by C. Gockel
She should stay with her ship, but the pressure to explore was almost physical in its intensity.
Okay, so she was probably going to take a short walk. The Colonel had said, stay put, not stay in your ship. Put could be over there, say by that door that looked particularly inviting. And she’d still be in radio contact. She shrugged out of her zoombag and pulled out her P-90. Just because she got no life signs readings didn’t mean there wasn’t something here her ship didn’t know was life. She checked her gear, and then climbed down. The foliage pressed in on every side and was wild and tangled. It was hard not to feel she’d wandered into a fairy tale. Just hoped it wasn’t one of the ones with a nasty ending.
With her P-90 at ready, she moved slowly forward, trying not to let her imagination run wild. The silence was complete. Not even bug sounds. Did this island have those things Fyn didn’t like? The ones that came out at night? She reached the door and it slid open for her. The inside looked dim and cool. She stepped forward, stopping just shy of entering and lights came on inside. Now she could see a large hall. It smelled musty and dusty and looked it, too. But at some point it had been very grand.
Beautifully carved wood marched in arches out of sight. What had been rich hangings rotted on walls and windows. She could see chairs, couches, and alcoves that looked sort of official. It reminded her of an upscale office entry, maybe. Really upscale. Except for the smell of moldering fabric.
She took one last look at her ship, then went down the rabbit’s hole though her landing was better than Alice’s, since it was just a step inside the door. Once she was inside, the door closed. She whirled…and it opened again. Okay, that was good. She turned and paced slowly forward, still weapon’s ready. The rotting wall tapestries could have been on any castle’s wall in England. The figures she could still see looked human, though Sara didn’t see any animals.
Maybe it was a small island. No pets allowed.
The floor looked stone, but then a path of lights appeared in front of her, kind of like an invitation.
Okay.
She looked at it for a long moment, debating the wisdom of following it. It wasn’t much of a debate. She’d seen the movies on Sci-fi. She knew what could happen.
“I don’t think so.” Her voice echoed around the room. Now she felt that insistence again, along with it came a flicker of reassurance. There was a computer up there and it was trying to communicate with her, she realized.
“Are you the one who hijacked my bird?”
In the end, it was curiosity that won out. She kind of got how Dorothy felt about the yellow brick road. She knew it was probably a bad idea, but dang. It was a freaking yellow brick road. She started along it, moving slow and stopping once to look back in time to see it disappear behind her. Maybe she should drop breadcrumbs or something. At least nothing looked like gingerbread though that didn’t mean there wasn’t a Wicked Witch of something somewhere.
She reached a central staircase, a real fancy one, like in the movies. She went up slowly, craning to see ahead at the bends. The lights beckoned her up past the first floor and the second. On the third floor, the light path turned to the right, leading her down a hall, around a corner to yet another staircase. Thanks to Briggs, she wasn’t panting, but that didn’t mean she was happy. Why couldn’t the lights have pointed to an elevator? Surely people who could do this knew about lifts?
This staircase was smaller, almost circular, with tighter turns and a faster climb rate. Sara figured she was climbing into the central tower she’d seen from outside. She became aware of a slight buzzing in her head and felt an ache around her temples. That was weird. She didn’t get headaches.
She rounded the last curve and she was there—top of the tower. For a castle, the room was oddly high-tech, in a woodsy, Lord of the Manor kind of way. Possibly even a Lord of the Rings way. A series of consoles, made of rich, dark wood, circled the room on three sides. There were chairs at each station. The side without a console had a sort of situation room map or screen fixed to the wall. Sara went up to it first and poked it with her finger. It felt like jelly and it rippled, like the surface of really thick water.
“Weird.” She turned to the consoles. “Which one of you bad boys is trying to talk to me?”
Her voice sounded loud in the heavy silence. And the consoles just sat there.
“Okay. Eenie, meanie, miney, Moe.” She walked up to Moe and sat down, feeling like Goldilocks, except the chair fit her just fine.
She looked at the dark screen in front of her. Almost hesitantly she reached out and touched it with the tip of her finger. It lit up for her like it had been waiting for her touch. But that was just the opening salvo. Where her finger touched the screen, tiny beads of light formed and flowed into her finger, before she could jerk it back. She could see them run along the surface of her hand for a few seconds before they disappeared. Okay, that couldn’t be good. Only…it didn’t feel bad. She flexed her hand. It had kind of tickled and it didn’t feel unfriendly. She studied her hand. No scales or anything.
She carefully put her palm against it, her fingers spreading out. The little beads swarmed her like fire ants. Her arm glowed…
It wasn’t unpleasant until they slammed into her brain-housing group.
“Crap!”
She grabbed the sides of her head, but it didn’t help. After a bit, the pain began to ease, slowly fading to a dull ache. She could see again. And speak. Now she was probably going to turn into ET, an evil version who tried to take over mom. Not to mention the humiliation of being as dumb as those gomers on Sci-fi. She stared at her outstretched hands for long seconds, waiting for something to happen but nothing did. She looked down at the console and realized she knew what it was for. It was a communications station. And the others were weapons control, power management, cloak, fire control and tracking.
