Silent Order: Eclipse Hand

by Jonathan Moeller

  Cassandra consulted her phone. “If there are, they’re sleeping.”

  March nodded and reached for the door handle.

  He froze.

  “What?” said Cassandra.

  “Listen,” said March.

  From the other side of the door, he heard a faint rhythmic clanging.

  “The lift equipment?” said Cassandra.

  “No,” said March. “I think that’s boots on a ladder. Someone’s climbing up the shaft. And if it’s not a macrobe, that means it’s a survivor.”

  He opened the door and stepped through it.

  The room beyond was small, dominated by a pair of metal cabinets holding lift equipment. There was an access hatch in the floor, which was open, and just as March came through a woman in a white steward’s uniform emerged from the hatch.

  She froze when she saw him, and then reacted with blinding speed, swinging a plasma pistol to point at his chest.

  Chapter 6: Spare Parts

  March reacted, his own gun pointing at the woman’s head.

  His eyes noted details, assessing her as a threat. She was wearing white trousers, a white jacket, and high-heeled black boots, and the clothes fit her well. If he had not been assessing her as a target, he would have found her attractive. She had long black hair bound into a severe bun and deep blue eyes. Lipstick highlighted her mouth, and some mascara made her eyes seem larger. She had just climbed a ladder from the lower decks, but she wasn’t breathing hard, which meant she was in good shape.

  “Wait,” said Cassandra. “Wait, wait, wait.” She stepped forward. “Don’t shoot each other! We’re not macrobes!”

  The woman in the steward’s uniform looked at her and then back at March.

  “Yeah,” said the steward. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Slowly she lowered her pistol, and March followed suit. “Sorry. You just startled me, that’s all. I didn’t expect to see...well, I didn’t expect to see anyone on this part of the ship. I thought the macrobes would have killed everyone who hadn’t transformed.”

  “I think they did,” said March. “You’re the first human we’ve seen since we came on board. We had better get moving. There are five macrobes chasing us from the Tap and Grill, and they might be able to fit through the utility corridor.”

  “Damn it,” said the woman. “Yes, that’s a good idea. We can’t go back down, though.”

  “Why not?” said March.

  “That area of the ship is swarming with macrobes,” said the woman. “I don’t know why. I think when the resonator failed, the macrobes were drawn to the dark energy emissions of the hyperdrive and...well, you can guess what happened then.” She shook her head. “I barely got out alive.”

  “Is there another way out of this section of the ship?” said March.

  “Yes,” said the woman. She pointed at a ladder against the far wall. “That leads to an access corridor running along the top of the retail promenade. There are hatches opening onto the outer hull of the ship. But I don’t think the macrobes can fit up there.”

  March glanced at Cassandra, and she tapped a few commands into her phone.

  “There aren’t any in that direction,” she said. “Not unless they’re sleeping.”

  The woman in the steward’s uniform frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “Long story,” said March. “We’d better move.”

  “Wait a minute,” said the woman, holding out a hand.

  “We’d better move before the macrobes come,” said March.

  “That utility corridor behind you is narrow enough that we’ll be able to hear them coming a long way off,” said the woman, “and our three guns can shoot them down. Who the hell are you? You’re not crew, and you’re not passengers, not if you’re walking around with plasma weapons.”

  “My name’s Jack March,” said March. “I’m captain of the Tiger, a Calaskaran privateer. We suffered a hyperdrive failure when we jumped into JX2278C, and we hailed the Alpine for assistance. When we didn’t get an answer, we docked and came aboard to find out what had happened, and we’ve been avoiding macrobes ever since.”

  “Huh,” said the woman. “Lucky you’re still alive.” March nodded. “Anyway, my name is Tessa Morgan. I’m a steward with Royal Calaskaran Starlines.” Her smile was humorless. “My first tour aboard the Alpine, as it happens.”

  “Hell of a first day,” said March.

  “You’re telling me,” said Tessa. She looked at Cassandra. “And who are you?”

