Samurai Guns (Orphan Wars Book 3)

by J. N. Chaney

29

  “We have to get out of the open,” I say. “We’re too visible.”

  Van, Shaina, and even Garin listen.

  “And we have to get Zedas out of storage.” The mission clock I have running in my head assures me that Zedas has plenty of time before he’s even uncomfortable, but the mission is on a different timeline. And who wants to be packed in the sublayer of a cheap star freighter longer than necessary.

  “Come again?” Van says. All around him, the Hwelas looked alarmed as well.

  “We have a secret weapon, but getting him out of his hiding place has been more difficult than anticipated,” I say. “There were guards all around the ship when we disembarked. Why am I explaining myself?”

  “I’m not judging. You do sound a little guilty, now that you mention it. I’ve never left my crew behind, locked in a dark place or whatever, but who am I to judge? I’m just a rogue and a smuggler,” Van says.

  “Boys, boys, boys,” Shaina interrupts. “Just send your creepy crawlies down there. Look for panel number 85–19–18–4. There are several crates, one of them red. Pull it first and unlock it. That way if Zedas has to fight right away, his weapons will be ready.”

  The Hwelas bob their heads energetically. Apparently, this is just what they’ve been looking for, some excitement. Or they’re all having a sneezing fit.

  “You want me to risk my entire crew for some half-baked plan?” Van asks, then bends close to Wak-wak. “Go get the Dogan. Don’t be seen. If there’s anyone around you can’t get rid of, contact me and use codes. We don’t need anyone getting caught. Understand? We’ll be right behind you.”

  The Hwelas chatters excitedly in his own language, then gathers four of his friends and hurries down the hallway.

  “That was easy,” Shaina says, clapping her hands together.

  “Not so fast,” Van says. “You have to do your part. Follow me. I like to build their confidence by giving them jobs they can do, then working behind the scenes to make sure they don’t fail.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be impressed or appalled at your blatant manipulation of another sentient species,” I say. “What do you need us to do?”

  “Follow me. We have to head away from the command deck for now, but I assume you can’t take it without some firepower.” Van stops to give other Hwelas jobs. Later he talks his way past several guards like maybe he’s been doing this all of his life and is a professional smuggler.

  “I’m glad he’s on our side,” I say.

  “I’m overflowing with confidence. When was the last time he left us to die?” Shaina doesn’t hide her skepticism. Maybe she’s upset about Slade’s recent transformation. Betrayal hurts. Perhaps the memory of getting dumped on the Overlord slave world is still a bit fresh in her mind.

  There isn’t glory in navigating the hallways. On the ice world, we’d been running for our lives. In the ghetto of the slave city, we’d been hunted by gangs and half-mad children trying to scare us. Here we’re being bored to death and constantly in danger of being put to work.

  Van handled one close call after another, often ranging between us and his advance team of spider people. He knew how to dodge work, and I appreciated him for it.

  “Are you seeing a trend?” Shaina asks when we have a moment alone. Van and his Hwelas are stuck at the next intersection. I can’t see the holdup.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You have to work with people you don’t like or trust until you like and trust them.” She cocks one thumb at herself. “Like yours truly. We weren’t destined to be fast friends in the early days. When I realized how that turned out, I decided to give Slade a chance, though that is a bad example of what I’m trying to explain.”

  I get what she’s saying, but I’m tired and not up for a discussion. “That theory has limitations, but yeah, I’ve noticed the trend. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “What an odd expression,” she says. “Not at all what I meant.”

  Van comes back, obviously worried. For a man with his skill set and level of confidence, this isn’t a good sign.

  “We’re too late. They’ve captured the Dogan,” he says. “Worse, they’re slapping around some of the Hwelas who tried to intervene.”

  I hurry forward. “We should’ve never left him.”

  Van blocks my path short of the main doorway. “Hold on, Orphan. Don’t go making it worse.”

  Zedas roars defiance from the next room. I hear somebody crash against the wall, then a charge blast, then two more. This time Van and Shaina try to hold me back, but I drag them along for several steps. A slice of the docking bay comes into view.

