by Joe Vasicek
A wave of revulsion passed through her as she remembered how the man in white had touched her. Back home, such an obscene act would have been unthinkable. A whole host of taboos and social mores governed how people could and couldn’t touch each other in public, and in the space of just a few seconds, that man had violated almost all of them. But the thing that disturbed her most was the total lack of shame with which he’d done it. To him, she might as well have been a robot. He’d shown absolutely no regard for her as a human being, and that scared her most of all.
It was clear to her now that the people in the hallway hadn’t been staring at her tattoos, but at her uncovered body. It wasn’t normal in this culture to go bare, and that meant that these people had all sorts of perverse notions of what going bare actually meant. None of them had touched her, but all of them had wanted to. They had all groped her with their eyes. The realization sickened her almost as much as if they had touched her.
She had to escape—that was abundantly clear. But how?
By focusing on her breath, she gradually put her fears out of her mind. Then, with the analytical precision her father had taught her, she applied herself to the problem.
The ship was large enough that if she managed to escape her cell, she might be able to hide long enough to find a way to sneak off. But with her tattoos, it would be difficult for her to blend in, even with her body covered. People would be searching for her, and in the confined space of a starship, her chances of making it that way were slim.
She could try the escape pods. That would certainly be a faster way off the ship. But she didn’t know how to pilot them, and even if she did, her captors would have very little difficulty retrieving her. Escape pods weren’t designed to fly very far—they were basically tiny capsules built to keep a person alive for a few hours until someone could rescue them. Even if she managed to get to one, her flight would be very short indeed.
So the least bad option was to find a hiding place on the ship, with her backup plan to jump on an escape pod and hope for the best. It wasn’t good, but at least it was something.
But that still left the problem of how to get out of her cell.
She stood and examined the door. It was magnetically sealed, with the window and deadbolts electrified. Even if she had the tools to open it, she wouldn’t be able to do so without shocking herself half to death, or at least setting off a series of alarms. And that was just the first door. There was another locked door that opened up to the lobby of the detention center, and another that opened to the main hallway. She would have to get through all three, and do so in a way that didn’t set off any alarms.
Looks like I’ll have to use my wits, then, she thought as she returned to her cross-legged position on the floor. Until someone opens that door for me, there’s nothing I can do.
Even though the task seemed daunting, it calmed her to have a clearly defined problem to work on. The meditation certainly helped, too. She played through more than a dozen possible scenarios in her head as she waited for the door to open.
Time once again became fluid, and she lost track of how much had passed. Inevitably, though, the sound of footsteps on the metal floor grating brought her back to full alertness. Her heart leaped and adrenaline surged through her body, but she forced herself to remain collected and focused.
The deadbolts retracted with a clang, and the hatchway creaked open on its old, squeaky hinges. Two men stepped through: one of the strong men, wearing the same black beetle-shell skin covering as before, and the doctor’s apprentice. The young man regarded her in silence for a moment, his cheeks reddening just as before. He knelt down by her side and spoke to her, holding out another fluid pack with a one-way straw.
There’s no way I can get out of here with both of them watching me, Reva thought, her mind racing. But if there were only one …
She glanced apprehensively at the strong man, who waited just inside the doorway. It took the apprentice a few seconds to get the hint, but when she ignored the fluid pack, he spoke to the strong man and waved him out of the chamber. The man hesitated a moment, but shrugged and stepped outside.
The apprentice smiled at her and nodded. He put a hand on her shoulder, his eyes wandering involuntarily to her breasts. Pervert, Reva thought. You’re all perverts in this place.
Fortunately, she could use that to her advantage.
She rose smoothly to her feet, her eyes meeting and holding the apprentice’s gaze. He stood up unsteadily, but before he could react, she slipped a hand around his waist and pressed her body close against his. If her captors could break all the rules, she’d show them that she could, too. She pressed the young man up against the wall and locked her lips against his in a wild and ferocious kiss. His body stiffened and he gasped a little through his nose, but he made no move to resist her and soon melted to putty into her embrace.
Just as he let out his breath, she snaked her arms around his neck and took the fabric of his skin covering in a vice-like grip. With the edge of her palm pressing up against his windpipe, she rotated her wrists and squeezed.
In any other situation, the apprentice probably could have overpowered her. But caught off guard, with his lungs empty and his body relaxed, there was nothing he could do. His eyes bulged and he thrashed weakly with his arms, but Reva held on tight, guiding him quietly to the floor as his legs collapsed. His mouth opened as if to scream, but without any air he couldn’t so much as croak. He passed out a few moments later, arms twitching until they too went still.
Frantically, Reva searched him. If he had a key, it would be hidden somewhere in his body covering, perhaps in a pouch of some kind. Her hands were shaking, but she kept up the search until she found it: a pouch sewn into the fabric near his chest, containing a keycard. The moment Reva’s fingers touched it, her heart skipped a beat.
