Mystically Engineered

by Craig Martelle

  He waved for Fleeston to help him, but the M1C had pulled more energy than she was willing to let him have. She was one shade this side of traumatized. When he raised his head, he saw it in her face.

  Shock.

  He mumbled an apology, but neither of them could move without the other. They remained where they were.

  “Helm, take these two back to their quarters,” the captain ordered.

  “Sir!” she blurted, but the boat was floating free in space. Her duties were limited. “Yes, sir.”

  With a mystic hanging on each shoulder, she staggered out under the burden they had become.

  “Chief. Tell me that my ship is in one piece. If it isn’t, lie to me,” the captain called into the intercom.

  “We’re fine. It was like being pushed around in a pillow fight. We were bounced to and fro, but there weren’t any real impacts to the hull. It was like being caught in a storm and getting buffeted by a little wind. We’re fine, Skipper. I’ve got my people running a full ship diagnostic. You’ll see them in the corridor.”

  Captain Billford exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He tipped his head back to inhale fully before answering. “That’s great news, Chief. Keep at it and good luck.”

  The hatch closed after the helmsman had carried the two half-comatose mystics out, leaving the captain and the systems analyst alone.

  “Do you believe in what they do?” the captain asked.

  “Me, sir? Does it matter what I believe? I’m a data guy. I like things I can see, even though all the data is simply binary code stored in a three-dimensional helix. Even that, it’s still more real than what they do. Kind of creeps me out, but I’m open. Why do you ask?”

  “If they see dragons like that all the time, how come they are so damned calm? I think we got a small taste of their world, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all.” The captain moved to the helm to check the locational information of the boat.

  It was holding a steady position, the thrusters firing at the computer’s direction. Billy returned to the captain’s chair, swung two screens up from the sides, and started reviewing the engineering diagnostic data. Like a pillow fight, the chief had said.

  ***

  When next Coraolis awoke, he found himself in the lower bunk, but his head was clear. He wondered how long he’d slept. The time on the clock meant nothing to him. He looked at the floor before throwing his feet down. Fleeston was curled up on the floor, looking very small and vulnerable.

  He had meant to break her in slowly, let her figure out the differences between the academy and fleet life. In less than a day, he’d show her that everything important that she’d do would be a direct contradiction to what she’d been taught.

  The academy helped the mystics control their gift, but it didn’t prepare them to use it in the real world. The place beyond the academy, where they were sheltered for three full years. Their reward for successfully completing the program? Being thrown, bound and gagged, into the morass of fleet life. Fleeston had been exceptionally lucky in joining an active mission within a month of graduation. She was unlucky in that she’d been assigned to Toros-9 and the mission to Cannatus-3.

  Where the mystics were dumped out of the astral plane and onto their heads.

  Coraolis tiptoed past her and out the hatch. There was one communal head on the ship. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone. He took a small stall and took care of business, before jumping into the boat’s one shower. When he was done, the only thing he had was the thin towel and dirty clothes. He wrapped the towel about himself and headed out feeling greatly refreshed, waving to the two crewmembers he passed on the way to his quarters.

  He returned to his quarters and dressed quickly before the M3C roused. Once dressed, he nudged her with the toe of his deck shoe. She grumbled and tried to roll over. “Time to wake up,” he told her.

  She opened her eyes and when she saw him, her eyes shot wide and she crabbed backwards until she was wedged against the storage unit.

  “Get dressed and meet me on the bridge,” he told her as he quickly looked away, both embarrassed and feeling guilty.

  He left without looking back.

  ***

  “There’s our little sleepyhead,” Billy said when Coraopolis entered the bridge. The chief engineer was there, too. With the helmsman and the systems analyst at their positions, it made for a tight squeeze.

  “How long was I out?” the M1C asked.

  “One full day. I did a double shift, no rest for the weary, slept, and am at the end of another shift since you’ve been gone. I was waiting for you to come around before returning to the moon. The chief has come up with a plan. Tell him, Chief.”

