“Who are you working for, Fen?” Ara demanded.
“Mother, what do we do?”
“I don’t work for anyone!” Fen squeaked. “I swear! I hate the Unity. That’s why I came to you.”
“Mother, they’re going to open fire on us. Rifles won’t do much to the ship, but they’ve already radioed for heavier artillery.”
“Take off, Ben,” Ara said.
The floor rumbled beneath them. Harenn’s knife didn’t waver from Fen’s neck and Pitr remained motionless as a hazel-eyed block of granite.
“Kendi, get to the bridge and take over piloting,” Ara said. “We’ve got everything covered here. Fen, you’d better talk fast or I’m going to shove you out the airlock once we make orbit.”
“I got sucked into the Unity right after I left the monastery,” Fen said hurriedly as Kendi ran off. Harenn’s knife remained at his throat. “I thought it would be something good, humans first and all that, but by the time I realized how repressive it was, I couldn’t get out because I had no resources and I was too afraid and then you walked into the office and I knew you weren’t just a trader because it just felt wrong and then when you wanted all that information about Vidya and Sejal so I figured you were up to something big.”
“You paid him to spy on me and Mom?” Sejal asked incredulously. The glazed look had left his eyes.
Ara ignored him. “Why did you choose this particular moment to show up, Fen?”
“I really did come about our date,” Fen said. “We were supposed to meet at seven, remember? You didn’t show up and there was no answer when I called your ship, so I came down. Then I saw the guard and they froze like statues and I saw you rush past them. All of a sudden I saw how cowardly I’d been all these years and that this might be my last chance to get out of the Unity, and oh, please believe me, Ara. It’s true.”
Ara clenched a fist in exasperation. This wasn’t anything she wanted to deal with right now, but she had to do something in the meantime.
“Sejal,” she said, “remove your shackles and put them on Fen. Be ready-you’ll feel that jolt. Pitr, once he’s set up, take him and Sejal down to the galley and explain to Jack what’s going on. Give Jack the master unit-” she handed it to Pitr “-and tell him to keep an eye on Fen. I don’t want him out of Jack’s sight for a second, got it?”
“Yes, Mother,” Pitr said.
Fen yelped when Sejal touched him. “Holy mother! I was right. He’s the one. You found him!”
Ara didn’t respond to this overly obvious statement. “After you’ve taken Fen down to Jack,” she continued to Pitr, “I want you and Trish to go into the Dream. Whisper to anyone who follows us and get them to make mistakes. Harenn, you get down to engineering in case we get hit. We’re in for a rough ride, so be ready.”
Fen accepted Sejal’s shackles without protest. Ara headed for the bridge. Kendi had arrived well ahead of her and was already at the helm. Ben was back at communications, and Gretchen was running sensors. Ara took her customary chair. The ship shuddered slightly, and it made an odd rattling noise.
“What is it with your boyfriend?” Kendi asked.
“Boyfriend?” Gretchen said.
“He’s chained up in the galley,” Ara replied, glancing at the vid-screen. It showed nothing but red sky. “And he’s not my boyfriend. What’s going on up here?”
“We’ve cleared the spaceport,” Kendi reported. “A couple of cargo ships were caught off-guard since we didn’t have clearance or a flight plan, but I managed to dodge them.”
“The Unity’s screaming bloody murder,” Ben added. “We’ve been ordered to return to the port immediately or they’re going to fire on us.”
“Do you think it’s because of Kendi or do they know about Sejal?” Gretchen asked.
Ben shrugged. “They’re not saying.”
“How long before we can slip?” Ara asked.
“Not sure,” Kendi admitted. “I still have to calculate a course. I could do a random slip but I have no idea where we’d come out. The odds of popping out in the middle of a star or something are small, but it’s still a risk.”
“Anywhere would be better than here,” Gretchen said.
“Go,” Ara told him.
“I’m not done,” Kendi said. “Before I can do even a random slip, we have to clear the atmosphere and get out of Rust’s gravity well, and how fast we do that will depend on-”
The ship shuddered hard. A thunderous crash echoed through the bridge, and an alarm blared.
“-on how often they hit us,” Kendi finished.
