Saturn turned on the faucet and let the thin trickle of water fill up her cupped hands before splashing her face with the cold liquid. She gripped the sides of the metal sink and examined the new lines that had formed in her face in the past few months. It used to be that she prided herself on her youthful looks and charm. Those days were quickly waning. She finally looked her age, she thought. Saturn never knew whether to calculate using Earth or Martian years. It was even less clear now that she had no real frame of reference except the estimate of the ship’s computer. In the Ansara System all years were measured by the rotations of the home world, Ansara.
She used the tan towel next to her sink to wipe down her face. Saturn left her reflection behind and plopped down on her thin black sleeping pad. It would only take about an hour to reach Narra’s second moon and she was exhausted. The whole time she was playing leader her mind was on something else. Someone else, rather.
Saturn knew what she’d seen and heard in the cockpit before. She doubted if she would ever be able to un-know it. Liam’s spirit lived on and she could communicate with him, albeit unreliably. Somehow, someway, she’d do it again. She’d promised herself she would find a way to get him back, and Saturn wasn’t the kind of person to make idle promises.
15
“Watch your approach vector,” Nix instructed Astrid, “The second moon has a magnetosphere and a thicker atmosphere than most moons. The terraformers were a little too enthusiastic on this one.”
Astrid adjusted course, eagerly taking in each piece of advice. She found that she liked piloting The Garuda more than she originally realized, and Nix had been flying the ship for years, making his advice invaluable. The Ansaran hoped this shared interest of theirs might help ease the tension that still existed between them. She peered at him out of the corner of her eye, examining his rough features closely; his blunt nose and hard cheekbones accentuated his rigid demeanor. Perhaps a real friendship was too tall of an order. Century after century of hate between their people was not so easily quelled for some. Though, she was willing to try.
“You’re still coming in a little hot,” Nix warned.
Astrid pulled up a little more, “I see it.”
“One thousand meters,” Saturn said.
“Ease up,” Nix yelled.
“Five hundred.”
Nix reached over the console and fired the emergency retrorockets. The ship’s descent slowed and The Garuda struck the landing zone hard, violent shaking radiating throughout the vessel.
The Dinari turned to Astrid and berated, “You mind telling me what the hell that was?”
“I’m sorry...”
“You were distracted.”
Ju-Long placed a hand on the back of Nix’s seat and said, “Hey, go easy. Every ship has its own feel. Besides, we’re on the ground in one piece, right?”
Saturn shrugged and chimed in, “Ju-Long’s right, you know. She’ll get it next time.”
Nix opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. Instead he simply nodded and examined one of his console’s readouts.
Astrid gazed curiously out the window. The dust cloud formed by their arrival had not yet dissipated. Still, an even thicker mist of gray congested the sky. Astrid had never seen a nuclear winter firsthand. She’d seen the ruins of The Long War, sure, but never anything so devastating. Prior to their arrival the sensors picked up vast ruins on the second moon. She tried to imagine what might be on the surface; what the colony might have looked like before it was destroyed. If the nuclear winter still persisted it must have been one of the last of the casualties of war. It was not a sight Astrid desired to see.
“We should split up,” Saturn proposed. “Nix and I can search the surface while Ju-Long and Astrid install the new sensor array.”
“We’re finally on solid ground and you’re going to keep me cooped up in here?” Ju-Long protested.
“And I should oversee any modifications done to this ship,” Nix said, apparently just as wary as Astrid at the prospect of inspecting the surface.
Saturn looked to Ju-Long and said, “Ju-Long and Astrid are more than capable of doing the job.”
She regarded Nix and continued, “Besides, I need you on the surface. I don’t even know what we’re looking for out there. You know this system better than just about anybody.”
Nix sighed and clenched his jaw, exuding frustration. He moved his bulbous golden eyes to Ju-Long and pointed at the human’s chest with his longest claw.
“The sensor array and nothing else,” Nix warned. “I don’t want to come back to a hodgepodge of cobbled together systems. We’re not the Kraven.”
“Alright, alright,” Ju-Long said defensively. “I get it, no death ray.”
“Ha, ha. I’m serious. There’s more nuance to her than you know and you don’t want to go fiddling around just anywhere. There’s no telling what harm you might do.”
Astrid interrupted, “We won’t. The sensor array and nothing else.”
Nix held his finger in the air a moment longer and then relented, “Fine. Saturn, we better gear up. The terraformers made this place hospitable once, but the war’s changed a few things. We’ll need to wear respirators, the atmosphere is showing toxic levels of carbon dioxide and methane.”
“Will a respirator be enough out there?” Saturn asked.
“As long as we don’t stay on the surface more than a couple of hours. The atmosphere has high levels of toxins; breathing it for too long would be unwise. Before we leave we can check the medical crate for anti-radiation shots. They should prove effective in the short term.”
“Should?”
Nix stood and braced himself between the pilot’s and co-pilot’s chair.
“Having second thoughts?”
“I don’t care about a little radiation,” Ju-Long interjected, “If it means I can stretch my legs.”
Nix and Saturn both turned to Ju-Long with their own variations of a scowl.