  The chief nodded. “Easy enough. It’s not rocket science.” The chief laughed at his own joke and had to recover before continuing. “We accelerate toward the moon and slingshot around it, dipping low on our pass. We’ll heat up a bit from the friction, but I think that’ll keep the dragon off us. Then we rally back here, bring her to a full stop and take a look at the imagery and the data. See what they don’t want us to see.”

  “Who’s they?” Coraolis asked.

  “They! The ones who sent a dragon after us, that’s who they are,” the chief shot back.

  “What if they have another one, two dragons? Or maybe three?” the M1C suggested.

  “You conjured one, according to you anyway, and you were good for about thirty seconds. How many mystics would they need to conjure one for the real world with any kind of staying power? Nah. We’re counting on speed to keep us safe.”

  “We can’t count on weapons,” the captain added. “But at least Toros-4 is joining us, and Toros-1 isn’t far behind.”

  “More toys for the dragon?” Coraolis was more sarcastic than he intended. He mumbled an apology before continuing. “They have the ability to move material objects between planes. We thought this was impossible. We need the mystics to study this phenomenon and learn who ‘they’ are.”

  “Can you start now?” Billy asked. The chief contorted his face as his skepticism seized him in its ugly grip. Billy laughed at the entertainment the chief didn’t know he was providing.

  “Yes. Fleeston was getting up when I left to come here. I shall collect her, and we’ll take our position in our space.” The M1C turned to leave, but the chief was still making faces. “Chief. Please. How can you explain the dragon?”

  “I can’t but only because I don’t have enough data yet. Once we complete our spin around the moon, I’ll have something to analyze. Biological creatures in space aren’t unknown!”

  “Single-celled creatures and bacteria! Have we ever run across an intelligent creature?” Coraolis asked.

  “Not yet!” The chief put his hands on his hips and stood tall in his defiance.

  “All I can say, Chief, is that I love you, man. The boat has no weapons. Can you at least rig something to energize the hull so it can’t grab us? Make it a shocking experience, so to speak?” Coraolis smiled and slapped the chief engineer on the shoulder before walking boldly from the bridge.

  “I hope none of his voodoo magic rubs off on me!” the chief exclaimed after the hatch had closed.

  “What the hell, Chief? He’s just doing his job, and the only thing he’s asked is that you do yours! I know we already have the plan to electrify the hull. Make it happen. We’ll flip the switch if we have to, but not before we’re clear of the moon. Last thing I want is a funeral on board the mothership where we’re the guests of honor.”

  The chief nodded, but didn’t reply. If the boat crashed into the planet, it would be one hundred percent the chief’s fault. The engineer was responsible for keeping that from happening, no matter what anyone else did. The captain wasn’t supposed to put the boat at risk, but the chief knew how the real world worked. He’d spent his life learning that, not wasting time imagining things.

  Engineers didn’t do that. They solved real problems with real engineering using things t
hat could be touched.

  “I’ll set it up, Billy. Any of those things try to grab us, we zap ‘em like bugs.” With his jaw set, the chief hurried from the bridge. Once the distractions were gone, both helm and systems resumed their duties. The bridge on a runabout was too small to work and host visitors.

  Billy climbed back into his seat, pulled the two monitors into place, and re-watched the dragon encounter. He overlaid the data on the video. Nothing suggested a clear course of action.

  It made no sense.

  He tapped his screens until the ship to ship communications were active.

  “Toros-9 to Toros-1 and Toros-4, over.”

  “See more phantasms, Billy?” the skipper of Toros-1 asked.

  “Phantasmagorians don’t grab your ship. I’ve never seen anything like it, Tom. I’m telling you. Weird stuff at unlucky moon number four. Mike said it looks exactly like the dragons he can conjure in the astral plane.”

  “My Mecks tell me the same thing. What do you need from us, Billy?”

