Navigating the Stars

by Maria V. Snyder

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “For what?”

  A list of reasons spring to mind: for staying with me; for getting me out of the pits; but the most important one pops out first. “For believing me about the shadow-blobs.” If he hadn’t, then the encounter would have gone in a deadly direction.

  “Anytime.”

  After we arrive at the infirmary, I’m separated from Niall. Which is a good thing because the first thing the two nurses do is cut and peel off my ripped and bloody clothes. In the harsh light, my skin resembles scored raw meat. Except for the ugly red puncture mark oozing a reddish liquid—that just looks nasty. The room spins and I take a deep breath to steady my overworked heart.

  I swallow a scream when the doctor presses his fingers into the wound. “This is going to need surgery. Where are your parents?” he asks me.

  I’ve no idea.

  “Prep her,” the doc orders a nurse and sends the other to find my mom and dad.

  I quickly learn that prep her really means torture her by cleaning all the cuts with a substance that stings like a son of a bitch and smells just as bad. By the time my mother bursts into the room demanding answers, my eyes are squeezed shut and I’m seconds from crying or passing out or throwing up. It’s hard to tell as my body cycles through all of them. Fun, eh?

  The doctor’s competent voice responds to my mother’s questions. There’s lots of medical lingo and soon there’s a sharp pinprick on the inside of my left forearm followed by sweet oblivion.

  At least this time when I wake up in the infirmary, I’m pain free and remember why and how I arrived. Progress! The lights are dim and the clock on the wall reads oh-two-hundred. I crinkle my nose over the antiseptic smell and discover the growly sound is my dad snoring in the chair next to my bed. Which I take as a good sign. If he was worried, he wouldn’t be asleep. Right?

  “Good thing I didn’t die,” I say loudly. “You would have slept right through it.”

  Dad jerks upright. “You’re awake!”

  I don’t think that requires a response.

  He arches his back and stretches. A tuft of his brown hair sticks up on the side of his head. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine. What’s the damage this time?”

  “I should probably wait—”

  “Dad.” I use my sternest voice, mimicking my mother.

  He sighs. “Mostly minor cuts and bruises. A few deeper lacerations that might scar. And one stab wound that punctured your intestines, but they were able to repair the damage. A few days of rest and you’ll be good as new.”

  A relief until I remember Beau. I grab the rail. “Beau?”

  “Alive.”

  I wilt back into my pillows.

  “He’s weak and lost a lot of blood, but should recover.”

  “And the others?”

  “Fine.”

  The tightness around my chest eases just a fraction. “The pits?”

  “Locked. We also installed bright lights to shine on the doors around the clock.”

  And now I can breathe normally. “Have you figured out what they are?”

  “No. When you’ve recovered your strength, Tace is going to talk to you about what happened.”

  At least I’ve been warned. I shoo my dad out, telling him to go to bed.

  In the morning, my mother and Niall stop by and I reassure them about my health. They both appear as if they haven’t slept. Although Niall has changed into clean undamaged clothes. Too bad it’s his uniform.

  Mom gives me a penetrating stare. Her Mom-X-ray-vision is turned on maximum. “We need to discuss your propensity for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “But I did as I promised. I ran away. We all did.”

  She drops into the chair. “You were supposed to be safe while on probation. Tace assured us.”

  Niall stiffens, but keeps his lips pressed firmly together.

  “Not his fault,” I say. And yes, I can’t believe I’m defending him. “It’s mine. I should have made more of an effort to convince everyone about those shadow-blobs.” Then Beau wouldn’t have been injured.

  Mom cocks her head. “And that would have landed you back in the infirmary. Lyra, you’re not to blame. No one is. I’m just being a mom.” She hops to her feet, plants a kiss on my forehead and tells me to rest. “I’ll be back later to check on you.”

  When the door closes behind her, Niall asks, “Is that a promise or a threat?”

  I laugh, which is a bad idea because it hurts.

  He takes my hand. “Sorry.”

