The Boneyards of Nebula

by Rod Little

  In the hallway, two large books sat on the floor. Bohai lifted them and held them against his suit. “I found these upstairs. Star charts and ship's log. They might be useful. I also found the bridge, but nothing works. No power.”

  “Real books,” Sam mused. “And real maps in one of the rooms I saw. This ship is... unusual, to say the least.”

  “Nothing in the lower decks,” George reported. “I found the engine room, equipment, the usual. And no power down there either.”

  “Well, we are in a ship junkyard,” Sam reminded them. “I never really expected anything to still work.”

  “That thing still worked.” George pointed to the box in his pocket.

  “Yes. It did. And I want to get rid of it and pawn it on Dexter ASAP. Let's get back to the Praihawk. I don't like this place. It's empty and spooky. Gives me the willies.”

  “I second that,” said Bohai. He had already started the long trek back to the Eye.

  On the Praihawk, Dexter stared at the monitors with amazement, straining to catch every detail through the cameras via the three helmets. He leaned in close, wishing the men would stop moving around so much; it was hard to focus on anything for long.

  “That's it,” he said. “The weapon you came for. But you know we can't give it to you.”

  “Where will you take it?” She asked.

  “We'll take you and the artifact back to Starbase 21.” He never took his eyes from the screen, but bent closer to see the details as the crew re-entered the Rue Orca's eye-shaped doorway.

  “That's simply unacceptable,” Sheni spat wickedly.

  In one fluid motion she produced a small cylinder from her pocket into her palm, a Sayan hypodermic needle, and now pressed it hard against Dexter's neck. All his attention had been pointed toward the cameras. So intent was his focus, he had not noticed her actions behind him, and now a poison filled his veins.

  “What...” was all he was able to blurt out before stumbling backward and falling against a control panel. He winced as the poison coursed through his veins, and after a few seconds he slid to the floor. There he lay, as Sheni stepped over his body and looked into the monitors to see for herself. She followed the cameras, while the men started their trip back home through the iris; then she turned and collected a weapon: the handgun George had been so kind to teach her how to use.

  She activated a signal on her belt, then stepped over Dexter's body again and wove her way back through the ship toward the loading bay. If the men made it back alive with her treasure, she wanted to greet them personally.

  Chapter 24

  At the station, Walter and Bem secured the control room and shut down its systems. They had limited time to get everything done and make it to the rendezvous point. Having lost contact with Shane's group, they clung to his last message, which indicated that his team was safe and on their way. Walter held to the belief they would all come through this alive.

  “Do you wish me to leave some power activated for the Praihawk,” Bem asked, “should it succeed in returning?”

  “Yes, keep all lights and main systems powered. The sensors will kick the lights and lifts on, if... I mean, when the ship gets back.”

  “As you wish. The loading dock sensors are on a separate power supply. They will continue to operate, regardless of our actions.”

  “They won't have a problem re-docking?”

  “If their ship is still fully operational, there is no reason to expect any complication.”

  “Good. Can we get a message to them? Warn them of the creatures on the station?”

  “I cannot establish communications with the ship.”

  “No, I mean here, on the station, if they get back? I don't want them walking into an ambush.”

  “I can display a message in the docking bay. Should I include our location, the rendezvous point?”

  Walter bit his lip and thought for a second. “No. We can't be sure who might board the station first. Warn them about the creatures; say nothing more.”

  “Indeed. A short message.”

  “Thanks. Do it. And then let's go. The quiet in here is making me edgy.”

  The first part of their journey to the other side of the station passed without event. Despite the ease of travel, the emptiness and vacuum of the hallways unnerved Walter. That feeling was about to get worse.

  As they reached the corridor to the rendezvous point, all power went off. The station went pitch black, and the hum of the air vents petered out.

  “So much for leaving the porch light on,” Walter said.

