She arched a frosty brow at him. “As you can see, I am very much alive.”
“And Dinah?” Oka’s eyes searched Fir’s impassive face for any hint of the news he dreaded most.
“Dinah’s preoccupied.”
Oka didn’t dare ask what that entailed. He hoped it meant she was at work somewhere else in NeuroOne. Fir’s clipped tone alarmed him, but perhaps she was trying to protect them by not revealing the true extent of their friendship. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. “They brought us here to meet with the head of research.”
Fir stared at him intently for a long time. “I am the head of research.”
Gustin let out a gasp and half-lunged out of his seat toward her, but the other scientists stepped between him and Fir in an oddly synchronized move.
It took Oka a moment to register that they were androids. He blinked rapidly as he tried to catch a breath, his head reeling with the implications of what Fir had said. “But … you mean …”
Fir made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You and Gustin are brilliant scientists. Before long, you will come to understand that Preeminence is the greatest entity ever generated. The interconnected knowledge base it comprises is far superior to anything our brains could ever aspire to.”
Oka stared back at her in disbelief. The words he attempted to form stuck in his throat. How could Fir, out of all of them, have fallen for this propaganda? Had they brainwashed her? Or had she been in on it all along? A foreboding tingle began deep inside his gut and spread slowly through his veins. He had always had the utmost respect for Fir, but he couldn’t go along with this. Preeminence was a technological parasite, feeding off living hosts to build its autonomous reasoning capabilities. It crossed all ethical lines. Had Fir chosen to betray the people of Mhakerta to save her own life? Or did she really believe Preeminence had surpassed the level of rational thinking and moral reasoning that living beings could aspire to?
“After you have toured the processing plant next door and viewed the work we are engaged in firsthand, you will understand the true value of what it is we do here,” Fir added. She took a step toward the door and stumbled, sending her DigiPad skidding across the floor in Oka’s direction. He picked it up to hand it back to her, scanning the message on the screen in the process.
Building a fatal flaw into Preeminence. Help me.
1
I stare through the panoramic viewing window of the stolen stealth fighter into a glittering expanse of far-flung stars, scarcely daring to believe we are Mhakerta bound at last. Ayma holds the control stick steady, her expression equally resolute, as she charts a course to the home planet we never had a chance to grow up on.
So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours that I can’t begin to process it all. I miss my best friend Buir more than is imaginable, and I’m already questioning the wisdom of leaving her alone on Aristozonex in the Fleet Commander’s home with a dying former fugitive for whom she is solely responsible. But I console myself with the thought that she wouldn’t have left Ghil’s side even if I’d asked her to come with us.
I let out a heavy sigh as I sink back against my seat.
“Are you all right, Trattora?” Velkan asks, his eyes brimming with concern.
I nod. “I’m fine. Just a lot to take in.”
He slips a comforting arm around my shoulders and I nestle my head in the crook of his neck.
I’m still reeling from Phin’s shocking revelation—but the bracelet he showed us left no doubt in our minds that he is the fourth child of The Expulsion Project. Despite his intimidating appearance, clad head-to-foot in the black leather livery of the Syndicate fleet, chiseled jaw, and tight, blond crew-cut, he has a rugged gentleness to his manner, and is already proving to be a huge asset to our mission. His intimate knowledge of the Syndicate’s military saved us hours of wasted time searching for features and functions on the stealth fighter. But his military prowess could prove to be an even greater resource once we penetrate Mhakerta’s air space and are dependent solely on the skills we have between us to navigate whatever we encounter.
Like a true soldier, Phin betrayed little emotion when Velkan told him about The Expulsion Project and the gut-wrenching sacrifice our birth parents made to save us. Given the choice to join us on our mission, or take Ayma’s shuttle back to Aristozonex, he didn’t hesitate. “Our origin is our destiny,” he said. “It’s our duty to liberate those who sacrificed everything to save us.”
His words solidified our commitment, not only to our birth families, but also to one another. Phin made it clear his loyalty to his birth family outweighed the allegiance he had sworn to the Aristozonex military, and he assured us we could trust him not to reveal our mission to Ayma’s father, the Fleet Commander.
