The Boneyards of Nebula

by Rod Little

  “Up ahead,” Bohai whispered. “It's blocking our way. Look at that.”

  A large freighter hung in front of them. Its maroon metal and trapezoidal design were uniquely alien, but it had seen better days. Jagged holes existed in its hull – holes so large one could see straight through to the other side. It was a shattered – albeit massive – relic, and it loitered directly in their path.

  “Can we push it aside?” Sam didn't know why he, too, was whispering. It was a natural reaction to creeping slowly through a starship graveyard with so much dead machinery around them.

  Death requires reverence, Sam's father had once told him at a funeral. Otherwise, it may take note of you!

  “No, we can't risk pushing it,” Dexter replied. “But perhaps we can give it a slight angular nudge.”

  He adjusted the forward lasers and shot the freighter's aft section with a short burst. Then another quick burst at its tail. The freighter turned slightly and began to coast to the left. Eventually it crashed into other wreckage and caused a domino effect of movement in that direction. It opened a hole for the Praihawk to enter.

  “There,” Dexter said. “Take us in.”

  Bohai steered them delicately through the opening. “This is still like threading a needle, guys. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  Sam and Sheni stood anxiously behind Bohai and Dexter seated at the controls. They watched through the monitors while George stretched out on the floor and cleaned his guns, content to let the experts steer. Teak nested in a top ceiling corner with his legs spread out, and napped, digesting his dinner. He would not need to eat again for weeks.

  The crew held their breath, as the ship edged past the freighter and into a light-less clearing. They were still far from the supposed spot of the Blue Orca, but were making good progress. Dexter raised the luminosity of the bow lights to see what lay ahead: an empty pocket of space, then more debris.

  And so far, no more Saratu.

  The Praihawk entered the clearing and continued onward. The low-amplitude lasers were used again to nudge bits of wreckage aside, until they reached an impasse. A bundle of parts was tangled together such that even a laser burst could not cause them to budge. There seemed to be no way to displace the wall of metal in their path.

  “What do we do now?” Sam asked.

  “Blast through?” Bohai suggested. He was looking to Dexter for approval.

  Dexter considered it for a second, then nodded. He said nothing, but watched intently as Bohai raised the power level of the forward lasers and fired. The beams burned small holes in some of the metal parts, but did not move the knotted mess.

  “Torpedo,” Dexter said. “That mess isn't going anywhere, so we have to open it up.”

  “You sure?” Bohai asked.

  “No. But do it anyway.”

  Bohai launched a volley of two torpedoes a few seconds apart. They exploded within the tangle of wreckage and sent metal pieces flying in all directions. Dexter quickly raised the value of their shields, but not in time. A few objects had already hit them and rocked the ship. Sam caught his balance and held onto the back of Bohai's chair.

  “I did not expect that,” Dexter said. “My apologies. Shields are now elevated.”

  “Why were we running without shields?” Sam asked. “Seems risky.”

  “To save power, that's why; but I now have us at half shield strength,” Dexter explained. He did not sound impatient this time, but curious. “There is a strange drain on our power systems. I have not yet figured it out. But we cannot run at half shields for very long. Soon I will need to dial them back to ten percent.”

  Another thud landed on the hull above their heads. Something had hit the top of the ship.

  “I thought you said shields were up,” George said. Now he stood and readied himself for action.

  “They are,” Dexter said, baffled. His fingers danced across the keyboard, and the small monitor at his station began to display numbers. “There is something moving across the top of the ship. It entered our space bubble before the shields were raised.”

  “Saratu,” Sheni hissed.

  “That would be my guess,” Dexter said without looking up or interrupting his calculations. His fingers continued to work the controls. “I can see no way for them to get inside. I have sealed off the engines.”

  “Which means we can't move,” Bohai said. “Right?”

  “Technically, yes.”

  George pointed to the screen. The torpedoes had carved a section out of the debris and made an opening for them. “And we have a course again. Look.”

  “I'm going to try something.”

  Dexter opened the engines, tapped the thrusters, then sealed the engines again. The short burst sent the ship forward, and their momentum carried them for several minutes. They entered the hole in the debris, and began to cross to the other side.

  Suddenly they slowed. Metal could be heard scraping against the hull. A piece of the debris had caught the ship's port wing – just barely – but it was enough to stall their momentum. Eventually the ship stopped.

  Dexter repeated the procedure, a short burst and then re-sealing the engines, and the ship traveled forward at a snail's crawl. In two minutes they cleared the hole and entered a new clearing, black as onyx. The ship coasted to a stop at the center of it. Ahead lay only darkness.

  “We need to find the power drain,” said Dexter. “We can't keep raising the lights and shields, and turning the engines off and on like this. Soon we will not have sufficient power to return to our Starbase.”

  A loud thump hit the starboard wing, and the ship rocked ever so slightly.

  A creature... on the wing! Sam fought panic, but it was welling up inside him. He felt like a bug trapped inside a jar, and the giant hand of a child was trying to get at him.

  Bohai recognized that look, and tapped a reassuring fist on his friend's chest. “Relax, man. We're safe in here. And we're almost at the target.” That was in no way true – they were far from the target. But Bohai always felt the need to reassure others.

