In Our Last Installment...

Kyte felt his heart pound for the second time in twenty-four hours. It seemed so loud that Terri must surely hear it, but apparently not, she had turned her gaze back out of the dome. He stole another glance and studied her profile in the faint shine. How could it be that two short days ago he was a happy, well-paid, law-abiding citizen, and now he was here, on this strangest of strange worlds, hunted by the all-seeing United Front of Humanity, sitting watching a black hole rise with this amazing woman? And, more to the point, how could it be that despite his supposed 'happiness' as an ordinary man, right now he wouldn't swap it all back for anything?

His thoughts were interrupted, then, as Terri suddenly squeezed harder on his arm. And in an awed gasp: 'There!' He saw her point, and squinted into the distance. A tiny speck of light had appeared, twinkling faintly. It's light was unlike that of the stars. It was more diffuse, for one, but also, it had an eerie alien quality. As he watched, unaware that he was holding his breath, the light grew into a tiny sliver of a crescent. Along its length the colours changed rapidly across the entire spectrum as it continued to rise, revealing more and more of what was evidently going to become a small but brilliantly shimmering disc. And Kyte noticed something else: the light being thrown from Hawking's event horizon was actually sufficient to light some of Dark Haven's surface. In the distance he spied glaciers, valleys, huge, craggy spires of dark ice rising into the air. Coils of heavy, liquid nitrogen mist seethed around the lower grounds, leaving wispy tendrils as it flowed through fields of spiked, frozen stalagmites and down sharply cut-off cliffs. To his right he saw a huge towering mound of rock and ice, leaning dangerously as it rose, giving it the aspect of some giant, frozen hunchback out there in the icy wastes. To his left, a ravine, gobsmacking in its magnitude, slashed into the terrain. The bottom was still shrouded in shadow, but Kyte could see a very faint red glow emanating from the bottom of the gorge, reminding him of what Hunter had said about the geothermal activity of the planet. And even as he took all of this in, Hawking had risen to its full glory. Extremely faint compared to even the dimmest of local 'suns', yet brighter than the combined light of the stars themselves, the phenomenon was a constantly changing, swirling, psychedelia of colour. Tiny bomb-bursts of reds, yellows, blues and whites shimmered across the surface, interacting, repelling, mixing and dispersing in a dizzy multichromic dance.

'You were right.' He whispered quietly. 'I really did have to see this.' His breath rose in a misty cloud in front of him and he shivered again, but continued to watch. Hypnotised, he almost didn't notice Terri Hershel curling up against him until her head rested lightly on his shoulder. Not taking his eyes from the spectacle in the heavens above, he raised his arm and allowed it to drop gently over her shoulders.

She nestled more surely up to him, and he felt the warmth of her body, the reassuring pressure on his newly-healed arm. He sighed.

Together, they watched Hawking's dawn.

And together, though each was unaware of the other doing it, they secretly smiled to themselves.

Hawking's Dawn

by

Ben Stevenson

Part Three of Three

And throughout, his relationship with Terri Herschel blossomed. By now it was generally accepted amongst the people they mixed with that they were an 'item'. Even Jack Hunter himself didn't have much to say, other than a sternly worded warning that he 'watched his goddamn step', followed by a grin and a slap on the back.

Occasionally he thought of Mark Edmonds, the big Willis Random scientist, and he would be sad for a while. But in those circumstances Terri was often there to cheer him up, or if it was the daytime, when she was at work, he would take his FALC up for a spin above the settlement. Life was good for a while. But, like all good things, it couldn't last.

This particular 'good thing' in the life of Alan Kyte ended on the morning of the sixteenth day of his stay in Solus. He had gotten up late, after staying up the night before with Terri to watch a wacky 3V movie on the set in her room, and was brushing his teeth in her en-suite compartment when the door alarm chimed.

'Hang on.' He mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat, wiped his mouth and, dressed in pretty much a towel and nothing else, answered the door.

Katherine Luther stood there, her face like thunder. 'The shit's hit the fan.' She told him briskly. Behind her, a man dressed in a long navy-blue suit stood regarding him quietly. Kyte had seen him around, and knew who he was. His name was Karl Smith, and he led a small band of renegades who had begged asylum on Dark Haven after falling foul of the UFH. With reservations, Tom Luther had allowed them to stay, only to watch as the smooth-talking brigand immediately made a play for his sister. Since then, Thomas and Katherine's sibling relationship hadn't quite been the same.

'What?' He had long since given up showing Katherine the measure of respect he displayed for her brother, and he didn't appreciate being snapped at.

'Tom wants to see us all down in Hangar nine a.s.a.p. You included. Get dressed.'

Without replying, Kyte swung the door shut and returned to the en-suite. He washed the bitter, stinging toothpaste out of his mouth and pulled on his pilot's flight suit. Terri had gone off early to the medbay this morning and he was alone in her quarters. He made a cursory inspection, making sure it was reasonably tidy, before he left.

The walk down to Hangar nine took little more than five minutes, during which time Kyte had time to wonder what the fuss was about. His first big clue presented itself upon his immediate arrival.

Hangar nine housed the rusted bulk of the Taurian Tiger. Pacing to and fro in front of it, Jack Hunter spat curses vehemently. Luther himself stood quietly, as was his manner, some way off to the left.

As Kyte arrived, he quickly noted the others present. They were more or less his reception committee, with the absence of the psychiatrist Jane Santiago (whom Kyte had visited a couple of times before the dumpy little woman had somewhat wonderingly proclaimed him mentally sound, despite the traumas he had endured), and the (mainly unwelcome) addition of Karl Smith. Kyte was last to appear, and smiled wanly in apology to Tom Luther. The other nodded once, briefly, and resumed his quiet observation of those present. Feeling eyes upon him, Kyte glanced left and saw Smith watching him in his cool, characteristic way, and frowned back. The renegade averted his eyes. Lastly, he sought out Terri Herschel, and smiled once more, this time warmly. She looked pale, he thought.

'Now that we're all here, I think I can bring you all up to speed. I'm aware some of you know already what I'm going to say.' He glanced pointedly at Hunter, who had stopped raving, and his daughter, before sweeping the rest of them with his haggard face. 'But for the sake of the others, I would appreciate if you kept your thoughts to yourself until I finish.'

