Deimos Station (Broken Stars Book 2)

by I. O. Adler

  Water dripped down and spattered everywhere.

  Carmen stopped to look at the sculpture. “Is this art?”

  Ovo put a finger to his jaw, tapped it a few times, and pointed up and around him. “You will hear it better without the suit.”

  She looked at the bot. “Is it safe?”

  The bot’s voice was clinical. “The recommendation stands for designate Carmen Vincent to remain in the shuttle. You should wear the suit at all times while not on board.”

  Ovo moved towards her. She flinched.

  He was holding his wrist out to her. “Listen.”

  His wrist device amplified what she guessed was the sound of the water. As it struck the different levels of the bug statue, it chimed in an array of tones which blended into a soft percussive symphony.

  She cocked her head to hear better. “It’s beautiful.”

  He let her listen for a moment longer before lowering his arm and turning off the amplifier. “Your mother said you have defective ears.”

  She let out a dry laugh. “What else did she share about me?”

  “That you love music. And this is better experienced without electro-acoustic manipulation.”

  If he had wanted to harm her, he could have done so. If his intent was to trick her to remove her suit, she was tempted. The Melded had her mother, and she needed to get them to trust her.

  She popped the helmet and peeled it off, letting it dangle on the back of the suit. Opened her eyes and took a tentative breath. Felt fine.

  The sound from the statue was subtle, and she knew she was missing the full effect because of her hearing. But what she made out was hauntingly moving, a fusion of chimes which blended and contrasted in a series of rising tones which reached a crescendo. She tried not to breathe as she drank in the music. A refrain would repeat, vanish, and another chord even more breathtaking would join it in a new harmony. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as she felt as if she was inside an airplane climbing in altitude.

  “Repairing your ears would be simple.”

  Carmen glared at the Melded. “They work well enough. Did the Primary Executive tell you to bring me here? Did you believe having metal arms would improve your life?”

  It took him a moment to register the comment. His reply took longer. “My arms suffered damage when my hibernation bed experienced a malfunction following the attack. A series of clots almost cost me my life. My clan would have placed my body in the reclaimer but for the Melded and the Primary Executive intervening.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His hair ruffled, seemingly of its own accord. “The Primary Executive saved me. The Melded are my clan now. But I understand your distrust. I meant no offense by mocking your ears.”

  “Mock away. But I’m not ready to let anyone fix something that’s not entirely broken. Because it can always be worse.”

  “I understand.”

  He led her past the bug statue to a spiraling ramp that descended to a lower level. As the floor above vanished into shadow, Carmen felt a new sense of how large the Framework was. The ramp let them out onto a stone floor slick with condensation. Cold water spattered from above like a rain shower. A blue cavern with a large pool stood before them. The pool teemed with pinkie-sized fish which reminded her of the chad that lived in the Mount Tamalpais lakes where her dad had taken her fishing when she was a child. The drizzle continued to shower down around her, filled with halos of soft blue light from somewhere above.

  “It’s amazing down here.”

  The sounds from above grew louder, blending into a melodic texture that settled within her chest and gut, which made her feel a yearning for something she couldn’t have. The odd emotion came from nowhere and everywhere. It was all around her, filling her with sorrow and loss, and made her want to weep.

  That the sensation wasn’t hers didn’t matter. She wanted to linger in it. She thought of the day when she was eight and her parents were together and they had visited Tomales Bay, where the beach had no waves and clear water and they picnicked and splashed and played Frisbee and laughed.

  Ovo was waiting.

  She caught up, and the sensation ebbed as they arrived at the bottom of the path to a landing with benches. Several similar platforms were interspersed around the pool. A glittering curtain obscured the view of each. Vague shapes moved behind the curtains. Lights of what might have been devices shone brightly in many of them. Carmen counted a dozen such platforms, with more in the gloom that weren’t shielded by what she guessed was a containment field.

  Carmen crouched to touch the water. As the ripples spread, the tiny fish swarmed away from her. “We’ve been walking for a while. This place is beautiful. But I wanted to go see the Framework council. I can take the grand tour later.”

  “This is where we wait,” Ovo said.

  She tried to get a better look at the nearest platform, but the field separating them grew opaque. “Is that what they’re doing? Waiting? When do I get invited in?”

  “This is the meeting chamber. Each member race has a representative present. Our onetime Primary Executive stands for the Melded until we select a new one.”

  “You remember that worm tried to destroy the Cordice ship, right? Does the council know?”

  “No one’s forgotten. Our former leader functions as a spokesperson only and understands their role for this occasion.”

  Carmen didn’t share her skepticism. There were too many factors she still didn’t understand about the Melded, and she couldn’t risk causing unnecessary friction with a careless remark.

  One of She Who Waits’ red translation lights winked to life between them. Floating faces appeared before each of the occupied platforms. She recognized the Cordice engineer and the Primary Executive. She Who Waits was nowhere to be seen among the monitors.

  From one of the furthest platforms an enormous shape without form reached across the water towards her. This one was much larger than the Primary Executive. A milky eye with three pupils gazed at her from the end of the extended stalk.

