The Doomed Earth - In Our Stars E-Book

Jack Campbell

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: The Doomed Earth
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 572

Beschreibung

The New York Times-bestselling author begins a gripping new saga about a refugee from the future come to save the Earth and the one naval space officer who believes her. When the destruction of Earth causes a time rift, one ship is thrust back in time to decades prior. The semi-disgraced naval officer Kayl Owen is sent from the Earth Guard ship Vigilant to investigate.  He finds one person alive, one person whose DNA analysis reveals to have some non-human DNA, a person who his superiors say isn't human. That's not how Kayl Owen sees it. He thinks Lieutenant Genji of the near future Unified Fleet — the future successor of Earth Guard — is every bit a person. And more, the knowledge she brings from the future might hold the key to saving Earth from destruction. Owen, Genji and everything they know is deeply threatening to a lot of people, and the two of them need to survive each day to get to the next and save the future for everyone. But will changing Earth's future erase Genji?

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Also by Jack Campbell and Available from Titan Books

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

Acknowledgements

ALSO BY JACK CAMPBELLAND AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS

THE LOST FLEET SERIES

Dauntless

Fearless

Courageous

Valiant

Relentless

Victorious

Beyond the Frontier: Dreadnaught

Beyond the Frontier: Invincible

Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

Beyond the Frontier: Steadfast

Beyond the Frontier: Leviathan

Outlands: Boundless

Outlands: Resolute

Outlands: Implacable

THE LOST STARS SERIES

Tarnished Knight

Perilous Shield

Imperfect Sword

Shattered Spear

THE GENESIS FLEET SERIES

Vanguard

Ascendant

Triumphant

THE STARK’S WAR SERIES (as John G. Hemry)

Stark’s War

Stark’s Command

Stark’s Crusade

JAG IN SPACE (as John G. Hemry)

A Just Determination

Burden of Proof

Rule of Evidence

Against All Enemies

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The Doomed Earth: In Our Stars

Print edition ISBN: 9781803367262

E-book edition ISBN: 9781803367279

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First Titan edition: May 2024

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations,and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’simagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2024 John G. Hemry writing as Jack Campbell.

The right of John G. Hemry to be identified as the author of thiswork has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright,Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations,and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’simagination or are used fictitiously.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior writtenpermission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form ofbinding or cover other than that in which it is published and without asimilar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

To Leigh Brackett, Andre Norton, and C. J.Cherryh, who lit the beacons into space thatthe rest of us still follow to the stars

For S., as always

1

12 June 2180

AS THE WEAPON DETONATED on the surface of the Earth, a collective, wordless moan of despair sounded from the crew of the Unified Fleet heavy cruiser Pyrenees in orbit near the Moon. Lieutenant Selene Genji stared, unable to accept what she was seeing, as the initial burst of weird, hideous light expanded with horrible speed, growing and racing across the surface of the planet. Oceans instantly evaporated, the surfaces of continents vanishing, billions dying in the blink of an eye as the weapon consumed all of human history and art and hope.

The Spear of Humanity had won. Earth had been “cleansed,” destroyed in the name of saving it.

“We’re getting odd readings on all of our instruments.” The voice of the weapons officer sounded strange, choked by grief.

“Light is being bent,” another officer gasped. “Like space-time is being distorted. Energy release is off every scale we’ve got.”

Boring beneath the surface, the destruction reached Earth’s core.

What remained of the planet exploded.

In the seconds remaining to her, Genji watched the enormous oncoming shock wave, part of her wondering at how the image warped mysteriously in places. More free quarks than the universe had seen since its birth, invisible to the human eye, and the remnants of the outer atmosphere driven outward by inconceivable energy, the death throes of Earth formed a tsunami of brilliant blue shading into ultraviolet as the explosion expanded at incredible velocity. Earth’s dying moment was beautiful in a very strange and extremely frightening way.

She only had time to form two words in her mind before the shock wave hit.

If only . . .

6 February 2140

NINETY-NINE WATCHES OUT of every hundred were boring and monotonous, and often the one hundredth one was as well. Lieutenant Kayl Owen realized that he had managed to snag the watch with something “interesting” happening.

Hazards to navigation were not supposed to pop up out of nowhere. That sort of thing could happen on Earth, but not in space, not where the instruments aboard the Earth Guard ship Vigilant could spot everything within literally millions of kilometers. Something could pop out from behind the Moon, but from where the Vigilant currently was in a Cislunar/High Earth Orbit, the Moon was nearly twenty-five thousand kilometers away.

But there it suddenly was, stubbornly refusing to abide by common sense and experience, which said it couldn’t be.

“Turn off that alarm!” At the best of times, Captain Garos seemed to regard the universe as a perverse thing dedicated to making his life difficult. He always seemed to regard the crew of the Vigilant, and Lieutenant Owen in particular, in the same light. “Why didn’t anyone report that object to me before it got within a thousand kilometers of us?”

Everyone else on the bridge either tried to look busy or looked at Lieutenant Kayl Owen, who was the officer of the watch. Knowing the captain’s wrath was already focused on him, Owen tried to keep his voice professional, calm, and assured. “Captain, the object did not appear on any of our instruments until now.”

Captain Garos’s glower grew deeper. “Meaning you didn’t notice it until now!”

Sometimes, Owen let the captain’s rants slide off him. But in this case, his whole watch team might also catch blame. He had to stand up for them. “Captain, the system backup records will confirm there was no indication of that object being there before the alert sounded.”

“Then where did it come from and why didn’t our instruments see it?” Garos demanded.

“I don’t know, Captain.”

“Of course you don’t!” Garos switched his attention to Lieutenant Francesca Bond, who had just arrived on the bridge. “What is it? Maybe you can tell me something.”

Bond squinted at the readouts. “It’s definitely artificial, Captain. Uncontrolled tumbling. Visually, it looks like a wreck.”

The executive officer, Commander Ilya Kovitch, had also arrived, and shouldered Lieutenant Bond aside to personally study the images. “A piece of a wreck, you mean. It looks like part of a larger ship.”

“Where did it come from? What is it?” Captain Garos shouted.

Everyone looked at Owen again.

“I don’t know, Captain,” Owen repeated.

“Find out!” Garos pointed a rigid finger at Owen. “Take a boarding party, examine it, and give me a full report! Don’t screw up!”

Kovitch gestured to Lieutenant Bond. “Take over the watch.”

