Good riddance, Ramya thought. She didn’t say it aloud though. Seeing Fenny’s downcast eyes, she didn’t have the heart to.
“So how long do you think we’ll be serving Queen Vittoria?” she asked, and Fenny chucked loudly.
“I’d say we have a few hours of work cut out for us.” She paused and shot a teasing look at Ramya. “Still think it was a good idea to run?”
“Yes, a hundred times yes,” Ramya replied without hesitation. If someone were to rewind time back to that moment when she decided to sneak out of the CAWStrat and ask her if she’d to do it all over again, she would pick this path to the Endeavor without a second thought.
Fenny flashed a smile and shook her head a little. “Well, come on then. Let’s get to work.”
18
Cleaning the Pterostrich cage was tiring and dirty work, no doubt about that. The only thing that kept Ramya going through the task was knowing that Fenny had softened. Even if she had not forgiven Ramya completely, at least the cheerful and talkative Fenny was back. After the cleaning was complete, they built an extension to the cage. Hours passed at a jaunty pace. Fenny shared a zillion tales about the Endeavor and its eclectic crew from the time she was recruited five years ago.
“I was a shuttle mechanic on Alameda,” she said as they fit the pieces of thick wire frames onto the cage. “One day the captain came by my workshop looking for someone to fix a kink in the impulse engine, so I went. The Endeavor was a pile of junk back then, and the captain had just purchased it from the traders up north. It was one of the battered battleships the Confederacy discarded after the Locusta-Vanga war. So, anyway, I fixed it for him. He told me he was looking for a crew and if I knew anyone who’d be interested in running a freight op with him on the Endeavor.”
“And you jumped at it?” Ramya asked.
Fenny shrugged. “Sort of. Wanted to fly around the galaxy all my life. Never had enough money, never went to school either, so I figured that was my best chance to get off the iffin cute prime planet. I’d always stuck out like a sore thumb on it anyway. Didn’t miss it much.”
“How about family?” Ramya asked, regretting immediately that she did. She didn’t have to go nosing around. If Fenny had family she’d have said that already.
“Nope,” Fenny said. “Never knew my parents. Was raised in an orphanage. They kicked me out when I was fifteen and I found work at that shuttle repair shop. It wasn’t a bad place if you knew how to take care of yourself.”
“So you were the first recruit,” Ramya said.
Fenny chuckled as they fit the extension they had built to the existing frame of the cage.
“Yes, I was,” she said. “We ran into Wiz two days later. Flew out of Alameda soon after.”
Ramya was about to ask when Sosa joined the crew. The Norgoran had spoken about knowing Captain Milos for over twenty years, but if the captain only started recruiting for the Endeavor five years ago, they must’ve known each other from before then.
Just then, the Pterostrich chick sat up suddenly and craned its long neck, peering one way and then another. It had been resting in the far corner of the cage after having stuffed itself full of the sedative-sprinkled meat Fenny and Ramya had served. From time to time, it opened its large yellow eyes and looked as they worked on the other end of the cage.
Fenny stopped driving the final set of screws into the cage frame and squinted worriedly at the bird. “What’s up with Vi?” she muttered.
Ramya had taken her hands off the cage and she pulled her blaster close. There was no trusting a Pterostrich, half-sedated or otherwise.
“Something’s scared it,” Ramya whispered, inching a tad toward Fenny. The bird blinked rapidly, the sparse feather on its neck standing out like barbs. It tried to stand up but its legs buckled. Ramya let go of the breath she had been holding. Thank goodness the tranquilizer still had some effect.
“What the hell?” Fenny muttered. She looked around the cargo hold, craning her neck as much as she could, as did Ramya. There was nothing odd. All around them the cargo bay was quiet and still. Nothing moved, nothing creaked.
“It’s probably nothing,” Ramya said. She looked askance at the chick. It also seemed less nervous now. The feathers had fallen flat against its neck and it didn’t blink as rapidly. Whatever had bothered it had possibly passed.
“Let’s get this done and get out of here,” Fenny said, her brows furrowed deep.