Saturn replied, “Focus on upgrading the sensor array.”
She stood and told Astrid, “Make sure he does.”
Astrid nodded with a sheepish expression, avoiding eye contact with Ju-Long.
“We’ll try to maintain comms while on the surface, but don’t be surprised if there’s a bit of interference,” Nix told them.
16
“No, wait, that doesn’t look right.”
Astrid held the Ansaran sensor array in her pale blue hands, examining the spherical device from every angle. The array’s cool, chrome exterior reflected a multitude of colors from the many lights which glimmered around the cockpit. Astrid sat on top of a stack of metal grates in the cockpit, legs hanging casually into the center aisle’s crawlspace beneath.
Ju-Long made to stand and hit the back of his head against the pushed-aside grates. He rubbed his short black hair with vigorous strokes.
“Ow,” he howled, then motioned for Astrid to hand him the array.
Astrid passed him the device and directed his attention to the three-pin connectors attached to wires extending out of the metal sphere.
“This isn’t a standard Ansaran jack. None of our converters will work.”
Ju-Long checked the connectors and grimaced, taking his attention away to blow on his burned and sensitive hand.
“We’ll just have to fabricate something,” Ju-Long said, clearly working through some pain.
“How long will that take?”
Ju-Long brought the ends of the wires closer to his face and pulled his goggles down over his eyes. He flipped multiple circular lenses over his right eye, each providing an additional factor of magnification.
“It seems straightforward enough; I could probably whip something up in about an hour.”
“Could you use an extra hand?”
Ju-Long shot her a juvenile smile and replied, “Always.”
•
Fragments of pulverized stone crumbled beneath Saturn’s leather boots. There was a chill in the air and the strange properties of
the moon’s atmospheric pressure made her feel like her ears were in constant need of popping. She rotated her jaw underneath her respirator mask, careful not to agitate the seal. Saturn adjusted the pair of straps over her shoulders which slung a compressed air tank between her scapulae. The tank was relatively heavy even in the reduced gravity of Narra’s second moon. She rubbed her left shoulder over her rough leather jacket where Nix had injected her with a preventative radiation shot. The three ribs on the jacket’s shoulder pads helped alleviate the weight of the tank, but did little to dull the pain of the shot. She could feel a deep ache spreading from the injection site down toward her elbow. Saturn stopped a moment to try to rub out the pain.
The night would be short-lived. Narra’s giant green presence was unavoidable in the sky amidst the stars. The sun lit up part of the first moon off to Saturn’s right, illuminating its icy surface. Veins of blue and purple coursed along its surface, varicose mysteries coloring the ice. The first moon must not have made a good candidate for terraforming, though, looking around the decimated surface of Narra’s second moon, she hardly thought the ruined colony more hospitably than the ball of ice in the sky.
Saturn’s eyes lowered from the sky and found Nix.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Saturn asked her companion, her voice muffled by her respirator mask.
Nix stopped and replied, “The colonists on this moon were part of an ancient order. They were mostly left alone for the duration of the war, until the very end that is.”
Saturn continued to walk slowly down what remained of a stone pathway. Through her mask she noticed the stale smell of the moon. For the first hundred meters of their walk away from the ship she thought it was just her aging respirator. The scent was almost ashy and made her nose tingle. She tried her best to ignore it and refocused on her companion.
“An ancient order of what exactly?”
Among the dilapidated ruins was a pillar which stood mostly intact, rising beyond the thick mist. Curling around the weathered stone were depictions of countless beasts and a few crude carvings of what Saturn assumed were Dinari men.
“They were the guardians of the sacred tomes. The histories of my people, as well as those of the Ansarans and the Kraven. They called themselves the Sentinels.”
Saturn thought back to their brief encounter on Garuda’s moon.
“Are they anything like the Disciples of Re?”
Nix shook his head, eyes focused on the ruins beyond.
“Some of the source material may be the same, but the interpretations are anything but. The Disciples of Re worship the many suns of this galaxy. They believe that the mythical beasts you see before you were the creations of those stars, some sent to maintain order, others to cause chaos, but always to maintain a certain balance.”
“And the Sentinels?”
Nix continued past the pillar and up a crude path between two demolished stone buildings. Saturn hurried to keep up with him, cursing her shorter legs.
Nix continued, “The Sentinels worshipped the beasts as gods. The Garuda was once thought of as the god of the wind. The Kasha as the god of death. There were countless others.”
“Why would the Ansarans destroy a site of worship?”
Nix stopped and turned to face her.
“I never said they did.”
Saturn paused and stared at her companion with a quizzical expression. Nix averted his eyes, shame coloring his features and feeding into the dark lines of his face.
“The Dinari?” she asked incredulously.
“It’s complicated,” was his only reply.
“Un-complicate it.”
Saturn could feel the pain in Nix’s eyes.
“The Sentinels were made up of Dinari and Ansarans alike, equal for the most part. The Sentinels objected when a group of Dinari decided to imprison some of the legendary beasts within the Corsairs. Ultimately, it was the very beasts they worshipped who delivered the crushing blow.”
