by J. N. Chaney
He clomps along beside me, feet packing the thin accumulation of snow here. “Do you?”
“As much as the next archeologist,” I say.
He ponders this for a time, then points at the ridge we’re heading toward. “Could that be a buried ship?”
“With a little imagination, sure it could.” The question occupies me as darkness falls over the land. I don’t dare take my eyes off our destination for fear of veering off course.
“That is what I was also thinking,” Zedas says, then lapses into silence.
Axu’s vessel and others search the night, powerful lights reflecting silver off the windblown tundra. Some use the green grid projections. None of them get close. The area they have to search is enormous.
The ridge turns out to be just a ridge, unless something large enough to distort the landscape is buried far below the surface. Part of me wants to excavate the site and find out. I’ll never know. Best to leave this mystery for another day.
We hunker behind an outcropping of rock and ice, sheltering from the increasingly brutal wind. It’s going to be a long night.
13
“It is a good morning,” Zedas says.
I stretch, take in the crystal clear air, and shake myself awake. “Where’s the coffee?”
Zedas hands me a tube. “It is not hot.”
“But at least it tastes terrible,” I say, slugging down the caffeine-like stimulant.
“Your humor game is strong, Doctor Hank Murphy.” Zedas crosses his arms, dips his chin, and regards me sternly. “Did you see what I did there, using your proper name while keeping the mood light.”
“You’re a master wordsmith, Z-man.”
“I want to punch you,” he says.
“Uh, can I take a raincheck?”
He narrows his gaze. “You are leading me into confusion once more. How do your people communicate with such a lack of precision?”
I scan the horizon, hoping against hope Shaina and her mystery friends are rushing to our aid. The brilliant sunrise is harsh but uplifting. Despite the dire situation, I feel as alive as I’ve ever been. “We lack context, Zedas-Duryan. Our languages share a common origin, I think, but no common history.”
“Of course,” he says. “Do you see that speck on the horizon? I don’t believe it is a statue ship.”
I stare at the dark ship until I’m sure it’s moving toward us. “Can’t tell what that is, but it must be a ship.”
“Should we hide?” Zedas asks.
“No. We can’t survive much longer. Capture would be better than fighting this planet with the clothing on our back and two days’ worth of ship rations.” I plant my hands on my hips and stand tall. “Look again, Zedas. There are more than one.”
Zedas glares at the horizon, then growls something in Dogan. “Those shapes I recognize—Overlord attack craft, specialized for this type of planet. The identity of the other ship no longer matters. They will be destroyed.”
Minutes pass. The first vessel grows distinct. Definitely not a Prothean but not an Overlord craft either. The short wings and fat hull are patched and covered with chipped paint. Smoke streams from the engines.
“Is it going to explode?” Zedas asks.
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” I monitor the amount of smoke pouring from the ship and consider reversing my decision not to hide. Memories of the Overlord sun ship raise my blood pressure. I clench my teeth and ball my fists. All I remember are days and nights of torture, of Zedas getting peeled out of his armor, of innocent and not so innocent lives being lost on Anaximander’s whim.
“Shaina for Murph, respond immediately.” Her voice crackles in the hood of my parka.
“I’m here with Zedas,” I answer.
“Good. I’m picking up two life-forms in our flight path. If that’s you, please confirm.”
“That’s us. We see you and your friends,” I say.
“Overlord scum,” she says. “They’ve been dogging us for days.”
“How did you find a ship?”
“Remember Van and the Hwelas? He’s not with Jack anymore,” Shaina says.
“I finished out my contract and slipped away,” Van says. “Knew you would need help. Didn’t sit right, what he did to you. But let’s catch up later. We’re coming in hot and you need to board quickly or learn how to build a permanent shelter on this ice ball.”
“We’re ready and waiting,” I say.
Zedas gives me a nod.
We move away from the slight ridge we’d used last night as a windbreak. If there is one thing this planet has in abundance, it’s lots of wide open spaces for landing zones.
Van’s ship rotates three of the five engines forward, flares them to break momentum, and lands aggressively. The ramp comes down before the landing gears touch. Zedas and I dash forward, racing onboard with single minded focus.
The ramp comes up before we are all the way inside, perfect timing when fleeing Overlords.
Shaina and Garin grab my arms, then quickly lead me toward benches along the walls of the cargo hold. A squad of Hwelas help Zedas strap in even more quickly. They chatter at him, but he only growls back.
“Why do I get the Hwelas?” he demands.
“They mean well,” I say, my mood soaring.
“I don’t like the way their eyes move so much. And they have so many extra pairs of arm-legs folded against their torso,” Zedas says. “But it is good to be on a ship. Now I can take off this ridiculous coat and show my armor to the galaxy once more.”
“Do it, Zedas-Duryan. Represent.” I can’t help but laugh. It’s good to be alive, on a ship, and with friends.
“I knew we’d find you, Mr. Murph,” Garin says as he straps into the seat beside me.
Shaina points toward the cockpit. “I’m going to help Van and his pilots. The Hwelas are excellent pilots, as it turns out. But they do things a bit differently, and they don’t understand the Overlords as much as they think they do.”
