Jumpship Hope

by Adria Laycraft

  Anaya seemed to understand, and waved the crewman away. “Gitane,” she said, tapping her chest.

  Ah. That word again. Janlin had thought it was a name earlier, and had forgotten since. She repeated it best she could. “Jih-tawn-nee?”

  Anaya chuffed, patting her chest with an open palm.

  “Race names, perhaps?” Janlin mused aloud. It sounded like an old French word. These aliens were transients in space, on the move. But what about the planets their scans had detected?

  “Anaya, why do you live in space if there are perfectly good planets in this system?”

  Consternation crossed Anaya’s face, but Janlin wasn’t going to dumb down her language. Anaya studied her.

  Janlin studied her back,

  took a deep breath, and let it out slow. “Where is your home? Why are you out here? Why are you stealing humans from the Imag?” she asked.

  Anaya grunted. “Many . . . words,” she said. Long story? “No home. Gitane, Imag, home . . . sick, no good for home.” Her thick fingers deftly chose commands from the air, manipulating the hologram controls.

  Janlin joined her at the console. “So, what are you planning?”

  Anaya straightened. “Get ’ip, go new home. Jahnin hep . . . Gitane take ’ip go . . . out.” Anaya was obviously frustrated by her lack of words to say what she wanted to, but Janlin thought she understood. Anaya confirmed it.

  “Human ’ip come. Gitane hep human, you take Gitane go new home.”

  “So, if I help you Jump to a new system and find a new home, you will help me free my crewmates and a Jumpship?”

  “Yes, free ’ip.”

  Maybe there was hope after all. Except . . . “I’m not sure our Jumpships even exist anymore.”

  Anaya grunted. “New ’ip good.” An image appeared. It showed the familiar interior of the Imag flightdeck. Perched in one corner stood a ship far more familiar, and amazingly in one piece. Janlin nearly lost her mind at the sight of it.

  The Hope.

  Chapter Twenty

  “’IP,” ANAYA SAID.

  “Yes, that is my ship.” Janlin faced new optimism beyond her wildest dreams while wondering how she would bear the weight of her guilt and grief.

  “It might not work,” she admitted. Anaya pinned her with a hard look. “The Imag have bits and pieces of our stuff . . . of one ship or both I don’t know . . . and they are trying to build their own Jumpship.”

  The hard look cemented. “No good,” Anaya growled. She flicked through more images, muttering in her own language under her breath.

  Something flashed by that caught Janlin’s attention. “Wait a minute . . . is that an orbital space station?”

  For that she received a well-deserved blank look. But the station—ship?—had to be huge if you put things in scale. Was that what she just left?

  Janlin found herself wishing—for the first and hopefully last time—that she was more like Fran. She made a fist with one hand and circled a finger around it with the other. “Station,” she said, raising the single finger, then pointing at the fist. “Planet?” she asked, indicating the fist.

  “Ah,” Anaya said. She made some adjustments to the holographic view, and the station stood against the backdrop of the most beautiful sight Janlin had ever seen. A gas giant filled the space between them, with colours and patterns swirling on the surface. A fair-sized moon circled by, the station in its orbit.

  “Station? Or ship?” she asked Anaya.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Imag ’ip. Imag want it all, Huantag and Jump ’ip.”

  Before Janlin could ask more or study the scene further, Anaya changed the image again. “Hey—” she began, but Anaya held up a beefy hand.

  “Wait.”

  Janlin watched, wondering why Anaya showed her what appeared to be the engine room she had just lost her captain in, or one just like it. The symbols at the top of the image changed rapidly. At first Janlin couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to be looking for, but as the symbols continued to shift—and the perspective too, on occasion—figures moved about the area in fast forward, and the parts that were being gathered on the floor and surrounding storage units took on a familiar shape.

  “They’re definitely building a Jump engine.”

  Anaya pointed at the nearly finished Jump engine. “Imag ’ip work? Go new home?”

  Janlin hesitated. What did she tell this alien being? How much could she trust the apparent feud between them? Could Anaya just be playing good cop in order to get the information they needed?

