by G J Ogden
“Well, this is unfortunate,” said Dakota, in what was probably the greatest understatement ever to pass a person’s lips.
“It is less than ideal,” Dr. Rand admitted, which was only slightly less of an understatement. “However, there is space to navigate through the core, if you believe you can make it.”
Dakota ran her hand through her hair again while staring, wide eyed, at the scan data. Between the twisted remains of bulkheads, framework, and whatever else the station was built from, Hallam could see that there was room for a ship their size to pass through. However, this buzzwire game was impossible to complete without touching the sides. Hallam doubted he could make it through without the ship taking a few knocks and scrapes, and he was sure Dakota had similar reservations.
“If I’m flying through that thing, then I have to do it by eye,” Dakota finally answered, removing her helmet and placing it on the deck to her side. She then also removed her armored gauntlets and flexed her fingers, as if preparing to play a concert piece on a piano. “This virtualized view just doesn’t feel real to me, and I can’t feel the stick through these damn gloves.”
Hallam understood Dakota’s need to fly by eye and deactivated the armor shields covering the cockpit glass. However, he left the shields protecting the other vital systems in place. Something told him they were going to need them. As the virtualized view gave way to reality, Hallam was confident that Dakota had made the right call. The difference was subtle, and to many perhaps imperceptible, but to a pilot’s eyes, reality trumped virtualized every day of the week. And if they were going to navigate through the constantly shifting maze in front of them, Dakota would need full access to her pilot’s instincts, unfiltered by electronic interpretation or interference.
“Are you sure this is wise, Miss Wulfrun?” said Dr. Rand, frowning at the thin sheet of cockpit glass surrounding them.
“If we were acting wisely, we’d have jumped away from this crazy system the moment we arrived,” replied Dakota, edging them ever closer to the constantly shifting structure.
Dr. Rand raised her eyebrows then unclipped her harness. “In that case, I suggest you take the second seat, Mr. Knight,” she said, slipping out into the rear of the cabin. “Two pairs of pilot’s eyes are better than one, I suspect.”
Hallam shuffled past the scientist, which wasn’t easy considering the extra bulk of their suits, and lowered himself – carefully this time – into the seat beside Dakota. She looked at him with the trepidation of someone on a rollercoaster that was inexorably rising to the summit of a huge peak, and was having second thoughts about the ride down. Dakota then reached out to where Bob the bear would normally have been sitting on the flight deck. However, the little woolen toy was not there.
“I’m sure he’s still looking out for us, Dak,” said Hallam, realizing that Dakota was about to pat the bear on the head for good luck. “This time, I’ll just have to be your lucky mascot.” Dakota didn’t look particularly inspired by his offer of standing in for Bob the bear, but Hallam was resolute. “Hey, you’ve got this, Dak. I believe in you,” he said, rapping Dakota on the shoulder with his armored knuckles. “I might be able to beat you in the ring all day, every day, and twice on Sundays, but you’ve always had a more natural feel for flying.”
Dakota snorted. “Well, half of what you just said is true.”
“Get us through this, and I’ll maybe give you a chance to prove me wrong,” said Hallam, smiling at her. It had been a little while since they’d challenged each other like this. Events had escalated to the point where their friendly rivalry had seemed trivial and childish. However, Hallam also knew that Dakota couldn’t let a challenge go unanswered. And if it helped to give her even a fraction more determination to succeed, it was worth it, because on this rollercoaster, there was no safety cage, and no hope of getting off if things got hairy.
9
Dakota eased the heavily armored mercenary fighter inside the wreckage of the alien space station. Broken bulkheads flexed and contracted, and enormous metal beams shifted position as the ship descended deeper into the station’s smashed and distorted innards. Hallam felt like they were navigating through the gullet of a giant space beast.
The light from the alien system’s star struggled to penetrate through the mass of metal, and Hallam enabled the external floodlights. This exposed the crippled structure of the space station in harsh white light. He peered out through the canopy glass, trying to form a picture of what species might have once inhabited the installation. However, the damage was far too extensive to make even a wild guess at the form its former occupants would have taken. They could have had two legs, twenty legs, or no legs at all, for all Hallam could determine.
“Did you ever see one, Doc?” asked Hallam while continuing to stare out at the wreckage. “One of the aliens, I mean.”
“Technically, in this star system, we are the aliens,” Dr. Rand corrected Hallam. “But no, I have never seen one,” she then added wistfully. “The unique orbital motion of the planet around the star causes a rapidly changing sequence of heating and cooling. The planet literally transitions from a veritable ice age to becoming hotter than Death Valley sometimes in the space of what would only be a few days on Earth. As such, anything organic on the surface perished long ago.”
An alert sounded from the navigation console. Dakota reoriented the ship and quickly pushed it lower to avoid a bulkhead that had suddenly moved toward them.
“How about you save this little chat until after we’re through the shape-shifting maze of death?” said Dakota with more than a little snark. Sweat was beading on her brow and her skin looked clammy. The pressure of piloting through the structure was clearly taking a toll on her, Hallam realized. Then another alert rang out, forcing Dakota to make a series of rapid adjustments. However, this time, she miscalculated, and there was a hollow scraping sound from beneath the ship followed by another alarm.
