The Pegasus Pulp Sampler E-Book

Cora Buhlert

• Herausgeber: Cora Buhlert
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

The Pegasus Pulp Sampler

Leseprobe

The Pegasus Pulp Sampler

by Cora Buhlert

Bremen, Germany

Copyright © 2011 — 2020 by Cora Buhlert

All rights reserved.

Cover image © Vasyl Duda

Pegasus Pulp Publications

Mittelstraße 12

28816 Stuhr

Germany

www.pegasus-pulp.com

Introduction

In 2011, e-books were taking off and electronic self-publishing was becoming a viable alternative. Like many other writers, I took note and decided to dip my feet into the self-publishing pool, starting with three previously published stories to which I’d gotten the rights back. And this is how Pegasus Pulp Publishing was born.

So why did I decide to call my one-woman publishing company Pegasus Pulp Publishing? Well, there is a Pegasus on the Buhlert family crest. Furthermore, the Pegasus is associated with the muses in Greek mythology, so it seemed like an obvious choice.

A quick Google later, it turned out that there were already several companies, including some publishing companies, named Pegasus something or other. Therefore, I eventually named my imprint Pegasus Pulp Publishing, because I have long been a big fan of the pulp era with its huge variety of genres and stories and wanted to evoke that good old pulp spirit with my new publishing venture.

Over the past nine years, Pegasus Pulp has published more than 130 stories, novellas, novels and collections in multiple genres and two languages. Pegasus Pulp Publishing is still very much a one-woman operation, though I publish two authors now: Cora Buhlert, i.e. me and Richard Blakemore, a pulp writer of the 1930s, who is also me.

This collection is intended as a sampler to show you the broad spectrum of what Pegasus Pulp has on offer. Within, you will find several series starters to wet your appetite, so to say.

The In Love and War series is a romantic space opera. It’s the story of Mikhail Alexeievich Grikov and Anjali Patel, two elite soldiers on opposing sides of an intergalactic war, who fall in love and decide to run away together. Predictably, their respective commanders are not at all happy about this. The In Love and War series is represented in this sampler by two stories.

The prequel novella Evacuation Order is set eighteen years before the main series and features a very young Mikhail — though he still goes by Misha at this point — and Captain Brian Mayhew, the man who will become Mikhail’s mentor, commanding officer and the closest thing to a surrogate father Mikhail ever had. The short story Baptism of Fire is another prequel, which is set a few years before the main series and follows Anjali on her very first mission.

Shattered Empire is my other space opera series, which tells the story of the rebellion against an evil galactic empire (is there any other kind?). It is represented here by Mercy Mission, the first story in the series proper, in which Holly di Marco, a mercenary in the employ of the rebellion, saves the life of disgraced aristocrat Ethan Summerton and gets far more than she bargained for.

The Day the Saucers Came… is an oral history told by the survivors of a B-movie type alien invasion in the 1950s. It is represented by Acacia Crescent, which is the story of a boy named Kenny for whom an alien invasion was not the worst thing that happened on June 9th, 1956.

Iago Prime is a series of science fiction holiday stories (well, only two so far) set on the newly inhabited planet of Iago Prime. It is represented by Valentine’s Day on Iago Prime.

Alfred and Bertha’s Marvellous Twenty-First Century Life started out as a parody of the overly infodumpy science fiction you sometimes find during the so-called Golden Age, particularly in the pages of John W. Campbell’s Astounding Science Fiction. The idea was to write a perfectly mundane story — in this case about a couple arguing at the breakfast table — and explain every bit of technology with which the characters interact in great and exhaustive detail. Initially, Alfred and Bertha were intended to star only in a single short story, but eventually the series grew to four stories with a fifth forthcoming. It is represented by The Four and a Half Minute Boiled Egg.

However, I write not only science fiction and fantasy, but in other genres as well. My second love is the crime and mystery genre. Over the years, I’ve written quite a few mystery stories. One of the stories featured Detective Inspector Helen Shepherd, an officer of the Metropolitan Police, and her team. When I found myself writing another crime story a bit later and needed an investigator, I thought, “Why not reuse Helen Shepherd?” Eventually, the series grew to thirteen stories with more forthcoming. It is represented here by the very first story, The Cork and the Bottle.

The Two-Fisted Todd Donovan series was inspired by the men’s adventure magazines of the 1950s and 1960s with their lurid covers and even more lurid headlines such as “Weasels ripped my flesh”. While flipping through a book about the lurid cover art of these magazines, I found myself wondering what the stories inside those covers were like and decided to write a story inspired by one of the images in the book. And thus Todd Donovan, freelance troubleshooter who travels the world in the early 1960s to solve other people’s problems — mostly involving attractive women — was born. The series is represented by The Crawling Death.

The Silencer series is my homage to the pulp heroes of the 1930s like The Shadow or The Spider. It’s the story of Richard Blakemore, a pulp fiction writer in Depression era New York City, who dresses up as his own character, the Silencer, to fight crime. The series is represented by the very first story, Countdown to Death.

In one of the Silencer stories, it is established that Richard Blakemore is an avid reader of Weird Tales and would like to try his hand at writing sword and sorcery some time. Some time later, when I found myself writing a sword and sorcery story about a sellsword named Thurvok, I idly wondered whether this was Richard Blakemore’s lost sword and sorcery story. And so the idea was born to publish the Thurvok stories under the Richard Blakemore byline — with myself as the editor who rediscovered them.

Thurvok starts out as a loner in the Conan mold, but by the end of the first story he finds a friend in Meldom, thief, cutpurse and occasional assassin. Over the course of the next few stories, Thurvok and Meldom pick up two more companions, the sorceress Sharenna and Lysha, Meldom’s childhood sweetheart whom our heroes rescue from the gallows. So now I had a quartet of adventurers who would go on to fight monsters, seek treasures and rescue the occasional damsel — or man — in distress over the course of eleven stories and counting. The Thurvok series is represented by the first story The Valley of the Man Vultures, where Thurvok is still a wandering loner, though he does meet Meldom at the end.

