The Ancillary (Tales of a Dying Star Book 2)

Home > Other > The Ancillary (Tales of a Dying Star Book 2) > Page 13
The Ancillary (Tales of a Dying Star Book 2) Page 13

by David Kristoph


  Deep underneath his fear Soren felt a thrill; maneuvering a ship inside a station was unheard of. It would be worth bragging about if they survived longer than the next ten minutes. No, just under eight, he thought, glancing at the clock.

  "Ready, Elliot?"

  "I see him."

  Soren brought the Needle to a stop, but Elliot was already out of the ship and flying toward Javin. He wrapped his arms around the Custodian's limp, unconscious body. Elliot kicked off the wall, carrying them back to the ship.

  Soren unbuckled his harness and left the cockpit. He already wore his suit; he needed only twist the glass helmet into place before stepping into the airlock. The door hissed behind him. Then all noise became muffled, and then silent, as the outer door opened.

  Quickly, he pulled Javin and Elliot inside. It was only a few seconds but seemed like ages before the door was closed again and the room repressurized. Javin's body fell to the floor with a heavy sound as the gravity engaged. It was less than a minute. Please, stars, let him live.

  Soren bent to him and felt his chest. He was still unconscious, but breathing. The skin of his face was red, nearly frozen. Soren slapped the unconscious man twice but he did not stir. Elliot maneuvered Javin's legs into the spare space suit. Soren began helping, lifting the body into the air while Elliot slid the suit up. It felt oddly like clothing a child. A child who was unconscious, and very heavy. They should have done this before the gravity engaged, he reflected.

  By the time they twisted the helmet into place Javin's eyes were fluttering. They depressurized the room and re-opened the airlock. Soren pushed Javin ahead into the command room and followed, using his legs to launch him forward. He felt the Needle shift from the weight; normally he would fire tethers into the walls and ceiling to keep the ship in place, but right now it didn't matter. The ship didn't matter. All that mattered was the Ancillary, getting Javin to a computer console, and somehow forcing him to deactivate the core.

  They floated to the door in the back-left corner. Without a blast door it opened easily at his touch. They floated Javin's now twitching body between them into the hall. The door closed behind and they slammed into the ground as the gravity and air pressure activated.

  Soren could hear Javin groaning over their radio. "Get up," Soren urged, "quickly now."

  They dragged him to his feet and pushed through the door to the maintenance room. The walls were covered with equipment. To the right pipes ran vertically from floor to ceiling, with twist-valves in the center and labels painted down the side. Another wall was criss-crossed with wires and function boxes, in elaborate bundles of blue and red and green.

  A computer screen, the only modern technology in the room, was nestled in an empty section of the wall.

  Soren removed Javin's helmet and pushed him to the ground. "Disable the core!" Now that they were on the Ancillary he felt the urgency of their situation. Two minutes to convince Javin wasn't enough time.

  On the floor Javin gasped for air, making a wet sound in his throat. Soren grabbed him by the suit and pulled him up, twisting him to look into his eyes. They were watery, and for a moment Soren thought he was crying. But then a fit of laughter escaped his lips, heavy heaves from deep within his belly. Soon he was crying with laughter.

  Soren shook him. Javin didn't bother to keep his head from bouncing around; he only stood there and laughed.

  "Disable the fucking core."

  Obediently, Javin bent to the computer on the wall. Elliot watched over his shoulder as he typed, lest he cause any further trouble. The display changed to show the four cores. Core one blinked red, with various data around it that Soren didn't understand. Elliot cringed when he saw it, tapping his foot impatiently as he watched.

  Abruptly, the core stopped flashing. In a blink its color was green again, and to Soren's untrained eye it appeared that the data was fine. The core never even cooled; it was just suddenly back to normal, as if they'd travelled back in time.

  Elliot stared for a moment before dropping his head in a long sigh. "Clever. Very clever."

  Soren looked from one man to the other, but neither gave any explanation. Elliot's sudden lack of urgency confused him. "What happened? Is the core disabled?"

  "The core is fine," Elliot said. "It was always fine. He only made it appear to be overheating."

