by Marc Secchia
Disembarking, he checked in with Spaceport Control.
An image of Controller Yazin flickered in the air between them. “Dawn’s fires, Head of Settlement Security, plus extra. Might I say you look fetching today, sir, but you are entirely outdone by your daughter? Welcome, Alodeé. Doing better?”
“Much better. Thanks, Yazin,” she smiled. “Dawn’s fires, sir.”
Why do Oraman say ‘Torc’s fires?’ What does that even mean?
The image of Controller Yazin grinned beneath his wraparound head console, replacement for eyes since half of his face had been chewed off by a carnoraptor back in the day. Bionic vision. Pretty cool, since he looked half robot and could see in spectra others only dreamed of. He was Asmurti’s uncle, married, with two sons still in school.
Yazin said, “Good weather en route to destination unnamed, several localised storms as ever. Best course plot already transmitted to your Nav computer. Takeoff stat, sir?”
“Stat, check,” Dymand said.
“Cargo’s onboard and secured, sir. Initial systems scans all show green.”
“Permission to fly?”
“Granted.”
“Hop aboard, Alomonster. A Ranger’s feet are never still.”
She took in the slight skip in his step. Rascal. What are you hiding? Her heart burbled cheerfully. An actual outing! Somebody’s been a very good girl and that somebody’s me.
The entry ramp retracted as they boarded. AVACS vessels majored on durability over comfort, often being used to haul more urgent, smaller cargo on the regular runs the security personnel made between different Settlements and installations. Alodeé peered into the cargo area and chuckled.
“Dawn’s fires, Medic Tamanzi and students.”
The pink-haired medic chuckled, “Oh look, students, a recent medical case.”
Freshly returned from the garbage recycling, yep. Thanks.
Tamanzi and four Med students, recognisable by the white crosses on a red patch they wore on their blue uniforms, sat on fold-down seats along the bulwark. 5-point harnesses, nervous grins. One of the Class 1 girls appeared pretty green around the gills and they had not even taken off as yet. Dymand snapped them a salute, before sneaking over for a bold kiss. Instant gossip across the entire Med Facility, she suspected, judging by those four expressions! A fifth student, to her surprise a Class 12 Aquatic Humanoid, popped her head out of her transport barrel to greet Alodeé in a merry soprano.
“Chimzi, Hyshamuri Mermaid,” she chirped.
Probably from the Asiatic Aquatic Planets, Alodeé would have guessed, judging by her petite size, sleek sable hair and bronzed skin. She and her Dad looked similar, she supposed, down to the waist, where Chimzi’s body changed to gorgeous sapphire scales and a pert tail.
“Alodeé, trouble on legs,” said Tomaxx, ducking in from the Nav area.
“Tomaxx!”
“Gunnery 1,” he rumbled, making his fancy stubble quirk into a knee-wobbler of a smile. “Ash is on 2.”
“Ooh, dawn’s fires just brightened,” Chimzi flirted, flipping her tail out of the water to give the local pillar of masculinity a brazen once-over. “All the Mermen like to chase my tail. Am I pretty?”
Oooo-ooo-kaaay. Mark that one for a rabid extrovert.
Rather gravely, Tomaxx said, “Your tail is a tale the envy of the seas, o Mermaid, o Mermaid, marry me please!”
Chimzi almost popped with delight. “You know Hyshamuri poetry? Oh, you’re wasted on that pretty girlfriend of yours, Tomaxx! Now, if you could just teach a few Mermen around my part of the waves to spout poetry at the flip of a fin, I should be eternally grateful.”
As she chattered on, Alodeé collected a random handslap from Tomaxx and followed her Dad into the Nav area.
“Pilot Asmurti,” he said, “let’s fire up the systems.”
“Asmurti!”
“Engineer Isska, please initiate the checks by the manual –”
A silly smile spread across her face. What the blazing conspiracies is going on here?
“Sir!”
“– otherwise the student instructors will never let me get away with another trip like this, ever again,” Dymand deadpanned. “Maruski, see that our Medic team is belted in, please. Put a lid on the Mermaid’s tank.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate that tone, sir!” came from the back.
“Mermaids,” he rolled his eyes.
