The Ancillary (Tales of a Dying Star Book 2)

by David Kristoph

  He was beginning to shiver. His limbs were stiff from the cold. He wondered how long his resolve would last.

  Something Soren said jogged his memory. The cold seemed to slow his thoughts at first, but soon his mind raced.

  He wasn't out of options.

  He had an idea.

  It was crazy and stupid and hopeless. But it was better than doing nothing.

  "Okay," he said. "I will surrender."

  A pause. "Will you?" Soren asked, suspicious.

  "I swear it," Javin said, teeth beginning to chatter.

  "Freezing is a terrible death indeed," Soren said. "Much better to continue living. My men will be there shortly to escort you to our ship."

  The pleasure in Soren's voice was frightening. Involuntarily, Javin's mind began conjuring images of pain and torture. He pushed them aside and said, "No! I will come to you, by myself."

  "Will you now?" Soren mused. "And why would you do that?"

  "That's the only way I will come out," he said, "by myself out the maintenance airlock. Otherwise you'll have to wait for me to freeze, or come get me yourself." It felt strange making demands while locked inside the room. But it was the only way his plan would work.

  He waited for Soren's response. The shivering was violent, now. He only had minutes left.

  "Very well. My men will be waiting, floating outside the maintenance airlock. I hope you will be cooperative."

  He sounded suspicious, but that was fine. He had every right to be.

  The door clicked, and then whirred open. Warm air flooded inside. Javin darted into the hallway, eager for the warmth. If Soren had men waiting they could have taken him then, and Javin wouldn't have cared, the heat felt so good. Thankfully the hall was empty. They must have left the ship when Javin demanded it. Good.

  His skin tingled as he entered the prep room. His spare suit was where he left it, crumpled on the floor. He crawled inside, pulling the sleeves over his arms, fastening the helmet into place. The suit temperature regulator turned on, swirling more warm air all around him. Javin sighed anew. The feeling was euphoric after being so close to death.

  He looked at the helmet's display and grimaced. The pack had less than half power remaining, used up from his work earlier that morning. He wondered if it would be enough.

  "I hope you are not preparing weapons," Soren said, the sound inside his helmet suddenly loud. "We would not be pleased if you did."

  It was a cheeky comment; there were sensors on the wall, so Soren would know if he removed any tools. But what Javin needed wasn't in the prep room.

  The door to the airlock didn't open immediately. There were no internal cameras on the ship, so the pirates were probably verifying all the tools were still in their respective places before allowing him to proceed. Whatever their metric was, the door eventually opened. Javin stepped into the maintenance airlock.

  "I'm pleased with your decision, Javin."

  The door to the prep room closed behind him with a hiss. They were already depressurizing the room. Javin didn't have much time.

  He ran to the wall, near the alcove where the malfunctioning electroids were stored. A row of storage chests were built into the wall. He began opening them at random. The first held coils of support tethers. Another was full of construction clamps and hooks. Solar foil. Foundation rods. Some netting, rolled-up in a ball.

  The gravity disengaged. Javin's feet left the ground, and the contents of the open drawers began floating loosely.

  Where were they? Maybe he'd been wrong, and Beth hadn't stored any on the ship. No, the foundation rods were there, so the ship should definitely have--

  He opened a drawer and saw them.

  The Ancillary power station was ancient by Melisao standards. The panel groupings from the solar ring were replaced every hundred years, but the Ancillary looked much the same as it did when it was built thousands of years ago. Over time, more and more of the rock crumbled away from the station within. The rock shielded the station from Saria's deadly radiation, so they needed to keep as much of it intact as possible. Foundation rods were inserted to provide additional support and to keep larger chunks from breaking apart. But the rock was thick with iron and nickel, and powerful explosives were needed to drill them into place.

  In the drawer before Javin were five blasting caps.

  They were flat and disc-shaped, just small enough to fit in Javin's palm. He stuffed them into a pocket, glancing at his helmet display: the airlock was halfway through depressurization.

  He pulled himself to the alcove where the electroids were. They floated in the small space, making it easy for him to grab the electroid with the wide solar shield on its back. He towed it through the air to the prep room door.

  He pulled a blasting cap from his pocket. A dial with numbers around the outside was built into the face, which could be twisted to set the detonation timer. He looked at the helmet display: the room was at thirty percent pressure. About forty seconds, he thought. The dial's timer was in minutes.

  He twisted the dial until it was about halfway between zero and one minute. He pressed the button in the center, and lights around the outside of the disc flashed red, alternating on and off. It was armed.

  "My men will be waiting for you just outside the airlock."

  Javin pushed the electroid against the prep room door. Its fingers were rigid, but could be moved with a little force. He wrapped them around a handhold by the door, squeezing them shut. He did the same thing with the other arm, and both legs. The electroid held in place, floating against the door, its solar shield facing the room. He turned the shield with one hand and wedged the blasting cap on the inside, where the shield connected to the electroid's back. The magnets on the cap held it in place.

  He pulled out the other four caps and set their timers to one minute before returning them to his pocket.