Ramya couldn’t agree more. The cargo hold gave her the creeps, and the memory of the Pterostrich attack didn’t help any either. The sooner she could get out of there the better. She rushed, fastening bolts into the wire frame at a rapid pace. They were done with the construction within a few more minutes. Ramya and Fenny tugged and pulled at the joints to make sure it was sturdy and then they removed the partition between the old cage and the new. The chick simply opened its eyes once and promptly curled up some more.
“What? You aren’t even gonna look?” Fenny cocked her head at the chick and said in mock anger. “We added a brand new room to your house and you still aren’t happy?”
“We might’ve as well saved two hours of our life, Fenny.”
“You’re right.” Fenny crossed her arms and shook her head. “A real queen she is.”
Ramya chuckled as she packed up the equipment. “You’ve given her too much of the sleep drug, Fenny,” she said. “Once that wears off, she’ll be thanking you.”
“Thankless featherbrain,” Fenny grumbled on.
Laughing, Ramya was about to pick up the crate of equipment, when she froze. It was barely there, but the floor was unmistakably shaking under her feet. “Fenny,” she called. “You feel that?”
The hum sounded before Fenny could answer. It was a buzzing sound, reminding Ramya of flying insects during summers at Somenvaar, only sharper and more intense.
Fenny stood still for a second before she jutted her lower lip out. Then she froze. “Oh no, not that again!”
Chill coursed up Ramya’s spine. “What do you mean?”
“The Stryker,” Fenny whispered. “It was doing the same thing when we were camped next to it waiting for the GSO.”
“You mean the Stryker’s making this weird vibration?” Ramya asked hesitantly.
“Seems like it.” Fenny let out a long breath. “It was barely for a few seconds though. We couldn’t be entirely sure,” she replied in a low voice.
The vibration grew stronger under their feet and the hum rose to a higher pitch.
“Perhaps we should check it out,” Fenny muttered.
“Check it out?” Ramya asked. She was not dying to quench her curiosity. Although checking it out was the logical thing to do. They were here, in the hold and in position to investigate the disturbance, so why delay?
Fenny bit her lip and frowned. Her finger hovered over the button of her comm for a second or two before she pressed it hard. All that came out of it was a loud buzz.
“What the iffin hell?” Fenny said. She pressed the button a few more times. Off and on. Off and on again. Each time the loud buzz greeted them.
“Something’s wrong with the channel?” Ramya asked, and Fenny shrugged in response.
“Damn you, Flux.” Fenny slapped the button another time. Clearly Flux had yet another issue on his hands. The Endeavor was surely good at keeping the engineer busy.
Ramya grabbed the woman’s arm and nudged her. “Fenny,” she said. “Let’s go and get a few more people.”
It seemed that Fenny was torn between investigating and leaving the hold right away as Ramya suggested. A short and thoughtful pause later, she raised an eyebrow at Ramya. “We don’t have that many people. Let’s check it out quickly. Then we can get out of here and report to the captain.”
“All right,” Ramya said grudgingly. “Let’s go take a quick look.”
Ramya’s insides puckered as they took the first step toward the far end of the cargo hold. She gripped her blaster tighter, her senses on alert as they drew closer to the Stry
ker.
A humming Stryker or not, the situation was far better than the last time she was in here, Ramya had to admit. It had been pitch-dark then, and cold. Now at least they could see if someone was lurking around. Her heart thudded louder as she recalled what Captain Milos had said—the Locustan ships were thought to be biomechanical. And if this Stryker had Locustan tech embedded in it, would that mean it too was biomechanical? Was the ship alive? Or sentient?
“Rami . . .” Fenny’s sharp whisper brought Ramya’s thoughts to a skidding halt. “Do you see that?”
The Point Masks they had fitted all over the body of the Stryker to create a cloak of invisibility over the ship shielded almost the entire Stryker except for the nose and a bit of the body behind it where the masks didn’t work. That was the only part of the Stryker that was visible now, and the entire section was covered in a strange reddish glow that pulsed, slowly and gently, like an emergency beacon. A shudder streaked up Ramya’s spine and shook her. The sight was downright creepy—the sharp, long nose that was menacing to begin with was made a hundred times creepier with the red glow.
“Why is it doing that?” Ramya blurted, knowing well Fenny didn’t know the answer either.