Owen rapidly filled Bond in on everything she needed to know about the ship’s status. Normally, he and Francesca got on without too much friction, but right now she was on edge because of the captain’s rant and because she knew he and the executive officer were watching, so she got through the turnover as quickly as possible with no wasted chat.

Before leaving the bridge, Owen called the deck division head. “I need the ship’s boat ready to go and a boarding party assembled.”

“That’s going to take an hour,” Ensign Vivaldi complained.

Owen took a quick glance toward the fuming Captain Garos. “The captain wants the boat to go without any delay. Would you like to tell him it’ll take an hour?”

“No,” Vivaldi said quickly. “Umm . . . we’ll get it ready as fast as possible.”

* * *

THE VIGILANT WAS ADefender-class cruiser, and at thirty-one years old was about the average age of Earth Guard ships. Because the Universal Space Treaty hadn’t been challenged for longer than the Vigilant had existed, her main armament of four Penetrator particle beam weapons and two Shrike missile launchers had never been used for any purpose except target practice and the removal of obstacles to safe space navigation. Three hundred meters long, the Vigilant resembled a cylinder with a rounded bow and a big bulge amidships, as if the ship were a snake that had swallowed a massive meal. Most of the Earth Guard personnel aboard Vigilant were younger than their ship, and equipment improvements over the last few decades had been incremental, so they could have been using the same devices their mothers and fathers had worked on.

Though technically a warship, in practice the Vigilant (like every other Earth Guard ship) was basically employed in search and rescue and keeping orbits cleared of dangerous debris. Boredom was the worst enemy her crew had ever battled.

None of them, Lieutenant Owen especially, had any idea how much that was about to change thanks to a piece of wreckage that had appeared out of nowhere.

* * *

“GET IT MOVING, VIVALDI.” Lieutenant Commander Singh had come down to hurry along the launch of the ship’s boat. “We’ll have it ready for you pretty soon, Kayl,” he said.

Owen nodded gratefully, trying not to fume over the tongue-lashings Captain Garos had given him during the half hour so far already spent getting the boat ready.

“Boat launchings are supposed to be scheduled,” Vivaldi grumbled.

“Ensign Vivaldi,” Singh said, “what’s the purpose of our patrol?”

“Uh . . .” Harry Vivaldi struggled with the question. “Safety, security, uh . . .”

“Protect the Earth and its people against all events and actions that may threaten them,” Lieutenant Commander Singh stated. “Carry out search and rescue, and support law enforcement actions whenever possible. There’s nothing about a schedule in there. You need to be able to react quickly when unscheduled things happen.”

Singh shook his head at Owen. “Too many officers think the purpose of a patrol is to simply carry out the patrol. Anything that causes us to deviate from the preplanned schedule is a problem, rather than being the reason why we’re patrolling in the first place.”

“Like this wreckage, sir?” Owen said. He liked Singh, who had more than once stuck his neck out for him out of a simple sense of duty.

“Like this wreckage,” Singh said, shaking his head again. “It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever encountered, appearing out of nowhere like that. We ought to be jumping at the chance to find out as much as possible about it. But after you’ve carried out the inspection of the wreckage required by Guard regulations, I have no doubt it will be handed off to someone else as fast as possible so we can get back to our routine activities and continue on the patrol so everyone can celebrate another successful completion of a patrol on schedule. Find out as much as you can, Kayl.”

“I will, sir.” It was the closest Singh could come to openly complaining about Captain Garos’s attitude to a more junior officer.

Fifteen minutes later, Owen sat in the pilot position of the ship’s boat, his arms crossed over the front of his Suit, Space, Exterior, Mark XV Mod 2. He wasn’t really driving the boat, which was running on automatic pilot, but he was supposed to be ready to take over control if the autopilot glitched.

Next to him, in the co-pilot position, sat Chief Petty Officer Gayle Kaminski from engineering, and behind them, two sailors. The boat couldn’t hold much more, and room had to be left in case any survivors were found, though no one expected that to happen this time.

“Out of nowhere?” Kaminski asked Owen.

“Out of nowhere,” Owen confirmed. “It wasn’t on any instruments, even visual, and then it was.”

“I’m pretty sure that can’t happen, Lieutenant.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re right, Chief. Somebody forgot to tell the wreckage, though.”

Kaminski was a decent sort, a professional who didn’t let the example set by Captain Garos and Commander Kovitch impact how she acted around Owen. Some of the other chiefs did, trying to see how far they could push things.

Owen gazed at the stars outside the boat, trying not to let his bitterness fill him. Ten years ago, a new ship commanded by his father, Captain Cathal Owen, had exploded in a disaster that had cost a lot of lives and embarrassed Earth Guard. Even though he’d died along with much of his crew, Cathal Owen had been charged with responsibility for the disaster, but the case had fallen apart when an independent investigation placed the blame on design decisions in the new ship that had been pushed by Earth Guard brass to save money. Despite that, his name was still linked to the disaster, and to this day Earth Guard had never officially accepted the investigation results.

Owen had joined Earth Guard burning with ambition to restore his father’s reputation with his own achievements. But a lot of senior officers still blamed his father, and it was no secret that they would look favorably on anyone giving an Owen a hard time. Owen’s plans had foundered on unofficial barriers, including in his present job. Due to a shortage of officers, all it took to make lieutenant in Earth Guard was to be breathing and have a core body temperature somewhere above sixty degrees Fahrenheit / fifteen point five degrees Celsius. But he’d never gain another promotion, even if the constant efforts of officers like Captain Garos and Commander Kovitch didn’t succeed in finally forcing him to make a crucial mistake.

He hated knowing people like that would win.

The autopilot beeped a warning as the boat neared the wreckage. Thrusters fired along the boat’s hull, matching the motion of the slowly tumbling wreck.

This close, the mystery of the wreckage wasn’t any easier to solve.

“Can you tell what kind of ship that piece came off?” Owen asked Chief Kaminski.

“No, sir. See that section of outer hull plating, though? If the curve of that is any indication, that was a big ship before it got broken. Where’s the rest of it?”

“Nowhere we can see,” Owen said. How did one large piece of what must have been a pretty big ship end up on its own in space? The more he thought about this, the less sense it made.

Owen and the others had done boarding drills many times in training. Seal suits, check suits, double-check suits, remove atmosphere inside boat, open hatches, send across tethers, check tethers, double-check tethers, confirm communications between suits, and finally head over to the wreckage. Owen led the way, going hand over hand along the tether.

