by Ruby Dixon
“Me either.” I watch as one of the plate-sized spider-like crabs scuttles nearer to the water. Something with tentacles reaches out and snags it, dragging it into the waves, and I shudder. “Good thing it’s too cold to swim, huh?”
“Good thing,” she echoes, agreeing, then glances over at me. “Mardok says he wants help salvaging some of the equipment if you’ve got time.”
Mardok’s one of the big blue aliens, with tattoos and silver horns. He looks very different from the others, and I think someone mentioned that he was part of the crew on the ship a long time ago. There are so many layers and backstories that a newcomer like me is doing good just to keep names and faces straight, so I try to focus on that sort of thing. I do know that he knows a lot about the ship, and I know he and Harlow have been working hard to strip components and small bits here and there before the entire thing goes up in a blaze of glory at the beach.
Seeing as how we’re now at the beach, I guess it’s close to fireball time. “Sure, I can help. I don’t know if I’ll have an idea of what I’m looking at, though. I’m not up on my spaceship knowledge.”
“Me either. I think he just wants extra hands. The other big blue guys are off hunting or setting up tents. Or caves. Or something.” Willa makes a face. “God, I hope it’s not tents because I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep on the ground knowing those spider-scorpion things are around.”
“Great. Now I’m not going to be able to sleep,” I tease as we turn back toward the ship. I can’t resist one last look back at the waves and I see the white bird dip its head under the water and pull out something slimy. It glances over in my direction and pauses, and I feel an absurd urge to wave to it, like it’s giving me permission to live on its planet.
Stupid of me. It’s just a bird at the end of the day. I’m stuck here whether he wants me to be or not. But I’m smiling as I follow Willa back to the ship, anyway.
Inside, it’s surprisingly quiet. For the last few days, there’ve been people on top of people. Mardok’s told us that the ship normally has just a four-man crew and I believe it. While it seems large from outside, the interior living quarters are actually kind of cramped. You can’t pass shoulder-to-shoulder down a hall with one of the big aliens inside, not without someone having to scuttle out of the way. Today, though, most of the tribe is outside on the beach or away hunting, and the place feels surprisingly empty.
Mardok is in the cargo bay, his back to us. He stands off to one side, by the lid of one of the coffin-like pods we awoke from. He’s got a shining tool in his hand that reminds me of a screwdriver and is using it to pry one of the circuit boards apart. “I brought an extra pair of hands,” Willa announces.
Marisol peeps over the edge of one of the coffins and smiles at me, then ducks back to work. I grin at her, and then look over at Mardok.
“Hi,” I say with a timid wave when the big alien glances at me. I always think Mardok is one of the most intimidating of the aliens. He’s one of the tallest, and his horns are covered with gleaming metal. One side of his body is heavily tattooed, and I heard a rumor that he’s part cyborg, though I can’t tell what part. That makes him a little scary. Then again, Rukh is also scary. And Vektal. And okay, most of them, even if they’re doing their best to seem nice. It’s just taking me some time to get used to things.
“Good, another pair of hands. I need all I can get, because Vektal wants to get this ship launched and underwater by the end of the day today. That means I’ve got to get everything powered down and taken apart in the next few hours and time’s wasting.”
I roll up the sleeves of my long tunic. “Show me what to do.”
Willa claps her hands. “I’ll go grab lunch and then I’ll come back and help.”
She dashes off, and as she does, I lean in and watch Mardok pry a tiny golden, three-pronged chip from one of the panels. “I need as many of these as you can find. If you pry up this layer of circuitry, you’ll see that there are four on this level, and three on the next. With twenty of these pods, that should give us one hundred and forty of them. Think you can do that for me?”
