by C. Gockel
Actually, the first eight. For those years she’d had parents who thought she was wonderful and beautiful and smart—all the usual things parents believed about their own kids.
Instead of talking, Fyn started to touch her face. First he traced the shape. Then he outlined her nose and mouth. Her mouth might have quivered a bit. The pads of his fingers were slightly rough, but amazingly gentle as he explored her face. He stroked along her eye brows, and ran his hands into her hair, playing with the strands as if they fascinated him. It felt like he was…erasing homely, painting a new, beautiful reality onto her quivering skin. It wasn’t possible, but it felt wonderful.
When he’d reduced her to a puddle of longing, he finally kissed her. There was passion there, but if it had only been passion, Sara wouldn’t have responded so completely. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t give it a name, but it filled her with…delight.
When he finally came up for air, Sara took a shaky breath. “So how come you’re the first one to notice my…great beauty and charm?”
He smiled slightly. “Maybe the gods hid you for me.”
Sara had to smile. “It’s a working…theory, I guess.”
She wished they’d mentioned it to her. If she’d known who she was being saved for, she would have enjoyed being hidden in homely a bit more.
Her radio beeped. “Where are you guys?” Carey asked.
Sara straightened instinctively to attention. “We’re in an…office, sir.”
“Anything of interest?”
Sara grinned at Fyn. “Not sure yet, sir. Are you all right?”
“I’d be better if I could figure this stuff out. Let me know when you find something.”
“Yes, sir.” Sara looked around again, this time paying more attention. She eased away from Fyn, aware of an odd feeling of shyness. She felt him watching her as she went around the desk and pulled open a drawer. It wasn’t a huge shock to find it empty. She turned and pulled out a book. Fyn moved over to look at the paintings on the wall, though she felt him giving her the occasional look, too.
Sara opened the book. The script looked a bit like the Kanji, though she couldn’t find a recognizable pattern. She closed it and put it back.
“Well, clearly no where to sleep in here—”
“Sara.”
Something in Fyn’s voice made her uneasy. She walked over next to him.
“What?” He was looking at one of the paintings, so she did, too. Only it was like looking in a mirror. “Whoa.”
She bent closer. There were differences. The woman in the painting had longer hair for one thing. And her eyes were more blue than gray. Sara thought she saw subtle differences in the shape of the face, too. There was a gold plaque at the base that could have been a name. It was in the same script as the book.
“That’s kind of…weird.” She looked at Fyn. “They say everyone has a twin somewhere.”
“If the Garradians left this galaxy, it is possible they went to yours,” Fyn said. “You could be a distant relation.”
“We don’t even know if this is a Garradian outpost.” Sara felt uneasy, though. What if the city had… summoned her? “I wonder who she was.”
Miri.
Sara looked both directions. Fyn didn’t seem to have heard anything. She looked at the plaque, trying to find that name in the script. It was kind of like trying to break a code, but with a name, she began to see a pattern…
“She looks sad,” Fyn slanted a look at her, “the way you do sometimes.”
“I’d almost bet money that what makes her look like that has nothing in common with me.” Sara looked around. “Particularly if she lived here.” It was a long way from some of the trailer parks she’d called home.
“Where are you guys?” Carey sounded a bit…plaintive.
Sara gave Fyn an oh-oh look.
“We’re right next door, sir, in an office. To the right.”
In a moment the door slid open. He looked in.
“You haven’t got very far.”
“Sorry, sir. We got distracted by…all this.” It was partly true.
Carey joined them by the painting. “That looks like you.” He looked back and forth between them a couple of times. He didn’t seem as interested as they were, though. “I’d like to stay close to that tracking map, just in case the Dusan come back. Maybe we can move a couple of those couches in there? If it gets cold, we’ll huddle together for warmth.”
He grinned at them both, as if he suspected some “huddling” had already been going on.
“Or we could pull down some of the wall hangings,” Sara pointed out, relieved at his lack of interest in the painting.
Carey and Fyn exchanged “guy” looks.
Her stomach rumbled softly. And they’d left their emergency packs in their ships. It was already full night outside. Great.
“Just how long are the nights?”
“Longer than the days,” Fyn said.
“Maybe there’s a cafeteria?” Carey said hopefully.
Sara sighed. With really old food. “I’ll go look around while you two take care of the couch situation.”
When Sara finally rejoined the two guys, she had a better feel for the layout of the building. It was definitely an alien version of an office type building. It was kind of odd what had been left. All the desks she looked at had been cleaned out. But the offices all had paintings and books in them. Some had statuary and in one she found a sort of flute on a stand. The carving was intricate and beautiful.
Sara cleaned the mouthpiece and tried it out. The sound was haunting and beautiful and oddly familiar. She put it back and was going to leave it, but it felt wrong. It was almost as if it wanted her to take it, but that would be looting. Still, she could show it to Carey as part of her report. Acting on a hunch, Sara checked out one of the fireplaces and found heaped ash, as if someone had burned a lot of paper. It was the kind of thing someone would do when abandoning a position that could be over run by an enemy.
