Another creature stood alone by a pillar close to the balcony. Fluffy and with no discernible face, Jack had no way of knowing what it was looking at, let alone thinking. Why was it standing so close to Rogan and Tuner? Was it waiting for the right moment to smuggle them out of the bar?
Then a second hairy alien waltzed over to it, carrying a beer. Jack relaxed a little, though not enough to turn his back on the crowd again.
Perhaps he was just being paranoid… but he knew Charon would come for them sooner or later. He didn’t strike Jack as the sort of man who doesn’t collect what he’s owed.
Screw the beer. It was time they got back to the ship.
2
The Stowaway
The Adeona’s thrusters cut out the moment they left Kapamentis’ atmosphere. She drifted on the precipice of the planet’s orbit while thousands of ships came and went around them.
“Okay, Jack. The skip drive is primed and ready. Where to now?”
The Adeona’s crisp voice spoke from every speaker in the cockpit at once. She sounded calm. Happy, even. Jack supposed nothing pleased a ship more than flying.
He took his feet off the dashboard and spun around in the captain’s chair.
“Any suggestions?” he asked Rogan.
“I kind of hoped you might have one.” Rogan shrugged and brought up a hologram of charted space. “The galaxy has approximately three hundred billion stars and about as many planets. Give or take a few billion, of course. Presuming you’re not from elsewhere in the supercluster, that is…”
Tuner perched himself on the edge of one of the computer terminals.
“What I think Rogan is trying to say,” he said, swinging his legs, “is that going door to door might take us a little longer than your life expectancy will allow.”
“Got it.” Jack pulled his data pad out and started swiping through the species records. “I did come across something last night… I’m sure I bookmarked it… Ah. Here.”
He flicked his finger across the screen and the file appeared above the hologram table.
“The Marteusse?” Rogan appeared quizzical. “Why them all of a sudden?”
“Back on Earth, there used to be conspiracy theories about alien visitors with skinny bodies and great big heads. We called them ‘little green men’ or ‘greys’. They sort of fit the description. I don’t know if there was any truth to the stories, but maybe they could help.”
“Never met a Marteusse. Pretty insular type.” She tapped the file and up came a map of their home world. “Still. It’s as good a lead as anything else.”
“How long will it take us to get there?”
“Normally? Two days. However, there have been several skirmishes between Black Rock raiders along the route, so I recommend we go an extra day out of our way to avoid them.”
“Good thing we picked up fresh supplies,” said Jack, nodding to Brackitt. “All right, then. Adeona? Set us a safe course for the Marteusse home world.”
“Certainly, Jack. Though may I make a suggestion?”
Jack was taken aback. “Of course.”
“You might wish to take care of our stowaway before we leave.”
Jack sat up straight. Rogan sprinted over to the cockpit door and locked it. Tuner fell backwards off the console he was sitting on.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“My sensors are picking up an unexpected life form on board,” replied the Adeona. She didn’t sound all that bothered by it. “It must have snuck on before we left the port.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” snapped Jack. “How come you didn’t notice it?”
“It must have lowered its heat signature somehow. Yours, on the other hand, is positively glowing.”
“I bet it is.” Jack got up from his chair and paced around the cockpit. “Well, what do you see? Does it look dangerous?”
“I don’t think so. It’s hiding in the engine room.”
“Could be laying a trap,” said Rogan.
“Could be scared,” said Tuner.
“Could be getting thrown out the airlock,” said Jack, storming towards the door. “Brackitt, keep an eye on the cockpit for me.”
“Why?” Rogan blocked the door with her arm. “Where are you going?”
“To get my gun.”
“Gun?” The lenses of her eyes grew wide. “Where in the galaxy did you get a gun from?”
“Took it off Gaskan,” mumbled Jack, scratching the back of his neck. “Seemed a shame to let it go to waste.”
“Of course you did. Good grief.” Rogan shook her head and turned to face Brackitt. “Do we still have any leftover Raklett rifles in storage?”
“Traded most of them in for credits, but there should be a few left in the lockers down the corridor. Be careful, though. One bad shot from one of them and you’ll puncture the hull. Or ignite a fuel tank.”
“I’d much prefer you didn’t do that,” said the Adeona. “If it’s all the same to you.”
“Don’t worry, Adi. We’ll be extra careful.” Rogan nodded to Jack and Tuner. “Come on. Let’s flush this freeloader out.”
The engine room was right at the back of the ship, beyond the stairs that led up to the crew quarters. Jack had only visited it twice before. Although the temperature was carefully regulated throughout the rest of the ship, the air in the engine room was always much too noisy and hot.
Yet now her thrusters were off, the rear of the Adeona was as hauntingly quiet as everywhere else. Jack wondered why he hadn’t volunteered Brackitt for eviction duty instead. He could often be found down there during their longer flights, tinkering with the valves and pipes.
Now the only sounds were the idle humming of the skip drive and occasional clanking as the metal plates of the thrusters cooled and contracted. The skip drive was a hollow orb about the size of a family car in diameter and hung suspended in the middle of the room by a complicated series of metal arms and wires. Lining the walls were tanks of Somnium, the mysterious element that powered the superluminal reactor.