Ship interiors had a certain similarity about them. Rooms or compartments, none of them typically all that large because of the risks of losing atmosphere or of fire. One hand gripping the edge of a hatch to hold himself motionless as he looked about the wreck, Owen felt sure this section had once been the bridge or some other control center. Any emergency lights must have been destroyed or run out of power, the only light inside coming from the suits of the four Earth Guard personnel. With no atmosphere to spread the light, anywhere the lights fell was brilliantly lit, with sharp edges leaving the shadows beyond totally black. Even for someone experienced in boarding wrecks, it was a spooky experience, their skin crawling with the sense that wraiths or ghosts of the vanished crew were lurking in those black pools.

He shook it off, focusing on what needed to be done. The general layout of what Owen could see seemed familiar enough, but there were differences he couldn’t account for. On the remains of one bulkhead, a motto was still visible in large letters. WE ARE ONE. That didn’t ring any bells for him, but maybe a later search would find which ships might have displayed that slogan. “Chief, see if you can identify anything about this wreck from the equipment.”

“Yes, sir. Kang!” Kaminski called to one of the sailors. “Get over here and help me try to pry open some of these consoles.”

Owen gestured to the other sailor. “Da Costa, check over that area for anything important.” He watched Da Costa pulling himself hand over hand, moving carefully through the wreck, before Owen himself turned and pushed off in the other direction.

And almost immediately found a body.

There was a large rip in the abdomen of the protective suit, made by a hefty, wicked-looking metal fragment that had pinned the body to a bulkhead. Some blood had welled out before it froze. Owen stopped his motion to examine the body, forced to grab on to one rigid arm to keep himself from drifting away. The suit was an unfamiliar design, but there were enough private companies running spaceships that it wasn’t unusual to encounter differences like that. Some of the components seemed remarkably small, though. Had someone made some major improvements in efficiency?

He carefully recorded all details of the body, trying not to think about the person it had once been. At least death had probably been extremely quick. “Vigilant, this is Lieutenant Owen. We found some remains, but they’re going to be hard to get free.”

Commander Kovitch answered. “We can see that on your feed. Get a DNA sample and leave the body for a cleanup crew. We’ve already reported this wreckage needing to be cleared from orbit by the salvage engineers. This is all their responsibility now, not ours.”

“Yes, Commander. There are a lot of things on this wreckage that we can’t identify. I recommend that we—”

“We have a patrol to complete, Owen. This wreckage is the responsibility of the salvage engineers. Understand?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Why are you taking so long to complete your survey of the wreckage, Owen?”

“I am following Earth Guard safety and exploration regulations and guidance, Commander.” That was an old trick, trying to get him to rush things so they’d have cause to hammer him.

“Lieutenant?” Chief Kaminski called. “We got some access panels off, but everything inside is fused. Just lumps. I don’t know whether that was caused by whatever destroyed this ship or some sort of power surge inside the ship when it was destroyed.”

“Lumps?” Owen asked. “Can you tell anything about the designs, the circuitry?”

“I can take back some samples and analyze them for metals and other composition, but that’s it. This stuff isn’t just fried. It’s melted into globs.”

“Okay, Chief. Record everything you can and get some samples.”

“One more thing, Lieutenant. I’m pretty sure some of these are weapons controls, though I can’t place what exact kind of weapons they’re for.”

This had been a warship? Only Earth Guard operated warships inside the solar system. And nothing about this wreck identified it as being associated in any way with Earth Guard.

Owen pushed off again, gliding deeper into the wreckage on this side, sailing over a heavy panel partly wedged against a bulkhead.

There was something behind it, almost invisible in the pitch-black that reigned wherever his suit light wasn’t shining directly.

Owen twisted to get a good view.

Another body, one that had apparently been protected by this heavy panel wedging itself in place.

He tried to pull himself down behind the panel, attempting to get close enough to examine this set of remains.

An alert suddenly pulsed on his suit.

What the hell? Life signs?

He pulled himself closer, checking the unfamiliar space suit. Nothing on it appeared to be working. But his suit stubbornly insisted that whoever was inside it was still alive.

“Vigilant,” Owen called. “We have a survivor. We’ll get them back to the ship as quickly as possible.”

It should be cause for celebration, but Owen knew his discovery wouldn’t be greeted with joy. Dead remains were easily dealt with or passed on to someone else to deal with. Living survivors could be a pain, possibly requiring Vigilant to deviate from her patrol route to get the survivor to necessary medical assistance. Even worse, they could die after being brought to the ship, necessitating a detailed investigation. As Lieutenant Commander Singh had said, actually conducting search and rescue got in the way of completing scheduled tasks on schedule.

So it was that, fifteen minutes later, as Owen helped bring the survivor, still sealed in their suit, aboard Vigilant, he wasn’t surprised to be greeted with scowls instead of congratulations.

* * *

AN HOUR AFTER THAT, Owen found himself outside Commander Kovitch’s tiny stateroom, which was about the size of a closet in a house on Earth.

“She’s alive,” Kovitch informed Owen. “Commander Darius has no idea how, but she’s awake and able to talk. Get down to sick bay and get a statement from her. I want the ship that piece of wreckage came from identified so we can file a final report and close this out.”

Owen didn’t bother asking why that particular piece of wreckage and this particular survivor had become his special responsibility. It was out of the ordinary, it was a pain in the neck, so he got handed it.

Commander “Doc” Darius seemed distracted when Owen arrived at sick bay, peering at displays showing test results. “The survivor is in there,” Darius said, waving Owen toward the tiny “recovery room” off of sick bay, which was barely big enough for a single bunk and a pullout seat that doubled as a toilet. “A young woman. Mid- to early twenties, I’d guess.”

“How’d she survive?” Owen asked.

“Beats the hell out of me.” Darius leaned back, rubbing his neck with one hand as he studied the test results. “My best guess is her body went into some kind of hibernation state. That’s not unheard-of on Earth. Mammalian diving reflex. You’ve had some training in that, right? But this seems to be something well beyond that.”

“Commander Kovitch told me to get a statement.”

“Feel free. She was disoriented earlier. I’m not sure how lucid she is.”

