All she saw was smooth metal, and no openings. The ring spun, turning on by her, but still the windows remained empty. She squeezed the trigger for the other, smaller jets, the ones that should be for slowing her down. Just a spurt, then another when she was sure they wouldn’t change her course.
Ah. The ring was a moving target, and would never be a place for airlocks. She sailed along the bottom edge, feeling like a deep-sea diver under the hull of a huge ocean liner, and continued on towards the central post. All along it were openings of all kinds, big and small, and obvious docking stations, communication arrays, airlock bays . . . and very few windows.
Now it was up to her to get inside without pasting herself on the side of the hull.
“Red light each side, dark within,” Janlin repeated. The sound of her own voice reassured her, and she aimed for just that set-up that seemed the closest to her existing direction.
After a few tense moments of adjustments, over-adjustments, and sheer terror, Janlin sailed into an open bay and knocked up against an interior wall. Magnets in the palms of the suit allowed her to stay put, then drag along the wall until she found another, smaller, room. The symbols Anaya had taught her were on the wall within, and she sighed with relief as the small door closed and the whoosh of air filling the room replaced the terrifying silence of open space.
Janlin scrambled out of Anaya’s suit while the airlock cycled and the door into the station opened. Her hands trembled, and her legs shook so bad that she would not have been able to walk. Fortunately, here in the docking tunnel, walking wasn’t required, and she gripped the doorjamb with gratitude for its solidness as she drifted in zero-g.
She did, however, resist the strong desire to drift down to the floor of the bay and kiss the metal.
She gripped the frame of the opening and peered into the tunnel. A clang came from one end, and she flinched, but she’d seen no one within the long stretch of floorless shaft. She oriented herself so that she could propel her body in the direction of the noise, and set off.
If someone came along now, there would be no hiding, because the doors she passed would probably all be open to space on the other side. It made sense—why maintain atmosphere if you didn’t have to?
She just needed to find where they sorted and stored the crates for trading goods, and get stowed away for a ride to the planet.
Another clang rang out, followed by a blast of sound like an air horn. The hatchway at the end of the tunnel opened, and a disk of metal began to shoot towards her, round, and exactly the size of the shaft, filling it and leaving no gaps against the walls. A lift of some kind, able to take people or crates from the docked ship to the central hub.
“Oh, crap.”
She was on the wrong side of this one, like being caught in the elevator shaft outside of the moving elevator.
Janlin kicked out, hoping to connect with something, anything, and arched towards the side of the shaft. A glance revealed that the lift approached at amazing speed. She couldn’t be sure she’d survive the impact, let alone stay conscious. Closer it came as she pulled herself along the wall, gripping with nothing but the flat of her hands at times, digging her nails into any little crevice she could find to keep close to the wall. Closer. She slipped, losing her grip, and tried to swim through the air, her heart yammering in her ears. Another glance. Her momentum in the free fall kept her going in the right direction, and the moment she touched the wall she used the slight ledge between wall panels to again propel herself. Closer. With a little gasp she reached the hatchway she’d come through and hit the command to open it. Closer. Things whirred and clicked within the door.
“Come on, you bastard, open!” Janlin said, banging the door.
The lift descended, now fifteen feet from her, now ten, now—
The hatch opened, and she swung in, flailing through the abandoned space suit still floating in the bay. She kicked one glove and it sailed out the opening only to be swept away a second later by the thick steel plate that made up the lift.
Panting, Janlin hung by one hand from the doorframe, afraid to stick her head out and have a look. Still, in the brief second that the lift passed she thought she’d seen a crate strapped to it.
How long would it take for them to offload the Imag shipment and load it on the shuttle headed for the planet? Could she possibly get on the lift when it returned?
She took the chance, hoping the alarm would sound again when the lift was ready to go. It only made sense that it would. Anything protruding out a hatchway would clearly be in the impact zone when the lift went by.
Janlin looked down the shaft just in time to watch arms in all too familiar uniforms reach out and unhook the crate before drawing it into the bay. She would only have moments to get on that lift before it accelerated, but she needed to be sure the Imag didn’t see her. She inched out of the hatchway and began the drop, propelling herself to the other side of the shaft to try and stay out of the line of sight.
The shaft was about ten feet across, and she reached the other side easily, still dropping.
She sucked in a breath when another crate appeared and was loaded onto the lift. The markings on the top were just the ones she wanted to see.
But she was dropping too fast. If she landed on that lift while it still sat at the Imag’s open hatch, they’d see her and raise an alarm. Her fingers scrambled at the smooth sides once again, dragging but not gripping, and she slipped away from the edge again.
The lift seemed to rise to meet her, but she knew it was purely illusion. Then the air horn sounded, and despite her flinch at the loud and abrupt noise, she thought it was the best thing she’d ever heard.
The lift began to rise, clearing the open hatchway, and a moment later she landed lightly on it. The motion created a gravity of its own that kept her glued to the surface.
Now she needed to get inside somehow before reaching the central hub.
Right.
Her fingers and eyes explored the crate for the latches. She found them, but she wouldn’t be able to lift the lid without undoing the straps that held the crate in place. The walls seemed to blur by, and she noted the door to her own entry point pass like a blip on a radar screen.
