Hybrid: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 4)

by Valerie J Mikles

  “This place is poisoning him,” Danny sighed, rubbing his hands.

  “Our food is poisoning him. He was sick before we got here,” Tray argued, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So how does this mineral work as a patch if it washes right off?”

  “Fire. I’ll show you,” Sky said numbly. Her hands shaking, she took the bucket outside, found a spot on the hull with missing tiles, and used her knife to slather avalan over the break. The work seemed to calm her a little. Reaching across Danny’s belt, she took his pulse rifle. “Obviously this is not the right tool for the job, but it’ll get the point across,” she said, trying for a flirtatious smile, but managing only an incorrigible smirk. Adjusting the rifle to the lowest possible setting, she created a soft beam and ran it over the clay. The copper threads heated and expanded, spreading the clay. Sky let up the pulse rifle beam and the patch glowed.

  “It’ll take a half day to cool and harden, and Oriana will be space worthy when it does,” she explained, moving to another breach and spreading avalan along the hull.

  “I have a better spreading tool,” Danny stammered, wanting to do more analysis on the mineral before she covered his ship. But Amanda screeched and the nurse bot tumbled out of the cargo bay, klaxon sounding.

  Tray went for the bot, but a defensive drone launched off the side of the Dome, swooping at Tray. Sky fired at the drone, knocking it against the Dome wall.

  “Inside!” she ordered, yanking Tray by the collar, hauling him in. Danny sealed the door behind them.

  “What happened?” Tray asked.

  “What do you think?” Sky cried. “Crazy girl attacked the nurse-bot!”

  “It’s not her fault,” Danny said, searching the bay, hearing Amanda’s cries emanating from one of the cargo holds behind the stairs.

  “Do you want to go out there and explain that to the drones?” Sky retorted, stomping in a circle, then plopping down in the middle of the bay, holding her head in her hands.

  Danny found Amanda crouched in one of the access crawlways, writhing and digging her fingernails into her scalp. It was a mild fit for her, and he wasn’t going to risk pulling her into the open just yet.

  “Maybe the machines turned on the humans,” Danny hypothesized, leaning on the bulkhead. “Maybe that’s where they all went.”

  “Whatever happened here, it was sudden,” Tray replied. “There’s no medical record of any catastrophic event, according to the bot. Eighty-two thousand people just disappeared.”

  “Tray, you got a signal from Quin before we landed?” Danny recalled.

  Tray shrugged. “We don’t know that it was from Quin. I have to see what Saskia recorded. I was too unconscious to check earlier.”

  “Do it,” Danny said. “The drones didn’t damage any major systems—just the hull. If we’re close enough, we can make a run for it and hope we get there before the ship falls apart.”

  “Avalan is good for channeling grav energy,” Sky added, rising to her feet. “I can use what we have to modify the thrusters.”

  “Could be useful if the drones don’t calm down,” Danny acknowledged.

  Sky pressed her ear to the door.

  “Oh, our supply is outside,” Danny groaned.

  “The drone that came after us was defending the bot. If an offensive drone were deployed, we’d have heard a lot more blasts on the hull,” Sky said, tipping open the door, checking for danger.

  “Then maybe we can get a few patches on,” Danny said. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Amanda’s hand brush his leg. Amanda groaned, crawling out of the hold.

  “Sweetheart,” Danny whispered, squatting next to her.

  “Don’t touch,” she murmured, slithering up the stairs in an effort to sit up. “I’m scared.”

  Sky disappeared out the back door, and Danny listened for sounds of attack. He wanted to join her, but a part of him knew she needed to be alone, to focus on her task, and process her loss.

  “She talked to me,” Amanda panted, her head between her knees.

  “Who? Amanda, there was no one in here with you. No one else saw anyone,” Danny said, taking the next stair up. He wanted to believe she was having an episode, but they were in an alien city, and he had made the mistake before of assuming no one was watching.

  “The nurse-bot. She talked. She said my arm will feel better in another week,” Amanda said, rubbing over her elbow, then readjusting her sling. Danny let out a breath of relief. “My brain is prone to seizures and hallucinations.”

