Stars & Empire: 10 Galactic Tales

by Jay Allan

  “A ship.” She tried to stand, but couldn’t. Her legs were a withered mess. And she thought being old was bad.

  “Easy now. You’ve no muscle to stand. You’ll find your arms are a little stronger than your legs, since they move from time to time in the pod-dream. The hands clench and unclench, and whatnot. But your legs, well, other than the occasional kick, you haven’t used them your entire life.”

  Hoodwink wiped the sludge from her body with a towel, then grabbed a blue uniform from the duffel bag and tossed it to her. “Put this on.”

  The full body suit he gave her seemed much the same as his, with a single zipper running along the back from nape to bum. When it became clear that she wouldn’t be able to slide into the thing on her own, not while sitting on the floor, Hoodwink bounded to her side. She felt no chagrin at being naked in front of her father. It may as well have been Nurse Richard helping her.

  Hoodwink sealed the zipper, and as the suit closed, the remnants of her umbilical cord folded painfully against her stomach. She bit her lip, taking the pain. Hoodwink slid two black boots onto her feet, then retrieved a set of long metallic braces from his duffel bag. “I remember a time not so long ago when you were the one handing me toys from a duffel bag. Here.” He clamped the braces around each of her legs. “These will help until you have the strength to walk on your own.”

  She tried standing again. The braces immediately came to life and she stood in a whir of gyrating parts. She almost lost her balance when she was fully upright, and she had to grab onto Hoodwink for a moment.

  “That’s the way,” he said. “That’s the way.”

  When she released him and stood on her own, Hoodwink positively beamed. He looked her up and down. “Looking quite dapper, you are! My shit and image.”

  She frowned. “Dapper’s what you call men. And don’t you mean spit and image?”

  “That’s right! Been hanging around blasted juveniles too long.” His face seemed a little flushed, as if he were embarrassed, and he masked it by quickly glancing both ways down the corridor. “Come on then. We don’t have all that much time. A sentry golem will loop by here soon. I was lucky it didn’t get me while I was in with you. They come and pick up the dead, or those who wake-up too early. Some of them make a sport of it, and this is their hunting ground.”

  “On this so-called ship,” Ari said.

  He nodded absently, scooped the duffel bag over one shoulder, and let her hook a hand around his neck. He slid the other hand around her waist. She had so many questions, but didn’t know what to ask first. Didn’t know if she even wanted to ask them.

  So she let him lead the way in silence. Her weak legs obeyed, the tiny parts in the braces whirring away. Her knee still throbbed from the impact with the floor, but it was already getting better. If she had been in that old body of hers, the pain would have lasted for days.

  Glowing white slabs were set in the ceiling, and illuminated walls lined with more of the translucent pods. She couldn’t get over the fact that there were human shapes inside them, floating in the same sludge that had birthed her.

  “There’s so many of them,” she said. “They’re all from our city?”

  “Was wondering when you’d ask about them,” Hoodwink said. “They’re from all the cities of humanity. Or those on the Inside, anyway.”

  “How many people?”

  “I don’t know,” Hoodwink said. “Thousands. Tens of thousands. This place is one giant inn, except the travelers don’t know they’ve checked-in, and they never wake up.”

  Just then a siren wailed to life. The white slabs in the ceiling dimmed, and a rotating beacon she hadn’t noticed before began cutting a swathe of red along the corridor.

  “Pick it up, Ari,” Hoodwink said above the siren.

  She felt her heart thump in her breast. “Why? What is it?”

  “An attack.” He tightened his grip on her waist, and doubled the pace. “Not safe in the halls during an attack!”

  An incredible boom resounded and the corridor shook.

  “What was that?” she said.

  “That’s the attack.” Hoodwink dragged her along even faster. “It’s been happening since I came to this place. The halls shake, and sometimes whole sections catch fire, killing everyone. And then the attack stops, just like that.”

  “Entire sections catch fire?” She glanced at Hoodwink. “What about the pods?”

