by Erin Hayes
I raise an eyebrow. “I think you were being sarcastic just now.”
Then, as if to remind me that he’s nothing like a human, he doesn’t chuckle or react the way a human would. Instead, he only watches me. “Clementine,” he says, “my function in this operation is to evaluate risks. And I cannot come to a conclusion at this time.”
“We’ll come to it together.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “I hope you are right, Clementine. I hope you are right.”
It’s later that I realize that he used the abstract concept of “hope.”
Chapter 9
Everyone holds their collective breath as Orion pulls the Pícara out of FTL. All eyes are on the screen, to be the first to see the state of the Nova. I have so many thoughts running through my head, both sides of my brain working in overdrive to guess what we’re going to see and what’s going to happen next.
I feel the motion of the Pícara slow, and the stars stop streaking across the sky.
PC swears under his breath as the situation ahead of us comes into view. Louis is so transfixed by the scene, he doesn’t even chide PC for his language.
The first thing I see is the massive curve of the event horizon ahead of us, where even light is captured and sucked into oblivion. I’ve only been this close to a blackhole a few times in my life, but this blackhole is much larger. It even feels more sinister to me, like it’s sucking all my hopes, dreams, and even my essence to its core.
It also doesn’t match the information that we were supplied by Syn-Tech.
“How wide is that?” I ask in disbelief.
“Three light days,” Orion confirms.
My retina computer immediately calculates a comparison to other known blackholes in the galaxy. “So it’s almost a supermassive blackhole?” I glance over at Louis. “I thought it was supposed to be a normal one?”
“Apparently, that is another piece of information that Maas kept from us,” Louis mutters, putting his hands on his waist. He shakes his head, disapproval evident on his face.
“Are we at the center of the galaxy, then?” Taka asks.
Orion shakes his head. “This blackhole has apparently managed to be hiding from all of us.”
Rare but not unheard of. The galaxy and the universe are massive places, and we’re still trying to locate and map everything within it. So…it’s not out of the realm of possibility that it hasn’t been discovered yet.
But it’s also true that Syn-Tech could have been keeping it hidden. For what purpose?
“How does that impact our timeline?” I ask, turning to Orion, keeping my thoughts on the subject at hand. “With the bigger blackhole?”
“The event horizon is in the same location on the map that Syn-Tech gave,” Orion says. He clacks across his keyboard and gives a small nod at the read-out. “The difference would be negligible.”
“We’d just have longer to contemplate death as we’re being sucked in,” PC mutters.
“Where is the Nova?” Daisy asks, leaning in her seat to get a better view. “I don’t see it.”
“It is here,” Orion says, flicking the map onto the window, where I see the red dot indicating the ship. I blink a few times, trying to spot it, even with the dots. Then I do see it. It looks impossibly small compared to the maw that is the black hole. For a panicked moment, I think the schematics I spent so much time trying to memorize are incorrect.
“Can you get us closer to it, Orion?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
Wordlessly, the android flies the Pícara closer towards that dot. It’s disconcerting, seeing the enormous blackhole before us and flying towards it, but I swallow my fear as I tell myself so long as we don’t cross that line, we’ll be fine.
We’ll be fine.
The Nova grows in size as we near it, and I realize that it isn’t as small as I initially thought. It’s bigger than the Pícara, and looking at certain markers, I breathe a sigh of relief that the ship matches the schematics that Maas sent through.
At least that’s correct.
Also, I realize that it’s in bad shape. It may not have been an asteroid belt, but something took chunks out of it, and it looks like it would have fallen apart, even if it hadn’t been drifting towards a blackhole.
The computer side of my brain is analyzing all parts of the ship, comparing it with what I’ve been told and what I actually see. For the most part, it matches. I do know that we’re going to have to wear suits and Grav-Boots, as it looks like there’s no atmosphere on the craft, and I’m almost certain that the artificial gravity is offline.
The thing looks like a piece of holey synthetic Swiss cheese.
“All the escape pods are still there,” Daisy murmurs. “I thought it was crippled and then the crew fled?”
I frown, following where she points. True enough, I see the cluster of pods, all still intact. So, the ship’s crew must have had another mode of transportation. Or they’re still on the Nova. I prepare myself for the possibility of their corpses.
“The dock is destroyed,” Taka says suddenly.
“Where?” I demand, glancing over at him.
“Over there.” He points at a hole in the underside closest to us. I had dismissed it as another hole, but after having Taka point it out, I see the remains of the dock and airlock.
“Shit,” I mutter. Louis glares me, recovered enough from the shock of seeing the blackhole to now be disapproving.
“We’ll have to spacewalk onto it, then,” PC mutters, combing both of his hands though the side of his head that has hair. “There’s no other way on it.”
Not a deal breaker. We’ve all spacewalked before, even if it is exposing us to space. We’ve just never done it so close to a blackhole before.
“Run a scan of surrounding areas and for any life on board,” I say to Orion. I doubt there would be anything alive on that ship, but with everything that has happened, I’d rather be cautious than get cocky.