“Give us a two-second burst on the ventral thrusters, Dak, and nose up by three degrees. We’re grinding metal,” said Hallam, assessing the external sensor readings on his console. Dakota complied and the scraping sound and alarm both stopped.
“Remind me to apologize to Alexis Black for dinging her ship,” said Dakota sarcastically.
“I’m sure she’ll be cool about it,” replied Hallam while assimilating the updated scan data and relaying a new course to Dakota’s console. “She seems like a well-adjusted, perfectly normal citizen to me…” The updated course was then overlaid on the cockpit glass as a glowing blue line. “That new course should take you to at least the midway point,” Hallam added, sitting back and peering through the glass again. “Beyond that, I can’t get a clear reading yet.”
Dakota nodded and adjusted their trajectory to follow the new course, keeping a light touch on the controls. Droplets of sweat were now trickling down her face, betraying her outwardly cool façade.
“Do you have any idea what they look like?” said Hallam, feeling the need to fill the deathly silence between alarm wails and the grind of metal on metal.
“Seriously, Hal, can you save it?” Dak cut in, this time sounding distinctly unamused. “I for one hope I never see one of these aliens, alive or dead.”
Another alert rang out, as a sharp, ninety-degree bend approached. Dakota flipped the ship and slotted them through the narrow gap, this time without scraping a single panel.
“Nice job,” said Hallam, genuinely impressed, but he was then distracted by a solid thump on the hull. Hallam looked around, craning his neck to identify the source of the impact, hoping it was nothing serious. Then he peered directly up and saw two dead eyes that seemed to stare back at him, like a portrait in a haunted house of horrors. The eyes were set deep into the creature’s skull, which was wider than it was tall. The body attached to the head had four limbs connected to a long torso, which was covered in a material that was reminiscent of Kevlar or carbon fiber. The legs were short in relation to the body, but were stocky and powerfu
l-looking, while the arms would have reached almost to the ground at the creature’s full height. They ended in a semi-circular arrangement of eight claw-like digits that appeared as dexterous as they looked dangerous.
“What the hell is that!” Hallam yelled, recoiling into his seat. His outburst caused Dakota to jerk the controls and scrape their left wing across a crumpled bulkhead.
“Damn it, Hal, are you trying to make me crash and burn?” Dakota snapped back. Then she followed the line of Hallam’s awestruck stare and saw the face too. She cursed, but like Hallam, she was unable to look away. Then an alarm wailed, forcing Dakota to turn back to her controls and make another rapid series of adjustments to avoid crashing head-on into the wreckage. “Doc, what is that thing?” Dakota added, eyes locked dead ahead. However, her gaze was soon drawn back to the creature that appeared to be stuck to the cockpit glass. It was impossible not to look.
“Fascinating,” said Dr. Rand, standing up so that she could study the being more closely. The scientist appeared entirely unaffected by the primal sensations of terror and revulsion that were gripping Hallam. “The vacuum of space appears to have preserved this specimen perfectly.”
“Fascinating is hardly how I’d describe it, Doc,” said Hallam, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the alien corpse and back to his scanner. There was now a red box intersecting their waypoints that hadn’t been there the last time he’d checked.
“I’d imagine that, to them, we would have looked similarly strange, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand in a mildly condescending, teacherly tone. “Though it is a shame we can’t bring this example into the hold. I would be very interested to study it further.”
“Like hell…” said Dakota, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to and hastily correcting herself. “I mean, I’d very strongly advise against that in the strongest possible terms, Dr. Rand...”
Dakota’s exaggerated outburst would have normally amused Hallam, but what he’d just seen on the scanner had chilled him even more than the freak appearance of a dead alien. “We’ve got bigger problems than catching alien stiffs,” said Hallam. He had been analyzing the updated readings from the navigation scanner to determine what the red box meant. “Our way out of this maze just closed. We’re stuck in here.”
Dakota ducked the ship underneath another fractured section of the station’s interior, and again the hollow sound of metal scraping against metal resonated through the hull. “It’s already getting almost too tight to navigate in here, Hal,” Dakota said as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “If you don’t find us another way out, we’ll become a permanent fixture, like our icy friend out there.”
Hallam continued to scrutinize the data, but every path through the wreck led to another dead end. And, worse still, the section they were in was slowly growing smaller, as the shape of the safe zone continued to flex and contract.
“We might have to make our own hole,” said Hallam, glancing at Dr. Rand and hoping she wouldn’t object to the suggestion.
“The use of explosive munitions would risk destabilizing the entire structure, causing it to collapse in on us,” Dr. Rand answered.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Doc,” replied Hallam, realizing that it didn’t take a genius scientist to make that observation. “But we might not have a choice,” he added, transferring his data to Dr. Rand’s console. He then sprang out of his seat, trying hard not to look at the lifeless being staring down at him, and stood beside the scientist. “These three routes get us the closest to the other side of this maze, Doc,” Hallam said as another scrape of metal ran along the hull. “I hate to put it on you, but if you had to choose, which one is least likely to bring this house of cards crashing down on us if we hit it with a missile?” Dr. Rand glowered up at Hallam, clearly not happy with having the decision delegated to her. Then she peered at the screen, reluctantly studying the data.