  “You can make it up to me by helping me get out of bed.”

  “Are you allowed?”

  That doesn’t deserve an answer. I yank the covers down and swing my legs over the side. He grabs my other hand and pulls me to my feet. Then steadies me as a brief wave of lightheadedness affects my balance.

  “Lyra?”

  “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Now he’s alarmed. “Where?”

  “To visit Beau. I want to make sure he’s okay.”

  “He’s still under heavy sedation.”

  “Oh.”

  Niall eases me back down. I reluctantly recline and he pulls the covers up.

  “Tucking you into bed is becoming a habit, Mouse.”

  I pat the space beside me. “There’s room for you.”

  “I’m on duty.”

  I pout. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “Not much.” He shrugs. “All part of the job.”

  “Really? Does that include fighting shadow-blobs?”

  He gives me a wry smile. “If that’s what’s required to keep you safe, then yes, it includes fighting blobs of shadows. Plus it’ll look good in my dossier. I can get a job anywhere in the Galaxy.”

  Even though I know he’s joking, a cold fist of fear clamps around my heart as I remember Xinji. We might not live that long.

  The next day I’m discharged with a list of instructions and orders to return for a checkup. Niall escorts me to security’s conference room. I’ve been “invited” to the debriefing. When we enter, it’s an effort to walk through the tension that fogs the air. Keir gives me a nod of encouragement when I meet her gaze. But Menz avoids looking at me. Niall takes the empty seat at the far end of the table. It appears my seat is next to Radcliff’s. Yippee for me.

  I’m asked to describe what happened, starting with the lights going out. Drawing in a breath, I hesitate. Do I tell them about the ghosts? The attack proved I wasn’t crazy, but ghosts?

  “You need to know why we were in the factory,” I say, then explain about feeling safer down there, the ghosts, and then the attack.

  After a moment of silence, Morgan asks, “Niall, did you see these…ghosts?”

  He straightens. “No, sir.”

  “So why can you see them and the…shadow-blobs, but we can’t?” Morgan asks me.

  A great question. Too bad I don’t have a great answer. “Maybe it’s because I had a concussion.”

  “So we’re all supposed to get concussions now so we can see the damn things?” a burly officer sitting near Niall asks.

  Radcliff ignores the comment. “Lyra, have you seen any of the…shadow-blobs in the factory?”

  I think back to my two visits. “No.”

  “Do you think it might be because of those… ghosts?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t move. They just stood next to…” The hearts. I rub my right arm as a memory stirs to life of an icy cold coating my fingers and traveling up my arm. The sudden extreme chill that hit me just before the shadow-blobs attacked Beau.

  “They stood next to what?” Radcliff prompts.

  “The hearts. And I touched a heart. Remember? And I can see the shadow-blobs.” I’m on the edge of my seat. “Maybe that’s why I can see them! And it’s the reason the shadow-blobs aren’t in the factory. Because of the hearts!”

  No one shares my excitement. Niall appears interested. Officer Burly scowls at
me while the others crinkle their noses as if slightly nauseous.

  “That sounds a bit…farfetched,” Radcliff says into the silence.

  And that just pisses me off. I’ve had it with their significant pauses. “Oh, so invisible shadow-blobs with razor-sharp tentacles are not…farfetched?”

  Radcliff frowns. “No need to be sarcastic.”

  Oh there’s every need, but I hold my tongue. For now.

  “If we can get into the factory, we can test her theory,” Niall says. “I volunteer to touch a heart.”

  “No,” Radcliff snaps. “No one is going into the pits until we figure this out. As far as we know, these beings are afraid of the light. Is that correct, Lyra?”

  “Yes. They recoil from the light and when the light beam is really close, it…poofs.”

  The tension in the room eases a fraction as many of the officers struggle to keep a straight face. I’d like to hear them explain it better, but I have to admit it does sound pretty silly.

  “Poofs?”

