The Boneyards of Nebula

by Rod Little

  “It's nothing. You don't have anything foreign on your skin. There are no chemicals, either. No strange bacteria, other than the usual filthy microorganisms humans carry with them.”

  “So what happened?” Bohai went back to rubbing his hand on his shirt at hearing the words “filthy microorganisms.”

  Dexter put the tongs down and lifted a small bone fragment with his own two fingers. No reaction. “Touch this, please. One finger.”

  “No way!”

  “I need to test something. Please touch it.”

  Bohai extended one nervous finger and lightly placed it on the bone fragment. After a few seconds, it started turning brown, and Bohai quickly pulled his hand back. He wiped it again on his shirt.

  “Fascinating!” Dexter exclaimed. “But when I touch it, there is no reaction. So what's different about you and me, other than your inexplicable spider language capabilities?”

  “I'm younger? More muscular? Better looking? Maybe not as smart as you?”

  Dexter frowned. “All those things, to be sure. But there's something else: you are Earthian. I am not.”

  “Ahh. Yes. Cool, I guess.”

  “It is not cool. It is scientifically significant, and I need to test it further.”

  Dexter flipped the intercom switch. “Can you two gentlemen come to the med lab, please? And bring our prisoner with you.”

  George and Sam uncuffed Sheni's feet and escorted her to the med lab. When they arrived, Dexter didn't like that her ankle cuffs had been removed, but he let it go for now; he was focused intently on the discovery at hand.

  “Catch this,” he said, and threw a small Saratu wrist bone to Sheni.

  She caught it in her cuffed hands. It did not react or change. She held it up higher and looked at it. “So? What's this? One of those creatures?”

  “Please take it from her, George,” Dexter requested.

  George grabbed the bone from Sheni's hands and held it up to the light. He bounced it a few times in his palm, as if playing with a ball. The bone started to turn brown; it shriveled the same as the earlier bone under Bohai's touch. George instantly dropped it to the floor and kicked it away.

  “What the hell was that?” He asked. “Is that thing poisonous? You made me touch it!”

  “No, it's not poisonous,” Dexter said. “You are. You are toxic to it.” He picked up the bone and placed it aside on the table, then took another fragment and tossed it to Sam.

  Sam tried to catch it, but it fell to the floor. He retrieved it quickly, embarrassed at his lack of sports skills, and twirled it in his fingers as if to compensate. He then bounced it on his palm the way George had done. There was no reaction or color change to the fragment.

  “Extraordinary,” Dexter said. “Sam does not have enough Earthian DNA to trigger a reaction. And of course Sheni and I don't. Only you two do.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” George took one more step away from the “poison bones.” He wasn't convinced, and he had didn't want to catch the zombie virus.

  “Your Earth DNA is toxic to the Saratu creatures,” Dexter explained, but it seemed he was talking more to himself than to the others. “Even from something as innocuous as skin contact. Incredible...”

  “So what does all that mean to us?” Sam asked.

  “It means Earthians are deadly to Saratu.” Dexter lifted an eyebrow. “All they need to do is touch one to kill it. George, you didn't need to shoot it. You could have just touched it.”

  “Wow. That's bizarre,” Sam said. “But it also means you two would have to get close enough to touch one without getting bitten. It doesn't do much good to get your head chomped off while you're killing it.”

  “Indeed,” said Dexter. “But it's a fascinating discovery with incredible implications.”

  “Right,” Bohai said. “Such as...?”

  “Such as the fact that this may be the way to fight Lusus, and take back Earth,” Dexter said. He looked at each of them. “If that's what you want.”

  “Are you crazy!” Bohai spouted. “You want to transport a bunch of these creatures to Earth? That can't be a good idea. Wouldn't that damage the ecosystem?”

  “Surely it would,” Dexter replied. “I merely point it out as a possible means of ending this war. Most Earthlings would survive, if careful, but the Sayan armies would be... hampered, to say the least.”

  “And how do plan to ship Saratu to Earth?”

  “We have two ships following us,” George reminded them. “And they're full up with the critters.”

  “You'll never get those ships to Earth,” Sheni gloated. “Their task is to get the Seed or die trying.”

  George ignored her. “So then how do we get the critters to Earth?”

  “Actually,” Sam bit his lip, “we already did. We already took them there. Don't you remember? The centipedes.”

  “You're right.” Bohai snapped his fingers. “Two centipedes hitched a ride on our last rescue mission. And eventually they'll turn. They'll turn, lay eggs, and have baby centipedes. And those will turn into Saratu monsters, and so on...”

  “What are you saying?” Sheni asked.

  “The Saratu are already on Earth.”

  Chapter 30

  There was very little left for Lusus to say, so he explained his point with as much care and finesse any great leader would employ.

  “I don't care,” he said icily. He was not a great leader. Even less of an orator.

  “The strange aberrations attacked our solders at two camps,” Yota pressed on. He was referring to the Saratu. “Including the refugee camp, filled with Earthlings.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Only a few soldiers.”

  “Then why are you bothering me with this? Honestly, Yota, sometimes I think you wish to kill me with details. Do you want me dead, is that it?”