* * *

LIEUTENANT SELENE GENJI, LYING on a narrow bunk in a tiny compartment, stared at the overhead, her mind still filled with images of Earth’s death and a flash of confused chaos as the shock wave hit her ship. Where was she? There were fragmentary impressions of a ship’s sick bay and a man peering down at her in mingled surprise and concern. What ship was this? Whose ship was this? The few pieces of equipment that she could see appeared to be museum pieces. But it was definitely a ship. She was in zero g, a strap holding her in the bunk.

How had this ship managed to survive the shock wave that had destroyed her cruiser? Maybe it had been in the shadow of the Moon, though there was no telling how much was left of the Moon. Probably nothing. Memory of the shock wave’s immeasurable power made her shudder for a moment.

Did where she was matter now? Did anything matter now?

Any Unified Fleet ships that had survived the destruction of Earth would be heading for Mars, where any remaining Spear of Humanity warships would also be gathering for a final battle over the fate of what little was left of the human species. If the colonies on Mars had survived. How powerful would that shock wave still have been when it reached Mars?

How had any surviving Spear of Humanity believers in space reacted when their destruction of the “polluted” Earth hadn’t been followed by the miraculous reappearance of a “pure” Earth? Her only solace was imagining their pain when they realized how badly their faith had betrayed them.

Hopefully the Tramontine had gotten far enough away from the solar system for their ship to ride out the spreading shock wave. She wasn’t sure how far they had gone in the two years since boosting away from the asteroid belt, twelve years earlier than they’d planned. Their hope had been to defuse the anti-alien hysteria, but it had only amplified with their departure, the Spear of Humanity warning of aliens still here, hidden everywhere.

Someone knocked on the side of the doorway before pulling themselves inside.

She released the strap holding her to the bunk and pulled herself erect, determined to face down whoever it was. The first thing she noticed was that the young man wasn’t wearing the dark-gray-with-red-trim uniform coveralls of the Spear of Humanity. But he also wasn’t wearing the medium blue with gold trim of the Unified Fleet. Instead, his coveralls were light blue with silver trim, a uniform that felt oddly familiar but that she couldn’t place at the moment.

The young man smiled reassuringly. “I’ve been asked to get a statement from you. Do you feel up to it?”

“A statement?” Genji took a deep breath, wondering at the man’s relaxed attitude. How could anyone be so calm after witnessing the death of Earth? Even the most fanatical Spear of Humanity stalwart should be showing some reaction to the horrible event. “Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Kayl Owen, Earth Guard.”

Her eyes locked on him, studying the uniform, finally realizing where she’d seen it before. “Earth Guard? You can’t be serious.”

Lieutenant Owen held himself still using one corner of the bunk. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“Because Earth Guard ceased to exist over ten years ago. Why did you think I wouldn’t know that?”

Owen’s open expression grew concerned. “But . . . this is an Earth Guard ship.”

“An Earth Guard ship?” Genji asked, making her skepticism clear. “Which one?”

“Vigilant.”

“Vigilant?” She felt anger flare. “How dare you mock the memory of their sacrifice!”

Owen stared at her. “Sacrifice? What, uh, I mean, umm, maybe you should tell me who you are.”

“Lieutenant Selene Genji, Unified Fleet. That’s all you’ll get from me.”

“Unified Fleet?”

“Unified Fleet,” Genji repeated, gesturing to her uniform.

“Uh . . . what was the name of your ship?”

“Lieutenant Selene Genji, Unified Fleet.”

“What were you—”

“Lieutenant Selene Genji, Unified Fleet.”

Lieutenant Owen acted startled and confused. “I’m not your enemy, Lieutenant Genji. I found you still alive on a portion of your ship. Earth Guard wants to find out what happened and notify anyone concerned about your fate.”

“You’re concerned about my fate?” Genji said before turning her voice into a lash. “What are you really? If you’re Spear of Humanity, congratulations. You won, and may you all roast in hell for eternity. Don’t play games with me. Just go ahead and space me. I won’t tell you anything. Not that it matters anymore.”

“Uh . . .” Lieutenant Owen stayed silent for a few moments, his face reflecting uncertainty. “You’re not a prisoner. Do you think you’re a prisoner? You’re not. We rescued you from the wreckage of a portion of your ship,” he repeated slowly. “Do you know what happened to your ship?”

Her gaze on him sharpened. She wanted to shout. Fighting back tears, she wanted to throw a punch that would toss Lieutenant Owen out that door, but somehow she kept herself still and her voice under control. “The shock wave! My ship was destroyed by the shock wave!”

“What . . . shock wave?”

“From the destruction of Earth! What is the point of pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about? You know what I am! You can tell by looking at me! Stop playing whatever stupid game this is!”

He stayed silent for nearly a minute, his eyes on her, no hint of hostility in them, just worry and disbelief.

Lieutenant Owen was an excellent actor.

He finally released his grip on the bunk, nodded to her with every indication of uncertainty, and left.

Should she fight her way out of here? Find out how many of these Earth Guard pretenders she could take down before they ended her?

But what was their game? Why pretend this way? And if these people were Spear of Humanity, why were they allowing an alloy like her to even be inside their ship, “polluting” it? It implied there was still something important left for her to fight for.

Stay alive, Genji told herself. Watch and wait.

She lay down again, her eyes on the overhead.

* * *

OWEN RUBBED HIS EYES as he tried to reread what he’d written. He was due back on watch in an hour, his mandated rest time devoured by the mission to the wreckage and then interviewing the survivor and writing up this report.

But instead of seeing the words of his report, Owen kept seeing the survivor, Lieutenant Genji, and hearing her words. You know what I am! You can tell by looking at me!

What had that meant? The size and shape of her eyes had definitely been unusual. Had he ever seen that before? And the surface of her skin had been oddly smooth and sort of glowing under the lights in the recovery room. It was probably some new cosmetic treatment, and certainly not different enough to explain Genji’s statement.

The destruction of Earth! She had sounded so certain, those unusual eyes haunted by what they had seen.

But of course, that was ridiculous. Earth was out there. A goodly distance from the Vigilant at the moment, but definitely there.

What had that strange statement about the sacrifice of the Vigilant meant?

Why was she acting like a prisoner of war instead of a rescued survivor?

Despite her lucid appearance, Lieutenant Genji was clearly irrational, perhaps as a result of emotional and physical trauma from whatever had really destroyed her ship. The only logical thing to do was recommend she be transferred to an orbital station and then taken down to Earth to get the treatment she needed.