“Wait,” Fenny said, and rushed away to one side of the Stryker. She turned off the power supply to the Point Masks and in an instant the entire Stryker—all of it pulsing red—became visible.
Fenny stepped closer to the Stryker, and Ramya inched forward also. Other than the glowing and humming and looking monstrous, the ship seemed harmless. Fenny approached the midsection of the craft and stopped. Once again she punched the red button on her comm only to be greeted by the uncooperative buzz of a blocked communication channel. Fenny’s lips curled and she spat out a curse. Ramya threw a quick glance around. Except for the Stryker, everything was calm and quiet, and there was nothing odd in the cargo bay.
Fenny was eyeing the faint oval outline of the Stryker’s doorway when Ramya walked over. “An alarm could’ve gone off, don’t you think?” Fenny whispered. “I don’t see anything strange here. The door is closed just like it was after we dragged that pilot out.”
Fenny nudged the gleaming surface of the door with the muzzle of her blaster, gently at first and then with a little more force. Nothing budged. “See?” she said. “It’s closed.”
Ramya didn’t know what to say. Fenny was correct, there seemed nothing wrong with the Stryker. “The captain might know something,” she said. “Let’s go back and tell him.”
“Let’s check one last time,” Fenny said. She pulled out a collapsible step from one of the shelves and placed it next to the Stryker’s door. Then climbing up to the topmost step, Fenny placed the hefty stock of her blaster against the door and gave it a push. Hoping to aid Fenny with a shove, Ramya placed her hand on the door.
Without warning, the door of the ship slid open with a groan and Fenny screamed as she fell into the Stryker. Ramya froze, watching Fenny careen headfirst into the dimly lit interior of the Stryker.
“Fenny,” Ramya yelled in a panic. She clambered up the steps and jumped into the belly of the Stryker. Fear tap-danced at the base of her spine and a wave of nausea filled her stomach and traveled up her throat as she fell into the unknown. She landed with a hefty thud on a hard surface, her heart pounding against her ribs at a maddening pace. Fenny was beside her, scrambling to a sitting position. “Are you all right?” Ramya grasped Fenny by her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
With a loud slam, the door above them closed.
“The door,” Fenny yelled, and Ramya dived immediately to keep it open, but it was no use. She ran her hand over the cold surface inlaid with an exotic design of knots that reminded Maia of sinewy muscles and tissue. There was no lever she could press to open it again. There was nothing—no depressions, no hinges, and no handles to pull at all.
Ramya stared at the door and panted. She felt Fenny inch closer behind her. “We’re stuck, aren’t we?” Fenny said in a breathless voice.
Ramya nodded. Her guts clenched, fear forming a tight ball at its bottom. She turned toward Fenny slowly and saw the same fear reflected in her crewmate’s dark wide eyes.
“W-what are we going to do?” Ramya stuttered.
Fenny pushed the door a few times and then the button of her comm. Nothing happened, nothing to bring a smidgeon of cheer to them. The two sat side by side for a long while, Ramya’s mind spinning thoughtlessly in endless cycles until a realization brought it to a sudden stop.
“Fenny, the humming,” she cried. “I don’t hear the humming anymore.”
“You’re right,” Fenny said. “That’s gone. But what’s the difference? We’re here, stuck for who knows how long.”
“They’ll realize we’re missing,” Ramya said reassuringly. “Someone will come to check soon.”
“And how do you think they’ll get us out?” Fenny demanded.
Ramya closed her eyes and breathed in deep. Even though fear was weighing her down, she knew she couldn’t let it. They had to find a way out of this thing, and falling apart with fear and panic wasn’t going to make that happen. Ramya clutched her blaster and rose to her feet.
“Fenny,” she said, forcing as much conviction as she could muster into her voice. “Let’s check this thing. There has to be something here we can use to get out.”
Fenny tightened her lips and didn’t seem even a tad convinced. But she nodded nonetheless. In the next second, she was standing next to Ramya, blaster held tightly in her hands. They were in a sizeable alcove of sorts, shaped like an ovoid. It was almost as if they were inside an egg. To the left of where they stood was a door that led to the front of the ship, Ramya assumed. There was another opening to their right which had to lead to the tail section. Smack dab at the center of the egg-shaped area was a pedestal with a glass container that held a sphere.