  “Fried.”

  Well, that explained why some people on the Inside suddenly dropped dead where they stood—The Drop.

  Hoodwink was pulling a little too hard now, and his wrist dug into her side. “Let go let go.” She retracted the arm she’d slung over his neck and wiggled out from her father’s grip. “I can walk on my own.”

  “Okay, but keep up.”

  Another boom. The floor shook. “Who are the attackers?” she said, joining his side. She was panting. The mechanical braces helped, true, but her body was still weak.

  “The attackers?” Hoodwink spread his arms to steady himself against the latest tremor, and he almost fell into her. “I have an idea. But I can’t tell you. Not yet. Your mind isn’t ready.”

  She let him leave it at that. The two continued onward. Each segment of hall contained its own siren, and its own beacon, so that Ari and her father were constantly bombarded by wails and spinning red lights, in addition to those unending booms.

  “Dad,” she said, a thought coming to her. “How long have you been here?”

  He pursed his lips, not slowing the pace. “Let’s see. About ten months, I think.”

  “What? But you were gone ten years.”

  He smiled gently. “I know, Ari. Time passes faster on the Inside. It always does. At least for that level of the mind.”

  “That level of the mind?” She shook her head. “You make it sound like there’s more than one Inside.”

  Hoodwink looked at her, and he seemed like he was about to tell her something, but a distant rumble shook the chamber, and he changed his mind.

  “Is this the real world or not?” she said.

  Hoodwink glanced over his shoulder. “Now’s not the time, Ari.” His voice had a strange tightness to it. “We got one on our tail. Take a look, and meet the gols of the Outside.”

  She glanced back. At the far end of the corridor she saw a shadowy, boxlike figure. It nearly filled the entire dimensions of the hallway, but in the dim light she couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

  And then one of the rotating alarm beacons shined over the figure.

  She gasped.

  It was some kind of mechanical monster.

  A steel barrel embossed with rectangles and symbols served as its torso. It rolled on treads. It had pincers for arms. She couldn’t make out the face from here, but a devious red light shone where the forehead should’ve been.

  Hoodwink grabbed her hand and pulled her onward.

  Her father abruptly froze.

  “What?” She glanced at him. “What is it? Why are you stopping?”

  Behind, the monster closed. A terrible crash shook the chamber.

  When the trembling faded, she followed Hoodwink’s gaze, and instantly she understood why he’d stopped.

  Ahead, another iron monster blocked the corridor.

  CHAPTER 22

  The second iron monster bore down on them. It was a lot closer than the one behind, and Ari could see its features in their grim entirety. The head looked similar to a sword hilt with those curved cross-guards and that central, cylindrical haft. Beneath the red light at the top of the hilt, three glass disks reflected the corridor with cold indifference.

  As she stared into those disks—the apparent eyes of the monstrosity—Ari decided that her father must live no matter what. He was too important. And she owed him her life for what he did those ten years ago when he climbed the Forever Gate in her place. She’d never been able to forgive herself for that. Never been able to thank him. Never been able to tell him she loved him.

 
She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  She’d lost her childhood memories of this man, but he was her father, her father. And that meant everything to her.

  She dug deep within herself as she’d done at crucial times in the past, seeking bravery where there was hopelessness, and fortitude where there was weakness.

  Her body didn’t disappoint. She broke ahead, using those motorized leg braces for all they were worth.

  She didn’t have lightning anymore.

  But she had courage.

  “Ari no!” Hoodwink’s voice barely carried over the pounding of her boots into the floor grill.

  The monster paused as she neared.

  Her leg braces whirred madly.

  Let’s see what these babies can do.

  She vaulted into the air when she was only a pace out from the monster. Her timing was slightly off, as could be expected from a body that had slept a lifetime. She’d wanted to kick out, and strike the monster in the head with her braces. Instead her entire body crashed sidelong into the thing. She got lucky, and one of the leg braces hit the monstrosity in the head anyway. She heard the glass disks on its head shatter.

