by J. N. Chaney
Facing toward the door we came in, then the shelf, I whisper while my back is turned to my friends. “Listen, cat, just get your furry butt back where we can see you. There isn’t time for this.”
Garin’s tone lightens. His characteristic swagger returns a bit. “I can’t believe you tried to do that, Z-man. I thought we were friends.”
“We are the best of companions,” Zedas says. “Fighting Overlords and Protheans and seeking lost animals for the honor of our band.”
Shaina pats the kid on the shoulder. “We’ll find her. Cats come and go as they please. Trust me on this one.”
Garin puts on one of his wise expressions that is so endearing on a child. “Oh, I know it. Village cats always come and go. I’m not worried. She’ll be back straight away, and besides, she probably is invisible like Mister Doctor Murphy says.” He gives my friends a big wink.
Something rubs against my leg. I squat down and grab Pats by the scruff of her neck, expecting her to complain, but she only swishes her tail.
“Gotcha!” It’s a double win because the cat is still invisible. I can only see the faintest outline of her form. Standing, I hold her up to show everyone I was right all along.
And they stare straight through me for several seconds, wearing identical expressions of confusion.
Zedas leaves his giant machine gun on his back but deploys his sword, gripping with both hands this time. He faces the door. Shaina moves to his side, touching him to make sure the Dogan knows where she’s standing. Getting accidentally cut in half is a real danger when fighting near the Dogan. She looks to the door, into the high window no one could possibly crawl through on the other side. Garin backs to the table, fists up and ready to box.
I shouldn’t laugh, but I just can’t help myself. Needless to say, this doesn’t calm them down for the first few seconds. Theatrics have their place. I drop the cat and pop back into view.
“What in the seven levels of Hades?” Shaina blurts.
Pats leaps into Garin’s arms, fully visible now.
My laughter putters out, at least in part because of her outburst. It’s an interesting curse I haven’t heard in the Goliath Sector before. It feels good to have a joke on them, but I’m feeling tired again. “I told you, and I told you,” I say.
“Why would we believe you would do something like that? You have to give us some credit,” Shaina says. “What if the charge pistol had been in the other hand? Did you ever think of that?”
“Of course I did. I mean, why would I? I mean, can we get to work” I moved toward the desk, my eye on a pad of paper. “Tamok wants a list of what we need.”
Shaina shakes her head. “You can’t just disappear and flash back and move on like nothing happened. You were invisible.”
Zedas grumbles something, eventually forming words. “In retrospect, I think we did see you. But it was very difficult. Can you do that again?”
I shake my head. “The cat can do it, but good luck getting her to do it on command.”
Garin holds up the cat to look at her. “You’re a good girl. I knew you weren’t gonna run away.”
“See if you can make her turn invisible,” Shaina says.
“Maybe she’s not ready,” Garin says. “Fine. Let’s disappear, Pats.”
Nothing happens. The kid tries several more times and eventually retreats to his own corner working on the trick.
“Let’s make this list. We need to look like a work crew. I don’t think we can bring Zedas his new toy.” I point at the crew-served charge gun.
“Maybe in a storage crate,” Shaina says.
“They’ll inspect it,” I say, sitting down at the table and starting the list. “We need work uniforms, some tools to make it look real, and probably a bigger toolbox to conceal weapons.”
“If they’ll search the big storage crate, they’ll search the toolboxes,” Shaina says.
“She has a point,” Zedas says.
“You’re right, but the bigger the item, the more suspicious it will be.” I tap the pen on the paper. It’s been a while since I worked this way. Even on Earth, everything was going to digital tablets and cloud service. “The list isn’t going to work. We need to go to their quartermaster and go shopping.”
When we return to the briefing area, we’re decked out in shabby jumpsuits, quality boots, and scraped-up ship helmets common to dockworkers and mechanics. We have also worked out some possible solutions to a bigger problem than Zedas’ gun—Zedas himself. And like life, the answer is found in the problem.
All we have to do is sell Tamok on the idea.
He sits down to listen. “We’re not ready to begin, so tell me what you need before all of my people arrive. And before we get summoned by the Dark Eye.”
“I can’t take the ship back from Jack without my team, and that includes Zedas. He can’t pose as a ship worker or soldier. Jack’s men will recognize him immediately,” I say.
“Jack? Everyone here stopped calling him that a long time ago.” Tamok’s words sound accusatory—distrustful.
“It doesn’t matter what we call him,” I say. “And frankly, I’m sure he gets a thrill out of the grand title. I’ll use whatever word gets the job done quickest. Good enough?”
He shrugs.
“I assume he will also demand ships and materials,” I say. “If he doesn’t, make sure he does.”
Tamok glares at me. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
“You’re a master diplomat and a leader. Figure it out. Challenge his pride. Hold something back from him so that he will be compelled to take it. There are lots of options,” I say.
He nods, then rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll do what I can.”
“I really assume he will want ammunition and fuel and food and anything else you will give him. I’m just covering every contingency. Which leads me to our preferences. We’ve already started working on a pallet of storage containers where Zedas and our gear can be stored during the transit.”
