by Amy Spahn
Most importantly, ambient heat radiated from the station, with a single prominent heat source visible in its center. At first Matthias thought it might be an active reactor or a miniature fission chamber—how he’d love to see one of those! But over a few seconds, the heat source moved from the center of the station toward one of the edges.
The captain folded his hands, and Matthias caught a vengeful gleam in his eye. “Looks like someone was left to mind the farm. Let’s go have a chat.”
“Hey,” said Chris Fish, “can we keep our metaphors straight? There are no farms in this entire solar system.”
Matthias grinned. “If they don’t farm anything, where do they get their Hax snacks?”
The captain sighed and pinched the space between his eyes. “Just go dock us with that station.”
* * *
Dozens of little projectiles impacted Endurance’s hull as she swooped in along the station’s z-axis. Her thick hull plates absorbed the impacts, but every strike vibrated the ship and rattled Thomas’s teeth. Small the damage might be, but his ship was going to look like the surface of the moon when this was over.
The station’s energy weapons proved a little more modern. After the projectiles failed to halt Endurance’s approach, a series of amber lights streamed from the top of the station, burning holes into the wings. Number eight air cycler failed, but their approach was too fast and too zigzagging for any other precision shots.
They braked to a stomach-turning halt just above the station’s surface, safely beneath the range of the guns, and rotated until their top-deck airlock aligned with the station’s hatch. The ship jostled as the two ports sealed with one another.
Ivanokoff drew his guns, Dickens and Dante.
“Don’t kill him,” Thomas said.
Ivanokoff scowled more than usual and stomped toward the bridge hatch. “Never any fun on this ship.”
Matthias spun in his chair just as Ivanokoff disappeared into the corridor. “Cap, the guy knows we’re here.”
Thomas didn’t bother pointing out that “the guy” had just fired a couple hundred shots at them. “Oh?”
“Yup. About fifteen other thermal sources just showed up on scanners. I can’t pick out his specific spot anymore.”
“Clever.”
“Not really,” said Chris Fish. “It’s the obvious strategy.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Thomas. “The station’s not too big. Areva and Ivanokoff can search it in no time.”
“Saying that guarantees something will go wrong,” said Chris.
“Aw, stay positive,” said Matthias, patting the scientist’s back.
Thomas watched the thermal scan of the station. He saw the moment his two officers disappeared into the mish-mash of color that made up the rest of the structure. Stay positive indeed. Let that water roll off his back.
When five minutes passed without a confirmed capture, Thomas’s gut began to feel queasy and the knots in his back no longer allowed things to roll off. He tapped his intercom. “Ivanokoff, what’s taking so long?”
His earpiece crackled. All the active equipment must be interfering. “No ... yet. Still looking,” said Ivanokoff.
Thomas shifted restlessly in his chair and tapped his earpiece again. “Bridge paging airlock, any sign of activity?”
He expected the voice of one of the officers guarding the open door to the other ship.
He received nothing.
He bolted up, jabbing a finger at the scanners station. “Airlock view, now!”
Chris Fish jumped and typed quickly. A moment later the overhead screen flashed to live footage of the top deck corridor alongside the airlock.
Two UELE bodies lay motionless on the floor.
Thomas swore. “Get Maureen down there to see to them. Scramble another team and start searching the Endurance for—”
A scalding blow struck him in the back like a flaming baseball. His muscles went rigid, and pain shot through every nerve. His jaw clenched and white haze flashed across his vision. Then his senses were dulling, his equilibrium failing. He had the sense of his knees hitting the floor—
* * *
Matthias stared open-mouthed at the red armored warrior standing in the hatchway, brandishing a hot bazooka rifle. A cube-shaped computer hung in a pouch by his side—a talky box for translating between languages. Matthias’s gaze darted to the captain’s unconscious body beside the command chair. No burns. The weapon was on stun.
Chris Fish froze with his hands still on the scanners panel. An unbroken high-pitched squeak came from his mouth.
