Slave Mind

by Rob Dearsley

  Arland opened her mouth to speak but stopped and looked up at him, a question in her eyes. Damn it, he didn't want to tell the Spook and risk losing the find. The warble of sirens grew louder. But if it was that or lose the Folly? His jaw tightened in frustration.

  Beside him, Arland tensed.

  Damn it he didn’t want to see her hurt just to salve his ego. “Feldspar System.”

  The Spook’s eyes flicked to Dannage and he nodded. “You should go. The Recoup Group knows you are here and they’re watching the spaceports.”

  Dannage glanced down to Arland, and when he looked back up the man was gone, not a sound to indicate his departure.

  “Let’s go,” he said, blowing out a breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding.

  ◊◊

  “Thanks, man.” Luc palmed the currency chit off into the dockworker’s liver-spotted hand.

  “No worries, kiddo. Lanes are open for the next hour.” The old guy tipped Luc an imaginary hat before returning to the refuelling pump.

  Kiddo? Really? Luc patted one of the Hope’s Folly’s landing struts. The distinctive triangular shape of the old, Franklin-class cargo haulier rested above him. Dannage had loved the ship from the moment the pair had first seen her. Luc had wanted to keep looking and find something more modern, but Dannage had been fronting up most of the cash, so the Folly it was.

  Her original blue livery was scarred and worn, several patched and replacement panels still in factory grey. Someone less charitable would call her battered, or tatty. Dannage though, he’d say she was ‘lived in’.

  He kicked off from the ramp into the artificial freefall of the Folly’s hold and drifted over to the circular hatch set into the rear wall. The hatch irised open into the cramped engineering compartment. Pipes and conduits twisted through the space, turning it into a maze. He didn’t know how Jax found her way around in here.

  “Hey, Jax,” he called. “We good in here?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” The young engineer’s voice came from off to Luc’s left. “Fixed that damaged coupling. The reactor should be okay now.”

  “Good work.” The sound of running footsteps interrupted him. He guessed the deal hadn’t gone according to plan, again. “Sounds like the cap’n’s back. Get the engines spooled.”

  Arland was the first up into the cargo hold, kicking off into an elegant arc toward the bridge. “We ready to go?”

  “All good.” Luc kicked off toward her.

  Dannage jumped up and joined them at the ladder up to the bridge. “That muppet, Fitz, called Recoup.”

  Right, Recoup. Time to make a sharp exit.

  ◊◊

  Arland stood behind the captain and off to the left, watching ice crystallise on the grubby windows as the ship rose through the clouds and into the eternal night of space.

  “Hey Cap’n, we got company. Two SDF battleships are hailing us,” Luc said from the navigation console. “And a Recoup cruiser just broke orbit.”

  “Ignore them,” the captain replied, “and find me clear slipway.”

  Arland leaned down to get a better look at the Systems’ Defence Force ships. The Heads-Up Display projected holographic callouts into the space in front of the cupola. From her point of view, they trailed behind and beneath the SDF ships.

  “Got a slip Cap’n. Throwing a course up.” A blue-white line appeared on the HUD, curving upward to a point somewhere out of Arland’s view. “And the SDF are still hailing us.”

  “Tell them we’re busy.”

  The captain hauled the ship upward, toward the slipway. Arland watched the ships as they adjusted their courses for an intercept. They were older model orbital defence craft, reasonable top speed, but awful acceleration and sluggish as hells on the turn.

  “Sir, those ships can outrun us on the flat, but the Folly’s nimbler. I’d suggest a last-minute course correction. It’ll throw off their intercepts and they won’t be able to do anything about it.”

  “Thanks, Arland. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  A warning buzz shrilled from the console as the captain changed course, aiming for a long queue of traffic that waited to use another slip point. The waypoint tracker on the HUD flickered red as it shifted to accommodate the ship’s changing course.

  A flash from off to port jolted the ship violently, forcing Arland to grab the captain’s chair for support, or risk being thrown to the deck.