At that moment, the apprentice began to moan. Reva’s blood froze in her veins, and she glanced in terror at the open doorway. If the strong man—
Before he could come in, she jumped up and pressed herself up against the wall. The apprentice coughed and cried out, probably for help just she’d feared he would. Sure enough, the strong man came rushing inside, passing Reva without noticing her.
Now’s your chance! Go!
Reva slipped past him as quickly as she could and pulled desperately at the door to the cell. She put all her weight into it, hoping that it wasn’t as heavy as it looked. The strong man turned and caught sight of her, and for one terrifying instant, she feared he would reach out and stop it. But before he could react, it swung shut in his face, the magnetic bolts locking it shut.
“Holy stars of Earth,” she gasped, falling to the floor in relief. The sound of fists pounding on the other side told her that she was safe—for the moment. But she wasn’t free yet.
Rising quickly to her feet, she ran to the door that led to the lobby. It took her a second to figure out the keypad, but by holding the card against it, she managed to unlock it and open the door. Thankfully, no one was waiting on the other side. She hurried to the next door and ran through.
Her bare feet pattered against the cold metal floor, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her arms and legs. Only then did she realize that the outside hallway was empty.
What’s going on? she wondered, slowing down to catch her breath. In either direction, the place was completely abandoned. That was odd—she was sure there had been people outside in the hall before. Where had they all gone?
A voice came over the loudspeakers, making her jump. She couldn’t understand it at all, but just to be safe, she broke into another run. By now, her pursuers would surely see that she’d used the keycard. She had to put as much distance between herself and the prison as possible.
She rounded a corner, only to come face-to-face with a full squad of strong men. Their eyes widened, but her reaction was faster than theirs. Pushing off the wall for momentum, she threw herself into the nearby stairwell and dashed up the stairs.
A distinct humming noise sounded through the bulkheads. It grew to the point where she could hear it over the shouting of the men behind her. She didn’t know why, but it gave her the feeling that she was running out of time. Remembering the escape pods, she dashed into the nearest stairwell to the level immediately above her.
She made for the nearest chute as fast as she could, but someone cried out—she’d been spotted again. It was too late to turn back, though, and besides, there was nowhere left to run. As the humming grew to a fevered pitch, she slammed her palm against the access panel for the escape pod chute and stepped back, preparing to dive in.
Come on—open!
Just when it looked like her pursuers would catch her, the access panel flashed green and the chute flipped open. Without hesitation, she dove in. A hand grabbed her foot, but she kicked it away and slid free.
The chute opened into a tiny, windowless pod not much bigger than the cryotank. At the front was a small display screen and what appeared to be piloting controls. The hatch slid shut, sealing her inside, and cushions inflated all around her, effectively encasing her in the pod. There was nothing she could do but take the controls and hope for the best.
With a loud pop that made Reva’s teeth chatter, the pod jettisoned. The illusion of gravity fell away as she left the ship, making the bile in her stomach rise up to her mouth.
Gripping the controls, she choked down her nausea and forced herself to swallow. The pod’s autopilot stabilized the spin, making it marginally better. The words on the display screen were incomprehensible to her, but she recognized the basic layout of a sector map. The large red dot just behind the center probably represented the ship she’d just escaped from.
This is where my luck runs out, she thought to herself, bracing for the inevitable pursuit. With no idea how to fly the tiny pod, it wouldn’t take much effort for her captors to retrieve her.
As she watched, though, the red dot blinked out and disappeared altogether. She frowned and stared at the screen, expecting it to come back at any moment. When it didn’t, she pressed keys until the viewscreen started cycling through the external video feeds. Except for a large gray planet and a yellowish sun, they were all empty. The ship she’d just been on was gone.
For the first time since the door to her holding cell had opened, Reva allowed herself to relax. She’d done it—she’d escaped.
She didn’t know which of the many gods had looked down favorably upon her, but she offered a silent prayer of thanks to her guardian star. With that done, she searched the controls until she found a large red switch, no doubt for the distress signal, and activated it. With no idea how to pilot the escape pod, and no idea where to go even if she could, she would have to wait for someone to pick her up.
All she could do was pray that they’d be better than the ones who had woken her.
A Mission Lost
Isaac triple-checked his jump coordinates and took a deep breath. Colkhia system, fourth planet, about six hours above the gravity well. Everything checked out. He was good to go.
He threw the switch to initiate jump and gripped the flight stick. The bulkheads hummed, softly at first but growing in intensity, and a weird fluttery feeling grew in his stomach. He closed his eyes as spacetime folded in on itself, bending the sidereal laws of physics as the Medea broke that last great barrier to the destiny of mankind: the speed of light.
The humming quieted, his stomach settled, and the ship returned to normal. He opened his eyes and checked the scanners to calculate his position and trajectory. He’d exited jumpspace fairly close to the target coordinates—perhaps a hundred thousand kilometers or so off—but for a jump of more than five hundredths of a light-year, that was pretty good. The station was hailing him, though, so he had to take care of that first, before the triangulation.
“Attention unidentified vessel, this is Colkhia station docking control. State your name and port of origin.”
