Jumpship Hope

by Adria Laycraft

  “It’s time we went back to the landing site and get one of those shuttles running. I’ll fly out to the orbital station and see if I can find the shielding controls . . . or Anaya.”

  Gordon laughed outright, and Janlin flinched away from him until she realized he didn’t laugh at her or her idea.

  “Space me, girl—you really do think you can fly anything, don’t you?”

  Janlin grinned. “Keep your voice down, idiot. There are still people who don’t agree with this.”

  Gordon sobered and shook his head. “Why? There’s no one to hear, no one to care anymore. When do we leave?”

  “Now.” Janlin scrambled up, sought out a few water containers left hanging by the cookhut door, and filled them at the tub sink inside. Gordon rose and followed her, holding each water jug as she filled them. His hands shook so bad she made him drink a full one before they left.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Gordon pursed his lips. “Bloody right.”

  Janlin watched the way he leaned on the wall, listened to the way he shortened his sentences, only saying what he had to. Still, she wanted—no, needed—Gordon at her side. She might be able to fly anything, but he might be the only one who could figure out how to start an alien ship. And once she found Anaya, she wanted him treated right away.

  Janlin swung the water jugs over her shoulder. “Here.”

  He looked in surprise at the device she offered him. She knew he’d keep trying to call out until he stumbled upon the right combination of internal hook-ups. It gave him something to live for.

  They descended out of the settlement and onto the scrub plain. Janlin stopped to look back at the hill where her father lay. Gordon leaned on her shoulder, gave her a little squeeze of comfort.

  “I’m glad he never lived to see this day,” Janlin said, and turned away.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “SOMEONE’S FOLLOWING US,” Gordon said. He hunched over, hands on his knees. The last time they’d stopped, he’d ended up slumped on the ground.

  “I know,” Janlin said, encouraging him to keep walking with a hand under his arm. “We’re almost there.”

  She glanced back in time to catch the third heat-hazed glimpse of the man following, then faced forward again. Ahead rose the shuttle building, the steel barn silo waiting beside it. No Huantag graced the skies, and Janlin found she wished for their presence, even if it went against her needs just then.

  “I can’t do it, Jan. I can’t walk another step.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” Gordon asked, confused at this unexpected response.

  “Yeah, good, ’cause we’re gonna crawl now.” She dropped low. Gravel crunched as Gordon landed hard on his knees.

  “Here.” Janlin handed him the last of the water. “Drink it all.”

  He didn’t argue. The heat of the plain added to his fever, and Janlin didn’t want to leave him.

  Janlin wriggled up the slope on her stomach to peer over the top.

  She glanced back over the plain behind them. There was no sign of their pursuer. “Dammit,” she said under her breath. Janlin suspected it was Stepper, and hoped she was wrong. He seemed too sick to be sane, let alone capable. Everyone was so sick—even Gordon, and he was one of the last to succumb. It especially bothered her that whoever followed attempted to stay hidden.

  Gordon laboured up the slope and collapsed beside her. “What’s the plan, boss?”

  Janlin edged up to scan the landing site again. Dust coated her tongue, and gravel raked her knees and palms. The shuttle still stood right where they’d seen it last time, all done up tight and smooth.

  Nothing moved but the waves of heat. “Come on, let’s get out of this sun,” Janlin said, hauling Gordon to his feet.

  “Great idea,” Gordon said, slurring his words. He started stumbling down the slope they’d just climbed.

  “No, no, Gordon—this way.”

  “Huh? Are you insane?” He peered up at the sky, one eye closed to the brightness.

  Janlin just took his arm and guided her friend up over the ridge and out onto the flattened area.

  “What are we doing, Janlin? We’re not supposed to be here.” Gordon sounded tired and beyond caring, yet he still made the effort.

  “Just stick with me, Spin. Hopefully things will all make more sense soon.”

  They stumbled across the open area and tried the door to the hangar-style building. Of course, it didn’t open, but Gordon broke open the panel and only played with the interior for a few moments before it slid free. Inside, cool air welcomed them into a large empty space that could clearly accommodate the shuttle outside.

