STOWAWAY TO THE STARS
CHAPTER 2

Karen’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream when the attendant drew back the sheet. Her sister’s face was pale and lifeless, almost like alabaster. Karen hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it was true – her sister was dead. Instinctively she looked away, then dragged her gaze back and nodded to the policewoman.

“Yes, that’s Rachel.” She had to force the words out, as if saying them made it true. The bare walls and cold lighting of the morgue reinforced her grief.

Her world had fallen apart early that morning, when the police officers knocked on her door. Karen had tried to convince herself it was an awful mistake. She refused to accept what they told her until she saw it for herself. Now she knew.

She was barely aware of following the officer out of the morgue to the waiting police car. As she sat in the back seat she felt numb. Rachel dead! Her dear sister and best friend – they did nearly everything together. When Karen had last seen her, two days ago, she’d proudly shown Karen the lovely diamond earrings from the new man in her life. Now her sister was gone.

She came out of her daze to find herself sitting in the policewoman’s office. It was a crowded room, filled with filing cabinets and a large, old-fashioned wooden desk. The desk was piled high with case notes, along with pens and pencils scattered everywhere, a battered telephone, and a Mackintosh Powerbook computer that looked out of place in these homely surroundings. A framed photo of a little boy stood on the corner of the desk, and a small name plaque announced her as Rose Jenkins.

Karen hadn’t wanted to know any details when they spoke to her at home that morning, but now she needed to hear. “I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. How could this happen?”

Jenkins leaned back in her chair, a short, stocky woman, middle-aged, hair showing tinges of gray at the temples. She spoke as if she’d seen it all many times before. “The hotel manager called it in. When the room wasn’t vacated two hours after check-out time, he used his master key to get in and found your sister lying on the bed. She was still breathing when the ambulance got there, but they pronounced her dead on arrival at the hospital.”

“But why? What happened? And what was she doing in the hotel room?”

“The room was booked in her name, but the desk clerk can’t remember if anyone was with her, and the hotel had no security cameras.” Jenkins paused, took a deep breath and stared into Karen’s eyes intently. “We think she died of a heroin overdose. We found an empty syringe in the room.”

Karen leapt to her feet. She wanted to beat her fists on the other woman’s chest. “That’s crazy! Rachel never touched drugs.”

Jenkins crossed her arms as if to ward off Karen’s temper, but her voice was calm. “Not that you knew of, perhaps.”

“No, she was my sister. We’ve always been close. I’d have known if she’d started doing drugs.”

“When did you last see her?”

“Two days ago. And I’m telling you, she was exactly the same as always.”

Jenkins paused and reached for a file from the stack on her desk. She flipped through the pages. “Well, it’s true we didn’t find any signs of regular drug use. But I’m sure the autopsy will confirm that was the cause of death. Had she met any new friends recently?”

Karen thought for a moment, then sat back down. “Oh shit, the boyfriend.”

Jenkins leaned forward and cocked her head on one side. “Go on.”

Karen chewed her lip and thought back to what little she knew. “Six weeks ago she met this guy at a concert. Something was odd about it because Rachel wouldn’t give me any details, and we’ve always shared secrets.”

She shifted on the hard wooden chair, trying to get comfortable. Was that why Rachel wouldn’t tell her anything? Could he have dragged her into dabbling with drugs? No, but perhaps he’d been trying to, and that was why Rachel wouldn’t say anything.

“Rachel hated the idea of drugs. She wouldn’t have taken them for anyone, let alone a guy she hadn’t known long.”

“What was the name of her boyfriend, and where can we find him?”

Karen paused. Was there anything Rachel had said that might help? “Well, that’s the thing. I only know his first name – Grant. I don’t know where he lives or what he does.”

Jenkins looked skeptical. “I thought you said the two of you were close? Did you never meet him?”

“We are close. I mean we were.” She could hardly continue for the lump in her throat. “But whenever I asked Rachel about meeting her new man, she avoided the question.”

