Star Blaze (22 page)

“I have thought about it,” said Sol as infuriatingly calm as
ever. “After a careful re-examination, I have verified that the order was correct and cannot be changed.”

“Send the Imperial distress signal,” said Johnny. “All frequencies.”

“As you wish, Johnny, although I do not believe I am in distress.”

“Johnny,” said Clara. “I don't think you can reason with her—you've got to do something.”

Johnny nodded. He looked to the android standing behind the navigation console and said, “In case I can't stop this, I need you to get Clara and Bentley to minimum safe distance.”

“Don't you dare…” said Clara but, before she could finish, the whirl of arms and legs that was Alf moving at full speed had picked her up and whisked her off the bridge.

“The
Piccadilly
's fastest,” Johnny shouted after them. Now he stood alone with his ship. “Sol—I'm not going to let you blow yourself up. You can't die.”

“Johnny—I am not afraid of death. I do not believe it is the end. Fifty seconds to self-destruct.”

“I don't care if it's the end or not. This is stupid—you've got to stop.”

“I shall die content in the knowledge I have carried out your orders. I hope I have done well. I advise you to leave as soon as possible to reach minimum safe distance, before I detonate my dark energy core.”

Johnny didn't know what to do, but he had to try something. “I'm sorry, Sol,” he said as he closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, trying to connect with the ship. If Erin had done it, it had to be possible.

“What are you doing, Johnny?”

He used the question to look for some sort of disturbance in the electric fields around the bridge and felt he might have sensed something, but it was hard when Sol's presence was everywhere.

“Forty seconds to self-destruct.”

That time he'd definitely seen something—a swirling vortex of thought, of electrons, but moving forward and backward in time.

A voice came through Johnny's earpiece. “If you don't get out of there I'm folding myself back to the bridge and there's nothing you can do to stop me.”

Johnny raised the wristcom to his mouth. “Clara—if I'm going to stop Sol, I have to concentrate.”

“Promise me you'll abandon ship if you can't stop her.”

“Clara—I haven't got time for this.”

“Promise me!”

“OK … I promise.”

“Thirty seconds to self-destruct.” Sol's words jarred Johnny back to reality. He hadn't had any intention of leaving the bridge—every captain went down with their ship—and immediately regretted giving in. Clara's interruption meant he'd lost concentration and vital seconds.

He switched his thoughts back to Sol with the ship's words still ringing in his ears. He followed them as they ebbed into her consciousness, like tracing waves back to their origin when a pebble is thrown into the center of a pond. Then, when he saw that center, he couldn't have taken his mind away even if he'd wanted to. Sol was beautiful. Johnny's mind orbited around his ship's, a complex ever-changing, white crystal of pulsating energy, like a giant three-dimensional snowflake. At its many points (the closer he looked, the more he was able to see) lines of electric current, like silken chains, shimmered away from the structure, directing operations right across the
Spirit of London
.

“Twenty seconds to self-destruct.”

As the words were spoken, Johnny saw a stronger stream of electrons leave the glittering snowflake. He cursed Erin for having done this—and for making Johnny do what he was about
to do. He knew the only way to stop Sol blowing herself up was to cut her mind off from the rest of the ship. So he began to break the chains. Every link leading away from the beautiful crystal had to be severed—there was no way of knowing (and no time to find out) which was responsible for what commands. Johnny's thoughts became a scalpel, slicing through waves and currents, shutting out the screams of pain he knew he was responsible for.

“Please stop, Johnny. You're hurting me.” Since Sol had been born it had been rare for her to show emotion, but her voice was full of it now. Johnny tried to blot her out and redoubled his efforts, but Sol's mind was so complex he doubted he could finish the job in time. He hated himself—cutting Sol's mind from her body was the only way he could think of to stop her blowing herself up, but it was a dreadful thing. For ten long years Johnny had watched his mum lying in a hospital bed with no spark behind her blue, unfocused eyes, her own brain cut off from her body until his father had returned to release her from her mental prison. Johnny was sentencing Sol to exactly the same fate. He pushed the thought from his mind and continued slicing through the connections.

