by Isaac Hooke
“Yes, it’s certainly not fun,” Rade agreed. “But for me, the worst part is being stuck in deep space.”
“Well that’s good, in a way,” Chow said. “Because we’ll be able to leave the ship a lot more easily. We won’t have to worry about finding ourselves at the bottom of a magma pool in the central vent.”
“Yeah, it also means we could find ourselves stranded in an uncharted system without jump Gates, and potentially surrounded by hostiles,” Rade said.
“Assuming this ship makes a jump before we can cut our way outside,” Chow said. “Given the distance to the closest Gate, that means they’d have to have the technology to create Slipstreams. I’m not sure I’d bet on that.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see,” Rade told her. “It’s hard to gauge the capabilities of a new alien race when you meet them for the first time. So far, I’m inclined to believe their tech is superior to ours, given that they’ve had organic creatures hibernating for potentially hundreds of thousands of years, and a ship whose power source apparently still works after all that time. Not to mention, the aliens themselves appear indestructible, able to absorb our attacks and reflect them back at us.”
“We should really be calling them Reflectors, not Slicers,” Tahoe said.
“Hey, don’t be changing the name I gave them,” Bender said. “Slicers suits just fine, given what they did to the Sino Korean dips back there. Sliced and diced them like a bat with steel wings.”
“Through!” Pyro announced.
“Forward!” Rade ordered.
Pyro led the way past the still smoldering edges of the seal. Rade followed, keeping low, knowing that touching that molten rim would be deadly to Tahoe, his passenger. Bender followed on the rear.
So far, still no aliens pursued. Rade wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“Got another blockage ahead,” Pyro announced.
Past Pyro, Rade could see the metal wall blocking their access forward.
Rade glanced at his overhead map. They still weren’t close enough to the volcano’s central vent to begin tunneling up through the hull.
“Scorch it,” Rade ordered.
Once again, he took up a defensive position with Bender to guard their rear, while Pyro unleashed hell on the door.
Rade felt vibrations emanating from the deck.
“Yep,” Tahoe said. “It’s definitely launching.”
“Damn it,” Rade said. “Pyro, faster.”
“Moving as fast as I can, Chief,” Pyro said. “In fact, I’m going to be overheating real quick here. You’re going to have to take over.”
Rade took Pyro’s place when his weapon switched offline to cool; in a few moments, Rade had enlarged it enough for the mechs to fit, and then he stepped aside to allow Pyro to take point.
They raced through the next corridor, but by then the shaking had become so bad that Rade could barely keep his balance while moving. Finally, he was forced to halt, and placed one hand on the bulkhead to keep himself upright. Pyro and Bender did the same in front and behind him.
“So much for this race being advanced,” Bender quipped. “They haven’t even invented inertial dampeners yet.”
“I don’t think we’ve broken free of the mountain yet,” Tahoe said. “I think this vibrating is part of that… to loosen up the surrounding rock.”
Rade felt a sudden rush of G forces, so intense that it nearly knocked him out; then the forces stabilized as the alien equivalent of inertial dampeners kicked in, and the shaking stopped.
Rade stood straighter. He took a tentative step: his arms and legs felt heavier.
“Gravity has risen to one point two Gs,” Valjean announced. “The vessel has activated artificial gravity, undoubtedly.”
“All right, well, I suppose it’s a safe to assume we’ve left the mountain behind, and are in space, or nearly so,” Rade said. “That means we can start cutting our way through the hull right now. No need to wait until we’re beneath a certain area. According to the map, most of the previous corridors we traveled were located on the upper deck, with only ten meters of hull armor separating them from the exterior. Though the hull of this section was formerly buried, there’s no reason to believe it’s any thicker here. Bender, you take the first round.”
“Ten meters of hull?” Bender said. “I can drill through that.”
Bender aimed his stingray at a slight angle above his head, and opened fire. The metal turned red hot. As he continued firing, thick molten drops trickled down in front of him, landing on the floor beside his feet.
