by Jim C. Hines
“No.” Mops sighed and added, “Aside from the cravings, and that was Cook’s fault.”
“Huh?”
“Doc, relay Admiral Pachelbel’s comment about putting down the Pufferfish crew.”
Another frame opened on the screen, playing the Krakau’s words for both Ginsburg and Mops: “The official recommendation from Colonial Military Command is that they be . . . put down.”
“Can you blame them?” asked Ginsburg.
“Damn right I can,” snapped Mops. “Ruth, this isn’t just about our crew. The Prodryans are preparing a major attack. We’re going to need that cure. What if they hit Stepping Stone or Earth?”
Ginsburg sighed. “Look, I’ll ask for permission to send down an armed, fully suited infantry team to search the colony. That’s the best I can do. But I can’t help your crew. I’m sorry, Mops.”
Mops nodded. “I understand. Adamopoulos out.”
She took a moment to compose herself before returning to the bridge. From the way the team watched her, not only had Wolf been listening in, she’d relayed the gist of the conversation to the others.
“Grom is on their way to the bridge,” Kumar reported quietly.
“Good.” She stepped down to the captain’s station and settled into her chair.
“Orders, sir?” Monroe’s unspoken question was clear: surrender or run?
“We’re not getting away, so we might as well assist the colony and get a head start searching for that bioweapons lab.” Who knew, maybe they’d get lucky and find something to help the crew, or at least to persuade Ginsburg—
“Sir, I’ve got a Glacidae shuttle veering away from the others,” Monroe interrupted. “It’s changing course toward us.”
“Hail them, Wolf.”
Wolf checked her console, then swore. “They’ve been signaling us for two minutes now. Sorry, sir. I didn’t notice. It’s audio only.”
“Go ahead,” said Mops.
An indignant voice filled the bridge. “It’s about time! This is Squarmildilquirn—Squarm—of Paxifiliclackimour 6 requesting refuge with the EMCS Pufferfish. Acknowledge.”
Mops’ lips quirked. Somewhere in the translation software and circuitry, Squarm’s words had been sped up, turning their frustration into high-pitched squeaks of protest. “This is the Pufferfish. The Prodryans are leaving, and you really don’t want to take refuge with this ship. There are additional EMC ships on their way. They can offer any assistance you might—”
“Lieutenant Adamopoulos, we cannot return to the colony, and we certainly cannot surrender to your fellow humans in the EMC.”
“Why is that?” asked Mops.
“Explaining over this transmission would be unwise. Bring us aboard your vessel, and I will tell you about Azure.”
Mops straightened. “Say again, Squarm?”
“We need your help, Lieutenant. But not as much as you need ours.”
“Kumar, bring us around to intercept that shuttle. Squarm, maintain current course and speed. We’ll be there in . . .”
“Seven minutes, assuming Kumar doesn’t drop his controller.”
“Within ten minutes.”
“Acknowledged. Squarm out.”
Maybe this hadn’t been for nothing after all. “Monroe, you’re with me. Wolf, glue your eyes to that console. Tell me if you hear a peep out of that shuttle, to us or to anyone else.”
The lift door opened to reveal Grom, their eyes gummy with fatigue. “What did I miss?”
“I’ll tell you on the way to the docking bay,” said Mops. “Come on.”
“Docking bay pressurization complete.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Mops checked her pistol, then unlocked and opened the door. A puff of cold, metallic-scented air washed over her. “Kumar, we’ve got Squarm’s shuttle. Put us on a course away from those incoming EMC ships.”
“Yes, sir,” Kumar replied over the speaker.
Mops stepped into the bay. “Watch my back.”
Grom reared up, presumably for a better view of her back. She chose not to say anything.
Her team was getting better with the grav beams. The Glacidae shuttle was relatively undamaged, and there had been only a brief period of panic when a slip of Kumar’s finger had spun the shuttle like a feather in a tornado.