“That doesn’t give us much to go on. Is there nothing else at all you know about him? What type of concerts did she go to?”

“Oh, classical music mostly. You know, Mozart, Beethoven, they were her favorites. Occasionally she’d try the more modern composers.”

“Do you know which concert she met the boyfriend at? That would be a help.”

Karen shook her head miserably. The questions continued and she answered them in a daze, wishing it would stop. Jenkins wanted to contact her parents, who were away for the weekend, but Karen begged to be allowed to break the news first. When at last they allowed her to go, she couldn’t wait to get out of the police station.

When she got home she slumped down in her kitchen, her head buried in her arms on the table. How could she break this to Mom and Dad? It didn’t bear thinking about, and she began to wish she hadn’t insisted on being the one to tell them.

Eventually she came to a decision. Rachel, I promise I will track down that bastard of a boyfriend and find out what happened.

****

As Larry stared in horror at the traces on his viewscreen of the three Ziloni ships, a sparkle of extra traces appeared. Shit, now they’d launched a wave of attack missiles.

In his black mood, Larry’s first instinct was to launch a suicidal head-on counter attack against the overwhelming superiority of the pursuers. But there was still a chance Annek might survive. He owed it to her not to waste the possibility if he could help it. They were going to get a fight they’d remember.

What were the possibilities? They had to be spaceships, the Ziloni wouldn’t have expected to need atmospheric fighters on this remote iceball. With any luck they would be armed with space missiles not designed for attacks in the atmosphere. Out in space he had no chance. He had the standard small-ship complement of forty-eight defense missiles. That would be no match against the superior number of attack missiles the enemy was bound to have. But if he took the fight back down into the atmosphere he might be able to turn the conditions to his advantage.

He flipped his viewscreen to positional mode. Before he went back down into the atmosphere he wanted to take this fight away from the area of the enemy cavern, and also into the daylight – such as it was out here so far from the sun. His display showed he was close to the ecliptic, about thirty degrees round from the midday position. He tipped his ship over to skirt the top of the atmosphere and headed in the direction of the area with maximum light. He would need all he could get for what he had in mind. He also wanted to put part of the planet between him and whatever base they had. That would break the radio communication between his pursuers and their control.

The missiles angled toward him, but they were on a diagonal track that meant they had to fight through the viscous drag of the atmosphere all the way. He was out of its retarding effect and could travel much faster. This was the benefit of fighting against space missiles in this environment. They weren’t programmed to take the quickest route, only the shortest, even if that meant they were slowed down by atmospheric drag all the way. It gave him time to put a lot of distance between him and the enemy cavern before they caught up with him. He didn’t bother to deploy guard missiles. Where he would shortly be taking the fight, down into the atmosphere, it was unlikely that they would be able to follow along behind him.

When he could see that the missiles were catching up, he angled back down, aiming straight at the ground. At first it was obscured by the photo-chemical haze layer and he had to rely on his sensors to tell him where the ground was. He burst through the haze, and after that he could see the ground visually and judge his maneuver better. He slowed until the missiles were close behind him, then accelerated again. Come on you mindless bastards, follow me down. The ground is waiting for you.

He judged the moment carefully to slam on reverse thrust, round out his descent just clear of the surface and skim along close to the ground.

The missiles came pouring down out of the sky above him, following smooth arcs that would bring them intersecting his course from below. He’d guessed right, they weren’t programmed for terrain avoidance. Over the howl of the airflow came the sound of the explosions as they crashed into the ground where it interrupted their planned routes.

Only three laggards among the missiles avoided the encounter with the ground. He could spare enough interceptors to take them out. At least it was usually a one-sided contest between an interceptor in single-minded pursuit and an attacker that had conflicting requirements – to shake off its pursuer, while at the same time maintaining its primary purpose of attacking its target.

