The Return of the Angel (The Kestrel Chronicles Book 2)

by mikel evins

  Captain Rayleigh sighed.

  “I guess we’d better contact the Cold Ones again. I assume they’ll want to pay us to pick her up if she wants to be rescued, but since I intend to charge extra for it, I think we’d better talk to the customer first.”

  “We’ve got to rescue her,” said Jaemon.

  “Yeah,” said the Captain. “More or less.”

  “‘More or less?’” said Jaemon.

  “What if she doesn’t want to be rescued? Or what if she wants the Cold Ones to do it?”

  Jaemon frowned.

  “How would they do it?” he said.

  The Captain shrugged.

  “I have no idea,” he said. “But I’m not prepared to say they couldn’t. How about you?”

  Jaemon shook his head slowly, looking thoughtful.

  “Anyway,” said the Captain, “We’re going to need volunteers for a third trip into that ship. And we’ll need gear. Jaemon, are you taking this team?”

  “Huh?” said Jaemon. “Oh, Sure. Of course.”

  “Captain?” I said.

  “Lev?”

  “I’d like to recommend that no further work be done on this mission until after everyone’s had a good nap.”

  The Captain sat looking at me for a long moment.

  “Fine,” he said finally. “Good idea.”

  He turned to address the whole table.

  “You heard Lev. Two hour nap for everybody. Doctor’s orders. Jaemon, when you get up from your nap, start putting a team together.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n,” said Jaemon.

  17.

  The Cold Ones were unclear about whether Seher Altan wanted to be rescued. I got the impression that Seher Altan was unclear about it herself. We concluded that the best thing to do would be to go over and talk to her about it.

  There was a little bit of negotiating about who was on the team this time. Jaemon and I were definitely going. Mai wanted to go again. That was no surprise. Mai wants to go on every mission that anyone ever goes on. The surprise was that both Zang and Yarrow wanted to go.

  “I thought you hated it over there,” I said to Zang.

  We were among the lockers on Deck 3, near her cabin. She was checking over a couple of the alarmingly large weapons in her personal arsenal.

  “Yeah, I hate it over there. It’s nasty. Stinks, too. By the way, have you figured out how to fix that?”

  “No. So why do you want to go?”

  She slapped a gun together and said, “What, you think I’m going to let you characters have all the fun?”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  When I asked Yarrow, e said, “It’s so interesting. I’ve always been interested in ancient civilizations, and here’s one that’s still alive. Well, part of one, anyway.”

  “Yeah, but it’s apparently trying to kill us.”

  “Try to be more understanding,” said Yarrow. “It’s a different culture, after all.”

  I said, “I haven’t noticed the culture being all that different. Mainly what I’ve noticed is the horde of engineered viruses and the racks of self-guided bombs.”

  “I know,” Yarrow said. “Fascinating, isn’t it? Why would they have any of that? I can’t wait to figure out what it’s all about.”

  I had the fleeting thought that my own colleagues might be stranger than anything aboard Angel of Cygnus.

  In the end, Jaemon told Esgar he wanted to take all five of us, and Esgar said okay.

  We met once more in the quarantine apartment. It was still decorated with the tasteful decor I had noticed when we returned with Oleh Itzal. Apparently, Chief Verge had selected it.

  We were carrying all the same weapons as before: protocol guns, arc guns, drone launchers, multipurpose mister. Jaemon eyed Zang’s flamethrower and she just waved it at him and grinned.

  We circled up and went through the standard gear check.

  At the appointed time, the Captain spoke to us over the Fabric channel.

  “Time to go,” he said. “Here’s your beacon.”

  The green dot appeared, overlaid on our visual fields to guide us to our goal.

  Kestrel said, “Your objective is a medical center in the same downtown where you met Oleh Itzal.”

  “Okay,” said Jaemon, “Got it. Let’s move out.”

  He led us to the gasherd. We pushed through, hung for a moment on the outside of the membrane, then sailed for Angel.

  It was getting to be routine, almost. We flew together, tight as a formation of drones. The sweep of stars and the majesty of the two spacecraft was as great as ever, but ‘wow’ only lasts so long, no matter how intense it is.

  We sailed past the first module, made for our target, and struck its end almost in unison. Then we were over the end and in through the hatch in a few seconds.

  “Agh,” said Zang as the weight of the stench flooded into the airlock.

  “You wanted to come,” Jaemon said.

  “So?” said Zang. “That’s supposed to make me like the smell?”

  “Welcome back,” said Angel. “Is Oleh Itzal all right?”

  “Actually,” I said. “He’s suffering from a virus. Do you know anything about it?”

  “A virus? Is he in danger? Will he be all right?”

  “I think he’ll be all right with some treatment,” I said. “Our medical facilities are very good.”

  “How is he?” Angel said. “Is he…is he comfortable?”

  “He’s sleeping now. Do you know anything about engineered viruses in your habitats?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Angel. “I can’t talk about that. It’s not allowed.”