The Hallowind Cove series is cozy fantasy set in a permanently fog-shrouded seaside town where very strange things keep happening. The first Hallowind Cove story was written for a shared world anthology, which fell through. So I removed all references to the shared world and published the story myself and eventually wrote several others in the same setting. The Hallowind Cove series is represented here by the first story, The Revenant of Wrecker’s Dock.

The final story The Kiss of the Executioner’s Blade is not part of a series in the traditional sense. The background is that in the early 2000s, I wrote several historical adventure stories prominently featuring damsels in distress for a magazine called Man’s Story 2. I’ve long since gotten the rights to those stories back and republished them myself. The Kiss of the Executioner’s Blade is the first of those stories.

I hope you’ll enjoy this taste of what Pegasus Pulp had to offer. For more about our books, visit the website or subscribe to the newsletter.

In Love and War: Evacuation Order

For eighty-eight years, the galaxy has been torn apart by the endless war between the Republic of United Planets and the Empire of Worlds.

Anjali Patel and Mikhail Grikov are soldiers on opposing sides of that war. They meet, fall in love and decide to go on the run together.

Pursued by both the Empire and the Republic, they struggle to stay alive and free and prove that their love is stronger than the war…

I. Rescue Mission

In his office, Captain Brian Mayhew stared at the screen, at the logo of the Republic of United Planets. The urgent message from the Admiralty that had preceded the logo had concluded a minute ago, but Mayhew still could not look away.

Brian Mayhew was thirty-three years old, recently promoted to captain of the Republican light cruiser Fearless Explorer. He’d joined the military at eighteen and had faithfully served the Republic for fifteen years. He’d followed every order, never doubted the importance of his missions, never questioned his superiors. Until today. Until this message from the Admiralty.

Mayhew switched off the screen and got up. He walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey, the good stuff, imported from MacLane. He didn’t pour a whole lot, just enough to cover the bottom of the glass about a finger high. Enough to grant him courage and resolve, but not enough to get him drunk. After all, he still had a job to do.

For whatever else had happened, he was still an officer of the Republic. He’d still sworn an oath to serve and protect its people. He still had a duty to save lives. He still had a mission, even if it wasn’t quite the mission his superiors had just given him.

Mayhew downed the whiskey in a single draft. He already knew what he was going to do, had known ever since he’d received the message. But he couldn’t do it alone. For though he might be in command now, he still wanted — no, needed — the approval of his people.

He returned to his desk and pressed the ship-com button. “This is the captain speaking. Set course for Jagellowsk. All senior officers, report to my office at once.”

Barely five minutes later, they were all assembled in the small conference room adjoining the captain’s office.

It was, Brian Mayhew reflected, the first time he’d ever used this conference room. When his predecessor, Captain Anatol Nikiyan, had given him a tour of the Fearless Explorer, Mayhew had frowned at the conference room, since it seemed such an extravagant waste of space.

“What’s it for?” he’d asked Captain Nikiyan, “Why can’t I talk to my officers on the bridge or in the mess or in my office? What do I need a conference room for?”

Captain Nikiyan had shot him a thoughtful look. “You’ll see. Sooner or later, you’ll see. Though for your sake, I hope it’s later rather than sooner.”

How right the old man had been.

Once everybody had arrived, Mayhew took his seat at the head of the table and looked around.

To his left, his long legs stretched out under the table, set Commander Gregory Owusu, chief of engineering. Wiry, dark-skinned, handsome, with close-cropped hair. Detail-oriented to the point of pedantry in the engine room and easy going outside it.

Next to Greg sat Doctor Anna Kim, chief medical officer. Short, plump, pleasant, with a dark bob and a no-nonsense manner with patients.

Opposite Anna lounged Commander Erol Yilmaz, chief of security. Muscular, handsome, with lightly tanned skin, black hair and a pencil thin moustache. Absolutely professional on the job and a hopeless flirt and ladies man off duty.

At his right, finally, stood Commander Natalya Shepkova. Tall, red hair, pale skin, striking features a little too sharp to be beautiful. This would be particularly hard on Natalya, Mayhew realised. After all, she hailed from Jagellowsk.

They all looked at him expectantly, so Mayhew took a deep breath and began.

“I just received an urgent message from the Admiralty, ordering us to head for Jagellowsk at once.”

Greg nodded thoughtfully. “So that’s why we changed course.”

“I will now replay that message for you. However, nothing contained in said message must ever leave this room. Is that clear?”

They all nodded as one.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My lips are sealed, sir.”

Mayhew continue, “I have to warn you, you’ll probably find the contents of this message distressing. I did.”

He turned to Natalya who was still standing by his side.

“You’ll probably want to sit down, Natalya.”

“It’s okay, Captain. I can stand.”

“Sit down, Commander,” Mayhew said, not unkindly, “That’s an order.”

Natalya sat down, clearly irritated. Good. Cause if Natalya was angry at him, those emotions might be strong enough to drown out the grief and horror she was bound to feel.

“All right, so here is the message.”

Mayhew pressed a button and the recording started.

The logo of the Republic of United Planets appeared, followed by the logo of the Admiralty and finally by a “Top Secret” warning that threatened dire consequences in case of a breach.

He was theoretically in breach, Mayhew reflected. He also found that he didn’t give a damn.

After the parade of logos, the face of Admiral Cossy appeared, all harsh angles down to the bar-shaped moustache.

“Captain Mayhew…”

The Admiral nodded at the camera.

“…I don’t know how familiar you are with the Overkill project…”

The answer was, “Not a whole lot beyond whispers and rumours”.

Greg Owusu, on the other hand, clearly was familiar with the project. “So Overkill is real,” he mumbled to himself.

The Admiral continued, grim-faced as ever. “…but the short version is, yes, Overkill exists and yes, initial tests have been successful…”

Anna Kim raised her hand. “Excuse me, Captain, but what precisely is Overkill?”

“It’s a seismic planet killer weapon,” Greg replied, “So far believed to be strictly theoretical. But I guess it’s not quite so theoretical anymore.”

“But wouldn’t developing a planet killer weapon violate the Accords of Logabirum?” Anna asked.

“Yeah, but since when has that ever stopped anybody?” Greg countered.