Somewhere in a faraway part of her mind, hysterical screaming began. She struggled with the straps, wondering if Huantag soldiers waited on the other side of the approaching hatchway. What would they do when they found her?
She unbuckled one side of the crate and began working on the other, ignoring the questions, ignoring the screaming, ignoring the walls zooming past as the g-force made it harder and harder to move around on the lift. Another buckle let go, scraping at her knuckles as it did. She sucked on them as she worked the next one, hissing through her teeth as she abraded the other hand even worse.
The lift began to slow. Two buckles left. Undoing one more might enable her to jimmy the lid enough to climb inside. Even then, would they check the cargo if they saw all the straps hanging loose?
She managed the third buckle, scrambling to shove the straps to one side like an over-eager kid unwilling to wait for scissors to get the ribbon off her Christmas present.
The hatchway opened above her head.
A good thing, right? Wouldn’t want to be crushed between the door and the lift, right?
The straps were too tight, and she grappled with the cinching system but couldn’t seem to find the right co-ordination of events to let off the tension.
She was out of time.
As the lift rose through the hatchway she spun around and set her back to the crate, crouching low and trying to be as small and still and unobvious as possible.
The lift stopped, and the hatch closed below it. Janlin felt the push of force drain away and gripped the straps to keep in place. The area was, like she guessed, a central hub; a round room with hatchways leading to the outer ring and, above and below her, to the docking shafts. Currently there were no signs of life within her line of sight, but that could and probably would
change very soon.
She had to get into the crate.
Then she heard voices. Human voices.
Maintaining her grip on the straps, she shifted and peeked around the side of the crate. Another hatchway leading to the outer ring stood open, and she was just in time to watch the hatch close. She choked back a shout.
Janlin sank down, and, with an effort, brought her mind back to the problem at hand. She would find her crew later. Again, she attacked the cinch device on the strap she clung to. There had to be a way to loosen it just enough to get the lid—
An inquisitive chirp sounded behind her.
Janlin turned slowly despite the fight or flee instinct stiffening her body. Drifting . . . no, flying beside the crate was a strange and beautiful creature. Intelligent eyes regarded her—peaceful, calm eyes, she noted—above an obvious beak protrusion, while huge wings shifted to maintain position in the free-fall environment. Feathers adorned the creature’s head, and under the wing, shoulder joint arms sprouted, ending in six fingers covered in pale skin.
Huantag were birds?
Janlin decided that nothing—nothing—would ever surprise her again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE STRANGE NEW alien gestured for her to follow. Not seeing any other good options, she did, especially when the bird-like creature headed for the same passageway she’d seen the others disappear into. Janlin did a light-grav bounce down the corridor while the stunning creature glided alongside. As they descended, the gravity increased, though it didn’t seem to affect the alien’s ability to maintain its graceful flight. When it did land, the wings folded neatly along the shoulder and back of the arm, allowing it to walk upright and manipulate things with its arms and hands. The creature didn’t seem to be wearing clothes. The resplendent feathers were all it needed for modesty, if they had that sort of thing.
At what appeared to be an open door, the alien tapped at the console to shut down the shielding and ushered her in. Janlin found herself engulfed in the embrace of Tyrell.
“Kavanagh! When you and Stepper didn’t come back from your work shift, we thought you were dead!”
Tyrell beamed at her, and she stared in wonder at the once naïve and soft-skinned young man. He’d done some growing up on that slaver, and it wasn’t just the facial hair. His welcome smile had a new wariness to it, an irrevocable loss of innocence.
She scanned the room, seeing many familiar faces but not the ones she’d hoped for. The winged creatures moved amongst them, tending to injuries and questions and handing out water packs. She’d have to keep quiet about her adventure for now. Who knew what these aliens could understand? “Where’s Gordon?”
“He didn’t get shipped with us,” he said, and gave her shoulder a squeeze in reassurance. “Things have been weird. The Imag seem to be preparing for something big. At least that’s what Fran said.”
Janlin made a face at his mention of Fran.
Tyrell leaned in closer. “I’m worried their plans are not going to be ones we like,” he muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve all had some weird tests done, blood work and injections. That medic with the scarred face fought them tooth and nail, but they stuck her too. Worse, Gordon’s worried the Imag are nearly ready to test their Jumpship.”
Janlin groaned inwardly. “It seems like a lot of us here. How many are left with the Imag?”
Tyrell grinned, taking her by surprise. “About the same number as you see here. They seemed to split us in half.” He shrugged it off. “At first I was terrified, ’cause who knew what they were gonna do with us, right? But then we got here and we were shown holo-vids of a human settlement that’s planet-side. I can’t wait to get down there!”
Janlin’s heart skipped. “Did you see any faces you recognize?”
Tyrell shook his head. “It was more of an aerial view.”
“How long do you figure it took to fly here?” Janlin asked then.
Tyrell gave her a jaunty grin. “You were a flippin’ stowaway, weren’t you? It was only a few days, but it must’ve felt like more to you. You’re crazy, girl!”
