Across the Stars: Book Three of Seeds of a Fallen Empire

  “That man needs to stop drinking so much,” Forren said one night as they were in the mess hall for a drink. As Erin had notived, Forren’s eye was critical. But, his eyes were a mirror of little that he actually felt. He gave nothing away. Though his eyes often exposed his sometimes insensitive nature and a rigid mind that operated on prejudiced resolve and by consulting fixed impressions.

  He was a hard man, but it was clear that he liked her.

  Erin found over time and an acquaintance, that Forren’s opinions, once formed, could not be altered—by her or anyone.

  The only problem was that Erin didn’t like to feel obliged to make others see the truth when they made errors in judgment. Even when he made comments about how wrong it had been to take the Discovery from the Earth in the first place, and it should have been left where it was or handed back to the other aliens. Even then she kept silent.

  Yet despite his opinions which Erin did not share, Forren was a good man, sensitive to the sufferings of others, and more than willing to give whatever was required by others for their comfort. On the whole, she found she liked him. She even admired him, admired his nearly unswerving goodness and courteousness.

  “Can I get you something, sweet?” he asked her, and she nodded.

  “A cranberry shandy, if they still have them,” she replied. “Thank you.”

  “Good, two minutes.”

  However, much as she had grown to enjoy Forren’s company, Erin sensed she could not be her entire self around Dr. Forren. At no time was she unaware of what he thought morally reprehensible, and so she avoided offending him. Whenever they met, she curbed her independence and wilder tendencies, forced herself to be her noblest self since he valued that about her.

  “Why am I trying to impress him?” Erin often wondered about this. “Why do I care for his good opinion?” she wondered.

  She knew she was afraid of her own true nature and abilities, and wondered what it meant she was. She knew she behaved in reaction to her own fears about herself. But why did she want to please him? To feel happy about herself, she had started to act according to his principles, aspired to live up to his ideas and standard of conduct, which sometimes did match her own natural inclinations. But, she was submitting to his ways to please him, and it was making her suffer on the inside in some nebulous way.

  “Here you are,” he said, giving her the shandy. “Triumph, they still have them.” And he smiled at her with a genuine smile.

  Forren admired Erin inside and out, for as a man, he was highly aware of her physical beauty, yet he regarded it as something which he must vouchsafe and shield, lest it lead down a road of vices and conceit. She was still young, no doubt still impressionable; he seemed to forget what she did on board and how that had made her hard.

  “You look lovely tonight,” he said. “Something about what you’ve done to your hair.”

  “Thank you.” She said, taking a sip of her drink. “I had a rough day.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” he looked pained.

  “Not much to be done, but I thank you for the drink and the company.”

  “Yes, I had a few cases this afternoon of hysteria in some patients. It does become mind-numbingly difficult to deal with it.”

  “Oh, that is awful,” she said. “I hope it gets better over time.”

  “As do I.”

  Some time after the two had become friends, Kansier’s new shifts were set into motion. Dr. Forren had told her he found he had many more patients coming to him and had far less time for social visits. So this was a special night, where they had planned to meet many days in advance.

  Erin didn’t know whether or not to be sad about losing her new friend to other demands; but perhaps it was for the better. Forren seemed rather to be looking for something she could not give—her mind, heart, and body as a complete package, necessary for the woman who was to one day adorn his life. Their friendship was to him, perhaps, paving the way to a closer tie. It was in fact, a courtship, but a prolonged one under the current circumstances.

  This made her a trifle sad. She was lonely, but she knew already that she could never love him, even if she had not already given her heart to Scott Dimitriev, for Robert was a man who lived by simple truths and prejudice, and he preferred to be with someone he could control, while at the core, she was wild.

  And what was she, anyway? She wasn’t an ordinary human being, but a creature with strange abilities: telepathy, telekinesis, and more powers she couldn’t define. So where did she belong? When would she knew the answers, she wondered. When could she begin to live an ordinary human life? All these attempts to be normal were wearing her down and making her feel even lonlier.

