by I. O. Adler
The Melded wanted to strike out and fight back, willing to risk anything in acquiring the tools to meet their goals. The Cordice were content to run and hide across the chasm of space to a fresh galaxy where they hoped the enemy wouldn’t follow. Judging by the state of their home ship, Carmen thought this was an attempt at a quiet suicide. Meanwhile most of the other marooned, from what she had pieced together, just wanted to do what they had to do to get by, be it hide or continue to move from star system to star system.
Earth had none of these options.
She needed to go to this Framework and wanted to believe she was motivated by the thought she might learn something which could make a difference to her world.
But that was also where her mom was going. She had lost her once and wouldn’t lose her again. Carmen would follow.
Even as the harvester sped towards Earth, She Who Waits’ shuttle was heading in the opposite direction towards the Framework with Carmen’s body on board. She would log into the harvester one last time to deliver her sister before disconnecting and yielding the ship to the Cordice.
That was the plan, anyway.
“Tell me two truths and a lie,” Carmen whispered.
She Who Waits responded after a moment. “I don’t understand the inquiry.”
“Just a stupid game. Never mind.”
Carmen had never graduated and hadn’t even earned her associate’s degree. She’d guessed it wasn’t important enough that the hiring supervisor at the water treatment plant would bother checking. The applicant’s exam had been easy enough to cram for, and the fact she had been hired meant she hadn’t scored too poorly.
As far as her father, for one glorious summer he had toured with a onetime arena headliner past its prime whose guitarist had broken his hand. He’d played to thousands of middle-aged fans keeping the flame alive and had earned himself several more invites for session work.
And Mom really was an astronaut.
Now so was Carmen.
She doubted anyone would forget either of them once she brought her mom back home.
Epilogue
The shadow lurking at the edge of the circular chamber waited until Agent Barrett was once again asleep. It slid from the wall and, if Barrett had his eyes open, he would have registered it as an inky shimmer that caught the light illuminating the interior surface of the sphere.
It made no sound.
It watched Barrett for a moment, listening, smelling, getting a sense for what he was through the faint electrical signals between his cells.
A human. Unremarkable. Weak. Barely advanced enough in their development to warrant attention. How one of his kind had gained mastery over the harvester on which they were now passengers was beyond belief.
Perhaps Barrett felt the featherlike brush or a faint tingle or itch as the shadow pressed a digit into his chest. The human didn’t stir. The touch made his heart beat faster, and then slower. The shadow stopped its manipulation. Murdering the human at this time wouldn’t accomplish anything, as there was much still to learn.
The shadow had been listening ever since the Cordice had rescued the first pair of humans following the destruction of the refugee fleet. The Cordice home ship was the shadow’s assignment. One by one it damaged their fail-safes and spoiled their soil and watched with satisfaction as the last of their colonies shriveled.
Its labors took years but it was patient. Its kind were masters at avoiding detection. But the shadow hadn’t managed its final act—the destruction of the simulation.
They believed they could hide from their fate among the dancing electrons within their computer banks. Fools. The shadow had infiltrated the rings but could go no further. The Cordice ship possessed security measures which proved unbeatable without the shadow showing its hand.
The Cordice couldn’t be allowed to warn their fellow survivors.
But along with the rescue of the humans came new opportunities.
The translator had been oblivious to the shadow’s presence ever since it decided to board her ship following her rendezvous with the Cordice. She had communication with other survivors and they were gathered at a place they called the Framework.
This concerned the shadow.
Even with the knowledge that more of its kind must have gained access to the Framework, the notion that the survivors might unite around the harvester’s potential meant it needed to act swiftly. The Cordice had recovered their advanced multipurpose construction vessel from one of their remote factories. The ship was versatile and powerful and would allow the Cordice to repair their home ship. With their cooperation, the others marooned within the human solar system could also accelerate their repairs.
They would hide. They would flee.
But then the shadow learned through the Dragoman that a minority believed that war with the “enemy” was a possibility. The Melded had initially been a lone voice among the refugees in their forlorn purpose.
The shadow took delight in this and could only hope to encourage such notions.
It had work to do. Observe. Disrupt. Inflame divisions. All in its duty to those who had demonstrated their superiority over its kind and to every other sentient who dared take to the stars.
The mothers and fathers of forbidden suns. The lords beyond. Those who waited. Those who watched from beyond the Wall.
The shadow loved them.
Its brood had performed adequately, destroying the primary fleet and giving their lives as a sacrifice to their masters.
It needed to gain access to the Framework so it could share what it had learned with any others of its kind. But for the moment it was curious what more it might discover about these humans as they journeyed to their home planet. Exploring the harvester proved a challenge. The door to the hallway was locked.
If it triggered the opening sensor, the shadow’s presence might be detected by the pilot. Unlike the conduits on the Cordice home ship, the harvester had no easy shortcuts.