Mayhew shushed them both.

On the screen, Admiral Cossy continued, “Unfortunately, our tests of the Overkill weapon proved to be a bit more successful than we anticipated…”

The Admiral shifted his gaze, looking at something off screen, almost as if he were too ashamed and couldn’t meet their gaze. And he damn well should be.

“For it turns out that after the Overkill prototype was fired up for initial testing at the Kosiolkovsky Laboratory on Jagellowsk…”

“Wait a minute, they’re testing that thing on Jagellowsk?” Greg exploded, “An inhabited world of several billion people?”

“Two,” Natalya said, her face even paler than usual, “Two billion.”

“They’re testing a fucking planet killer weapon on a world of two billion people,” Greg repeated, “What are they, fucking insane?” His already dark skin turned even darker, as blood rushed to his cheeks. “I beg your pardon, Captain, but…”

“It’s all right, Chief,” Mayhew said, “I share your feelings about this, though with somewhat fewer expletives.”

“Ahem, could we leave the ethics debate for later?” Erol interrupted, “Cause I’d really like to hear what Old Coss has to say.”

Mayhew was pretty sure that he didn’t, that none of them really wanted to here what the Admiral had to say. But they had to, and so Mayhew shushed them all with a glare, while on the screen, Admiral Cossy got to the point.

“…it could no longer be deactivated. So far, all attempts to shut down the Overkill prototype have failed…”

“What do they mean, they can’t shut it down?” Greg demanded, “Don’t tell me the bloody thing is functional and active on an inhabited world.”

“Currently, the prototype is executing its original programming and seismically destabilising the target planet…”

“What?” Greg exploded, while Natalya grew even paler than before.

“…which in this case unfortunately happens to be the Republican core world of Jagellowsk…”

“They’ve turned that damned thing lose on one of our own worlds and now they can’t switch it off?” Greg exclaimed in pure fury.

“That’s certainly a whole new level of bureaucratic incompetence,” Erol remarked.

Mayhew cast a worried glance at Natalya who had turned positively grey and looked as if she was on the verge of passing out. Luckily, Anna had noticed as well and rushed to her side.

“Nat, are you all right?”

Anna reached for Natalya’s hand, a simple gesture of support that also happened to allow her to check the pulse. Mayhew nodded at Anna, a silent acknowledgement of her efforts.

On the screen, Admiral Cossy continued, his face grim. “The scientists at the Kosiolkovsky Lab are still trying to shut down the prototype, of course, but unless we get extraordinarily lucky, Overkill will reach criticality in approximately twelve hours…”

“What does that mean, �reach criticality’?” Natalya wanted to know. Her voice was faint, but her eyes were clear and alert.

“Nat, you should lie down,” Anna whispered to her. She turned to Mayhew, “Captain, Commander Shepkova is unwell. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t hear this.”

Natalya shook her off. “I’m fine, Anna.”

She looked around the table, her eyes — green like the sea on Turvalok — glancing from one face to the other. “What does �reach criticality’ mean?” she demanded, “What will happen?”

It was Greg who answered. “The planet will suffer increasingly severe quakes, until it finally breaks apart,” he said, dark eyes flashing with anger, “That’s what Overkill is, a seismic planet killer weapon. And those fucking geniuses at Kosiolkovsky Lab turned it lose on one of our own worlds.”

Part of Mayhew expected that Natalya would collapse, but she was still an officer of the Republic and made of stronger stuff than that. And so she just nodded, perfectly calm. “I see.” Her eyes met Mayhew’s. “So what do we do now, Captain?”

Admiral Cossy answered in his stead. “I herewith order the Fearless Explorer to proceed to Jagellowsk at once to assist with the evacuation efforts. Once there, you will land at Kosiolkovsky Lab and evacuate the staff, before aiding the civilian evacuation efforts…”

The Admiral’s face turned ever sterner, a sharp crease forming between his harsh eyebrows.

“Now we know that Overkill works, it is absolutely imperative that we preserve that knowledge at all costs. This could be the weapon that decides the war…”

Admiral Cossy turned his glare directly at the camera.

“And Captain, you will not breathe even a single word of this conversation to any member of your crew, is that understood? As far as anybody else is concerned, the sudden seismic destabilisation of Jagellowsk is due to unknown causes.”

The Admiral paused, as if there was something he had forgotten.

“Good bye, Captain. And good luck. The fate of the Republic rests in your hands.”

The Admiral’s face vanished, replaced by the Republican logo.

For a few seconds, everybody around the table stared at the screen in numb, silent horror. And once again, it was Greg who spoke first.

“We’re not really going to evacuate those bastards at Kosiolkovsky Lab, are we, Captain? Cause whatever Old Coss says, as far as I’m concerned they’re war criminals.”

“If we take aboard anybody who was involved with this project, I will personally evacuate them right out of the nearest airlock, Captain,” Natalya said. Her face had taken on its usual colour again with an extra flush of anger added. “Those bastards are destroying my homeworld, my people. And if we’re really going to rescue them, you’d best lock me in the brig or I swear, they’ll never reach their destination alive.”

“You can lock me in the brig right along with Nat,” Greg added, “Cause if you don’t, I swear I’ll wring the necks of every single one of those bastards myself.”

“If you want to confine Commander Shepkova and Commander Owusu to the brig, then I will see to it,” Erol piped in, “However, I can’t promise you that my people will adequately guard them, Captain.”

It looked as if Mayhew had a full blown mutiny on his hands. And he didn’t even mind.

“Calm down, everybody,” he said, his voice rising above the various heated tempers in the conference room, “I have no more intention of rescuing the scientists responsible for this clusterfuck than any of you.”

“So we do what, ignore the order?” Erol asked.

“Not to mention that we already set course for Jagellowsk,” Greg added.

“Of course, we set course for Jagellowsk,” Mayhew said, “After all, there are people there who need our help.”

“And the scientists…?” Anna asked.

“The scientists might need our help, but they’re very low on my list of people to save, behind pretty much every other person on Jagellowsk.”

“So you propose that we leave the scientists to their fate and instead assist with the civilian evacuation efforts?” Natalya asked.

