by CJ Birch
The water heats my skin. I turn my face to the spray. Would I change everything, or would I leave some things the same? I can still see the heat in Jordan’s eyes, feel her bruising lips on mine, her hands digging into my skin, claiming me. No. I’d never have the willpower to walk away from that. From her. And as much as it’s caused us problems, I don’t regret it. I’m not sure what will happen if we make it out of this situation—once we make it out. But we’re out here now with no way back. Fuck the rules. The Union no longer controls us. We’re on our own.
As I exit the showers, still drying my hair with a towel, I notice a shadowed figure standing by the window looking out into the expanse of the ship bay. It’s Wells. She’s leaning against the rail. When I approach I see she has the same look of awe I had on my face when I saw the illya’s ship for the first time.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Her voice is soft, contemplative. “To think we’d built this grand ship, only to find it dwarfed by the first species we encounter.” She turns around and smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “I never believed we were special. I knew there must be life out here somewhere. But I guess I thought our achievements would set us apart. Silly to think that, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure every species is biased when it comes to their own accomplishments.” And if what my father said is true, the illya have been spaceworthy for centuries. They’ve had time to perfect their technology. “It’s almost like stepping into the future. I’m sure our ancestors would find the Posterus spectacular.”
“Your father is Colonel Shreves, correct?”
I inwardly cringe. Not many people know I’m related to him, which suits me just fine. I don’t want people thinking he had any influence over my career.
Before I have a chance to answer, she waves off my hesitation. “I’m only asking because I’m curious if you spoke to him before you left.”
I shake my head. “He wasn’t too happy with my choice to volunteer.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything, turning to look out at the ship bay again. After a few moments she asks, “Do you trust your crew, Lieutenant?”
The question puts me on alert. Her hands grip the rail, and I notice now that she’s agitated about something. “I’ve not been on board long enough to get to know them all, but I have full confidence in them.”
“Let’s cut through the bullshit, shall we?” Her tone is steel. “Do you trust your crew?” She scans the track, making sure we’re alone.
“Most of them, why?” I have a feeling she didn’t just come on board to see the illya’s ship. She knows something.
“But not all of them?”
“No. We had a series of incidents.”
She nods again, pursing her lips. “A series of incidents. Sounds familiar. A few weeks ago we had an accident never fully explained to my satisfaction. While making repairs to the engine core, an explosion occurred. We lost three crew, including Amit, my head of engineering. I’ve been told the engine is unsalvageable.”
My mouth falls open, not just because I can’t believe it can’t be repaired, but that with it gone, we truly are stuck in this solar system.
She holds up her hand. “When we have time we’ll mourn our loss. But how did the engine explode in the first place? I put Gladwell in charge of the investigation, but his report was severely lacking. So sparse on data I started my own investigation, and what I found was not what I expected.”
I have a feeling I know what she’s going to say next, and now I have to decide if I trust her. Standing next to Wells, watching the lights play across the ship bay, I realize I’ve been approaching this whole thing wrong. I took command so reluctantly that I forgot to trust myself, to trust my instincts. I’ve been so wrapped up in what Jordan would do, I forgot to ask what I would do. It must have taken a lot of guts for Wells to come on board not knowing if we could be trusted. For all she knows she could’ve been walking into the arms of the enemy, and all I’ve done the past couple of weeks is whine about how I never wanted to be in charge.
In that moment I decide to trust Wells. “Let me guess. You found out it wasn’t an accident that we ended up in this galaxy.”
She gazes up at me with shrewd eyes. “How much do you know?”
“I know the Posterus was never a generational ship. Our lives bought the Belt’s freedom.” If she was checking up on Gladwell, she must have discovered communications or files. Which means, “Gladwell was in on it.”
She nods. “Yes. But he’s not the only one. Someone on your ship was communicating with him for several weeks. I’m not sure who. The messages were encrypted. But they were given several mandates, one of which was to make sure nothing impeded our delivery to this galaxy. They were working as an agent for the Commons.”
My blood runs cold. She might not know who, but I have a good idea.
Later, I’m outside Vasa’s cabin, calming myself before I go in. He’s had no interaction with any of the crew except Yakovich, who brings him his meals three times a day. I can’t be sure he’s the agent, but no one else is working against us the way Vasa has. Not to mention, he was the one who found the planet we landed on. It would be coincidental for him to accidentally find this planet that the illya have gone to a lot of trouble to hide. At the time he made it seem so reasonable—anomalous readings coming back from his probes. But what if he already had the coordinates and took us there? He was also the one who found the asteroids that pointed us in that direction. It’s entirely possible that he orchestrated this whole thing.
I enter Vasa’s cabin without knocking. Even if he isn’t the agent, he still tried to kill me. He doesn’t deserve my consideration. He’s lying on his bed with his hands behind his head and his ankles crossed. He looks relaxed, at peace.
