Eddie paused. He had been working in the landing bays then. He had seen an awful lot of children come through the receiving area. They had not been smiling, or happy, when they first came on board. He saw some faces grow a little darker, some showed a little blush of embarrassment. Even among those who could not remember clearly, a chord had been struck. The atmosphere was soured with the memory of the apprehension the children had felt when first brought on board.
“Pretty scary the first time you landed here, wasn’t it?” Eddie continued. “I mean, who would’ve thought that this big scary ship would be the place you were going to live in forever and ever. Also, really, none of you wanted to be on this ship. Your moms and dads made you come here. Now, you’re going to spend your whole lives on this ship.”
A little boy, a veritable dark-haired Cherub, tugged up at his sleeve. “But… but… but…
we’re going to live on Earf. We’re gonna all live on a Earf, in accawdance wif prophecy.”
His name was Brady, according to the name tag on his jumpsuit, and he held tucked under his arm a stuffed Sapphirean land monster in a ridiculous shade of pink. Its artificiality offended Eddie deeply. Actual Sapphirean land monsters were purple. Eddie gently removed the boys hand from his pants leg. “Well, we’ve got to find Earth first, and nobody really knows where it is. It’ll probably take 300 years to find it, and … well… you know… none of us is going to live that long.”
Eddie paused. He had them in his grip, and what he was saying was, admittedly cruel, but… “Do your mommy and daddy ever worry about bad things happening. I mean, all kinds of bad things can happen in three hundred years. I mean, this ship is built to keep us all alive. It’s really really hard to keep people alive in space. Just the tiniest, tiniest hole in the hull and all of our air could leak out.” He then pantomimed suffocating to death in a very graphic way that left him gasping on the floor of the play center.
Uncomfortably, Alenia nudged Roebuck with her toe, all the while continuing to smile. Eddie came up to his knees. “That’ll probably never happen, but you never know. That’s why they have escape pod drills. Also, the galaxy is filled with exploding stars and hostile aliens …”
“Technician Roebuck!” Alenia admonished. “They’re children!”
“Oh, right... I meant big giant space monsters.”
Amidst the pandemonium that ensued, Eddie could not help notice one small boy in the corner. He was not crying. He was calmly playing with a crayola-wand coloring his toes chartreuse. When Eddie saw the boy, he broke out in a huge grin. The boy looked up at him, smiled shyly in return, then returned to his task.
Pegasus – The UnderDecks
Bellisarius and Constantine were inspecting a deck of cargo bays. There was a line of them stretching from almost Pegasus’s mid-point to the stern of the vessel. These were large, hangar-size areas with ceilings that curved to the deck, colored the dull mottled grey and green of the alloys of which they were constructed. They were poorly illuminated. No one was supposed to access these cargo bays except for automechs, occasional inspectors and technicians, and of course, the clandestine visits of Centurions. This particular chamber was piled high with white, blue, and buff cargo crates, cubic, hexagonal, and oval in shape, containing a variety of cloth and fabrics for the construction of uniforms and other items of clothing. “No life signs,” Constantine reported.
“Keep scanning. They have ways of hiding from our instruments.”
“Scanning for residual biological signatures. I wonder how they do that.”
“If we knew, we could round up the lot of them in twenty minutes.”
Constantine carefully scanned the chamber. “I’m not detecting any spaces between the cargo containers large enough to accommodate a human,” Constantine reported. He wondered if their scanners could be fooled. He turned to 10010010, and the and/oroid, as though reading his mind, was already removing a small probe, like a tiny electronic rat, from a panel of his tunic. He set the small object on the floor. It scurried off into the recesses of the chamber. A voice came into Constantine’s ear-piece. “Can you hear me, Constantine?”
“Did you say something, Bellisarius?”
“I said nothing.”
“It wasn’t Bellisarius,” the voice repeated, as Constantine began to look toward the and/oroid. “And it isn’t the metal man, either. Do you recognize my voice.”
