Children of the Old Star (2 page)

Ellis shrugged.

"Sorry to interrupt,” cut in the thin voice of the communicator. Weiss turned, holding a hand to the scar on his forehead where a communication's chip had been implanted. “I'm receiving an EQ distress call."

"On speakers,” barked Ellis.

Sound from the speakers reverberated suddenly from the walls of the tiny ship's bridge. “...stumbled across a Cluster ship in orbit of star 1E1919+0427. We have attempted neither communication nor scans. We request assistance from a Confederation vessel. Repeat—this is the Mao Freighter
Martha's Vineyard
calling for immediate assistance. We have stumbled across...” Ellis reached to his own control pad and cut the speakers. He sat stunned for a moment. The
Martha's Vineyard
had been a sister ship to his father's now-destroyed freighter, the
Nantucket
.

"Analysis,” called Ellis, sitting up in his chair.

Rubin looked up from his station where he had already been performing calculations. “We can reach 1E1919+0427 using nearly the same jump point as for Titan. It's almost in a straight line between here and our own solar system."

Weiss still looked at Ellis, his hand on his forehead. “Titan control confirms we are the best-positioned ship to make an immediate response. Although there are more heavily armed ships that could be there only an hour later. Titan control says it's your decision."

The commander tapped his fingers rapidly on the armrest of his chair. After only a couple seconds he looked at Rubin. “Proceed to the jump point for 1E19...” Ellis shook his head, not remembering the string of numbers.

"1E1919+0427,” stated Rubin, his deep voice giving the impression of confidence. “Aye, sir."

"Full speed.” Ellis turned his attention to Weiss. “Inform Titan control that we are going in.” As Weiss returned his hand to his forehead, Ellis turned to Adkins. “Better make sure those guns are set, though I hope to God we don't have to use them."

Adkins nodded curtly while Ellis returned his eyes to the holo viewer. In the image, he saw the course projection move over slightly and a new purple sphere appear, slightly closer than the preceding one. After Rubin made the course adjustment, he reached over to the intercom switch. “This is the Executive Officer, we have changed course and are engaged in a rescue mission. All hands to battle stations. Repeat—this is the XO, all hands to battle stations. Prepare for jump in two minutes.” Rubin looked at the holographic chronometer readout floating in his workstation window. “Jump in two minutes ... mark.” As Rubin spoke, the computer automatically registered the call to battle stations. An alarm bell sounded as lights went red, drawing people's attentions to their stations.

Automatically, Ellis checked readouts on his own console. He tried, in vain, to remember if he had secured the volume of Emily Dickinson that he had been reading before he had become absorbed in pictures of the Cluster. He shook his head, knowing he didn't have time to worry about it even if he had forgotten.

Rubin looked around at Ellis. “We are at the jump point,” he said tersely.

Ellis took a deep breath and gripped the armrests tightly, his knuckles showing white. “Jump!"

Reality exploded as the
Firebrandt
leapt from the confines of three-dimensional existence, riding a gravity wave through the dimension of time. Light swirled in twisting silver intensities becoming loud voices that called Ellis’ name. The commander looked around, his mouth agape, to see himself surrounded by Clusters, which melted themselves into the stars of the holo viewer. Ellis was wrenched hard into his seat as reality reasserted itself. Grabbing the armrests tightly, he clamped his mouth and eyes shut getting control of the nausea that inevitably followed the jump.

Ellis slowly opened his aching eyes, looking back to the screen as the other members of the bridge also recovered from the jump. In the center, he saw two yellow stars, nearby. On the surface of the larger, was a vast group of dark spots, covering nearly an eighth of the surface area. The commander pursed his lips, realizing they had jumped in near the star system itself. The screen had automatically damped itself. He shook his head; he thought he had seen many stars on the screen as they came out of the jump.

The commander looked to Weiss. “Where's the
Vineyard
? Are they still okay?"

"Communication's established,” reported Weiss. “Transferring coordinates to Mr. Rubin's station. The Cluster is still there, still quiet."

Ellis nodded to the pilot. “Approach,” he ordered, his voice hushed. He took a deep breath and fished around his rumpled coat. Finally, he located a cigar, thrust it in his mouth and lit it, ignoring the sour look that appeared on the communicator's face.