Except that left unexplained just what her ship had been. Owen checked the report from Chief Kaminski again. Given the curve of the surviving outer hull section, the whole ship must have been of a diameter that didn’t match any known spacecraft. Kaminski had also run searches on the exteriors of the equipment on the wreck and hadn’t gotten any matches. Lieutenant Genji herself had a uniform that didn’t match anything Owen had been able to find searching through the ship’s database. Nor had that We Are One slogan shown up in any context that would explain its appearance on a spacecraft.

She’d survived by some means Doc Darius couldn’t explain.

And that piece of wreckage had appeared out of nowhere, none of the rest of the ship it came from visible anywhere. And no ships anywhere near that size had been reported missing.

Nothing about this made sense.

Hearing a sharp knock, he turned his head to look as Lieutenant Sabita Awerdin stuck her head inside Owen’s living compartment.

“Hey, Kayl, what’s the story with that survivor?”

“Why? What happened?”

Awerdin spread her hands in bafflement. “Francesca and I were told to make enough room for the survivor to bunk with us until we could transfer her off the ship. But just now the executive officer told me that wouldn’t happen, and when I asked why, she just about bit my head off.”

Owen sighed, rubbing his eyes again. “That’s not that unusual when it comes to Kovitch. But maybe it’s because the survivor is crazy.”

“Crazy?” Sabita Awerdin’s eyes widened. “Like dangerous crazy?”

“I don’t think so. But she insists Earth was destroyed and that she’s part of some fleet that doesn’t exist.”

“Earth was still out there last time I looked,” Sabita said. “I guess—”

The general announcing system burst to life, the words echoing with unusual force. “Lieutenant Owen to sick bay, on the double!”

Both he and Sabita stared at the nearest speaker for a moment, startled.

She recovered first. “On the double? You never tell an officer to go somewhere on the double!”

“They did this time,” Owen said, unstrapping himself from his chair. “I guess I’d better get to sick bay.”

“Kayl . . .” She shook her head worriedly at him. “Be careful.”

“Always am,” he said. His usual reply, as usual pretty much meaningless.

In sick bay he found Doc Darius waiting for him in a sealed isolation suit and came to a halt in the doorway, staring.

Darius took a step toward him. “Did you touch it?”

“Did I . . . ?” Owen looked about him, confused. “Did I touch what?”

“That!” The doctor pointed toward the now locked door to the recovery room, a bright yellow sign warning QUARANTINE pasted across it.

“I did touch the door—”

“Not the door!” Doc Darius calmed himself with an obvious effort. “The creature.”

It took a few seconds to realize what he meant. “You mean the survivor? Lieutenant Genji?”

“Yes. Did you make physical contact with . . . the survivor?”

“No,” Owen said, shaking his head, thinking that the doctor’s face showed more sweat on it than short confinement in the suit should have generated.

Darius relaxed, his body sagging. “Good. I didn’t think you had touched the creature, but if you had you’d be ordered into isolation just like me to protect everyone else on the ship.”

His surprise fading, Owen felt growing outrage replacing it. “Doc, did you call her a creature?”

Darius gave him a half-hostile, half-pitying look. He pointed to a large display on one bulkhead. “What is that?”

“A genetic readout,” Owen said. Everybody learned about those in high school biology.

“And what does this signify?” the doctor demanded, pointing to an odd symbol poised above one gene.

In fact, Owen saw the symbol placed above a bunch of genes. “I have no idea.”

Doc Darius pointed again, his stiff finger appearing ready to impale the offending gene. “It means that is not a human gene.”

“Not—” Owen swallowed hastily. “That’s impossible. My sister works in genetic research. Putting nonhuman genes into humans has been prohibited for—”

“Listen to me!” Darius gestured again, the motion as sharp as if he were swinging a knife. “It’s nonhuman and cannot be linked to any genetic source on Earth or elsewhere in this solar system. Do you understand? Alien. That thing in there looks human,” he said, giving a fearful look toward the recovery room, “but it’s not. A substantial part of its genetic makeup is alien.”

“What? What?” Owen struggled to grasp what he’d just been told.

You know what I am! You can tell by looking at me!

Was that what Lieutenant Genji had meant? But how could anyone link her appearance to inhuman genetics?

Then his mind fastened on something else.

Thing.

“Sir,” Owen protested, adopting formal speech, “Lieutenant Genji is not a thing. I talked to her. She’s a person.”

Darius blew out a disgusted breath. “Think with your head instead of whatever part of you is attracted to the survivor’s looks, Lieutenant. It’s not human, but it looks human enough to fool all of us. Do you think that’s a coincidence? How would you infiltrate a world inhabited by another intelligent species?”

“But . . . she . . . Humanity has never encountered any aliens!”

“Just because we’ve never found them doesn’t mean they couldn’t have found us. If you’re smart,” the doctor said, “you’ll forget anything about what’s in that recovery room except for this.” He pointed to the genetic readout once more. “There’s your warning and all you need to know about . . . the survivor. Have you talked to the captain yet?”

Still trying to get his head around what he’d learned, Owen had trouble grasping the sudden question. “About . . . ?”

“That.” Darius gestured toward the recovery room. “I’ll pass on the captain’s orders since you haven’t gotten them yet. Not a word. Not to anybody. You know nothing about this. There is nobody and nothing in there.”

“Yes, sir.” The words came out automatically, the doctor’s attitude clearly conveying that Owen had been dismissed. Owen pushed his way out of sick bay, floating a couple of meters down the passageway before his mind caught up with his body.

An alien? A . . . spy?

Why would an alien spy wear an unfamiliar uniform and claim that Earth had been destroyed? Weren’t spies supposed to blend in and try to not attract attention?

That thing. It. The creature.

He hadn’t been able forget the anguish in Lieutenant Genji’s eyes, in her voice, as she spoke of Earth being destroyed.

The smart thing to do would be to follow orders. To forget he’d ever seen or talked to anyone named Selene Genji.

Yeah. That’s what anyone primarily concerned about protecting himself would do.

Screw it. It wasn’t like he had a career worth protecting. But someone else needed help.

* * *

GENJI HEARD A SOFT chime. She sat up, hearing it repeat.

There was an old-fashioned panel on one bulkhead near her, a light blinking on it.

She looked toward the door, which had a small translucent window in it. The guard she had seen posted there had disappeared a while back, the sick bay beyond going dark as if it, too, had been closed off to seal her in.

Earth Guard, hell. These people were acting just like Spear of Humanity fanatics, afraid of contamination. Why hadn’t they just killed her already?