  “Sabotage, most likely,” Bem stated. “Perhaps some of the creatures have damaged either the core or ancillary systems.” The robot tilted his head and listened. A few seconds later he asked, “Would you like me to go back and check on the systems?”

  “No. Let's get to our people. We'll figure out what to do then.”

  “As you wish.” Bem's hand was equipped with a spotlight. He lit the beam to show the way and rolled forward. “The lifts will not be in operation.”

  Walter squinted into the darkness behind him, listened to the robots wheels turning, then turned and followed Bem's dim light. The two of them traveled several hundred meters to the service shaft, then climbed down one floor. Bem used only his arms to descend.

  On the next deck, the robot rolled slowly into the hall that would lead them a fork, then to the rendezvous point. They would need to collect a key at the fork. He paused occasionally to let Walter catch up; the man walked behind him at a much slower pace, always listening at the walls.

  “I hear something,” Walter whispered.

  “I detect movement within the ducts,” Bem confirmed. “From here, I cannot confirm what is making the noise.”

  “Creatures, of course,” Walter said quietly, keeping his voice down. “But the direction... I can't tell.”

  “They are moving in the same direction as are we,” Bem said. “They may even reach the key before we find it.”

  “Then roll! Faster. We have to beat them.”

  Bem propelled himself forward at a speed that sent him to the bifurcation in seconds. Walter was left standing in the dark. He hustled to catch up.

  “Not that fast, you idiot! Wait for me!”

  And then something thudded loudly in the duct above their heads. Another thump, and the sound of something running toward Bem, now motionless at the corner. Walter ran faster toward the robot's beam of light.

  Dammit, I was too loud! They know we're here!

  Walter heard no clicking or growling, but the footfalls were unmistakable. Several sets of legs were taking something toward Bem's corner spot – inside the air duct and toward the vent that was housed in the wall near his head.

  Sweat trickled down Walter's temples. He felt his glasses slip as he ran, and subconsciously nudged them back up. When he got closer, he saw the robot swivel his head to listen.

  And then something slammed hard against the vent cover, sending it flying into Bem's head, and another form came crashing out of the duct. Bem's light went out, as the robot sprawled to the floor.

  In the darkness, Walter stopped.

  Chapter 25

  Despite holding the books, Bohai made it back to the Praihawk without any trouble. Upon landing, his metal boots grabbed the surface of the wing and held him in place. He started the long trek back, trudging over the wing and then stamping up the side of the ship. Sam was already at the top, and now George floated toward them.

  “Dexter, we're almost back.”

  Still no reply.

  Why wasn't he responding?

  “Dexter, you okay in there?”

  “Comm systems are out,” George said, as he landed with a thud on the wing. He started to skate, and then engaged his magnetic boots. On any other day, skating across the bow of a starship would be fun – but not today.

  On a passing chunk of another ship's tail, a twisted sheet of metal, a Saratu appeared and started clicking. It was at least two hundred yards away, to
o far to jump – they hoped. George kept one eye on it, just in case.

  The three humans made their way across the top and back down the other side of the ship, taking care with their magnetic boots while walking sideways without gravity – an undertaking Sam still struggled with.

  “Almost at the door,” George said into his microphone. “Get ready to open up for us.”

  “No one replied.”

  When they reached the door, they waited. Sam knocked with his gloved hand. He could hear his own heavy breathing inside the helmet, a sign he was starting to panic again.

  Then the door swished open, and they climbed inside. After the hatch resealed, they gratefully stepped out of their suits. It felt good to be rid of them. Sam gently removed the green box from his pocket and placed it on a bench in the bay.

  The door to the inner ship then slid aside, and Sheni stood in the threshold with a gun pointed at them.

  “Well look at this,” George sneered. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Shut up and slide the Seed over here.”

  George threw his suit on the side bench, and face her, but did not seem frightened. “Honey, if we're gonna go that route, you're gonna need a bigger gun.”

  “Slide it here! Now!”

