by C. Gockel
Ben was laid out on a shiny steel table. His skin was pale, and his orange eyes were closed. She couldn’t see any Dark around him. When she finally turned away, Sixty was right there. He put his arms around her, and she could feel the shape of Eliza’s ashes in his coat and hear the hum he had instead of a heartbeat. She didn’t care who or what he smelled like when he held her tight and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I know how much it hurts.”
27
Starship Defiant
Standing in waist-high System 7 blue blade grass, 6T9 stared a bit to the right, out at the not-at-all-distant horizon of the asteroid. He could see where the plasti-glass panels of the “ceiling” met the sculpted, tree-covered, rolling hills. An air circulator hummed as it buffeted the back of his neck with an artificial breeze. Despite the machine’s best efforts, his chemical receptors detected a whiff of fungus. He needed to get FET12 going on the plasti-glass cleaning as soon as he was done clearing brush.
“Almost finished,” Volka said, her voice tight with determination. Her brush pinged furiously against the can of water she was using as a rinse. Volka did most things furiously lately. She was angry at the Dark for taking Sundancer and Ben. Ben had left her a holo-message in the ether that Volka downloaded to Bracelet a day after he passed. He’d been afraid of the Dark having access to the data in his mind. “I’m a Special Forces agent, Volka,” the holo Ben had said. “If it found out everything I knew, it would be even more dangerous. I feel it eating its way into my mind, taking more and more. Dr. Lang keeps telling me a cure is around the corner, but Volka, I can feel she’s lying. There is only one way to stop it in time. I’m sorry. I wish we could have had more time. I pray this discharges my obligations to you for what I am about to do.”
Sixty didn’t blame the Dark for Ben’s suicide. Sixty blamed Ben and Volka’s antiquated religion. The words Ben had recited in Arabic weren’t from the Koran; they were from a scholar from the 2200s who’d been inspired by the Koran. The martyr will be forgiven for everything, except obligations and debts to those he loves. He who dies defending his family, faith, or the galaxy is a martyr.
Ben had obviously thought that his death was the ticket to an upload to heaven. Eliza had told 6T9 that faith gave humans strength. 6T9 thought faith let them die too easily.
Behind him, Volka said, “Almost…alright, I’m done.”
Swinging his arms to loosen his joints, 6T9 turned and strode through the thick grass to where Volka stood on a bluff of iron-rich asteroid rock, her watercolor supplies on a folding table in front of her. FET12 was in sight among some trees, dragging branches off to the methane power converter. Shissh was laying close by, enormous head resting atop her gigantic paws. Carl was chittering by her nose, but as 6T9 approached, the Bengal tiger put an enormous paw lazily over the werfle’s head, squashing it to the ground, and then dropped her own muzzle with a huff. Volka looked down at the big cat and frowned. 6T9 wasn’t an expert on big cats, but he didn’t need to consult the ethernet to know that the tiger was depressed. Ben had been “her special pet,” according to Carl.
“What do you think?” Volka asked.
6T9 surveyed the painting. Like her watercolor of Time Gate 1, it was reminiscent of John Singer Sargent. The “wildlife” was loose and quickly captured, but she’d spent more time on his form, and in particular, his profile. “I like it.”
She bit her lip and he added, “I think it is exactly what your client wants.” The Galactic had mentioned Volka was a painter “roped into the role of rescuer,” and featured her watercolor sketch in their interview. She’d almost immediately gotten commissions. They had no Sundancer and no lodgers at the moment—the cleaning ‘bots were still busy cleaning up after the last lodgers—and her artwork was paying for the fancy gold spaceship with a gold-plated toilet that 6T9 had blown up. 6T9 had at first protested this scheme, but Volka had argued that she didn’t want to live anywhere else, and if he didn’t take her money, he was essentially evicting her, and also, it wasn’t fair that he’d taken care of her, but wouldn’t let her take care of him.