  She didn’t want to say too much, yet the vision of the Hope kept her from simply denying any knowledge of anything.

  “Who owns that station or ship or whatever it really is?” Janlin asked.

  It was Anaya’s turn to hesitate. “Imag.”

  “Not Gitane?”

  Anaya shrugged, and Janlin realized for the first time that a shrug seemed to mean no. She’d have to watch that she didn’t shrug when she meant ambivalence or uncertainty, because these folk would take it as a plain negative response.

  “You said you didn’t want to start a war with the Imag. Even if my ship still works, how would we get it from them?”

  “Must try.”

  Right. “Of course, we must try,” Janlin said, even as burning guilt surged up her gullet. She swallowed, not wanting to lose the best meal she’d had in far too long.

  “What will the Imag do if their new ship doesn’t work?”

  Anaya’s face crumpled into what Janlin took as near despair. “New Imag ’ip for war. If no go new home, Imag start war.”

  “On you?”

  Anaya narrowed her eyes. “No. Imag hate Gitane, but Huantag have home, and Imag take home with war.”

  Who? Janlin gave her head a mental shake. “Who-an-teg?”

  Anaya chuffed a long time at this. Janlin wasn’t sure if she should laugh along or feel insulted. “Who-wan-tag. Huantag,” Janlin tried. A different species, or another family name?

  “Huantag live on a planet?” Janlin said, making her fist again and pointing at it. Now that she knew why these aliens were wanderers in space, it made sense that they’d want to find a new planet to call home, and the scans had shown other planets that were in that sweet “Goldilocks” zone of life.

  Anaya agreed. “Get ’ip,” she said, pointing at the holo. “Hep you, go new home. No war with Imag or Huantag.”

  Janlin closed her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment her information would cause. “My ship has a big hole in it,” she said, but she waved that off, knowing the shuttle bay could be sealed off. There were bigger problems. “And the Imag might have taken essential parts. Plus, I can’t fly it alone.”

  “Need more human?” Anaya demanded.

  “Oh, yes, many more.” A captain or helmsman with the proper coding to gain access to the Jump commands for starters, Tyrell being the one she knew best. Besides, there was no way she would fly out and leave anyone behind . . . even Fran.

  “Get human, then get ’ip.” They were blunt words, spoken by someone who was used to getting what she ordered.

  Who was Janlin to disagree? But there were a few considerations to iron out. “You said no war with Imag. How do we get our humans from them without causing trouble?”

  “Not human with Imag. Human on Huantag.”

  “There are humans on Huantag?”

  “Yes.”

  Janlin sat down, abruptly, glad in retrospect that there happened to be a stool to catch her.

  Anaya opened another holo. Janlin stared. Before her hung a gorgeous water planet studded with chains of islands and tiny continents.

  It looked beautiful beyond her wildest dreams.

  Anaya grunted an inquiry.

  Janlin rubbed her face to help her think, then stared some more. “We knew many humans had disappeared from the Imag ship, and we worried they were dead,” Janlin explained. She stood again, still feeling shaky, but wanting to address Anaya and make sure she underst
ood. “So, you want me to get the humans together on the Huantag planet, and you will get the ship from the Imag station, and we just fly out of here?”

  Anaya paused only a moment. “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s as good a plan as any we’ve had so far,” Janlin said. “But I refuse to leave my people—humans—with the Imag. They will need to be rescued, too.”

  Anaya slapped a hand down on her controls, and the hologram disappeared. “No war with Imag.” Her tone was hard.

  Janlin had half expected that reply, and wondered what Victor’s thoughts had been on the matter, but her mind was already working ahead. “Why can’t you try and save the humans while getting the ship?” she said, only to see the worst scowl on Anaya’s face yet. “Okay, okay,” Janlin said, holding palms out in a consoling way. Once they had a crew, and a ship, they would have more bargaining power. They might just have to hold up their end by taking Anaya to a new system before returning for the others. It might be an idea to return home and bring whatever army could be mustered, anyway.