Maybe whoever was calling would provide an answer.

Finding the right control to respond to the call took some fumbling, but she finally located it.

To see an image of a troubled-looking Lieutenant Owen gazing out at her. “Umm, hello, Lieutenant Genji.”

“Hi, Lieutenant Owen,” Genji said, wondering if Owen was going to continue his clueless act. The clumsy opening certainly felt like it.

“They told me not to talk about you, but they didn’t tell me I couldn’t talk to you,” Owen said. “This is a backdoor channel through the regular communications system, so we’re not being monitored.”

He was going to pretend these were unofficial communications? Why? “What’s the point of this?” Genji asked.

“You’re . . . alien?”

He sounded so sincerely disbelieving. She silently mimed applauding his acting. “That’s right, Lieutenant Owen. I’m an alloy, as I’m sure you saw the moment you looked at me.”

“An alloy?”

“A Human-Tramontine alloy,” Genji said, tired of talking around things. “First generation, procreated by genetic engineering. As I’m sure you already know.”

“Tramontine?”

She lost what little patience was left in her. “Are you an absolute idiot? How can I believe you don’t know who the Tramontine are? Do you need me to remind you of basic facts like First Contact with the Tramontine in April 2140?”

He stared back at her wordlessly. This was a waste of time. She was moving to cut off the call when Owen spoke abruptly. “It’s February 2140. February seventh, 2140.”

Genji froze in mid-motion.

“All those things you told me,” Owen said, the words spilling out in a rush. “They haven’t happened. Earth Guard exists. This is an Earth Guard ship. And Earth itself is still out there. It hasn’t been destroyed. Why do you think it has?”

“I watched it,” Genji said slowly. “I watched Earth die. On the twelfth of June 2180.”

“That’s . . . that’s impossible.”

“You’re telling me it is now February 2140?”

Lieutenant Owen nodded.

Genji shook her head. “What is the point of this? Why are you carrying out this charade? What possible thing could you want from me that would justify you claiming and trying to convince me that it’s forty years ago?”

Owen glared back at her. “Why is this on me? Look, I know what a raw deal is, and you seem to be getting the worst one I’ve ever encountered. I want to help. But I can’t if I don’t understand any of this. You’re an alien?”

“An alloy. Part alien.”

“Fine,” Lieutenant Owen said. “A Human-Tramonate—”

“Tramontine.”

“—alloy. So explain any of this to me,” Owen said, looking frustrated. “If your human appearance is supposed to let you move undetected among us, if you’re a spy, why did you show up in a uniform that’s totally wrong, claiming to be part of a fleet that doesn’t exist, and claiming that you witnessed Earth being destroyed forty years from now? How does that help you hide among us? Am I missing some special spy tactic?”

Was Owen that good an actor? Genji looked at him, trying to find an answer in his appearance, his movements, his eyes. “I’m not a spy,” she finally said. “I’m an officer in the Unified Fleet.”

“There is no such fleet,” Owen said with a certainty that seemed impossible to fake. “There never has been.”

Further words stuck in her throat. A ship filled with equipment that seemed to have been pulled out of a museum. Officers claiming to be part of an Earth Guard whose remnants had dissolved a decade before, and claiming that this ship was the Vigilant, which had been destroyed in late 2175. Claiming that Earth still existed. Apparently shocked to learn she was an alloy, and acting totally ignorant of the Tramontine. Claiming that it was the year 2140.

Those reports as the shock wave approached. Light bending as space-time flexed. Her own sight of reality warping as the shock wave got closer.

Genji shivered as the implications hit her. If the destruction of Earth had created conditions that had hurled her back in time, if this really was 2140, if Earth still existed, if the Tramontine hadn’t made contact with humanity yet . . .

Her uncompleted last thought as the shock wave approached finally finished. Ifonly . . . someone had been able to prevent this.

If it really was the year 2140 . . .

Genji felt herself trembling as an insane hope grew inside her. She fixed Lieutenant Owen with a rigid gaze. “If you’re lying to me, I will kill you very slowly. That’s a promise.”

Owen twisted his mouth in a sardonic expression. “I’ll keep that in mind. Is that all you’re going to say?”

“No. Do you want to help me save the Earth?”

2

HIS ROOMMATE, JOE, WAS on watch when Sabita Awerdin stuck her head into Owen’s stateroom. “You got time to talk?”

Owen yawned as he nodded. “Sure. What’s up?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Sabita lowered her voice. “The survivor. What do you know?”

“Not a thing,” Owen said, scowling. He couldn’t risk confiding even to Sabita his secret conversations with Genji. “What survivor?”

“You’re the last person I’d expect to go along with that. Aside from Doc, you’re also the only person who talked to the survivor, and Doc is acting a little psycho since then.” Sabita gave him a pleading look. “Why are we being told there wasn’t a survivor?”

“Sabita, you don’t want to get into this.”

She paused. “Rumor among the crew is the survivor isn’t human. Some kind of monster. Is that true?”

Owen hesitated, unwilling to let that statement go without an answer. “That depends on what your definition of human is. I think she’s human.”

Sabita surprised him with a short laugh. “Are we back to that?”

“Back to what?”

She indicated herself. “There was a time when people with skin this dark, my ancestry, weren’t considered human. Or at least not as human as other people.”

“This isn’t . . . exactly . . . like that.” He looked at Sabita. “She’s human.”

“Okay.” Sabita gave him an arch look. “Rumor also says she’s beautiful.”

“What?”

“Is she? Is that what makes her human? That she’s hot?”

“No. I guess she’s okay as far as that goes. But that’s it.”

Sabita studied him. “When you think of her, what do you see?”

That one was easy. “Her eyes.”

“Her eyes?”

He’d surprised her. “They look like they’ve seen things . . .” He took a deep breath. “I don’t see a monster looking out through them.”

Sabita nodded, her eyes hooded with thought. “You’re looking at the right place to judge a person, anyway. Kayl, everyone calls the survivor ‘it’ or ‘that’ or something. You’re the only one who says ‘her.’”

“She’s a person,” Owen said in a low voice. “Just like you said.”

“I guess I did.” Sabita hesitated again. “Do you need help?”

“No.” Owen suddenly blurted out more. “She does.”

“Oh. Oh, man.” Sabita’s voice grew sharp. “Tell me you’re not going there. Tell me you’re not thinking that.”

He started to say something, but the words caught, so he stayed silent.