  Jaemon and I looked at each other. He said, “Not allowed to talk about viruses in your habitat? Or engineered viruses in your habitat?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Angel. “I can’t talk about that. It’s not allowed.”

  Jaemon frowned.

  “We scanned several thousand very small probes with very unusual payloads emerging from vents on your spine,” he said. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Angel. “I can’t talk about that. It’s not allowed.”

  Jaemon looked at me again.

  “We have an appointment to talk to Seher Altan,” Jaemon said. “We think she’s in your medical center in this module.”

  “Yes,” said Angel. “I’ll summon a guide.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Jaemon. “If you’ll open the inner hatch, I believe we can find it.”

  “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you while you’re aboard.”

  “What could happen to us?” Jaemon said, eying me sidelong.

  “I’m sorry,” said Angel. “I can’t talk about that. It’s not allowed.”

  “Swell,” said Jaemon. “Sure. Call us a guide.”

  Our guide was a zombie named Thom Ito. It led us through the deserted streets of the habitat at ground level, almost bumping against the footpath.

  I noticed details I hadn’t before. We passed a broad lawn with a shallow square pit filled with sand. Near it was a metal disk on a pivot, with rounded lengths of metal tube arranged on it like the petals of flowers. It turned slightly with the breeze. Not far from it was a tall framework supporting a long bar, from which hung pairs of cords, each pair connected at the bottom by a wide strap that fell into an inverted arch that came within about a meter of the ground. The ground was hollowed under each of the pairs of cables, as if by running feet, but only along a very short distance—perhaps a meter. A bright polymer figure with huge eyes and a bulbous nose stood nearby, like an icon. There was a ladder that led up to the back of the figure’s head and a long, smooth, sloping panel that led from its mouth down to the ground in front.

  We skimmed past the intersection that led to the town hall. I glanced down that street as we passed and saw the tower with its ancient clockwork. The hands still pointed close to the top center of the dial.

  The medical center occupied a wh
ole block of downtown, on our right, two blocks away from the town hall. It was blocky and heavy, its brutishness relieved by curved lines and a coating of ivy. The zombie led us around the corner and down the street past planters filled with dead foliage to a broad plaza in front of the building. As we approached a tall, arched entrance, more zombie robots bumped and jiggled out of the bushes to meet us, knocking loose dead leaves and sending them drifting.

  “You fellas are everywhere, aren’t you?” said Jaemon.

  “We came to watch the building,” said one of the zombies. “To make sure you were safe.”

  “Safe from what?” Zang said.

  “I’m sorry,” said the zombie in Angel’s voice, “I can’t talk about that.”

  “It’s not allowed,” Jaemon and Zang said, in chorus with the zombie. Yarrow and Jaemon laughed.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “But who has forbidden you to discuss it?”

  “I’m sorry,” said the zombie. “I can’t talk about that. It’s not allowed.”

  “Do we need to wait for you to let us into the building?” Jaemon said, “Or can we just go in?”

  “Be my guest,” said the zombie. “There is no power to the main doors. You will have to use the push release to the right of them.”

  “‘Push release?’” Jaemon said.

  “A small metal square. Press it and a mechanical release will open a smaller door to the right.”

  “‘Push release,’” Jaemon said to me as we glided toward the entrance.

  “I’m glad to see you working on your vocabulary,” I said.

  “You were right, Lev,” Zang said.

  “About what?”

  “The smell. It’s not quite as eye-wateringly horrible as before.”

  Yarrow said, “Speak for yourself.”

  “But it’s interesting, right?” said Jaemon.

  “Definitely interesting,” said Yarrow.

  Zang reached the wall first and banged her palm against the promised metal square. A tall rectangle of glass popped open. Jaemon pulled it wide and gestured us in.

  “‘Push release,’” he said, smiling.

  A zombie—perhaps the same one that had guided us to the building—followed us to the door.

  “We’ll be able to find Seher Altan on our own,” said Jaemon. “We have tracking gear that has her located.”

  “I would prefer to accompany you,” said the zombie. “I’m concerned about the well being of all of the crew.”

  Jaemon said, “We only detected her a few hours ago. Do you know why we couldn’t detect her before that?”

  “I’m sorry,” said the zombie. “I can’t talk about that. It’s not allowed.”

  Jaemon moved into the doorway, blocking the zombie with his body.

  “If you tell me, I’ll let you come with us.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the zombie. “I can’t talk about that. It’s not allowed.”

  Jaemon made a clucking noise and said, “Okay, have it your way.”

  He moved inside, pulling the door to with the zombie still outside.

  “It looks sad,” Yarrow said.

  “Aww,” said Zang. “Let’s go.”

  “You didn’t really expect that to work, did you?” I said.

  Jaemon shrugged.

  “If it worked then we learned something. If it didn’t, then the zombie stayed behind. I figured we were ahead either way.”

  It was even darker inside the building than out in the streets.

