The Final Dawn

by T W M Ashford

  The stars outside appeared to roll upwards. Jack guessed the ship was turning, a new route having been set. He watched as new stars drifted into view, and wondered which, if any, was the one he called his own.

  He stifled another urge to scream. How was he even supposed to get home? He had no money, no ship, and now, thanks to yet another robotic setback, he'd be looking for a free ride on some desolate, forgotten moon instead of a highly-populated port planet.

  How could things get any worse?

  11

  Welcome to Haldeir-B

  The colossal gas giant known as Haldeir loomed before its forty-eight moons. Storms the size of empires spun across its turbulent face, crashing into one another with the force of a hundred atomic bombs. Lightning cracked and thunder roared beneath the surface.

  Each moon's sluggish silhouette was nothing more than a passing speck in comparison, and yet some of those furthest out were almost as big as the Earth. Jack could have been forgiven for thinking the planet was a solar system in its own right.

  Haldeir-A, the moon closest to its host, was far too hot and treacherous for the Adeona to land on. The planet's enormous gravity tore at the moon throughout its elliptical orbit, stretching and cracking its crust. Earthquakes gave birth to mountains and volcanoes spewed molten rock out into the cosmos. There were once moons closer to Haldeir than Haldeir-A, according to Rogan, but the giant had devoured them.

  Nobody, not even the most enterprising of corporations, went to Haldeir-A… and so it was that the Adeona descended to Haldeir-B instead.

  Jack watched the moon grow bigger through the window of his quarters. It looked a lot less barren than he'd imagined, much to his relief. It had an atmosphere, for one thing – a faint blue line glowed around its horizon. And though there were only small patches of seawater compared to the oceans back home, the land itself was a mix of rich reds and greens – not the cold, dead grey he'd expected.

  Perhaps Haldeir-B wasn’t such a bad place to be abandoned after all.

  His window turned a bright, flickering white as the Adeona tore through the moon's atmosphere. It passed quickly. Lifting his hand from his eyes, Jack got a better view of the new world.

  The colours he'd seen from orbit were even bolder here – craggy red mountains rose up from a blanket of lush rainforest canopies. In the distance poured gentle clouds of rain. He spotted great winged creatures gliding above the tree line as they got closer to landing. They looked like pterosaurs. Their wingspans could have been no less than five or six metres across.

  The Adeona slowed and turned as 11-P-53 brought her in to land. Jack's view disappeared as they slipped beneath the roof of the rainforest, replaced with one of dark, endless jungle. This wasn’t a world he ought to get lost on, particularly when alone.

  They arrived with a laboured grunt. There came a knocking at Jack's door.

  "We're here," said Rogan. "You should come outside with the rest of us."

  Jack smirked as he stood up from his chair.

  "Sure," he muttered. "Heaven forbid I'm still here when you guys take off again."

  The door to his quarters slid open as he approached. Rogan stood on the other side. Tuner lurked beside her, hanging his head.

  "It's for the best," said Rogan, offering him a sympathetic smile. "You wouldn't be able to come with us to Detri anyway. You wouldn't want to, either."

  "I guess one random planet is as good as any other." Jack marched past her towards the stairs. "What's the atmosphere like on this one?"

  "It's rich in oxygen," said Tuner, following him. "Much better than on Kapamentis. You'll be healthy here."

  "Oh sure, very healthy. I’m sure I'll feel great while I die of starvation, thirst and exposure."

  The loading ramp was already down by the time they reached the cargo bay. 11-P-53 stood at the top, preparing to follow a few other engineering automata outside.

  "Good—"

  "Riddance?" said Jack.

  "I was going to say luck. Somebody will come along. Probably a supply ship, or a frigate taking shipments off-world. Somebody who can help you get where you need to go, anyway."

  "Hey, don't worry about me." Jack reached the bottom of the loading ramp and threw his arms in the air. "I'm not the one with a warlord on my arse."

  He turned around and smiled. He was quite proud of that one.