“Four ships in pursuit,” Gretchen said. “They’re armed with lasers and missiles.”
“That hit caused some light damage,” Harenn’s voice said from the intercom. “Do not allow such a thing more than once again or there will be some serious difficulties.”
“Thirty seconds until we break atmosphere,” Kendi reported.
“I’m picking up two missiles,” Gretchen said. “Intercept in fourteen seconds. Thirteen…twelve…eleven…”
“Evade!” Ara snapped.
“I’m trying!” Kendi shouted. The vid-screen sky swooped and dipped as Kendi frantically maneuvered the ship. “The missiles are using visual locks and I can’t break them. And this tub doesn’t have anything to throw.”
“Eight…seven…”
“Ben!” Ara yelled.
“No good.” Ben’s fingers worked the console like hyperactive junebugs. “I can’t find their guidance systems.”
“If they hit us, we will die,” Harenn said dispassionately.
Ara didn’t know what else to do. There was no time to think. “Brace yourselves, people!” was all she could think of to say.
“Four…three…”
Ara looked over at Ben. If she died, she wanted to be looking at her son. Ben was still working the console, and she knew he’d keep working it until it came apart under his hands. Her heart swelled with pride.
“Two…one…”
Whump!
Ara’s head snapped downward under the impact. The ship yawed sideways, and the image on the view screen swooped sickeningly. Alarms blared all over the ship and something on the bridge started to smoke.
“We’re still functional!” Kendi shouted over the noise. “I think I can-there!” The darkening sky righted itself, though the bridge was still filled with noise. A few stars scattered themselves across the vid-screen image like salt crystals.
“Can we still clear the atmosphere?” Ara shouted.
“I think so!” Kendi yelled.
“Peggy-Sue!” Gretchen screamed. “Mute alarms!”
The alarms went silent, leaving a ringing in Ara’s ears. “Why are we still alive?” she demanded.
In answer, Ben hit a key. The speakers came to life, though recent damage made the transmission hiss with static.
“Attention Post Script,” said a voice. “This is Rell Hafren of the warship Star’s Doom. We know you have the boy Sejal Dasa. He is the property of the Empire of Human Unity. Hand him over at once and you will not be harmed. Repeat: hand over the boy and you will not be harmed.”
“We aren’t transmitting,” Ben said. “They can’t hear us.”
“They figured out who Sejal is,” Ara breathed. “Dammit! I was hoping we could get away before-”
“Mother, the warships are powering up imp guns,” Gretchen reported. “If they hit us with an electromagnetic pulse, we’ll lose main power and they’ll be able to grab us with a gravity beam at their leisure.”
“Sixteen seconds to slipspace,” Kendi said, “and that’s if I push.”
“Push, dammit!” Ara said.
“Ten seconds to power disruption,” Gretchen said.
Ara swore. “Harenn, is there anything you can do to shield us?”
“Not in ten seconds.”
“Five…four…”
“Nine seconds to slipspace,” Kendi reported.
“Attention, Post Script-”
“…
two…one…zero.”
Ara braced herself — and nothing happened.
“Report!” she said.
“They should have zapped us,” Gretchen replied, obviously confused.
The answer popped into Ara’s head like a cork from a champagne bottle. “Trish and Pitr,” she said gleefully. “They’re whispering to the weapons officers from the Dream and making them hesitate.”
“We have slip!” Kendi smacked his console. A screech of stressed ceramic ripped through Ara’s head and the vid-screen stars dissolved into a rainbow wash of nauseating color.
“Hull breach in sections six and seven alpha!” Harenn said. “We are venting atmosphere.”
“Can you deal with it?” Ara asked.
“Not in slipspace.”
“Attention! Attention!” the computer interjected. “Hull breach in sections six and seven alpha. Atmosphere at ninety-five percent.”
“Suits!” Ara yelled, already moving for the bridge’s storage locker. “Move it, people! Kendi, how long before it’s safe to come out of slipspace?”
“Gimme three more minutes,” Kendi said, not leaving his console.
Ara handed out silvery suits and helmets, then donned her own. A breeze drifted through the bridge. “Ben, once you’re suited, take over for Kendi. Gretchen, head below and help Jack get Sejal and Fen set up with the spare suits.”