When I enter he sits up, clearly surprised to see me. I guess he would be. I haven’t seen him since before I found out he was behind most of the harsher attacks. He’s tried to kill me more than once. If our situations were reversed, I’d be surprised to see me too. Actually, I’d be a little afraid. But Vasa doesn’t look frightened, only curious. And now I wonder if Gladwell gave him the order to kill me.
I take a seat from his desk and straddle it so I can cross my arms on the backrest. Vasa sits there watching me, his big brown eyes blinking expectantly. He’s had a shower recently, but it still hasn’t done anything about his pungent smell. It permeates the room. Hell, most of the time you can tell whether Vasa’s been in a room twenty minutes after he’s left.
“As I’m sure you’ve been informed, the Captain is MIA, which puts me in charge.” He still doesn’t look frightened. I have a feeling he will be by the time this is over. “I’m giving you two options. The first, you can cooperate and answer all our questions, and you’ll be able to accompany us back to our own galaxy after we finish repairs to the Persephone.” He doesn’t blink. “Or option two. We leave you here with the illya before heading back.” I watch him, watch his face as he weighs what I’ve said. I know the exact moment he hears what I’ve really said.
“Head back? You guys are trying to get back to the Milky Way? How? You don’t even know where it is.”
Gotcha. “Hartley found the wormhole. He thinks he can get us back to where we started. In fact, he’s not convinced it’s naturally occurring. I’m confident we’ll be there within weeks.” I place my chin on my folded arms and stare Vasa down. “So which is it going to be? Option one or option two?”
“You can’t head back.”
I shrug, enjoying myself. “Why not?”
“Because it’s a suicide mission.”
“Hartley doesn’t think so. He thinks we’ll—”
“Hartley’s an idiot.” Vasa jumps off the bed, but I’m up and out of my chair with a sonic blaster pointed at his chest before he can take a step closer.
“You don’t have to decide right away. I can come back.” I take a step toward the door.
“Wait.” He holds his hands out for me to stop. “Wait. Not here.”<
br />
“What?”
He points to the ceiling and then points to his ear, meaning they might be listening in on our conversation. That’s a good point. We don’t want to tip them off before we’re ready to make our grand escape. I point for him to lead the way out. This is the perfect opportunity to relocate him to our brig on the Persephone. Hartley has a lot of our systems up and running. I told him to use all the crew he needs, even non-engineering personnel. I don’t want him taxing himself. After all, we still don’t know why he got sick. For that reason, I’ve asked him to share access codes with Foer and to set up my command codes so we never get locked out again.
Vasa tromps toward the door. I step back several feet to keep him from reaching around to grab my gun. It takes us a few minutes before we even make it to the Persephone, both of us silent. We’re a few meters in the door before something loud and painful reverberates around in my brain. I drop to my knees and grip my head with both hands. My vision goes white before swamping me in darkness. I blink a few times, trying to get it back to normal. That’s when I feel, or rather smell, Vasa slink up close. Instead of asking if I’m okay, he grabs the gun and takes off down the hall. The last thing I hear before I pass out is Sarka’s voice.
Chapter Twenty-two
Jordan
I’m standing in an alcove a few meters from the guard station on the prison deck. The same gorillas are standing guard. However, as horrible as it sounds, I couldn’t tell you if they were the same gorillas or just the same species. Same dark fur, same dark scowl.
This morning Veera informed me that Sarka was able to contact Ash through her mind knot. That was all she said. They won’t know if the message was successful until they detect an explosion on the illya’s ship. But they’re gearing up to enter into combat. I have no doubt Ash and Hartley will come through for us, so it’s just a matter of time before my window to leave is gone. I certainly don’t want to get caught on a pilot ship in the middle of a battle.
So I’ve sucked up my nerve, and I’m standing here finding the last of it to go up and demand the guards give me entry. I’m not even sure who I’m supposed to tell them I want to speak to. Karm didn’t go into details about that, so it’s up to me. More than ever I wish Ash were here. She’s good at coming up with crazy-ass plans.
I’ve timed it so that it’s fifteen minutes from shift change. I figure they’ll be tired and ready to leave so will give me less hassle. Of course I’m basing this assumption on human nature, not theirs. Who knows? Maybe they prefer being on duty.
I suck it up and walk forward. No point in second-guessing myself now. What’s the worst that could happen? They lock me up too? I put on my game face because being in these prisons would be pretty bad.
They notice me the second I walk around the corner. If possible, they loom harder. I stand up straighter, not that it’ll do much. By the time I’m standing in front of them, they’re no taller than my shoulders, but I’m still intimidated.
“I’m here to talk with Tup.” It’s the first name that comes to mind. I’m not even sure he’s being held here. I haven’t seen him in the mess since the revolt. For all I know, he could be dead.
“What for?” one of them asks. The question is low in his throat, creating a deep resonating sound that vibrates around the room.
“Veera wants to know if he has any information about a counter-revolt.” They share a glance, a look that speaks volumes. I’m not aware of what’s in those volumes so I wait, ready to take off if things don’t go my way. One of them nods. The other one shuffles to the controls and unlocks the main doors.