Nix shook his head and turned his back to her.
“The Corsairs did this?” Saturn asked, examining the ruins around her with increased scrutiny.
“The Corsairs, yes,” Nix affirmed, “And my father among them.”
17
“You never talk about your parents,” Saturn observed.
“They were killed by the Phage just before the end of the war. My father was a pilot.”
“Of The Garuda?”
Nix nodded solemnly.
“That’s why it’s so attached to you.”
He nodded once more, eyes avoiding Saturn’s gaze.
“What is it?” she asked.
Nix scoffed through his mask.
“Look around, Saturn. There’s a reason I’ve never come to this place. It’s not exactly the finest moment in Dinari history.”
Saturn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sure he did what he had to do. War brings out the desperation in all of us.”
“Desperation...” Nix began, “That’s one way to put it. Shortly after this attack the Corsairs rallied against Ansara. When my father showed up in Garuda Colony several weeks later he was a broken man and branded a coward. Everyone who knew him assumed he’d fled, leaving his brethren to die. I was too young to realize it at the time, but in retrospect he seemed relieved when the sickness took hold.”
Nix brushed her hand away.
“I never wanted to believe what they said about him. In my head I always defended him. But what if they were right? What if he really was a coward?”
Saturn stared at the ground around her dusty boots, unsure of how best to console her friend.
Finally, she reassured him, “If there’s one thing I know it’s that no one really knows what happened on that day. I’ve heard the story told a dozen different ways from a dozen different people. We don’t even know what truly happened here, do we?”
Nix turned, his dark pupils retreating to thin slits.
“What are you saying?”
Saturn thought a moment, and then continued, “We might not ever know what happened when the Corsairs attacked Ansara, but we might be able to find out what really happened to this moon.”
“Perhaps,” Nix said, contemplation shading every movement of his expressive eyes. He motioned down the rugged path, “This way.”
•
Sparks flew as Ju-Long shaped the piece of metal he needed. The orange embers quickly faded away on the cold floor of the cargo bay. Ju-Long turned off the torch and raised his dark goggles up to his forehead. His face was filthy except for the circular rings around his eyes where his specs had just been. There, a clean line formed against his deeply-tanned skin, in steep contrast to the soot and grease soaked into the rest of his face.
Ju-Long picked up his steel cup from one of the nearby crates and took a sip. The liquid burned his throat and even irritated his eyes from mere proximity. Just the way he liked it. He let out a sigh and placed the cup back on the edge of the cargo container. Getting a little fire in his stomach helped to relieve the sting in both his hands. He checked the bloody wrap around his left hand where the Ansaran had bit him with pointed teeth. The Nerva Plant had done a decent job of closing the wound, but the pain was little changed.
“I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” Astrid observed from her place sitting upon one of the larger yellow crates.
“It’s not the same as the stuff I used to make. Called it Starlight because it’d sear the throat like the worst kind of sunburn. Still,” he said, motioning to his little cup with his outstretched index finger and letting out a short laugh, “It gets the job done.”
Astrid gave him a small smile and then leaned back, using her hands to prop herself up. Her eyes wandered around the room with a certain curiosity. She’d spent about fifteen minutes sorting through various crates, helping to find the components Ju-Long needed. Once she’d put the cargo bay back together she’d grown bored.
“What is it?” Ju-Long asked.
She eyed him curiously and responded, “What do you mean?”
“You just look like you’re someplace else.”
Astrid smirked and let her legs sway off the crate like a child. She held an air of nostalgia in her expression.
“I was just thinking about Taleris; about Caretaker Ruen.”
Ju-Long nodded and examined his work on the connector.
After a moment, he asked, “Do you miss it?”
Astrid let out a sharp laugh and wiped a tear from the corner of her left eye.
“You saw it. There was nothing there for me. Taleris is a dead world and as far as I care the lot of them can go ahead and die too; my uncle included.”
Ju-Long eyed her quizzically.
“And yet...”
“And yet here I am thinking about it,” Astrid finished his thought for him. “It was my home. For the most part, I grew up there. I can’t ever go back.”
“You’re not the only one without a home anymore,” Ju-Long reminded her.
“I know,” Astrid said and then rose from the cargo crate. She continued, “How much longer on that connector?”
Ju-Long examined his work so far and then inspected the sensor array.
“It’s almost ready. Do you want to go down to the engine room? I have a feeling this thing is going to take a little more juice than the old array, we’ll have to create a workaround.”
“Juice?” Astrid asked, confused.
Her translation chip must not have understood that one, Ju-Long thought.
“Power,” he clarified.
“A strange expression.”
Ju-Long laughed and conceded, “I guess it is.”
Astrid gave him a pity laugh before making her way to the entrance of the engine room. She opened the hatch and descended the steep staircase. Ju-Long watched her leave. He loved that part. Smiling, he pulled his goggles back down over his eyes, the dark tint limiting his field of view. Ju-Long sparked the torch and went back to work.
18
“Ju-Long, do you read?” Saturn said, making sure her earpiece was in place.
The Lost Corsair (The Corsair Uprising Space Opera Series Book 4) Page 7