  Garin gets in front of us. “You want me to create another distraction with Pats? I could do that because you’re not good at being sneaky. No offense. Just let me handle this one, Mister Doctor Murphy.”

  His earnest desperation brings me up short. But because I’m stubborn, I continue to bulldog my way forward until I can see Zedas borne down by multiple guards in powered armor. There are at least three full squads that I can see, and most of the room is still out of view.

  “They didn’t kill him,” Shaina says. “We’ll get him later. And the Hwelas who tried to help him. Be smart. If we could fight all of these soldiers we could’ve just come in here guns a blazing and handled business.”

  “You’re right,” I say, and step back. “Garin, you’re up. See what you can see, but don’t get caught. When you come back I will need as much detail as possible about the Dark Eye’s soldiers.”

  “Okay Mister Doctor Murphy,” Garin says, then picks up the cat. Two steps later, they vanish entirely. Even though I know what to look for, I can’t find the shimmering outline of either of them.

  “What in the name of the lost space lanes just happened?” Van asks.

  Shaina gives him a warning look. “You didn’t see anything, so don’t talk about it and start rumors.”

  “You don’t know me very well,” Van responds. He gathers his Hwelas and lectures them for a few minutes off to one side. More than once, he slips into their language, which sounds terrifying and ridiculous coming out of a human mouth.

  I watch the scene as best I can but keep having to move to avoid getting put to work. On the positive margins, dozens of hallways, hatches, and maintenance lifts open to the docking bay. On the negative margin, every one of them has a foreman pressing loafers into work.

  We’ve ducked into rooms to hide and back into the hallway three or four times by the time Garin returns.

  “Sorry I took so long. There are a lot of people, and none of them think kids are supposed to be on the ship. And the jobs they wanted me to do? Do I look like I have an arc welder certification? Totally unreasonable,” Garin says. “They took Zedas through another door where I couldn’t follow. I can describe it, but there’s something else you need to know.”

  “Tell it all, and then I will ask questions,” I say.

  He nods, then crosses his arms like an adult. “I didn’t find a way to get Zedas free, and I wasn’t able to steal back your weapons, although I know where they’re at, but I did find the Dark Eye.”

  “Did he see you?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No way, Mr. Murphy. I’m sneaky, and Pats was helping me.”

  “Okay, good work. But be careful with the invisibility trick. It’s not reliable, and you don’t want to draw even more attention by appearing where you shouldn’t be,” I say. “How did you get the cat to turn you invisible?”

  “She turned you invisible. What’s the difference?”

  “Not the same thing, kid. That was an accident. The cat will not be useful unless we can train her.” My mind races toward the Dark Eye, but this conversation is important. I wish we were someplace with too much time on our hands and no observers, like a long voyage.

  “Will she do it on command?” Van asks. His eyes sparkle with interest despite the casual tone of his words. He even throws in a half yawn in the middle of his sentence.
r />   “You let me worry about Pats, Mr. Van,” Garin says. “Do you want to know about the Dark Eye, or what?”

  “Tell us everything,” I say.

  “All right, so everyone is working except for some people on the opposite end of the landing bay.” Garin points and talks with his hands as he warms to the audience. “Saw a couple of very serious-looking guards with extra armor and big guns. They never did anything, never moved, and none of the work foremen bother them about getting their butts in gear and doing some work.”

  I edge toward the doorway as close as I can without attracting attention. The section of the landing bay that I can see has only ships. Most everything’s been unloaded, and there are fewer people now, which could cause us a problem. But we’re going to stand out if we linger much longer.

  “So I worked my way in that direction, cheated a little bit with Pats. I have to tell you, it’s fun to be invisible. Especially when people are pulling out their hair looking for you.” Garin laughs a little bit. “But I see this deck with a huge view screen, or maybe it’s a containment field or something where they can look directly at the stars without getting sucked away. I don’t really know that much about ships, so it could be anything. A big door connects it to the landing bay. That’s what I saw all of this through and decided to check it out.”

