Yeera stopped at the opening to the ice hill and turned to Jules, leaning close. “Stay on the outer edge of the room. They know me and won’t react. But with you, the little ones might be interested. They have an acute olfactory sense, and your scent is distinct. This might disturb or, at the least, intrigue them. Stay close to me, and if something changes, heed my commands. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jules felt younger than she was, taking advice from a powerful authority figure.
With that, Yeera stepped inside, and Jules flipped the heat reading off, seeing the subject of Yeera’s obsession with her own eyes. The sun was just starting to rise, creating a dimly lit dawn across the falling snow and icy terrain. The Catoleels paused at the first sight of them. They were waist-high, eight tentacles dropping from their upper lips, hanging to their chests. Their eyes were large and oval, a murky blue color, and they were decorated in colorful feathers, each one unique in pattern.
They waddled like penguins, with flat feet, and had wide short arms with slender fingers. Jules didn’t know what to make of them, but when she processed it, she decided they were beautiful.
“Come,” Yeera whispered, and she started walking the perimeter of the ice cavern. Jules spotted eggs at the far corner of the room, protected by five squat creatures. The mothers.
The camera was mounted near the hatching region, and Yeera removed it, passing the old one to Jules. It was crusted in ice.
A rounded tunnel carried on from the rear of the cavern, and Jules walked for it causing Yeera to grab her arm. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Jules nodded and observed the thirty or so Catoleels while Yeera picked up a heavy bag at her feet. The doctor crept through the dark corridor, and Jules wondered what she was doing.
A piercing cry startled her, and she looked toward the eggs, where a mother was flapping her arms and spinning in circles. One of the eggs was cracked. At first Jules thought it was damaged, but then she realized it was hatching, with her as a witness. Doctor Yeera would want to see this.
Instead of calling for her, Jules flipped on the thermal feature on the goggles and started into the ice tunnel, trailing after the doctor. She went on for a minute, but the path diverged, forking in two directions. She went left after seeing a red dot from the heat sensor, and it grew in her view with each passing step.
“Doctor, one of the eggs…” But the shape wasn’t the doctor. It was a device: big, boxy, and blinking orange lights. It was hot, burning hot, and she noticed it was set on a dark metal rack. Jules assumed the rack was blocking the heat transfer from the hot instrument. It created steam, and she had to wipe her goggles to see.
Jules shrugged and returned to the cavern, not wanting to find herself lost in the tunnels. Plus, she was sure Yeera would have seen the hatching before, probably on dozens of occasions.
The tiny Catoleel emerged from the shell, pieces of the rough eggshell stuck to its tiny, matted feathers. The mother preened and cooed as she cared for the newborn, and Jules watched it all with the fascination of a human observing something for the first time. Wait until she told Suma about this.
When Yeera returned, Jules was so distracted by the new baby, she forgot to ask about the strange heated device buried in the cavern’s tunnels.
With her tasks completed, Jules followed the doctor out of the cave and into the Snow-Tracker. Her stomach growled, and Jules hoped Dean had started breakfast.
Fifteen
Welka had departed hours ago, tending to her people. It would take time to restructure their society, with the realization that this was nothing more than a drone run by some distant race.
“You really think that Arthur Comax kidnapped the hybrids because he didn’t like them? That he was prejudiced against them?” Slate asked.
We’d been bouncing ideas around while we searched for the means to decipher this drone’s controls. The room was open, with straps near the floor behind Slate. That was where we guessed the abductee was secured while they made the surgical modifications. We had no clue how a robot ship could affect one’s DNA, as that was beyond our scope of knowledge. Perhaps Doctor Nick or Clare would have some insight when we returned home with this drone.
“Think about it, Slate. The hybrids infiltrated us. I was married to one of them, and so was Mary. They were the ones shooting at our innocent people in the Kraski ships as they attempted to fly them into the sun during the Event. A lot of humans have let it go, but some have allowed their hatred to fester deep inside. If Arthur had these misgivings, and suddenly the switch flipped, he would have acted on them. That’s why I think he kidnapped and tortured so many.”
