by Berg,Alex P.
I looked up. “What was that?”
Carl didn’t have to answer. The repetitive woop woop of a siren began to sound, and Captain Rhees’ voice crackled to life through the speakers. “All hands on deck! Those thieving bastards are back, so let’s give them a warm welcome.” Then via Brain: Everyone patch into the ship’s servenets to share visual feeds. With any luck that’ll give us one more advantage.
I jumped up and rushed out of my quarters, Carl hot on my heels. Thoughts raced through my mind as I ran down the corridor almost faster than I could process them. The pirates were attacking? Holy crap. I’d been right! They’d perched on our hull all along waiting for the moment to strike. Now that moment had arrived. Was I ready? I glanced at my holder. Pistol? Check. Body armor? I didn’t have any of that. But a faithful android companion and potential human shield? Check. Where was Tarja? I might need her help. What about Ducic? Was he holed up in the panic room? Hopefully the guy wouldn’t suffer a heart attack—assuming he was able to with his physiology.
I turned a corner and found two of the Agapetes’ crew, Kass and Wilkins, at the doors to a lift, pistols drawn. I caught them in mid conversation.
“—bizarre. It’s as if we weren’t even here,” said Wilkins. “I can’t get a response out of it at all.”
Kass’s eyes had a faraway quality to them. “Looks like the pirates are ready for decompression tactics this time. Most are in full suits. The rest have on respirators.” She blinked and eyed Wilkins, who slammed the lift door with the butt of his gun. “Forget it. Take the hatch. We don’t want to get caught in a small space anyway.”
The pair finally noticed me.
“You. Weed.” Wilkins gestured at me with his pulse pistol. “Take the portside maintenance hatch to the main level. We’ll take the starboard side. Circle around by the cargo bay. Make sure the pirates entering through the hold don’t flank us.”
I nodded, trying to hide my underlying fear. “Got it.”
“And use manual door overrides if you have to,” called Kass as she set off down the hall. “Looks like security access is going wonky again. Seriously, how the hell did those pirates crack our system…”
Carl grabbed my arm. “Follow me. I know the ship’s layout better than you. And stay behind me if things get hairy.”
“Don’t try to be a hero,” I said. “Pulse rounds aren’t good for you either.”
“It takes a lot more charge to down me than it does you. And my parts are more easily replaceable than yours. Besides, I’m running active dissipation protocols and wearing electrically conductive shoes.”
“Dang,” I said. “You thought ahead.”
Carl smiled.
We ran down the hall and found the portside hatch. Carl dropped down the ladder to the main level first and I followed. As my feet hit the floor, I pulled my pulse pistol and checked the setting. Stun. Good. I wasn’t ready to use lethal force, and hopefully I wouldn’t find myself in a situation where I’d have to.
I glanced down the corridor toward the cargo bay. Behind the steady woop woop of the siren, I could hear other things. Shouted commands and curses. The heavy thump of boot-clad feet on the Agapetes’ floors. The crackle of pulse rounds discharging into the air as they made contact with hard surfaces. No whistles of projectiles flying past my head, though. Not yet, anyway.
Carl and I crept forward toward the hallway by the cargo bay, me with my pistol drawn and held at the ready. The sounds of fighting intensified, but still we didn’t run into any opposition. Where was everyone?
Good question, said Paige. I’d give you a sneak peek, but whatever the pirates are pulling is messing with the Agapetes’ servenets. I’m only getting snippets from Rhees and Jones and the rest. Before you ask, I have no idea what happened to Tarja. Same deal with the ship’s holorecorders. I’m sending what I can cull to Carl, but I’ll save you from it. Might give you epilepsy.
Just give me the highlights, then, I said.
Rhees and Urrupain are putting up a hell of a fight at the intersection outside the first airlock, but the pirates climbed in through a secondary lock, too. They’re mostly outfitted in full suits, and they came in hot, pistols firing. All pulse rounds, by the looks of it. Fillion and Wong were fighting a losing battle there, but it looks like Wilkins and Kass just arrived to provide backup. No idea where Jones or Vijitpongpun are.