“Sir,” purred the feline, stalking toward the back with a stiff twitch of her tail.
Yep. Cats, too. Bonus points for the attitude.
Alodeé turned a little greener than usual as she eyed her friends manning the controls of her father’s personal AVACS. How did they get to – well, I guess I flew this baby when I was five and Dad let me pretend I was controlling it. Jealousy. Never a nice emotion, especially if one’s skin already started off green.
Isska folded their tongue in half as they worked steadily through the official checklist. A slight tightening of Dad’s jaw betrayed that yep, that would be the checklist he pretty much ignored most flights. Rebel to the core. Gosh, Isska’s stomach … had grown, if that was possible. The bulge moved. Oops! Now, did one or did one not – their eyes shifted to take in her agog expression.
“Uh …” Alodeé leaned close. “Is it horribly inappropriate to mention, or … did your stomach just …”
Isska whispered, “Cultural taboos can be so boring.”
“Oh, I see. I’ll zip the lip.”
“Officially, I have no idea what you’re talking about, you thumping ignoramus,” they said loftily, but between their bodies, green fingers made the sign ‘perfect.’ “We ignore even the perfectly obvious until something happens, whereupon words of congratulation may be advanced. Meantime, all I have is a mild stomachache.”
With a wriggle of multiple body folds, the suspicious mass disappeared somewhere else. Ooh. Did they have any actual bones?
Alodeé shook her head slowly. The oldest legends suggested that once upon a time, even before the First Expansion, Humanoids had all been Class 1. Some of the Class 1s were known to take that for fact and to lord it over other types of Humanoids, but the official line of Galactic Central had always been that all Humanoids were equal in value, legal status and dignity. The very fact that a Class U existed, however, betrayed the fact that some were more equal than others. Hard to imagine a Universe with all the rich variety the different Classes offered.
Consequently, how does it feel to be a vanishingly tiny minority, Alodeé? A people not even acknowledged to exist?
Sure made one see the world differently.
Challenged one to value friends differently, too.
On that note, why were all her friends together in one place?
“Belated happy birthday AVACS cleared for takeoff!” Asmurti yelled over the Comms system. Cheers all around!
Guess who was the slow one around here?
Her Dad clapped her on the shoulder. “Let’s get this party in flight – if some people would kindly strap in?”
Happy birthday messages danced in holo around her head, popping as fireworks that rained down in simulated gold glitter. Great. Hooting in appreciation, Alodeé flipped down her assigned seat behind Asmurti and fastened her harness straps. “Ready, pilot.”
Dymand said, “Pilot, engage full manual.”
Oh. Really is a training situation. Smarty-shoes Dad’s been busy.
Despite to Alodeé’s best knowledge of Asmurti only having taken training flights around Settlement Central in unresponsive hulks purposed for students, she handled the far more sensitive and powerful AVACS competently. She’d racked up hundreds of sim hours in a huge variety of situations, weather and simulated emergencies. However, she read tension in the set of her friend’s shoulders and a slight quiver of her hands.
Very softly, she leaned over and said, “We’re all fine back here. Relax.”
Settling back, she noticed her Dad giving her an approving nod across the narrow aisle. He sat in
a rarely used position of Comms Engineer; in fact, he usually piloted this vessel alone, just him and whatever cargo he had for the day.
Dymand said, “Pilot, set course for Bryllintine Mines.”
“Check, sir,” the pilot acknowledged.
Aha! Bryllintine was the newest Settlement, also the farthest from Central by direct flight. Probably the easiest and least perilous route, mind. The run to Hazmuri Falls was renowned for bad weather and carnoraptors; the flight to Rhondu Farms could not avoid a gravitational rollercoaster, which involved fancy flying through what pilots fondly called the ‘octopus,’ a region where tentacles of water lashed in every direction. Today’s flight ought to be a scenic yawn.
Asmurti took them up in a straight vertical climb from the Spaceport, orienting them on a southerly heading. Seen through the wide forward viewport in the first light of dawn, densely vegetated green and deep purple mountains bracketed their course, shedding waterfalls and swarms of flying creatures as their islands hovered improbably in mid-air. The planetary core – whatever mysterious substance it might be – was thought to lie over 30 kilo-kloms below. Some fall.
