by Chris Ward
He headed for the nearest exit, finding himself in a thin corridor with an unusually high ceiling. Barely wide enough for two humans to pass shoulder to shoulder, he was wondering what was up when he turned a corner and found two Shadowmen in front of him. At least nine feet tall, their bodies were so spindly they were less than a foot wide. Up close they were ugly mothers, all protruding bones and sinew through leathery sun-aged hide. Eyes that bulged out of undersized heads wore visor-like eyelids that lifted and fell with a click. One was naked, the other wore a tight-fitting military uniform. Both died quickly as Paul dropped to a crouch and opened fire. When he reached their fallen corpses, he found their exposed insides hissing and smoking as though they were made of a fire’s embers. With a growl, he kicked the head of the officer down the corridor, watching with satisfaction as it dropped into a shaft and disappeared.
A little farther along, he found two similar shafts. They both appeared to rise and fall into nothing, like twin tubes through the middle of the ship, but when he stuck a hand inside one it was caught by an updraft so strong it nearly snapped his arm off at the elbow.
This must be what the Shadowmen used for moving from one level to another. Paul peered into the shaft, aware he would barely fit. It wasn’t ideal, but he had seen no sign of an elevator anywhere, nor stairs. If he wanted to storm the bridge, he needed to get to it first.
He moved along the corridor, eventually coming to another pair of tubes. He was about to pass them by when the corridor filled with flashing lights and an alarm blared so close he clamped hands over his ears.
Running feet approached. Paul dropped into a crouch, firing off a couple of shots around the curve of the corridor. Return fire slammed into the wall above his head. He glanced behind him and found a squad of Evattlan soldiers approaching.
‘Better not squeeze too tight,’ he growled, then jumped into the nearest tube.
The sensation of motion was immediate. He had picked an up-tube and found himself sucked upward like a piece of dirt being pulled up a giant straw. Obviously designed for the thinner Shadowmen, he jostled and bumped against the tube’s sides, the beginnings of bruises spreading all over his shoulders and back.
No more than a couple of seconds in, he passed an opening onto a higher passage, then another momentarily after. There had to be a command or function that allowed him to get off, but he couldn’t guess what it might be. He had no choice but to let the tube drag him to the upper echelons of the ship.
The higher he got, the lighter the air pressure around him. The top of the shaft appeared out of the gloom above him and he braced his forearms against the tube’s walls to slow down. His skin flexed, his clothes ripping, but he began to slow. As the next opening came upon him, he shoved forward, pushing as much of his body as possible into the space.
As he extended a hand, the powerful updraft immediately ceased, allowing him to stumble out. He found himself on a wide gallery with towering windows giving a view of the planet’s surface below. The ship had taken off and now hovered a couple of hundred meters above the ground. Evattlan workers milled about, some delivering eggs to another of the ships, others clearing away the ruins of their expired comrades.
Beyond the clearing, the sea of moss had receded, leaving behind a forest shrouded in a dark green mist. In the far distance, a line of mountains rose, the glitter of an ocean visible between their highest peaks.
And farther along the gallery, groups of seated Shadowmen also enjoyed the view.
Paul dropped into a crouch as the nearest group noticed him, pushing back tall, narrow chairs and swaying into a standing position, their hands lifting.
Tourists, delegates, off-duty officers… Paul didn’t care. He blasted the nearest group, delighting as their bodies fell apart. Others behind them dived for cover, while some reached for weapons. Their tiny faces contorted, snarling maws filled with tiny pointed teeth snapped at him.
‘You want a piece of me?’ he shouted, blasting indiscriminately. ‘This is for freedom, assholes. I’d take your middle fingers if I had time, but I don’t, so I’ll take your lives. As your executioner, I hereby pardon you from any guilt.’
The blaster clicked, the charge empty. Paul looked up as he fumbled with the opening on the blaster’s underside where replacements were kept. More than twenty Shadowmen lay dead, their spindly bodies twitching.
