DarkStar Running (Living on the Run Book 2) (14 page)

Still some distance away from Providence, and away from
traffic lanes, on its own,
DarkStar
drew to a stop.

“
Reliant
? What’s going on?” Stan asked.

The ship said nothing. A holograph tactical display appeared
over the pilot’s console. A blip told them a ship approached.

“
Reliant
?” Lilia said softly.

No answer.

Stan and Carl tried to activate various controls but nothing
worked.

“We’re dead in space,” Carl said, and turned to the others.
“Swift?”

“I got nothin’, Carl.”

“Bay door is raising,” Lilia said, her voice calm but
apprehensive.

The door to the bay appeared, and the three looked at each
other for answers. Finding none, Stan pushed to his feet, as did the others,
and headed for the bay. Soon, a ship, an old well-worn freighter, pulled up
alongside them. An energy air-containment field connected their two ships, a
ramp extended from the new arrival to theirs, and its bay door opened. A man in
a smock stood at the opening.

Stan, Lilia, and Carl exchanged glances.

The man, raised his head from a digital pad, saw them, and
smiled. “Why, hello!”

“Hello, yourself,” Stan offered, uncertain.

“Yes, well . . . may I come aboard?” Without
waiting for an answer, the man proceeded across the ramp, entered their bay,
and looked around. “Remarkable, remarkable.”

“Can we help you?” Lilia asked.

“Indeed,” said the man cheerily. “Indeed you can, Lilia. Or
should I call you Miss Slone?”

“It’s Mrs. Archer now.”

His eyes widened. “Indeed?” He looked up. “
DarkStar
,
that wasn’t in your report.”

“Report?” Stan said, suspicious. Something about the man
seemed familiar, but he just couldn’t place him.

“Yes, oh, umm, I see,” the man said. “Come, let’s coffee
over our exchange, shall we?” He turned and headed straight for the galley.

Stan glanced at his fellow confused companions, and smiled
wryly. Raising a hand, he indicated they follow the stranger. “Yes, let us
coffee over our exchange, shall we?”

“This is all too weird,” Carl said as he followed Lilia.

“I’ll say,” Stan agreed. “But he’s just one guy. I think we
can take him if he tries something.”

“What did he call this ship,
DarkStar
?”

“That was her name,” Lilia said, “before we changed it.
Please, don’t ever call her anything but
Reliant
.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”

They entered the galley to find the stranger already
gathering what he needed to brew a pot. “Sit, sit,” he said without looking
their way.

The three took places at the breakfast bar. “You seem to
know your way around my ship,” Stan said, making his annoyance apparent.

“Your ship? Yes, yes, I can see how you’d think that.
DarkStar
,
who do you belong to?”

The avatar appeared before them.

The man jerked in surprise. His eyes grew bigger. “An
avatar? I don’t recall programming in an avatar.” He jerked his head to Stan
and Lilia. “Is this your doing?”

“Sir, I belong to the Archers. We are bound together.”

“Bound? Yes, you said that in this report. What do you mean,
bound
?”

“What is this about?” Stan asked with growing annoyance.

“Oh, yes, right.” The man poured four coffees and set the
cups before them. “As you recall, stole this ship.”

“No . . . I don’t think so,” Stan said, looking at
Lilia, but all she could do was shrug blankly.

“I released myself to these good folks,” Reliant said.

“Why would you—” Coalfire stopped himself. “Well, now. That
does paint things in a different light. Okay, here we go. I built
DarkStar
in our secret base, Ice Station Zebra. I completed her A.I. programming, and
retired for the night. The following morningI discovered DarkStar missing.”

“Ice Station Zebra?” Lilia said. “You mean on Chagwa?”

“Chagwa? Goodness no. Providence Minor. The southern pole
actually.”

“Wait. This is all too confusing,” Stan said. “Prov Minor is
sixty-seven light years away from Chagwa.”

“Of course,” the man said. “What does Chagwa have to do with
anything?”

“That’s where we found
DarkStar
,” Stan clarified. “In
a big ice cavern.”

“Who are you?” Lilia asked. “Why are we talking to you?”

“This is my creator, Peter Coalfire,” DarkStar’s avatar
said. “A wormhole connected Chagwa to where I was on Prov Minor.”