  “Well, they’ve stopped hailing us,” Luc said.

  The captain, focused on saving his ship, pulled up past the queuing heavy freighters. Arland had to admit, it was a good move. The SDF wouldn’t fire on them now and run the risk of hitting those civilian craft.

  Another blast rocked the ship.

  But, the damn Recoup captain apparently had no such qualms.

  “Err, guys, can we try not to get shot again. I just got my engines back together after Don tried to shoot us down over that orange deal.” Jax’ voice filtered through the overhead speakers.

  The cruiser fired another volley. The deck pitched beneath Arland’s feet as the Folly ducked behind the hulking form of one of the freighters.

  More concussions rocked the ship, and an almost manic expression spread across the captain’s face as he jerked the Folly from side to side, trying frantically to avoid collision with the other ships as they fled the unexpected attack.

  Arland moved, stumbling as another nearby blast rocked the ship, and brought up a scanner map of the system. The Recoup ship continued to fire its concussion charges. Where were the SDF ships? Oh crap.

  The other ships moved around to flank them. Of course, she was stupid not to think of it sooner it was a simple, basic tactic. And it wouldn’t be long before the SDF had a firing solution on the Folly.

  “Sir, we need to get out of here.”

  “You think,” the captain replied, without looking away from the HUD display.

  “No, sir, right now. We have ten seconds before the SDF get weapons lock on us.”

  From the captain’s other side Luc let out a string of curses.

  ◊◊

  “The hells with it.” Dannage gunned the engines. He’d be damned if he was going to let some SDF muppet shoot down his ship, his home. He dodged around an old Ivanova Mk-II cargo haulier that was trying to pull out of the slip queue.

  He could imagine the crunch of metal and composite as the blunt nose of the Ivanova slammed into the rear end of the craft in front, some posh pleasure boat. Another flash from his right gave Dannage half a second’s warning before the shockwave hit. The Folly wasn’t a big ship and the shockwave caught them full on the wide plane of their underside, slamming them against the Ivanova’s huge, curved hull.

  The sound of screaming metal and crunching carbon-frame filled the compartment. Dannage couldn’t see anything apart from the pitted curve of the larger ship’s hull. He leaned against the flight stick trying to force the ship ‘down’ and away before another blast came.

  “Sir, five seconds to target lock,” Arland said, her voice tight with tension.

  The Folly pulled away from the Ivanova. Finally, he could see open space and the slipway entrance point.

  “Three seconds.”

  He threw the engines to full and the Folly leapt forward through the now clear path into the slipway. Fire bloomed from the back of the pleasure boat as the Ivanova practically ripped its engine modules away.

  Dannage winced in sympathy. That was going to be expensive for someone. They passed through the explosion, liquid fire pouring over the windows, bathing their faces in crimson light.

  Then, they were clear. Nothing between them and the jump point.

  “Target lock.” Arland’s voice was almost too quiet to hear.

  They were almost there, so close. Dannage urged the Folly to go faster, the SDF gunners to fumble, anything to give them another second. Tendrils of light streamed out from the slipway as the barriers between space and subspace split apart. They just needed another secon
d and they would be onto the subspace highway, safe.

  Nearly there. Just one. More. Second.

  Proximity alarms screamed a moment before another blast rocked the ship, throwing Dannage against the console. The lights flickered and something in the overhead shorted in a burst of acrid smoke.

  In a flash, they were on the highway, slewing across a dozen lanes of traffic and almost colliding with a passenger craft.

  Dannage hauled the Folly into a clear lane. “Jax, we good?”

  Silence.

  Two

  - Feldspar System -

  The slipway evaporated, disgorging the Folly back into normal space. Stars whipped past on the screen as Dannage wrestled the controls. Fire alarms screamed through the haze of warning symbols on his console.

  “Arland, get back to engineering and find out what’s going on,” he yelled, bringing the ship to a standstill. Crimson light from the red dwarf star filled the bridge compartment.

