Into the Fire Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Author's Note

  PART I - BEGINNINGS

  Chapter One - Becoming

  Chapter Two - Welcome to Your New Ship

  Chapter Three - Islanotis Station City-7

  Chapter Four - Lumina

  Chapter Five - A Wasteland

  PART II - DECEIT

  Chapter Six - The Devil's Eye

  Chapter Seven - A Proposal

  Chapter Eight - A Simple Plan

  Chapter Nine - Contact

  Chapter Ten - The Sulphur Belt

  Chapter Eleven - The Ghost-Runners

  PART III - REVENGE

  Chapter Twelve - Mellarnne

  Chapter Thirteen - Shadows of a Ghost

  Chapter Fourteen - The Halion Belt

  Chapter Fifteen - Payback

  PART IV - LUMINA

  Chapter Sixteen - Uncovered Truths

  Chapter Seventeen - The Battleship Oak

  Chapter Eighteen - The Defiance

  Chapter Nineteen - First Contact

  Chapter Twenty - The Source

  Thank You

  Other Works by the Author

  Acknowledgements

  INTO THE FIRE

  BOOK ONE OF THE LUMINA SERIES

  by

  I G HULME

  Copyright © 2020 I G Hulme

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published by I.G Hulme 2020

  www.ighulme.com

  INTO THE FIRE

  Born in 1971, I G Hulme has been an artist, writer,

  and musician, before one day he entered The Heavenfield.

  Since then he has no plans to return.

  I G Hulme is known for his HEAVENFIELD

  series of dark science-fiction stories, as well as

  THE CIRCE OF SOULS and LUMINA series

  Coming next in the LUMINA series:

  DEFIANCE

  PART I

  BEGINNINGS

  CHAPTER ONE

  BECOMING

  Ryann let his fingers slide softly over the pristine control surface, the great grin of disbelief still spread across his features. He could scarcely believe he wasn’t dreaming — that he was truly sitting at the flight column of his brand new Raven X-10 Hunter-Trader, and not the flickering façade that was one of the simulation-suites.

  Well, not actually his Raven — but almost as good as.

  Ryann’s father, Grayell Wade was a modestly well-off trader, who, now that his son had turned sixteen, had grudgingly agreed to part with his old but beloved Conqueror-class trade-ship for a vessel which would better accommodate both pilot and co-pilot.

  Ryann was fresh from his final year at the Navigation Academy on Asheen, and just two days previously he had arrived back on his homeworld of Islanotis, worn out from the long haul by passenger shuttle. His father had met him at the trade-station and suggested they go for a trip around the local tourist sights in the old Conqueror. As he settled down in front of the flight console, the smell of the grav-seats had brought back a flood of childhood memories. The old ship was a fortress of battered metal, fitted out with every conceivable upgrade – pulsar lasers forward, a remote turret aft — torpedo mountings gaping wide at the front; extra power units, energy shields — the whole lot. Grayell was a successful small-time trader and he knew how to handle himself in the tough world of competition — in the sphere of trade, and also the inevitable violence of space combat, both of which went hand-in-hand in the turbulent, unpredictable universe.

  Ryann was proud of his father, and was glad of this unexpected time they were spending together.

  They took in all the famous star-system sights together. They drifted in silence off the ice-plains around Islanotis-5 — an endless crystal mirror of shards and mist stretching away into the void, catching the weak sun so distant and reflecting it back in beams of every hue. They took the Conqueror down into the beautiful Angel Nebula, and Grayell even let his son skim the rocks of the Circle Belt, where the exhaust of the ship’s jets ignited the Borallium deposits in the asteroids, leaving a blue incandescent trail that stretched out behind them for hundreds of miles.

  Islanotis was a beautiful and vibrant star-system, part of the cluster of new worlds colonised by the ever-expanding human race. Although only settled for a little over sixty years, it was already a busy trade hub for mining corporations making the run from the lawless Outer-Edge back to the Core-Systems – mankind’s heart of power.