  “I would not wish it,” Yota said without an ounce of emotion. In truth, he did not want his Commander's job. Not for all the ice on Neptune.

  “Then dispense with these multi-legged beasts and continue building my new fortress. We are almost finished, and the planet... well, barring any objection from President Vahr, it's ours.” He was being sarcastic. He knew the President had little say in the matter.

  “But, Sir, these aberrations are not indigenous to Earth. They are an alien species.”

  “Chameleons were an alien species at one time, Yota. But one day, a ship landed from Altara, and now you have them skipping on rocks and changing colors, everywhere on this cruel planet. Life changes, my friend. It mixes.”

  “This species is new, though. Very new. They first appeared this year. That is significant, Commander.”

  Lusus was trying to care, but for all his effort he could not. “What are you saying, that they flew here recently in a ship of their own?”

  “I am not saying that.”

  “Well, we didn't bring them, and the Earthlings don't have any ships of their own.”

  “They have the Ancients' ships, Sir. Remember they do have two ships.”

  Lusus blinked at that, and finally paid some attention to his sub-commander. “Are you suggesting they somehow transported an alien race of mutated felidae onca back here to Earth?”

  “I didn't mean–”

  “From where, what other planet could they have come from?”

  “I'm not suggesting anything, Sir. But it remains a possibility. We don't know where else the Earthlings have been, where they've flown on those two ships. Or what else was on that Starbase they've now inhabited. And we don't know what their intentions are, if in fact these aberrations are here by their doing.”

  “You're loaded with questions and no answers, Yota. That annoys me to no end.”

  “I'm simply laying out the facts, Sir.”

  “They are scheming to hinder us,” Lusus said as if explaining simple math to a child. “That's their sad little plan!”

  “I'm not sure–”

  “But it won't work. Kill off any of those ab
errations that come near our camps. Otherwise, ignore them. I don't want to hear of them again.”

  “As you wish.”

  Before leaving, he turned to his sub-commander and looked him up and down. “And Yota, do try to get some sleep. You look awful.”

  “As you wish.”

  Chapter 31

  The Praihawk slowed as it approached the final stretch of space to Starbase 21. Dexter called everyone into the control room to give them the bad news.

  “Miscalculation or faulty gauges,” he announced scientifically with no regret. “But we won't have enough power to reach home.”

  “How close are we now?” Sam asked.

  “Not far, but we will not reach it, and back-up thrusters are empty. My suggestion is to fire one final engine blast and use the last of our power to propel us toward the station. We may actually get close enough for their tractor beams to take hold of the ship and pull it to dock.”

  “We haven't had contact with the Starbase,” Bohai said. “And I still can't raise them on any comm channel. How do you know they'll see us?”

  “The station's sensors will send out a proximity warning. Bem, the robot, is fully capable of attaching a tractor beam and docking us.”

  “I'm okay with that. Go ahead, then.”

  “Sounds right,” Sam said. “Blast us all toward home. I certainly don't want to float aimlessly out here forever.”

  “And those two ships following us?” George asked. “What about them?”

  “Fortunately they have slowed to minimal speed,” Dexter said. “Their crews may not even be alive, since they have not changed course or altered any settings in hours. At this point it looks like they are cruising, or coasting, without helm control. If we stay here, one of them will eventually reach us. The other will miss us, unless it changes vector.”

  Sheni sat in her corner and stewed in silence.

  “Okay then,” Bohai said. “Blast away.”

  Dexter punched three buttons on the control panel, and the Praihawk shifted into a high speed run. The engines whined. Each of the crew grabbed a chair to avoid falling, as the ship sped forward at triple speed. This lasted for thirty-six seconds, then the engines went silent. There was no power remaining; the cells were depleted.

  The ship continued to sail forward riding the force of the thrust on a wave of inertia. It sent them closer and closer to their goal. They waited and rode the current, while the two pursuing ships disappeared in their rear-view screens.

  “It's all up to fate now,” Sam said.

  Dexter grunted. He didn't believe in fate.

  The ship's lighting shut down, and the view-screens went out; the ship flew dark from here on. Only the red and blue LED lights lit the last instrument readings on the control panels, but eventually they would also be extinguished.

  An hour passed, and the ship slowed more and more, until it seemed that it was no longer moving at all. Dexter believed that in fact it did carry some velocity, possibly mere inches per seconds, but there were no powered instruments to prove it. They crawled at a snail's pace, until something appeared through the small rounded window: Starbase 21.

  “There it is!” Bohai shouted.

  Everyone snapped to the window and watched their ship's languid approach. Minutes passed, but it barely seemed any closer. They felt they might never reach it at this pace.

  “Damn, it's like watching ice melt,” George complained. “We gonna reach it this year or what?”

  “Taking into account a ten percent reduction in speed per minute, we might be within range of its tractor beam in forty or fifty minutes,” Dexter informed them. “I feel confident of success. We have a good chance.”

  “But the station is dark.” Bohai leaned his forehead against the window. “Look. It's blacked out. No power.”