Brackitt had once tried explaining to Jack how the skip drive worked. He hadn’t deemed it worth trying a second time.
Jack inched into the engine room first. Rogan and Tuner followed close behind. All three of them carried Raklett rifles, but only for show. With any luck the stowaway would take one look at the guns and give themselves up.
It was dark. Too dark. Past that which bled in from the hallway, the only light came from the red bulbs embedded in the walls of the hull. In the deep nooks where pipes and metalwork wrestled one another to form tangled nests, much was bathed in shadow.
Nothing stirred.
Jack raised his rifle and inspected the short gangway that circled the upper level of the thruster engines. It appeared as deserted as everywhere else.
He put on his bravest voice. It was about half an octave lower than normal.
“We know you’re in here,” he said. “Come out now before things get ugly.”
No reply. Jack started to wonder if maybe their stowaway was a wild animal. The space equivalent of a rat, or something. He whispered to Rogan and Tuner without taking his eyes off the engine room.
“Can you guys see anything?”
The lenses in the automata’s eyes were adjustable, which meant they could see in a great many more spectrums of light than Jack. In better detail, too. Yet even they couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary.
“Okay. I guess we’re doing it the hard way then. Adeona?”
The Adeona’s voice rang out from the speakers. Brackitt had installed them everywhere in the ship.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Is the creature still in here with us?”
“Of course. It’s right in front of you. Can’t you see it?”
Jack felt sweat trickle down his side.
“No. Could you have a faulty sensor?”
“Negative. Bear with me. I think I can flush it out… though Brackitt won’t be very happy about it.”
Jack shrugged and tightened his grip on his gun.
“It’s your engine. You can do what you want with it.”
For a moment nothing happened. Then suddenly a two-foot jet of steam burst out from a pipe running along the engine room’s port-side wall. Everybody jumped… not least the sack-clad figure who’d been crouched motionless amongst the shadowy plumbing beneath the jet stream.
Five or six metres lay between Jack and the stowaway, yet it leapt the distance in a single bound. It swatted the rifle out of Jack’s hands and sent him tumbling onto his back.
Tuner dashed forward with his own rifle poised to fire.
“Don’t shoot!” yelled Jack, rolling over and raising his hand. “You’ll blow the tanks!”
“Besides, you were right.” Rogan pushed the muzzle of Tuner’s rifle down. “Look at her. She’s terrified.”
Jack picked himself back up. The figure cowering in the corner of the engine room was the same one he’d seen sitting alone in the bar. He recognised her tatty cloak, not to mention the pair of nervous mandibles twitching under her hood. She raised her hands in self-defence.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, raising his own hands. “Hey, look.” He kicked his rifle away. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
The girl raised her head enough for Jack to see her eyes. They were black, cold and scared.
“You’re Jack Bishop, right?” Her voice was quiet and scratchy. “The… what was it? The human?”
Jack’s heart palpitated. He took an instinctive step backwards.
“How do you know that?”
“I was sent to find you.” She lowered her hood to reveal her bald, green head. “My people need your help.”
They brought the stowaway up to the Adeona’s recreation room and sat her down at the table. Tuner went to fetch her a hot drink from the galley while Brackitt went grumbling down to the engine room to fix the busted pipe.
Tuner returned with a cup. She took it gratefully, nursing it in her slender, multi-jointed hands and casting the occasional glance at Rogan, who stood beside the door with her arms crossed.
Jack pulled out a chair and sat down beside her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She hurried to swallow a sip of her drink.
“Klik.”
“Okay, Klik. Why did you sneak on board our ship?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Klik’s big eyes grew even wider. “I was planning on introducing myself at the bar. You’d been in there a few times before, right? So I figured you’d come back sooner or later, if I waited long enough. And then you did! But then you left before I could get around to saying anything, and I tried to catch up to you, but…”
She took another sip from her cup. Her movements were quick and snappy, as if she was forever in a hurry.
“Calm down.” Jack gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “There’s no rush.”
She nodded, then took another gulp as hurried as the last.
“So I saw your ship in the port,” she continued. “Real nice, by the way. You three were already climbing inside when I got there, and I called out your name, but I guess you didn’t hear me. Next thing I know the ramp’s going up, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so…”
“So you scuttled in after us?” said Rogan. “Even though you had no idea where in the galaxy we might have been headed?”
Klik bowed her head.
“I panicked. What if you didn’t come back? What if I only had the one chance to save my people, and I blew it?”
“One chance, eh?” Jack leaned back in his chair and looked across at Rogan. “No pressure, then.”
“You have to help us,” said Klik, staring at everyone around the room. “Nobody else will.”
“And what makes you think that we will?” Jack clasped his hands together on the table. “We have no idea who you are, besides a stowaway. And you still haven’t explained why it was so important to find me in the first place. How the hell do you even know who I am?”
Klik shrank into her seat. Her voice turned quiet.
“We heard stories of a man who helped automata flee their captors,” she said, looking down at the dregs in her cup. “We thought if you could help them, you might help us too.”
“That’s funny,” said Tuner, tilting his head sarcastically. “I seem to recall us saving him on more than one occasion. Does anyone tell stories about that?”