“Roger that,” I say. “Thanks for finding us.”
“What else was I going to do?”
“I heard you on comms arguing to continue the search, but my signals weren’t reaching you for some reason,” I say. “How did you avoid the Prothean scout ships?”
“Haven’t seen them for days.” Her answer is clipped short. “This is going to get rough. The Overlords are coming on strong.”
“We can watch on the screen, Mr. Murphy.” Garin points to a small utility screen near the main hatch.
Images of five fast-moving Overlord ships catch my attention. But that’s not the only revelation. Van and Shaina race across the surface, staying low to avoid rocket attacks. Overlords fire anyway, blowing chunks out of the ice. But the weapons were designed for void combat and frequently miss. Atmosphere, gravity, and the surface of the planet only a few dozen meters below complicates their targeting systems.
“I hope you have a plan,” I say.
Shaina responds via comms. “It’s touch and go right now. We have to stay alive long enough to break atmosphere. In the void, we’ll do better.”
“I pre-scouted several good hiding spots in the debris field,” Van says. “I’m a smuggler, remember?”
“Yeah. We have complete faith in your ability to slip this trap,” I say, but I’m watching ground vehicles racing across the ice. More than twenty of the sturdy vehicles fan out, searching the area. I’d like to ask Shaina or Van when the Overlords had time to deploy such an elaborate search party, but they’re busy.
“The Overlords want to find you as bad as Axu does,” Zedas says.
“It’s nice to be popular,” I mutter.
Zedas grinds out a chuckle.
“This planet is pretty big,” Shaina says. “You’re about to see something amazing. While you were tromping around on foot, we were circumnavigating the globe.”
“I can’t wait,” I say.
She doesn’t bother to explain, but I can hear mischief in her voice.
I look to
Zedas for an explanation, then Garin. The Dogan is as clueless as I am. The kid can barely contain the giddy excitement of the secret he’s keeping. Something tells me it’s not a dire conspiracy, but something both Shaina and Garin think is moderately hilarious.
“Is now really the time?” I keep the question low, not really wanting an answer.
The ship rises just high enough to cross a ridge of ice and black rock, the first I’ve seen since landing. Rockets whip into the obstruction, blowing fragments into the sky.
“That was close,” Van says. “Help me out with that gun.”
“I’ll do my best. This thing isn’t exactly overpowered,” Shaina says.
Hearing their conversation but not seeing them directly is a bit disorienting, but I have a good view of our pursuers. I decide not to interrupt them and face Garin instead. “Just tell me what the big secret is. I’d hate to die before I find out what has you two so amused.”
“We’re not going to die. This is about the fifth time Van has evaded the Overlords.” Garin leans closer, stretching his safety harness slightly. “I just can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see it. That might be as satisfying as escape.”
“You’re killing me, kid.” Two important details appear on the battered view screen. One, I see a statue ship pursuing the overlords who are pursuing us. It’s extremely far back, but gaining rapidly. Two, there is a new complex of canyons reaching up from the surface. There’s a lot more of the black rock mixed in with the ice, and it’s carved into grandiose ruins. If the structures had stood above the surface rather than digging into it, they would have been ten or fifteen stories high.
We flashed by, barely giving me enough time to take it all in. I lean toward the screen, zooming in on the part displaying the ancient structures. I see windows, balconies, and swooping walkways. What I don’t see is a single sign of life. This place is from long ago, and a sense of age pervades everything in my sight.
“We’ve got a new friend in the chase,” Shaina says. “Murphy, can you see the Prothean craft?”
“I have eyes on it,” I say, shifting my attention back to what’s important. “It’s hard to say, but it might be Axu.”
“Hold that thought,” Shaina says, then fires on the Overlord pursuers.
At first, I don’t see the charge bolts. When she complained about the weapon not being overpowered, she wasn’t lying. I can barely see the flash of energy. Of course at the speeds we’re moving, maybe that’s not surprising. I don’t have a lot of experience with ship to ship fire in this type of environment.
Garin, however, has better eyes or knows what to look for. “You hit the second ship dead on. I saw its wings waggle, but it was still flying. Probably didn’t do much damage.”
Shaina fires again, and again, and again. I track each exchange of fire, rockets and high-powered charge bolts from the Overlords versus our pathetic retaliation. Van’s ship lurches sideways after a hard impact.
“Okay, that does it,” the man says. “I’m done with these fools. Hold on and try not to pass out.”
A heartbeat after he gives the warning, he steers for the upper atmosphere, launching us like an old-school rocket climbing straight into space. The Overlord ships overshoot our sudden change of direction, turning in wide arcs and attempting to pursue. Axu’s statue ship also follows. The aesthetic design costs it now, however. The Prothean is probably our most dangerous adversary, but we’ve momentarily escaped him.
I hope.
The Overlords, on the other hand, are quick to recover. They parallel our course, accelerating faster than Van can push the smuggling freighter. Soon, they’ll be able to cut us off or shoot us down at their leisure.
“Hold on,” Van says. “The Serendipity ain’t living up to her name today. Two boosters failed. Otherwise we would’ve smoked these jokers.”
Gravity lets go of the ship. My guts flip flop. I shake my head and gather my senses before unclipping my harness and running to the cockpit.
