by SM Reine
It wouldn’t kill her—or Pey. It would have killed the Mol. It might have already killed the Dark. They’d liquefied at the breach, becoming puddles of mercury on the cracked floor.
“Biosphere breach. No doubt an attempt by the Dark to sabotage negotiations.” Donnar Mol glared at the pools of silver, his voice system muffled by the containment suit.
Xella hid her frustration. Given the state of the Dark emissary as well as the direction their negotiations were heading, it was ridiculous to lay the blame for this on them. Especially given what she suspected the Mol were doing at this facility.
“This is clearly an assassination attempt, a deliberate act of terrorism against our facility,” Donnar Mol continued, staring intently at the two Graha-Es. He seemed to be hoping for something and Xella got the feeling it was her death. Well, he’d have to wait a while. This radiation hurt. Prolonged exposure might mean she’d need to molt, putting her in stasis for a few orbits. She’d be vulnerable, but that level of physical damage was hours away.
“Is there an evacuation procedure?” Xella calmly asked. Pey was practically clinging to her. The two Dark were sloshing around the floor, giving her hope that they were still alive. The Mol just stood, wide-eyed and bright yellow.
The door burst open and in came a suited Mol. It was T434. Xella felt a sense of pride that she’d been able to recognize him. Perhaps they didn’t all look exactly alike after all, although she wasn’t sure what difference she’d noticed that caused her to recognize the escort.
“Donnar Mol! Storage eight and ten have exploded. We’re holding atmosphere in the northern bay until we can isolate the damaged sections.”
“Please take us there,” Xella instructed T434.
The Mol turned to her and Pey, his eyes protruding even farther from the semi-solid head. “I…you…”
“Yes, we are unharmed. I’m not sure how long those containment suits will hold out the radiation, though. The Donnar and the other Mol should go to a safe area right away.” Xella looked down at the Dark. “And I guess we need a bucket?”
The two puddles rolled along the floor, causing the Mol to jump out of the way. Xella watched with amusement. “No. Evidently a bucket is not needed. Let’s proceed.”
T434 recovered his composure enough to lead the way.
“You go ahead. I’ll catch up later.” Xella pushed Pey forward to follow with the group of Mol while she took up the rear just behind the silvery liquid of the Dark. The radiation burned its way along her joints, where skin and hardened plates came together. This wasn’t good. Pey definitely needed shelter because with this level of radiation, they had far less than a few hours before their bodies were irreparably damaged.
The thought of molting and being at the mercy of the Mol scared her, but Xella had a job to do, and may Ammita smite her down if she returned home to the Mother without completing her task. With a quick look at the suited backs of the Mol ahead, she ducked down an adjoining corridor and made her way back to the storage areas, thankful that she’d always memorized the layout of every facility before journeying there.
Xella’s fears were confirmed before she even saw the burned, twisted walls of the corridor and the blackened debris of the storage room. There was an unmistakable pull, something deep inside her that homed in on a strong magnetic field as if it were a beacon.
This planet shouldn’t have had polar lights. And nothing mined from the surface or resulting from the legal operations of the Mol should have generated this strong a magnetic field.
Detrium. Highly explosive in its raw form and illegal to both mine and refine, the mineral could be made into weapons that had been banned in all twenty sectors. But banned didn’t mean there wasn’t a lucrative black market for the substance. No wonder the Mol had hidden the mined ore in lead-lined rooms, artificially cooled to the point where the lead had acted as a superconductor and shielded the magnetic fields. No wonder they hadn’t wanted the Dark sniffing around their transport freighters. No wonder they had built their outpost on the planet instead of constructing an orbiting facility instead. There must be an underground mining facility to the north, where the entrances allowed enough of a magnetic field to escape and collide with the charged particles in the solar winds which cause the lights.
She’d suspected the possibility of surface collection, but Xella was now convinced this operation was far larger.