Mayhew nodded.

“So how do we explain this to the Admiralty?” Natalya continued, “After all, you… all of us would be refusing a direct order from the Admiralty. That’s the sort of thing that could get us all court-martialled.”

Mayhew turned to his second-in-command, looked her directly in the eye. “Do you care?”

“No, Captain. I just thought you did. After all, you have a family to support…”

“And that’s precisely why I will not rescue the people who managed to condemn an entire world to death. Because how could I ever look my wife and daughter in the eye again, if I did.”

Mayhew rose to his feet and looked from officer to officer, from person to person.

“However, this is not a decision I can make on my own. After all, this is the sort of insubordination that could cost us all our careers. Therefore, it’s only fair that we all decide. So who’s in favour of following Admiral Cossy’s order and rescuing the scientists?”

Not a single hand went up.

“And who’s in favour of assisting with the civilian evacuation efforts and saving as many people as we can?”

All hands went up, Natalya’s, Greg’s, Erol’s and — after a split second of hesitation — even Anna’s.

Mayhew held up his own hand. “All right, so the decision is unanimous. We ignore the Admiralty’s order and aid the civilian evacuation instead.”

“And how are we going to explain this?” Natalya wanted to know.

It was, Mayhew reflected, a good question.

Of course, every captain in the Republican fleet had a certain amount of discretion, if they felt that an order would put their ship at an undue risk. And landing on a planet on the verge of breaking apart certainly counted as an undue risk.

He turned to Greg. “The Overkill device works via creating seismic disturbances of increasing strength, right?”

Greg nodded grimly. “Until the planet breaks apart.”

“And I assume the seismic disturbances will be stronger the closer you get to the Overkill device?”

“Well, I’m not sure…” Greg hedged. “Until five minutes ago, I assumed that Overkill was purely theoretical. But yes, it would make sense for it to work that way.”

“All right, then we have our excuse,” Mayhew said, “We couldn’t land near the… — what was the name of that lab again?”

“Kosiolkovsky Laboratory,” Natalya supplied, “Once considered one of our finest scientific institutes.”

“We couldn’t land near Kosiolkovsky Lab…” Mayhew even managed to pull off the pronunciation halfway correctly. “…without putting the ship at risk, because the seismic disturbances were too great. So with great regrets…” He formed air quotes with his hands, even though the sarcasm dripping from the words should have made his point on its own. “…we had to abandon the scientists to their fate and decided to assist with the civilian evacuation efforts instead.”

“And you honestly think they’ll buy that excuse?” Anna wanted to know, “After all, we’re not the only ship headed to Jagellowsk. What if one of the others contradicts us?”

“As captain of the Fearless Explorer, my foremost duty is to ensure the safety of my ship and my crew at my sole discretion. If any other captain in the fleet wants to land at the lab and rescue the scientists, then they’re welcome to. Though I doubt that any self-respecting captain would risk their ship for the killers of our own people.”

He looked around the table again.

“So we’re all in agreement?”

Everybody nodded.

“Then let’s get to work.” Mayhew turned to his first officer. “Natalya, I’ll need your knowledge and your experience regarding Jagellowsk, so we can select the landing site with the greatest chance of quickly evacuating as many civilians as possible.”

Natalya nodded with nigh mechanical calm.

He turned to the chief engineer. “Greg, I need you to calculate how many people we can safely carry. I don’t care about comfort, we’ll cram every square centimetre of the ship full of people, if possible. And if there’s any equipment we can ditch to fit in more evacuees, then do it.”

Greg saluted. “On it, Captain.”

He turned to his chief medical officer.

“Anna, we’ll be dealing with a whole lot of traumatised and possibly injured people, so I want all medical personnel on duty and the infirmary ready to receive injured civilians.”

Anna nodded. “Of course, Captain. Though we might also have to set up mobile treatment teams for the less urgent cases, since I doubt the infirmary can hold all casualties.”

“Excellent thinking, Anna. Get on it.”

Mayhew turned to his security chief. “Erol, I need your people to maintain order during the evacuation, especially since there is a chance we might be overrun by desperate civilians. However, I don’t want any trigger happy jarheads on guard duty. Make sure your people know they’re dealing with terrified and traumatised civilians.”

Erol saluted. “Will do, sir.”

Mayhew looked around the table once more, his throat tightening with pride. He had a good crew, maybe the best to be found in the Republic. And today, they would do what they had been trained to do, namely save lives.

“So now we’ve clarified everything, return to your stations and prepare to take on evacuees.”

His gaze settled on Natalya and his expression softened. “Commander Shepkova, with me, please.”

II. Jagellowsk

Half an hour later, Mayhew was sitting behind his desk again with Natalya in the second chair and a three-dimensional hologram of Jagellowsk hovering in the space between them.

It was a beautiful world, Mayhew noted, a world of deep blue oceans, fertile green land and snow-capped mountains. When the original colonists to come here from Old Earth had first seen it on the viewscreens of their generation ship, they would have considered themselves very fortunate indeed to have arrived on world so perfectly suited to human life.

And now all that was about to end. A world of two billion people about to be snuffed out, just because someone had made a fatal mistake.

Mayhew threw a sideways glance at Natalya. She was holding up well, better than he would under the circumstances. But he could see the strain on her face, the horror and the unshed tears in her eyes.

“Do you still have family on Jagellowsk?” he asked.

Her parents were dead, killed in a shuttle crash five years ago, that much he knew. But there might still be others.

“Of course,” Natalya replied, “Aunts, uncles, cousins, old friends from school…”

“If there’s anybody you want to…”

“No, sir,” Natalya brushed him off, “Not that I don’t want to, of course. But we have a duty here and there are clear protocols for cases like this.”

Mayhew knew the protocols, as well as Natalya did. Children under twelve were evacuated first, then youth between twelve and eighteen, young adults up to thirty, first women, then men. Then adults thirty to fifty and finally the seniors. It was an accepted system, proven and fair.

However, in an emergency of this scope with a whole planet about to be destroyed, it was woefully insufficient. They wouldn’t even be able to rescue all the kids under twelve, let alone anybody else.