But the pilot had provided Barrett with a toilet and a sink. The first connected to a waste reclamation system, the second to a water cistern. It followed the flow of fresh water. From the cistern the shadow wound its way to the catalyzer and sensors, which no doubt ensured the water’s consistency and potability for the human passengers.
The shadow re-formed in a small space below the floor of the ring. From there it could access the rest of the ship not under lockdown. It slipped through an accommodating hatchway and glided down the hall. Found the control room. Pondered why, if the ship was under remote operations, the human pilot bothered with rendering tactile instrument panels. But it wasn’t the pilot’s limitations that interested the shadow, but her strengths.
Although the pilot remained on board the Dragoman shuttle, the shadow understood that the second human passenger was the pilot’s sibling.
It found Jenna Vincent in the Cordice hospital bed asleep. It took a moment to examine her. Frail, like Barrett. A life easily snuffed. But the shadow had learned she had access to the harvester’s encryption. Her body, like that of the operator currently in control, was the key.
If the human Carmen Vincent was to be believed, the harvester would be returned to the Cordice once the passengers were brought back to their world. The shadow understood it had made the correct choice in coming aboard. It would gain a better understanding of the earthlings. While the scans of the planet revealed a culture with only a toehold in space, this could change quickly. The captured harvester might jump-start their own quest for the stars.
Troubling.
The others of its dark brood would need to learn everything about this world. The ones beyond the Wall had to be told. The shadow paused to apologize for the thought that they required anything from an insignificant creature like itself.
The shadow retreated to the far side of the room where Jenna Vincent slept. There it would wait, watch, and learn. Once it had taken in enough information, it would act.
If the harvester remained on Earth it would be d
estroyed. If Carmen Vincent recalled it and was true to her word and delivered it to the Framework, then the shadow would need to return there. Either way, the brood had a growing list of targets for eradication.
It would remain with Jenna Vincent for the moment until it knew the best course to take.
And as for the harvester pilot?
Carmen Vincent was bound for the Framework.
And while she remained out of reach of the shadow, it could count on its brood, who would do their duty. For once the harvester was no longer in the equation, the survivors on the Framework and the humans on their world could do little more than wait for their final judgment.
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And keep turning the page to read a sample of Deimos Station, part two of the Broken Stars series.
Deimos Station Chapter One
The gray sphere plummeted into Earth’s atmosphere, riding shock waves of superheated air. Despite the intense friction on the sphere’s hull, the three passengers on board barely registered the steady tremors as they reclined on their couches.
Only Carmen Vincent stood.
Her mind commanded the virtual controls of the harvester while it was simultaneously logged into one of the Cordice spindlebots inside the sphere. Perfectly balanced, strong, and nimble, the tall, thin, metallic humanoid machine responded instantly to every command, each action informed by the harvester computer in case of an emergency.
Landing a stolen spaceship wasn’t half as hard as she expected.
Meanwhile, her body slept.
She lay millions of miles away on board the translator She Who Waits’ shuttle.
Without Carmen’s consciousness present, the delay in issuing orders would mean minutes in which anything might happen to the ship. And since the ship wasn’t hers, she thought it would be a good idea not to damage it any more than she already had. She would give it back after she delivered her passengers. The Cordice could retrieve it once she arrived on the Framework and relinquished the encryption. But they would have to be patient for a few more hours.
An illuminated bubble screen on top of the bot displayed her face as she watched her sister sleep.
Jenna Vincent had lost part of her leg and suffered a gunshot wound. The leg had been an accident when evading the malfunctioning Cordice caretaker. The Melded Primary Executive had later shot her, causing a critical injury that now threatened her life. The Melded had been trying to commandeer the harvester. Carmen and Jenna hadn’t given it to them.
The final decision to return home had been Jenna’s, as the options for treatment back on board the Cordice ship were to either upload her sister to their simulation or allow the Melded to perform surgery.
Since the Melded leader had been responsible for almost murdering Jenna, Carmen didn’t want any of them to touch her sister. And uploading meant life in a computer. No matter how perfect the Cordice simulation seemed, the thought chilled her.
Jenna had a hitch in her breath. A choking cough began. Carmen drew closer, not sure what to do.
“Hang in there, Jen.”
Faster. They needed to go faster. But how much faster could they go?
Carmen surveyed the data screens over and over. Faster meant more g’s, resulting in an equally harsh slowdown. When they had first been abducted by their mom, they had been on board one of the harvester spheres and had barely noticed motion. Not the case now. But the sooner she could get Jenna to the hospital, the sooner doctors—human doctors—could start treating her.
The stray thought resulted in an instant response.
The sphere began accelerating. While Carmen barely felt a thing through the sensory inputs on the bot, her readouts confirmed it.
Agent Barrett was screaming. “Are you still in control of this thing?”
What had she done? She tried to calm herself and realized she was having a hard time keeping focused. She had been awake too long. Her strange ordeal hadn’t afforded her much chance of rest and now her sister was counting on her.
With the touch of a virtual control, the harvester’s trailing spheres slowed theirs down via an electromagnetic beam. Too much deceleration. A jolt rocked the sphere, and the passengers instantly experienced the heightened pressure, forcing them deeper into their couches.