  “The station is dead,” Sam whispered. “Something has gone wrong. They're all...”

  They're all dead.

  Dexter knitted his brows. “Do not jump to conclusions, son. This could be explained in many ways. A power outage does not necessarily mean anyone has died. However, this does explain the lack of communication with them. They have no power for the comm systems.”

  “Look. The Vortex is still in dock,” Sam said, scratching his chin. “So they didn't go to Earth yet. The rescue mission was set for today. Why the hell didn't they go?”

  “The comms went dead a long time ago,” Bohai said. “Remember? When we entered the Nebula. That means they've been dark for a long time.”

  “Not good,” Sam repeated. “Something bad happened here after we left. A rebel attack? Lusus?”

  “There are no signs of any damage to the outer hull due to weapons fire,” Dexter noted. “I do not think this outage is from an external attack. It is likely from something that happened internally, inside the station.”

  “Inside?” Bohai understood immediately what that meant. “The Saratu!”

  “What about them?”

  “There was at least one centipede left in the garden at the station. Maybe more were there. If they hatched, then...”

  “Crap!” Sam yelled. “They're dealing with a Saratu infestation. Just like the ships behind us, but... maybe worse.”

  “Could the creatures be responsible for the power outage?” Dexter was asking Bohai. “One does not usually turn something off by accident. Are the Saratu smart enough to commit sabotage of a power relay?”

  “They could chew through the wires,” Bohai offered. “They are intelligent, not just mindless killers, like rabid dogs or rats. Their hive mentality allows them to work together. Still... it seems a bit far-fetched.”

  “But it's possible.”

  “Anything is.”

  “Then our best course of action is to get the power back on at the Starbase. After that, we can activate the tractor beam and pull the ship into dock.”

  “How do we get the power on from here?”

  “We don't.” Dexter said. “The three of you have to go over there in...”

  “Don't say it...”

  “In space suits.”

  “Damn. He said, it,” Sam groaned. “Again? Out there in those awkward space pajamas with jet boots? And if we miss the station?”

  “I would advise you not to miss,” Dexter said prosaically, as a practical piece of advice. His even tone sounded like he was advising them to pass their next class at school. I would advise you to get an B on the midterm to stay in this class. “Do not miss. That could be fatal.”

  Sam looked out the window. “Dude, that's far. I mean that's really... far!”

  “The proximity is not as convenient as your last space-walk, I agree,” Dexter said. “But we have little choice. And you must be quick about this. We have only four hours of life support remaining on the ship. Six, if three of you leave soon for a space-walk. Another two hours can be gained if Sheni and I wear the space-walk suits inside the ship. After that, we are all dead.”

  Bohai hesitated. This idea sounded shaky to him. “I don't know how to turn the power on at the station. That's not enough time.”

  “I can give you instructions. However, without power, I cannot search for schematics on the location of the relays. You'll need to search the lower decks, I believe.”

  “Pretty tight for time,” George agreed. “Even if we get to the station, you two might suffocate here while we're trying to find the power grid.”

  “Our time might be even shorter than you think,” Sam said, tapping the window. “Those two ships, they've caught up with us.”

  Through the window, the two Sayan war vessels appeared to be moving again and closing in. One of them had its weapons lights flashing.

  “Looks like they got control back of their own boats, oars and all,” George said. “They're back on the hunt.”

  “So that's it,” Sam sighed, deflated. “We're out of time, even for your insane plan.”

  Bohai swiveled his chair away from the window and snapped his fingers. “Or maybe we're the dumbest space tr
avelers in the galaxy.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Our stupidity,” Bohai said. “We've been dying of thirst while sitting on top of a water tank. It's time we got a straw.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “There's something I think we missed. I have an idea. Where's that green box?”

  Chapter 32

  The decision to leave the station had pitted the group against each other in a heated argument of pros and cons. The station was still a new home to each of them, and it had been a comfortable place – agreeable and safe – until now. Losing one's safety does strange things to a person. This was the second or third time these survivors had experienced the rug being pulled out from under them. That made a few of them resist, angry at being displaced again.

  Shane understood, but held firm. Everyone would need to abandon the station or become food for the creatures that had taken over Starbase 21. Shane was the last to cross over and depart their home. He stepped through the fifty-foot gangway that lead to the ancient ship. It swayed a tiny bit under his weight, but held firm.

  A rusted metal plaque hung on the wall at the ship's entrance:

  ~The Nakron~

  Next to it, another metal plaque:

  No fear, doubt, or Retreat.

  No foe is greater than the despair we give port to.

  Squash every doubt.

  Forward into the abyss.

  Comfort in discovery.

  Shane and Stu stepped past it, as they crossed into the vessel and locked the door behind them. The ancient release lever complained when the two men latched it in place with a loud clank.

  Now everyone was safely harbored on the Nakron, sealed in tight. Camila and Jason had led their people on board first, and they had spent the past hour preparing their people for the worst, but also calming their fears, assuring them that the worst would not come. A juggling act of half-truths.

  “We can handle anything,” she told them. She meant it. Not everyone believed her, but she meant those words.