Stranded on a Storm Moon

by Adam Carter

  “Don’t even think it,” Ruby said, pointing her cannon arm at Hart. “That dragon so much as grunts, Beth here becomes collateral.”

  Hawthorn clenched his fists by his side. “Colonel, would you stop threatening everyone? We’re not going to let you shoot anyone, so just put the guns down.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, you get to choose who I shoot. I’m going to count down, Hawthorn. If you haven’t moved out of the way by the time I reach zero, Hart dies. And I’m Carpoan: I don’t joke and I don’t bluff.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” McAlister said from behind Hawthorn. “You stay right where you are.”

  “Would you shut up? Colonel, there has to be some other …”

  “Five.”

  “Colonel Ruby, you can’t just shoot Beth like this. She hasn’t broken any Carpoan laws. She hasn’t …”

  “Four.”

  “No. You’re not going to shoot her, because you’re not a murderer. Carpoan law is strict, but it doesn’t condone …”

  “Three.”

  “Damn it, Colonel, listen to me. You …”

  “Two.”

  The dragon grunted, which was annoying since it was something Ruby had expressly told it not to do. Then a tremor rumbled through the ground. No one moved. Ruby stopped counting down, although her arm did not waver. Something large and solid crashed into the grass by Hawthorn’s feet. He looked skyward to see stones raining from above. It was a bizarre sight, for the sky was blue and there were huge rocks slamming down around them. The sky flickered, lost some of its blueness and the clouds began to dissipate. All around, the ground was littered with falling rocks, although thus far none of them had crushed anyone. The dragon was being pelted and there were great bloody gouts being torn from its hide, revealing sizzling mechanics and exposed wires.

  Another massive chunk of rock struck the ground beside Hawthorn and he shouted, “Beth, get that dragon standing. Everyone, move!”

  The dragon rose to unsteady feet and Hawthorn led the charge. Ruby stood stunned for several moments, saw her route to McAlister was clear and would have opened fire had a rain of pebbles not struck her arm and ruined her aim.

  “Come on, Ruby, move,” Hawthorn shouted. They were all gathered beneath the dragon, for the deadly rain was now falling in great masses. Ruby threw an arm above her head and ran, diving beneath the cover just as a great shard of rock half a mile wide crashed into the field.

  Two minutes later, the strange rain ceased and the dragon tottered.

  “Out,” Hawthorn shouted and again led the charge, this time to clamber over the uneven surface the fallen rocks had created. The dragon collapsed, its flesh crushed, its mechanics all but destroyed. One of its wings was entirely severed and its neck was shredded. The thing lay still. If at one time it had been alive, it was now at rest.

  Hawthorn looked up to see the blue skies and white fluffy clouds were gone. The storm had replaced it, for the terraformed atmosphere of the underground haven had dissipated.

  “What happened?” Hart asked.

  “Someone blew away the sky.”

  “Blew away the sky?”

  “The surface of the moon was the sky of this trench. Would you look at that?”

  A great black form descended through the storm. It filled the sky and blocked out any light which might have filtered through. The dark shape was made of resilient metal, formed in the image of a sword, and was the most welcome sight Hawthorn had ever seen.

  “That’s a Carpoan warship,” Ruby said, astonished. Then she broke into a grin. “They came after all. They didn’t abandon me, they answered my messages. Ha!”

  Hawthorn’s own jubilation faded somewhat at this point, for he had no way to tell whether the sword-ship above him was Jupiter’s Glory or any other Carpoan sword-ship responding to Ruby’s communications.

  A booming voice battered the surface of Valetudo.

  “This is Too Many Tadpoles – Nuke the Pond. Who’s in charge down there?”

  “Is the dragon operational?” Ruby asked. “All we need is the transmitter.”

  “Working on it,” Hart said.

  “Someone answer me,” the voice boomed. “Load torpedo tubes seven through fourteen. You, down on the moon, who’s in charge?”

