by J. J. Green
“I’m not an idiot, Lingiari.”
“Try to stay in contact.”
“I’ll try. But I’ll be okay. I’m sure. I just hope I see something worth the trip.”
The pilot seemed to have run out of objections and reminders. After a last check outside at the barren, empty landscape, and the structure in the distance, Jas climbed into the harness she’d fixed to AX7, and fastened herself in. Feeling like a very large baby in its mother’s sling, she commanded the unit to climb out of the access hatch and down to the ground. She had a backpack of supplies in case she had to spend the night on the surface, but she hoped to be back before dark.
The unit maneuvered through the hatch, carrying her on its back. Jas commanded AX12 to follow.
“Good luck,” said Flux.
Though Jas had encountered aliens who could communicate in English, she couldn’t get used to the creature’s Australian accent. “Err...thanks.”
“Lee says good luck, too,” said Lingiari.
AX7 began to work its way down the metal skin of the starship.
“You’ve been talking to her?” There was that strange feeling twisting in her stomach again.
Lingiari leaned out of the hatch and looked down at her. “She likes the company.”
Jas had meant to go and spend some time with Lee, too, but she’d had so much to do. “Great. Say hi for me.” She had an afterthought. “And ask her if she can think of anything, any ideas that might help us.”
“Yeah, she’s already working on it.” The pilot’s head and shoulders were silhouetted against the brightening morning sky.
AX7 developed a steady rhythm as it climbed down the ship’s side, its movements sure and steady. Jas rested her forehead against the android’s broad back. Its skin and combat suit were one and the same thing, which meant that, though the androids were part-organic, no warmth radiated from them. Nonetheless, Jas found the smooth surface oddly soothing. She closed her eyes and waited for AX7 to reach the ground.
After a short while, she looked up toward the access hatch. Lingiari had gone, and the hatch was closed. Jas was uneasy at leaving the crew alone, even with defense units to protect them, but she’d decided that not knowing what faced them was a greater threat.
The planet’s sun rose as Jas and the units descended. When she finally reached the surface, Jas did her best to ignore the blackened remains of the officers’ bodies. Though in one sense, she was relieved that they were still there. She’d feared that, zombie-like, they might rise from the dead, the aliens that had inhabited them somehow re-animating the burnt corpses.
The two defense units set off. As they ran, Jas wondered what the creatures that had possessed the officers looked like. If they could inhabit another species, were they some kind of liquid that could enter and take up residence in the brain and nervous system? Or were they a powder that the officers had unknowingly breathed in? Her experiences with the alien life forms she’d encountered so far had taught her that, no matter what her expectations were, reality would exceed them.
By the time she and the units had arrived at the structure, Jas was sore from AX7’s jarring gait. She gratefully unclipped herself and slid to the ground. After taking a moment to stretch and return the sensation to her numb extremities, she lowered the visor on her helmet and instructed the defense units to ready their weapons and enter, assess, and survey. They went in. When they gave the all-clear, Jas followed.
She went after them as they cleared each empty room in turn and progressed deeper into the structure. Lacking the units’ tracking function, she realized that any humans who traveled through the many rooms within the building would become seriously lost. But none of the RA teams were supposed to have done more than check out the exteriors. That had been her recommendation. Unless Loba had ignored even that?
Her headlight had switched itself on, and along with the defense units,’ it swept the bare, dark gray walls. Her auditory system was picking up no noise other than the tramp of their boots. She brought up the ship’s scanner image on the interior of her visor, showing the path to where the dark blob lay beneath them. It grew larger and drifted in and out of view as they worked their way toward it.
It wasn’t until they were quite close that she realized how much larger it was than the rooms they were passing through. The dark blob loomed massively on her screen. It was only a representation of the recording, so the details didn’t become more refined the closer they got.
Finally, she understood that the blob must lie in the next room. Her muscles tensed.
She waited, listening. No sound or light came through the entrance. She told the defense units to ready their weapons. AX7 went in, followed by AX12.
“All clear, C.S.O Harrington.”
Jas stepped through.
The thing that lay before her was only partially exposed. One side of it protruded from broken rock. They had reached the very bottom of the structure, and the gray walls had finally disappeared. They were in some kind of cavern.
She went over to the thing she’d been seeking. It looked so out of place in that underground environment that it took her some time to recognize it for what it was. She ran a gloved hand over the surface. It was ridged and metallic, and at one time it had probably been very strong. The species that had created it must have been visual, she realized, as there were many reinforced windows giving tantalizing glimpses of the interior.
“ AX7,” said Jas, “can you comm a unit aboard the Galathea?”
“No, C.S.O. Harrington. We are down too deep. I have not been able to contact defense units aboard the Galathea for some time.”
Jas would have to wait until she returned to the surface to tell the others that she’d found what looked like the remains of an alien starship.