  Javin fell to the floor and leaned against the wall. "Safeguards were installed a few months back. To protect the Ancillary in case one of the new workers screwed something up. There's no way for us to manually overload the core. I forgot, until I tried to do it."

  Soren's stomach was still clenched, his panic pervasive. "How do we know it's not the other way around, that the core is still overheating and you've only made it appear fine?"

  "I just watched him deactivate the program," Elliot said. He looked sideways at Javin. "Smart bit of coding. I'm surprised you created it so quickly."

  "It's an old program," Javin said, smiling. "Beth and I used it to test some of the new workers, to see how they would perform in a crisis. I thought for sure that would make you leave the Ancillary." The smile faded. "Why do you want this power station so badly? What do you have planned?"

  Before Soren could answer, Clint's voice echoed in his helmet. "Long-range comms are back online. How you guys doing up there?"

  "The core is stable," Soren said. "The Ancillary is ours. Meet us in the maintenance room."

  Soren turned to Elliot. "Can you contact Kainoa from here?"

  "Sure. One moment."

  He was more than an hour late giving Kainoa an update. Soren had little hope for Theresa, but perhaps the families of his men were alive.

  Clint joined them, with Garrett and Maurice shortly after. The living quarters were captured with no problem, and the dozen or so workers were all tied-up inside. Soren considered asking them to leave the room, but decided not to. It was time they knew the true stakes of their mission.

  Kainoa's face appeared on the computer screen. The omnipresent blue glow of the ice gave the room a cold, funereal feel. It was immediately obvious that the man was flustered, annoyed. Soren's heart sank.

  "I expected your call quite a while ago," Kainoa said.

  "We temporarily lost communication. The Leviathan was destroyed."

  Kainoa shook his head with disappointment. "Your delay caused significant problems with our plan. Do you have the Ancillary?"

  "Show me Theresa." It came out as a whisper, Soren's throat already tightening. The others all looked at him, first with concern, then alarm, as they began to understand.

  "I told you what would happen to her," Kainoa said, tilting his head. "My request was simple."

  Soren knew the tone. The pit in his stomach expanded until it was difficult to breathe. Theresa was dead.

  "Do you control the Ancillary?" Kainoa asked again.

  "The station is ours," Soren said. His voice held no emotion. "We've killed innocents, and our own losses have been considerable. I've done everything you asked, met your demands, even after they changed."

  "And you've realigned the transfer laser as well?"

  Soren looked to Elliot. The engineer was pale. "It will take days to break the security. Please, my son, is he--"

  "We do not have days," Kainoa snapped. "We have hours. If you cannot accomplish this you are useless to me, and so is everyone on Beron. Now I will ask you only once more: can you realign the transfer laser in the next three hours?"

  Soren stared helplessly. Elliot stood to the side with his mouth open, slowly shaking his head. Maurice was speaking to Garrett in a low voice, "I don't understand. How is he there? He couldn't have taken Beron." The soft hum of the maintenance room machinery taunted Soren, a reminder of just how close they'd come.

  Soren lifted his chin and said, "I cannot."

  Kainoa showed no outward emotion, but his lips pursed slightly. "Consider our contract terminated." He reached toward the screen.

  "Wait."

  Every head in the room turned to
the floor. Javin sat upright, his back against the wall. Blood matted the gray hair to his scalp and both eyes were swollen nearly shut. "I can do it. Give me the coordinates."

  Gently, Maurice and Garrett grabbed him by the arms and helped him stand. He turned to the computer and began typing. Part of Soren suspected more trickery, but it was a small part, deep in a section of his mind that no longer cared what happened. Theresa is dead. My wife is dead.

  Kainoa spoke the coordinates, squinting with suspicion.

  Elliot watched over Javin's shoulder, nodding to himself every few moments. Maurice's head swiveled as he looked from the screen, to Javin's face, and back again. Soren stood very still.

  Javin turned around. "It's done."

  Every head spun back to the screen. Kainoa sat implacable. "Why should I believe you?"

