Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

  "Do you have another one available?"

  He grunted, and the light bounced as he retrieved a second pair, which he handed to her. "About time you got back down here."

  "I had things to take care of topside." Katya turned on the light and attached it to her head. "The navigation system's unsalvageable; they did a number on it back at Dandis VII. Communications are down, but I think I can get it back up."

  "First things first, huh?" His light settled on the ship's silenced FTL drive and regular engines—the systems still alive were running on stored energy. "She's hemorrhaging. All the work we did yesterday on the electrical system is failing. I still can't get any of the engines up. Habitation systems are threatening to collapse . . . We might be without gravity before long, so take your pick on what you want to fix first."

  "The electrical system's tied to the others. It has to be the first."

  Rein grunted his agreement, and they worked in concert to turn around the uphill battle. An hour passed before they brought the lights online, and Katya shifted to the habitation systems while Rein patched more of electrical system. With luck, they wouldn't freeze to death. Not a horrible death—actually rather quick given the severe cold beyond their hull—but also not desirable.

  Rein broke the silence that'd fallen in the room. He jerked his hand away as a spark leapt from the console. He did a sharp intake. "Not how I expected to go." He wiped his hands against the front of his shirt. "Largely expected a knife in the back on Reznic, just like . . ."

  The thought went unfinished, his face grim as he reentered the console, fixing errant wires.

  "We're not dead yet."

  He snorted. "Not yet, but it's inevitable. What are we going to do?" He slammed the console cover shut.

  "As long as we're still breathing, we fight and patch. Something will come along."

  His lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. "We’re a prick in an ever-expanding ocean. We have no idea where we are. For all we know, we could be parsecs from a space lane. Without navigations"—he inhaled deeply—"the odds of survival are abominable."

  "Once we stabilize things down here, I'll get communications up."

  "And if we're out of range?"

  "I will keep broadcasting until someone comes into range."

  He flexed his muscles as he swiveled toward the next console. He cussed under his breath. "We should've dumped that kid. You know that, don't you?"

  "I couldn't."

  "I get it. He reminded you of yourself as a kid: alone, abandoned. Or maybe he messed with your head. Just like he was born to. Can't fight nature, you know? I just wish I'd seen how deep his tenterhooks had sunken in."

  She faltered. Had he? She ached remembering the all-too-real chill of the snow, the blo—Where did her will end and his begin? Had he found a mind similar enough to be compatible and latched onto it as Rein suggested? A mind he could mold and galvanize into protecting him, into keeping him alive? How deeply had he affected her decisions? She ran fingers through her hair. How had he changed her? A tingling sensation traveled down her back, her gut knotting.

  An image of her father flickered in her mind's eye, his outstretched hand beckoning her to him. The room behind him was a pale yellow, with white trim and curtains—the nursery. She'd been terrified, a child bereft of any familiarity, yet there he'd stood, offering something universal to grab hold of, stability. She smiled. It didn't matter. In the end, her actions would not have changed. After all, she was her father's daughter.

  "Think what you will." Katya slammed shut the cover to the habitation controls console, satisfied she had prevented future meltdowns for the time being. "He's not the problem."

  Rein shook his head. "Unbelievable. You still can't—"

  "If you need to blame someone, blame me. I'm the one who took us onto the Aletheia."

  "And that's when your headaches started. You had one as we were boarding that ship." Rein sucked in his breath. "It began then—"

  "No." Katya straightened to full height. "I stand by the choices I've made. My ignoring the warning beacons was what led us to this point, and that's why I promise you: I will dig us from this mess."

  Rein cleared the space between them, invading her personal space, face mere inches as he examined every inch of hers. Every speck of orange in his hazel eyes stood out to her. His spit assaulted her face when he spoke. "And you don't even know how you're going to do that."

  She swallowed hard. "The how is irrelevant. I don't give up." Katya rolled onto her toes, getting equally in his face. "We're patching this heap, and once we reach civilization, you're welcome to go your own way. It'd likely be for the best, because you've never liked me calling the shots, not since we've been space-bound."