The replacement charge compartment was empty. Paul stared in disbelief, before remembering what he’d done with the pliable oval-shaped capsules. With a grimace, he reached up and jerked one from his nose.
He had just picked it clean of blood and slammed it into the fitting when a pair of wide doors opened at the other end of the gallery. A squad of Evattlan warriors pushed through the door, spreading out into a battle formation, their proton cannons trained on Paul.
The elevator tube was too far behind him, and besides a few tables and chairs, he had no cover. Paul growled. He wished Beth could see this, the moment when he dug his heels into the earth and drew a line in the sand.
‘Look!’ he shouted. ‘Can’t you see what these spindle-scum are doing to your people? What, you think they’re babysitting? They’re enslaving you, sending you off to fight another man’s war while they line their pockets with coin. Don’t you get that? Don’t your people mean anything?’
The Evattlan warriors showed no interest. They continued to settle into an offensive position, a dozen guns all trained on Paul.
‘You’re mindless,’ he said. ‘Little more than robots trained to fight for your master. Let me be your master. Stand with me. Let’s take down these scumbags once and for—’
The ship lurched, throwing Paul off his feet. He slammed into the wall below the window, his blaster knocked free. He sat up, rubbing his head, and peered through the window at the ground.
A great crack had appeared, spreading outward. Through boreholes rose tendrils of smoke. Figures ran for the entrance hatches of the two other ships as though some calamity was on its way. Behind him, he heard the click of safeties coming off triggers. If he didn’t turn around, he wouldn’t see his death.
‘I’ll look you in the eye, punk,’ he snarled, pushing himself to his feet.
Before he could turn, the ground outside opened up. Something jet black burst free, something more than just massive, something immense, something that dwarfed the three ships, turning them into flies hassling the butthole of a giant beast. Massive pincers swung around, slamming into the nearest ship, tearing a rent in its side and toppling it from its landing gear. Thrusters hummed below, but too late, the head swung back, slamming into his spacecraft.
The floor became the ceiling as Paul rolled. He reached for something, finding only the edge of the elevator tube and then he was rushing face first in a freefall, passing openings too quickly to try to escape, aware only that the ship was turning over around him, giving him a vague sense that down was now up, and up was now down.
30
Caladan
He opened his eyes. The stickiness that surrounded the rest of his body had been wiped away from his face, although the hairs of his beard felt both spiny and fine in places, the spiny where the old part had been held in solution, the fine where new hairs had grown to replace those ripped out.
‘You’re awake.’
He squinted, the figure coming into focus. Warmth and compassion filled Lia’s eyes as a hand reached down to stroke his face. ‘Lia?’
‘I’ve been watching you every day, waiting for you to wake. I felt so alone.’
Caladan scowled. ‘Jake, that’s a dirty trick. You got the looks right, I’ll give you that. The personality… not so much.’
Lia’s face blurred, and when the lines and colors joined again it was the journalist from Cask System looking down at him. The tip of a flask appeared.
‘No, I’m good for Stillwater,’ Caladan said, trying to lift his hand but finding it still encased in the jelly-like recuperation liquid.
‘It’s not Stillwater, its Earth
-style whiskey out of Trill System. We lucked onto a stolen shipment hidden away among a few other things that shouldn’t be there.’
Caladan didn’t dare let himself be delighted, even though nothing could possibly make him happier right now except perhaps a few private hours with Lia.
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Here. Test it for yourself.’
Jake held the flask to Caladan’s lips and let the liquid trickle in until Caladan began to choke. As his coughing resided, he reflected that yes, it was certainly of a high grade, possibly even authenticated Earth-style. How it had ended up on their shuttle, he couldn’t fathom, but Lia would know.
‘Where is she?’
‘Lia?’ Jake frowned. ‘Well, we need to talk about that.’
Caladan struggled, but the clear gunk still held him tight. ‘What do you mean? Where is she?’
‘Look, calm down. She’s fine. Probably. I’ll get you out of there in a minute or two, but I thought it might be a good idea to give you an update before you’re capable of smashing things.’