  As the days of their holiday passed, Ryann had sensed conflicting emotions in his father. His assured hands seemed to linger over the controls, and his eye often strayed wistfully about the cramped cabin, as if he were fixing the ship in his memory. But on the other hand, his father seemed genuinely proud of his son’s first-grade results at the Academy, and seemed eager to share his trader’s life with him.

  “A new partner,” his father had chuckled as the magnetic cranes locked onto the hull with a dull echo, guiding the ship across the vast open space at the centre of Islanotis Station-7, and towards the blinking navigation lights which indicated their berth. “Grayell Wade and Son.” He turned to Ryann and grinned again. “I like that. You’ve done well Ryann.”

  Ryann blushed and mumbled something inaudible back to his father as the old ship settled into its docking-bay with a slight shudder. Fuel pipes and energy lines snaked out across the ship, as maintenance droids tumbled around in the zero-gravity environment, busily checking the hull plates.

  Ryann looked beyond them, to the stream of ships coming and going on their automated journeys to and from the sprawling docking section. They travelled in endless rows along the central axis of rotation known as null-space, within the vast, cylindrical innards of the space-station. At one end of the cylinder was Docking-Control, where ships of every imaginable variety were berthed. At the opposite end was the narrow slit of the launch-tunnel, and the bright luminescent yellow-green of Islanotis’ verdant forest surface could be glimpsed through the open portal, spiralling dizzyingly as the Station-City span slowly in space. Now that their ship was docked, the rotation of the station took them around the null point, so it appeared as if the endless stream of traffic span on its axis. It was always disorientating when viewing the tumbling streams of ships. Ryann watched as a huge Transferor-class freighter broke through the protective field of the entrance in a shower of blue static. The great unwieldy craft was towed by the squat shapes of three tiny Vanguard tugboats, straining on their gravity hawsers to coax the lumbering craft towards the mooring pens.

  A flash of silver, as a sleek patrol ship slipped effortlessly past the heavy bulk. Ryann turned back to the Transferor, squinting as he tried to make out the markings on the side of the enormous Newland freighter, its hull battered and worn by the hostile environment of space. He wondered where it had come from and what cargo it held in its monolithic hold, and what sights it had witnessed during its long journeys.

  Ryann’s eyes were distracted by the bright lights of the taxi-shuttles which flitted at a manic pace through the congestion of null-space and then out towards the city. He followed one down until it was lost amongst the myriad lights of Islanotis Station City-7.

  The sight was truly an awesome spectacle.

  The entire curved surface of the cylinder that was the inside of the station was covered in busy urban sprawl. Below him, Ryann could see the lights of skyscrapers, houses, streets and hover-buses. The lights curved around, and he could follow them high up into the distance, where they became a
bizarre substitute for glowing stars in a night sky. He could pick out individual cars and people, upside-down on the streets above, seemingly ready to fall off at any moment.

  “Make sure you get all your gear,” muttered his father as he shut the ship’s systems down, interrupting Ryann’s thoughts. “Everything.”

  Ryann looked up in curiosity at his father, who was staring around the cabin as if lost in a world of his own. He gently patted the back of his grav-seat and whispered something, but Ryann didn’t catch what he said.

  As they made their way through Immigration Control, the mood was sombre. Ryann wondered if had done something wrong — they had been having such a good time only a few hours ago.

  Outside Immigration, a stuffy-looking man had met them, and by the way they had shaken hands, Ryann thought his father had been expecting him, although he didn’t look pleased.

  “Mr Wade,” asked the man in a serious tone. “If you would like to follow me to the office, I have the necessary documents for you to sign.”

  Grayell took a deep breath and nodded, following the stranger into the Merchant’s Registration Centre. Ryann gave his father a questioning glance, but Grayell was a world away, staring straight ahead with a glazed expression.

