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86 - The Arcturan Detachment

  Senn Sehren sat in the back of the transport and glowered at the rest of the passengers. They were a mix of traveling laborers, vacationing families, and a smattering of businessmen.

  The craft was clean, but the seats were cramped. The standard jumpspace safety and preparation lecture was droning from the overhead speakers. One couple near the front of the craft had a crying child.

  That was going to get unpleasant when they hit jumpspace.

  He'd never been on a lower-class transport before. Not that he needed to save the money-- he had plenty squirreled away in accounts under different identities, thanks to Koro's advice-- but by traveling this way, he was less likely to draw attention.

  He read the informational pamphlet in his hands again.

  "Welcome to Astro Budget Spacelines!" it read.

  "We hope you enjoy your travel with us! Please review the following information about space travel that will help you understand what you may experience during spaceflight, and how to have a safe and comfortable journey.

  "In the course of your journey, you will enter a new realm known as 'jumpspace.' If you have not experienced jumpspace before, you may find this part of the journey disconcerting or frightening. Please be reassured that jumpspace travel is a a safe and effective means of traversing the vast distances of interstellar space. It is used by every major cargo hauler, spaceline, and military vessel in the Imperium! Please rest assured that we here at Astro Budget use only the latest jumpspace buffers in all our passenger vessels.

  "The duration of travel in jumpspace is usually only a few minutes, though you may dip into jumpspace several times during your journey, depending on your flight path. Please note that once your craft has entered jumpspace, it cannot exit jumpspace for any reason until it has reached its destination.

  "If you have experienced jump sickness before, or if you have severe anxiety or medical conditions, you may request a mild travel sedative to help you during jumpspace traversal.

  "Thank you for choosing Astro Budget Spacelines, and we wish you a pleasant flight!"

  Senn sneered at the pamphlet and folded it back up. He'd read it three times now. It was not in any way interesting, but he didn't have anything better to do.

  He hadn't had time to grab anything when he left his apartment. He'd barely gotten enough notice to set the trap that destroyed any evidence he might've left behind. As a result, he didn't have his MindCenter, the little device that held his entire collection of books, music and holos. His one regret, besides getting caught, was that he hadn't grabbed that on his way out the door.

  Space travel was mind-numbingly dull without some kind of distraction.

  He unconsciously reached for the pamphlet again, but pulled his hand back. This journey would only be a couple hours, with three stints in jumpspace. He needed to endure. He pinched his lips and stared at his fellow passengers. He read the warnings over the exits. He played with the seat adjustments.

  Senn sighed. Of all the problems he'd thought through, every contingency he'd planned for in the event of his exposure, he'd never expected he'd just be bored.

  He gritted his teeth. He'd have to pick up a holo chip or something at the next spaceport.

  Kinnit frowned as she flipped through the slips in her stack. She was walking down the halls of the ISS Swordheart with a sheaf of slips in her hand. Grimthorn had asked her to review some discrepancies in the mess hall's budget, but she was having trouble figuring out what data he had that made him think there were discrepancies. She wanted to ask him about it, but he'd been out all afternoon, and now he wanted her come to the mess hall to help him do a manual inventory.

  She shook her head. It didn't make sense, the numbers all lined up like they should. She was buried in her slips, so focused on the data that she didn't notice how bare of people the halls were.

  Kinnit was heads-down, reading through a particularly complicated bit of the inventory when she pushed through the double doors to the mess hall.

  "SURPRISE!" everybody yelled.

  Kinnit squawked in shock. The tables in the mess hall had been moved aside to make room for a huge crowd of people. To Kinnit, it looked like the entire crew of the Swordheart was crammed into the mess hall. A large banner hung across the back wall reading "WELCOME TO THE IMPERIUM, CITIZEN KINNIT!" The monitors on the walls showed the messes of other ships of the Ninth Fleet, each of them packed with people.

  In the center of the mob stood Admiral Stonefist, his arms folded, with a big, genuine smile on his face.

  Kinnit covered her mouth with both hands, mussing her carefully organized stack of reports. Big tears filled her luminous eyes as she took in the decorations, the big cake, and most of all, the people.

  "You all... did this for me?" she asked quietly.

  The mess was suddenly filled with whooping, noise, and laughter. Kinnit bit her lip, maintaining the best control she could over her emotions. She didn't want to start bawling. People came by and slapped her on the back, high-fived her, congratulated her. She nodded in response to everyone, not trusting herself to speak. She looked at Grimthorn, who had a very self-satisfied look on his face.

  Slowly, and with many interruptions from well-wishers, she made her way to the middle of the room where Grimthorn was.

  "Grimthorn! Did you do this?"

  "I did not," he said in his most serious voice. But a look of mischief crinkled his eyes.

  "You did!"

  "I only let a few crew members know the good news. They all did the rest." He looked over the assembled crowd. "I didn't object. It's been a long time since we've had a fleet-wide party. It's good for morale, you know."

  She playfully slapped his arm.