  “What about the other planets in the system? Why can’t you make a home there?”

  Anaya stared into the distance for a long time, until Janlin wondered if she even heard the question. Finally, Anaya engaged the holo machine again, and an image of a grey planet with no visible oceans or life emerged.

  The alien huffed out her breath and approached the console. With a few flicks of thick fingers, she brought up a holo of the system. “Home,” she said, pointing at one of the planets. “Yiyau.” She entered another command, and the holo zoomed in on the lone planet. It appeared dark, empty of water or clouds or any sign of atmosphere.

  “This was your home?”

  “Yes,” Anaya said, her voice deep and rough. “Gitane and Imag make sick. Yiyau die. Then, big war.”

  Janlin thought about this while she stared at the dead planet. Anaya turned away, softly chuffing. Then she turned back to stare directly at Janlin, as if making sure she had her full attention. “Huantag fix home, no tell Gitane how.”

  The anger and bitterness in this was apparent, and Janlin wondered what the situation was down on Huantag. Did the humans there suffer as they did on the Imag ship?

  A strange noise, akin to the squealing monkeys Janlin saw in a movie once, rang through the room. Anaya snapped to attention, her hands flying over the controls. Gurgled words passed between her and her crew over the comm-unit. Janlin watched carefully, wondering if they were under attack again.

  Anaya gave a chuff, followed by curt commands, and shut down her private system.

  “Come,” she said, and left without looking to see if Janlin followed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  JANLIN EMERGED INTO the command centre where she’d tried to take on five aliens with a steel pipe. She grinned at the memory, and made a mental note to ask Anaya to apologize to the one she’d hit. She had trouble deciding which one it was, looking at them all busy and in the same uniform. The big guy stood out, much larger in height and girth than the others. Another one looked female like Anaya. Both of them had a smaller, softer build, with lighter skin and a rounder face. The reddish glands were hard to pick out unless you were up close.

  Anaya walked behind each chair, studying the consoles and offering occasional advice. She touched the shoulder of one crewmate and gurgled a question. The Gitane lifted a bandaged arm into view and chuffed in answer. Anaya moved on, apparently assured by his answer. Janlin recognized him as the injured one, and finally saw the one she’d bonked on the head, but he wasn’t acknowledging she existed at the moment.

  She scanned the room, enjoying the patterns of burgundy, brick red, and burnt orange in the wall coverings. They added life and energy to the room while softening the metal that made up the ship. Doors led from the command centre, the largest being the hatchway she’d entered by. She knew Anaya’s quarters and the head, with its lovely shower. Two doors on the opposite side might well lead to crew quarters and maintenance levels, if her guess was right.

  After waiting awhile to be filled in on the situation as the Gitane conversed, Janlin wondered if she should be trying to learn their language. She didn’t like being left out, but she was no linguist. She wrinkled her nose at Fran’s scowling image crossing her mind again.

  “What’s going on?” she finally asked Anaya, who now sat at her workstation.

  “See Imag ’ip,” she said, chuffing. Janlin frowned. The chuff usually meant humour, as best she could tell.

  “Are we in trouble, then?” She glanced at the chair she’d sat in for the last dogfight.

  “No,” Anaya said with another chuff. “Imag no see Gitane. We no big ’ip. They go fast.”

  “How close are they?” Janlin wasn’t too sure she liked the idea of them close by. Were they searching for her? She shivered at the thought of returning to that nightmare.

  “No close. We go same way, but they no see.”

  “We’re following them?”

  “Yes,” Anaya said. Then she nodded, her neckless head rocking back and forth. Janlin laughed outright before she could think better of it.

  “Did you just nod?” she said, incredulous. She copied the motion.

  Anaya chuffed and did it again. The effect was hilarious, and Janlin found she couldn’t stop. The crew chuffed, joining her, and something inside of her seemed to undo as she laughed until tears leaked down her cheeks.

  Anaya leaned close to Janlin wearing her puckered-forehead worried look. “Ters?”

  “It’s okay,” Janlin said, wiping her eyes with a chuckling hitch her breath. “Good tears.”

