Heart of the Nebula (7 page)

She waited until the sounds died away again.
This time, though, the silence was much deeper than before. She
almost feared to open the hatch, but the air had become so stuffy
that she knew she couldn’t last much longer. After counting to one
hundred, she gripped the wire and pulled.

The outside bars released with a loud clang.
For a brief moment, Kyla’s heart stopped, and a horrible sinking
feeling took hold of her. The hatch creaked open just a crack,
letting in some blessedly fresh air, but she waited in the darkness
just in case someone had overheard her. Seconds turned to minutes,
and no-one came. When she was confident that it was safe, she swung
the hatch open and climbed out.

The space between the hatchway and the
bulkhead was barely large enough to squeeze through sideways. It
took her a while to get out, but when she did, she found that it
wasn’t quite as bad as it was inside the container. A dim green
light somewhere on the other side of the room gave just enough
light to see by, and while the space was narrow, it extended a long
distance in either direction. She rounded the corner and found that
there was even more space on the other side, with a door—though
where it led, she had no idea.

A cargo hold,
she thought to herself.
I’m on board a starship.
Her heart
started to race as a wild, heady feeling of triumph began to seize
her. After running for so long, she was finally going to make
it.

The groaning of metal on metal through the
bulkheads made her jump. In the silence of the hold, it sounded as
if a giant rat had scraped its claws against the hull of the ship.
She bit her lip again and glanced nervously around, but only the
dim lights in the ceiling met her eyes.

Thudding noises came next, followed by a
series of hisses so low that she could barely hear them. She
pressed her ear against the wall, and they came through all too
clear. The floor shuddered, and her stomach began to turn, but not
from hunger. Something was happening—the ship was turning.

We’ve pushed off,
she told herself.
This is
it—we’ve left the station.

As if in response, the noises abruptly
stopped. She frowned and pressed her ear against the wall, but
caught nothing but the beating of her heart.

What’s going on?

Moments later, she felt an odd, nauseous
sensation sweep over her, starting in her stomach but soon
extending throughout her entire body. She looked up only to see the
already narrow bulkheads crowding her in. Her vision began to swim,
and she felt as if her body was being turned inside out—as if the
universe were playing some kind of cruel joke. She closed her eyes
and tried very hard not to scream.

Then, in an instant, the feeling passed.
Sweat ran down the back of her neck and behind her ears, turning
colder with each passing second. She reached up with her hand and
wiped it off.

The jump,
she realized.
We’re
away.

She took in a deep breath and settled down
on the cold metal floor. Wherever she was headed, there was no
going back anymore.

Chapter 4

James walked down the
spacious corridor of the
Freedom
Star,
glancing with mixed feelings at the
cascading hydroponic vines and etched porcelain walls. A little
less than a day had passed since their departure, and he still
couldn’t get over all the luxury that now surrounded him. While the
Hameji occupation had certainly impacted everyone’s standard of
living, it was clear to him now that it had affected some people
less than others.

The only reason civilized
society isn’t overrun by barbarians and criminals is because of the
sheepdogs,
Danica’s words came to his mind.
But what about all this inequality? He gritted his teeth. With all
the flagrant opulence around him, he couldn’t shake the feeling
that he had risked his life only to let a more insidious predator
undo all that he had worked for.

Toward the bow, the corridor opened up to a
magnificent wood-paneled staircase leading down to the observation
deck. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a
stupendous view of the starfield outside. A dazzling crystal
chandelier hung from the center of the room, directly over an
automated serving bar. Retractable tables and chairs ringed the
windows, enough for the luxury yacht to host large, extravagant
parties while parked in orbit.

Lars sat on the far side of the room,
admiring the view from one of the chairs. He wore the standard gray
jumpsuit of a merchanter, complete with compact utility belt and a
black leather vest that was wrinkled and cracked with age. James’s
lips turned up in a smile; he’d hardly ever seen Lars wear anything
else, not even in the video speeches he’d made to the General
Assembly of Citizens. In his decidedly working-class clothes, he
looked more than a little out of place here on the luxury
yacht.

“
Hey,” he said as he
climbed down the stars. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“
Not at all,” said
Lars.

James settled into the shifting contours of
the egg-shaped chair across the table. For a moment, the cushions
felt lumpy and uneven, but the smartfoam soon conformed to his body
shape. As it did so, he couldn’t help but feel as if it were trying
to eat him. Lars chuckled.

“
Not used to this kind of
luxury, are you?”

“
No,” James
admitted.

“
Neither am I. The
diplomatic committee likes to charter this starship for its more
important missions. Though it does seem a bit opulent, I suppose
it’s necessary to grease the wheels of diplomacy. Care for a
drink?”

“
No, thanks.”

“
Suit yourself.” Lars
lifted his glass and turned back to the magnificent
view.

“
You know,” said James,
“it’s only been two days, and we’re already halfway to Gaia Nova.
If we were in a sublight convoy, we’d barely be out of the K3
trojans right now.”

“
It’s amazing how much
difference a good FTL drive makes in space travel.”

“
That’s not what I’m
talking about,” he said, shaking his head. “The wars have decimated
virtually all of the occupied worlds. Karduna, Tajjur, Gaia Nova—no
system has been spared. And yet, five years ago, the kind of
journey we’re making right now would have been
commonplace.”

“
I know,” said Lars.
“Sometimes, I feel as if the outer edges of our own system are more
foreign to us than the other stars of the empire ever
were.”

“
They’re definitely more
dangerous. With all the local piracy we’ve had to deal with,
‘occupation’ doesn’t really describe the way the Hameji are running
things.”