“What is it, Centurion?” Bellisarius asked.
“Someone is communicating with me over my secure headset. I think it’s Hunter.”
“Bright Boy,” said the voice. “Perfect ten for recognition.”
“How did he access our secure encrypted channels?” Bellisarius demanded.
“Never mind the rants of Bullshitarius. If you want to find me, proceed along Connector 82
Alpha to section 29:L15 on Deck minus 27. You will receive more instructions there. This message will not repeat, so put those six years of eidetic memory training to good use.”
“Connector 82 Alpha to Section 29:L15 on Deck minus 27.” Constantine said out loud.
“Let’s proceed,” said Bellisarius.
The and/oroid called back his mouse probe, and the three headed out into the corridor. Deck Minus 27 was fifteen decks up from their position. They found a lift-pod and took it upward and then proceeded to Connector 82 Alpha. When they reached Section 29:L15, Hunter came back on. “What took you so long?”
“I hear him again.”
Section 29:L15 was a large storage and maintenance locker. “Dress up, boys, its cold outside. 10010010, you’re fine the way you are.”
If a blank face could wear an expression, 10010010 would have shown puzzlement. Constantine received more instructions as he and Bellisarius slipped into insulation gear and rebreather packs. “You would be advised to leave any pulse weapons in the locker on this deck.”
Constantine relayed the instructions, and watched Bellisarius flush red when he was asked to surrender his pulse weapon. “Tell him to penetrate himself.”
“Come on, Bellisarius. We can do this now, or we can do this later. If you want to tell Lear you blew off a chance to capture me, that’s up to you.”
“What’s he saying now?” Bellisarius asked.
Constantine looked into the fierce steely eyes of his master. “He says we have to put down our weapons or he won’t meet us. He will not give a second chance.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“He’s playing games with us,” Bellisarius grumbled loudly, but he sighed and lay his two pulse cannons on the floor.
“Get on the utility lift. Take it to the top. There’s a lockout code, but I am sure Nellisarius can over-ride it.”
The three of them stepped on the lift, it was a narrow fit. Bellisarius put a code into the pad at the side. A security cage closed around them as they lifted upward. They passed to the decks where the charges for Pegasus’s phalanx close-in defensive guns were stockpiled. The storage pods were dark, cold, and the charges were arranged in long torpedo-shaped cases. Stray glints of light reflected off their shiny black surfaces. Access code or not, this sensitive area of the ship was filled with the most sensitive sensing technology. If they had so much as tried to bring a single pulse cannon to these desks, the Command Tower would have lit up with alarms like a Rehabilitation Colony Escape Attempt.
Upward, the lift brought them through several closed and inaccessible decks, solid alloy surrounding them. It remained very cold. The lift finally stopped before a large, heavy hatch, marked with cautionary yellow. A sign warned, “Null gravity area. Zero atmosphere. Extreme electromagnetic charge danger.” They paused, less from fear than from the knowledge that accessing that hatch would trigger a warning sign to the Command Tower.
“Come on, what are you? Chicken-fowl?”
Bellisarius opened a palm-pad identification panel. “Discreet Access. Code Bellisarius-Five-One-Five-Zero.”
There was a brief pause while the atmospheric pressure was equalized on
the other side of the hatchway. A series of magnetic locks released and the hatch, heavy as a bank vault, opened upward. Beyond it lay a chamber, not much less cold and dark than space itself. The three Centurions cautiously stepped out, onto a kind of catwalk that reached halfway over a deep, dark chamber. Twenty meters below was a long empty shaft, fifty meters wide and almost as long as the ship itself. This was the electromagnetic launch rail for the Aves and Shrieks.
John Hunter stood on a catwalk on the opposite side. He waved. “Hoy, fellas.”
It was a perfect set-up. They could not reach him, they could not shoot at him, and if they tried and fell into the chasm, they would die, they would trip any number of sensors, and there would be a lot of inconvenient explaining and/or covering up to do.
