Dispatches from the Galaxy: A Space Opera Novella Trio

To Walker

A fellow Science, Science Fiction, and Space Opera Fan

And my favorite Star Wars date

Dispatches from the Galaxy

A Space Opera Novella Trio

Kari Kilgore

Spiral Publishing, Ltd.

Contents

A Childhood Made for Space Opera

The Changes Cascade

Restricted Species

The Becalmed

About Kari

Also by Kari Kilgore

A Childhood Made for Space Opera

Like many people who grew up in the 1970s and 80s, my childhood was steeped in Science Fiction.

I’m not sure how old I was when I first encountered a rerun of Lost in Space on television at a friend’s house. I know it was long enough ago that adjusting the spindly metal antenna on top of the set was still an option. I couldn’t tell you what season the episode was part of, even though season one was the only one filmed in black and white.

I was young enough that the television itself may have been a black and white model.

Star Trek entered my consciousness before I started first grade. My signpost for that is I remember seeing the cartoon during its first run, and it ended in 1975. I watched the cartoon because I already loved the series.

From that point on, the 1970s provided a feast for kids who were thrilled by the idea of getting out there or contemplating what the future might bring. Space: 1999 also came along in 1975, and I clearly remember seeing Logan’s Run from the balcony of a theater in 1976. I enjoyed the later TV series as a kid, but I somehow doubt it would hold up as well as the movie does for me.

Of course 1977 looms large in the minds of many Science Fiction fans because of the summer of Star Wars. I’m grateful to remember exactly how it felt to see it on the big screen for the first time along with millions of others.

But almost as large in my memory is getting to go on an exclusive mommy/daughter date to see Close Encounters of the Third Kind that same winter. A story much closer to home that promised a grand adventure for the imagination.

The brief run of Battlestar Galactica starting in 1978 delighted me so much that I taught my Merlin to play the theme song. If you’re younger than Generation X, you may quite reasonably have no idea what a Merlin was.

They were incredibly cool. Trust me.

The last big Science Fiction event of the decade for me was Buck Rogers in the 25 th Century, which my whole family saw at the drive-in, then continued to watch when it made the move to television.

(Alas, I was a bit too young to see Alien in first run despite seeing quite a few movies before my time. And while I saw Flash Gordon several times in the theater and love its campy joy to this day, it doesn’t quite fit in with the Science Fiction I’m talking about.)

Watching as a family was one of the best things about Science Fiction in my childhood. We watched these movies and shows together most of the time. In case you’re quite a bit younger than I am, that was more important than you might realize.

Many homes way back then only had one television, and odds were high any secondary sets were tiny and often black and white.

Watching these movies and shows as a family also kept me from developing any sense of it being strange or odd that I so loved to escape the bounds of Earth and our solar system.

Carl Sagan’s wonderful Cosmos: A Personal Voyage series in 1980 got me focused on the science side while giving me a strong foundation to branch out into writing fiction.

Add in the fact that my parents let me stay up late to watch incredible video footage from Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, and I was hooked on science and Science Fiction for life.

I was an avid reader of Science Fiction and science writing at the same time, into the 1980s, and still today. But that’s a much larger discussion for another day.

While there are many subgenres of Science Fiction (and they change frequently), my favorite is the subject of this collection.

Space Opera.

Some compare Space Opera to highly dramatic stage operas or long-running daytime soap operas, and that’s fine by me. I’m the last person you’d see get into any sort of genre argument. Primarily because I mix and match and cross and smash genres with complete delight and abandon.

My own definition of Space Opera is it must indeed be set in space, whether on a ship or on another planet, and it’s definitely not Hard Science Fiction. You won’t find long, technical discussions of a ship’s drive systems or the detailed development of hypersleep pods in these stories. Perhaps in other stories someday, but not these.

I do at least pay attention to the major laws of physics and such, though I might then proceed to bend or break them.

What I hope you’ll find in my Space Opera is a sense of adventure. Of reaching beyond our current limitations of Earth and even our solar system.

Hopefully beyond some of the other limitations that plague humanity.