  * * * * *

  Erik crouched behind the metal shrub, holding his laser gun steady, listening for any signs of movement, but all he could hear was the loud pounding of his own heart. In the darkened hold, the light of his gun’s power display was clearly visible, so he held it close to his body to keep the gun from giving away his location.

  “Keep still,” he thought to himself.

  The small cargo hold had been cleared of supplies more than a month ago and had been recently converted into a kind of training obstacle course for the crew; artificial ground and terrain had been fashioned from scrap materials to create a rugged terrestrial landscape. During the first shift, the training ground was used by large groups, but at this time, during the later shifts that once corresponded to the night shift of Earth, a time still less favored by those who had yet to grow accustomed to the idea that there was no longer any “day” or “night” in any real sense, it became a favorite among the off-duty officers as a hand-to-hand combat drill room.

  Where did that bastard go? Erik wondered, peering around the artificial shrub into the darkness, but the slight movement was enough for his opponent; a random laser beam shot through the air beside him, missing Erik completely, but his invisible assailant was more persistent.

  Thud, thud…

  Faint running footsteps came closer, and Erik ducked behind the shrub as another beam passed over his head.

  Sewee… the beam sizzled through the air.

  Then there was a moment of dangerous silence; in that silence, Erik recognized his vulnerability. He tried to keep very still and his breathing steady as his eyes darted around, looking for any sign that his attacker was approaching, but he was unprotected on three sides.

  Crunch…

  Suddenly, he heard the loud crunching step on one of the smaller shrubs on his left; Erik jumped away, avoiding the ensuing laser blast aimed in his direction, rolling out and coming up on one knee, his own gun ready to fire. Yet his assailant had already taken cover. Erik took a tentative step forward, towards the sound—and then felt the laser beam ricochet off his uniform.

  “I got you this time, Ross!” a voice echoed within the hold.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Erik said, pulling off his helmet. “Lights on,” he called, activating the Earth-installed lighting system.

  “You move around a lot,” Kusao said with a laugh, pulling off his own helmet. “But I finally started to figure out how you operate,” he added with a hint of triumph in his voice.

  “Well, you’re the only one who’s ever beaten me before.” Erik admitted, smiling, putting his laser gun back into his belt.

  “You know, you look tired, Ross,” Kusao said, shaking his head.

  “I am. Very. Haven’t been sleeping much of late.”

  “So, now that we’re even, why don’t we quit and head back for a drink?”

  “Ah, you’re just suggesting that because you happened to win this time,” Erik laughed. “But, I have to admit, I’ve had enough for one day. My feet were starting to fall asleep behind that shrub.”

  “Good luck for me.”

  “I hear the Maroon team lounge is open during the night—sorry, third shift—if you want to get something to drink.” He suggested.

  “Actually, I think I’ve got a better idea,” Kusao said consp
iratorially. “Knightwood’s giant hothouse isn’t far from here.”

  “No, it’s just down the corridor.” Erik agreed. “What’s your game about?

  “A nice, juicy tomato sounds pretty good right about now, doesn’t it? Come on, Ross, when was the last time you had one?”

  Erik thought back. “I can’t remember,” he said, scratching his cheek, clearly warming to the idea. “But how do you suggest we get past the guard?”

  “We don’t,” Kusao said, shaking his head. “They don’t have enough guards in this section, so there’s just one, and he makes rounds to check the sealed sections around here every hour.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I helped Knightwood transplant all of the tomato seedlings when we were grounded at the Ural Base, so I figure she owes me one,” Kusao smiled. “Come on, Knightwood won’t miss a few.”

  “All right, but if we get caught, remember it was your idea,” Erik said. “Sneakthief.”

  “Then we’d better go now, because the guard will be on his way back in a few minutes,” Kusao said. For a moment they looked at each other, wavering, judging the other. A second later they both broke into a run.

