by Alex Kings
“That is not an approved exit window,” said Olgive.
“So what?” snapped Agatha.
“It doesn't open.”
Hanson smiled at him as they reached the end of the corridor. “Srak, would you?” Then he quickly added, “Make sure there's no-one below.”
Srak glanced out the window, smiled, and punched it with his two left arms together.
The window itself, made of sapphiroid, was close to unbreakable. It flew out of its frame intact with a crunch and squeal of torn metal.
A moment later, Hanson heard a splash. He looked out the window. They were at the rear of the building. A little over a hundred metres below, water slapped and sloshed against the wall of the city. It was part of a small circular lake built into Tethya City. A little further along, he could make out an empty platform adjacent to the ocean. It quickly led behind the cover of a nearby building.
“Okay, here's the plan,” he said. “We get down there, and we make for the platform to the right. Move forward as quickly as you can so you're in cover. Clear? Yilva, you can glide, so you go first. The rest of us … we'll figure something out.”
From down the corridor came the intermittent retorts of gunfire and dying Glaber. It sounded like the Albascene guards were winning.
“I shall remain here,” said Olgive.
“I'm not surprised.” Hanson put a hand on the top part of the suit's middle segment, which seemed vaguely shoulderish. “I think I can trust you to be honest with the authorities, if nothing else. You might think we're thieves, but we're not working with the Glaber, and we did save your life.”
“Yes,” said Olgive at last.
“Good.” Hanson turned to Yilva. “Well? Time to get going!”
“Right, yeah,” Yilva turned to the window, looked out once, then leapt. Hanson saw her extend her arms and legs, skin flaps between them taut, and glide towards the platform.
Now his turn. A hundred metres. It would hard, but not impossible. So long as he fell right and didn't wind himself on impact. Hanson grit his teeth and stepped to the window.
An impossibly strong hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Our way is better,” Srak said. “Here.”
Srak, standing on his hind legs only with his back to the window, held Agatha and Hanson to his chest. They stood side by side facing forward, Hanson to the right of Agatha, secured by an upper and lower arm each.
“Ready?” said Srak.
Gunfire came from the corridor. He didn't wait for an answer, but just threw himself backwards out the window.
For a moment, Hanson felt weightless. Time seemed to slow down. The pale blue sky opened out above him. The window retreated into the distance. Air rushed past them, upwards. Agatha shrieked joyfully, like she was on a rollercoaster ride.
Srak hit the water with a deep crash. His chest slammed into Hanson's back, but Srak had taken the brunt of the impact, and Hanson had no problem swimming the moment he was released.
They swam together. Srak, apparently unharmed, made giant splashes with the motion of his limbs. Eventually they reached the edge. Yilva, waiting on the platform, gave Hanson and Agatha a hand up. Srak pulled himself up, and they all moved into the cover of the building.
Agatha began laughing. “That was fun!” she said, jumping to her feet. She patted Srak on the shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”
Srak nodded.
Hanson stood and brushed excess water off his sodden uniform. It wasn't too bad. The electromagnetic coils in his pistol were waterproof, and the fibres in his uniform would dry without damage.
“Yilva,” he said. “Ivis sends his regards. I thought it best to wait until Olgive had gone before telling you.”
Yilva, who had been watching Agatha and Srak in a nervous sort of way, turned to him. “Oh, yeah. Ivis. I like him.” She smiled briefly. “So what now?”
“We go to the Dauntless so my XO can tell me how many regulations I've broken,” said Hanson. “Then I can tell the admiral about what a fun day we've had. I'm sure he'll like that. Then, maybe, I'll get to explain to the Tethyans why I was running about in another species' secure space while a Glaber gang attacked.”
Agatha gave him a thumbs-up. “I can't wait.”
Chapter 15: Soaking Wet
Later, Hanson would wish he could have taken a photograph of Lanik's face when he turned up at the Dauntless's docking tube, still dripping water, with Yilva and the two mercs in tow.