Slate nodded, his movements tired. “And Carolyn?”
“We can’t be certain. She didn’t do anything yet.”
“But she concealed her past. That tells me she was acting irrationally, right, Boss?”
“I’d agree, but this is all speculation. We really don’t know what their motivation was, or is. They could be orders sent from whoever built this ship. A personal vendetta against the hybrids, or something along those lines,” I suggested.
Slate pressed his thumb between his eyes. “If these aliens wanted mass destruction, I don’t see how letting one crazy man loose on Haven would further their cause. It seems different. Maybe this is some kind of test for them. Abduct random people from different planets and see what happens.”
“Could be. We won’t know until we make this stupid ship operate.” The computer screen was blank, and we’d found absolutely no keyboards or touch screens. It was infuriating.
“It seemed to sense me, right?” Slate asked.
“That it did.”
“What if we’re looking at this wrong? What if…” Slate stood, his head almost touching the ceiling. There was nothing but metal everywhere, reminding me of a circuit board. The entire interior resembled the hard drive of the old desktop I’d used to do accounting on years ago.
He touched everything, placing his palm on random sections of the interior, and as he started on the other side, a segment clicked. I jumped to my feet, racing over as a piece from the wall extruded. The controls were unique, clearly alien, but Slate seemed to comprehend what he was seeing.
“Boss, when Dr. Swan was making me remember, I saw this. I was on the floor, in a place like this. The controls…” He pulled at the recently ejected panel, and metal tubes fell from the wall. Two red lights blinked on, and I noticed the ends of the tubes had arced handles on them.
“Slate…” I grabbed one of the tubes, holding it up. “The arms. The claws and red eyes. This was what Carolyn saw! This is what she drew.”
He grinned, taking another tube. “These are the controls. There was no alien. The drone ship guides itself. We remembered the red and the arms, and our subconscious made the connection.”
“The question is, how do we use them?” I took the additional arm from Slate and grabbed hold of the two claw-like handles. The drone shook, vibrating and humming.
Slate gawked at me, his jaw open in disbelief. “I think you figured it out.”
I lifted my arms, playing with the controls, and the screen we’d been messing with earlier turned on, showing the amphitheater through a camera feed. Welka entered the room, carrying a tray, probably hoping to offer us food, even though we were in spacesuits.
“I wish we knew this ship’s origin,” I said, and everything lurched. It felt like my skin was about to tear off my body as we pushed upward. My vision went black, and I collapsed to the floor, unable to move. Slate was beside me, but I clutched the controls firmly. The pressure eventually eased, and I found command of my voice. “Slate, you okay?”
“What the hell happened?” He sat up, no longer confined to the floor by the dreadful g-force.
“I don’t know.” I stared at the screen, seeing that we were gone from Puver. The drone sped through space at an impressive clip. “I think it read my mind.”
Slate glanced at my hands. “What did you say?”
/>
“That is…” He’d picked up on it before me. “It really did read my mind, didn’t it? I said I wanted to find where it came from.”
“Dean, this could be it. If this drone is returning home, we might get our answers. Man, I thought this was impossible, but somehow, you did it again.” Slate clapped me on the shoulder, like I’d actually intentionally accomplished anything.
“It was by chance. Plus, we lucked out together.”
“I don’t think anything you do is by chance, Recaster.” Slate smirked. “How about you adjust the atmosphere so we can breathe?”
“Why would the drone craft need the ability…” Then I remembered that each abductee would have to be kept alive for the modifications, and it didn’t look like there was any kind of containment barrier near the shackles on the floor. I held the claw handles and said it aloud. “Make the air compatible for humans.”
Something clicked, and I used my suit’s external sensors to verify it was working. I watched as the numbers for the various elements shifted, some likely vented from the drone, others being pushed in from an assortment of tanks inside the drone’s walls.
