An alarm blared from the main console and Riston scrambled backward, slamming the back of zir head on the console as ze shoved zirself to zir feet to look at the display. Ze blinked at the warning slashing a solid line straight across the middle of every display in the room.
Critical malfunction. System entering emergency shutdown.
Cira had done it with only five seconds left until the ships were within range of Novis’s weapons, but it didn’t matter. It was too late. Cira had had to use every bit of her cybernetically enhanced strength to pull that piece free of the turret, and none of the other teams had the same advantage. Riston shouted descriptions and told anyone who was listening exactly what to do, but there wasn’t enough time.
Five functional rail guns fired.
Three hits landed.
Two ships exploded.
Intersystem News Feed
Terra-Sol date 3814.257
After a Primis cargo cruiser picked up what appeared to be the missing PCCS Novis on long range sensors, several systems have dispatched ships to investigate. While the ever-growing cavalcade does include military vessels, officials insist this is only for the protection of both their own ships and to assist in whatever way the Novis crew might require.
Only time will tell who might be lying.
Tensions have only increased since the statement Paxis released on 3814.256, and many worry about the potential for disaster inherent in a cooperative rescue. Staying away, however, doesn’t seem to be an option. The PCCS fleet is close to losing a full third of their ships, and such a loss would impact every citizen in the quadrant. This is truly an intersystem issue.
As of Terra-Sol time stamp 3814.256, 2103 hours, Pavonis ships are expected to reach Pax Novis within the next few hours. The vessels are in constant communication with their own command and with public news channels, and we will be posting updates to this article as they arrive.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cira
Terra-Sol date 3814.258
Cira screamed again and chucked the metal bar she’d torn from the turret at the wall.
Flinching, Riston stepped back like ze was afraid she’d turn on zem next. She wanted to apologize—for losing her temper, for not breaking the turret sooner, for not communicating her idea to the other teams fast enough, for dragging zem onto this ship in the first place—but her throat burned, her vision blurred, and her tongue felt as heavy as a black hole, unmovable. Instead, it sat in the center of her mouth and consumed every word she tried to say.
But she had to speak. Riston couldn’t even meet her eyes, staring instead at the metal bar she’d thrown and the finger-shaped indents her hand had left behind. Was ze imagining the damage those same fingers could do to flesh if she tried? It happened rarely, but ze wouldn’t be the first person to fear the pieces of her that weren’t wholly human.
This was foolish. She was letting her anger and anxiety spin theories that probably weren’t true solely to distract herself from the death scenes she didn’t want in her head. Screaming crewmembers getting sucked into the silence of the vacuum. Bodies trapped in tiny, burning compartments. Explosions cascading through vessels and blasting what was once a traveling haven into slag and cinders.
She and Riston had tried everything, and it hadn’t been enough to save the ships that had, Cira was sure, only been attempting to honor their pact with the Pax fleet. Novis had thanked them with annihilation. Worse, the surviving ship’s reports would be going out now, spreading word that a Pax ship had destroyed two civilian vessels. For the first time in the history of Pax Ships, Stations, and Citizens, a Pax ship fired first. Twice. They’d become the bad guys. Soon, everyone would know. Then, things might get so, so much worse.
If Pax ships weren’t safe, no ship in the quadrant would be.
Cira jumped when the sensors on her cybernetic hand registered touch. How long had she been lost inside her own mind? Next to her, Riston’s fingers hovered hesitantly a few millimeters from her own and ze watched her with anxious wariness.
“We should go.” Zir fingers twitched, and it seemed like ze was about to reach for her hand, but then ze folded zir hand into a loose fist and pulled back instead. “They’re still searching for all the TD drive components, and we should go help.”
“Of course.” But even as she tried to center her thoughts on what had yet to happen instead of what she could no longer change, she couldn’t forget the faint vibration under her feet from the volley of shots she hadn’t stopped. It’d probably be a long time before the edges of that memory began to fade; she doubted she’d ever forget.
Before they left the weapons control room, Cira reopened communications and checked in. Erryla was still on the bridge, but she didn’t want them back on the main deck. Apparently, Meida, Mika, Greenie, Treble, and several others were on deck three, too. They were investigating a theory that a major node of the TD drive’s control system had been installed between decks three and four. Everyone who might be able to spot the difference between a control node and a power relay was converging on this deck. It was a move that reeked of desperation, and that realization rattled the pieces of Cira’s already rocky calm.
When they reentered the main corridor, Riston remained cautiously but firmly a step behind Cira until, tired of checking over her shoulder for zem, she gripped zir hand, pulled zem to walk beside her, and didn’t let go. The fingers of her left hand fit perfectly between zir right, and the warmth between their palms was soothing. And strange. Physical connection to Riston had been rare in the cycles they’d known each other—she could probably count on one hand the times they’d touched more than fleetingly. The solidity of it grounded her now.