Hunter nodded and came to a halt beside his leader. He seemed to glare at nothing in particular, and Kyte suddenly began to feel a small measure of dread. Clearly something was very amiss here.

Luther didn't keep him waiting. 'A tracking device has been found aboard Jack Hunter's ship. A UFH tracking device.' He paused in the stunned silence, casting his eyes sadly around the room. 'It was discovered when one of the bay technicians did a radiation sweep of the hanger complexes. It's signature frequency is very close to that of x-rays and so it was detected and traced here. It must have got on board during Mr. Hunter's last trip out, specifically, on Elestra, where we acquired the not-inconsiderable talents of Mr. Kyte, here.' He nodded in deference at the datathief, who replied in kind, but wasn't really focused on the gaunt little man. He was staring at the distraught Hunter, who was now sat on the Tiger's embarkation ramp with his chin in his hands, staring into space.

'It is a medium-range device, which would have made it possible to trace the craft's course through the various jump-gates to this system.' Luther paused to cough raspingly. 'In short, ladies and gentlemen, we prepare for evacuation.'

There were horrified gasps from those assembled. Without further ado, Luther dismissed them and went to speak to his sister. Kyte headed straight for Hunter.

'Hey, old man.' He seated himself on the embarkation ramp and smacked the trader's back. Hunter just shook his head.

'Scanlon Refrigerate Enterprises.' He muttered savagely.

'Come again?' Kyte frowned. He glanced up briefly as Herschel came and sat the other side of her father.

'That was the only time the ship was out of my sight, when a truck pulled up with a sign saying "Scanlon Refrigerate Enterprises". I got Tom to check it out and, well, it looks like the company is a UFH front.'

Kyte and Herschel looked at each other, their mouths forming silent 'o's of horror.

'If they know where we are, why haven't they sent a taskforce?' Kyte asked, but was answered with a shake of the head.

'That's just it - they don't. They know we went through the Hawking gate but they've no idea there's a planet here. Nothing has followed us into the system, else the outpost in the gate structure would have reported it. They're biding their time, re-examining their data on the black hole and looking for what Tom found all those years ago. Evidence of this place. Then they'll strike.'

The trader hauled himself to his feet. 'And hopefully, by that time, we'll be long gone.'

By now, at the hangar door, Tom Luther was already nearing another argument with his sister and her so-called 'advisor'.

'Are you insane?' He glared at Smith in disbelief.

'Tom, what Karl is saying makes sense!'

'The hell it does!' Luther snarled. He tottered a little in his anger, and Katherine immediately flowed forwards to catch him, only to be shrugged angrily away. 'I will not enter into any negotiations with the UFH!'

'Thomas, listen.' Smith's voice was smooth, beguiling. 'Why flee for our freedom, risking everything, when we can buy it. Just give them what they want.'

'And what is that, exactly?'

'The video footage. The evidence. Give it all up so that they know we can't use it against them. In return, we demand the freedom to remain here, undisturbed.'

'You are an imbecile.' Luther's eyes, normally weak and watery, blazed angrily. 'Have you not seen the video? These people obliterate entire worlds for simply existing and not conforming to UFH rule. Do you really think they'll let us be? And even if they did, could you live with yourself knowing that we could have stopped all the suffering, all the wanton destruction, but instead sold out to save our own skins?'

'It's a necessary evil, old man.' In his growing impatience, Smith had forgotten whom he addressed. He smirked contemptuously, and turned away. But Luther wasn't finished. Shaking with rage, he pointed a pale trembling finger at the blue-suited man.

'We evacuate within three days!' He yelled. 'And when we do, you and yours fend for yourselves, do you understand?' Shocked, Smith stopped and turned back.

'What?'

'You heard me! You are no longer welcome to my protection. The Lutherites hereby revoke their asylum.'

'Thomas!' Katherine's voice was a scream as she stormed towards him.

'You like this one so much Katherine? Fine. My patience is all used up. We are in crisis, here. Go with him. Or come with us. The choice is yours, but be sure that his path and ours lay in very difference directions. I suggest you make your mind up. And soon.'

And with that, Katherine and Karl swept from the hangar, leaving Luther a pale white figure standing at the door, watching them go.

Hunter, Kyte and Herschel, of course, had been privy to the last of the argument, and Hunter now shook his head sadly. 'Shit.'

Under the circumstances, Kyte felt he had stolen the word right out of his mouth.

In the corridor, Smith shed Katherine Luther's company at the first opportunity and made for his quarters. Fine, if the cowardly fool wanted to play it like that, Smith knew a few games himself, and the one he was best at was survival.

Kyte left his very last session in the crypto-labs and made for the elevators that would take him to the upper levels - and the conference room. The meeting had been ordered by Luther in light of the recent crisis, still only a day old, and most likely preceded the final preparations for evacuation.

Perversely, Kyte felt oddly reluctant to leave the crypto-lab, despite the fact he hadn't much enjoyed the time he had spent there since he arrived. The reasoning lay in something Carver had said. About his implants.

'You've begun using them as a kind of secondary brain.' The old-looking tech had explained, examining his cat-scans with a critical eye. All of the data stored in Kyte's head with respect to the UFH, or rather 'Entrogen', had long since been removed, decoded and stored on disk, and so Carver's job had become as Kyte's instructor in all things regarding putting his new-found memory capacity to use. 'So much so that you can now access the data without thinking about it.'

'What do you mean?' Kyte had been curious. He didn't feel any different.

At that, and without warning, Carver had suddenly struck for his face! The blow was loose, carried no power, but still it caught the datathief by surprise. His left forearm had instantly come up, blocking the blow, while his right went to jab, stiff-fingered, at the other's windpipe. He had caught himself just in time and, panting with shock, stared uncomprehendingly at his arms where they remained, stiff and threatening. He had looked into the older man's eyes, seen the shock there also.

'Even better than I had expected.' Carver had breathed. 'Your unarmed combat training information has been absorbed into your subconscious. No! It is part of your new subconscious - one with a greater capacity and faster access time than any similar biological system. If I only had time to work at this… why, you could be a warrior and a half!'

And so now, as he stepped into the empty lift and thumbed the control, Kyte's mind began to wonder at the possibilities. He hadn't consciously willed his body to react in such a way. His accessing of the data was an entirely involuntary event. No wonder he had become such a good pilot! His brain contained gigabytes of files on all aspects of flying technique, written by the masters themselves! He was suddenly very excited. He could be an expert at anything.