The shuttle appeared undamaged, parked in the center of the bay with its nose toward the main doors. It was designed to fly in space and atmosphere both, with triangular wings that rotated out from the top and bottom of the angular body. Black heat-resistant tiles covered the lower half of the hull. The rest was polished to a silver gleam. There were no visible weapons, nor any markings. Matching sets of blue-and-purple lights blinked at the bow and stern.
A ramp descended from the front of the ship. A single Glacidae poked their head out to scan the bay. They wore a clear helmet sealed over their head, and their body glistened with the protective gel Glacidae used in place of containment suits. Once it solidified, that stuff was as tough as Quetzalus skin, and it didn’t interfere with the use of all those feathery limbs.
Mops stepped forward, right hand resting on her weapon. “Welcome aboard the EMCS Pufferfish.”
The Glacidae was half a meter longer than Grom, with yellow eyes and a green-tinged body. Their limbs quivered anxiously as they rushed toward Mops.
“Hold it,” Mops snapped.
The Glacidae jumped back hard, their rear half curling into an armored ball. “It wasn’t our fault. The Prodryans forced me to work for them. They threatened my family on Nurgistarnoq. They—”
“Slow down,” said Mops. Squarm settled back, letting out a long belch of distress. Mops forced herself to speak slowly and calmly, despite the pounding of her heart. “You’re saying you were part of the lab on the colony? The one that developed the anti-human bioweapon?”
“I’m so sorry, Lieutenant. It began two years ago. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions.”
“Doc, you’re recording this?”
“I’m insulted you have to ask. You think I’m some hunk of unintelligent crystal, fresh from a Nusuran colon?”
Mops tried to push that mental image aside and asked Squarm, “How did Prodryans infiltrate your colony without being seen?”
“It was all done through third parties—Nusuran messengers, smuggled supplies, encrypted messages from off-world. The only time I interacted directly with those mud-suckers was if I left the colony. I traveled to a conference on synthesized biosecretions in Krakau crustaceans, and they were waiting for me in my lodging.”
“How many others were working with the Prodryans?”
“Nobody else. Just me.”
“Can you cure my crew?” Mops held her breath.
“I . . . I believe so.” The Glacidae twisted to glance back into their shuttle. “I was able to salvage some of my notes and supplies before the Prodryans destroyed our facility, including the counteragent.”
“What are the Prodryans planning now that they’ve got their weapon?”
“I don’t know,” they whispered. “I wasn’t told.”
Mops clenched her fists, fighting to keep her voice low. “What can you tell me about Azure?”
“She was the source.” Squarm belched again. “Another prisoner of the Prodryans. I have more information in my records.”
“About time we caught a damn break,” came Wolf’s voice from behind her.
Mops turned to find that Wolf and Kumar had joined Monroe and Grom in the doorway. “What are you two doing here? Who’s flying the ship?”
“Autopilot,” said Kumar.
Wolf tapped her monocle. “Remote console display.”
“Fine,” snapped Mops. “Since you’re here, you can both help our guest unload their equipment. We’ll put them up in Medical while they work on helping the crew.”
She approach
ed Monroe and Grom. A quick glance over her shoulder showed Squarm scurrying up into their shuttle, followed by Wolf and Kumar. “What do you think?” she asked softly.
“They’re scared,” said Grom. “Did you hear the length of those burps?”
“Are they telling the truth?”
Grom clicked their beak in annoyance. “Glacidae aren’t telepathic. I read tech specs, not minds.”
“We need to get their testimony to Command,” suggested Monroe.
Assuming they could trust Command. Right now, that wasn’t an assumption Mops could afford. “The crew is the first priority. If there’s even a chance Squarm can help them—”
“Sir, we could use a hand in here,” Kumar called over the comms.
“I’ll be right there,” said Monroe.
Kumar hesitated. “I really think we need Lieutenant Adamopoulos’ help with this.”
“Kumar’s heartbeat has increased significantly,” whispered Doc. “He’s also begun to perspire.”