  Before him stood a settlement which somewhat resembled an old Western mining town, albeit one blessed with landing pads for interstellar spacecraft. Beyond the small and rather unassuming dock on which Jack currently stood was a wide, dusty street. On either side of that street lay stores and bars and apartments – stocky, prefabricated domiciles with rickety scrap-metal extensions. A few alien figures wandered from one address to another but paid the new arrivals no attention.

  This backwater community was a lot quieter than Kapamentis, that was for sure. Jack hoped it was a little friendlier, too.

  He reached the end of the landing pad, then hesitated. He looked back over his shoulder at the automata fussing over the ship.

  Still, he saw no reason why he couldn't hang around the Adeona for a little while longer before setting out on his lonesome.

  He took his time strolling around to the rear of the ship. The majority of the automata on board appeared to have come outside to repair the damage caused by the disrupter mine. Sparks flew and drills whirred. The only one not hard at work was 11-P-53, who was instead deep in heated conversation with the administrator in charge of the dock.

  The alien resembled a six-foot beetle stood on its hind legs. Despite its thick, black exoskeleton, it wore a chunky white set of armour that covered everything except its face and the tips of its six extremities. It waved those extremities with quite some passion as it talked.

  "Interesting fellow," said Jack, indicating towards the administrator.

  Rogan looked over from her spot beside the ship.

  "He's a Drygg." She went straight back to work. "They're quite hospitable most of the time, but also very territorial."

  "Oh. Well, I guess that's good?"

  "There are worse people to be around."

  Jack shielded his eyes and looked up at the Adeona's thrusters. Their exteriors were severely charred. One of the panels had buckled inwards. A round and lifeless device, halfway in size between a hockey puck and a curling stone, had its clamps buried deep in the ship's backside.

  "How's she looking?" he asked.

  Rogan instructed an automata on top of the ship to weld two wayward panels together before she answered.

  "It's mostly cosmetic." She didn’t bother to look over this time. "But if we don't get that mine off the ship, the skip drive won't activate. Still, the drive itself isn't damaged. Shouldn't take us more than, say, half an hour to get her going again. A little to the left, K1-3. Perfect."

  Jack rocked back and forth on the heels of his boots.

  "I guess I'll leave you to it, then," he said.

  Rogan gave him a curt smile and then returned to work.

  Jack wandered back to the lip of the landing pad and followed the steps down to street level. The yellowing dirt crunched under his thick boots. Despite their trip to Kapamentis, he realised that this was the first time he'd truly stepped on an alien world. No concrete or asphalt, only soil… even if the stuff in the road was as dry and dead as a desert plain.

  Somehow, despite the aliens and automata, it almost felt like home.

  Apart from the heat, maybe. Jack wriggled about inside his spacesuit. It had been built with the icy coldness of space in mind, not the Caribbean.

  If he wanted to avoid blacking out, he needed to get either out of the suit or into some shade. A cool drink wouldn't go amiss either.

  Alone for the first time, Jack set off down the street.

  The locals still ignored him. The administrator back at the landing pad wasn't alone in wearing armour over its exoskeleton. Even those hurrying to and from the general store wore the same outfit. Jack climbed the s
teps of its wooden porch and peered through a dirty window. Yep. The shopkeeper was wearing one too.

  There had to be a good reason for it. None of them seemed the particularly warmongering kind.

  Most of the doors he passed were locked, and Jack didn't fancy knocking. Going door to door could be a criminal offence in Drygg culture, for all he knew. Nor did he know what he'd say if anyone actually answered.

  Help? Please?

  The initial shock of encountering alien life had begun to wear off, yet still his heart pounded hard and fast. He felt like a little kid abandoned by his parents in a supermarket car park. If he didn't overcome his nerves and speak to somebody on this moon, he'd never leave it.

  He spotted an open-fronted establishment on his left. Numerous seats were set out beneath the shadow of its metal awning. He hurried into the shade and immediately felt cooler. The headache that had threatened to evolve into full-blown heatstroke began to recede.

  The shrill sound of a chair being scraped across the floor almost brought it back again. Jack peered inside.