  Hawthorn saw Hart was struggling with the dragon so he ripped out the necessary equipment through its eye. He started making adjustments but she slapped his hand and her fingers went to work. She had to seal off the damaged circuitry, reroute the power and hope there was enough juice left for them to open up a communications line. It would not be easy, but it was that or die.

  “Anyone going to answer today?” the voice barked. “Prepare to fire. Target that big dead thing as well as the people. Whatever killed it didn’t kill it properly.”

  “Hey,” Ruby said, waving her arms. “I’m Carpoan, don’t fire.”

  “I don’t think they care,” Hawthorn said.

  “Last chance,” the voice said. “Respond or die. Fine, then: die.”

  “Try now,” Hart said as something shorted in her lap. She was holding the wiring in a very dangerous way, but being shot at with the sword-ship’s torpedoes would have been a whole lot more damaging.

  “Too Many Tadpoles,” Hawthorn shouted. “Abort attack, abort attack.”

  “Too Many Tadpoles – Nuke the Pond,” the voice replied. “Don’t shorten it. Load three extra tubes just to target that one guy. I don’t like him.”

  “This is Colonel Glinda “Mad-Shine-Glistening” Ruby, fourth regiment of the Carpoan fifth infantry. I am here under instruction to return a prisoner to Carpo, one Elaine McAlister. Prisoner is in custody, request transport off-world.” Ruby smiled smugly at Hawthorn.

  “Permission denied.”

  Her smug smile vanished. “What?”

  “You took too long, Colonel. Your replacement’s already been assigned. Died a month into service. Her replacement did a little better but still died. His replacement was rubbish, didn’t last a day. There’ve been a few more since then, but who cares about that?”

  “How could you replace me?”

  “You’ve been gone two years, Colonel, what did you expect?”

  Ruby’s shoulders sagged so badly Hawthorn felt a little sorry for her.

  “Who are the rest of these losers?” the sword-ship asked.

  “Nobodies,” Ruby said, despondent.

  “Our crew’s hungry. We’re going to eat them.”

  “Eat them?” Ruby said.

  “Stop questioning. You’re a disgrace and I don’t want you looking at fine Carpoan officers. You, man-who-I-want-to-shoot-with-three-extra-torpedoes, blindfold her.”

  “With what?” Hawthorn asked.

  “Your shirt.”

  He removed his shirt. McAlister seemed to be happy about that, but he was more concerned with not getting killed. He tossed the shirt to Ruby. “Would you, uh, blindfold yourself please?”

  “What are you doing?” the sword-ship asked. “Your sleeve, man. You don’t have to get naked.”

  “No,” McAlister said, “you don’t have to.”

  Ruby blindfolded herself and said she was ready. Aside from Ruby, they all watched as the sword-ship slowly turned on its side and came down towards them. Carpoan sword-ships were of an odd design and plunged themselves into a world as though they were a sword sheathing itself in the soil. They did not penetrate far, just enough to keep the ship in place.

  The entire landing process did not take long, although it did sent ripples through Valetudo which made Hawthorn doubt they ever landed on their own world. A ramp lowered and the voice declared, “Everyone inside. Not you, prisoner.”

  “What?” McAlister asked. “But …”

  “Don’t care. You’re staying. Everyone else, inside.”

  Hawthorn helped Ruby along and together they ascended the ramp. McAlister was left at the bottom, terrified at being left behind but unable to do anything about it. Hawthorn watched her as the r
amp rose, cutting her off from the rest of them forever.

  The metal interior of the sword-ship was warmer than Valetudo and Hawthorn’s ears rang from the lack of noise. The storm was at last over.

  “Colonel Ruby,” the voice snapped. “Let the women take you to a pod. You’re going to be ejected when we reach space, on a course approximating Carpo. When you return home, you’ll receive further orders. Or execution, whichever they decide.”

  “What about me?” Hawthorn asked.

  “Come to the command deck. I want to talk with you.”

  “You should feel honoured,” Ruby told Hawthorn. She could not see him, but she grabbed him by the arm and pulled her close to him. “Don’t antagonise this man, Hawthorn. Carpoans don’t react well to authority figures, questions, demands, aggressive people, passive people, assertive people, religious theology, scientific theories, emotions, changes in the weather and daytime soaps.”

