Samurai Guns (Orphan Wars Book 3)

by J. N. Chaney

  “As he should. Wak-wak most of all. So the Murph Orphan should also have faith in our motives. Hwelas cannot be Orphans, did you know this? And Hwelas must flee Protheans because the Protheans believe they have exterminated all of my people,” Wak-wak says. “Wak-wak does not wish to see how murderous they would become. Our existence must not be revealed.”

  “Hey, Murph,” Shaina interrupts. “We’ve got a big problem.”

  “Axu and the other Protheans, or more Overlords?” I ask, facing her screen.

  “Worse.”

  I study her viewer, then Van’s larger screen. Prothean scout ships flash toward a city in space—like the mother of all space stations formed into a ring with thrusters all the way around. Though stationary, it looks like it could move as fast as any ship I’ve seen despite its size. Sleek angles, covered launch bays, physical shields that draw over the more delicate buildings to protect them during acceleration.

  Or that is what it looks like. Nothing is truly stationary here, but I assume that the closer a ship gets to light speed the more dangerous every aspect of the trip becomes. One speck of debris hits a weak shield...and boom! End of the line.

  A fleet of warships surround it. I can’t count how many smaller vessels streak back and forth between them.

  “What is that, Van?” I ask.

  “Beats me. I’ve never been through this system,” he says.

  “Explain your criteria for course selection? This is a terrible short cut,” Shaina says. “I’d really like to know how you subvert long-range navigational limitations.”

  “It’s more of an art than a science. If you can tell me how to jump past multiple systems, I’d share all of my know-how,” Van says. “No Orphan Gates, though. That’s cheating and half the problems in this sector if you ask me.”

  “You must really love us,” Shaina says.

  “I’ve got nothing against you, but I don’t like technology I don’t understand. I spent years mastering Overlord navigation and even longer tuning the Serendipity to jump between systems. Now you want to use gate ships and cross impossible distances instantaneously. That will put honest freight haulers like me out of business,” Van says.

  They continue their debate, a trend I see each time Van and Shaina are in the same room. I track ships traveling to and from planets in a steady stream.

  “The big ship must take a lot of resources to function,” I say. “Looks like they are trying to resupply—and are taking something from each planet.”

  “Wak-wak, Tak-tak, plot us a course around the periphery of the system. We must avoid those ships,” Van says.

  “Yes. Very important,” Wak-wak agrees.

  Tak-tak works rapidly, doing things to his keyboard and workstation with multiple limbs that disturb me. Twice I catch him chewing on a corner, then looking away guiltily.

  “We can’t let them know a single one of us survived.” Wak-wak turns three or four eyes my way. “I have explained this to you, Murph Orphan.”

  “None of us want to get caught,” I say, ignoring the other Hwelas as he coughs up a slimy chunk of plastic. “What can I do to help?”

  “Assist Van, the captain who is good. Give him what he asks for,” Wak-wak says.

  Van shushes the Hwelas. “Don’t listen to them. Their Hadrian isn’t always perfect.”

  “Of course.” I resist the urge to touch the broken gate key concealed in my jacket. I don’t see how he could know about it, but that’s what everyone else wants from me. Fantasies about broadcasting a public service announcement cause me to laugh.

  Attention anyone it may concern, the secret gate tablet is broken. Stop trying to steal it from me.

  Van and his crew get busy, completely ignoring Shaina and me for the next half hour. It’s a perfect opportunity for us to compare notes. I quietly call for Zedas via comms, but we don’t wait for his arrival.

  “Thoughts?” I ask.

  “There is something ancient about this fleet. I can’t say why, but I feel like it’s been here a long time,” she says.

  Her intuition matches mine, but I seek for clues to back it up. Is it the esoteric design of the ships? Or maybe the way the largest is laid out like a city in space rather than a starship or even a space station. It looks so out of place that I wonder if the ship scan is not misrepresenting it.

  The Prothean citadel is millions of miles away, but I still feel like I should be able to observe it directly with the right instrument. “Does the ship have a telescope powerful enough to see the Prothean fleet directly?”