“Sweet.” Maybe she wasn’t going to turn into an evil gomer. Maybe it was just an information exchange. She realized that map thing on the wall had lit up. She could see the Doolittle and the Dusan ship—it was lurking behind a small moon. As she watched, the Dusan vessel jumped out of range.
She got on the radio. “Home plate? The Dusan vessel has withdrawn.”
There was a pause, and she wondered if her radio was being blocked, then the Old Man spoke.
“How do you know that, bravo5?”
That was a good question. She wished she had a good answer.
Chapter Four
The city…resisted when Sara started making her way back to the lower floor.
“It’s a direct order.” Her voice echoed in the empty rooms in a very eerie way. “And you gave me a headache. Not friendly. Though I am happy you didn’t turn me into an alien hybrid creature.” Yet.
The resistance eased some, leaving a sense it felt almost forlorn.
“Look, I’ll try to come back, if they’ll let me.” Though the Old Man was pretty pissed. “If I’m not in the brig.”
Now she wished she’d waited to call the Doolittle, at least until she learned more about the weapons systems. It felt like she’d just peeked in the window at the pastries, but been pulled away before she could try anything. She made it down to the first floor. No lights marked her retreat. Now the rooms seemed shadowed and her footsteps sounded loud and lonely.
She reached the door—and it didn’t open.
“Please don’t do this. I have to follow orders.” Her voice echoed off about ten walls before fading away. After a pause, the door snapped open. Sara readied her weapon and stepped out. The light was already fading. Short days. If they didn’t get here before full dark, she was going back inside. End of story. Orders or no orders.
“Bravo5,” Carey’s voice crackled in her ear. “I’m not seeing your island yet.”
“Just follow my heading in. Once you pass through the cloak, you should see it.” But would they? Would it let them in? Sara ran to her ship, climbed in and turned on tracking. “I can see you both. You’re on course. You should be
passing through the cloak…now.”
“Dang! I see it!”
Sara released a sigh of relief and climbed back out of her bird.
“Bravo1, we’ve lost you and bravo2 on tracking.”
Just as Sara had, they reassured the Colonel they were fine and in short order, they landed on either side of Sara’s craft. Carey and Fyn clambered out, both clearly relieved to see her in one piece. Before Carey could speak, Sara gestured around her.
“Would you have been able to just sit here, sir?”
He tried to look stern, but finally grinned. “Hell, no.” He looked at her, “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t in trouble. Have you got control of your ship yet?”
“I don’t know.” She started toward it, then stopped and turned. “You don’t want to see anything first?”
“We plan to look around, but the Old Man wants you heading back.”
“Oh.” Sara nodded. “Right.” She climbed in and it wouldn’t start.
Carey hid a grin. “Move, let me try.”
He couldn’t get it to fire either.
“Try one of ours,” he ordered.
They wouldn’t start either.
“This better not be a one way trip, Donovan.”
Was it? She didn’t get that feeling from the computer, but how to explain that to the Colonel?
“Sir, I wonder if maybe there’s an AI here, an artificial intelligence? Maybe it wants us to look around before we leave—” she hesitated. Would it let them leave? With the thought came that feeling of reassurance again. “Maybe it just wants company.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Fyn, try your bird again.”
Fyn climbed aboard and the engine fired, but as soon as Sara tried to get in, it shut down.
“I think it wants you to stay. Any idea why?”
Sara had an idea, but she wasn’t about to say it out loud. She kind of shrugged.
“Maybe it’s a guy AI.” Fyn grinned.
He tapped his radio. “Sir, something about the shield we passed through is messing up our…avionics, but Donovan thinks she can get it worked out. She just needs a little time. Fyn and I are going to take the ten cent tour while she works on the problem.”
While Carey talked to the Colonel, Sara looked at the building. Her ship wasn’t going to start until it was good and ready for her to leave that was clear. She just hoped it didn’t involve more pain.
Carey jumped clear of her ship. “You all right, Donovan? You look a little pale.”
“I’ve got a bit of a headache, sir, but I’m fine.”
“Take some Tylenol.” He readied his P-90. “And let’s start the tour.”
“I’ve only been inside this one building, but I think it’s their central command.” Sara led the way to the door. “Or it was. I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Yeah, we didn’t pick up any life sign readings but yours.”
Sara leaned close to Fyn as he came up. “Do you think there are those things on this island, you know, the ones that go bump in the dark?”
Fyn stopped and looked around. “If there are biters on this island, the repair should wait until it’s light.”
Carey stopped. “Biters?”
Fyn shrugged. “That’s what they do, so that’s what I called ‘em.”
Carey got on the radio again. “Sir, we’re going to have to delay the repairs until it’s light again. According to Fyn, night can be interesting.”
The Colonel was not happy, but agreed there was nothing else to be done. At least while they were inside, they could monitor Dusan activity.
“Maybe he’ll cool off before he sees you,” Carey said, cheerfully. “Lead on, McDuff!”
Fyn looked around the upper chamber. If this was a Garradian outpost, then maybe the stories about them were not as wild as he’d thought. Kalian—no, don’t think about him, not here, not now.