“I think so,” I tell him, and take the tool he hands me. He walks away and I’m left on my own to get started. Oh, okay. That’s all the training I get. Well, all right. I size up the room and decide to start by the far wall. One of the coffins is pushed up against the side of the ship, and the panel I need is naturally on the part I can’t get to from the accessible side. I try to push the coffin away from the wall, but it weighs more than I do and if there were rollers on it, they’ve been stripped down or turned off. At any rate, it’s not budging. All right, then. I climb atop the coffin and slide down the opposite side, my butt wedged against the wall, against a bar and what looks like a closed window. I bend over and start to pry the compartment open.
“Wait! Loden, don’t!”
I glance up. Is he talking to me?
“Lauren,” Marisol corrects quietly. “Her name is Lauren.”
“Sorry. It’s a lot to remember,” he says, racing over to my side.
“How do you think we feel?” I blurt out.
Mardok laughs and shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s worse for you guys. You’re fine. It’s just, don’t lean against that wall. I’ve stripped the escape hatch mechanism.” He pats the bar my butt was resting against. “If you push down on this, the entire panel could open up and dump you into the water below.”
Eek. I guess that closed window wasn’t a window but a hatch. “It’s almost like this alien technology is dangerous,” I say dryly.
He laughs, surprised and pleased at my attitude. “Almost.”
I’ve pried one hundred and twenty chips out of the coffins when Farli heads into the cargo bay, breathless. Her gaze is focused on her mate. “Have you seen Wil-lah?”
I glance up and watch as Mardok wipes sweat from his brow and puts aside the equipment he’s working on. “What do you mean?” He glances back at me.
Was I the last one to see her? “She was bringing lunch, wasn’t she? I haven’t seen her since I came in.” I look over to find Marisol, but she’s gone.
Well, shit.
Farli makes an alarmed noise. “Gren is missing, too. The others think he might have taken her.”
I feel sick at the thought. I know Willa’s been trying to befriend him. This is what happens when you try to be nice. That doesn’t explain where Marisol went, though.
“You have to help us look,” Farli tells Mardok. “We need you.”
Mardok hesitates, clearly torn. I know he wants to finish salvaging the ship. Vektal’s already been in several times while we’ve been working to tell him to hurry along. Now that we’re on the shore, he doesn’t want to wait any longer to ditch the ship. Every moment it’s here is another moment he clearly feels its presence is threatening the tribe. Maybe he’s not wrong. I do know Mardok’s been stripping—and crushing—several components as he works. Maybe a fiery inferno is the best solution for this ship.
But if that’s the case, I need to find Marisol.
Mardok glances back at me and I wave him on, doing my best to look like the industrious little human I am. “I’m just going to finish these,” I lie. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with the others when I’m done.” It’s only a half lie. I am going to finish up…but I’m going to do my best to find Marisol first. People are more important than parts, and if the sa-khui are super fired up to get rid of the ship, then I need to find her, pronto.
They turn and race out of the cargo hold and I immediately put down my tool and the bag of chips I’ve been working on and head down the hallway. “Marisol?” I call out. “Are you in here?”
I know it’s futile to call her name out—she never answers—but I can’t help but try.
“Marisol?” I try each time I enter a new room. In the last two days, the ship’s been looking more and more ravaged. Pieces have been torn out of the walls, components stripped from their circuit boards, and wires dangle from the ce
iling in more than one room. The lighting and motion-sensitive doors no longer seem to work, either, and I have to slide my way into the hall that leads to the bridge.
There’s a big metal bar in front of the door, just about forehead height, and I nearly bang my head on it as I enter. Must have fallen when Harlow and Mardok were stripping parts. I try to shove it out of the way, and when it doesn’t budge, I duck and slide my way into the bridge, squeezing past the now-broken door. “Hello? Are you in here, Marisol?”
She’s not there, either, but I am a little surprised to see stacks of strange-looking parts set in most of the chairs and on every surface. I have no idea what these are, but when I look closer, I see a warning symbol of some kind, and something that looks like squiggles of fire.