Chapter Ten
Karrev had stolen a fancy, pure silk bag in which to carry the bottle of mythranil, but that was the least of his work since securing the drug as his, and his alone. He’d made sure that Micah had an unfortunate accident in the engine. Dr. Sparks’ tests on what remained of the body had found alcohol in his blood, so it wasn’t difficult to conclude that the man had climbed into an engine access hatch while intoxicated, and slipped and fallen.
Karrev had also bribed two guards with a couple of drops of the precious myth for access to the small armory. He’d passed two of the weapons he purloined to a couple of burly friends and promised them a once-a-month run in return for their services. The rest of the weapons were to be distributed to those who would go along with his plan.
Now, he had to get the support of a sizeable proportion of the crew. Most of them were like him—only basically modded, or even naturals. Shut out of the circles in which society’s elites moved, their hard lives were made more bearable by regularly resorting to narcotics. They would be familiar with the rumors about myth, though few would have had the money or opportunity to try it. He could offer them the prospect of hours of bliss in return for simply switching allegiance from their current masters to him.
And now that Harrington was off the ship, it should be simple to take control.
He’d put out the word: anyone who was unhappy with the current situation was to meet in the auditorium at a certain hour. Karrev hadn’t been surprised when he saw the large turnout. Morale was low. There’d been no mention of getting off the planet, or a rescue ship. All they’d heard from the higher-ups was work, work, work; do this, do that. Meanwhile, it was getting colder, and everyone knew the food wouldn’t last forever.
When it looked like no one else was coming, Karrev stepped up to the podium and ordered that the doors be shut. The room buzzed. He held up a hand for silence. He would let his greatest asset do the talking for him. He pulled apart the strings of his bag, reached in, and took out the bottle. As he held it up, the assembled crew members exhaled as one. But Karrev didn’t achieve the shock factor he was hoping for. Word had gotten out. “He really does have myth,” said a voice. “I never believed it till now.”
“Found,” someone said. “That’s a good way of putting it.”
Karrev smiled. “It was there for the taking. Finders keepers, as they say. But it can be yours, too, if you follow me.”
The shipmates Karrev had persuaded to be his bodyguards stood on either side of him, gripping their weapons.
“I don’t know,” said an older woman. “Even if it is myth, that doesn’t mean we should do what you say.”
“Haven’t you heard what this stuff does?” a member of the audience retorted. “A few tiny drops is worth a mission bonus to the likes of us. What must the run be like? Use your imagination.”
“Yeah, I’m too old for all that. Keep your drugs. I’m going to bed.” The woman walked off, and the rest of the audience shifted restlessly.
A hand rose. It was the hand of a short, round man, who was a sanitation worker. “I used to deal in such things. I’ve sold myth in my time, though I’ve never seen so much all at once. Could I have a look?”
Karrev hesitated. He’d assumed the stuff was myth, or else why would Loba have hidden it so well? But he didn’t know for sure. If he didn’t let the man look at it, however, he would lose all credibility.
“’Course. Come up here. Help yourself,” he said expansively.
The crowd opened to let the man through. Reluctance gripping him, Karrev handed over the bottle. The man held it up to the light before turning it on its side and watching the liquid as it flowed. Lastly, he opened the bottle and held it under his nose. Closing his eyes, he sniffed deeply. Immediately, he staggered, and Karrev snatched the bottle from him. He firmly screwed the lid on and frowned.
The man’s eyes glazed over. They rolled back in his head, and he collapsed gracefully, his knees leading the way, followed by his tubby body and limp arms. A few hands half-heartedly caught him and broke his fall.
Karrev said nothing, allowing the spectacle of the chubby man to speak for him. He raised the myth in his right hand, and the crowd cheered. As the shouts and whoops died away, he cut through the fading noise. “If you want a taste of this, you do what I say, right?”
The audience gave their assent loudly.
“First,” said Karrev, “we take the ship!”
Chapter Eleven
Sayen looked identical to how she’d been when Carl had last left her. Cushioned on a water-filled base in her stasis container, which undulated gently to help prevent pressure sores, she lay under a sheet. Beneath the sheet, tubes had been inserted into her body to maintain its temperature and systems at a level that kept her just alive. Her arms were above the sheet, with her palms face down, and her head was resting to one side. Her mouth was slightly open, and a thin line of drool ran from the corner.
Carl pulled his sleeve over his hand and wiped the spittle away. Sayen’s hair was growing out of its short-cropped style. He felt like he’d got to know the woman better in the last few days than he had in all the previous months aboard ship. Her exclusive modding, private schooling, and privileged upbringing in her family’s large home in the southern United States among nannies and servants could not have contrasted more with his rough-and-tumble childhood in rural New South Wales, Australia.
Sayen had told the pilot many stories, such as tales of dinner parties her parents had held, where they’d served strange, imported, alien foods to impress their wealthy guests. Sayen had been expected to try each of them without making a face, probably to demonstrate to her parents’ friends how sophisticated she was, when really her favorite thing to eat was a PBJ sandwich. Other stories recalled the amazing trips she’d taken, like the time she’d flown in her parents’ private jet to the beach just for the day, only to be told she couldn’t play in the sand in case she got dirty or hurt herself.