Orion keys in the command for the Pícara to run a scan. I hold my breath again, my lungs screaming for more air as I watch the Nova. What happened to it? Why does it look like a bunch of asteroids hit it all at once? Or did something else happen?
Were those holes made from zappers? Did someone fire at it to stop it from continuing its journey?
“No lifeforms detected on board,” Orion says. There’s a tone to his voice that says he doesn’t approve, but I ignore it. “And there are no ships within striking distance.” He nods to the blackhole. “They must be avoiding the blackhole.”
Maybe that will work in our favor.
PC looks back at me. I can tell from his face that he wants to go through with the run. Nothing he’s seen has deterred him from that 300 million payout.
And we’re running out of time, especially if we have to suit up for a spacewalk.
“What do you think?” I ask the whole crew. “We need to decide.”
“I’m for it,” PC says immediately, giving me a nod. “I think we came all this way, and there’s no immediate danger. We should do it.”
The others need a little more convincing, though. Conflict roils on Daisy’s face, and Taka is still inspecting the ship, making his own assessment.
“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay.”
Daisy lets out a breath and then shakes her head. I think she’s about to say no when she says, “Two robo-pups, Louis.” She holds up two fingers. “I’ll do it for two. Oliver needs some interaction.”
I glance at Oliver, who doesn’t say anything. I think he’ll have nightmares about blackholes for a while after this.
I rap on the console and stand. “All right,” I say, looking at Louis, “let’s suit up. We’re running out of time, and I’d like to be out of here before we drift too close toward that.”
I point at the blackhole, and there’s nothing else to be said about it.
We have a deadline ticking in front of us, drawing us ever so close.
And we’re about to face whatever’s on the Nova. Hopeful
ly, it’s just space dust and empty hallways. Just grab the patents and leave.
Hopefully, that’s all there is to it.
Orion doesn’t say anything as he steers us closer to the ship.
Closer to 300 million Space Yen.
.
Chapter 10
“Spacewalking. Did I ever tell you how much I hate spacewalking?” Daisy grumbles as she shimmies into her too-small spacesuit. Our suits are all a mismatch of different trims and colors, as they are all secondhand. Some of the fabric is so worn, I can see through to steel mesh underneath. One good tear and…
“It’ll be fine,” I tell her. I cinch the sleeve of my right arm. With no atmosphere on the Nova, I’ll have to take my glove off in space in order to downloot all the data that Maas wants. I’ve done it before in the past, but I am starting to get the heebie jeebies thinking about it. “We just go in there, do our thing, then get out. Job done.”
“Just how I like my sex,” PC says with a grin. “Then again, none of those jobs came with a 300 million Space Yen happy ending.” He attaches tape to the outside of his jacket. His suit has the worst trouble sealing fully, so he just resorts to taping all the seams. “What?” he asks at my expression.
“Usually, men like to pretend they’re awesome at sex,” I say. They certainly try to sell themselves that way to me at every spaceport we’ve been to for the last ten years. At least since I’ve hit puberty. And the few men that I did sleep with usually didn’t live up to their claims.
He shrugs. “I’ve had no complaints so far.”
Hearing that from my surrogate brother makes me cringe, so I just turn my full attention to Taka, who looks like a robot cat tangled up in a bunch of wires. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better,” he says, and I head over to him to help him get into his suit.
“Everyone knows where to go?” I ask as I help him shrug on his outer shell. “And what to do?”
I can’t help that nagging question. There’s adrenaline pumping through both of my halves, making me itchy and a little sick to my stomach.
“Of course,” PC says with a roll of his eyes. “We looked at everything.”
“But are you sure—”
“This isn’t their first run, Clem,” Louis says. “They know what they’re doing.” He claps PC on the shoulder and gives Daisy a nod. “Orion says we’re as close as we’re going to get and time’s ticking. I told him I’d tell you myself because I knew you’d be freaking out. Am I right?”
He didn’t have to ask, but I bite my bottom lip and nod.
“You’ll be fine, Clem,” he says, giving me a wink. “Just remember to breathe.”
Breathe. Right.
Hard to remember to do that properly when you’re putting a plastic bubble over your head. My helmet is old and scuffed, and the humidifier no longer works, so my breath constantly fogs up the visor. Not to mention that I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, so loud inside my helmet.
But I lock it in place and give Louis a weak smile. “All right, let’s do this.”
There’s more bravado to my voice than I would have expected, and it seems to encourage everyone else to get to their feet and twist their helmets on.
“Good luck,” Louis says as he gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll be fine.” He even sounds like he believes it, and I fervently wish he was coming with us. He turns his back and steps out of the airlock, the door snicking shut behind him.
Now it’s just the four of us. I give a quick glance around me to make sure that everyone is properly suited up—well, as suited up as you can be with these “suits”—and I face the outer door. There’s a window where I can see out to the ruined dock of the Nova, so close yet so far away.
I try to not think about how close we are to that supermassive blackhole. Just get in, get out. Job done. I had told PC that, but I apparently need to remind myself.