  Javin sat back down and shrugged. "Tell me how to prove it and I will. I don't care." He rested against the wall and closed his eyes.

  Kainoa looked uncomfortable at speaking to someone new. Realizing his chance, Soren stepped forward. "We've done what you asked. Now show my men that their families are safe." He swallowed. "And let me see Theresa's body."

  That seemed to amuse Kainoa. "Making demands is unbecoming of you, Soren."

  "Show us, or we'll have Javin move the laser out of alignment."

  Javin kept his eyes closed but nodded in agreement.

  On the screen Kainoa leaned back in his chair. For a moment Soren was sure he would say no. Kainoa motioned with his hand. A figure fell into view, a black blur across the screen. Soren recognized her before she raised her head.

  Her face was shaped like a diamond, with a pointed chin and sharp jaw line. Her hair was a river of deep black that fell past her shoulders, disheveled enough that tufts stuck out all around. Her mouth was bound with cloth, but her lips smiled around it when she looked up.

  Soren raised a hand to his mouth. Theresa.

  Kainoa waved a hand and she was pulled away. "The others are fine as well, so as long as the transfer laser hits its mark at the required time. You will remain on the Ancillary and await further instruction."

  Soren barely heard him. He dropped to his knees and fell back against the wall, his hand still covering his mouth. His flesh eye blurred and burned.

  My wife is alive.

  But the joy and relief lasted only moments. He looked over at Javin, leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. A heaviness poured into Soren's chest, filling his stomach and lungs. The day's events bubbled at the back of his throat. The pain of guilt he'd suppressed suddenly overwhelmed him.

  He touched Javin on the shoulder. "I didn't... it was an accident. Beth attacked, and I reacted without thinking. I didn't intend..."

  Painfully, Javin smiled. "I know. I saw it on your face, in the moment when I fled."

  "Why did you help us?"

  Javin sighed. "I'm tired. Tired, pirate, deep in my bones, an exhaustion someone as young as you cannot understand. I've been working too long out here, only to see it all dismantled at the Emperor's whim. I've seen too many die, too many innocents who only wanted to do their jobs. You killed men today, but I can see the reason now. I might have done the same to save someone I cared about. Beth..." He closed his eyes. "I'm sick of it all. I don't care what happens. I just want it to end."

  Soren's throat constricted. "I'm sorry."

  "I know."

  Soren clasped the engineer on the arm. "Thank you. You saved her. Thank you." Tears poured from his flesh eye as he mumbled. He didn't try to hold them back.

  Javin returned his brace. They sobbed together on the floor, two men who'd struggled so hard against one-another.

  On the screen, unheard by the men on the Ancillary, Kainoa turned to someone out of sight. "Tell my son to prepare. The attack on Melis may begin."

  About the Author

  David Kristoph lives in Virginia with his wonderful wife and two not-quite German Shepherds. He's a fantastic reader, great videogamer, good chess player, average cyclist, and mediocre runner.

  He writes mostly Science Fiction and Fantasy.

  Amazon reviews are critical to helping indie authors gain exposure. If you enjoyed this book (or even if you hated it!) please consider leaving an honest review on the book's Amazon page.

  Sneak Peek

  of

  Book III: Sword of Blue

  The Melisao rain fell in sheets, running down Charlie's neck and pooling at the spot where the bomb touched his skin, concealed beneath his uniform.

  The Pilot Academy loomed before him, wide at the base before rising into a tall, thin tower. The droplets stung his eyes as he gazed upward. Other buildings stood in the haze all around him, apartments and offices and even the tall Chain that disappeared high into the clouds, but Charlie's eyes fixed on the Academy.

  He took a deep breath and walked through the doors as if it were a normal day.

  The other Academy students hardly looked at him as they rushed through the entrance hall. They didn't know. How could they? But Charlie felt every glance, every gaze that skimmed over him in the crowded hall. He shed his long coat and stuffed it in a wastebin; there was no use dropping it off at his classroom, and the bomb was thin and perfectly invisible under his white uniform. He knew because he'd spent the entirety of the morning examining himself in the mirror, taking care that nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Still, without the coat he felt suddenly exposed. Charlie was a worrier, and a moment like this was the precise time to worry.

