Remnant

by Dwayne A Thomason

  Gan sprinted forward, inertials accelerating him far faster than he could have run himself. After two steps he lifted his feet up, parallel with the glass. Gan burst through the window. For a moment he hovered six meters over the firefight. Shattered glass hung around him, sparkling like stars.

  Then he fell.

  Gan let his inertials kick in at the last second, dampening his impact on the decking. Marines surrounded him, and all turned their weapons on him.

  The old Ganyasu trembled to come forth, to show these marines what a Shaumri was worth. Gan was apt to call this part of himself Old-self or Evil-self. But if Gan could reform him he could become a valuable survival-self.

  No blades, no lethal moves, understood?

  Old-self grunted ascent and Gan let him work.

  Using suit inertials to empower his moves, Gan laid a punch in the closest marine’s chest plate. It sent him flying two meters and sliding a third. Gan spun, stripping the second marine’s hands of his weapon, then using it to swipe his feet out from underneath him and then he busted the weapon over his face plate before the marine hit the ground.

  Gan dove behind the cover of an unmanned defense screen as others fired on him. He unlocked the screen and pushed, rushing at the firing trio. Laser fire scored and blackened the screen, but Gan was untouched. He kicked the screen. It crashed into the marine in the middle. Gan pounced on the man to his right. With one hand he held the wildly firing laser repeater at bay. With the other he punched the marine so hard his faceplate cracked. The marine fell. The weapon remained in Gan’s hand. He spun it at the third marine, then did the double-jump trick he had used up in the booth. The marine fired and, as luck, fate, or Remnant’s Master might have had it, his first shot hit a vital component on the thrown repeater and the weapon exploded with a bang and a bright flash.

  The marine shouted and put his hands over his eyes. Gan charged in and landed his foot into the side of the marine’s helmet. He spun away like a drunken dancer and fell to the deck.

  Gan surveyed the battlefield, crouched low in case he missed someone, chest heaving from the exertion. Marines lay dead or knocked out all over. He hoped all of the ones he had fought were just unconscious.

  “Naboris?” Salazar Kol’s face was a mix of shock and awe. His men stood nearby him, jaws dropped and eyes wide.

  Gan didn’t have breath for words, so he offered a thumbs up. He stood tall and headed towards the Jessamine’s open loading bay.

  Sal narrowed his eyes, his face twisting with barely restrained anger. “What about the lockdown?” He pointed at one of several gimbled arms protruding from the floor and grasping the underbelly of his ship.

  “Oh, right.” Gan snapped his fingers. A series of deep thuds echoed through the big landing bay. Then the locking clamps released the Jessamine and folded down into the floor, making one long wheeze as they did. Coverings slid over them and the floor of the landing bay was whole.

  Kol’s expression shifted and he returned Gan’s gesture.

  A flurry of laser fire from above ripped into the decking around Gan. He looked up and saw half a dozen marines—all the bay window could fit—firing down at him. Gan dropped into a sprint. He got two steps before a new pain shot through his left calf. Gan dropped, then scrabbled to his feet again, all the while making whatever forward motion he could. He got to a limping run, his smartskin applying a generous dose of painkillers. The Jessamine rose. Gan leapt and then used his inertials to give him an extra boost. His right foot landed on the edge of the loading bay, but nothing else. He fell backward. His arms stretched out, clawing air, searching for anything to grab onto but found nothing.

  Chapter Thirty-Three:

  The Breath of Life

  Nix gritted his teeth, trying not to let pass that one expletive Dothin hated above all others. He failed. He crouched beside the door he had just opened, so close to the last walk to Ashla’s ship.

  Ashla stood out in the open, frozen like a victim in those horror vids he would sometimes watch when Dothin was away. Meanwhile a pair of marines trotted towards her.

  Nix grabbed his pistol and slunk over behind a big box near the door. He made the pistol safe, then tucked it into the waistband of his pants. Then he pulled the sides of his jacket together.

  By then the marines had caught up to Ashla and started talking to her. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s okay,” Nix called. He put his hands out first to show he wasn’t armed and hoped they wouldn’t shoot them off. He stepped out from behind the box. “It’s okay.”