Matthias glanced around the bridge. Besides Sergeant Fish, there was one other sergeant and an officer. He was the only lieutenant. That put him in command.
Huh. This was new.
He put on his most disarming smile and slowly raised a hand to wave at the soldier. “Hi.”
The Haxozin stepped through the hatch and came around the command chair, weapon trained on the captain’s fallen form. “Who are you?” The voice used the grating, guttural sounds of the Haxozin language, but the talky box at his hip emitted an intelligible translation.
“We’re from Earth,” said Matthias. He heard his own words being broadcast from the box in the harsh Haxozin sounds. “You know, the planet you guys are invading right now? I guess they left you behind to watch over things. Or maybe you were sick? We have an infirmary if you need some anti—”
The Haxozin swiveled his gun to target Chris. “Back away from the technology!”
Chris jerked from the console as if it bit him. “Yes, sure thing, Mr. Killer. Won’t go anywhere near it. Please don’t shoot me.”
“Or anyone else,” said Matthias, still smiling. “We’re really nice people, once you get to know us.”
The bridge crew retreated to the center of the ring of consoles. The Haxozin prowled toward the scanners station and glanced down at its readings. “You move, I kill your sovereign.”
“Sovereign,” said Matthias. “Is that what you call your boss? We call ours ‘Captain.’ How about we sit down and discuss this peacefully. A Hax pax.”
The Haxozin paid him no mind. The red helmet turned as he scanned the consoles. “Where’s your emergency shutdown?”
“Our what?” asked Matthias.
“To seal all doors and disable all systems. Where is it?”
Chris Fish snorted. “With one command protocol? Why would we have something like that?”
“Yeah, that violates, like, all the safety laws,” said Matthias. “The UEAA would throw a fit if someone submitted a design like that.”
“Shut up!” The rifle rose to target Matthias’s chest. “Tell me how to shut down this vessel.”
“You can’t,” said Matthias. “We have all kinds of backups in place to prevent that sort of thing. But the reactor room is that way.” He pointed toward the hatch.
Chris Fish jabbed him in the shoulder. “What are you doing?”
But Matthias kept his attention on the Haxozin. When the soldier turned to look in the direction he’d pointed, Matthias stuffed his hand in one of his pockets and retrieved a handful of assorted objects—ball bearings, gaskets, washers, paperclips—all useful to have around. He slipped one between his two forefingers and flicked it toward the unconscious captain.
It hit the captain in the face. He didn’t stir.
The Haxozin spun to face Matthias again. “Show me the reactor!”
“It won’t help you much,” said Matthias. “It’s got tons of safety features in place, too. I mean, imagine what would happen if we lost containment. Fission bomb, right in the middle of the ship. Boom. I bet it would take out your entire station, too. I can run the exact figures if you want.” He moved toward the nearest console as if to start tapping buttons.
“Back off!” The Haxozin crossed the bridge and shoved Matthias away, then checked to make sure he hadn’t activated anything.
Matthias tossed another bit of metal at the captain.
The wa
sher struck Captain Withers on the nose. This time he stirred, his head twitching at the impact.
Chris Fish made a little “oh” sound, and Matthias assumed the scientist had caught on. Chris folded his arms and looked down his long nose at the soldier. “You’re not going to find a way to seal everybody in their berths. We use hatches. Manually controlled hatches. Go have a look. There’s no digital controls anywhere on them.”
The soldier strode toward Chris. The scientist meeped and backed up until he tripped over the captain’s chair and fell into it. The ancient chair groaned under the sudden weight. The soldier loomed over Chris and pressed the end of his rifle against Chris’s forehead. The scientist crossed his eyes to watch it, his hands trembling on the armrests. “Or don’t. That’s fine.”
The Haxozin leaned close. “You show me.” He moved to give Chris a sliver of space through which to escape the chair.