  “What kind of telescope? I think I know what you mean, but the term is strange. That’s a long-range viewing device, correct?” Shaina asks.

  “Exactly. Where I’m from, there are a lot of variations from optical telescopes using visible light to x-ray and ultraviolet versions. They all have their own special uses.” I cross my arms and watch the Hwelas crew, especially Wak-wak.

  “What are you thinking?” Shaina asks.

  “This isn’t a Hwelas vessel. They made some modifications, of course. But you could probably run the ship as well as they can, or better,” I say. “Van claims no one wants to work with those guys.” I point out the nonhuman crew working diligently. “I can’t help but feel we’re missing something with the way they handle business.”

  “I’ve got nothing against them,” she says. “As long as they don’t bother me when I eat or sleep. Have you seen one of them in the chow hall yet?”

  I shake my head.

  “I advise against it. They curl up around their food, so all you see is a ball of legs quivering. I don’t care if they’re vegetarian. It’s disturbing,” she says. “What do you think they’re missing?”

  “They probably think the same thing about the way we eat.”

  “Probably,” she admits.

  “As for what they’re missing, it could be anything. Or maybe it’s just me. I can’t get settled on this ship. Something’s off,” I say.

  “It’s definitely not the Heptagon.”

  Are they stranded, damaged, something else? Hundreds of scout ships swarming back to the main ship.

  Van ends an animated discussion with Wak-wak and Tak-tak. “Just do it. Don’t ask me questions.”

  “What was that about?” Shaina asks in a low voice.

  “Trouble in paradise, apparently,” I say, then motion for her to drop it before Van is close enough to hear us. “Tell us some good news, captain.”

  He gives me a wry smile. “I guess it’s better than you calling me a smuggler, although I’m equally proud of either title.” He studies me intently. “You’re the one who is supposed to know about ancient civilizations, right?”

  “I’m an archaeologist. That’s what we do for a living,” I say.

  “Then what do you think about that ship? My Hwelas insist it’s a Prothean hive. But I think it looks like a city,” he says, running his fingers through his thick gray hair.

  “You’re the one that said they didn’t speak very good Hadrian,” I point out.

  “True, but I know how to listen,” he says. “The little devils get irrational when someone even mentions the ancients. I wish we’d never come to this system. It’s making them crazy, which is making me crazy.”

  “Does it matter?” Shaina asks. “We’re going to avoid them either way.”

  Zedas enters, looking ready for a fight. Thankfully, he hasn’t drawn his weapons.

  “There’s no emergency, Zedas. I just wanted to get your opinion on the latest discovery,” I say.

  Zedas stares at the view screens and says nothing. He completely ignores Van and the crew. I know he is still aware of me because he touches my shoulder with one hand, somewhat protectively.

  Shaina moves to my other side but only crosses her arms. She’s taking some kind of cue from the Dogan.

  “Talk to me, Zedas. I’m starting to worry. Worry more, I mean,” I say.

  “I’ve spent many hours recalling the stories,” he says. “This Prothean fleet i
s a bad portent. It is said that their armada was lost, doomed to eternal wandering.”

  “What about the sanctuaries and their preparations for the invasion?” I ask.

  “They will be using them soon if the way from here to Sarsten is easy,” Zedas says.

  I look to Shaina and Van. “Is it?”

  Van’s face reddens. “Few routes back to the rebellion are easier. That’s the main reason I selected this course.”

  “We should lead them in another direction,” Shaina says quickly.

  Van shakes his head. “Won’t do much good. It looks like they’ve been sending out scouts in every direction anyway. They probably already know how to find the border system, because that’s all Sarsten is.”

  On the main screen, a dozen ships arrive in system and head straight for the floating citadel.

  “I’m getting a bad feeling,” Shaina says.

  “Me too,” Zedas agrees.

  I move closer, studying the screen in every detail, looking for answers but finding none.

