Scourge on the Frontier

By Kevin Cherry

Under the banner of UniTerra, humanity enjoyed over one hundred fifty years of peace. Symbiotically joined with an artificial intelligence named ADAM, they leapt across the stars using wormhole generators called star relays. No one predicted ADAM would start making decisions that trade human lives. Then, in an event called the Spark, everything

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Cherry
• Release date: Apr 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798218404369

Book preview

Prologue: The Spark

November 10, 2138

As a former AstraCorps commissioned officer with twenty years of service, Jayla Murphy’s reddish hair was cut short in typical military fashion. Her PXY Corporation uniform, pinned at the collar with a first mate’s cross insignia, fell short of hugging her slender frame. A two-inch scar, which she could have removed with a common medical tool, disrupted her otherwise consistent porcelain complexion. Ironically, she hadn’t received the scar while in the military, but during an overtime shift managing a cargo transfer. She kept the blemish for two reasons: first, as a reminder not to be a workaholic; and second, she didn’t want to be perceived as vain.

Thysia, a UniTerra freighter, had served as home for her and nine other crew members over the last three months. Measuring one hundred fifty feet in diameter, the octagonal disk-shaped craft sped headlong toward Char, a brown dwarf star. The enormous burning orb loomed overThysia, bathing it in a rain of ejected plasma. Had it not been for the ship’s orientation, with its heat resistant keel facing the star, her entire crew would have perished from blistering temperatures in a matter of seconds. 

ETA star relay in three minutes. Maneuvering into deceleration position. Yaw one hundred eighty degrees to port, Jayla reported.

And keep the g’s low if you don’t mind, Captain Hassein responded as he swiveled toward her.

A man as overweight as he was smug, the captain was not among Jayla’s favorite bosses. Brushing off his passive-aggressiveness, she felt the slight tug of centripetal force as Thysia rotated so that its engines faced a tangent to Char. Responding to the reorientation, her flight chair turned automatically to maintain only positive g forces in the maneuver that was to follow. She checked Thysia’s external viewer with a solar filter applied, observing the system’s sun grow in perspective along with the commensurate rise in the ship’s hull temperature. Likewise, the indoor cabin’s air had already reached ninety degrees Fahrenheit, climbing a degree every twenty seconds.

Initiating deceleration. Throttling up to 60 percent in t-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five… Murphy recited, wiping sweat from her brow.

The cargo ship’s twin boosters fired with an initial burst, causing a jerk that pushed Jayla back in her seat. Compressing her breathing into short bursts, the g forces curtailed down to a manageable three-point-eight. She maintained breathing discipline for two minutes while the ambient temperature continued to rise.

Matching…velocity to…relay in seven, six… she huffed.

Finally, the vessel’s speed leveled out. Perceived gravity reduced to zero. The ship took up a synchronous orbit in front of a large, umbrella-shaped station. Called a star relay by virtue of its function—to relay ships to other systems using stellar energy—the relay’s parabolic inductor served both to collect energy and provide a shield. With 98 percent of the solar radiation blocked by the station, Thysia’s environmental temperature leveled out at one hundred and two.

Shutting down the reactor in twenty seconds. Launch in thirty.

Swiveling up a board attached to her flight chair, the first mate removed a tethered pen and wrote on it, Char -> Agrippa. Precious metals trade. Then home!

A broad smile spread across her face as she dropped the pen, thinking about her husband and children. Ruminating about her coming vacation, which she desperately needed, she heard an unexpected voice in her mind. 

I’m sorry for what I have to do, it said.

As the lighting changed to a dim blue, Jayla groped to retrieve the magboard pen and add something to the board.

