Dark Space Page 2

  “Oh, come on, why don’t you just admit it. You know you love me,” she said, leaning on his arm and resting her head on his shoulder.

  He turned to look down at her, and then he waved his hand in her face to indicate the silver band on his ring finger. “I’m already married, remember?”

  Alara let go of him and looked away with a fading grin. “Right, I almost forgot.”

  “Anyway,” he sighed, changing the topic. “My idea is, if we’re employed by the Valiant, it’s going to be hard for Brondi to get to us. We might even get an escort out of this nova pilot.”

  “It’s a brilliant plan,” Alara said absently as the corridor they were walking down opened up into a combined lobby and bar for Chorlis Orbital’s one and only functioning habitat module.

  Ethan turned to look at her, but she’d turned away to look out the wall of viewports which made up the far side of the lobby. Out those viewports Ethan could see the station’s hydroponic module; the green fronds of plants were pressing up against the dirty transpiranium dome. It looked inviting, but they didn’t have time to stroll through the gardens and catch a breath of fresh air.

  Alara wandered over to the viewports, while Ethan walked up to the bar. He planned to stay here and wait for the nova pilot to come to him. Everyone who came to Chorlis Orbital eventually ended up at the bar, and usually sooner than later. There wasn’t much else to do.

  “Drink?” the bartender asked as Ethan pulled out a bar stool and sat down. The barman had a lumpy face and a glowing red tattoo whorled around one eye. He looked like he’d seen a lot of brawls in his day. Maybe he was an ex-con from Etaris, same as Ethan.

  Ethan reached across the counter and bared his wrist. The bartender scanned his embedded identichip with a wand, and Ethan said, “Just a water, please.”

  “Sure,” the bartender said with a smirk. He busied himself by typing something into the wand, and a moment later, a total flashed up before Ethan’s eyes.

  Water - 3.00 sols, Chorlis Orbital.

  The transaction was relayed from the chip in his wrist directly to his brain and then flashed up like an afterimage before his eyes. Ethan cast a quick look over his shoulder to see if Alara was coming to join him at the bar, but she was standing statuesque by the viewports.

  Ethan frowned. He could hardly blame her for being upset. They were friends—friends and partners in business, but nothing more, and she obviously wanted more. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t tried or he hadn’t been tempted, but as he’d said, he was married. Eleven years ago he’d been exiled to Dark Space for smuggling, leaving his wife and young son behind.

  The following year the ISS had mapped a hyper route through the Devlin’s Hand, the giant red nebula which lay in the gulf between their galaxy and the neighboring satellite, The Getties Cluster. The ISS was foolish enough to link the two galaxies with space gates straight away, and before they were even done exploring the solar system on the other side, they were under attack. The massacre which followed quickly spread through the gate, from one galaxy to the other, and took trillions of lives.

  To this day, no one knew why the war had started or even much about the insectile aliens who’d started it. One theory was that the Sythians—or “Skull Faces”—had run out of habitable space in their small satellite galaxy, and they’d just been waiting to find a way to cross the void between galaxies. Once a pathway had been opened up, the war had ended in just nine months. The Sythans hadn’t had a technological edge, but they’d had greater numbers, better coordination, and instead of shields for defense, they’d used cloaking devices to hide their ships until the last minute before attacking, always taking Imperial forces by surprise.

  And while the Sythians’ SLS (superluminal space) drives weren’t as fast as the Imperium’s SLS drives, their cloaking devices had enabled them to use the ISS’s network of space gates without anyone being the wiser.

  In the time it took for a baby to be born, humanity had been all but annihilated. A lucky few had managed to evacuate to Dark Space, but the coordinates of the gate were uncharted. Worse, it was hidden in a statically charged ice cloud that disrupted sensors, making it impossible to find the gate unless you already knew where to look. Apparently those who had known about the gate hadn’t shared that secret with the downtrodden masses, so the majority of the evacuees who had arrived were high-ranking fleet officers and government officials.