  “There is normally an observation deck on ships near the landing bay. Oftentimes, it’s more utilitarian than recreational—for flight controllers and the like,” Shaina says.

  I nod and motion for Garin to continue.

  “I got pretty close,” he says.

  I frown. “How close?”

  Garin shrugs. “They have four guards, one officer, and the Dark Eye himself. Not including the four guards outside. The door was open, so I just slipped through to have a peek.”

  “Good thing they didn’t close the door while you were in there,” Shaina says.

  My friends debate theories explaining checks present on the observation deck. The more Garin describes the scene, the more my old friend is just sitting there uncharacteristically doing nothing.

  “He knows I’m here, and he’s waiting for me,” I say.

  The debating stops. My friends look at me. Several Hwelas gather around. One of them, I realize, is Wak-wak, and he looks miserably sad. I’m guessing he blames himself for not getting to Zedas in time.

  I weigh other factors. “That could mean he has a quick reaction force hidden, unless he’s confident he can handle us with eight guards, one officer, and himself.”

  “I don’t know why he would think that,” Van says. “All he’s done is defeat the entire resistance and seize the gate ship. How could he possibly face two unarmed orphans, a kid, and a kitty cat.”

  “I see you didn’t include yourself in that analysis,” I say.

  “Fighting isn’t my specialty. I can do it, but I’m not an idiot. Go in there and get yourself captured and killed if you want. I shouldn’t have wasted my time thinking you’d learned,” Van says.

  “That’s interesting, coming from you. What exactly do you think I need to learn?”

  “In the Goliath sector, it’s best not to fight at all, but if you do, you better fight dirty,” Van says.

  Shaina interrupts. “If he’s down here, we should take the command deck. That’s what we came here for after all.”

  “We still don’t have Zedas or our weapons,” I say.

  Garin lifts his hand like a kid in school. “Oh, I know where they are! Don’t you remember, I told you I did.”

  Shaina opens one hand toward him as if to emphasize her point.

  Van shakes his head in disgust. “You just don’t learn. Always the direct approach. Even if you get your weapons, there are far too many soldiers and crew on the ship. Few of them came here willingly, but they’re committed now, and you can’t predict how they will act when the violence starts.”

  “We need a diversion, someone to attack the gate ship,” I say.

  “Who do you have in mind?” Shaina asks. “I’m all down for a space battle. I’d even climb into a fighter if we found one lying around. Tamok has no void force to speak of. Who are you going to ask for help, the Protheans?”

  “Exactly. They’ve been looking for the ship, right? What do you say we tell them where it is?” I say.

  Van bellows a curse. “Space lanes and invisible asteroids! You know how to make every situation worse.”

  “That’s what I do,” I say with a laugh. “This ship was built by, or at least used by, Protheans before getting stashed on Ulan. There must be a comm station we can access to send out a beacon.”

  “Sure, and then they come and kill us five seconds after we take the ship from the Dark Eye,” Shaina says. “For once, Van and I both think you’re crazy.”

  I shake my head. “We can do it. Our timeline will be… unforgiving, but this will work. Half of those aboard will abandon ship when they realize the Protheans have found them. The other half will man battle stations. All we have to do is grab weapons, then capture Jack or the command deck.”

  “And disappear before the Protheans actually attack,” Van says. “I’m good at running away, but this is a new kind of game you’re playing.”

  “Anyone have a better idea?”

  No one says a word. Even the cursing stops. The Hwelas watch me with all of their eyes and barely twitch their little hands at all.

  “Then let’s find a Prothean comm station and get this over with,” I say.

  30

  The search for a comm station leads us through new sections of the ship. Every step feels like ten taken in the opposite direction of our crate of stashed weapons and twenty away from Zedas. Hallways are filled with purple light that pulses arrhythmically. There is an ambient noise I don’t like, right on the edge of hearing like the devil’s rave two decks below.

