by Jim C. Hines
A computer-synthesized voice from beyond the door made Mops jump. The movement strained the bioglue on several of her wounds.
“Lieutenant Adamopoulos. You will give us the location of the EMCS Pufferfish. If you refuse, we will remove one member of your team and infect them with the same weapon we used against your crew. Perhaps they will again be unaffected. Perhaps not. You have thirty-nine minutes to decide.”
Thirty-nine minutes? That was a rather arbitrary number. Mops pushed herself upright. The splints kept her legs steady enough to support her weight as she approached the door. “Who are you, and where have you taken us?”
There was a pause. “That is not the answer to our question. You have thirty-eight and a half minutes. You will also unlock your personal artificial intelligence device.”
Wolf snarled. “I will rip off your antennae and use them for toothpicks.”
A pause. “You have thirty-eight minutes.”
Mops studied the door, searching for an access panel or conduit, but found nothing. “You didn’t give us medical treatment just to kill us. What do you want?”
“You must be healthy enough to endure the jump to Azure’s lab. However, our plan does not require all four prisoners to survive.”
“But you need at least one of us? Thank you.” Mops turned to her team. “Unidentified captors, you will tell us everything you know about Azure and their lab. If you don’t, I will kill everyone in this room, including myself. You have five minutes to decide.”
Wolf barked out a sound between a cough and a laugh. Monroe simply grinned.
“You can’t—” the voice began.
“Never underestimate the savagery of a human,” said Mops.
“We recognize your intellectual capacity is limited. Do you understand this plan would result in your deaths?”
“Yes. You have four and a half minutes.”
“But . . . it’s a stupid plan! Even for humans!”
Mops smiled. “There’s a saying attributed to an Earth scientist named Albert Einstein. ‘Two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I am not completely sure about the universe.’”
Wolf frowned. “Einstein? I thought she was a heavy gunner on the Blue-Ringed Octopus.”
Mops ignored her. “You’re running out of time. Let’s start with a simpler question. What do you plan to do with us?”
“The Alliance has labeled you fugitives. We intend to reinforce their assumption and frame you as collaborators. This will encourage the Krakau to focus their efforts on you while we launch our final assault.”
“Keep talking.” Mops’ gut was a lead weight, but she kept her expression neutral. “Who is Azure?”
“Azure is not your enemy. None of us are.”
“Tell that to the Prodryan who tried to blow us up,” said Mops.
“The bomb was calibrated to disable, not kill. I know you don’t understand, but in time, once stability has returned to the galaxy, Azure hopes to cure what’s left of humanity. A true cure, not the palliative the Krakau use to keep you enslaved.”
“The Krakau have been trying to restore us for a century,” Kumar piped up.
“You truly believe they’re trying to help you? Human herd loyalty is fascinating.”
Mops held up a hand to keep the others from chiming in. “How will this Azure cure our people?”
“By providing us with the true source of the affliction that destroyed your species.”
The room fell silent.
“I’ve studied Earth history,” Mops said quietly. “Humanity destroyed itself.”
“Who wrote that history? Who translated it?” The speaker didn’t wait for an answer. “Before we can help your people, you and your masters must be subdued. We need the Pufferfish so we can confirm the effects of our weapon upon zir crew.”
Mops glanced at the others. Monroe’s face was stone; he’d caught it, too. Kumar was too out of it to notice, and Wolf was too . . . Wolf.
“Give us the rest of our thirty-five minutes to discuss it,” said Mops.
Zir crew. Humans were one of several races that referred to their ships with gendered terms. To Prodryans, ships were masculine, like the majority of the warriors and explorers of their species. The Krakau, being all female themselves, naturally described their vessels the same way. As far as Mops knew, only one species used a third-gender pronoun for their ships.
That same species measured time in units that corresponded to almost exactly thirteen minutes. Three of which, when translated into Human, would give a seemingly arbitrary thirty-nine-minute deadline.
Mops and her team were being held not by Prodryans, but Nusurans.
Escaping from Nusurans would be difficult. Physically, the average human was more than a match for a Prodryan, but Nusurans were one of the toughest species ever to evolve intelligence.
They were also the least xenophobic of any race in the Alliance. They didn’t judge a being’s looks or smell or preferred diet. The only thing they cared about was that being’s skill in the bedroom. What had Heart of Glass offered to get them to climb into bed with Prodryans?
The Pufferfish had been called in to assist a Nusuran freighter. Had that been a setup? Had Captain Taka-lokitok-vi been working with the Prodryans to infect the Pufferfish crew?
Wolf stopped pacing and pounded the door. “Hey, the next time you lock humans up, remember to give a bathroom. Or at least a damned bucket.”
“Just hold it,” said Mops. “That’s an order.”
“You think I like the idea of pissing my uniform?”
How much did their captors know about human biology? They’d been in here for hours without food or water. “I said hold it,” Mops repeated. “We’re only going to get one shot at this.”
Wolf blinked. “What shot?”
She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Whoever’s out there obviously doesn’t know human urine is acidic.”
Kumar cocked his head. “I don’t understand. How does that—”
Monroe cut him off with a quick punch to the shoulder.