“This is unbelievable.” Slate grabbed one of our packs, sifting through it. “Do you know how hungry I am?”
I laughed, taking a seat beside him on the ground. There were no places to rest, nothing of comfort inside this thing. Without a pilot, none of it was necessary. “Since there are controls, someone must have piloted these drones.”
“Maybe the manual controls are for backup and not necessary. Tough to tell.” Slate had some food bars out and ready. “There’s gravity too. That’s another puzzle. Why would an AI or computer program require it? More clues to our growing mystery.”
My suit’s sensor beeped when the air was breathable, and I took off my helmet, the seals hissing as I removed it.
“Keep the helmet handy just in case.” Slate passed me a bar, and I undid the wrapper.
“We have no idea how long we’ll be in this craft, or where we’re going. How much food did you pack?” I asked.
“Enough for a few days. Plus, the suits have the injectors. We should be able to sustain ourselves for a couple of weeks, on the outside.” Slate took another bite, and we peered at the screen, hoping the trip wasn’t a prolonged and arduous one.
____________
“You should have woken me up.” Dean had indeed started cooking food, and Jules was surprised at how well-stocked the woman’s fridge and pantry were.
“Shipments come every two months without fail,” Doctor Yeera told her when asked. “More than I can handle, but they seem to think that Selen still works with me. I take their double rations and store anything that will last. You never know when something will happen and you need extra supplies. Like right now, for example.”
Jules and Dean were both familiar with Shimmali cuisine, having spent enough time eating meals at Sarlun’s place to appreciate the rich textured food. The Shimmal people loved fruits, and Dean peeled a particularly hearty seeded one. Jules took the first piece, enjoying the tart juicy bite.
“Is the storm easing at all?” Dean asked as he sat at the round table. They’d had to pull a third chair from a lab desk, and Jules’ elbow bumped against Dean’s as they crammed around their breakfast.
“My communicator booster is probably knocked loose. I’ll leave to check it out soon, but I’m also afraid there’s a second wave coming in. You’ll have to stay another couple of days, at the minimum.” Yeera returned to her plate, and quickly devoured the contents.
“Two more days. Papa’s going to kill me,” Jules huffed.
“It’s fine, Ju. When’s the last time you had nothing to do? Let’s chill out today. As soon as we’re back to New Spero, it’s right to work. The Parkers never take a break, do they?” Dean sipped his weak coffee and smiled at her from behind his cup.
“Wait, did you say Parkers?” Yeera asked.
Jules flushed. “Yes. That’s my surname.”
“Jules and Dean…” Yeera squinted as she regarded the pair of them. It was uncomfortable. Jules suddenly wished she had a weapon, because she was being stared at like prey. She tried to move nonchalantly, plucking her dull knife from the table, and she clutched it at her side, out of sight.
“That’s us,” Dean said, seemingly unaware.
“No. I mean Jules and Dean Parker. Your father is Dean Parker?” Doctor Yeera asked, her voice clipped.
“Yes. We didn’t mean to hide the fact from you,” Jules said gently.
“Oh, I don’t blame you. Dean Parker and his daughter have a lot of interest on this planet. You mentioned you knew Sarlun, which wasn’t surprising, since you’re Gatekeepers, though very young ones. Now it makes sense. I heard you could fly, or something ridiculous.”
Jules bristled but kept calm. “You can’t believe everything you hear. No one can fly,” she whispered, feigning a smile.
“I didn’t think so, but the rumors were prevalent. Your father made quite the impression on our people.”
“Good, I hope,” Jules said.
“For most.”
Dean set his fork on the table. “What does that mean?”
“Some of the Shimmal population wish we’d never been dragged into this Alliance. They think we were stronger before, and now, we’re using our hard-earned resources to fund the creation of starships we’ll never see.” Yeera spoke casually, like it was old news.
