Jaq caught Gus before he could hit the deck as they entered the artificial gravity of the airlock. The moment that the airlock repressurized, Jaq dragged Gus into the corridor and yanked off his helmet.
“Gus! Are you okay?” Jaq was nearly in tears as Bruno followed him out of the lock, sealing it behind them. The ship rocked slightly as the creature bumped against them again.
“Mm fine,” Gus slurred, opening his eyes.
Bruno hit the wall intercom. “Captain, all hands are aboard. All clear for sailspace.”
“Aye, bosun, thank you.”
There was space for only a breath before the ship dove into sailspace.
Bruno shucked off his helm and helped Jaq hoist Gus to his feet. “Can you get him to sickbay by yourself?” he asked Jaq. “I should stay here.”
Jaq nodded. “Got it.”
The ship slipped out of sailspace before he and Gus got more than a few yards down the corridor. Jaq lifted his head, frowning. “Another short hop?”
Without warning, the ship slewed to the side violently. The bulkhead Jaq and Gus stumbled against was the only thing that kept them from toppling over together. Bruno raced back to his station and slipped on his headset.
The creature had followed them.
Bruno stared, disbelieving. Granted, they had only been in sailspace for a moment, but that had still carried them millions of miles. How could it have followed so quickly?
The creature slammed into them again, and Bruno heard a yelp from the hallway. The creature was far more agitated than before, mouthing at the ship and thwacking it with its tail with a force that Bruno feared would do serious damage. If the propulsion systems became damaged, they wouldn’t be able to outrun this thing; he already had doubts that they could, given its recent demonstration of speed.
Gus and Jaq staggered through the bosun station doorway, and Jaq pushed his friend down into a chair, none too gently.
“Thought I told you to get him to sickbay,” Bruno grunted.
“Not yet,” Gus said, staring at the view.
“You know I outrank you,” Bruno grumbled, only half paying attention as he checked readouts. “I can order you to go.”
“Just give me a minute,” Gus said, eyes still on the creature. “We’ll go soon. There’s something…” He trailed off. Then he looked at Jaq. “Does it remind you of something? The way it’s moving?”
Jaq studied it critically. The creature twisted around and dove in to mouth at the shields again, still focusing its attentions on the section above the gunwale. Its tail lashed back and forth as it attacked.
Bruno’s readouts showed that energy was building in the Sovereign’s weapons section. “The captain’s going to kill it if it keeps attacking,” he warned. “Or at least fire a warning shot.” He had his doubts about the wisdom of that; the creature was so close to the ship that collateral damage was likely.
The creature gnawed on the shields again. Weapons were almost completely charged.
“A puppy,” Jaq said abruptly. “It moves like a puppy with a toy.”
Gus’ face cleared. “That’s it. I’ve only seen a puppy in person once. Couldn’t think of what it reminded me of.”
Bruno looked at Gus with new eyes. He realized he didn’t know much about where Gus had come from before becoming a cinder. He always seemed to know everything about everyone else, but he never gave away much about himself. He must have grown up on some remote stations; every colonized world he knew of had dogs or something similar.
Jaq didn’t seem surprised, however. “It’s not attacking us at all, is it? It’s just playing. It likes the energy from the sails; that’s obvious. The trip to sailspace runs more energy through the sails, and it’s clearly excited about that.”
“So throw the ball for the dog,” Gus said. “If we keep hopping, lure it from place to place for a lightyear or two, maybe we can get it far enough away from the planet for us to zip back long enough to pick up the skiffs.”
Bruno opened a commline, bracing himself. He’d never called the bridge this frequently in his life. “Bosun Lorengel here,” he said. “We have an idea about what to do with the creature.”
“Proceed, bosun,” the captain’s voice said.
Bruno raised his eyebrows at Jaq and Gus encouragingly.
“It’s a puppy,” Jaq blurted.
