by Piers Platt
“See?” Auresh said, smirking. “We’re not fools.”
“Are those sonic cannons?” Luthena asked, aghast.
“Yes, they are,” the captain replied.
“Those dragons have ultra-sensitive hearing,” Luthena protested. “Using weapons like that – concentrated, high decibel sound waves – they’ll permanently damage their ears. The dragons won’t be able to hunt – they’ll starve to death.”
“Ask me if I care,” Auresh said.
Outside, several of the men continued to stand guard, weapons at the ready, while the others turned back to their work. In another minute, they had the first dragon up and into the cargo hold. The empty cart emerged soon after, and the men wheeled it over next to the snared dragon. They fumbled for a moment with the rope of the snare, then tugged the dragon’s limp form up onto the cart.
“More dragons incoming,” the radio reported. “Four of them this time.”
“I guess they didn’t learn their lesson the first time,” Auresh said. “I thought dragons were supposed to be fairly intelligent.”
Falken smiled inwardly. They are. And the minute you underestimate them … you die. He kept his eyes glued to the screen.
A large dragon swooped into view, but several sonic cannon blasts from the guards on the perimeter converged on him, and he turned sharply, crashing into the engine bank of the Starfarer. Falken saw the dragon scrabble against the hull, tearing at an engine nacelle as it desperately sought to escape the punishing sound waves.
“Engine damage!” the voice on the radio reported. “Ground team, get it off of us!”
Another volley of sonic blasts from the guards chased the dragon off-screen, but Falken had a sense that the attack was far from over. Five of the men had the dragon-laden cart halfway up the ramp by now – the remaining men started to collapse back toward the ramp as well.
A dark brown streak flashed across the screen, and suddenly the semi-circular perimeter had a noticeable gap – one of the guards had simply disappeared, plucked into the air by the diving dragon.
Seen that move before, Falken thought. Here come the others.
It took the men on the ground several seconds to notice the hole in their perimeter, but before they could move to close it, the last two dragons arrived. The first landed right next to one of the guards and neatly flicked him onto his back with a twitch of its tail. Then it bit the next guard on the arm, tearing it off at the shoulder. The second dragon swooped in through the gap between guards, and landed on the ground in the middle of the circle. It bellowed loudly and then pounced, managing to catch two guards in its talons as it landed on them from above.
Panic gripped the surviving guards. They broke and ran, headlong, for the safety of the ramp, where the second captured dragon was just being wheeled inside. Falken saw the ramp begin to raise up – two of the guards managed to jump onto it and pull themselves inside, but the last guard missed his grip, and slid down to the ground below the ramp as it closed overhead. He turned to find one of the dragons swaying slowly behind him, jaws open. He ran, screaming, but did not get far.
“Well, that went well,” Falken remarked.
Captain Auresh shot him an icy glare, then spoke into his wristpad. “Casualty and damage report,” he ordered tersely. “And give me a status on the two specimens.”
“Stand by.”
“It looks like they got both dragons inside,” Kuda said.
“Let’s hope they remembered to put them in the cages,” Cadellium remarked.
“I’m sure they remembered,” Auresh shot back. “You’ll get your damn test subjects, don’t worry.”
The older man raised an eyebrow. “I warned you it would be dangerous.”
“You didn’t say we’d lose a third of the crew,” Auresh shot back. “I’m not sure I’m being compensated enough for the risks I’m taking here.”
Falken studied the two men. Looks like Cadellium’s calling the shots … sort of. Auresh must be the ship owner. That makes Cadellium the one paying for all of this.
It took the crew on board the ship several minutes to make sense of the chaos in the hold, and when they finally called back, the voice on the other end of the line was clearly rattled.
“Starfarer with the damage and casualty reports,” he said.
“Go,” Auresh ordered.
“We’re missing six men,” the voice from the ship told him. “I’d like to organize a search party—”
“No,” the captain said. “They’re dead. All of them. Where are the dragons?”
“The drugged ones? We got them in the cages.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes, sir,” the man on the radio said. “They’re both locked up. I think one of them’s starting to wake up, though.”
“What’s the status of the ship?”
“Not so good,” the voice told him. “Diagnostics say engine three is out of alignment, and there’s a fault-line fracture in one of the high pressure nozzles.”
“Is it repairable?”
“I believe so. The computer’s saying we could realign the engine by loosening and then reseating it in its socket. And it thinks a temporary weld could seal that fracture well enough to get us out of here. But we’re going to need to go outside to fix it.”
“Start gathering the necessary equipment,” Auresh ordered. “And be ready to open the starboard-side hatch – I’m coming aboard in a few minutes.”
“It’d be better to wait until dark,” Falken said. He checked the clock on the vidscreen. “It’s only a few hours from now. Your men will stand a much better chance of surviving the repair job.”
Auresh frowned at Falken. “Why?”
“Because dragons sleep at night,” Brondi said. “They sometimes hunt, but they’re generally much less active after dark.”
Shep crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re trying to stall us,” he warned the captain.