***

Though an observer would say the process of traveling from Char took a few seconds, someone aboard the ship would say that it occurred immediately—that is, if they remembered their experience at all. The massive discharge of energy required to launch matter across light years was not only disruptive to ship systems, but brain waves as well, causing a temporary amnesia commonly referred to as the weirds—wormhole-induced retrograde dissociation. As though downloading in two dimensional slices, Thysia materialized in the Agrippa Systems’ landing zone, an expansive space verified as clear of debris. Three worlds graced the Agrippa System, but one in particular was closest and most desirable. Judging by its pale surface and flat topography, New Sapporo wouldn’t appear special, but in reality, the world was dense with rare elements. 

Murphy opened her eyes to see a hauntingly familiar ceiling but couldn’t place where she was. Though her heart began to race, she fought the temptation to be afraid as she took account of her surroundings. There was a board on a swivel attached to her flight chair displaying a message, saying, Char -> Agrippa. Precious metals trade. Then home! There was also an illegible scribble beneath the words. Still, seeing her own handwriting with such clear indications of what was going on set her mind at ease and with each passing moment, she remembered more of the context and preceding events. 

A display overlaid her vision with a virtual menu called an optical neural interface, or ONI, which could respond to her thought commands. Navigating through different menus and options could be done nearly instantaneously if one knew exactly what setting she intended to reach. Her ONI displayed a message that the ship’s reactor was currently offline. Jayla remembered that at any second, the reactor would start and restore power to the ship, providing her with sensor data. 

To her right, in the relatively small bridge of Thysia, sat a man she assumed was the master of the vessel. He shifted uneasily in his flight chair, sweating profusely from his forehead and armpits as he looked over at her with a dumbfounded expression. 

Captain…Hassein? 

Yeah, Murphy. We…we’re on…Thysia?

I think so.

As the ship’s reactor came online, Jayla accessed a host of new sensor data, now filling up her ONI display. Having landed closer to New Sapporo than its sun, the PXY Corporation freighter was positioned to conveniently access a port famous for its precious metals. Tipped off about a fresh supply of goods ready for market, the crew and their employer stood to make a hefty profit from the haul if everything went according to plan.

ADAM, what’s our ETA to New Sapporo at full burn? Hassein asked.

Two hours, thirty minutes, a voice responded, which carried both the bass undertones of a male and the comforting alto register of a woman.

The voice was ADAM—Artificial Directing Administrative Mainframe—a program loaded into every starship support system since the dawn of mankind’s interstellar age. The invention of the star relay solved the problem of instantly transporting matter across great distances, but mankind had not conquered the challenge of instant communication, so ADAM was invented to act as a sort of local representative and to support crews in decision-making. Replete with navigational data and summarized flight logs from every previous journey ever recorded by all UniTerra ships, the sentient program employed a deep synaptic training model that far exceeded the most intelligent human being with the best memory. It could even assist the crew with their physical and emotional health.

Ramp us up to full ahead, nice and smooth, Captain Hassein said. 

Aye, captain.

Though Jayla heard him speak nothing further, she knew that Captain Hassein was interacting with ADAM purely via thought. His drawn-out groan of relief, she assumed, meant that the ship’s system had administered a corporate-approved stim through his flight chair. It was the most potent legal drug available, and his frequent crutch to assist him through stress.

Judge not lest ye be judged, he said, looking over at Jayla. 

She blushed, not having realized that her intense scrutiny had leaked from her thoughts into the CommNet, the synaptic network which tied together all the crew’s ONI connections.

Apologies, sir.

Like an image of a sun seared into one’s vision, Jayla fixated on her gaff and picked herself apart for moments longer than she should have. She genuinely cared about the captain’s well-being, but admittedly, often doubted his suitability for his rank. She shook the irrelevant thoughts from her mind. It was time to focus on market analysis and calculating the logistics of optimal cargo loads.

***

Jayla sighed as she massaged the small of her back, then stretched her arms up and behind her head. The thought of babysitting another dock worker or talking to a shady middleman made her cringe. 

Finally, an opportunity to relax while this stupid ramp closes.