  “There are more arriving all the time. It may not be possible to evade them without taking drastic measures,” Van says.

  “What kind of drastic measures?” I ask.

  He hesitates. “We’re going to have to kill power and drift anytime they get close to us, or any time we think they’re scanning our vicinity.”

  “I hate that idea,” Shaina says.

  I pace the small deck, looking for a better solution. “That type of thing only works so many times.”

  “And that’s relevant because you’ve tried it recently?” Van asks.

  I nod. “That’s how we escaped the Overlords and the Protheans in the Midas system.”

  “And look where that got you,” Van says. “Stuck on an ice cube. You must have done it wrong.”

  Wak-wak and the other Hwelas chatter loudly and point at several new arrivals. Prothean ships are arriving from multiple vectors now.

  “Do we have a course?” Van asks.

  One of the Hwelas crew chatters excitedly and bobs his neckless head up and down, like a pool ball rotating against a spider’s torso.

  “Okay, set the next leg of our course, then kill everything but minimal life support. I don’t want them to detect us if they scan this direction,” Van says.

  Shaina pops her knuckles. “Here we go again.”

  16

  Van, for his part, knows what he’s doing. Unlike our experience cutting power to the Heptagon, he has contingencies for everything. Each of us wear an insulated jumpsuit with battery packs to provide heat when needed. With the tightening of a few seals and by slipping on a helmet, we have crude EVA gear. None of us are going on a spacewalk, but these are for inside the ship, so I’m more than satisfied.

  Yeah, I know. Our new uniforms aren’t technically extra vehicle activity suits. All that matters is survivability. The Hwelas do much better in extreme temperatures. Van tells me they can handle heat just as well as cold. And like me, they can regulate their oxygen consumption with ease. I know this because Shaina locates a cluster of them sleeping below decks where there isn’t always a breathable atmosphere.

  The Serendipity is also equipped for improved maneuverability with systems off-line. The ship has redundant analog backups that Van and his crew operate after making hand calculations that make my head hurt. Math isn’t my natural habitat, at least not at this level of complexity.

  That’s one way to cross a star system undetected—by old-fashioned pencil and paper.

  On the downside, the Hwelas do in fact roam the darkened hallways when the mood suits them. There is something about seeing a humanoid-arachnid hybrid brooding in the corner, or sometimes near the ceiling, that makes my skin crawl.

  I’m thinking this exact thought when I come around the corner and see a trio of them turn abruptly to face me and then back up to hide something they were pushing.

  I catch a glimpse of the packaging, something from the galley. Moving forward, I curse myself for getting involved. Is it really my place to discipline Van’s nonhuman crew members?

  “All is well,” Wak-wak says quickly, then adds several clicks and rattles. He waves his inhuman hands, fingers sliding over each other like scissor blades.

  I assume the clicks and rattles are for his co-conspirators. I use that term because it’s clear they’re up to no good. Shifting to one side, then leaning a bit, I’m able to see what they have on a cart—a small clump of meat. It’s frozen but chewed on one corner.

  “That’s an expensive package you have there,” I say. My gut warns me to look for an exit in case I have to run. My internal map shows me several options. Being an Orphan has its benefits.

  “Murphy the Orphan should not be involved. This is what Wak-wak says very truly. How would you say it….this is none of your business. Understand?” Wak-wak edges forward as his cohorts hide something else from me.

  I hear a meow. “Is that a cat?”

  “What if it is?” Wak-wak holds up two of his skinny limbs. “The creature has done nothing to you, or to the Hwelas, or to anyone who has been or will be on the Serendipity.”

  Something’s not right with this scene. I reevaluate. There isn’t a lot of meat on the cart. My initial reaction had been horror. The thought of these strange humanoids secretly consuming meat while claiming to be vegetarian fed right into my prejudices of them being monsters.

  Now I sense the bigger picture. The Hwelas are obviously taking food from the galley without authorization. Van has been clear with his rules, one of them being that food stays in the kitchen or dining area. He hasn’t said anything about pets, and I wonder if this is the source of Wak-wak’s nervousness.

