by Anna Carven
She didn’t wait for his reply, in case he decided to do something overprotective. Instead, she nimbly dashed around the pump-house, navigated a network of pipes and crossed the floor until she reached the main pump that fed water to the reactor’s core.
And just as she’d suspected, she immediately saw that the release valve connected to the overflow pipe was jammed. An adjustment robot was idling nearby, rolling back and forth on its small wheels, its nav-screen flashing red. It had obviously tried to fix the problem, and failed.
“Knew it,” she muttered, as she unclipped the tool-case. Robots these days could do almost anything, but they relied on Human minds and hands for programming and lateral thinking. When all else failed, it always fell back onto Real People to sort things out. That was why mechs like Jia would never be phased out of employment.
Jia dropped to her knees and selected an automated bolt release gripper. The release valve itself was a large but simple contraption which was usually regulated by a complicated AI monitoring system. It diverted water from the main system to an emergency overflow outlet, and it was automatically activated whenever the system sensed an increase in pressure.
At least, that’s what was supposed to happen.
The problem was, the large pin connecting to the actuator that controlled the valve often got stuck, preventing it from turning.
The whole thing should have been replaced years ago. The only way Jia knew how to fix it was to remove the housing with the help of her trusty robots, clean it all out and put it back together again. It was terribly corroded inside, and she usually machined it as best she could. Normally, when she did this kind of work, the plant guys shut this section down.
That wasn’t an option right now, and she didn’t have time to put the thing back together. She would just have to take the housing apart and hope that was enough. Pressure would do the rest of the work for her.
She would just have to release all the bolts and hope for the best. Because right beside her was a giant condenser unit that was filling to almost breaking point with water, and the entire system was backed up.
There was a possibility the condenser would blow if she didn’t release the valve in time.
Jia tried not to think about that. She tried not to think about the Xargek monsters, potentially jacked up on Spike, that were roaming about the station. She pushed all thoughts of Kordolians, particularly thoughts of one terrifying-yet-gentle warrior, who made her feel things she wasn’t supposed to feel, to the back of her mind. She forced herself not to dwell on flashbacks of a dead Human plant worker, who had been torn to shreds by Xargek. She tried to ignore the fact that there was a fucking bomb stuck to the nuclear reactor core.
Just do your job, Jia Morgan.
That’s why her hands were steady as she released the first metal bolt.
The only thing she could do right now was concentrate on the task before her, trust in Kalan, and hope for the best.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Human tried to hide his fear behind an arrogant smile, but Kalan could smell it on him. Fear was usually a powerful instrument, but in this case, Kalan wasn’t getting anywhere.
The Human seemed to genuinely not know how to defuse his own weapon. How pathetic.
Kalan looked at him in disgust, before glancing at the explosive device, which was attached to the wall of the giant cylindrical structure.
It was definitely Ephrenian in origin; the secretive Ephrenians were notorious for their their weapon making capabilities.
The bomb was a hexagon-shaped object, with long metal arms that had somehow adhered themselves to the wall. A monitor in its center glowed orange, and the strange dots-and-squares of the Ephrenian script scrolled across it.
Kalan cursed profusely in Kordolian. How the hell was he supposed to figure out how to defuse that thing? None of the First Division would be familiar with Ephrenian tech; Kordolians only ever used their own weapons.
Everything else was inferior.
“Don’t even think about trying to pull it off,” the Human said smugly. “It’s designed to blow at the first hint of tampering.”
Kalan was getting sick and tired of this asshole. Losing patience, he dropped to his knees, his right knee slamming into the man’s chest.
“Oof!” The air exploded from him.
“So you’re telling me,” Kalan said, feeling bone and cartilage give way as he ground his knee into the Human’s chest, “you don’t know how to shut it off?”
“Even if I knew,” the mercenary spluttered, pain twisting his features, “I wouldn’t do it. Not for you, alien.”
Kalan put extra weight on his knee. The man screamed. His breath came in short, agonizing gasps.
“You’re going to die, you know that already,” Kalan said mildly. “This is a particularly agonizing form of death. Slow compression of the heart and lungs, broken ribs leading to punctured organs.”
The Human whimpered.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
His face had turned a deep shade of red, and his eyes bulged. “S-stop,” he gasped.
“Seems like you’re absolutely certain you can’t stop that thing.”
“F-fuck, if I knew, I would tell you. Just… get… off.”
How quickly they changed, once a little pain was applied. “More questions. If you answer, I’ll stop. Are there any more of you?”
The man nodded, his face the color of a crimson Veronian panjeck. “Two guys in the cruiser.”
“Where is it docked?”
“Below the smelter port… Ah, fuck!”
“How long do we have until this thing blows?”
“Less than forty-five minutes now. That’s Human time. Please… stop!”
“Translate that into Universal units for me, Human.”
“Forty-five minutes?” A blank look crossed his face. “My mental conversion skills were never that good. Maybe thirty chalens… nah, that’s not accurate. Fuck, I can’t think, you’re freaking me out, man.”
Whatever the answer, they were running out of time. “For the very last time, are you sure you don’t know how to shut it off?” Kalan ground his knee in just a bit more. He heard bones snapping.
