by E. R. Torre
B’taav was back on his feet. He ran to the desert transport and crouched behind it before moved around. His gun drawn, he searched for Latitia. She was at the front of the transport, sitting on the floor.
In her hand was a strange weapon, a handgun the likes of which B’taav had never seen before.
A few feet away from her was a dark form. At first B’taav thought it was a pile of refuse left behind years before. He then realized it had the shape of a human body. It was the other person from the cruiser. His body was completely incinerated.
“Are you OK?” B’taav asked. His voice was hoarse.
Latitia looked the Independent over. She noted the bruising and cuts on his neck.
“The other one grabbed you?” she asked.
B’taav felt his neck. The tips of his fingers were wet with blood.
“Yeah,” he said. “Hurts like hell. It’s not bleeding all that much.”
B’taav examined Latitia’s left leg. The fabric of her jumpsuit was charred from the fusion blast.
“You’re injured,” he said.
B’taav removed the fabric to get a better look at the wound. Instead of flesh, he found metal.
“What…?” he managed before Latitia violently pulled him to the ground.
As he fell, B’taav spotted their second pursuer. The creature was only feet away. The skin on its face was falling away in strips, bloody yet strangely bloodless. It roared as Latitia’s gun came up.
She fired her weapon only once, sending a cascade of light and electrified heat. It enveloped the creature and stopped it in its tracks. What was left of its flesh caught fire. The dark matter below it released clouds of steam and energy spikes.
In a second it was over.
The creature remained upright yet its body was completely charred. It looked like a strange, black statue, its composition identical to the charred remains of its partner.
Latitia calmly put her gun away. She got to her feet and offered B’taav her hand. As she helped B’taav up, she noticed he was shaking.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” B’taav said. “I feel cold.”
Latitia looked him over. She checked the cut that caused the bleeding on his neck.
“That thing cut you?”
“Yes,” B’taav said. His teeth chattered.
“You might be infected,” Latitia said.
21
Latitia helped B’taav back into the desert transport.
She drove it out of the abandoned church, down the brick stairs, and back on to the road before coming to a stop next to their pursuer’s cruiser. She drew her strange weapon and aimed it.
“What are you…?” B’taav said.
Latitia opened fire, sending energy blasts at the empty vehicle. They hit the engine, tires, and trunk. She moved the desert transport in closer and aimed at the cruiser’s interior before firing one last time.
That shot set off a series of sparks which enveloped the cruiser’s console and seats and left behind the smell of burnt plastic. The sparks flamed out and all that was left were ashen shapes.
“It looks like… like those people,” B’taav said.
“Not people,” Latitia said.
She put her gun away.
“Are you like them?” B’taav asked and pointed to her metal leg.
“Just that part,” Latitia said.
She drove down the street, leaving the decay and eventually entering the desert.
B’taav didn’t know where Latitia was taking him and, at the moment, didn’t feel like asking. His body temperature swung wildly, alternatively producing sweats and chills.
All the while, Latitia kept a steady course due west.
After a half hour of travel, B’taav felt a little better. By then it was pitch black and they were deep within the desert.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“There.”
In the distance and at the edge of the desert transport’s lights were the remains of a weathered private star port. It consisted of three structures: A hanger, a landing pad, and a small, rusted out building. Latitia drew close, eventually entering the port’s perimeter and parking their transport beside the hanger.
Latitia exited and walked to the passenger door. She opened it and offered B’taav her hand.
“I can do this,” B’taav said.
He grasped the side of the door and tried to pull himself out but was too weak. He clenched his teeth and tried again. This time he exited, though his legs shook. He looked up. The door leading into the hanger was ten feet away.
“You should have parked closer,” he said.
Latitia laughed. She again offered her hand.
B’taav took it.
Despite the building’s wear, the door into the hanger had a state of the art security pad. Latitia pressed her right hand against it and, after confirming her identity, the heavy door slid open.
Within the hanger was a large private shuttle craft. There were markings on its body identifying it as belonging to Merrick Industries.
“Did… did Merrick let you borrow her?”
“He isn’t the borrowing type.”
Latitia reached into the pocket of her black jumpsuit and pulled out a remote control unit. She pressed a series of buttons and the craft’s outer lights came on. After a few seconds, its entry door uncoupled and slid open. A walkway extended to the ground.
Latitia helped B’taav up and into the shuttle.
The ship’s upper deck was spacious. A group of seats were arranged in a neat row on either side allowing for a total of twenty passengers. At the end of this deck was a door leading to the cockpit.
With Latitia’s help, B’taav walked past the passenger compartment and into the cockpit. The shuttle contained the most modern of comforts and a small but effective defensive array.
“How fast is she?”
“She has a Pegasus IV motor,” Latitia said. “You tell me.”
“We’re going to need that kind of power for where we’re going?”
“Probably.”