  She fought the urge to back away as the eye looked at her. “Hello?”

  The stalk retracted behind the hazy curtain. The giant glob appeared to settle in.

  Ovo was busy with a floating display. “The One is curious about you. They all are.”

  “Can I talk to them?”

  “There will be time later. Most are listening to the meeting.”

  She waved a hand through the light. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “They are waiting on the Cordice to make a statement. They can be…thoughtful in their reply.”

  She knew it too well. Her experience within the simulation with the Cordice top dogs had been frustrating. Even with their ability to dial back the passage of time so they could debate, their dominant two factions had remained at an impasse as to whether they would depart the Framework or stay and assist those who couldn’t flee the system. And as long as part of her mom’s mind remained locked within their sim, Carmen remained keenly interested in what their final decision might be. But now, with the harvester lost, she had no leverage and no say.

  Carmen leaned closer to listen as the Cordice engineer’s calm voice spoke from the light.

  “My colleagues and my fellow survivors, thank you for your patience. Our decision has arrived. We have weighed the outcomes, including the risks. We have evaluated the possibilities of assisting those who need extensive repairs, considering the intervention of the human Sylvia Vincent’s action in taking our harvester. We will now share our conclusion.”

  A sharp chuff from the Primary Executive caused the engineer to pause. The exasperated sound received no translation.

  “We will continue to assist all who require it,” the engineer continued. “But with a time limit. Our fear is our enemy will return. But once the control of the harvester is restored, our intention is to get to work immediately.”

  Carmen felt a burning grow inside her stomach and her palms were clammy.


  “And now that Carmen Vincent is with us, she can hand over the encryption.”

  She flinched when a series of monitors popped up before her, revealing the listening members of the Framework council. Visages of varied shapes stared, some with eyes and others with antennae, feelers, and pulsing orbs.

  “Say something,” Ovo whispered.

  “Hi. I’m Carmen. Human. From Earth. And I regret to tell you I’ve lost the harvester.”

  Chapter Six

  The Melded former Primary Executive began laughing, a hard, humorless chortle that descended into a raucous hack like that of a smoker who had long ago surrendered to a three-pack-a-day habit.

  The churning in Carmen’s stomach made her want to vomit. “I’m sorry this is funny for you. Sorry doesn’t cut it. But I didn’t ask for this situation.”

  The worm’s bloated face dominated one screen as it growled. “Well, you certainly caused it. You and your kind’s actions have delayed our attempts at repair and departure. If the enemy returns now—”

  “Enough from you, fraction-less-than-one.”

  The hard voice was stone rolling on gravel. The vague shape of something large looming behind a screen shoved the Primary’s face aside as the displays reordered themselves. Carmen looked across the water towards the imposing creature that had reached over to look at her and felt certain this was the speaker.

  “The Melded presence is a courtesy. Your actions have been noted, and it’s only the offer of your ship in the Framework repairs which prevents your expulsion. Be silent.”

  Carmen restrained herself from grinning.

  “Who is that?” she whispered to Ovo.

  He had referred to it as the One. Had to be some kind of rank. But the red light pulsed. Everyone was listening.

  The large alien moved so as to occupy the entire screen. While it remained out of focus, the shape appeared to be in a constant state of flux, as if the thing’s skin was bubbling.

  “I am the One. You are not.”

  She bowed. “It pleases me to meet you, the One.”

  “You stand before me frightened. Speak plainly. Where is the harvester?”

  “I brought it to Earth. As I told the Cordice, I had to take my sister back. She was hurt. I delivered her, was in control of the ship, and then I lost the connection. I don’t know what happened, but I need She Who Waits to help me reconnect.”

  “We can assist,” the Primary Executive said.

  The One trembled. “Silence. Can the human surrender the encryption, allowing the Cordice to reclaim the vessel?”

  The engineer appeared on screen, a mossy centipede that raised itself up before he spoke. “We will have to reestablish the connection.”

  “Then do so. We will wait. The members here will do well to use this time to reflect on how they might conduct themselves if they wish to survive what is to come.”

  Whether the One directed the comment solely at the Primary Executive, Carmen couldn’t say, but the Melded worm’s screen vanished. She surveyed the other platforms around the pool. Was the worm there on one of them? The Cordice engineer’s image likewise disappeared, as did the One’s. But the red light remained.

  “Can I speak with my mother?”

  No one answered her.

  She walked to where the path would lead around the pool and hopefully to the other platforms.

  Ovo headed her off. “It’s not safe.”

  “Move. If your boss won’t talk to me over the video chat, then I’m going to see him face-to-face.”

  Ovo was furiously tapping at his device. But she wasn’t waiting. She hurried towards an archway set in the nearest stone wall. A gauzy energy field lay across it, identical to the curtains that had obscured the council attendees. Ovo was on her heels.

  She stepped through.

  Immediately her eyes and skin burned, and she caught a whiff of ammonia. Her sinuses stung and her throat constricted. She spun about but couldn’t see. Tried to step back but slammed into solid rock and was falling…

  Ovo caught her and dragged her back through the curtain. He let go as she gasped and coughed and breathed in sweet, sweet air. Tears flowed from her eyes. Her nose was a fountain and she spat, trying to get a metallic taste out of her mouth.