“Kayl, think really hard before you do anything. Will you promise me that?”

“Sure.” He met her eyes. “Believe me, I’m thinking.”

“Don’t forget that you’re the one who told me she was a couple of tons short of carrying a full load of reaction mass. You said she was nuts.”

“I haven’t forgotten that.”

After Sabita Awerdin left, Owen leaned back, closing his eyes and trying to think.

Selene Genji seemed to have accepted that the year was 2140, but what proof did he have that she had come here from 2180? There was her DNA, and the strange events surrounding her rescue from the piece of wreckage, but there could be other explanations for those things that he wasn’t aware of or hadn’t thought of. Including the apparently official belief that Genji was an alien spy or saboteur or something else nefarious.

What could he do even if he decided to do something? Sick bay was sealed off except for an occasional trip closely supervised by Doc Darius to pass ration packs into the recovery room via the isolation tray. Two sailors were always on sentry, complaining and bored but nonetheless there even though officially they weren’t guarding anything. Captain Garos and Commander Kovitch would slap him down hard if he went to them about his concerns for Lieutenant Genji. How could he help her even if he decided to do that? A quixotic charge trying to press the issue would just get him relieved of his duties and probably confined to his stateroom, if not locked up in the coffin-like brig.

Especially since Captain Garos and Commander Kovitch had apparently decided Owen might have bungled his interrogation, which officially hadn’t happened, of the survivor, who officially didn’t exist. Frustrated at being unable to openly blame him for failing at something that officially was not, both of them were being even more hypercritical of Owen than usual.

Owen had tried sounding out Lieutenant Commander Singh, only to be quickly shut down and told the subject was too hot for anyone to talk about. Even Sabita had just shown that she didn’t want him to do anything.

For now, the best way to help Lieutenant Genji was to remain free and able to act if an opportunity presented itself. Though exactly what he should do, what he could do, remained very vague in his mind.

* * *

“LIEUTENANT OWEN, SIR!”

Leaving the bridge after his latest watch, Owen turned to see Chief Gayle Kaminski approaching. “What’s up, Chief?”

Kaminski nodded in greeting as she reached Owen. “Just something I didn’t get a chance to pass on to you. I know we’re not supposed to talk about . . . anyone on the wreckage, but there haven’t been orders about the other stuff on it. I’ve analyzed the samples we took of the melted-down electronics, and it’s kind of strange.”

“Strange?” Owen said.

“It’s the proportions and types of elements and materials in the samples,” Kaminski explained. “If I melted down everything inside some of our gear, I wouldn’t get results like that. I don’t know where that equipment came from, but based on the composition of the samples, it’s not anything made anywhere that I can find out about.”

“That is strange,” Owen said. And, perhaps, evidence to support Lieutenant Genji’s claims to be from the future. “Thanks for telling me, Chief. Have you heard anything about what’s happened to the piece of wreckage?”

Chief Kaminski shook her head. “All I know is there’s a salvage tug on the way to intercept it. Now, if it was me, I’d haul that thing in and analyze it every which way. But if the salvage engineers only have orders to remove the body and scrap the wreckage, that’s all they’ll do. As you are aware, sir, nobody wants any questions raised about that wreckage. I could try to see what I can find out, though.”

As you are aware, sir, was the special phrasing used by noncommissioned officers to remind officers of things they should already know and needed to be thinking about. Owen took the hint and shook his head. “I don’t want you getting keelhauled over this because you asked questions, Chief. If you happen to hear anything, though, I’d be grateful if you passed it on to me.”

“No problem, Lieutenant.” Kaminski turned to go but paused. “Sir? There’s something I’ve meant to tell you for a while.”

“What’s that?”

“I had a good friend aboard the Sentinel,” Chief Kaminski said.

Owen couldn’t stop himself from stiffening at the name. Sentinel had been his father’s ship, the new vessel that had suffered catastrophic failures on its first patrol.

“A real good friend,” Kaminski repeated, her face shadowed by memories. “He was among the dead. I wanted you to know, Lieutenant, that I dug into things after that disaster. You know me. I took a real good look at everything, and I never believed the official line that it was your dad’s fault. I think he and the rest of the crew on that ship were handed a ticking time bomb. I just wanted you to know that I lost a really close friend on the Sentinel, and I never blamed your dad. I wanted to tell you that. I should have done it when you first reported aboard.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Owen said, his voice choked despite his attempts to control it. “That means a hell of a lot coming from someone like you. It really does.”

“I just wanted you to know,” Kaminski repeated, looking awkward. She nodded again before turning and heading back down the passageway.

Owen watched her go. He’d never before heard the compromised design of the Sentinel referred to as a “ticking time bomb,” but that characterization of the flawed ship felt very apt.

Come to think of it, “ticking time bomb” might also be an apt way to describe Lieutenant Selene Genji.

* * *

HE SHOULDN’T SPEAK WITH her. Every time he did, he ran the risk he’d be detected. Earth Guard was complacent about a lot of things, including hacking, which had allowed things like the unmonitored back-channel line Owen was using to speak with Genji. But that didn’t mean the automated security systems might not spot him. He had no illusions about how he’d be treated if he was caught.

But he called whenever he could, and he talked to a Lieutenant Genji whose earlier despair and defiance had been replaced by an earnest eagerness. We have to make some plans. We have to do something. She said “we” a lot, assuming that Owen would be part of any effort to “change the fate of Earth.” And who wouldn’t want to save the Earth and every person and other living thing on it?

If she wasn’t crazy. He pried more details of the “future” out of Genji, hoping for contradictions that would let him dismiss her story as a fantasy.

But it all kept hanging together.

“What are the Tramontine like?” Owen asked her during one of their clandestine chats, he in his stateroom, she still confined in the recovery room inside sick bay.

“You mean their personalities?” Genji asked, puzzled. “Individuals vary, just like humans.”

“I mean their appearance.”

“How could you not know? Oh.” Genji furrowed her brow in thought. “Humanoid. A lot like us. Not close enough that a Tramontine could walk down the street and not be noticed instantly. But basically shaped like humans. That was one of the big reasons why they were eventually accepted after First Contact.”

“And First Contact is in April? Of this year?”

“Of 2140,” Genji said, watching him as if expecting that might cause him to make a mistake.

So they were still testing each other. “April 2140,” Owen confirmed. “You have to agree that your story of being from the year 2180 is pretty hard to accept.”