  Ryann waited awkwardly outside the small office for what seemed like an age, until eventually the door hissed open and his father strode purposefully out. His previous gloomy mood seemed to have dissolved, and he slapped his son on the shoulder and grinned down at him.

  “Come on, let’s get some food,” he said cheerfully, and headed off towards the Registration Hall’s exits.

  “Grayell Wade and Son,” Ryann heard his father laugh again as he caught up with him on the promenade through the station terminal.

  “Dad, what’s up?” he pleaded in confusion.

  “Ah, you’ll see, you’ll see,” laughed his father cryptically.

  They dined upon Aolian squid steaks at one of the take-out bars, and then sauntered back through Immigration towards the docking-bays, Ryann almost bursting with frustration. By now Grayell was grinning like a Cheshire Cat at a secret only he knew.

  At the docking port, instead of heading for their ship’s berth, Grayell ushered his son into an automated hover-taxi, instructing it to take them to docking-bay 17/C.

  “Why aren’t we going back to the ship?” asked Ryann in confusion. As the taxi-craft slipped out into the stream of traffic, he could make out the battered nose of his father’s ship poking out of its docking-bay. Grayell grinned again and winked.

  “Oh dad, come on,” implored Ryann, desperate to be in on the great secret.

  “I’ve sold the Conqueror,” said Grayell, still with a smile on his lips.

  “Yeah right, and Terperion’s moons are made of cheese,” laughed Ryann. “Come on dad, tell me.”

  “I’ve sold her,” said Grayell again, and the look in his eye made Ryann stop dead, his mouth still open.

  “You really have,” he whispered, staring back at the Conqueror as the taxi took them further away. “But you can’t,” he croaked in disbelief. Suddenly the tears welled up in his eyes and he felt his cheeks burning. All the childhood memories bombarded him, fighting to be heard amidst his confusion. “You can’t sell the Conqueror!” he blurted out, turning away to the window to hide his face from his father.

  “Hey, hey,” whispered Grayell gently. He placed a reassuring hand upon his son’s shoulder. “That ship and me have been through a lot, it’s true. But it’s time for a fresh start — Wade and Son.” He chuckled to himself again at the sound of his voice. “You don’t want to be a passenger in a cramped cabin with your old man for the rest of your days do you?”

  Ryann felt as if the world he knew were slipping away.

  “I want to fly with you dad,” he blurted out. “I want to be a trader — I want to visit all the places you’ve told me about!” He felt his eyes welling up again.

  “Hey, of course you will, of course,” soothed his father. “What I mean is — I need a co-pilot, not a passenger. I want you to be a partner in the firm.”

  Ryann looked up in confusion, clumsily wiping his eyes. He realised that the taxi had come to a halt.

  “Welcome to our new ship,” said Grayell with a wry smile and nodded out of the window.

  Ryann’s face went through many different emotions in a short space of time — sadness, to confusion, to awe and disbelief, and then finally unbridled joy.

  “She’s a beauty isn’t she?” whispered Grayell, the pride thick in his voice.

  “But how?” muttered Ryann, his face pressed against the window. Outside, in the harsh arc-lights of the worker-droids floated a ship, rocking gently in its gravity tether. The smooth plates of its hull glistened new, and its insignia and registration were in bold, fresh paint. The sleek lines of the ship were instantly recognisable to Ryann — he had pored over hundreds of pictures of this state-of-the-art craft. A fine well-balanced trader ship, but underneath, it had the menacing air of a killer.

  “Raven X-10,” whispered Ryann in awe. “You bought it?”

  “First one in the system,” said Grayell proudly. “Delivered straight from the factory world of Rhealde. Come on, shall we go aboard?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  WELCOME TO YOUR NEW SHIP

  “So what do you think of her then?” Grayell’s grinning face flickered into view at the communications station.

  Ryann was speechless; he simply beamed back at his father.

