Transference Station (Book 2 of the Sliding Void Science Fiction Series)

Transference Station

Book 2 in the Sliding Void series

Stephen Hunt

Green Nebula

TRANSFERENCE STATION

Book 2 in the Sliding Void series.

First published in 2011 by Green Nebula Press

Copyright © 2011 by Stephen Hunt

Typeset and designed by Green Nebula Press

The right of Stephen Hunt to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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Praise for Stephen

‘Mr. Hunt takes off at racing speed.’

- THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

‘Hunt’s imagination is probably visible from space. He scatters concepts that other writers would mine for a trilogy like chocolate-bar wrappers.’

- TOM HOLT

‘All manner of bizarre and fantastical extravagance.’

- DAILY MAIL

‘Compulsive reading for all ages.’

- GUARDIAN

‘An inventive, ambitious work, full of wonders and marvels.’

- THE TIMES

‘Hunt knows what his audience like and gives it to them with a sardonic wit and carefully developed tension.’

- TIME OUT

‘Studded with invention.’

-THE INDEPENDENT

‘To say this book is action packed is almost an understatement… a wonderful escapist yarn!’

- INTERZONE

‘Hunt has packed the story full of intriguing gimmicks… affecting and original.’

- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

‘A rip-roaring Indiana Jones-style adventure.’

—RT BOOK REVIEWS

‘A curious part-future blend.’

- KIRKUS REVIEWS

‘A ripping yarn … the story pounds along… constant inventiveness keeps the reader hooked… the finale is a cracking succession of cliffhangers and surprise comebacks. Great fun.’

- SFX MAGAZINE

‘Put on your seatbelts for a frenetic cat and mouse encounter... an exciting tale.’

- SF REVU

Contents

1. A starship captain is a very fine thing to be

2. Top cats

3. Android eyes

4. One for each stalk

5. Someday a real supernova’s going to come

6. Continue the adventure

Chapter 1

A starship captain is a very fine thing to be

Lana Fiveworlds wasn’t used to feeling so useless in the face of death. As the skipper and owner of a starship of the size of the Gravity Rose , she was accustomed to barking commands and having them instantly obeyed by her crew. Unfortunately for Lana, the wave of ship killer missiles closing in on her vessel weren’t under her authority. The bridge shuddered again, armoured-up in anticipation of the coming impact, close-defence guns outside throwing a kinetic wall of shells forward of her ship. It won’t work , Lana grimaced to herself. The warheads have fragmented into their sub-ammunition components. Too damn many of them closing too damn fast . Her vessel had to be lucky against every sub-missile arrowing in on her hull. Their mystery assailant out there on the edges of deep space taking pot shots at them only had to be lucky once. The Gravity Rose had a few tricks hidden away under her hull, but at the end of the day, Lana’s vessel was only an independent freighter, not an alliance carrier. How much punishment can we absorb ? Not enough, she realized. Not nearly enough. Only seconds away from a hyperspace jump, but which was to come first. Jump or missile impact? The answer squawked in Lana’s direction from her navigator, Polter.

‘I’ve lost a clean lock on the exit jump.’

‘How the hell did that happen?’ demanded Lana.

‘It’s the enemy ship, revered captain. They’re using their hyperspace vanes to disrupt local space, throwing my jump calculations off balance. They know we’re trying to jump out and they’re seeking to trap us here.’

Oh shizzle. Lana cursed the bulky survival pod hardened into existence around her bridge chair. Trying to control the ship from inside the pod was like trying to tread water wearing a suit of armour. ‘Come on, Polter,’ she cried towards her navigator. ‘Get us the hell out of here. Dive for hyperspace.’

‘But we’re too far outside our safety margins,’ moaned Polter.

Lana briefly regretted pushing her overly sensitive crewman. Well, not so much a man, more a sentient crab. He was attempting the impossible, here, for her. Polter had created twin wormholes to tunnel through into hyperspace. One a super-sized singularity – a frothing wild giant to draw the incoming missiles’ attention. Its tiny twin was far too small for any sane skipper to want to fly down to escape this cursed system. Taming a black hole was a pretty insane act in itself; taming two was double the trouble; attempting the act under heavy fire was as bad as it got. And damned if Lana didn’t need a stable wormhole to pull off this hyperspace jump and live to boast about it.

The other crewman in their troika on the bridge, Skrat raz Skeratt, yelled from his crew chair, not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice. ‘This is no time for caution, dear boy!’

‘Jump us!’ ordered Lana. Her chair display flashed up the telemetry of warheads being chewed up against their wall of flack, her guns targeting a wave of missiles twisting and turning past their last line of defence. ‘We’re dead if we stay. Better a chance of jumping out alive, even if it’s a damn slim one.’ Lana bit hard on her lip. This was a game of chance and she was doubling down on Polter’s talents. Nobody could navigate a hyperspace translation as fast and efficiently as her navigator. That’s what she told every client who wanted cargo transporting across the stars. And Lana’s boast wasn’t just an idle sales pitch. Is it?

‘Tidal eye locked,’ said Polter, his voice hesitant as he reluctantly obeyed Lana’s order. ‘We’re going in dirty!’

Lana tried to ignore the shaking as the Gravity Rose dipped in towards the raging singularity, thrusters at the rear of the ship accelerating them forward.

‘Transit is unsafe,’ announced Granny, the ship’s computer core; her voice clear and reasonable inside Lana’s helmet, unaffected by anything so common as hormones, stress or fear. Lana wished she felt as calm as her ship’s artificial intelligence. Lana’s chair pumped her body full of chemicals, allowing her mind to work at the same swift speed as the ship’s systems. She might regret the dosage later, but only if she lived to be so lucky. ‘Command override, Granny. There are no safety margins for this ride.’

‘Command override accepted. Good luck, Lana.’

Lana checked the overlay of weapons data floating in front of her, the skipper’s chair layering it directly against her retina with a laser. The Gravity Rose’s sudden potentially suicidal dive into the unstable black hole had thrown off the sneaky artificial minds guiding the incoming warheads. That’s it, you metal ghosts. You weren’t expecting that, were you? Of course, the main reason the missiles weren’t expecting it was because what she was doing was utter madness. The desperate and the foolhardy, my speciality. The Gravity Rose’s hunters only carried a limited supply of reaction mass; the first wave of the missiles’ engines started to flutter out, turning off and closing in uncontrolled, unable to outmanoeuvre the freighter’s rapidly chattering point defences. From the way the missiles’ mother ship turned, Lana guessed the enemy vessel had spotted a third ship in this deadly duel of theirs. Rex Matobo, curse him. Lana’s ex-crewman’s pleas for help had brought her to this system, and as usual, it was one of his dishonest schemes that were about to get them all killed. The chances were that Rex’s ship was the attacking vessel’s real target, with the Gravity Rose counting as collateral damage. Guilt by association. At least, Lana couldn’t remember irking anyone recently to the extent that they would be willing to dispatch a fleet-class warship after her. I’d certainly remember annoying someone that badly, wouldn’t I?

Lana’s display divided into two in front of her eyes. Half devoted to weapon systems, the remainder showing the dark rotating whirlpool of their wormhole twisting outside. Her hyperspace vanes had created this beast, now they would have to ride out its fury. Fingers of frothing space-time reached towards the Gravity Rose, the vessel shaking violently as she speeded up towards its impossibly