  “That about covers everything. Colonel, why are you giving me advice?”

  “Because you’re a good man.” She sounded uncomfortable as she said it. “And I respect you.”

  “Would you have killed us all, back on Valetudo?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Hawthorn allowed Arowana and Hart to lead her to a pod while he went to the command deck. There was no one in any of the corridors he walked through, which led him to the sneaking suspicion that he knew precisely which vessel he was on.

  “Hey, Gordon,” Wraith said before he had made it halfway to the command deck. “You know, by Carpoan standards, she was positively flirting with you.”

  Wraith was a wiry man in his forties and he grinned broadly at seeing him. “Come here, fella.” He stopped short of an embrace and wrinkled his nose. “On second thoughts, take a shower.”

  “You left McAlister on Valetudo.”

  “She’s a criminal. I’m Carpoan, Gordon, and she broke our law. By rights I should have sent her back to Carpo with Colonel Ruby, but I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

  “She’ll die.”

  “Not my problem. I left her as I found her. Now it’s up to her people to send another dragon.”

  Hawthorn and the others had packed a lot of information into their message to the Glory via the dragon, and it seemed Wraith had known precisely how to play things. “What’s going to happen to Ruby?” he asked.

  “Like I said, she’ll either be reassigned or executed.”

  “Not your problem?”

  “You’re quick, Gordon. Seriously, take a shower.”

  “She could identify us.”

  “She can’t identify this sword-ship, that’s why she’s blindfolded. If she reports your names to her superiors, so what?”

  “Securitarn can’t know Iris is still alive.”

  “And Carpo’s likely to tell them? How much does Securitarn know about Carpo?”

  “Nothing.”

  “There you go, then.” He snorted as he walked away. “A little gratitude would be pleasant. You know what else would be pleasant? A shower.” He stopped walking a moment. “Oh, how did it go?”

  “How did what go?”

  “Your make-or-break weekend with Iris.”

  “We survived.”

  “Always a good sign. You know what else is good?”

  “I think I’ll take a shower, Wraith.”

  “Great, got the hint at last.” With that, he walked off.

  Hawthorn took a deep breath. He was alone in the corridor of his home and they had all survived. Walking off to find his bedroom, he decided he was definitely going to take a shower. And, after that, probably a bath.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The table was filled with so much food that all the amazing sights and smells intermingled into one great feast for all the senses. There was a roast chicken, glazed with honey and dripping with fat; there were potatoes, roasted in their skins; there were parsnips and broccoli and Yorkshire puddings, all smothered in a thick brown gravy. To the side sat a juicy gammon steak, embedded with pineapple and cooked in apple sauce. Surrounding all of this were sausages wrapped in bacon, so many they could not possibly all be eaten in one sitting. On the other end of the table was a meringue and apple pie, fruit crumble and sticky toffee pudding. Bowls of hot custard sat in heat-retaining jugs, just waiting to be poured.

  The talk around the table was happy and jovial, for it had been a long time since Arowana, Hawthorn and Hart had enjoyed food of such quality and quantity. They sat in the large mess hall of Jupiter’s Glory and most of what was on the table before them had been removed from the freezers in the kitchen. Hawthorn was a fantastic chef and whenever he was worried about something, he would make food and freeze it.

  Arowana felt bad for causing him so much worry that he had created such a feast without her even being aware.

  Wraith sat at the end of the table. He was not eating, but he had joined them regardless. He was more curious about their time on Valetudo than anything, and Arowana noticed he asked a great many questions about Colonel Ruby. The Glory may have been a Carpoan vessel, but there was little chance Wraith could ever go back home.

  “I don’t think Valetudo’s ever had such excitement,” Wraith said after they had recounted everything that had occurred.

  “Do you think McAlister will be all right?” Hart asked as she bit into a chicken leg.

  “She’s an estate agent,” Wraith said, “and she has a house. What more could she want?”

  “I think you flattened her house, Wraith.”