  “What is with this place?” Shaina asks, hands slightly raised in a defensive posture.

  “We have to go this way,” Garin says. “Wak-wak agrees.”

  The Hwelas bobs his head emphatically and points in the direction we are heading. “Must go this way.” Clicks and rattles fill the air around him as he talks to the other spider people, then waves four or five arms reassuringly. “No Dark Eye soldiers this way. We can go very far unseen. Then find the safe part of the ship again.”

  “This part isn’t safe?” I ask, not really expecting anything but bad news.

  Wak-wak focuses more of his eyes than usual on me. “Not tamed. Not changed for the Dark Eye. No soldiers here. Not yet.”

  “I like that part, but it feels like we’re circumnavigating the entire ship. We’ll have to run if it’s much further. Time is of the essence.”

  I don’t understand what the Hwelas says next, but Garin nods eagerly. “Good idea, Wak-wak. You, me, and Pats can scout ahead.”

  “Hey, wait,” I say, but they’re already dashing onward.

  Shaina shrugs. “You wanted to go faster.”

  “I’m taking the rest of my crew back,” Van says. “I’ll look for plan B in case this doesn’t work.”

  “Okay.” I could argue with the man or voice my suspicions, but I don’t. If he wants to find a ship to escape the Protheans, I can’t stop him. He’s not part of my team.

  Shaina and I continue at a jog, following the unlikely trio ahead of us. I map the area, committing every detail to memory. The ship truly is enormous, so much so that I wonder if ship is a good definition for this colossal vessel.

  “There’s more to your plan, isn’t there?” Shaina asks.

  I nod, check a side passage, and continue when there is nothing of interest. “Axu, the Prothean who captured me, revealed more than he realized. The Protheans are no more unified than Hadrians or my people back home on earth. Axu wanted to find me himself and basically told me he’d rather I escape than get caught by another of his people.” I leave out the part about the gate key tablet mostly because it’s not relevant to this discussion.

  “How does th
at help us?” Shaina asks, jogging backward for a few steps to watch our back trail.

  “I think he’ll come after us alone or with a small group. At the most, whatever faction he’s loyal to will try to seize the gate ship. That should increase our chance of getting away if they get here before we deal with Jack,” I say.

  “Honestly, that’s better thought out than I expected. You look tired, Murph. And tired people make mistakes.” She shivers at the sound of gears grinding behind walls. The creepy blacklight flutters from everywhere and nowhere. “I don’t want to end my days here.”

  “I’ve been tired my entire adult life,” I say. “When this is done, I’m taking a vacation. Maybe a few good books and some ancient ruins to poke at and no one trying to kill me while I invent theories about long-dead civilizations.”

  “How about a beach and a drink?” she asks. “That’s more my speed.”

  “Hey, you be you. I could probably do some reading by the ocean. Maybe teach you to make margaritas,” I say. “But don’t tell Zedas. Dogans don’t like sand.”

  Shaina laughs. “Really? Now I will need sand for my practical jokes. Assuming we ever get him back.”

  I let the conversation go for a while. We pick up the pace until we can see Garin and the others working around corners and checking doors ahead of us. None of the rooms we find look like comm stations. If we don’t find something soon, we’re going to need a new plan.

  Doubts I didn’t share with my friends plague me. Zedas is a hostage. I know exactly how far Jack will go to gain my compliance. The Dogan is tough. His pain tolerance is off the charts. Images of his recovery after having his armor removed on the sun ship don’t allay my fears. Shaina and the others probably understand Zedas is on borrowed time. When and if we seize control of the command deck, Jack will use him as a bargaining tool.

  “I think I found something,” Garin shouts and waves us forward.

  The kid stands in the doorway to a closet by Prothean standards. The wall is lined with shelves and tools consistent with computer repair—wires, clips, and a multitude of small screwdrivers and wrenches. Nothing is the exact size or shape I expect, but form follows function—I hope. I can’t tell exactly what type of hands these things are made for, but oversized Hwelas come to mind.