The ship pivoted on one axis turning away from the double star. He watched, transfixed as the silver orbs of the Cluster came into view one by one. The Cluster appeared to move hypnotically to the center of the screen. Ellis knew it would be impossible to see the black, Erdonium hull of the freighter. “Mark the freighter's position,” ordered Ellis, shaking his head, trying to regain concentration.

Weiss nodded and a bright red dot appeared near the Cluster. As the cluster of spheres grew on the ship's holo viewer, Ellis couldn't help but think of his father, who had, like the captain of the
Martha's Vineyard,
commanded a Mao Corporation freighter. Desperately, he wanted to save this crew. In some small way, he hoped it would quiet some of the guilt he felt over his own father's death.

At the same time, Ellis thought about the Cluster over the planet Sufiro. The Cluster's presence had brought an end to a fierce war fought between the two major continents. The continents of Tejo and New Granada united to defend themselves against the Cluster. It had projected images of the war to Ellis along with a feeling of almost loving warmth. The commander took a long draw on his cigar, trying to reconcile the image of the Cluster as caring peacemaker with the image of the Cluster as a cold, unfeeling murderer.

"Mr. Weiss,” said the commander, exhaling smoke. “Tell the
Vineyard
to back slowly away from the Cluster.” He turned to the pilot. “Mr. Rubin, maneuver ourselves between the Cluster and the freighter. Let's see if we can get the
Vineyard
safely to a jump point."

Weiss and Rubin nodded in unison. “Aye, sir."

"Shall I train ship's guns on the Cluster, sir?” asked Adkins, running her hand through the short hair on the back of her head.

Ellis thought for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the viewer. “Not just yet,” he said thoughtfully. “But be ready. We'll use them if we must.” Adkins nodded acknowledgment.

Still transfixed by the image of the Cluster on the holo viewer, a thought came to Ellis. He almost didn't believe it was his own, it seemed so ridiculous. If the Cluster could communicate with him, maybe he could communicate with it. His only clue as to how lay in the fact that at Sufiro, the Cluster seemed to speak to his very emotions.

The bridge crew sat tense, watching nervously as the
Martha's Vineyard
and the
Barbara Firebrandt
performed their excruciatingly slow ballet in space. The freighter gradually became visible on the viewer. A few words appeared in the field, indicating that Rubin had touched thrusters to bring the destroyer in front of the freighter.

As they crept toward the freighter, Ellis began to reason that he might be able to communicate with the Cluster if he emoted hard enough at it. “Bah,” he said to himself, smoke escaping his lips. “What am I, some kind of damned actor?” Still, he thought, what harm would come in trying it. Ellis took one last draw on the cigar and reached behind him, placing the butt in the incinerator. He sat forward, staring at the hypnotic image. He filled his mind with sensations of warmth, peace and love. He imagined projecting those images at the Cluster.

A flash of intense green light appeared on the screen followed by blinding white light. “Report,” barked Ellis, standing. Suddenly, Ellis collapsed to the deck, his head hitting the metal grating with a sickening thud.

Mark Ellis found himself in a room, not unlike one in the house in which he grew up. The room was cluttered with things ancient and antique. On shelves, he saw Egyptian alabaster urns next to a brass sextant. A Roman shield leaned against a nineteenth century wooden icebox in the middle of the floor. Ellis turned, feeling a presence in the room.

Sitting on a bright red velvet couch, that looked to be French, was a woman with black hair and piercing green eyes. She seemed to be wearing nothing, but for some reason Ellis couldn't get a clear view of her. Straight black hair covered her breasts and antiques obscured the rest. Only the unnaturally bright green eyes stood out clearly.

The commander turned at the sound of someone entering. “Dad!” he whispered, before he saw the figure. He had to steady himself on a treadle sewing machine as he turned. His father stood, just like Ellis last remembered seeing him, a stocky man, his hair cut short, wearing the trim suit of a Mao Corporation captain.

The woman stood and slunk, cat-like, to Jerome Ellis. She felt his arms, as though evaluating their strength. With a nod of approval, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. Mark Ellis sucked in air as he watched his father dissolve into ashes before his eyes.