“This is our best weapon,” Mops continued. “We’ve got two choices. We either try to burn our way through that door, or we wait for our jailor to show up, then burn their face off.”
Wolf looked down at her crotch, her wide eyes and broad grin a beacon of glee. “I didn’t know we could do that.”
For the life of her, Mops couldn’t tell whether Wolf was playing along, or if she honestly believed human urine could burn through doors. “Monroe, you’ve got the highest marksmanship scores. Work with Kumar to figure out the most likely spot to disable the door lock from inside, then blast it.”
“What about me?” asked Wolf, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
“In this case, I’m going to trust Monroe’s targeting skills over your own.”
Monroe popped his gum and joined Kumar at the edge of the door.
“Hold it.” Mops limped after Monroe. “They took our weapons. Our equipment harnesses. And I assume we were all searched before they dumped us in here. Where the hell did you get”—she sniffed—“peanut-butter-and-jelly-flavored bubble gum?”
Monroe just grinned and blew another bubble.
Mops settled back, hoping the Nusurans were competent enough captors to have overheard their whispered conversation. Would they expect a trap, or like most species, did they see humans as brute beasts, incapable of subtlety or planning?
Kumar licked a finger and drew a wet X on the wall. “I think this is the locking mechanism. If we burn through this spot, we should be able to open the door.”
Mops nodded at Monroe, who unzipped his jumpsuit. The rest of the team moved back and averted their gazes.
“How long should it take to eat through?” asked Monroe.
“Depends on the thickness and composit
ion of the door,” said Mops. “Probably between five and ten minutes. I just hope they leave us alone long enough—”
“Humans, step away from the door.” Even though she’d expected and hoped for it, their captor’s bellow made Mops jump. “You will each be removed and catheterized to drain excess waste fluid.”
“Oh, damn.” Mops stepped back and gestured for the others to do the same. “We were so close, too.” Had Doc been with her, he would have made a snide comment about her acting skills.
The door slid open, revealing a single Nusuran. Mops counted eight legs, making this a Si. Zie was on the smaller side, with mottled gray-and-black coloring. Zie held a snub-nosed weapon in zir two frontmost limbs. “Lieutenant Adamopoulos, you will come with me.”
“No, I won’t,” said Mops, hoping this worked. “Drop your weapon, or my team will urinate on you. Male humans have a range of more than three meters.”
“It’s not a pretty way to die,” Wolf added, her bruised face twisting into something between a smile and a snarl.
The Nusuran hesitated, then jumped back with surprising speed for such a bulky creature. The door started to slide closed.
Monroe threw himself down in front of the door. Wolf vaulted over him to attack the Nusuran. A gunshot grazed Wolf’s side, but she barely seemed to notice as she punched and kicked and bit.
Kumar lunged for the gun to wrest it away. The Nusuran responded by shoving the gun into zir mouth and swallowing.
“You know we’re going to get it back anyway, right?” Wolf asked, smashing her knee against the side of the Nusuran’s head.
“Drag zim in here,” Mops ordered. “Quickly, before reinforcements arrive.”
“Easy for you to say.” Wolf grabbed the edge of a bone plate by the Nusuran’s face and tugged hard. Zie let out a high-pitched shriek of pain.
“Three more coming down the hallway,” Kumar shouted. He tried to add his efforts to Wolf’s, but as battered as he was from the explosion, he struggled just to hold on.
The Nusuran convulsed, flinging Wolf aside and rolling on top of Monroe, then twisting again to shove Kumar against the side of the door.
Four humans were enough to subdue one unarmed Nusuran, even when one of those humans was splinted and could barely walk. But with reinforcements on the way . . . “We need to get that door shut!”
“How?” shouted Wolf, launching a flying, flailing kick at the Nusuran. Zie caught her leg and tossed her aside. As long as zie kept zer body in the doorway, they’d be exposed when the others arrived.
“Dammit.” Monroe pulled himself free and spat out his gum. With a sigh, he reached into his jumpsuit. Mops couldn’t see exactly what he did, but his hand emerged holding a small black pistol.
He stepped into the hallway, using the struggling Nusuran for cover and balance, and fired.
“Where the shit did that come from, and why the shit didn’t you use it before?” Wolf shouted.
Monroe continued shooting. The Nusuran in the doorway was struggling harder now. Mops moved in to grab the head, using her own weight to try to pin zer down.
Zie had pretty much stopped struggling by the time the gunfire died. Monroe kept his pistol pointed down the hallway as he made his way around the Nusuran he’d been using for cover to make sure the reinforcements were down.
“Sir?” Kumar poked the Nusuran in the doorway. “I don’t think this one’s breathing.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Wolf. “I’m not giving zer mouth-to-mouth.”
“You couldn’t.” Kumar patted the Nusuran’s side. “They have four sets of lungs, filled with a spongy mass of tissue. You’d pass out trying to breathe for them.”
“Zie’s bleeding.” Mops crouched by the floor. “Looks like zie got shot in the crossfire.”
“The others are down,” Monroe said as he returned.
“Thank you,” said Mops.
Monroe sighed. “First time in two years I’ve had to kill someone.”
