Guided by Starlight Read online

  GUIDED BY

  STARLIGHT

  BOOK ONE OF NATONUS REFUGE

  * * *

  MATT LEVIN

  Copyright © 2020 Matt Levin

  All rights reserved.

  For Sarah, who believed in me well before I gave her any reason to

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  * * *

  She had no idea where she was—much less who she was—but she knew she was cold, and her body felt heavy, like it was seeping toward the floor beneath her. Her vision was all bleach white.

  She spent the next few minutes shivering on the floor, her arms clasped over her torso for warmth, while her sight slowly came back. She looked over to her left and saw a human-sized cylinder against the wall. A transparent glass door was slightly ajar.

  Cryo pod, her mind said. Was that where she had come from? Her vision returning, she made out a row of pods, a frozen face inside each one slumbering peacefully. A network of cables behind all their pods intersected like tangled tentacles, all leading back far beyond her view. Two pods were even lying flat in the middle of the room.

  Now that she was starting to see again, her senses could instead focus on a sense of overwhelming nausea coming from her stomach. She keeled over, sure she was about to vomit, but her insides felt empty. She let out two dry heaves.

  A flashing green light at the opposite end of the room suddenly demanded her attention. She made out that the light source was a series of arrows pointing off to the left. With no better option available, she resolved to follow the arrows.

  She pushed herself to her feet, fighting against the weight of her own body she was no longer accustomed to. Steadying herself against the wall, she made her way out of the room, carefully stepping over the cryo pods on the floor.

  Heading down a network of hallways, using the green flashing lights as her guide, she emerged into a huge chamber stretching out farther than her eyes could see. The standard, sterile polyethylene floor gave way to a thin grating that gave a nauseating view of just how deep the chamber went.

  Many hallways led to this room. She figured each led to another network of cryo pods just like the one she had come from. The pods stretched as far as her eyes could make out, fading into a grey haze a few hundred feet in front of her. Seeing the chamber brought back a surge of memories. And emotions.

  Her name was Isadora Satoro. She was born in the Pacific Northwest back on Earth, where her parents had moved from Korea. And then there was Meredith...Meredith, the unexpected, unplanned, perfect miracle that had for fifteen years brought the joy to her life that her cold, aloof parents could never provide.

  When Isadora first ran for city councilor in Seattle, her advisers had questioned whether a woman with an unplanned pregnancy and no father in sight could actually win.

  She had found new advisers.

  Her memory then turned to the arrival of the enemy fleet in the Sol System: former colonists who had returned to conquer humanity’s homeworld. They had forced her, and Meredith, and anyone else who didn’t want to live under the heel of the conquerors into whatever colonial craft they could find. And then they had set off for humanity’s farthest colonized system from Earth.

  Which was here. She had to find Meredith. Nothing else mattered.

  Isadora felt her heartbeat accelerate as she frantically moved from one end of the catwalk to the other, trying to find some access point to the endless cryo pods.

  “Isadora Satoro,” a voice bellowed, reverberating off of the chamber walls.

  She had no idea where the voice was coming from, but she turned around anyway.

  “Your heart rate appears significantly elevated,” the voice droned. Of course, she thought. The ship’s computer. More of her memories were coming back now. She was on the colonization juggernaut Preserver. They had left Earth with a crew of about 50 million, alongside another ship called the Anointer that carried 5 million high-level government and military personnel.

  “You are the first passenger I have awakened from slumber,” the ship’s computer continued.

  That didn’t seem right. Why the hell would she be the first person brought out of cryo? She barely dwelled on the problem, however. “I want to find my daughter,” she said. She turned her head around as she spoke, even though she knew she couldn’t address the computer face-to-face.

  Another series of green arrows flashed along the wall next to her. “Meredith Satoro’s life signs are nominal,” the computer said. “But you are needed. Urgently.”

  “The hell I am,” Isadora shot back. “I want to see my daughter.”

  “Unnecessary. Your daughter’s life signs are fully intact, I can assure you,” the computer responded.

  If there had been a way to rip out the ship computer’s processing nodes in reachable distance, Isadora might’ve done it. She knew all colonial craft came equipped with rudimentary onboard computers. They weren’t as advanced as real AI, but they had enough processing ability to run a ship and maintain the crew in cryo. Apparently, no one included emotional intelligence in the Preserver’s model.

  “If you really need me,” Isadora said, enunciating each word, “then I want to see Meredith before I do anything.”

  There was silence in the cryo bay, almost like the computer was pondering how to respond. “Very well, Isadora Satoro. I have highlighted a path to your daughter’s cryo pod.” Immediately, a different series of flashing arrows directed her to a nearby turbolift.