Sara seemed oddly wary. Something had happened to her while she was here alone. Why would someone with her…ability to heal…get a headache? And why did she touch the consoles like they were hot, just a quick touch to turn them on? And why wouldn’t the AI, if it existed, let her leave? It didn’t care if he or Carey did.
Carey studied the tracking map, his hands clasped behind his back.
“This is way cool, Donovan.” He looked back at them both. “I wonder what the weapons are like.”
“I know,” Sara said. “I was wishing I hadn’t been so quick about reporting in.” She rubbed her temple, almost absently.
“Thought I told you to take something for that,” Carey said.
“I did, sir. It hasn’t been long enough for it to kick in.”
Fyn was standing in line with her, while a console blocked Carey from having a clear view. He could see her clenching her hand so hard the fingers looked white. She managed a stiff smile.
“Maybe I should look around, see if there’s some place we can sleep tonight.” She looked around. “The couches look a little on the short side.”
“Sure, just don’t wander far.” Carey sat down in front of one of the consoles and tentatively touched the screen. Fyn noted it didn’t respond to him the way it did to Sara.
Sara walked out of the room, moving without her usual grace. With a quick look at Carey, he followed her out and found her in the hall leaning on the banister, her head down, her hands clenched on the wood. Her hair hid her face. Her body looked tight enough to bounce coins off of.
“Sara?”
With an effort, she straightened and turned to face him. She was dead white and still she tried to smile.
“What’s wrong?”
She touched her temple lightly and dug her fist into the side of her head. “Headache.” She paused, and then ground out, “I’ll be all right in a minute.”
He was about to call Carey when he saw her start to relax. She even managed a smile, though it was a bit on the wan side.
“Wow. I’m not used to getting headaches.” Her gaze did an odd, assessing sweep around her and Fyn had the feeling it wasn’t him she was talking to. “Do you want to take this floor and I’ll go check out the next level down?”
“You sure you’re all right?”
Sara wasn’t sure what she was, but she managed another smile.
“Not great, but good. The meds are starting to do their thing.” After a brief hesitation, Sara started toward the stairs. She had to pass Fyn and it didn’t surprise her when he stopped her, his hand on her arm. She looked up at him as warmth spread through her from the point of contact. In an odd way, it seemed to push the pain back even further. It was kind of nice to be worried over.
He must have felt the change in her because his eyes changed. He released her arm and ran a finger down the side of her face. It was both comforting—and a bit worrying.
She wished she understood better why he’d singled her out for… interest. She wanted to ask him, but it was hard to come up with a non-humiliating way to ask why he seemed to want the homely girl.
Evie used to tell her that there were different kinds of beautiful and the right man would find her the right beautiful for him.
Sara always thought that was a bunch of bull, but maybe Evie was right. She’d been right about most things. It was still hard to wrap her brain housing group around.
“What are you thinking?” Fyn sounded puzzled and maybe a tiny bit annoyed.
She kind of shrugged. “A lot of things, actually.” She hesitated. “You…kind of, seem to…like…well, me.”
At least he seemed to like kissing on her. Maybe that wasn’t the same thing with guys.
He looked surprised at first, and then he smiled. “Is that a problem?”
Sara hesitated again, but it had to be asked. “Why?”
His brows arched in surprise. “What?”
“Well, I mean, I’ve got a temper…and that baggage…” A lot of baggage. Faults, too, but would be unwise to list them all. If he did actually like her, why poison the well? “And there’s a lot of women w
ith less…baggage on the Doolittle. Mary Kelly is a botanist and a former beauty queen. Of beet roots, I think.”
She faltered a bit at the look in his eyes. She couldn’t quite figure it out.
“And there’s Andrea Williams. Another scientist and very beautiful. She’s the blonde you danced with last night…”
His brows went up.
“Okay, they were a little short, but Sandy Willis is tall and beautiful. She’s head of stellar cartography…” The look in his eyes killed the rest of the sentence.
He looked like he was going to say something, but then stopped and looked over his shoulder toward the doorway to the control room.
“Come in here.” He drew her into a room next door.
The lights came on as they entered, revealing an office with the usual, though very sumptuous, accoutrements. Sara was vaguely aware that one wall was lined with what looked like books, while others had paintings attractively arranged. There was also a fire place. It was hard to see anything but the look in Fyn’s eyes.
He took her P-90 and set it on the desk, then grabbed both her hands, holding them against his chest.
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“Well, that would be why I asked,” Sara felt bound to point out, wondering if they were talking about the same thing. She could have understood his interest in her when they were first stranded on Kikk and he hadn’t seen anyone for months, but now? He had options. There were points for comparison.
“One of those songs your group sang last night, it could be about you. You really don’t know you’re beautiful, do you?” He sounded amazed.
Sara felt…winded. If she’d have had a hand free, she would have waved it in front of his face to check his vision.
“Who told you that you weren’t beautiful? And why did you believe them?”
“Well,” Sara looked away, then looked back at him, “I do have a mirror. I’ve been looking at this face for years, twenty-eight of them, actually. Well, I probably didn’t look for the first few—”