I sag in relief. Thank fuck. I’m not sure if my nerves could handle a chase through this ship. Before I walk through the door, one grabs me and holds me back.
“Wait.” He points to the keypad. “You need to sign in.”
I smile as if I’ve done this a hundred times. “Of course.” But when I walk over I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I stand there like an idiot for several seconds before one of them grabs my wrist and waves the arm with the device they implanted over the pad. It flashes purple. I hope that’s a good sign.
Inside, the doors shut, and the darkness of the corridor surrounds me. I hear shuffling and grumbles from the cells on either side. It doesn’t look like there’s any barrier, only a cell and open space. For a terrifying moment I wonder if I’ve walked into a trap. Is this how I die? It would take less than a second for any one of these people to kill me. They could even use their imaginations. Most species we’ve encountered on this ship outweigh humans by more than double, some triple. They have muscle strength we could only dream of. In fact, even in our early primate stages we probably didn’t have that kind of strength. It’s the kind where they could literally break you in two like you were a cornstalk.
The corridor must run the length of the ship. That’s a lot of cells. We have one brig cell. The Brimley is a little bigger; they have two. And the Posterus has none, which makes a total of three jail cells for the entire human population in this galaxy. That doesn’t seem like much, when you consider human nature. But every single person on this mission was handpicked. Their personalities were tested to make sure they’d fit in and get along with everyone.
Here they’ve built an army with people who, for the most part, are here against their will. That will obviously lead to conflict. Add a revolt in here or there, and I can see how they’d need this many cells to house prisoners, although I guess it depends on your definition of prisoner.
As I continue to walk down the corridor, I notice a shimmer across the doorways. There must be some sort of field like on the planet, blocking them from exiting their cells. I breathe a little easier, but not much. It’s not complicated. They could hit one button and drop all these doors. Then what? Would these guys be on my side? I doubt it.
Now that I’m in here, I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Or rather, who. And when I do find someone who’s willing to fly me out of here, how the fuck am I supposed to get them out of their cell and past the two gorillas?
The cells are spaced a meter apart and are only five by five inside. There’s a cot and a place to do your business, but that’s all. When you consider the size of my bunk, it might not be so bad to get locked up here. Less claustrophobic. Of course, you can’t do anything but pace back and forth. In fact, that’s what most of the inmates are doing. Only now, as I walk past, they stop to watch me—some with suspicion, some curiosity, and a few others with hostility. I haven’t encountered a familiar face since I entered, and it occurs to me that if Tup is alive, maybe he’d help me. It beats dying in this place or waiting a decade for things to sway back to your side. I’d hate to be locked up for even a second.
“Who you looking for?” an older gentleman asks. He’s sitting on his bed, stooped over. He’s one of the only prisoners who hasn’t come to the doorway to get a look at me.
“I’m looking for Tup.” I step as close as I dare. Red light illuminates the cells from a single source above their beds. It doesn’t give off much light, not enough to do anything like read, but enough to see your way around your cell.
“Breen.” The man grunts. “They’re being held much farther down.”
I thank him and pick up my pace.
“What do you want him for?” another prisoner asks. This one is much younger. He’s leaning against the wall looking out his door, his thick arms crossed over his massive chest.
If there weren’t a shield blocking us, I wouldn’t have the guts to say, “None of your business.” I’m glad the protection is there. I don’t want people thinking I’m getting Tup to snitch, and I definitely don’t want them thinking I’m springing him. The large man in the cell grunts and turns away.
After a minute or two I near the end of the hall. “Has anyone seen Tup? I’m looking for Tup.” I start peering into all the cells, hoping I’ll be able to spot him in this dim light. Every few meters I ask the question again. I keep my voice low to match the near silence in this
place.
Finally someone says, “End of the row.”
I walk faster until I reach the last cell. Tup is curled up on his bed either sleeping or pretending to sleep because he’s heard someone’s looking for him.
“Tup, it’s Jordan.”
I guess he was faking because he sits up right away. “Jordan? What’re you doing here? Thought you were someone working with Veera to get information out of me.”
How would he know what I told the guards? It’s too good a guess for me to believe he didn’t know. I don’t speak as he grunts and stands, stretching various limbs to get the kinks out. I hear a few pops.
He walks up to the door and whispers, “You’re not working for Veera, are you?”
“Were you expecting me?”
“They’re friends of mine. Told me to expect a visitor.”
“If they’re friends of yours, why are you locked up here?”
“I’m here till something better comes up, and since you’re here, looks to me like something better showed up. So, human. What can I do for you?”
I grin because my luck just turned. “You know how to fly, right? I need you to help me steal a pilot ship and get out of here. We can give you asylum and drop you where you need after.”
He thinks about my proposition for a moment, chewing something I can’t see. “And if I want to keep the pilot ship and take off on my own?”
“It’s yours.”
“Then you got yourself a pilot for hire. Let’s get out of here.”