  Rein swung back to the console and retreated into his efforts. Despite her unease, Katya resumed working on the habitation systems. Every rattling sound caused her to tense as if expecting the true fallout to begin. He certainly banged around enough, dropping tools.

  She closed her console and checked the generator. Finding nothing amiss, she faced the impulse engine, which tied in to the thrusters. If they could get a little control over their momentum, they'd increase their odds of survival; however, without the navigation system, it was a marginal improvement. She activated the engine's safety lockout, designed to prevent unfortunate electrocutions, before cutting into the frayed and burned wires, removing them. She rooted through the large toolbox for new wiring. With it in hand, she lay on the floor to get a better vantage point of the engine's inner workings.

  Hours ticked by. At one point, Rein left the engine room, muttering something about checking the ship's other electrical components. The lights remained on throughout that time, a good sign that at least one problem had been solved.

  Sweat trickled down her brow. Her short bangs plastered themselves to her face, and her muscles ached as she manipulated her body into awkward positions to reach some of the engine's other components. She lost herself in her efforts.

  Rein cleared his throat behind her, or above her, she guessed, since she had slid into the small cranny between the engine and riveted floor. She almost hit her head against a metal bar tethering the engine to the wall.

  "How's it going?" His tone had calmed, the heat from earlier having eroded.

  So he was willing to work with her at least.

  "The underside sustained minimal damage if even that." Katya wiped some of the grime from her face. "We'll be able to test it here momentarily." She shut one of the bottom panels, its wires proving to still be in good shape. "Let's give her a whirl. That's if the electrical systems can take it."

  "I covered the majority of the ship, so we should be fine now."

  "Define fine."

  "There's a 98 percent chance we aren't pushed back to square one. I recommend having the extinguishers ready in case there's an electrical fire."

  "Are the alarms up?" When she received a nod, she clapped her hands against her pant legs, clearing the sweat and grease from them. "Then, shall we?"

  "No time like the present."

  Katya launched the warming cycle from the engine's console after lifting the emergency lockout. Once the readings went green, she brought the engine fully on. It clacked repeatedly, a sound an engine this young shouldn't be making, but it revved to life. No alarms sounded—always a good sign. They stood for several minutes, listening.

  Katya wiped more of the muck off, this time on her shirt. "Begin transferring systems off the generator and back onto the main system. I'm going to see about getting our pace slowed, and then I'll address our communications; maybe a ship will be in range and can give us a tow to some place nearby."

  "What's the plan if they're hostile?"

  "If"—she put great emphasis on the word—"that happens, we'll deal with it." It was a situation she dreaded. The virus had fried both the navigation and weapons systems. Their best bet was to trick the hostiles into boarding, incapacitating them somehow and taking their ship. No easy task, part
icularly if outnumbered and likely outgunned.

  He snorted, derision in the action. "On the fly, huh?"

  "What do you want from me, Rein?" It rushed out of her mouth before she could stop it. "The scenarios are innumerable."

  He twisted up his mouth. "Something. Anything!"

  Katya glanced at the door, her hands balling into fists, the temptation to deck him strong—if anything, to end the conversation.

  "Let's say we get picked up by some kind saps," Rein plowed on. "We can't keep doing that trick with the registry, not anymore."

  "I wouldn't even try that now." She forced her fingers to flex. "We'll have to scrap her . . . if we can get to a planet without a relay. A relay, and we're sunk. But better than starving or dying of dehydration."

  When he bowed his head, Katya padded her way over to the door. As it opened, he cleared his throat.

  "I've just always wanted what's best. You know that, right?" When met with silence, he faced her. "You're an idealist and need someone to ground you."

  She revealed teeth as she released a full-throated laugh. "I'm not some animal that needs tamed."

  His eyes lingered on her frame. "I never said that."

  Katya's nostrils flared. "But you implied it."

  "I've just wanted what's best for you." He raised his hands in contrition. "That's it."

