He could see the little escape pod, his blue dot, right in the center, and his current destination, Sol, as a small green dot. The pod would get there eventually, but he’d be dead.
There were outer rim planets near him: Maros, Tichel, a few scattered beyond, maybe within his 36 hour limit. But for some reason he didn’t trust them. Just like he knew the woman on the Fed frigate wasn’t Jaylen. He went with his gut and kept digging, but there was nothing close enough. Tichel was his best bet, but then he thought to zoom in, and suddenly more planets popped up. They were smaller, but within reach. The closest three were, Davos, Barc and Duval. He rolled the names around in his head for a moment, said them aloud a few times, and one sounded good, felt right: Duval.
Computer, what do you know about the planet Duval? Digest version.
Duval is a small planet in the outer reaches of Federation space. Habitat is arid, yet human compatible. Known mainly for alacyte production. The Federation maintains at least one patrol in the sector near Duval due to high pirate activity.
What planet in the outer reaches near Duval does the Federation consider safe for traders?
Entry to Tichel is protected by Federation ships and since the Reunification Accord, post BG wars, the BG now assist in protecting trade routes. There is no pirate activity in this sector.
The man tapped once on Tichel on the port screen to reroute the pod. Two options popped up on screen, both in New Raceli, which he couldn’t read. He asked the computer how to reroute the Mark 7’s nav, then started to press the reroute button, but stopped.
He pulled his hand back and floated there for moment. He stared out at the stars in the nearby system, then counted the pad squares for awhile. There were 492 that he could see. He wondered if he was going crazy. They all looked the same. But not the stars. There was something familiar about the cluster he could see at that point. They weren’t from the Tichel system. He looked at the star map again.
They were from Duval.
He pulled up the nav and rerouted to the small planet. Instantly the pod started recalculating, the green dot on the nav changing from Sol to Duval. The pod made one turn, then a series of minor course corrections for the next hour. Right before strapping in to take a nap he tapped on Duval on the nav. Time to destination read 15 hours. Here we go, he thought. He swallowed but his mouth was dry and he wondered just where on that planet he would land, and most importantly, would someone be waiting with a nice cup of water? And as the pod made its way to the planet, the man slept, and dreamed about the ship and the girl.
In his dream the captain took Voss straight through the main navigation deck where the giant viewport looked out into space, all the while making a show of reading from the Federation deep space protocol manual, page 3,482, sub-section alpha, paragraph 4: “…the initial gunboat designs lacked hull integrity coefficient near the forward nacelle, mainly due to weight—” and there he paused for a moment to bark out a few orders. “Filch, you got the chair. Maintain course until Aurora, then burn it if you want.”
“Yes, sir,” said Filcher, not even glancing at the ensign.
The captain led her up the stairs, lecturing the whole time, to the observation platform, then through a tight gap behind a nav computer array, down a dark maintenance corridor and then up another set of stairs she didn’t know existed. At the top of the stairs he pushed open a hatch which led to a tiny space just big enough for two. He closed the hatch behind them and it was quiet.
“You’re quite the actor,” she said.
“I wonder if anyone is fooled,” he said.
“I don’t care for me, but I worry about you.”
“I’m not too concerned about regulations when you are around.” He reached out in the dark and touched her face. He loved her smell, the touch of her hands. He pulled her close and they kissed.
“If we get into trouble I’m getting you off this boat,” he said.
“What, you think I’m a liability? The chief needs me in engineering. What if something happens to him?”
“It’s not about you. Not about your qualifications. The closer we get to Vellos, the more dangerous it is.” He pulled her close again and they stopped talking for awhile.
……
He woke up twelve hours later, scratched the dry skin on his arms, his body achey and cold, and a loud audio message in New Raceli repeating over and over. A bright red alert message blinked on and off on the port screen, the padding all around him turning red, white, red, white... There was an urgency in the loud, female voice that suggested something was wrong.
He unstrapped and floated up to the nav. The pod was close now. Three hours to destination. Soon he’d be moving through the upper atmosphere. The warning message, again, in New Raceli, was flashing on the screen.
He couldn’t understand the audio message. But one part he could make out. It repeated over and over: “…dah king gya na… …dah king gya na… …dah king gya na…”
Computer, translate New Raceli to English. What is “dah king gya na.”
“There is no King,” came the reply.
There is no King, the man thought. What does that mean?
Computer, what does
