by Stel Pavlou
Daniel shut his eyes to it, but it didn’t help. Staying holed up in the trench went against everything he believed in. “We should be helping them,” he muttered.
“Don’t be so naïve. They wouldn’t be helping you,” said the rat.
“What are those creatures anyway?”
“The leechers? Umbrian nomads.”
“No, not the people, the parasites.”
“Those are the people,” Hex explained.
Daniel was pretty sure that the anatom didn’t know what he was talking about. “Those aren’t humans. They’re slugs.”
“Now. Five thousand years ago they looked just like you, kid. Until their world was destroyed,” he said. “The survivors wandered the galaxy looking for a new home. When that got destroyed, they gave up on planets and decided to become permanent themselves. They created those parasites out of biocomputers and downloaded their minds into them. Now they just move from body to body, sucking all the life out of it, until it’s time to move on to the next one.”
Daniel was disgusted, but impressed at the rat’s lesson.
“I’m over a hundred and sixty-seven years old, kid. That, and I’m plugged into the ship’s computer.”
It was hard to say how long it really took for the sound of fighting to give way to deafening silence, but when it came, it was perhaps the most unnerving thing of all.
Hesitantly, Daniel pressed his face up against one of the grates, trying to get a look at the situation on the flight deck.
“I think they’re gone,” he whispered.
Hex didn’t need to look; his nose twitched. “No, they’re still out there somewhere,” he said, releasing the locking clips on the grate. “I can smell them. Wait here,” he said, and shot out onto the flight deck in a blinding burst of speed.
With no sign of leechers anywhere, Daniel poked his head up to watch Hex scurrying past the landing gear of the visiting ship. The rat paused to sniff the air; still no leechers. Before long he’d made it all the way over to the far bulkhead.
He gave Daniel the all-clear signal.
Daniel slid the grate to one side and climbed on out. Creeping over to join Hex, the eerie quiet of the abandoned landing bay set every survival instinct he had on fire. He couldn’t figure out from where—but he had the distinct feeling he was being watched.
“Stay close,” Hex whispered, running ahead toward a series of angled hatches buried in a line of depressions down the side of the deck—the escape pods.
Hex jumped across to the control pad while Daniel stood watch. “Locked out,” he said, not remotely surprised. He plugged the end of his tail into the panel’s data socket and started swishing it around. “Just a warning: if I light up like a Jooshee, something went wrong.”
“What’s a . . .”
Hex waited, but Daniel didn’t say anything else. “Are you going to finish that sentence? Why is your mouth hanging open like a flytrap?”
Daniel nodded at the open hangar doors. Out in space, a tiny object glinted in the starlight. Was that another ship? Daniel wondered. Seemed awfully small, but what did he know? One thing was for certain: it was coming their way. “Hurry up, will you? It’s about to get crowded in here.”
Still oddly swishing his rear end around, Hex yelled, “You do it if you think you can do a better job!”
Click.
“Yes!”
With a loud clunk, the door to the escape pod rolled open, only to reveal a leecher waiting for them!
Hex hissed at the creature, exposing a set of razor-sharp teeth. Before the leecher could even react, Hex flew at it, sinking his teeth into the parasite on the back of its neck and ripping it off.
The leecher collapsed, its holocule shell evaporating, leaving nothing but a corpse and a slime-covered parasite, stuck wriggling on its back.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
All down the line, the escape pods opened up like prison cells, releasing leecher after leecher.
Daniel spun around, not sure which way to turn, with leechers coming at him from every direction and that small ship, or object, or whatever the heck it was, blasting into the hangar on a trajectory aimed straight at him.
On pure impulse, Daniel fired up the silver relic.
Whompff!
“Stay close!” he yelled. “I can protect you!”
“You tell me this now?!” Hex’s clicks were firing so rapidly, they were almost a screech.
A leecher had him; legs in one hand, body in the other, stretching the little anatom taut.
“Leave him alone!” Daniel cried.