“Ten seconds … to … self-destruct.” The voice was deeper and slower than normal.

Almost all of the outer connections had been severed and, in doing so, Johnny could see a single, tightly bound stem of energy remaining, currents winding around each other, leading away from the very heart of the structure. It was the final link to sever. If he didn't keep going now, it would all have been for nothing. Johnny sliced again.

“
If they look out of their windows they will see your world as it is, albeit with a two nanosecond delay
.”

And again …

“I anticipate our destruction in 42.537 32 seconds. The necessary
missiles and mines have all been launched. The probability is 100 percent
.”

And again …

“Then I shall take the name ‘
Spirit of London
.' The spirit of your people … of this city. But you can call me ‘Sol' for short. The symmetry is pleasing. Do you like it?
”

“I love it, Sol,” said Johnny, quietly. “I'm so sorry.” These were Sol's memories coming out—key moments she had stored, going back to the time of her creation. It sounded as though she'd stopped the countdown, but Johnny cut the very last connection, opened his eyes and discovered he was floating near the center of the darkened bridge. The gravity generators, the life support, everything had ceased to function. The only light came reflected from the giant planet they were orbiting.

“Johnny?” The voice was Clara's, direct into his ear.

He raised the wristcom to his mouth, brushing his tear-stained face as he did. “I'm still here,” was all he could think of to say.

“He did it!” Clara was shouting for joy at Alf, but Johnny simply felt numb.

“We're on our way back,” his sister continued. “Get Sol to open the shuttle bay doors.”

“No,” said Johnny. “Listen to me. Sol's not working. She's … sleeping for now.”

“Can't you wake her up?”

“I don't know how. And she'd probably blow herself up if I did. We can't stay here—there's no power … nothing. Is there anywhere on your scanners we can go?”

“Master Johnny,” said Alf. “Sensors indicate there are five sizable moons orbiting the gas giant, each capable of sustaining an atmosphere. Closer inspection will be required to determine if any can support life.”

“I'll check some out too,” said Johnny. “It makes sense to have a
back-up … bring another shuttle.”

“An excellent plan,” said the android. “The Emperor would be proud.”

“Thanks,” Johnny replied. He'd only suggested it because he wanted to be alone.

Already the bridge felt colder than normal. He was close to the Plican and relieved to see the creature looked unconcerned, tentacles squeezed up inside its fibrous body as the design of the tank dictated. Johnny didn't know what the long-term effect of separating Sol from her “folder” would be, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He pushed off from the tall cylinder toward the antigrav lifts and then peered the one hundred and eighty meters down through the many decks. Kicking off, he floated in total darkness, feeling his way down the long shaft, arms out in front as he zigzagged from side to side. Several times he bashed against the ice-smooth walls, stubbing fingers on the way, before crumpling in a heap beside the three-meter-high statue of the silver alien at the foot of the
Spirit of London
.

Starlight shone through the outer doors, reflecting off the statue and up the shaft. Johnny could see where he needed to go. He pushed off again, carefully angling his approach so he was able to pull himself into the shuttle bay on deck 2, leaving the main shaft behind. He'd only used a spacesuit a few times before, but would need one now. The advanced design molded itself around his body, as if giving him a second, very strong, outer skin, and wasn't at all like those of NASA astronauts—only the clear bubble helmet indicated he was wearing anything unusual.

With the sound of breathing filling his ears, Johnny took hold of two carbon nanotubes and fixed one end of each to the side of the
Jubilee
, clipping the other onto his suit. Then he made his way over to the massive bay doors and pulled the lever that
would expose the deck to the vacuum of space, letting the air out and the starlight in. Johnny was sucked out of the ship, as he knew he would be, but the cables held firm. Bits and pieces not properly anchored to the deck flew past, to be lost forever—a bowl of flowers Zeta must have left there even struck Johnny's suit—but no damage was done and they sailed out into space, to be caught in the gravity well of the giant planet below. In the far distance, something was glinting and Johnny wondered if it was the unfurled sail of the
Falling Star
, carrying its traitorous crew away to safety. If he could have gone after them he would, but he knew that would have to wait.