His musings were interrupted, then, as the elevator came to a standstill and the doors ping-ed open. The corridor beyond was cool, but not uncomfortably so. It was a pity, he thought, that they were leaving all of this behind. For all the harsh, inhospitable, lightless conditions on Dark Haven, Solus City had still managed to be quite a nice place to live.

He approached the large double doors to the conference room at the same time as Katherine Luther and Karl Smith, both coming from the opposite direction. Smith seemed strained, less smooth than usual, but it didn't escape Kyte that, for all the disrespect he had shown Thomas Luther, the weak old man had still allowed him to be present at this meeting.

They entered and sat down at the semi-circular table. Kyte took his seat next to Herschel, the other two chose spots on the end of the row. Luther himself was on his feet in front of the gathering, waiting for everyone to settle down. The datathief squeezed Terri's arm by way of greeting, and she smiled a little. He noticed she had a pen in her hand - a heavy-looking gold one - and had written a cryptic phrase on the notepad in front of her: Caelestis Acerbus?

Kyte frowned, and went to whisper a question in her ear, but at that moment the mumbling around fell off, and Luther began to speak. As usual, he came straight to the point.

'Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, since yesterday, we have been planning to evacuate Dark Haven.' There were murmurs of acquiescence from the small assembly, but: 'As of now, those plans are scrapped. We cannot evacuate - at least not out of the jump gate.'

The murmurs quickly escalated into a tumult of shouted questions, outraged enquiries, which Luther stilled with a trembling hand. 'I am sorry to say that our outpost commander has reported the passage of a small taskforce through the jump gate. UFH ships. They have left behind a small detachment guarding the exit and, although oblivious to the presence of James Kennedy or his alert signal to us, will not let anything pass out of this system.

'As regards the taskforce proper, there are three UFH nuclear supercruisers, each with enough atomic muscle to lay waste to most of the surface of this planet. They carry one small detachment of defence fighters between them, and did not use the gate's rotation carrier beam to align their own as they passed through. That was done by some internal agency. They will arrive within launch range of Solus City in eleven hours.'

The group was now in uproar. Despite their small numbers - there were twenty assembled at best - chaos was beginning to rule the proceedings. Even Luther's waving arms and hoarse shouts did not quell the maelstrom of angered shouts and panicked wailings that filled the room.

'NOW HOLD!' A new voice cut through the babble. John Carver had strode to the front to stand beside his leader, and now glared at each of them in turn. Herschel had dropped her pen and grasped Kyte's hand in her own. Together they gazed upon the ravaged-looking pair standing side by side. One small and weak in body, but a strong and respected leader, and the other tall and frail, but housing an awesome intellect.

Now that order had been restored, Luther continued.

'All is not lost. For several years now, Dr. Carver, here has been working on a secret project. A project that would give us a plan of action in just such a situation as this.' He nodded at his new companion. 'John…'

'Yes, that's right. Since very shortly after I arrived here, myself and a small team of scientists and engineers have been working on a transport ship salvaged from what remained of the Orkenon III colony out on the fringe systems. The Caelestis Acerbus, as we have renamed it (at this a small start from Kyte, followed by a glance at Herschel), has been fortified from the inside to withstand a hundred times the pressure of normal space travel.' He swept his eyes around the room, examining each one of them in turn. Kyte's implants suddenly supplied him with the implications of such a modification, and he tried hard to suppress a gasp. 'This was done following the discovery that Hawking is not a black hole in the traditional sense. At least, not the way we had formerly believed black holes to be. It oscillates much like a bell, indicating it is denser on its outer shell, rather than in the middle. The dancing lights on its surface are coloured, random; this indicates atomic reactions other than those expected along a 'normal' black hole event horizon. In short, we believe that Hawking is a strange form of gate. Much like a jump gate, albeit one of natural formation.'

There were murmurs from around the table. Kyte looked at Herschel and found her staring back, smiling slightly. It was obvious she had known - maybe even been in on the project. She squeezed his hand and he smiled back.

Luther now took over once more. 'Using the Caelestis to attempt to traverse the Hawking gate is by no means a safe bet. It is a gamble. But on the other hand - go up against three nuclear supercruisers? We wouldn't stand a chance.'

He paused. 'But, as you know, I am nothing if not democratic, so I put it to you - the council. What is your decision? I won't lead you into the black hole gate without your consent, and if, as a body, you view our best chance to be confrontation… so be it.' He nodded, more to himself than anyone else, and then raised his eyes to theirs once more. 'Any questions?'

Kyte raised a hand. 'You say there are three supercruisers with one detachment of fighters?'

'Apparently, yes.'

'And this is a standard detachment of, what? Twelve fighters?' Data was being fed to him on UFH formation as he spoke by his new electronic symbiant.

'We believe so.'

Kyte spread his hands uncomprehendingly. 'But… we have over forty high-quality fighter craft - and twice that number of capable pilots. I understand that once the cruisers get in range there firepower will be devastating - but surely if we met them out in space we could overwhelm them easily. They believe they go undetected so far, and so our attack would come as a total surprise…' He trailed off. Luther and Carver both were shaking their heads sadly, as were many of the gathered few. 'What?'

'Do you recall that I mentioned that when the cruisers came through the gate they did not use the alignment beacon to adjust their rotation?'

Kyte nodded slowly, aware now that there was something big he was missing.

'No computer control can adjust the rotation to the degree of accuracy required without using that beacon. Those craft are not being flown by computers, they are being flown by Pilots. That's Pilots with a capital 'P'. Not the profession, rather the species.'

Kyte's mouth formed an 'o' of understanding. He knew a little about the strange, genetically modified creatures the UFH bred - enough to know that for a human, or even computer, pilot to go up against them was suicide. 'I see.'

'Indeed you do.' Luther nodded. 'My sister, in fact, is the only one to have gone up against a Pilot-controlled craft and survive, back in her flying days.'

Kyte looked across in surprise. He hadn't realised that Katherine could fly. She returned his stare and said coldly: 'That's because I fled. As far and fast as my ship would carry me. Pilot's are as one with every function of the craft they control. To all intents and purposes they are the craft, and they can react through their ship faster than we, as humans, can react through our own bodies.' She fell silent at that, looked pointedly at her brother to continue. Kyte frowned. Something was… odd with those two. Or at least Smith. He looked more jumpy than ever.