Genji met his gaze. “From my perspective, your claim that it is now the year 2140 is pretty hard to accept.”

She had a point, Owen realized. “How’d that go after the Tramontine were accepted?”

“After a lot of early misunderstandings, it went pretty well for a little while, according to the histories.”

“‘According to the histories’?” Owen asked. “You don’t have firsthand knowledge?”

That earned him a weary, exasperated look. “I wasn’t born until eighteen years after First Contact. And my memories of my first five or six years are a bit hazy. Were you trying to trip me up again?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “When did things go bad?”

“Not all at once,” Lieutenant Genji said. “Slowly, and then suddenly. Starting in the late 2140s, through the 2150s and 2160s, major institutions, things like Earth Guard, started crumbling. I don’t know all the details. It was decades ago, and I wasn’t born until 2158. I know people lost faith in institutions and started turning to fanatics and frauds. That led to the wars. The aliens were convenient demons to blame for everything. The Spear of Humanity took advantage of that to gain support and followers.”

“How many wars were there?” Owen asked.

“That depends on how you count,” Genji said. “Some people counted individual conflicts, like the Lunar Incursions in 2174. Others just lumped them all under the name the Universal War. Because it seemed to be everywhere and one war just followed another.”

“We end up fighting the aliens?”

Genji gave him a look of disbelief. “Did you really ask that? No. The Tramontine aren’t involved in any of the wars that make up the Universal War. It’s all humans fighting other humans, for a variety of reasons that increasingly include the belief that some humans, and the aliens, are the cause of all the problems and don’t deserve to exist.” She paused. “I owe it to you to explain that alloys, people like me with some alien DNA in addition to my human DNA, fed the fears. We had to be wiped out. That’s how some people thought.”

It felt like a nightmare, described by Lieutenant Genji in the resigned tones of someone reliving bad memories.

“How many died?” Owen asked.

She looked at him. “Do you mean before billions died along with the Earth? I remember the headlines when the global death count passed three hundred million. I stopped paying attention after that. It was bad enough counting the dead in the Unified Fleet.”

“But . . .” Owen didn’t want to believe this would happen. He tried to find arguments to prove that what Genji said would come must be wrong. “Why does Earth Guard crumble? And other institutions? We’re doing pretty well, aren’t we? Aside from limited border clashes, there’s been peace for decades. I don’t think we’re perfect, but what could lead to collapses like that?”

“Wow.” Lieutenant Genji said the word without any inflection or feeling. Just a single, flat word.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Owen demanded.

“It wasn’t an attack on you.”

“It sure felt like an attack.”

Genji sighed. “You know history, right, Lieutenant Owen? Did you ever study some period of history before everything fell apart and ask yourself why, when the people responsible for things were shouting warnings, no one seemed to care as their world teetered on the edge of a cliff?”

“Yes,” Owen said.

“And have you thought, man, those people must have been stupid?” Genji looked at him again. “Lieutenant Owen, I’ve talked to you enough to know you’re smart. To know you’re observant. And even you can’t see it. You think Earth Guard is pretty near perfect, with no systemic problems. How could it slowly collapse? But it will. I don’t know all the reasons why—some of that stuff was thirty and forty years ago for me—but it will.”

Owen shook his head. “I know perfectly well that Earth Guard too often promotes the wrong people for the wrong reasons. And that it’s been rewarding people for pursuing bureaucratic measures of success rather than doing what we’re supposed to be doing. And that—” No. He wasn’t going to discuss his father’s case with her, the hushing up of major mistakes that had led to a disaster. That was too personal. “Lieutenant Genji, if you think I think Earth Guard is perfect, you need to rethink what you’re thinking.”

She raised one eyebrow at him. “Have you always talked like that?”

“No. In fact, it seems to be a side effect of talking to you.”

For one of the few times since he’d met her, Lieutenant Genji smiled for a moment before getting serious again. “Lieutenant Owen, I know a few things I can try to change. Like problems that developed around First Contact. I can fix those. But other things I don’t know or don’t know how to approach. Together, we might be able to figure out ways to try to identify and tackle those problems, too. Anything that might prevent Earth from being destroyed on the twelfth of June 2180.”

“You’re saying ‘we’ again, Lieutenant Genji,” Owen said. “What makes you think I’d be a good partner in this plan of yours?”

“Because, Lieutenant Owen, you are the only person on this ship with the guts to talk to me,” Genji said. “And that means you’re the only person on this ship who will listen to me. I’m used to dealing with people who don’t want to share oxygen with me, an alloy. You’re not like them. I think we can work together.”

“What’s so bad about being an alloy?” Owen demanded.

She looked at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. “If you don’t know the answer to that, I have no idea how to explain it to you. In the 2170s, there’ll be a lot of people who could explain it to you. Lieutenant Owen, we need a way for me to get off this ship to where we can start trying to change things.”

Once again, “we” needed to do something. “Lieutenant Genji, we’re still on patrol. If I broke you out of sick bay somehow, and you managed to steal the ship’s boat, you’d be spotted within minutes, and you’d be tracked and intercepted. We need something that will give you a reasonable chance to get free.” Had he just said “we”? “I’m trying to come up with something. I’m watching for opportunities.”

She watched him for a moment before nodding. “All right. As long as you’re working on it,” Lieutenant Genji said. “I have faith in your capabilities.” She seemed perplexed by his reaction. “Why is that funny?”

“Let’s just say I haven’t heard that very often,” Owen said.

“Why not?”

“That’s a long story.”

“At the moment,” Genji said, “I’ve got nothing but time.”

“I don’t,” Owen said. “I’ve got another watch coming up.”

“Already? How much sleep are you getting, Lieutenant Owen?”

He stared at her, amazed to see that Lieutenant Genji appeared to be genuinely concerned. “Not enough. Why do you care?”

Genji looked away. “I guess I’m starting to think of you as a shipmate. Even though I’m a prisoner and I still can’t fully believe it’s really the year 2140.”

“What will it take to convince you the Earth is still there?” Owen asked, his guilty memory prodding him about the way he’d told Genji at their first meeting that she wasn’t a prisoner. At that time, she hadn’t been, but her status had changed very quickly after that. “Will you have to stand on the surface before you believe it?”

“Probably.”

He found himself enjoying their talks more and more and kept cautioning himself not to get personally involved with Genji. He also felt more and more guilty as each day went past, unable to figure out any way to help her while the Vigilant was on patrol.