In turn, Carl had related his childhood tales—how his first memory was of flying, strapped into his dad’s twin-engine. He could remember his dad’s head outlined against a brilliant blue sky, the roar of the engine, and the wind taking his breath from him. His second memory was of sitting on a horse’s back, gripping its mane in chubby fingers, while his mum walked it on a lead around the paddock. All his childhood, he seemed to have been moving in one way or another. Telling Sayen about it all had brought back the memories vividly. He’d felt a sudden urge to see his parents’ sunburned, wrinkled faces again and feel the hot Australian sun on his back.
“Are you still there, Carl?” came the electronic voice that conveyed Sayen’s thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry, I drifted off for a bit. How are you doing?”
“I’ve been thinking about Harrington’s trip to the alien structure and the infection mechanism. You know, I think she’ll be okay.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Carl.
“Well, we can guess the defense units didn’t get infected because they aren’t human, but the only difference between the LIVs she conducted and Margret and Loba’s encounter with the structures, as far as we know, is that she was wearing a combat suit. Margret and the rest of the RA teams wore Polestar uniforms, which means their skin was exposed. I’m wondering if it’s something to do with physical contact with one of the alien buildings. If someone touches a structure, maybe it triggers a reaction, reads their DNA, which results in the infection. If I’m right, providing she stays suited up, she should be safe.”
“That makes sense. I’ll comm her to tell her. Do you think I can speak to her through one of the defense units in here powering your stasis?”
“I reckon so.”
Carl went to nearest unit to read its designation. “AX1, can you comm one of the units out with Harrington?”
“Pilot Lingiari, do you mean can I communicate with AX7 or AX12?”
“Yeah. Could you tell them to pass her a message?”
“I can. Would you like me to comm AX7 or AX12?”
“AX7’ll do. Tell it to tell Harrington not to take off her combat suit. She shouldn’t touch the walls with her bare skin. Can you ask it to tell her that?”
“Do not take off your combat suit. Do not touch walls with your bare skin. Is that the message?”
“Yep, that’s it.”
Flux swept into the room. “Lingiari, you better get out. There’s trouble on the way, mate.”
Shouts and laughter came from the corridor.
“Urgent report, Pilot Lingiari,” said AX1.
“What’s going on?” asked Sayen.
“What’s happening, AX1?” Carl asked.
“Weapons have been discharged in the storeroom, on the flight deck, and in the living quarters. Units are awaiting instructions.”
“What?” Krat. “AX1, tell the units to go to the conflict areas and...I don’t know, stun the fighters. Anyone holding a weapon. Except each other.”
“Affirmative, Pilot Lingiari.” The unit lifted its hands to the cable running from its chest to the stasis unit. The three other units powering the stasis system did the same.
“Whoa, hold on. All units in here, what are you doing?”
“AX1 has relayed your message to all units, and we are going to the nearest conflict area,” all four responded at once.”
“No, not you guys. Don’t disconnect, we need you to power the stasis. All defense units in this room, disregard my previous order.”
The units unplugged their cables.
“Wait, what the hell are you doing?” exclaimed Carl.
“Pilot Lingiari, you commanded that we disregard your previous order,” said the units. “Your previous order was not to disconnect ourselves, so we have ignored that order.”
“Arghhh...NO. All defense units in this room, reconnect your power supply to the stasis system.” They did as they were instructed, and Carl closed his eyes in relief. “All units in this room, do not disco
nnect yourselves, I repeat, DO NOT disconnect yourselves from the stasis system unless it’s at my order. Is that clear?”
“Affirmative, Pilot Lingiari,” they said. “We will not disconnect ourselves from the stasis system unless we receive a command from an officer ranking higher than pilot.”
“Good.” It would have to do, and he was the highest ranking officer aboard, wasn’t he? Harrington had said so.
Chapter Twelve
Karrev hadn’t included the defense units in his plan, and he regretted it bitterly. His instructions to his followers had been simple: secure the supplies and order anyone who wasn’t already his supporter to declare their allegiance to him. If they refused, they were to be brought to him there, in the auditorium, stunned if necessary. He’d planned on taking great pleasure in forcing them to accept him as their new master.
But those great, hulking beasts, more robot than human, couldn’t be coerced. The minute that news of his takeover had gotten out, someone had ordered them to squash his rebellion, and they were doing it in their usual efficient style. How could he have been so stupid? Listening to the sounds of weapon fire in the corridors, Karrev took out the bottle of myth and gazed at it. What wouldn’t he give to inject just a drop or two and escape this mess he’d created. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
But myth offered only a temporary answer to his problems. He put the bottle away again in its silk bag. If he wanted to be master of the ship, he needed to think of a way to get control of those units for himself. Then, once they’d gotten the Galathea working again, he and his crew could roam the galaxy, discovering new planets, hijacking ships, and taking whatever they wanted. Once he had control of the defense units.
The security officer, Harrington, the one who’d put herself in charge, had gone somewhere, so it wasn’t her controlling them. Who else could it be?