  “How does the captain feel about cats on the ship?” I ask.

  All three of the Hwelas step toward me. Wak-wak speaks for the group as usual. “You should ask the captain who is good. But you should not mention this incident when forming your question. It would not be correct. It would not be good at all. It would be concerning business that is not yours.”

  “No promises,” I say. “Why don’t you save me a trip and just explain the situation?”

  All three of my strange acquaintances go very still. Two of them nudge Wak-wak forward. “He does not like the felines. Many, many, many times he has said he would throw them from the ship.”

  “What an animal,” I say.

  “Wak-wak does not understand the tone of your voice. Are you using the sarcasm?”

  “I’m sorry, buddy. Let me see it.” I hold out one hand. They reluctantly move aside, and I see a ragged-looking calico staring at me with dignified defiance. It sniffs my hand then backs up, taking a position on the lower portion of the cart.

  “You have our secret,” Wak-wak says. “What special code must we invoke to ensure Patty-pats’ safety?”

  “You really like this little stray.” I have to smile. It’s been a long time since I even thought about pets. The Hwelas look more like they would eat the animal than care for it, but what do I know?

  “You are making Wak-wak and his friends nervous,” Wak-wak says. “Please reassure us.”

  “I’m not throwing a cat off the ship,” I say.

  They tremble with relief.

  “Besides, I like cats. I just can’t eat one by myself.”

  The Hwelas hiss and thrash their upper limbs in the air. The cat, strangely, isn’t affected by my dark humor. She merely thrashes her tail once and stares at me unimpressed.

  “I’m joking.” I lift both hands, palms out. “Trust me. I’m not going to hurt Patty-pats. Reminds me of my grandpa’s mouser, and we all loved that little monster.”

  “Truly?” Wak-wak asks.

  “Your secret is safe with me. Scouts honor,” I say.

  “We do not know what that means but, we’ll take it as a solemn oath,” Tak-tak says. “Thank you for this consideration, Murph the Orphan.”

  “No problem,” I say. “You better feed that thing and get it out of the hallway. What if Van walks
by?”

  “Her name is Patty-pats,” Wak-wak reminds me.

  “Sure. I haven’t forgotten. Good luck.”

  All three of the Hwelas waggle their upper limbs at me. It feels like a ritual, perhaps a farewell—even a thanking gesture. Their eyes widen and then narrow one by one. Everything seems synchronized.

  I give a nod and step back. “Are we good?”

  “Yes, we are. You are now the Orphan that is good. Like the captain but different,” Wak-wak says. “No amount of cat saving can raise you to his status.”

  This feels like an opportunity, so I dive in, hoping to gather useful intelligence. “How did you become part of his crew?”

  Wak-wak picks up the cat and pets it as he talks to me. The animal purrs loudly. “The diaspora lasted for centuries. Van the Captain was not among us for all of that time, of course. He came later. And did good things. And saved many of us. Even more were rescued than now serve on a ship. The Protheans would have ended our species.”

  “So he’s dealt with them before?” I ask.

  Wak-wak swiveled with his head back and forth. “No, no. We stowed away on one ship after another. People found us below decks and hunted us. At each port of call, some of us tried to escape, but we like to be together and this was hard. Van the captain saved Wak-wak from Overlords who were putting many of us on a sun ship. Then he helped reunite many of our lost hive.”

  I ponder the information, looking for gaps in the story and formulating follow-up questions.

  A tone sounds in my earpiece. “Murphy, what’s your location?” Van asks.

  “I’m near the galley.”

  “The better not be any damn cats down there. Filthy creatures are worse than rats, if you ask me,” Vans says. “But never mind. Head to the control deck if you have a chance.”

  “On my way.”

  Wak-wak and his friends gather close to me. The cat darts away into the shadows.

  “I won’t tell them about Patty-pats,” I say. “We’ll talk more. I still don’t understand his aversion to felines or your fascination with protecting this one.”