B’taav slid into the co-pilot’s chair and Latitia sat next to him. She pressed a button on the main console and the walkway retracted while the outer doors closed and sealed. The distinct sound of compartment pressurization was heard as Latitia pressed another series of buttons and checked the shuttle’s status.
Satisfied all was in order, she left her seat and reached for the Medi-Kit strapped to the side of the cockpit controls. She opened the small case and looked over the medication before pulling out a hypodermic shooter.
“What is that?” B’taav muttered.
“A tranquilizer. Should ease the pain.”
She injected him.
“What… what was I infected with?”
“I’m not sure,” Latitia said.
“You have some idea.”
“That’s about all I have,” Latitia said. “Rest.”
“Will I live?”
“You better.”
Latitia strapped B’taav in and did the same for herself.
She then gripped the shuttle’s controls and the craft rolled out of the hangar. It gained considerable speed before going airborne and sailing above the Onian sands. Moments later it was past the range of the Capital’s scanners.
Latitia pulled at the controls and the ship made a sharp turn straight up. The night sky cleared with each passing second until they were in outer space.
By the time the shuttle approached the Onian Displacer, B’taav was sleeping.
Three ships waited just outside the Displacer for their turn to depart. The last of the three was the Solaris.
Latitia approached that craft but kept her distance. She opened her communication systems and allowed a pre-recorded message to play. The message had no words, only a burst of seemingly random static.
A dark craft suddenly appeared near the Solaris’s bow. The ship was unlike any in either the Phaecian or Epsillon Empire. She had no light
s or identification marks and did not show up on any of the Merrick shuttle’s sensors.
The ship was lying in wait, as if to ambush the Solaris. It approached that craft until it was directly below her. By then the Solaris was next in line to enter the Displacer. As she moved forward, the dark craft mimicked her movements. The Onian Displacer came on. Its hollow center turned into a field of high intensity energy. Thousands upon thousands of white hot arcs flared within and ran back and forth along the Displacer’s rectangular frame.
The Solaris and her unseen shadow gained speed as they moved directly into the Displacer’s center. One moment they were there and the electrical arcs blasted with unimaginable energy.
The next, the Solaris and her companion were gone and the electrical blast in the hollow center of the Displacer disappeared.
“What was that craft? Who is following… following…”
Latitia was surprised to find B’taav awake. Despite his drowsiness, he tried to reach for the radio controls.
“They’re with us,” Latitia said as she gently grabbed his hand. “They’ll make sure Maddox and Nathaniel have no difficulties.”
“I’ve never seen… never seen a ship like that.”
“Sit back and relax.”
B’taav did as told while Latitia activated the communication controls.
“Onia Displacer, this is Merrick Shuttle Three One Five. Request transport.”
“Acknowledged,” the Onian Displacer replied. “Standing by for coordinates.”
Latitia pressed a series of keys and leaned back in her chair. Soon, the Displacer would re-activate for them.
“Where are we going?” B’taav asked.
“Our eventual destination is Pomos.”
“Pomos?” B’taav repeated, bewildered. “Isn’t that planet off limits? It’s a… a lifeless husk.”
“The planet is off limits,” Latitia said. “But it’s hardly lifeless.”
22
The derelict craft was little more than a speck of dust lost in the infinite cosmos.
Inquisitor Cer spent the first day after the explosion in the decompression chamber. She had limited access to the ship’s computers, but what she could glean from the readouts available to her was unmistakable: The Xendos was dead. There was no atmosphere beyond the decompression chamber’s doors. Neither was there artificial gravity or heat. The only section of the ship that was still habitable was the decompression chamber itself.
Yet bitter cold seeped into the chamber by the second and Inquisitor Cer was forced to increase the heat. For a while the heaters worked but it didn’t take long before the decompression chamber’s systems started failing. By the end of that day, Inquisitor Cer was back in her space suit. She had the suit’s storage tanks suck in what atmosphere remained in the chamber. The process would take several hours.
She slept.
The next day, when all traces of atmosphere were safely removed and stored in her suit’s tanks, Inquisitor Cer opened the decompression chamber doors. Beyond them was darkness. Inquisitor Cer turned on her helmet’s lights and shined them down the corridor. She found Deveri and Loalla’s still tied corpses floating at the rear of the passageway. She removed their ropes and took their bodies back to the decompression chamber where she pulled out a pair of body bags from a storage compartment. She sealed their bodies within the bags and offered a prayer for their lost souls.
Inquisitor Cer then made her way to the cockpit.
The cockpit and its complement of instrument panels were in pristine shape. She tried starting the central computers from there but couldn’t. A few internal sensors were active and displayed minimal to negligible energy readings. It was impossible to start the ship. Inquisitor Cer turned her attention to the Comm systems. They, like the central computers, were offline. There wasn’t enough energy to power them.