In The Changes Cascade, we join one of the initial forays into the galaxy. All onboard the remarkable feat of engineering that is Expedition Mission Bellagos goes smoothly several years into their generational journey.

Until an all too familiar problem from our current high-tech lives throws everything into chaos.

Restricted Species visits Mossera 4, a thriving colony planet established to provide food and recreation for a vital mining operation on a nearby planet. A peaceful, calm existence, even with groups of inexperienced, green cadets arriving to learn the fine art and science of farming so far from Earth.

Then the failure of the dependable pollinator drones threatens not only the miners, but everyone who works to keep them fed and happy.

And finally, The Becalmed joins a years-long mission to Bitanthra: the most important planet in the galaxy. Without the vital Bitan that makes faster-than-light communications possible, the sprawling network of human colonies would face isolation and possible collapse.

Solving a mysterious problem with the human colony on Bitanthra is their only chance of survival.

I didn’t write these stories to be connected parts of the same fictional story universe, but I definitely see how they could be. Each and every one is brimming with ideas I hope to explore in future fictional adventures.

And even more, I see how the seed of each of these stories took root during those heady years of my 1970s childhood.

That little girl who so happily enjoyed escaping into the future and into space would have enjoyed every one.

I hope you do, too.

To all of my fellow IT folks,

past, present, and recovering.

The world changes,

but IT challenges remain the same.

Chapter 1

Systems and Security Chief Sue Warrell watched the main security console, endless alerts and questions and worries running across the screen and through her mind. The command pod was small, only five paces across with dark gray curved walls and ceiling, but she loved the secure, comfortable feel of the space.

The chilly temperatures required for the thousands of comps that kept the ship running were a bonus to what she called her high metabolism.

Here more than anywhere else in the vast, interconnected series of living pods, production pods, and mechanical pods that made up Expedition Mission Bellagos, Sue felt at peace.

But today her normally calm and sedate console flashed orange and yellow rather than her beloved green. She was surprised and strangely irritated that not a single one of them advanced into the red of a confirmed failure.

The problem, the worst one in her long career in interstellar security, wasn’t anything as dramatic as a debris strike, onboard systems failure, or a careless adjustment by one of the thousands of crewmembers.

Sue had been through more variations of those disasters than she cared to count, if she had the spare brainpower for counting. She was an expert at pinpointing, solving, and figuring out how to prevent bad choices and bad reactions, or she never would have beaten out thousands of other applicants for this multi-generational mission.

Nothing in her training or experience or her vivid imagination had prepared her for a nightmare straight out of the infancy of the digital age, one only Sue’s youthful obsession with tech history gave her the means to recognize.

A corrupted systems upgrade from Earth HQ had infested the vessel’s operations, interrupting one function after another before anyone realized what was happening. Since a neuro-alarm jarred her out of the hectic routine of getting ready for the supposedly routine update three days ago, Sue and nearly everyone else on board had been on emergency response status.

The nearly two-day-cycle message transit time between Bellagos and Earth HQ wasn’t helping. Sue had sent the alert immediately, but she had no control over sheer distance and time. And she didn’t know the massive software packages nearly as well as she knew the systems that depended on them

Rolling everything back without knowing more—and without assistance from HQ—could make bad enough trouble even worse.

She leaned back, the chair adjusting to her new posture with a faint sigh, and clenched her hands into fists to relieve the stress of hours of non-stop motion over the touch screens. Bio-engineers had perfected the nutrients and stimulants for sleepless days many years ago, ushering in a new age of technological advancement along with chronic overwork. The stims were safe enough if you didn’t push past more than a week with no sleep, though Sue had never gotten used to the bitter, metallic taste and low ringing in her ears that went along with them.

She’d hacked the override on the audible alarms that made the ringing worse years ago, and she blessed that bit of rule breaking if no other.

Unfortunately all the hydro-showers in the galaxy wouldn’t keep the oily stink of stress sweat from building up again. Not until she got some real sleep.

Stims aside, her body reacted to the strain of hours of tapping each orange alert into Investigate status, dispatching someone to the affected sector, and shifting the alert into the yellow of Invalid. Sometimes multiple times on the same blasted alert, and still no reds of confirmed trouble. Noting the fakes on her touch tablet slowed her down too much.