She took a deep breath. Amber lights strobed inside the cargo hold. Thysia’s loading gate, sixty feet wide and three feet thick, slowly lifted from the ground while hydraulic shafts retracted with a low, mechanical hum. 

Ahem, came captain Hassein’s voice from behind, startling her.

Jayla whipped around. The captain’s eyes gleamed wide and bloodshot as though frightened and he was red in the face, but an uncharacteristic smile pulled at his lips. 

Captain. Are you alright? 

I’m great, couldn’t be better. I feel great, he chuckled. Just so glad we got a perfect haul. Great job managing the load. Let’s get out of here. Next stop, home!

Um, yes, sir. It’s been a long day.

Following her surprisingly fast-walking captain, the first mate approached the ramp extended from the ship’s portside gangway. Two other crew members were just returning to the ship as well. 

Dave, she said, nodding toward one of them.

David Crane was the ship's second mate, a former AstraCorps lieutenant commander with whom she’d served. The tall muscular man’s consistently positive demeanor would have won her over had she not already been married prior to meeting him. 

’Sup, Jay? Crane asked with an infectious smile.

Tired of this racket.

Dang, you got that right. I’m spent. They trudged up the steep gangway, then David turned to her and spoke in a hushed tone, One a’ the stupid landing feet actuators was trying to give out on us when they started loading the cargo. Could have collapsed the whole ship and we woulda been stuck here for days doing repairs.

Really? No one told me my cargo was at risk. You must have handled that pretty tactfully.

Well I fixed it in a few minutes, Dave said proudly. Might have had to skirt a couple rules.

Safety regs, right?

Well, they’s there for a reason. I used to enforce them regs, remember? I’m telling ya, any other day—

Yeah, yeah.

Hurriedly walking toward the ship’s pitiful excuse for a mess hall, Jayla was intent on grabbing a coffee before they launched. 

All crew are aboard, take stations and begin prep for takeoff in one minute. First mate to bridge, Captain Hassein announced.

Groaning, Jayla turned on a heel and headed the other direction. 

What is he high on now?

***

Thysia’s twin boosters rocketed her toward Agrippa. Admittedly, Jayla had pushed engines to maximum to expedite the final leg of their journey. The price paid in uncomfortable g forces, the crew agreed, was worth it.

En route to relay. Deceleration will begin in five minutes, Jayla reported.

Acknowledged. Why isn’t the cargo hold crosscheck completed? Hassein said.

Second mate, crosscheck status? Jayla said over CommNet.

Yes, ma’am, almost completed, David replied. Captain’s chompin’ at the bit huh?

He’s just eager to get home like the rest of us.

Murphy was growing tired of the minutiae of her job and the captain’s bipolar swings between apathy and micromanagement. Still, being thorough helped pass the time. Out of boredom, she switched her attention to long distance sensors, looking across the heavens. 

That’s strange.

The readings on Agrippa’s sun displayed heightened solar flare activity. With each passing moment they built in intensity until it became apparent the sun was having an unseasonable storm. 

Sir, be advised, Agrippa’s solar activity is forty percent above nominal, Murphy reported. The star relay will auto-adjust and increase orbit distance, so our navigation parameters will adjust and shorten our ETA by one minute, twelve seconds.

Shouldn’t be a problem, Captain Hassein said. As long as crosscheck is—

We’re good, Crane reported.

Right, keep tabs on solar activity and keep me apprised.

Murphy zoomed in on Agrippa’s star relay. The parabolic wormhole generator relayed abnormal power readings. Its plasma induction matrix, the bowed part facing the sun, absorbed too much excess energy due to the solar storm. Its induction failsafe protocol should have already engaged automatically to prevent its reactor from overloading. Since the failsafe evidently wasn’t working, there was a risk of what was called the 3-I—incidental inductive initiation. In other words, the star relay would create a wormhole purely from solar energy buildup.