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know!”
“Then what good are you to me?” Kalan stepped up off the man, who sobbed in relief. It was short-lived, because Kalan plunged his dark blade into the Human’s chest, putting him out of his misery.
Kalan had no mercy for a Human who would kill his kinsmen for profit.
The Human went still as Kalan withdrew his sword, flicking it to clear the blood before returning it to its sheath. He studied the explosive device and growled in frustration. There was no way he was going to risk tampering with it. He suspected only an Ephrenian could successfully deactivate it, and as far as he knew, Ephrenians rarely came to Sector Nine.
Forty-five minutes.
That was how long they had to get off the station, whatever that meant. It was shorter now; time was slipping away from them. He activated his comm, signaling the rest of the First Division.
“Kal!” Rykal was the first to answer. “I was just about to patch you. We could do with your plasma cannon skills right about now. I’ve found another nest up in this jungle dome.”
“Forget about that,” Kalan snapped. “The station’s rigged to blow.”
“What do you mean, big fella?” This time it was Nythian.
“I caught some Human mercenaries sabotaging the power source,” Kalan said, disgust evident in his tone. “There’s an Ephrenian bomb rigged to the power plant. It’s set and there’s no way to deactivate it.” The expected cursing from several of the warriors filtered through Kalan’s comm. “Prepare all working spacecraft for departure. This could actually work in our favor.”
“Getting rid of all the Xargek in one go?”
“Exactly. Not our usual style, but let’s use the situation to our advantage.”
“How long, Kal?”
�
��Forty five minutes, whatever that means.” Kalan paused. “Halve that, just to be safe.”
“I have no idea how long that is,” Rykal grumbled.
“Ask a Human,” Kalan said glibly. “Anyone claimed one yet?”
Silence. Someone coughed awkwardly. He heard a few dark chuckles.
“Anyway,” Kalan continued. “Let’s get off this station any way possible. You’ve got half of forty five minutes.” He was about to close the comm, but a niggling voice was eating at the back of his mind. He remembered Jia’s concern for her fellow Humans. “And… try to take as many Humans as possible with you. Nythian, get the Station Boss to put out an announcement. I want orderly urgency, not panicked chaos.”
“Evacuate the humans? Aw, is big bad Kal going soft on us?” Lodan chimed in, giving him shit.
“You know what the General’s orders were,” Kalan said gruffly. “Try not to get too many Humans killed. Besides, we’re going to need some of them for maintenance duty and piloting if we’re taking that big freighter of theirs.”
“Makes sense,” Rykal agreed. “I wouldn’t want to get on the General’s bad side in this lifetime. See you up in the loading dock, then. Oh, and Kal?”
“Yeah?”
“Try and avoid the residential quarters on your way up, unless you want a drawn-out fight with three adult Xargek.”
“Got it.” He terminated the communication and went back around to the rectangular structure where he’d dropped his cannon. Jia was nowhere to be seen.
An alarm had gone off; something about pressure. He remembered her calling out to him, telling him she was going. Thankfully, the infernal alarm had stopped, but he didn’t like the idea that she was alone and vulnerable somewhere in this labyrinth of pipes.
Kalan shouldered the plasma cannon and went in search of her. He’d heard her running off in a certain direction.
He walked around machines and control panels, stepping over and under various pipes. Kalan cursed the Humans under his breath for making their station so user-unfriendly.
The noise from the pipes was now a constant, reverberating whompwhomp. It was starting to give Kalan a headache.
He found Jia kneeling by a strange looking valve, which was attached to a giant metal pipe. She was using a handheld device to remove long metal bolts from the housing around the valve. The bolts she’d already removed were about as long and thick as one of her forearms; they lay on the floor, arranged in an orderly fashion. A robot idled nearby, its brightly lit interface flashing red and orange.
He came up beside her and intentionally made some noise, scuffing his foot against the floor. He was trying to be considerate; he knew his silent way of moving unnerved her.
She paid him no heed, concentrating on what she was doing.
“Jia,” he said softly.
She spun, and flinched. Fear flickered in her dark eyes, concealed so quickly Kalan almost missed it.
Inwardly, he cringed. That was the very last thing he wanted to see.
“Pass me that can of lube-all,” she said, her voice even and controlled. “The small silver cylinder. It’s in the case.”
Wordlessly, Kalan found the thing she was looking for and handed it to her. His armor-gloves were back on, and his exo-coated fingers brushed lightly against hers. This time, she didn’t flinch.
She remained fixated on her task, the very picture of focused concentration. Her small hands moved quickly and nimbly, and Kalan marveled at her skill; she was a master of her craft.
She used a small robotic machine that aided her in removing long metal bolts from the valve’s housing. With every bolt that she removed, the valve moved a fraction. The background whomp noise was almost deafening now, but Jia kept her cool, ignoring it.
She swapped her tools around, at one point holding a long, thin instrument between her teeth as she frowned, deep in thought.
Kalan found himself mesmerized as he watched her work. If she was rattled by recent events, she didn’t show it. She was cool, composed and absorbed in her task.