  “Lights up,” Jaemon said. The Fabric amplified the paltry light. I could see a vestibule with a high ceiling in my grainy black-and-white vision. There was a high barrier in front of us, probably a reception or information desk. Beyond it was a dark wall that rose to the high ceiling and beyond. It had a row of doors without handles.

  “Those look like lifts,” Jaemon said.

  There were staircases on either side of the lifts. Jaemon led us to them and peered upward. The bright green dot that marked Seher Altan’s location was above and to our right.

  “We don’t need lifts,” said Jaemon, and flexed his arms manfully. Zang and Yarrow aped him, then looked at me.

  “What?” I said. They laughed.

  “Up we go,” said Jaemon.

  We jetted upward. We passed the second floor and then the third.

  “Hang on,” said Jaemon. He reversed thrust and stopped, looking around. I banged lightly into him, bouncing away slowly.

  “Yep,” he said. “I missed it. Down one.”

  We jetted back down to the third floor and he angled out of the lift shaft and along a corridor.

  “She’s this way.”

  I could see the green dot ahead of us as we floated down the corridor. We came to a wide desk in front of a large workspace at the intersection of two corridors. Jaemon turned at the corner and jetted a little faster.

  “Here she is,” he said at the door of a room, one of dozens along the hall.

  He tapped lightly on the door, then tried the handle. The door opened easily and he swung it wide. Inside in the darkness I saw a bundle of bedclothes floating at the top of the wall, back in the corner. The swinging of the door made a breeze and the dangling edge of a sheet fluttered slightly.

  Fastened to the floor was a bed and next to it a nightstand. A bathroom was off to the right. There were cabinets along the wall opposite the bed. The end of the bed had a frame on it, suitable for mounting something. Opposite the door was a high window with louvered blinds. They were open, but there wasn’t much to see through the window except other buildings, vague in the darkness. Two armchairs sat under the window facing the bed.

  Jaemon led us in slowly. He popped his jets over and over, controlling his movements carefully.

  “Stay here,” he said, raising a hand. We stopped where we were, floating above the floor, just inside the room. He popped his way cautiously toward the bundle of bedclothes floating against the ceiling and stopped. I could see him doing something, making small movements with his hands.

  “Lev, you’d better come up,” he said.

  I jetted to him, catching myself with one hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and looked at me with a concerned expression. He popped his jets again, drifting aside to make room.

  I reached out my hand and snatched it back. The bundle was hot. I reached again and gently touched it. It was trembling. I put both hands on it and tried rotating it in the air to get a better look.

  The bundle was a woman, curled in a fetal position, wrapped in sheets and blankets. I found her head and peeled the bedclothes back so I could touch her forehead, then her neck. Her skin was moist. Her hair was black, salted with gray, cut shoulder-length and tangled. Her temperature was high. Her pulse was fast and weak. I put my hands on either side of her head and amplified the sensors to get more readings.

  She opened her eyes and looked at me. They were dark brown and bloodshot. There were deep lines at the corners.

  “Hi,” said Jaemon, behind my shoulder. “Seher Altan?”

  The woman moved her mouth as if speaking, but we heard only a dry rasp.

  “See if there’s water,” I said to the others.

  I heard some fumbling around, and the hiss of a tap.

  “Here,” Yarrow said, handing me a polymer tumbler with a cap on it. Escaped droplets of water wobbled around em.

  “Sorry,” Yarrow said. “I couldn’t find any bulbs.”

  I held the tumbler up and jiggled and squeezed it until I had a silvery bulb of water bulging out of the spout on the cap, then I touched it to Seher Altan’s lips. She swallowed and licked her lips. I grappled with the tumbler again until I had another drop of water ready and touched it to her lips.

  “Who are you?” she rasped. She looked into my cameras, then over at Jaemon.

  Jaemon said, “Jaemon Rayleigh, ma’am. We were sent to help.”

  The ghost of a smile played around her lips.

  “…a dream,” she said. The beginning of the sentence was an inco
mprehensible rasp.

  She was pale and trembling. She looked around and found the tumbler in my hand. She licked her lips. I wrangled out another few drops of water.

  “Do you know how you got here?” I said.

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  “Been here,” she said. “Years.”

  Jaemon said, “We’re here to rescue survivors. Before a few hours ago, we couldn’t see any sign of you. Then you showed up on our instruments clear as day. Do you have any idea how that happened?”

  She squinted as he spoke and frowned a little at him.

  “Woke up,” she said. “Creche. Don’t know…”

  She tried to move one of her hands, then gave up.

  “Downstairs,” she said.

  Jaemon looked at me. Then he said, “The creches are downstairs?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded slightly, swallowing a couple of times.

  “Maybe we should take a look at these creches downstairs,” Jaemon said.

  I laid a hand on his arm and spoke on our private channel.

  “She won’t live much longer,” I said. “I think we need to get her back to Kestrel immediately.”