“How did you end up in the Syndicate military anyway?” I lean forward in my seat so Phin can hear me.
He turns around in the co-pilot chair where he is manning the navigation screens while Ayma cuts a course through the treacherous Netherscape.
“A farmer on Buros, a tiny planet in the eastern Netherscape, discovered my pod,” he replies. “After he sold off the equipment, he took me to an orphanage run by star priests. They raised me until I was ten-years-old and then sold me to traders who auctioned me off on Aristozonex. Fortunately for me, the Syndicate conscripted me into the Military EduJugend.”
“That’s a military school for prodigies,” Ayma interjects. “The best scholars from planets all over the Syndicate compete for placement there. Phin got a perfect score, but he won’t tell you that.” She quirks a brow at him. “Go on.”
“I caught the attention of the Fleet Commander,” Phin continues. “He granted me early access to his elite fighter pilot training academy.” He clears his throat. “I was also assigned occasional shifts as Ayma’s bodyguard.”
Ayma rolls her eyes at him and tosses her sleek, black ponytail over her shoulder. “You mean you were told to keep tabs on me.”
Phin looked momentarily abashed. “Your father was worried about the trouble you could get into by hacking into the Syndicate’s mainframe. He never imagined it went beyond that.”
“Way beyond that, by her own admission,” Velkan adds.
Ayma throws Phin a penetrating look. “So you knew I hacked into the stealth fighter program?”
Phin gives a wry grin. “I thought it was just curiosity on your part. I never expected you to abscond with it.”
Ayma arches an amused brow at him. “You’re part of this heist now.”
A serious look settles on Phin’s rugged face. “If we’re not able to return the stealth fighter before the fleet arrives back from Cwelt, I’ll face the Syndicate tribunal alone. There’s no need to implicate the rest of you. I’ll say I took you as hostages and—”
“Not going to happen,” I interrupt. “From now on, we live and die as a team.”
Velkan gives an approving nod. “Trattora’s right. We link arms as our parents did. No one takes the fall alone.”
Phin’s eyes glisten and I swear he blinks away a tear. This is as close to a family as he has come since he left Mhakerta. He opens his mouth to respond, but a flashing red light on the console grabs his attention. He hurriedly flicks a couple of switches, instantly back in military mode. “We have company on our tail.”
“And they don’t look too friendly,” Velkan adds, eyes glued to the view screen. “Armor plated freighter, outfitted with machine-gun turrets, designed for long-haul navigation. Too heavily armed to be salvage hunters. Could be pirates.”
“Can we lose them?” I ask.
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Phin nods to Ayma. “It’s a heavy vessel, blunt-nosed and slow. The stealth fighter was built for speed and maneuverability.” He adjusts a few gauges, his face creased in concentration. “I’ve charted a diversion course.”
Ayma tightens her hand on the control stick and the stealth fighter arcs into a vertical climb that thrusts us back against our seats. The speed with whi
ch the stealth fighter leaves the freighter behind in a stream of solar dust is exhilarating, but when we level out a few minutes later, three aerodynamic sharp-nosed silver sabervette crafts close in like a pack of wild dogs. Powerful red beams swivel and settle on our hull, targeting our fuel tanks. “Should have known the freighter wasn’t alone,” Ayma mutters through gritted teeth.
Velkan unbuckles his harness and jumps to his feet. “I’ll man the machine guns.” He darts across to the weaponry console and activates several switches. “Got one in my sights. What do you want me to do?”
“What about the cloaking technology?” I scramble out of my harness and race to join him. “We can’t fight them all.”
“Cloaking’s worth a try,” Ayma says.
She engages the thrusters and boosts them to maximum power while Phin fiddles with the controls on the left side of the console. A low whining fills the cabin. “Cloaking is malfunctioning,” he says, his ordinarily steady voice tinged with alarm.
I tense at the sound of bullets blasting the underbelly of the stealth fighter. Too late to hide now.