I lick my chapped lips. “We’re ready, Orion.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Airlock opening,” Orion says. I think I’m the only who picks up on the hesitation in his voice, as PC claps his hands together in anticipation.
Just ignore it. Orion is an android and assesses risks for everything. True, there is a big unknown ahead of us, but that’s what makes humans different from machine—we can improvise.
Now’s not the time to think about how I’m actually more machine than human, though.
The atmosphere is sucked away first so we’re not blown out to space when the door opens. Daisy crosses her arms and cocks one hip, her eyes on the window as the door opens. Taka stands stoically, although I can see his lips move as he recites some math problems to himself. And PC is primed and ready to go.
We can do this.
The door opens now, fully exposing us to the outside world. I feel a lump jump into my throat as I realize that the Nova is too damn far away. At least it feels that way.
I swallow it down and try to put on a brave face. “Daisy,” I command softly, stepping aside as the big woman picks up an old school harpoon gun. Sometimes, we have to go back to old tech to do things quickly and efficiently.
Effortlessly, she aims it at the wide-open dock of the Nova and fires, the harpoon shooting through space and zooming right into the hole. She’s a perfect shot, and she give a satisfied grunt as she lowers the gun. Taka helps by tying the end off, and just like that, the ship is connected to the Nova.
PC gives it a good tug to make sure that it’s secure. “Wanna go first, Clem?”
I take a deep breath, and despite my blood pressure being elevated—the readouts on my retina tell me so—I give a nod as I grab the wire.
“Yeah, sure.”
I turn off my Grav-Boots, and I immediately feel my feet leave the ground. I fire the thrusters at the end of my boots, and they propel me forward. I don’t have to pull myself along or anything, just use it as a guide—because the last thing I want to do is float away without a lifeline. Just a gentle prod with my thrusters and I hold the wire.
Keep breathing, keep breathing.
I pass by the outer edge of the Pícara’s hull, and then I’m pretty much dangling by myself in space. I make the mistake of looking at the giant blackhole to my right and nearly lose my grip on the wire. Out here, where it’s just me and the blackhole, the thing is massive, and I feel like all it wants to do is suck me in and spit me out in some wormhole or alternate dimension—scientists never could find out what’s on the other side of a blackhole, only that no one’s ever returned.
I don’t want to try it out for myself.
Still, though, I can almost sense the draining pull of the blackhole.
“Hurry up, Clem!” PC shouts behind me. He’s closing in on me since I slowed down to take a look.
Right. I tear my eyes away from the pit and continue my trek across the gap. My retina tells me how far I have to go, and I use it as my countdown to finding solid ground again.
300 meters.
200 meters.
100 meters.
50 meters.
10.
3.
I let out a loud sigh as I enter what remains of the Nova’s dock. I know the blackhole is still outside, but at least there’s some semblance of safety here. I initiate my Grav-Boots again, and I fall to the floor of the dock. As I do so, my retina displays the countdown until the absolute last moment that we can stay on the ship without having to worry about the blackhole. 4 hours and 37 minutes.
Plenty of time, even with our unscheduled stop at the non-existent asteroid field. We can do this.
I turn on my headlamp and look around. The entire dock has been demolished—we’re lucky to even have a place to land here.
PC arrives about a minute later and turns on his own boots. “Well, that was interesting,” he says, giving me a big smile.
“I nearly shat my pants,” Daisy grumbles as she joins us. “Did you see the size of that blackhole?”
“Wish I hadn’t,” I tell her, glad that
she’s at least honest about being scared shitless. I like Daisy. She tells it like it is, and nothing ever sways her from that.
We all turn as Taka joins us, looking a little frightened.
“That blackhole’s awful, isn’t it?” Daisy asks.
He only nods.
“All right, we’re all on board, Orion,” I say.
“How’s the view over there?” Louis asks.
“Homey,” PC says sarcastically. “Maybe we should move in.” He gives a look around to punctuate his point, and I roll my eyes.
Just like the exterior, the inside of Nova’s dock is also decimated. Chunks of metal and debris float around in zero-G. I brush them out of the way. We continue walking, our Grav-Boots making loud clacking noises as they stick to the metal of the floor. The screen for the airlock is dark, meaning that this ship has no power as well.
“Think you can handle that, Taka?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says as he opens the panel. Even though he’d been frightened only moments before, having a task to occupy his mind does enough to take away his fear. His fingers are gloved, but they move quickly as he pulls apart wires, threads them together, and sparks some connections. For a moment, the screen on the door is dark. Then…
“Got it,” he says.
I give him an excited squeeze on his shoulder. So far so good. “Can you restore power to the rest of the ship?”
He taps on the screen, running through a few diagnostic printouts before giving a noncommittal shrug. “I’ll have no problem tapping into the auxiliary power, but it looks like the primary is all offline.”
“That’s all we need,” I say.
He nods and taps the screen a few times. I glance over at PC and Daisy, who both look ill at ease. Sometimes, this part is the most painful—waiting to see what’s on the other side of the door.
“Can you check for other life forms?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
Daisy frowns, confused. “Orion already ran a check.”