  Classrooms lined the hallway on either side, the instructors and students visible through transparent walls. Cameras clicked and whirred in the ceiling as they zoomed and focused on each passing face. The Emperor abhorred secrecy, both on Melis and abroad. These students were the future pilots of the Fleet, and yet even they were recorded. We should be trusted and nurtured, Charlie remembered Onero saying, not observed like animals in a cage.

  Charlie repeated it in his head, a reminder of his purpose.

  That, along with the image of Katy's face, pushed him forward. He was hyper-aware of his movements; his steps felt mechanical and unnatural, like an electroid attempting to walk smoothly. He was certain everyone was watching, aware of his intentions.

  The crowd in the hall began to thin as students shuffled into classrooms. Charlie could see through the crowd to the end of the hall, where the lifts led to the higher floors. He was almost there. He was doing it.

  "Where are you going, Charlie?" came a voice to his left, stinging like a whip.

  Charlie's first impulse was to run. Instead his feet froze, his upper half turning to face Instructor Karrana. She stood with crossed arms outside her classroom door. Charlie's classroom. "There's a presentation on level forty-five," he said. "I'm going to that."

  Karrana's eyebrows lowered. "I know of the Gold Wing presentation, Charlie. Half my students are going. But you weren't on the list."

  "I... I'm supposed to be on the list. I'm sure of it."

  "Are you now?" she said. Her gaze pierced him, saw through him. She knew. She had to know. He was certain of it.

  Charlie's mouth was suddenly dry, at odds with his damp exterior. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't part of the plan. He licked his lips, urging moisture into his mouth. She doesn't believe you. Think of something else.

  "I'll double-check with your mother," Karrana said, "but if you're lying I'll make sure you spend the rest of the day degreasing the test ships." She withdrew to the classroom, where a computer was mounted on the front wall.

  Her threat sent a shiver up his back. Charlie wasn't old enough to pilot a ship yet, but he'd spent plenty of time cleaning them as punishment. The grease smell would remain in his fingers for days. That won't matter, if I can just get up to the presentation.

  The students inside the classroom knew something was wrong. They sat in their neat rows of desks, alternating glances between the instructor and Charlie. A few of them laughed. Karrana spoke to the computer, her voice muffled by the
din in the hallway. She glanced sideways at Charlie.

  I can run, he thought. I should run. There was no point in standing there, waiting to be punished by an instructor who would soon know he was lying. Would Karrana chase him, or call the Academy security? He might make it to the presentation in time to do the deed. He willed himself to move, to leave while he still had time.

  His feet remained planted to the floor. What little courage he'd mustered was already draining away.

  Karrana tapped the computer and turned back to him, her conversation over. It was too late to run now.

  She smirked as she approached, crossing her arms again in that way Instructors did. "Hurry up or you'll be late," she said. She gave a smokey smile. "Enjoy Commander Jayce's presentation--I'd go myself, if I could. And tell your mother to send in the approval earlier, next time."

  Charlie stared, uncomprehending. Was she toying with him? She was still looking at him, waiting for a response. "I, uhh..."

  "Is something wrong?" she asked. Her smirk disappeared and she tilted her head in concern.

  "No, uhh, thank you," he mumbled before leaving. He waited for her voice to call him back, but he returned to the flow of students unmolested. He felt her eyes on his back all the way down the hall. Mother didn't know about the presentation, he thought. Surely this was all some trick.

  The lifts were at the end of the hall, a row of clear tubes that disappeared into the ceiling far above. Charlie stopped when he was fifty feet away. Peacekeepers stood beside each lift entrance, watching the students shuffle inside.

  That wasn't normal. There were never guards at the elevators.

  I should abort the mission, he thought. His mind latched onto the thought, eager for an excuse. Onero hadn't accounted for guards. It wasn't part of the plan, and anything abnormal should be considered before proceeding. He should leave, return to Onero tomorrow, and do the mission another day.

 

‹ Prev