Falken shrugged. “The Liberty Belle is our only rescue ship, and nobody else knows what’s happening here … so I’m not sure what stalling would accomplish. But, hey – you didn’t listen to me last time I tried to warn you. I don’t really give a shit what you do.”
Auresh narrowed his eyes, thinking. Finally, he spoke into his wristpad. “Prep all the equipment, but wait until nightfall,” he said. “I’ll radio when we’re about to depart the research center.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain severed the connection, and turned to face Cadellium. “We’re stuck here for a bit. You might as well get what you need,” he said.
“Mm,” the older man said. He fished in his pocket, pulled out a data storage plug, and slid it into a port on the room’s computer console.
“What are you doing?” Brondi asked.
“Taking your files,” Cadellium said matter-of-factly, browsing through the computer’s directory. “All of them. And then deleting your copies.”
“So you can monetize our findings?” Brondi asked.
“Of course,” Cadellium told them. “In less than year, I expect to have the first immortality drug in clinical trials. That would make me the majority owner of the world’s most valuable pharmaceutical company.”
Luthena shook her head. “We’ve isolated the chemical components from dragon’s blood that halt the aging process. But we haven’t tried to synthesize them yet, and there’s no proof whatsoever it will work on humans. That’s a huge leap of faith.”
“No one in history ever became a multi-billionaire by shying away from risks,” Cadellium said. Falken saw that he was busy moving files off of the computer’s drive and onto his storage plug.
Brondi shook his head slowly. “That represents years of hard work, by a number of scientists, not just us.”
“You may take comfort in the fact that your hard work will be put to good use, then,” Cadellium replied, typing commands into the console. “But I’m afraid you won’t be getting any recognition for that hard work. I’m truly sorry about that.”
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“It’s not about the recognition, it’s about equal access for all people!” Luthena said, struggling to contain her anger. “You’re going to charge a huge markup, and many people won’t be able to afford it.”
“You don’t get to be a multi-billionaire by worrying about morality, either,” the older man told her. “Not when there are profits to be made.”
Chapter 27
On Olympus, the last rays of the setting sun glinted off the white hull of the Starfarer, bathing the ship in red and orange light. Then the sun passed back behind the clouds, and slipped below the horizon. Minutes passed, and the twilight grew deeper, until eventually, night settled over the mountainside.
In the research center’s vehicle bay, Falken’s proxy sat up off the ground. He took several seconds to stretch the device’s arms and legs, testing to ensure that everything was working fully. Falken fingered the claw holes in his proxy’s chest – he could tell several ribs were broken, but the wounds had managed to miss the proxy’s main battery and muscle structure.
This thing’s still fully operational. Good.
He stood up then, and crossed to the bay’s airlock. Inside, he saw Auresh and Cadellium waiting as the room depressurized, oxygen masks covering the faces. Falken crossed over to the vehicle bay’s equipment locker, and drew out four noise cancellation staffs, slinging them over his shoulder. He turned to see the airlock hatch slide open. Falken switched the noise cancellation staffs on and gestured for the two men to follow him.
“It’s safe?” Cadellium asked. Under his mask, Falken could see his eyes were wide with fear.
“Not if you keep yammering like that,” Falken said.
They moved, slowly and deliberately, across the open ground toward the ship. Falken walked in front, carefully picking his spots, stepping lightly. He kept his eyes on the ship’s hatch ahead.
No sense watching for dragons – wouldn’t see them if they were out there, anyway. Not on a cloudy night like this.
Finally, they reached the Starfarer, and passed inside the waiting airlock hatch. It slid shut, and Falken saw Cadellium breathe a sigh of relief. The men peeled off their masks a moment later, and then the inner hatch opened. Falken found himself facing a man in a black uniform with a rifle.
“Take him to the cargo bay,” the captain ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Falken took note of the ship’s configuration as they walked – the captain and the investor headed in the opposite direction, toward the bridge and crew quarters, Falken assumed. He passed down a flight of stairs, and emerged through an inner hatch into a cavernous cargo hold, over two stories tall. Two large metal crates were bolted to the floor in the center of the room. Falken heard a loud hiss from the closest crate as he passed by it – something slammed against the inside of the crate, and he felt the deck vibrate under his feet.
At the back of the bay, a group of five men stood waiting for him, oxygen tanks strapped to their backs, holding a variety of tools and heavy equipment. They eyed Falken’s proxy with a mixture of suspicion and disgust, noting the gaping wounds in his chest, and the dried blood caked to his shirt.
“They’re awake,” the team’s foreman said to Falken, gesturing at the dragons’ cages.
“So I gather,” Falken said.
“They’ve been throwing themselves at the cages, trying to break out,” he said. “Anything we can do to get them to calm down?”
“Let them out,” Falken suggested.
The foreman shot him a sour look. Then he jerked his thumb toward the ramp at the back of the bay. “Captain says you’re going to help with the repairs. Keep the other dragons away while we’re out there.”
“I can’t keep them away,” Falken corrected him. “But I can try to make it so they don’t notice you.” He gestured to the noise cancellation staffs across his chest. “I’ll set these up around the area where you’re working. But they don’t eliminate noise, they just dampen it. You need to be as quiet as possible – that’s the only way we’re going to avoid drawing attention to ourselves.”