Her mind began to pull away from the horrors of the attack as they walked down the wide utilitarian hall. On a normal day, this passage would be bright and white. It was nothing but sharp edges and blank expanses of wall because, other than the weapons control rooms, the only thing on deck three was cargo. Under the blue emergency lights, shadows lengthened and blank walls took on a strange glow. Hallways every thirty meters or so led to air locks that gave access to the modular cargo pods carrying non-Pax cargo. The rooms between those halls provided extra storage for crew belongings. Cira shared a compartment with her mothers for some of the larger possessions they’d collected, but Cira barely ever came down here. After today, she likely wouldn’t come down again. Ever, if she could help it.
They passed another air lock and she thought about the modpods secured in the open center of the ship. Their last port had filled them to capacity, and she feared little of it would ever arrive at its destination. Strangely, because she’d looked through every manifest searching for specters, this was the first time she knew exactly what Novis carried.
She tightened her hold on Riston’s hand. How many people, how many kids like Riston, would be hurt if Pax Novis vanished with this cargo? Flash-frozen food that would never feed the settlers starving on barren moons. Medicines that would never reach the sick. Atmospheric water generators that would never supply the thirsty. Building supplies that would never reach the homeless.
At the end of the hall, Cira squeezed Riston’s hand once more before releasing it and waving her wrist in front of the door’s sensors. This hall divided the forward and rear sections of the ship, and her ID swipe opened doors on either side of the divide, allowing distinct voices to carry in from a distance. Sound echoed and traveled oddly in the wide, empty halls of the deck, so it took several minutes for Cira to track down the source. The team they found was at least able to direct her to where Meida’s group was working.
“Another system just came online, and we’re finally getting more accurate speed, acceleration, and navigation data,” Treble was saying as Cira and Riston approached. She was sitting in front of the wall screen closest to an open hatch, and she had three tablets propped up in front of her in addition to the embedded displays. Greenie was sitting at the hatch with an open toolbox at the ready, and sounds from inside
the wall hinted that others were working there. The foot poking out through the hatch was a pretty good indicator as well.
Cira’s and Riston’s footsteps drew attention away from the work, but only for a moment. Treble and Greenie went back to their tasks as soon as they acknowledged Cira’s presence. Closer now, Cira could see the foot belonged to Meida, but she could only guess at who else was in there. Mika was the most likely choice; small hands were perfect for working on the intricate inner workings of the ship’s systems.
When Cira stopped near the hatch, Greenie gently tapped Meida’s shin. It took a few seconds for Mama to ease out without banging the back of her head. Her face flickered through a series of rapidly shifting emotions even Cira had a hard time tracking.
“You did well, Cira,” Meida said with quiet grace after a few seconds. “Both of you.”
It seemed like there was a lot more Mama wanted to say, probably, “What happened wasn’t your fault,” and “Please don’t feel guilty about this.” Cira looked away, muttering her thanks while fervently hoping her mother would leave everything else unsaid for now.
At exactly the right moment, Greenie spoke up. An update had come in from the bridge. Everyone’s attention shifted away from Cira, which meant everyone—except Mika, who was still burrowed in the inner workings of the ship—was watching the moment confusion began to overtake Greenie’s face. When he spoke, he twisted his statement into a question with a faint lilt in his voice. “Uh, somehow full speed isn’t full speed anymore because we’re going faster?”
Cira’s mind began spinning. Meida’s eyes bulged with surprise.
“It’s…it’s always been theoretically possible,” Meida said weakly, bleak fear dulling her eyes. “Theoretically. As far as I knew yesterday, no one had cracked the math.”
“As far as we knew yesterday, transdimensional drives were impossible, too,” Mika reminded her from inside the wall.
Treble heaved a sigh so heavy it sounded like it hurt. “This can’t be good.”
No, it couldn’t. They hadn’t made enough progress in the hunt for the scattered pieces of the TD drive, and the precedent had already been set. The crew wasn’t moving fast enough to stop what Ghost had set in motion. Failure might not be inevitable, but it was all too possible.
Meida dove back through the hatch, her movements sharper and her orders coming faster. Clearly, Cira wasn’t the only one trying to delay another potential failure. Was there anything else that could be done? There had to be. Just because no one had come up with a solution yet didn’t mean the answer didn’t exist.
Something percolated in the back of Cira’s mind, but she couldn’t pin it down. What had she seen or done in the last hour that could’ve sparked an idea? This deck was the main access point for the modpods, but the containers themselves were useless—nothing but boxes. The items inside, though… One of those pods had delivered Lasalia. Maybe something else was hidden among the cargo. Cira wasn’t expecting anything as simple as an off button or carelessly forgotten incriminating evidence, but that didn’t mean something useful hadn’t been left behind. But the ship was speeding up, the conversations happening over the open comm were getting more panicked, and Cira had a horrible, black-hole-heavy feeling that they weren’t going to escape this time.
But that didn’t mean there was nothing they could do.
If escape couldn’t happen, what was the priority? Information, maybe? Part of the reason Lasalia had been able to do so much damage was because no one had known to look for her. Cira wasn’t naive enough to believe there weren’t more saboteurs scattered throughout the fleet. However, if other ships in the fleet understood what was really happening, they’d be better able to protect themselves and one another. There had to be a way to let everyone know what had happened on Novis and the other vanished ships. There had to be a way to let everyone know why the civilian vessels attempting to help had been destroyed.