With the first wave of missiles beaten off he expanded his viewscreen to find out what had happened to the enemy ships. They were far away still, the curvature of the small planet making them barely visible above the horizon. Doubtless they had expected their large wave of missiles to do the trick and were just following along at a distance to check on their success. Thank the saints these weren’t atmospheric fighters. He wouldn’t stand a prayer against the kit they would have available. Against deep space fighters he could use unusual tactics they weren’t geared up for.

His next move was to lie in wait. Larry lowered the ship to the ground and powered down his motor to standby mode to kill his trace on their screens. He watched his own viewscreen until the ships swept overhead hunting for his trace, then he painted the three traces and launched three of his precious attack missiles.

He scored one direct hit on the closest ship – the other two managed to deploy interceptors in time. One down, two to go, but with the missile he had launched earlier at the ground troops, his original meager supply of twelve attack missiles was down to eight. He couldn’t afford to waste any.

Larry powered up the motors again as the remaining ships slowed and turned to launch a second wave of missiles. He managed to get airborne before the missiles arrived. Not as many as the first time, but still more than his remaining interceptors, and anyway he needed to keep some in reserve.

His first attempt was to use the same defense as before, but it was much less effective so close to the ground. He arced briefly upward to draw them up behind him, then dived toward the ground. He flattened out again at the last moment. Some of the closest missiles slammed into the ground behind him, but the remainder were too close for the trick to work a second time. He needed a new tactic fast.

He could just make out, in the dim light filtering through the photo-chemical haze above, that the ground in his vicinity was a mass of rocky prominences, cut by narrow, winding valleys. He dived straight amongst the rocks, slowing hard as he went, until he was deep in the valleys, weaving frantically and flying only as fast as he dared. Missile after missile impacted the rocks and valley walls he placed between himself and them. Some were close enough to light up the rocks ahead with the glare of their explosions.

Only seconds passed before the last red trace disappeared from his viewscreen. He could slow down and relax for a few moments while, for the second time, he hunted for the traces of the enemy ships. They were well behind and high, and their position convinced him they had no appetite for close combat. They must want to stand off and overwhelm him from a distance. Well, that was about to change. He swung his ship around and headed back in their direction, hugging low to the ground. They launched more missiles, but singly rather than in waves. He kept close to the ground, still weaving as the missiles came in, and they all succumbed to his trap and overshot into the rocks.

As soon as he was directly underneath the enemy ships he wrenched his ship upward and accelerated toward them. Let’s see which of us blinks first. He had to use some of his interceptors against their attack missiles, but they were still firing singly – he’d given them no time to program another wave. He was closing fast and he only used up six interceptors before they broke course and veered away. He could sense from their flying that they were rattled. He painted each ship again, but followed one in particular and waited until he was on top of it. He used two more interceptors in the process, before launching two more of his attack missiles. Another direct hit on the closest ship, with the other deploying an interceptor successfully. One to go, with six attack missiles left!

However, the other ship was in retreat, heading for the horizon. Larry stared in amazement. Had the guy chickened out? It could be. He had used up a lot of missiles, a third of the first wave, half the second wave and some of the individual missiles as well. Moreover, Larry was fighting for his life whereas his opponent had expected an easy victory, which he sure as hell wasn’t going to get. Instead he had already lost his two companion ships. It looked as if he would take no further risks and report back to his Ziloni base.

Larry still suspected a trap. As the trace disappeared over the horizon he lifted his ship higher until he picked up the trace again. No, it was all right, the Ziloni was still keeping low and going flat out for home. Larry breathed a deep sigh of relief and realized he was shaking from the adrenaline that had kept him going. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and considered what to do next.

The enemy ship had a long way to go, and had to force his way through the atmosphere because he seemed to be too scared to lift up into space. Until he got far enough around the planet to achieve radio contact with base, no one else would know what had happened. The time had come to make a break for the hyperspace boundary before the enemy launched a further attack. He angled steeply upward until clear of the atmosphere again. Once clear, he tracked round the planet until he was on the other side from the enemy cavern. Only at that point did he ram his control stick forward and head at a flat out fifty gee acceleration for the boundary. The bulk of Inferior shielded him from detection until the enemy got a ship way out into space to see around the planet.

