Windrider's Legacy

By M. Bradley Davis

“Self-destruct has been activated; detonation will occur in sixty seconds…”

The fifth planet in the OS-3476 system was thought to be a dead world. Caris sends Windrider to study that planet. Startreader is diverted from its return to Earth when Windrider fails to report progress. They discover one important thing—t

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Oct 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643679174

M. Bradley Davis

M. Bradley Davis is a former elementary school teacher who taught fourth grade for thirteen years in the Texas Hill Country. Respect, honesty, truthfulness, and courtesy were taught in his classroom, along with the usual academic subjects. Mr. Davis was listed in Who's Who Among America's Teachers and twice listed in Who's Who Among Young American Professionals. He served fifteen years after leaving the classroom as the district's Network Administrator until he retired in 2013. Mr. Davis' former students and other young people inspire his writing. He is an avid reader, enjoys writing, became an amateur astronomer as a teenager, and has a love of photography. Mr. Davis enjoys spending time with young people. Books in the MindFusion series have been finalists in the 2003 ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year contest, the USABookNews.com National Best Book Awards for 2008, and honorable mention in the 2012 Hollywood Book Festival.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

1 PROBLEMS

Captain Malin, there’s something weird here.

What is it, Mr. Gabber?

We’re being bombarded by multispectral communications.

From a dead planet?

Yes, Sir, the communications officer reported.

The Exploratory Vessel Windrider orbited a planet with no name. Caris’ interstellar database gave it only a catalog number: OS-3476-E. The number marked the fifth planet in a yellow dwarf star system of twelve worlds. The third, fourth, and fifth worlds orbited in the star’s habitable zone.

The two innermost planets had no atmospheres; they were small, rocky balls. The third planet, slightly larger, had traces of atmosphere; what air it once had seemed burned away by the planet’s location closer to the star. The fourth world was hot, dense, and poisonous. The fifth world, orbiting toward the outer edge of that comfortable zone, was like their homeworld, Caris. It had an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, liquid water, land masses, and two moons.

The sixth world out was half the fifth’s size, had air less than half as dense, and was the last hope of livable space in the system, despite being slightly outside the habitable zone. Much of its surface stayed frozen because it orbited too distantly from its parent star. A fine ring of dust and three small moons surrounded it. An asteroid belt filled the gap between the sixth and seventh worlds. Planets seven through twelve were all gaseous and of differing sizes. All of them had moon systems, save the final world. Those moon systems were complex and contained from half a dozen to as many as fifty moons.

Windrider’s command center was buried on an interior deck toward the ship’s prow, but not on the outer hull. Battle armor surrounded the odd-shaped space; basically, the well-protected command center was a square with a half-circle grafted to its front side. A large display screen was centered on the forward curved wall, with two smaller screens stacked one above the other on either side. Department command stations lined the outer walls from the screens backward. Centered in the room yet pushed toward the curved wall stood the navigation and helm stations, with the captain’s command post and the first officer’s station mounted behind it. The command center’s access to the rest of the ship, and doors into the conference room and captain’s ready room lined an alcove at the back center of the space. Walkways made access to every position quick and easy; no one would have problems moving around in this spaciously designed nerve center.

The planet they studied boasted an advanced civilization in the past. Crumbling road systems, railroads, and the remains of cities spread untidily across the planet’s surface. Unfortunately, no one seemed to inhabit the place any longer. They found plenty of lower life forms, but nothing intelligent. A few craters scattered here and there across the globe indicated catastrophic events of some sort, but it didn’t seem bad enough to wipe out everyone. A great mystery stood before them.

Well, the captain reflected, mysteries are our specialty.

Can you locate the source?

It appears to be coming from multiple surface locations, Captain, Mr. Gabber replied. Several of them are located near massive ruins, while at least two are from apparently undamaged cities.

Type of transmission? Captain Malin inquired.

They look like numerous attempts to open two-way communication—high in volume and variety. The first attempts were very basic and low rate. Their complexity is increasing.

It’s not our science team on the surface?

No, Sir. Our last report from them came in yesterday. We don’t expect to hear from them again until later today. Gabbers glanced around and then met his captain’s eyes. These are coming from locations far from where our team has been studying.

I see. Captain Malin considered. Can you match them?

Probably, Sir, he commented, adjusting several controls for a better display of the incoming signals. The question is: do we want to? The patterns in use are approaching something compatible with our current protocols. An alarm sounded from his board. Mr. Gabber’s eyes darted to the source, and his hands flew across his controls in response.

Sir! The broadcasts have shifted to an invasive mode!

Shut them out! the captain barked.

I’m trying to, but…our computers are having trouble keeping up with the incoming frequency rotation rate and refresh cycle! They could break through at any time!

Shut down all external antennas!

Mr. Gabber’s hands slapped switches, but his screens remained active.

Too late, Sir!

The indicators on his communications system suddenly went crazy.

Captain Malin’s eyes widened. He turned toward his executive officer. Isolate all ship’s communications systems from our AI array!

The second in command swiftly touched contacts on his overrides panel before meeting his captain’s eyes. Unsuccessful, Sir.

They traded a glance before both moved toward a closed panel neither expected to use at any point in his career. The wall-mounted panel stood between the engineering console and the lift doors. The cover had a palm-access latch that would respond only to the captain’s, first officer’s, and chief engineer’s handprints. The first officer grasped the latch. The panel opened. The captain reached inside and twisted several handles pulling outward as each released.

Nothing happened.

Those master overrides should have killed main power, shut down all of the major linkages to the master computer, and isolated the ship’s brain from everything around it. They traded a long, silent, worried look.

Whatever it is, Captain, Mr. Gabber reported, it’s running through our translation protocols—and attempting to spread to systems beyond communications.

Lock everything down—and sound general quarters! Captain Malin ordered the rest of his bridge watch. Crew members worked quickly to comply, but their efforts proved fruitless as emergency reports came flooding in from all areas of the ship even as the GQ alarm tones sounded throughout the ship…

Thanks for taking us the long way around, the passenger told the shuttle pilot as they approached the starship orbiting above the unnamed planet. I’ve managed to finish the preparations I need before we dock.

No problem, Sir, the pilot acknowledged. His fingers danced across controls, bringing the shuttle onto an approach vector. I’ll have to activate our communications system to complete docking, he warned.