  “Guys,” Jax's voice crackled over the speakers. Dannage’s heart skipped a beat, relief flooding him. “That last hit really screwed up my engines.”

  “How bad is it?” Most of the warnings on Dannage’s console were gone. He just hoped that was a good sign.

  “Not good. Sublight’s working—just. But the highway drive is shot.”

  “Can you fix it?” Arland’s voice echoed into the engine compartment. Dannage could imagine her leaning through the access hatch into the cramped space.

  “Not with the parts I’ve got here.”

  “Hey, Cap’n.” Luc’s voice drew Dannage’s attention forward.

  The second planet drifted across the sun, throwing the Folly into shadow. A series of smaller, irregular objects followed in its wake.

  Dannage squinted through the cupola. What the heck were they?

  One drifted past the sun, tumbling to give them a clear view of its profile. It was a huge ship. Its command tower alone was larger than the SDF patrol ships they’d escaped from. They had to be the Terran ships. They’d been lost, drifting through space, since the fall of the Imperium. Until now.

  He stood and stared for a time, lost in wonder. Still more and more ships came into view.

  “You think they’ll have the spare parts we need?” Luc asked.

  “Maybe.” He thumbed the comm open. “Jax, what do you think? Can we use parts from those old ships?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Jax replied. “There is no way fifty-thousand-year-old tech is going to be compatible with our systems.”

  “Come on, it’s all optical cable and pipes. How much can change?” That was Arland again. “If anyone can engineer a fix, it’s you.”

  “Fifty-thousand years before the Terran Empire, human technology amounted to pointy sticks and fire. Besides, this is worse than when Don tried to shoot us down, and that took weeks and a dry dock to fix.”

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?” Dannage asked.

  “Maybe.” The pause was punctuated by the rattle of Jax’s mechanical keyboard. “I'm still going to need a superconductor, optical cable and some copper, or thermally conductive, coils. The Terran ships might – and I stress might – have something we can use.”

  “Do your best, Jax,” Dannage said into the com. “We’re heading in-system. See what we can salvage.”

  He punched in a command, and the Folly glided toward the mass of ships trailing in the wake of Feldspar II. Luc moved to stand beside him as more and more Terran ships appeared. There must have been thousands of them. They were the most powerful ships humanity had ever created. What, in all the heavens, had managed to take them out?

  ◊◊

  Arland crawled further into the engine compartment. The low gravity made it easier to move through the network of crawlways, but it was still a tight squeeze. She was amazed that Jax seemed to live in here.

  She followed the young, whipish girl into a larger compartment. The engineer started working a panel loose with one of the tools from the front of her grubby jumpsuit.

  “You should let Doc Vaughn take a look at that.” Arland gestured to the hastily bound cut on the girl’s arm.

  “Nah, I’m fine.” Jax dismissed Arland’s concern with a wave as the panel came away. “Hold on to this, will you.” She held out a boxy unit, still connected to the wall by a tangle of wires.

  Arland took the box and held it up. It felt warm and vibrated gently in her hands. Jax reached into the recess up to her elbows, her eyes closed in concentration.

  A few minutes later there was a soft pop and the vibrating stopped.

  “That’s got it.” Jax pulled her arms out and took the box from Arland. Smiling, she hit a com panel. “Guys, guidance thrusters are working again.”

  “Nice one,” the captain’s voice came from the com. “Is Arland still with you?”

  “I’m here, sir.”

  “Good, get back to the bridge.”

  “On my way.”

  Jax cut the com channel. “Sounds like you need to get going.”

  Arland shot the young engineer a smile. “Remember to get that looked at.”

  “I’m fine,” Jax insisted.

  Sighing, Arland turned and crawled her way out of the engine compartment.

  The door slid aside and Arland stepped onto the bridge. Her eyes caught on the view through the main viewport and she stopped dead.