“Sir?” said Lanik, the moment they'd entered the ship.
“It's a long story,” Hanson told him.
“Hi, handsome,” Agatha said to Lanik.
Hanson looked round at the ah-hoc team following him. “Yilva's life is still under threat, so her asylum request still holds. She doesn't go with anyone she doesn't want to, even if the Albascene start trying to tear down the door with their bare fields. And I have to send out a few messages, smooth things over with the relevant authorities.”
“Smooth things over, sir?” Lanik gave him a look – as if Hanson had said he planned to grow twelve feet taller and leap over the moon.
Hanson stared at him for a moment. “Yes. In the mean time, can you get these lot adequate quarters?”
“Yes, sir. But smoothing things over might have to wait. Admiral Chang wants to talk to you asap.”
“Of course he does,” said Hanson.
From there, Lanik left with Yilva and the mercs, and Hanson went straight to his ready-room. He opened his tablet, stood it upright on the desk, and sent a call to Admiral Chang.
The admiral responded almost immediately.
“Captain,” he said, “at last.” Then he paused when he saw Hanson's appearance, his hair and collar still sodden. “Are you okay?”
“Let's just say, sir, that things in Tethya didn't quite go according to plan.”
Chang seemed about to ask him more, then thought better of it. “James, I've been trying to investigate the issues you brought up – but they still want the datachip. I hope you still have it.”
“Yes, sir, but …”
“I know. It's suspicious. I never thought I'd say this, but … I think someone's pulling strings among the admirals. They're too eager to get the chip, they're too eager to shut you down. If I'm right, the people investigating this Ancient ship, or whatever it is, have connections in the highest levels of the Alliance Navy as well as hiring Glaber hives.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So listen: I'm giving you an order to investigate this matter however you see fit.”
“What about you?”
“I don't know. They may come after me. If I'm right, they may rescind this order very soon. So hurry.”
Hanson nodded. “Understood, sir.”
Once the admiral had signed off, he stared at the blank screen for some time. The door was open at last … but now things seemed to go even deeper than he'd thought.
But there were still things to do. First, Hanson went to dry his hair and change his uniform. Then he returned and gestured at his tablet to record a visual message.
Once the recording began, he said:
“I am Captain James Hanson of the SAV Dauntless. This is my formal statement about the events on Tethya at the Albascene ACC Corporation office at 17.00 hours … ”
Chapter 16: Not Enough Space in Deep Space
As soon as he had recorded a statement, Hanson distributed the admiral's orders on the ship's net and headed up to the CIC. He gave the bridge crew the co-ordinates for the Afanc and ordered them to leave immediately and start plotting a jump route. If the Dauntless lingered too long, the Tethyans would probably impound it. The fight at the office was going to be a diplomatic mess.
If that happened, he'd be delayed, and he'd almost certainly lose Yilva to the Albascene again.
He checked Tethya's net. News stories were already popping up talking about an attack on the city's infrastructure, though no-one had mentioned his name yet. There were just “unsubstantiated reports” of humans and Varanids being s
potted fighting the Glaber. That was fine. When at last the Dauntless reached the minimum jump distance, Hanson transmitted his statement to the admiral.
Once the ship had jumped, he summoned Lanik, Moore, Yilva, Agatha and Srak to his ready room.
“Right,” said Hanson once everyone was assembled. “Here's the plan. Our only lead is the one Yilva gave us – Project Renaissance and the Shrikes. Fortunately, Srak and Agatha here know where Project Renaissance have set up shop – a place called the Afanc. They're going to take us there, and with their contacts, maybe we can learn a bit more about this mystery.”
Lanik had taken the orders to investigate rather well, Hanson thought. Then again, it was hard to see what he took well and what he didn't. Now he leaned forward over the table to address Agatha and Srak: “You worked for Project Renaissance, didn't you?”
“Yeah,” said Agatha.
“You don't seem to know very much about them, considering. What exactly did you do?”