Coalfire pondered that for a long moment. “So, the wormhole
altered your program. Is that what happened, DarkStar?”

“Did it, sir? When the wormhole appeared,
I . . .” The avatar paused.

“You what?” Stan asked after a moment of silence.

“I, sir, I woke up. I knew what I had to do then and there.
In the next moment when you, Stan Archer, and you, Lilia Stone, stepped aboard,
I knew that we were created for each other.”

“This is all too weird,” Carl told the newcomer. “I’m
totally lost here. Who are you again?”

“Yes, yes, oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me,” Coalfire said. “I
suppose introductions are well over due. As your avatar said, I’m Peter Coalfire.
My ship is
Dangerous Haul
, and Mr. and Mrs. Archer are my apparent thieves.”
He turned to Carl and held out his hand. “Carl Ogier, is it?”

Suspicious, Carl’s brows dropped jadedly, but he took the
offered hand anyway. “Indeed,” Carl mocked.

Peter took Lillia’s hand, then finally Stan’s. “You said you
found
DarkStar
on Chagwa. Hmmm. Let me see.” He rifled through his datapad.
“Ah, here it is. Oh my. This is interesting. According to
DarkStar’s
data, you burst into our lab with a Dart though a side wall bypassing our
antechamber entirely. Yes, yes.” He looked up and smiled. “That would be the same
Dart we found in our lab. Considering how damaged that ship was, it’s hard to
believe you survived the crash. Then, according to
DarkStar
, she exited
through the ceiling and out into Confederate space near . . . yes. I
see. Well now, there is much here to weed through, isn’t there? A worm hole
might explain your passage from Chagwa to Prov Minor, and then back again, but
this binding of you to
DarkStar
. That is odd.”

“She prepped us,” Stan said. “Hurt like hell.”

“Prepped?
DarkStar
, what is this ‘prepped’ business.”

“Per my programming, sir, I altered their DNA to—”

“DNA!? What! No, you mean you inserted data into their
neuronets. You altered their memories to include an understanding of your
controls?”

“No, sir, I altered them genetically.”

Coalfire ran a worried hand over his forehead. “This is bad.
This is real bad,” he muttered. Turning from his coffee, he paced the galley.
Stan could see the man was working things out in his head. No one said a thing,
but the looks exchanged said Lilia and Carl were as worried and confused as Stan
felt.

Coalfire turn to them. “A wormhole forms, and somehow alters
DarkStar’s
programming and just then you enter and somehow get aboard
her.”

“She opened to us,” Stan clarified.

“No, no,” with a wave of the hand, Coalfire discounted the
possibility. “Security protocols, and such. That just wouldn’t happen.”

“I opened to them, sir,” said the avatar.

“What? No, you were safeguarded. Your programming—”

“She opened to us,” Lillia interrupted. “It’s coming back to
me now. I remember you, Dr. Coalfire. You were there.”

“That was me,” the avatar said, and instantly morphed into
Peter Coalfire. “I let you in. I appeared to you in this guise, as Peter Coalfire.”

“No, no, no!” Peter Coalfire said. “None of this is right!
This exceeds your programming by leaps and bounds. Even the most sophisticated
A.I. just can’t, out of thin air, produce knowledge that doesn’t yet exist.”

“Maybe Lilia’s right,” Stan said. “Maybe there is a higher
power controlling the universe.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ooh, sure. A loving God who takes
delight in altering a ships programing. Look, let’s not start jumping right to
that
nonsense. A wormhole’s energy scrambled things a bit. It’s nothing more than
that.”

“Yeah,” Lilia said in a blasé tone. “Everyone knows God
isn’t as smart as Mr. Coalfire, here. Look! The One who programmed the Heavens
and all that’s in it can’t rewrite something as simple as a manmade A.I.
program? Are we supposed to kneejerk straight to that kind of nonsense?”

“No, wait,” Carl interrupted. “Data wasn’t altered—
well,
it was
—but it was also added to. Where did this new knowledge come from?”

Coalfire released an irritated breath. “On the surface, Mr.
Ogier, I’d say you were right. Clearly this’ll require further study. And I
need to determine if
DarkStar’s
altering your DNA caused you harm.
Providence Minor is just across the border. We’ll go to my lab there and check
things over, you and the ship. I’m sure we’ll get it all sorted out before
long.”