Carver had returned to his seat, now, leaving Luther in front of those present. 'Well, now. It's time to vote. You all can guess my position, and so I make it official now. I vote we use the Caelestis Acerbus to attempt to cross the Hawking gate into the unknown space beyond. What say you? Hawking gate or full-on confrontation?'

He gazed about, preparing to arrange a show of hands, but was stopped short by a quiet voice from the left.

'You always were too soft, Luther.' Smith stood up from his chair, beckoning a mystified Katherine to join him. 'I won't allow you to lead me to my death. You revoked your protection of my people? Very well, I revoke my protection of yours - from my crew. Right now they are stationed outside, ready to come to my aid. This is a coup, and from this moment on Solus City is under my control.'

Now he produced a metallic, ugly-looking pistol and pressed it to the temple of Katherine Luther.

'Karl? Karl? What are you doing?' Katherine's eyes were bulging with shock and horror as Smith guided her to her feet and, keeping to her left, his weapon in his right hand, walked her across the room to the door.

'Anybody gets up, and your sister becomes one with the heavens.' The traitor snarled at Luther, who looked about to faint with shock. 'You!' He suddenly snapped, pointing at Hunter. 'You carry a gun always. Take it out and throw it on the floor in front of you.'

The trader did as he was told. 'Good. I won't bother to inquire if anyone else has a weapon. Let it suffice that if anyone wants to be a hero, they better hope that they are a very good shot. The same goes for anyone who thinks he can outpace a bullet to the gun store back there.' He nodded towards the high cupboards behind them. He had backed away towards the doors now, the gun back against Katherine's temple. She was sobbing to herself quietly now, the aloof, haughty woman Kyte had known her as had disappeared completely.

He had the trajectory.

It hit him suddenly, like a revelation. He could almost see the line to aim along imprinted on his vision. Straight into Smith's forehead. It was his implant, he knew, feeding off his five senses and, in return, awarding him with a sixth. If only he had a gun… but… did he need one?

He glanced down and to his right. Terri's pen lay where she had rested it. It looked heavy. And sharp.

Smith had begun to address the group. He was telling them in snarled tones how they were all fools, how they couldn't possibly hope to escape the UFH. It was madness. Well he was no fool, he told them. He would bargain for his life. He would be a free man as soon as he handed them over. Free, and rich.

Releasing Herschel's hand slowly, Kyte glided his fingers across the desk to the pen and picked it up, testing its weight. In his mind, the trajectory lines that were visualised perfectly on his mind's eye shifted marginally. Of course, a hit to the forehead with a gold pen wouldn't hurt much, but… the throat? Again the lines shifted, presenting his new target. He knew how much force to apply the throw, he knew how to release the pen to allow it to dart through the air like a flung dagger. He knew that he couldn't miss. He eased the top off slowly, revealing the super-fine point.

He looked cautiously sideways, to see his girlfriend's face a taught, pale vision of panic and incomprehension. What the hell are you doing? Her expression screamed. He thought quickly for a way to reassure her. All he could come up with was a conspirational wink. It was lame, he knew, but at least now her face was more puzzled than afraid.

'You are insane.' Luther had replied quietly in the stillness following Smith's rant. 'When those cruisers get into range, they will launch a full-scale nuclear strike. They won't wait to hear any deals from you.'

'Ah but they won't have to…' Smith replied gleefully. But that was as far as he got, because at that moment, Kyte drew back his arm and let fly.

The pen whistled through the air like an arrow. At the last moment, Smith snapped his head around towards his attacker, swinging the barrel of his gun away from his captive's head as the pen struck.

It sheared deep into Smith's jugular, causing blood to immediately jet out all over Katherine. She shrieked, pushed away as, even in his death throes, the mortally wounded renegade swung around to bring his gun to bear on Kyte. He fired.

Kyte's implant saw the bullet leave the barrel before Kyte himself had chance to register the danger. The implant analysed the bullet's path. Deduced that it would enter the datathief's body about an inch above his left eye. Coupled with Kyte's subconscious survival instinct, the implant sent a volley of electrical impulses to the motor neurones in his left arm. The hand, under the table, suddenly gripped the underside, and Kyte's whole arm snapped into a hairpin shape, bringing his jaw down crunching into the hard, cool surface of the table. For a while, Kyte knew no more.

The gun's report resounded explosively in the acoustically-engineered hall, followed almost instantaneously by the harsh rasping of shattered wood as the slug hammered into the high seat rest behind Kyte, smashing it to smithereens. With a gurgle, Smith dropped to the floor, leaking red onto the smooth marble. He was quite dead.

The assembly sat in shocked silence for a second or two, glancing around, not understanding the events that had just occurred. Herschel, almost hysterical with shock, was shaking Kyte gently, gazing in horror alternately at the blown-out seat back, and the red mark forming even now of the datathief's soon-to-be bruised chin.

A long, racking sob from Katherine Luther brought everyone around. She stared, blood-drenched, at the corpse of Karl Smith at her feet and shook her head. 'You bastard.' She whispered, then, screaming: 'You bastard!' She went to flee the room, but was held back by the combined efforts of Carver and Tom Luther. People had got up from their seats, were rushing round to tend to Kyte where Herschel had begun tenderly extricating him from his slumped position.

'Alan! Alan!' He dazedly opened his eyes.

'Shmursh.' He mumbled, and his eyes began to roll back under their lids.

'Alan! Godammit!' She slapped his face (high, avoiding his bruised jaw), and he began to come back again. His eyes flickered open and he struggled in her arms to sit up.

'What…' Was all he managed before the huge double doors of the room blasted inwards, and Smith's remaining eleven men, piled in, toting vicious looking weapons. The leader fired a stream of shots above the heads of the assembled crowd, causing everyone to dive behind the cover of the table, before his eyes settled on the prone, blood-drenched corpse of Smith himself. He looked back up at them, eyes blazing, as the two Luthers and Carver hurried to safety, before signalling his men to open fire.

Splinters of wood showered down upon the cowering Council as the deafening force of hundreds of rounds shredded the half-moon table, and the wooden façade behind. The bullets punched fist-sized holes in the doors to the weapons store behind, and automatic guns began to spill out onto the marble floor. Kyte rolled onto his belly, his grogginess dispelled by shock and fear, and saw Terri crawling commando style towards the nearest weapons. There was a shriek as a bullet hit home into some unfortunate council member and, gasping with fright, he began to follow Herschel as fast as he could.

