She popped the front of the van’s console off, exposing electronics. She pulled the wedge of her personal console from her pocket, the plastic of her jacket crinkling, and connected the van’s diagnostic port to her device.
“What the hell are you doing, kid?” said Gabby.
“Making us go faster,” said Providence.
“Solid copy,” said Gabby.
Providence pulled up the diagnostics. The van was a freight unit, designed for a high load at lower speeds. The motor inside was connected to the drivetrain through gearing designed for torque. The beauty of electric motors was they could be encouraged to ever greater feats of speed, right until they passed their engineering tolerance and died, sometimes with catastrophic results.
Nothing could be more catastrophic than a station crashing on top of you, so Providence told the machine that no, safety limits were more like friendly advice. The van clunked, then the motor’s whine turned into a scream. Providence was pushed back in her seat as the machine whizzed along the deserted streets. The odd other vehicle was stopped along their way, but Gabby piloted them around without even swapping paint.
“You’re a good driver,” said Providence.
“Used to race the derby,” said Gabby.
“Okay,” said Providence. “What’s a derby?”
“Tell you later,” said Gabby, eyes on the road.
The interior of the van smelt like ozone and burnt plastic, but ahead buildings gave way to an expansive area, a series of small shuttles waiting. “Did we expect to be evacuated?” said Providence. “Why did no one tell my dad?”
“Military facility,” said Gabby, as if that explained everything.
Daisy leaned forward. “This base has shuttles ready for lifting cargo,” she said. “We’re going to be a different kind of cargo, is all.”
“Where are all the people?” said Providence. Everyone should be here, getting off the planet. Like us.
“Best not to ask,” said Dustin, from the back of the van. “The answer isn’t going to fill you with warmth and happiness.”
Gabby pointed the van at the open gates of the facility, sending them inside in a screech of smoke from tires never designed for this kind of abuse. The van’s HUD blinked then went dark, the machine whining down. “What’s happening?” said the Marine.
Providence held up her personal console, the display also dark. “Um,” she said.
Daisy’s head was cocked to one side like she was listening. “EMP,” she said. “Up there.”
“Okay,” said Gabby. “Then we’re on foot.” She kicked the door open, hefting her plasma rifle. She fired an experimental shot toward the sky. “Weapons are still good. Must have been the for-kids edition of an EMP.”
Providence slipped out of the van, joining Gabby on the ceramicrete. The shuttles were maybe five hundred meters away. Too far away to walk and have any chance of getting clear. “Run,” she suggested, then took her own advice, plastic jacket crinkling as she ran.
Gabby kept pace with her, Dustin running ahead to take point. Providence saw Daisy was behind them on rear guard duty, a small blaster pistol held ready.
From the right, a horde of Ezeroc burst from a low-slung building. They didn’t use the door, just tearing through the walls, six legs bringing them closer with frightening speed. Providence tried to run faster. Plasma fzzzt-cracked across the ceramicrete, turning the insects into stumbling pyres. But there were so many of them.
Ahead, the safety of a shuttle loomed. It was a small unit, not much bigger than the van, stubby wings jutting out from the fuselage. Dustin was almost there when another pod cracked down off their left. The Marine turned and fired his launcher, the pod exploding into fragments. Another pod impacted near the ruins of the first, but when it landed Providence saw the door was already missing.
Where has the humanoid inside gone?
The question was answered by the humanoid crunching on top of Dustin, compacting the human beneath it in a shower of gore. Gabby fired her plasma rifle at the humanoid, but it was like she was stuck in slow motion, the figure moving around like a trick of the light. So fast. It’s so fast.
There was a pink-chunk, and Gabby was gone, a haze of red mist where she used to be. Tatters of her Marine armor clattered to the ground, a trail of smoke wisped away by the wind. Providence had a moment to consider what kind of weapon had the kinetic potential it took to not only set the air on fire but also to turn a human into a haze before Daisy pushed her into the waiting shuttle. The Bulwark officer turned, facing the humanoid, then raised her hand, curling fingers into a fist.