Flying down a living canyon punctuated by breaks in the islands that migrated around this A-16 atmospheric level, Asmurti put on a burst of speed to avoid a flight of interested reapers. The yellow hive-insect monsters loved nothing better than to ambush unwary pilots.
“Beautiful and deadly,” Dymand said quietly, watching as the flight of reapers banked away in disappointment, showing them all the mesmerising patterns on the undersides of their wings. “Each can be billions of individuals. It begs the question of how a brain forms, operates and reforms. Where is the larger body pattern kept and how does an individual know its place? What is a soul to such a strange creature?”
Over the Comms link, Medic Tamanzi said lightly, “Do animals have souls?”
“Dragons do.”
Alodeé realised that it was Ash who had spoken over the open link. Another believer?
Oraman sure had strange traditions. Her father had been intrigued and impressed by her induction into the Oraman Clan. Had it been merited; truly product of such a weighty matter of honour, she doubted inwardly?
Smallest Oraman ever. Ha. Greenest one, too.
“Initiate Nav profile schematic, locate projection in front cabin and cargo hold,” Dymand ordered. A 3D holo-image formed between them, showing the route leading to a particularly large, deep-bellied island pinned at A-18, over a thousand kloms higher in the atmosphere. “Pilot, engage auto for a min.”
“Check,” Asmurti agreed crisply.
Swivelling her seat, she began to join them, before taking one last suspicious glance across her instruments. Vigilant. She quite liked that quality in a pilot.
“Bryllintine Mines is an easy but distant flight,” said her Dad, playing through the route. “We will take five piloting shifts – Asmurti, followed by Isska, Alodeé, Tomaxx and Ashamixx. Bryllintine requested medical help. Several mine accidents have led to patients who need transport to Central for more advanced rehab. Hence, we also carry Medic Tamanzi and her crew along with their medical equipment and supplies. Last but definitely not least, the accidents have led to certain irreplaceable equipment being lost in the mines, beyond the reach or detection of the large underwater probes. Chimzi is an experienced rescue diver with the ability to remotely sense electrical fields, mineral deposits and metals. If there’s any chance of retrieving the equipment, she’ll get the job done.”
“That’s me!” burbled through the Comms link.
Alodeé winked at her Dad and said, “These underwater mines really should learn to employ staff with tails. It’d solve so many problems.”
“I am unique, thank you for noticing,” Chimzi chirped immodestly. “Is that you, the pretty redhead girl? I like you! Come talk to me and admire my scales when you get a chance.”
Dymand raised his eyebrows. “Alright. Gunnery team, take your positions. We’re going to run a few sims that don’t involve evasive manoeuvring. Ash or Tomaxx for the win? Place your bets here.”
“Ooh, Tomaxx, he’s so handsome!” squealed the Mermaid.
Alodeé actually heard her friend’s teeth grind together through the link. Lucky Ash. Well, if she wanted to land Mister Muscles for a husband, she had better get used to it. He really was far too easy on the eyes for his own good. Not looking. One could eye up forbidden fruit, right?
For my part, I owe Dad another interrogation. Need to pick a good time. Where did he meet Mom? Could there be more of us … somewhere out there?
* * * *
Alodeé took over the controls in the yawn-worthy middle section of the flight. Nothing to do but keep the blunt nose pointed in the right direction in a wide, wide mauve sky dotted with faraway islands. The crystal engines hummed away gently at the back, the weather was balmy – since Isska’s job had been to fly well around the bad stuff – and now, in the open, they had accelerated to over 1,000 kloms per hour. No mountains to fly around. No sneaky gravity wells. No airborne predators, save a phenomenon that Dad had Isska keeping a beady eye on, far to the east and 200 kloms higher up. Animals? Islands? The sensors could not distinguish.
Ping. Alodeé’s hands jumped on the controls as a message crackled through. Holo readouts flashed before her eyes.
“– in, AVACS!” Hiss, crackle “– in!”
“Computer, fine control Comms 0.003 percent amplitude, Hassing declutter routine,” she snapped automatically. Oops. Meant to be Isska’s job.