Ayma wrenches the control stick back and I cling to the weaponry console as we corkscrew up and away from the sabervettes. They break formation and move swiftly into pursuit again. Ayma banks hard in an evasive maneuver leaving the sabervettes spitting machine gun fire blindly into the atmosphere.
I relax my shoulders and let out a shaky breath, but the sabervettes waste no time regrouping and rapidly close the distance between us.
“The thruster boost isn’t engaging,” Ayma yells, frantically pawing at the controls.
“Cloaking activated!” Phin yells back. “But it might not hold.”
“Head for the nearest land mass and find a hiding place while we’re still cloaked,” I say. “We’ll wait them out.”
Ayma loops the stealth fighter around and dips below the unsuspecting sabervettes who continue on course, no doubt wondering how their quarry disappeared into the distance so quickly. Ayma studies the viewer on the console. “We’re coming up on a densely jungled, uninhabited planet. We might be able to hunker down in a valley or tuck beneath a ledge or something.”
“Do it,” I say. “We can’t depend on the cloaking technology holding for long. We’ll conduct a complete diagnostic once we’re down there.”
The spiked mountain range that comes into view, rises to greet us like gnashing teeth in a locked jaw. Nothing about the dense jungle between the peaks looks hospitable either, which explains why it’s uninhabited. Dark shafts burrow deep into the mountains at various heights as we fly by.
“Do you think we could fit inside one of those tunnels?” I ask.
Ayma shakes her head. “Too tight. I can’t risk it. Keep an eye out for something larger.”
We hover past the weathered mountains, scanning every rock face for any indication of a tunnel wide enough and high enough to accommodate us.
“Up ahead,” Velkan calls out. “I see a larger opening that looks like it might be a possibility.”
Ayma navigates closer and hovers into position, slipping inside the tunnel without as much as clipping a wing. We sink down on the sandy cave bottom, a steady thrumming echoing around the hollow space. Ayma kills the engine and leans back in her seat, exhaling a thready breath. A trickle of sweat rolls down the side of her face.
For a long moment no one speaks. The clang of the bullets hitting the hull of the ship still echoes in my ears. The awful realization that we were under attack has left us shaken, and it doesn’t help that the stealth fighter is proving unreliable now that we’re underway.
I peer hesitantly into the shadowy recesses of the tunnel, wondering if any more ugly surprises await us. Despite our impromptu landing, not even a bat is startled from the shadows, making me wonder if the air in here is even breathable.
“Good work everyone. I think we lost them,” Phin says, breaking the tense silence.
I fix a smile on my face, but inwardly I’m worried about a lot more than getting the sabervettes off our tail. No one’s voiced it yet, but they must be thinking what I’m thinking. There’s a good reason the Fleet Commander didn’t take the stealth fighter on the mission to liberate Cwelt—it’s a prototype, fraught with glitches, and not cleared for combat.
“We need to figure out what’s wrong with the thruster boost before we take off again,” I say, looking pointedly at Velkan.
He nods. “I’ll head down to the engine room and take a look.”
Phin leans over the console and taps on a screen in front of him. “No need. This beauty can self-diagnose. Check this out.”
We crowd around him and stare in bewilderment at the lines of red code tapping out across the screen.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
Ayma grimaces. “Simply put, the thrusters overheated. We don’t have the equipment or tools here to make the necessary adjustments.”
“I may be able to make some manual adjustments,” Velkan says. “The more serious question is whether the cloaking technology will hold once we activate it again. That’s our only hope of penetrating Mhakerta’s airspace.”
“I’ll run some diagnostics,” Phin says. “But we haven’t had a chance to test the stealth fighter in different atmospheric conditions.”
“Let us know what you find out,” I say. “After that we’ll make a decision on whether or not to proceed. In the meantime, I’m going to get out and check the hull for damage.”
Phin furrows his brow. “You won’t be able to inspect it properly in here. We need more space to examine the underside, and more light.”
“I’ll see if I can spot a place to land down below in the valley,” I reply.