“Do you know what will happen if they launch a ship while we are standing here?”
Bellisarius demanded.
“The electro-magnetic charge would lift you half a meter into the air. Every hair on your body will stand on end and most of your major joints will dislocate. Then, you will crash to the deck, unconscious, and wake up in a stink of ozone and drying blood from your nose and mouth, and spend the next fifty-six hours with a degree of headache and nausea so severe you’ll spend every second longing for the sweet release of death.” He smiled knowingly. “But, enough of that maudlin talk. Have you brought word from the Executive Commander.”
“There will be no negotiation, Hunter.” Bellisarius called out firmly. “We will find the boy, and put you in a stasis chamber. We’ll add kidnapping to your charges when you are tried on Republic.”
“Don’t play games with me, Nellisarius. The life of a young boy is at stake here.”
“Harm the boy and your own life is forfeit.”
“Give me the Sliver, Bellisarius.”
“That will never happen. If Executive Commander Lear had even suggested giving in to your demand, I would have sanctioned her. There is no way you are getting that Sliver.”
Hunter looked down to the deck and pinched his eyes. “You are making a terrible mistake.”
“On the contrary, Hunter. You have made the mistake. You have exhausted our tolerance and we will take you down.”
Hunter sounded unconcerned. “You will never find him. The Executive Commander faces long, long days and nights wondering what has become of her son. Every minute he spends here, he becomes more mine and less hers, more ours and less yours. We will keep him down here so long she will not recognize him, and he will be practically a stranger to her. Long before that happens, though, people will wonder what happened to him.”
Bellisarius matched his unconcerned tone. “When the Executive Commander’s son is reported as lost below decks, and every resource on this ship is directed against you, we will find you, and the boy.”
Hunter turned away from them, so they could not see his face. “You have no idea what you are unleashing. This will grow into something you will not be able to control.”
“Then, why don’t you save us all a lot of unnecessary difficulty and turn your self over to us now?”
Hunter shouted turned and raised his arms over his head in a great theatrical gesture.
“Never!” It would have been more impressive had they not been divided by an airless chamber. In this long, wide tunnel, it would have made a very dramatic echo effect. Bellisarius was not impressed. “You can not win, John Hunter.”
“Can’t I?” Hunter answered. He turned away from them, and tried to walk. “I think I already have. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”
Bellisarius roared after him. “We will find you, John Hunter. Leave now, turn your back on us, and you can forget about any mercy we would otherwise extend to you.”
Hunter made it through the airlock, commenced the recompression cycle, and leaned against the bulkhead, holding his stomach hard, tears streaming from his face. He could not believe they had fallen for it.
Pegasus – The UnderDecks
When he felt a woman’s hand touching his arm, Trajan awoke. She stood before him, a diaphanous figure, pale and white. In the first instant of consciousness, he wondered if he were dreaming and had summoned the ghost of Lauren Deane in his sub-conscious. Then, he tried to awaken himself, but found himself already at the surface of wakefulness. She held his forearm and was picking at the retention cuff with a small pair of metal calipers.
“…” Trajan began to say.
She brought a finger to her lips in a seemingly languorous movement, like she were moving underwater. “Ssssh.”
What was she doing to him? He tried to pull his arm away from her, but she it firm. She turned to him. Her hair was long, straight, white-blond in color. Her face was kindly but determined, her eyes seemed too large, and too deep. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, speaking with a slight accent he could not place.
Trajan whispered. “Who are you?”
“Be silent,” she answered him, turning back to her task. “No one must hear, and I need to concentrate.”
Ignoring her, Trajan asked, “What are you doing?”
Frowning, she whispered back at him. “What part of ‘Be silent’ do you not understand?”
He pulled his arm again. “What are you doing to me?” he insisted. She sighed, would not release her grip. “I am trying to release this restraint without cutting off your circulation or giving you a paralytic shock.”
“Why?”