The leecher didn’t care. It ripped the titanium legs off the rat and tossed the pieces aside.
In that moment, rage so engulfed Daniel that he couldn’t think straight. Tears spilled from his eyes, and all thought of using the silver relic to defend himself vanished.
Through gritted teeth, he snarled, “Come and get me!”
They never got the chance; what had flown into the hangar was not a ship, or a drone, or some kind of weapon—but a person.
Clad in some kind of sleek, armored kilt, and with a shock of red hair, she arrived like a fireball, stripping the deck of its plating, ripping panels from the bulkheads, bending the seemingly immovable to her will.
She landed so gently that she made barely a sound, though the debris she had brought with her rattled like a GoLoader, swirling around them, forming an impenetrable shield.
“You have no authority here, Truth Seeker!” one of the leechers rasped through desiccated vocal cords.
She grimaced. “Oopsies,” she said, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” And with a single thought she unleashed the most destructive assault Daniel had ever seen. With one massive WHOMPFF! the orbiting debris blasted out in all directions, obliterating every single one of the leechers.
She surveyed the carnage, appearing satisfied—though taking no pleasure in it. She had merely done what needed to be done.
She turned to Daniel. “I’m Ionica Lux,” she said simply. “Care for a ride?”
27
THE TRUTH SEEKERS
Daniel tried processing what had just happened, but who was he kidding? “You’re a Truth Seeker . . . ?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You’re a girl.”
Ionica narrowed her eyes, clearly puzzled by what that had to do with anything. “That too . . .” she said.
“How did you find us? The distress signal . . .”
“Was disabled. We know.”
“The captain ordered no survivors.”
“Pleasant fellow,” she said, the confidence in her voice both infectious and unnerving. “We’ve been tracking the WaKeenee for weeks. What I don’t know, Daniel Coldstar, is how you got on board this vessel. You’re not listed in the ship’s crew.”
“I never told you my name.”
The Truth Seeker appeared genuinely puzzled. “You’re wearing an Identifier.”
“A what?”
“You’re broadcasting your identity to anyone within range. Pets or property are usually the only things that have them. And since you don’t have any fur, I’m assuming you’re the latter.”
Daniel pulled back the torn remnants of his dugs at the chest, exposing the silver relic he was wearing. “You mean this?” he said. Though not identical, there could be no denying that it belonged to the same family as the one that she wore.
It was obvious she had not been expecting that. “No,” she said warily. “Not that. Slaves don’t have Aegi. How did you get that?”
Daniel really didn’t like her reaction. He took a step back. “I found it,” he explained.
“Where?”
“In the mines,” he said.
“What mines?”
“Do you know about them?” he asked, hope in his voice.
“No . . .” she said. “Now hand it over before you get yourself hurt.”
Wow, this girl . . . “No,” he said, firmly.
“I’m not messing arou
nd. Only Truth Seekers bear the Aegis—”
Daniel whipped up a vortex shield so fast, Ionica barely had time to react. “What you see is what you get, I guess,” he quipped. “Besides, it doesn’t come off! I tried.”
Ionica held her hands up, slowly. “Don’t make any sudden moves. An Aegis in the wrong hands could cause a catastrophe. You obviously don’t know what you’re dealing with. For Fuse’s sake, don’t use it.” She screwed up her eyes. “I mean, don’t use it—more.”
A noise, hardly noticeable to most people, but intimately familiar to Daniel—clicks from what once had been a functioning anatom voice box. So much had happened he’d forgotten about—
“Hex.”
Daniel rushed over to the little anatom lying in pieces on the deck amid the wreckage. His legs were long gone; his matted fur had been ripped open at the chest, exposing a ghostly white biomass of tendrils extending out from a soft, egg-shaped body. The tendrils fused with interfaces throughout what was obviously a mechanical rat suit.
Daniel cradled him in his arms. “We have to help him.”