  "Thank you, Grimthorn."

  "Thank them, not me. I might have encouraged it, but everyone here set this up." He looked directly into her eyes. "You're important to so many people, Kinnit. Not just some abstract Imperium, not just to the power of a mighty fleet, but you're important to the people. Our people. The people of the Ninth Fleet care about you, because you care about them."

  "Stop," she said in a warbling voice. "You're going to make me cry in front of all these people."

  "I'm sure they will forgive you."

  She stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned. She started to choke up again, but fortunately the milling throng mobbed her, and she was able to chat and relax and enjoy the wonderful party everyone had put together for her.

  Several days later, in his office, Admiral Stonefist's jaw stiffened.

  He hated how the Cryptographers had manipulated him into this. But it was time. The pirate threat had been tamped down, he and Kinnit were... well, on a path forward.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  It was time to retrieve the Arcturan detachment.

  His mind rolled back to the battle so many years before. His hubris, the battle with the Dragonscale pirates over the skies of Arcturus. They'd still never figured out how a gang of pirates-- even one so well-organized as the Dragonscale pirates-- had gotten their hands on a quantum disruptor.

  His brow drew down as the battle replayed itself, running along well-worn grooves in his mind. The unbelievable flare of the torpedo, the spinning gravitational flux numbers fed back from the scanners as the jumphole destabilized, the dead stillness in that region of space as it collapsed, trapping 43 ships of the Imperium in jumpspace.

  The Imperium had opened the jumphole back up, nearly a year later. Admiral Stonefist had held out a small hope-- a one in a billion hope-- that the lost detachment would pop out of jumpspace when the jumphole was re-opened.

  No trace of the lost Arcturan detachment had ever been found.

  After that, Grimthorn hoped that the end had come quickly for them. With no exit, trapped in there, scientists theorized that their very atoms would unwind, dissipating in the roiling chaos of jumpspace.

  Grimthorn had spent many nights staring at the ceiling of his quarters, wondering what it felt like to have the atoms of your body simply disintegrate. Maybe it didn't feel like anything at all. Maybe it was just.... peace.

  He'd never really believed that, however hard he tried.

  Now, the Cryptographers had brought home a truth that was worse than anything he could have imagined. Not only had they not passed quickly, they had not passed at all. They were still trapped in jumpspace, flying through the galaxy to who-knows-where.

  Well, someone knew. The Aberrant.

  He didn't know what arcane torment the Cryptographers had inflicted on one of their own, but now they had one that could "break the rules." Whatever that meant.

  Cryptographers were the only ones who seemed to know what the "rules" were. Apparently, one of them was "no pulling people out of jumpspace."

  Except now they were going to do just that.

  As far as Grimthorn understood, all the Aberrant was going to do was calculate a time and a place for them to open a jumphole.

  He poked the button on his scanner. After the requisite negotiation for an encrypted channel, a familiar voice seeped into the room.

  "Admiral... Stonefist," it said.

  "I'm ready," he said.

  "The... Aberrant... is... already... waiting," the Cryptographer said. "At... these... coordinates. In... two... days."

  He hated more than he could say that the Cryptographers had him pegged so well.

  "We'll be there," he said.

  "Bring... only... one... ship."

  "Understood."

  "We... are... sorry."

  "Sorry for what? Hello?" Grimthorn ground his teeth. They'd already disconnected.

  Another of their rules, apparently, was that they couldn't communicate like normal people.

  Maybe he could get some straight answers out of this Aberrant.

  Kinnit sat rigidly in her seat on Digger. Grimthorn sat in the pilot's seat, silently working the controls.

  They were near a jumphole nexus. It was an unremarkable sector: no nearby stars, planets, nebulae, or energy signatures. What it did have was an array of jumpholes, most of them manufactured by the Imperium to facilitate travel to more interesting sectors.

  The Cryptographer's ship had led them to an area outside the nexus, nearly a day's travel, to an empty area of space. Now Grimthorn and Kinnit were traveling to the Cryptographer's ship to pick up the Aberrant.

  Kinnit plucked nervously at fingers.

  Grimthorn had made it clear it was not the plan he would have chosen, but it was what the Cryptographers required. Kinnit was on hand to manage the torpedoes.

  The closer they got to the Cryptographer's ship, the more nervous she got.

  Her last interaction with a Cryptographer, in the Emperor's throne room, had filled her with shame. She'd been so full of fear, her mind roiled with terror. She had tied so hard to suppress the terror, to face it with the same solid fearlessness that Grimthorn did, but she'd been so scared. It was only after the collar had been removed that she'd been able to regain a measure of equanimity. She ran a hand along her neck. Already, she could barely feel the ridges.

  This time, she resolved to do better. To be better.

  The ISS Swordheart hung nearby, waiting for their return.

  The little shuttle drifted across space to the Cryptographer's ship, an ominous construct of spires, towers, and ornate facades.