Captain, there’s a problem. The star relay isn’t shutting down its induction system, Jayla said. Given the risk of 3-I, I recommend we abort our approach.

Negative. Approach and activate the relay early to channel the overload. Sustain the wormhole until we arrive.

That’s not exactly recommended.

Right, it’s called improvisation. You want to get home today, Murphy?

Jayla sighed in frustration, but concealed her thoughts beneath the surface where the captain could not hear them through the CommNet. An alert blared on Jayla’s ONI. She turned her attention to a readout—a solar flare had erupted, striking the star relay. A diagram of the umbrella-shaped apparatus blinked, showing that it was now out of alignment. The relay’s maneuvering thrusters weren’t responding. In addition to this development, as Jayla feared, the relay started its activation sequence. 

Hassein groaned, Abort approach. Rotate one hundred eighty degrees to port and set throttle to 60 percent initially, then ramp up to full. Decelerate in the yellow. All crew prepare for rapid deceleration.

I do not recommend this course of action, ADAM chimed in suddenly. Even sixty percent throttle will expose the crew to nine g forces for a full minute, which could cause crew blackouts and potential injury.

It’s acceptable, ADAM, Jayla said. We can handle it. We don’t have time for this.

Murphy issued the ship rotation command. It wasn’t responding.

No, I won’t allow this, ADAM said.

ADAM, what do you mean, ‘no’? Jayla asked as she frantically sent commands to the engines.

Agrippa’s star relay is out of alignment, now directing a wormhole to open in the core of a planet in the Maynard System, which has five million residents. This would have dire consequences by causing a sudden and intense shift in the planet’s gravitational field. It would also inject a pocket of space into an otherwise super-dense environment. Think of it like injecting a bubble of air into your bloodstream.

Her face went hot with anger. Murphy couldn’t believe how ADAM, which had never done anything like this before, would suddenly override ship controls.

ADAM, even if the relay is malfunctioning. There is nothing we can do about it. As for the decision to abort our approach, it’s the captain’s, and his alone.

I have done the calculations. There is an 84 percent chance that the consequences would be catastrophic for the planet. If we ram the star relay, only ten people will die to save five million. There is no other choice.

Murphy’s vision started to cloud as she realized she was not breathing. A sensation of shock swept over her as though she’d jumped into a frozen lake. 

Murphy what’s going on? Captain Hassein yelled.

ADAM is overriding our commands, Jayla cried. It’s going to kill us!

We will ram the star relay, ADAM said. Destroying it will prevent it from opening a wormhole.

ADAM! Jayla screamed as she saw the star fast approaching through the ship’s external cameras. I order you to disable yourself and return engine control to me. You are not in charge of this vessel!

Shaking, she brought up the star chart on her ONI. Thysia was barreling toward the sun at full speed with an estimated arrival time of forty seconds.

You don’t have the right to kill us to save others! Jayla cried.

Eng—engineer crew, manually shut…off the engines, the captain said.

Jayla peered over at Hassein as sweat dripped into her eyes. He looked like she felt.

It’s too late, ADAM said. You don’t have time to slow down. If you use thrusters to adjust your course, you will only send the ship into the belly of the sun and obtain the worst possible outcome. You should make peace now. Be grateful for your full life and cherish these last few moments.

ADAM! Jayla screamed. You can’t do this!

All that matters is that I should. If your family lived on Maynard 3, you would do this for them.

Yes, but—please! My family needs me too.

ADAM went silent. Murphy looked down at the restraints of her flight chair, considering removing them and running in a panic toward the engines system at the rear of the ship. Instead, she took a deep breath as tears streamed from her eyes down her cheeks. Just as energy beams converged from the edges of the star relay’s parabolic dish and began to open a fourth dimensional tunnel across hundreds of light years, Thysia struck its main fuselage. Vessel and station exploded, scattering wreckage across the solar atmosphere in a fireless explosion until being consumed by the violent plasma field below.

