened his mouth to explain further, but one of the officers held up her hand and shook her head. "We're talking to your friend here, you'll get your turn. Now, we're asking about your box because our scanners picked up the bio-matter inside. Is that your friend's brain in there?"

  "Yes," Nigel said, starting to bristle at being spoken to like a nine-year-old holding his pet frog. "The rest didn't make it."

  "Oh, I see," one officer said, looking to the other.

  "Well, I can't interview that, now, can I?" she said, stalking off. "Get a host kit ready!" she called out.

  "We only have female models, make sure it's a good match!" someone called back from behind a screen at the other end of the room.

  "Do you think I can scan your box?" the officer in front of Nigel asked gently, holding a hand scanner up so he could see it.

  "Go ahead," Nigel said.

  "This'll take just a jiff, your friend in the box won't feel a thing, not even a little tingle," she said as she waved the hand scanner exaggeratedly. Spin found herself rolling her eyes. "Well, there we have it. A male brain, and I see his files have been put in for him to immigrate already. Uploading them in advance was very smart. Like my colleague said, we only have female bodies and they cost fifty-five thousand apiece."

  "If I can get him entered into your system and cleared, I think I'd rather wait until I can get a male one," Nigel said.

  "Oh, that probably won't work," the officer said, trying to deliver the bad news as gently as she could. "He can't stay in there much longer. Stasis or not, the chances of infection, rejection and damage go up the longer he's in that little box."

  Nigel looked to Leland, who nodded. "Technically, it's true. It's not the best containment system. The price of the body they're offering is very good though. What kind is it?"

  "It's a full biological replacement kit. She'll be capable of everything a human woman is, and though it's fibre-fabricated, it's the same quality as a high-end clone and we'll alter the DNA to match and make every other modification so there is no chance of rejection. We'll even make sure psychological rejection is impossible. I'm guessing there was some trauma involved in his… reduction, so we'll iron out all those traumatic events, correct for warrior gene defects and reduce his immediate aggression. We'll add a custom adaptation kit as well so he is less traumatized by the sudden switch to a she as well. It's all necessary, you understand. If we don't prepare and correct his mind, he could reject the body, and that'll be the end of his merry ride through life."

  "So, the fifty-five thousand includes all that?" Leland asked.

  "It does. You couldn't believe the condition some refugees come in. When we can't save them, we pop them into another body. It happens all the time," she replied. Still cheery.

  "Do unexpected sex changes happen all the time?" Nigel asked.

  "More often than I'm allowed to admit. We have to work with what's on hand, unfortunately, and there isn't another registered body shop for a few days quick travel in any direction."

  Nigel thought for a moment, looking at the nondescript box, tracing the edges with his fingers. He didn't like the sound of all the mental modifications and corrections. It almost sounded like his friend wouldn't be himself at all by the end, but would it be better if he died in a box? "His personality would be really different?"

  "No, his behaviour may change a little, depending on how much of it stemmed from trauma, genetic and neurological defects he was born with or picked up. If past trauma made him violent, then you'll find that lessened. If he had learning issues, you'll find those corrected as well. It's all in making sure that he's capable of accepting his new situation and compatible with the new body. Unstable personalities almost always result in transplant failure with full body replacements."

  "How long before you get more male bodies?"

  "Next week sometime," the officer replied.

  "We could put him in a better stasis box?" Nigel asked, looking to Leland.

  "The risk gets bigger with every transfer."

  "He'll look great, and the new body will have all the functions - beating heart, breathing - you know, the feeling of being alive."

  "No enhancements, though?"

  "Oh, you're in the wrong place for that. The new body is a bit more durable, but there's not much in the way of extra strength, built in computers or special vision like you see sometimes."

  After another moment of hesitation, Nigel handed her the box and cringed as she walked away. "Oh, he's gonna be so mad."

  "He'll be alive," Leland said, supressing a smirk.

  An alert beep sounded in Spin's ear. "Please report to interview cubicle fifteen. That is through the door on your right," a voice said through the directed audio.

  "Looks like I'm up, I'll meet you back at the shuttle," Spin told her crew.