“Valjean, how long will it take to drill through that material?” Rade asked.
“Accounting for weapon cool down periods, at this rate, about five hours,” Valjean replied.
“Too long,” Rade said.
He took over when Bender’s weapon overheated, and then Pyro replaced Rade after his own stingray required a cool down.
As the ceiling tunnel deepened, the mechs had to climb in and brace themselves, planting their feet on either side of the shaft they were forming. Switching places with each other required the first mech to clamber down, clearing the way for the replacement. They’d hold their ballistic shields above them at as high of an angle as the confines allowed, and then they’d fire away.
Rade let down Tahoe, and Pyro and Bender similarly allowed their Sino Korean counterparts to debark. It was safer that way: if the passengers remained in the seats, there was a chance their jumpsuits would be hit by superheated metal while the mechs drilled the tunnel. As it was, the ballistic shields of the mechs took their fair share of damage.
“You really think we’ll get out of this?” Jiang asked Rade on a private line when he was waiting for his turn.
“I have to believe that,” Rade said. “Because if I didn’t, I’d just give up. And that’s something I’m just not capable of. ‘Giving up’ isn’t in my vocabulary.”
“A good attitude,” Jiang said. “Even if you just used the words, proving that it is part of your vocabulary.”
Rade shrugged.
“This attitude of yours…” Jiang continued. “Of not giving up… perhaps it is an artifact of your training. I’ve heard about the bootcamp you MOTHs take.”
“I wouldn’t really call it a bootcamp,” Rade said.
“You take two, do you not?” Jiang said. “One for your Navy? And one for the MOTHs?”
“Yeah,” Rade said. “That sounds right. But again, the second isn’t really a bootcamp. It’s more of a… culling. Only the strongest survive. The Navy’s bootcamp is to strengthen up the recruits. The MOTH’s bootcamp, well, it’s to eliminate them. Only those who are both strong in body, and mind, pass.”
“From what I’ve heard, your MOTH bootcamp isn’t far removed from the typical training ordinary Sino Korean soldiers must endure,” Jiang sniffed.
“Then your government has an entire army of MOTHs at your disposal,” Rade said doubtfully.
“We have evolutions in training where we are shot in the arm by live bullets, and pepper sprayed, just like your MOTHs,” Jiang said. “We have what is essentially the equivalent of your Trial Week, where we must endure evolutions while freezing and sleep-deprived. Many drop out. We can only allow the strong to survive. Because you see, most of our armies are composed of robots. Only the strongest men and women can compete with them.”
“But you all wear jumpsuits with exoskeletons in war, don’t you?” Rade said.
“We do,” Jiang said. “But I meant, only the strongest mentally.”
“Ah,” Rade said. “It’s the same for the MOTHs.”
She closed her eyes behind her faceplate, and looked away. “I tell myself I’m strong. Then why is it every time I think about what happened to my friends, all I feel like doing is throwing myself on the deck and bawling my eyes out? Some of those that died, I went through bootcamp with. Bootcamp! And now they’re gone.”
Rade remained silent; he doubted any words of his would be able to help her out of the sudden s
lump she found herself in. Only she could do it.
She looked up suddenly, her features completely relaxed. She had pulled herself through. There were tears staining the areas beneath her eyelids, the only sign of the previous emotional turmoil that had taken her over. “Sorry. I don’t know what got over me. That was very unprofessional. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it wasn’t unprofessional,” Rade said. “It was normal. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself in the pit of despair over the loss of someone I’ve served with. The pain is… it can be unbearable.”
“How do you get through it?” Jiang asked. “Well, you’re a man, I suppose it’s easier.”