Jules was shocked to hear this. She’d assumed everyone was eager to be part of something bigger than themselves. Showed how much she knew. Maybe she should have spent more time talking to her mother about the Board’s business. She made a mental note to ask her when she made it home.
“And you?” Jules asked the doctor. “Which side of the fence are you sitting on?”
Yeera smiled beneath her snout. “Sub-Base Eleven is generously funded, and all I care about are the Catoleels, meaning I have no opinion. I see the value to this Alliance, I do, but I respect the opposition’s train of thought as well.”
“There’s an opposition?” Dean asked.
“Sarlun has been in charge of things for a long time, without a vote. He’s leading the Gatekeepers, and while most regions are self-regulated, he’s made the majority of the decisions relating to the Alliance of Worlds,” Yeera said. “The opposition seeks a vote from the people.”
Jules could hardly believe her ears. “Are you saying that Shimmal might abandon the Alliance?”
“If they have any luck. I don’t think it’ll happen.”
“Why not?” Dean asked.
Yeera grinned again and took their empty plates. “You kids needn’t worry about it. Listen to your boyfriend, young Jules Parker, and relax today. I’ll be gone for a while.” She set the dishes in the sanitizer and glanced at them from the compact kitchen’s entrance. “Jules Parker. What are the odds?”
She left them, and Dean leaned in, his breath smelling like coffee. “What was that? We have to fix this Locator, Ju. I have a bad feeling.”
Jules nodded. “Maybe she has another Snow-Tracker. We can try to escape.”
“I didn’t see one, but it’s worth a shot. If she’s telling the truth about the storm, there’s no chance of leaving without one.” Dean’s brow furrowed as his voice lowered. “Or we stop her now. Tie her up, make her give us the password, and take the Tracker.”
Jules considered it but shook her head. “What if we’re wrong? You heard what she said about the state of the people. If news escaped that we hijacked a renowned scientist at her lab and left her tied up in the middle of nowhere, we’d be severely reprimanded.”
“Fine. We wait, but if we find out she’s the red dot on the Locator, we’re taking action,” Dean told her.
“Deal.”
They headed toward the bay in time to see the Snow-Tracker departing. Jules wrapped her arms around herself as the cold wind blew in snow. The door shut behind Yeera’s vehicle, and they were alone in her base camp for the time being.
“Who knows? An hour, maybe two. Let’s get to work.” Jules jogged toward the lab, and Dean redirected, joining her in a minute with the broken Locator in his hand. He set it on a table, and they appraised it.
“I wish Suma could help. I don’t know anything about this stuff,” Jules said.
“Sure you do. We took a mechanics class at the Academy. You aced it, didn’t you?” Dean asked.
“But I was twelve.”
Dean rolled his eyes and flipped the device around. There were two clips, and he found a drawer with precision tools for fixing Yeera’s lab equipment nearby. He used one of them to pry the rear of the Locator off, and Jules saw the issue. A small wire was burned out from the shock on their shuttle. Dean was limping from his injury, but he seemed mobile. Her own head had cleared up, and she felt as good as new.
Jules tapped the broken piece. “Where can we find one of those?”
“We don’t need to. That’s supposed to save it from current fluctuations. When the surge occurred, it compensated too much and fried. We can reroute around it, and the device will operate.” Dean stuck his tongue out as he used small wire cutters to snip the connections on either side of the relay.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” she asked. “We only worked on engines and our spacesuits in our training.”
“I spent enough time in engineering on Horizon when I was a kid. I was there for a few years, young and bored. I always tried to help them, and the crew would give me old things to fix, pretending they needed the assistance.” Dean laughed as he found a soldering gun. “I think they broke outdated communicators and stuff to keep me busy.”
“I’m impressed.” Jules sidled up closer, watching over his shoulder as he soldered the wires together, creating a contact. “Will it work?”
The Survivors | Book 15 | New Beginning Page 15
