She laid on the floor gasping and sobbing. He covered her with his arms and rocked her, cooing. Slowly, Mirraya calmed. Slowly, she recognized him. Slowly, Mirri returned.
“Let’s not try that again, shall we?” he whispered.
“Probably not such a good idea, was it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think it brought us closer together.”
Her eyes narrowed at him.
“You had a crush on Sajeli when you were ten,” said Slapgren mischievously.
“How did … did you know Saj?”
“No. But I felt it when I helped you.”
“You what, invaded my privacy? How dare you.”
“He was five years older than you. Gross.”
She punched his leg, hard. “All the girls had a crush on him.”
“But I bet none of them cut his picture out and taped it onto one of herself.”
She hit him harder. “I hate you.” Then she stood unsteadily. “Computer, my clearance code is F-110-4Fz-aA9.”
“Yes, High Seer, how may I assist you?”
It struck Mirri that she no longer even looked like Malraff. How bizarre.
“About those habitable planets?” Mirri repeated. She wiped bloody sweat off her face with the back of her trembling hand.
“On display, ma’am.”
The screen lit up with dozens of points of light.
“Show only those with in ten lightyears,” she said in an exhausted voice.
Outer dots vanished, and a concentric circle of options remained.
“Now only planets not control or currently fighting with the Adamant.”
The screen seemed at first glance to go blank. Mirraya leaned in. There were three widely separated dots left.
“At least there are a few,” remarked Slapgren.
“Just. Computer, give me a two-sentence summery on the three remaining planets, nearest to farthest.”
“Chower 11a is metallic, gravity is 22 pressors …”
“Computer, state gravity in terms of current ship’s gravity percentage.”
“Gravity of Chower 11a is two-hundred thirty-five point …”
“Next summary,” she said impatiently.
“Homersa-3-Prime is metallic, gravity ninety-seven percent, atmosphere within breathable limits. No civilization known to exist. Gagalof-sub-1 is metallic with gravity forty-six percent with a non-breathable atmosphere. Primitive society noted in survey of …”
“Stop. Set course for Homersa-3-Prime. Maximum tolerable velocity.”
“Wait,” protested Slapgren, “don’t I get a vote? Shouldn’t we be discussing this or something?”
“It’s the or something option. I decided. I’m older, I’m more experienced, and I nearly blew my brain up getting authorization. Computer, print out a detailed summary of our destination.” Instantly, a stack of papers dropped from the panel. “Here,” she said slamming the printouts against his chest, “you want input, read these and fill me in when you’re done. I’ll be in my bunk.” With that, she threw her body into the lower hammock and flipped to face the bulkhead.
Slapgren stared at her a while, then decided to drop the notion of a confrontation. It really chaffed him to admit it to himself, but she was right. He sat and started reading.
Four hours later Mirri sat up on the edge of her bunk. “Did you use the restroom yet?”
“Uh, yes. Thanks for asking.”
“No, I mean is it totally gross?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Why am I even asking you? Your plumbing is different, and you’re a boy.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if you could shoot over the rotting body in there it would be clean enough for you.”
Again, he started to protest, but stopped. She was probably right. Of course, in his defense, it would have depended on how rotten the body was.
Mirri came back into the room and sat next to Slapgren. “If I wasn’t awake before using that head, I am now. This is going to be a long flight.”
“You could change into an Adamant when you need to go.”
“Yuck and gross and no. Yuck, the facilities would still be foul. Gross, the idea of changing to poop. No, because we can’t be wasting that much energy. We have a limited supply of food. No shifting unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
He half-saluted, “Aye, aye, Cap.”
She looked up at him. “Why, oh why didn’t Uncle Jon leave you in the clearing where we found you?” Before he might respond, she went on. “What did you learn about our new home?”
“That it won’t make such a good home. The gravity and atmosphere are okay, but there’s no civilization for a reason. The dump has temperature fluctuations that might be lethal. Plant and animal life are so sparse it’s likely we’ll starve when our current supplies run out. Liquid water does stand on the surface. Precisely one percent of the surface. The rest is in dense ice sheets or vapor clouds.”
“Is the planet tidally locked or something? That would account for some of the data.”
“Ah … well …” He started fumbling with the papers and scanning them quickly.
“I don’t know yet is a fine answer if it happens to be the case,” she said.
“Ah, I don’t know yet. What does tidally locked mean?”
“Forget it. It’s where we’re heading because there are no other viable options.”
“Right, that was my point.” He straightened up. “What difference would it have made? Tribally locked or not, we’re all in.”
“Tidally.”
“That’s what I meant. Just seeing if you’re paying attention.”
“Maybe I should set course for Locinar so I can throw you out over the clearing?”
He shook his head confidently. “Nah. That’s way too far. Not enough food for the voyage.”
She smiled back wickedly. “There'd be enough for one.”