But it hadn’t been over run.
Who had hid it?
She’d pulled back the drapes in one office and looked out. Stars winked in the sky, but the landscape was lost in a deep, alien darkness. She’d let the drape fall back into place and moved on, but in her mind she was back in her dream, moving through a city teaming with life. She’d strained to see their faces, but everyone turned away from her. As she’d left, it felt like the cities’ ghosts followed on her heels, trying to tell her something she couldn’t hear.
She reported her findings to Carey and showed him the flute.
He looked at it for a moment, before handing it back to her. “I wonder how it works.”
“It’s not that different from our flutes, sir.” She put it to her lips and played a bit of something that flowed into her mind. The tone was different from an earth flute, deeper and sadder.
Carey quirked a brow at her. “Seems like you’ve made another friend.”
“I can’t keep it, sir.” Sara looked down at it, trying not to look wistful. For a moment it seemed she saw a flute like this one, held in small, fat kid hands and heard a voice telling her to be careful with it. “But it is interesting.”
“While I can’t officially sanction collecting, if I were to look away and you were to tuck it in your jacket, the world probably wouldn’t stop turning.” Then he grinned at her. “Though if it turns up on eBay, your ass is grass.”
“Yes, sir.” When he looked away, Sara tucked it away, not just because she had permission, but because she knew she was meant to have it. She looked up and caught Fyn watching her and blushed. She looked around, finally noting they’d moved three couches into the room.
“Oh, almost forgot. Look what we found,” Carey said.
She followed the two men out of the room and around the corner to the left. A door slid back on a balcony. Cold air rushed in as they stepped out. From this vantage, she could see two moons hanging together in the sky, with a third some distance to the left. In the silence, she
heard the muted sound of waves hitting a shore she couldn’t see. The moons didn’t seem to give much light, though Sara could see vague outlines of nearby buildings, of course, she wasn’t sure if it was because she knew they were there or she could really see them.
Carey leaned on the balustrade. “This is a major find, Donovan. This is the kind of stuff we came to find. We have to stay and figure this place out.”
Sara felt something…relax inside her and she knew that her ship would start in the morning.
“We’d better head in. I’ll take the first watch. Then Fyn, Donovan last. Four hours each?”
Sara didn’t think she’d sleep, but to her surprise, she drifted off, coming awake with a jerk some hours later just in time to relieve Fyn. He gave her a hug, like they were a couple or something, and retired to his couch, leaving Sara to pace quietly back and forth in front of the consoles. Her headache was completely gone and she found she was curious. She sat down in front of one of the weapons consoles and tapped the screen. It lit with a dull glow, as if it knew it was night, as if it knew she didn’t want to wake anyone. After a long hesitation, she touched the screen again, spreading her hand over the surface.
Immediately the glowing beads formed and flowed into her palm, but it seemed they moved a little slower. Sara braced for it, but this time all she felt was a dull ache, as if the beads had adjusted themselves to accommodate her. It didn’t surprise her that she could connect to what was clearly some kind of computer. What did surprise her, she couldn’t process the information it seemed to be sending her, though perhaps that would come with time.
She looked at the two men. No movement from either.
What kind of weapons does this console control? She thought the question, curious if the AI would hear it. There was a long pause, so long she thought it couldn’t, then the symbols on the screen changed, reforming into something else, something with symbols and graphics. It looked kind of like a missile, though it seemed to have more fins then theirs had. And it was much thicker, if she was seeing it right. The graphics did show her the weapon from various angles.
How does it work?
Another long pause, then the screen changed again, this time into a video. The missile launched, heading toward its target, and then it split into multiples, but still with a central core. The smaller ones took out smaller ships, while the main one took out the mother ship.
“Cool.”
You wouldn’t use it on the Doolittle, would you?
The screen went black, and then slowly a variety of outlines formed. The enemies back then? One of them sort of looked like the embryo of a Dusan ship.
These were designed to fight the Dusan?
The screen went black again. Didn’t seem to be a yes or a no.
How come you can understand me, but I can’t understand you?
The screen didn’t do anything. Apparently she couldn’t understand the answer either.
The Dusan have been looking for this place, haven’t they?
Three symbols. Was that a yes?
Is this place the key they want to find?
Two symbols this time.
She’d take that to be a no. It’s not like the console was arguing with her about her translations. She didn’t know what to ask next, or maybe that was how to ask.
Did the Garradians live here?
That was yes. So this was the lost outpost. She knew what she could ask, but she was afraid of the answer. She knew the voice in her memory that told her to be careful with the flute.
Her mom.
And then the moment for questions was lost. Carey stirred on his couch. Sara blinked and the screen shut down before he sat up.
“Everything all right?”
Before she could answer, the tracking screen suddenly flashed, then showed the Dusan vessel returning.
Carey activated his radio. “Doolittle, this is Carey. You got incoming.”
How would their ship fare against this ship? As if to answer her question, the tracking map did a read out on both ships. Sara wished she could understand it. As they watched, it seemed like the Dusan ship turned itself inside out, it spewed so many fighter craft into space. She looked at the weapons console.
