Children of the Old Star (3 page)

The large metal corridor was empty and deathly silent. Ellis and Brown turned into one of the cargo areas. Opening the door, they were confronted by a large murky water tank. Ellis thought he could discern some small motion in the tank. Brown opened her black toolkit and found a bio scanner. She waved a wand in front of the cloudy reservoir. “Here are your bio readings,” she said grimly. “This tank is filled with plankton-like animals. They probably inhabit an asteroid or planet in this system and are being used as food on one of the colonies."

Ellis nodded, gravely. He examined the small computer and followed the map's directions to another section. He opened the door. Nausea welled up in his throat at the sight that greeted him. The remains of a lone person were next to a sealed emergency door. Blood stood in a grisly pool around the upper half of the body. The lower was nowhere to be seen. Brown came up behind Ellis and gasped. “Oh, my God,” she whispered at last.

Ellis stepped in gingerly, half-afraid of what else he might see. There were no people, and thankfully no other bodies. Looking around at the appliances mounted to the wall, Ellis realized he was standing in the galley. The man who died was probably the cook. Looking up at the emergency door, Ellis saw the remains of fruits and vegetables splattered across its once shiny surface. When the section ahead had been exposed to vacuum, all loose items had flown toward the opening. The door had come down, but many objects still would have had momentum, slamming them into the door. Brown stepped up and scanned the remains. “This man didn't suffocate,” she said. “There are only minor signs of exposure to vacuum."

The commander kneeled down, next to Brown. “He was being blown out into space when the automatic door came down...” The commander's voice cracked.

Brown nodded, agreeing with the assessment.

Ellis checked his computer. “Everything forward of this is exposed to space. So is everything rear of the cargo bay. I don't think there's anyone here we can help.” The commander looked into the terrified expression frozen by death onto the face of the cook. A tear escaped his own eye and fell, mingling with the pool of blood.

Ellis swallowed hard and concentrated on his computer pad, checking the sections they were in against known records of this class ship. “The black box is unreachable,” he said after a moment. “Another ship will have to retrieve it.” Ellis stood. “Let's get out of here."

Saturn, crowned as it was by a lustrous ring, seemed the perfect home for the galaxy's government. Its largest moon, Titan, had for millennia, been dotted by silver hemispheres. Each of the vast domes was home to ambassadors, military personnel, and government officials from every planet in the Confederation of Homeworlds.

People from Earth, Titan's closest neighbor, often wondered how such an expansive civilization could have eluded their sensors and telescopes as long as it had. The fact of the matter was that the moon's inhabitants, the oldest known race of intelligent beings, simply wanted it that way. They refused to discuss the technology they had used to remain cloaked. At least, most rational humans assumed that technology had been at work. There were, as through the centuries, many humans willing to believe magic had been employed.

The Titans themselves were large creatures, covered with soft pelts. Their arms and legs seemed too short for their bulbous torsos. Humans saw their ursine heads with large eyes adapted to low light, and were reminded of Teddy Bears. Those humans in love with conspiracy theories often said that the image of the Teddy Bear had been placed in the minds of President Theodore Roosevelt's friends to pave the way for humanity's eventual acceptance of the ancient race.

The matron of the Titans, a large being with a silver-gray pelt, named Teklar, turned to her lieutenant. “The intelligence continues to probe, to test, to seek. Another Earth ship has been examined. The human, Ellis, is close to understanding. We must be cautious."

"You fainted?” Admiral Marlou Strauss was looking at the screen in her office on Titan. She shook her head, pursing thin lips. “The Cluster fired on a civilian freighter and you fainted?” She turned to look Ellis in the eye.

Ellis shrunk back from the strength of her gaze. “I wish I could explain, ma'am."

"I wish you could as well.” She sat back, folding her hands into a peak. She took a deep breath, evaluating the commander evenly. “Up until this morning, I was prepared to confirm your promotion to captain.” Ellis felt his stomach sink at the words. “While your handling of the Sufiro situation was unorthodox, it got the results we required. Erdonium production has resumed. We will be able to build the ships we need to fight the Cluster. We will need experienced officers to command those ships."

Ellis took a deep breath. “Ma'am, I might have an explanation."