  “It’s dangerous,” Ovo said.

  It took her a few minutes before she could acknowledge his comment with a nod. The bot remained nearby. If the machine could hover with attitude, it was doing it.

  Should have listened.

  But waiting aboard the shuttle wouldn’t save her mother. No one else was going to do it for her.

  Ovo was inspecting her with a handheld device. “Please stay within a suitable atmosphere.”

  “No kidding. I thought you said that I could breathe in most places.”

  “Yes. Not all of them.”

  She looked past him at the curtain. No signs to warn her. She would have to be careful. She heard the Cordice engineer speaking. Had they reconvened? She felt a moment of embarrassment and wondered if anyone besides Ovo had seen her nearly suffocate on whatever alien air lay in that section of Framework next to her platform.

  She missed the first part of what the engineer said. But as she hurried to stand close to the red translation light, she could hear enough, and what she heard caused a fresh wave of worry to grip her heart.

  “The harvester is offline.”

  A dozen questions followed. Too many voices and sounds came at her simultaneously. The red light pulsed. Carmen could only imagine the arduous task She Who Waits had to perform. Did each speaker require her to execute some manual function in order to be understood by the others in the chamber? On-screen, the engineer’s head bobbed as if acknowledging each speaker.

  “Was it destroyed?” “When will it be back online?” “What did the humans do?” “What did Carmen Vincent do?”

  After the clamor died down, the engineer answered in the tone of a teacher who had long ago given up caring for their subject. “It was not destroyed. The ship’s com system suffered a disruption of an unknown origin. We cannot lay blame to any actor or agent for this. We are attempting to reestablish contact so we can reset the encryption and recall the harvester back here.”

  “What about my sister?” Carmen said.

  “We don’t know.”

  “Then call them. Call Earth. We can do that. I know we can. My mom did it with us when she was stuck inside your simulation. Let me talk to them.”

  Silence. Most of the face screens had returned. Had she violated a protocol by speaking?

  “Agreed,” the Primary Executive said. “She states the obvious. We must speak with the humans.”

  The worm was the last person she would have expected to hear supporting her suggestion.

  A pulse ran through the images.

  “It’s unanimous,” the engineer said. “We will attempt to make contact. I will consult with the Dragoman translator for protocol.”

  Some sort of vote had just happened. Carmen surveyed the screen and massaged her neck. “You’ll ask about Jenna?”

  The screens once again winked out.

  Ovo appeared next to her, his throat pulsing. “Be patient.”

  “They don’t trust me.”

  He typed, considered his device, typed some more. Whatever the reply, he wasn’t able to express it quickly.

  Across the pool, many of the barriers vanished. Most of the platforms were empty and the creature who called himself the One had departed. But on one of the closest terraces, the Primary Executive was in the process of leaving. He had three Melded with him.

  If he was heading back to his ship, he would lead her to her mother.

  She sealed the helmet and hoped it would protect her from another encounter with the choking air if she had to cross another barrier. She chose the opposite path to avoid the curtain. Ovo hurried to keep up, was talking, but she didn’t stop to find out what he was trying to say.

  The Primary Executive and his escorts were ascending a spiral r
amp. Another statue stood here, this one of a bipedal creature with thick legs and tusks. The silvery skin revealed radiant gemlike patches of machinery on its face and two orange eyes shining and staring down.

  A statue to the Melded. Did every race have a monument sculpture dedicated to it? Was it ego or did they serve some purpose? And if time was an issue, who was spending their resources in what amounted to oversized art installations in honor of the races who were taking shelter in the Framework?

  Two of the escorts stopped at the base of the ramp next to the Melded statue. She recognized Four Arms, one of the Primary Executive’s grunts. He wasn’t carrying a weapon, but he spread his arms wide as if to catch her if she tried to slip past. He clicked. Stamped a foot.

  Ovo was falling over himself trying to get in front of her. Still talking. But she wasn’t listening.

  “Let me see her,” Carmen said. “Either take me to your ship or bring her down here. Call him. Tell the worm I’m here.”

  “He knows,” Ovo said loud and clear. “He knows and his orders stand that you be denied access.” He cleared the screens floating above his device and his tone changed. “Your mother is recovering. She has experienced a series of surgeries. Please be patient.”

  “I can’t do that. Not until I find out what you’re doing to her.”

  “Whatever she’ll become, she’ll still be your mother.”

  She spun to face him. But before she could ask what he meant, his fur flattened, and he flinched as if struck.

  “I…I am summoned.” He rushed past Four Arms and the other guard and scurried up the ramp.

  The only way to follow was to force her way past the Melded. The hovering blimp bot inserted itself between her and them. A red cone of light appeared above it.

  “Designate Carmen Vincent, please join me back at my shuttle,” She Who Waits said. “The Framework is sending messages to Earth. We can monitor the transmissions together. Your presence is required so the Cordice can discover what happened before you lost control of the harvester.”