  March cursed himself. He should have thought of this. Cassandra Yerzhov was technically a wanted criminal back on Oradrea, and until she reached Calaskaran space, someone unscrupulous enough and ruthless enough might try to hand her over to the Oradrean government for a reward.

  He started to open his mouth to answer, but Cassandra spoke first.

  “My name’s Cassie Smith,” she said. “I’m Captain March’s hyperdrive mechanic and...well, his girlfriend, I’d guess you’d say.”

  March blinked. His girlfriend? Then his surprise turned to approval. She had kept her cool and come up with a convincing lie to explain her presence, something March had neglected to do.

  “Huh,” said Tessa. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”

  “Why not?” said Cassandra with indignation.

  “Just...running into a privateer captain on board the Alpine,” said Tessa. “And that a privateer captain would bring his girlfriend with him into danger.”

  March shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting the Alpine to be overrun with macrobes. This access corridor of yours. Where does it go?”

  “Towards the bow of the ship,” said Tessa. “Before everything completely went to hell, the captain announced over the crew channel that he was setting up a barricade in one of the banquet rooms. The banquet rooms are closer to the bow of the ship, past the retail promenade and some of the gyms. If we take the access corridor, we can hopefully avoid any macrobes in the area and rejoin the captain and the other survivors.” She grimaced. “If there are any other survivors.”

  A clang came from the utility corridor behind them.

  “It’s time to go,” said March.

  “I’ll go first,” said Tessa, holstering her pistol and turning towards the ladder. “My crew access will let me unlock the hatch, and we can close it again behind us.”

  March nodded, and Tessa scaled the ladder with ease. His eyes lingered on her for just a moment, noting that the white trousers fit her legs very well, and then he looked at Cassandra.

  She seemed embarrassed and mouthed the word “sorry” with exaggerated care.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” murmured March.

  “What was that?” called Tessa. He heard the beeping as she punched buttons on a keypad.

  “Did it work?” said March.

  “Hang on,” said Tessa. There was a click, and she pushed open the hatch. “Yeah. Come on. We need to move.”

  March scaled the ladder, pistol in hand, and Cassandra followed him. The access corridor was narrow and dimly-lit, but there were no bundles of wires and pipes around them. March suspected they were between the inner and outer hulls of the ship, and only a few meters of metal separated them from the void and radiation of deep space.

  Tessa slammed the hatch shut, which locked with a satisfying click.

  “How far to the banquet rooms?” said March.

  “About a kilometer and a half,” said Tessa. “Um. We should probably walk side-by-side. If any macrobes come at us from the front, we have a better chance of hitting them with two guns instead of one. Those damned blue tumor things soaked up plasma bolts like sponges.”

  “Agreed,” said March. “Cassie, stay behind us and keep an eye out. If it looks like any macrobes are approaching, let us know.” Cassandra nodded and tapped a command into her phone.

  Tessa eyed her. “So how does that work, anyway? Your phone has a sensor that can detect macrobes?”

  “Oh, uh, no,” said Cassandra. She blinked a few times, going re
d. “I just got lucky. I...uh, I was trying to fix the hyperdrive on our ship and running a dark energy scan. I noticed that my scanner was picking up some dark energy ripples on the Alpine, so I linked my scanner to my phone before we came on board. I can detect conscious macrobes, but not sleeping ones.”

  “Well,” said Tessa, “if we find any sleeping ones, we’ll just have to make sure they stay sleeping.”

  “Let’s go,” said March.

  Tessa nodded, and they started down the corridor, the metal grillwork of the deck clanking beneath their boots. From time to time they passed airlocks mounted in the ceiling, likely access airlocks for hull repairs.

  “So,” said Tessa. “Your ship. How many people can it hold?”

  “Room for a dozen passengers,” said March. “I could probably fit about a hundred in the cargo hold, though the quarters would be tight and the life support would be stretched. I’ve got a cargo in there now, but if there are that many survivors, I can dump it.”