  But that hadn’t stopped Ethan from searching among the survivors. As soon as the gate leading out of Dark Space had been deactivated and sealed, and after all the “non-dangerous” prisoners had officially been released to help support a flagging economy, Ethan had wasted two years of his life searching for a familiar face—on the off chance that either his darling Destra or little seven-year-old Atton had been able to escape the war, but he hadn’t been able to find either of them, and eventually he’d been forced to give up the search for a lack of funds. What had followed was a dark period for Ethan, but four years ago Alara had come into his life, and with her quick wit, easy smile, and those beautiful violet eyes, she’d managed to mostly snap him out of it. But that didn’t mean he was ready to move on—or that he’d like to move on with her. She was young enough to be his daughter!

  There was no doubt that in some way he needed Alara. Without her he was lost and everything ceased to have its meaning. He needed someone to be counting on him—someone to need him and value him, and even to love him. He just wasn’t sure he could ever love her—not romantically anyway. She was young. She’d find someone else. Until then, they’d have each other to rely on and to keep one another company.

  The bartender slid a spill-proof, shatter-proof mug filled with Ethan’s water across the counter, and he nodded his thanks, to which the bartender grumbled something unintelligible. Ethan took a quick sip and was interrupted halfway through by a hand landing on his shoulder. He turned to see Alara looking at him. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Ethan shook his head and frowned. “For what?”

  She sat down on the bar stool beside him and reached for his water. “About your wife and son,” she said as she took a sip from his mug.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly. “That was a long time ago.”

  “I’m not finished yet,” she said in a warning tone. “I’m am sorry, but you can’t live the rest of your life in mourning for them. You’ve got to be happy, Ethan. They would have wanted that for you.”

  Ethan smirked. “You’re asking me to be happy with a garbage scow of a light transport, more debt than the damn thing is worth, and a rat hole that we can barely afford to pay for.” He shook his head. “May as well ask me to grow wings and fly like a Sythian.”

  “No,” she said sharply. “I’m asking you to be happy with me.” She reached out to stroke his stubbly cheek, her eyes searching his. “We’re in this together, Ethan. The least we can do is act like it.” She traced a line down his cheek, following a scar he’d acquired in an old prison fight. Her exotic violet eyes were full of emotion, but his were dead and unseeing.

  Ethan looked away. He felt a familiar numbness spreading through him at the mention of his wife and son. A moment later, Alara seemed to realize she was talking to a wall. Her hand fell from his cheek and she turned away, too. “I guess we can just go on the way we are. No strings attached. Just business, right?” She flashed him a heartbroken smile.

  He tried to smile back, but the sentiment never reached his lips. “I think that’s best, Alara. I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”

  She nodded, her eyes staring blankly into the shiny black bar counter. “That’s okay. It was a stupid idea. Don’t pay attention to me, Ethan.”

  He nodded absently, his eyes still unseeing. He ended up staring into a bottle of ice blue Shirali Wine while sipping his water, untold minutes passing until his peripheral vision caught a flicker of movement off to his right. Ethan turned and saw a brawny nova pilot strut in with his helmet tucked under his arm. The pilot couldn’t hav
e been more than 18 years old; he stood too straight, and he reeked with the arrogance of youth. The nova pilot jerked his chin at the barman. “I’m looking for a man dressed in black.”

  The barkeeper snorted and gestured to his own mostly black attire. “You gonna be searching a long time with that description.”

  “Black skin, too. Goes by several aliases. You might know him as Verlin. He’s a contract killer, a bounty hunter. He killed an Imperial officer a few weeks ago.”

  The bartender shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t say I’ve seen anyone like that.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Hoi!” He raised a hand and waved to the officer.

  The young man frowned and crossed the room. He stopped a few feet away, and his eyes flicked meaningfully up and down Ethan’s patched and faded flight suit. “Yes, grub?”

  Ethan felt his temper rising, but with an extraordinary effort he managed to clamp down on it. “What’s the information worth to you?” Ethan asked.

  The pilot frowned, and his bristly blonde hairline arched down with his eyebrows. “It’s worth not arresting you for trying to bribe an officer with information that could lead to the capture of a dangerous criminal.”

  Ethan shrugged and turned back to the bar. “Oh, okay. Just wondering.”