Gus rolled his eyes, then winced. Bruno was sure he had a headache. “It’s playing with us, sir,” Gus clarified. “The Sovereign is a very attractive toy, and the creature is enamored with the energy in the sails. If we lead it on a merry chase around the solar system—maybe even beyond it—we can lure it away from the planet again. A lot of short trips on random headings would keep it busy trying to follow us until we’re far enough out to make a beeline back, pick up the skiffs, and be on our way.”
Tsarevich didn’t answer immediately, and Jaq was fidgeting nervously by the time the captain replied. “We don’t have a better idea at the moment. Our studies indicate that the creature might use its wings as sails to enable it to enter sailspace; it’s the only thing that can explain its ability to travel the way it does.”
Jaq nodded. “Even using a planet’s gravitational field as a slingshot wouldn’t enable it to travel as fast as it does, though I’ll bet it gets a boost from that too. We may want to avoid getting too close to the other planets in the system if we want to stay ahead of it.”
The ship shuddered delicately again as the creature continued its rowdy play.
“We’ll do it,” the captain decided, leaving no room for further discussion. “All hands, prepare for multiple sailspace trips.”
The Sovereign winked out of space, leaving the creature behind.
The broken, crackling voice buzzed in her head, and she considered raising a hand to swat at it. She just wanted to sleep. “This is the Sovereign. Please respond, Lieutenant Tsarevich.”
Elsa swam up through sleep towards full wakefulness. Her headache was raging like an irritated mammut, and her back was going to be complaining for days. She blinked groggily, noting that she was wearing Karl’s helmet again. Blast him. She didn’t even remember putting it on again for her second turn.
“Please respond, Lieutenant.”
The Sovereign! They were trying to speak to Karl, not knowing he wasn’t wearing his helm. Oxlan and Arne must’ve been successful in boosting the signal.
She tried to speak, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Acknowledged, Sovereign, we’re here.” The others, scattered around the cave, bestirred themselves. Karl materialized at her side. She unclasped the helmet and handed it to him. Before he could protest, she said, “They want to talk to you, Lieutenant.”
The formal title recalled him to his duty, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret at the return of his authoritative air. Cultivating a relationship with one’s superior was awkward at best.
With the helmet off, Elsa could no longer hear the Sovereign’s side of the conversation, but she could see the mask of calm competence firmly back in place on Karl’s face. When she awoke from the squirrel attack, the first thing she had seen was that mask shattered, as thoroughly as her helm’s faceplate had been. His care for her was both a comfort and a source of unease; she was reassured to know that his concern for her wasn’t merely the concern he would feel for any member of his crew, but she didn’t yet know how to respond to it.
Karl straightened, shoulders square, and signaled to Arne. The pilot gathered everyone together and began packing up what meager supplies they had.
“We’re moving out?” Louise asked, bewildered. “But it’s still dark.”
Arne shrugged and continued his inventory of the rifle and pistol power packs. It didn’t take long. There were only a few left with any charge worth mentioning.
Karl’s eyes focused again on his present surroundings, the conversation with the Sovereign evidently concluded. He pulled off the helmet again, presumably so Elsa could hear him better now that the others could hear through t
heir helm commlines again. “We have an hour to get to the Sovereign,” he said told the crew. “We’ve been given a very narrow window—there’s been some sort of attack, which is why the ship didn’t respond earlier. They estimate they can only stay at the planet for a short time before the hostile returns and they have to raise the shields, at which point we won’t get through.” Karl locked eyes with Louise. “I told them we had injured and we couldn’t make it back to our skiff. They’re sending a fresh skiff down here to pick you all up. It’ll be here in eight minutes, and I told them to land right on the rock.”
Louise nodded, doubtless relieved that she didn’t have to hike on that leg through the darkness.
But Elsa didn’t miss Karl’s selective pronoun usage. “And what do you plan to do?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows innocently. “Oh, I’ll be picked up as well.”
“And then?” she prompted. She had seen that kind of face often enough on Jaq. He was up to something.
He hesitated. She raised an eyebrow.