Fuck. I know what those are. These are explosive parts salvaged from the ship. They must be stacking them here at the front to ensure that when the ship’s set on fire, it explodes and the bridge isn’t usable by anyone thinking to salvage her.
My skin prickles with awareness. It’s definitely not safe here. “Marisol!”
No answer. I kneel down at one of the stations and hold on to the counter, peering underneath. It looks like a good hiding spot.
“Activating distress beacon,” the computer calls out in a garbled voice.
What? I jerk to my feet and stare in horror down at the panel. The spot where I put my hand is lit up, covered in lots of squiggly-looking keys that I probably hit somehow. I don’t know what I did to make it light up, but I know I can’t duplicate it. Holy hell, what have I done? This is exactly what the others didn’t want to happen.
“Cancel distress beacon,” I call out. When that elicits no response, I try again. “Hello? Cancel distress beacon!”
Seriously, what the fuck? Why did no one cover up this panel if it was so damn important? I smack it with my hand.
“Activating distress beacon,” the computer calls out again in that calm, eerie voice. It sounds like its slowed down, as if the computer itself is slowly dying. I don’t know if it’s repeating itself or if I’ve somehow now sent out two distress beacons. I whimper in frustration.
I have to let someone know about this. I have to tell them that we need to stop this thing before it’s too late. Mardok will know what to do.
I turn and race for the door.
BANG.
The bar I forgot about in my haste? It knocks me on my forehead and I realize I should have ducked about two seconds before the world goes dark.
4
LAUREN
BANG.
A muffled vibration shakes my body, jerking me awake. My head throbs and I try to sit bolt upright, only to smack my head on something hard again. “Oooh.” I fall back again.
“Don’t sit up,” Marisol whispers at my side, in the dark. “No room.”
I squint, trying to make out where I am. Still on the bridge? No, it’s really dark and cramped. I can feel the heat of Marisol’s body as she presses her arm against mine. It feels…claustrophobic. “Where are we?”
“In one of the coffin pods.” She winces as there’s another loud bang and our pod shakes and shivers like it’s on a rollercoaster. “Bad news. The ship’s on fire.”
“What?” I stare at her, wide-eyed. “Already? They didn’t wait for us?”
“Well, um.” She bites her lip and looks miserable. “I was having a bad day and wanted to go back to hiding. Just for a bit. But you looked uncomfortable where you were, so I moved you and…” She winces. “I threw my tool.”
“Your tool?” My head’s ringing and I’m having a hard time following what she’s talking about.
“It’s a weapon,” she whispers. “Just in case.”
I pat her arm, because I know what that “just in case” is. Just in case aliens come back and try to take us captive again. “Gotcha.”
“And like…I think I hit something important. Because a bunch of stuff caught on fire.”
I think of all the flammable stuff in the cockpit. Yeah, I can see that happening. “Bad luck,” I murmur.
She clenches my arm, worried. “And you wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what to do so…I brought you here.”
“And here is…” My vision is still fuzzy and I rub my eyes, wishing I had my glasses. My vision gets better by the day, but it’s not perfect.
“Inside one of the pods,” Mari whispers. “I think we’re sinking now.”
“Of course we are,” I murmur, because that’s my luck. I’ve survived a kidnapping by aliens and being stranded on a wintry planet only to go down with the ship. Seems about right. “Do the others know we’re here?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone.”
Between the distress beacon and Willa disappearing, I can kind of see that. It’s been a hectic day and I’m not supposed to be on here. I’m supposed to be “catching up” with the others once I finish my task. Someone’ll figure out eventually that I’m not there, but by then it will be too late. I press a hand against the lid of the coffin. “How did you get me in here?” I rub my bruised, aching forehead. All I remember is…ah yes, the bar. God, so stupid of me.
“Dragged you,” Marisol’s voice is ultra quiet, as if she thinks someone will overhear us. “What do we do now?” she asks, worried.