  Nix took slow steps to stand beside Ashla.

  “What the void are you two doing down here?” one of the marines asked. The speakers in his helmet made his voice ominous.

  “Listen kids,” the second one said, “This area is on lockdown. You need to get back home.” Both marines had their weapons down, not pointed at him and Ashla, which was hopeful.

  “I know,” Nix said, trying to look as much like a sad, scared puppy dog as he could. “But you see, our dad is really sick. The shipment that includes his medicine is here, it’s been unloaded and everything, it’s in one of the containers in the storage silo down below.”

  He wanted to say more, to add legitimacy to his lie, but it was better to withhold and let the authority ask questions. That made them feel like they were in charge.

  “Where do you two live?” marine number two asked.

  “Habitat Six,” Nix replied. “Vorizon Court. Number 2238.”

  “How the void did you two get down here?” Number One asked. Nix worried more about him than Number Two.

  “Well, we were most of the way when lockdown happened.” Nix struggled to think through the timeline. “We got stuck in the lift for a few minutes, then it spit us out a few floors up.”

  He thought about suggesting that other marines had let them pass but couldn’t come up with any reason he could back up.

  “How were you planning on getting through that door?” Number Two pointed.

  Nix smiled. “That’s kind of a funny story. You see, our dad worked down here in the docks when we were kids.” Replacing singular words for plural ones was a constant struggle, but he managed pretty well. “At one point the station administration decided that doors to the silos should be locked down at all times. But, of course, the dockworkers had to access them constantly. So they had one of the maintenance guys work the lock so all it took was a good pull with a crowbar and the door would come unlocked.”

  “No kidding,” Number Two said, but Number One spoke over him. “Why isn’t this one talking?”

  Ashla trembled and took a step back. She hadn’t said anything yet, so Nix had a great excuse. He stepped in front of her. “He’s mute. Bad accident. He was going to have surgery, but dad got sick and wasn’t able to pay for it.”

  Number Two shook his head and elbowed Number One. “Man, let’s leave them be. They’re just kids.”

  “I don’t like them. I think we should ID them first, check out their story.”

  “You’re just trying to get out of work. You know they got three platoons trying to nab those guys upstairs.”

  “Please,” Nix pleaded. He lifted his arms. “All we want to do is—”

  “Gun!”

  Nix didn’t have to look to know his jacket, lifted by his raised arms, now revealed the metal of his pistol. How stupid could he have been?

  “Run!” Nix grabbed Ashla and pushed her ahead of him. They ran to the box and hid behind it. A few laser beams cracked nearby but not too close.

  “What are you doing Bal?” Number Two said. “They’re kids!”

  Number One, Bal, ignored him. “Slide the weapon across the floor towards me and come out with your hands up.”

  Nix whispered at Ashla. “I think we can make it to the door if we run.”

  “Are you insane? They’ll chop us down.”

  “I will chop that box down and you next if you do not comply,” Bal shouted at them.

  “See
?”

  “It’s our only chance!” Nix swallowed. “You go first and I’ll be right behind you.”

  “You are insane.”

  “Then we go on three.”

  “I’m going to give you to the count of three.”

  Nix blinked. “Um, three.”

  Ashla darted for the door. Nix followed up right behind her. Laser beams cracked around them. Ashla screamed. Nix did too. Ashla spun and sidled through the door. Nix tried the same, but as he pushed through the half-opened door his backpack caught. He wiggled at it and got free before a gauntleted hand grabbed his arm.

  “Gotcha!” Number One said.

  “Let go!” Nix screamed, struggling away from the marine. He couldn’t. The marine’s grasp was too tight. Ashla screamed his name. Nix considered shooting him in his mad panic to escape. Instead he grabbed his pistol by the barrel and smashed the butt of it into the marine’s fingers.

  Number One howled and released his grip. Nix pulled, stumbled to his hands and knees, scrambled to find his feet then ran. “Run, Ashla! Run!”

  “You sawking little rat!” Number One screamed after him.