She removed several more pins, until there were only two left. Abruptly, the valve buckled and groaned. There was pressure in those pipes.
She turned to Kalan. “I’m going to take the last two out, now. There’s a chance something’s going to give.” She shook her head. “This is jungle mechanics at its best; I don’t recommend you try this at home, but watch and learn, Kordolian.”
She attacked the first bolt, using her noisy hand tool to twist it at high speed. It made a grinding noise, coming out slowly at first, then faster. As it emerged from the metal pipe, she drew it out further, until it was completely free.
The valve creaked and shifted slightly.
The final bolt was drawn out using the same procedure, but as it began to come out, it started to bend.
It was obvious that bolt was going to snap. Kalan didn’t waste any time. He rushed forward, picked Jia up and ran, not looking back. There was a groan, then a snap, then the sound of metal hitting metal.
He heard a great rushing noise, and then that infernal pipe-thudding, a sound he’d become so accustomed to, stopped.
Silence.
After all that constant background noise, the silence was deafening.
He looked down and saw Jia in his arms. Her headlamp was askew, and it was shining into Kalan’s face, blinding him a little. He reached out and switched it off, his eyes adjusting to the welcome darkness. Her alabaster skin gleamed in the dim light, coated with a thin sheen of moisture. She was breathing rapidly, her cheeks were flushed, and as Kalan lowered her to her feet, she took a moment to steady herself, putting her hand against his chest.
Oh, he liked that.
“It worked,” Jia sighed, her shoulders slumping in relief. “Thank Jupiter for that.”
She looked up, regaining her composure. “Ever since you’ve shown up, I seem to become the resident helpless damsel in distress,” she said wryly. “How many times is it now that you’ve had to carry me away from danger in your arms? Should I start keeping a tally?”
“You do not exactly strike me as helpless.” Kalan stared at her lips, which were slightly moist. They beckoned to him, tempting him to kiss her again. The first time he’d kissed her, he’d enjoyed her taste. “The dangers we face are simply beyond what Humans are capable of dealing with.”
Several harsh beeps interrupted their conversation, before a familiar voice drifted to them from some unseen source. “This is an announcement from Station Command. This is an evacuation order. All personnel are to make their way in an orderly manner to the loading dock. The Superfreighter Hendrix II is now ready for boarding. Leave all personal belongings behind, and make your way immediately to the loading dock. Do not delay. I repeat, do not delay. Go now. You have twenty minutes. Further warnings will be issued at fifteen, ten and five minutes prior to departure. Do not delay.”
Jia’s gloved hand was still resting on Kalan’s chest. Her proximity was doing strange things to him. “I take it you didn’t defuse that bomb?”
“It’s Ephrenian tech,” Kalan grunted. “Unnecessarily complicated shit. It would take us too long to figure out how to do it. Better we just get off the station and let the Xargek fry.”
“Makes me wonder what was the point of going to all that trouble,” Jia said darkly, “if this place is going to blow anyway.”
“You bought us time,” Kalan said approvingly. “You have done well.”
Jia’s dark pupils were dilated, her eyes seemingly unfocused. She looked relieved but uncertain, and he sensed hesitation on her part.
Kalan realized then that all the remaining light sources had gone dark. It didn’t bother him so much, but he realized that must be the reason Jia was still pressing her hand against his chest. He reached across and switched her headlamp back on, wincing as the bright light momentarily blinded him.
He needed to get her out of here.
“Jia,” he said quietly, although there was urgency in his voice. “How lon
g is forty five minutes?”
“It’s approximately twenty Universal chalens. About long enough for us to comfortably get to the loading dock.”
“Ah.” Kalan did some quick mental calculations. “Would half that time be sufficient for us to reach it?”
“It’d be a bit tight, depending on what we encounter on the way up. But if it’s you doing the running, I’m sure we’ll manage.” She was putting on a brave front, but there was tension in her face. She was afraid. He read it in the tightness of her jaw, and in the stiff line of her shoulders.
“Jia, do you trust me?” Kalan paused, wondering why her answer meant so much to him. He wanted her to find a sliver of goodness inside him. For some strange Goddess-cursed reason, he wanted her approval; her trust.
In his short, rough life, Kalan hadn’t sought to please anyone. He had his ties with the First Division, under General Tarak’s leadership. They understood him and accepted him, because they were all cut from the same cloth.
In the past, that had been enough.
But now, he wanted this mere slip of a Human to regard him as a protector, and a… lover.
Was such a thing possible?
“I…” She opened her mouth, closed it again, thought about something, then patted Kalan’s chest. “You’re all right, big boy.”
“Good.” It wasn’t the answer Kalan had been looking for, but it was a start. Now, they just had to find a way to escape this disintegrating pile of junk.
Together.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sweet Jupiter, he’s fast.
Kalan had taken charge, yet again scooping her up into his arms.
Apparently there was no way she could move as fast as a Kordolian, and right now they needed to move fast.
This time, Jia didn’t offer any resistance. Kalan moved like dark lightning, a bolt in the impenetrable night as he covered what had to be hundreds of meters in mere seconds.
Jia’s headlamp was off, because Kalan hadn’t wanted to draw any unnecessary attention.