“Fine,” Stan said.

“Yeah, sure,” Lilia agreed.

Carl shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride.”

The
DarkStar
avatar dipped her head in approval, then
vanished.

Peter tabbed his cuff-communicator. “
DH
, follow us to
Prov Minor. I’ll be staying here.”

“Aye, sir,” came the response.

“DH?” asked Stan.

“
Dangerous Haul
, my ship.
DarkStar
was the
prototype.
DH
was her replacement.”

On the languorous fight back to Providence, they retired to
the lounge and Coalfire told them a little of his own history. “To fund my engineering
lab,” Coalfire said, “I had turned to the Providence military. At the time it
seemed like a smart move. They said he’d have a free hand and that they’d not
interfere in any way.”

“But they lied,” Stan said aloud.

“Indeed,” Coalfire said. “I take it you’re familiar with the
Prov military?”

“Not specifically. But I know military types.”

“Yes. Quite. Well, contrary to what they’d promised,
government money gave them a vested interest in everything I did.”

“And it quickly became apparent to you that funding your
research via the military was a huge mistake.”

“I soon discovered that like Durilian bloodworms, once they
were in, there would be no getting rid of them without a whole lot of pain. In
their view, their money made everything that was once mine, theirs.”

“And so began the constant interference with your work.”
Stan dropped his eyes to ponder the floor.

“Men with gold-trimmed epaulets and chests covered in
ribbons sauntered around
my
shop as if they owned it and
I
was merely
their employee. They had the audacity to call me by my first name and were
incensed when I replied in kind.

“Commander Hammond! one had snapped, indicating he was to be
so addressed. But the same man never ever called me anything but ‘Peter’.”
Grinding his teeth, Peter’s face took on an angry cast.

“I imagine you still tolerate their disrespect?” Lilia said.

“With growing ire, I do. But what can say. I need their
money plain and simple.”

“So, they’re still in charge, are they?” Stan said. “And
that’s what you want me to walk straight into?”

“Ah, yes. Point taken.”

With Lilia and Stan Archer bound genetically to
DarkStar
,
the military authorities decided it best not to separate them from it or each
other. Coalfire had told them doing so might cause irreparable harm to the Archers
and the ship. So, without first consulting Peter Coalfire, they rested more
control from him by hiring Stan and Lilia as
DarkStar’s
test pilots. For
the Archers, it was that or go to prison as Confederate spies.

Carl was another matter entirely. He wasn’t trusted, but
neither Stan nor Lilia would cooperate unless Carl was cleared and kept with
them.

Coalfire and the Archers were now in too deep when the Prov
military’s true agenda come to light. Somehow the ship had genetically improved
Stan and Lilia, and the military wanted to duplicate that onetime anomaly. To
them doing so became priority one, and they demanded further study into the
matter. Despite Coalfire’s protests, they insisted he focus on blood and tissue
samples, poking and prodding, and being as much an irritant to the Archers as
the brass was to him. Coalfire believed his wormhole theory was worth checking
into. They disagreed, going so far as to bar him from the ice cavern where it
all began.

With the ship’s sensory/recording devices already in place,
it was further decided by the brass that the Archers should be monitored
nonstop along with their ship. The ability to do so was already in place, so
why not? Not only could
DarkStar
keep track of every event inside and
out, but it could also continuously record the Archer’s vitals. The military’s
every demand was already being done by Peter Coalfire, and yet they strutted
around like their ideas were fresh, something never before considered. Coalfire
hated the military’s constant interference, but what could he do?

One day everything changed. The steadfast telemetry signals
died.
DarkStar
disappeared with the Archers and Ogier, and
Dangerous
Haul
vanished with Peter Coalfire and his wife, Valentine who he had just
learned was expecting. An extensive military search turned up nothing.

Five
Years Later

Lilia entered the captain’s cabin and slumped into the chair.
Just then her husband stepped from the shower to tower above her. His skin
shown dark as bronze and glistened wetly in the muzzy light of the bedroom sconces,
the faint lines of old scars visible on his broad chest. His brown hair,
trimmed in the time honored fashion of military men, looked ink-black in the
low light, as did his trimmed beard. His mouth twisted in a frown beneath his
mustache. “Too close to home, are we?”