“You’re the perfect model,” she said. “You don’t even breathe.”
“I’d be even more perfect naked,” 6T9 said, surveying the drab clothing he wore.
Volka blinked up at him. “The client wanted blue blade grass in his commissions. How could being naked in blade grass ever make sense?”
6T9 opened his mouth.
Flicking her ears, Volka said, “I don’t want to hear about sadomasochism scenarios.”
6T9 shut his mouth.
From the “sky”—or from the ceiling, depending on how you thought about it—came a clicking noise, a groan, and the “sun” moved a few more meters to the “west.”
Volka looked up. “Let’s do another one. This time, stand on the right side of the blade grass patch and look left.” Her yellow eyes met his, and her voice was soft when she asked, “Would you mind if we listened to my lessons?”
“They’re my lessons, too,” Sixty said. “You may only have a sixth-grade education, but I never even went to kindergarten.” Since the “war council,” Volka was obsessed with her lack of education. And “general uselessness.” During her time at Time Gate 1, unbeknownst to him, she’d tried to enlist in the Fleet. They wouldn’t take someone without ether access, and she wasn’t a candidate for surgery. He let out a breath. She wasn’t a candidate for all but the most innocuous, carefully constructed personalized nanos, either. Her immune system was too strong.
“It’s different for you,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” 6T9 said. “You can download everything I can download, and you have a perspective I will never have.”
Before she could protest, eyes on hers, Sixty leaned toward her wrist and said, “Bracelet, start playing History of Earth Civilizations, Ancient Greece, please.”
“Certainly, 6T9,” Bracelet replied. 6T9 began walking out into the grass, and the device began to recite, “Ancient Greece was a civilization that existed from the twelfth century BC to the end of antiquity in sixth hundred BC on Earth’s European continent, located on the planet’s north and eastern hemispheres on the body of water known as the Mediterranean Sea…”
6T9 had one leg hitched up on a rock and was staring down at the lake and Bracelet was getting into the organization of Greek City-States when Volka’s brush dropped.
“She’s awake,” Volka said.
For a moment, all of 6T9’s circuits sparked, and his vision went white, trying to decipher who “she” could be.
But then Shissh began chuffing—the big cat equivalent of a purr. Carl chittered like a madman—or werfle, and even though it was impossible and never dreamt of, 6T9 didn’t have to ask who “she” referred to.
“Open the airlock for her!” Volka cried, dashing through the forest toward the landing pad, Shissh already bounding ahead of her, Carl hopping after them. Opening the outer airlock with a thought, 6T9 took up after them, scooping up the werfle on the way. Carl and 6T9 caught up with Volka and Shissh at the inner airlock door. The door was stainless steel and obviously not translucent, but Volka was standing there hopping on her toes, lips parted, smiling slightly—his emotion reading apps pegged the expression as “astonishment”—it was as though she could see the ship already. Shissh was pacing madly, chuffing more vigorously. Carl was kneading holes in 6T9’s shoulder and his purr was alarmingly loud.
“What is it?” 6T9 asked, realizing there was some communication he was missing out on.
Volka spun, her ears cocked fully forward. “She’s amazed that we still exist.”
Remembering the dead worlds, 6T9 said, “I would imagine she would be.”
With a thought, he reached out to the inner airlock door. There was a metallic clang, a whoosh of air laced with chemicals that didn’t come from Sundancer, but no ship. 6T9 blinked, and she was above them. Before anyone could say a word, she settled upon them, and they were inside of the ship, the dirt they had stood on moments earlier sif
ting out beneath their feet.
For a moment, the interior was so brightly lit, Sixty couldn’t see. He heard Carl and Volka laughing like they had when the ship had first rescued them from the Luddecceans…the ship, and they, were overjoyed.
Gradually, the interior dimmed, and the walls became orange and white. The laughter of his friends died and was replaced by feral grins. Wiggling in 6T9’s arms, Carl hissed, “Sundancer’s grateful for her sunbath.”
