"Well," Javin said, "here I am. Come get me and we'll talk."
"Do you have any more explosives on you?"
"No."
"Why should I believe you?" Soren said.
"I don't care what you believe," Javin said. "Take me or kill me, it doesn't matter. I just want this to end."
Javin was twenty feet away now, still floating upward. The laser, pointed away from the star and toward the pirates, glowed softly. Thirty seconds, according to his helmet display.
"Very well. But let me assure you, Javin: if you cause us any more trouble, your suffering will be great indeed."
Javin said nothing. Twenty seconds.
"Javin, my men will--" He cut off. Javin could hear other men speaking, arguing. "Turn it off, then," Soren snapped at someone. More arguing.
The panel laser glowed red, so bright that it hurt Javin's eyes. The light at the tip grew, a seamless ball of red. The base of the laser flashed. A thick beam fired, shooting away from the panel.
And into the center of the first Needle.
There were several voices in Javin's helmet, yelling in the background. Abruptly, the screams stopped. Javin watched as the pirate craft broke in half at the point where the laser struck, two pieces floating apart. Debris filled the gap between the two halves, spinning in all directions. Fires flared up in the exposed hull, but quickly winked out.
Javin's helmet display showed a single message:
"Manual panel discharge: complete."
Now he cheered. He screamed and hollered, wordless cries of victory. He taunted the pirates, calling out Soren by name. Javin was going to die and he didn't care at all.
Soren replied, but Javin couldn't hear. There was another voice speaking, someone new. He was screaming too, at Javin, his voice full of anger and anguish.
Green light streaked across space. Lasers from the remaining Needle craft. The beams exploded below him in the center of the panel grouping, a starburst of light. Shiny blue material flew in all directions.
Something cylindrical tumbled toward Javin. A battery, he thought, right before it hit him.
Chapter 7
Heat, so much heat. It came from all directions: it was on his palms, his face, the back of his neck.
Javin opened his eyes.
Saria loomed before him, filling his view with orange and white. She was everywhere he looked, to the sides, above and below. Only by twisting his head as far as it would go could he see the edge of the sun, where its corona met the blackness of space. He felt close to the star. It was just the two of them, nothing else in the entire system.
He noticed his helmet, framing the view. Where was his computer display? The helmet's glass was tinted--or his face would have been burned away, staring at the sun--but nothing else was functioning.
And the heat. His suit felt like the inside of a plasma core. The temperature regulator was off, and without it Saria was cooking him. And if the temperature regulator was off, the most vital of suit functions, nothing else was likely to work.
He tested the joystick at his waist. Nothing happened. Of course not, he remembered, I was already out of propulsion fuel. The rest of his memory returned: the pirates, the manual battery discharge, the panel explosion. The battery, as long as his arm, flying toward him. It must have damaged his suit.
He twisted his head more, trying to look around. He thrashed his body, a rocking that whipped down his legs, barely moving him in space. But that little movement was enough, and slowly he twisted around. The brilliance of Saria faded from view, replaced with blackness.
And the remaining Needle ship.
It waited there, forty feet away, facing him. Behind it he could see his Carrion and the Melisao frigate, more distant than before. The explosion must have sent him hurtling away.
But here they were, for whatever reason still eager to capture Javin.
Two men appeared from an airlock at the side of the Needle. Javin could see the puffs of air behind their suits as they turned toward him. They reached him in seconds. Javin's suit was white and pristine, but up close he saw that theirs were ragged and patched. They looked like they wouldn't protect against a Praetari dust storm, let alone hold back the vacuum of space.
Their bubbled helmets were shielded, a silvery metallic look. The sun behind him was reflected in the helmets, so it looked like two orange balls were approaching him. It looked so absurd that Javin laughed. The air in his suit felt scalding on his throat and lungs, but he didn't care, and sucked in great gulps between laughs.
They carried him by the arms back to the craft. They passed right in front of the hole in the hull, blown open by his blasting cap. Javin wondered if anyone died. He'd never killed anyone before. But then he remembered the second Needle, the one destroyed by the laser. Men had surely died there. He looked around, but couldn't find it. Though it had only just happened, possibly only minutes before, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Like it had happened to someone else, and Javin was only an observer.
The airlock was cramped with three people, but they managed to squeeze inside. The door closed behind them. The view through a window changed; the craft was spinning, returning to the Melisao frigate.
The gravity engaged, the room pressurized. One pirate removed Javin's helmet. Cool air blasted his face. The sensation was so strong that Javin fell to his knees, panting as though from great exertion.
First I nearly froze, then I nearly burned, he thought. I've had quite a day. He laughed some more.
"The fucker's off his axis," one pirate said.
Javin turned to face his captor. Something struck him in the nose. His vision flashed white as he fell back against the inner door. The pirate stood over him, holding Javin's helmet like a club. He looked like he was going to strike him again.
The door behind Javin slid open, causing him to fall into the hallway. There were several pairs of boots around him, but before he could look up hands grabbed him by the suit and pulled him to his feet. They threw him against the wall, hitting his head against a protruding pipe. Two more pairs of hands held him up. He saw faces all around, angry.