She grabbed three guns at a time and, glancing behind her, slid one across to him. Still lying down, he slapped home the accompanying clip and armed the weapon by pulling the bolt back and releasing it with a snap. He lay there a second, panting, knowing he had to act, but aware of the odds were he to stand up and fight.

Another scream of pain forced him into action. If he didn't move soon, Hershel would attempt to retaliate, and would almost certainly be killed. With the help of his implants, he might survive. Bunching his leg muscles, he launched himself into the air, and landed on top of the shattered table, spraying hot lead across the line of attackers at roughly groin-height.

He felled five of them at a stroke, but the remaining six immediately turned their weapons on him, scattering widely as they did so. Reacting instantly, he cartwheeled sideways, allowing the gun to swing on it's shoulder strap, and flattened himself to the broken table-top. He returned fire explosively, the mix of tracer and armour-piercing shells streaking across the room to the targets as he chose them one by one. He took out another three before they even registered that they had missed, by which time, the datathief was halfway across the floor towards them, sending volleys of fire ripping across the space towards those nearest.

There was the chatter of more gunfire from behind him as he pounded across the floor, away of the arsenal being brought to bear on him. Herschel must have decided to join in. It provided the second's distraction he needed. He catapulted himself across the gap between him and the squad leader, connecting the butt of his gun with the man's temple with shattering force. He dropped and Kyte used him as a cushion to bounce back up to a crouch and swing the barrel up to fire again. The man nearest to him suddenly lurched out of his line of fire as a burst from Terri caught him high on the shoulder, spinning him around, leaving one renegade left. He raised his arms up in surrender, clearly overwhelmed, but Kyte had already squeezed the trigger. The line of bullets picked up the unfortunate man and slammed him bodily into a pillar supporting the doorway. His loose-limbed corpse glanced off the stone and fell, crumpled, to the floor. Kyte's weapon still roared, slamming round after round into the prone form, until finally there was a clack! and the room fell silent.

One by one, the members of the Council peered over the torn and splintered planking that had once been their conference table. The sheer carnage they saw almost defied belief. What was ever more unbelievable, however, was that it had been caused by one man. One man who now glanced wearily around at them, dropped his gun with a clatter and, touching his swollen chin tenderly, collapsed in an exhausted, shock-induced heap.

The UFH nuclear supercruiser Tarantulae thundered silently through the lightless system towards its unseen destination, flanked by its entourage of two supporting craft. It's commanding officer, Admiral Corden, watched the featureless proximity readouts with an impatient eye.

'Jocab, do the other craft hold formation?'

The Pilot nodded silently. Pilots very rarely spoke. In fact, they were something of an oddity amongst the rim systems at the edge of the UFH's influence. With deep blue skin - the result of a genetic modification soon after conception to denote their intended profession - and large metal data ports protruding from limbs, torso and head, Jocab's appearance could be described as nothing less than freakish at best. He was a particularly huge man and, suspended from the ceiling by the thick, snake-like data channels that made the connection between the ship and the man possible, he was not unlike some weird blue spider at the centre of his web. Fitting, the Captain mused, considering the name of the ship.

Jocab, having opened his eyes to respond to the Captain's question, now closed them again, and resumed control of the Tarantulae. He opened the viewscreens ahead and to the sides of the bridge section, allowing the eight-person crew to see the space around the ship.

The beta-class supercruisers Bolero and Incubus were flying in perfect formation beside the larger bulk of the Tarantulae (which was itself an alpha class, unusual for a mission of this kind), and their ring-shields were powering up, producing a faint yellowish-glow which rotated around the craft.

The admiral nodded his satisfaction. The Tarantulae had not one but three ring-shields, their combined protective area making the cruiser practically impregnable. Any retaliatory strike by Luther and his so called rebels would be quashed with no effort at all.

There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Senator Argus of Elestra standing behind him. As ever, the Senator's approach had been silent, and, as always, this annoyed Corden to an irrational degree.

'Yes Senator.' Argus was tall in the unnatural, floating way which was indicative of the height implants some members of state saw fit to wear. He sported a small goatee, which the Admiral considered a trifle conceited, and had slicked-back black hair underneath his ridiculously high Senate Crown.

'How much more travel time is left before we attack, Admiral? I'm eager to witness the destructive capability of this craft.'

'As am I, Senator.' Corden smiled diplomatically, attempting, in vain, to hide his annoyance at such a trivial interruption. 'In answer to your question, maintaining our current speed we will be in attack range in about four hours. However, we will be in detection range of this "Dark Haven" in an hour or two less, so we could see combat shortly after that, depending on how fast the Lutherites respond.'

'Excellent.'

Corden turned back to the viewscreens. He glanced up out of the corner of his eye and caught Jocab grinning, his teeth a bright white in contrast to the deep blue of his skin. He shot a warning glance and returned to his chair. This was going to be a long wait.

Kyte and Herschel sat in the tiny, slow moving track buggy as it made its jolting progress across the surface of Dark Haven, away from the brightly-lit Solus City. The former still nursed his jaw a little, which had come up a dark, angry purple, but Herschel seemed content to just sit in his arms as they headed painfully slowly towards the Caelestis's launch site.

There was a procession of sixty or so similar vehicles, all making their way across the relatively flat floor of the ravine which jutted south-west from the city itself.

Assembling the four hundred strong population of Dark Haven and loading them into the crawlers had been no easy task, and had taken them over five hours. Now, two hours into the journey, with time thinning quickly before the cruisers entered strike range, technicians and a small crew - including Luther and his now heartbroken sister - had sped ahead to the dormant ship to prepare it for emergency launch as soon as the convoy arrived. It was going to be close, and Kyte, fresh out of the med bay after being treated for shock and slight concussion, could feel things coming to a head.

It frustrated him that he was so impotent - so useless, despite his new talents. Man to man he could take out every single crew member of the entire strikeforce without even breaking sweat, in the same manner as he had done Smith's men, and ship to ship? Well, he'd never find out, would he?