Understood, the man stated. I’ve already disconnected everything so the data is completely isolated. We’re as ready as we can be. He sighed. I just hope the captain picks things up quickly and we don’t make any gaffes.

He’s excellent at reading faces, the pilot reassured. Just lock eyes and say what you’ve planned. He won’t let you down.

Thanks. He left the cockpit.

The pilot touched additional controls, lighting up a panel to his left. Once the system showed ready, he spoke. "Windrider, this is Shuttle Two, on final approach for docking."

No response. He looked at the ship very carefully.

The shuttle approached the orbiting starship from its port side and well above the ship’s plane of flight. Windrider was an odd design; the ship carried three main decks, with a fourth added to the top that was much taller than the lower three. That uppermost deck provided facilities to service the ship’s shuttles, in addition to large storage bays for supplies and artifacts collected during their missions. Multiple shuttles docked in a large bay that occupied two-thirds of the MENTAR-class starship’s length. Large doors retracted from the center to the sides, providing a pressurized service area when closed. The doors were open for their approach; nothing seemed damaged or out of place.

He repeated his transmission.

"Windrider, this is Shuttle Two. Do you copy?"

Still nothing. That didn’t seem good. Maybe they were just having problems. Oh, well; no need to panic. After all, docking was dead easy and he’d done hundreds of them unassisted…

Doctor, the pilot called backward through the open cockpit access, I can’t raise the ship. I’m going to take us in on the manual system, and hope there’s someone there to greet you.

The pilot eased the shuttle into the ship’s docking bay and touched down in the precise center of a clearly marked and unoccupied docking station. He locked the shuttle in place with its magnetic grapples.

We’re down and secured, doctor.

The man stood silently, his hands filled with a boxy but lightweight cube, and watched the hatch, expecting it to open within a minute or two of docking. It didn’t. Instead, he heard the sound of pumps running, followed by silence, and then the rush of air behind the walls before the inner hatch opened. His startled eyes saw someone standing in the two-person airlock—wearing an EVA suit. He focused on the helmet, and saw the captain’s face. The captain motioned him into the lock, pointing toward the storage cabinet where EVA suits were kept. The man offered him a questioning expression. The captain opened the locker and gestured toward a suit. With a shrug, the man put down his cube and worked to don a suit. While he did that, the captain connected an onboard air supply hose to his suit, and then provided a second connection for the man once he’d donned his suit and locked the helmet into place.

The captain’s fingers then danced over the controls, closing the inner door and pumping air from within the now sealed airlock. He deftly placed temporary patches over the optical sensors in the airlock, and then his gloved hand connected a data line between the two suits.

We have a problem, Doctor Edan, the captain said over the suit intercom.

More than one I would guess, Captain, Dr. Crevan Edan replied. He was head of the science team exploring the planet. I assume the patches and the comm line are to keep what we say completely private?

Correct.

Why didn’t you board through the standard docking lock?

Doing everything manually seems to be the smartest move right now, Doctor. We have major system problems, and they seem to stem from the planet’s surface.

I’m not surprised, Sir, the scientist admitted ruefully.

You reported that this world is uninhabited, without sentient life.

It is, Sir.

Then, please explain to me how my ship’s artificial intelligence system has been systematically attacked and invaded by something from below.

"The planet is uninhabited, but we discovered a still functional, massive computer system. I disclosed the discovery in my daily progress reports over a week ago." Dr. Edan was an exo-archaeological investigator, trained in multiple disciplines to make the task of unraveling the mysteries of intelligent alien species a task that he, with the help of others, might accomplish.

Yes, I’ve read every report you submitted. You said this world seems to have been without people for at least two hundred local years. When you reported the complex system’s existence, I assumed it was powered down and dormant.

So did my team, Edan agreed ruefully. The timeframe for sentient life is correct, he explained. We learned that all sentient life disappeared quite abruptly, once we broke their written language and translated what we found. The language breakthroughs occurred through the efforts of his colleague, Dr. Farel Marlon, who was an exceptionally gifted linguistics specialist. Scientific dating of materials used indicates a gap between their creation and today of roughly two hundred of their calendar years, about a hundred and ninety or so of our years. This computer system was described in some of the references we translated, including where access nodes were located. When we discovered one of the nodes for the system, it looked powered down. I swear we didn’t try to start it up!

That system has a power source that still works after that much time?

"The whole city does, Sir; we haven’t located the power’s generating plant yet. We do know there is active power in every building we’ve entered, so we assume that, somehow, power is still being generated on at least a city-wide, if not continental, scale. We’ve entered multiple city suburbs around the old capital and found conditions the same everywhere—so far."

Do you have any idea of what kind of power it uses, or how they generated it?

It appears to be very similar to our own electrical output, but in different ranges than we use; we still haven’t traced where the power comes into the system. He took a deep breath. You say the information system located on the planet has invaded the ship?

That’s right. Our AI has been struggling to stop its hostile remote access for hours now.

I swear we didn’t cause this, Sir.

I’m sure you didn’t, but the question is how do we keep control of our ship? The thing is taking over systems faster than we can root it out!

I wish I knew, Captain. Has it invaded communications?

Yes. We’ve lost practically all of those systems—even the internal intercoms are spotty.

There’s no chance to request assistance from home, then, I take it?

"No, Doctor. Contacting you was difficult enough—I had to use an emergency transmitter—standing on the outer hull of the ship in this EVA suit—to create a line-of-sight link. Everything else is non-functional. In addition, the alien system’s invaded our navigation systems; we can no longer move Windrider from orbit—in fact, we may consider ourselves lucky if we can keep her in orbit, as opposed to crashing into the planet. Is there any way you can shut the system down?"

We haven’t done anything with it—in fact, we’ve avoided touching it because none of us have the faintest idea what we should do. We’ll need engineers to figure out how to proceed.

"What’s your problem, then?"

That same computer system seems to have realized we were here—physically, I mean, our people on the planet’s surface. It somehow…controls…a menagerie…of other devices. It has managed to capture and confine the rest of my party, and states they will be terminated unless the remainder of our ship’s company comes down. Eleene and Maryse are being held separately from the rest of us. Captain Malin thought about Eleene and Maryse for a moment before speaking again.