TWENTY-NINE
The last time I floated free in space had been when I escaped Earth after EJ zapped me there. I didn’t like it then, and I liked it less now. If one critical seal ruptured, I would spray myself out into a cloud of unrecognizable goo. But there was no way the Adamant were going to let Whoop Ass dock and pick me up. They be a little suspicious when the Descore alien got a state-of-the-art spaceship from. So, float I had to until my ride caught up. It took GB a day to rendezvous with me and scoop me aboard. That was one long, boring day.
“GB, I never thought I’d say this, but am I glad to see you,” I announced once the retrieval hatch was closed.
“You can see me? You’ve told me repeatedly I’m nothing more than code in cyberspace.”
“Very funny. Quick refresh. I’m missing you less than I was when I made my remark just now. Ship’s report, please.”
“All systems functioning, no issues or alarms.”
“And the Adamant ship is moving away steadily?”
“Yes, they continue under fusion drive heading toward a system where they have a large repair base.”
“Nothing else active?”
“No. Unless you consider the enormous gaseous anomaly off our port bow an issue.”
“Enough with the gaseous anomalies already. It was almost funny the first time, but now it’s just annoying. Grow up.”
There was a silence.
“What?” I snapped.
“That’s why it’s funny. There is a giant gaseous anomaly nearby.” He proceeded to snicker intolerably.
“If you say gaseous anomaly one more time, I’m grounding you for the entire weekend.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I lack references to comprehend your remark.”
“It means no Saturday night nooky for you if you don’t behave.”
“I imagine I’m being insulted, so I’ll terminate interest in the present conversation.”
“Yeah. Who’s Mr. Smarty Pants now?”
He began audibly humming. Crap, the tool was getting more like Al every
single day.
“I gave you the heading to the point where Dare Not fired off those escape pods. Please make for that location. I want to be there yesterday.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What? No push back, no snark? You get too much cosmic ray exposure while I was gone?”
“No, Captain. I live to serve. My pleasure. Heck, I’d do this for free if I had to, the honor is so great.”
“Call up ship’s stores on this display,” I tapped the nearest screen.
“What do you require? I could let you know faster.”
“I need a big hammer and some rusty pliers. It’s time for your check up.”
“Sorry. Can’t talk now. I’m having trouble navigating around the cloud of vapor that is difficult to characterize. GB out.”
Ah, silence. Golden silence.
Even with Whoop Ass’s FTL drive, it took the better part of a week to arrive to the region where the escape pods had been jettisoned. I was on edge the whole time. The kids were probably on one of those pods and would need my help soon if they were to survive. If they weren’t, then they might still be on Dare Not, if they ever were that is. That ship was steaming away quickly. If they were never aboard, I was totally up Shit Creek sans paddles and couldn’t afford to lose the time I was currently wasting.
“Captain, we are at the approximate point the pods were released.”
“Do you detect any signs of engine activity? Maybe an ion trail?”
“Several. Of the pods that did not explode, all the remaining ones departed under fusion drive.”
“That couldn’t happen by chance. Someone had to program them to do that.”
“That is a reasonable assumption.”
“It had to be Mirraya. She’s that clever.”
“Clever, possibly. But that level of technical sophistication might be beyond her.”
“Hard to say. Maybe they had help?”
“You were aided by an Adamant subversive. Though they could have been also, though the odds stand against it.”
“Never tell me the odds. I’m a fighter pilot. If the unlikely didn’t happen, I’d be long since dead.” I sat down and thought a while. “Have any of the pods changed course?”
“Interesting idea. Let me see. No, for as far out as I can track the trails, the motion is all rectilinear.”
“Why can’t you just say they flew in a straight line?”
“I did.”
“How many trails are there?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Plot a search pattern to follow them all with the least overlap.”
“Done.”
“How long would a complete survey of all to a million kilometers take?”
“Assuming any changed direction in that interval, about three days.”
“Crap. Okay. Get started. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find them first.”
“Get lucky? I thought you eschewed the odds?”
“Why can’t you just say I don’t want to be told the odds?”
“I did.”
“Are we following ion trails while you’re flapping your gums? If we’re not, I’m still going to need that hammer and pliers.”
“Way ahead of you, robot. I already put ten thousand klicks behind us.”
“In the interest of civility, I’m going to let you going cowboy on me go.”
“Oh, what a horrific visual.”
“Can it. You fly, I’ll be funny. Got it?”
“I look forward to the transformation.”
A week. It took a damn week to find an ion trail that changed direction. To his credit, GB did work quickly and efficiently. Space was just very big. The pod set a direct course for a planet half a lightyear away. GB had no data on the place since he’d never been to that part of the galaxy yet. From our distance, he could tell there was a planet and that it was rocky and that it had an atmosphere, but that was about it. I ordered him to make for the planet with all due haste. With their head start, they’d make it to the world about two weeks ahead of us, even though we had the FTL drive. They weren’t there yet, but the pods could move fast. I crossed my fingers and said a quick prayer they could hold out that long.
It was a long two weeks. I was like the annoying kid in the back seat asking his parents if we were there yet. GB tolerated my impatience. I think he knew what the kids meant to me. In my frustration, I kept going on about returning to retrieve Stingray so I could move instantaneously. But, realistically, that wouldn’t help. She was a long way off now. Also, I couldn’t just assume the Adamant or even EJ wouldn’t still be an impediment.