  Eight

  All around Gavin and Skylar the light strips built into the crew uniforms activated, surrounding everyone in their own eerie blue glow. Gavin, Skylar, Toby and Vivien were the exceptions. They'd all reprogrammed their emergency lighting to stay off.

  Instead, their hoods closed over their heads. Built in goggles slipped into place, and their suits sealed. No one needed lights to see, they used a multi-sensor system to create an image in their goggle displays that accurately showed them what was going on. "We have to run," Gavin said, his head was starting to clear.

  "We have escape options," Vivien said, nodding, getting up from her scanning station.

  "There are armed lifeboats one level down." Skylar stood with Gavin and took his hand. Her sidearm was already in the other hand. The screams from the front of the scan and control bridge were getting louder. "Are you all right?" she asked him.

  "I'm back, lost it for a minute there, but I'll be okay," Gavin said, following Toby as he and Vivien led their way towards the back of the bridge processing pit.

  "There's an emergency hatch past the last station," he said.

  Looking away from everyone else, Gavin took a moment to steady himself. It was the shock of watching the battle turn on them that broke his resolve, but if training taught him anything, it was that you had to recover. Recover or die. People were dying less than fifty metres away. There was no time for panic or weakness. He had the benefit of honed survival instincts. He released Skylar’s hand and drew his own sidearm as they caught up to Toby and Vivien.

  A red handle at the end of the processing pit where they were sitting was barely visible, but Vivien pulled it as though she’d been staring at it for whole shifts. A hatch opened, the door sliding up against the ceiling. Several crewmembers in their glowing suits dropped in behind them, rushing to catch up, but Toby, Vivien, Gavin and Skylar didn’t wait, rushing through the short L shaped corridor in a careful rush. They didn’t know if there were other breaches, with the ship sensors down, there was no way to tell.

  At the end of the corridor they opened another hatch and emerged into one of the main hallways running along the outer hull of the Queen’s Pride. Gavin was running the image of their marines getting pulled apart by the invading robots. The robots were organized, but they weren’t perfect. They tore people apart as though they enjoyed it, or as if they were looking for something inside their bodies. Tactically, that was a foolish thing to do. It left openings, slowed the attack. The same could be said of the attack on their Prince. The robots made sure there was an absolutely overwhelming force in place and that he was already suffering major physical trauma before they committed to taking their prize; his brain. It was grisly but telling. The robots weren’t taking trophies; they were after data.

  “Whatever
the Prince knew, the machines will know soon,” Gavin said. “They’re going to scan him.”

  “It takes hundreds of hours to perform a deep scan on someone’s brain, especially when they’ve just suffered a traumatic event, and I think what happened to His Highness qualifies,” Toby said.

  “Not if they have the processing power to scan several times and analyse the results in parallel,” Gavin said.

  “He’s right,” Skylar agreed. “We have to make decisions knowing that the machines are aware of all our training, of what we’re likely to do.”

  Gavin looked through the transparent hull and saw something that gave him hope. “There’s an inactive section of the planetary shield. It must have been taken out by our EMP.”

  “I knew we kept you around for a reason, tech-head,” Toby said. “That’s our way out of this mess.”

  “There are restricted biological research facilities down there, people who go without permission don’t come back,” Vivien said.

  “Rumours. I didn’t see that in the official report. There are at least a dozen different cultures down there, nine of them are water bound. I bet they’ve been trapped all this time.”

  A hatch opened and a group of soldiers emerged in a rush, the sounds of gunfire resounding behind them. “What are you doing here?” the Sergeant asked.

  Stopping in the middle of a hallway seemed more dangerous than whatever was behind that door. Simulations he participated in showed that the enemy had machines that could burn through hulls, even thick ones like on the Queen’s Pride. They were three metres from a hatch hidden in the floor that would lead them to an emergency shuttle. “We had to abandon the bridge, we’re getting off the ship.”

  “Get back up there, now! There’s a team in the core trying to get the secondary systems online.”

  “If those systems aren’t back up now, then they’ve already failed once. They will not get them back online in time,” Gavin said. It was a guess, but he was fairly sure the Queen’s Pride was either on a course to collide with the huge orbital station, or it would make it past it to continue in a rapidly decaying orbit. “This ship is finished.”