Barrett tried to look at her but could barely raise his head. “What’s happening? Carmen?”
“Everything is going well. I’m slowing us down. We’ll land back at Garden Village General and you’ll get the care you both need.”
“You’re sure you can stop us?”
“Yes. You’re almost home.”
He pressed his eyes closed. His broken hand remained swollen. A slightly overweight man in his thirties, he looked as worn and exhausted as she felt. She had been awake during most of their return trip.
She tried to shake the fuzz from her brain. Even the shadows within the sphere seemed to move with a life of their own. But rest would come later. She couldn’t afford the luxury of relaxing yet.
Through it all Jenna remained unconscious, having slept for most of the two-day-long return trip from Mars. Neither of them had known responding to their mother’s call for help would result in their being abducted and thrust into a situation beyond anything they could ever dream of. Alien refugees. The harvester, which everyone wanted but Jenna and Carmen controlled. And an enemy which threatened to destroy everyone, including Earth.
Carmen found the ship’s previous settings for course and speed. Allowed the computer to once again take over. The shaking eased and stopped altogether.
The sphere continued to cut a swathe through the air as it descended towards North America. It would take them home. Carmen had to trust it. She wished she could enjoy the view as the layers of sky peeled back, revealing the greens and browns of the land and the clouds and oceans to the west.
She confirmed her repeating message was still being sent at whoever might hear them.
“This is Carmen Vincent, daughter of Sylvia Vincent. We’re approaching Earth from Mars. I’ll be landing at Garden Village General Hospital with my sister, who will need medical attention.”
What kind of reception would they have? Were the surgeons ready? Would they be skilled doctors? The mad thought that the sphere might strike a plane on the way down occurred to her, but she forced herself not to think about it. Found herself praying that if they could only land, if Jenna would be okay, that was all that mattered.
Jenna’s warm brown eyes were open and staring at her. “Where are we?”
“Almost home.”
“Is Mom here?”
Carmen hoped her bot’s voice sounded calmer than she felt. “No, Jen, she’s not. Don’t worry about her. Try to relax. In a few minutes you’ll be at a hospital. They’re going to make you better.”
“When will she come back?”
“Soon.”
Her eyes closed again. “You never were a good liar. Worse than Mom.”
Carmen had been purposefully not thinking about what she could do to bring their mom back home. Sylvia Vincent remained with the Melded after they had restored her body. But part of her mind was still inside the Cordice simulation. Her mom had stolen the harvester and had made a deal with the Melded and a Cordice faction within the sim, and now Carmen didn’t know what part of her mother was real.
She would find out once she reached the Framework. But first she had to bring her sister back without getting shot down, hitting an airplane, or slamming into the ground at warp speeds.
Easy.
Deimos Station Chapter Two
Green, gray, and camo military vehicles lined the street leading up to Garden Village General Hospital. Trucks and Humvees mostly, but among them were armored cars and at least one boxy-looking tank. Flashing strobes blinked everywhere, bright in the hazy morning. Wisps of fog clung to the rows of eucalyptus growing along the nearby boulevard.
A helicopter
hovered around a mile off, its undercarriage bristling with what appeared to be missiles.
Carmen felt her apprehension grow as the sphere slowed gradually to a soft downward creep. If she did nothing, they’d touch down on the loop near the hospital’s ER. She plotted a retreat just in case: an upward trajectory that would take them into the air and away from Garden Village, sacrificing comfort for speed.
At least one thing was certain. They had received her message. She zoomed in on the hospital. No one was visible near the buildings. They had cleared the parking lot of civilian vehicles. But then a group of five people wearing the yellow hazard suits emerged from the ER’s entrance. They looked like spacemen in their own right, covered head to toe in shiny plastic.
Barrett was sitting up. “What’s happening?”
“We’re here. And it looks like your people are waiting for us.”
He was a Homeland Security agent. Before her abduction, he and a bunch of soldiers and scientists had occupied the broken-down restaurant where they found the sphere. Carmen tried to remember which other agency had been part of that team. Judging by the hardware, they were military. Air Force? Marines? Men in Black?
At least they hadn’t started shooting.
He unsteadily tried to stand. “Show me. Let me see what’s happening.”
She made the sphere clear as glass. The ground rose from below. The hospital in all its boxy beige stucco glory stood at the center of the swarm of military vehicles. The blinking lights strobed in a frantic explosion of brightness that caused Barrett to squint. More than a few of the Humvees had antenna arrays with dishes aimed at them.
The group of five at the ER entrance all carried bulky equipment but no weapons that she could see.
Carmen stopped the sphere inches from the ground. She made the sphere solid again before opening the door. The door material formed a sloping ramp. Again, a shadow within the sphere shifted at the periphery of her vision. She dismissed it. With so many ship controls and menus distracting her, it was impossible to keep track of it all. And now, with the end of their voyage within reach, she felt a nervous hope blossom.