He watched his screen anxiously, but no enemy traces appeared. The hyperspace boundary arrived sooner than it would have for a heavier gravity planet. He made the jump to Union Central.

The familiar sight of planet Central popped into view, its unmistakable great northern ocean and southern desert visible even from way out here in space. But it was way over to the right instead of straight ahead. For a moment this confused him, until he realized he’d been going in the wrong direction when he fled from Inferior. He made a quick, rough correction to his direction, before he flipped on the emergency beacon and made his first broadcast on his radio.

“Central Control, this is IEP zero zero eight. I have a class one emergency, passenger badly injured. She is in stasis, I need a medical unit on standby. Please advise the best landing site.”

“Roger IEP zero zero eight, you are cleared down to the edge of atmosphere to intercept beam delta seven. We will advise further shortly. Are you aware that your track is off course for a standard approach?”

“Affirm, I’ll sort it out. Just make sure I’ve got medical attention available. Zero zero eight out.”

The haul in from the hyperspace boundary seemed to take forever. Larry had to remind himself over and over that it didn’t matter. The stasis unit would keep Annek in the same condition no matter how long he took. Even if her pulse had stopped, they’d still have the standard four minutes to revive her. He was the one suffering from the delay. The agony of uncertainty, not knowing whether he’d got to her in time.

There had to be a chance that she’d survived. The planet’s atmosphere had provided enough external pressure to stop an explosive loss of air. The atmosphere was not actively poisonous. It was intensely cold and unbreathable, but the excess pressure of the suit’s air supply might have stopped too much of the atmosphere making its way back into the suit.

After what must have been only a few minutes, but seemed like eternity, Larry was directed to land at Greti military base, which had a hospital alongside the spaceport. His final approach was more reckless than usual, maintaining mach 0.9 to the last possible moment with one hand pressing the safety override. With the terrain detection siren blaring a warning that he was too low he applied absolute maximum deceleration. He came to a stop only eight meters above the spaceport, and dumped the ship onto the ground with a final vicious jerk of the control.

The medical team he had asked for was standing by. Larry opened the door and stepped to one side to let them board the ship. More agonizing delay occurred while he briefed them on her exact situation, but he knew it was necessary. The clock would start ticking the moment they broke the stasis field. They made him stand well clear before they opened up the stasis unit, lifted Annek gently out and ripped off her spacesuit to check for signs of life.

The wait was unbearable as they applied the full range of resuscitation techniques. Please the saints, she had to be alive, he hadn’t fought off those bastards for nothing.

He tried to explain what had happened to a spaceport official, glancing at the medical team as they connected Annek to the artificial heart and lung machine. He lost his train of thought completely at the sound of the shock probes. The official waited for a reply for a moment longer, but then left him alone. Larry barely noticed his departure.

His heart sank further when he saw them move on to the brain stimulator. That was a desperation technique.

The team stopped working and the doctor stood up, shaking his head.

“She can’t be dead,” Larry said in desperation. “I got to her as fast as I could.”

“I’m sorry, there are no signs of life. There’s nothing more we can do.”

“But she had excess pressure in her suit that should have kept out the worst of the atmosphere. I thought I’d got her into stasis in time. Are you sure?”

“We’ve tried everything, but there’s no response. She must have been dead before you got her into the stasis unit. The cold did most of the damage. That and the suffocating atmosphere would have made it quick.”

Larry stared at the ground, his mind numb. Annek was a trainee, under his supervision. He should have been looking after her. Instead he’d taken her on an unnecessary side trip, and now she was dead! With a sudden urgency, he looked around for the commanding officer. He spotted the control room across the apron. Marching toward it, he pushed aside a guard who approached him and stepped inside. A conversation came to an immediate halt as he pounded his fist on the commander’s desk. “Those Ziloni are a bunch of murdering bastards, every one of them. I want something done about them now!”

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