  Ahead of Nix was a long series of corridors. Instead of being covered by high-res viewscreens catching a feed from an external camera, these had actual windows looking out into actual space.

  Normally he would have stopped to admire the view, as he had with Dothin a few times, but no time.

  “Which box is your ship in?”

  “It’s this way!” Ashla called, turning left. Nix followed her. “Um wait, this way.” She spun and ran. Nix waved his arms and stopped, turned and started running after her. When the door he’d lodged open was in view again Nix looked and saw it wide open, and two marines were charging towards him.

  “Hurry!” Nix called and ran faster, as fast as he could, pumping arms and legs. His lungs labored for breath and he ran still.

  “Almost there!” She turned another corridor, left this time. Nix hoped she was right.

  His eyes caught the well-hidden bulkheads in the hall, where the huge support frames held the corridor in place. He had an idea. “Keep going!” He passed the first bulkhead, then turned, pulling the pistol out. At the last second, he flipped the lever. He could feel the inner workings of the weapon shifting in his hands, releasing a round into the chamber.

  The marines turned the corner and halted. The one in front—Nix just knew it would be Number One—skidded to a kneeling position and aimed his repeater at Nix’s head. Number Two remained standing but did the same. It all happened in the space of half a second.

  “Drop the weapon, kid,” Number Two said. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You know what?” said Number One. “Go on. Shoot me.”

  Nix furled his eyebrows. “What?”

  “Go on. I sawking dare you.”

  “Don’t do it, kid.”

  Nix sighed. He turned the weapon and fired. The pistol clicked, hissed, bucked. He winced against a loud, thundercrack noise that never happened. The accelerated round shattered the emergency door’s control screen.

  In its dying attempt to display information the screen turned red. The marine’s heads both tilted. Nix could imagine surprised expressions on their faces. The emergency door dropped shut with a bang. Nix remained un-shot-in-the-face. He turned and ran again.

  The whole encounter had taken seconds. He hoped it bought him at least minutes. With the pistol still in hand he sprinted after Ashla again. He turned to enter the silo lift and bumped right into her.

  “Omygoshareyouokay?” all came out of her mouth as one word. She swung her arms around him in a hold he might have mistaken for a wrestling move.

  “Yeah.” The word came out as a squeak from the sudden blunt force hug. He returned it though. “I think I bought us a few minutes.”

  Ashla let go, nodded and then led him into a huge loading lift. She walked to a tall terminal display in one corner. She swiped and a series of video feeds cascaded down the screen.

  “Sorry. I forgot which one she—oh, here she is.”

  Ashla tapped the window displaying the interior of a massive mobile container, the kind the big interstellar cargo ships have attached to their sides. When they reach stations like Lodebar, the containers are removed from the ships and then placed in storage silos like the one Nix was in. This container had a ship inside it, long and sleek, mixing gentle curves with hard mechanical surfaces in a fashion Nix would call elegant if he was sure he knew what the word meant.

  As she tapped the screen the doors to the big freight lift shut and they descended. Ashla lifted her link, tapped, and spoke. “Luna, do you read me?”

  “Loud and clear, Ms. Ashla.” The response came back in a clipped mechanical voice. Pleasant, but if you ever saw a human talking that way it would make your skin crawl.

  Ashla smiled. “Good. Begin the startup checklist. Fast as you can. We’re leaving.”

  “Understood, miss. We’ll be ready to fly in two minutes, six seconds.”

  Ashla put her link back in her pocket and looked back at Nix. She frowned. “What?”

  Nix became aware of his own expression. “Luna?”

  Ashla nodded. “Lunar Seed. My ship.”

  Nix looked at the picture from the feed and back at Ashla. “It’s...pretty.”

  Ashla smiled then frowned. “We have a problem though.”

  Nix frowned. “What?”

  “We can’t open the container from out there, but when we do open it, it will vent all the air out.”

  Nix looked around but didn’t find what he was looking for in the lift cage. “No air supplies.”

  Ashla was in deep thought. Nix had begun to recognize the expression: brows furrowed, eyes staring but seeing nothing, mouth squeezed closed and to one side. He liked that look.