  “Seizures? That’s not good,” Danny said. He tapped his Virp, initiating a monitoring program to alert him if Amanda had a seizure. He’d need her to wear her Virp, not carry it.

  A soft sob escaped and Amanda’s whole body quivered. “Take her to the bridge. Show her how to fly. Set her free,” she recited, then she looked back at Danny, her eyes going wide. “She wanted to steal the ship.”

  “You’re not talking about the nurse-bot anymore,” Danny sighed.

  Amanda shook her head. “A girl. An orphan. She lost her parents in the war. And she’s so tired of being alone.”

  It was Amanda’s story—orphaned by the Revolution. She’d tried to steal Oriana a month back. But given how Amanda’s memory faltered, it was possible she didn’t recognize her own story.

  “She doesn’t have to be alone. I’m here for her,” Danny said, rubbing her back. “Tell her when you see her again.”

  “Don’t touch. I feel queasy,” Amanda said, scooting down a step to get away from him.

  Danny bit his tongue. As long as she wasn’t violent, he’d let her ride this episode out in her own way. Using his Virp, he tapped into the ship’s sensors to get more data on the quake, but it didn’t look like the ship had recorded the disturbance.

  “Have you felt anything since the first tremor?” Danny frowned.

  “You’re trusting my perception?” Amanda scoffed, resting her chin on her knees, an incorrigible smile surfacing through the pain.

  9

  Fourteen-year-old Tray Hale stood in front of the mirror, prepping for school. It was his first day back since the kidnapping, but he tried not to think too many steps ahead. He focused on getting dressed, just like he’d gotten dressed every day for the past week. Pants, shirt, and silky wrist cuffs to hide the hideous bruises that seemed to reappear with every nightmare. He tucked a blue scarf into the right cuff, wrapping it over his splinted fingers. One of his earliest and only memories of his mother involved her wrapping a blue scarf around a cut on his hand. Between the memory and the ache in his fingers, he felt nauseated.

  “Good thing I got there when I did, or you would have lost these fingers,” his father reminded him every morning.

  Tray pulled his long sleeve over the wrist cuff, and studied the patterned, black-and-white shirt. He’d bought it to impress a girl, but now he worried she’d see him as a weak, useless wimp. That was what he’d become. A sniveling, crying coward, sleeping in his father’s room, needing medication just to step outside the front door. He’d been working next to Veora on the genealogy project, and her interest in him sky-rocketed when she learned he might be connected to one of the lost Vimbai heirs. It was her fault he’d even gone to Kemah to look for Daniel Matthews. No more trying to impress girls. Near-death and persistent terror was not worth it.

  The shirt was a mask now. A way to pretend he was the same, confident young man he used to be before the kidnapping. His hair was getting too long, and the nappy curls made a half-inch halo around his face. He’d twirled the natural kinks to enhance the shape. A part of Tray had always wanted long hair, but his father disapproved of the look. Now, the thought of having any sharp object near his face brought on panic attacks and having the long hair only reminded him of why his father let him get away with it.

  “Ready?” Steven asked, coming into Tray’s room, smelling of aftershave and coconut oil. Tray rarely let more than a single door separate him from his father these days, but he couldn’t watch the man sha
ve. His kidnappers had used sonic razors to sheer Tray’s skin, leaving his chest and shoulders raw. Tray felt lucky that puberty hadn’t saddled him with a fast-growing beard, or he’d have one down to his knees by now.

  “No, sir,” Tray said, looking at his father, shaking with the urge to run to him.

  “Tray Hale, you’ve been preening for the last hour. Let’s have a look at you,” Steven said, turning Tray back to the mirror. He frowned at the shirt, then at Tray’s messy hair. Over the years, Tray had become accustomed to the judgment.

  “This will have to do,” Steven sighed.

  Tray’s throat closed, disappointed that his father thought him too weak to take basic criticism. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  Pushing back his fear, Tray followed his father to the foyer. Steven handed him a Virclutch and a glove-mounted Virp.