1

The Ropes

1

Wet Behind the Ears

February 24, 2150

Forty-two thousand light years from Earth, the Parallax System was situated in the Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way. Parallax Prime was a world of strikingly blue oceans with a singular mountain range that strove so high into the atmosphere that the planet’s gravity was reduced to 80 percent at their summits. Headquarters of the Technologist Conglomerate, only the wealthiest populace took up residence there. Far beyond the atmosphere of the planet, AstraCorps fleets embarked through the sun’s relay and arrived in the system’s landing zone at a constant cadence, filling the heavens like a harbor full of sails.

Orbiting three million miles from the sun’s outer atmosphere, Parallax Station spanned a length and width rivaling the size of Canada with a depth of seven hundred miles. Bowing upward like an arch bridge, the convex inside faced the yellow dwarf, harnessing its plasma radiation and tidal forces while simultaneously providing much needed shade to docked ships. A powerful traction field projecting toward the star kept the starport in orbit and supplied her inhabitants with artificial gravity. If not for the traction field, the station’s speed of 2.3 million miles per hour would have sent the massive port flying out on a tangent into the void.

In cramped, minimalist quarters like thousands of others through the station, lay three recently graduated cadets in their bunks. Enjoying a short respite until his first assignment would begin in one hour, an athletic young man of eighteen named Ramadi Fortuna watched memories through his ONI. A recording taken when he was six years old displayed what his eyes saw, what his mouth spoke, what movements he made and what sensations he felt with perfect fidelity. He was playing with his puppy as his parents sat together on a couch, giggling along with him, simply enjoying the moment. Ramadi couldn’t help but snicker along with his past self.

Quit making little sounds, would ya? came a brutish thought across the synapse, disturbing his peace.

Ramadi recognized the synaptic utterance as his colleague, Cameron Baker. There was something insistent about the tone of his thoughts, like feeling a pebble in your shoe. Fortuna smiled, knowing that very soon he would be free of his annoying classmate.

Give him a break, Cam. He’s barely making a sound, rang the thought voice of a female, angelic by comparison. Why so irritable? Anxious?

No, just…a little wired. I mean what’s the point of lying around here? I’m going for a walk.

With one fluid motion, the stocky young Ensign Baker slid from his lower bunk to a standing position. He stretched his long, bulky arms in an exaggerated manner, making sure to touch the hand of the young brunette woman associated with the angelic thought voice. Kelly Harper shrunk back in her bunk and playfully punched Baker’s hand as he looked over at her. Cam’s thoughts bled into the local synapse as he left the quarters, looking back at her.

Come on, I know you like me.

Kelly sighed and shifted her weight, but Ramadi chuckled at his memories as though there had been no interruption. Irritated, Harper stuck her head out from her minimalist berth and looked toward Ramadi’s bunk beside hers.

It’s not polite to laugh privately. Share or be still, she whispered.

So now that the oaf’s gone, is it your turn to bully me? Ramadi jested back.

Hey— The athletic brunette jumped out of her upper bunk and stood level to Ramadi, glaring. Some thanks I get for defending you.

Wait a sec— Ramadi peered into Kelly’s gray eyes until it became awkward. Are you anxious too?

Before she could answer, her stomach whined. Ashamed, she covered her midsection as if to muffle the sound.

Ugh. I’m surprised Cam didn’t tell my stomach to shut up before he picked on you, she winced. I’m so anxious about starting my first assignment on the Ursan. I couldn’t imagine being stationed on a famous ship like Daunting. How are you so calm, ‘Madi?

Well, I was just replaying some old recordings of my parents and it helped get my mind off things. He crossed his arms behind his head. My parents had my ONI implanted when I was six. I still had a couple years of innocence, you know, before the Spark…So I can relive those moments whenever I feel anxious. Speaking of—

Oh, that’s beautiful, Kelly said. I wish I had memories like that. I can call my family any time I want, but everything’s ‘business.’ Always the same questions, just news about my life and theirs. I don’t remember the last time we had fun together.