  “Right, see if you can find anything that looks like communications, and keep a lookout for one of those remote controls for the shuttle.” She would prefer to communicate with Anaya sooner rather than later. It also would help matters to make sure the Imag were not around. “And make sure she’s on the up and up,” she growled. Gordon turned his head at her words, but carried on with his perusal of the workbenches and storage areas without asking.

  “There’s nothing that looks like communications here, luv,” Gordon said. The cool interior seemed to have helped him a little, but not enough.

  Janlin hunted for just one thing, and found it just as he gave his bad news.

  “Gordon, come on!” She rushed to the doorway and began pushing all the buttons on the handheld one after another. Finally, the shuttle blossomed with a hatchway and ramp.

  “Nice work,” Gordon said. His eyes sagged shut, and he wavered on his feet.

  “All right, just get on up this ramp and you can have a nice rest.”

  “Fix comm-unit, too,” he said. He leaned on her hard, too hard, and Janlin stumbled under his weight.

  “Gordon!”

  He straightened and she almost went down before she could regain her balance.

  “Space me, a little warning next time maybe?”

  “Janlin, give me your nano-recorder,” Gordon said, suddenly quite lucid. Janlin could only stare at him in horror.

  Gordon took her by both shoulders and shook her a bit. “The little disk, has that bloody duet I did with my wife. Come on, cough it up. I can use it to fix the comm-unit!”

  “I don’t have it.”

  Now it was Gordon’s turn to stare. “What the bloody hell do you mean, you don’t have it?”

  Janlin gripped her forehead with one hand. “I mean I don’t have it. Come on, maybe we’ll find something in here.”

  She moved into the ship, banging her way along a hall and into an open area.

  “Okay, let’s see what we have.” Janlin turned slowly, taking in the foreign bridge, her lips moving in a silent plea for something familiar to guide her. Like the shuttle’s exterior, the inside was smooth and shiny, without any hints as to where the controls might be. “They must be holographs,” she muttered to herself. “How do I activate them?”

  Gordon followed her in and slumped down, his back to a wall, Anaya’s device once more in his hands. A slight click echoed off steel, and he gently, lovingly, cradled the separate pieces. Janlin wanted to shout at him to help her, but it wasn’t fair to him. He could barely stand as it was. She should just be grateful he arrived on his own two feet.

  She turned her attention back to the confusing array of nothingness around her. She pushed at steel panels, felt along every edge, prodded and pulled at the rare protrusion.

  “Nothing works!” Janlin banged on the console—if that’s what it was—without any result, not even a crack, just sore hands.

  “Try the handheld,” Gordon mumbled. Janlin peered around to see him still propped against the wall, legs splayed, head hung down over the device in his lap. His fingers, the only part of him that moved, reassembled pieces yet again.

  At that moment a crash made her spin around, and Gordon’s head snapped up, eyes wide, face pale, too pale, with dark rings circling his eyes.

  Janlin wished for a weap
on as she tried every button and combination of buttons she could think of on the handheld. She threw it down in frustration and let her fingers slide over smooth steel, seeking for clues in vain. Sounds continued to echo from the air-lock.

  “We are such space heads,” Janlin whispered. Gordon would never have let her enter a dead-end place without some kind of guard on the door, or a booby-trap, or . . . something. Having his brain fried by fever did not work in her favour.

  Janlin was not military trained, but she was the one with a clear head. The blame was all hers.

  Janlin began tugging every little notch her fingers could find. Wall. Floor. Inching along in desperation as sweat broke out over her whole body.

  “Come on, come on.” There was nowhere to hide, no way to surprise, nothing to shoot with, strike with, or even throw.

  Another bang. Was it their pursuer? Or Huantag? Maybe they weren’t aware of the trespassers? Maybe it would be a friendly surprise, something to laugh about later?

  The uncertainty might drive her insane.

  Quietness settled, making her own breathing loud. Gordon grunted, and the snap of the device being closed up again ricocheted through the small metal space.

  Janlin spun around, a wordless cry escaping, as he brought the comm-unit to his mouth yet again.