Do you know why it wants all of us down there?

No. I tried to find out, but it refused to say.

Can you hazard a guess?

There must be something it wants us to do.

Yeah.

Dr. Edan bent down and picked up his cube. Here is everything we’ve learned since first setting foot dirtside. This cube has never been connected to anything that had a means of outside access. We used completely isolated devices to create and copy the data files, moving them from device to device only on removable media—no direct connections. It cannot possibly be contaminated or infected by that system. Whoever comes to help us will need to find it. He passed the cube into the captain’s hands.

Captain Malin nodded. How are the girls holding up?

"They’re scared, but doing their best not to show it. I’m allowed to speak with them, but I do not know where they are. The computer separated them from us; the girls tell us they’re in an apartment without windows somewhere, but they don’t know their location.

Meanwhile, the computer has moved our group to some new location, also. We were forced onto the old public transport system and carried to a destination of the computer’s choice. Once there, the computer ordered that a pilot and one person would be returned to the shuttles to carry its instructions up to you. We used the night to build this file. He gestured to the cube now in the captain’s possession.

The computer insists it will keep the girls isolated to ensure I comply with its directives. The first directive it specified was to inform you of this situation and ensure everyone else comes to the surface. If we don’t comply, it will kill the members of our ship’s company in its control—beginning with the two hostages.

Eleene is your daughter, isn’t she?

Yes, Sir. Maryse is her complement—Maryse Marlon. Maryse’s parents are a part of our team, too. They’re as scared as my wife and I. He took a deep breath. Don’t worry; we’ll keep trying to free ourselves.

Good. He hefted the cube. I’ll send some of the crew with you now. While the remaining shuttles are prepped for the flight, I’ll find a way to let others know we need help and how to find this data.

How long do we have?

Once we leave the ship?

The doctor nodded.

Six months to a year, Captain Malin told him. After that long, even on the lowest power settings, the reactor will develop problems that could destroy the ship because no one’s monitoring or doing the required maintenance.

Should we take the chance of abandoning ship, then?

If we don’t, most if not all of your exploration team will be killed. I can’t let that happen.

Thank you, Captain.

Don’t thank me yet, Doctor. I have a feeling this situation is going to get a lot worse before it improves.

The captain repressurized the airlock, disconnected the comm line, and waited while the doctor removed his EVA suit and exited the lock. Then, he cycled the system again so he could debark into the depressurized shuttle bay. He carried the doctor’s data cube into the ship.

After explaining the situation to the crew and ordering preparations to shift everyone to the planet’s surface, the captain moved through the ship to a nondescript door outside the engineering department that was not shown on any plan for any starship in the Carisian fleet. Every ship had one, and every captain knew why. This closet-sized room was accessible to the captain alone. A completely isolated DNA lock ensured no one else could enter. The captain approached the door—which was not visible through any optical apparatus on board—and rubbed his finger across the DNA sensor. That sensor scraped away a small piece of skin, dropped it into a micro-lab, and processed it for comparison against the profile stored in the lock’s mechanism. Once the test results matched, the door’s lock disengaged. No record of the test or of access to the compartment registered in the ship’s systems because the small compartment was not connected to that system at all. Every control within was fully manual, fully isolated, and undetectable by any component of the Carisian MENTAR class ship named Windrider or its artificial intelligence system. The captain passed through the door and pushed it closed behind him.

He stood in a chamber barely large enough to be called ‘walk-in’. By stretching, he could touch surfaces on any wall from the center of the space. Controls and gauges occupied panels on the three walls away from the door. Indicators glowed, displaying pertinent information. These manual overrides gave him emergency control over systems shipwide, and they weren’t accessible to any member of the crew. No voice access, no password of any kind, and the ability to reconfigure his ship in more ways than most people would consider possible surrounded him.

He turned to a specific set of controls: Windrider’s ID beacon. Every ship had one; usually, the master computer managed the beacon, which broadcast his ship’s name and registry information so any other ship approaching them, Carisian, allied races, or neutrals provided with their ID protocols, would know who they were. Anyone else would see only the hull. While that information was encoded through the master system, these controls permitted him to alter the information in a way that the computer could not detect, override, or turn off. In fact, he could set it so the additional information was provided only when another Carisian ship ‘pinged’ his, asking for full beacon data, if he so desired. Today, he did not—anyone who approached needed this warning.

The captain made no change to the ship’s ID, hull number, or port of registry; instead, he activated additional fields to be appended to the transmission. Those fields provided numeric codes that would warn other Carisian ships that a problem existed on this ship and also recommend how they treat the vessel upon receipt of the information. He selected the additional code ‘710’ for transmission in the first field, code ‘44’ in the second, and then paused. He didn’t know the code he wanted for the third field; it was something he thought he’d never need to know. He pulled a small reference from a niche beside the controls and flipped through its pages until he found the entry he needed. He entered ‘13542’ in the third field while leaving additional fields empty, and then activated the ‘append silently’ setting. That option transmitted the additional data without it registering in any other part of the communication or beacon systems. Once this was done, he left the compartment, sealing it behind him.

The captain knew that any officer whose ship entered the system would understand the code ‘44’ indicated they had abandoned ship and that information vital to rescue the situation awaited him onboard Windrider. The first place that officer would check was the captain’s ready room. So, he carried the cube to his ready room, opened the door into an already lit space, and placed it on his desk.

The only optical pickup in the room was mounted on the swivel-top communications unit integrated into the desk. The captain settled into a guest chair where the unit faced away from him, pulled a piece of writing film from a tray to one side of his desk, and quietly wrote a note explaining the cube’s information. He attached the note to the cube and left it sitting in the front center of his desk, also out of the visual pickup’s range. Next, he crawled through the kneehole, slowly opened the drawer under the working surface from below, and removed his personal log book before closing the drawer while remaining out of the visual pickup’s range. Every captain had to keep an official Ship’s Log in the master database; Malin also chose to handwrite an additional, personal volume. After easing his way back through the kneehole, he sat once again, opened the log, and began to write. Once he finished, he closed the book and placed it beside the data cube. None of his actions happened in range of the video pickup on the communications console. He never spoke aloud, and the writing stylus used a soft tip that made no noise as he inscribed words either on the writing film or in the logbook. With an inaudible sigh, the captain stood. He failed to shut off the light on his way out of the room; after all, that would tip off the system to his unannounced presence in the room, which he absolutely did not want to happen.