  Anaya looked more confused than ever, and that only made Janlin laugh harder. “God, I think I’m hysterical.”

  When she sobered, she watched Anaya work. “You said the Imag are going faster?” At the confirmation of this, she asked, “How long will it take us to reach Huantag?”

  Anaya gave an incomprehensible answer, and at Janlin’s look, tried to point out symbols and charts on her console that obviously were some kind of map or clock or calendar—something that would give an answer, if she had any clue what she was looking at. In space, there was no rotation of day and night to mark things by, either, something Janlin was quite used to, but it left them with no way to communicate time.

  “Never mind. I guess I’ll just have to wait it out.” She knew she sounded like a petulant child, though, demanding from the back seat, “Are we there, yet?” The hysterics over, Janlin felt drained. A yawn split her face before she could stop it, and it got Anaya’s attention.

  “Come,” she said, rising and leading Janlin back to her own quarters. Janlin didn’t complain when Anaya showed her a slab uncomfortably similar to the bunks on the slaver ship.

  Anaya left her to rest, setting the lights low beforehand.

  Janlin stared at the strange room. She had no idea how long it had been since she started this “day” . . . only that it felt like a lifetime. She remembered the young scarred woman, and cringed at how little hope she had offered the poor thing. She hadn’t even seen Gordon since the previous shift. The Imag kept pulling him to do wiring, often using the threat of the nerve whip if he didn’t comply. All too often he’d been carried back to his bunk only to be forced to the same jobsite when he recovered.

  Stepper, too, had endured his fair share of the nerve whip. The way he’d looked lately, the Imag also had him in the torture chamber with Fran. He bore new wounds and a haunted look.

  “Oh, Stepper.” She choked and sobbed as his grin flashed in her mind and his big brown eyes crinkled with a smile. She cried until she thought it would never stop, but sheer exhaustion eventually took her over into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  DAYS PASSED, AND Janlin found boredom to be her worst enemy now. Soon she had her own clothes again, somehow cleaned of all blood. Doing her best to make use of the time, she ate their food, studied their ship, and tried to make sense of their language. Once Anaya showed her how to manipulate the holo co
ntrols, she pored over images of the Imag station, searching for clues and ideas.

  She had a favourite holo, and today she sat across the room from it, just staring. Huantag. She let her mouth whisper the name. Scenarios of arriving there tempted her, but she refused to allow herself too much speculation. She’d seen how the Imag treated their captives. The fact that there were survivors living on the planet didn’t guarantee anything for her dad.

  Anaya appeared in the doorway with one of her crew. Janlin thought of him as “Yipho,” though she knew she couldn’t get the pronunciation right. Every time she’d tried, all she got was a lot of chuffing. In fact, that seemed to be the way of it with most of their words, and she’d given up on learning the language.

  “Anaya, Yipho,” she said, giving the name another go. Toothy displays meant as smiles were her reply. Yipho was carrying a hypodermic needle.

  Janlin was on her feet before she realized it.

  Anaya held up a hand, palm out, a universal attempt to placate. “Yipho give Jahnin,” she said, gesturing at the hypodermic.

  Anaya, too, could not pronounce Janlin’s name properly, but Janlin had not bothered to correct her. There seemed to be a breakdown with “l” and the combination “t-h” sound. Maybe their tongues couldn’t make the right shapes. Fran would know. Fran wouldn’t take this needle, either, Janlin knew it.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Not without more explanation of what’s in that.”

  “Other human get sick,” Anaya said. “Yipho make dis so Jahnin no get sick.” She waved a hand at the needle and said a word in her own language. “Jahnin, pease.”

  Not for the first time Janlin marvelled at what Victor had taught his pupil, even the magic words of “please” and “thank you.” Still . . .

  “I feel fine. See, I’m not sick.” She felt her forehead, stuck out her tongue, rubbed her tummy. “I’m good, really.”

  “No,” Anaya said. “We not know it come in water or food or air . . . you get sick, you die.” Yipho followed this with great interest, but no understanding in his eyes.