Though Natalya was right. The rules and protocols were there for a reason. They might be woefully inadequate, but they were the only guidance they had.

“All right, so what can you tell me about Jagellowsk?” Mayhew asked Natalya, “What are the major centres of population?”

“The capital is Tarkovsky. Other major cities are Kaidanovsky, Bondarchuk, Demirdova and Strugatsky.”

“Any suggestions where to land?” Mayhew asked.

Natalya considered for a moment. “The Kosiolkovsky Laboratory is located on the outskirts of the capital, so Tarkovsky will be too badly affected by the seismic disturbances.”

She lowered her head, as the reality of it all sank in. “That’s one million people condemned to death.”

Mayhew reached out and wordlessly squeezed her hand. “Natalya, if you’d rather…”

She shook her head, as if to clear it. “No, I can do this.”

Natalya focussed on the map again. “Kaidanovsky and Bondarchuk are both only about an hour from Tarkovsky, so they’re probably too badly affected as well. Demirdova is further away, but I’d say that our best bet is Strugatsky, since it’s not even on the same continent.”

“Population?” Mayhew asked.

“Three hundred thousand.”

They couldn’t evacuate that many, not even close. The Fearless Explorer had a crew of two hundred and forty-six. Officially, the maximum capacity was five hundred fifty, though they could probably push that up to seven hundred, maybe eight hundred, if they maxed out the safety limits. Not enough. Never enough.

But they’d do what they could, save as many as possible. Because that was what they’d signed up for, what they’d trained for, the oath they’d all sworn when they joined the service. To defend and protect the people of the Republic from all harm. Even if the harm came from their own scientists.

“Strugansky it is then,” Mayhew said.

“Strugatsky, sir,” Natalya corrected him. A brief, humourless smile flitted across her face.

Ekaterina Alexeievna Grikova, Katya to her friends and loved ones, sat on a plot of parched grass next to the airfield of Solonitsyn shuttleport, her brother Mikhail by her side, and hundreds, if not thousands of kids lounging all around. It might have been a Founding Day picnic or a regional athletics festival, if not for the occasional shakes of the ground.

The shakes had started two day before — by night, as all bad things did. Laika, their dog, had started barking in the middle of the night. Katya woke up and was just sneaking down the stairs to get herself a glass of milk, when it happened. There was a loud boom — and why did no one ever tell you that earthquakes were bloody loud? — and suddenly Katya found herself on her butt on the stairs.

Back then, she didn’t know what it was, for how could she possibly know? After all, quakes were for other people, other planets. Jagellowsk was geologically stable, so they’d said in school. And the East Continent, where Katya and her family lived, was even more stable than the West Continent.

And so Katya just picked herself up, managed to get herself a glass of milk without waking her parents, and crept up the stairs again, only to find her little brother Mikhail waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“Katya, there was a noise, a scary noise.”

“I know, Misha. I heard it, too. And now go back to bed.”

But Misha did not go back to bed. “I’m scared,” he said, his voice small, “Can I come and sleep in your bed tonight?”

Katya considered for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, come along then.”

Because Misha was right. That noise had been scary and landing on her butt, when she’d been standing upright only a second before had been scary, too.

But with her little brother huddled against her, everything suddenly seemed a lot less scary.

The next morning at breakfast, they said on the news that loud boom the night before had been an earthquake — they still used the word “earthquake”, even though Katya’s ancestors had left Earth centuries before. Earthquakes were rare on the East Continent, they said. The sort of thing that only happened once every fifty years ago.

But then it happened again. And not fifty years later either, but only a few hours later. Another boom and another quake. This time, the lamps at school even shook visibly and a shelf fell over in Katya’s classroom.

After the incident with the shelf — which almost hit Yuri in the head, when it fell over — they were sent home early. It was a lovely summer day and Katya and Misha had planned to use their unexpected free time to go fishing in the stream behind their farm and maybe play in the woods with Laika.

But once they got home, Mama and Papa wouldn’t let them go out again. For the quake had also hit at home. It had knocked over some glasses and a very ugly vase that Babushka had gotten as a wedding present fifty years or so before. Papa was fretting over a crack in the kitchen wall — a long, ugly crack that went all across the wall from floor to ceiling. Outside, the cows were mooing and Laika was barking like mad.

“Animals can sense danger before it comes,” Babushka said, while chopping up gherkins to make solyanka, “Always pay attention to the animals, Katyusha. They know things that we don’t.”

Katya nodded and sat down to help Babushka. Misha, who was still too little to be trusted with a kitchen knife, was put to work washing mushrooms instead.

There were more shakes, more quakes. The long crack in the kitchen wall was joined by a smaller crack in the ceiling of the living room and the pretty statuette of a ballerina that Katya had always so admired fell from a shelf and shattered into a thousand pieces.

And it wasn’t just happening here, in the Yakovstan province on the East Continent — no, it was happening all over the planet. Something was very, very wrong.

On the news, serious looking scientists talked about “seismic instabilities” and spouted a lot of gobbledygook that made no sense to Katya, even though she was already thirteen and had always had good grades in her science and geography lessons.

It didn’t make any sense to Mama and Papa either. “That’s just bullshit,” Papa roared, while Katya blanched at the swearword she’d never heard him use before, “They’re lying to us, plain and simple.”

“Don’t be using such language around the children, Alexei,” Babushka admonished him.

“But it’s true, isn’t it? It’s plain as day that what they’re saying on the news is b… baloney,” Papa said.

“What’s baloney?” Misha wanted to know.

“Something that’s wrong, just plain nonsense,” Papa said.

“A kind of sausage from DiMonti”, Mama said simultaneously.

“So why is the sausage nonsense?” Misha asked, utterly confused.

“Because it’s not a very good sausage”, Mama said and planted a kiss on Misha’s forehead. In response, Misha made a face. Like all little boys of eight, he thought kissing was icky and embarrassing.

“And now off to bed, both of you,” Mama said, “Don’t forget you’ve got school tomorrow.”

So Katya and Misha went to bed, both of them huddling close together in Katya’s bed, because shakes and the scary booms and the cows mooing and Laika howling went on all through the night.