The humanoid’s arms were pulled close to its side as if invisible strings were tightening. Daisy gave a half-yell, half-scream, and the humanoid figure was tossed through the air to land fifty meters back. Daisy stepped into the shuttle, took a glance outside, then shook her head. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.” Like she was trying to convince herself of something.
“Come on,” said Providence. “We’ve got to go.”
“Yeah. Only, we don’t make it off this crust if that fucking machine isn’t dealt with,” said Daisy. She tapped on the console inside the shuttle’s airlock. “Good luck, kid.” She stepped outside, airlock hissing closed behind her. Providence stood inside the otherwise empty shuttle as Endless fields engaged, lifting her off the deck. Autopilot. She’s put this on autopilot.
Face pressed against the airlock glass, Providence watched the Bulwark officer, white armor gleaming in the sun, face the approaching Ezeroc horde. Daisy yelled at them as they came, a blade in one hand, a blaster in the other. Providence hammered at the glass, wanting Daisy to hear her. To not have thrown down her life for someone who wasn’t even an Engineer yet.
The humanoid machine was racing forward, weapon pointed at the shuttle. Providence saw the moment Daisy made the choice to buy the shuttle one more second of time. The Bulwark officer could have held off the Ezeroc, or she could have controlled the machine again. Not both.
The humanoid machine raised its weapon to fire, then was knocked off its feet. The round went wide, missing the shuttle, which turned its fusion drives toward the ground. Providence lay against the rear airlock as the Ezeroc boiled over the top of Daisy, then felt the shuttle roar its defiance. Fire blazed against the ground, immolating all below as it clawed for the sky.
Tears streamed from Providence’s eyes, pulled against the airlock glass. She couldn’t look away, hard thrust holding her in place as fire bathed the grave of a brave woman who wouldn’t let the enemy take a child.
CHAPTER ONE
GRACE LEANED THROUGH the flight deck airlock. “Looks bad,” she said.
It wasn’t just that it looked bad. It felt bad, right to the core of her being. There were far too few human souls alive out in the hard black around Sol. The few bright points of human intelligence that shone in her inner eye were fear/fear/terror/pain, a cyclic repetition on every mental receptor she had.
Outside the Tyche’s windscreen, Pluto sat, looking black and ugly. “I fucking hate this place,” said El. She stabbed a finger at Pluto, then glared at Nate, who sat beside her. “There’s nothing but a radio outpost. Why are we wasting good O2 here?” Grace tried to ignore how the Helm’s hands shook, her fingers curling around themselves to hide the terror/fear/panic that threatened to boil over.
Grace put a hand on El’s shoulder. The Helm shook her off at first, then settled, letting Grace touch her. Grace closed her eyes, letting a little calm/safe/family into her friend. “It’ll be okay, El.”
“Will it?” But El wasn’t twitching so bad.
“It will,” said Nate. He sighed. “I’m fixing to check out that radio outpost. See what’s up. We need to get to Mercury. Mercury is at the heart of Sol, El. Doesn’t make much sense to fly in blind, right?”
“Mercury is at the long end of a hard trip,” said El. “Charon’s a big enough menace orbiting here, and there’s so much shit in the Kuiper belt it’s a wonder we haven’t been holed alread
y. Pluto hasn’t had the decency to clear the neighborhood around its orbit. Bound to be surface defense cannons we’ll need to get around before we can land on Pluto, too. Then there’s the roaches.”
“Well,” offered October Kohl, his rumble coarse and angry from behind Grace, “I figure we might need to kill a few roaches.” He sounded like it was a thing they should all look forward to.
“I could stand to kill more bugs,” said Ebony Drake. She was checking her sidearm when the weapon fell to the deck. She scooped it up fast. “I meant to do that.”
“Shouldn’t be roaches,” said Nate. “Empire’s Bulwark set this place up. Chad’s team. Made it run dark. A listening post for what’s out there,” he gestured in the vague direction of Sol’s heliosphere, “and what’s there.” He nodded toward Sol itself, the sun still glaring at them, but the size of a thumbnail this far out.