  “Toros-4, are you there?”

  “I’m here, Billy,” the captain of the Toros-4 answered.

  “I’ll send you coordinates to hold station, but keep your engines hot. We’re going to make a high-speed run past the planet. If anything happens, I might need you to zip by and take the creature’s attention away from us. Or keep them from ganging up on me. Mike thinks there may be more than the one we’ve seen. We’ve wired our hull, just in case. I suggest you do the same. Our pass will commence in twenty. Transmitting the coordinates now.”

  Systems gave Billy the thumbs up, tapping ‘send’ with the other hand.

  The captain got out of his chair. “I’ll be back,” he told the crewmen.

  ***

  Coraolis ran into a refreshed-looking Fleeston. She turned away when he appeared. He grabbed her arm and spun her toward him.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you weren’t ready for what we ran into out here. I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you better. But we’re going back in. That dragon is waiting for us. I don’t care about that. I care about those who conjured the dragon. What kind of power do they have? Think about it, Fleeston. They moved a dragon from the astral plane into our dimension. There’s nobody else out here but us.”

  “Can’t we just leave them alone, move on?” she asked in a small voice.

  Her naïve youth was on display. He wished he could tell her that was a viable option.

  “We follow orders and our orders are to survey the fourth moon. The high command will accept nothing less. If we have to sacrifice ourselves to get the data, then so be it.” Coraolis lifted her chin to make her look at him. “In the academy, we celebrated the heroes, extolled the virtues of their names. Most of them were in situations just like this. Their sense of duty overcame their fear and they went in. They got the information that the fleet could use. Usually, that meant a battlewagon to purge the enemy before the miners came in, but we have few of the old wagons remaining. No one stands before us anymore, so it’s up to us. Find out about those who control the dragon. If we can meet them in the other dimension, we could save their lives. That’s what I want out of this and I might be able to do it without your help, but with your help, we’ll have a better chance. Come now, let’s get set up. Billy’s taking the boat in soon, no matter whether we’re ready or not. Duty first, Fleeston. Let’s try to save some lives today.”

  She nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything. Coraolis let go of her shoulder and headed toward their commune chamber.

  Together, they quickly emptied it. The captain appeared and helped with the last couple cases.

  “Good luck,” he told them, brows furled and looking less confident than Coraolis was comfortable with. “We’re going to need you to coordinate with engineering during this. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, but it’ll reduce our strength on the astral plane. We’ll have to keep one foot back here, but we’ll manage.”

  “I’ll let the chief know.”

  “Duty and glory!” Fleeston blurted the saying from the academy.

  The captain smiled wryly. “We don’t say that out here. We follow orders and we do the best we can to make it home with our scanner data intact. Glory? That’s for someone else to decide and usually, it’s part of a requiem.”

  The captain turned and hurried toward engineering. “Ten minutes, Mike!” he called over his shoulder before disappearing through the hatch.

  Fleeston’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Is it better to retain your youthful exuberance or to be jaded like us old people? I like your version better. Don’t ever lose your view of the universe.” Coraolis motioned for her to enter the chamber. She flipped her seat down and sat, leaning sideways to let Coraolis enter. They strapped into their seats.

  He used the dispenser set into the bulkhead to refill the electrolyte bottle.

  For afterwards, if they survived.

  ***

  “Chief! Are you ready?” Billy asked. The chief of engineering nodded without taking his eyes from a junction panel on which he worked.

  “Give me five, and we’ll be ready.” The chief put the panel cover in place and then turned toward another engineer on the far side of an instrumentation station. “Hey, butthole! When are you gonna to finish?”

  “Five minutes ago, butthole!” the man shot back. “I waited until you were done so you wouldn’t feel so small and insignificant in my presence.”

  Billy was shocked.

  “He’s an up-and-comer. I’m happy to have him, but he needs to learn some manners,” the chief whispered in the captain’s direction. “We’re ready to go at your command, Skipper.”