So what am I walking into? I asked.
Those sounds are from Kass’s group. But you need to be on your toes. There’s a path whereby the suited pirates could double back and come your way. I don’t know if they’re aware of it, but if Kass and company push them hard enough they might force them on top of you.
Dang it, I said. I should’ve asked Kass to come with me.
We crept along the corridor adjacent to the cargo bay past windows that showed a glimpse of the hold, densely packed with blocks of unrefined ore strapped into place by netting and tie down straps. The yells coalesced into recognizable words and commands. I pressed myself against the wall, half hidden behind Carl. I readied my pistol and prepared myself for a fight, but as we passed the final airlock through which Tarja and I had first entered the cargo bay under Uche’s supervision, I stopped and gaped.
A swarm of bots was cleaning out the hold, one column at a time. They worked with absurd efficiency, cutting ties and straps and using their miniature thrusters to great effect in the hold’s zero gravity. Their well–coordinated dance enthralled me, but as captivating as they were, they weren’t what caught my eye.
The bots had cleared enough of the cargo bay for me to look all the way across it, through the exterior doors, and into the inky darkness of space and pitch black veil of the warp bubble beyond.
Except I wasn’t staring into the inky darkness of space and pitch black veil of the warp bubble. I was staring into another cargo hold, at least as large as the Agapetes’ own.
There was definitely another ship docked to us.
While I rested my jaw against my chest and tried to figure out what that meant for my theories, a trio of pirates in metallic green suits launched themselves from the lip of their cargo bay into our own. They glanced first at the conga line of cargo, then at the swarm of loader bots, and finally at me.
Thanks to my ocular implants, I could make them out even at a distance, although the glare off their helmets meant I couldn’t see their faces or get a good grasp of their intentions.
I learned all I needed to know when they lifted their pulse carbines and fired.
I threw myself to the ground as a force of habit, but the pulse rounds plunked harmlessly off the Pseudaglas windows.
Plunked, and not crackled, I realized. Were the pirates using barbs rather than pure pulse shots?
I lifted my head and glanced at the window. It appeared unscathed, other than a single barb impaled in the center of the glass. It sputtered and sparked, then died.
“Are you alright?” asked Carl. He crouched next to me, under the window’s lip.
“Yeah,” I said. “I saw the pirates and their guns and instinct took over. We should keep moving. For all I know those three are going to head over to the nearby airlock and—”
I paused and stretched my ears. Between the woops of the siren, behind the curtain of curses and thumps and whistles coming from down the hall, lay something else. Something close. A faint whine.
I glanced at the barb in the window. The barest of cracks had sprouted from the center.
I gulped. “Oh, no.”
27
A new siren sounded, an ear-splitting klaxon, and the doors at either end of the corridor slammed shut. I didn’t have to ask Paige what it meant.
I dove toward the drawers near the airlock door and pulled open the one with my suit, on the left, third from the top. Thanks to my frequent marksmanship practice, it was still adjusted to my body proportions.
First foot in. Second foot. Over the back. Arms in the sleeves, gloves still attached. Zip sea
l the front. Helmet on. I don’t think I’d ever moved so fast in my life.
It almost wasn’t enough. As I clipped my oxygen bottle into place, I heard a bone-chilling crack. I lifted my head to find Carl, his hand pressed tight against the Pseudaglas on the other side of the implanted barb. The look on his face was one of relief, but it wasn’t due to his efforts. The crack had propagated across the entire window face.
With a shattering crash, the window exploded outward. Air whooshed and screamed around me, scooping me up as if I were in a leaf in a tornado. The room swirled and I slammed my ribs into something—maybe the ceiling, maybe the lip of the window. Pain blossomed in my side, and I gritted my teeth. I spun and flew, and my stomach lurched as I left the pseudogravity field in the dust.
I saw a flash of metal, mesh, and straps and smashed into it back first, knocking the breath from my lungs. Somehow I grabbed hold of the netting before I bounced off. Loader bots scattered around me. With a grunt of exertion and a labored gasp, I turned and pulled myself into what I considered the right side up position.