  “Mayday, mayday—”

  “Gordon, no!” Both voices were too loud. There’d be no hiding their presence now.

  Gordon gave her a demented stare, but before she could console or comfort or ease the broken device from him, the undeniable sound of someone approaching made them both freeze.

  “Damned traitors,” came the slurred voice. “Betrayed us, now you’re trying to run away, aren’t you? Bitch. Not leaving without me.”

  Stepper dammed Jordan. That’s who had followed through the scrub plain, unable to avoid detection yet trying to hide.

  He had the nano-recorder.

  Janlin relaxed a fraction, watching the hatchway. Stepper appeared, and his eyes narrowed when his gaze fell to her and Gordon.

  His nose wrinkled in distaste. “You can’t run.” His eyes unfocused, and he blinked, leaning on the doorframe of the hatch. “Made us sick, now you die too. Karma.”

  Janlin’s gut twisted. “Stepper, do you still have the disk I gave you?” she asked. She kept her voice steady, nonchalant.

  “Pretty little toy. Got all your men on there, don’t cha?” He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it into the air. It fell as he spoke. “Don’t you think this is a bad time for worrying about stupid crap like this?”

  Janlin moved to catch it, trying to watch him and the tiny device at the same time. She didn’t know Stepper’s game, but she knew he was feverish and delusional. If he decided to go angry on her, it could be touch and go.

  She caught the nano-recorder. “Thank you for keeping this safe,” she said directly to Stepper before turning to give it to Gordon. He nodded and went right to work.

  She turned away, going back to her search. The ship had to have onboard controls and communications. All she had to do was find them.

  “Janlin!”

  Gordon’s shout gave her enough warning to avoid Stepper’s lunge, the blade he held just grazing her shoulder.

  “Christ, Stepper!” She gripped her arm, felt the wet heat. Her hand came away smeared with blood. “You mental malfunction,” she said, backing away from the blade, shiny red, as he continued to advance. “I’m trying to save you!”

  Stepper spat vindictive curses. Janlin shied away, stunned by his intensity. Blood soaked her sleeve. He had never been this malicious, this nasty. She saw clearly that nice Stepper was not and never would be enough to make up for mean Stepper.

  Gordon moaned. Something snapped inside of her.

  She rushed Stepper, fear washed away by terrible hopelessness. She knocked his blade away and struck his head with her own, watching through black spots with great satisfaction as he crumpled. Then she scooped up the blade and began kicking, stabbing, slashing, and smashing every square inch of the control room, half methodically, half mindlessly.

  A weight slammed into her, the blade flying free of blood-slick fingers before she crashed into the wall. Something popped in one knee, and she screamed.

  “See what you make me do?”

  Stepper’s voice, hot in her ear, made a film of red descend over her vision. She twisted, throwing him off. Her knee exploded with pain. “Why didn’t you just stay dead?” she screamed at him.

  He went still, his eyes wide, before they narrowed again. “That’s just it, isn’t it? When I had my little accident, you let me go. It was so much easier that way, wasn’t it?”

  Janlin felt every muscle tighten, every nerve coil, as she listened to him. His words hit too close to the truth, because she needed to let him go and couldn’t.

  She let him rant, let her own anger build. Then, when he was finished, she let the spring go, her fist connecting with a crunch, and Stepper went down hard.

  “Wow.” Gordon’s voice cracked, and Janlin came back from some faraway place. Her hand hurt, bad, but it was nothing compared to her knee . . . or her heart.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Gordon didn’t answer, but she heard the click of the device being reconstructed yet again, and looked to see him raising it to his mouth.

  “Mayday, mayday—”

  The device crackled.

  Janlin fell over herself getting to Gordon’s side. “Anaya?” she cried.

  “What are you idiots thinking, taking down the shielding now?”

  “Fran?” Janlin’s voice broke on the inflective. Her head spun with confusion. “What are you talking about? Where the hell are you?”

  “Oh, I know all about your plans, Janlin,” Fran said, caustic as ever. “And here I am in the lovely Imag warship ready to invade the planet, and you fools remove the only thing standing in their way.”