She’d been with the Gitane for weeks. Anaya did say the Imag ships were much faster. More proof of her honesty. Janlin just needed to decide not only who to tell about her new alliance, but when. Then she would go to work on a plan, and hopefully they could get everything in place to take down the shields quickly when Anaya returned. Janlin checked her pocket, hoping these Huantag wouldn’t search them.
Tyrell frowned in thought. “Where’s the captain?”
Janlin’s face must’ve said it all, because Tyrell’s bronze cheeks went ashen. Janlin reached over and gave him a little shake. “This doesn’t need to be public knowledge just yet, okay?” He nodded, eyeing those around them who celebrated their new freedom from the Imag.
Janlin stared at the tall alien approaching them. “I can’t believe the Huantag would take so many of us at once.”
“The who?” Tyrell asked.
Janlin’s heart thumped once, too hard, and she gave him the best look of confusion she could muster. “Imag,” she said. “I can’t believe the Imag would take away so many at once.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“Sure it is . . . what else would I say?”
Weak, but what else could she do? She was still so shook up—she had to get it together. Gordon would never let her get away with such a lapse. Later, when she had a chance to assess the situation, she could reassure everyone with Anaya’s rescue plans.
Tyrell scratched his head, but didn’t pursue it. Janlin silently thanked her luck.
The Huantag handed them drink containers and chirped an inquiry, holding up what Janlin deduced was a first-aid kit. She and Tyrell both waved off his request, and the alien moved on.
“Aren’t the Birdfolk amazing? Do you think they’ve ever been to Earth before, and that’s maybe where we got the idea of angels? I mean, it would make so much sense if ancient civilizations saw these beings and imagined them the agents of God, right?”
Tyrell went on, and Janlin let him, until she heard more voices coming down the hall, voices all talking, questioning, worried, scared. She gripped Tyrell’s arm, shushing him. As the new group entered, she saw Gordon’s tall figure.
“Janlin!”
“My God, you grew hair!” In fact, he looked more himself than he had in over a year. Despite the harsh conditions on the Imag ship, regular food and hard physical labour had only brought back the hulk of a man that was Gordon. Not until this forced absence did the changes hit home.
She let him wrap her in a huge bear hug. “I knew you’d make it somehow,” he said, and hugged her again before releasing her to arm’s length. “Where’s Stepper?”
Guilt returned to crush her. There was no easy way to do this, and no better time than now, she guessed. “Dead.” She said it quietly, under the commotion of reunions around them. “Why are you all here? What’s going on?”
Gordon frowned. He recognized an evasion, but he let it lie, at least for now.
“We’re not sure what the deal is,” he said. “They just loaded up the last of us and brought us here.”
Others were enjoying their own reunions and greetings, but many gathered close. With the Huantag in the room, she could not to tell of her own adventures just yet. Besides, what if Anaya didn’t make it back? Why raise hopes for nothing? She’d bide her time, check out the scene planet-side, and let Gordon in on everything—later, in private.
“Yeah, Janlin wasn’t even in our group,” Tyrell said. “She was a stowaway!”
“What, planning to hijack the ship?” Gordon said, shaking his head at her. “You really do think you can fly anything, don’t you?”
“I had to try something,” she said, shrugging. “Didn’t work out, though. What do you make of these bird aliens?”
Everyone responded to this, turning the conversation away from her before Gordon could ask about where she’d bee
n all this time. Some echoed Tyrell’s vision of angels while others, especially the science types, were fascinated with the unique physiology, especially compared to the first aliens they encountered in this system.
“Dinosaurs are the ancestors of birds,” one man said. “Perhaps on this planet they become the dominant species and evolved into this form.”
Many others chimed in with their own theories.
“They seem benevolent enough,” was Gordon’s comment. Janlin let some tension unravel through her.
“I am so glad to see you,” she said, leaning on him.
“Blimey, girl, you’ve had me worried, you and Stepper both.”
“I can’t believe Stepper’s gone, for all the trouble between us.”
Gordon wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “I knew I gave you the right call sign,” he said, his mischievous smile tinged with sadness. “Bouncer: always bouncing back from anything.”
Janlin could only shake her head in chagrin. She pulled Gordon close and lowered her voice. “What are the chances of these new aliens helping us?”
Gordon grimaced. “Well, there’s the language barrier to get past,” he said.
This brought something to Janlin’s attention. “Where’s Fran?” she asked.
Gordon looked away. Tyrell heard her question, though.
“She wasn’t sent with us. Some say she wanted to stay, that she’s defected from the human race and feels more at home with the Imag.”
“Tyrell!” Gordon glared at him.
“What? She can be a real—”
“Yeah, I get it,” Janlin said. “Been on the receiving end of that. But I can’t see her choosing to stay with them. Not after—” She couldn’t voice it, the memories of torture still too close, but they all knew what she meant.
“Yeah, you insensitive dimwit,” Gordon said to Tyrell. “Don’t be so eager to judge others without really knowing what they’ve been up against.”
Tyrell had the decency to look abashed. “Sorry, Spin. Just never really saw the good side of Fran Delou.”
Jumpship Hope Page 13