“Because either would result in serious injury to you, and might impair your escape.”
“I meant, why are you helping me escape?” Trajan persisted.
“I am a friend of his,” she answered, in a very soft voice.
It was baffling to Trajan that a friend would do this. Trajan tried to probe her mind, but of course he could not. When he tried though, she immediately dropped her picks and took his face in her hands. She drew herself into his face and held him with a hard stare.
“Trajan Lear, I am setting you free. My motives are not your concern, but a proximity restraint is a very dangerous, delicate, and temperamental device. If I don’t disable it properly, you may find yourself in need of a cloned prosthetic arm, do you understand?”
They stared into each other for a moment. Reluctantly, he gave her his arm. Slowly, she picked up her instruments and returned to work.”
“Why are you doing this?” Trajan persisted.
“Because what John is planning is too dangerous. He fancies himself a liberator, a freedom-fighter, but he would only bring our destruction and our exile.”
She peeled back a panel on the cuff and began slowly pulling out a very thin wire. “I only ask one thing of you, Trajan Lear.”
“What?”
She looked hard into him. “Do not tell anyone what you’ve seen here. Do not tell them about John Hunter, or me, or anything.”
Trajan held his peace for a moment. The woman was indeed pale, and in her white gown, seemed almost too glow from the inside. He reconsidered that this mightt be a dream. Then, the restraint cuff fell from his arm.
She rubbed his forearm briefly. “You are free. Now go. Now. Please.”
Trajan stood and very slowly, very warily stepped away from the pillar, expecting to be jerked back, to wake up again and find himself alone and trapped. Instead, he stepped free. Step by step, he made his way to the opposite side of the chamber. The woman stood. “Now, go. Tell no one anything.”
Trajan stumbled toward the hatch. Then turned back. She stood in the center of the chamber looking so forlorn, almost infinitely sad. He ran back and embrace her, wrapping his arms around her thin, bony but surprisingly sturdy frame. “Thank you,” he whispered. She was too surprised to respond at first, then she gripped him back. He felt her lips kiss the back of his neck. Then, she whispered. “Promise me you will tell no one.”
“I promise.”
He felt a warm drop of water on his neck and pulled himself away from her. Her face betrayed no indication that she might have been crying. “We will reveal ourselves one day
, when the time is right. Now, you must go. Just go.”
Trajan backed slowly toward the chamber’s hatchway. Still facing the woman, he tripped the hatch control, and the hatch slid open. He looked out into the passageway beyond, then back to her.
“Go!” she hissed urgently.
“Goodbye,” Trajan whispered back, and then ducked into the passageway. He looked down the long tube. He could not recognize what it was, what function it might have served. It was narrow, and just tall enough for a man to stand with a light hunch, and he wondered how his captor had managed to carry him. It seemed to stretch forever in either direction. He tentatively stumbled down it.
“Turn around,” she called. “Go the other way.”
He turned around and began walking, then he thought better of it, and started to run.
Chapter Sixteen
Eden – Dayside – The Goldstone Highway
Scout turned back. “I am ready to re-activate the automech, Captain.”
Alkema stepped away from the thing, frowning. “It’ll probably try to kill us… like everything else on this planet.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic, young Alchemist,” Keeler corrected. “I prefer to think a lot of things on this planet have tried to kill us, and failed.”
Alkema gave his captain a rather cross look. He had begun to figure out what had been bothering him about the captain’s behavior. On Pegasus, he had recognized two distinct strains to the commander’s character. There was ‘Professor Just-Call-Me-Bill Keeler,’ who went throw the motions of command with almost comic detachment. There was also ‘Captain Keeler,’
who, during the Meridian Crisis, had snapped to the fore, taken control of the situation with unwavering authority. Present circumstances would have called for ‘Captain Keeler,’ but now, he seemed to have slipped back in into ‘Professor-Just-Call-Me-Bill’ mode. He sensed Keeler had begun to detach himself from the situation.
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