"No!” he cried. He stood and tried to move toward the woman, but found his feet fixed in place. Instead, the woman turned toward him. Effortlessly, she moved heavy antique furniture out of her way. The commander sobbed, feeling helpless as she approached. However, as she came closer, he felt warmth and tenderness, much like the feeling he had at Sufiro. Ellis calmed down. The woman vanished, but Ellis turned to find her standing right behind him. Lithe arms reached out and embraced the commander. Terrified, he found his hands moving to the small of her back, as though under their own power. Continuing downward, his hands grasped cold buttocks.

By all appearances, her body should be supple and soft as she pressed against him. Instead, it was hard like marble and just as unyielding. A cold chill moved up the commander's spine. He saw her lips approach his, almost in slow motion. As she pulled his head closer, he sensed raw power and intelligence. Desire to help her washed over him. Fear crept back through the desire, though, and he tried in vain to pull back. She planted a cold, firm kiss on his mouth.

Commander John Mark Ellis found himself flat on his back, blinking at a familiar gray ceiling. He knew the pattern of lines almost by heart. He realized he was lying in his own sleeping alcove. “Careful,” came a familiar, feminine voice from the side. “You got a minor concussion when you hit the floor."

The commander moaned slightly as he turned his head. His neck felt as though someone had grabbed his head and jerked it 180 degrees. Sitting next to him was the ship's medic. “I've given you some medication for the pain. You should be functional in a few seconds,” she said, closing what looked like a black toolbox.

Ellis gritted his teeth. Suddenly, the image of the green beam and the flash poured back into his mind. “How long have I been out?"

"Only a couple of minutes, sir,” she reported. She ran short fingers through close-cropped black hair. “Do you want me to stand by at the launch, sir?"

Ellis felt the medication take effect. His body seemed free of the pain binding him to the bed. With a slight push, he sat up on his bunk. He thought about the flash for a moment, and from the medic's comment realized there might be trouble aboard the
Martha's Vineyard
. “Yes.” The sound of his own voice caused his head to throb. “You better stand by.” As she stood and stepped through the curtain, Ellis saw Rubin waiting anxiously outside. The commander stood, still feeling some pain, and went through the curtain himself.

"Report, Mr. Rubin,” ordered Ellis, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sir, the Cluster is gone,” he said grimly. “We almost overtook the
Vineyard
when the Cluster fired its ray."

On the bridge, Ellis looked around at the faces staring at him. There was worry mixed with a bit of fear. Weiss looked from Ellis to Rubin. “Confirmed, sir, we have lost all contact with the
Vineyard
. She's been hulled, but it looks like some interior sections were sealed off. I'm not getting any clear bio readings, but some might have survived."

"Prepare the launch,” said Ellis, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Can you download their computer records?"

Weiss shook his head. “They've been damaged beyond repair. It's hard to say whether or not their black box survived."

"I'll go over with the medic and see,” said Ellis, half turning.

Rubin grabbed him by the arm. “That was a nasty concussion, sir. I think maybe you should stay here."

Ellis glared at his first officer. His auburn beard seemed almost to bristle. Rubin quickly removed his hand and Ellis stormed to the launch bay at the stern of the ship.

Brushing past the launch crew, he entered the ship and sat down in the pilot's seat next to the medic, Geraldine Brown. After only a couple of minutes, he received the all-clear signal from the bridge to launch.

Wordlessly, Ellis piloted the launch to the black, cylindrical form of the
Martha's Vineyard
. He scanned the ship and found that one of the airlocks was fortuitously connected to the sealed sections. He scanned the ship again, trying to keep his mind off the faces of his own crew. To them, what had happened was horrifying. The Cluster had attacked a ship he was charged with protecting and he had fainted. The commander could hardly believe it himself.

He maneuvered the rear of the launch to connect with the
Vineyard's
airlock. There was a gentle thud as the ships met and a clang as the launch locked on. Ellis gritted his teeth as he opened the airlock door. Before standing, the commander retrieved a small, clipboard-sized computer that fit into the launch's console. On it, he displayed a schematic of the sections of the ship they could enter. Ellis stood, and went to straighten his uniform coat. Only then did he realize that the medic had removed it. He felt strangely naked, wearing only his tight-fitting gray body suit. Scowling, he led the way out into the damaged freighter.