  “Generous of you,” said Tessa.

  “Maybe,” said March, “but the Calaskaran Royal Navy pays a rescue bounty for survivors for any wrecked ships. Might still be able to turn a profit...but I’m afraid there might not be that many survivors.”

  “No,” said Tessa, her voice grim. “But you said your hyperdrive was damaged?” March nodded. “I suppose we could all get on your ship and wait until someone arrives to find out what happened to the Alpine.”

  “Normally that’s what I would suggest,” said March. “But we ran into pirates on our way here. We won the fight, but the hyperdrive was damaged in the process. The pirates went to get some friends and are searching our probable vectors even now. If we sit here too long, they’ll catch up to us.”

  “Great,” said Tessa. “What kind of damage did your hyperdrive have?”

  “A power surge partially crystallized the dark energy surge regulator,” said Cassandra. “It failed when we came out of hyperspace.”

  “At least that’s an easy enough component to fix,” said Tessa. “I think there would be some spares in the engineering section.”

  March blinked. “You seem to know a lot about hyperdrive repair.”

  Tessa grinned. “For a steward, you mean? Well, I don’t want to be a steward forever. I want to move up in the galaxy. Working for Royal Calaskaran Starlines seemed like a good way to see the stars on someone else’s credit. Of course, if I had known it would end up like this, maybe I would have stayed a waitress back on Calaskar.”

  “What happened on the Alpine?” said March.

  “I don’t know,” said Tessa. “I mean, the dark energy resonator failed while we were in hyperspace, that’s obvious, but I don’t know what happened. I had just gone to the engineering section – the chief engineer had ordered a bunch of sandwiches for his technicians, and I got to deliver them. Everything looked fine when I was down there. Then I went to the security office to deliver the chief of security his lunch. That’s when I got lucky, sort of. The chief’s eyes started glowing blue, and he began transforming in front of me, and I realized what was going on. I grabbed a plasma pistol and shot him in the head before he killed me.” She gestured with the gun in her right hand. “Ever since then, I’ve been trying to link up with any survivors in the banquet room. I’ve been getting chased all over the damn ship by macrobes.”

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” said March.

  “Yeah,” said Tessa. “Yeah, I’m not going to argue with that.” She turned a haunted look in his direction. “Between crew and passengers, there were nearly forty-five hundred people on the ship. If more than fifty of them are still alive and still human, I’ll be amazed.”

  “That’s awful,” said Cassandra.

  “It’s been a bad day,” said Tessa. She took a long breath and squared her shoulders, and March found his eyes drawn to her chest before he stopped himself. He rebuked himself and reminded himself to remain vigilant. A law enforcement officer he had met on Calaskar had told him that a common cause of vehicle accidents for men was looking at pretty girls who happened to be walking by, which the Ministry of Security put down as “distracted driving.” Getting killed by macrobes because he had allowed himself to become distracted would be an idiotic way to die.

  Still, none of the macrobes had gotten into this part of the ship, and Cassandra and the Eclipse ought to be able to warn them if any of the creatures approached.

  “Yes,” said March. “God willing, we can keep it from getting any worse.”

  “Out of curiosity,” said Tessa. “What’s your cargo, if you’re willing to dump it?”

  “Rustari algae protein,” said March.

  Tessa laughed. “God! How do you deal with the smell?”

  “It’s been a challenge,” said March. “I’ll probably have to change out every air filter in the life support system when we’re done.”

  Tessa glanced at Cassandra. “Good day to be a hyperdrive mechanic and not a life support technician, yeah?”

  “The smell has been strong,” said Cassandra.

  “You didn’t mind visiting Rustaril?” said Tessa. “I hear the entire place is an inefficient mess.” Her lip crinkled with disgust. “And that the Citizens of Rustaril are all fat greasy cows because of the free narcotics they get from the government. I don’t know how anyone can live like that.”