There had to be a way, just in case, and her mind kept traveling back to that long walk filled with blank walls and accessways into off-limits modpods. What had she seen on the detailed cargo manifests that kept bringing her mind back here?
“What are you thinking?” Riston asked.
Cira shook her head. “I don’t know. I need…something.”
The closest display screen and control panel had been commandeered by Greenie, but there was another down the corridor. Cira turned sharply on her boot heel and strode to the screen, with Riston close behind. Before she could even ask, ze was unlatching the borrowed cuffs from zir wrists and passing them back to Cira.
“Do you need something specific?” ze asked as she secured both cuffs.
“Yes, but I don’t know what it is yet.” Frustration bled through her words. It was maddening to have something on the tip of her tongue and not be able to spit it out when it mattered most. At least the manifests were already organized, and she’d spent so long looking at them it was easy to skim and dismiss huge chunks as irrelevant.
“Whoa.” Riston pointed to pod MCP392-9. “That’s a lot of computer power in one box.”
It was, but that wasn’t why Cira stopped scrolling—it was the pod above. MCP9739-2 contained a completely different kind of tech. This was what Cira had been trying to remember.
“Can we turn this into a…” She waved her hand in agitation, stymied for the word.
Riston looked between her face and the screen, and then zir eyes lit up. “There must be, but I don’t know how. Mika or your mother would be more useful on this.”
“Mama?” Cira called, a grim smile spreading across her face. “We have an idea.”
“I’m a little busy,” Meida shouted back.
“Unless you know for sure you can shut the drive down in the next twenty minutes without blowing us up, then get out here and look at this,” Cira snapped.
After a grunt and several seconds of muffled conversation, Meida shoved herself out of the hatch and stumbled to her feet. Cira started talking immediately.
“Look what we’re carrying in one of our modpods.” She enlarged the manifest until it took up most of the main display.
“Three brand new primary data cores for a warship?” Meida whistled, but the spark of interest in her eyes faded quickly. “We don’t have the time to install one of those.”
“Not install,” Cira corrected. “Copy. We need to dump as much as we can onto that core and shove it out a fucking air lock.”
“Oh. Oh!” Meida’s face lit up and her hands fluttered. “And if we eject the air lock with it, the distress beacon will activate and make sure it gets picked up fast enough to spread word, and—Cira!” She grabbed her daughter’s face in her hands and smacked a hard kiss on her forehead. “Brilliant, love.”
“Will anyone even look for it out here, though?” Treble asked from a meter away.
“After what we just did to those ships?” Meida looked incredulous. “Absolutely. The escape pods are rigged with strong distress beacons, and a whole damn fleet will be here to figure out what happened. They’ll be scanning through the wreckage with every possible sensor and system they have access to, and they’ll all be looking for us, too. Someone will find it.”
“But do we have the time?” Riston asked.
Meida absently lifted one shoulder, her mind clearly already at work. “I have no idea, but I sure as stars am going to try.”
The group split into teams on Meida’s orders. Mika, Greenie, and Treble would head up to engineering with Meida while Riston and Cira went looking for a data core. Getting something out of a modpod while the ship was in motion wasn’t easy; it was designed not to be. Pax crews had to wear vac suits, pass through multiple coded locks, and get approval verification at each stage from the bridge. It took Cira and Riston a full ten minutes to get into the modpod, two to find and retrieve the data core, and another three to push the hovercart into the elevator and up to deck five. Every second felt wasted even though Cira knew teams were still looking for ways to deactivate the
TD drive.
By the time Cira and Riston brought the data core into main engineering, nearly nineteen minutes had passed. Too much time. Mika and Meida were prepped and waiting, both antsy to the point of vibrating. Cira couldn’t blame them. She felt exactly the same.
“What’s the acceleration increase?” Cira asked while Riston and Treble carefully lifted the core onto the work space.
“We’re ten percent above normal.” Meida hooked a data cord directly into the core. The program she’d prepared began uploading the instant the connection was confirmed. “I don’t know how much more acceleration Novis can take before systems overload and welds break.”
“Novis is made of stronger stuff than that.” Riston placed zir hand on the wall and stroked it like a beloved pet. “This ship can survive anything.”
“From your lips to the universe’s ears,” Cira muttered. She wasn’t going to count on it, though, not today.
“How long will this take?” Treble was shifting from foot to foot, and her gaze bounced around the dual-level space, never lingering on anyone or anything for long.
“I’ve compressed everything and streamlined the process as much as I can,” Meida said. An answer without answering.
Then Mika said, “Ten minutes—at least—to load the bare minimum we want to pass on.” She must’ve seen the question on Cira’s face because she only paused for a moment before clarifying. “Minimum is all ship’s logs and data since Mitu Station, the research Cira gathered from the other ships, and a message from the captain.”
“May the quadrant forgive us for what happened here today.” Meida’s words were quiet and filled with so much banked grief it burst through the seams of every syllable. Hugging her mother would slow Meida down and waste precious seconds. All Cira could do was touch Mama’s shoulder and let the pressure of her hand speak for her. There was nothing to say.
Pax Novis Page 33