Can’t you help?
The answer seemed to be a firm yes. It lit up like a carnival ride. Symbols flashed across it. She looked at the tracking map and saw their position, saw four missiles begin to track toward the two ships.
“What just happened?” Carey asked.
Sara didn’t know how to answer that. Luckily he didn’t seem to need an answer. Fyn got up, started to ask what was going on, then saw the map.
“Tell the Doolittle not to deploy yet.” What if the missiles couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad?
She heard Carey relay the message. She watched tensely as the four missiles approached the Doolittle’s position and then went past it. All three of them sighed in relief. Then, just as it showed in the video, the missiles fragmented, the smaller parts breaking off to target the approaching attack ships. The pieces punched into the line of Dusan fighter craft, tiny flashes marking each kill. The four main missiles passed through the openings, on a heading for the main ship.
Flashes came from the Dusan ship and one of the missiles vanished from the map, but the other three plowed home and with a bright flash, the main ship disappeared. The little pieces were still cleaning up the smaller ships, though Sara wondered if there’d be enough little pieces. There were a lot of fighters. It was like watching stars wink out as morning approached. Then the pieces were gone. Some Dusan ships remained.
“Home plate, launch the squadrons now!” Carey shouted.
Now they saw dots flow out of the dot that was the Doolittle. It was like watching a video game being played by someone else. The remaining ships didn’t stand a chance, not against their guys. Sara ached to be there with them. This is what she’d trained for. And the more she knew about the Dusan, the more she wanted to kick their trash.
Only when the battle was over, did the Colonel contact them.
“What the hell was that all about?”
It was a bit disconcerting that Fyn and Carey looked at her for answers. Sara shrugged, trying to look as clueless as they did. Actually she was almost as clueless as they were.
“We’re wondering if there is an AI here, sir,” Carey said.
“AI?” There was a pause and she could hear a muffled voice. Then he added, “Artificial intelligence?”
Now Sara spoke. “It would explain the takeover of my ship yesterday, sir. It’s clearly got very sophisticated tracking capability. Luckily it seems to like us better than the Dusan. It acted on its own to protect the Doolittle.” Okay, after she asked for help, but no reason to mention that.
Carey cut in again. “Sir, this place is what we came to find. It’s amazing. We should land our research team.”
“Yeah,” the colonel sounded dry, “that’s what they are telling me, too. Once it’s light, we’ll deploy them and some Marines.” There was a pause. “And tell Captain Donovan to get her ass back up here as soon as it’s light. No more free-lancing or I will throw her in the brig.” There was another pause, then he added, “I want you and Fyn to supervise the landing. We may deploy your squadron there, but for now, you can provide air cover and logistics support until our people can figure out if the defenses are still good or nearly tapped out.”
“Yes, sir.” Carey looked pleased.
Sara looked at Fyn. He picked the wrong day to be the Major’s wing man. Or the right day. Depended on your perspective.
Chapter Five
They’d been in the city for three days, three very long days, as far as Fyn was concerned. It should have been fascinating, but the geeks didn’t want them messing with anything, so it was actually boring until Carey asked him to come with him to take a look at the Dusan ship. They’d moved it down to the city, just in case it was rigged to explode, though the EOD people didn’t think it would.
Not that
they knew how to open it.
He and Carey walked around it, studying it from all angles. It was not as sleekly crafted as a Dauntless, in fact it was ugly to look at. Like the Dusan themselves, it looked like a shrine to brute force, rather than technical skill.
“Any ideas how we can crack this bad boy?”
Fyn stopped by the rear hatch. There were no panels, no buttons of any kind, just a small slot—
Suddenly he remembered Sara holding the small disc, turning it in her fingers as if she found it interesting.
“We took some discs off the dead Dusan,” Fyn said. “What if they go in this slot?”
Carey touched it. “You might have something there. We’ve got their stuff down here, too. The geeks are playing with it.”
“Did they find transmitters during the autopsies?” Fyn almost hoped Carey wouldn’t tell him. The more he learned, the more it weighed on him. This wasn’t just about the Ojemba. It was about his personal vow to fight the Dusan to his death or theirs. He’d given many seasons of his life to the battle, but it didn’t seem enough against the loss of his mate, his world.
“What? Oh yeah, they did. They were all dead though, like the guys they took ‘em from. Geeks are trying to try to find a way to power it back up.”
That didn’t seem like a good idea.
“But first they want to make sure it doesn’t broadcast.”
That was good.
Carey got on the radio and explained that they needed the discs.
“Doc says five of the guys had cut vocal chords. Kind of nasty. Means their only way of communicating was through the transmitters. They figure the guy with chords was the commander of the detail.”
Fyn remembered the odd feeling he’d had when he looked at the dead Dusan. Something bothered him, but he couldn’t figure out what. In a short while, a jarhead showed up with the discs. They all looked at them. They all seemed to be the same. Carey laid them out on a table and picked them up one at a time. Finally he sighed.