The dozen officers and most of the 40 crew members remaining aboard gathered in the ship’s mess. There, the chief engineer spoke for all of them. The only people missing were currently monitoring systems or prepping shuttles.

Captain, are you sure we should abandon the ship?

We don’t have much choice, Chief, the captain answered. Our exploration team has been captured and is being held below. If we don’t go down, they will be injured or killed.

But Sir… His voice trailed off as a totally unfamiliar voice spoke from the ship’s speakers.

Your captain is correct.

Everyone looked around, shocked by the unfamiliar voice.

Who is—what the—!

The captain depressed several nearby controls. Nothing happened.

It looks like the alien computer has finally defeated our AI and taken control of the ship.

That is correct, Captain. I control your ship now. If you do not depart planetward within the next thirty of your minutes, I will destroy this ship with you aboard.

Are we ready? the captain asked.

The remaining shuttles should be prepped by now, the chief engineer told him. All we need to do is stock up on food.

May I speak to the ship? Captain Malin asked the alien computer. I need to order the crew to leave the ship.

Begin. The all-hands tone sounded through the intercom.

This is the captain. All personnel, report to the shuttle bay immediately. We are abandoning ship. Again, I say, we are abandoning ship. Close down all operations and report to your evacuation shuttles. I expect to see everyone in the shuttle bay within ten minutes. That is all.

The captain led the way to the ration lockers, pulling the doors wide. Take as many cases as you can carry, and let’s go.

Aye, Sir, several voices agreed sullenly; each hooked the strap of a water purification unit over a shoulder, picked up as many cases of ration packs as could be carried, and followed as the captain, also loaded down, led the way to the shuttle bay.

Other crew members gathered supplies from lockers outside the shuttle bay as they arrived and carried them aboard.

Minutes later, Windrider floated in orbit above the world known only to the Carisians as OS-3476-E, empty as the day before she was commissioned.

PART ONE

BESIEGED COMPLEMENTS

2 LEAVING HOME

Jerry Saunders and Kelvin Merritt stood in President Laskay’s outer office in the capital city of Andisa, on the planet Caris III. The office staff, who occupied the twenty or so work areas in the freeform atrium paced nervously, uncertain over what they should do. They chose to watch the two thirteen year olds. The psionic noise coming from the closed office distracted everyone. It pressed heavily in the peaceful, high-ceilinged room. Skylights filled the space with light and plants gave the large area a warm, relaxing feel. Two clear lift shafts pierced the space, surrounded by planters and growing things. The room was modern, efficient to its purpose and pleasing to the eye—which is why the mental noise coming from the President’s office disturbed everyone. They watched the two boys standing near the doors to the President’s office and wondered what would happen next.

Jerry and Kelvin looked at each other and shook their heads; the mental Babel coming from within the President’s office had volume enough to distract everyone in the building, never mind just this office. Jerry, brown-haired and brown-eyed, watched Kelvin’s blond-headed and blue-eyed gaze study the closed doors. The mind-brothers knew eleven people occupied that office—they heard all eleven mental voices. The number would rise to thirteen when they chose to join the fray.

We can’t let this continue, Kelvin told his complement, turning troubled eyes Jerry’s way.

No, Jerry agreed. It’s time we acted. Let’s use our fusion, Jerry sent. The boys’ eyes locked together and their mental fusion surveyed the battlefield behind the closed door. They spoke telepathically.

That is enough. It is time to listen.

Darid heaved a mental sigh from the office they had yet to enter. Thank you.

We serve at your pleasure, Mr. President.

Jerry and Kelvin pushed through the doorway.

What the blazes is happening? A burly, red-headed man demanded. His voice echoed in the room, and carried clearly through the open door into the atrium. Get out of my head! He clapped hands over his ears.

Neither boy spoke aloud, but everyone heard them.

No one here has the ability to block us out. You will listen. We have much to say to you.

The mind-brothers looked around President Laskay’s office, their eyes recording the tension on every face in the room. Large though Darid’s office was, with several comfortable seating areas placed away from the President’s desk, the egos ready to clash seemed to stuff it over-full. The emotions echoing about the space staggered everyone’s mental skills. Thirteen people filled the office: Jerry, Kelvin, Kelvin’s parents, Darid, Marshall Anset, L’Everett & Vonnea, L’Everett’s parents, Vonnea’s mother, and Barrett & Lauren. Of these, six would depart soon for orbit—and then Earth. The Lalor mission was finished; it was time to go home. The departure—and the young people involved—was the root cause of the silent turmoil.

We recently met a young man who reminded us of a legend that seems particularly appropriate to this situation, the fusion informed the group.

Long ago, a beautiful girl lived in a city-state on this, our first continent. Her name was Artema. She was strong, dependable, responsible, and like others her age, desired the attention of the chief’s son. Someday, he would be leader. All of the town girls had the chance to earn his attention, and Artema drew his eye as she hoped. The leader’s son was pleased with her because Artema never shirked any job, no matter how menial. She was willing to entertain the smallest of children or hunt with a party of men and do whatever task fell her way.

One day, Artema and the chief’s son went with a group of women and children into the lands surrounding their fortified town. They sought fruits, berries, and simple enjoyment of their home. Soldiers of a neighboring city-state attacked their group while they were some distance from the protection of walls. Artema helped rush the women and children home, and then hurried back to the chief’s son’s side where they fought two against a platoon until reinforcements arrived.

During the fight, she managed to project her mind outward and protect him from attack, forming a mental bond in the process. Artema and Huron held the soldiers at bay until help arrived to drive them off.

That day’s most important act was that Artema and Huron discovered the complementary mental relationship we treasure to this day. They were soon married; through the knowledge they gained they helped others find the same bond. When Huron became leader, he brought peace to the region for the first time in its long history—by sharing the gift of his complement and their relationship with everyone he met.