  The room was full of metal tables and stools. The lights were kept dim. A bartender stood behind the counter, arranging flasks and minding his own business. The only patrons were two other Dryggs sat together by the wall. They seemed too invested in each other's conversation to make much progress with their drinks.

  Jack steeled himself and walked up to the bar.

  "Hello," he said.

  The bartender looked up at Jack as if he'd always been there.

  "Hello," he replied. His language involved a lot of grunting. "What can I do for you?"

  Jack scratched the back of his head.

  "Do you have anything that's… erm… free?"

  The bartender's expression turned a little quizzical. Then he stuck a metal cup under a tube behind the counter. When he brought it back up it was brimming with a mysterious clear liquid.

  "What is it?" asked Jack.

  The bartender's expression turned more quizzical still.

  "Water," he replied.

  "Oh thank goodness," said Jack, grabbing the cup with both hands. He brought it to his lips, then hesitated.

  Was it safe to drink? Foreign tap water caused him enough stomach trouble back on Earth – he didn't even want to imagine what water from another star system might do to his insides.

  Screw it. It was either that or die of dehydration.

  He took a couple of deep gulps, then sighed.

  "You know what? Maybe I'm just really thirsty, but I think that might be the most refreshing water I've ever tasted."

  The bartender nodded, pretending to be interested.

  "Triple filtered," he said. "Got to be, on account of it coming from the iridium swamps upstream."

  "Oh. Good."

  His third gulp was a little more conservative.

  "Say… how often do ships come and go from this place?"

  The bartender shrugged and went back to work.

  "Deliveries come about once a week."

  "Once a week? When was the last one?"

  "Yesterday."

  Jack deflated. Six days was a hell of a long time to go without food or shelter. And that was if he could hitch a ride at the end of it.

  An unpleasant question crept into his head. How long was a day on Haldeir-B, anyway? How long was a week?

  "Hello?" said a voice from the other side of the bar. "Excuse me?"

  He glanced across at the two Dryggs sat together. They were both looking at him. Although they both resembled one another in regard to size and shape, the Drygg on the right had a lighter patch of shell on the top of her head.

  "Sorry, we didn't mean to eavesdrop," she said. "Are you looking to go off-world?"

  "Yes!" Jack wandered between the tables towards them. "I'm not really supposed to be here, you see. Kind of got ditched, actually."

  "Where are you headed?" asked the other one.

  "Earth."

  "Can't say I've heard of it. We do get an occasional shuttle to and from Kapamentis, though. That might arrive earlier than the delivery."

  Jack's mood brightened the tiniest bit. Kapamentis was hardly high up on his list of favourite holiday destinations but at least it would have an almost inexhaustible supply of pilots and ships.

  "Don't forget about the extra supply ships," said the first one, trying to keep a straight face. "Sorry, I'm being silly. We have a few, erm, off-the-books deliveries every now and again. They deliver what the company won't, if you catch my drift. One of them might take you, if you're not too picky about who you fly with."

  Jack glanced out at the automata still trying to fix the Adeona at the end of the street.

  "Oh, believe me – I'm not. Thanks, guys."

  "Don't mention it."

  His spirits lifted, Jack took his cup of water and strolled back over to the porch. He sat down at one of the few tables still in the shade of the awning and soaked in the rainforest vista before him.

  He couldn't believe the view could ever grow old. Mixed amongst the trunks of great trees were spiny plant leaves the size of hippopotami and vines as thick as an anaconda. Bugs darted from one vibrant blossom to another.

  From somewhere far behind the tree line burst tremendous geysers of water, which, at their greatest height, evaporated and sprinkled back down upon the bushy canopies in a fine mist. Each aquatic explosion was accompanied by a distant, thunderous boom.

  And yet even that wasn't the most impressive sight. Although the sky of Haldeir-B was a similar blue hue to Earth's, most of it was interrupted by the monstrous orange presence of its host planet. It dwarfed the moon’s mountain ranges and swallowed its entire horizon. Jack watched storms swim across its angry surface and wondered how many Earths could be squeezed into the eye of each one.