“Understood.” Mops switched off her comm. “Something’s wrong.”
“Grom and I will monitor things from the corridor,” said Monroe. “The control console by the door should give us access to the grav beams, too.”
“You don’t know how to use them,” said Grom.
“No, but he can shake the hell out of the ship if things go south.” Mops waited for them to retreat into the corridor and seal the door before turning her comm back on and heading for the shuttle.
She had to loosen the knee joints of her leg braces in order to crawl inside on hands and knees. The ridged texturing, designed for Glacidae feet, scraped her palms. The walls had an oily brown sheen in the dim light.
“Wolf and Kumar are two-point-three meters ahead. Wolf’s vital signs are normal. Kumar remains anxious.”
“Thanks.” The interior was separated by more ridged tubes and tunnels. One led up into what she guessed to be the cockpit. She peeked into another portal, which split off into a set of cramped sleeping tubes. A larger opening brought her to the equally cramped cargo area, where Wolf, Mops, and Squarm struggled to remove tie-down straps from a heavy metal barrel. “What is all this?”
The Glacidae spun with a quick burp of alarm. They must not have heard Mops approaching. “Escape shuttles are stocked with food and water and other emergency supplies. I hid a set of memory crystals in this barrel of medgel.”
“You know we’ll need to inspect everything and put it through decon before you can open it, right?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Squarm said impatiently.
Kumar cleared his throat, then cocked his head toward the back of the cargo area.
It took Mops a moment to recognize the six thin, meter-high tanks connected to flexible black piping. It had been modified and painted to blend in with the rest of the ship, but the basic design of the K-422 filtration/infusion system was unmistakable. As was the faint hum that meant it was currently operating.
She slid her gun from the holster and pointed it at Squarm. “Have I told you how exhausted I am from trying to sort through everyone’s lies?”
The Glacidae scooted back, trying to duck behind Wolf. “What are you doing?”
“You have a Krakau on this shuttle.” Mops gestured to the tanks. “That’s an older model—we use K-690s on the Pufferfish—but it’s the same basic design, filtering a closed-circulation water system and infusing trace elements. It handles a thousand times what you’d need for drinking water in a shuttle this size . . . unless you’re a Krakau. The K-422 cycles what, fifty thousand liters a day?”
“Fifty-two thousand,” said Kumar.
“I don’t know what it’s for,” insisted Squarm. “I boarded the first escape shuttle I could find!”
“The feed line goes into the back wall here.” Kumar pulled out a hand-sized wall scanner. “I’m sending the scan to your eye, Lieutenant.”
Mops’ monocle lit up with lines representing electrical conduits, water circulation pipes, and more. “You have an entire room hidden behind that wall. How do we get to it?”
“How should I know? I didn’t—”
“Are you aware of your situation?” Mops asked wearily. “You’re trapped in a very small shuttle with three humans. One of them likes to eat new things. Another enjoys dissections. And the third . . . I’m the one who can order the other two to leave you alone. Or not.”
Squarm dropped low, crawled to a control board on the port wall, and started typing. A single crate rotated silently away from the back wall, revealing a low metal door. The door slid open a moment later. Cold, briny air wafted from the darkness.
“If Squarm so much as twitches, you have my permission to shoot them in the face,” said Mops.
Kumar and Wolf trained their weapons on the Glacidae.
Mops squeezed past them and crouched to look through the door, her gun pointing into the darkness. Doc was enhancing her vision, but the interior remained murky. “I know you’re in there. I’d prefer not to start shooting. There’s too much cleanup and paperwork afterward.”
The chamber was a little under two meters wide. Inky water rippled a short distance below the doorway. Given the size of the shuttle, it couldn’t have been more than a meter deep. A single computer terminal glowed on the wall to the left.
“Please don’t shoot.” Bubbles accompanied the translated voice.
“Don’t give me a reason to.”
Oily black tentacles emerged from the water, gliding toward the doorway. The crosshairs in Mops’ monocle tracked the Krakau’s movements as she emerged.