  Billy walked from the space, watching over his shoulder as the name-calling increased in intensity, but the engineers’ movements were efficient and focused. Billy stopped in the corridor and watched as the hatch closed, looking at it oddly. “I need to spend more time down here,” he told the empty corridor before turning and running back to the bridge.

  ***

  “Confirm trajectory,” Captain Billford ordered from his seat. Only one screen was up and across it flowed the engineering data. Everything else he wanted was on the big screen wrapping around the front of the space.

  Helm affirmed their course. “Fire the mains,” Billy told her.

  The ship moved from its station and quickly picked up speed. The crewmen were pressed back into their chairs as the acceleration was steady at three gees.

  ***

  In the commune chamber, Coraolis and Fleeston faced each other, holding hands to explore the astral plane as a single entity. Their souls left the ship together and headed toward the moon. Through the swirling mist, they forced their way.

  The ship surged closer and closer to the black shadow from which power radiated. Coraolis gripped Fleeston’s hands tightly as he maintained a link to the physical world.

  She gasped in pain as her hand bones ground together under the M1C’s unintended pressure. He was beyond himself.

  “Dragon ahead!” the two mystics heard over the intercom.

  Coraolis nodded. Without visual, no one knew whether Mike had heard or not.

  “He’s coming for us,” the chief proclaimed. Billy replied. He’d patched the ship’s communication through the intercom. He’d found it was more efficient as long as the crew didn’t start filling the channel with meaningless chatter. That went to training. Billy’s crew was slack when it came to military standards, but they were well-trained. There were no issues with nonsense

  “Toros-1 and Toros-4, prepare to pass over the moon. One of us will be able to collect something. May light grace you with speed, gentlemen.”

  “Light speed,” came the usual reply. The boats weren’t capable of light speed, but the runabout captains had their own language and their own dreams.

  Toros-9 powered forward on a fixed trajectory. The dragon flew before them. The captain watched it on the front screen
as his ship raced toward it.

  The chief prepared to flip the switch. The dragon filled the screen. It had a head half the size of the boat with great, glowing yellow eyes. The head was sleek, pointed like a cruiser’s prow. A short neck led to a great body, vastly larger than the runabout. Green scales covered the creature from nose to its long tail. A wide sheet of shiny metal ran from its chest down its belly. Shimmering, translucent wings seemed to extend as far as the eye could see.

  The engineering chief was ready to hit the button as soon as the dragon latched on. He wasn’t ready for the rapid deceleration. Within meters, they went from accelerating toward the moon to a full stop. The crew were violently jammed against their restraints. Loose objects flew around the ship, slamming against bulkheads, workstations, and people.

  The chief fought against the nausea. He jammed a finger on the button and nothing happened. The diagnostic display showed that a cable had come loose.

  “Go tighten that down!” the chief yelled at his protégé.

  “What’s going on down there, Chief?” the captain demanded. “Mike! Can you distract that thing?”

  Coraopolis nodded again.

  “Mike!” the captain yelled over the intercom.

  “Working it now,” Coraopolis stammered.

  He pulled from Fleeston as he conjured his own dragon. He gritted his teeth as his body, partially out of the astral plane, replicated his mental efforts. He bucked in his seat as the dragon shook the small boat.

  “Quicker, jackhole!” the chief yelled over the intercom. No one was sure who he was yelling at.

  Mike didn’t have time or energy to reply. The dragon took shape. The M1C poured more energy into it, increasing its size and power. He made it scream at the real-world dragon.

  The dragon holding the ship replied. Bugling its own challenge into the vacuum silence of space. It rent the fabric between the two dimensions and shoved its head through.

  Coraolis attacked! His dragon pounced, raking its claws down the head peeking through the window it had created. Mike made his dragon bite the other, but a front claw appeared to slap the astral plane dragon’s head away.