by Wayne Basta
Gamaly appeared to be content with that answer, and she went back to focusing her attention on squeezing Gu’od.
Saracasi spent most of the remaining trip in engineering. Chavatwor and La’ari were always discussing different ways they might try extending the environmental systems if they started to give out. The pair also talked about decisions they would have made differently in the design of the ship and various upgrades they thought would enhance performance. Overall, they were dismayed at the lack of foresight on a lot of small details, but they were impressed by the basic layout and stability of the ship.
The conversations went over Saracasi’s head sometimes. She understood all of the basics, but sometimes the details were beyond her, especially at the speeds they would talk. She felt stupid asking questions at first, but Chavatwor was always more than happy to give her a comprehensive answer. Even La’ari seemed to learn a lot from some of his longer lectures.
Her favorite topic was conversions that could be done to the ship. They talked about how they could convert the ship to entirely different uses with the smallest number of large scale changes. Passenger ship was the first discussion, out of immediacy. Other ideas included a pocket battleship and scientific survey ship. Saracasi’s favorite was one she thought her brother would like: a light carrier. Chavatwor seemed convinced the large cargo bays would be easy to convert to a hangar deck.
When she wasn’t talking with the two engineers, Saracasi went down to the infirmary to visit Asirzi. Most of the time, she found her friend asleep. Dr. Istru did not have a lot of pain medication, but sedatives went a long way when the body’s natural inclination was toward sleep. Saracasi would sit with her anyway.
On one occasion shortly before their scheduled arrival at Irod, she found her friend awake. Asirzi gave her a faint smile as she approached. She also pulled her blanket up all the way to her chin like she had every other time Saracasi had come when she was awake. The crumbled sheet managed to hide her missing breast.
“You’ll be happy to know we are almost to our destination,” Saracasi said, trying to infuse her words with as much optimism as possible. Despite Faide’s belief, there was only a slim chance there would be anyone on Irod when they arrived. Their medical supplies were limited, and many people, Asirzi included, were in desperate need of some strong antibiotics and surgical procedures.
“I hear Irod is just covered with bright sandy beaches and luxury resorts,” Asirzi said with mock confidence. “You should probably invest in a timeshare now before everyone else can. Space will fill up fast.”
“Sure,” Saracasi said, taking the seat beside Asirzi, “I’ll transfer the credits immediately. I’m pretty worried about the entire planet filling up.”
The two women exchanged meaningless banter for several minutes. Saracasi enjoyed talking to Asirzi. For a short time, she forgot her other worries. They never talked about Asirzi’s condition, which made Saracasi think she was helping Asirzi forget as well.
After some time, Asirzi asked a more serious question. “I hear you were talking with Lei-mey Darshawn.”
Saracasi was curious why Asirzi would know about that. “She just wanted to know about Maarkean. How do you know Lei-mey?”
“Most of us ‘aliens’ on Sulas have heard of Lei-mey. She has staged numerous protests and succeeded in getting several reform candidates elected to the Sulas legislature. Those of us who were inside Olan only got our news when new people were brought in, but that was enough,” Asirzi explained. “I never even knew she was in Olan until we escaped. I guess the lockdown kept the word from spreading. But it has certainly made its way through the ship.”
With a pointed look at Saracasi, Asirzi continued, “Is something bothering you?”
Embarrassed, Saracasi considered what to say. She had come to realize that she was worried about Maarkean, and it must have started to show through to her expression. She had tried to assume he made it away from Sulas perfectly fine, but the truth was that she had ordered them to escape to hyperspace and leave him behind.
At the time it had seemed so clear cut – save seven hundred people or put them at risk to help one person. It hadn’t been a genuine choice, in her mind. That was part of why she felt guilty. She should have agonized over the decision to leave her brother behind. Zeric had done the exact opposite: he had put everyone on the ship at risk to save her brother, someone he hardly knew.
She tried to rationalize it away, thinking that Zeric hadn’t really had a choice. But that didn’t help much, because her first reaction to what Zeric had done had been to think he was crazy.
On top of all of that, she also thought she was a coward. What she had certainly done was flee and save herself. Had she been on the Cutty Sark instead of the freighter, would she have made the same decision?
“I’m just worried about my brother.” That, she felt, was close enough to the truth.
Asirzi gave her a comforting smile. “I would be too. But Chavatwor seems confident he made it out of there safely.”
That filled Saracasi with some comfort. She had come to respect Chavatwor during her time in Olan, and he was highly knowledgeable about ships. But he hadn’t even been on the bridge to see the situation.
Saracasi changed the topic. She stayed and talked with Asirzi for a while longer, until Zeric announced to the ship that they were about to come out of hyperspace.
Standing on the bridge at the command station, Zeric watched the timer tick down on the hyperspace jump. Next to it was a timer showing the approximate time until they all suffocated. Originally there had been almost a day’s difference between those two numbers. Only a few hours ago, one of the CO2 scrubbers had completely failed, and now there was only a few hours difference.