“That thing’s an antique. Good luck getting the parts,” she said. “Besides, it’s lost most of its fluid.”
“He saved my life,” said Daniel. “Besides, wise and all-powerful girl, can’t you fix him?”
Ionica sighed. “I don’t have time to argue. Pick it up; let’s get it to the ship.”
Marching back toward the hangar doors she had just flown in through, she opened a communications channel. “The flight deck is secure,” she said. “What about Darius Hun?”
“He didn’t get far,” someone replied. “We have him.”
A few paces away a set of doors rolled open and a team of adult Truth Seekers escorted out a man in chains. The man who had brought the leechers on board. He appeared unnaturally calm about the whole turn of events, almost as though he had been expecting it.
An elder Truth Seeker, tall with powerful broad shoulders and a device under his nose that gave off vapors to help him breathe, stepped right up to him. “Darius Hun,” he announced, in a commanding voice. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”
“You mistake me for someone else,” the prisoner replied calmly. “I am but a simple merchant.”
The Truth Seeker ran the palm of his hand through the air, a holographic display panel appearing in its wake. Everything anyone would ever want to know about Darius Hun and his list of crimes scrolled through the air, while a holographic image of his face settled over the prisoner’s own, confirming that he was indeed the wanted criminal.
“By the authority of the Guild of Truth, under Article Fifteen of the Sovereign Rights in Open Space Accords, I, Truth Guardian Raze Alioth, hereby place you under arrest. Where is the captain of this vessel?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“We will find your co-conspirator.”
“Ask yourself,” said the prisoner, in a mocking tone, “would the great Darius Hun allow himself to be captured by children on a training exercise—mere apprentices of the mighty Guild of Truth?”
“Blimey, does he ever shut up?” one of the younger Truth Seekers scoffed, emerging from behind the others. His scruffy hair looked like it could do with a wash. His boots needed a polish and his armored kilt had seen better days.
“Mr. Quick, you will treat our guest with respect,” Alioth admonished.
“Yes, sir,” the younger Truth Seeker replied, skulking off. When he spotted Ionica, he came marching over far more confidently.
His accent sounded different from everybody else’s. Rougher. As though he’d seen a thing or two around the galaxy. “Aren’t you impressed it was my team that got him?” he said, leaning closer, all cocky. “I’m that good.”
Ionica pulled back. “Wow . . . your breath stinks!”
He was about Daniel’s size and age too—although, like Blink, his eyes didn’t appear to have any pupils either. Someone else from the Burn Worlds? He cupped his hand over his mouth and nose, checking his breath.
“What’s she talking about?”
“Ben Quick,” Ionica said, walking away. “You know the only thing you’re really good at?”
“What’s that?”
“Annoying the snot out of me.”
One of the other younger Truth Seekers rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”
Ben glanced over at Daniel carrying what remained of Hex. “You know your anatom’s broken? You should get that fixed.”
“Really?” said Daniel. “Looks fine to me.”
Taken aback, Ben glanced over at Ionica, while thumbing at Daniel. “I like him.”
At the end of the flight deck, a pale-blueish craft with burnt-orange markings and shaped a little like a starfish came in to land. The core of the ship was a sphere, with a donut-shaped engine wrapped around it, off which several long arms extended. The Truth Seekers called her the Equinox.
“Find our guest some secure accommodations,” Alioth ordered as the ship’s boarding ramp extended out to the WaKeenee deck.
The elder Truth Seekers guided their shackled prisoner onto the ship, but just as the younger ones moved to follow, Darius Hun, for one brief moment, turned his head, letting his gaze settle solely upon Daniel. Was that a smile tugging at his lips?
Hard to know; in the next instant the criminal was led away.
A shiver ran down Daniel’s spine. He glanced around, but the other Truth Seekers hadn’t seemed to have noticed what had just taken place.
As they headed for the boarding ramp, Daniel glanced up at the underside. The scarred splintership was well worn and blackened around its exhaust vents, although the tips of its arms gleamed with colorful patterns—black-and-white checkerboards or jagged red-and-white teeth.