  Janlin sputtered denials into the comm-unit even while her face flushed with guilt. Still, that may have been Anaya’s plan, but she hadn’t done anything yet. Then she stopped short, the view of smoking console panels and sparks arcing through the air making her reconsider. Had she done so much . . . by accident?

  “Trap,” Stepper said. He rolled, holding a bloody nose, but he didn’t attempt to rise.

  She refused to believe what Fran insinuated. “Fran, everyone’s sick down here. I need help contacting a friend with medicine. Fran?”

  Only static answered her. Janlin slid to the floor, broken in and out, all her hope gone.

  She’d done her part, and now the Imag would win. She couldn’t stop the vision of Anaya standing triumphant on board the warship, chuffing at the human’s stupidity, biding time to land and take control of the planet once its inhabitants were all conveniently dead or dying.

  “You were right,” she said to Stepper. “I was a complete fool.” Janlin looked to see his lips fading to blue as his mouth widened, gasping for breath. “Don’t die, you son-of-a-bitch!”

  She rolled closer, her knee sending shockwaves of pain so bad she nearly blacked out, and laid her head on his chest. His breath came slow, and his lungs wheezed. Janlin slumped against him. “Oh God, I’ve been a fool.”

  The radio crackled.

  “Jahnin?”

  Everything stilled. Her fluttering fingers, her pounding heart, her ragged breathing, all of it seemed to come to a complete incredulous stop.

  “Anaya?” she whispered.

  Gordon stretched his arm to her, his eyes round. She fumbled for the device, held it to her mouth. “Anaya, is that really you?”

  Chuff. “Yes. How ’ip go? Can no make go.”

  Janlin wanted to laugh and cry all at once. “Thank you, Anaya,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. Then her mind kicked into gear. “Anaya, we need help, many of us are sick, Huantag too, people are dying . . . what did you give me? In that needle . . . do you have more—lots more?” She took a deep breath. “And the Imag are here, too! I di
d my part, but now the whole planet is vulnerable and it’s my fault!”

  Chuffing, long-winded, filled the room.

  “What the hell is that?” Gordon asked.

  Janlin wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. “It’s laughter. Gitane laughter.”

  “Imag busy now, best time for us to take ’ip.” Sounds of weapon fire echoed across the link. “But ’ip not go. Pease, Jahnin, need make ’ip go.” All sounds of amusement had disappeared.

  “You’re still on the Imag ship?” Janlin let her head fall back in despair.

  “Yes. Need make your ’ip go now!”

  Between them, Gordon and Janlin tried to explain the start-up process the best they could.

  Again and again Anaya said, “Yes, did this as Jahnin say.” Her voice took on a ragged edge as they reached the final step.

  “We need Stepper’s code!” Janlin twisted around and stared at his still form. The captain and his second were the only ones to have that final access, though there were ways to circumvent them . . . if you were on the ship and had plenty of time.

  Gordon grabbed the comm-unit. “Hold the comm-unit close to the panel,” he instructed. Then he clearly said, “Janlin, J-A-N-L-I-N.”

  They waited through a long moment of silence. “No work,” Anaya cried. Weapon fire drowned out her next words.

  Gordon began running through every possible word he thought Stepper might use. Janlin shook Stepper. His lungs rattled loud enough to hear, and his skin had paled to a waxen veneer. She tugged and loosened his shirt collar. She gripped it for comfort, before swinging an arm back and slapping him as hard as she could.

  He moaned, his eyes blinking.

  “Stepper, what is your password for the Hope command console?” Janlin said, still holding his collar. Her face was close to his, the smell of him strong. “Come on, Stepper, your password.” She waved at Gordon to pass her the comm-unit.

  Stepper’s eyes closed, then opened, peering at Janlin. “Jannilove,” he said softly, like a caress. He slumped again, his eyes rolling back.

  “No, Stepper! Stay with me! We need your password for Anaya!” Cursing, she brought the comm-unit to her own mouth. “Anaya, go find a human named Fran. She is on the Imag ship, and she’s the only one that can help you. Anaya?”