Ramya pointed at the pedestal. “What could that be?”
“No idea,” Fenny said, shrugging. “Let’s take a look. What more could go wrong anyway?”
A lot more can go wrong, Ramya thought. They were being held captive by a strange ship infused with Locustan tech, so there were a million ways things could get even worse from here. But their situation was not about to improve by sitting quietly in a corner either.
Three steps and they were facing the pedestal. Its base was made from a whitish metal with a pink tinge that covered the rest of the ship’s interior. All over it were intricate patterns. The sphere atop it was different. It was dark like the ship’s exterior, and its surface ridged and wavy. It reminded Ramya of a brain, only this brain was a perfect sphere.
“I see some notches here,” Fenny said, running a finger over a series of slim protrusions on the side of the pedestal. Fenny’s touch didn’t make a difference, but Ramya was curious for a feel. She placed a finger on the leftmost protrusion and drew a line across them. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like the ridges trembled under her touch.
“Did you feel that, Fe—”
The rest of Ramya’s words were lost in the confusion that followed. Lights flashed, Ramya and Fenny fell back in alarm, and the sphere inside the glass container atop the pedestal glowed a bright green and levitated.
19
For moments that seemed to stretch forever, the only thing Ramya could be sure of was the beating of her heart as it thrashed wildly against her ribs. The rest was a blur until a soft, childish voice filled the ovoid with its crisp sweetness.
“Took you a long time to get here, Mihaal,” it said, almost giggling. With every word uttered, the sphere blinked. “Dakrhaeth has been waiting.”
Ramya exchanged a quick, confused glance with Fenny. Who was that? What in the stars did it mean?
“Who . . . I mean . . . what are you?” Ramya barely managed to stutter.
“It’s an AI,” Fenny whispered. “An artificial intelligence. All newer Confederacy ships have those installed.” She paused and muttered, “I hate them.”
“Dakrhaeth is not
an AI,” the voice retorted, making Ramya stiffen. Fenny had barely whispered and he . . . it had heard her? The voice continued, somewhat peevishly. “Dakrhaeth is far more than your AIs could be. Dakrhaeth is the soul of this ship.”
“I see,” Ramya replied, although she didn’t really see or understand much. But this much she knew: if they were standing in the thing’s belly it was probably not a good idea to rile it.
“I don’t get the difference,” Fenny whispered in her ear.
“The difference can wait,” Ramya muttered through gritted teeth. All they needed now was to get out of here. “Why did you wake up all of a sudden?” she asked the sphere.
“You touched Dakrhaeth. Dakrhaeth had to wake up. Dakrhaeth is your ship after all,” it said. Ramya thought she could detect a hint of happiness in the strange voice.
“My ship?” Ramya asked, gaping. “You’re not my ship.”
“Of course I am. You’re the one who resurrected Dakrhaeth,” the voice insisted. “The rider you assigned Dakrhaeth has faded. Until you pair Dakrhaeth with a new rider, Dakrhaeth is yours. That’s how Virikhshis work.”
“Whoa,” Fenny said. “Virikhshis? That’s what they called a Locustan ship. Why the hell would . . .” her words faded. Fenny eyes grew large and fearful, and Ramya realized that Fenny wasn’t aware of the conversation she’d had with the dying pilot or the one she’d had subsequently with Ross and Captain Milos. Fenny didn’t know that this ship, the Stryker, had Locustan tech embedded in it.
“Dakrhaeth is a Viriskshi,” the voice informed. “Or he used to be one. Dakrhaeth crashed along with his squadron on a planet you, of the Confederacy, call the Kyo-Sedra-5.”
“No way,” Fenny muttered, her disbelieving tone quickly turning to annoyed. “Don’t tell me that iffin Kiroff was experimenting with Locustan tech.”
The voice went on with its startling crispness. “Dakrhaeth lay there, half buried in the planet’s ice, damaged and immobile, until you came and resurrected Dakrhaeth and a few of the other riders.”
The Last Stryker (Dark Universe Series Book 1) Page 16