“
Yes,” Lars agreed. “To
them, we’re just a vassal state. So long as we produce tribute,
they’re content to let us manage our own affairs.”

“
Or let everything fall
apart.”

Lars nodded. “It’s the same thing
everywhere. Gaia Nova is one of the worst examples—three stations
have collapsed since the occupation began. When you look at all
we’ve been through, it’s a wonder that the Colony has survived for
as long as it has.”

“
Yeah,” said
James.

They sat in thoughtful silence for a while.
Outside, the stars shone like cold, distant jewels. The wispy pink
tendrils of the Good Hope Nebula lay just out of view, but James
caught sight of a couple dark molecular clouds—blots in the
starfield.

“
Do you think this
conference will accomplish anything?”

“
I hope so,” said Lars with
a wry grin. “I’m the one who organized it, after all.”

James’s eyes widened. He regarded Lars for a
minute, wondering what to say. “Well, you always were the
politically savvy one,” he eventually managed. “I guess you know
more about these things than I do.”

Lars chuckled. “It’s a bit of a long shot,
I’ll admit. Still, it’s better than sitting idly by as everything
falls apart. I’m guessing that’s why you joined the Corps?”

“
Yeah, that was one of the
reasons.”

“
It doesn’t surprise me.
You and I aren’t that different, James. But while your calling lies
in the military, mine lies in politics. If our people are ever to
have a future, they’re going to need great men and women working
together in both realms.”

James nodded, relaxing a little. “So what’s
this conference about anyway?”

“
It’s a gathering of
representatives from the Hameji-occupied worlds. Ever since my
appointment to the diplomatic committee, I’ve been building a
network of like-minded people across the former Gaian Empire who
want to change the situation under the Hameji. We reached critical
mass some time ago, but it took a while to convince the Hameji that
a conference like this was in their best interests as well as
ours.”

“
What is that supposed to
mean?” James asked. “Just what are you hoping to
accomplish?”

“
I’m hoping to organize a
council,” said Lars, leaning forward. “An interstellar council of
occupied systems. Right now, we’re at the mercy of the local
commanders, and most of them couldn’t care less about us. All they
want is a chance to get reassigned to the battle front. But if we
can create an organization that can represent our interests
directly to the Hameji Generals, then maybe they’ll start to listen
to us.”

James frowned. “The Generals? What makes you
think they’d care?”

“
Because they can’t afford
not to,” Lars answered, his eyes lit with passion. “No hegemonic
system can endure forever: eventually, the strain becomes too much,
and the empire splinters and falls apart. It’s as much in the
Generals’ interest to grant us a degree of autonomy as it is in our
interests to ask for it.”

“
And how would this council
change any of that?”

“
It gives us a voice and
makes the Hameji accountable to that voice. This is what I’ve been
working for ever since Karduna fell: to preserve our basic rights
and liberties. If things go well—and I have good reason to hope
that they will—then ten years from now, we’ll enjoy far more
security, prosperity, and freedom than we could dare to hope
for.”

James nodded and let out a long breath. Even
though Lars’s ideas seemed rather naive, he had to admire the man’s
vision.

“
But what if the Hameji see
this council as a threat?” he asked, applying his military mind to
the equation. “What if they interpret it as a form of
mutiny?”

Lars held his hands palm up. “It’s a risk, I
know. But we owe it to our future generations to work for it all we
can.”

We owe it to our future
generations to stay alive,
James nearly
retorted. Instead, he shook his head.

“
I don’t know. It sounds
like too much of a gamble.”

Lars chuckled. “Why James, you misjudge me.
Do you think I’d play this game without an ace in the hole?”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
I’m talking about our ‘in’
with the Hameji,” he continued, leaning forward with his hands
folded on the table. “You of all people should know better than any
of us who that is.”

James’s confusion grew, until sudden
realization struck him. His stomach dropped, and his heart skipped
a beat.

“
Stella.”

“
That’s right, my friend. I
have it confirmed on good authority that Qasar is now the chief
rear admiral of the main Hameji battle fleet. Given her position as
Qasar’s wife, I have every reason to believe that she will be
present for the conference.”

Stella.
James’s hands trembled, and his palms began to
sweat. Five standard years ago, his sister and brother had fallen
prisoner to the Hameji during the invasion. Against his father’s
wishes, he’d set out on a foolhardy quest to rescue them. That
quest had ended in failure: his older brother had been killed
before his eyes, and his sister had refused to come with him. He
knew now that she’d made the right choice: with her new-found
influence as one of Qasar’s wives, Stella had managed to save the
Karduna system from imminent collapse. But Qasar’s fleet had been
reassigned after little more than a standard year, and everything
had only gotten worse since then. In all that time, James had
missed her so much that he couldn’t help but feel like a failure
for coming back without her.

“
Are you sure?”

“
Sure enough. I haven’t
received her RSVP, but if she’s in the system I have no doubt
she’ll be there.”

James leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“So you were the one behind my assignment to this mission.”

“
Actually, no,” said Lars.
“I had nothing to do with it.”

“
What? You mean I didn’t
factor into your scheme?”

“
Not really. I figured I
had enough of a personal connection with your sister to make things
work—though of course, your presence can only help. But I had
nothing to do with this assignment.”

“
That’s strange,” said
James, frowning.

“
Why?”

“
Because in my last mission
before this assignment, I got in trouble—even thrown in the brig.
The patrician pulled me out of it without any reprimands or
disciplinary action. He went completely over Commander Maxwell’s
head.”