The battle at the Moons of Hell

the artificial gravity twitch and ripple as it struggled to adjust the ship’s internal gravity field to compensate.

Almost seven minutes later and with Mother confirming their speed to be the required 150,000 kph, Mother shut down main propulsion. For the first time since unberthing, the ship was quiet, with not a tremor to show for the awesome speed at which they were moving.

“Captain, sir. At pinchspace escape velocity. Vectors are good. We are go to jump at 15:32 as scheduled.”

“Okay. Warn the ship’s company. And send our pinchspace jump report.”

“Sir.

“All stations, this is command. We are go for pinchspace jump in twenty-two minutes. Those of you prone to pinchspace sickness, please take the necessary precautions. Command out.”

And then it was just a matter of counting down the minutes. With five to run, Michael gave the order to retract 387’s massive heat dump panels, and they were ready to go. At 15:32 precisely and with only the characteristic flash of ultraviolet radiation to mark its departure, Federated Worlds Warship DLS-387 ceased to exist in normalspace.

In what seemed like an endless series of gut-wrenching heaves, Michael celebrated his first operational pinchspace jump. His only consolation was that Ribot, Kapoor, and the rest of the on-watch combat information center crew all joined him in celebrating the jump, though none did it as spectacularly as he did.

Sunday, September 6, 2398, UD

Planetary Transfer Station 1, in Clarke Orbit around Terranova Planet

Kerri Helfort could hardly wait until they were safely aboard the Mumtaz.

Not that she had any particular love of starships, commercial or Fleet. Her years in the Fleet had ground that out of her. No, it was Sam. The bloody girl had become truly impossible. Her excitement at the prospect of the trip to the Frontier Worlds had reached fever pitch; the prospect of seeing her cousin Jemma had brought on an alarming attack of severe verbal diarrhea.

As Sam chattered on and on, her verbal momentum seemingly unstoppable, Kerri gritted her teeth and prayed that she would shut up, if only for a moment.

Kerri did the only thing she could do: She picked up the pace. With Sam and the cargobot carrying the bags following in her wake, she accelerated down the passageway that led from the up-shuttle to the Mumtaz, the walls lined with holovids advertising all the exotic destinations served by Prince Interstellar. Moving at a near gallop, she rounded a corner, and there, 50 meters in front of her, much to her relief, was the welcoming committee from the Mumtaz. A short wait, and they were through the DNA and retina identity checks and the valetbot was leading them to their cabin, which was located, it seemed to Kerri, kilometers away.

Eventually they arrived at a small two-berth cabin. Thank God, it had beds and not bunks-bunks were another thing Kerri had had more than enough of in her Fleet time-together with “luxurious en-suite facilities” as the brochure so coyly put it: two small armchairs, a tiny desk, a coffee table, and the usual huge wall-mounted holovid.

Kerri peered into what looked like a cupboard. Aha, she thought acidly. She’d just found the luxurious en-suite facilities. Obviously it was passenger mership code for a very cramped bathroom with just enough space for a toilet, a hand basin, a shower, room to turn around, and nothing else. It would be a long trip, she thought resignedly, and Sam was likely to spend much of it in the luxurious en-suite facilities while she waited her turn. It was a great relief when Sam agreed to her suggestion that she go walkabout and check the place out and they would meet for dinner later. In deference to the passengers, Mumtaz would hold to Terranova time for one day before progressively adjusting the clocks to be in sync with Jackson Time-Frontier’s only settled planet-for their arrival. A 72.5-hour day would take some getting used to after Ashakiran’s 26.8, Kerri thought.

By ten to eight, Kerri had showered and changed and was feeling much better after nearly two hours without Sam’s constant rattling on. After a quick duty pinchgram to Andrew to say that they had arrived safely and with her neuronics leading the way, she set off.

The business class lounge and dining room were quite small, smaller than she had expected. Mumtaz, which was a mixed cargo-passenger mership, carried only 1,000 passengers, of whom, according to the ever-helpful ship information persona-its AI-generated avatar that of a cheerful-looking and very patient woman-94 were in premium class, 176 in business, and the rest in economy class. The ever-helpful persona told her that the Mumtaz was almost full this trip, with 945 passengers in all.

For a moment, Kerri felt guilty about the extra cost of business class, but Andrew had insisted. The trip of a lifetime, and he wanted Kerri to enjoy it. She had eventually given in, and now that she was here, she was glad they had spent the money. Economy class was a good value, but only if almost two weeks of four-berth cabins, shared bathrooms, and cafeteria-style eating was your bag. As she made her way into the plushly furnished lounge, Kerri spotted Sam talking some poor young man to death and, taking a deep breath, made her way over to join them.

Sam was bursting with excitement. “Mom, this is John Carmichael. He’s from Ashakiran, too, and guess what? He’s going to visit relatives just like we are!”

“John, how are you? Kerri Helfort. I see you’ve met my daughter.” Nice-looking boy and just a bit older, she thought, but old enough to be dangerous. Poor old Arkady had better watch out. She reached out to shake hands.

“Mrs. Helfort.” The grip was firm, and the hand warm. “Nice to meet you. Shall we go through and eat?”

And with that the evening slipped into a comfortable haze of small talk interrupted only by a low-key announcement that Mumtaz was getting under way and by the obligatory safety briefing. After a while, Kerri just sat back. Sam could be very good company when she put her mind to it, and Kerri enjoyed watching the half-flirting, half-serious way Sam interacted with John. A nice boy. If she was to go off the rails, let it be with someone who would treat her with respect, Kerri thought.

As the meal came to a close, Kerri stood up to leave Sam to John’s company, reminding herself as she did not to give Sam any advice on how to manage interpersonal relationships. Previous experience had shown it to be a complete waste of time, and Kerri hated wasting her time. But just as quickly as she had reminded herself, she forgot her own advice.

“I’m off. Not too late, Sam.”

“Mom!” Sam was indignant.

“Sorry. John, nice to meet you. I’ll see you in the morning, Sam.” And with that she was off, leaving them to it. A good night’s sleep was what she wanted, even if it was going to be interrupted-she checked her neuronics-in a bit under five hours by the pinchspace jump and the usual dramas that went with it. Prince Interstellar’s policy was to have every passenger wide awake when it happened, a policy so strictly enforced that mership captains had been known to delay a jump into pinchspace until the last recalcitrant sleepers were fully awake. Given the alternative, she wasn’t complaining.

At 09:00 UT Mumtaz sent her pinchspace jump report, and twelve minutes later she vanished into pinchspace.

Kerri Helfort woke with a start, confused for a moment in the half darkness. What warship is this? she wondered. No, she thought, no Space Fleet bunk was ever this comfortable. And then it all came flooding back. She stretched luxuriously. The realization that finally she and Sam were on their way after the frantic buildup she’d had to endure almost made her drop back to sleep.

No, she chided herself. Up and at ’em. Slipping quietly out of bed and taking care not to disturb the lumpy mass that was Sam, she was quickly into her training kit, out of the cabin, and on her way to the Mumtaz’s gym, an installation so impressive that it had to be seen, if Prince Interstellar’s publicity materials were to be believed.

Kerri Helfort was not disappointed. The gym was impressively large and comprehensively equipped and, even better, didn’t smell like someone had been using it to stable horses.