  She snapped her fingers. “I have helmets in my ship...but no detachable oxygen supply, without releasing the ejectors at least.”

  Nix shook his head. “It would only take a minute or two to vent the lift cage and walk out to your ship, and the helmet would capture a little air. I could make it.”

  Ashla crossed her arms. “No, I don’t like it. A minute or two with a torch and I could free one of the seats’ O2 cannisters and—”

  “No. We don’t have a minute or two. I’ll do it.”

  Ashla frowned, shook her head from side to side.

  “I can do it,” Nix said, assuring himself as much as her.

  Ashla frowned and sighed, but nodded. “Okay.”

  The lift cage rattled to a stop. The console displayed a circle being drawn and read “pressurizing container.” When the circle was complete the screen flashed “safe.” A pair of nested doors slid open with a series of metallic thuds. The first door, gray like the walls of the lift car, slid to the right. Behind it the second door, green like the container’s exterior, slid to the left. A light strip in the ceiling of the container flashed to life and Ashla’s ship was visible.

  Ashla stepped into the container, pulled her link back out and said, “How are we doing, Luna?”

  “Ninety seconds.”

  Nix entered after Ashla. Even though he’d known how big these containers were, had spent time inside one or two, the size of Ashla’s ship surprised him. He barely had to hunch when stepping underneath its wing.

  Ashla waved Nix over and pointed. “Great. Open the cockpit, drop the ladders and open the aft storage compartment.”

  “Affirmative.”

  A compartment protruded from the rear of the ship with a whine and then lowered down to his level.

  “Put your things in here,” Ashla said, and demonstrated. She pulled the cap off her head and tossed it into the compartment, then the jacket and shirt, revealing the blue and white flightsuit.

  “Woah,” Nix said, spinning away from her.

  “I’m not naked, Nix. I’m wearing a flightsuit.”

  “Oh, right.” Nix turned back around. He didn’t want to explain why seeing her in the c
lose-fitting flight suit made him feel a little uncomfortable, so he played dumb instead. “Sorry.”

  Ashla shook her head, her bob of strawberry blonde hair swaying. She dropped the borrowed pants, kicked off the borrowed shoes, then rolled it all up and tossed it in as well.

  Nix followed suit by setting his backpack in the compartment. “I don’t need to strip down to my smartskin, do I?”

  “Uh, no. Yuck.”

  “Well it’s not like the flight suit is much less...”

  Ashla looked at him with a scrutinizing frown that couldn’t hide the new rosy hue to her cheeks.

  “Never mind,” Nix said. “You said you have a helmet?”

  Ashla nodded. She led him under the wing of the Lunar Seed and climbed the fold-out ladder to the cockpit. She reached down into the back-seat area and pulled out a helmet matching the white and blue configuration of her flightsuit and the ship itself. She pulled the oxygen hoses from their sockets in the back and dropped it down to Nix.

  He caught it, looked up to Ashla, nodded further reassurance. Nix turned and left the cargo container. He donned the helmet and used his link to fit the seals with his smartskin and pair it. The helmet was sealed to his smartskin, but he left the faceplate off for now. Then he looked at Ashla. She must have been sitting in the cockpit, as he couldn’t see her. She had also closed the rear compartment.

  “Okay,” Nix said, already feeling short of breath. “You ready?”

  “Yep,” Ashla said over their connection. “Luna is ready. The cockpit is open and ladder is down for you, but I’m sealed and hooked into Luna’s oxygen supply. Ready when you are.”

  “Okay, here goes.” Nix swallowed hard. He tapped a menu button on the control screen and then another. The doors slid shut again with the same metallic thumps. “I’m venting the compartment.” He swiped across a few screens, then hit the button. He heard a faint whoosh sound, then the screen told him the container was depressurized.

  “Opening the doors.” Nix swiped, tapped and watched in the viewscreen as what looked like a slanting wall in the far side of the huge container depressed outward, then slid up revealing a shaft of empty space. From the view of the screen Nix could see other containers, painted in bright yellows, greens and blues and displaying logos of various transport companies.