The mind-brothers strode across the office and stopped in front of a fifteen year old boy and girl. Both were red haired. Both were familiar from a shared adventure two years earlier. The boy sported bruises on his face and arms. Those bruises were turning colors and very visible to all because he wore short sleeves. They stood beside another pair of young people—one of whom was Kelvin’s boyhood best friend—Darid’s son, Barrett. Jerry and Kelvin knew that Barrett and his complement, Lauren—who stood with Vonnea, had done their best to help L’Everett and Vonnea, the redheads. They simply didn’t know how. Neither, for that matter, did Jerry and Kelvin—but they would give it their best effort, too.

L’Everett had light red hair, while Vonnea’s was ginger-colored. Both young people were strong personalities, fiercely devoted to each other despite their relationship teetering on destruction’s brink by the forces of torment within their lives. The fusion sensed L’Everett’s aches from the visible injuries, yet he stood his ground, hovering beside Vonnea, ready to defend her from any threat. The internal war brought about by his father’s interference only made his struggle more difficult and more visible.

No one really knows what Artema and Huron looked like, the fusion told L’Everett, Vonnea, and the others present, for they lived long before we could preserve imagery. We know this, though, L’Everett: she stands at your side—as Vonnea, your complement. Your relationship is as strong as those of the legend—if you grow it that way. The choice is yours to make—and ours to support.

Your pain has lasted longer than anyone expected—and far longer than either of you deserve. We are here to right that wrong, if we can. Please trust us.

Vonnea extended her hands to Jerry and Kelvin. We have trusted you—with our lives—since that awful day two years ago. She squeezed their hands. We do not doubt you for a second.

You have no right! the burly, redheaded man ground out between clenched teeth. "He is my son! He will not bond with one of that ilk!"

Jerry and Kelvin took two steps to the side and faced him down. Neither boy’s lips moved.

The ‘bonding’ you oppose took place before they went to the Ninth Continent for their Ritual Ordeal; no one can change that—except them. They are the only ones with any ‘rights’ in the matter. You say we have no right, but you have even less right than we do, the fusion declaimed coldly into the mental silence surrounding them. We know the thirty year old reason central in your attempt to deny L’Everett his psionic inheritance and his complement. It is not our place to resolve that issue—it is yours, upon our return. Mr. Payne stepped backward, shocked.

How can you know? L’Everett’s father demanded.

"We are skilled—and unafraid to use our skills, Kelvin replied, his voice controlled. The strongest block in the world cannot stop us if we are determined to circumvent it; yours is one of the strongest we have ever seen. Still, it remains as transparent as glass."

I don’t believe you!

"You really don’t want us to prove it by telling your secret, do you? You were L’Everett’s age when it happened. You’d walked some distance from your village…"

STOP! Mr. Payne’s face went white.

As you wish. We also know something you don’t, the fusion proclaimed. Jerry suddenly reached out and took Mr. Payne’s hand in his. Mr. Payne’s hand’s discoloration made Jerry pause for a split second. It was redly scarred, all over, and the fingers and palm were thicker than they should be. Something had happened to it long ago. He changed it to them when he saw the damage applied to both hands.

"This is the pain your son carries within, the pain he suffered for me." Jerry sent his memory of L’Everett’s second torture session that awful day into Mr. Payne’s body without additional warning. L’Everett’s father cried out, his eyes wide, and tried to curl into a ball—but Jerry didn’t let him. "He suffered torture for me, Jerry said quietly as he released the trembling man’s hand. I will never forget that gift. I owe him for the rest of my life."

Kelvin’s lip curled distastefully. He told you the truth, yet you called it a lie. He turned away from Mr. Payne.

They directed their attention to Vonnea’s mother. You, too, carry the same pain as his father—to a lesser degree and from a different perspective. She nodded. If he refuses, you will have to bridge the gap for them. The mind-brothers nodded toward L’Everett and her daughter. It is best if you can resolve that disagreement together.

I know, Mrs. Zora admitted with a sigh. He doesn’t listen to me, either.

"I demand you return my son to my care! Mr. Payne thundered. You have no right to take him away from me!" He took two steps toward President Laskay and Vice-President Anset before he found Jerry and Kelvin blocking his path.

What you demand is of no importance, the fusion informed him, their mental voice frigid. Mr. Payne howled in fury, took a swing at the pair, and found himself bound in a box of softly shimmering, nearly skin-tight white bars. He couldn’t take a single step in any direction. Violence is not permitted, the mind-brothers calmly pronounced. You will release L’Everett and Vonnea to us that we may do our best to heal their hurts.

You’re children!

Darid spoke for the first time. "They are children, he agreed softly, children capable of defending L’Everett and Vonnea better than the best army I have. They have already stopped a coup attempt on my government, a world-wide nuclear war on Canopus V, and an attempted invasion by renegade units of the Oyam Empire. Believe me, they can handle this job."

I want to know where he’ll be, Mr. Payne growled from his cage.

Off planet, Shea told him levelly. We’re taking them to a place where the only people with our abilities are in this room right now.

I don’t have much choice, do I? Mr. Payne complained, his thickened fingers gripping the glowing white bars as hard as he could.

No, Jerry agreed. The cage misted into nothingness, leaving Mr. Payne with two fistfuls of nothing. You don’t. Please accept. Gracefully, if possible.

Mr. Payne frowned, his hands falling to his sides. I’ll accept, he told them sourly. That’s enough.

Very well, Kelvin replied. Thank you.

The mind-brothers and the rest of Startreader’s party stepped aside so L’Everett and Vonnea could exchange goodbyes with their families. Jerry and Kelvin watched for a moment while father and son exchanged several soft sentences and the tension between them seemed to mount until Mr. Payne nodded. Reluctantly, they thought, but he nodded. L’Everett had his arms around his mother throughout the exchange.

Vonnea’s goodbye was more subdued, and more loving, too. She and her mother appeared to be much closer than L’Everett and his father. Mother and daughter exchanged comments while holding each other. Vonnea blushed over her mother’s words on more than one occasion.

I will, Mother, she promised. Take care until we return.

Of course, dear. I’ll be thinking about you.

I know. Me, too.

You’d better spend most of your time thinking about L’Everett, if you know what’s good for you! Mrs. Zora said with a smile.

Vonnea blushed, hugged her mom, and then moved to stand with Jerry and Kelvin. L’Everett joined them a moment later. With silent nods toward Darid and Marshall, the fusion led their group from the Presidential office without a backward glance.