I spotted a flash to my right: Carl, propelling himself at high speed from behind a girder to another bundle of cargo. A flurry of barbs trailed him, but none of them made contact.
You okay, Rich? asked Carl.
I took another breath. My side burned, but I needed the air. Fine. Hurt a rib. I’ll be okay.
Carl’s bundle of cargo was moving toward the shots—apparently the loader bots held space battles in low regard—so he launched himself to another.
I can see two of the attackers, said Carl. You know I can’t do anything other than protect you, so the offensive is up to you. I can scout, though. The first is to your right. Pop out and you should have a clean line of sight.
My heart beat heavily in my chest while sweat beaded at my temples. My breath came short and my ribs hurt like hell. Taking on the pirates on the small asteroid hadn’t produced in me nearly as negative a reaction, but in that case I’d been caught off guard, forced to react without time to think, and I’d had Tarja at my fore. Here I was still trying to come to grips with not dying in a painful decompression blast when suddenly I found myself shot at by ruthless hijackers armed with pulse carbines, and all I had was a—
Oh, crap. I said. My pistol. I dropped it in my rush to get the suit on.
Carl launched himself to a new girder, again trailed by barbed bolts crackling with electrical power. Alright, keep it together. I did a quick recap of my feed from the decompression event, and I didn’t notice your pistol being sucked into the cargo bay. It’s possible it was caught against the suit drawer you left open. Do you think you can propel yourself back there to check?
I looked. I wasn’t far from the broken window—much closer than Carl was, in any case. I popped my head over the side of the cargo bundle to check on the pirates’ positions.
A handful of bolts whizzed over my head, and I pulled back. Dang it. The pirates know where I am. I can’t risk it.
That’s not good, said Carl. If they’ve got a bead on you, they’ll close in on us soon. The only reason I imagine they haven’t is because they think you’re armed, too.
Not good? Carl, old pal, you’re not making me feel better.
For a moment, I endured his radio silence. Then: Hang tight.
I did. With my back to the cargo bundle and my eyes on the broken window, I wondered what Carl had up his sleeve. I couldn’t hear a thing, nor could I could I pop my head out and take a look for fear of being shot and electrocuted—and not just disabled. Whatever rounds the pirates were firing flew at extreme velocity. If they’d cracked the ship’s Pseudaglas, what would they do to my helmet’s faceplate?
Carl flew past me with a speed I wasn’t sure he was capable of, like an android missile. Bolts trailed after him like tracer rounds, thudding into the ship’s hull around him—and into his surfboard, for lack of a better word.
He stood on a hunk of tungsten ore, big enough to hide his frame in profile. As he neared the window, he jumped off the block, pivoted off the ledge and disappeared behind the interior wall.
I gave him a whole two seconds to search. Well?
No dice, he said. I can’t find it. It must’ve been sucked out after all.
More bolts peppered the wall, and my heart thumped even harder. Can you get help?
The corridor doors are locked down, said Carl. There’s no way to override them, and even if we could, that would vent another section of the ship. I could try to maneuver to one of the locks on the far side of the hold, but then I’d have to go around to reach the rest of the crew. I doubt there’s time.
I’m grasping at straws here, Carl. Give me something.
He peeked over the edge of the window lip and pulled back. The Brain missives couldn’t convey the emotion in his voice, but I could sense the strain in his words. The pirates are closing on your position. Rich…I…
I tried to sound brave, but again, it was a Brain missive, so perhaps my fear wouldn’t come through. It’s ok, pal. They’re pulse rounds, right? Promise me you won’t let me float off into the warp bubble.
I must’ve struck whatever passed for a nerve in Carl’s synthetic body. He launched himself out the broken window, grabbing the hunk of ore he’d used as a shield, and started flinging missiles in the direction of the pirates—spare oxygen tanks, by the looks of it. He cut a dashing figure, hair perfectly still in the vacuum and his face a mask of determination—until the pulse barb embedded itself in his forehead.