“I hate to rush you, but it’s getting pretty tight in here…” Dakota called back.
Dakota’s wrists were now moving almost continuously, nudging the thruster controls two or three times every second, just to keep the fighter away from the encroaching beams and metal bulkheads. However, the increasing frequency of the scrapes and thuds on the hull made it clear she was fighting a losing battle. Hallam tried to shut the noises out of his head and waited with bated breath for Dr. Rand to give him an answer. However, when the scientist eventually looked at him, shaking her head, his stomach tightened into a knot.
“I would need an hour to study these numbers, Mr. Knight, by which point the parameters would have already changed a dozen times,” Dr. Rand replied.
“What does that mean, Doc?” said Hallam, though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew.
“It means that your guess is as good as mine,” Dr. Rand replied, and just like that, the ball was back in Hallam’s court. “In fact, in this instance, I defer to your pilot’s instincts over my cold analysis.”
“Hal, give me a course…” Dakota called out. “Anything is better than here.”
Hallam cursed then dropped back into the second seat. He looked at the three possible routes on his screen, but none of them stood out. Disregarding the data entirely, Hallam peered out at the collapsing structure with his own eyes before making a call. There was no logic to his choice. It was just the one that felt right. Or, at least, the one that felt least wrong. Hallam overlaid the new course onto the cockpit glass, then sat back in his seat and armed the missiles.
“First one out of the collapsing space station from hell buys the drinks…” said Hallam, casting a sideways glance to Dakota.
“You’re on,” replied Dakota before blowing out a long, slow breath and thrusting the ship ahead.
The vessel’s reinforced hull armor scraped and clattered through the station, and Hallam was more thankful than ever for the advanced fighter’s armor shields. Without them, they would likely already have suffered catastrophic damage. The route ahead grew increasingly narrow and perilous, but they were almost at the coordinates Hallam had selected. More alarms then rang out as metal beams and fractured panels drew closer, like the mouth of a shark closing around them. Hallam locked a missile on to the far wall then turned to Dakota.
“It’s now or never, Dak,” said Hallam, gripping the arms of his chair. “Shoot, and then chase after that missile as if our lives depend on it.” He managed a weak smile and added, “Which it does, by the way...”
Dakota swallowed hard, then flipped open the trigger guard and fired. A split-second later, the missile had surged ahead, and at the same time, Dakota rammed the throttle forward to chase after it. The missile detonated, clouding their view ahead with fire and smoke. Hallam’s eyes grew wide as the ship surged toward the debris like an icebreaker smashing through the frozen arctic sea. Then he panicked, realizing that they were about to crash headfirst through a twisted mass of metal with only a thin covering of reinforced glass to protect them. Frantically, he cycled through the systems and activated the armor shields for the canopy. Dakota’s eyes met his, filled with terror as the realization of their error suddenly struck home. However, like the inevitable drop of a roller-coaster car over the crest of a peak, there was no turning back now.
Hallam’s grip on the arms of the seat tightened as the shields rose higher, blocking his view ahead. Then the ship was rocked and buffeted like a canoe careering through white water rapids. The wail of alarms and urgent flash of multi-colored console lights assaulted him, but somehow Dakota had maintained her grip on the controls and managed to wrestle the ship to a stop.
Hallam cancelled the alarms, and for a moment, he and Dakota just sat and looked at each other, not quite believing that they were still in one piece. He was almost afraid to lower the shields, but it was the only way to find out if they’d truly made it through. Slowly, the heavy plates of metal retracted, grinding back into their housings with none of the precision engineered smoothness of their earlier operation. However, when the view ahead was finally r
evealed, Hallam was confronted by the vivid blue planet and its unique s-shaped continent, bigger and brighter than ever before. Dakota let her whole body go slack and suddenly started laughing. It was so unexpected that Hallam found himself laughing too.
“I’m so glad that you two are enjoying yourselves,” said Dr. Rand, who had already turned her attention back to her palm computer. Her icy coolness never ceased to amaze Hallam. “However, I would like to make one suggestion, if I may,” the scientist added.
Hallam wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of his eye with a trembling hand and glanced back at the scientist. “And what’s that, Doc?”
Dr. Rand looked up from her palm computer and met Hallam’s eyes, the hint of a smile curling her lips. “When we’re finally done here, I would strongly recommend that we find an alternative route back to the bridge worlds...”
Hallam’s eyes widened even further, then he and Dakota burst out laughing again.
10
Hallam stood in awe, looking out at the frozen and near derelict alien city where they had set down the fighter. Despite having stood on over a dozen different worlds during the course of his short life, none had affected him quite so profoundly as the alien planet. This was not just another world, Hallam realized, but the remains of another civilization. A civilization that had lived had died long before humanity had even taken to the stars. His feeling of wonder was soured by the understanding that the human race would suffer the same fate as this unknown species, should they fail in their mission.