“There’s nothing wrong with our skiff whatsoever,” he said finally. “We don’t have an overabundance of vehicles, and especially if we’re heading further out into unexplored territory, we may need every one we’ve got. I’ll have the Sovereign’s skiff drop me off near ours, and then I can fly it back.” He had a stubborn set to his jaw. She’d seen that kind of face often enough on her father.
“An hour is already a short window,” Anders protested, beating her to it. “What if you don’t make it back to the Sovereign in time?”
“I will,” he said simply. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Famous last words,” Elsa said again.
“What if the squirrels attack?” Anders persisted.
“I’m guessing they’re diurnal,” Karl replied. “There’s been very little activity out there since the sun set.” He moved his hand impatiently as if brushing the objections aside. “The skiff will be here soon, and we need to get ready to move. Anders, I need you and Oxlan to move Louise.”
“I’m not a sack of tharn roots, thank you very much,” Louise told the men. “I’ll lean on you, but don’t expect to carry me.”
Anders saluted. As far as Elsa could tell, the gesture was genuine.
Karl ignored the interchange. “Arne and Ginevra, please put a few flares up on the rock so the incoming vehicle has a visual; I told them to home in on the downed skiff and follow the crash trail from there, but it’s going to be hard with the thick foliage.”
The others dispersed to their tasks, and he turned to Elsa. “The skiff is bringing an extra helmet for you, just in case,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you stuck without one if the vehicle were hit and lost atmosphere.” A slight frown creased his forehead. “I’m concerned about the hostile. They wouldn’t tell me much.”
“Demesne? Or pirates?” There weren’t many other options.
“They didn’t say, which makes me think it’s neither.”
Her eyebrows rose. “But what else could it be, this far out?”
Karl shrugged. “How’s your night vision, by the way?”
“Excellent,” she said, surprised by the change in topic.
He nodded. “Good. You and I can provide cover fire, in case the squirrels do attack.” He leaned in a bit. “Protect Marraine. Now that we know… I’m worried about what would happen if she were hurt.”
Elsa nodded. The same thought had been in her mind. She handed him a power pack. “This one has the most juice. You should take it since you’ll be on your own for a bit.”
“Thanks.” He took it from her, fiddling with it for a moment and not meeting her gaze. He looked up at her. “Thanks.”
“You said that.” Her smile was bemused.
He put out his hand as if to shake hers, and she gave it to him. He didn’t shake it, just held it for a moment. Then he brought it to his lips and kissed it, glove and all, swiftly releasing her afterwards.
The roar of the skiff engines, loud without her helmet on, echoed through the cave. Ginevra stuck her arm through the opening and waved. “Better catch this airbus,” she called. “Doubt there’ll be another!”
The sailors poured out of the cave, alert to any movement in the trees. The flares put out by Arne and Ginevra and the headlights of the skiff were the only light sources; beyond their protective circle, the night was thick and velvety, utterly impenetrable. Elsa stood close to Marraine, her pistol in her hand.
The skiff descended, making slight corrections so that it came down neatly upon the rock. The backwash from its engines whipped Elsa’s hair in her eyes, and she grabbed the dark hair and twisted it under her suit’s collar so she could see. Her eyes combed the trees, but she saw no sign of squirrels.
A grey-green leaf blew past them, and Marraine reached out a lightning-quick hand to catch it. She held it out to Elsa. “This is it,” she said triumphantly. “This is the color of the riverwhales.”
Elsa stopped her scan of the trees long enough to grin. Marraine’s irrepressibility was back, and she was pleased to see it.
The skiff hatch opened, releasing a square of light out onto the rock. A sailor waved to them. “Come on!” she called. Karl nodded to Anders, and he and Oxlan hustled Louise into the skiff. Elsa hurried Marraine inside before the fay could argue, but Elsa hovered near the hatchway, facing away from the light in an attempt to keep some of her night vision.
