ADVANCED SEARCH  

Support WWEnd

WWEnd Blog

WWEnd BookTrackr™

Synopsis

In the century since the devastating War of a Thousand Suns, humanity has stagnated, staying in the cocoon of the Centrist Worlds while the rapacious pirates of Golen Space prey on ships that venture too far into the interstellar Flux. And starship Impris, lost in the war years, has become the stuff of legend--used by the pirates as bait, even as the Centrist authorities deny her existence.

Renwald Legroeder, escaped prisoner and star rigger pilot, has seen what the government doesn't want anyone to see. Framed for treason, he flees--to save himself, and vows to clear his name. He returns to the realm of the pirates to find the truth behind Impris... to unmask the conspiracy that cost him his freedom... to tear off the blinders that have kept humanity from fulfilling its destiny among the stars.

Between Legroeder and redemption lie the pirates' vengeance, if he is caught--and the perils of the Deep Flux, where no man has dared to fly. But with the help of a beautiful pirate renegade named Tracy-Ace/Alfa, he risks everything to uncover the secrets that can clear his name--and change the future of humanity forever.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

ESCAPE FROM CAPTIVITY

Renwald Legroeder's eyes darted frantically, scanning for traffic as he guided the scout craft away from the spacedocks. His heart pounded with fear. No general alarms yet, thank God; but how long could that last? The scout's flux reactor hummed, alive and ready. The rigger-net would spring to life at his command; but first he had to get clear of the outpost.

The raider outpost loomed like a threatening mountain cliff over his back as he powered the tiny ship away. The spacedocks were an enormous, malignant structure, blotting out most of the view of the Great Barrier Nebula that stretched across the emptiness of space behind him. He felt terribly alone.

He snapped on the intercom. "Maris - if you can hear me, we're away from the docks!" She couldn't answer, and probably couldn't hear. She was the only other person aboard - the only one with the guts to flee with him.

Guts - or insanity? Don't be distracted. Switch over now...

He lurched out of the pilot's seat and climbed into the rigger-station, yanking the secondary maneuvering controls into position over him. The scout crawled toward the departure area; he dared not go faster. Don't draw attention.

Had they been spotted yet?

Their only hope was stealth. Any of a dozen ships of the pirate fleet could destroy him at a moment's notice. Clear of the docking zone, he popped thrust toward the inner marker. Gently! He ached to punch full power... to sprint away... Keep it slow, keep to the traffic patterns, don't arouse suspicions...

About ten minutes had passed since their shootout with the guards at the maintenance docks. Only a miracle would get them away from here and out of pirate space alive.

Was Maris alive even now? He risked a glance, toggling a monitor to the first-aid compartment. Maris lay in the med-unit, eyes closed, arm flung across her chest. Neutraser burns ran down her neck and shoulder. Life signs flickered on the screen... urgent: shock: imminent neural failure ... He'd started the suppression-field; there was nothing more he could do.

The com blasted, jolting him back: "SCOUT SIX-NINER-SEVEN. STATE YOUR CLEARANCE."

His breath caught as he jabbed down the volume. He stalled, keyed the mike, held it as Departure Control repeated its demand through the static. Every second took him a little farther out. If stealth didn't work, confusion might.

He drew a ragged breath. "Departure Control, Scout Six-Niner-Seven, emergency departure Bravo Eleven Alfa. No delay, please - answering an emergency call from sector - "

Something lit up behind him, and he choked off his words. A blaze of lights in the central docking region, and at least one large craft moving out. After him? He scanned hastily. Weapons arrays were coming to life at three key defense points.

"SCOUT SIX-NINER-SEVEN, TERMINATE YOUR VECTOR AT ONCE. WE HAVE NO EMERGENCY CLEARANCE ACTIVE. BRAKE TO DEAD STOP! PREPARE FOR INSPECTION! REPEAT - "

Legroeder cursed, shut his eyes for an instant, and hit the fusion thrusters.

The scout ship rocketed past the marker buoys, shot across traffic lanes, leaving a plasma trail in its wake. Scan ahead, behind... The weapons arrays on the station were opening fire now, a cluster of neutraser bursts glittering against the dark of space. He veered far out of the departure path, away from the direction they'd expect him to flee, and aimed for the guard field that flanked the channel, all energy and spatial distortions. A neutraser beam flashed over his screen.

Hold tight, Maris!

Another blaze of neutraser fire caught his port-side sensor, partially blinding him. He veered left, then down, and right. The ship tumbled as it hit the guard field. The hull shuddered, and he nearly lost control. Then he was through the field, into the Dead Man's Zone that enclosed the departure lanes.

Clouds of plasma swirled over the ship's prow. There was a reason for this place's name. The spatial distortions were nearly impossible to maneuver through. But if he could manage it, pursuit should be impossible.