  “Emergencies only,” Steven said, sliding the glove onto Tray’s left hand. “I’ve already talked to the school about you wearing this. Do not abuse the privilege.”

  “No, sir,” Tray sniffled. Emergency meant getting kidnapped again. The device was programmed to send an automatic alert if Tray left the approved perimeter, or if it detected physical stress, like getting shot with an energy weapon. He worried the device would betray his frequent panic attacks.

  “Let’s go.”

  Steven opened the front door, letting in the early morning light. He stepped onto the front porch, then took a few steps down the walkway.

  “Dad, I’m not ready,” Tray said, grabbing hold of the doorframe, his toes curling in his shoes.

  His dad turned, a smile on his face, like he knew this would happen. He stayed in the yard, one eyebrow raised. Tray took a step outside, keeping one hand on the doorframe.

  “Tray, I have to get to work,” Steven said, his sinister smile growing. “You can go to school or you can stay here, but I’m not waiting another minute.”

  “Can I go with you? I’ll go to work with you,” Tray said, his breath quickening. He didn’t want to be separated from his father, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of the door.

  “Not dressed like that, you can’t,” Steven commented.

  Tray swelled with confidence. “I can change.”

  “Two minutes,” his father said, a small smile of approval appearing.

  “Yes, sir,” Tray said, running into the house. Then someone yanked his arm, twisting it behind his back. He felt a stunner pressed to his side. “Help!” he cried.

  “Help.” The sound of his own voice startled Tray back to consciousness. He’d fallen asleep in the ward room, having pounded Saskia’s recording near to death.

  “Please specify help required,” Nolwazi replied.

  “Uh,” Tray mumbled, wiping the moisture from the corner of his mouth. “Signal. Did you find anything?”

  “There is nothing out there,” Nolwazi reported.

  “Not even a weak signal?” Tray asked. “Elevated noise?”

  “Would you like to try an alternative method of analysis?” Nolwazi asked.

  “No,” Tray sighed, rubbing his face. Groaning again, he trudged down the stairs to the galley, where he found Danny cooking.

  “No luck?” his brother asked.

  “Wishful thinking,” Tray said, leaning across the kitchen island, scanning the ingredients. The potatoes weren’t good raw. Pretty much anything that was, they were out of. “Every time I think I hear something, it dissolves.”

  “Not your fault,” Amanda spoke up. She was curled in the blue recliner, reading from a Virclutch.

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” Tray smiled, rummaging through the cabinets until he found a canister of nuts. They’d collected the nuts in Fox Run, and they were bland, but better than nothing.

  “She wants us to stay,” Amanda said cryptically.

  “Amanda, can you ask her why?” Danny asked, catering to the persistent delusion.

  Amanda ducked back into her book.

  “Seriously, Amanda. If there’s someone here who wants us to stay, then she might have manufactured a signal to draw us here,” Tray suggested, the stale nuts boosting his energy. “Maybe a survivor. Someone who needs help.”

  “Yes, that’s her,” Amanda nodded. “Survivor. She fantasizes about you; she thinks you’re pretty.”

  Tray bit his tongue, not liking the turn in the conversation. “Where are the others?” he asked.

  “Sky’s still outside, I think. Saskia’s trying to get Hawk hydrated,” Danny said, dumping the unseasoned potatoes into a pot of boiling water.

  “What do you want to do? Run or repair?” Tray asked. Staying would mean a lot more evenings of bland potatoes.

  “I feel like we’re so close,” Danny sighed, stepping back from the stove, pressing the heel of his hand against his cheek.

  “Sky said you could see the rockets launch from here, with a small telescope,” Tray recalled. “Amanda, have you tried looking for rockets with your Occ?”

  “We can’t go until we understand why we’re here,” Amanda said flatly. “Why did she bring us here?”

  “As I understand it, she saw the drones and thought: I’ll fly the ship through that,” Danny snarked.

  “Bonehead,” Amanda bickered back. “I didn’t see the drones. It saw something else.”