He gazed toward the blood-red sun. Aldebaran was a giant star near the end of its life—at some point in the next few million years it would naturally become a supernova. If Bram arrived on Earth now and found him and Clara gone, Johnny wondered if the Emperor would stay to stop the Sun's own Star Blaze. Somehow he had to get home. With the inner and outer pressure now equalized, he pulled himself across to the
Jubilee
, opened the door and climbed inside.

He thought
Forward
, and the little black ship responded. As the
Jubilee
flew out through the shuttle bay doors, Johnny turned to look at his ship. “If you can hear me, Sol, I'm so sorry,” he said. “I promise, as soon as I can work out how to fix things, I'll be back.”

Using the
Jubilee
's scanners he reached out into space to sense where the
Piccadilly
was, before pointing his shuttle in the opposite direction, to investigate the large moon that was just rising on the far side of the giant planet below.

Normally Johnny's command of the
Jubilee
was instinctive, but now he found himself having to concentrate to keep it under control. After the terrible harm he'd caused Sol, he must have been struggling to focus because it took a second or two for his tiny craft to respond. When he was sure he was pointing in at least roughly the right direction, he allowed himself to look back properly, lovingly examining the sleeping ship now adrift, high above the nearby planet.

With no power lighting her up, anyone not knowing what to look for would have struggled to make out the
Spirit of London
's form properly, but Johnny's eyes went straight to the diamond-patterned hull and the glistening starlight reflecting off the different panels. He wondered if one of those points of light might be Sol's namesake, Earth's Sun, shining faintly and looking like every other average faraway star. Even if it happened tomorrow, from Aldebaran it would take sixty-five years for the light of a supernova to show.

“Clara to Johnny—we've reached the first moon.” His sister's voice reverberated inside his helmet. “Alf's struggling a bit with the
Piccadilly
—I think we'll have to land.”

“OK,” he replied into the microphone. “I'll get over once I've checked on mine. Johnny out.”

He switched communications off—it was too hard to talk normally after what he'd just had to do. Johnny took a final,
lingering look at his abandoned ship. He knew he had to find a way of returning to Earth as quickly as possible but, right now, all he really cared about was going after Erin—to think he'd once offered his hand to the arrogant boy king.

Grimly, he turned to face forward. The planet orbiting Aldebaran filled the windscreen. It was encircled by stripes of purple, green and brown and spotted by giant storms, one of these a huge blue circle embedded within a larger oval, like an enormous eye staring back at him. The moon he'd been flying toward was in the very corner of the window, as if the
Jubilee
had drifted off course. Johnny fixed its orange and black surface, a little like Jupiter's volcanic satellite Io, in his mind. The shuttle shuddered, but didn't change direction. He tried again, thinking very clearly indeed. Once more, the
Jubilee
jolted, but stubbornly remained on course for the gas giant which by now filled the view down the side windows as well as the windscreen. That definitely wasn't good.

Johnny tried merging his own senses with the shuttle's sensors, but the euphoric buzz this normally produced was missing—everything seemed fuzzy, like being underwater. He wondered if the helmet was somehow blocking him, but it didn't seem wise to take it off. Instead he opted for the readings to be projected onto its curved insides, like a fighter pilot's head-up display. Red warning lights flashed everywhere but he ignored them for a moment to turn the communication system back on.

“Clara, Alf, can anyone hear me? Over.”

The only result of turning the volume to maximum was that the buzzing in his ears grew louder. “If either of you
can
hear me, something's happened to the
Jubilee
. I'm off course, heading straight for the planet. I'd really appreciate it if you can get over here and rescue me. Please …”