I have no idea. But I’m the one that always has a plan, so I need to think of something. I rack my brain, trying to think of how we can get out of this. If the ship’s on fire, it’s not like we can jump out. I think of all the explosives at the far end of the ship, on the bridge. Maybe those are what’s making the pounding noise that slams into our little coffin and makes the entire thing—and my insides—shiver. I inhale, but there’s no scent of smoke, just Marisol’s slightly sweaty smell and her frightened body pressing against mine. For a moment, my head throbs and it feels so tight and cramped in here that I want to kick my way out. It’s too small, too dark, too little room to breathe.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Okay. Okay. Being in this coffin is a good thing. We’re not going to burn to death. That’s a bonus.
But we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know how long we can stay at the bottom of the ocean in this thing, but my guess is not that long. The air won’t last and we’ve stripped so many parts from the pod itself that I’m surprised that even the lid is staying on. One thing at a time, though.
I touch the lid again, and it feels cool. Either we’re well insulated or there’s no fire in the cargo bay. I don’t know which it is, though. I’ll have to risk it at some point of course, but for now, I want to think the rest of my plan through. “We need a way to get out of the ship.”
“Lo?” Marisol whispers in a trembling voice. “What can we do?”
Hearing her fear galvanizes me, oddly enough. Okay. She needs me to be strong and decisive, so I will be. “Let’s think this through,” I tell her, trying to sound calmer than I really am. “Did you move the coffin any? Or are we still in the cargo bay?’
“Still in the cargo bay.”
“And you said the way off the ship was on fire?” I think of the long ramp.
I can feel her nod. “I didn’t realize until everything was filled with smoke what was happening. By then it was too late. I thought about screaming but…” she sighs. “I hid instead.”
I pat her arm. “It’s okay. We’re going to get out of this.”
“All right,” she tells me in a calmer voice, as if me saying it has made rescue a sure thing.
So I just have to make it so.
“Are we in one of the coffins at the front or back of the bay?” I wonder how far we are from the explosions or if we’re sitting in a fiery inferno even now.
“Um…back, I guess.”
I try to think of what was in the area. Crates? Doorways? Hatches? Anything? “Any tools in here?”
“I didn’t grab anything but you,” Marisol says meekly. “No time.”
“It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure everything out. Do y
ou hear any more explosions?” I twist and try to put my ear against the metal hull, but I can’t quite reach, and with Marisol shoved against me, it’s impossible.
“I don’t hear anything at all,” she confesses. “Maybe the ship sank and the fires went out?”
I don’t know if I find that reassuring. If it did, that means whatever oxygen is in this small coffin is all we have…and there are two of us sucking it in. Even now, every breath feels more and more claustrophobic and like there’s not enough air to go around.
“I think I’m going to have to open the coffin,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says with a nod.
“It might kill us both,” I warn her. “There might be no air out there. It might be nothing but water. Or it might be nothing but smoke and we’re going to die if we can’t get out. I’m just telling you because I know it’s dangerous…but I do know we can’t stay in here.”
Her eyes seem to get a little wider in the dark. Her hand clutches my arm tight. “If you think it’s best.”
“I don’t know if it’s best,” I admit. “But it’s what we’ve got to work with. I’m going to push the lid open and get out. You try and hunch down so if there are flames…” I pause, swallowing hard. “If there are flames or it’s super heated in here, it’ll hit me and not you.”
“Thank you for being so brave,” she tells me in an admiring voice.
I want to tell her that I’m not brave. That I’m just as terrified as she is, but one of us has to act. I just give her another pat on the arm. “Be ready. I’m going to do this on the count of three.”
Before I lose my nerve.
“One, two,” I say aloud, and then take a long, deep breath just in case it’s my last. “Three.”
I push at the lid even as Marisol scrunches down behind me.
The lid doesn’t budge easily. I brace my knee against it and push and it finally moves. As it does, something sticky and black melts and leaves long strings behind, as if glue is melting from between the lid and the coffin itself. Some sort of seal, then.