  * * * * *

  “Aren’t you going to stop them, Knightwood?” Cheung said, looking at the image in the monitor. He and Knightwood had been working in one of the bio-labs since lunch, trying to figure out why the Earth-made fertilizers were having little effect on plants grown in the alien soil. Knightwood had gone to check on her room over the vidigital monitors to see if anyone had stopped by in the past twelve hours and had moved on to check over the other systems, when the monitor confirmed the presence of two unauthorized persons in her hydrogardens.

  “No, I’m not going to do anything,” Knightwood said, shaking her head. “Let them have their fun.”

  “That’s Ross and Kusao, if I’m not mistaken,” Cheung said, peering over her shoulder at the image in the relay monitor.

  “Yes, it is,” Knightwood agreed. “But I’d rather see them pulling harmless stunts than fighting with each other. And Kusao helps me a lot.”

  “Maybe,” Cheung conceded, but his mind was on other things. He had known Knightwood a long time, yet he had never seen her so depressed. “I hate to pry, but is something bothering you?” He asked a moment later, as Knightwood began tapping a fiber rod against the table absently.

  “Something wrong with me?” Knightwood echoed, looking up. “Not exactly.” She said, shaking her head. “Can we finish things up tomorrow?” She asked suddenly.

  Cheung peered at her, his eyes wrinkling in contemplation.

  “Of course.” He nodded, then headed over to take the last measurements. “Now we’re set until tomorrow,” he said cheerfully, but Knightwood only offered him a weak smile.

  “You know, it was my father’s birthday today,” she said suddenly, turning around.

  “I see,” Cheung nodded. “So that’s it. Thinking about the Earth has put you in a state, has it? So, didn’t you get along with him?”

  Knightwood shook her head. “Oh no, nothing like that. We were very close. Maybe I didn’t turn out the way he expected, but he always used to say he was glad I hadn’t,” Knightwood said, with a reminiscent half-smile. “He liked surprises, and I was always giving him one or another.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Cheung agreed, letting a smile into the corners of his mouth. “So tell me, what’s really bothering you, Knightwood?”

  “What?” Knightwood looked up again, her brows furrowing in confusion.

  “You heard me.”

  “Nothing.” Knightwood said, exasperated.

  “You’re not yourself,” Cheung countered, folding his arms across his chest. “Ordinarily, I’d leave you to sort it out on your own, but somehow I get the feeling that you’d put it off until later. And you’ve been distant for hours. Whatever’s been bothering you, it doesn’t seem to be something easy to solve or you would have been able to by now. Besides if you continue on this way, if could negatively affect the crew.”

  “All right,” Knightwood sighed. “I do have a lot on my mind. I’ll agree to talk about it if only to prove to you that there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “I’m listening,” Cheung said.

  Knightwood gave him a stern glance. “My father raised me and my little brother by himself when my mother left us,” she said. “We lived in New Cambridge, not far from the ancient ruins.”

  “So your father was a scholar?” Cheung asked.

  Knightwood shook her head. “Everyone assumes that, but my father was a simple technician.”

  “Oh,” Cheung said, adjusting his arms over his chest.

  “He worked for the city on maintaining the dome, overseeing the automated machinery among other things,” Knightwood continued. “Well, until he was paralyzed in a construction accident.”

  “But—didn’t he receive medical treatment?” Cheung asked, confused now.

  “Oh, yes,” Knightwood said, nodding. “But it was a severe injury, and it took years for the treatment therapies to work. Dad never really was able to walk very well afterward.”

  “So who took care of you while he was recovering?”

  “We had several different nurses, but they all left after a while.” Knightwood shrugged. “My brother Sarn and I went to school, but actually I took care of Dad when I came home.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility for a young person.” Cheung said. “Perhaps too much.”