  The sultry glow of Feldspar’s star painted the huge husks of the warships blood red. Their myriad gun ports gave the ships a menacing, almost predatory aspect. They looked very different from modern cruisers. All bulk and heavy armour where modern SDF ships had long, sleek lines.

  She remembered her history lessons from school. The fall of the Terran Imperium: The Terran Defence Federation had fought in vain against an unstoppable foe. They'd failed, and the Imperium was destroyed, only a handful of humans surviving. So much had been lost. No one even remembered who the Terrans were fighting.

  The captain and Luc talked in hushed, almost reverent tones.

  “Sir,” Arland asked, “are you planning to go over there?”

  The captain looked over to her and nodded. Excitement sparkled in his eyes.

  The thought of going over there excited her too. They'd be the first people in a millennium to walk those halls. Seeing the mighty Terran ships first hand. It would be amazing.

  “Luc and I will be going over. Arland, you have the ship.”

  “Wait, sir. You can’t. I— you hired me to protect you. I should go with Luc, you should stay.”

  “Arland,” the captain replied, “when have I ever followed that stupid military dictate?”

  She sighed, giving the massive wreck a longing look. “If I’m not there, how can I protect you?”

  “Protect me from what?” the captain scoffed. “After fifty thousand years, there’s not going to be anything left alive.”

  “Without scanners online, there’s no way to know that for sure,” Arland pressed. “Anything could have set up shop since the last battle.” She could hear the pleading tone in her voice and part of her hated herself for it. But, for the chance to actually set foot on a Terran warship, she'd beg and scrape.

  “Damn it, Arland. No.” The captain held up his hand, forestalling her. “I need you to stay here and keep the repairs going. Get sensors online. If there is trouble, it's more likely to have followed us from Kyanite. So, you'll protect us better out here anyway.”

  Of course, his argument made sense. It was the right choice, but it still rankled her. She cast one last look at the impressive husk of the super cruiser before turning to the scanner console fitted at the back of the bridge.

  “Be careful,” she called, as the captain and Luc headed toward the central cargo hold. “If you die, it will ruin my reputation.”

  “Your concern is always welcome.” The captain grinned.

  “Luc,” she called after them. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  “I do my best, ma’am.” Luc tipped an imaginary hat t
o Arland before following the captain into the freefall of the cargo hold.

  Arland shook her head. The captain and Luc were thick as thieves most of the time. She was amazed any of them had survived as long as they had.

  Turning her attention back to the work at hand, she tapped a couple of controls on the scanner console, bringing up what should have been a LIDAR profile of the nearest Terran ship. Instead, all she got was a sea of static.

  She tapped the com control. “Jax, can you get me sensors?”

  “Working on it,” came the terse reply.

  “Thank you. Did you get your arm seen to?”

  Jax cut the comm channel.

  “Well, that was rude,” Arland muttered, moving from the sensor console to the pilot’s chair.

  While she was disappointed at not being able to go over to the ancient TDF cruiser, she did enjoy having the bridge to herself.

  “Arland, we’re kitted up and ready to go,” the captain’s voice came from the overhead speakers. “Take the Folly in.”

  She slipped into the pilot’s seat, a luxurious leather affair starkly at odds with the worn, no-frills finish of the rest of the bridge.

  “Ready, sir.”

  “Try not to crash her.”

  She ignored him and, very carefully, took the flight stick. She’d flown before, trained to a basic level while she was still in the service, and the Folly’s controls were simple fly-by-wire. It was a nice system, even had force-feedback.

  Even so, mating to a docking port could be tricky. Especially in a ship like the Folly whose bulk blocked her view of the docking port, forcing her to rely on instrumentation alone.

  “Arland, you going to dock us or not?” Luc’s voice this time.

  She eased the Folly forward, matching her rotation with that of the TDF cruiser. A gentle tug on the controls brought the nose up. The plan was to mate the big cargo bay doors on the Folly’s underside with an airlock door on the side of the TDF cruiser – without crashing the ship.

  ◊◊

  Dannage checked the seals on his spacesuit again.