When Chavatwor had told him about the failure, Zeric had decided not to share the news with anyone else. The Kowwok had made it clear that there was nothing they could do to repair it without spare parts that they didn’t have. Since they were so close to Irod, and hopeful salvation, there was no point in alarming anyone else.
The two kids from earlier, Isaxo and Ceno, were operating the helm and one of the operations stations. Chavatwor was monitoring things in engineering with La’ari, and Saracasi had just arrived to man the engineering station on the bridge. He had asked Chungum, Jasmaine, Gu’od and Gamaly to be at the mining laser controls, just in case.
Standing beside him were Faide and Lei-mey. The two had taken on a sort of dual leadership role among the refugees. They were the ones who had decided to refer to them as refugees, rather than escaped prisoners, if they met anyone down on the moon. Zeric agreed it sounded better without being untrue, but he saw no reason to fool themselves that it would work. For one thing, too many of them were still in prison jumpsuits.
On cue, the timer reached zero and the swirl of hyperspace was replaced by two worlds. Directly before them was Irod’s dark shape, and behind it was the massive colored ball of the gas giant it orbited. It was a relief to have made it.
According to the survey report in the database, Irod was a world cast in perpetual twilight. The moon matched the orbit of another larger moon, Durod, which was farther out from the gas giant, Zod – Faide had supplied the names. During the time the two moons spent on the sun side of Zod, much of the star’s light was blocked by the larger moon. For only about a week and a half out of every six-week orbit did the moon have direct sunlight, rather than just light reflected from Zod.
None of that particularly concerned Zeric at the moment. The moon had breathable air. Of course, every new world carried with it a chance of unknown allergens and infections, but even if there wasn’t a colony down there capable of delivering inoculations, they had no choice but to land.
“Well, we’re here,” Zeric said simply.
Everyone turned to look at him as if expecting more, and he stared back. No one spoke for a moment. Zeric got the sense that Lei-mey and Faide had been expecting something profound, either from him or themselves. His simple declaration h
ad ruined that opportunity.
“So, Faide,” Zeric said, trying to move things along, “where’s this colony of yours?”
The Notha bowed his head in embarrassment. “I do not have a set of coordinates. It was so long ago. But should not an active colony be easy to locate from orbit if it is the only thing non-native on the planet?”
“Assuming it’s a usual colony with fusion reactors, communication towers and buildings. Your friends sounded like a get-back-to-nature group.”
To Zeric’s surprise, Faide laughed. “Pacifism and conservationism often go together, that is true, but they are not directly tied. I assure you my friends were quite enamored with the comforts of civilization.”
It was Zeric’s turn to shrug. “Let’s hope so. Okay, Isaxo, scan the planet for any signs of power or communication. Ceno, put us into a high fast orbit so we can get maximum view of the surface. If we don’t find anything, there’s a good chance the colony is just on the other side.”
It felt stupid saying the obvious, but everyone responded to it. The crowd at the back of the bridge watched eagerly as they got closer and the moon filled more of the view. Ceno put them into a stable orbit and then turned the ship so they could see the surface.
Zeric had overheard that some people were looking forward to seeing their new home. A good portion of the prison population, especially those who had been inside for the longest, was ready to settle down wherever they ended up. Another segment appeared to view this as merely a safe stop on their way back to Sulas or wherever they had originated. For everyone, though, Irod was viewed as salvation.
Zeric personally didn’t care one way or the other where any of them ended up. He did have the pessimistic view that, once they landed, all of them might be stuck there for a long, long time. Chavatwor had made it clear that with the failure of the CO2 scrubber, the ship might not be going anywhere without substantial repairs, even with a small crew.
After forty-five minutes and orbiting about halfway around the moon, Isaxo called out excitedly, “I’ve got something. I’m reading communication signals. Faint, local surface-to-surface stuff but definitely not natural.”
Zeric smiled. This was excellent news; settling permanently on an unknown moon that got little sunlight held very little appeal for him. Where there were comm signals, there were people. And where there were people, he sincerely hoped, there were spare parts.
“Okay, open a signal down to them and request permission to land. Let’s not startle them.”
Several more moments went by where the only sound was Isaxo speaking into his headset. He repeated his call down to the planet multiple times and finally turned back toward Zeric. “I’m not getting any response. There is no way to tell if they are receiving me. They may not have any surface to orbit comm stations, no one could be monitoring, or they are ignoring us.”
Giving a sideways look at Faide, Zeric said, “Guess we’ll have to startle them after all. Is there anything that looks like a starport or landing strip?”
“Yes,” Isaxo replied, “there is a small open area on one side of the settlement. It looks to be paved over and is just big enough for us to land on.”
Smiling confidently, Zeric turn to Ceno. The Camari was looking at him expectantly. “How are you and landings?”
“I can get us down,” Ceno said confidently.
“Of that I have no doubt. Gravity will make sure of that.”
Despite what he thought was a clever joke, Ceno didn’t smile. Or maybe it was possible Camari lips weren’t capable of smiling. The only Camari he’d known well had never smiled at him, but she also hadn’t liked him very much. Either way, Zeric moved ahead. “All right, put us down.”