  Knightwood shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “But it couldn’t be helped. Anyway, my father gave me something far more valuable that I ever gave him. He made me believe in myself, that I could do anything I set my mind to. It wasn’t easy being taken seriously as a bio-chemical scholar coming from a poor, humble background, you know.”

  “I can imagine,” Cheung agreed.

  “Oh, I’m not saying it’s ever easy for anyone,” Knightwood insisted, “but—I was just glad that I learned what hard work and determination can achieve. It was my father who taught me that. I just can’t help thinking...”

  “What?” Cheung prompted.

  “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing anymore,” she admitted.

  “Is that all that’s bothering you?” Cheung laughed. “You’re afraid of failing now that the pressure is on, is that it?”

  “Bingo,” Knightwood said. “What can you do when there are too many unknowns?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid.” Cheung shook his head. “Sorry I haven’t any better advice to give. We’re all doing the best we can, but sometimes it’s better to know when to conserve one’s energy, my friend,” he advised.

  * * * * *

  “They look pretty good if I do say so myself,” Erin said, regarding the large tomatoes growing on a plant in the living area. She resisted the urge to pick one and gave the plant more water, then turned up the heat gauge on the base of the deep holding tray to the correct temperature mark.

  Erin looked up as the door swished open. Ho-ling Chen had just returned from duty in the third bridge crew.

  “Hey, how is that tomato coming along?” she asked, as she noticed Erin standing near their holding tray. Erin, Ho-ling, and Nariko had decided to combine their soil rations to grow larger plants together; the other two roommates had individual dishes growing onions and carrots, and sugar beets.

  “I could eat it all right now, if we didn’t have to share,” Erin laughed. Ho-ling dropped her helmet to the floor and came over to where Erin was standing.

  “Wow. That thing is about to overtake the tray.”

  “I know. Knightwood said the plants were growing faster than normal in the hybrid soil. And they are huuuge.”

  “Actually,” Ho-ling began in a more serious tone, collapsing on to one of the chairs, “I meant to tell you that while you were teaching earlier—this morning?—or the first shift, anyway, Erik came by to see you.”

  “Oh?” Erin had moved on to the lettuces in the wide, more shallow tray beside t
he tomato plant and began to water them.

  “So, where are Jianming and Nicole?”

  “They left half an hour ago for the communications center.”

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  “Why did you ask?”

  “Ever since they were transferred to the fourth shift, I keep missing them, so I thought we could all go to a rec room for a re-match of yesterday’s game. Oh well, maybe tomorrow. I suppose I should give my muscles and joints time to recover, anyway. By the way,” she added, “You’ll never believe who’s getting married next month.”

  “If I won’t believe it, then you may as well go ahead and tell me,” Erin said, shrugging. “Another marriage,” she whistled.

  “Well, since you put it that way, our old friend Hans has invited all of the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks to his wedding.”

  “Hans?”

  “I ran into Karrin Chan on my way back here and heard the news from her. Do you remember meeting Lieutenant Helen Sung at one of the parties the group in G538b had the second week of training?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “She was one of pilots from Space Station Gabriel that arrived late.”

  “Sorry, I don’t remember.”

  “Anyway, I only hope all of the former Blue Stripes Sky Hawks will be given short leave to witness the occasion. I must admit, I never saw Hans as the marrying type,” Ho-ling laughed.

  “Neither did I.”

  “At least he’s getting on with his life.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Ho-ling said, shrugging dismissively.

  “No, you brought it up, so tell me what you meant,” Erin insisted. “Why are you angry?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with you then? Half the women in this ship would give anything to be in your shoes, and you don’t even care.”

  “What are you talking about, Ho-ling?”

  “I’m talking about Erik. Erik is interested in you, Erin. He’s smart, he’s handsome, he’s got a great sense of humor—and you don’t give a damn! Honestly, I don’t understand you. You’d rather be alone and miserable and make the rest of us miserable, too. Or dally your time away with that doctor whom everyone knows isn’t right for you.”