Inquisitor Cer left the cockpit and made her way to the forward lounge. She found Overlord Octo’s frozen corpse where she last saw him and still seated at his moment of death. His head was bent down as if taking a short nap. Inquisitor Cer searched him, looking for the homing beacon she knew all Overlords carried. Because their travel routes were kept secret, these beacons were used in case of emergencies. They emitted a signal powerful enough to show on any approaching Phaecian vessel Comm systems.
Inquisitor Cer did not find the beacon on him.
She stepped back and thought of offering a prayer for the Overlord’s soul.
She didn’t.
Inquisitor Cer left the forward deck and moved to the back of the ship and down the stairs to the cabin corridor. There, she found the floors and walls were warped. Debris, some as small as a speck of sand, floated throughout. Inquisitor Cer moved forward to Overlord Octo’s room. The warping in the corridor became more pronounced as she approached.
She stopped before what remained of the door leading into the Overlord’s room.
More than half of it was gone, ripped apart by the force of the explosion and sucked back into the room. Inquisitor Cer pushed at the door’s remains, trying to get it fully open but was unable to. She gave up and leaned down to look through the cracks.
The room was a mess.
This was ground zero, the place where Overlord Octo planted the device meant to destroy the Xendos and kill everyone on board.
On the opposite side of the room was a gaping hole and beyond it the darkness of outer space. Given the hole’s size, it was a miracle the explosion hadn’t destroyed the entire vessel. Other than a half-blasted cot and a desk, both of which were bolted to the floor, almost everything else that was once within the room was sucked out.
The engine room lay below Overlord Octo’s cabin and between breaks in the floor Inquisitor Cer spotted sheared coolant and fuel lines.
“You picked a good spot,” Inquisitor Cer said before heading downstairs.
The damage to the engine room was as bad as she feared.
Along with the destroyed coolant and fuel lines there was considerable damage to several crucial computer components. Without them, there was no way to get the engine running.
And yet, the ship was still in one piece.
“They don’t make ‘em like they used to,” Inquisitor Cer muttered before heading back upstairs.
Inquisitor Cer respectfully stored the last of the three corpses in the decompression chamber’s storage locker.
She made a quick inventory of her spare oxygen tanks and food rations. There was enough food for three weeks but only a week’s worth of air.
Inquisitor Cer grabbed the two space suits she took from the charging rack and hung them back up. There were five suits hanging on the rack and, with the ship dead, they would no longer charge. Inquisitor Cer took a replacement battery from a storage drawer and hooked it to the rack’s system. She then discharged all the spare space suits’ remaining energy and transferred it to the replacement battery.
While the rack transferred the energy, Cer checked the remaining charge in her suit. She had a little less than twelve hours’ worth. She then removed and checked the replacement battery’s charge.
The total charge amounted to three more days’ worth of energy.
On the plus side, you don’t have to worry about starving or suffocating, Inquisitor Cer grimly thought.
She took the replacement battery with her and left the Decompression chamber. There was little to do but make a second, more detailed examination of the damage to the craft.
Maybe there’s something I missed.
For over an hour Inquisitor Cer examined the ruptured coolant and fuel lines before retreating to the storage rooms next to the engine room. She searched for any spare pieces of equipment she could use to fix at least a portion of the damage.
She searched through the boxes and equipment in increasing desperation and found a few tubes and tinsel patches. Not nearly enough.
Inquisitor Cer eventually left the storage room and returned to the cockpit. She more thoroughly examined the communication
equipment while eying her replacement battery. It was possible to wire the battery directly to the communication system and bring it back to life. She could then send an emergency signal.
The problem was that these older panels were notoriously inefficient. They would drain the battery’s charge very quickly. Too quickly for her to use the battery on her suit.
Cer faced two equally grim options.
She could use the replacement battery on herself and survive three days with the hope that a vessel would find and rescue her or she could use the battery to send out a distress signal and hope it was answered before the twelve hours of energy remaining in her suit was gone.
“Damned if you do,” she muttered.
In the end, there was only one option.
Let’s get this over with.
It took Inquisitor Cer an hour of her increasingly precious time to connect the replacement battery to the Xendos’ control panel. Once done, Inquisitor Cer checked the connections. All appeared good.
Inquisitor Cer reached down and flipped a switch.
At first, nothing happened.
A few seconds passed.
A sliver of fear passed through Cer’s body. Was the equipment too damaged for even—
Abruptly, the lights came on and the Xendos’ Comm center was alive. Inquisitor Cer accessed the communication system and tried to send out a distress signal.
The controls were frozen.
She continued working, her despair growing with each wasted second. Again and again she tried to send off a distress signal yet couldn’t.
Did Overlord Octo sabotage this as well?
The emergency communication system was designed to be both simple and foolproof yet she couldn’t get it to work. Inquisitor Cer pulled the Comm panel up and checked the circuitry below. All seemed to be in order. She laid the panel back down and pressed more buttons.
Something to her right sparked. She turned her head just as the replacement battery’s connections melted.