Daniel quietly watched the Truth Seekers going about their business, still coming to terms with the fact that he had been welcomed on board like a human being and didn’t have to go creeping around anymore.
Inside the Sphere, everything was not as it seemed from the outside. The entire inner surface of the Equinox’s nerve center appeared transparent in every direction, giving the most jaw-dropping view of space as it maneuvered out of the WaKeenee flight deck. This glass display screen also projected the data on every star, planet, and other vessels within a parsec, while a hoop of light known as the REPIS system, or Relative Position in Space, made constant revolutions, updating the navigational data.
That, however, was perhaps not the most disorienting thing about being inside the Sphere. Every time the ship adjusted its course, the immense donut-shaped engine bearing the extended arms of the vessel spun around the Sphere, revealing the insides of the ship, with corridors stretching off and other Truth Seekers going about their business. While the Sphere itself never moved, always staying true to the galactic ecliptic, the way an old-fashioned compass always pointed north.
In a flash of brilliant light, the Equinox pierced through into Inspinity.
“We’re heading for the Council of the Verdicti on Toshka,” Ionica explained. “Unless there’s somewhere else you were trying to reach. If it’s on our route, we can drop you off.”
Daniel shrugged. “Nowhere,” he said. “I don’t know what’s out here. I don’t even know where here is.”
“Well,” Ionica replied thoughtfully, “tell me whereabouts you snuck on board that freighter and I can tell you how far you got.”
Daniel didn’t know why he found that question so funny—maybe because he was just so exhausted—but when he laughed, tears streamed down his cheeks. “I don’t know that either,” he said.
“Usually when someone escapes from slavery, they take note of where they were, just so they don’t end up there again,” Ionica replied, with more than a little sass.
Daniel gazed off into his memories. “I really have no idea,” he said. “I don’t know how I got here.”
“I don’t understand.”
Daniel held his face in his hands, sensing a great weigh
t being lifted from his shoulders. If she were to ask him, he wouldn’t be able to verbalize his thoughts, but he felt safe around her. He had no memory of ever feeling safe before now.
“I escaped,” Daniel explained with hesitation. “From a relic mine.”
“What’s a relic mine?”
“We were enslaved by people who called themselves the Overseers.” Daniel’s throat constricted. He’d tried so hard not to think about any of this stuff. “They were trying to find something . . . something ancient.”
“You said we,” Ionica prodded gently. “How many were there like you?”
Daniel shrugged. “Thousands.”
“Thousands?!”
“I was one of the older ones. Most were younger than me. A lot younger.” He found his mind drifting back to the Racks, and bunk after bunk of little kids. “That place . . . it’s all we’ve ever known. Just before I escaped, I found out that the Overseers were really just soldiers commanded by, uh, what were they called?” He racked his brain until he forced a memory to the surface. “The, uh . . . the Sinja?”
The name meant nothing to Daniel, but the immediate disgust on Ionica’s face told him everything. “The Sinja?” she said, aghast. “You’re telling me that you were a slave of the Sinja?”
“You know them?” Daniel asked, hopeful. Maybe now he’d start getting some answers.
Ionica scoffed. “Know them?” she replied. “Everyone’s heard of them, but few can say that they actually know them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They like to remain hidden. Anonymous. But they have a web that stretches from one end of the galaxy to the other. You can bet that if there’s a war—they’re the ones who started it. Where there’s poverty—they’re the ones who created it,” she explained, a lump in her throat. “They lie and manipulate from the shadows. Where there are planets, there are Sinja, hidden in plain sight, infiltrating governments, amassing power, sowing chaos, all to satisfy their greed. They’re the reason I chose to become a Truth Seeker. They’re the reason Truth Seekers even exist.”
She looked away quickly, obviously embarrassed by such a rush of emotion in front of someone she hardly knew.