Settling aboard Startreader took a number of hours. The young people had the easiest time of it because they brought practically nothing with them. L’Everett and Vonnea carried a minimum of keepsakes to remind them of loved ones at home; Jerry and Kelvin already had everything they needed aboard ship. The majority of the delay, once the main party returned to ship, was the arrival of the new crewmembers. Jerry and Kelvin knew they would become acquainted with the six newcomers over the next few days.

The main task facing the boys was placing mental blocks to prevent anyone from blurting out what they saw or experienced while away from Caris. The fusion worked silently and efficiently as each person boarded ship for the trip. They didn’t take the time to examine every mind; neither boy had developed that level of security-mindedness yet. A time would come, though, when they would rue that failure.

As they awaited the final arrivals, the four young people gathered on the starship’s observation deck. Caris filled a large part of the field of view. Off to one side, they also saw a large space station. Activity in the area was almost constant with ships, shuttles, and suited workmen moving silently through nearby orbital space.

NORMAN, scan your security logs from two years ago and reactivate level 3 security clearance for L’Everett Payne and Vonnea Zora, Kelvin ordered.

Certainly, Kelvin, NORMAN agreed. I’ll need to verify their identities with new hand and voiceprint scans.

Kelvin pointed L’Everett toward a panel on the observation deck’s rear wall. Understood. They will authenticate from the observation deck.

L’Everett placed his hands on the panel and spoke. Hello, NORMAN. This is L’Everett Payne. The panel beneath his hands lit with a bright green bar that collected the line and whorl data of his finger- and handprints.

Thank you, L’Everett, NORMAN acknowledged. It’s good to have you aboard once more.

Vonnea repeated the process and earned the same response.

I’m so glad to be away from…from what we left, Vonnea said quietly as she resumed her seat.

Me, too, L’Everett agreed.

We know, Jerry confirmed. We had hoped that by now, all of those mistreated in that Ritual Ordeal gone wrong would be past those events and moving forward with their lives.

Everyone that can move on has done so, Vonnea admitted, except us. We just can’t seem to put it behind us. They all knew that a small group of young people would never recover from that horrific trial, and would have to be provided care for the remainder of their lives.

I don’t think it’s from lack of trying, though, Kelvin observed.

No, L’Everett offered, "we’ve had…help; we can’t forget."

That’s not right, Jerry protested.

"That’s my father, L’Everett said morosely. He’d rather I never met Vonnea. He’s done everything to split us apart."

Before Jerry or Kelvin could respond to L’Everett’s startling words, NORMAN interrupted. Jerry and Kelvin, the Captain requests that you and your guests report to the flight deck.

Kelvin stood. Inform him we’re on our way, NORMAN. As they stood to exit, Kelvin added, We’ll continue this later.

The group trooped from the observation deck. Behind them, work in nearby space continued apace.

It’s time to leave, Shea announced as the group entered the room. Assume your posts, please. Captain Merritt gestured for L’Everett and Vonnea to join him near the flight deck’s rear bulkhead as Jerry and Kelvin settled into the center console workstations and assumed control of Startreader with a few touches.

All systems show ready, Captain, Kelvin reported.

Very well. Clear our departure with orbital control.

Jerry touched contacts. "Caris Orbital Control, this is Startreader. Request clearance for departure out-system."

The response came in almost immediately. "Orbital Control acknowledging, Startreader. Please move two hundred kilometers toward planetary north to clear station operations area before engaging your main drive. Please conform to the new inner system acceleration regulations as you depart. There is currently no inbound traffic to Caris orbit. You are cleared to depart at your convenience, Sir. Safe Journey."

"Startreader understands two hundred kilometers toward planetary north before orienting to exit vector and engaging main drive. Thanks for the reminder on the regulation change, and for the well wishes, orbital control. Startreader clear."

Maneuvering thrusters, NORMAN, Jerry ordered.

Do it manually, please, Jerry.

Aye, Sir. Belay that last, NORMAN. I have the ship.

Pilot has the ship, NORMAN acknowledged.

Jerry input the requested orbit adjustment and posted the plot on screen three. Shea glanced upward.

Approved.

Changing heading, Jerry announced as the ship’s nose turned toward Caris’ north. L’Everett and Vonnea watched Caris shift beneath them. The station, ahead of the ship, slid to the extreme right edge of the window and mostly disappeared before motion ceased. "I’m increasing Startreader’s delta-v by 1,000 kph; the change in delta-v will move us fifty kilometers closer to Caris’ surface before we reach our departure point. Estimate arrival at departure point in ten minutes."

Very well, Jerry, and well-remembered concerning speed and orbital plane changes. You did that without having to ask NORMAN. Kelvin, while we transit, lay in a course for our destination.

Star charts flashed across the screens in front of him as Kelvin programmed the necessary information into the navigation system to take them from Caris to Earth. He included the lower in-system acceleration during their departure, automatic acceleration to their normal cruising speed for the journey, and the protocols necessary to activate their cloak and reduce velocity to avoid detection of their gravity well as they approached Earth. Course plotted and on screen four, Kelvin announced, posting the completed plot on the indicated display as Startreader approached their departure point.

Shea studied his son’s work. It was thorough, clean, professional, and economical of the ship’s energy. Kelvin did almost as good a job as he could have done. Considering the amount of practice the two boys had in piloting the ship, their performance remained exemplary—as always.

Accepted.

Course entered, Kelvin announced after transferring it to the active system. Screen four darkened, and then resumed showing selected shots from Startreader’s exterior optical sensors. Screen three, centered above the forward view, remained oriented along Startreader’s long axis facing forward.

Jerry’s panel chirped. Pilot has the course, he announced, and then returned his attention to the orbital change. We’ve reached our departure point, Captain," Jerry announced several minutes later.

Stand by, Shea told him, and activated the intercom. Engineering, this is the Captain. Status report?

All systems nominal and ready for service, Captain.

Very well. Normal routine. Captain out. He winked at L’Everett and Vonnea. Let’s go, Jerry. Ahead standard.

Yes, Sir. We are at a favorable point in our orbit; our departure will not be delayed by additional time to clear Caris’ mass. Changing heading to 177 mark 92. The planet shifted almost from view and stars moved across the window that wrapped around the room. A few seconds later, the bright pinpoints settled into place. Sensors detect no traffic or other objects along our departure vector; our flight path is clear.