For the last several hours, she’d been relying on her brain’s built-in ability to notice details and understand patterns.

Sue leaned forward, stretching her fingers against her thighs as the chair shifted her into a new angle. She was moving to tap eleven alerts into Invalid status when a piercing alarm broke through her silence hacks. The bass entrance request bong for the door behind her sounded at the same time. Her skull and all of her bones echoed the wretched noise.

Blast these damn overrides!

Sue pivoted to the right to slap the door status to Unlocked, then slid all ten fingers upward on the touchscreen to bring up the virtual keyboard. Before she could start typing, the door hissed open.

What is it? Sue said, not turning around. I ordered Emergency Response Status hours ago, meaning no interruption. It better be good.

Ma’am, I am so sorry to intrude, a low voice said.

Sue continued to type, growing more desperate to silence that screeching alarm by the millisecond.

Younger. Male. Odd musical accent, likely the southeastern sector of United North America.

Respectful, but brave enough to face her temper during a mess like this.

What is it, Mr. Evans?

The alarm stopped, and Sue let out a breath and shifted her knotted shoulders. She turned to face Security Tech Brandon Evans. He was tall enough to have to hunch a bit to keep more than his thick brown hair from brushing the ceiling, and he was wringing his hands. She’d never known Evans to be the nervous type.

That’s when unease started gnawing around the stress in Sue’s belly.

We’ve had a problem, ma’am, one I can’t leave to anyone else but you.

It can’t possibly be more of a problem than this. Sue waved an aching hand at the console as another eight lights shifted from green to orange.

Well, I’m sorry, Chief, but it is. Evans took a deep breath. Senior Tech McHugh is missing.

What the hell do you mean, missing? In case you’ve forgotten, this is a deep space vessel, Evans. No one can get in or out.

The gnawing warmed up, much like the lumbar stress relief protocols of her chair kneading against her lower back.

I understand, ma’am. I made sure to investigate before I brought this to you. Just like you taught us.

I also taught you about the geo-sensor, didn’t I? Sue tapped the tiny bump hidden in the hair above her right ear even as the gnawing in her belly picked up speed. "Mr. McHugh is an experienced member of our crew. He would not simply disappear, even if he could."

Yes, ma’am, the tracking screen was the first thing I checked after his son reported him missing. Pull it up if you could, please, and we’ll make sure.

Sue pushed off with her foot, the numbness spreading through her body keeping her from using the right amount of force. The chair compensated and brought her in front of the ship status console. After three shaky tries, she brought up the tracking screen.

Her eyes darted to the crew count, and her whole body flashed hot, then cold and clammy.

Eight thousand seven hundred fifty-three, she whispered. That can’t be right. Even if he were dead…

She switched over to the specific report on McHugh, and a deeper chill ran through her.

The yellow of Invalid flashed behind his name.

Not the normal green that every single other person showed, or the sad black of the deceased that Sue hadn’t yet had to deal with on Bellagos.

Not one other crewmember showed that impossible status.

No one has seen him for more than twelve hours, Evans said, wringing his hands again. I knew you’d want me to check with you first, Chief.

Sue stared at the screen, re-reading that impossible number. She didn’t have to count to know one-third of the systems were now in Invalid, with another quarter still in Alert and under investigation.

She also didn’t need any procedures training to realize she could not possibly deal with one more emergency.

The raging fire in her gut told her that, impossible or not, another had landed in her lap.

I tried to replay his location for the last day cycle, Evans said. Observation recordings, too. Neither system is online.

Along with half the systems in this slow-motion disaster. A quick glance confirmed the whole recording suite was locked in Invalid mode. Non-essential systems my ass. The data should still be there, but we can’t get at it until I clear everything else.

Are we any closer to bringing everything offline for a reset, ma’am?

Not until we hear back from Earth HQ and the Great Update Disaster stops knocking things offline at random. Can’t take the chance of missing a real alarm or making everything worse trying to fix it.