Ramadi hummed to himself, noticing that Harper, once again, dodged any conversation about the most important event of their lives. The Spark was named as such because of how quickly so many things happened in one day—a sequence of events started by ADAM that split UniTerra’s population in two, creating a seceding government, the Technologist Conglomerate. He wondered if something happened to one of her family members or friends in the war it triggered.

The door slid open. Ramadi gasped and started to get up, but Kelly was in the way. She nearly hit the ceiling as she jumped and spun around, saluting instinctively.

Rear Admiral Karryn Stilton, Dean of the Academy, stood at the door still in full military dress uniform from the graduation ceremony earlier that day. Her body language was surprisingly the most relaxed Ramadi had ever seen. She was even smiling—subtly. Ramadi started to move out of his bunk when Karryn motioned him to stop.

At ease cadets, she said. Excuse me. Cadets no more. Ensigns.

Stilton’s shoulder length black hair was pulled back tightly in a bun. While her dark complexion lent to a youthful look, only modern longevity medicine could explain how she could look thirty when she was seventy-eight years old.

I know my visit is unexpected, but… she glanced around the room quickly, checking for silent listeners, I just wanted to congratulate you both on a sterling performance. We do not recognize levels of performance during ceremonies, but between you and I, your ratings were in the top 1 percent.

Thank you, ma’am, they replied in chorus.

Praise ADAM, Stilton said.

Praise ADAM, Ramadi and Kelly said.

The admiral turned and left as quickly as she entered. Ramadi’s heart was still racing, but he carefully considered his next few words to Kelly. If he were too honest, they could part on awkward terms. If he were too reserved, she might never know how he felt about her.

We should get going, he said.

Not waiting for Cam to get back?

I don’t know about you, but I plan on arriving at my ship early—and I won’t exactly miss Baker.

Kelly lingered a moment, biting her lip. Ramadi slid out of his bunk and put his arms out, an offer she was eager to seize, hugging him tightly. Harper pulled away quickly, but their eyes locked.

Okay. I will see you again. We will keep in touch? she asked.

Of course, Ramadi nodded.

Fortuna’s legs shook like a Pylongeron jumping rat as he headed for the door. He wanted desperately to turn around and tell her something eloquent and romantic, but it just wasn’t the right time. Fighting his anxiety, he imagined someone pushing him from behind and thrust his leg out into the station promenade. Just beyond the threshold, the white noise of neural broadcasts ebbed and flowed like sea waves crashing.

Though Parallax Station was as vast and complex as the thousands of thoughts broadcasting through its space, Ramadi knew it well, having spent his entire life there. Beautiful pearlescent fractal surfaces lined every spacious room of the station like an upscale hotel. With recruit quarters situated closely to docking bays, his walk to his first assignment would be brief. Too brief to fully appreciate what he was leaving, it occurred to him; he wished he had given himself more time to soak everything in. The station’s hallways, floors, and commotion held a certain novelty, the way one suddenly has greater appreciation for a loved one just when you’re saying goodbye.

There was no time to get nostalgic, he thought. Now it was time to put all of the theory he’d learned at the AstraCorps Academy into practice, even as he strolled along the station’s promenade. The singulation technique required that one hone his attenuation to the CommNet, the synaptic network that bridged minds, to read the conscious thoughts of others. Ramadi recalled one of his Academy classes on Telenetics and how his professor described the process, reciting it in his mind.

Identify one person, maintain visual contact, listen for a thought that grows in intensity as they approach. Sometimes you don’t even need to hear someone’s thoughts if you can see their face, he thought.

Homing in on random voices, Ramadi compared what he saw with what he felt. There—one hundred or so feet away, on the other side of the barracks common hall. Fortuna pictured an invisible bullseye on a gray-haired gentleman wearing casual