“Settle down, Orphan,” Van says. “You should take a hot second to get your balance.”
“I’m good. What’s the situation? Where is Axu?” I ask, sweeping my gaze across surprisingly modern, or at least newly repaired, controls and view screens.
“Who is Axu, or do I want to know?” Van aks. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Not yet.”
I forgot how big the gray haired, tattoo covered pilot is. He talks tough but the light in his eyes says he isn’t worried, not like most people would be.
“The Overlords know they have us. Once we’re contained, they’ll demand surrender and send a boarding party over,” he says, talking with his hands, explaining the situation to me.
“They aren’t our problem. Axu and the other Prothean can’t be far behind,” I say.
Several Hwelas, the spider-like humanoids who don’t speak any language I understand, gather nervously along one wall.
“They don’t like the talk of Protheans,” Van says.
“Who does?” Shaina chimes in.
“Just calm down,” Van says. “Let me handle this. I have a plan. I always have a plan.”
The Hwelas nod and chatter excitedly, then return to their workstations.
Van indicates them with an open hand. “See there, my crew has absolute faith in my skills.”
“Less talk, more action, smuggler,” Shaina says.
Van sketches a bow without rising from his chair, then types a series of commands on his keyboard—which isn’t circular, I notice. The device is more like a concave version of keyboards I’m more familiar with—a design that is neither Hadrian nor Earth human. “Time for Operation Convincing Switch.”
“Fill us in so we can help,” I say. “Now is definitely the time for teamwork.”
“Yeah, convince me this will work,” Shaina says.
Van cracks a half smile. “You’re asking for my bonafides? Well, I’ve done this a hundred times. It’s actually better they caught us when they did. Puts them right into my trap.”
“I’m liking this less and less,” I comment under my breath.
“Agreed. Let’s send Garin to find a shuttle or an escape pod,” Shaina says.
“Now hold on,” Van says. “I see you two are skeptical, so let me explain. Years ago I befriended a ship systems genius. He was horrified at how dangerous my job was and took it upon himself to design some ship language.”
“Like software?” I ask.
“Don’t know what that is, but this program will convince most of the ships present that the Serendipity is one of those Overlord vessels and vice versa. Then we just fly away,” Van says.
I see several problems with this plan.
Shaina beats me to the punch. “I see several problems with this plan.”
14
“Ships don’t actually see each other,” Van argues. “They only detect and display what their ship language—software, if you want to call it that—tells them they see. There is the raw data of sensor scans, but that is only analyzed in real time during first contact scenarios or specialized missions.”
“I understand the concepts. We’re not looking through portholes. I get it. But your logic is dangerously simplistic,” I say.
“Just like half the enemy crew. Why work harder than necessary?” Van asks. “At some point, we all have to trust our equipment.”
“Sure. I get it. But how are we using that information?” I ask.
He leans forward slightly. “Overlords expect me to pull a fast one. I’ll give them a little of this, a little of that. And throw in some fancy flying to finish the trick.”
“Not reassuring. A more skeptical man might think you were all talk and no walk—faking it until you make it,” I say. “Or getting us all killed.”
Then he closes his eyes for a moment and exhales. “This is why I hate working with amateurs.”
“Be careful, Keifer Crasnokrink,” Shaina says. “That’s right, I haven’t forgotten who you really are. Or where you’ve be
en.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why can’t you just trust me to do it my way?” He clenches his teeth, making a sound low in his throat that is almost a growl. “If you know anything about the Vanderan conflict, you’ll know why I went AWOL. What’s your excuse?”
“They killed my father. Thanks for asking.” She puts her face nose to nose with the smuggler. “I didn’t just run because I was a coward.”
The Hwelas chitter and hiss, gathering into a skirmish line and edging forward. They shift side to side and take little random hops, which makes me think they’re about to spring at Shaina.
“That’s enough.” I step between the pilots and the Hwelas. “Let’s hear this plan and put it to work. Time isn’t on our side.”
“It never is,” Shaina mutters, then backs away from Van.
“The last seven times I evaded Overlord patrols, I used illegal boost technology—raw speed and some daring flying. Another time I used my unique system jumping technique—my most secret secret. It’s how I can move long distances faster than most, and I’ll die before I share it. So don’t ask. This time, we’re going to hide in plain sight just to mix things up.”
“And how are we going to do that?” I ask. “Give me details. I get the part about ships seeing what their computer language tells them to see. Are you… trying to cloak your ship?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Orphan?” Van shakes his head. “Cloaking? Sounds fancy, and complicated… like something that fails. No, all I’m doing is switching identification markers. In about five seconds, everyone will think the Serendipity is just another Overlord hunter. If we get really lucky, they’ll get trigger-happy and waste the false Serendipity. Once that happens, we’ll just be part of the gang.”
“Until they issue new orders and you don’t have the watchword of the day,” Shaina says.
“We will be long gone by then.” Van punches in a few more codes, then leans back and locks his fingers behind his head. “Damn I’m good.”
“We need a contingency plan,” Shaina insists.
“Fine. Have one. But you won’t need it,” Van says, and begins the process.