What was more, there was no school the next day. For when Katya and Misha came down for breakfast that morning, holding on to the bannister for dear life, when another quake shook the house, while they went down the stairs, they were met by Mama and Papa, both of them grim-faced and serious.

Katya and Misha should go to the bus stop as normal, Papa said. But the bus wouldn’t take them to school. Instead, it would take them somewhere else. Cause all the children in the entire province would be evacuated, sent away, to somewhere where it was safe.

“But I’m not a child,” Katya said, “Misha should go, of course, because he’s little. But I can stay here with you. After all, I’m already thirteen.”

“You both go and that’s the final word,” Mama said.

“What about Laika?” Misha wanted to know, “Can she come as well?”

“On the news, they said, �Only children’, so I guess Laika will have to stay here,” Papa said, “And besides, I need her to help me calm down the cows.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll take very good care of her,” Mama added, “And besides, it’s only for a little while, until the danger has passed.”

Papa nodded. “Just until the danger has passed,” he echoed.

At this moment, Babushka emerged from the kitchen, clutching a thermo-lunchbox. “I made you pelmeni,” she announced, “Pelmeni with minced meat and mushrooms, just as you like them, so you won’t have to go hungry. I also put two cans of strawberry kvass into the box.”

She handed the lunchbox to Katya. “Here, Katyusha. You’re already a big girl, so you take care of the food and make sure that Misha eats. And now you’ll have to go or you’ll miss the bus.”

What followed were hugs and kisses all around, even if Misha made a face every time someone kissed him. The hugs were a lot more intense than usual, which made Katya wonder whether their impending exile was really “only for a little while”. Because it sure as hell did not feel that way. At any rate, her parents had never hugged her like that, when she was leaving “only for a little while”.

“Take good care of Misha,” Mama said as she hugged Katya, holding her tight, very tight. Her voice choked, almost as if she were crying. “He’s just a little boy and he’ll need his big sister to protect him.”

“I promise, Mama,” Katya said, her voice choking, too, and this time it was definitely because she was crying, “I promise that I’ll always take good care of Misha.”

Then Katya took Misha by the hand and began to walk down the driveway to the bus stop by the road. Mama, Papa and Babushka waved after them, waved until were so far from the house that they could no longer see them. Though they could still hear Laika barking and the cows mooing and the birds chirping, the sounds accompanying them all the way down to the road.

And through it all, Katya couldn’t shake the feeling that this was good-bye, that she’d never ever see her home and her family again.

She should have taken along pictures of home, pictures of Mama and Papa and Babushka and Laika and the house and the cows and fields. But they’d barely had any time to pack, so all she had was a picture of herself and Misha and Laika, taken last summer, in the little golden locket she wore on a chain round her neck.

And since Katya didn’t have any pictures to remind her of home, she tried to take in every little detail, tried to absorb everything, so she would remember, so she would always remember. The way the wheat and the barley — almost ripe now, only one or two weeks more — swayed in the wind. Laika’s bark and the mooing of the cows, the chirping of the birds and the buzzing of the insects, the sky above, so bright and blue, dotted with puffy white clouds. The dirt road under her feet and the glossy black beetle that scurried across the path. The wind on her face and the feeling of Misha’s hand in hers, holding on tight.

I’ll keep you safe, little brother. I promise.

The bus was already waiting, when they reached the bottom of the driveway, Pavel, the perpetually grumpy driver was even grumpier than usual.

“Get in,” he grunted, “I’ve got lots more kids to pick up and I can’t wait for you two.”

The bus was already full, a lot fuller than usual. Katya spotted a free seat next to Tamara, a girl she knew from school, and sat down. They both moved , so they could fit Misha between them, the three of them squeezing into a seat intended for two.

The bus quickly diverted from its usual route to school, stopping intermittently to pick up more kids. Every single seat was filled now, usually with three or four kids squeezing onto seats where two would normally sit. And still more kids piled into the bus, standing in the aisles.

In the aisle next to Katya, there was a girl her age with a baby on her arm. She had problems holding on, whenever the bus swayed, as it rounded a corner, so Katya offered to take the baby. She settled it on her lap, a plump little boy who sucked on his thumb. Misha was fascinated by the baby and kept making funny faces, while the baby squealed in delight.

Then at last, the bus came to a halt. “Everybody out,” Pavel called, so the kids all piled out onto a large paved parking lot. There were more busses and more kids all around, so many kids that Katya held on tight to Misha’s hand, lest she lose him in the chaos.

There were adults, too, men and women in peacekeeper uniforms. They pointed into the distance and told the kids to sit down on the grass and wait, until the ships would come to take them away.

Katya trotted into the direction indicated, still holding Misha by the hand. She looked around and suddenly she recognised where she was. This was Solonitsyn shuttleport. She’d been here once or twice with Papa, as he delivered grain and beets to the big transport shuttles to be taken away to Strugatsky or even further.

So if the bus had taken them to the shuttleport, it meant that, wherever they were going, it was far away, much further from home than Katya had ever been.

But for the moment, they weren’t going anywhere, for the shuttleport was entirely empty. There was no sign of the large agricultural transport shuttles that carried meat and grain and dairy and other produce away to feed the planet and the rest of the Republic. The passengers shuttle that took people from Solonitsyn to Strugatsky and from there to the rest of the galaxy was gone as well.

“Where are the shuttles?” Katya asked a peacekeeper.

“They’ll be coming shortly,” the woman answered gruffly, “Just sit down somewhere and wait.”

So Katya found an empty spot on the grass surrounding the airfield. She spread out her jacket on the still damp grass, motioned for Misha to sit down and then settled down beside him. And so they waited. And waited. And waited.

For contrary to what the peacekeepers said, both when asked and via the shuttleport’s public address system, there were no shuttles coming. More busses arrived, bringing more children from all over the province, but there were still no shuttles.

Katya was close enough to the perimeter that she could overhear the peacekeepers talking into their comms.

“No, I’m not going to be patient. I’m fucking through with being patient. You promised you’d send us ships. We’ve got five thousand kids here and no evacuation craft.”

