by Darren Beyer
“The nuclear detonation disrupted gravity waves in the area. We need time for the waves to stabilize before we can detect anything.”
“I need positions on those inbounds.”
Jans’s eyes seemed to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. Then he smiled.
“If we can’t see them, they can’t see us. Captain, I’m going to need some help in engineering.”
Mandi’s heartbeat quickened as she prepared for the coming high g engine burn.
The captain noticed her consternation. “This isn’t your first dance, Miss Nkosi. You’ve been through these burns before.”
“Not with a few nukes bearing down on us.”
“No.” The captain forced a smile. “Not with nukes.”
A low rumble, felt as much as heard, engulfed Mandi, and she sank back into her seat. As the pull increased, her neck and back strained, and she knew the aftermath would be anything but pleasant. For long minutes, she was pinned into the memory foam. Her nose itched, and even the simple task of moving her hand to scratch it proved difficult.
Suddenly, a tangible jolt rocked the bridge. The lighting went dark, and Mandi felt a massive force slamming her backward as Dauntless’s inertial dampeners again went out. But as quickly as it hit, it was gone—as was any sensation of gravity.
After a few seconds, dull red emergency lighting kicked in. Mandi saw that the captain had released himself from his command chair and was floating to the bridge’s exit.
“What happened?” Mandi asked. “Were we hit?”
“You saw how the explosion from one of those things chasing us disrupted sensors.”
Mandi nodded.
“If a nuclear detonation has that effect, imagine what a little antimatter from our reactor can do. By the time the gravity wave distortion settles down, they’ll have no idea where we are. Mister Mikel is a very resourceful engineer.” The captain smiled from ear to ear. “It is a shame he wastes his time in management.”
“So that’s it?”
“For getting away from Ascension, yes. My journey ends when we rendezvous with the Sirius Star. Yours, I’m afraid, is just beginning.”
II
Chapter 18: Sol System, Near Saturn
I am receiving incoming communications traffic on the universal emergency frequency.”
The young Asian man who was strapped into the bridge’s command chair, spinning a pen in zero gravity, stiffened at the communications officer’s report.
He activated his comm. “Captain, please report to the bridge.” To the officer, he said, “Put the feed on speaker.”
Almost immediately, the speakers crackled to life. “—out of Saturn. We have had an explosion in our engineering section and sustained critical—” Seconds of static came through the feed. “—lost pressurization in all compartments. Our lifeboat is inoperable.” More static. “—suits with limited air supply.”
The hatch to the bridge opened, and a bald man, his face hardened by extended military service, floated through.
“Captain on the bridge,” the ship’s automated voice announced. “I have the bridge.” The captain floated to the command chair.
The junior officer unstrapped his harness and pushed clear. “You have the bridge.”
“We have casualties and require immediate assistance. This is the RS Sudak Bay on interstellar cargo run out of Saturn. We have had an explosion—”
The captain moved his hand across his neck to kill the speaker. “Do we have position and vector on the Sudak Bay?”
“Affirmative. It is part of the data stream sent with the transmission. Vector is plus thirty- two degrees off our current heading. Delta-vee, plus seventeen thousand. Orbital inclination, plus one point three. Range is four point one miks.”
The captain cocked his head. “That is close—and on a similar vector.” He paused. “Navigation, under standard thrust parameters, how much would a forty-thousand delta-vee impact our operational capabilities?”
The crewman at the nav station hunched over his panel for a few seconds, then looked back at the captain. “An engine burn to attain such a delta-vee, and the reverse to bring us back on assigned station, would consume twenty-six percent of available fuel.”
“Comms, send response on emergency frequency—tight beam.”
The communications officer fiddled with his panel, then nodded to the captain. “Sudak Bay, this is Pan Asian Alliance patrol vessel Fushun. We are within range and able to assist. We can rendezvous in approximately five days. Are your engines operational? Can you burn toward us? Also, please state cargo and destination.”