The scientist darted from the confined space and backed toward the open bridge hatch. “Oh, I d-don’t think you really need someone to show you. It’s not complex. Right, Matthias?” His blue eyes begged Matthias for help.
The soldier had his back to the group, his focus on Chris as he followed him toward the hall. Matthias took a step toward the captain’s unconscious body, eyes on the p-gun holstered at his side. His foot made the faintest bump against the deck plating.
The soldier heard. He whirled, gun now targeting Matthias. “Don’t move!”
Matthias froze. “Sorry.”
The soldier returned to investigate. When his helmet turned down toward the captain, Matthias knew it was over. There was no way the soldier would miss the gun.
He didn’t.
The Haxozin bent to unbuckle the captain’s holster. “You thought you could ambush me by—gah!”
Captain Withers’s sprawled arm shot up and under the Haxozin’s elbow, twisting around it and clamping onto his shoulder. Then the captain rolled, his other hand hooking the soldier’s ankle. The soldier flew over the captain and crashed to the deck on the other side, shuddering the network of floor plates. The captain used the momentum to roll to his feet, drawing his p-gun from its unbuckled holster in the process. He strode to the Haxozin soldier and kicked the fallen rifle away, beneath the bridge’s front consoles. His hand rose to tap his intercom. “Bridge paging Ivanokoff and Praphasat. Return to the Endurance. We’ve got him.”
Matthias pumped his fist in the air. “Woo!”
The captain didn’t turn. “Was that you throwing stuff at me, Habassa?”
“Yessir, Cap.” To demonstrate, Matthias tossed one of the remaining washers across the deck at the captain’s leg.
“Thanks. Don’t do it again.”
“Sure thing, Cap.”
He’d known everything would work out. You just needed to keep a positive mindset.
And a pocketful of loose parts.
Good thing he hadn’t needed to get to the really unusual stuff he carried around. The captain might not have appreciated Matthias launching protractors around the bridge with his fold-up trebuchet.
* * *
Thomas glared at the Haxozin soldier sprawled on his bridge. “What exactly was your plan? Shut down our ship and leave it locked up for your buddies?”
The soldier moaned and rolled over to face him. “I will tell you nothing.”
Thomas’s earpiece buzzed. “Maureen Habassa paging you,” said the computerized voice.
“Answer.”
A moment later the ship’s de facto medic spoke in a lyrical soprano. “I’ve checked the two airlock officers, Captain. They might have concussions. Or not. It’s hard to tell. But they’re conscious now. They should be fine.”
“Thank you, Maureen. Help them back to their berths and keep an eye on them.”
“Yes, sir.”
The comm line cut. Thomas glanced at Matthias. “Your sister’s getting more confident.”
The engineer grinned. “Yup.”
Thomas refocused on the Haxozin. “Your entire species is attacking our home planet right now.”
The helmswoman raised her hand. “I’m from Mars, sir.”
“System. Our home system,” said Thomas. “We take that personally. And since they left you and your home system defenseless, we thought we’d return the favor. You’re going to provide us with a way to disable your ships.”
“Never,” said the soldier.
Thomas shook his head. “We can just get it from your station’s computers. It’ll be easier if you help, but we don’t need you. You’re dead weight. I’d advise you to make yourself useful.”
It was an idle threat. The UELE would kick him into the sun if he fired on an unarmed arrestee.
But the Haxozin didn’t need to know that.
The soldier pushed himself to a sitting position and folded his arms.
Thomas jerked his head toward the hatch. “Habassa, Fish, head over to the station and find some schematics for their star ships and weapons.”
“Okey dokey, Cap,” said Matthias.
“What?” said Chris. “I should be here. I know the most about prior alien invasions of Earth, and the abductions that happened throughout the twentieth century, and the cryo lobby’s conspiracy to—”
“Now.”
“Ugh. Fine. No appreciation, I swear.” Chris followed Matthias out the hatch.