It was there, standing in the hallway, where they beat him.
A fist broke his nose, sending pain flaring across his face. Someone cuffed him on the ear, and he was dizzy, but the hands kept him upright. Boots kicked his knees and thighs. Then his groin. He couldn't see but the men were overcome with bloodlust, pushing and shoving one-another to get at Javin. I should have removed my helmet outside when I had the chance. The thought only lasted a moment, knocked away by more blows.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the hands released him. He crumpled to the floor. The metal was cold against his cheek, in contrast to the fire of pain. Every bit of him hurt. He felt broken, like an electroid disassembled.
The floor banged as boots disappeared. Two pairs remained, standing guard over him. He was too weak to move, so there he rested, staring at the boots.
Eventually he heard noises outside, deep clanging sounds that echoed through the ship. They were docking within the Melisao frigate.
The guards pulled him to his feet. Nothing in his legs seemed broken; he was able to bear his weight, although painfully. One hand gripped the back of his suit and led him into the airlock. The outer door was already open.
Javin smiled in spite of everything. His first tour was on a Melisao frigate, working in the engine room. That seemed like such a long time ago. It was a long time ago.
The frigate's dock was cavernous, nearly as large as the dock on the Ancillary. Large glass tubes were built into the wall behind him; the Needle ships that accompanied frigates were housed entirely within its hull for protection. Three larger airlocks were set into the wall to the left, though nothing occupied them now.
The dock doubled as a storage bay, with cranes and mechanical pulleys built into the ceiling to load and unload goods. Javin only saw a handful of crates piled in one corner, along with what looked like a huge drilling laser mounted horizo
ntally on four wheels.
They haven't looted anything yet, he thought. His Carrion and the panels inside must have been their first target. He thought about Hugo, one of the other engineers in a Carrion junker farther along the ring. They would probably raid him next. I should've tried to create a delayed message, he thought, anything to get a warning to him.
He couldn't stare long because they were still leading him forward. Through the doors to the central hall they marched. Though the outer hull was painted with wicked designs and colors, the interior was unremarkable: white composite walls that hid the machinery, floors made of rubber-like material that softened their footsteps, doors that slid sideways without noise. The Ancillary, and his own Carrion, were so ancient that Javin had forgotten what it was like to be on a proper ship of war.
The hallway came to a junction. The prisoner cells were to the right, but the guard shoved him in the other direction. Toward the bridge. So his torture would be public.
It was several more minutes of walking before doors opened into another large room. The bridge was fixed at the front of the long, spear-like ship, spanning its entire width. One single window adorned the end of the room, giving a bubbled view of space. Dozens of computer terminals were positioned between Javin and the window. An entire fleet could be commanded from this room, if need be.
The terminals were unobserved now. Every man had stood to watch Javin and his guards enter the door at the back of the room. Every man had his arms crossed, and every man watched with anger and scorn. Every man except one.
He was no taller than the others, with no ornamentation on his breast to indicate rank, but Javin's eyes fixed on him immediately. There was a set to the man's jaw, an authority to his stance. His black coat was snug at his shoulders, and hung halfway down his thigh. Where everyone else wore theirs loosely, his was buttoned tight across a muscular chest. His hair was brown and cut short, though it was long enough to be tangled and obviously unwashed. Something was wrong with his face, but he stood in shadow and it was difficult for Javin to place it from across the room.
It was no surprise when he stepped forward. Slowly, almost lazily, he approached Javin. Javin immediately saw what was wrong: half his face was plated in dull metal. It covered the entirety of his left portrait, grotesquely fused to the skin down the middle, splitting his nose. A glowing red light shone where his eye should have been.
"Welcome to the Leviathan, Javin. I am pleased to meet you face-to-face. And further pleased you are alive." The electronic eye searched the room, darting this way and that, but his human eye stared calmly. He extended a hand.
He wanted to spit in Soren's face, but there was a disarming ease in the man's eye and voice. Soren had disabled Javin's Carrion, tried freezing him to death, destroyed a panel grouping, and nearly killed him...and yet Javin had the overwhelming feeling that he should like the man.
Javin shook his outstretched hand.
Something jogged Javin's memory. Leviathan. The legendary frigate stolen from the Latea shipyards orbiting Melis--stolen and never seen again. No one truly believed it, insisting it was a myth told by men after several cups of sweetwater. After all, who could arrive at the shipyards unnoticed, board the greatest ship ever built, and disappear without a trace? But just then, staring into this man's face, half-machinery and half-flesh, Javin had no doubt at all.
"You very nearly killed yourself," Soren continued. "Indeed, we thought you were dead when your ship's airlock exploded. Until we saw more explosions around the Needles." His smile disappeared. "You have caused significant frustration, Javin. The beating you sustained on the Needle was surely deserved."
The sound of boots echoed as the door opened behind Javin. Soren looked at one of the newcomers, who stepped up next to Javin. "Why was he harmed?"
"Soren," the man said, "he blew a hole in my ship, and destroyed the other entirely! Two of our men are floating out there, frozen in space because of this shit-loving steadfast."
"I ordered him to be captured unharmed," Soren said. "I was clear."
