Galaxy's End: Book One LeRoy Clary (dark books to read TXT) 📖

suspected they had entered the human sphere from the nearest location to their home world.

She made a mental image of the human sphere and noted where the Bradley Concord, a loose collection of Earth-like worlds had a common governor. She then imagined what might lay beyond. Bert could project a 3D image for her, but she realized there were thousands of stars, and thus worlds, just outside the sphere in every direction.

Even if she learned the locations of the local wormholes and their nexus points, it would take generations to search a fraction of them for the mysterious new aliens. Even if she did locate them, how would she identify them as the owners of the wormhole-pursuit technology and how could she accuse them of shipping the gray gel in the holds of at least two ships?

That brought her up short. Two cargo ships. The one she was on and the Guardia. There might be more of the unknown gel on other ships, perhaps even hundreds. What it would be used for became increasingly critical with that thought.

If the gel was dangerous, for instance, perhaps it was an expanding mass that ate intelligent beings like in some of the low budget holovids, or a creeping one-celled creature that expanded until it consumed an entire planet. The military of the Bradly Concord was a good place to take over and resolve the problem. She knew her examples were frivolous and silly. But the mysterious gel on two ships destined for three separate ports bothered her in more ways than she could understand.

If nothing else, those ahead had a military mindset and would look at the cargo from that standpoint. They were better equipped to help than a port that dealt with traders. She felt relieved that the ship she was on would soon be in their hands. Better them, than her.

She said, “Fang, how long until we exit the portal?”

Thankfully, his response confirmed they still had time to think.

 A soft ping drew her attention. It was Bert, however, he paused before speaking as if choosing his wording carefully. “Captain, I have received a subspace message from the Guardia. They have opened the cargo crate we designated and found the contents. They confirm it as the same substance as found in ours. They await further instructions.”

She hesitated. Fang was watching with three pairs of eyes on her, his pointed ears turned in her direction. He shut the mister for his skin off to reduce the soft hum so he wouldn’t miss anything. The entire bridge smelled strongly of lemons after the hours of its operation. She said, “Subspace message response to tell them the following in your words: The cargo in question is not to be delivered unless authorized by me. If I die, the cargo pod will be ejected into the gravity well of a planet or sun.”

Ping. “The message has been sent.”

Fang said, “The owners of this ship will not be happy when they get the invoice for the use of subspace.”

“They’ll be mollified with the return of this ship.”

“Maybe,” he muttered as he turned on the mister again.

She examined the screens again, searching for any changes, although the ship should have warned them of any. She caught Fang still looking at her. “Listen, if they don’t want to pay it, I’ll claim the ship for salvage and pay the bill myself. This old tub is growing on me. I’ve been looking at how the passenger quarters could be remodeled to carry more cargo, so no need for stewards. Yes, it is slow and old, but it’s been updated three or four times it could turn a nice profit could be earned.”

“Why tell me that?” Fang asked.

“It would need a captain.”

“Me? You can’t be serious. Besides, you go where the action is and I’ll go with you, but I thank you for the compliment.”

“No compliment intended. I already have a good First Mate on the Guardia. You would be welcome here.”

Fang snorted in his attempt at a wry laugh. “I like excitement. Find a place for me on your immediate crew and we will talk. I have few ambitions for advancement, but you are where my future lies.”

She turned back to the screens, satisfied. He’d given her the perfect answer. Fang would enhance her crew in dozens of ways, and she would find the right position for him. Perhaps her First Officer would like a command of his own, such as the ship they were in, and then Fang could assume his duties on the Guardia. It was worth thinking about.

Fang said, “Since you’re spending another company’s money, why not send a subspace message ahead to the Bradley Concord and tell them what to expect?”

“Because they would have too much time to think about it and may come to the wrong conclusion because of the possibility it is not worded exactly right. Politicians may get involved—probably will. Who knows? Popping in on them gives them little time to react violently and they will not want to make a mistake when we promise to provide information that will tip the balance of power in their war.”

“Will it?” Fang asked.

She smiled. “I may have exaggerated its importance slightly. Who knows? I’m only the captain of a small trader and am doing what is right.”

Fang snorted in humor again. Then said, “Why don’t you recline and catch a few winks in your chair? You need to be sharp when we emerge. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

She touched the button and allowed the chair to reposition itself. It was one of the latest models and it quickly conformed to the shape of her body as it formed almost a cocoon underneath and beside her. From inside the pillow, soft tinkles of soothing sound flowed, while shutting out the other sounds of the ship. Yes, it was a