  “Looks like I’m going to be held up here for another hour or so at least,” muttered Grayell, and leaned in close, his face filling the view-screen in a conspiratorial manner. “Looks like these jerks have lost my insurance details,” he whispered with a roll of his eyes. “They’re having to have the policy sent through from the Rhealde works — I think the ship’s so new they aren’t quite sure how to categorise it.”

  Ryann gave a sudden look of panic.

  “We will be able to take her out today though?” he asked desperately. “Won’t we?”

  His father chuckled lightly again; Ryann couldn’t remember ever seeing him in such a good mood.

  “Sure, sure — an hour or two, I promise — though we won’t be going far until the upgrades are fitted. She’d be an unmissable temptation to every pirate in the system.”

  “We’d fly circles around them!” laughed Ryann proudly. “This ship will out-fly a supernova!”

  “I guess so,” chuckled Grayell. “But let’s wait until we’ve got more than navigation lasers before we planet-hop the Dante system, okay?”

  “Okay,” laughed Ryann, sharing his father’s joke, though the name Dante alone sent shivers down his spine.

  The Dante system.

  He hoped never to visit that lawless, anarchic star-system deep within the Inferno Nebula. He had heard stories from wizened old traders around the space-port bars his father had occasionally taken him to. By all accounts Dante-9, or the Devil’s Eye as it was affectionately known by its inhabitants, was a black planet — a hard, dark orb of obsidian reflecting the hellish rain of plasma storms which whipped through the system like a primordial furnace. Only the most desperate and dangerous of criminals endured the tortuous radiation clouds and flash-fires within the sulphur belts. Only the worst of the worst had to hide in such an environment to escape the heavy arm of Military Justice. No, Dante was a place Ryann hoped never to visit.

  Grayell caught the dip in his son’s mood — it would be weeks before any upgrades could be fitted and he would be confident enough to take his new ship out into deep space. The Raven was fresh from the factory, and was fitted with only the most basic of weapons, and shield generators more suited to small asteroid collisions than the superheated plasma-strands of an enemy blast laser.

  Still, he thought, a local run out to test his new ship and keep his son happy couldn’t harm, as long as they stayed safely within the secure zone around planet-space.

  “Look, why don’t you fire up the systems and run thr
ough the pre-flights while you’re waiting for me?” asked Grayell in an affectation of casualness over the comm-link. “Run up the diagnostics and get a feel for her.”

  “What, really?” croaked Ryann in awe. “On my own?”

  “Sure, you’re more familiar with the Raven than I am,” smiled Grayell. “You ran their flight controls on the simulators at the Academy didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, guess so,” said Ryann nervously. That had always been the rule with his father — drummed into him his entire childhood: “Never, repeat, never touch the controls when I’m not present.”

  He felt an unwelcome surge of responsibility, even over such a simple set of procedures which he had performed unsupervised a thousand times before at the Academy.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” said Grayell awkwardly, unsure himself of the shift in roles which was taking place.

  “No, I’ll do it,” broke in Ryann, his momentary doubt soon crushed by his excitement.

  “Okay,” laughed Grayell. “I’ll see you in an hour or two.” The comm-screen flickered and went black, and Ryann was left in the silence of the lifeless cockpit, his heart pounding in anticipation.

  He nervously stood up from his seat at the navigation console, and approached the empty pilot’s chair. He glanced over his shoulder as if he expected to find his father watching him from the airlock. He grinned once more and hoisted himself into the recumbent position of the gravity couch, feeling the cushioning mould itself perfectly to his body.

  He held his breath and gingerly keyed in the security code on the armrest controls, still set to their factory defaults of zero, one, two, three, four. There was the faintest of whines from around him, and then with a gentle hiss the pilot’s seat slid smoothly forwards, out into the darkness. With a low hum and a subterranean throb from deep within the bowels of the ship, the world around him sprang into life, and suddenly Ryann found himself at the centre of the galaxy. All around him shone bright stars and glowing nebulae, soft pastel clouds and glistening fires.