Another blast rocked the facility and Xella instinctively ducked. Bits of shielded polyglass bounced like hail off her pebbled skin. Following the pull of the magnetic field, she ran down a maze of corridors and came upon a locked door.
Detection was no longer a concern at this point, so she grabbed a nearby safety pole and slammed it full force into the door’s electronics. They sparked, twisting enough voltage up the metal rod to send her flying backward against the wall. It hurt. Combined with the heat, the excess gravity, and the radiation battering her exterior, it really hurt. But the door was open and the proof was right in front of her.
Clear cylinders glowed light green as they stood upright in metal support units. Hazy white and green swirled around them in arcs like a dance of lightning. They were leaking. And with the breach of the biosphere, the charged atmosphere was reacting with the Detrium. Xella had no idea what had caused the initial explosions, but once environmental safeguards had been breached, there had been a chain reaction.
The floor shook again with a series of three blasts, cracks opening up from the far side of the room across the hallway. Part of a corridor wall collapsed in a spray of dust and polyfiber.
Xella ran, dropping down to gallop along on legs and forearms in an inelegant method of locomotion that would have drawn scorn back home. Scorn was better than dead, and at this point all she was concerned about was getting to Pey and then getting to their ship.
Another blast knocked her sideways into a wall. If she’d been upright, she would have fallen, but being on four legs like a cursed animal gave her the agility to kick off the wall and keep her forward momentum. The whole place was going to go up. And even if she and Pey managed to survive the detonations, they’d soon be in molt and stasis from the radiation. They’d be helpless, and there would be a good chance no one would find them for hundreds of orbits, if ever.
Leave. Now. Xella ran, fighting the urge to head straight to the docking bay where their ship sat. Thank Ammita the Mol had moved all the Detrium from those areas because there was a chance their ship was still in one piece. But first she had to get Pey. There was no way she was leaving her sister behind. She’d never leave without Pey.
Xella skidded around a corner, leaping to jump the two foot crack that crossed the floor. This was where she’d snuck off from the group, but where had they gone from here? She racked her brain, trying to think of where in the schematics of the outpost the Mol would have put an emergency shelter.
Pey might be safe inside a shelter, but Xella was less than an hour away from molt. And as bad as that would be for her, she was terrified to think that inexperienced Pey would be in the hands of these criminals. Only two thousand orbits old. Newly mated with her second soul.
No, Xella would allow herself to die before she succumbed to molt and the protective stasis. She just needed to find the shelter. Hopefully the outpost would hold until she could stabilize her bios, then she and Pey could get out of here.
And any others who wanted to, even the Mol and the liquefied Dark, because the Graha-Es weren’t monsters.
The blueprints of the facility came up in her mind as if the hologram was before her. She’d lectured Pey numerous times on engineering and safety protocols. If this were her responsibility, where would she designate for emergency shelter?
There. Xella narrowed her eyes as she looked down the hallway. Centrally located away from the edges of the biosphere, but with a direct path to the landing bays. It had appropriate shielding, a supply of breathing apparatus along with pressure and temperature control suits. And behind the room was a space that ap
peared to have emergency evacuation bags—what any Mol would need to survive enough rotations on this planet until help could come from outside the system.
Xella headed toward the room, still loping along on all fours and grimacing at the explosions that were now a steady beat, cracking walls and separating sections of floor. Her skin burned. Her internal fluids felt ready to boil. She felt the separation of muscle and plate that signified an approaching molt. Oh no. This couldn’t happen now, now when Pey was among unsympathetic strangers and their futures hung by a thread.
There. She rose to her legs and beat on the door with her forearms. The moment she’d touched the door she realized how futile those actions were. They were on lockdown in an emergency refuge. They wouldn’t open the door, so she’d need to open it for them.
The wire. A bit of saliva. And the kick of a very powerful leg. The door slid open with a creak and a whine. A chorus of screams met her ears. Xella dove through the doorway and swept the room, frantically searching the suited Mol for the one six-limbed form in the room. And she found her.