  An eerie scraping sound snaked to the back of the ship. Something was crawling around the hull, looking for a way in. The crew stopped and listened.

  Silence.

  And then more scraping.

  “They are near the engine ports,” Dexter said in a low tone. “I can't pump the engines again without risking their entry.”

  “Well, we can't just sit here like fools,” Sheni said. “Go forward or back. But this dead clearing isn't where I want to die.”

  George pointed with his head toward the screen. “Do it. Pump the thrusters. I'll go back and guard the engine room.”

  Sam grabbed a pistol and followed him. “I'll help, if I can. You two get us moving.”

  Sheni waited uncomfortably where she stood. She still didn't know how to use a gun.

  “Here we go,” Dexter said, as he opened the engines and accelerated. After three seconds, he shut the engines off and resealed them.

  Bohai steered them through darkness.

  The ship's speed was greater this time; it streamed quickly through the black void. They watched nervously and hoped a piece of wreckage wouldn't shift into their path without warning. A collision right now would set them back, especially with shields dialed down to minimal power.

  Dexter raised the forward lights, but they struggled to parse the veil of darkness that loomed ahead. The screen map showed their target, the Blue Orca, a few minutes away at this speed, but obstacles still clogged the way. What those obstacles might be, was anyone's guess. For now, it looked like a black wall of obscurity. The lights fought hard to get through.

  They eventually lost momentum and coasted to a barely perceptible drive. It felt like dragging a body across shag carpet. The ship creaked, and something new scuttled across the roof; they could hear it like mice or squirrels in an attic. More Saratu, they surmised.

  “One more burst,” Bohai said. “But tap it lightly this time. There's an obstacle straigh
t ahead. Just because we can't see it...”

  “Doesn't mean it's not there. I know. I'll be careful.” Dexter repeated the process, and the ship sped forward into the black cave of space.

  The broken hull of an alien battle cruiser suddenly rose up in front of them. It emerged from the shadows like magic and blocked their route – its black metal all but invisible against the darkness. The Praihawk's nose rammed into the cruiser's side, and pushed it back a few dozen meters. After several seconds, both ships came to a halt.

  “One of yours?” Bohai asked Sheni.

  “Not Sayan. And not Earthian. I've never seen a ship like that before.”

  “It was built for war, that's for sure,” Dexter noted its markings with keen interest. “Look at the guns. Two dozen on each side. Years ago, this was a helluva war machine. Long before we were born.”

  Now the alien ship hovered dejectedly in space, in this black cavern of emptiness, where it had slept unmolested for centuries. A forgotten soldier cast aside, idle until today, when the Praihawk disturbed it into a short slide backwards.

  “The Blue Orca is just past this cruiser,” Sheni said. “Behind it. If we can get past this one, we might be clear until the target.”

  Dexter pondered, calculated the odds, then restarted the engines. He punched the thrusters hard for four seconds, then shut them down and sealed them off again. The propulsion drove the Praihawk against the battle cruiser and forced it out of the way. The hulking cruiser turned and coasted to starboard, then glided toward the edge of the pitch-black chasm, until it collided with the forward half of another broken ship. Everything in the Boneyards seemed to quake for a moment, and then it came to a silent stop.

  Stillness and darkness recovered.

  The Praihawk skated forward, and after several long minutes its lights showed a gleam directly ahead: a shiny metal object only a few minutes away. They coasted until within a mile of its dead form. Now they could see a ship in the shape of a killer whale, white and black, brilliantly gleaming under their lights – the white areas shifted into silver. The lighting bounced off its surface and nearly blinded them. Dexter lowered the illumination and waited for their ship to finish its long glide. They seemed almost close enough to touch the other ship – a trick of the monitors – but they still had a ways to go. And it was only then that they realized precisely how big the Orca was. This behemoth was even larger than the Vortex. It was more than a warship, it was a monster.

  The legends of the Blue Orca – could they be true? Dexter wondered. He didn't want to believe his own eyes. He was skeptical, despite what they were seeing.

  This proves nothing.

  “So it exists,” he said. “That doesn't mean it has anything of value on it.”

  Something howled in the back of the ship. Gun shots sounded: one, two, three in rapid succession. And then silence.

  Dexter and Bohai exchanged looks, then Dexter said, “Go!”

  Bohai snatched a gun and spun out of his chair; he ran toward the back engine port.

  Another shot rang out, and someone screamed.

  And then all was silent.

  Dexter stood up and shoved a gun in Sheni's hand. It was the second time someone had done that today. “Learn how to use this. Learn fast.”

  Chapter 20

  The Saratu had captured two full decks of Starbase 21, but now filled the lounge. Once everyone had slipped down the service shaft, Bem ignited the force-field and trapped the creatures in the main concourse and lounge of both upper decks. The Saratu writhed in anger like a net full of fish bouncing against each other for air.

  That had been the first of Shane's instructions to Bem. The force-field wouldn't hold them for long, especially considering their next plan, but it would give them a few minutes to get down to the lower decks.