“There are roaches,” said Saveria. The young esper had her knees pulled to her chest. She floated just above her acceleration couch, straps unclasped. They’d cut the Tyche’s systems down to the bare minimum, life support only, while they floated in the hard black taking stock. No telling what eyes watched them. The Empire’s enemies had come and taken over their home. They might have moved in, or they might have moved on.
“She’s right,” said Grace. She nudged Nate, then grabbed the flight deck airlock as her shove sent her backward. Not having gravity was a thing that took some getting used to. “If you weren’t so damn lazy, you’d be able to tell.”
“Lazy?” said Nate. “Me? I’m the hardest working person on the ship.”
“Sure,” said Kohl. “Behind me, and maybe El, and I think Saveria too. Oh, and behind Gracie as well.”
“Asshole.” Grace grinned. “So, Cap. We going down?”
“We’re going down,” said Nate. “I figure this doesn’t need all of us. I figure—”
“If you say you’re going alone, you’ll be ‘figuring’ a whole bunch of other things,” warned Grace.
Nate frowned, looking out the Tyche’s window. “I figure it’s a two-person job, at best.”
“Better,” said Grace.
“I’m in,” said Kohl.
“Me too,” said Grace.
“I’ll stay here and guard the ship,” said El. “Makes sense.”
“What do I do?” said Ebony.
Grace turned to see if Saveria would stay or go. The Tyche was, while not safe, a known quantity, but the young esper should get to choose how she’d play her life out. But Saveria’s acceleration couch was empty. She’d no doubt headed toward Engineering. Staying with the ship, then. She frowned. No, not the ship. Saveria was staying with Hope. An important difference.
“How did a two-person job turn into a three-person job?” said Nate.
“Easy,” said Grace. “Wasn’t ever going to be a two-person job.”
“I’m the emperor,” said Nate, but reflexively, like a cough.
“Have fun,” said El. “I’ll keep the Tyche’s eyes and ears watching. Seeing what I can see. Don’t worry,” she said, at Nate’s stare. “Passive scan. Not my first rodeo.”
“Problem is, it’s not a rodeo,” said Nate.
“Not my first invasion either,” said El. “Is it one of those?”
“Yeah,” said Nate. “It’s one of those. But not like the last one. Last one, it was humans fighting humans.”
“What do I do?” said Ebony, again.
“It’s no different,” said El. “People are still dying.”
“Reckon so,” agreed Nate. He paused, and Grace could feel the uncertainty/protect coming off him like heat from a radiator. Then he leaned toward El, putting a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“What for?” said El.
“Everything.” He unclipped his harness, floating free. “For the war. For the dying. But mostly, I’m sorry for yelling at you. You saved us all, El, like you always do.” He pushed himself past Grace, floating through the ready room like a pro. Grace, Kohl, El, and Ebony watched him go.
“Am I staying here?” said Ebony. “I think I should stay here.”
“Sure, Ebony. Don’t let those motherfuckers onboard.” Kohl cleaned his ear with a finger, then frowned. “Did the cap just apologize?”
“I think so,” said El.
“For everything?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re gonna die,” said Kohl. “I’ll go get my stuff.”
• • •
The Tyche settled on a barren wasteland of frozen rock. Pluto was never a place you visited for fun. Or, not the kind of fun Grace wanted any part of. The landing felt like the easiest thing in days. While the dwarf planet’s gravity was less than ten percent of Earth’s, they were coming in on an Empire landing pad. It was equipped with Endless fields, generating all the comforts of home gravity.
Helmet on atop a black ship suit, Grace stood next to Nate in the airlock. Kohl was behind them, fussing with his power armor. Grace wasn’t an expert on that particular make and model of armor, but it looked like it was playing up some since their encounter on the Cantor. Kohl had taken more than his fair share of knocks, most of that rendered on his armor. It still kept the air on the correct side, but the power assist looked janky as all hell.
“Need a hand?” said Nate.
“I look like I need a hand?” said Kohl, eyes flashing.
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” said Nate, palming the airlock controls. The Tyche opened onto the Empire pad. No lights, because you didn’t run a black site by pointing lamps at the sky. But the grav said the power was still on, and the power still being on said people might be alive in here.