  As she took the lift down, her thoughts returned to the day she and Meredith had entered cryo aboard the Preserver. “I’ll be right there for you when you wake up,” Isadora had assured her terrified daughter. “Before you know it, we’ll be lounging on a beach on some alien world.”

  They had all been scared, especially ever since the news reports that the invading fleets had decimated the entirety of Earth’s forward-deployed military force on Mars. Isadora had immediately signed both of them up for cryo storage aboard the Preserver. It was a desperate gambit, but what other choice was there?

  The loading crew had freighted her daughter’s cryo pod off to an adolescent wing. Pods containing anyone under eighteen didn’t have the same power requirements as adults. It made sense to group them together for power efficiency.

  The lift came to a halt, and Isadora emerged onto a narrow catwalk that ran along the massive chamber for long enough that Isadora couldn’t see the end of the walkway. “Take the second exit on your right,” the computer said.

  Isadora
walked down the catwalk cautiously, almost afraid to round the corner. She had never heard of a colonial craft’s computer going rogue, or even malfunctioning, but she was unwilling to take the computer at its word that her daughter was safe. Maybe that was irrational, but she wasn’t going to beat herself up over it. I want to see my daughter, dammit.

  She followed the hallway down to a node much like the one she had woken up in. A series of cryo pods were again connected by a messy array of cables and wires. A light flashed overhead, indicating the last pod in the row.

  Walking over to the pod carefully, almost on her toes, she peered through the pane in the top. Facing her was the sleeping countenance of her daughter. Isadora let out what felt like the longest breath she had ever held in her life. She caressed the side of the pod, barely caring about the cold plastic. She willed the action to send a wave of comfort to Meredith, even if she couldn’t feel it.

  “Okay,” Isadora whispered. “What do you need me to do?”

  The computer directed her back to the turbolift, which took her up past the cryo bay and into a large transit hub, with turbolifts shooting off to every part of the gargantuan vessel. A sign reading OBSERVATION DECK flashed, and the lift door beneath swung open.

  Isadora stepped inside, and the door closed uncomfortably fast behind her. The lift shot downward almost immediately. “So why was I brought out of cryosleep first?” she asked.

  “We have arrived at our destination in the Natonus System,” the Preserver’s computer intoned. “We are holding position just beyond the orbit of the farthest planet from the Natonus sun. A political representative is needed to meet with the local authorities.”

  “A political representative?” Isadora repeated. That hardly made sense. It was the Anointer, not the Preserver, that contained anyone with significant government experience. The plan was to wake up a skeleton crew aboard the Anointer months before their arrival in the Natonus System.

  And even just among the Preserver’s population, did the ship’s onboard computer seriously think she was the most qualified person to represent millions? She, whose highest political achievement had been narrowly winning a seat to represent a relatively small city district? Her fears about some kind of technical malfunction with the ship’s computer gnawed at her once more.

  “The Anointer was destroyed by enemy fire shortly before leaving Earth,” the computer said. “Furthermore, on our long journey to the Natonus System, we unexpectedly collided with an asteroid while using a planet’s orbit to slingshot further toward our destination. Several cryo pod annexes were damaged in the process. I had to recalculate the most suitable political representative based on who we had left. I chose you.”

  The computer’s monotone belied the horror of its statement. The drop of Isadora’s heart was almost palpable. “How many did we lose?” she asked quietly, not sure if she even wanted to hear the answer.

  “14,755,786 pods were rendered inoperative, either through the destruction of the Anointer or the damaging of our vessel,” the computer answered emotionlessly.

  The lift sped past a section of the ship that the asteroid must have hit. Isadora’s eyes widened as she surveyed awful strips of metal, rent like jagged teeth, with nothing but dark, deadly space beyond. What must have been giant cryo bays like the one she had come from were now lifeless voids.

  As the turbolift approached the destination, Isadora did a quick calculation in her head. Between the Anointer and the Preserver, they had 55 million refugees in tow. That meant they had lost over a quarter. Enough to kill off anyone eminently more qualified than she was. The door opened before she had time to process the enormity of the situation.

  And it only seemed more enormous when she stepped out of the turbolift.

  The observation lounge was actually comfortable, unlike the utilitarian design of the cryo bay. Synthetic carpet threads twisted through her toes that she only now realized were bare. The lighting was a comforting yellow, a welcome reprieve from the harsh white of the lower decks. But none of that mattered.

  What really caught Isadora’s attention was beyond the viewing panels along the outside wall. There was a blanket of space and stars in formations alien to her. And a dozen ships circled the Preserver like skeletal whales, with thin hulls that almost threatened to disappear against the utter blackness of space.