  Twenty percent pressure.

  He pushed the shield back into place, facing away from the wall. The shield was wide, and Javin's arms just barely reached the edges. He gripped it tightly and pulled his knees to his chest, placing his feet on the shield, so that he floated horizontally in the room. In his new perspective the prep room door was below him. The blasting cap explosion would launch him across the airlock, out the door, and away from the ship. If it worked.

  He held himself there, waiting.

  In the momentum of the plan he'd ignored the risks. But now they bubbled to the surface of his mind. If the blasting cap went off before the airlock opened, he would be crushed against the door. Javin and the shield were swaying in place; even if the timing was accurate he might fly at an awkward angle and miss the door altogether. And that was if he survived the explosion. Just then, gripping it by the edges, the shield felt very thin.

  He was aware of the other four explosives, armed and counting down. He could feel them inside the suit pocket, pressed against his body. He wondered if they were manufactured on Praetar like the electroids.

  Ten percent pressure.

  It occurred to him that these would probably be his last few moments alive. He thought he could cause some minor damage to the pirates, but they wouldn't be destroyed entirely. The blasting caps weren't strong enough. Still, it felt good to do something active. Freezing to death, huddled alone by the power core, was no way to die. Not for a stubborn old man like Javin.

  And the blasting caps weren't his only plan. He just needed some time, and to be launched toward the panel grouping.

  He wished he could broadcast one last message without the pirates hearing. Beth was a hard woman, but Javin knew his death would be tough on her. He pictured her smiling at the workers, pretending nothing was wrong, bottling it up and letting it out in private when she thought no one was listening. Emotions ran through his head in that moment before the explosion: remorse for Beth, relief that someone would mourn him, shame for being selfishly relieved.

  The depressurization was complete.

  He couldn't see it with his face pressed agains
t the shield, but he felt the vibrations through the electroid as the external door opened horizontally. He tensed, waiting.

  Nothing happened.

  It should have happened by now, he thought. Was the blasting cap malfunctioning? Did he set it too long? He was sure the marker was between zero and one minute, so--

  He felt an intense pulling sensation. There was no sound as he was launched away from the door. His vision blurred, the lights inside the maintenance airlock streaking by. Then he could see nothing at all but the black.

  Chapter 5

  Was he unconscious? No, his mind seemed to be working. And he could hear his breath, hollow and ragged. But he had no vision. Wait, that was wrong. His helmet display was there, just at the edge of view. He reached down with his hand and felt the joystick that controlled his suit propulsion. A few gentle puffs and he was twisting in the air.

  He was flying through open space, the Carrion diminishing behind him. Two human shapes waited by the airlock, watching him drift away. Javin checked his display: suit pressure was fine, no damage.

  It worked!

  He twisted more. There was the Melisao frigate, at the opposite end of the Carrion. It was huge and imposing from his cockpit, but out here it was barely larger than his own ship.

  More twisting, until he faced forward. Saria loomed large, an orange sphere dangerously close. His helmet tinted automatically and he could see the two Needles, in front of him and growing fast. He would shoot just past them.

  He pulled the four blasting caps from his pocket, their lights flashing dangerously. He was about to pass the first Needle, so he tossed two discs away from him. To his perspective they drifted slowly, tumbling end over end, but he knew they carried all of his momentum.

  One bounced off the Needle's hull and careened away. The second stuck.

  There was no time to watch what happened. He twisted again to face the second Needle, farther away than the first. He pushed the other two blasting caps away from him, this time ensuring they didn't tumble. They floated perfectly, magnetic side facing forward. He could see the Needle's cockpit now, a round semi-sphere in the front. The explosives would land right next to it!

  There was a flash of light as one of the caps detonated, well short of the ship. Its explosion sent the other cap flying off into space, where it too briefly winked to life.

  Damn it all, he thought, I should have set the timers longer. He flew past the second craft. A man inside the cockpit pointed.

  He wanted to turn around to watch the damage from the first ship, to feel as if he'd accomplished something, but he was going far too fast. He needed to focus now.

  He twisted to face forward until Saria again filled his helmet. He could see his target: the grouping of solar panels, silhouetted against the star. The grouping was still small in the distance, but Javin could tell it was far below him. He needed to adjust his path to reach it, and the longer he waited the tougher it would be. His fuel indicator blinked, showing less than half propulsion fuel.

  "What the stars are you doing?" Soren asked. His voice was dangerously soft.

  Javin ignored him and fired the jets.

  It didn't look like anything was happening at first. Slowly his trajectory began to change, pushing his momentum downward. His path inched closer to the panel grouping. He tried not to look at his fuel indicator, but at the edge of his vision he could see its color changing from green to yellow to red.

  The panel was almost directly in front of him now. He released the propulsion controls.

  Only a sliver of fuel remained. And although he was now shooting toward the panel, he needed to slow down. He looked at his velocity indicator: twenty-two meters per second.

  At that speed he would smash into the panels, or fly past them into open space. Either way it would be fatal.

  Chapter 6

  It was his own fault for being sloppy, leaving the suit out and not recharging it. But it didn't matter anymore. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do.