"Very well, Mr. Ellis.” The admiral put her hands flat on the desktop.

"I think the Cluster communicates through emotional response. While in orbit around Sufiro, I sensed something. I sensed that they were aware of what had happened on the planet—that they knew about the conflict. I sensed they saw the pain and suffering, but knew that their interference had helped to end the conflict.” Ellis looked into the admiral's eyes, but did not see any reaction. He swallowed and plunged forward. “You see, the two continents were engaged in war. When the Cluster arrived, the people were so afraid of what it would do, they stopped fighting and helped each other."

"I've read the report,” stated the admiral, coldly.

"But, it's not only that I sensed these things. I also sensed a feeling of warmth from the Cluster, a sense that things would be okay on the planet.” Ellis leaned forward hopefully.

Strauss leaned back and eyed Ellis frostily. “You're beginning to sound like one of those communicators who goes around the bend and thinks they're psychic.” She shook her head. “I don't see how this helps your case."

"I'm not talking about psychic communication,” said Ellis, almost desperately. “I'm talking about emotional sensitivity."

"What the Hell's the difference?” asked Strauss, her patience reaching an end.

"My eyes and ears, perhaps even my sense of touch, tell me you're angry. I don't need any special power to know that my career is in jeopardy."

"You have that right, Mister,” snapped Strauss.

"Perhaps the Cluster is like that—only more so. Perhaps emotions are their very basis of communication. Couple that with an elaborate holographic technology—not unlike the Rd'dyggians have—and you have something that looks like visions,” Ellis explained. “If the Cluster can sense emotions, I reasoned that they could tell the difference between random signals, so to speak, and those emotions directed at them. As we were approaching the
Martha's Vineyard
I attempted to project my emotions at the Cluster."

Strauss threw her hands into the air. “Now I know you've gone around the bend.” She stood and paced behind the desk for several minutes. Finally she stopped and stared at Ellis with Arctic blue eyes. “You are trying to tell me that you tried unauthorized communication with that thing and it responded by destroying the
Vineyard
?"

Ellis looked to the ground. “I suppose I am, ma'am."

She sat down, leaning across the desk. “Well, get this straight and get it straight right now. You are damned lucky I don't believe you. If I did, you would be facing a court martial board for endangering civilians. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am.” Ellis’ voice was no more than a whisper.

She sat back, folding her arms tightly across her stomach. “Look, Mark,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “As far as many of the Admirals here are concerned, the only reason you succeeded at Sufiro was because the leader of one of the warring continents was your grandfather, Ellison Firebrandt.” She measured her words. “They believe you used nepotism to reach an end, even if it was a favorable end. They are worried that you might not be able to solve a crisis where you didn't have such an edge."

Ellis wrung his hands. He had wondered exactly the same thing numerous times during the return journey.

"I stuck my neck out for you, Mister. I convinced them you had done a hell of a job.” Again, she shook her head. “Then you had to go on that rescue mission. All you had to do was get the
Vineyard
behind you and to safety. For the record, there was nothing you could have done if the Cluster was going to attack. But, fainting when they attack is not acceptable, Mister. What happens when you get into a true battle situation? Will you simply faint away and let your XO take your command?"

"Ma'am,” said Ellis, trying not to sound choked up. “I still think there's a reasonable chance of communication with the Cluster."

"Stop pursuing this communication nonsense!” Strauss ground her teeth. “You are in danger of a court-martial!” Her voice became a dangerous whisper. “If you shut up now, I am prepared to reinstate you as first lieutenant on a star cruiser. You have a good record. It's possible I might be able to give you another crack at Commander in a couple of years."

"A demotion,” muttered Ellis, heart-broken. “I'm not sure I can accept that."

Strauss closed her eyes, her patience taxed to the limit. “Then you had better be prepared to resign your commission."

Ellis looked up at her, his brown eyes wide, jaw hanging open. He thought for a moment about arguing that the fleet had to do what it could to at least try to communicate with the Cluster before more tragedy struck. The look in her eyes warned him off that path. He sighed, though, knowing he must find the Cluster. He must talk to the Cluster. Somehow, he knew it was the only correct answer. John Mark Ellis took a deep breath and without thinking about it too much longer, lest he stop himself, he let the words fall out. “Admiral Strauss, I hereby resign my commission as an officer of the Confederation Space Fleet."