  Some of the people had trouble scaling the slender ladders that led them past the bleak, dank machinery rooms. Missteps were many, but no one fell. Camila led them on, and Stu encouraged them from behind. He had one of the few working weapons, so he needed to protect their rear.

  Eventually the Saratu would break through the force-field and infest the rest of the station. Bem explained that he estimated only two hours until the barrier would go down, now that the power supply had been sabotaged. And that was assuming the creatures didn't trip the circuit sooner – either by accident or on purpose. Their intelligence level had yet to be ascertained. Communications systems had also been ravaged, and it was only by the luck of the stars that all life support systems were intact, safely protected on the green deck.

  Shane, Jason, and Mitch finally followed the others down the ladders and into the lower recesses of Starbase 21.

  “They're one level down,” Jason whispered. “We've almost caught up. But listen to that.”

  Click-click. Click-click.

  More alien conversation, and some of it in sharp spurts. It was hard to tell where it originated, but it echoed somewhere above them in the ducts.

  “More creatures,” Shane whispered urgently. “Not all of them are trapped. Stay quiet and keep moving.”

  “They're communicating,” Jason said. “Those clicks, they almost sound like a language.”

  “Don't matter,” Mitch groused, brandishing his shotgun. “My double-barrel will send them to hell, either way. I ain't gonna care what they got to say.”

  “Shhh. Keep moving. And watch your grip, the rungs on this ladder are slick as hell.”

  They crossed onto the next deck and found fresh scuff marks on the floor. This was the direction their people had fled.

  “I need to find an intercom to talk to Bem.” Shane said. He scanned the walls, but no intercom boxes were installed in here.

  “He already knows what to do,” Jason reminded him. “And he is a robot. It's not likely he'll forget. And it's also not likely the beasties will eat him.”

  “I want to be sure.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Yeah,” Shane rolled his eyes. “Nothing to worry about here!”

  “The plan is the plan,” Jason said.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means: keep going. It'll all work out. I'm not ready to be beast-meat just yet.”

  The clicking again. This time moving away, chasing Camila and her group who were fleeing toward the cargo bays.

  “Some of them are loose,” Jason said. “They're tracking our people. That's not good. Not good at all. None of them are armed, except for Camila's pistol.”

  Mitch dashed back to the ladder and pounded his shotgun against the metal rungs. A loud tinny sound shot through the room.

  “What are you doing!” Shane yelled.

  “Distracting the critters. We gotta lead them away.” Mitch started climbing back up the ladder, once more making a racket by pounding the metal with his shotgun barrel.

  “He's right,” Jason said. “It's the only chance they've got. Camila can't take them alone, and we might not reach them in time.”

  “Son of a –” Jason swore as he followed Mitch up the ladder. “Even when he's being brave and doing the right thing, that man is annoying.”

  Jason shrugged and fell in line. “He is what he is. But he's right.”

  The three men headed toward the top of the station, leading the creatures toward them, and away from the fleeing group. The clicking got louder, and Shane quickly checked his gun: only four bullets left.

  “I'm almost out, too,” Jason whispered. “And I doubt Mitch has more than two shells left.”

  “This oughta be fun,” Shane grumbled, and moved faster to catch up with Mitch... farther from their group, and closer to the isolated top deck of Starbase 21.

  Chapter 21

  The creature bounded out of the engine tube seconds before it would have been vaporized by the next start-up thrust. Now it spilled onto the floor, regained its bearings and snarled up at the two interlopers who ran to meet it.

  George reached it first, but realized he was holding a puls
e rifle – too dangerous to fire it inside the ship. As the beast charged him, he took his hand off the trigger and slammed its head with the butt of the rifle, skillfully using momentum to send it crashing against the far wall. One thing George knew: how to fight hand to hand. But the creature shook off the injury to its shoulder and head, turned and lifted itself on all six legs to pounce.

  Sam skidded into the room and shot a spark sphere at the Saratu. A direct zap to the head sent the alien creature back to the floor. It writhed a moment, then moved no more.

  “Passed out or dead?” George asked. He put down the pulse rifle and snagged a pistol from his belt.

  “Yes,” Sam said. “One of those.”

  “Smartass.”

  They both stood still and listened for any more invaders. They heard the engines thrust and shut down again, and the sound of them re-sealing tight. A creaking noise resonated around them, almost like a submarine underwater. Then another clicking sound came from somewhere in the walls.

  They froze still and waited, their arms suspended in mid-air with guns drawn, not moving. Listening.

  More clicking. It was hard to tell from where.

  The creature on the floor started to wake up; it released a strange howl they had never heard before. George aimed and fired three bullets into its head. Milky blood pooled around it languidly, but it was dead.

  After a few seconds, the creature's body twitched, and instinctively George shot it again. It was only a nerve reflex in the dead body.

  Something grabbed Sam's shoulder, and he screamed instinctively. It was the spider, Teak, who had bounced off Sam to get a good vantage point on the wall past him. Now the arachnid scrambled toward the engine vent.

  “Don't do that!” Sam scolded his eight-legged crewmate.

  Bohai appeared and put a hand on Sam's other shoulder, and the boy jumped. “Stop doing that!”

  “Nice scream,” Bohai noted. “It's like an 80s horror movie in here.”