Caladan frowned. ‘Why would I need to smash anything?’
‘Well… because there have been one or two developments since you were last with us.’
The urge to fly into a rage was overbearing, but he would only look like an idiot flailing around in the recuperation tank’s gunk. He could feel it slowly draining out, but it hadn’t yet uncovered his chest, and his muscles had atrophied from so long inactive. Much as he hated to think it, he would be hobbling around on a stick for several Earth-days.
‘Look, just—’
‘Father? Is he awake? Oh, what a joyful day!’
Caladan glared at Jake. ‘What … was … that?’
‘Um, I was really hoping not to make it a surprise—’
A breath-shorteningly ugly face popped into view like a nightmare made flesh. A crooked, lopsided mouth severed the creature’s face as it revealed a line of alternately sharp and stumpy teeth. Both eyes were wide, but one could clearly widen farther than the other, which was twitching as though affected by a tick.
‘Father!’
Caladan tried to flinch as a misshapen hand reached into the tank and stroked his face, but he was stuck, unable to move. Instead, he twisted his head, biting at the hand rubbing through the exposed part of his beard.
‘Get off me! Jake! Get that thing away from me!’
‘Father, I know this must come as a shock. I wanted to tell you before, but they would have killed me. All I could do was try my best to keep you from harm.’
Caladan remembered now. The miniature that called itself Lump. True, it had done its best to help him, but that hadn’t been very much.
‘Jake, why is that thing on the shuttle? And where’s Lia?’
‘We’re not on the shuttle,’ Jake said. ‘Lia’s taken it. And I’m afraid what this little critter claims is true. It’s also due to him we’re still alive.’
Caladan listened to their words but refused to consider any of it as truthful. When Jake was done going over what had happened during his time in the recuperation tank, he screamed at them to leave him alone. He locked the door when they were gone, then drank as much of the whiskey Jake had left as he could, until he passed out drunk.
When he awoke, he felt like another spell in the tank, but allowed himself a shot of a nifty little chemical painkiller found in one of the medical tray’s dispensers then sat and brooded until he could literally think of nothing else to do.
The door slid open to reveal Jake and Lump standing outside.
‘Sit,’ Caladan said. Then, lifting a finger, he pointed first at Jake. ‘You should never have let Lia go.’
‘I couldn’t have stopped her if I’d wanted to. She’s former GMP. I’m a journalist with a few illusion tricks.’
Caladan scowled. ‘And you,’ he said, pointing to Lump, ‘While I understand what has happened, it was entirely out of my control. Sure, we might share the same DNA, but I’d appreciate if you didn’t call me “father”. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Cal—Father.’
Caladan rolled his eyes. ‘Now, let’s just get this straight. I lead here, now, so you both do what I say. Any dissent and you’re welcome to take one of the escape pods and disappear out of my life. Any questions?’
Jake grinned. ‘What do we blow up first?’
‘You got a star chart and a few darts?’
‘There’s one on the bridge,’ Lump said.
‘What a team we’re going to make,’ Caladan muttered, wishing he’d never woken up.
His heart told him to go after Lia, but his head told him she could look after herself. They would likely only be a hindrance if they attempted to get in her way. She’d given Jake coordinates for a hidden wormhole into Trill System and an estimated rendezvous time. Typical Lia; she hadn’t left them half the time Caladan expected they would need.
At least they had something to trade with, now Lump had slaughtered the trader’s crew. Caladan wasn’t sure how he felt knowing his only known offspring was already a mass murderer.
‘All set to fly, Captain,’ Lump said, spinning around on the navigator’s chair where he had installed himself, complete with a cut-and-paste miniature version of the former navigator’s uniform and a blue cap which sat lopsided on his coned head.
Caladan knew he was no oil painting, but he failed to see any resemblance in the monstrosity imposing itself on his life. Except, perhaps, in its resourcefulness. To get through life with a face as bad as Lump’s yet manage the concentration to learn the workings of a stasis-ultraspace drive was worthy of reluctantly given respect.