The admiral closed her eyes for a second, then turned back to her terminal. “I expect your belongings off the
Firebrandt
in 24 hours."

WHERE NO ONE KNOWS YOUR NAME

John Mark Ellis stood in a silent hallway outside admiralty headquarters in the human pressure dome on Titan and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. The silence should have given him time to think about how to contact the Cluster. Instead, he found himself wallowing in despair, simply wanting to escape. He cursed mildly as he felt around the pocket and realized he had crushed a cigar. He removed the damaged cigar and examined it. Scowling, he thrust it in his mouth and lit it anyway. Smoke issued from a myriad of cracks in the surface.

He looked up just in time to see Frank Rubin stepping his way, waving a computer wafer. “Sir!” called Rubin excitedly. His booming voice echoed off the walls. “I just received a promotion!"

"Congratulations,” grumbled Ellis. He bit down hard on the cigar, almost chopping off the end with his teeth.

"Is something the matter, sir?” Concern showed in Rubin's wide blue eyes.

"Calling me ‘sir’ isn't appropriate anymore, Mr. Rubin,” snorted Ellis. He looked down at his wrist chronometer and nodded. “I've got just about enough time to get to the space port and catch a flight to Earth. Would you be so kind as to send my duffel down to my home on Nantucket?"

"Of course, but...” Rubin's mouth hung open as Ellis stormed off through the white corridor. The newly promoted A-Com bit his lower lip, feeling frozen in place. Finally he gathered his wits and ran to catch up with his former commander. When he almost caught up to Ellis, he saw him turn to enter the busy spaceport area. Ellis plowed a straight line through the crowd toward the ticket counter, smoke issuing hurly-burly from the crushed cigar like a fog bank surrounding his head. Rubin was nearly out of breath when he finally reached Ellis leaving the counter, ticket in hand.

"Can you believe that,” grumbled Ellis around the forlorn cigar, waving the ticket in Rubin's face. “The only flight to Earth tonight is on one of those tramp freighters that doesn't even have graviton generators."

"What's going on?” Rubin brushed the ticket away from his face.

Ellis was still waving the ticket, unmindful of Rubin. “Have to ride all the way to Earth on some smelly ship that doesn't even have gravity.” He looked down at the ticket. “They don't even serve a goddamn meal!"

"Sounds relaxing.” Rubin's voice dripped sarcasm. He looked into his former commander's eyes. “Sir, what's the matter? What happened in there with Admiral Strauss?"

Ellis finally removed the cigar, his expression softening a bit toward Rubin. Again, he looked down at his wrist chronometer. “This flight, such as it is, doesn't leave for another hour. Let me buy you a drink and I'll tell you about it."

Again, Rubin found himself following Ellis through the crowd. This time, however, the pace was less frantic. The two sat down at a gleaming silver bar. Ellis ordered scotch. Rubin declined a drink.

By this time, Rubin had guessed what happened. At first, he had been frightened when Ellis had fainted as the Cluster attacked the
Martha's Vineyard
. Knowing the commander as well as he did, it simply seemed impossible. When Ellis had returned from the
Vineyard
, his suspicions had been confirmed. The Cluster had communicated with him a second time. “I don't get it, why wouldn't they confirm your promotion to captain? What about the Cluster? What about Sufiro?"

The drink arrived and Ellis downed it in one shot and ordered another. “They say Sufiro was an accident. They say I couldn't have handled the crisis without my grandfather's help.” He stared at the empty glass. “As to the Cluster. They simply won't believe I've been in communication with it. They think I'm making the whole thing up."

"What?” Rubin looked toward the bartender and waved him over. He decided he needed a beer. “I can't believe they're going to cashier you over Sufiro."

"They weren't that upset about Sufiro.” Ellis shook his head. “They canned me because I fainted on the bridge of my own goddamned ship."

"But you didn't faint,” stammered Rubin. He tried to find words but failed. He might have known what really happened to Ellis, but it could not change how the admiralty saw the situation.