Mops squeezed his shoulder in sympathy and gratitude. “Where did you pull that out of? Or don’t I want to know?”
He tucked the gun carefully beneath his arm and popped a new piece of gum into his mouth. “The grenade that took my arm and ended my infantry career also tore up my guts—most of my stomach, intestine, colon, and part of a lung, all of which are harder and more expensive to rebuild than an arm. So they didn’t.”
“You’re saying your whole right side . . .” Mops waved a hand.
“Nothing but a built-in storage locker. I also keep a set of dice, multiknife, water purification tablets, and five meters of nano-braid cord.”
“And a supply of gum?” Mops guessed.
Monroe shrugged, then crouched to study the Nusuran in the doorway. “It wasn’t friendly fire.”
“So what happened?” demanded Wolf.
“Zie was carrying a modified Toklok P11 pistol with a biometric scanner in the grip. A gene scan of the inside of zer gut would work just as well as a limb for the gun’s security protocols. And the P11 line has a very touchy trigger. With all that bouncing around . . .” Monroe pointed to the edge of the wound. “She shot herself from the inside.”
“Damn,” said Wolf.
Monroe tucked his own gun away inside his jumpsuit. “Always lock the safety before you stick a weapon in your gut.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got a comm unit in there?” Mops asked.
“Sorry.”
Mops searched the Nusuran, but didn’t find much: a cracked monocle beneath one of zer facial bones, and an electric stun rod. She grabbed them both. The monocle went into one of her uniform pockets. She checked the stun rod until she found the activation switch. It hummed in her hand, making the hairs of her arm rise.
“That stick won’t do much against a Nusuran unless you get it beneath the bone plates,” Monroe warned her.
“I know.” She gestured at her legs. “There’s not much else I can do in a fight.”
He didn’t argue. Which was a little insulting.
“Where to, sir?” asked Wolf.
Mops pointed in the direction their attackers had come from. It was as good a guess as any.
The corridor curved to the right. The walls bulged outward, and the curved ceiling was too low for her comfort. The amethyst light and soft floors weren’t like anything she’d encountered on Coacalos Station.
She stopped at a circular window on the left wall. The station was a small black silhouette near the edge of a blue star. “We’ve left the station.”
“I didn’t even feel it,” said Monroe. “They must have some high-end gravity compensators on this thing.”
“Why didn’t our escape set off any alarms on the ship?” asked Wolf.
Mops bent to press one hand to the floor. The cool surface buzzed faintly, like an angry insect was trapped below the surface. “It did. Nusurans are more tactile than visual.”
“If they know we’re loose, where’s the rest of the crew?” asked Kumar.
Monroe looked around. “A standard Nusuran cargo shuttle only has a crew complement of four.”
Mops’ stomach twisted. “Let’s hope you’re wrong. We need someone to give us answers.”
“Why wouldn’t they leave at least one person to watch the bridge?” asked Wolf.
“Nusurans have a strong herd instinct,” said Kumar. “They’d feel safer sticking together against out-of-control humans.”
“He’s right,” said Monroe. “Every species has their evolutionary weak spot, where instincts short-circuit common sense.” He kept walking. “If we’re on a standard Nusuran cargo ship, the left passage should lead to the weapons station at the front of the ship. Going straight will take us around the starboard side to the back. And this door on the right should be the command center and living quarters.”
The door slid open at th
eir approach. Mops ducked through the round doorway into an enormous, egg-shaped room. “This is the bridge?”
The frontmost section had the individual stations and consoles she’d expected: four in total, split off to either side of the door. The path through the center led to a food dispenser and dining area, and beyond that to what looked like group quarters. The beds resembled enormous leather pillows, lumpy and beaten down in the center.
Mops stepped inward, her boot sinking into the mossy yellow floor covering. “Monroe, take Wolf and search the rest of the ship. Make sure we didn’t miss anyone. It would be really nice to have a survivor who knows how to fly this thing. Keep an eye out for our equipment, too.”
She turned to the console screens. She couldn’t read the language, but some of the displays were similar enough to what the Pufferfish used to make an educated guess. “Kumar, what does that readout look like to you?”
Kumar put a hand on the ceiling and leaned closer, studying the descending curve of the graph and the indicator line creeping slowly to the right. “Gravitational pull from the hypergiant star, probably.” He touched a second, unmoving line on the far side. “It’s a lot like what I saw on the A-ring jump tutorials, marking how far away we have to get for a safe jump. The power graph down here shows they’ve got a ring energized and ready to go.”
“Meaning...?” Mops asked, hoping his conclusion would be different from her own.
“If I had to guess? They’ve preprogrammed an A-ring jump, and we’re going to leave the system as soon as the grav readout drops below that second line.”
“Do you have any way of figuring out where we’re going?”
“Sure,” Kumar said easily, then paused. “Oh, you probably don’t mean looking out the window once we get there. In that case, no.”
“Take a seat and start figuring out how to cancel the jump.”
“Short of blowing up the ship?” Kumar glanced around. “There might be a safer option, sir. Even a cargo shuttle is bound to have escape pods. . . .”
Rebooting . . .
Validating interface: Adamopoulos, Marion S.
Searching for active nodes.