  “The fleet holding position belongs to the largest ruling entity in the Natonus System, identifying itself as the Union,” the ship’s computer explained. “And they’re asking to speak to a political representative for the refugee population.”

  The idea made Isadora’s knees go numb. When they fled Earth, no one had known exactly what the situation would be like in Natonus. A wave of colony ships had left Earth for the Natonus star back in 2191, but they weren’t slated to arrive until the early 2300s, well after she and the other refugees had boarded the Preserver back in 2284.

  They had crossed space on the assumption that their distant cousins of the Natonus System would be friendly, and that the system’s planets would be habitable. And somehow, the responsibility to navigate this mess had fallen on Isadora’s shoulders. The Union would no doubt want to talk to her, and she wasn’t sure she could do the job all by herself. Besides, they’d probably bring over a full ensemble of diplomats and soldiers.

  “Is there any way we could bring other crew members out from sleep before the meeting?” Isadora asked the ship’s computer.

  “What kind of crew, Isadora?”

  Anyone, she thought. Just people I can fill a room with. So she didn’t have to stare down the whole Union alone. “Do you have any recommendations in your routines?” she asked instead.

  “My priority was to pick a political representative,” the computer said. “But I also have directives to bring out a qualified engineer, a security adviser, and someone to oversee our settlement operations.”

  “Great, perfect. Forward some dossiers to my quarters. Er, I do have quarters, right?”

  “Yes, a room has specifically been designated for our political representative,” the computer said. “But I should caution you that the Union has sent over a vast array of documentation regarding their history, politics, economics, and society. It may be pertinent to review these materials before your meeting.”

  She got the point: did she really want to overburden herself with meeting prep and going through a bunch of dossiers? “Fine,” she said, although she wasn’t sure if the computer could detect her resignation. “Just make sure I get some good people.”

  “I will exercise the same diligence as I did in selecting you, Isadora Satoro,” the computer said. Isadora wasn’t sure whether that was supposed to ease her fears or just terrify her all the more.

  “What about soldiers?” Isadora asked, suddenly trying to figure out what to do should the Union prove hostile.

  “It would be wise to limit the number of individuals I wake up,” the computer said. “We have no food stores aboard our vessel. Securing nourishment for a skeleton crew will no doubt be one of your main priorities in the upcoming meeting.”

  Isadora tried to recall the plan back when they were loading the Anointer and the Preserver. The idea had been to stock the Anointer with enough supplies to give the crew several months awake before arriving in Natonus. But they had jury-rigged the Preserver to hold as many cryo pods as possible. Food storage would have taken up space needed to increase the vessel’s carrying capacity.

  And the Anointer was gone. That meant they had nothing, which explained why the computer was only waking her up now.

  “I would recommend haste, Isadora. The Union prime minister is eager to meet with you,” the computer continued.

  She suddenly became cognizant of the biting cold. Looking down, surveying her white tank top and briefs, it was obvious why. “Well, at least let me get dressed first,” she muttered.

  CHAPTER 2

  * * *

  The Union prime minister was on her way. It would be a multi-step process: first,
Union drones would sweep the Preserver and check for any diseases that might have survived the journey. Then a team of marines would perform a security check. If both the drones and the soldiers were satisfied, the prime minister would head over.

  Isadora had the computer read the primers the Union fleet had sent over while she deliberated over her presentation. The ship informed her that the current year was 2404, a full 120 years after the Preserver had left Earth, while she picked out a white blouse from her two footlockers’ worth of possessions she had recovered from storage. She matched the shirt with a black pantsuit. Plain, but professional. She was negotiating on behalf of 40 million people, and she hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious she had just woken up from what amounted to a century-long nap.

  The computer moved on to recent political history. The Union represented about 275 million of the system’s 350 million people, and held nominal control of six planets. Smaller factions contested for power and influence on the other worlds. The sitting Union prime minister was a middle-aged woman named Tricia Favan, who had been in office since an unsuccessful coup by a rogue intelligence officer back in 2391 led to the death of the previous prime minister. “So that isn’t suspicious at all,” Isadora muttered to herself as she pulled a small box of jewelry out of the footlocker and rummaged inside. Her hand lingered on two earrings that complemented the cool gold of her skin.

  They had been a birthday present from Meredith: a rare peace offering amidst an onslaught of teenage hormone-induced antagonism. Her thoughts immediately shifted from trying to process the information the computer was spewing at her back to her daughter. She wanted nothing more than to tell the computer to shove it, bring her daughter out of cryo, and strike out on their own.

  But she had a duty to everyone else on the ship. None of them had boarded the Preserver knowing that she alone would be responsible for their collective fate, but damn if she would let them down now that the responsibility had fallen in her lap. It’s what Meredith would have wanted, anyway.