And there was the matter of the data. The evidence. The thing which had brought him to Dark Haven in the first place. It was now going to waste, completely. No way to transmit it to the gate now - the cruisers would definitely intercept it and their position - whether on board the Caelestis or here, trawling along the surface like some metal slug - would be given away. If they could get it to the outpost commander before he ejected from the gate complex and made his escape through the wormhole… but it was impossible. Kyte could only hope that they could find some other way to get the data back once they were through the Hawking gate.

He snorted his amusement at that, causing Herschel to start and glance at him in concern. It was all very well hoping for things after they'd traversed the gate, what about hoping they would survive the crossing itself? That was, at best, a fifty-fifty chance. And when they came out the other side? Oh this side of Hawking might not be a proper black hole… but the other…?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and looked at Terri. She smiled at him and he kissed her. Well, he supposed. He would die happy. And having been in love. That was important.

'We should sleep.' Herschel warned him. 'We've got a few hours yet before we reach the ship, and there won't be a minute's peace after that.'

He nodded his agreement and slipped down in his seat until his head rested in the crook of her arm. She stroked his hair reflectively for a while, staring into nothingness, before the subtle coils of sleep tugged at her thoughts and she drifted away.

A good way ahead, at the Caelestis's enclosure, Luther and Carver watched the launch preparations with critical eyes.

'Have you spoken to Alan about it?' Luther asked the other, without taking his eyes away from the shining black bulk of the craft.

'No, I thought it best to see what you thought first. I don't want to put undue pressure on him.'

The shrivelled little man nodded thoughtfully. 'He's a good lad. He would do it if we asked him. Indeed, he's the only one who could do it if what you say is true - and after that demonstration in the conference room I don't need much convincing. But…'

Carver nodded his understanding. 'It's not fair. On him, on young Terri. Hell - on Jack Hunter!'

'You could be sure we'd never hear the last of it from him.' Luther half-chuckled. 'No, we can't ask it. Best to take our chances.'

'You're right.' Carver nodded.

Both men continued to watch. And to hope. And to worry.

Kyte awoke slowly in the back of the shuddering crawler. Herschel was asleep next to him, her blonde locks falling over his shoulder as he gently eased himself up so as not to wake her. He glanced around the rest of the interior. It was blocky and metallic throughout. The side walls sloped inwards towards the centre of the passenger compartment which, like the vehicle entire, was about twice as long as it was wide. Up towards the front of the compartment, two of Luther's security boys manned a radio, listening out for course alterations and warnings from the leading crawlers. It wasn't even a comm unit, Kyte noted with interest. Just a normal radio signal transceiver. Anything else could be traced to pinpoint accuracy.

The security men leaned against the tinted glass which separated the passenger compartment from the two driver seats up front. Seeing Kyte come awake they nodded in recognition.

'Better wake the others.' One of them told him. 'It's nearly time.'

'Time for what?' Kyte asked stupidly, still groggy from sleep, then looked at his watch. By his timing there was only half an hour before the fleet would theoretically be in strike range! He sat bolt upright, looking at the other two in horror. Only now did it register how wan they looked. How strained their expressions as the crawler slowly jounced them along towards their destination.

'Are we nearly there?' Awoken by Kyte's sudden movement, Herschel raised her head.

'We can see the complex. Give it another five minutes.' The man tried to smile reassuringly, but failed.

As he finished, there was a long, loud burst of static from the radio set. Both men stared at each other aghast.

'What was that?' By now, everyone was awake. And curious.

'Electromagnetic pulse. From a nuclear bomb.' Said the younger of the two guards. 'They've started.'

'Already?' Kyte glanced fearfully behind them. The horizon was lit by some malevolent glow. It was not the lights of Solus.

The radio suddenly begin to gibber. The crawlers were exchanging frantic radio signals, trying to ascertain exactly what had been hit.

'The City's standing!' One reported. Obviously the lead crawler which still had a tight-beam link to Solus's main computers. 'It was a warning shot!'

Herschel almost choked. 'A warning shot? A fucking warning shot? With a nuke?'

'One hell of a warning.' The young guard suddenly looked a little hellish in the red glow of the radio's 'receive' light. Even as the thought entered the datathief's head, another, similar coloured light illuminated also. It was a portable comm unit.

'Now hear this!' The device stated in aggressive, authoritative tones. 'This is Admiral Corden of the United Front Of Humanity, Special Artillery Unit. I address the rebels inhabiting the so-called planet of Dark Haven. I demand your unconditional surrender to prosecution and imprisonment for treason against the body of humanity. If you fail to respond within twenty minutes, we will commence attack. By now you should realise our destructive capabilities. Resistance is foolish and will be in vain. I repeat: I, Admiral Cordon of the Special Ordinance Supercruiser Tarantulae demand your unconditional surrender now.'

Kyte stared at Herschel. 'We're not going to make it.' She whispered. Around them, people had begun to cry. Some sat, silent, staring at their loved ones. They were just ordinary people. 'We'll never launch in time.'

He hugged her close.

'Don't forget, Tom will have heard that too. They'll be ready for lift off as soon as we arrive.'

'But how can we outpace UFH supercruisers? It's just an old passenger transport!'

But Kyte could only shake his head. 'I don't know. We'll think of something.'

He raised his eyes and looked out of the heavily frosted glass, up into the sky…

'Jocab! I take it the missile was on target?'

'Of course.' The Pilot's voice was a deep rumble. Corden, aware of his unwillingness to speak, looked at his weapons technician. She was a tall, extremely thin woman with lacklustre brown hair. She nodded.

'Right on target. Fifty kilometres East of Solus City. The ice has melted for around thirty kilometres around ground zero, creating a sizeable crater.'

'Very interesting.' Senator Argus gloated. 'And would a similar weapon make the same size crater where the city stands now?'

The technician smiled briefly. She was clearly of the opinion she addressed an idiot, but her expression was lost on Argus. 'Yes, it would Senator. And the debris would be flung for hundreds of kilometres more.'

'Very interesting.' He turned, bright eyed, to Admiral Corden. 'Have the rebels responded?'

'Already? No.' He answered without consulting his comms technician. The idea was preposterous. 'We gave them twenty minutes, they shall have twenty minutes.'

'Do you expect them to surrender?'

Corden appeared to mull it over. 'It was a surprise that they did not send up a resistance force as we approached… but these Lutherites have always been a tricky lot. My guess is that they'll try and flee.'

'But to where? We have the jump gate covered.'