Sue groaned, rubbing her face. Okay, Evans, you did the right thing. You’re taking lead on this since you obviously know how easily a panic can spread with everyone on edge. Let me see if I can get ahead of this. Bring his son in for a talk. Quietly.

Chapter 2

By the time Evans made it back an hour later, Sue and her overworked crew had wrangled all the remaining false alarms down to Invalid status. Nothing new had tripped over for half an hour. As long as she ignored the maddening clumps of yellow across all sectors of her console, she could tell herself things were under control.

A hearty swallow of a ginger-laced calming infusion she and everyone else involved in this update disaster carried constantly had settled her belly to a reasonable level of discomfort.

At least this time, Evans had the decency—or self-preservation instinct—to use a text alert to get her to open the door rather than the skull-splitting alarm.

Sue blinked, ignoring what felt like grit in her eyes, when she saw McHugh’s son huddled behind the lanky Evans. The boy was years younger than she’d thought, probably not yet out of his first decade. His rumpled dark green pants and tunic showed no signs of rank or assignment, only his name on his chest just under his left shoulder. He had McHugh’s wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes, but he was barely waist-high to Evans.

Eyes obviously red and swollen from crying, not from being awake for days like Sue’s.

This is Liam McHugh. Evans stepped to the side, but he didn’t push the boy forward. He reported his father missing.

Sue resisted a strong urge to bark orders at Evans, or maybe to get up and storm out herself.

Anything to avoid focusing on the kid’s frightened and hopeful face.

Thank you for letting us know, Liam. She leaned forward, deciding not to unfold herself from the chair just yet. Liam looked like he’d bolt at one sharp noise. After hours of sitting, she’d grunt loud enough to scare him and Evans. "You were born on board Bellagos?"

Liam stepped forward, both fists clenched against his skinny thighs. He took a couple of shaky breaths before he met Sue’s gaze.

Yes ma’am, I was.

So you know how the ship works, Sue said. Your father can’t have gone far, and he has to be on board somewhere. We’ll get this figured out. Is your mother off shift yet?

Too late, Sue noticed Evans’s wide eyes and shake of his head.

My birth-mother lives in another pod, ma’am. Liam’s face turned red, but he didn’t look away from Sue. They weren’t bonded. Only assigned to each other until I was born.

Sue had heard of such arrangements, one of many ways humans dealt with generations spent on board a massive, sprawling ship in deep space.

In love or not, the species had to continue.

She wondered sometimes if assigned mating wasn’t easier than trying to manage a bonded relationship long enough to have children, much less raise them.

Most of the time, she was thankful to be years past such concerns.

Don’t worry, Liam, we’ll find you somewhere to stay for now. Or someone to stay with you. Did your father say anything about where he’d be? What he was going to be doing today?

Liam kicked his soft boots against the gray carpeted floor.

It’s his leisure day. Or at least it was. Liam held his breath for a second, then went on in a rush. But he never did come home last night, ma’am. I thought he was just working late, so I went to sleep. He wasn’t there this morning, either. He goes out after his shift to get supplies sometimes, so he doesn’t have to leave our pod early on his leisure day. Then today we were going to...I don’t know. Whatever I came up with.

Sue tried not to scowl, but she knew she sucked at keeping her feelings to herself. Especially when she was this strung out.

Of course McHugh was on a leisure day. Even during an emergency, the crew took their regulation time off if they possibly could. At least they were supposed to, not following Sue’s rotten example. McHugh had missed enough of his leisure days that this one was mandatory, no matter how many lights flashed orange and yellow and thankfully not red under Sue’s fingers.

If McHugh had been on duty, she would have had him racing around with everyone else verifying these damn false alarms. She hadn’t seen him all day.

And if McHugh had been on duty, missing his much-needed leisure day or not, this frightened boy would know where his father was.

Good, we can start with that. Sue couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the console. Steady for the moment. Evans, why don’t the two of you figure out what supplies McHugh might have been after? What he and Liam were due in the food rotation. We can go from there. Do you need anything right now, Liam? Anything we can get you?

Liam pressed his lips together until they turned white, but that didn’t stop his chin from trembling.

"We were…we always get frozen chocolate, ma’am. On my dad’s leisure days. It’s