Ayma gets to her feet. “I’ll go with you. Just in case.”
I raise my brows. “In case of what? Cave monsters? The planet’s uninhabited.”
Ayma shrugs. “You could slip and crack your head on a rock.”
My lips twitch into a grin, but then my eyes moisten and a lump forms in my throat. “You remind me of Buir. She’s always imagining horrible fates which might overtake me.”
“It’s just good military protocol to pair up. Some of what my father drilled into me stuck.” Ayma turns and studies a reading on the screen. “The air here is good. We won’t need breathing apparatus. And we won’t need a MicroComm to communicate with the ship. We won’t be going far. There are extra uniforms and jackets in the closet if it’s cold. I’ll grab the OcuLens.”
“What’s that?” I ask, wrinkling my forehead.
“A distance processer,” Ayma says. “You can see up to thirty miles or so away. It scans and identifies any life forms, takes the temperature of the area, those kinds of things.”
“An OcuLens would take all the fun out of hunting.”
Ayma curls her lip in disgust. “I still can’t believe you hunted your food. I’ve never eaten anything that wasn’t manufactured.”
“Manufactured food’s not all bad,” I acknowledge, thinking back to the infused ice cones on Aristozonex.
Once we disembark and make sure the surroundings are clear, we make our way to the mouth of the tunnel. Ayma peers through the OcuLens into the valley below.
“See anything?” I ask.
“There’s a rudimentary landing pad.” She hands me the OcuLens. “That’s about it, but there’s some overhanging rock that could be shielding a settlement from view.”
“Someone must have built the landing pad at some point in time,” I say. “Maybe that someone is still here living a frontier lifestyle far from prying eyes and Syndicate patrols.”
Ayma looks skeptical. “I doubt it, but I’ll take us down in stealth mode just to be safe. Let’s move on it before it gets dark. The sabervettes are bound to be gone by now.”
Minutes later, we sink into position on the deserted landing pad on the valley floor. Ayma turns off the engines and kills the cloaking. A thin mist hangs in the air, partly screening the densely vegetated valley from view. We wait in silence, h
alf-expecting a burst of gunfire, or an attack by unfamiliar creatures, but everything around us remains locked in a damp stillness.
“Let’s check the hull out,” I say, gripping my gun tightly.
“Should we bring the MicroComms?” Ayma asks.
“They’re not operating properly,” Phin says. “They still need some modifications. We can only use them to communicate with the ship, not with each other.”
I shrug. “No need to bring them in that case. No one’s staying behind in the ship.”
Velkan and Phin gather up some additional weapons from the vault on board and follow us down the cargo ramp.
Armed to the hilt, we scan our unfamiliar surroundings. Nothing stirs but a light breeze. I relax my death grip on my weapon and turn my attention to the damage on the hull. It proves to be remarkably unscathed despite the barrage of fire it took from the sabervettes. I run my hand along the smooth nose, marveling at the engineering behind the sleek vessel.
“It’s fine,” Velkan says. “Only cosmetic damage.”
“I want to take a quick look around here before we leave,” I say.
Velkan frowns. “What for?”
“If there’s a settlement, we might be able to pick up some supplies. We didn’t exactly prepare for this mission to Mhakerta. We need food and water. At least we could look for a river, maybe even find some wild fruit.”
Velkan gives a reluctant grunt, but doesn’t argue. We’ve already chomped our way through the emergency rations on board. And now we have an extra mouth to feed. If Phin’s impressive physique is anything to go by, he has a healthy appetite.
We wind our way along the only trail leading away from the landing pad for a quarter mile or so until I spot a small spire of smoke curling upward. My chest tightens. We’re not alone. It may not be a settlement; it could be just a campfire. Some primitive tribe, perhaps? There are no ships here other than our own, unless there’s another landing pad somewhere nearby. Ayma comes up behind me and lets out a gasp at the sight of the smoke. I signal back to Velkan and Phin to proceed with caution, but then stop dead in my tracks at the unmistakable sound of an engine.
Girl of Stone (The Expulsion Project Book 2) Page 2