Corden grinned. It was a malicious, wolf-like grin that revealed the fact that, for all his contempt for the Senator, he was enjoying this as much as Argus was. 'Yes we have. But they don't know that.'

'Ah!' Argus smiled. Corden suddenly noticed he was rubbing his hands together slowly. 'Of course. They do not…'

'In! Quickly! Get in now!' Security Chief Roper bellowed above the panicked babble of the streams of people rushing past him up the embarkation ramp of the Caelestis Acerbus. She was a long, sleek ship. Metallic black along her length, covered with a stealth coating that would, they all hoped, disguise their egress from the planet's atmosphere and allow them a clean getaway. Inside the ship, Luther, Carver and the pilot Saul Humphrey worked feverishly in the drive room to prepare for engine ignition. Like most modern spacecraft - at least those designed to land - the Caelestis was of 'skyplane' design, and used a runway to takeoff, followed by the air pressure under twin sets of airfoil wings to lift them up out of the atmosphere.

Now, as the last of the Lutherites clambered aboard, followed by the few scattered security personnel, Tom Luther ordered the ramps to be pulled up into the ship's belly and the runway doors to be opened.

The huge steel constructions grated open under tremendous pressure, the vibrations sending inches-thick shards of ice scything from the outer surfaces and shattering on the flattened surface below. The runway had been heated from underneath for the past six hours, and the ice quickly melted and evaporated, leaving only sizzling tarmac as the Lutherite's craft began to taxi out of the hangar complex.

As requested, Kyte arrived on the bridge. Carver and Luther turned to him, their faces a picture of guilt.

'You want me to fight them, don't you?' Kyte pre-empted them. It was clear for their expressions. 'You know I'm the only one who can go up against a Pilot and you want me to attack them.'

Luther held up pale hands. Was he crying? It looked like it. Probably the light, Kyte thought.

'You don't have to, Alan. There's a good chance we can get away without that.'

'Rubbish.' He shook his head. 'I know the score. As soon as we leave the atmosphere they'll lock on to us, track us, and then annihilate us… unless they're distracted for long enough for you to make your getaway. I'll do it.'

Carver looked pained. 'What about Terri?'

At that Kyte faltered. What about Terri? He didn't want to hurt her, but…

'She'll die if I don't go. Better she live and be sad for a time than be killed outright for nothing.'

Luther nodded in agreement. 'I can see you have thought this through. Son, I want you to know it is extremely hard for me to ask this.'

Kyte went over to the feeble-looking figure and placed his hands on his shoulders.

'Thomas, I have never met a man so noble, caring and good-natured as you in all my life. I know what you do is for your people, and also for the people who aren't of your following, but suffer at the hands of tyranny nonetheless. I respect you for that. I will fly out and engage these killers for you. I'll do the best I can to distract them while you lead your people to safety and, if I survive, I will fly out towards the jump gate and see if I can make my escape. Who knows,' He smiled suddenly, desperately. 'I might even make it.'

Luther said nothing. Just nodded. Carver held out a small data cube.

'What's this?'

'The Entrogen Data.'

'Ah!' Kyte took it and pocketed it.

'If you get near enough the jump gate, transmit it to James. He'll still be there - he'll wait until it's over before making his escape. I've included a message explaining what he should do.'

Kyte looked at him thoughtfully. 'Thanks, John.'

The older man grinned. 'Don't mention it.' Then, seriously: 'I think you'd better go and explain to Miss Herschel what's going on. She'll need to say her goodbyes.'

Tears pricked Kyte's eyelids at that, but he nodded and cleared his throat. 'Yes, yes I'd better.'

'Launch out as soon as we're high enough. There's a fighter in bay 4 ready to go.' Luther instructed softly.

Kyte shook his hand and stepped out of the hatchway. As it began to close:

'Alan!' Katherine Luther got up from her seat at the edge of the drive room. She half-ran over to where Kyte was holding the door open, and stepped through. The door closed behind her.

'Alan. I want you to know I'm sorry for the way I've acted since you've arrived on Haven. I was duped. I acted foolishly, and I've got a lot of making up to do.'

'Your brother will forgive you.'

She smiled a little. 'Only because he's too soft. No, I've got to make it up to him properly. You do understand, don't you?'

Kyte wasn't sure what she was getting at, but the engines were already rumbling ominously, and he had to find Terri. 'Sure.' He slapped her reassuringly on the sides of her arms. 'Everything will be fine. Don't worry.'

He ran off down the corridor. Silently, she watched him go.

'Admiral! We are under attack!' Jocab's voice was unusually high. Obviously something had shocked him.

'How many?' Corden snapped.

'One.' Jocab paused, seemed uncertain. 'A light attack craft.'

'Bring it up.'

The viewscreen cleared, and a picture of a small, sleek-looking craft zoomed into focus.

'Are you sure it's not here to parley?'

'It's powering up a ring shield, Admiral.' This from his scanner operator.

Admiral Corden scowled at the tiny craft.

'It's a distraction.' He said offhandedly. 'Destroy it, and commence full salvo launch.'

Jocab opened his eyes. 'Admiral?' He rumbled.

'Do you have a problem Pilot?'

'The requisite twenty minutes are not yet passed.'

Corden seemed to rise taller in anger. 'I don't care! Isn't this act of aggression answer enough to our terms? Now, Pilot, you have been given clearance to fire and you are well aware of the target. Do you disobey me?'

'No, Admiral.' Sadly, the huge blue figure closed his eyes again and, almost immediately, the ship seemed to buck as the massive cargo of nuclear ordinance tore from the launch tubes.

The small attacking craft continued its approach, it's course quickly intercepted by the fleet's sole defence squadron. They closed in on the ship, worrying it like a pack of dogs. It darted left and right, seeming to avoid their fire even as it rounded on the nearest defender and attacked, blowing the ship apart in a hail of fire and scorched metal. Another defender followed in short order, followed by a third. And still no damage to the attacking craft.

'Bolero! Incubus!' The Admiral yelled into his comm. 'Commence firing on that fighter!'

'Admiral!' The tinny reply came from Captain Wethers, commanding officer on the Incubus. 'If we fire our weapons our own defenders will…'

'I said open fire! Must my orders always be issued twice Captain?'

'No Admiral.'