  The nova pilot stared at him a moment longer before offering a reply. “I could have you locked up.”

  Ethan turned back with a smile and held out his wrists. “Great, where do I sign up?” It was an old trick, and the fleet was long since tired of it. There were enough career criminals floating around Dark Space that it was impossible to lock them all up, and a fair number of them actually wouldn’t mind being locked up in exchange for three square meals and a place to lay their heads. For just about anyone, that would be a vacation. This nova pilot was obviously too young to have seen much of that yet, so he just stared at Ethan with bemusement.

  That was when Alara chimed in, saying, “You’ve gone and got his hopes up. Now you’re going to have to follow through.”

  The nova pilot shook his head. “You grubs are crazy. Do you have information for me or not?”

  Ethan withdrew his wrists with a crooked grin. “Tell you what, you give me some information and I’ll give you some.”

  “You can ask, but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

  “Fair enough. Is the Valiant hiring? I have a light freighter with an empty hold, just waiting for a job.”

  The nova pilot shook his head. “I wouldn’t know, but the overlord likes to manage his own supply chain within the fleet. More reliable. No offense, but we don’t need the likes of whatever beaten up scow you’re flying to transport goods that are worth more than the hold they’d be flying in.”

  “And what about pilots? I’m rated 5A, and my copilot here,” Ethan said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to Alara, “can handle just about any secondary and tertiary ship functions that you can think of.”

  The nova pilot shook his head again. “I’m sorry, but we have more applicants than ships, and I don’t believe you have a 5A rating. These days you can fake your rating for the price of a good meal—not that I think you have the money for either.”

  “I can prove it.”

  “Sure you can. Stop wasting my time. If you want to enlist, go visit a recruitment office. You have information about my man or not?”

  Ethan drained his water and rose from the bar counter with a tight smile. “Not.”

  The young nova pilot gritted his teeth and reached for his side arm. Ethan’s hand was already on the butt of his. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ethan said, nodding to the nova pilot’s pistol. “How do you think I got to be this old.” He pointed with his right hand to his vaguely graying hair. “I bet you a month’s pay I’m a faster draw than you are.”

  “Are you threatening me, grub?”

  “I wish you’d stop calling me that. Makes killing you sound better and better all the time, and I really don’t need the extra incentive.”

  Ethan felt Alara’s hand on his shoulder and heard her whisper his name in a warning tone. The bartender watched the developing confrontation with a shadowy grin.

  The nova pilot held Ethan’s gaze a moment longer before letting out a snort of laughter. “Nice try, but you’re going to have to shoot yourself if you’re that tired of living. Move along. You’re not my objective.”

  Ethan noted with a smile that this time the young pilot didn’t refer to him as a grub—a nickname for low-class citizens whose only concern is their namesake—grub, food, survival.

  “Thought you might say that.” Ethan began backing away and offered a mocking salute with his right hand, while his left stayed near his plasma pistol. “You’re too young and pretty to die.”

  “Ethan!” Alara whispered sharply beside his ear, but he was past caring.

  Desperation and despair do wonders for a man’s courage, he thought. You’re not afraid to die if life’s not worth living. That was one of the reasons why the fleet tried to stay out of civilian affairs. They had a cushy lot by comparison, and they had much more to lose.

  The nova pilot looked on with a scowl, but he said nothing.

  Once Ethan had backed up to the bend in the corridor which led back the way they’d come, he turned around and began walking swiftly to their room.

  “So much for that!” Alara said. “If I’d known you were planning to play chicken with an Imperial officer I wouldn’t have bothered coming with you.”

  Ethan shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on it, Alara, but krak happens sometimes, you know that.”

  She snorted. “More often around you.”

  “Hoi, have some respect, kiddie.”

  Alara turned to glare at him. She hated when he called her that. Ethan pretended not to notice. “Besides, we did get something out of that nova pilot.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?” Alara asked.

  He turned to meet her gaze. “A way out. We’re going to enlist in the fleet.”