  An overwhelming calmness came over him. He was out of options, but instead of feeling helpless he felt relieved. There's nothing to fix now, old man, he imagined Beth saying. And she would be right. No Ancillary to maintain, no panels to dismantle, no electroids to fix. He realized his life was an endless list of tasks, always growing longer no matter how hard he worked.

  And he didn't mind. It was what he loved to do. It was what he'd chosen to do.

  He thought about Beth. Javin had no wife or children; he'd never had the desire. But Beth was like family. Was this what being a father was like, thinking of someone else more than yourself?

  Soren continued speaking in his helmet. Javin didn't care.

  The panel grouping was growing closer, and it was now obvious he would miss it. He closed his eyes, tried picturing where he would drift in space. Would he eventually fall into Saria? There was only enough oxygen in his suit to last eight hours, so he would probably asphyxiate first.

  He wondered if the pirates would leave him alone now that they could take his ship with ease. They might want some revenge if his blasting cap caused any damage to the Needle. He could take off his helmet if they tried, surrendering to the vacuum.

  Why wait? The thought drifted across the blackness of space. He could take off his helmet right then instead of drifting. The idea wasn't frightening. He still felt completely calm, at peace with his fate. Would he have the same resolve later, if the pirates retrieved him?

  It would be better to do it immediately, while his emotions were subdued. It would be quick. His hands reached up on their own. The glass of his helmet felt smooth beneath his gloved fingers. One twist and it would all be over.

  His helmet display flashed red at the edge of his vision:

  "SRE-100504: OFFLINE"

  At first he didn't understand. He saw the panel grouping, very close now, still partially dismantled. And there, in front of it, floated the armless electroid. Right where he left it.

  He jerked his hands away from his helmet, all calm draining away.

  "S-R-E-one-zero-zero-five-zero-four, activate."

  He couldn't be sure from that distance, but it looked like the electroid moved. The display in his helmet changed from red to yellow.

  "Match my route and velocity," he said. The electroid definitely moved now; he could see its propulsion jets puffing white behind it. It was flying away from Javin, toward Saria, as commanded. Its jets stopped when it reached the right speed.

  "Reduce speed twenty percent," he said. That should be enough for him to catch up to the electroid, but not crash into it. Their paths would intersect gently.

  The grouping of solar panels grew closer. Javin watched it zoom by, almost close enough to touch, though it would have broken his arm if he tried.

  He turned back to Saria. He felt panic now that he was on the other side of the panels. There was nothing man-made between him and the star--except the electroid, growing larger. Would it have enough fuel? His helmet display showed that most of it remained, but he didn't know if it would be enough to cancel his momentum and return to the panel grouping.

  Soren continued to speak. Javin wasn't listening. He was focused on the electroid now, growing larger every second. His speed felt like too much. He considered giving the electroid more commands but was afraid he'd miss it. He was almost there. He could almost touch it.

  He crashed into the electroid. Pain shot through his shoulder, flaring down his arm. The electroid's jets fired, blinding him. Javin flailed around with his arm, latching onto something with his hand.

  He was holding onto the electroid's arm. He pulled himself close, wrapped his arm around its torso. The jets continued to fire on the electroid's back, just below Javin's arm.

  "Return to panel grouping," he said.

  More jets fired. The two of them twisted around and then there was a jolt, slamming Javin's head against the inside of his helmet. The deceleration was uncomfortable at first, but diminished as they slowed. Soon they
were stopped completely. The jets continued to fire, returning them to the grouping.

  He could see the panel grouping, distant. Beyond it a cluster of shapes reflected the sunlight: the Carrion and the pirate ships. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like two of the ships were drawing closer, coming for him.

  The panel grouping grew larger. Without his command the electroid slowed as they approached. They gently drifted past it, coming around on the other side. It stopped when they were in the center of the panel, mostly shielded from Saria.

  There was no time to celebrate. The two Needles were indeed approaching. They were flying straight toward him. He had about a minute.

  He grabbed onto the panel and pulled himself to the center, where the laser protruded. Javin removed his suit's data cable and connected to a port at the laser's base. Most work could be accomplished remotely, but for security reasons this procedure could only be done with a wired connection.

  Data flooded his helmet display. He spoke a command--the data changed. Authorization was required. He spoke again, entering a security code that only he possessed. Two more commands and he was done.

  He pulled the data cable out, letting it dangle from his suit as he pushed away from the panel, vertically. The Needles were there, stopped 100 feet away. The one on the left was damaged; a rough hole was blown away in the side, revealing the innards of its hull. Just as Javin suspected, the blasting caps weren't strong enough to destroy them entirely.

  But that was okay. The blasting caps were mostly a distraction. He eyed the two ships, wondering if it would work.

  "Javin," Soren's voice echoed, "I hope you will listen to me now."

  "I'm listening."

  "We should kill you straight-away, you know."

  "Then why don't you?" Javin asked. "You have my ship."

  Soren laughed. "I was telling the truth: we only want to speak with you."