Skiss! “– mayday, mayday! Miners down!” Ssss, pop! After a garbled section, the crew heard, “Request urgent medical –” crackle “– trapped, stat! AVACS, do you copy?”
“AVACS copy,” Alodeé responded.
“Did you –” Ssss …
“AVACS copy! Making top speed!” Dymand snapped.
“… hear you, sir! Attack …” Skiss, crackle …. “Aargh – nooo …”
Alodeé gasped. The final awful scream seemed to echo over and over in the Comms link, even though she saw from the console that the laser communication had cut off – or, had been cut off, more accurately.
“Attack, sir?” Isska spluttered.
Dymand snapped, “Apparently so. Alright, AVACS crew. We have a red alert situation. Whatever you thought about this trip, things just turned nasty. Isska, project my face to the back, please. Asmurti, take over the controls. Max speed.”
Apologising with a curt gesture, her Dad continued, “Alodeé, get in the back. Find storage B3, back left below the loading bay, orange label. You might need some help moving crates. Break out all the equipment we can use and get our team armed and armoured. Copy?”
“Sir! Stat.”
“Isska, get me schematics of Bryllintine Mines, stat. Decipher that message playback. Let’s see if we can identify anything in the background noise that’ll give us clues as to what we’re facing. Beam Settlement Central, highest alert protocol. Requested armed backup, stat.”
“Sir!”
“Asmurti, use the top speed override, red lever, third over beside the throttle. I’m counting on you to get us there safely but fast.”
“Check, sir.”
“Tomaxx, Ash, full armour and weapons, but remain at your stations. There’s a good chance we’ll come under fire as we land. Maybe a local rebellion. We’ll need decent gunners.”
“Sir!” they chorused.
Alodeé ran to the back. The medical team looked terrified, apart from Tamanzi. Reading the storage labels off the floor, she said, “Quick, help me move this crate. Chimzi, you got armour? How long can you last out of water?”
“Yep, explorer armour. Won’t stop a blast,” she said, peering at Alodeé through the clear side of her water barrel. “22 mins is the max, less if my gills dry out.”
“It’s a hot, dry climate,” Dymand said through the link.
“Eleven to fourteen, sir.”
“Noted.”
“ETA down to thirteen mins, on my mark,” As
murti called. The whine of the engines rose to an irritating pitch as she piled on the speed. “Mark.”
Delving into the storage, Alodeé pulled out laser pistols, blasters, even a bag of assorted grenades, plastic explosives and – Holy Resurrection Dawn, a trio of homing missiles? Hmm. Dad packed a few things in here that evaded the label ‘standard gear’ by a wide margin.
Surprised much? Ha. Typical Dad.
Digging further, she started to toss pieces of armour at the medical team. “Put these on, stat. Pick a weapon you know how to use. Chimzi, this one’s for you. Maruski, lend a paw, would you?”
“On it,” she smiled.
“Nice fangs, girl,” Alodeé returned the smile rather grimly.
Dymand said, “Isska, 5 mins out, I want shields ready forward and below. Listen up, team! We’re going to try a fast landing right behind the main facility. It’s the best shelter I can work out in a hurry. Asmurti, Alo and I go in first; Tomaxx, Ash and Maruski second wave. Figure out primary targets in a min. Medics, Isska, Chimzi, stay on board for now and defend the ship. We’ll call if we need help with any casualties we find.”
“Sir!” everyone chorused.
“2 mins out, there’s a window where we might be able to hack into their systems. Isska, Alodeé, that’s your job. Stop any plasma cannon from firing.”
Isska said, “Sir, I’ve identified traces of Humanoid voices talking about a monster in the mine. Further, there may be a team of miners trapped a klom beneath the waterline; but I also hear other noises that suggest rebels may have taken over the Command facility. 446 miners work on site. Several hundred could be working below the waterline at any point in time.”
“A monster in the water?” Dymand queried. “Chimzi?”
“Far from impossible, sir. Mining probes have been known to wake creatures in the deeps, inside some of the islands. I didn’t bring any purpose-built underwater weaponry as this mine reported no local predators, but I believe Alodeé has a few items of interest to me. I can repurpose some of my equipment into weaponry, given ten mins or so.”