An even darker shadow swooped over the rock, and Elsa called out a warning. Ginevra slipped inside with Arne only a step behind her. Karl brought up the rear, pistol pointed skyward. He and Elsa jumped through the hatch, and Elsa sealed it.
“Did you see it?” she asked, leaning against the aft bulkhead. The skiff was packed with far more people than it was intended to carry comfortably, and there was no good way to move away from the door.
He shook his head. “I thought I saw some movement, but it might’ve been the wind in the trees. Was it just the one shadow?”
The skiff lurched as it took off, climbing steeply above the trees. Elsa steadied herself against the bulkhead and hesitated before answering. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It looked different this time.”
“Whatever it is, we don’t need to deal with it now,” Karl said. His shoulders looked different, and she realized he was relaxed as he had not been since they had received the skiff’s distress beacon. And yet, the danger wasn’t over for him. He had the most reason to be tense now that they were on their way.
She regarded him for a moment. “You didn’t enjoy being in charge of our lives.”
He quirked one half of his mouth in an attempt at a smile. “Not when people could be hurt or killed.” He gave her a long look. “We still don’t know for sure that you’re okay.”
She waved that off. “I feel fine. I will grab that helmet, though.” She raised her voice to carry over the noise of the others. “Could someone toss that extra helm back here?” A moment later, it came sailing over the heads of the crew, and she reached out to catch it before it beaned Arne. She put it on and sealed it just as the skiff dove down again, back to the forest floor.
Their pilot called back, “Sir? We’re as close to your vehicle as we can get you in the dark.”
Karl nodded, even though the pilot couldn’t possibly see him. “Thanks. Take off as soon as the hatch closes behind me. I’ll be flying in your thruster exhaust in five minutes.” He looked back at Elsa. “Got the hatch for me?”
“Of course.”
He flashed her a smile. “Thanks.” He hit the controls and leaped outside before the door was fully open.
Elsa slapped the controls to close the door and slipped outside through it before it sealed. The crowded skiff immediately lifted off, as Karl had instructed.
Karl’s single-minded exit and the roar of the engines covered her departure from the skiff. Into the sudden quiet, she said, “Hey.”
Karl leapt into the air, then dropped into a half-crouch on instinct. “Elsa!” He straightened. “Wh
at the hell?”
“Letting you go alone didn’t make any sense,” she reasoned. “If I hadn’t come, Arne said he would’ve.”
“You can’t just do that!” He strode up to her. “I gave you an order.”
She drew herself up to her full, formidable height of five feet. “With respect, sir, you did not. You never told me not to come with you. And I got the hatch, as you asked.”
She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she could practically feel his frustration. The skiff was long gone; to call it back and put her aboard would waste precious time, and their hour was burning away.
“You need another person,” she insisted. “If there truly is a hostile above the planet right now and we fly into the middle of a firefight, you can’t pilot the skiff and operate weapons.” She took a step closer—they weren’t far apart to begin with—hoping to catch a glimpse of his face. “I know you don’t enjoy putting others in danger.” Perhaps, she thought, especially in her case. “But you can’t be the one to bear the burden of that danger alone, especially when the solution is so easily found. I’m here. Let’s do this together.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. But she knew, even without being able to see him in the darkness, that she had won. “Okay,” he said, giving himself a shake. “You may have a point.” His voice lightened. “That’s what I get for encouraging disobedience earlier.” He turned away from her and flicked on his helm light. “Let’s go.”
She turned on her own light, silently grateful. They only had a short distance to walk; the rope Louise had tied to the tree trunk gleamed ahead of them in the light of their helms.
Karl grabbed the rope with both hands and set his feet against the patterned bark, walking up the side of the trunk. Elsa flexed her hands inside her gloves, ready to make the ascent next.
A shadow moved high above in the trees. Elsa’s head whipped around, making her helm light bounce crazily.
“What is it?” Karl asked softly from the top of the trunk, gripping the burl with one hand and his pistol in the other.
The Star Bell (The Cendrillon Cycle Book 3) Page 14