“Xella! Oh, thank Ammita you’re okay. I think we’re going to die.”
Xella felt the leathered skin that covered her mandibles peel back, exposing her pointed double-row of fangs. “We are not going to die.”
Pey ran to her and she turned, one forearm linking with her younger sister’s. “Oh. And if any of you wish to leave, I’d suggest you head to any available shuttles. We have room for any who wish to subject themselves to Graha-Es ruling.”
There was a profound silence that followed her speech, and as the pair left the room, a notable lack of footsteps following them. A scant three feet down the corridor and Xella heard the door close and lock once more behind her. Fine. They’d made their sleeping mat, now it was time for them to rest on it.
“Where are we going?” Pey whimpered, clinging to one of her midarms. “I think I’m going to molt. Xella, I’ve only molted once before. I’m not sure… I’m scared.”
Xella felt everything inside her twist with anxiety. Pey was so young. She’d only molted once. By all Ammita held holy, of course the girl was scared.
“Our ship,” Xella announced with a confidence she was far from feeling. “I have little hope this place will survive the chain reaction of Detrium explosions.”
“Detrium?” Pey’s voice was a few octaves higher than usual. “Of course! How could I have been so blind? The polar lights on a planet with no magnetosphere. The unusually intense environmental controls around the secret storage units.”
Xella risked falling to shoot her younger sister an incredulous glance.
“What?” The girl twitched her lower jaw in amusement. “I snuck out while you were resting to check. You’re not the only one who memorized the outpost schematics. And you’re not the only one who bribed the Dwall for a bypass wire.”
Maybe Pey’d make a decent diplomat after all. Or if she proved especially skilled, a double agent. Her youth, her wide-eyed innocence. Yes, Pey had quite the future ahead of her.
The biosphere shook violently as they neared the docking bay. Xella felt her sister’s fear, felt the ground shift like quicksand under her feet. Dropping again to all fours, she yanked Pey with her midarm. “Run!”
The ship was in sight, shimmering and dancing with the violent quakes that shook the ground. It wasn’t just the explosions of Detrium at this point, it was the surface itself, plate tectonics shifting from the explosions. Xella had no idea how much of the volatile substance lay below the surface, but there was a good chance that the blasts in the biosphere had destabilized the Detrium below the planetary crust.
It wasn’t just the environmental controls that were jeopardized, it was the entire planet.
“Run!” Xella screamed again, dropping Pey’s hand to allow the girl to use all six limbs. Running like a crass beast, she launched herself toward the ship, scrabbling up the ladders to the interior.
The ship listed to the side. It would have been knocked off its landing gear onto its side if the cruiser hadn’t been locked into place with bay-floor clamps.
Oh, mighty Ammita. The floor clamps.
Pey latched herself into the pilot seat, still whimpering. Xella threw herself into the operations area, firing the launchers and setting up the navigations. Not that any of this would do any good. The bay doors were still closed and the thrusters could never overcome the reinforced metal of the floor clamps.
Their ship rocked from side to side. “Xella! Tovenaressa Xella, I can’t…the bay doors.”
“I know.”
Xella grabbed a flare spot welder and raced down the ladder. It was hard to remain upright at this point as the whole facility was shimmying side to side as if a continuous terra quake were in action. Crawling on all sixes, she made her way to the landing gear and fired up the welder, concentrating the blue flame on the clamps.
There was a rumble in the distance. She ignored it, figuring that she could only deal with one crisis at a time. The clamp softened under the intense flare of the welder, separating as the upward force of the ship overpowered the weakening metal.
One free. Xella scampered to the other landing gear, focusing the blue flame on the other clamp. Nothing made sense anymore. The vibrating world around her seemed oddly normal. The intense heat…it was becoming cold. She was molting. If she could just get this clamp free and manage to force the bay doors open, Pey could get the ship out and off the planet. She’d be free. She’d be safe.