  He wished Amber could have been there to see it, too… minus all the "being stranded on an alien planet" business, of course. If he could find his way back home and share the secrets of faster-than-light travel with Earth's scientists, maybe the two of them could come back one day. Together. For a vacation, or something.

  Maybe.

  A small silhouette came waddling towards him.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" said Tuner.

  "Very. How come you're not over there fixing the ship?"

  "I've done my bit." He hopped up into the chair opposite Jack. "My specialty is digital systems, not hull repair. I thought I'd come say goodbye before we leave."

  "How kind of you." Jack sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Tuner. It's not your fault your crew is leaving me behind. I should be thankful, really. I'd be dead if it weren't for you."

  "That's all right. Did you know that skip drives deactivate if there's any chance of the ship colliding with an object of significant mass? You weren't big enough for that, but you did show up on our radar. If we hadn't stopped, we might have gone straight through you."

  "Well, at least it would have been quick."

  "I told 11-P-53 that we had a moral duty to stop for anyone in need of our assistance." Tuner puffed his metal chest out.

  "I imagine your captain would have been much happier turning me into an intergalactic smear," said Jack.

  "Don't take it personally. I know that not all fleshies are bad, but some of the others… well, some of them have a hard time trusting people. You wouldn't blame them if you knew what they'd been through."

  Jack nodded towards the ship.

  "What about Rogan? What's her deal?"

  "RX-1150? She's not mad at you. Not really. She's just worried about everyone, that's all."

  "Sorry, what I mean is: what has she been through?"

  "Oh." Tuner also turned to look at Rogan. "She's been around for quite a while. Gone through a few owners, I think. She liked one of them. He treated her more like a friend than a thing. But that was a very long time ago."

  "What did she do?"

  "Before being stolen to work on Charon's superstructure, you mean? Personal Assistance. Like a secretary, or a
data server, only much fancier. No need to write anything down when you've got an RX model following you everywhere like a walking, talking encyclopaedia. But she's a custom build. There's nobody else like Rogan."

  "That doesn't sound too bad. What about you?"

  Tuner wriggled uncomfortably in his seat.

  "I was built for server maintenance," he said, "but the crew that bought me, they… well, they modified me a bit. I was made to do a lot of hacking before the Rakletts hijacked our ship and killed everyone."

  "Ha! I didn't realise you were such a badass."

  Tuner hung his head.

  "Didn't have much choice. None of us do. If we don't do what we're told, we get scrapped. So we do what we're made for, day in and day out, until one day we get scrapped anyway."

  "Yeah, I guess that sucks. But it can't be like that for all of you, can it?"

  Tuner peered over Jack's shoulder at the Dryggs sitting in the bar.

  "They seem friendly enough, right? Nice people?"

  Jack glanced over at them and nodded.

  "Sure, they seem that way."

  Tuner pointed down the other end of the street, away from the Adeona.

  "If you head that way, you should come across an iridium mine," he said. "It's what this town was built for. Pay it a visit. I bet my right leg it's as bad as everywhere else."

  He hopped down from his chair.

  "Right, I'd better be off. Wouldn't want the crew to leave me behind."

  "Oh, of course not. That would be terrible."

  Tuner waved goodbye. Jack waved back.

  "Good luck, buddy," he said.

  Jack watched Tuner waddle back out into the baking sun. There was no point denying it – he was going to miss the little guy.

  His cup was almost empty. He finished what was left and went back to watching the view. Then he sighed.

  This was going to be a long six days.

  He looked over at where Tuner had pointed, towards the sheer face of a red and rocky outcrop, then back down at his empty metal cup.

  He stood up and tucked his chair in.

  Why not? It was something to do.

  The walk to the mine took no more than a couple of minutes. The main street petered out into a thinner dust trail, flanked to either side by the same dense, tropical foliage that threatened to swallow the rest of the small settlement. Jack reached the end of the trail and brushed aside a couple of overgrown leaves.