It was the obvious nervousness of the peacekeepers and the other adults that bothered Katya more than anything. Because if the adults were nervous, that was usually a sign that whatever was going on was really, really bad.

Throughout the day, the shakes and the quakes got worse, though here in the open there was little danger of anything hitting anybody. But the peacekeepers rolled and swayed like wobbly toys and occasionally someone fell over.

By midday, when the sun was high in the sky and there was still no sign of any shuttles, Katya finally opened the lunchbox that Babushka had given her. She took out the two cans of strawberry kvass, gave one to Misha and kept the other for herself. Her stomach grumbled and she longingly regarded the six pelmeni nestled together in the box.

In the end, Katya gave two of the pelmeni to Misha, because he was still small and needed more food to grow. She kept one for herself and gave the remaining two dumplings to two little girls — sisters, aged six and nine — who were sitting next to them and had no food at all. And since the two girls didn’t have anything to drink either, Katya also let them take a swig of her strawberry kvass.

The younger of the two girls was still hungry and cast a longing look at Misha’s pelmeni, so he broke one in half and gave it to her. “She’s very little…” he explained, “…so she needs more food.”

Katya ruffled his hair in response. And because Misha had managed to get minced meat and mushroom mixture on his hands and on his face as well, Katya pulled a packet of wet tissues from a pocket of her coat and proceeded to clean her little brother’s hands and face. The two little girls sitting next to them also looked in dire need of a wet tissue, especially the younger one, so Katya gave each of them a tissue as well.

And still they waited, waited for the ships to come that would take them all away from the only home they’d ever known.

III. Touchdown

The hyperspace alarm roused Brian Mayhew from an uneasy slumber on the small couch in his office. He supposed he could have gone to his quarters to crash instead, but he didn’t want to give the impression that he was sleeping during a mission, especially not one as harrowing as this. Besides, the way to the bridge was shorter.

And so Mayhew arrived on the bridge, still buttoning up the coat of his uniform, just as the Fearless Explorer emerged from hyperspace.

“We’ve arrived at Jagellowsk, sir,” the pilot, Lieutenant Haruto Masuhiro, announced quite unnecessarily. As always, his black hair flopped into his face in defiance of fleet regulations.

Mayhew settled in the captain’s seat, just as Natalya Shepkova vacated it.

“Put the planet on the viewscreen, will you?” he ordered.

What struck Mayhew most was how ordinary it all looked. The oceans were blue, the land green. The stalk of a space elevator rose from one of the two continents, a flotilla of satellites was orbiting the planet and nothing, absolutely nothing suggested that this world of two billion people would cease to exist within the next few hours.

Only the amount of travel out of the system was uncommon. Every functional ship on the planet was blasting off, probably crammed to the rafters with refugees. And it still wouldn’t be enough.

Mayhew cast a sideways glance at Natalya, who was standing beside him as always, when they were both on the bridge at the same time. Her face was pale, she was trembling and a single tear she probably wasn’t even aware of was running down her cheek.

“If you’d rather retire to your quarters…” Mayhew said to her, keeping his voice so low that the rest of the bridge crew wouldn’t overhear.

Natalya shook her head. “No, I can manage. I have to manage.”

Mayhew turned to the sensor console

“Ensign Hoogeveen, give me the seismic readings for planetary coordinates 40�09’14” North, 76�43’29” West,” Mayhew ordered.

“Seismic shocks from 5.9 up to 8.5 at intervals of under an hour,” Ensign Willem Hoogeveen reported, cheeks glowing rosy and blonde hair neatly slicked back.

Mayhew exchanged a glance with Natalya. In the end, they didn’t even have to lie. If the scientists at the Kosiolkovsky Lab were still alive, they wouldn’t be for very much longer.

“I declare the location too dangerous to land,” Mayhew said. He turned to the comm officer, a dark-skinned woman with cornrows. “Lieutenant Elewa, please inform the Admiralty that landing at the designated coordinates is impossible. We will instead assist with the civilian evacuation efforts.”

Mayhew turned back to Hoogeveen. “Ensign, please give me the seismic readings for…”

He broke off, when he realised that he did not have the coordinates of the city Natalya had suggested, a city whose name he had already forgotten.

“Coordinates 51�24’17” North, 30�03’25” East,” Natalya supplied.

“Seismic shocks between 3.8 and 5.1 at intervals of about thirty minutes to an hour,” Hoogeveen reported.

Mayhew and Natalya exchanged another glance and a nod.

“All right.” Mayhew turned to the navigator, a striking young woman with light brown skin and black hair pulled back into a tight braid. “Lieutenant Farahani, set course for Struga…” Damn, he’d forgotten the name again.

Once more, Natalya came to his rescue. “Strugatsky, planetary coordinates 51�24’17” North, 30�03’25” East.”

“Lieutenant Elewa, please contact the local authorities in Strugatsky…” At last, he’d gotten the name right this time. “…inform them that we’re here to assist with evacuation procedures and request landing coordinates.”

Lieutenant Safiri Elewa made the call and Mayhew settled back in his chair, as the Fearless Explorer began her descent towards the doomed planet below.

“Sir…” Lieutenant Elewa turned to him, eyes wide in her dark face. “…I’m in contact with the emergency department of Strugatsky. They say that all their landing pads are full at the moment and ask us to divert to someplace called Solonitsyn instead, where they have a large number of refugees but no evacuation craft.”

Mayhew turned to Natalya. “What do you think?”

“Solonitsyn is a smaller city, maybe fifty thousand people, directly in the middle of the rich agrarian lands of the East Continent,” Natalya said, her voice as emotionless as if she were rattling off an entry in the Encyclopaedia Galactica. Maybe, Mayhew reflected, this was her way of coping with the horror of it all.

Three hundred thousand or fifty thousand people, it made no difference. They could never evacuate that many.

“Solontyn…”

“Solonitsyn,” Natalya corrected.

“…it is then,” Mayhew said, “Lieutenant Elewa, please contact the respective authorities and request landing coordinates for Solonitsyn. Lieutenant Farahani, alter the course accordingly. Lieutenant Masuhiro, get us there as quickly as possible.”