  In spite of all her fine intentions, Kinnit's shoulders tensed as Digger approached the Cryptographer's ship. It might have been her imagination, but she felt that she could already sense the greasy fingers of the Cryptographers' presence oozing across her mind. Her face subconsciously curled into a snarl as they approached.

  Grimthorn docked them carefully in the midst of a bristle of spires. The seals locked in and the hatch irised open. Two figures stood at the entrance.

  A low growl began in Kinnit's throat.

  "Welcome aboard," Grimthorn said stiffly.

  Broca Brangwin strode in. A tall Cryptographer followed him. Unlike all other Cryptographers, this one's cloaks were blood-red.

  Kinnit was on her feet, backing toward the console, clinging to the already-frayed edges of her emotions.

  "Shh, it's okay," Grimthorn said quietly to her. He turned to Broca Brangwin.

  "Good to see you again, Lieutenant." He nodded to the Aberrant. "I thank you for your sacrifice for the people of the Imperium."

  The Aberrant gazed at Grimthorn wordlessly. There was no expression on its face-- it was hard to tell what its face was, under the tentacles and goggles-- but Kinnit felt strongly that it exuded a feeling of mild amusement.

  "I have the coordinates for you, Admiral," Broca Brangwin said. He handed his scanner to Admiral Stonefist, who put the waypoint data into the console. He handed the scanner back.

  "Thank you, Lieutenant." Grimthorn looked him up and down. "How are you doing? With your service?"

  Broca Brangwin seemed strangely tense.

  "I am well," he said.

  Admiral Stonefist turned the shuttle and began flying to the waypoint.

  "You've been working for the Cryptographers for a long time now," he said. "Nearly a year, is that right? I thought there was a six-month limit on service with the Cryptographers."

  "I am suited to the work," Broca said.

  Grimthorn's mouth twisted

  "Well, as long as you're... okay."

  "I am well."

  "Well... good, I suppose. I thank you for helping us today."

  Kinnit watched Broca's face. A strange mix of emotions ran across it.

  "I do not like this one," he said finally.

  "This one what? This duty?"

  "This Aberrant. It is wrong."

  That raised Grimthorn's eyebrows and he turned from the console.

  "Is there anything I should be aware of?"

  "It can break the rules," Broca said, his normally flat, emotionless voice gaining an edge. "It wants to break the rules. I do not like it."

  "Me neither," Kinnit growled.

  "Because... I... am... free," the Aberrant said in a voice like the grating of broken glass. A smug sense of satisfaction rolled off of it.

  Kinnit hissed at it.

  "Quiet you," Broca said to the Aberrant. "You are only here to speak the one word."

  "Okay, let's all-- let's calm down," Grimthorn said. His voice was steady, but his face was red as he struggled with whatever emotions were running through him as well. "Everyone stay calm. We'll be done with this soon. We'll just be quiet until we've gotten through this."

  The shuttle soon arrived at its destination. Broca gave Grimthorn some guidance on the shuttle's orientation. Kinnit prepared the torpedo tubes. Her hands were shaking. She was filled with an inexplicable rage and hatred, as though she were trapped under the tearing claws of a predator. She knew she would be ashamed again later, but right now she struggled to contain her fury. She wanted to scream, to thrash, to destroy.

  She wanted to kill.

  She vented the torpedo tubes and armed the torpedoes. Set set them to detonate at the designated coordinates. Digger had been loaded with the latest roadbuilders. These new ones were designed with a small antimatter core that, when detonated, would create a local gravity well. They would open a self-stabilizing jumphole.

  It would only last for a few hours, but that would be more than enough time to get everyone out. If the Arcturan detachment was even there.

  "The torpedoes are ready," she said, forcing her voice to steadiness.

  "The Aberrant will speak when it is time to fire," Broca Brangwin said.

  Kinnit held her hand over the console, her fingers curled, her claws extended. Her breath rushed through her nostrils as she kept her teeth clenched.

  The Aberrant lifted one taloned hand.

  "Ten seconds," Broca said.

  The silence stretched out.

  "Now," the Aberrant said.

  Kinnit's finger hit the fire control. The two roadbuilders streaked away from the shuttle, leaving yellow trails behind them.

  At the designated coordinates, they flared, actinic blue light spraying through space. Kinnit watched the sensors, burying her redlining emotions as best she could in the routine of work.

  "Jumphole open," she said. "Gravitational stabilizer detonating in 3... 2... 1... now."

  Nothing visible happened, but the rapidly spinning numbers on the console settled down, and began ticking over at a normal pace.

  "Jumphole is stable," she said, "but the readings are erratic. I can't tell if there's mass in there."

  For long seconds nothing happened.

  "Did we miss it?" Grimthorn asked. "Nothing's showing on the scanners."

  "They... are... come," the Aberrant said.

  Without warning, ships began streaming out of the jumphole. Grimthorn bolted to his feet, his face warring between hope and fear. The proud insignia of the Ninth Fleet was blazoned on each ship.

  "It's them," Grimthorn said.

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