“No,” Rade replied. “It’s worse. Because we’re used to hiding our emotions from everyone. And keeping them clammed up. We don’t talk to each other about it. Well, we rarely do… instead, we let it simmer inside, slowly gnawing away at our core, waiting until it almost destroys us before we say a word to anyone.” He thought of what had happened to Skullcracker shortly after one particularly harrowing mission. His friend had lost someone important back home before the operation began, and had become almost catatonic from the grief he’d been putting off dealing with, so that when the mission was over, it hit Skullcracker full bore. Rade had been dealing with Taya’s loss at the time, and it had been difficult to console his friend, but somehow Rade managed it.
“So how do you get through it?” Jiang pressed.
“Just like anyone else does, I suppose,” Rade said. “We endure the pain. Try not to let it consume us with rage and sadness. Try to distract ourselves. I’m sorry, Jiang. You’re going to get over this. To this day, Pyro still has nightmares. Sometimes, when we’re rooming together while on a mission, he’ll startle the rest of us awake with his screams. He sees his platoon members dying almost every night. It’s not a curse I’d wish on anyone.”
“Somehow, that’s not reassuring,” Jiang said.
“I could have told you instead that everything would be all right,” Rade said. “That your friends would always be with you, and that they live on in your memories, like the lies the movies feed us. But none of that’s true. They’re not with you. They don’t live on in your memories, unless you count haunting your dreams. Their memories will begin to fade. Sometimes, I can’t even remember the face of my best friend, who died giving his life for me. So yeah, if I reassured you, I’d only be doing you a disservice. Telling you a lie. It’s better that you know the truth: it’s going to be hard as hell.”
“Thanks for that, I suppose,” Jiang said. She smiled sadly, and then looked away. She was quiet for a time, then: “They’ve taken to each other.”
“What?” Rade asked.
Jiang nodded toward Tahoe, who was sitting in his jumpsuit beside Chow. They were exchanging animated words on a private line.
“They’re just talking,” Rade said. “Cyclone is a married man.”
“You don’t have meat loaf during your space flights?” Jiang said.
“What?” Rade said. “My translator is having some problems. I got something about meat loaf?”
“Yes, that’s what we call temporary girlfriends and boyfriends acquired during a space journey,” Jiang said.
“Ah,” Rade said. “We do, but we call them cruise boos. And Cyclone isn’t like that. He’s devoted to a fault. Besides, it’s not like he’s able to touch her at the moment, you know, being stuck inside a jumpsuit and all.”
“I suppose not,” Jiang said. “But look at their expressions and body language. They definitely like each other.”
Rade shrugged. “It’s not a crime to like someone. Acting on it, when you already have someone, well that’s a different story.”
Then again, who was Rade to talk? He had slept with other women besides Shaw, the woman he loved more than anything.
Shaw’s not mine, he reminded himself. We went our separate ways.
Yet he knew there would always be a special place in his heart for her.
“You have someone, too?” Jiang asked.
“Yes,” Rade replied. “She’s waiting for me. When I’ve done my stint in the military, we’re going to get together.”
“Ah,” Jiang said.
What he told Jiang wasn’t entirely true. There was no guarantee that Shaw would wait for him. Still, it was fun to dream. Plus, it would ensure Jiang didn’t get any ideas about him.
Best to nip any interest she might have in the bud right now.
Four and a half hours later, when they were almost through to where Valjean had estimated the surface to be, Rade felt a subtle vibration in the deck while he watched the passageway with Pyro. Bender was in the tunnel, drilling with his stingray.
“Yo, you guys feel that?” Bender said, pausing.
“Yep,” Pyro said.
The vibration passed.
“What do you think it was?” Chow asked.
“Maybe we passed through the Gate,” Jiang replied. “It’s about ten hours from here.”
“That would mean this ship can travel twice as fast as our own,” Pyro said.
“Yes…” Jiang said.
“Keep going,” Rade ordered Bender.
After a while, Pyro swapped with Bender, and then Rade’s turn came again.
He clambered inside; when he was in place, he braced himself by spreading his legs and pressing the soles of his feet into the walls of the tunnel. His headlamp was active—there was no light, save for the dim glow produced by the superheated metal above.