  She landed sprawling on the floor in front of it. The wind was completely knocked out of her.

  Hoodwink was at her side almost immediately, and he dragged her away from the monster.

  It didn’t pursue.

  A thunderous boom shook the corridor.

  Hoodwink set the duffel bag down and he helped her up.

  The monstrosity still hadn’t moved. The small red light on its forehead flashed on and off in counterpoint to the rotating beacon on the ceiling.

  “Never do that again,” Hoodwink said above the siren, lifting her arm over his neck.

  “I can walk!” She forced Hoodwink away and took a step. One of the motors in her right leg whined in protest, and she felt its support give out before she set the foot down, so that her foot stamped. She took another tentative step. Again her right foot gave out at the last moment. The overall effect was to give her a nasty limp. Not to mention that her entire right leg throbbed with pain. She’d just have to manage.

  “I don’t suppose you have any healing shards in this world?” she said.

  Hoodwink remained grave. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Above the siren she could hear the rising clicks and whirs of the other monstrosity. “Hoodwink, I don’t think we have time for this…”

  But he seemed adamant, and crossed his arms. “Never do that again. Say yes. You’re too important.”

  A boom. The corridor quaked.

  “Me?” Ari said. “You’re the one who’s important. What makes me so special?”

  “You’re my daughter.”

  “Oh.” She looked away. She didn’t want him to see the tears that threatened to fall. She pressed her lips together and forced iron into her voice. “Come on dad, let’s go.” She glanced at the monster she’d smashed. “I think I killed it.”

  She started forward, but Hoodwink stopped her with a hand and a severe look. He approached the monster alone, and lifted a palm to the ruined disks. He waved two fingers back and forth. The red light continued to blink on and off above the disks, but otherwise the iron monster gave no indication it saw him.

  Hoodwink glanced at Ari, put a finger to his lips, and motioned her onward.

  She slowly eased herself into the narrow gap between the monster’s body and the wall. Up close, she saw that a series of small holes were dug into the barrel of its chest. Numbers were embossed above the holes. There was a kind of a grill in its side, and beyond that she could see the insides of the monster—different colored strings tied together in bundles. Connecting the torso to the treads was a corrugated black bag that reminded her of the material in a smith’s bellows. She realized the bag allowed the entire upper torso to turn and bend. The monster could easily crush her if it decided to swivel.

  Her gaze was drawn to the three smashed disks on its head, and the blinking light above them. Don’t look at me don’t look. The subtle whir of her leg clamps seemed all too loud in her ears. She vaguely noted that the booms of attack were coming less frequently now, and that the floor barely rumbled.

  When she was halfway past, one of the monster’s arms abruptly shot forward.

  She froze.

  The sound of her beating heart seemed louder to her than the siren. She waited. The roof beacon pulsed over her, bathing her at times in red, at others in gloom. She didn’t dare breath. Or blink.

  But the monster made no other movement.

  Death throes?

  She didn’t want to take any more chances. She took a wide, tentative step, and then squeezed through to the other side in a hurry. She spun about, expecting the worst.

  The monster remained still.

  She watched nervously as Hoodwink hoisted the duffel bag over his head and edged past. He moved a little faster than she had, but just as quietly, and in moments he was at her side.

  “Have to be careful when the light on their heads is flashing like that,” he said. “You think they’re done for, but sometimes they still strike. Oh, they strike.” He fingered his side as if remembering some injury.

  She noticed a corridor leading off from the hallway. Within, the walls and ceiling fell away. The distant roof seemed made of glass, and she saw the nighttime sky, the stars out in full. Flashes of light came in time with the distant booms she heard. The icy landscape beneath that sky looked a little odd, and was pocked with holes.

  She took a reflexive step toward the passage, but Hoodwink grabbed her arm. “No Ari. It’s this way.”

  And then she saw it. Within that offshoot corridor, along the walkway that led across the chamber, another iron monster approached.