The man next to Javin laughed. "He was captured unharmed. After that, though..."
A few of the newcomers laughed at the joke, but Soren's face was placid. The laughter stopped. Silence stretched as Soren regarded the other pirate.
"Maurice, you are relieved of your command. Return to your quarters until I deal with you."
Maurice bristled. Javin thought he could feel all the men from the smaller craft tensing. Soren and Maurice stared at one another.
Maurice faced Javin, his eyes full of fire, before leaving the bridge.
The tension left the room like engine coolant being dumped. Soren nodded to himself and returned to the wide window of the bridge.
One of the guards nudged Javin, urging him forward. Javin followed Soren to the window. The Carrion was visible a short distance away. It looked wounded; black blemishes were scattered across its hull where the defensive turrets were destroyed, and the opening to the maintenance airlock was twice as large as it ought to be. The evidence of his resistance should have filled Javin with pride, but all he felt was despair.
"You have my ship," he said, "so kill me and be done with it."
Soren looked sideways at him, smirking. He seemed amused by the request. He turned back to the Carrion. "Unload it all," he ordered. "I want the ship as light as possible."
The great doors of the Carrion's storage bay opened outward like a shell, revealing rows of solar panels stored within. Small shapes floated among them--pirates. One panel was pushed out into space, then another. Javin watched, uncomprehending.
He soon realized they weren't transferring them. "Those panels are worth more than your entire ship," he said, confused. "Why are you dumping them? Why did you want my shoddy ship if you weren't going to keep the true prize?"
Soren laughed, a carefree noise that echoed off the glass and chilled Javin to the core. "I have told you our intentions from the beginning," he said. "We don't care about your ship, or the useless panels. Javin, the true prize here is you."
Part II: The Ancillary
Chapter 8
"Madam Custodian, there's a problem."
Beth continued drying her hair in the mirror, but shifted slightly until she could see the worker's reflection. Mark was his name, she recalled. He was standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.
"Javin's the Ancillary Custodian," she said, "not me." She tried to keep the annoyance from her voice.
Mark looked up but quickly returned his gaze to the floor. Only then did she realize she was mostly bare, with just a cloth towel wrapped around her waist. Two tours in the military had stripped her of all modesty. Javin understood that, back when it was just the two of them working on the Ancillary. He treated her the way he treated everything: like a machine, judged on its usefulness and functionality. And Beth functioned efficiently.
But these civilians that now infested the Ancillary were fraying her nerves. They were too civilian, caring about their appearance and clothes and everything else. Half the men oggled her when they thought she wasn't looking, and the other half doubted her command. She never suffered such behavior from other steadfasts, the class of Melisao who opted for multiple tours of military duty.
Even when the workers did respect her, they came to her with every little task, drowning her in the minutiae of the Ancillary. She was beginning to understand why Javin fled to the solar ring. If there were anyone competent to leave in charge she'd be tempted to do the same.
"It's Darren," Mark continued. "He had an accident in the third core."
"How bad? Is he dead?"
Her bluntness took him aback. "No, he's alive. But..." He trailed off, his face beginning to pale.
Beth sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I put some clothes on." Mark gave a sharp nod and left the room, eager to be gone.
Clean uniforms were across the living quarters, so instead she grabbed the pile of clothes she'd worn before bathing. White pants that fit tightly arou
nd her muscled legs, and a long shirt with sleeves that covered up to her wrists. Boots lined with metal, good for labor. And a plain brown vest and belt to keep everything in place, with her short combat knife hung from a loop. She didn't bother with her brown hair, which was uncombed and still dripped water down her back.
The female cleanliness room exited into the female living quarters. There'd been no need for gender-specific spaces until the new workers came. Now they were neatly divided by whichever body parts dangled where. That didn't bother her as much as now needing to walk twice as far just to empty her bladder. The old facilities were ancient, but at least they were close together. And it all seemed a waste, building new facilities for a station that would be fully dismantled in a few years.
Stubbornly, she took a shortcut through the male quarters. She made a point of doing so, emphasizing the uselessness of the segregation. A handful of men were awake, eating their breakfast at a table before their shift began. They nodded politely--her presence there was no longer surprising--but did not resume speaking until she was out of sight.
The male quarters emptied into a maintenance hallway. To her left was the communications room. In front of her were the personnel airlocks, used to reach the external comm arrays or the transfer laser when maintenance work was required. Beth shuddered, keenly aware of how thin the asteroid was at that spot. Just a few feet of rock separating her from the black, the empty vacuum of space. Even standing there in close proximity to the airlocks filled Beth with paralyzing fear.
She supposed that was one good thing about the arrival of the other workers: she need never put on a space suit and work outside the Ancillary. Javin had done all exterior work when it was just the two of them--he seemed to even enjoy it!--but with him gone somebody had to do it. At least as temporary Custodian Beth was in a position to make sure it wasn't her.
She reached the ring, the circular corridor at the center of the Ancillary that connected everything together. Every function of the station was built off the ring, like haphazard branches sticking out from a wreath. The third core was on the opposite end of the ring, so she turned left.
The Ancillary (Tales of a Dying Star Book 2) Page 5