Nearly a minute passed before the response arrived—more than double the time the distance between the two ships should have dictated.
“Fushun, we are very happy to hear your voice. Our engines are inoperative. Please hurry.”
The captain looked over his shoulder to the junior officer who had called him to the bridge. “No declaration of cargo and destination. What should be our next step?”
The junior officer straightened. “Ask—no, demand they give us the information. And request manifests from the companies of both ownership and charter.”
The captain nodded. “Your suspicion is well-founded. ‘To tell half the truth is to give life to a new lie.’ Perhaps they simply omitted that information in their excitement… but perhaps it is something else altogether. Sensors, full sweep, active pattern, maximum power.”
Less than a minute later, the results returned.
“Captain, I am receiving anomalous readings.” The sensor operator squinted as if trying to read the screen in a different way. “According to the returns, there is a hyperium signature on the Sudak Bay.”
“That is to be expected. It is an interstellar transport.”
“Yes, sir—I mean, no, sir. I mean… You should probably see for yourself.”
The captain pushed himself toward the sensor station. When he saw the display, his eyes widened.
“Comms, align communications laser with fleet control. Prepare to send flash traffic, code word Lotus.”
All eyes turned toward the captain.
“Top secret.”
Chapter 19: Ouriscen, Tau Gruis System
The yellow star shined bright through the port side window of the observation cupola of the Sirius Star. On the starboard side, a wall of mottled bands of sky-blue shades slowly rotated by, split by thin, wispy white lines of what looked like clouds riding the boundaries.
Mandi watched, mesmerized by the azure rivers, as the ship orbited Tau Gruis-b, the massive fourth planet of the Tau Gruis system. Like the bow of a ship splitting the sea, a dark shade, almost a shadow, came into view just above the planet’s equator. Soon it grew into a large oval, a wash of blue and white, swirling like a hurricane as it, too, passed by.
Through the forward viewport, just above the arc of the planet, a pinpoint of white light appeared in the blackness. It slowly separated and began to grow in size and brightness.
“That’s our destination,” Jans said as he floated into the observation cupola next to Mandi. “It’s the moon Ouricsen, and the home of Ouricsen Station.”
“It’s exciting.” Mandi pulled herself closer to the viewport. “I’ve hardly been able to sleep.”
Jans’s face betrayed concern. “You’re not still…”
“Under the effects of the Anghazi?” Mandi shook her head. “No, that’s all done with. Well, mostly. It’s just, what we’re doing—where we’re going…” She pointed toward the moon. “This whole thing seems so unreal. It’s hard to believe we’re heading to an Outer Sphere base.”
“Well, it’s not technically Outer Sphere—more like middle sphere.” Jans managed a light smile. “Ouricsen lives on the edge. It’s a mining colony, but it’s also a gateway. From what we know, a lot of black market goods make their way through places like this.”
For long seconds they took in the view before Jans handed Mandi a new comm.
“This has your
new ID and name embedded in it. Practice saying it out loud a few times before we arrive. From here on out, no real names until we find Nassir.”
“Got it.” Mandi took the comm. “I’ll transfer over my files and get on it.”
“Files? No, that has to stay clean. There can be nothing linking it to AIC. What’s so important that it can’t wait a few cycles?”
“I’ve been researching the ouroboros in Norse mythology.”
Jans’s eyes lit up. “That sounds interesting, especially given my heritage. But it has to stay on the Sirius Star.”
Mandi sighed. “All right. You’re the boss.”
“I feel less like it by the day.”
Together they watched as Ouricsen drew closer. It was big as moons went, more than half again the size of Earth’s, and speckled with the same array of craters, large and small. When it came close to filling their view, a voice came across the ship-wide intercom.
“Orbital insertion burn in ten minutes. All personnel to assigned stations.”
“That’s our cue,” Jans said. He pushed off the top of the cupola and disappeared below.