A neutraser burst leaked through the field and spun weirdly around the ship. His viewscreen and console began to glow with St. Elmo's fire. He couldn't wait any longer. He slammed the maneuvering controls shut, drew a deep breath, and closed his eyes. At his silent command, the rigger-net billowed out into space, a shimmering sensory web. He caught some fragmentary words on the com: " - Going under in the Zone - must be crazy - !"

And then he reached out with his arms in the net like wings on a plane, and banked the ship down out of the fiery cauldron of normal-space and into the chaos of the Flux.

* * *

The star rigger's Flux: a higher-dimensional realm where reality and fantasy became strangely merged, where landscapes of the mind intersected with the real fabric of space, where space itself flowed and surged with movement - and where a rigger's skills could vault him across light-years, or send him spiraling to his death.

Legroeder was flying in a thunderstorm, wind shear and lightning buffeting and rocking him. His senses stretched through the net into the Flux, as though his head and torso were the bowsprit of the ship. His arms embraced the storm, mists of streaming air coiling through his fingers. He drew around him the only image he could think of: a stubbywinged airplane bouncing through cumulonimbus, stubbornly refusing to surrender.

The craft bucked violently. It was hard to keep a heading in the turbulence - but he had to, if he was going to get through the Dead Man's Zone and out the other side. The raiders had sown mines throughout the Zone, which was almost redundant; the place itself was a natural minefield. Everything was distorted here, normal-space and the Flux alike. A fragmentary remnant of some ancient violence of creation, it was a perfect place of concealment for the raider base. Only a maniac would try what Legroeder was trying now...

He fought back a rush of fear as he skidded through the wind shear. Why had he thought he could do this? It's impossible!

No sooner had he thought it than the turbulence grew worse. He realized why, and fought to control himself. His mere thoughts could reverberate disastrously into the Flux; he dared not allow panic or fear.

Stay calm!

He drew a long, slow breath and tried to refocus the image. Keep flying the ship. Whatever happens, we're away, better off than before.

What lay ahead? Mines. Treacherous shoals. Dead ships. But where? Change the image: make it transparent. Sooner imagined than done; the energies swirling before him were too powerful to easily remap. He blinked once to alter the contrast, and now he could make out distant flecks of darkness against the glowing whirlwinds of the storm. Shipwrecks? He couldn't tell.

WHOOM!

Something blazed off his port-side, a mine exploding. He veered hard, avoiding damage. His heart raced. The explosion had opened a path through the storm, a shadowy tunnel in the clouds. A way through? It wouldn't last long. He circled back, scanning for pursuit. Nothing: maybe they'd given him up for dead. Fly, now - fly! The currents were tricky; he had to scull with his arms to bring the ship back.

As he banked into the tunnel, the winds seemed favorable - but at once he sensed his mistake. A trap. He banked hard the other way, back into the current. It was too strong now - it was pulling him into the passage. He cursed and hit the fusion motors - dangerous in the Flux! - and continued thrusting until he'd veered past the opening. At that instant the passage twisted closed, then erupted with a belch of fire. The blast caught his wingtip and snapped him head over heels.

The storm clouds spun around him. By the time he pulled the ship out of the tumble, he'd lost his bearings completely. He felt a rising panic.

And then he heard a voice softly, distantly, in his mind. You must keep your center... stay calm. Legroeder, you'll find the way through. Aren't you the one who showed me, after all?

His heart stopped as he recognized the voice-from-memory, his old shipmate Gev Carlyle, as clear as if Gev were right here looking over his shoulder. Keep your center... stay calm... how often had he said those things as the younger Carlyle had fought to master his instincts and fears?

Keep your center...

The storm clouds tossed the little vessel like a wood chip on a pounding sea. He again breathed deeply and focused inward, and then from his center focused outward - and as he did so, the clouds shimmered to transparency, just for an instant. He drew another breath. Center and clarify... illuminate...

For a moment, he felt the almost tangible presence of his old friend. The feeling was so powerful, it drove the fear back a little more, and the storm clouds grew pale. Through the twists and turns of the moving currents, he began to glimpse a path: a fold in the Flux, and a current slipping through...

* * *

The escape had happened so fast Legroeder had scarcely had time to think. For seven years since his capture, he'd looked for a chance to make a break. But the guard was too tight, the fortress impregnable and light-years from anywhere. No one had ever escaped alive; that was what they said. Everyone said it; everyone believed it. A few had tried: they were dead now, or being tortured, in solitary.

And yet... even as he'd piloted their raider ships for them, preying on innocent shipping in the wilds of Golen Space, even as he'd worked for the bloody pirates, to stay alive, he'd never stopped watching, planning, reading...

Copyright © 2000 by Jeffrey A. Carver

Reviews

There are currently no reviews for this novel. Be the first to submit one! You must be logged in to submit a review in the BookTrackr section above.

Images

No alternate cover images currently exist for this novel.