The Solonitsyn authorities directed them to an agrarian shuttleport outside the city limits, since it turned out that the city did not even have a spaceport.

The shuttleport had clearly never been intended to handle spacecraft, let alone a craft of the size of the Fearless Explorer, and so Masuhiro, Farahani and Hoogeveen had exercise all their combined skills to safely bring down the vessel.

But in the end, the Fearless Explorer did touch down. The landing was a little bumpy, but that might just have been due to the steadily increasing quakes that were shaking the planet, until it would finally break apart.

“Ensign Hoogeveen, keep an eye on the seismic readings.” Mayhew turned to his pilot ad navigator. “Lieutenant Masuhiro, Lieutenant Farahani, stand by for immediate take-off, if necessary.”

Haruto Masuhiro and Shirin Farahani saluted as one. “Yes, sir.”

“Masuhiro, you have the bridge.”

Mayhew activated the ship-com. “Crew, this is the captain speaking. Stand by to commence evacuation procedures. You all know the drill, so let’s do this. Let’s save some lives.”

But not enough. Never enough.

By mid afternoon, Katya yawned, while Misha had fallen asleep beside her, his head resting in her lap. She idly wondered for how long they would be kept here, without food or anything to drink except water from a tank truck on the airfield, let alone a decent place to poop or pee. So far, the kids were using a cluster of bushes for that purpose, but it was woefully inadequate. Besides, the flies were gathering already and soon it would stink abominably.

Maybe, they should all just go home. Except that they couldn’t, for Solonitsyn was twenty-seven kilometres from Katya’s home village, much too far to walk, even if the peacekeepers would let them.

She perked up, as the peacekeepers surrounding the airfield at Solonitsyn shuttleport began chattering excitedly into their comms.

“We’ve got incoming? Is this confirmed?”

Barely a minute later, the public address system activated with a shrill feedback whine.

“Attention, everybody…” a voice, booming and male, announced, “…I have just been informed that a ship will be landing shortly to evacuate you. It’s a space-going vessel, a light cruiser, so for your safety, you’ll have to move back, away from the airfield.”

Katya got up and pulled a sleepy Misha to his feet.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“They said there’s a spaceship coming…” Katya explained, “…and we all have to move back.”

“A spaceship?” Misha repeated, suddenly wide awake, “Cool.” At eight, he was exactly at the age where he found spaceships incredibly fascinating.

Katya was worried, though. Because a spaceship meant that they were all going into space, away from Jagellowsk. And if they were going off-planet, that meant that nowhere on Jagellowsk was safe anymore. Not here, not on the West Continent, nowhere.

“Please move back slowly,” the voice from the loudspeaker continued, “There’s no need to rush and we don’t want to trample anybody down.”

Though the peacekeepers guarding the perimeter didn’t seem to have heard the voice, for they made “davai, davai“ noises, as the many kids camped out at the shuttleport moved further away from the airfield, spreading from the grass into the surrounding fields.

Katya hesitated. She was a farmer’s daughter, after all, a child of the country. And so she knew that just trampling down a wheat field, particularly one that was almost ready for harvesting, was wrong.

“But what about the wheat?” she asked one of the peacekeepers, “Won’t we damage it?”

The peacekeeper sighed. “We’ve got permission from the owner. And now move, girl.” Under his breath, he muttered, “And besides, what does it matter at this point?”

Katya was about to tell him that wheat fields and farms mattered very much, because without farmers, no one would have anything to eat. But Papa wouldn’t like it, if Katya argued with a peacekeeper, even if he was blatantly wrong. So she took Misha by the hand and stepped into the field, along with the other children, trying and failing not to trample down the wheat. Cause it still felt wrong. After all, the wheat was almost ripe.

They heard the spaceship before they saw it. A deafening roar, that had everybody, children and peacekeepers both, covering their ears.

The wind came next, flattening even those blades of wheat that the children had not trampled down. And then came the shadow, a gigantic shadow like an enormous bird of death flying overhead, casting everything below into gloom.

Many of the children cowered and huddled together on the ground, scared. But Misha stood tall, entirely unafraid. After all, he had a thing for spaceships and this was the first spaceship he ever got to see up close.

“Look, Katya,” he said, tugging on her hand, “Look how big it is! Isn’t this cool?”

Misha was right. The spaceship was huge, a giant blocky thing of gunmetal grey with bits and pieces riveted to its hull and spiky things jutting out at strange angles.

It worried Katya. Nothing so big ever landed at Solonitsyn, particularly not a spaceship. Spaceships landed elsewhere, at the spaceport in Strugatsky or at the even bigger spaceport in Tarkovsky, the capital on the other side of the world. Or they stayed in orbit and docked at the space elevator that rose out of the fields of the East Continent like an enormous stalk of wheat. But they didn’t land, not here, not on the East Continent where nothing ever happened.

Katya squeezed Misha’s hand and forced a smile. “Yes, it’s cool.”

“When I’m big, I want to be a spaceship captain and fly one just like that,” Misha announced.

Katya flashed him an indulgent smile, for only last week, Misha had announced that he wanted to become a vet and the week before that a farmer and the week before that a circus juggler.

“That’s very nice dear.”

Together, they watched the spaceship touch down, its enormous mass taking up almost the entire shuttleport where normally six of the big grain transporters could land side by side.

The ground shook again and Katya frowned. Nothing about this was even remotely normal.

IV. Evacuation Procedures

Mayhew stood by the ramp, when it came down, with Natalya and Security Chief Erol Yilmaz by his side. Behind them waited a full complement of security forces as well as several members of the medical staff.

“Make sure your people don’t act overly aggressive,” Mayhew whispered to Erol Yilmaz, “Sidearms only, no rifles. After all, we’re dealing with terrified civilians here.”

Yilmaz nodded. “Understood, Captain.”

“But be ready for violent boarding attempts and people rushing the landing field,” Mayhew added, “Desperate people do desperate things.”

The ramp finally touched the ground, the hatch opened and Mayhew got his first and last look at Jagellowsk.

It was a beautiful world or at least this little part of it was. The day was sunny and mild, the sky blue with puffy white clouds. Insects were buzzing above the tarmac and birds were chirping in the distance.