As for the occasion itself when he was imprisoned then drugged so his DNA could be removed… well, there were several times that fit the mold. He’d been even more reckless in his youth than he was now in middle-age.
‘Fire it,’ Caladan said.
The stars blurred then moments later realigned themselves. A slightly larger dot in the center of the starfield was labeled on Caladan’s terminal as Galanth, Phevius System’s largest machine world.
‘There it is,’ Caladan said. ‘Yet another place I’d hoped never to see again.’ Enjoying the trader’s decent technology, he pulled up an enlarged image on an overhead screen which displayed Galanth from multiple angles.
Nine thousand miles in diameter, Galanth was larger than most moons. Entirely synthetic, it was a gigantic spherical space station, but one large enough to have its own orbit around Phevius star. Even from a distance the sheer volume of space traffic around it resembled a cloud of flies. Its most impressive technology lay on the hollow inside, where life-stations had been built to replicate the home living conditions of several dozen off-worlder species in near perfect detail.
A miracle of engineering, and a massive cash cow for the company in control of it.
‘We built that?’ Jake said. ‘Praise the Stillwater. There’s nothing in Cask System like that.’
‘Someone built it,’ Caladan said. ‘I’m guessing when people had a lot more time on their hands. Galanth is owned by Tolo Industries, Phevius System’s largest shipbuilding company. Much of its workspace is leased out to other companies, though.’
‘You sound like you’ve been there before.’
‘Many years ago, before drink, loose women, and gambling led me astray, I did some mechanics work here. I worked on a new starship designed for the Areola System space navy. Fine ship, could proper fly.’
‘What happened?’
Caladan grinned. ‘I stole it.’
‘The Matilda?’
Caladan laughed. ‘Oh, heavens no. This thing would have eaten the Matilda for breakfast. Unfortunately, I got into some trouble with bandits and crashed it. A few years in a basement cell, that kind of thing.’ He turned to fix Lump with a glare. ‘Could’ve been where you came from, lad.’
‘My mother said you were a hero,’ Lump said.
Caladan shrugged. ‘I’ve never been one of those. Well, except for this
one time—’
An alarm sounded overhead. ‘We’ve got incoming,’ Jake said, peering at his terminal. ‘A security patrol. They’re transmitting a request for boarding.’
‘Under what authority? According to Phevian Law as I remember it, no patrol has the right to board a free trader without due cause.’
Jake pressed some buttons. ‘Laws have changed, in light of what’s happening in Trill System, so they say. All ships coming from out-of-system are to be searched.’
Caladan shook his head. ‘They’ll figure us out.’ He nodded at Jake and Lump. ‘An injured Farsi, a shifter out of Cask, and, um … that. No way we’ll convince them this is our ship.’
‘Trust me,’ Jake said. ‘But it might be a good idea to keep the boy hidden.’
Caladan grimaced. ‘When you say “boy”, you’re referring to him over there, right?’
Lump grinned. ‘I think he is, Father.’
‘Haven’t I told you…?’
They met the boarding party in the hangar. One ship landed, while two others remained in close proximity, canons fully armed. The main officer was a Human-Rir subspecies, a strain which had long ago emphasized the importance of physical strength. The officer’s uniform was a steel vest-plate and a cap, but the rest of his body was exposed, grotesque muscles creaking with every movement of his arms and legs. His neck was more sinew than flesh, and his jaw jutted so sharply Caladan wondered if it could cut glass.
Jake stepped forward and bowed. ‘Captain Rulo-An at your service.’
The Human-Rir’s eyes focused in the air a little above Jake’s head, and Caladan knew the journalist was imitating the trader’s dead Tolgier captain. For his part, dressed in an old officer’s uniform, he kept his head respectfully lowered, the press of a blaster in a concealed holster inside his jacket giving him some comfort.
On either side of their leader, two six-armed Karpali guards watched impassively, three photon rifles held across their chests. Caladan eyed them warily, looking for scars, signs that the slow-moving creatures had experience of a firefight.