  “I didn’t mind visiting Rustaril. I can turn a profit shipping the algae,” said March. Her comment about the Citizens did not sit well with him. He didn’t like Rustaril, but the government of the planet had deliberately set out to make its Citizens as apathetic and dependent as possible. Rustaril’s epidemic of metabolic diseases was a result of the Citizens’ addiction to the government-provided Sugar drug, and it was a rare individual who managed to recover from Sugar addiction. But March had seen the Citizens in their electric carts, their eyes glassy and their faces slack from the Sugar, and he had felt sorry for them.

  He disliked cruelty. It reminded him of the labor camps on Calixtus.

  He also disliked how Tessa’s questions were becoming more and more probing.

  “You said you were a waitress,” said March. “How did you go from that to a steward on the Alpine?”

  “Ah, well,” said Tessa. “Long story. I grew up in a little town back on Calaskar. I waited tables at the local diner for a while after I finished school, but I got so bored. All the other girls were settling down and marrying veterans from the Royal Navy or the Royal Army, and that just seemed so...dull. I wanted to see other worlds than Calaskar. So, I quit my job and hired on with Royal Calaskaran Starlines. I started out as a cook, and after my last tour, I got promoted to steward. My long-term plan is to work my way up to pilot.” She shook her head. “And then this happened.” She looked at him and grinned. “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?”

  “What?” said March.

  “For your ship,” said Tessa. “I might need a new job after this, and it must be hard to run a freighter with just a pilot and a hyperdrive mechanic. I’d even be willing to sign on at half wages to learn the trade, so to speak.”

  “I’ll consider it,” said March, though there was no way he would trust Tessa Morgan with anything until he knew more about her. “But let’s focus on staying alive first. Else the only people who will have a job on the Tiger are the new owners who will buy it from the Royal Navy’s salvage yards after we’re all killed.”

  “That is a good point,” said Tessa, and they lapsed into silence.

  After another kilometer down the narrow corridor, Tessa stopped and scrutinized one of the hatches. “This looks right. This should take us to one of the gyms just outside the shopping promenade. From there we can follow the main corridors to the banquet room, or use the utility passages if there are too many macrobes.”

  “All right,” said March. “I’ll go first.”

  “Not going to argue,” said Tessa. She unlocked the hatch and stepped back. March opened it and descended the ladder. The access shaft was empty, with no sig
ns of either macrobes or injured humans. March reached the bottom of the shaft and opened the door, gun held before him.

  On the other side of the access door was a cavernous gym, with hundreds of treadmills and ellipticals and various machines for performing specific strength exercises lined up in rows. March had always preferred free weights himself. Huge screens hung from the walls. About half showed more of the ship’s on-board video programming that March had seen in the guest lounge and in the lift car, and the other half showed a pretty woman in black coat and skirt narrating some sort of historical documentary.

  About twenty corpses lay scattered on the floor and across the exercise equipment, many of them torn apart. The smell of blood was not quite strong enough to drown out the antiseptic smell of cleaner, and March spotted a pair of small housekeeping drones on treads circling through the gym, diligently spraying down the machines that had been covered in blood.

  There was no sign of any macrobes, sleeping or otherwise.

  “Looks clear!” March called up the shaft.

  “I don’t detect any macrobes nearby,” said Cassandra.

  “Let’s move, then,” said Tessa. “We ought to get away before they come back.”

  March waited as the women came down the ladder. Cassandra went first, breathing hard as she caught her breath and balance. Tessa stepped off the ladder with smooth grace despite her high-heeled boots and gave Cassandra a sunny smile. Cassandra’s answering smile was much thinner and much less cheerful.

  “I’ll go first,” said March.

  They crossed the gym, avoiding the pools of blood, the corpses, and the diligent little cleaning drones, and came to the doors. Like the doors of the Grill and Tap, they were massive slabs of glass. Unlike the doors of the Grill and Tap, they were still intact and opened onto a wide, broad corridor. March saw the entrance to the shopping promenade on his left.

  In the distance, he glimpsed the blue glow of macrobes moving across the balconies of the promenade.