This time he shakes his head emphatically. “Too dangerous. If that ship gets put in a holding pattern, or that pallet doesn’t get offloaded immediately, Zedas will suffocate even with oxygen bottles.”
“We’ve got that covered.” I could give a complete explanation, but there isn’t time or a need in my opinion.
“The mission fails if he dies because of this plan,” Tamok says. “The fact you brought up regarding my role already.”
“Of course, and this is the best plan. Unless you can convince Jack, the Dark Eye, to surrender himself and give you control over the resistance forces.” I hesitate. “There is one more thing.”
He listens.
“I’m leaving Garin behind, just for this mission. He thinks he’s going in one of the shuttles, but I need your men to pull him out of line and detain him. When it’s over, I’ll take responsibility for him. If I don’t make it, find a good family to take care of him. He’s been through a lot.”
Tamok nods. “Consider it done.”
“Thanks.”
“Keep working on the details, but stay back from the camera feed. We should be expecting the call anytime now,” Tamok says as his team fills the room.
The moment I’m walking away, the giant view screen crackles to life.
“Tamok Sky, it’s good to see you,” says the voice of my old friend Jack behind me.
I resist the urge to look at him. Instead, I continue to the back of the room and angle behind a group of people where I hope I won’t be noticed. Sitting down, I still feel exposed despite the near impossibility that the Dark Eye can see me.
27
Jack drones on, his image larger than life on the screen. Tamok stands with his fists crossed behind his back, shoulders squared, his officers matching his poise. The two leaders debate, but the conclusion has been decided. I listen for anything that might affect our plan and hear nothing.
Shaina, Zedas, and I slip out the first chance we get. She hands me a pack with tools, an alternate uniform, and
medical supplies. Weapons are too risky. Guards might ignore tools or even comm devices, but even the dullest guard will alert on a charge pistol. Our guns go in the smuggled storage crate. If that’s discovered, we will need to steal weapons.
Zedas is another matter. I have to lock him into the underbelly of the transport ship. He assures me his ability to go without atmosphere is equal to mine or better, but I don’t know how to measure a Dogan’s boast. In a perfect world, we would’ve practiced and rehearsed and tested everything.
I assume nothing because the gates had different effects on each of us. We now share a few changes, but that’s no guarantee he can do what I can do and vice versa.
Shaina pulls out a set of wrenches to help me unfasten the panel where Zedas will climb in. Garin is still being detained by Tamok’s people and hopefully convinced it’s just part of the plan.
“Gah!” Shaina curses, sucks her finger, and picks up the wrench to try again. On the other side of the panel, Zedas has better luck. I do a quick tour of our work area to make sure no one is watching. Anyone could be a spy.
The hair on the back of my neck raises. I pretend not to notice, then turn slowly, looking for an assassin or worse.
Something flicks, and I see the almost completely transparent image of the cat.
“Are you going to do this every time I turn my back on you?” I ask.
Pats flickers fully into view, tail-slashing, eyes inscrutable.
“You’re literally the Cheshire Cat,” I mumble. “And if I’m being honest, it’s pretty creepy.”
The cat meows and gives me a few tail swipes. I check for Garin, remembering my own trick. The kid is nowhere to be found, and now that I know what to look for, the invisibility trick isn’t foolproof. I’d probably notice if he was holding the cat in the air.
“I have so many questions for you, cat.”
She doesn’t respond much.
The Orphan Gate must have caused the change in the animal, even if I can’t explain how. I don’t know how or when Pats can use the trick, I don’t know why I was affected while touching her, and I don’t know if I could be invisible while the cat remains visible. None of it matters because the power is too unreliable to be worth much.
“Go find Garin. He’s going to need some company,” I say.
Pats cocks her head, then bolts away from the landing strip, entering the first temporary building she finds with an open door.
“We’re ready,” Shaina says, summoning me back to work.
“There’s no time like the present,” I say. “Climb in, Zedas-Duryan.”
The Dogan mutters something in his language, then lifts the heavy machine gun and several crates of ammo into the compartment. Weapons, tools, and armor go in next, and then some large panels I don’t see a use for. “What are these for?”
Zedas grabs one of them like a shield, then jabs one end against the floor, and lets go. It stands on its own, looking like a pretty good item to hide behind in a charge-rifle fight.
“Electro magnetized along their foundation,” Shaina says. “They’ll stand up on their own but will do better if you support them. You can brace the barriers with your body weight, or a vehicle, or whatever.”
“I can carry three of these on my back if I already have my gun in my hands. They can be linked together to form a short wall,” Zedas says. “It would be better if we didn’t need them, but if we get stuck, they could transform a hopeless position into a chance for survival.”
“Good call. Let’s get you situated and comfortable,” I say.
The process is more difficult than I predicted. Zedas doesn’t complain. He’s too flexible, too stoic, and he just doesn’t work that way. But it’s still hard to get him strapped in with so much gear. When we’re done, Shaina and I reattach the panel and bolt it shut.
I run my hands along the seam. Something’s not right.
“Did we miss something?” Shaina asks.
“We need to get this section dirty. We rubbed off some grime,” I say.