  I describe it as best as I can. “I didn’t have time to count, so I can’t confirm if poofing is a permanent condition or a temporary banishment.”

  Again a ripple of suppressed laughter.

  “Regardless, we’re going to need brighter light sources that cover more area and are portable,” Radcliff says.

  “How about lasers?” Menz asks.

  “We’ve no idea if it will work. We need to consult with the physicists,” Morgan says. “They might have some ideas.”

  Radcliff gives his approval. “Take Menz and…Tora, didn’t you almost become a physicist?”

  “I said I passed physics,” Tora says.

  “Good enough. You and Menz will assist Morgan. As for the rest, we’ll have three guards in the archaeology lab armed with flashlights at all times. Six-hour shifts. First team is Bendix, Vedann, and Radcliff. Second team is Rance, Zaim, and Ho.”

  Keir glances around in dismay. “What about me, sir?”

  “You are assigned to protect Lyra.”

  I need protection? That doesn’t sit well with me. Keir glances at me and mouths pampered ass, which strangely makes me feel better.

  “First team report to work,” Radcliff orders.

  Niall stands along with Officer Burly…Bendix and a tall thin woman who must be Vedann. They hurry out, but Niall meets my gaze before he leaves.

  Radcliff dismisses the second team, but when I stand, he grabs my wrist. “Not yet.”

  I resume my seat. After the conference room clears of everyone but me, Radcliff, and Keir, he turns to me. “It’s critical that we learn exactly what happened on Xinji. We need those deleted files.”

  “My parents—”

  “Have already given their permission. Plus Keir and I will be nearby at all times.”

  Am I a bad person if I have the desire to say something petty? Something like, oh so you’re trusting me now? Or, aren’t you afraid I’ll steal more files? Of course I don’t say those things because Beau is still in the infirmary and there’s a chance another person could join him or worse.

  “If I have any chance of finding them—and I can’t guarantee anything—I’m going to need access to a high clearance terminal.”

  Radcliff studies me for a moment. “Your father said you can use his terminal in the Control Center.”

  Sweet.

  We head to Radcliff’s office. Before Keir and I continue to my room, Radcliff says, “You won’t be seeing Niall as much.”

  Yeah, I already figured that out. “I understand. Too bad you can’t recruit more people.” And to think I once thought twelve officers was excessive. Now I’d be happy with a hundred more.

  “Your mother is lending us her techs.”

  The memory of them panicking and bolting for safety replays in my mind. “At least they can help monitor the cameras.”

  I surprise a laugh from Radcliff—finally! “Yes, their unfortunate behavior was noted in Niall and Keir’s report.”

  Good.

  As I step away, Radcliff adds, “Their report also noted your behavior, Lyra.”

  Oh? I turn to look back at him. Am I in trouble?

  “You’re credited with saving Officer Dorey’s life.”

  I am? Stunned, I stammer, “But Keir…and Menz… and Niall all—”

  “Were fighting an invisible opponent. If you hadn’t remained calm and aided them, they’d all be dead.”

  Wow. That’s…I’d like to think they all would have been okay, but Menz and Keir were rather freaked out. “Niall—”

  “I know. He’s getting a commendation in his record.”

  “Keir—”

  “Her, too. Now get some rest.” Radcliff shoos us away and disappears into his office.

  I walk beside Keir. “What about Menz? He carried Beau.”

  “He refused recognition. He feels guilty for freezing, which happens to everyone at some point during their career. And is understandable in this situation. I barely held it together, but I wasn’t going to let some spoiled lab rat show me up.” Amusement quirks her full lips, but then fades. “Truthfully, if I hadn’t seen Beau lying there bleeding, I might not have believed you.”

  “Truthfully, I’d rather those shadows be a symptom of PTSD.”

  “Yeah, a couple of sleepovers with yours truly and you’d have been fine.”

  Too bad no amount of sleepovers will solve this problem.

  My parents join Radcliff and me for dinner.