“Who the hell is Fen?” Gretchen asked.
“Attention! Attention! Hull breach in sections six and seven alpha. Atmosphere at ninety percent.”
“I’ll explain later,” Ara said. “Harenn, seal off the lower deck. We can at least save some atmosphere on the upper one.”
“I have already attempted this,” Harenn’s calm voice replied. “The doors are not responding. In addition, I have lost forty percent of main power, and emergency reserves are off line. I must shut down the gravity generators to compensate.”
“Attention! Attention! Hull breach in sections six and seven alpha. Atmosphere at eighty-one percent.”
Ara sealed her helmet, muffling the sounds from the bridge. Her own breathing echoed loudly in her ears. Suddenly the deck left her feet and she was falling. Gretchen yelped and snagged the storage locker door. Ara resisted the impulse to windmill her arms and instead grabbed the back of Ben’s chair. The velcro patch sewn there for exactly this purpose snagged her palm. Colors washed nauseatingly over the vid-screen, making Ara’s gorge rise. The view of slipspace made most humans ill, and Ara was no exception, especially in zero-gee. Gretchen pushed off and drifted over to her console, where she punched a few keys. The vid-screen went blank.
“Thank you,” Ara said. Gretchen shoved herself toward the door without replying. She still had to check on Sejal and Fen.
“Attention! Attention! Hull breach in sections six and seven alpha. Atmosphere at sixty-four percent.”
“Kendi,” Ara said, “suit.”
“Almost done.” He was panting. “We’ll be in normal space in less than two minutes.”
“You’ll be unconscious in less than one,” Ara said. “Move!”
Kendi looked like he was going to protest, then apparently changed his mind. He pushed out of his chair and swam to the storage locker. Ben waited until he had landed, then took Kendi’s place while Ara assisted her gasping ex-student into a suit. He was already in a half faint. His face was flushed from blood summoned to the surface of his skin by the low pressure. Quickly Ara sealed his helmet and heard the welcome hiss of oxygen from the tanks. Kendi’s breathing steadied and his eyes opened.
“I’m good,” he said over the suit’s communicator. “Thanks.”
“Attention! Attention! Hull breach in sections six and seven alpha. Atmosphere at fifty-one percent.”
“Take your console, Kendi,” Ara said. “Have Harenn check you for bruises and capillary damage later-you’re going to be sore.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Peggy-Sue, open intercom to Gretchen Beyer,” Ara continued. “Gretchen, is everyone suited up down there?”
“Sejal got his on,” Gretchen replied. “That Fen guy fainted, but Jack and I got him into his suit. Did you know Fen is Silent?”
“Yes. What about Trish and Pitr?”
“I have no idea. They aren’t down here.”
Kendi swam over to the pilot’s chair. “Take us out of slipspace, Ben. We should be safe by now.”
The ship shuddered and boomed.
“Attention! Attention!” Peggy-Sue said. “Hull breach in sections six, seven, and nine alpha. Atmosphere at thirty-eight percent.”
“We’re leaking like a sieve,” Ara groused. “Harenn, can you repair all that, or are we going to be wearing these suits all the way back to Bellerophon?”
“I am still assessing the damage,” Harenn replied. “I will report the moment I know more.”
Ara shoved herself into her customary chair and belted herself in place. The suit’s thin material was slightly rough, catching the chair’s fabric and preventing her from sliding off while she did so. Then she took several deep breaths to quell her roiling stomach. Zero gee had never been Ara’s personal favorite.
“Where are we, boys?” she asked to distract herself.
“No idea,” Kendi said. “I was concentrating too hard on getting us into slipspace to program any coordinates. There’s a K-class star within easy reach, though, if Harenn wants a power source.”
“Head for it.” Then Ara remembered she hadn’t checked on Trish and Pitr. “Peggy-Sue, open intercom to Sister Trish and Brother Pitr Haddis. Are you two suited up?”
“Suited up and heading down to help Harenn,” Trish said.
“Pitr?” Ara said. No answer. “Pitr, please respond.”
Nothing. A chill slid up Ara’s spine.
“Attention! Attention! Hull breach in sections six, seven, and nine alpha. Atmosphere at thirty-one percent.”