Then he began firing his stingray into the ceiling to deepen the tunnel.
The surface was supposed to be close. In fact, they were supposed to have reached it already, and he kept expecting to break through. But as the moments ticked past, with only more hull armor revealed underneath each shot, he was beginning to despair. What if they were wrong about this part of the ship? What if there was another deck above them, or several? What if it took them days to reach the exterior?
But then, after he fired his latest shot, the white-hot metal melted away, to reveal not a gray backdrop, but black. It was speckled with the points of lights: the stars of a night sky.
“I’ve broken through!” Rade said.
He fired several more shots, clearing away the outer edges of the hull, until he had a hole big enough to fit through. Then he hauled his mech outside and onto the hull of the ship.
What he saw stunned him, and he sat down heavily on the deck. He essentially collapsed.
Pyro and Bender joined him, carrying the two Sino Koreans in their passenger seats; Tahoe hung onto the leg rungs on Pyro’s mech.
Rade was gazing up into the sky, at the stars.
The others followed his gaze, no doubt recognizing the big galaxy that resided in the night sky overhead, about the size of a fist amid the stars. A galaxy with twin arms spiraling away from its center, and a bright, bulging core.
“Where the hell are we?” Bender asked.
“That’s the Milky Way,” Jiang replied, her voice filled with dread.
12
Rade had allowed the sight of the galaxy to consume all of his attention, but he now returned his gaze to the outlying landscape that surrounded the starship. He had only given it a quick glance upon emerging, but he paused now to study its topography.
The starship resided amid a series of tall, elliptical shapes that thrust into the night sky; their surfaces were fuzzy and indistinct, as if coated in boughs or creeping plants. Perhaps they were trees? The ship itself existed at the same height as the treetops, as if perched atop one of them.
“Are these trees?” Pyro asked.
“It’s hard to tell in the dim light,” Rade said. “But they do seem to be trees, yes.”
Tahoe loaded into Rade’s passenger seat, and then Rade walked forward with the others, making his way toward one of the farther edges of the starship. Now that he was outside the fully excavated ship, he could confirm that the entire vessel was shaped like a saucer with a depression in the mid
dle.
As he got closer to the edge, the hull began to glow a dull green, the same color emitted by the ribbed sections of the corridors inside the vessel. The glow spread to the surrounding trees, whose trunks began to light up in turn. The glow expanded outward, moving from tree to tree.
Rade zoomed in on one of the elliptical objects, and saw the creeping plants that were draped across the glowing bark beneath. The plants didn’t glow, so they appeared as black bars and leaves against the backdrop of the trunk.
As he studied it further, moving his scope from left to right, he made out strange structures.
“Are those… window frames?” Bender asked.
“That’s what they look like,” Rade said. “These aren’t trees after all. But buildings.”
“The question is, are they overgrown and abandoned?” Tahoe said. “Or do the aliens simply integrate plants into their buildings?”
“The former, I’d guess,” Rade said, zooming back out. “This place looks dead.”
He continued to advance, and when he neared the edge of the ship, he looked down to observe the streets below. They, too, were overgrown, seeming more like a forest floor than anything else beneath the dim light emitted by the buildings.
“Those depressions in the ground…” Pyro said. “They look almost like blast craters.”
Rade spotted the depressions Pyro referred to, between several of the buildings. They could have been blast craters indeed, but were filled with such a profusion of plants that it was hard to discern their outskirts, let alone depths. Rade also spotted rock piles that could have been from collapsed buildings. Some of those piles were situated next to shorter structures, these with jagged ends as if the tops had broken away.
“You think those collapsed naturally?” Tahoe said. “Or this place was attacked?”
“Could be either,” Rade said. “Though if this city was constructed by the same race that built the starship, I’d be inclined to believe the latter, given how resilient the vessel is.”