Shaina brings me some greasy shop towels, and we camouflage our work for ten minutes, mostly by smearing other parts of the ship to match it. We’re done moments before the regular crew starts to file in and perform their checks.
The pilot scratches his head at the grime smeared along the side of the ship, checks a few things, and eventually passes on to the next item. Crew members and supplies are loaded on. I contact Tamok for an update, but nothing has changed in the plan.
We’re good to go.
I’m compelled to see the edge of the landing field and look out at the ocean where it meets the mountains to the north. In the distance, Prothean statue ships land in perfect order. They’re bigger than anything I’ve seen, and there are a lot of them.
Shaina joins me. “I’ve been told there are a lot more of them in the void. This landing force is the smaller part of their invasion. Tamok has a point, but what if the Protheans are here to steal the gate ship. It was probably theirs to begin with.”
“We can’t let that happen,” I say. “We need it more than ever.”
“I know what the Dark Eye wants to use it for, and I have my suspicions about what Tamok or even the Hadrian Emperor wants. What’s your plan, Orphan?” she asks.
“I thought I’d start with something simple like evacuating all of these innocent people before they are slaughtered,” I say.
“That’s a goal I can get behind.” She motions me toward the shuttle so we can board, then walks beside me. “We may be a people in hiding for a while if we survive this.”
I nod but say nothing. My mind is full of historical examples of exodus and rebirth. As daydreams go, it’s completely impractical—hence the reason it will remain in the realm of fantasy.
Tamok hands me two earbuds, and we shake hands. The Dark Eye’s escort fighters land in a flurry of engine exhaust and blown-up dust. Someone has to make sure the agreed-upon ships and goods are delivered.
Soldiers and dockworkers rush to and from work, sometimes riding on motorized carts and other times marching double time. I see a villager pushing a wheelbarrow like he’s living in the Middle Ages, and I see another man scooting along on a hoverboard.
The Goliath sector remains a mixture of tech levels and cultures.
Noise increases exponentially—voices, vehicles, tools, and all the things of an army departing for the front lines or fleeing the scene of battle. It really depends on how you look at it.
“Good luck,” he says.
“Same,” I say as we bumped fists. He hurries away with a group of his officers and noncommissioned officers.
Beside me, Shaina waits until he is gone. “All right, let’s climb into this… ship… and do this. I thought the Heptagon was a patched-together quilt of parts and prayers.”
We hustle up the ramp and jostle our way through the packed passenger area.
“Does this thing have a weight limit?” I ask.
“Everything that flies has a weight limit,” she says. “These things are made to handle heavy equipment. It’ll either take off or it won’t.”
“That sounds like a glorious way to end this quest. Grounded by incompetence,” I say, then look for a place to buckle in. Everyone has to have a seat. That doesn’t mean people need to be comfortable. Our delay forced us into the cargo hull, where we learn the joy of strapping ourselves down like freight.
The ship vibrates as engines come alive. Panels on the far wall ripple like cheap sheet metal somebody has hit with a stick. I watch in horror as one side of the floor gains altitude faster than the other. Anything or anyone not strapped down would be sliding toward the far wall right now. From the outside, the ship must look like a drunk, lumbering whale that forgot how to swim.
“Have you flown in one of these before?” I ask Shaina.
“During my early years in the resistance… more than I want to think about. Most interplanetary travel in the Goliath Sector is via one of these beauties,” she hammers one fist on the bench f
rame we’re strapped to. Maybe she was going to say more, but her words are cut off as the ship lurches up, sideways, further sideways, and then takes off for the stratosphere.
My guts get mashed down into my body as thrust increases. Gravity becomes my arch enemy. I can’t lift my hands or close my eyes. My lips stretch back from my teeth. The ordeal feels like I imagine a launch from a hundred years ago on Earth. I can’t believe anything this crude is being used by society that routinely travels between stars.
Lights flicker off, then on. The crushing G-forces lessen from we’re-all-gonna-die to this-really-sucks.
Shaina motions for me to calm down. “Don’t worry about that. Happens all the time. I’m surprised the lights came back. I really hate it when there’s no heat or the air gets thin.”
“Unfortunately, I know exactly what you’re talking about this time.” I review the plan in my head, check all of my maps, every list I’ve made, and run through multiple versions of the insane scenario we’ve put together. There is no way things will go according to plan, but I intend to be ready for every variation.
I’m on my way to face the Dark Eye and all of his minions. Never mind that I know him as Jack Barris, the bicycle riding, sneaking out after dark, poor loser of kick-the-can I grew up with. All that means is I’m more aware than anyone of where he started this journey. Special forces training, CIA tactics and strategies, and everything that takes a broken soldier with a medical retirement and turns him into a musclebound demigod who doesn’t think he can lose.
I feel Shaina watching me, but she says nothing. If I look half as serious as she does, we’re going to stick out. Everyone else in the ship is trying to appear brave when they’re scared. Shaina and I look like we’re going to war, knowing full well it might be a one-way trip.
The ship passes out of atmosphere and sails into the void. A cheer goes up all through the ship. Shaina and I join in. Why not?
A deck sergeant makes the rounds, checking on people who need medical attention. He gets to us, and we wave him past. “We’re good. We barely need air.”