One of the crewmembers shook his head. “How are we supposed to be quiet, man? We got a busted line we’re supposed to weld. You know how loud a welding torch is?”
Falken shrugged. “You better save that part for last, then.”
“This job ain’t worth what they’re paying us,” another crewmember protested.
“If we don’t fix that engine, we’re not getting out of here,” the foreman told him, frowning. “Simple as that. Now quit bitching and gear up.”
Falken watched as they slipped their masks on and shouldered their equipment. Then the foreman tapped Falken on the chest. “I’ll be watching you out there. Try to fuck us and I will make sure they shoot you in the fucking head. Your real head, back in the research center, mind you. Not this clone thing.”
“Your friends are going to shoot me eventually, either way,” Falken said.
“Not necessarily,” the man told him. “Not if you help us, first.”
Right, Falken though. No harm in leaving a bunch of witnesses hanging around the scene of a major crime, right?
The foreman tapped a control on his wristpad, and the ramp swung down, the light from the cargo bay spilling out into the night. He gestured at Falken, and pointed outside.
Me first? Okay.
Falken walked down the ramp and stepped several paces out onto the ground. Then he turned and looked back at the repair team, who stood at the top of the ramp, watching him warily. Falken held his hands out to his side.
See? No dragons.
Reluctantly, the team shuffled forward and down the ramp.
… yet, Falken thought.
The foreman led the way over to a ladder built into the hull of the ship – the rungs followed a meandering path up along the outside of the engine bank. He pointed at it, and Falken grabbed the first rung, hauling himself up. One by one, the repair team followed. At the top, Falken twisted and set a leg up onto thermal tiles, then scrambled up. Below, he could see the damaged engine nozzle, lying askew just below the lip of the ship’s hull.
He turned and saw the lead crewman struggling to climb onto the hull – he held a heavy toolbox in one hand, and despite the planet’s weaker gravity, he could not lift the box high enough to clear the hull. Falken bent down and grabbed the man by the collar of his uniform, lifting him bodily up off the ladder with the proxy’s enhanced strength. He set the wide-eyed man down on his feet on the hull.
When the entire repair team had reached the top of the engine bank, the foreman directed them to begin their work, using hand gestures, and occasionally typing more complex instructions into his wristpad for them to read. Falken walked away from the group along the hull, and carefully set the noise cancellation staffs in place in a rough circle around the workspace, arranging them as best he could to create a sound-dampened bubble for the repair.
They started by detaching the engine nacelle from its housing, dangling it from a hastily-erected pulley arm and several heavy chains. It slid out of its housing without issue, and the foreman climbed down to it and gave it a quick once-over with a flashlight, checking for signs of damage on a small handheld scanner. Satisfied, he climbed back up onto the hull, and they eased it back toward its slot.
Suddenly, a loud metallic CLANG rang out – the engine had knocked against its neighbor. The repair team froze. Falken glanced over his shoulder, instinctively searching for dragons, but the night was still inky black – he saw nothing. The foreman stared at him questioningly. Falken tapped at his wrist urgently.
Hurry up. The clock’s ticking now.
They slid the engine back in place, and minutes later, the last bolt was tightened. The crewmen detached the engine from the jury-rigged harness next, and then the welder climbed over the edge of the hull, dangling from his waist on one of the chains from the pulley. He stepped down the hull, set his feet firmly in place, flicked a safety visor down over his oxygen mask, then held a flint over the e
nd of the welding torch. In a spray of sparks, the torch burst to life, hissing loudly. He set the torch against the ruptured line and began welding.
Falken squatted down next to one of the noise cancellation staffs, fingering it nervously. The bright white of the torch had ruined his night vision temporarily, but the proxy’s eyes had been built differently from human eyes – the white spot disappeared quickly, and soon he could see the dark bulk of the mountain again, rising up over the dim light of the research center’s vehicle bay. Off to the left, Falken spotted the running lights of the Liberty Belle winking softly in the night as it sat on the center’s landing pad. Then a dark shape occluded his view of the ship – just for a moment – before disappearing into the blackness again.
Shit. Here we go.
He turned and waved, and caught the foreman’s attention. Falken hooked his thumbs together and flapped his fingers in unison, imitating a set of wings. The foreman’s eyes went wide, and then he began pushing crewmen toward the ladder. Falken saw one of the men bend over to pick up a toolbox; he straightened up, and in the blink of an eye, simply disappeared off the top of the ship in a blur of motion. The toolbox he had been holding dropped to the hull, spilling socket wrenches and screwdrivers across the tiles.
“Go!” the foreman yelled.
Falken grabbed the nearest noise cancellation staff and set it to Lure, then hurled it out and away from the ship. Then he shook his head in chagrin.
Why am I helping these assholes?
A heavy duty wrench had landed near his feet – he picked it up, feeling the heft of the tool in the proxy’s hand. The foreman’s back was turned to him – in two steps, he could have covered the distance to the unsuspecting man.
They’re probably going to kill you, he reminded himself. But probably isn’t the same as definitely. And if you kill them first, you’ll have to live with that on your conscience forever.