“What happened last time we had the conversation?”
“You told me to get fucked.” Nate sighed.
“How you figure this one will go?”
“Have fun,” said Nate, stepping out onto the pad.
Grace gave Kohl a wink. “Let me know if you need a hand.”
“Go fuck yourself,” said Kohl, then winced as one actuator on his armor’s left arm clicked, then fell to the ground. “Uh.”
“You want me to get that?”
“It’s fine,” said Kohl.
“Suit yourself,” said Grace, following Nate. She’d never been to Pluto. Not that many folks had. Back in the day, there’d been mines here, prospectors optimistically hoping for more than nitrogen ice. Turns out, no. Pluto was a frozen rock, which made it private by accident, and perfect for an Empire’s Bulwark outpost.
The facility had the dull look of metal and ceramicrete coated in a radiation-absorbent material. Only a single level poked above Pluto’s surface. Their intel said the facility bored down under the crust but was sparse on the detail of what they’d find inside. No doubt Chad’s thorough need-to-know filing system, keeping the things they needed to know from them. Grace hoped there weren’t deathtraps inside.
An unusual addition to the facility was a small rock-slash-asteroid embedded in the structure. Grace could see the top of it peeking out above the building’s human-designed lines. The light of their ship suits was too dim to give much detail on the rock, and Grace was left with the impression of dark, wet stone. Get a grip. It’s just a ship. Grace felt a hissing against her mind. “Nate,” she said.
“I hear ‘em,” said Nate. “Fucking Ezeroc.”
“Not them,” said Grace, pointing to the asteroid tumor embedded in the facility. “That. Looks like their ride in.”
“Outstanding,” said Kohl, lumbering past them. “I’m going to find me one.”
“Kohl, here’s the thing,” said Nate. “It’d be useful if the roaches didn’t know we were here.”
“Us specifically, or us in general?” said Kohl.
“Both,” said Nate. He held up his suited wrist, as if Kohl could see the bracelet he’d put on. “I’m wearing a bracelet, so they can’t hear us. If you go in there, shooting the place to hell, they’ll phone a friend. Those friends will arrive, discover the
Tyche, and probably kill us all.”
Kohl turned between Nate and the facility, then did that one more time. “You sure know a few ways to suck all the joy out of a man’s day.”
Nate spread his arms wide in a what are you gonna do gesture. “I know. I know! I feel like some payback too.”
“Hypothetically, what would happen if this place exploded?” said Kohl.
Grace coughed across the comm channel. “‘Hypothetically?’”
“Hope’s teaching me new words,” said Kohl.
“I don’t think you’re using it right,” said Grace. “It sounds like you’ve got a plan.”
“Reckon so,” said Kohl.
“Hypothetically, if the place blew after we were gone, that might be okay,” said Nate. “Chad’ll be pissed if he finds out, but Chad’s got a lot on his mind. Probably won’t even miss it.”
“Fucken A,” said Kohl, striding toward the facility’s airlock with renewed purpose.
• • •
Getting in the airlock wasn’t a problem. Their Empire tokens made the red lights turn green, and Grace breathed out a sigh when it happened. She had almost expected the facility to be overrun by sentient machines with the smarts to change locks, but it didn’t pan out that way. Just an airlock that, with a cheery green light, said Welcome, Empress.
“This isn’t right,” said Grace.
Nate paused on the airlock’s threshold. “How you figure? We’re getting in. That’s as right as it needs to be.”
Grace looked around the airlock. “Hmm.”
“That’s a mighty specific noise,” offered Kohl.
“Hmm,” said Grace again. “Thing is, we’re up against AI. Epic-level toasters, right?”
“Right,” said Nate. “Metal assholes.”
“Metal assholes,” agreed Grace. “And the roaches. Why didn’t they send their metal assholes here?”
“Chef’s special,” said Kohl.
“You what?” said Grace.
“Chef’s special,” said Kohl. “When you go into a spacer bar, you get a couple beers and a bite, right?”
“Maybe,” said Nate. “I mean, what quality is the spacer bar?”
Tyche's Ghosts Page 2