  “You mean the black and green ball? Not a chance, lady.”

  He could see the safety was on, and advanced to take the gun from her. However, when he reached for her arm, a shock sent him reeling backward. He caught himself before falling. Sam shot a spark at her, but her own spark deflect it instantly. She had shielded herself with a force-field in the doorway. Her sparking powers were not as weak as she had pretended earlier.

  “Last chance,” she warned. “The box. Or I kill the three of you and take it myself.”

  Bohai stood his ground and crossed his arms, blocking her way. “You're not touching that box we found. And I could have seen this scenario from a mile away: you, betraying us. Lady, you are nothing if not predictable.”

  “Foolish child,” she mocked, “if you saw this coming, then why am I the one holding the gun on you.”

  “That's why we left a crew member behind to keep an eye on you.”

  She twisted her mouth into a cold smirk. “Dexter is lying on the floor up front. I assure you, he is not coming to save you.”

  “I didn't mean Dexter,” Bohai said coolly.

  “There's no one else on the ship–.”

  Her eyes widened, and she froze. Her force-field dropped; then she fell forward. Bohai caught her before she hit the floor, and gently laid her down so her head wouldn't hit the edge of the bench. The gun spilled from her hand, and George immediately scooped it up.

  Teak clung to her back, his fangs still piercing her neck. He withdrew them and scrambled back up the wall. The spider had been on her side of the force-field all along, hiding in the shadows of the ceiling.

  “That would be our extra crew member,” Bohai said, and then to Teak: “Thank you, good Sir.”

  “Alright,” George said, deeply satisfied at the woman's fate. “I'm warming up to your eight-legged friend here.”

  “Holy crap,” Sam said. “Did he kill her? We don't have to watch him eat her, do we?”

  “She's not dead. He paralyzed her. She'll be fine.” Bohai stepped over her body and started toward the front of the ship. “But Teak says she killed Dexter.”

  “Dexter's dead?”

  They ran to the control room and found Dexter's body on the floor. There was no blood; he was lying face down. Bohai bent down and turned his body over, face up. He felt the man's pulse, examined the needle marks on his neck. Then he fumbled through the first-aid box on the wall and pulled out a small gun-like tool.

  “He's not dead yet. This should revive him.”

  He pressed the gun against Dexter's heart and fired the medicine into his chest. Dexter gasped and his chest heaved. Bohai repeated the procedure, and this time Dexter woke up. He gulped oxygen, then rifled through the first-aid box himself to find a small patch. He pushed it against his neck, and it stuck there.

  “This should detox me,” he explained. “Get me some water. Quickly. She poisoned me.”

  “We know.”

  Sam handed him a bottle of water. “George, maybe you and I can go back and tie up our little vampirella? Bohai can tend to Dex.”

  “I'm way ahead of you. I saw electronic handcuffs in the weapons closet. Let's go.”

  With the prisoner cuffed and restricted to one of the empty quarters, Sam brought the green box to the control room, where they now sat quietly and ate rations. Dexter was recovering from the toxins, and felt sure the poisons weren't meant to kill him. Sheni probably still needed his help to get back home.

  “She'll sleep at least a day,” Bohai said. “When she wakes up, I assume you'll have some hard questions for her.”

  “Yes, a few,” Dexter said faintly. He was still weak from his recent ordeal. “I'm concerned she may have another ship on the way to pick her up. An unarmed science vessel would not be expected to carry a prized weapon all the way back to Neptune or Earth by itself, if indeed that's what the box and sphere are. I assume there is a warship waiting for her somewhere outside the Nebula, but not far outside it; maybe something too big to navigate through the Boneyards.”

  “We can take it, though, right?” Sam asked. “The Praihawk is a warship, too.”

  “Normally yes, but we're down to 36% power, and something is still draining our cells.”

  “What could it be?”

  “I have isolated the drain to engine number two. Something is happening in there. We need to go in and investigate.”