Very well.

Accelerating to standard.

A faint, rising vibration passed through the ship’s fabric as the remaining edge of the planet’s image slid through the bottom of the window and disappeared; one of Caris’ moons, which became visible during their final turn, seemed to stretch into an oblong and slide from the window, distorting even more as it moved out of view. Seconds later, the stars visible in the window streaked into a soft gray. Only the stars in the very center of the window remained visible, and these displayed color distortions as the ship’s gravity field bounced their light about on its way into the flight deck. A few seconds later, the vibration steadied down and became extremely hard to detect, even when one listened for it.

We are on course and cruising at fifty percent of rated power; all systems report nominal, Captain. Formal exit of the Caris system will occur in eight hours; we will then accelerate to full. ETA to our destination is eight days, ten hours, barring changes, Kelvin reported.

Excellent, fellows. You may let NORMAN take it, now.

You have the ship, NORMAN, Jerry announced cheerfully. Jerry and Kelvin turned their seats away from the controls.

I have the ship, NORMAN accepted.

I didn’t feel a thing! Vonnea exclaimed.

Good! Kelvin smiled. If you had, we weren’t doing our jobs as we should.

But, where are we going? L’Everett asked.

You haven’t told them yet? Shea queried.

We were just about to do that when you called us up here, Kelvin told his father.

Sorry about that, Shea apologized. You’ll have to finish the job later. I need to meet with the engineering staff; I’d appreciate it if you two could remain here and monitor our progress until I finish that meeting, and then you’ll be free.

Yes, Sir, Kelvin agreed. He winked at L’Everett and Vonnea. We’ll find you when we’re done.

I think we’ll explore our cabins, Vonnea observed, and L’Everett nodded agreement.

With that, Shea, L’Everett, and Vonnea exited the flight deck as Jerry and Kelvin returned to their tasks.

With Startreader on course and under control of her pilots, Shea called his new engineering staff to a meeting in the conference chamber. The six new crew members met him there, and they quickly worked out an organization plan for the engineering department. There wouldn’t be a ‘chief’ engineer, as such, at least for now; instead, since two of them were of roughly the same experience and seniority levels, the group decided that Lieutenant Commander Gomda Odd, who had served aboard the D. V. Krandar recently, would serve as department coordinator and Lieutenant Commander Sinou Lavi would assist him. Once Shea had enough experience with all of them, he could determine who might be best suited to the senior post.

Now that we have a team formed, Shea told them, "we need to establish responsibilities. You are responsible for the structure, mechanical, and engineering-related aspects of Startreader and her associated small craft. I am responsible for all of the data, computer, and artificial intelligence systems aboard ship."

But the engineering department normally manages those areas as well, Lieutenant Commander Sinou Lavi protested.

I know, Shea assured them, but do any of you hold design and theoretical certifications in data systems, computer sciences, or artificial intelligence systems?

Everyone shook their heads.

I do, Shea said bluntly. "Feel free to check my record on file in the ship’s document library if you like. This ship contains specially designed components that are found nowhere else, for which I have earned the appropriate certificates and licenses. No one touches those systems save me, unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?"

Yes, Sir, they agreed.

"On all other engineering matters, I will defer to your judgment, as that is your area of specialty."

Thank you, Captain, Lieutenant Dandre Sakir said.

"I should bring you up to speed on the ship. I’m sure you’ve noticed that Startreader is…unusual."

A rumble of agreement echoed around the table.

Basically, we’re undersized and overpowered for our classification as a MENTAR-A ship. That’s mostly the result of our primary—classified—mission, of which you are now all part. That mission is a pre-contact survey of a planet that is technologically advanced to early spaceflight, but not as yet aware of other, intelligent races.

Oh, boy, Lieutenant Niam Rokah said.

Yes, her husband, Lieutenant Nitya Rokah, agreed.

"Startreader is definitely overpowered for her size, Shea repeated. You probably noticed—before this meeting—that we’re moving at a velocity that would be considered about eighty percent load on the power system on any other ship, but our plant is only running at fifty percent."

They nodded.

"Because of that, Startreader currently holds the speed record for every ship ever built in the MENTAR classification. We…needed to get somewhere very quickly, and I ran the power plant at one hundred twenty percent for an extended period to make that possible. That capacity is at the very edge of the red range on this plant. Doing so gave us a velocity you’d normally find only in courier-class ships."

And wore out the plant, too, Mr. Lavi observed, not to mention taking some time off the lifespan of our drive toroids.

Not that much, Shea demurred. They gave us the very best of FTL drive technology during our last refit.

That run was still hard on the power plant, Mr. Lavi noted.

Shea nodded. We went through a complete maintenance overhaul before returning to Caris this trip. The ship is certified fully in spec at the moment.

Do you mind if we double-check that? his new engineering coordinator asked.

Please do, Mr. Odd. Shea smiled. Feel free to replace any part you find wanting; I had the spares inventory filled to 110% of establishment before we departed Caris. I doubt that you’ll find anything, however. He waved his hand, changing subjects. Additionally, we serve as advanced troubleshooters for the Exploratory Division and the Office of the President.

That sounds like it could sometimes get sticky, Ms. Rokah commented. The sixth member of the engineering team, Lieutenant Cyra Minerva, nodded her agreement.

Indeed, Shea agreed. "Startreader started out as a KELLAR-class ship, but was upgraded before we took on a job at Canopus V for President Laskay." Eyebrows rose around the table, but Shea ignored them as he skipped that tale. The shipyard offered to close in the secondary shuttle bay on our top level during the refit, but I declined, seeing no need for the additional structure. They provided design specifications and fabricator executables anyway, just in case we needed them. He placed several data storage cubes on the table. "It seems that we do, now.

The bay doors’ operating mechanism is installed in the upper hull; only the sealable door panels are missing. These files will allow you to fabricate the door components in our engineering work bay. When you’re ready, we’ll drop to sublight velocity so you can install the doors.

Why do we need the doors? Mr. Rokah asked.

Because your second task, Shea informed them, is to completely rebuild the secondary shuttle’s cloaking system. The assemblers didn’t include a full unit in the small ship; they weren’t creative enough about shoehorning the components into the space available. The lack of a fully capable cloak caused problems on our last several trips. I need that problem fixed. You’ll need a pressurized workspace to complete that task; hence, we add the bay doors. I had materials for the doors and all the necessary components for the cloak loaded while we were in Caris orbit. You’ll find them in the work bay.