  But it wasn't. Her skin crawled as she passed through the door. He'd wanted more. Behind her, he mumbled something under his breath, but she was already racing to the cockpit.

  Mina and a now-quiet Sotiris, who had fallen back asleep, resided there. The prickling sensation in her head never followed. Some good luck at least. She didn't have time to sleep.

  "Did the food help?" Katya asked while slowing them into a controlled speed with the thrusters. She did not bother putting the ship to impulse; without the navigation system, that would be a foolhardy endeavor. Let them creep for now and count their blessings that they hadn't hit anything.

  "Not really." Mina shrugged. "Hard to say what's up with him, but he did go back to sleep."

  Katya approached Mina's station. "Keep an eye on the viewscreen and be prepared to step in. I'm going to get communications up. Maybe get us a knight in shining armor."

  Mina rolled her eyes at the last part before her features grew grim. "Isn't that a little risky?"

  "More than a little." Katya popped off the panel hiding the communications console's wiring and then activated its safety controls. "We'll have to cross our fingers, won't we?" Katya slid the cockpit's toolbox over. "We're at the end of our leash, Mina. There's no other choice. If luck's on our side, our jump put us deep enough into the Fringe, where the Magistrate doesn't have a strong presence, that we might be fine. We ditch the Minerva and Rein sooner rather than later."

  "Did something happen?"

  "It's been brewing." She'd failed to fully understand, to appreciate the power of emotions, how they could evolve, mature, or fester. It'd been a point of contention between her and certain family members: She could be so removed, incapable of recognizing certain signals. "It'll be for the best."

  As she eased herself into a sitting position on the floor, Katya groaned and massaged the area in her back where the muscles had tightened with the simple motion. The muscles quivered beneath her skin and required rest, more than the one-handed massage she currently did to quiet it. Despite it, she messed with the Gordian knot of wires in front of her, trimming the bad and replacing them.

  Minutes, perhaps an hour, had passed when Mina yelped and jumped to her feet. The action caused Katya to clip her head against the console.

  "There's a ship—it's on the viewscreen!"

  "Damn it." Katya wiped her hands on her shirt. Sure enough, a rusty old freighter hovered beyond their viewscreen. Its markings were all but illegible; however, its design meant the freighter was Magistrate registered. "Mina, start blinking out a request for a tow. Say that our communications are down but should be up momentarily."

  Katya dove back to the panel, this time to tinker with the actual communications chip. As she worked, Mina beat out their message three times.

  "They're asking if we need help with repairs. Also if there are pirates nearby."

  She took a pen welder to the chip to repair one of the shorts. "Advise them against boarding and tell them there are no pirates."

  On her feet again, Katya attempted to turn on the communications console while Mina sent the new message. Nothing. Biting her lip, she lashed out, kicking it. The screen blinked and wavered. Another kick and it shot to life. "Here we go." It loaded, and she opened a frequency. "My name is Katya; I am the captain of the Minerva."

  Mina's face elongated. "That's your real name." The statement was pinched and barely a whisper—likely unnoticed by their potential saviors.

  Still, she cut the microphone on their end. "There's no point in hiding; the Magistrate knows everything. In our situation, honesty might pay off."

  "Kaptain," a deep baritone voice, bearing a heavy accent, responded over the speakers. "Your"—he lingered on the r—"vessel took quite the pounding."

  "We ran into a series of unfortunate events," Katya said. "We'd appreciate a tow to somewhere without a Magistrate relay . . . at your discretion since our navigation system is fried."

  "Ah," the man said. "I see your predicament. You are in good fortune. We're headed to Barsaa. You shouldn't have problems there." There was a pause. "You're sure you don't need help over there?"

  "To be frank, Captain?"

  The man cackled. "How rude of me! I am Zakhar, kaptain of Varyag. I must say it is rare to find a fellow Mramorian out this way. If your name is indicator."

  "I can't pay you. We—"

  "No, no, this will be on me." Zakhar cut off Katya's further attempts of offering money. "Is your ship able to be towed at faster speeds?"