“The intercom might be damaged,” Ben pointed out.
“Peggy-Sue,” Ara said, “where is Pitr Haddis?”
“Brother Pitr Haddis is in his quarters,” the computer replied.
“I’ll go down and check on him,” Ara said to Ben and Kendi in a carefully light voice. “He’s probably fine. You two stay here and figure out where we are.”
She unbelted herself and pushed toward the door. Pitr was fine. The intercom had just been damaged. He was not hurt, he was not dead.
So why was he still in his quarters?
“Attention! Attention!” the computer said. “Hull breach in sections six, seven, and nine alpha. Atmosphere at twenty-seven percent.”
Ara reached Pitr’s quarters and tried the door chime with a gloved finger. No response. The door, when she tried it, turned out to be locked. Abruptly, she’d had enough of being in suspense.
“Peggy-Sue,” she snapped, “captain’s override for the lock on Pitr Haddis’s quarters.”
“Voice print verified. Override accepted.” The door slid open, revealing a darkened room. Pitr, Ara remembered, always shut the lights off when he went into a Dream trance.
Ara floated in the hallway for a moment, then grasped the doorsill with both hands and hauled herself in. She immediately rebounded off something big and floppy. With a shriek, she shoved herself away from it. The motion sent her spinning, and she couldn’t see. Darkness swam past her faceplate. One of her arms connected with something solid, and she collided with a…wall? Ceiling? Whatever it was, it halted her. Her suit made a hissing noise as the fabric brushed the ceramic bulkhead. Ara finally got her bearings. She was pressed against the floor.
“Lights!” she hollered.
The room sprang into brightness. Ara turned. Pitr’s corpse, the thing she had rebounded from, drifted toward the ceiling. His arms floated outward from his body, his legs were splayed, and his face was red and bloated. Across the room, a dermospray flipped slowly end-over-end.
Pain and sorrow crushed her against the floor. Ara tried to hold back the tears. Crying in zero gravity was difficu
lt enough-blobby tears gathered in the eyes, blurring vision until they broke free and drifted away. In a helmet, they splashed everywhere. But Pitr was dead. He had been in the Dream holding back the Unity when the ship started losing atmosphere. Trish had left the Dream in time, but Pitr’s body had probably fallen unconscious and he hadn’t made it to a suit. Now he was dead. What was she going to tell Trish?
“He died saving us,” she whispered to see how it sounded.
It sounded fake.
“Mother Ara,” Harenn’s voice said, “we have patched the breaches. We are venting no more atmosphere. Trish and I will continue to augment the repairs until it is safe to re-enter slipspace.”
“How long will that take?” Ara asked, surprised at how steady her voice was.
“Three or four days. Less if others help. After that I can fix main power and reinstate gravity.”
“Understood. Peggy-Sue, close intercom.”
Pitr’s body bumped the ceiling. Someone should secure him-it? — before the gravity came back on. It wouldn’t be right for the body to come crashing to the floor. And there would be funeral arrangements, and burial, and a Dream ceremony, and Pitr was dead, and he had died for her.
Zero gravity or no, Ara put her helmeted head in her gloved hands and cried.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEJAL’S JOURNAL DAY 4, MONTH 11, COMMON YEAR 987
My old journal got left behind when we left Rust, so I’m starting a new one on the ship. Everyone’s pretty upset around here, so I’m staying out of the way. That means I pretty much stay in my room and mess around on the computer like I’m doing now.
The ship’s called the Post Script and it’s pretty cool, though Kendi says it’s a piece of junk even when they have gravity. Being weightless made me sick as a dog for an entire day. It feels like you’re falling, but when you look around, the walls aren’t moving and you never hit anything. A tiny push sends you spinning, but it seems like you’re holding still while the ship spins around you.
At least I didn’t throw up like Fen did. He barfed in his helmet, and it floated around his head like chunky fog. It would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been so disgusting. Gretchen-she’s big and blond and kind of pretty and she seems kind of familiar-turned on some kind of vacuum that sucked most of it away, but bits and pieces still clumped in his hair. He couldn’t take his helmet off to clean up, either. No atmosphere.
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