  “We did get a signal from the drones,” Tray volunteered. “Every time one of them collided with us, there was a radio frequency spike. Maybe that’s what the Occ picked up. I think the drones intercepted us on purpose and relayed data back to some place in the city.”

  “To what end?” Danny asked. “Why would the machines draw us here, and then when we land, just… do nothing?”

  “You’re the historian who said ancient Earth was destroyed by an uprising of artificial intelligence,” Tray snickered. “My experience with AI is about the level I encountered with that nurse-bot. Could be they’re just carrying out decade-old programming.”

  “Well their decade-old programming has done a hell of a lot of damage to our hull,” Danny groused. “If we stay too long, we run out of fuel and food.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re enjoying the air currents of the mountain range because someone flew us away from the coast,” Tray began.

  “Not my fault,” Amanda interrupted.

  Tray gave her a look. “When we leave, we need to make sure the hull will hold at higher altitude so we can get over the mountains.”

  “So we need avalan,” Danny conceded.

  “I know we have to,” Tray said, scratching his knotted hair. “I don’t want to stay.”

  “Tray, the blood just left your face,” Amanda said, putting her Virclutch down, studying his neck. “The little hairs on your neck are standing on end.”

  “I keep getting chills,” Tray shuddered, moving his hand to his chest.

  “Sit,” Amanda ordered, vacating her chair and motioning him to take the space. “I’ll get Saskia. Are you in pain?”

  When he felt her hand on his elbow, he cried out, the terror of the dream flooding back.

  “No, I’m in Olcott right now,” Tray Hale bragged, his heart racing as he crossed the crowded city, heading from the north port to the south.

  “Are you going to sneak onto the ferry?” Veora asked, her voice making his heart soar.

  “No, I hate boats,” Tray said, keeping his hand-held Virp close to his ear so that his conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “Have you found out any more about this Daniel Matthews person?”

  “He’s an academic,” Veora said. “He studied at Olcott University—Terranan history.”

  “You don’t think he’s in Kemah to go through the spaceport do you?” Tray asked. “The travel permit we forged can get me through interdome checks, but they don’t let unaccompanied minors into spaceport for any reason.”

  “I know, but faking a travel permit is a lot easier than hacking into passenger manifests,” Veora apologized. Tray could have hacked in and found the truth easily, if he’d done it while still in Clover. He should have plann
ed this adventure rather than rushed in to impress Veora.

  “Find the name of the university professor he works under, maybe that guy can give me a more specific address,” Tray suggested.

  “Good idea. Isn’t it exciting, though?” she squealed. “What if he’s your long, lost brother? What if you’re one of the lost heirs?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Tray laughed. All he knew was that Daniel Matthews was connected to his mother, and Tray hoped for nothing more than a story or maybe even a picture of her. “If my dad had access to that kind of money—”

  “Oh, class is starting,” Veora interrupted. “I’ll see what I can find and get back to you.”

  “Bye.” Tray smiled like a loon, feeling warmth throughout his body. Then someone grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. He felt a stunner pressed to his side.

  “Make one peep, and you’re dead, boy,” the attacker warned. The man was twice Tray’s size.

  “Help!” Tray screeched. “Help, I’m—”

  Before he could finish, he felt an electric shock through his body and tasted blood on his tongue.

  “It’s the ghosts from the city. We’ve overstayed our welcome,” Hawk gasped.

  “Hawk, no!” Sky admonished.

  “Tray?” Danny whispered.

  Tray gasped, feeling Saskia’s cool fingers on his cheek. It felt like he’d been hit with a stunner. His body was numb, and the memory of the kidnapping kept looping.

  “How much morphine do we have left?” Danny asked. Tray couldn’t see him. Saskia took up most of his view, and Hawk peered over her shoulder.

  “A few shots,” Saskia replied. “But I don’t even know what’s wrong with him. This could be an illness or allergy to something in the environment.”

  “It could be Nolwazi is wrong about him not having neck trauma,” Sky said. “He looks like he’s in pain.”

  “Captain, we should take our chances in the air and get home,” Saskia said.

  “No,” Tray said, forcing himself to sit up. “No, we can’t afford to crash.”