Thomas rotated so he could keep the Haxozin in sight while addressing the two remaining officers. “One of you take his rifle to the armory, and then both of you cover the airlock.”
“Yes, sir,” they both mumbled. They followed the others, leaving Thomas alone with the prisoner.
Thomas let the soldier sit in silence, studying him. The man made a pretense of nonchalance, but little twitches revealed that he was scanning the environment, very much alert.
Thomas tapped one finger on the barrel of his p-gun. “It’s funny. The first time I met you people, you were interrogating me.”
“You’ll be back to that before long,” said the soldier.
“Maybe. What’s your name?”
No answer.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to make up a nickname. As the People of Tone probably told you, my species isn’t great at naming things.”
Pause. “My people call me Vinlin.”
“Great. Here’s the situation, Vinlin. We never wanted this war. We found your empire completely by accident.”
“You inspired some of our worlds to revolt.”
“That wasn’t our main goal. We were just exploring. If a single visit from another spacefaring species was enough to convince them you weren’t all-powerful, you had revolution coming sooner or later anyway. Those worlds were reactors waiting for a leak.”
“Your intentions don’t matter. We must punish you to ensure the others learn their place.”
“That’s the problem with revolutions, Vinlin. Killing the thing that sparked them tends to make them bigger. My point is, we would have been happy to just stay off your lawn, but you made it personal. Now we have no choice but to fight back. We may not have a fleet of enormous warships, but humanity is stubborn. Sooner or later, we’ll find a way to stop you.”
He crouched to Vinlin’s level. “I have a few less pleasant ideas, but I’d rather you helped me find something agreeable to all of us. Something we can all survive. I don’t want my world to end up looking like yours.”
Vinlin twitched his head toward the viewport, through which the dead hulk of the Haxozin planet loomed. “That’s not ours.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Whose is it?”
“They’re extinct.”
“You people make a habit of wiping out other species, don’t you?”
“They deserved it.”
This topic seemed to rile Vinlin. Thomas decided to probe, to see what usable data the Haxozin might let slip. He put on a scornful sneer. “I doubt it.”
Vinlin uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “You know nothing. They were monsters.”
&n
bsp; “Said the monster right in front of me.”
“We are what they made us!”
Thomas’s heart began to pound. Eager warmth burned in his veins. “Who were they?”
“You’ll die just like they did.”
“What did you do to them? Bombard them from orbit with your fleet?”
Vinlin scoffed.
“Wipe them out with a genetic disease, like you did the Thassians?”
No scoff this time.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You poisoned their planet with targeted genetic warfare. That’s why there’s no greenery left down there.”
“They outnumbered us. It was the only way.”
“Why? What did they do to you?”
“What didn’t they do? Enslaved our species, killed any who resisted, forced long hours of hard labor, bred us as they saw fit. It was only fair. We built their technology. We should have it!”
The excited warmth in Thomas’s veins reached his chest. “You mean your ships. You stole them from the people who owned that planet.”
“We made them! The ships were ours.”
“Why not use them to run away, go back to your own homes?”
“After so long in servitude, the ships were home.”
“Then why use them to oppress others? Is it just payback? Anger against the rest of the uninvolved galaxy?”
“Uninvolved?” spat Vinlin. He pushed himself to his feet, and Thomas rose with him, gun still ready in case of trouble. But the Haxozin was trembling now, anger overriding any kind of strategy. “You call them uninvolved, when they had it easy compared to us? They paid tribute but remained on their own worlds, ran their own societies, lived their own lives. They were the favored thralls. We were the Haxozin’s real victims!”
A sharp breath hissed through Vinlin’s helmet as he realized what he’d said.
The hot energy pulsing through Thomas’s body went cold. “Oh, shit. That’s why you’re terrified of anyone seeing you as weak. That’s why you don’t have enough soldiers to man your fleet or your planetary outposts. That’s why your empire seems too big for you to manage. It isn’t yours.”