Not knowing where that SOB EJ was did grate on my nerves. The surest bet for him to find me would be to wait at Stingray. We both knew that. But his priority was almost certainly to capture the teens, not me. I was a nuisance. They were his holy grail. I felt safe in assuming he didn’t have the inside information from the Adamant like I had. That intel was the luckiest of breaks. It was unlikely someone as hateful and ornery as EJ could infiltrate a sewer without pissing it off, let alone an enemy facility.
As a mental exercise, I pondered what it would mean if EJ guessed correctly that the teens had been taken to Excess of Nothing. Maybe he tracked them there directly? Could he have known they were transferred to Dare Not? No. Well, not from internal sources. Crap, maybe he could follow them based on their transforming ability? He was obsessed with it. So were the Adamant. Maybe there was an energy signature it gave off? Shit, that meant he could have been flitting about the edges the entire time. But if he had, why hadn't he attacked me? Duh. Because I only just now left Rush to Glory. There’s no point and little hope of success attacking that mammoth ship traveling in that large flotilla. Great, one more thing to worry about. EJ training his sights on me right that very moment. I was really looking forward to killing him. I needed to declutter my life. Yeah, new slogan: simplify your life, kill yourself. Probably not fated to go viral.
THIRTY
The Adamant escape pods were designed to soft land if need required it. Fortunately, Mirraya was able to have the AI put the ship down in a safe location. She wasn’t capable of piloting it herself for such a complex task. She’d instructed it to land near some of the scarce liquid water in a region with the least variable daily temperatures. But, even then they were looking at midday temperatures in the one-hundred-thirty-degree centigrade range with night temperatures dropping to a bone-chilling minus fifty. Unless they found a secure cave, they were going to have to rely on the pod for shelter. That was bad. It only had a finite energy supply. Specifically, it did not have solar electric capabilities, which would extend its utility out indefinitely. It was an escape pod, not an RV.
The pod set down near dawn. Mirraya waited until the external temperature was 5C to make their first sojourn onto the surface. They covered up in blankets and wore all the clothes they had. She was still intent on not wasting energy transforming to a more thermally tolerant creature unless it was imperative.
Slapgren oversaw gathering some water samples for the AI to analyze. If it was safe, they could top off their supply. Fortunately, they had plenty for the short term. They searched the sparse vegetation looking for critters. None were obvious. The plants themselves were dry and tough and without fruit or flowers. They would offer precious little sustenance, even if the pair changed into herbivores. When the temperature skyrocketed a few hours later, they retreated to the pod.
“Kind of a bleak place,” remarked Slapgren as he lounged on his bunk.
“It beats the lost-in-space alternative,” replied Mirri.
“Maybe the other planet, the one without the huge gravity, would be better?”
“The one with the unbreathable air? Hey, there’s a neat prospect. We could see which of us lived the longest. It’d be great fun.”
“The AI said it had a primitive society. We could change into one of whatever, and we’d be fine.”
“Sure, good thinking. We go to a totally unfamiliar planet with a primiti
ve culture and look like something we know nothing about. Maybe one tribe runs into us and sees we’re not one of them and kills us. That’d be sort of amusing.”
“No, we could change into torchclefts.” He stopped speaking.
“Which almost certainly can’t breathe the air either, so we die way before the locals kill us.”
“What about a planet farther away. Maybe we—”
“Slap, we don’t have enough food and maybe not enough fuel to go very far. Remember this is an escape pod, not a luxury yacht.”
“Well, keep an open mind. That’s what Uncle Jon would say.”
“Maybe, but he’d also say work hard, be smart, and make it succeed.”
Slapgren was quiet a while. “I sure miss him.”
“Me too.”
“It was so cool the way he stormed into the detention area on Excess of Nothing.” He quieted a moment. “It was good to see him.”
“He almost pulled off the impossible, didn’t he?”
Slapgren tucked his hands behind his head. “And he will again soon. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I could handle being second in command again.”
“Hey, I never agreed you were in charge. We both are.”
She smiled. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel any better.”
For the next several days, the teens made longer treks to explore the planet. Each time they made it back to the pod just as conditions were becoming either too cold or too hot. They found nothing they hadn’t run into before. They were becoming discouraged. Water was no longer a problem, but they hadn’t found more than scattered morsels to eat. The only creature of any heft was a fair-sized bug. They told themselves it was a small rodent. That way they were better able to crunch it up and swallow it. The beetle-equivalent didn’t taste too bad, but the thought of spending the rest of their lives subsisting on them was unpalatable.
Occasionally, they would find a foot print in dried-up mud. It was large. Worrisome. It suggested a hundred-kilogram raptor of sorts, with massive talons. However, they never found prints in fresh mud or saw anything large enough to leave such an imprint. Mirraya instructed the AI to do regular sweeps of the sky, especially at night, in the infrared. If such a beast was still around, the teens qualified as a proper meal for it and needed to be on their toes.
Firestorm: Galaxy On Fire, Book 3 Page 14
