Read Online Dark Space: The Invisible War by Jasper T. Scott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jasper T. Scott
Tags: Science-Fiction
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and the broad floor-to-ceiling viewport were luxuries that would make the adjustment a whole lot easier.
Being the overlord had its perks.
Ethan sat up, rubbed his tired eyes, and scanned the rest of the room. A large bathroom lay to one side; the sliding doors were open, revealing a broad mirror and gleaming steel cabinetry offset by artfully recessed glow panels and black wall tiles; another desk like the one in the overlord’s office was arranged before the room’s viewport; and separated from the bedroom by a short half wall which was adorned with indigo-colored ferns, were a couch and some chairs along with a bar and a small kitchenette. Ten years ago this could have been a luxury studio apartment in any city on any planet anywhere in the galaxy. That was before the war. Now most living spaces Ethan had seen were half the size, and they were either in space or they lay underground to better shield them from the high levels of radiation in Dark Space—although the black holes ringing the region didn’t emit much radiation, the dying stars falling into them did.
It had been little more than a day since Ethan had left Dark Space, but he felt like it had been weeks. So much had happened since then. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his comm piece from the bedside table before standing up to stretch. As he did so, a flash of light drew his eyes to the viewport and the murky gray swirl of the Stormcloud Nebula beyond. As he watched, it flashed with another bright discharge of static, and Ethan could just see the dark outline of a station cast into stark relief by the burst of light. This was where they were hiding while they made repairs to the Defiant . They’d arrived at the Stormcloud Transfer Station in the middle of the night, and some unthoughtful kakard had promptly awoken him with the news. When his bedside communicator had begun trilling less than an hour after he’d lain down to sleep, Ethan’s first instinct had been to smash it—an impulse which he’d promptly acted upon—but his fist had hit the receive button by mistake and piped the comm officer’s transmission into his room at full volume, overwhelming Ethan’s sleep-clouded brain with noise. It had been all he could do not to give himself away before remembering that he was supposed to be the supreme overlord now and he couldn’t cuss out his crew for providing important updates.
Atton had told him to wear his holoskin at all times, just in case, but at least it was less obtrusive than the holoskin Brondi had made him wear. That one had been a skintight body suit made up of rare and expensive shielding and holo-sensitive fibers, while Ethan’s new holoskin projected his appearance from two thin holofield generators around his ankles to two matching bands around his wrists and one around his neck. The new skin was made up of even more expensive materials than Brondi’s one—which Ethan supposed made sense. The overlord would be able to afford the best. The new skin would be very much harder to detect, even if one were feeling around for it and knew where to look.
Ethan stood up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. Seeing himself in the mirror was a shock. He looked like he’d aged a hundred years overnight. His face was thinner, with plenty of wrinkles, his cheeks were sunken, and his eyebrows were out of control—a bushy white which needed immediate trimming. His nose and ears were groomed at least, but Ethan could see the hair encroaching there already. The four days worth of white stubble on his face needed shaving. Besides being completely white, the pattern of facial hair Ethan saw was subtly different from what he was used to, and when he ran his hands over his cheeks, he could feel the discrepancies—a holoskin didn’t change tactile qualities. Opening the steel cabinet beneath the sink, Ethan found an expensive depilatory gel which would strip the hair off his face and keep it that way for six to
Being the overlord had its perks.
Ethan sat up, rubbed his tired eyes, and scanned the rest of the room. A large bathroom lay to one side; the sliding doors were open, revealing a broad mirror and gleaming steel cabinetry offset by artfully recessed glow panels and black wall tiles; another desk like the one in the overlord’s office was arranged before the room’s viewport; and separated from the bedroom by a short half wall which was adorned with indigo-colored ferns, were a couch and some chairs along with a bar and a small kitchenette. Ten years ago this could have been a luxury studio apartment in any city on any planet anywhere in the galaxy. That was before the war. Now most living spaces Ethan had seen were half the size, and they were either in space or they lay underground to better shield them from the high levels of radiation in Dark Space—although the black holes ringing the region didn’t emit much radiation, the dying stars falling into them did.
It had been little more than a day since Ethan had left Dark Space, but he felt like it had been weeks. So much had happened since then. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his comm piece from the bedside table before standing up to stretch. As he did so, a flash of light drew his eyes to the viewport and the murky gray swirl of the Stormcloud Nebula beyond. As he watched, it flashed with another bright discharge of static, and Ethan could just see the dark outline of a station cast into stark relief by the burst of light. This was where they were hiding while they made repairs to the Defiant . They’d arrived at the Stormcloud Transfer Station in the middle of the night, and some unthoughtful kakard had promptly awoken him with the news. When his bedside communicator had begun trilling less than an hour after he’d lain down to sleep, Ethan’s first instinct had been to smash it—an impulse which he’d promptly acted upon—but his fist had hit the receive button by mistake and piped the comm officer’s transmission into his room at full volume, overwhelming Ethan’s sleep-clouded brain with noise. It had been all he could do not to give himself away before remembering that he was supposed to be the supreme overlord now and he couldn’t cuss out his crew for providing important updates.
Atton had told him to wear his holoskin at all times, just in case, but at least it was less obtrusive than the holoskin Brondi had made him wear. That one had been a skintight body suit made up of rare and expensive shielding and holo-sensitive fibers, while Ethan’s new holoskin projected his appearance from two thin holofield generators around his ankles to two matching bands around his wrists and one around his neck. The new skin was made up of even more expensive materials than Brondi’s one—which Ethan supposed made sense. The overlord would be able to afford the best. The new skin would be very much harder to detect, even if one were feeling around for it and knew where to look.
Ethan stood up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. Seeing himself in the mirror was a shock. He looked like he’d aged a hundred years overnight. His face was thinner, with plenty of wrinkles, his cheeks were sunken, and his eyebrows were out of control—a bushy white which needed immediate trimming. His nose and ears were groomed at least, but Ethan could see the hair encroaching there already. The four days worth of white stubble on his face needed shaving. Besides being completely white, the pattern of facial hair Ethan saw was subtly different from what he was used to, and when he ran his hands over his cheeks, he could feel the discrepancies—a holoskin didn’t change tactile qualities. Opening the steel cabinet beneath the sink, Ethan found an expensive depilatory gel which would strip the hair off his face and keep it that way for six to
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