Only it wasn’t a Krakau. Not exactly.
Thick, overlapping plates of blue-and-black shell covered most of the body. A warrior, then. But Krakau warriors were the most colorful of the species. The black primary limbs were spotted with light blue, and she had four instead of three. The lower limbs were shorter and thicker than normal, and the beak was stunted.
“What are you?” Mops whispered.
“I am . . . Krakau. My name—the name I use—is Azure.”
Mops shook her head. “You don’t look Krakau.”
“I could dissect her to be sure,” Kumar called out.
“Stop helping,” snapped Mops.
“My race comes from the cold polar waters of our world,” Azure continued. “Those of us who weren’t exterminated were imprisoned generations ago. I’m one of the few to have escaped.”
Goose bumps spread over Mops’ skin. “Are Coldwater Krakau venomous?”
“Yes.” Her tentacles slumped. “The answer to your next question is also yes. We are the ones who destroyed your civilization.”
“Admiral Pachelbel! We’ve received a signal from the EMCS Pufferfish. It’s encrypted, priority nine.”
The Krakau communications tech sounded both awed and a little frightened. Pachelbel’s skin tightened as she hurried to take the message key from the tech’s outstretched tentacle. “Thank you. You’re dismissed.”
The instant the tech vanished, Pachelbel locked her office and returned to her console. “Initiate full privacy countermeasures.”
White noise generators in the air and underwater hummed to life. The buzzing static should counter mundane attempts to eavesdrop, as well as drowning out her muttered curses. Electronic countermeasures would burn out more technologically advanced methods.
She inserted the key into her console and waited while the system scanned first her, then her office.
There was no video. No audio. Nothing but a short burst of text:
Fugitive Alert: Level 9
Origin: EMCS Pufferfish, currently orbiting Paxifiliclackimour 6
Navigation override successful
Estimated time to Pufferfish A-ring jump: 03:26:04
Shock chilled her blood. How in the depths had Mops gotten her hands on a Rokkau?
> The admiral noted the time, then cleared the message. She drafted and sent the next set of orders in rapid succession. One went to the EMC ships in pursuit of the Pufferfish, commanding them to immediately withdraw and cease all contact with the rogue ship. Next was the preparation of a transport and escort to take her to Dobranok, the Krakau home world. Finally, she sent an encrypted communication warning Dobranok what was coming.
“Fucking humans. . . .”
“WOLF, KUMAR, TAKE SQUARM and get out of the docking bay now,” Mops snapped. “Doc, tell Monroe and Grom to stay out as well, and make sure they seal the door once everyone’s clear.”
The AI didn’t respond.
“Doc?” Her monocle’s vision enhancement levels had frozen. “Kumar, Wolf, are your monocles working?”
“Mine locked up for a minute, but it’s fine now,” said Wolf.
“Same here,” added Kumar. “I figured I just needed to have Grom run a data cleanup on it.”
Mops removed the monocle and clicked it back into place. Nothing.
Azure shrank back toward her no-longer-hidden room. “That is a personal AI unit, yes?”
“That’s right,” said Mops. “Did you do something to it?”
Her limbs flailed in alarm. “A unit designed by Krakau?”
“The standard-issue monocles are designed and programmed by the Krakau. I’ve upgraded this one—”
The Pufferfish lurched sideways, knocking Mops against a wall. Azure slid across the floor, leaving a damp, oily streak.
“What’s happening out there?” Mops called. “Doc, show me—dammit!”
“You’ve killed me.” Azure gave a series of machine-gun clicks, like strained laughter. “You’ve killed us all.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Have you ever examined your monocle’s root code? Stripped it to its core and studied the directives at the center of its existence?”
“Even if I could read Krakau code, the encryption on these things—”
“If you did, you would find me,” said Azure. “The moment your monocles identified me, they signaled the Krakau. Now they’ve taken control of your ship to deliver me into their jaws.”