Mandi took one last apprehensive look at the gray surface of the approaching moon before following Jans. Just as he left the observation area, Jans caught himself on the hatch and turned back to Mandi.
“Where does it show up?”
Mandi looked at him with a blank expression. “What?”
“The ouroboros. Where does it show up in Norse mythology?”
“Something about a world serpent. The jor—jorbun—”
“Jörmungandr.” Jans’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s it. And about Odin throwing it into the ocean, where it grew so big that it circled the world and took its own tail in its mouth. The legends say that when it lets its tail go, Ragnarök will begin. I guess that’s—”
“The battle that kills the gods and ends the world,” Jans said. “I’m familiar with the mythology.” He held her gaze for a few moments before turning away. “Set up your comm and get ready.”
As Jans continued down the passage, Mandi paired with the new comm. The welcome message displayed her new identity.
“Really?” She pushed herself to the hatch and shouted down the passage at Jans. “This is the best you could come up with?”
“Don’t blame me,” Jans called back without turning. “Danny set it up.”
Through the window of the six-passenger rover, Mandi watched the stark terrain pass by. The distant, bright yellow star was perched high above the horizon, casting its dusky light across the surface, and the huge blue planet was just falling out of view below the moon’s horizon.
“I was on Earth’s moon once for a story on lunar tourism,” Mandi said to Jans. She spoke quietly to keep the driver from hearing. “If I didn’t know otherwise, this could be a return visit.”
A hard bump sent her out of her seat and into her loose seatbelt. Even in the moon’s low g, she felt the landing through her seat.
The young driver glanced over the shoulder pad of his dust-stained suit and flashed a smile through his long, greasy hair. “You might want to tighten it up a bit.”
Another bump had Mandi cinching her belt.
“What are you guys hauling?” the driver asked. “We’re not seeing as many ships out our way. Supplies are running short. We got almost no outbound cargo, and inbound is stacking up. If you’ve got some good stuff for outbound, you’ll make prime credits and get a good deal filling up for your return.”
“We’re not here for that.” Jans stared out the window as he spoke. Mandi winced at Jans’s bluntness.
The rover hit another bump hard enough that one of the overhead storage lockers fell open, sending tools and boxes flying across the cab.
“Don’t worry about that,” the driver called out. “We’re almost to the main complex. I’ll get it after we pull in.”
“What’s that?” Jans pointed out the window. “Up in the sky there.”
“It’s one of our moons. I think it may be Niva—I don’t know, I can’t tell them apart.”
Mandi watched the potato-shaped object gliding across the horizon. “Ouricsen is a moon that has a moon?”
“Yeah. Three of them.”
“Interesting,” Jans said.
The rover crested a low ridge, and the main mining complex came into view. It was like no space colony Mandi had ever seen. A hodgepodge of dirty white prefabs and hard structures 3D-printed from local materials sprawled across a flat gray plain. Along one side, what looked like deep drifts of ebon sand reached nearly to the top of the structures, covering their sides in a slope of dark gray.
“Why do you push all that stuff up against the complex?” Mandi asked.
“We don’t do that, it just sort of builds up.”
“Are there volcanoes or something?”
“No, nothing like that. We get a lot of storms, and it just blows in. We used to bulldoze it out, but that crap gets into everything, including the dozers. They kept breaking down, and then we couldn’t use them to mine. So now we just leave it.”
“How do you get storms on a moon?”
“I don’t know how or why, just that they can get pretty nasty. We’ve clocked winds of more than a thousand. It gets like a big ole dust blizzard. You can’t see shit. We basically have to shut down when one hits.”
“A thousand kilometers per hour…” Mandi’s mouth fell open.
“There’s not much of an atmosphere here,” Jans said, “but there is one, and if memory serves, it’s about the same pressure as on Mars. While a thousand kilometers per hour on Earth would be catastrophic, in this atmosphere, it feels more like a stiff breeze.”
“I’m guessing you saw that big blue spot on Tabby when you came in?” the driver said.