  This one was smaller.

  Faster.

  And those pincers snapped at the air with deadly certainty.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Hood…” Ari said.

  “I see it.” Hoodwink increased his pace. “Can you still run?”

  She nodded. She noted that her father hadn’t tried to offer his neck or shoulder as a crutch. Good, he was being trained. Though maybe a crutch wasn’t such a bad idea right about now …

  She alternately limped, and ran, and limped again at a quick jog. The siren droned on.

  Hoodwink stayed by her side, purposely not running ahead. He paused beside a pod that had gone black inside, and he forced his hand into the membrane, breaking it. Black sludge vomited onto the floor. That, and a human body. The withered person—she couldn’t tell the age, or the gender—was very much dead. Most of the muck dripped through the grill onto the level below.

  “Help me lay the body across the corridor.” Hoodwink snatched the dead man’s hands.

  Ari wrinkled her nose and grabbed the feet. She could barely lift those stiff legs, and ended up dragging them. The flesh felt clammy and spongy, and she kept expecting the skin to slough right off the bone. She sincerely hoped that wouldn’t happen—she didn’t want to throw up in front of Hoodwink.

  In seconds the two had positioned the body so that it blocked most of the corridor. Hoodwink scooped up handfuls of black sludge from the pod and tossed it over the corpse. Some of the sludge spilled down the dead man’s sides and onto the grill, where it dripped like tar to the level below, but most of it remained on the body, the dark, gelatinous blobs quivering over the flesh.

  “That’ll slow our friend,” Hoodwink said.

  The two raced on. Ari kept glancing back, and she saw the smaller iron monster easily roll over the body, snapping bones and splattering the insides.

  “I don’t think it’s working…” Ari began, but then she saw sparks flying from the monster’s treads.

  “The sludge gets in the wheels of the smaller golems,” Hoodwink said. “Fucks them up. Only reason I put the body there was to hold the sludge. Hurry now, we’re almost there.”

  The corridor looked the same, as far as she could tell. There were no further si
de passages or branches, just endless pods, metal walls, flashing beacons, and that siren. That wailing siren.

  Hoodwink abruptly knelt. He jabbed his fingers into the grill, and lifted away a floor segment. Below, a ladder led down along the wall.

  “I don’t know how the hell you noticed that,” she said.

  He tapped his temple. “Smarts! And I got a bit of an eagle eye, I do!”

  “Sure dad.” Ari took the ladder. Her grip was so weak that she had to wrap her elbows around each rung rather than her fingers, and that made for a slow, awkward descent.

  Hoodwink came down after her, and he replaced the grill segment halfway down. The join was seamless, as far as she could tell, and she still wondered how he knew to lift the segment in the first place.

  “It’s just ahead, it is,” Hoodwink said.

  He led her down a hallway that seemed, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as the one she just left, the sleepers in the pods just as oblivious to her presence as those on the floor above.

  The warning siren abruptly fell silent, and Ari realized she hadn’t heard or felt any trembles in a while. The red beacon flicked off, and the white slabs in the ceiling brightened.

  “These attacks have been going on since you came here?” Ari said.

  Hoodwink nodded.

  “Why hasn’t this place crumpled into so much snowpack then?” she said.

  Hoodwink smiled. “Snowpack. Yes, it should have, by rights. But the ship has special armor, and heals between attacks. That armor can only take so many hits though, and the iron golems struggle to keep it in good shape. They’ve been falling behind, as you might’ve guessed.”

  Hoodwink stopped beside a sealed door set between two of the pods. Finally, something else besides pods and walls and pods again.

  “I’ve formed my own little group of Users here, I have.” Hoodwink pressed numbers on a pad by the door. “One or two are people who woke up a tad early, and lived. People I saved from the iron golems. The rest, well, they’re unlucky people whose worlds I ripped away. Just like I did yours.”

  “But at least you gave me warning,” Ari said. “A choice.”