What about shuttle maintenance? Ms. Minerva asked.

"You are fully responsible for maintaining every aspect of Startreader’s main shuttle, which is not currently aboard. The secondary shuttle, like Startreader itself, contains specialized computer and AI components that only I may service. If you need to interact with them, especially during the rebuilding of the cloak, I’ll work with you—just let me know."

Very well, Sir. We’ll get right on those bay doors. Lt. Cmdr. Odd collected the data modules from the tabletop.

That’s all, for now. If anything comes up, you know how to reach me. I look forward to working with all of you.

They rose from the table; everyone shook hands, and then headed for their separate tasks, leaving the room empty.

Shea returned to the flight deck after his engineering meeting. While Startreader was in Caris system space, a pilot had to remain on duty. So, he took the duty and, as promised, released the boys to continue preparing L’Everett and Vonnea for the trip to Earth. Jerry and Kelvin took their friends to the conference chamber, where they pulled furniture so they could sit close together.

I’m going to ask you to do something unusual, Jerry said quietly as they settled into comfortable positions. He caught L’Everett’s eye. This will explain why you suffered ‘interrogation’ twice in one day that time two years ago, L’Everett.

L’Everett shuddered. I remember, he whispered. I also recall, and his voice strengthened, what you did when I returned from that second session.

I’m glad, Jerry told him sincerely. I meant every word of it then, and I still do today. I want you to press your ear against my chest and listen to my heart. Don’t say anything, just please do what I ask.

L’Everett nodded. He scooted to Jerry’s side, bent down, and pressed his ear firmly against the smaller boy’s chest. A moment later, he raised his head, eyes wide. Jerry motioned for silence.

Vonnea? Jerry invited.

What did you hear? he asked when she sat up.

Is there something wrong with your heart? I only heard a double beat, not a triple one!

Jerry smiled. There’s nothing wrong with my heart, he told them. "That’s why I couldn’t go for torture on the ninth continent. My heart would give me away."

We don’t understand, L’Everett said.

Kelvin smiled. "My complement, my mind-brother, comes from a different world, he told them. We’re on our way to his world right now."

You’re an alien? Vonnea squeaked.

"An alien alien?" L’Everett echoed.

I already said that, Jerry told them with a grin, which made Kelvin laugh.

L’Everett and Vonnea traded confused expressions.

You had to be there, Jerry sighed. Then, he nodded. Yes. I am the first person from a world other than Caris to share a complementary relationship with a Carisian.

But, why haven’t we heard about you? Vonnea wondered.

It’s a long story, Jerry shared. The short version is that my planet isn’t ready to meet aliens yet. We aren’t grown up enough.

"Startreader’s job is a pre-contact survey of his world, Kelvin explained. There was an accident, and we had to…identify ourselves…to Jerry and his family. They’re the only ones who know. Jerry…complicated things…when he unexpectedly became my complement."

I’ll say, L’Everett agreed.

We have to do three things, now, Kelvin explained. "First, we have to block you so you can’t tell anyone about Jerry or his world. Second, we have to take you to the medical bay so Mom can inoculate you against diseases on Jerry’s world—we don’t want you getting sick there. That ‘accident’ made us break cover—I came down with an illness from his planet. It nearly killed me."

"But, how could that happen?" L’Everett demanded.

Jerry’s humanity has a DNA makeup that’s more than 98 percent the same as ours. Jerry’s DNA match is well over 99 percent, which partly explains why he’s my complement.

Wow! Vonnea exclaimed over the apparent near disaster.

We’ll tell you that tale later, Jerry added.

Finally, Kelvin continued, "we must teach you how to live on a planet where no one has our mental skills; you have to share with us what’s happened over the past two years. If we’re going to help you, that’s the only way we can find out how."

We knew we’d have to tell you, Vonnea admitted. It’s a hard tale, but we’ll tell it. First, let’s get those blocks in place so we can learn what we’re not supposed to know! Her laughter infected the others and provided a release all of them needed.

We took care of the blocks when you weren’t looking, Kelvin told them with a smile.

Okay, L’Everett sighed. Let’s get the shots out of the way.

Come on, Jerry stood. We’ll take you to the medical bay, and then we can come back here.

The group left the conference chamber, knowing that when they returned, they would share stories and prepare L’Everett and Vonnea for living on Earth.

Gomda Odd stood in one of Startreader’s few corridors and looked around. No one was in sight, something that almost surprised him on the small starship. He passed the four young people only a moment ago; they greeted him and announced they were headed for the medical bay as they passed. Odd knew Startreader was small compared to other ships in the MENTAR class. Those ships usually had three or more decks, and this one only had two. The class-sized power plant grafted to the vessel’s aft end seemed almost out of place as the hull flared wider in all directions to accept it. This ship and its crew represented several conditions outside the norms of Carisian operations. The engineers’ meeting with the captain brought those to the fore in Mr. Odd’s mind. After the fleet returned to Caris from Lalor, Odd quietly transferred from the Krandar to an open position in the E&C fleet manning table, where his sponsor arranged for him to await assignment to Startreader without anyone knowing something other than a standard change of duty station took place.

His sponsor believed that President Laskay’s aggressive stance on interstellar exploration was uncalled-for in the current government’s climate. That man believed that Mr. Laskay was doing things behind the sight of those responsible for oversight that he shouldn’t be allowed. Caris had no business spreading its resources so thinly throughout the nearby galaxy; they should be concentrating on building the quality of life on their home world instead of gallivanting across all known space. Knowledge could advance quite nicely without the bother of finding new places to study. Mr. Odd was placed here in secret to poke behind the veil of secrecy drawn about this ship and its assignments to discover something that would provide his sponsor a means to force President Laskay onto a more conservative path.

It was time to get to work and find what both of them knew was hidden in the corridors surrounding him. Mr. Odd nodded, confirming his thoughts, and resumed his slow walk, his eyes examining every crevice and seam for his first clues.

L’Everett spoke up after they settled in place again.

Jerry, Kelvin, please do me a favor.

What? the mind-brothers asked.

"Drop the apostrophe from my