  Katya slid by Mina and pored over the data being transferred to the pilot's console. "We'll hold together."

  "Good," Zakhar's voice boomed over the speaker. "We will establish tow in few minutes. Communicate any difficulties once underway. Until Barsaa, I'll look forward to meeting you face-to-face, and maybe we can share a drink, no?"

  "I look forward to it myself, Captain." Katya ended the connection and opened the long dormant intercoms. "Rein, we've got a ride to Barsaa and will be underway shortly. Alert me if we run into any problems down there."

  "Our ride, how do they strike you?"

  "Like they don't mind flying under the radar themselves," Katya said. "But appearances are often deceiving. We should be prepared for Magistrate forces to be waiting for us." Leaning back into her chair, Katya swallowed. "I plan to go quietly if that's the case."

  "A wise plan." Then the system went dead, Rein closing it. The word "finally" hung in the silence of the line.

  Drumming her fingers against the console, Katya waited for the tow to begin. A wave of fatigue struck her, begging her to sleep. Not a good time, little one. She wondered if he would be able to decipher the thought. A beam emitted from the freighter, turning the portion of the viewscreen tuned to the outside a pinkish color. Then, Katya and Mina lurched forward when the Minerva jerked, falling in place behind the other freighter, if they were that at all.

  "Onward to that drink, my friends," Zakhar's voice rang from the communications console. "We'll arrive in two days' time."

  "Thank you, Captain . . ." Katya hissed upon ending the transmission; her head pounded with renewed fervor. "Mina, keep an eye on things." She closed her eyes to shut out the pain, which now caused her muscles around her lids to spasm. "Check on me if I'm not up in eight hours."

  Mina pinched her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. "Is that wise?"

  Is anything she did ever wise? Katya snorted, her lips forming a small smirk. "It might not be, but I'm not an automaton. I can't exist without sleep. Keep an eye on things here. Don't be afraid to wake me . . . and keep Rein away."

  Katya picked up Sotiris and headed to her quarters,
never more grateful for the sensation of movement coursing through the metal floor, a controlled one at that.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Minerva held together for the two-day journey, requiring only minor patchwork. Katya monitored the system from her seat in the cockpit, her head much clearer than the day they'd begun the tow. Though Sotiris had grown needy, and her sleep ceased to have any semblance of restfulness. At least he hadn't dragged her under again, letting her come and go from slumber. But the fear remained that one day he wouldn't. She jerked when Mina appeared over her shoulder.

  "Is that Barsaa?" Mina's eyes fixated on the blue and green marble before them. In her free time, she'd dyed her hair black, though the fringe and undercoat were different shades of purple. Cosmic, Mina had said.

  She, meanwhile, was ready to leave all things cosmic behind. The planet below, after all the dustballs and stations they'd been on in the past months, looked delightful.

  "Get seated," Katya said. "We'll be on our own soon." Then over the com, she alerted Rein. "We're coming in. Let me know if any of the systems act up."

  Their speed slowed as traffic—a random assortment of vessels, mostly beaters—swelled around the planet. Katya was unfamiliar with Barsaa beyond the fact that it was an outlying planet that was temperate with frigid north and south poles. The planet, despite its favorable conditions, had a small population. Or at least the cities didn’t look large from space.

  "We are about to release you," Zakhar said over the crackling speakers. "Follow us down. We'll be landing in the city of Zilar; it's located in main province. A warning: It can be a rough place, but I think you prefer rougher communities where people don't talk too much, no? Besides, there are no check-ins anywhere on Barsaa. Come and land as you please, and no one harasses you."

  "Zilar will be fine." Katya prepped the helm. "I'm ready whenever."

  Within seconds, the pinkish tone that encompassed the viewscreen vanished, and the Minerva dipped before Katya brought it level with Zakhar's freighter. As they entered the atmosphere, Katya clashed with the helm, its delayed reactions, and other misfiring systems. Grimacing, she compensated for the gravitational thrusters that were offline. Of all the things to fail . . . at least the shields held. She bit the lining of her mouth.