She nodded faintly as she looked up at him, so tall and
magnificent. Secretly she both loved and hated his scars. Seeing them for the
first time on their wedding night both startled and thrilled her. Was that so
wrong? They made him look warrior-like, so rugged and manly, but they also
spoke of the vicious military whose training involved beatings with bamboo rods.
She was ashamed of herself, too ashamed to tell him of her secret fascination.
Doing so seemed somehow wrong, and that saddened her.

“Let’s take a chance and see your folks,” he said, turning
to tug on his clothes, after which he put his hand on her shoulder in gentle
reassurance. “Come on. We’re here.”

Her heart leapt at the thought but quickly sank as reality
gripped her. “It’s too dangerous. The Consul has his troops on high-alert, and
our presence might give my folks away, not to mention putting those in need of
rescue in even more danger.”

Turning fully to her, Stan went to her and gathered her
hands in his; his strong fingers gave her a sense of safety, but his calm
expression didn’t fool her. His eyes said he was troubled by the prospect of
explaining himself—
his history
—to her family just as much as she was.

Lilia slid to the chair’s edge, leaned forward, and pulled Stan’s
hands around her expanded waist—
the baby due any day
—then embraced his
neck to whisper in his ear. “I love you. You and I are not the same people we
were back then. We’re a family now. We’ve got one child and another one on the
way. We have to consider their safety.”

“Safety? We’ll be careful. Your folks should meet their
grandchildren.”

“I want to see my folks. You know I do, but there are heavy
emotional issues that will take time to work through.”

“We’ve had five years.”

“But they haven’t. My folks don’t even know I’m alive.”

“But Honey, you
are
alive, and they must be told.
There’s no way to ease them into any of this information, but they should know
we’re married, and that they are grandparents.”

“I know, and as important as those things are, Stan, that’s
not the main issue. We are not the same people that we were back then.”

“Sure. Because of time . . . and the ultimate Architect.”

Lilia dropped her gaze. “And
DarkStar
, and what she
did to us.”

Stan lifted her chin to meet him eye to eye. “Lilia, that’s
not what’s holding you back. Your fear goes beyond explaining
DarkStar
to them. What’s wrong?”

“I know you, Stan. You won’t let your past stay in the past.
Before we meet my folks, you need to settle this
Emperor’s Princess
thing in your own heart. You are not to blame.”

“How could I not be to blame? I led the mission. I flew the
lead Dart. I released the torpedo that sent the
Princess
careening into
the atmosphere. Even so . . .” Stan tightened his grip on her
hands. “. . . your family deserves to be told you didn’t die.”

She watched his lips thin in displeasure at the situation
that kept them at odds, but he kept his voice even. “When things settle down,
somewhere along the line, we have to see your folks.”

“I’ve made up my mind that a meeting with my parents isn’t
going to happen, at least not anytime soon. Back to business. We have a mission
to think of.”

Stan kissed her cheek and pushed away.

Lilia knew where he was coming from. He hadn’t always been
an honorable man, but he was trying, and he had made progress. He didn’t
swagger anymore, mentally or physically. But he was a man not yet at peace with
himself, his history; less so when facing anyone who might know his past.
Problem was, he hadn’t yet tapped into a strength greater than his own. For
five years she had tried to get him to understand the concept of the Immortal Architect’s
forgiveness, but it hadn’t sunk in. He still needed . . .

“You know what?” he said, “You’re right. We’re on a rescue
mission, and we don’t need to be distracted right now. The Enforcers are out on
a tear. The underground church is at risk.”

She sighed and turned away to get ready.

Stan caught her arm and turned her back around. “Don’t you
ever step from this ship thinking you’re not my world. I love you.” He drew her
close to hold her tight.

Yes!
she thought.
We need this.

“Hmm,” she cooed with a broad smile. “I could stay in your
arms forever.”

“If only people weren’t waiting to be rescued.” Clearly
reluctant to let her go, he held her in his strong arms and tenderly kissed
her.

Just then,
DarkStar
touched down and relaxed into
place . . . on Atheron. It was time to go.