Carl jerked and spasmed and froze.
I gaped. Carl? Carl? Stuck as he was on that ore block and without air around him, he wouldn’t have been able to dissipate much current, but one pulse barb? What kind of rounds were the pirates firing?
Carl and the ore shield floated past me on the far side. A shadow lengthened across my cargo bundle, that of an extended arm. I knew it was all over.
I forced myself to look as the pirate’s metallic green form floated over the edge of my metal and mesh barrier. The glare didn’t prevent me from seeing inside his helmet this time. He wore a brightly colored headpiece and had a sneer frozen across his face. He seemed to stare right through me, as if I weren’t even there.
Of course, his sneer wasn’t the only part of his face that was frozen. He floated past me, without making any attempt to shoot me or even grab hold of the netting.
I felt something brush against my back. I screamed and turned, only to find Tarja sidled up next to me in her purple suit and with one of the pirate’s carbines looped on a strap over her shoulder.
Thankfully, no one can hear you scream in space, even if you sound like a little girl.
Where the hell have you been? I asked.
Tarja held onto the netting with one hand and chopped her pulse pistol across her throat with the other. She mouthed something at me through her helmet, but of course I couldn’t hear her.
I furrowed my eyebrows. Tarja wagged her finger at me and tapped her helmet.
Did you catch that? I asked Paige.
I’m not an expert on lip-reading or body language, she responded, but that looked like ‘No Brain.’
Tarja launched herself off and fired a flurry of bolts.
Why wouldn’t she want us to use Brain communication? I asked.
Off the top of my head? said Paige. Could be because the pirates have hacked into the Agapetes’ servenet. That would explain my difficulties establishing comm lines with the crew. If that were the case, the pirates might be able to geolocate us based on our messages.
Oh, crap, I said. I’ll stay quiet.
I’m not broadcasting our own conversations, she said. We’ll be fine.
What about Carl? I asked. What happened to him?
Not sure, said Paige. He cut out as soon as he got hit.
I hazarded a glance over the edge of my cargo wall and found Carl, pressed against the wall by his ore shield. He wasn’t moving.
We’ve got to do
something, I said as I pulled back. We need to save him.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, said Paige, but right now, you need to trust Tarja. She’s your only hope. And Carl’s.
She was right. If Tarja didn’t take out the rest of the attackers, I was as good as toast.
I sat on my hands. It was the longest two minutes of my life.
I startled again as Tarja pulled herself over the edge of my cargo bundle. She held up three fingers, chopped her hand in the air, and gave me a thumbs up.
I took that to mean she’d been successful, but apparently she didn’t want to risk any communications yet. I wanted to ask what the plan of action was, but I didn’t know how to do that with hand signals. I settled for rolling my hands and shrugging.
She pointed at the two of us and gestured at the pirate’s cargo bay, which was rapidly filling under the loader bots’ efforts.
She wanted us to go to the pirate’s ship? Why? Never mind. It didn’t matter. I shook my head and pointed at Carl.
I could see her sigh and roll her eyes through her helmet, but she nodded. She pointed at the two of us again, then at Carl, then at the pirate’s hold.
I still wasn’t sure why she wanted us to head there, but if it meant she’d help me save Carl, I was willing to give it a shot. I nodded. Tarja gripped the side of the netting, propelled herself in the direction of my fallen comrade, and I followed suit.
28
I hefted the chunk of ore off Carl and pulled him away from the wall, his body still and lifeless. The rational portion of my mind tried to convince the rest he was fine, that the current merely triggered the failsafe set in place by his dissipation protocols, but at the same time, I couldn’t recall ever seeing him like this. Carl didn’t sleep. He didn’t rest. He didn’t get distracted and zone off. Even during charging he remained alert and capable, if somewhat restricted in his mobility.
I glanced at the barb sticking out of his forehead. Perhaps if I…
Tarja grabbed my wrist in a vice grip before I’d made it halfway there. She made eye contact and shook her head, then followed it with a goofy face and a pretend spasm. I got the idea.