“We kept a lookout. They had some business they wanted through the Afanc. We kept an eye out to see if anyone was getting too curious about what was going on, and if anyone got too close we …” Agatha smiled and shrugged. “ … gave them a reason to mind their own business. We also made a few deals, stood around looking scary. You know, the usual.”
“And you didn't see anything of them?”
“Of the guys upstairs? Nope. Just anonymous orders through tablets and money in our accounts. But we saw some of the stuff going on.”
“Like what?”
“They were shipping a lot of stuff through there. Huge volumes. Sometimes their ships stopped there for orders, that sort of thing.”
“I might have gone there and never known it,” said Yilva.
“Yeah, probably. It's hard to tell. We also saw some other employees – mostly Glaber – doing the legwork. Sometimes a couple of guys in suits, but they never spoke to us.”
Hanson sighed. Whoever was behind Project Renaissance seemed to know what they were doing, keeping all their employees in the dark as much as possible. They had influence. They had money.
“Sir, may I speak freely?” said Moore.
“Go ahead, Sergeant,” said Hanson.
“I think this is bullshit. These two are criminals.”
“Can't argue with you there,” murmured Srak.
“And,” continued Moore, “I think they're leading us into a trap. Look: All they know is some place – the Afanc – we've never heard of. They have to take us there, they have to speak to their contacts there. How easy would it be for someone there to just kill us and take the ship?”
“I have to agree, sir,” said Lanik. “This seems like a risky move based on evidence from … questionable sources.”
“Well, sod you too,” said Agatha.
Hanson, addressing his crew, said, “I understand your concerns. This is a strange way of doing things. But not more than an hour ago, I had to fight alongside these two against a wave of Glaber. I trusted them. I put my life in their hands, and they came through for me.”
Lanik pursed lips slightly. Moore said nothing.
“Uh, also?” said Yilva. “This is our only lead. If we're going to do this, we don't have a choice.”
“Very well,” said Lanik.
“One more thing,” Hanson asked Agatha. “What, exactly, made you turn on them?”
“A couple of things,” she said. “First, we saw they were moving medical stasis pods through there. And not empty ones …. they were smuggling people in and out of the Afanc.”
“And the second?”
“The Glaber. We didn't get on well with them. And the Shrikes are bastards even by Glaber standards. The money was good, but after a while … we figured we didn't want to work with them anymore. And we didn't want to work for someone who had no trouble hiring the Shrikes to do all their dirty work.”
Hanson nodded. It was good to know he'd hired people with some moral standards, anyway.
“Now,” he continued. “The datachip. Admiral Chang said someone in the admiralty board was trying to get their hands on it. Not just to destroy it. This suggests it's important to them. We can't let it get into the wrong hands, understood?”
“Oh, yeah. Okay. That makes sense,” said Yilva.
“Well, then. Onwards to the Afanc.”
With the meeting over, they headed out of the ready room. Agatha trailed behind, and just outside the door stopped Hanson. She checked to make sure nobody was in earshot. “Hey,” she said. “Cheers. For standing up for us.”
*
The Dauntless made another jump with the usual squeal of squeezed bulkheads. In his ready-room, Hanson sat and watched the starfield outside quiver, distort, and reform.
They were halfway through a twelve hour journey, in the middle of deep space, heading to a location that a day ago he had never even heard of. Quarters, of a sort, had been found for each of their three guests. With any luck, they wouldn't be taking on any more. That was all the space the ship had left.
Srak and Agatha had taken an empty storage room on deck four. They were sat there now, amidst the impressive array of weaponry and armour they called their personal effects. Hanson had counted at a glance a rocket launcher, two different makes of laser pistol, grenades, throwing knives, plus various Varanid weapons he couldn't identify.
Agatha had named a few of her own: “That's Beowulf, Vera, Robert.” She held up a chunky carbine. “And this is my favourite. I call it Mr. Shooty.”