On the side viewscreens, twin flares blazed along the hulls of the two beta-class supercruisers as their primary weapons readied. In a surge of astronomical energies, two bright beams of energy blazed outwards into space, cutting through the lightless void like crimson swords. But it seemed as if the pilot of the attacking craft knew what was coming even before the weapons activated. It surged upwards, leaving the other ships behind to be burst apart in the massive destructive energies that ensued. And, on board the Tarantulae, Corden's comms technician suddenly gave a start.

'Admiral. It's transmitting something. But not to us!'

'What?' Corden was becoming more and more exasperated at his fleet's apparent inability to destroy one ship - especially under the eye of Senator Argus. 'Bring it up on screen.'

The central viewscreen blanked out and was then filled with what looked like a memo.

'UNITED FRONT of HUMANITY,' it read.

'CLASSIFIED COMMUNICATION'

'No!' Argus realised what the data was. 'They're transmitting the evidence. Jocab! Destroy that ship!'

The Pilot groaned, and closed his eyes. What must be done, must be done.

The Tarantulae seemed to rumble, and then shuddered as a gut-wrenching whoop! Thundered through the craft. A bright white lance of light shot from the from of the craft.

Dead on target, it sheared through the tiny attack craft, bursting it like a balloon. A lick of flame briefly shot out, before being engulfed in the relentless cold of space. The craft was no more.

And with that, the surface of Dark Haven shimmered with a light brighter far than anything ever seen for more than twelve light years in any direction. As the nuclear fire spread like some hideous, accelerated cancer across the face of the world, consuming the rock and flash-boiling the ice, Solus City, lit up like a beacon until the very last, was vaporised in the twin blast of two of man's most destructive innovations. It's debris, as the Tarantulae's weapon's technician had promised, was flung far and wide across the boiling landscape of the black orb, swallowed by the angry churning of the planets freshly-poisoned atmosphere.

'It is done.' Corden said quietly. He turned to see Senator Argus beaming at the tiny planet ahead, parts now glowing faintly from the released radio-isotopes. Barbarian, the Admiral thought to himself, and turned his head up to Jocab where he hung, huge and weird, from the ceiling. 'Launch a small ground force in anti-rad gear, will you Jocab?'

'Being done.' The Pilot replied, opening his eyes briefly. There was something in his tone the Admiral didn't like.

'Is there a problem, Pilot?' Corden sneered with naked contempt.

'No, sir.' The suspended form replied, but his eyes told another story.

Goddamn Pilot's getting an attack of conscience all of a sudden. Corden thought. I'll have to make sure this is the last mission he ever serves.

Above him, as the cruisers decelerated slowly to a halt, Jocab looked at the readouts and displays flashing on the inside of his eyelids. The majority of his attention was diverted to overseeing and co-ordinating the flight prep of the landing shuttles, but a tiny part of his consciousness had a different job altogether. It was guiding in, by tractor beam, a tiny escape pod. The kind that came from one-man attack craft. Jocab smiled. If the Admiral thought that the attack was a success, it wasn't a Pilot's place to contradict him, but Jocab knew a distraction technique when he saw one, and if Corden hadn't been so busy kissing up to Senator Argus he would have worked it out also.

The Pilot smiled again as the escape capsule neared the Tarantulae's underside docking bays. He pumped the tractor beam up to maximum strength, whipped it around and reversed its force component, flicking the capsule out and away from the cruiser at tremendous speed. He watched in his mind's eye - which, after a fashion, was the ship's eye too - as the tiny bubble of metal and its inhabitant spun away towards the Altair jump gate. He wished it well.

'Jocab! Are those ground crews ready yet?'

The Pilot sighed.

On board the Caelestis Acerbus, as it came within five minutes travel of Hawking's psychedelic event horizon, the former inhabitants of Dark Haven wept for their tortured world.

None wept as hard, though, as Terri Hershel, a young medic, who now had lost both of the only men she had ever loved. Sat in the drive room of the ship, she was comforted by her normally gruff and insensitive father who now felt powerless as a child against his beloved daughter's insurmountable grief.

The hatchway slid open.

'Why does it feel like all I do nowadays is get knocked out?' Kyte rubbed his head tenderly, where already a lump was beginning to rise.

Their gasp was as loud as it was sharp.

'Alan!' Hunter hardly registered his arm being batted aside as Terri flew across the room. He was too busy staring, his jaw hanging open. Herschel flew into his arms. Dazedly Kyte, wrapped them around her and leaned gratefully on her shoulder.

'Did we do it? Did we get away?'

Luther sounded like he was gulping for oxygen. 'Wh… Yes! Yes, we did… only…that wasn't you?'

'Who wasn't me?' Kyte was rubbing his head again, he glanced at the viewscreen, where a long range scanner showed three UFH supercruisers withdrawing from the system.

'But only you could…' His eyes went wide. 'Katherine!' He spun around to stare at the scanners, as if to read some confirmation there.

Kyte nodded, reached into his pocket. 'She took the data cube.' He squinted slightly and grimaced. 'She said something to me earlier about making it up to you.'

Luther's bottom lip trembled as he looked at them all with glassy eyes. 'My sister.' He looked again at the scanners and shook his head, puffing out his chest in pride. 'She was one hell of a pilot in the old days.'

As Carver went to put his arm around the frail little hero, Kyte turned to Terri and kissed her gently. They held each other tight, and the ship entire held its breath as the Caelestis Acerbus slipped silently, without fanfare, over the rim of the universe, and into the unknown…

Meanwhile, a stream of data hurled at lightspeed away from the dark orb of Hawking, towards the jump gate construction where it rotated lazily in space. A stream of data which, hopefully, would change everything.

Four

An explosion roared into being in the stillness of space. From the myriad, dancing lights on the surface of some unknown dark star, a form burst free.

It floated, still and lifeless, for minutes on end as the dark star gradually released its gravitational hold on the mass and it soared free.

Then, one by one, lights began to flicker on across the breadth of the object. Tiny yellow pinpricks of illumination stretching both the length and the girth on the unknown form.

In a very short time, it was lit up like a fire in the blackness of space.

Like a tiny star, all on its own.

 THE END

My name is Ben Stevenson and I am a student of Theoretical Physics at the University of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. I have been writing science fiction stories for many years now, mainly short stories, but I occasionally embark on a longer project. I enjoy writing stories which make use of my understanding of cosmology and astrophysics, and explore unusual ideas andconcepts. My e-mail address is ben.d.stevenson@ukgateway.net