  Chapter 3

  “Join the fleet?” Alara demanded. “Are you batkrak crazy?” She was lying on the bed in their room again; her jaw was hanging open in exaggerated shock, and her arms were crossed over her chest. “What about the Atton? We’re just going to throw it away after we put so much work into it? We wouldn’t be in debt right now if it weren’t for your damn ship! We wouldn’t be hiding here. I could’ve had a life on Forliss, instead of this.” She gestured to the peeling walls around her.

  Ethan was standing by the viewport, his eyes and thoughts wandering out into space. He didn’t have the energy required to face Alara’s angry tirade, so he stayed silent, his thoughts processing his plan without her until she came down from her wailing, emotional high and talked to him in a more rational tone.

  “This is unbelievable! If you could’ve just had this idea a few months ago, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I could’ve gone back to work in the agri-domes with my parents, and you could have thrown your life away all by yourself—instead of dragging me down with you. I don’t know why I stay with you! I must be sick. That’s it. I must have some sick screw loose that makes me gravitate toward a grub like you.”

  Now Ethan did turn from the viewport, and his eyes glittered darkly at her. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it.” Alara looked up at him miserably. “I’m just angry—at our situation, Ethan. Not at you. I’m sorry. I take it back.”

  He walked up to the foot of the bed. “No, it’s too late for that, Alara. Sorry isn’t wide enough or deep enough to cover up the truth. So that’s what you really think of me. You think I’m a grub.”

  Ethan held up a hand to stop her and he pressed the other one to his forehead to massage away an encroaching headache. His eyes squinted shut and he took a long moment to answer her.

  Alara stood up from the bed and walked over to him. She laid a hand on his shoulder and stood up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Plea
se forgive me.”

  He turned, opened his eyes, and shook his head. “Why are you with me, Alara?”

  “Ethan . . .”

  He took a step back and she took one forward, but he gently pushed her away. “No, you know what, you’re right. You don’t need a grub like me holding you back. You were born for more than this.” He gestured to the boxy room with a sneer. “Your parents are big shots in the agri corps; you could go back to them just like you said. You were one of the lucky ones until you struck out on your own—now you’re just an upper class snob trying to live the common life. It’s a joke, Alara, and no one’s laughing at it. You’ll be better off with them.”

  Alara gaped at him.

  “Besides, if you want to make your own way, you can do better. Pretty girl like you could make a good living in a pleasure palace,” he said, and she flinched as if he’d slapped her. “Or you could go pro and find some rich husband in Brondi’s gang. Wouldn’t that be ironic.”

  Alara shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Sure I do. You said it yourself, you don’t need a grub like me holding you back. You need to move on to bigger and better things. I understand. Go to sleep, Alara. I’ll wake you in the morning. I wasn’t planning to sell the Atton, but since I’ve been such a dead weight for you, seems like that’s the only fair thing to do. I’ll drop you on Forliss Station, sell the ship, pay off your half of the debt we owe Brondi, and you’ll be free to go live your life.”

  Alara looked more hurt than ever, and now Ethan could see tears shimmering in her eyes. “Frek, Ethan, I didn’t mean it! You’re hurting me!”

  He smiled thinly and brushed by her on his way to the door. “I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

  He opened the door with a wave of his hand, and she whispered after him, “I’ve always needed you, Ethan. It’s you who doesn’t need me.”

  * * *

  Ethan Ortane was a man of his word. Despite Alara’s protestations, the next morning he charted a course straight from Chorlis Station to the Forliss System. The final space gate in the series plotted by the nav dropped them right on top of Forliss Station. From there, if she wanted to, Alara could book passage to the surface of Forliss and join her parents working in the giant agri-domes, or else she could stay on the station. There were plenty of hydroponic modules for her to work in agriculture if she wanted to, but there was also plenty of just about everything else. The station stretched out for kilometers in every direction, lighting up space with a million twinkling lights. Cylindrical mall and market modules joined with spindly arms to spherical hydroponic modules, which in turn joined to circular hubs that were connected to blocky habitats, hangars, and office spaces. Forliss Station was one giant city in space, hastily constructed, and poorly thought out, but big enough for a person to get lost—both literally and metaphorically.