“Hello, docking control. This is Isaac of the, uh, the Medusa,” said Isaac, catching himself just in time. “This is an Outworld vessel from the Tajjur sector, seeking to make some trades.”
Silence. As the controller on the other end checked their database, Isaac worked quickly to finish his triangulation.
“Medusa, we don’t have you on our records. Is this your first time in the system?”
“Affirmative, docking control. Is that a problem?”
“No problem, Medusa. Be informed, though, that per Imperial order, all ships must pass a customs check upon docking.”
Isaac hesitated. The last time he’d been to the Colkhia system, the Gaian Imperials had ransacked his ship and confiscated a girl frozen in cryostasis that he and his brother had rescued from a derelict space station. They’d barely escaped that situation in one piece. Apparently, the Imperials were still keeping a tight lid on things, though not so tight as to notice the modifications he’d made to the Medea. If they identified him as the pilot that had blasted through the Imperial blockade barely four weeks ago, he’d be in serious trouble.
Fortunately, even if they did double-check his records, it was unlikely they’d catch the anomalies in time.
“Strange,” he said, just to play along with them. “I didn’t know this was Imperial space.”
“It is now, Medusa. The Imperials have staked a claim on this sector and are moving swiftly to colonize it. This is no longer part of the Outworlds; it’s a sovereign realm of the Empire.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Isaac. “I hope you don’t look unfavorably on star wanderers like me.”
“That depends on how your customs check goes. As long as your cargo matches your manifest, I don’t anticipate there being any problem. Transmitting flight plans for docking maneuvers now. Welcome to Colkhia, Medusa.”
Welcome indeed, Isaac thought silently. The scanners shifted to show the flight path that the controller had transmitted. It would require a low, five-minute engine burn and take him almost six hours to enter into a parking orbit from his ship’s current position, but that was acceptable—perfectly acceptable.
The scanners also showed several ships in orbit a thousand kilometers above the main station. Warships. Among these, the GIS Starfire stood out most prominently. The battleship was more than two kilometers long and boasted more weaponry than most Outworld defense fleets. Three frigates orbited alongside it, smaller in size but no less threatening. The warships were part of the expeditionary force meant to subjugate the New Pleiades, starting with the frontier systems and extending through the whole star cluster. For the future of the Outworlds and the independence of the free stars, that could not be allowed to happen.
Isaac finished the triangulation and set the ship to follow the flight plan’s course. The engines engaged with a low rumble, pushing him gently against the back of his seat as the Medea accelerated.
As it did, he couldn’t help but think about his brother, Aaron. He would have triangulated their position before docking control had hailed them. Aaron always had a knack with astrogation systems, and he wasn’t a bad pilot, either.
Isaac just hoped that he was good enough to survive the coming battle.
While the Medea was still too far for a high-level scan, he switched the nav-computer over to the auxiliary systems and prepared to power up the jump beacon. A highly advanced device with technology that not even the Imperials possessed, it could pull starships out of a wide swath of jumpspace, enabling whole fleets to jump more than a parsec and all arrive accurately at the same coordinates, set by the jump beacon. Even now, the Flotilla was amassing more than a light-year away, preparing to jump in just a few minutes. He set the coordinates for a point just above the Starfire’s orbit and powered up the beacon.
Just as the bulkheads started to hum, something popped near the reactor in the back. The faint smell of smoke wafted in through the cabin, and the humming stopped.
Isaac frowned, a sickening feeling gripping his stomach. ERROR, the nav-computer read, JUMP BEACON UNRESPONSIVE.
Sweat began to form on the back of his neck. Without the jump beacon, the Flotilla would scatter haphazardly across the system instead of concentrating on the enemy’s position. It would be a tactical disaster.
With the sublight engines still burning, he undid his restraints and rose from his seat. The acceleration made it feel as if the ship was tilted back at a sharp angle, so he had to negotiate his way via the handholds set into the walls. He made it to the back of the cabin without too much difficulty, though, and retrieved his utility belt from its compartment in the wall.
The maintenance ducts for the reactor and jump beacon were in the corridor leading to the airlock, across from the locker with the EVA suits. With the utility belt fastened around his waist, Isaac attached a clip to the nearest handhold and opened the duct.
The noxious smell of smoke stung his nose the moment the panel opened. He coughed and waved his hand, searching for any sign of an electrical fire. There wasn’t any, but the conduit that connected the jump beacon to the reactor was singed black. Worse, the connectors had warped so badly that they’d broken the casing, indicating damage far beyond Isaac’s capacity to repair.
“Shit,” he swore, his eyes widening in panic. The engine slowly disengaged, returning the artificial gravity on the ship to normal, but he hardly noticed. The jump beacon was down, and without it, there was no chance that the surprise attack on Colkhia would succeed.
* * * * *
Eight hours, Isaac told himself as he broke away from the ad hoc repair attempt to negotiate the Medea’s final approach to Colkhia Station. Eight hours from T=0 before the Flotilla is completely lost.