  “I did? Well, she can build a new one. See? Everyone’s happy.”

  Arowana could see that Hawthorn was far from happy about abandoning McAlister, but she found she did not herself care. “The problem with some people,” she said, “is they think they can step into other cultures and bring their own set of morals and laws. She broke Carpoan law. It may sound harsh to us, but she broke the law and their punishment for her was execution. We did her a favour by leaving her on Valetudo.”

  “What’s done is done,” Hawthorn said. “Let’s just not talk about it any more.”

  “Actually,” Wraith said, “I’m far more interested in Beth here. You’re talking with us, you’re eating with us, you’re even smiling. Valetudo seems to have been an awakening for you.”

  Hart’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. “I’m getting better, Wraith. Or, at least, I hope I am. I’m sure I still have a long way to go, but I’m not sitting in a cupboard any more.”

  “Does this mean we don’t get any new vehicles? We’re down to just one in the hangar bay, you know.”

  “I’ll still make the vehicles, Wraith. In between taking on other duties.”

  “Take whatever bedroom you want,” Hawthorn said. “You don’t have to sleep in the forge any more.”

  “I’ll think about it. One step at a time.”

  Arowana watched Hart and Hawthorn talking and knew she had to say something. She was still uncomfortable with the attention Hawthorn received, she was still jealous, and she still hated feeling that way. It was irrational to be jealous of other women and it diminished who Arowana was, but she could not help it.

  “Sorry,” she said before she could think of stopping herself. “Sorry for jumping to the wrong conclusion earlier about the two of you. Back when I caught you in each other’s arms.”

  Wraith broke into a fit of laughter which prevented either of them from replying. “Oh, that I should have seen. Did you hit anyone, Iris? Tell me she hit someone.”

  “I didn’t hit anyone.”

  “That’s a let-down.”

  “I think,” Arowana said slowly, “we need to put all this behind us. If Beth can push aside her past, we all can. Dragons, three months in hell, a certain someone’s obsession with crazed killer robots … all of it.”

  “I’m not obsessed with them,” Hawthorn said. “I just think they exist out there somewhere and one day the human race will be overrun and the Great Machine Intelligence will insidiously take over everything fi
rst with cyborgs and then with full-bodied robots.”

  “And that’s certainly not an obsession, is it?” Arowana asked.

  “Just saying, cyborgs are more like us than you think, Iris. They have their robot skeletons on the inside and the flesh on the outside, just like people.”

  “Aaand still obsessed.”

  Hawthorn shrugged and ate some more gammon.

  “Speaking of obsession,” Wraith said, “are you two back together or what?”

  “That,” Hawthorn said, “is none of your business.”

  “If I have to watch you argue all the time, it sort of is.”

  Arowana looked across the table to where Hawthorn ate uncomfortably. “We split up, made up, split up, made up.” She tilted her head in thought. “I can’t remember where we’re at right now.”

  “That,” Wraith said, “sounds like a match made in hell.”

  “Sounds to me,” Hart said, “like a marriage.”

  Hawthorn laughed sourly.

  “I don’t know,” Arowana said. “We survived yet another near-fatal experience and came out of it stronger because we were together. We argue and fight, Gordon, but that’s because we care. You don’t like women and I don’t like uncontrollable situations. Yet here we are, still together and still in love. Maybe Beth’s right. Maybe we should get married.”

  Hawthorn almost choked on his gammon. “Screw that for a laugh. You need to sort out your sense of humour, Iris.”

  She narrowed her eyes and lost her appetite.

  Hart and Wraith exchanged uncomfortable glances and cleared their throats.

  “So,” Wraith said, not having anything to say but trying desperately to think of something, “anyone have any preference on where we go next?”

  “Wherever Gordon doesn’t want to go,” Arowana said.

  “Excuse me,” Hart said. “I know it’s not my place to ask, but I was wondering something.”

  “What?” Arowana asked.

  “Colonel Ruby. She caught you and tied you up. She admitted to putting some strain on your limbs to make you talk, but you … you thought she’d done a lot more.”