Turning to Faide, Zeric said quietly, “Let’s hope your friends are still pacifists.”
Chapter Ten
Three days spent worrying, and now that they had arrived, Maarkean started worrying anew. He had known they would reach Kol first, and he knew the freighter would be at least three days, possibly four or five, behind them. Yet here they were, in the orbit of Kol, and worry filled him.
When the freighter had jumped into hyperspace back at Sulas, it had been a great relief. The fire from the freighter’s mining equipment had relieved some of the pressure that had been on them from the fighters. It had even saved them from several missiles, but they had been fighting a losing battle. A few more minutes, and the corvette would have arrived, putting a quick end to the fight.
It had been an uncomfortably narrow escape from there. Once the freighter jumped, all six fighters turned on the Cutty Sark. Fortunately, Lahkaba had plotted a course for them; it was just a matter of surviving long enough to get the right bearing and engage the hyperdrive. Even then, it had been the closest jump he had ever made.
After that, it had been an uneventful journey. Maarkean had used most of the advance he had gotten from Josserand to refuel and restock the ship while on Sulas. For once, food and fuel were not a concern. A quick course change in deep space to throw off pursuit, and they had arrived at Kol.
“Doesn’t look very friendly,” Lahkaba said as he stared down at the planet they were approaching.
“No, it doesn’t,” Maarkean agreed.
The planet of Kol was like most habitable worlds, covered with varying climates and regions. However, it was dominated by one feature that tainted any description of the place. The oceans were much smaller than on a typical world, and there was one giant continent surrounded by several smaller island continents. The main continent, which covered half the planet, had a massive desert spanning its entire length.
The coastal regions and the smaller continents had relatively temperate climates. On one of Maarkean’s stays on the world, he had visited one of the resorts and had found the beaches quite lovely. Yet despite the more pleasant nature of those regions, most of the planet’s population lived within the massive desert. Contained within the desert were vast supplies of valuable resources that were the main reason anyone would want to live on this world.
“So tell me again why we’re going to an abandoned outpost in the middle of that desert instead of those nice-looking tropical islands?”
“Because that is where no one will find us. The only Alliance presence on the entire planet is in a town on one of those beautiful tropical islands. They rarely visit the active mining towns in the desert, much less the inactive ones.”
Maarkean started maneuvering the ship into her descent toward the surface. It was nice not having to try to avoid detection. There were no planet-wide tracking stations monitoring the skies of Kol. Each settlement had its own detection gear that could have been networked to provide a planetary grid.
However, each was owned by a different mining company, and they were not inclined to share data. They were also not inclined to make it easier for the few Alliance officials to track the illegal smuggling ships they all used. It was quite profitable to use smugglers to avoid having the expense of shipping all of their mined ore back through central Alliance worlds. As long as he didn’t approach any settlement, they would ignore him.
“You say the planet is a nest bed of smuggling?”
“Yes,” Maarkean responded.
“Why doesn’t the Alliance send out ships to keep it in check?”
Maarkean replied with a disgusted tone, “Economics. They still receive enough profit from the cargo the companies do send back and pay taxes on. If they sent a permanent ship, that would cost money and would not likely net much more in the way of duties. They would need to send a task force to cover an entire planet, which is a significant cost. Plus, if they had a stronger military presence, they would be forced to deal with the rampant piracy, which would cost more.”
“I heard that Kol faced a serious pirate problem,” Lahkaba asked, clearly concerned.
Smiling at the Kowwok as they hit the atmosphere, Maarkean replied, “Oh, yeah. Mineral rich planet with little Alliance supervision. Lots of profit to be made by pirates.”
“I’m revising my assessment of this plan,” Lahkaba growled softly. “We’re planning to take hundreds of recently freed and helpless political prisoners to an outpost in the middle of an inhospitable desert on a planet crawling with pirates and smugglers. Sounds like a great plan.”
“You forgot the giant people-eating lizards that live in the deserts.”
If Lahkaba’s white fur could become whiter, Maarkean would have sworn it did. He didn’t know much about Kowwoks, but one thing he had heard was that they had an instinctual fear of being eaten by lizards. Their world was home to a particularly nasty variety that had been one of the chief predators of their biological ancestors. Some believed this fear was the reason the lizard-like Dotrans had managed to subjugate the Kowwoks for so long.
Lahkaba gave him a hard stare, and Maarkean broke out into a laugh. He had come to like the Kowwok. Three days enclosed together on a small ship had afforded them the opportunity to get to know each other somewhat. Without the threat of imminent death, and no one else depending on them, they had both been able to relax.
“You’re joking,” Lahkaba said angrily. “About the lizards. Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Trying hard to breathe properly again, Maarkean addressed his friend as calmly as he could manage. “No, actually. But don’t worry, they aren’t seen in this region much. They tend to stick to the northern regions, where their natural prey can find more food.”
Is Lahkaba a friend? Maarkean wondered. Facing the Alliance fighters together had allowed a bond to form between them. At first he found it odd, since the last time he had felt that bond had been in a war fighting people like Lahkaba. He understood when it had developed with Zeric; he was a Terran and they both were former military.