Shissh growled, chuffed, and roared in the ether. “She’s ready to hunt.” The tiger let loose a noise 6T9 was reasonably sure was the inspiration for the expression “hair raising.”
Volka turned to 6T9 and said, “Sundancer’s not afraid to fight anymore.” She grinned, and 6T9 expected to see elongated canines.
On his shoulder, Carl hissed.
6T9 had seen the ship take over his friends’ emotions before—he’d seen them become madly overjoyed as they’d been moments ago, and overwhelmed by sorrow so dark it was blinding, and embarrassed enough a Marine had declared, “Fiddlesticks.” This was something else. He was suddenly very aware that he was surrounded by carnivores. “I am glad I am not edible,” he said.
Volka laughed, Shissh chuffed, and Carl hissed in his ear. “I wouldn’t push your luck.” 6T9 gulped. Well, that confirmed that hypothesis.
On Volka’s wrist, Bracelet began to beep. Volka cocked her head. “Answer, please, Bracelet.” Her voice was smooth, more confident than normal. It struck 6T9 that Volka was never insecure when she was in full carnivore mode.
Noa appeared in a holo above Volka’s wrist. “Your spaceship is back.”
6T9 stepped toward Noa’s image. “Have you been monitoring our asteroid, Admiral?”
Noa rolled her eyes. “You have the only faster-than-light spaceship in the Republic. Of course we’ve been monitoring your asteroid.”
“What do you need, Admiral?” Volka said. Her eyes were very bright.
Shissh slunk toward Noa’s hologram as though she might pounce on it, and Carl hung so far forward on 6T9’s shoulder, 6T9 was afraid he might fall off.
“The Republic needs your help,” Noa said.
“We’re ready for whatever you have for us,” Volka said, chin dipping low, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.
That Carl, Shissh, and Volka were ready to fight for the Republic, 6T9 had no doubt. He did wonder if the Republic was ready for them.
Sundancer’s interior became dark red and began to throb.
~FIN~
The next chapter in Sixty’s, Carl’s, and Volka’s adventures is The Defiant.
Also by C. Gockel
The Archangel Project
Archangel Down (free ebook)
Noa's Ark
Heretic
Carl Sagan's Hunt for Intelligent Life in the Universe: A Short Story (free ebook)
Starship Waking
Darkness Rising
The Defiant
I Bring the Fire
Wolves: I Bring the Fire Part I (free ebook)
Monsters: I Bring the Fire Part II
Chaos: I Bring the Fire Part III
In the Balance: I Bring the Fire Part 3.5
Fates: I Bring the Fire Part IV
The Slip: A Short Story (mostly) from Sleipnir’s Point of Smell
Warriors: I Bring the Fire Part V
Ragnarok: I Bring the Fire Part VI
The Fire Bringers: An I Bring the Fire Short Story
Atomic: A Short Story
Magic After Midnight: A Short Story
Rush: A Short Story
Take My Monsters: A Short Story
Soul Marked: I Bring the Fire Part VII
Magic After Midnight I Bring the Fire Part VIII
Other Works
Murphy’s Star: A Sci-fi Short Story
Friendly Fire: A Sci-fi Short Story
Let There Be Light: A Sci-fi Short Story
Want to know about upcoming releases & get sneak peeks and exclusive content?
Sign up for my newsletter
Visit my website: www.cgockelwrites.com
Follow me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CGockelWrites
Or email me: [email protected]
Contact Information
Thank you for reading Darkness Rising. Because I self-publish, I depend on my readers to help me get the word out. If you enjoyed this story, please let people know in reviews, on Facebook, Twitter, in your blogs, and when you talk books with your friends and family.
Want to know about upcoming releases and get sneak peeks and exclusive content?
Sign up for my newsletter
Visit my website: www.cgockelwrites.com
Follow me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CGockelWrites
Or email me: [email protected]