  “I can’t believe we’ve encountered alien life in our lifetime,” Mom says. “I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.”

  “My stomach is battling between awe and nausea,” my dad mutters.

  Remembering the conversation with my dad, I ask, “Have you notified DES?”

  “Of course!” Mom stabs her fork into the air for emphasis. “I don’t care if the looters are listening in, this is light years beyond our authorization.” She sets the utensil down with a clatter. “We need a better classification for those creatures.”

  “Shadow-blob not technical enough?” I ask, somewhat offended.

  “How about Lyra’s Shadow Army?” Dad asks.

  “Ugh. No. I don’t want my name attached to them. If they were shadow-puppies that licked your face, I might be more inclined to be a part of their discovery.”

  “We’re calling them Hostile Life Forms,” Radcliff says. “HoLFs for short.”

  HoLFs? I still like shadow-blobs better.

  “Has anyone else touched the hearts?” Radcliff asks as I clear the table.

  “Not with bare skin,” my mother says, giving me a significant look.

  “Can we access the factory without going through the pits?”

  My father leans back and taps his fingers on the table. “It extends below the pits. We could dig down in a safe area, then dig over to the factory.”

  “The hatch is still open,” I say.

  Radcliff peers at me with his security officer expression. “You said the HoLFs won’t go down there.”

  “No. I said I didn’t see them down there. I speculated that the hearts might scare them. But, I have no idea if it’s true.”

  “And there’s no reason to believe that a door or hatch would keep them out,” Mom adds.

  Lovely. My desire for dessert dies.

  After soch-time the next day, Keir escorts me to the Control Center. My father is in his terminal, but he relinquishes his chair when he spots me.

  “DES has sent instructions about those…” He lowers his voice. “HoLFs.”

  “And?”

  “We’ve strict orders not to engage with them.”

  I almost laugh. “Did DES message the shadow-blobs, too? ’Cause the last time I checked, they engaged with us first.”

  Dad ignores my sarcasm. “Of course they tagged all information about the HoLFs as classified and when the Protector Class ship arrives, they will handle the situation.”

  “Aren’t they freaked out by the fact there’s hos
tile aliens out here?” I am.

  “It’s DES. They’re not going to admit to being ‘freaked out.’ Also there’s a chance they don’t believe us. We could have been exposed to a mind altering gas and are all hallucinating. Then there’s another possible explanation—they already know about the HoLFs.”

  “Then why wouldn’t they warn us?”

  “In that case, it would be because DES deemed we didn’t need to know. Their communications have been carefully worded lately—probably due to the looters worming into their clusters. But I did see a few more exclamation points in these last few messages.”

  That didn’t help. “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “I believe we’re doing it.”

  Somehow I’m not reassured. He pats my shoulder as if that will help. I appreciate the gesture and cover his hand with my own for a moment. After he leaves, I sit down in his terminal. Keir stands behind me.

  I do a little worming to gather some information. I mark the security breaches for Beau to fix once he’s better. Then I nose around and find the super wormer’s trail. I don’t want to alert him/her to what I’m attempting to do, but I can’t help being impressed. Jarren’s right, that guy/girl has some mad skills. I wonder if it is Osen, Warrick, Ursy, or Fordel.

  Perhaps it’s all of them.

  Oh my stars.

  I straighten. Why not? Beau and I wormed together. I trailed Jarren. Chief Hoshi and I worked in tandem. And the bridge crew…I’d bet they operate as a unit in the Q-net.

  Another thought almost knocks me over. If those super wormers teamed up, they could take control of the Q-net. I imagine they’d rename DES to OWUF or WOUF or something like that. Either way it’s a terrifying thought.

  But it also gives me an idea to increase my chances of finding those files.

  “You want to do what?” Radcliff asks, incredulous.

  I explain it again. It’s after dinner and everyone has left. “It’s like that sorting socks thing—using valuable resources that are needed elsewhere,” he says.

  “But that worked,” I try.

  “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, just keep looking for those files.”