Lanik had told Hanson having two non-military personnel in a room with that many weapons constituted a breach of safety regulations, but seemed more amused by the matter than annoyed.
The room, like most places on the Dauntless, wasn't quite big enough for Srak to move around in, especially with all the weapons. When he stood on his hind legs his head brushed the veiling. Agatha, meanwhile, had found a space at the back and unrolled a thin sleeping mat. Last thing Hanson had saw of them, they were taking apart and polishing a gun's coils.
Yilva was doing at once better and worse. “If I'm classified as a runaway,” she told him as she hung from the ceiling of her quarters, “They'll double my indenture time at least. I don't know what I'm going to do after this.”
“Let's concentrate on getting through this mission first,” Hanson had told her.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” After a moment her ears perked up. “If I get to learn some more about the Ancients, it doesn't matter what happens to me.”
Chapter 17: The Afanc
The calculations for the final jump were nearly in place. Hanson stepped onto the CIC, followed by Agatha, and stepped up to the command console. Agatha peered at the console and gave an impressed whistle.
Hanson shook his head. “Fermi?”
“Jump calculations are ready, sir.”
The co-ordinates put their destination in the middle of galactic nowhere, even more than Vane. All they had on record was one of the thousands of brown dwarves scattered between the stars, technically mapped but too unimportant to be given a name. It's formal designation, apparently, was D7X-329-285
“Let's see this Afanc, then. When you're ready, Lieutenant.”
“Prepare for jump,” said Miller to her console. “All hands, prepare for jump in five … four … three … two … one.”
The starfield on the display was squeezed aside by a newly-inflated wormhole flying towards them. The bulkheads whined, and –
The brown dwarf appeared before them, bloated and huge and glowing a faint blood-red like the dying ember of a fire. The remains of a failed star, ten thousand times the mass of the Earth.
“I've got something on sensors, sir,” said Dunn. “Lidar and visual. Putting it through now.”
And object appeared on one of the command console's displays, next to a list of preliminary data acquired by sensors. At first glance, it reminded Hanson of a frozen octopus – a mass of intertwining tentacles. But there were too many tentacles, and no head where they joined. And there
were other features – things that looked like an insect's compound eyes set into flesh, mouths lined with needlelike fangs, other openings and bulbous lumps.
It was clearly organic, but dead – it didn't move. The dim light of the brown dwarf cast long shadows across its surface. And, according to the display, it was at least forty kilometres from end to end. The various ships moving about beside it looked like gnats by comparison.
“Looks just like home, don't you think?” Hanson said.
Agatha snorted. “I lived here for two years. The Afanc – it's the mummified remains of some space beastie, nearly as old as the Ancients. Inside, it's a bit like pumice. Filled with open chambers, some tiny and some huge. Lots of living space: Just stick in some gravity generators and shields, add some oxygen, and you have your own space station. Easier than building your own.”
“Time to announce our presence,” Hanson said.
“Right you are, captain,” responded Agatha. She bounded across the CIC to Dunn's console and said, “Move over.” When he did, she tapped something into the console – a hail to her contact in the Afanc.
“Now listen up,” she said, voice raised. “You've got three main gangs on the Afanc. First, the Shrikes. A Glaber hive. You already know about them. Second is Sweetblade. They're a mixed group – humans, Varanids, Petaur, all sorts. They like the usual stuff – drug running, protection rackets, money laundering. Third is Unity. They're Albascene.”
“Albascene criminals?” said Hanson.
“Yeah, I know,” said Agatha. “Your average Albascene practically generates an arse in his suit just so he can have a stick up it. They like law and order. It's just that Unity like the sort of law and order where if you're disrespectful to a superior, you deserve to die. They think they're the legitimate Albascene, and the current government are just imposters.”
“They sound fun to be around,” said Hanson.
Agatha looked round to grin at him. “Yeah. Bundle of laughs, they are. So – those are the three big players. They don't like each other, but in the Afanc they have a truce. All the smaller players get to stay in relative safety, and everyone's happy.”