“Tabby?”
“Sorry. Tau Gruis-b. We call it Tabby. Anyway, Tabby has a monster storm—permanent, like the red spot on Jupiter. Every so often we pass close enough that it pulls at our atmosphere and we get the big blows. It always goes in the same direction, so the drifts build up. And like I said…” The driver gestured to his dirty suit. “The shit gets on everything and doesn’t come out.”
The rover turned onto a prepared road running parallel to some prefabbed units lined up like boxcars. Farther down, a larger structure stood above the rest, surrounded by a series of cargo locks. A beacon slowly rotated atop it, alternating white and green.
The driver turned the vehicle into a covered alleyway that cut into the cargo area. Jans leaned forward. “Why are we going to a cargo bay?”
“That’s what the boss told me.”
Jans glanced toward Mandi and raised a questioning eyebrow.
The alley twisted like a maze through the oddly laid-out cargo locks. Finally, they stopped in front of a pair of double doors labeled “Lock C17.” A panel glowed red above a digital display reading “Lock Pressurized.”
“Rover,” said the driver, “depressurize cargo lock seventeen.”
Above the doors, an amber beacon began rotating, and the digital display changed to “Depressurization in Progress.” After a few seconds, the panel turned to green, the display read “Not Pressurized,” and the doors began to slide to either side. Before they fully opened, the driver guided the rover inside and initiated the repressurization sequence. Amber beacons in the interior of the lock began spinning, and within seconds a low-pitched warble could be heard through the rover’s walls. It increased slowly in both volume and pitch, and Mandi found she needed to clear her ears. She saw the driver working his jaw to do the same.
“This old girl’s a little worn,” he said with a grin. “When the lock pressurizes, it squeezes on the hull and makes your ears pop.” He twisted a valve next to the rover’s door, and a rush of air equalized the rover’s interior pressure.
The driver opened the door, and the three exited the rover. The interior lock doors had already begun to open, revealing the cargo storage area. Plain cargo containers lined the walls, b
ut there were also several items Mandi would have never expected to see in a remote mining colony. A good-sized hot tub; an antique video game and two pinball machines; dozens of cases of French wine. But it was what was on the opposite side of the bay that drew her attention.
“What the hell is that?” Jans asked.
“It looks like a water bug,” Mandi said. “A giant water bug.”
The driver laughed. “That ‘water bug’ is a rover.”
Mandi saw that he was right. The bug’s metallic green and silver body served as the crew cabin. It stood perched on six long, carbon-colored legs, and at the end of each, instead of a wheel, was a sphere of light gray lattice.
Clearly enthralled, Jans inspected the vehicle from every angle. Mandi, too, took a closer look, smiling when she saw the familiar four interlocking rings of the Audi logo emblazoned on its front.
“OLIVER, say hello to our guests.”
Startled by the deep voice behind them, both Jans and Mandi spun to see an overweight man, dressed in what appeared to have once been a business suit, though it was now covered in a sheen of gray dust. Behind him, two men dressed in coveralls carried assault rifles that looked like something out of an old war movie.
Mandi spun once more when the body of the vehicle rose half a meter behind her. Its interior illuminated, and a pleasant androgynous voice emanated from a hidden speaker. “Welcome, Shoshanna Rosen and David Marks.”
“Oliver?” Mandi said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, I am OLIVER. It is short for Over Land, Independent, Vocal, Exploration Rover.”
“Thank you, OLIVER,” said the overweight man. “That is all for now.”
The vehicle settled back down, and its interior lights went dark.
“Shoshanna Rosen?” The large man’s voice took on a dubious tone. “And David Marks, is it?”
Mandi sheepishly lowered her eyes, and Jans simply nodded.
The man worked his jaw. “Uh-huh.” He looked down his nose at them. “I am Governor Ennis. Your ship is the first to arrive in weeks, and its manifest has no entries. You came empty- handed. So, what brings you all the way out to my little settlement?”