“Hold on a second.” Rogan stood up straight, her face suddenly stern. “You’re not Krettelian, are you?”
Klik nodded, her eyes bright and brimming with hope.
“Nope. Forget it, Jack.” She shook her head vehemently. “This is one fight we don’t want to get involved in.”
Klik’s face fell. Jack’s heart followed suit.
“Why? What am I missing?”
Rogan sighed and closed her eyes. Clearly she didn’t feel good about any of this.
“The Krettelians are a slave species. They belong to the Mansa Empire. It’s been that way for millennia.”
“Slaves?” Tuner threw his hands in the air. “Then we have to help! Surely you of all people can empathise with that, Rogan.”
“Oh, I do. Believe me. I think it’s barbaric. But we are so powerless to stop it. The Mansa are one of the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy. Do you remember the Ceros Gate?”
Jack nodded. It was hard to forget a golden, interlocking forcefield that stretched across an entire solar system.
“The Mansa came up with that,” Rogan continued. “And they only sell the technology they’re no longer interested in keeping to themselves. That’s how powerful they are. To them, the Ceros Gate is outdated.”
“Still, we…”
“Do you think we’re the first people to hear about this? To feel sorry for them? Nobody can free a whole species, least of all the four of us. Sorry,” she added, patting the wall of the ship. “Five.”
“You wouldn’t need to free my people,” said Klik, fidgeting with her cup. Everyone turned to look at her. “We’re only asking you to get something for us. If you do that, we might be able to free ourselves.”
Jack looked at Rogan, one eyebrow raised. She slowly shook her head. He turned back to Klik.
“Okay. Rogan here thinks it’s a terrible idea, and I’m inclined to agree with her. But let’s say we decide to help – what is it you want us to get, exactly?”
“A core of some kind. It’s a…” Klik scrunched her little insectoid face up in concentration. “It’s a… erm… a power source. Or a weapon. I’m not sure. Something important to the Mansa Empire.”
“Well that’s not very reassuring,” said Tuner.
“I’m sorry.” Klik grew visibly agitated. “I don’t know much. It’s not as if the Mansa tell us anything about their technology. But my father knows what it is. He’s the leader of the Krettelian resistance. He’s the one who smuggled me off-world to find you.”
“The daughter of a Krettelian resistance leader is on board our ship,” groaned Rogan. “Oh, this isn’t going to get us into trouble with the Mansa at all.”
“So, what?” Jack spread his hands across the table. “We don’t know what this thing you need is, we don’t know the full scale of the danger involved in getting it, and you expect us to, what? Risk death or imprisonment by secretly arranging to meet this insurgent father of yours?”
Klik offered them a painfully meek smile.
“Yes?”
“Come on,” said Rogan, beckoning for Klik to stand up. “We’ll take you back down to Kapamentis. Maybe you’ll have better luck at the Ministry than we did.”
“I’m really sorry,” said Jack, joining Rogan by the door, “but I’ve got a species of my own to save.”
“Wait!” She reached out towards Jack. “My father told me to say he can help you. He knows how you can get back to this home world of yours. Grit… or was it Soil…”
“Earth,” said Jack. All the feeling drained from his
face. He shuffled back towards the table as if in a daydream.
“That’s it! Earth! You… you came here in a wormhole, right? Well, he says a wormhole is the only way you’ll ever get back. This core – it has the power and mass required to punch through spacetime, if you know how to use it. My father will show you… if you get it for us.”
“Jack.” Rogan laid her hand upon his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “She’s desperate. She could be lying.”
“No, she isn’t. Sure, she could have figured out I’m from Earth. We’ve been asking around enough. But there’s no way she could be guessing about the wormhole. These Krettelians know something we don’t. I need to find out what.”
“Maybe they do, Jack. That doesn’t mean they aren’t using you to get what they want.”
“You might be right. Hell, you probably are. But if there’s even the slightest chance of finding my way back home, you know I have to take it.”
“Maybe that’s what they’re counting on!”
“Calm down, both of you.” Tuner joined them, leaving Klik alone at the other end of the table. “We were looking for a new lead anyway. If we can find out where Earth is and help save some poor slaves in the process, why not?”
“Because the Mansa Empire will hunt us down and kill us,” groaned Rogan. She shook her head. “I’m telling you – this is a bad idea.”
“What’s the harm in talking to the guy?” Jack shrugged. “Let’s at least find out what Klik’s father has to say. Maybe that’ll be enough. If what he wants us to do is too dangerous, we’ll walk away.”
“No, you won’t. You say that now, but when the time comes, you’ll double down. You’re as desperate as they are.”
“You asked me where I want to go.” Jack crossed his arms. “Well, I want to go wherever this resistance is.”
Rogan glanced over at Klik. She was sitting with her knees bunched up against her chest, her whole body drowned under her tatty cloak.
“The Mansa Empire forbids Krettelian slaves to be taken off-world unless they’re being sent to work at another colony,” said Rogan, giving in. She raised her voice. “You’re from Paryx, yes?”
Thief of Stars (Final Dawn, Book 2) Page 2