  “Stay here and rest,” Sam said. “We'll check it out. Bohai knows the ship better than any of us.”

  “The engines are still shut down, so do it now. Quickly. We'll need to find our way out soon. It's best to get out of the Nebula as soon as possible; it is not safe here.”

  Sam nodded, “More Saratu.”

  “And someone else might be looking for the Sayan science vessel. That distress call wasn't for us, you know. We intercepted it by accident.”

  Dexter pointed to the green box, still glowing, and said, “Lock that up in the med lab. I'll examine it later.”

  George, Sam and Bohai did their best to troubleshoot the engine components from outside the engine shaft, but they couldn't see far enough down the tube. Something foreign was blocking the engine turbine at the other end.

  “You gotta crawl in,” Bohai told Sam.

  “Me? No, I'm not going in there.”

  “You have to, man. You're the only one skinny enough to fit. George and I are too big.”

  “Send Teak!”

  “He already tried, but he can't find anything wrong. We need a human mind to look at this. Here are the engine's schematics. I need you to look and see if anything in there is wrong, or looks wrong compared to this.”

  Sam looked at the schematics for a long minute, then turned them upside down, then back again. “This looks too complicated for me.”

  “Just get in there, I'll walk you through it,” Bohai promised. “I'll help you, but you need to hurry, man. Dex says the power is still draining, and soon we'll be below the level needed to get back home.”

  George shined a flashlight into the turbine then turned the light on Sam. “It's all clear. Ready when you are.”

  Sam muttered to himself as he climbed into the horizontal turbine shaft and shimmied his way toward its other end. It was a tight fit, but he was able to worm his body through the tube. As he worked his way forward, he examined every part of the mechanisms inside to see if anything looked out of place. Dexter had said that a small rock or meteoroid particle might be jamming the engine or one of the turbines. He looked closely for anything resembling that, but nothing caught his attention. Every part looked normal to him.

  Same shouted back: “You realize I have no idea what I'm doing, right?”

  “No different from any other job you do,” Bohai joked. His voice
carried up the shaft, sounding distant and tinny.

  “Ha ha,” Sam mumbled to himself. “Why don't you come in here shovel some of this chum.” He often quoted famous movie lines to comfort himself in tight places and to help him concentrate.

  And there is was. He found the one thing that didn't fit with the engine, and it wouldn't take an engineer to spot it: the leg bone of a Saratu, lodged in the engine and stripped of all muscle and skin.

  He grabbed the bone and yanked it loose from the machinery. It fractured in two, so he collected both pieces and a small shard that had chipped off. Using his hand, he brushed away other small bone fragments that might still jam the device, and stored them in his shirt pocket. It was an unsavory chore; the bones disgusted him, but he completed his task and pushed his body away from the gears. He shimmied backward through the tube.

  “Found it,” he yelled.

  As he reached the end, Bohai grabbed his ankles and helped pull him out of the narrow tube. When Sam was standing again, he tossed the two bone fragments to Bohai, who caught them adroitly without thinking.

  Sam looked up at Teak: “You couldn't spot these in the works? Really?”

  Teak remained firmly fixed like a statue in the ceiling corner, steadfast, and Sam took that to be his version of a shrug.

  “Yeah, thanks for nothing,” Sam said. He emptied his pocket of the chip and the smaller bone fragments. “Where can I dump these?”

  Dexter came rushing into the room and produced a clear bag. “Put them in here. The bone samples, too. I want to run some tests on them.”

  “They're all yours,” Sam said. “Take them away, please, and I'll send you my bill.”

  Dexter held the clear bag up to the light and inspected its contents, fascinated by the bone structures. He felt their texture through the bag. After a moment, he pointed back toward the bridge:

  “Let's go. We need to get out of the Nebula quickly. Power is at 32%. We stopped the bleeding, but we barely have enough power to get back. Any complications will seriously hamper our ability to return home.”