Let her live a long and glorious life. Let her learn and serve the Mother and the Graha-Es with all her considerable knowledge and skill. Let her live.
The second clamp snapped free. Xella stumbled over to the shimmering electronics on the far wall, wondering why they seemed like dancing stars in a far off galaxy. Something grabbed her waist with smooth and flexible metallic arms, dragging her backward and upward. She blinked, seeing Pey at the controls at an odd angle and realized she was on her side on the shuttle floor.
“Doors. Bay doors.” It felt way too cold for eight hundred degrees. Xella shivered. It slowly dawned on her that the atmosphere and temperature within the shuttle were fast approaching normal levels…and that they were moving.
“He opened them,” Pey announced, her four arms rapid at the controls. “Can you strap in? We’re getting out of here as fast as this ship can move.”
Xella struggled to her feet, gripping the back of the chair for balance as the shuttle rocked from side to side. Sure enough, the viewer showed the bay doors wide open, chunks of the biosphere dome falling. One hit the ship with a bang, and Xella threw herself into the seat. “Go! Go!”
Pey punched the accelerator and they rocketed through the doors. Only when they’d cleared the planet’s thin atmosphere did Xella think to wonder about the “he” who’d opened the bay doors. Looking behind her with a sense of dread she saw not one, but two Dark.
The Dark had saved them. Maybe. They had an unproven reputation for piracy. It would be easy for them to take the ship, dispose of her and Pey. No one would be the wiser. But of all the things of value, this small ship wasn’t worth much. Hopefully not worth discovery and the war an attack on a Graha-Es arbitrator would bring.
“Gentlemen,” she nodded to the pair. “Where shall we take you?”
Xella could have sworn the one smiled. “We would be most appreciative, Tovenaressa Xella, if you would take us to our ship behind the fifth planet’s moon.”
She hesitated, realizing their vulnerability if they docked on a Dark Wrecker.
Again, there was an odd glint of metal on the Dark’s face that seemed like a smile. “From there, we would be honored to escort you through The Fold to your home planet. We hope for a long, mutually beneficial relationship with the Graha-Es, and ensuring their arbitrator and her assistant arrive safely is the least we can do to prove our intent.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “Tovenaressa Pey and I accept your offer.”
The planet spun out of view behind th
em, a red rock with the dance of polar lights now visible even from space. The Dark and the Graha-Es. Stranger alliances had occurred in the history of the twenty sectors. Xella had a premonition theirs would be the shortest of friendships, but that was a matter for Ammita, for the future, to decide.
* * *
Arcturus 5 is a prequel to the Two-Souls series releasing in Fall of 2016.
For information on this as well as Debra's Urban Fantasy novels- which include the Imp series, and the Templar series - please visit debradunbar.com
A Tale of Two Ships
A KarmaCorp Story
Audrey Faye
A Tale of Two Ships
A KarmaCorp Story
She was dead.
Sigrid Albrecht snatched her face off the console that had apparently turned into a pillow for her latest desperate catnap. Every damn alarm on the Skrapp was sounding, even a couple she knew hadn’t worked for at least a decade.
All letting her know the obvious. Her old, leaky nav charts had been wrong. There weren’t clear skies out this side of the Veridian ice fields—there was a fucking huge rock. And she had solar sails in full deployment.
Turning while deployed was suicide—it would rip the ship in half.
152 seconds until impact.
Her brain, suffering from traumatic lack of sleep, still had no problem doing that math. 2.5 minutes left to live.
Sigrid stabbed at buttons, ignoring the wailing behind her. Freja would just have to wait.
Freja.
Sigrid’s heart clutched. Her precious baby girl. Everything else in her life had been mercilessly snatched away, and now it seemed the universe was coming for her tiny daughter too.
It hadn’t even waited a week.
She banged her right hand on two different consoles, trying to quiet the damn alarms. Her left hand abused the sonar, radar, nav charts. Trying to find a way to take a crippled junker around a freaking huge asteroid.
